Tradarr's lieutenants moved about in the crowded plaza, sending the crowd back to their homes, to spread the word of Vaylond to their families and friends. Tradarr eased his way through the throng, headed for the inn where Pavilia waited.

A few minutes later, there came a banging on the door. Pavilia composed herself and crossed to unlock it. Tradarr walked in, gave a glance at the dead beggar still tied to the bed, and shook his head. Summoning two of his lieutenants into the room, he nodded over to the bed. The two silently untied the beggar and carried him out into the hall, to dispose of him.

Pavilia was almost sickened by the sight, but held it in. Tradarr swung the door closed behind the lieutenants and locked it. Smiling, he sauntered over to Pavilia. "I thought that went well, didn't you?"

Pavilia only nodded. Tradarr sighed, took her in his arms, hugged her to him. "Sweet Pavilia. I know you don't like it, but this is necessary. Those heathens will never see the true light of Vaylond any other way. Soon we'll no longer have need to prove ourselves." He gripped her chin, lifted her head, looked into her eyes. Then he smiled again, and kissed her. "C'mon, smile a little. Our following grows, our cause strengthens. This is a time for happiness." Pavilia smiled, slowly, hesitantly. Tradarr grinned broadly, kissed her again, then began nuzzling her neck. "That's better, isn't it?"

He led her over and laid her down on the bed, kissing lower and lower, oblivious to her fresh tears.