< Previous Chapter                                                                                                   Next Chapter >

Most of the group departed toward their own various objectives, but Ravana’s school roommates, plus Scorn and Fross, had congregated in the cathedral-sized grand entrance hall of Madouri Manor when the Duchess herself and Trissiny returned from their own after-breakfast task.

“It itches.”

“No, it doesn’t.”

“Ravana, I think I know what my own face feels like!”

“It feels unfamiliar,” Ravana said with amusement. “Trissiny, people of both sexes wear cosmetics on their skin all the time and don’t even notice once it’s applied. As soon as you’re engaged in a task that commands your attention, I promise you’ll forget it’s there.”

“I’m not sure that’s better,” Trissiny muttered, raising one hand halfway to her face and then lowering it. “I’m gonna absently rub my eyes and end up looking like some kind of clown…”

“Your first foray into makeup is of the highest quality, I assure you. It will withstand a modest amount of rubbing or even crying with no ill effect. Which reminds me, rejoin me after the press conference; I’ll need to provide you the requisite removal cream. I presume you wish to have the stuff off at the earliest opportunity.”

“Very much so, please and thank you.”

“I think you look nice, Trissiny!” Fross chimed as the pair strolled up to the rest of the group. “Actually… You look normal. From a distance your face just looks like it always does.”

“Well, of course,” Ravana said reasonably. “That was the objective. Using cosmetics to enhance her attractiveness would probably just cost Trissiny credibility with her core supporters.”

“What a narrow line we tread,” Trissiny said with weary resignation.

“So…I know this is a vacation and all, but it feels like a weird time to be just sitting around,” Iris said suddenly. “Ravana’s working, you paladins are out there neck-deep in it… Um, what I mean is… Can I help? Is there anything I can do?”

Trissiny regarded her in mild surprise. She didn’t know Iris very well, nor any of the girls in the year below hers more than casually, with the possible exception of Scorn.

“Is there something in particular you had in mind, Iris?”

“Iris is an excellent witch,” Scorn said, nodding emphatically. “She beat the Sleeper, that little idiot Chase. Unfortunately didn’t kill him, but there’s only so much to be done about a warlock that powerful.”

Rather than appreciation at the compliment, Iris’s expression turned bleak. “That…that wasn’t exactly…”

“At the moment,” Trissiny said carefully, “I think you’re better off asking Ravana about that than me. Much of what we’re doing is…frustratingly political. It’s not my own strong suit; if you have a knack for social maneuvering, you might be more useful than I am. If you’re talking about combat, though… Frankly I can’t imagine it won’t come to that, in the end. But there’s a great deal of more careful buildup that needs to be done first.”

“Indeed,” Ravana said, studying Iris closely. “We must position ourselves as well as possible for the inevitable confrontation before it arrives. Iris… It pains me to send any of my friends into danger, but the truth is that for such stakes and against such a foe, I suspect every spark of strength any of us can summon will be needed before the end.”

“It is the waiting,” Szith said softly. “I feel it too—as does Princess Zaruda, I have noticed, though she bears it with admirable discipline. None of us long for conflict, but it is painful to watch others risk themselves while we can do nothing.”

“Yeah…that,” Iris agreed. “It’s that, exactly. Thanks, Szith, you put it much better than I could.”

“I cannot imagine an outcome in which my humble blade will be a deciding factor,” Szith added, “but regardless, I pledge it to the cause. For such stakes… I have my commitments to my House and to Tar’naris, but I will be relieved to be able to contribute in any way which does not violate those.”

Ravana shifted her head subtly, looking silently at Trissiny.

“I understand how you feel,” Trissiny said, looking at each of them in turn, and also Maureen, who was chewing her lip and staying mute for now. “Every soldier does. Ravana is also right, ladies. We will probably all have to fight, but it’s crucial not to take the first swing when it is not yet time. We have to trust our strategists to find us the right moment. It’s never easy, but faith and patience are crucial aspects of war.”

“General Avelea.” Yancey arrived, in the way he always did: suddenly, smoothly, and with unparalleled discretion. This time it verged on the uncanny, as they were standing in the middle of an absolutely enormous open space with no cover save support pillars, the nearest of which was several yards away. “Your guests have just arrived.”

“Ah, perfect! Thank you, Yancey.”

Three more figures were approaching the group, apparently in the Butler’s wake but not having moved as swiftly as he; sometimes it seemed almost as if he teleported. Ordinarily Yancey would have shepherded guests himself, but this approach gave him the opportunity to step back and let Trissiny make the introductions.

“Thanks again for agreeing to this, Ravana. Ah, everyone else, this was Principia’s idea, not mine, for the record.”

“But a most sensible idea it was,” the Duchess said, nodding. “Since Trissiny is staying here—my hospitality aside, Madouri Manor is an excellent strategic compromise, in terms of being accessibly close to Tiraas and the Archpope’s shenanigans while being at a reasonable distance and powerfully defensible—Captain Locke is thus donating some command staff to serve as her entourage here for the duration. They’ll provide direct support to the Hand of Avei, as distinct from the network of allies assembling here, and serve as a link to the First Legion’s headquarters.”

“Which I believe is my job specifically,” said the tallest of the new arrivals as the group stepped up to them, tucking his crystal-headed staff into one elbow and politely doffing his hat.

“Yes, this is Elias McGraw,” Trissiny said, “a teleportation mage by specialty, but rather notably adept in personal combat as well. I know we have Veilwin on site, but…she’s primarily attached to Ravana, who has no shortage of her own responsibilities and a need to move rapidly around the province.”

“Also,” Iris said dryly, “she’s a little bit…Veilwin.”

“A pleasure, ladies,” McGraw said courteously. “Or several, as it were. Ah…by any chance, that wouldn’t be Veilwin Lightrider? Wood elf, likes to wear blue, usually drunk?”

“Hm,” Ravana mused. “I did not realize she had a surname.”

The old mage winced. “That bein’ the case, your Grace, I humbly beg you to deny havin’ heard it from yours truly.”

“Consider it done,” she replied with a smile. “It’s the smallest of courtesies I might afford the famous Longshot himself.”

“Lieutenant Avelea is the XO of the First Legion,” Trissiny continued, gesturing to the red-haired woman in Silver Legion armor, who saluted. “She has command of this detachment, subordinate only to myself. She’s also the First’s resident expert on Shaathists and Shaathism, which Locke thought might prove relevant to…another of Ravana’s projects. I told her,” she added to Ravana with an annoyed frown, “that you didn’t require and wouldn’t welcome oversight of your provincial business.”

“While that is true,” Ravana replied, “Locke’s instincts are again meritorious; advice is not the same as meddling, if it is solicited. Indeed, I have been more than satisfied with the work of Brother Ingvar and his followers, but they do bring with them certain…baggage. I might very well need to pick the brain of an outside perspective.”

“Please consider me at your disposal, your Grace, whenever I am not directly acting under General Avelea’s orders,” the Lieutenant said, saluting again. Then, faintly, she grimaced. “Also…please feel free to call me Ephanie.”

“Is that…standard practice for the Silver Legions?” Szith inquired, raising one eyebrow.

Ephanie’s grimace deepened for a split second before she smoothed it away. “It is not. Captain Locke has drafted certain…specific codes of conduct for our Legion, given our nature and composition. Cohesion among adventurer groups is apparently a different thing than among a conventional military unit.”

Trissiny sighed. “Principia…”

“She nearly always turns out to know what she’s doing, General,” Ephanie offered. “No matter how…uncomfortable it may be in the short term.”

“I understand,” Szith said with a deep nod. “The whims of one’s superiors, yes?”

The two soldiers shared a commiserating look while Trissiny cleared her throat and gestured to the final member of the trio. “And this—”

“You’re Tinker Billie!” Maureen burst out, unable to contain herself any longer. She had been all but quivering the entire time the others had been speaking. “You’re my hero! I mean… Augh, Arachne’s boots, I didn’t mean…would you—” She broke off, apparently too choked up to remember what she’d been in the middle of asking.

“Well, how ‘bout that!” Billie said cheerfully, the tufted tips of her ears twitching. “I don’t ‘ave many fans from among the Folk, most reckon I’m an embarrassment. Some nonsense about ‘ow advanced tech ain’t proper adventurin’ kit. Ruddy balderwash.”

“Exactly!” Maureen squeaked, nodding emphatically. “It’s amazing—I mean, it’s so satisfying, how you can jam together bits an’ bobs an’ make somethin’ new outta the old. Somethin’ that nobody’s seen before! It’s so…it’s…” She gesticulated widely, struggling for words.

Trissiny cleared her throat again, smiling. “Well, as I was saying, Billie Fallowstone here is the First’s…actually, Billie, what title did Locke end up giving you?”

“Oh, ‘ell if I remember,” the gnome said airily. “Am I the quartermaster? No, wait, that’s Spooky’s job. I’m the one what works up the unconventional weapons an’ knicknacks.”

“Maureen is an engineer at Falconer Industries,” Ravana said with a warm smile of her own. “One of their true rising talents, or so Geoffrey tells me.”

“Oh, now,” Maureen protested.

“It’s true!” said Iris. “You designed their new flagship product, didn’t you?”

“Well, that…I mean, Teal did just as—”

“Teal insists that it was your design, with which she helped,” Trissiny said innocently.

“That a fact?” Planting her fists on her hips, Billie eyes Maureen up and down. “I may just ‘ave to take you under me wing, aye? Can’t let a talent like that go ta waste cobblin’ together carriages.”

Maureen froze with her mouth hanging open, seemingly unsure whether to squeal or faint.

“Bringing Billie along was my idea,” Trissiny continued. “The truth is, Ravana, I thought the two of you might find ground for…let’s call it collaboration. You do enjoy overpowered, unconventional weapons; Billie loves building those.”

Iris cleared her throat. “No offense, Trissiny, but introducing the two of them might not have been the best idea…”

“Yeah, I know,” Trissiny agreed, grimacing. “Desperate times and all that. Let’s just say I’m hoping we all live to regret this.”

“Do they often talk like this right to yer face?” Billie asked Ravana.

“Incessantly. In truth, I don’t really mind. I am firmly of the belief that any person with as much power as I have should be regularly criticized and denied. Unchecked power tends to cause criminal insanity; I have seen that all too personally.”

“Oh, aye?” The gnome studied the Duchess with a growing smile. “Well, blow me down. That might make you the least ‘orrible aristocrat I’ve ever met.”

“Perhaps you should wait and observe a bit before committing to that determination,” Ravana replied with a coy smile. “In point of fact, I find myself contemplating more than a general meeting of the minds. My House engineers and enchanters are working on an apparatus at my direction which I need finished posthaste, and they seem to rather resent what they call the inherent impracticality of it. I wonder, if you are amenable, if the insight of a noted expert with a less conservative mindset might prove efficacious.”

Billie’s ears physically perked up. “Do tell?!”

“Yancey,” Ravana said smoothly, “would you kindly show Ms. Fallowstone to the project site under the south terrace once she and her companions have settled into their rooms?”

“Ah, forget settlin’ in,” Billie said, waving a hand impatiently, “a bed’s a bed; ye can’t taunt me with a project an’ then leave me hangin’!”

“Best not to challenge her on this,” Ephanie said with a faint smile. “I’ll get our gear stowed away, don’t worry.” McGraw chuckled, shaking his head.

“Splendid!” said Ravana, beaming. “Maureen, I know you are on holiday, but perhaps you would consent to join her?”

“Oh! Oh, but I’d… I’m afraid I’d just be in the way…”

“To be clear,” the Duchess said, meeting Maureen’s gaze with a more serious expression, “I absolutely will humor you for the sake of friendship, but only up to a point. Considering what is at stake, and our unknown but obviously tight timetable, that I’m asking you to lend your eye to the project is strictly because I deem your input valuable.”

“Don’t sell yerself short, lass,” Billie said, winking at Maureen. “Consider that yer first official lesson from the great Tinker Billie.”

“Ravana,” Trissiny cut in warily, “how much of a runaround will you give me if I ask what exactly you’re cooking up this time?”

“It can hardly be kept a secret when I am sending your subordinates and my friends to have a look at it, Trissiny. Justinian has several terrifying new toys; I have commissioned a little something to counter them. More than that, I think I will leave to Ms. Fallowstone to describe to you when next she reports in. Truthfully I’m certain she can do it better; I lack the expertise even to follow along the efforts of my own people already on site. Who,” she added directly to Billie, “can likewise explain the intended function of the device better than I.”

“Say, would you mind if I went along to have a look at this?” Fross chimed. “I’m an arcanist, not an engineer, but I’m curious. And it’s pretty hard for me to get in the way!”

“Actually, Fross, arcane expertise may be precisely what is called for. Knowing your talents as I do, I would be extremely grateful if you would lend your practiced eye.”

“I’m gettin’ more intrigued with this by the word,” Billie said, grinning and cracking her knuckles.

“Yes, let us not dally,” Ravana said more briskly. “We have each our tasks for the day. Trissiny, Teal and Shaeine should be outside soon, if they are not already, with a carriage to take you to the press conference. I would of course have provided you a House driver, but…”

“But she insisted?” Trissiny guessed, grinning. “Teal takes exception to anyone else driving her friends around, and where she goes, Shaeine goes. Actually that suits me fine; if I have to talk to reporters I’ll be happier with some friendly faces in the crowd.”

“Iris and I would be glad to show you to the suite of rooms we are using, Lieutenant—that is, Ephanie,” Szith said, bowing toward the Legionnaire. “Since Yancey will be occupied showing the magical and mechanical talents among us to their new toys. It is adjacent to the suite General Avelea and her party have occupied.”

“Thank you kindly, miss…”

“Ah, please forgive me. I am Szith nar Szarain dal An’sadarr.”

“Iris Domingue, pleased to meet you!”

“The pleasure is mine,” Ephanie said dutifully, nodding to each of them; her eyes lingered on the saber hanging from Szith’s belt for a second. “An’sadarr? Perhaps you’d be willing to indulge me in a bit of sparring, when we have downtime? I’ve never had the opportunity to study Narisian fencing in person.”

“I would be delighted,” Szith replied with one of her rare little smiles.

“Yancey, before you go,” Ravana said, “where is Veilwin? I instructed her to meet me here.”

“Yes, my Lady,” the Butler said, managing to convey disapproval of the Court Mage’s intransigence without making an unseemly display himself. “I am uncertain what Veilwin intended that was taking her away from the Manor on a morning when she knew her services would be called for, but Princess Zaruda very adroitly engaged her in a drinking contest in the blue rose solarium. I believe they are still there.”

Trissiny whistled softly. “A drinking contest? With Ruda? That elf is in for a humbling.”

Ravana closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose. “Thank you, Yancey. Hopefully Veilwin is carrying vials of sobriety potion as usual.”

“She customarily does, my Lady. I have also taken the liberty of keeping at least one on my person, and discreet but accessible stocks of them in all the rooms she habitually frequents.”

“Yancey, you are a treasure. Concerning my afternoon appointment at the Grand Cathedral—I trust preparations are underway as I instructed?”

“Barnes reports he will be finished within the hour, my Lady. He had the expected reservations about the idea, but claimed it was not fundamentally difficult. All should be in readiness well in advance of our departure time.”

“Barnes is your witch,” Iris accused, staring at Ravana through narrow eyes. “What exactly are you conjuring up this time?”

“It was not a slight at your skills, Iris, I assure you. I do pay Barnes’s salary, however; there is little point if I don’t put him to work now and then.”

Iris’s eyes narrowed further. “And?”

“And if I told you what I planned, you would not only refuse to help, but try to stop me. Much as I am gratified by your concern, I simply do not have time.”

“And there it is!” Iris exclaimed, throwing up her hands.

“There it is,” Ravana agreed. “And now I had best corral my mage before she contrives to make today’s work even more difficult than necessary. Everyone, I wish you the best of luck on your respective tasks.”

“This way, if you please,” Yancey said with a diffident bow to Billie, who sauntered off after him with Maureen in tow and Fross fluttering along overhead. Szith, flanked by Iris and Ephanie, headed away on a different course, the three of them conversing softly. Trissiny and Ravana strode off alone in opposite directions, the paladin toward the great hall’s front doors, the Duchess toward a side hallway.

Which left two figures standing alone together in the cavernous space.

“I’m Scorn,” she said with a grin, extending a huge clawed hand.

“Elias.” McGraw stepped forward and reached out to clasp her hand. “Now, I might be mistaken—it wouldn’t be the first time—but would you happen to be a Rhaazke, miss?”

“Hah, good job! Not many people on this plane recognize that.”

“Well, they don’t let you be a wizard unless you’ve read a whole heap o’ books. Gotta say, ma’am, this is a privilege I never expected to have.”

“I have read about you, too, Longshot McGraw. I wonder how many of the stories are exaggerated?”

“My educated guess is all of ‘em,” he replied, grinning. “Least I hope so; I did my best to ensure it. Well, what a very impressive pair we are.”

“Indeed, yes, the most impressive forgotten leftovers in the whole place.”

“Well, the nice thing about bein’ left at loose ends is you get to pick your own assignment, so to speak.”

“Yes! The paladin does not need help and you had probably better let your soldier friend give out bed assignments after she has finished having girl time.”

“The LT ain’t the flighty sort,” he said gravely, “but y’don’t get to be my age without recognizin’ an interaction that oughtn’t be intruded on, it’s true.”

“So we have two options! Would you like to follow Ravana on her administrative business across the province, or watch two mad gnomes and a pixie mess with a half-built super-weapon that only probably won’t blow us all up?”

He made a show of stroking his beard. “Thaaaat’s a thinker, all right.”

“One comes with a side of watching Veilwin get yelled at for being an obnoxious pantload,” Scorn smirked.

“…you reckon there’s any way to do that without her knowin’ an’ rememberin’ that I saw it?”

“That is tricky, with those ears.”

“True, true. Welp! How’s about we go get blown up? It may not be quicker an’ definitely won’t be cleaner, but it’ll sure as hell be less annoyin’.”

“You.” Scorn grinned. “I like you.”

McGraw tipped his hat. “Feels a mite presumptuous to declare likewise of a young lady I just met, so let me just say that beats the hell outta the alternative.”

“Yes, it does. Come, let us go supervise! When they get drunk on tinkering fever, and they will, you grab your gnome and I’ll grab mine.”

“It’s a plan.”

< Previous Chapter                                                                                                   Next Chapter >