Soulcatcher's slight body is always sheathed in black leather, throat to toe. He wears a head-hiding black morion, black gloves, and black boots. Only a couple of silver badges break the monotony of his apparel. The only color about him is the uncut ruby forming the pommel of his dagger. A five-taloned claw clutches the gem to the handle of the weapon.

Small, soft curves interrupt the flatness of Soulcatcher's chest. There is a feminine flair to his hips and legs. Three of the Taken are female, but which are which only the Lady knows. We call them all he. Their sex won't ever mean a thing to us.

We wear Soulcatcher's badges, though he is only a patron, not our master. His protection helps when we have to deal with others of the Taken.

He claims to be our friend, our champion. Even so, his presence brought a different chill to the hall.

The cold of him has nothing to do with climate. Even One-Eye shivers when he is around.

And Raven? I don't know. Raven seems incapable of feeling, except for Darling. Someday that great stone face will break. I hope I'm there to see it.

Soulcatcher turned his back to the fire. "So." High-pitched. "Fine weather for an adventure." Baritone. Strange sounds followed. Laughter. Soulcatcher had made a joke.

Nobody laughed.

We were not supposed to laugh. Soulcatcher turned to One-Eye. "Tell me." This in tenor, slow and soft, with a muffled quality, as if it were coming through a thin wall. Or, as Elmo says, from beyond the grave.

Soulcatcher's voice changes every time he speaks, as if there are a hundred people taking turns talking. Spooky, but you get used to it - till you catch the voices arguing with one another.

There was no bluster or showman in One-Eye now. "We'll start from the beginning. Captain?"

The Captain said, "One of our informants caught wind of a meeting of the Rebel captains. One-Eye, Goblin, and Silent followed the movements of known Rebels...."