“Hello. My name is Sengemo,” she smiled. It was filled with warmth and pride. The dark woman across from me regarded me with the slit-pupiled eyes of her kind. “…and I will Sing of You, my Lord.”

My mind and limbs were thick with drug. My racing heart felt like it beat distantly in someone else’s body and my arms, bound tightly behind me, felt heavy.

The compassion in her voice reached me through the haze. “I offer my sincerest regrets, young Lord. Your kin have abandoned you. But I, Sengemo of the Nihk Sai, will not.” I shook my head unable to craft word or thought. She brushed away my tears and murmured something in her own tongue before directing her attention to the scroll in her lap. Drawing a quill across her palm, she filled it’s resevoir with a drop of blood.

“As your assassin it is my deepest honor to add your name to my Song.” Even through my tears I could see her bitter sweet expression. With that maddening gentleness she inquired, “Please, Lord. Tell me your name.”