We find Triel in one of the sleeping chambers used by the messengers and guards, Jet's newer minions who don't earn enough to live independently. He is sitting against a wall, chest crushed in by the blow of a mace, eyes staring into oblivion. 

"Damn it," I mutter.

One dead hand still grips a dagger, the last three inches of its blade dark with human blood. Maybe I was wrong about Triel. That he, lightly armed with a dagger and no armor, was able to wound one of the heavily armed and armored human guards in a surprise attack is impressive. Or maybe just another sign of his recklessness. I sigh.

"I thought you didn't like him," Enturi says.

"I didn't."

Judging by this room, the humans were determined to leave nothing of value. The beds are torn apart and smashed. The bedding torn to rags. 

We move on, room by room. We do not run into any human guards; there are only earless elven corpses and destroyed furnishings. Everything is broken, except the few oil lamps left on for light, eerily flickering amidst the devastation and death.

The taproom is a mess of bodies, strewn about in a manner which suggested there had been a hotly contested melee. A group of Jet's toughs, the ones who stood guard at various establishments under Jet's protection, had been here eating breakfast of bread and porridge when the humans attacked. The elves had been armed, waiting for their shift to start. Judging by the blood on their weapons, some of the human casualties occurred here.

Aqia, the serving girl, is sprawled across the counter, her throat cut. Behind her, on the kitchen floor, lies the body of the doughy old cook.

Jet made his stand in the audience hall, where his headless corpse lies surrounded by the bodies of several of his deadliest enforcers. Diaën the Cutter. Aran Smith. Falas is here, lying on the floor with his head bashed in, his twin blades dark with human blood. I don't see Tav. Maybe he's with his family, hidden away safe somewhere. More likely he was just murdered somewhere else. Jet's headless corpse is staked to the floor. They must have captured him alive. Questioned him. And then beheaded him alive.

Though I am not sure why the humans would need to question him. They already knew enough about his operation to take him out in one bloody night's work.

I'll admit, I am a bit shaken by the rapid destruction of Jet and his entire organization. I'm no stranger to violence, but the ruthless precision of this strike is unlike any tale of the red tide I have heard. It brings home just how vulnerable and completely under the humans' control we are. The humans knew everything. Where Jet's hideout was, the neighborhood businesses he provided protection for, even his most secret safehouses. They couldn't possibly have all that information.

Unless they had gotten it from Jeamo. Unless the records we recovered when we took him out were a copy of the report he had already provided to the humans.

"Rot in hell, Jeamo," I whisper. 

Enturi looks at me quizzically, then his eyebrows lift in understanding. Guess I figured stuff out first, for a change. For what that's worth now. Which is nothing.

Behind us, down the hall, a door creaks. I crouch, lifting up my blades to strike. Beside me, I can see Enturi's hands twist intricately in some kind of arcane gesture. We watch the hallway expectantly. I hope it's an errant human. I want to kill something now. After the long night of hiding, the furtive creep through Elftown, and the eerie slaughterhouse of Jet's hideout, I need some action.

We wait for long moments but hear nothing else. No footsteps. Nothing.

Opposite us, I see a shift in the shadows on one side of the door leading back into the hallway. A small semi-circle of darkness slides out from the door jamb. A hooded cloak with the faintest glimmer of a reflection shining from an eye deep within the cowl. A weapon comes up quickly as the figure sees us.

The intruder gasps and moves fully into the doorway. A slender elven hand reaches up to pull back the hood. Copper hair the color of the drying blood on the floor cascades out in the dim light.

It is Lynae.