Part One

Tash was just about to cross the street when a woman appeared out of thin air beside her. “Well hello dear. I’m sorry to have held you up, but I’m here now so let’s get on with it shall we?” she said in a bright breezy voice.

Noticing Tash’s stunned expression she asked if there was anything wrong. Tash’s mouth open and shut several times, but she finally managed to say “huh?”

The woman took note of Tash’s slightly glazed expression and said “You don’t look well dear.”

Narrator: I don’t suppose this is making any sense? Let me explain.

Tash is standing on a street corner in one of the poorer parts of town.  A dangerous place frequented by pickpockets, cutthroats, thieves, assassins and the general riff-raff of society. It is the kind of place you only go to if you are so drunk you can’t walk straight and every time you try to turn right, you fall over or run into something. People don’t walk down streets like these. They slide along the walls. The only people walking down these streets are victims, amateurs or professionals. Tash was a freelancer. In most cities they don’t allow freelancers. Here the Thieves Guild were a bit more relaxed. As long as you stayed away from their stuff, or anything they were going after you were fine. This however didn’t leave a lot left over, but that was supposed to be the freelancers problem. If she wanted to be a thief, then be a thief. It was a free country. There had been some close calls in the past, but Tash had come through okay. She maintained that her Guardian Angel bribes people.

Suffice to say, Tash belonged.
The lady on the other hand quite obviously did not belong.

It was not so much the cleanliness of the ladies person or the fact that she was wearing a white lacy nightgown in one of the meanest parts of the city. It was not even the fact that she was quite obviously a lady.

It was simply that the lady in question was surrounded by a flickering white light and was partially transparent.

Many strange, unusual and generally weird things can be seen in the poor quarters. Tash had seen many of them herself. This was strange enough to render her speechless for many a long moment.

“Who are you and what are you talking about?” said Tash.

“Oh I’m terribly sorry. I didn’t introduce myself, did I? My name is Freda Archon and I’m here to take you to the Hall of Judgement. Of course, one of your ancestors is supposed to escort you there, but I’m afraid there has been a slight mix up in administration and no one is quite sure who your ancestors are at the moment. I expect it will all be sorted out shortly, but in the meantime I volunteered to collect you. It’s been so boring in limbo lately. Still, enough of that. We’d better get going. They do so hate to be kept waiting.”

Freda took Tash’s arm and started to concentrate.

“Wait” yelled Tash, somewhat to the consternation of a man dressed in purple passing by who could not see Freda, “ I’m not dead. You can’t take me anywhere”.

Freda looked at Tash closely.

“Good heavens,” she exclaimed, “so you’re not.”

She frowned thoughtfully.

“Your name is Natashia MacPhee, isn’t it?”

“Well, yes – but everybody calls me Tash.”

“And you are a thief, aren’t you?”

“Possibly some people might consider me to be such.”

Well,” said Freda, “You’re the right person.”

Freda starred off into space, deep in thought.

“Of course … I suppose I could be early?” she said eventually.

Just as Freda said this the man in purple, who had been crossing the street was trampled by a runaway horse.
“Oh dear. That was supposed to be you.”, and promptly disappeared.

Tash stood on the street corner. A stunned expression on her face. Then she shook herself. Shrugged and crossed the street, after looking carefully both ways, silently thanking whichever being in administration had sent the twit along to collect her.