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“What the hell?” Weaver demanded.

Sound carried a long way over the Badlands; they had known something peculiar was afoot in Desolation long before reaching it. Once the weathered stone buildings of the town hove into view, the distant cacophony was compounded by the sight of people moving about in the streets, in greater numbers and with much greater energy than they had seen them do before. Though hints had begun to form as soon as they drew near enough to pick some meaning out of the noise, it wasn’t until nearly reaching the outskirts of the town itself that the three could be certain what was going on in Desolation.

It appeared to be a party.

Approaching the town from the same direction in which they had left, the group entered through the old streets leading past mostly abandoned buildings rather than the main avenue. As such, the citizens were a peripheral presence until they were well into the town itself, heard but glimpsed only in passing. From what little they could hear, everyone seemed to be in a good mood.

Now, finally emerging into the central avenue, the group had to stop and stare. The street was all but filled, and all the festival atmosphere lacked were decorations. Whatever was happening had apparently not been planned, but resulted in most of the town’s population milling about, laughing, talking, shouting and drinking. Two groups of musicians could be heard, both playing exuberantly in the same frontier style, but between their unpolished performances and the multiple tunes running it was impossible to tell what banjo was supposed to be harmonizing what fiddle. As McGraw, Billie and Weaver arrived, gaping, a great cheer went up near Terminus Station, where most of the crowd seemed to be centered, followed by a loud toast to the Emperor’s health and more cheering.

Mere moments later, they were spotted. A general hue and cry went up, people rushing forward toward the three. Unlike their previous encounter with Desolation’s agitated populace, though, everyone was smiling. In moments they were being cheerfully slapped on the back and possibly congratulated or thanked. Between the general noise and the fact that a good half the crowd had clearly been well into their whiskey, it was hard to tell.

Several townsfolk stumbled back as a great puff of wind burst out from beneath Billie, where she had dropped a small object. The gnome lifted upward on a levitation charm, grabbing McGraw’s sleeve and clambering up to seat herself precariously on his shoulder.

“Well, damn!” she shouted, grinning madly. “I should blow up towns more often!”

“Why is it,” Weaver demanded, “that once everyone’s smiling you’re willing to take—”

“All right, all right, everybody give ’em some air! Land’s sakes, you’re gonna drown ’em. C’mon, clear a path.”

Somewhat reluctantly, the still-shouting citizens shifted, creating an opening through which Joe approached, smiling and gently shooing people away.

“Kid, what the hell did you do?” Weaver demanded.

“Exactly what I said I was gonna do,” Joe replied, tucking his thumbs into his belt and grinning. “How was your trip? Any luck?”

“Good bit of luck, in fact,” said McGraw, having to raise his voice over the din. “Maybe we oughtta discuss it in a quieter environment. Care to bring us up to speed, here?”

“Better yet, I’ll show you.” Joe turned to head back toward the Rail station, grinning and beckoning. “C’mon, I think you’ll like this!”

They continued to be shouted at, backslapped and offered drinks all the way to the station. It wasn’t far, fortunately, and while some of the most earnest carousing seemed to be taking place in its immediate vicinity, the station itself was an island of order, watched over by Imperial soldiers. Easily a dozen of them, enforcing a perimeter between the station’s occupants and the crowd outside.

A caravan was resting on the tracks, its hatches open; more troops were unloading crates, while others carefully unpacked them and laid out an orderly selection of arcane equipment. Sheriff Decker stood off to the side with two portly older men; he gave the approaching group a long, unreadable look upon their arrival.

“The rest of the Imperial Surveyors are already spread out through the town,” Joe noted as he escorted the others toward Decker’s group. “The uniformed folks currently unpacking are with the Army Corps of Enchanters. Looks like there’ll be plenty of work for everyone pretty soon.”

“What work?” Billie demanded, still from her perch on McGraw’s shoulder. She was a little too wide in the bottom to make it a comfortable position, but held her balance well enough. The old wizard made no complaint, but moved rather more slowly and carefully than was his usual custom.

“You remember Sheriff Decker, of course,” Joe went on as they joined the three men. “Allow me to introduce Mayor Tweed, who’s in charge in this town, and my old friend Heywood Paxton, Imperial Surveyor.”

“Mornin’, Elias,” the slightly younger of the two overweight men said cheerfully. “Bout time you brought me somethin’ other than trouble! And these’ll be Gravestone and the Tinker. Lemme see if I can figure out which is which!”

“This is a real honor, all of you,” added Paxton, grinning. “A real honor! Upon my word, the older I get, the more fascinating people I get to meet! Perhaps I should blame Joe, eh? Seems every time I encounter a paladin or dryad or famous wandfighter, he’s lurking around somewhere!”

“Well, I’ll take the blame for this one,” Joe said easily, “since I did bring you out here, an’ all. Last time, though, you came to my town.”

“Indeed, indeed! And I do hope you won’t take this the wrong way, Joe, but so far I’m enjoying this one a lot more.”

“At the expense of repeating myself,” Weaver said flatly, “what the hell is happening here?!”

Paxton turned to look at Joe in surprise. “You didn’t tell them?”

“I told ’em what I was planning,” the Kid said with a shrug. “Maybe they didn’t believe me.”

“Uh, point of order,” said Billie, finally hopping down. Despite the drop being easily twice her height, she didn’t so much as grunt upon landing. “You told us you were gonna go try to get the Empire to come out and help here. Since you were talkin’ about moving a massive bureaucracy off its bum in the space o’ one day, we all ‘ad a laugh an’ ignored you. Because that’s stupid, Joe. Grumpypants has a valid question.”

“Well, Mr. Jenkins gets a good share of credit, here,” said Paxton, chuckling, “but not all of it. We didn’t just spin all of this out of thin air; the plans have been percolating for a good few years now. Joe got myself and Bishop Darling on board, though, and we were able to light a fire under the relevant Imperial departments, and…here we are!”

“Where?” Weaver exclaimed. “Where are we?”

“It’s the most miraculous thing!” Mayor Tweed enthused. Beside him, Decker folded his brawny arms, looking far more skeptical. “No less than three major Imperial projects being constructed in and around Desolation! Look here, we’ve got it all laid out.” He turned and gesticulated at the wall of the ticket office, which was plastered with maps, blueprints and documents. They made little sense at first glance, having been slapped into place rather haphazardly, but Tweed carried on explaining. “First, the Rail line’s being extended—they’re finally putting in lines to Puna Dara and Rodvenheim! About time, I’d say. And that will make Desolation a hub, not just the end o’ the line. An international hub, even! Plus!” He leaned over to slap a hasty diagram of what seemed to be some kind of tower. “Zeppelin docks!”

“Zeppelin docks?” McGraw frowned. “Here? Why?”

“A step forward in another long-envisioned project,” Paxton explained. “You see, my friends, the common theme of these projects is diversification. In terms of transport, the Empire is heavily depended on its Rail network to get anything around. The Rail freeze this spring was an object lesson in how risky that can be. Zeppelin transport is many times slower, of course—but it’s a lot safer.”

“Really says something about the Imperial Rail service that a conveyance which can fall thousands of feet is safer,” Weaver commented.

“And that ties right into the other big deal going here,” Paxton continued. “The biggest deal, in fact! You see, a major transport freeze has the potential to cause more than just economic harm. A disproportionate amount of food comes from the Tira Valley and Great Plains—that’s the lion’s share of the really good farmland on this continent. In the old days, of course, kingdoms grew only as much as they could manage to feed themselves, but now, there are entire provinces that have to import food just to break even. The Stalrange, the Wyrnrange, the Tidestrider Isles… Tiraas itself doesn’t grow so much as an apple. There are places that just couldn’t survive if not for Imperial produce. A famine could be caused not only by a transportation crisis, but any localized disaster affecting our crop-producing regions.”

“What, aren’t there storehouses?” Weaver demanded.

“You’re gonna farm in the Badlands?” Billie said skeptically.

“In the mines!” Mayor Tweed said, beaming.

They all stared at him.

“I’ve a few thoughts on that,” Weaver said finally, “but I’ve been asked not to express such things to people who hold Imperial office.”

“It’s about Tar’naris,” Paxton said. “We learned a lot from the terraforming project there. Underground farming isn’t innately easy, but with the right enchantments, equipment and upkeep, subterranean farms turn out to be a lot less vulnerable to certain problems than conventional ones. Weather, for example, is a non-issue. The Surveyor Corps has been kicking around the idea of doing something similar on a smaller scale for the Empire’s benefit for years. Desolation has numerous underground spaces that are already cut in usable shapes, even better than natural caves. Better yet, it’s got a huge underground aquifer—there’s a natural lake far below the bedrock. This will be our test case!”

“Construction!” Tweed enthused. “Lots and lots of construction! Commerce routed through the town from all over the Empire! And ultimately, we’ll become a food-exporting province! My friends, by bringing us to the Empire’s attention, I can say without exaggeration or embellishment that you have saved this dying town from the brink!”

“Huh,” Weaver mused, studying the wall of charts and plans.

“Step one is scouting the land, of course,” said Paxton. “My own colleagues are at work in the area, and the Aces are gearing up to follow suit, as you can see around you.”

“Aces?” Billie inquired.

“Army Corps of Enchanters,” Joe explained. “It’s an acronym. Anyway, gentlemen, my apologies for interrupting your planning. If I could borrow my friends for just a moment? We need to have a word in private.”

“Of course, of course!” said Mayor Tweed. “And you’ll have to be our guests afterward. Heroes like you deserve to be celebrated!”

“Feels odd to be arguing against that,” Weaver muttered as Joe led them a distance away, toward an end of the Rail platform not being used by the Army to offload their surveying equipment. “In honesty, though, all we’ve done here was blow up the saloon.”

“Excuse you, I blew up the saloon,” Billie said haughtily. “I’ll take yer share of celebratin’, if y’don’t want it.”

“Elias, can you arrange us a little privacy?” Joe asked.

McGraw glanced thoughtfully at the nearby soldiers. “Well…”

“Oh, don’t mind us,” said a passing woman wearing a lieutenant’s bars. “There’s no law against sound-dampening effects near Imperial personnel.”

“All righty, then,” the old man said with a grin, and tapped the butt of his staff twice against the ground.

The sphere that sprung up around them was only barely visible, rippling like heat waves off the desert; its primary effect was to cut off sound from outside the bubble.

“Thanks,” said Joe, his expression growing more serious. “I need to pass on word from Darling: this stroke of good fortune comes with a warning. These plans were all things that’ve been brewing for some years already, but havin’ ’em all put into effect now is the result of more intervention than he could muster. It was Lord Quentin Vex who added his weight to the initiative that got all this in motion.”

“Vex?” Weaver frowned. “The head of Imperial Intelligence.”

“We’ve been seein’ signs of his handiwork out here, too,” McGraw commented, extracting a cigarillo from his case. “Much smaller ones, though. This is a whole different animal. What do the Imps want out here?”

“Almost certainly the same thing we do,” said Weaver.

“The reality is,” Joe continued gravely, “some of these projects are…less feasible than others. It’s lucky the underground farming is gonna be the biggest, because that’s the one they’re most serious about. The bit with extending the Rail…”

“Way ahead o’ ye,” said Billie. “Rodvenheim an’ Puna Dara are sovereign states; y’can’t just build infrastructure to their gates. That’s gonna require diplomacy, and I know bugger all about international relations but it seems t’me if either o’ them wanted a Rail line they’d’ve had one long since.”

“The zeppelin thing may be premature, too,” Joe added. “Right now, zeps are strictly military transport. Expanding them to carry civilian passengers and freight is a good idea, I think, but the fact is we’re talkin’ about building an installation for an infrastructure network that doesn’t exist.”

“Well, the key to making something exist is to actually build it,” Weaver pointed out. “I don’t see how any of this affects us, anyway. We’ll be long gone before any of these grandiose plans can fall through.”

“That doesn’t mean we’re not responsible,” Joe retorted.

“No, the fact that we’re not responsible means we’re not responsible! Even you, kid, don’t have the power to make the Empire do this—the Empire does what it wants. And we aren’t even involved!”

“I helped!” Billie chimed. “I cleverly created a sense of urgency by blowin’ up th—”

“Will you button it, you sadistic crotch goblin!”

“Now, I might be mistaken,” McGraw commented, puffing on his cigarillo. “It wouldn’t be the first time. But the Tirasian Dynasty has always ruled by carefully managing people’s opinions—both powerful interests and the general public. Sharidan’s pretty damn good at that game. Lord Vex is a crafty old crow himself, an’ not about to undermine the Emperor. However it may look from our limited perspective, Joe, I can’t imagine the Empire would invite the kind of unrest they would be by making grand promises out here and then yankin’ the rug out from under the whole province. In the age o’ scrolltowers and newspapers, that kind of hanky-panky could have continent-wide repercussions.”

“I guess,” Joe said, frowning.

“I’m not much inclined to trust governments myself,” McGraw said with a grin. “But this one knows its best interests and is reasonably competent. Surprising as it is to see them actually workin’ out here…well, I think the odds are good they intend to see the work done.”

“On a more pertinent note,” said Weaver, “how does all this help us? It’s great for the town and all, but…”

“It’s about positioning,” said Joe. “Previously, it was us and Khadizroth’s group, head-to-head in the Badlands. He had a defensible position, forcing us to go on the attack, and we were both out of favor with the locals, making the population a big fat variable. Now, Desolation is not only crawling with Imperial interests, but the local folks think we’re the bee’s knees. We have a secure fallback position, one we can deny to his group. Thanks to all this, the advantage is ours.”

“It is very early in the game to be counting chickens,” McGraw cautioned. “Still, you’ve got a good point there, Joe. Our position looks a lot better than it did yesterday. Now, concerning the other allies I’ve found for us—”

“Uh, lads?” said Billie, pointing. “I can’t exactly read lips through this shimmery bit, but that crowd looks suddenly less celebratory than it did.”

They all turned to follow her finger. Indeed, the motions of the large knot of people that had formed on the outer edges of the Rail station were far more aggressive than previously. Tellingly, Tweed, Paxton, and Decker all looked alarmed by this, and the soldiers had stopped what they were doing and taken up weapons.

“Oh, this could get bad in a hurry,” Joe said worriedly, striding forward through the wall of the bubble. The others swiftly followed suit.

Outside the dampening bubble, the crowd was indeed angry. There was no more music; there were threats and insults. Joe had to raise his own voice considerably to get a path opened up toward the center of the cluster. “Hey, hey, hey! C’mon, now, I thought this was a party! Let’s all settle down, here. What’s all the fuss about?”

He fell silent as the crowd finally parted, their seething voices subsiding somewhat as he deflected their attention to himself. In the middle of what had been a knot of citizens clearly on the verge of serious aggression stood two dwarves, a man and a woman. They wore simple working clothes and seemed wary, but not particularly alarmed at the prospect of the mob trying to form around them.

“They don’t belong here!” shouted a woman from the back of the throng. A chorus of agreement rose around her.

“Job-stealin’ tunnel rats!”

“Go back under yer own mountain!”

“Whoah, whoah, whoah!” Joe exclaimed, holding up both hands. “People, please! C’mon. Look, I understand what’s been happenin’ here,, but you can’t just go blamin’ every dwarf you see for what the Big K company does.”

“They’re with Big K!” a man in the front shouted accusingly. “Ask ’em!”

“That’s true, in fact,” said the male dwarf. “Excuse me, Mr. Jenkins, isn’t it? My companion and I…”

Anything else he said was lost in a rising tide of imprecations from the surrounding crowd.

They fell quiet again when Joe drew his wand and fired it thrice into the sky. Rather than its usual quiet beams, he let loose several satisfyingly loud bolts of lightning.

“Okay,” Joe said into the relative quiet which ensued. “I take your meaning, folks. But let me pose you a hypothetical, all right? We all know the Five Kingdoms have been hit as hard as this region by the Narisian Treaty. Now, suppose some dwarven outfit came out here hirin’. Suppose they were lookin’ for experienced miners to take on work up in the mountains themselves. Payin’ well, so you could afford to send money back an’ take care of your families. Wouldn’t you folks jump on that?”

People muttered uncertainly; the dwarves simply watched Joe with speculative expressions. On the Rail platform, the soldiers stood ready, not going back to their work, but not moving to intervene yet.

“I think you’d have to be crazy not to,” Joe continued, grinning disarmingly. “But there you’d be, in dwarven country, takin’ jobs from the folk who live there an’ probably not makin’ any of them happy. But…well, you’ve gotta do what you’ve gotta, right? We all need to eat, an’ provide for our people. C’mon, we’ve had a big stroke of good luck in Desolation, today. Let’s not take out our frustrations on honest folk just tryin’ to make a living.”

“That Mr. K’s an asshole,” someone grumbled very loudly. “Pushin’ us around…” This brought another chorus of surly assent, but the general mood of the crowd had become much calmer.

“Well, now, let’s see a show of hands,” said Joe with a broad smile. “How many of you have never worked for an idiot or a jerk? Not once?”

Chuckles ran around the crowd now; only a few hands appeared in the air.

“Luke, you put your hand up this second!”

“Hey now, Pa, you run a good outfit, but remember that time you was sick an’ Uncle George had ta run the store fer a week?”

That brought outright laughter. People began to drift away, some looking abashed. In the next moments, a fiddle struck up a tune, joined quickly by a banjo and tambourine.

“Well, well, well,” Billie drawled quietly, jabbing her elbow into Joe’s thigh. “Talented, cute, earnest, and he knows how to work a crowd. You’re dangerous, boy.”

He coughed awkwardly, beckoning to the two dwarves, who stepped up onto the platform, McGraw and Weaver moving back to make room. The nearby soldiers stared very pointedly at the few remaining townsfolk who continued to watch the visitors with hostile expressions, but nothing further came of it.

“That was rather impressive,” said the woman, smiling up at Joe. “In fact, you remind me of Mr. K, somewhat.”

“I…have no idea how to take that,” he said frankly.

McGraw cleared his throat pointedly. “There somethin’ we can help you folks with?”

“Yes, in fact,” said the male dwarf, removing his hat and bowing politely to them. “I suppose there’s little need to ask who you are; the descriptions are quite distinctive. Mr. K would like to talk with you all, in a quiet and civil manner, at your earliest convenience.”

 

“I’m sorry I never manage to take you anywhere nice,” Teal said.

Shaeine turned her head, raising her chin so that Teal could see her smile even from the depths of her hood. “Everywhere is nice, so long as you are with me.”

The bard couldn’t repress a grin at that. “Hee… You are smooth, you know that?”

“Yes, I do.” Shaeine momentarily pressed the back of her hand against Teal’s. Much as she wanted to take Shaeine’s hand—or, to be honest, to take her in her arms—Teal respected her reserve as always. Spending time over the summer with Shaeine’s family had been very instructive. In any case, even if she had been tempted to doubt the drow’s affection, such nascent doubts were always swiftly washed away as soon as they found themselves in private.

“It bothers me, though,” she said more soberly as they continued to stroll. It was a quiet street, out of the way, but not deserted by any means. One wall of the entire block was formed by the exterior of the warehouse complex, beneath which was Malivette’s basement with its secret tunnel to Dufresne Manor. The rest was all shops, though—quiet, genteel shops, frequented by people who, one and all, had a suspicious stare for a figure in cowled robes walking alongside a short-haired girl in a man’s suit. “Having to hide you. You should be treated with more respect.”

“It would be one thing if I had to hide,” Shaeine pointed out. “There are no such laws, and frankly I doubt showing my face would lead to violence, or danger. We are simply acting to ward off misunderstandings. The initiative, the choice, are still ours.”

“Mm,” Teal mused. “You know what I mean, though.”

“Yes.” Again, that deft little hand pressed against her own. “I am proud to be seen with you, too. I get the better end of this deal; at least everyone can see how lucky I am.”

Teal couldn’t help grinning again. “Almost too smooth. How do you expect me to learn Narisian reserve if you won’t stop making me smile?”

“I am selfish. I’ll risk any hardship to enjoy your smile.”

After that comment, she couldn’t make herself withhold it.

They reached the end of the warehouse and turned around, heading back. Waiting for Trissiny to get back from the Imperial Army barracks, hopefully with the other two paladins in tow, was tedious business in the basement; Teal and Shaeine had volunteered to take the watch more for the chance at some fresh air than because they feared any kind of attack. Indeed, the street was peacefully quiet. It was a pleasant place, in truth, enough so that they could almost ignore the way people glared at them.

“Morning, dears,” said a flower seller as they neared; she had been turned around, rummaging in the back of her stall, on their previous passing. Now, the woman smiled, leaning forward and holding out a small bunch of violets. “I’ve just the thing to brighten your day!”

“Well, why not?” Teal said, coming to a stop and accepting the violets. “Oh, look how fresh these are! How much?”

“Nonsense, my lady,” the woman said warmly. “On the house, for you.”

“Oh!” Teal blinked in surprise. “Well, that’s very… I mean, I don’t want to put you out.”

“It is no hardship,” said the flower seller. “Merely a pittance. I think the three of you are more than due a spot of kindness.”

Muted sounds of activity continued up and down the street, but an island of total stillness fell around the flower stall.

“Excuse me,” Shaeine said evenly, “the three of us?”

“Some more hidden than others,” the woman said, still wearing that placid smile. She stepped to the side, moving with a pronounced limp, and began hanging bunches of wildflowers from the posts holding up her awning. “I know what it’s like, having to conceal who you are. Not, of course, in the way Lady Vadrieny must, but I’ve worn a cloak or two in my time. Rather stifling, aren’t they, Lady Shaeine? My apologies, I don’t actually know the right formal address in your culture.”

“I think you had better explain yourself,” Teal said quietly.

“Of course! My name’s Vanessa. Oof, sorry… You don’t mind if I sit down, I trust?” She pulled a wooden stool from the corner of her stall over to the front and perched on it with a soft sigh of relief. “Ahh… Getting better all the time. I’m afraid my leg just hasn’t been the same since I was in the Cathedral.”

“Your…” Teal narrowed her eyes. “The Cathedral?”

“The Grand Cathedral,” Vanessa said matter-of-factly, “in Tiraas. A broken femur is not a small thing, I’m afraid.”

“That is a fortuitous place to have it happen,” said Shaeine. “At least there were healers present, yes?”

“Oh, yes indeed,” Vanessa said, twisting her lips in an expression that was very nearly a sneer. “They healed it right up. Then broke it again. Then healed it, then broke it… Had this happened over a long stretch of time, I’m sure I’d have been able to count how many times. It was all back to back to back, though, on and on. Enough of that in one prolonged sitting, and strange things start to happen to your mind. You lose all sense of time, of place, of who you are… Eventually, there’s nothing but the pain. That’s the whole point, of course. As a side effect, the healings get less and less effective. The more repetitions, the more likely you’ll have lingering effects.”

“Y-you…” Teal stuttered. “Why would… Who are you?”

“I’m Vanessa,” she said with a patient smile. She produced a bundle of dark purple wildflowers from a drawer and laid them out on her stall’s counter. “You know very well who I represent, my lady. And I know what you’re here for. Tellwyrn’s little assignments aren’t generally of interest to us, but it’s a worthy thing you are doing. This poor city is in bad shape, and the authorities aren’t having any luck straightening it out.”

“What do you want?” Shaeine demanded.

“To help.” As she spoke, Vanessa deftly braided flowers together with a long strip of black ribbon, gradually forming a wreath. “In whatever way you need. Your group is a potent force, to be sure, but you are at a disadvantage in dealing with diffuse troubles such as Veilgrad’s. Dozens of issues are rising up in every corner of the city—of the province. You need more pairs of hands, the ability to cover more ground than the nine of you can alone. We stand ready to serve.”

“If you intend to threaten us,” Shaeine began.

“Threaten you?” Vanessa’s hands clenched on the forming wreath. She stared fiercely into Teal’s eyes. “The dark lady has countless warlocks, and can always get more. You are irreplaceable. Threaten you? I would spend the last drop of my blood protecting you, if that is what it required.”

“What…” Teal swallowed heavily, unable to tear her gaze away from the woman’s. “What did the Church… What did you tell them?”

“Tell them? Oh, please,” Vanessa smiled again, bitterly. “This is the twelfth century. No professional tortures anybody for information, that’s terribly counterproductive. No…you torture someone to get the attention of whoever cares about whoever you’re hurting. It’s not so bad, in the end. I’m getting help from a shaman; she says I should be mostly able to walk as normal after a couple of years of the right therapy, though I’ll always be able to feel when it’s about to rain. And they got my friends’ attention, all right,” she added darkly. “The Universal Church does not employ torturers at present. They haven’t any left.”

“I cannot believe the Church would do such a thing in the first place,” Teal said sharply. “And I certainly have no reason to trust you.”

“Of course,” Vanessa said agreeably. “Trust is earned; you hardly know me, after all. I am simply making the offer, my lady, because I hate to think of you not knowing the resources that exist at your disposal.” She smiled, warmly, holding Teal’s gaze with her own. “When you need help, call for us. We will come.”

“I don’t need that kind of help.”

“Right now, at this moment? No, you don’t. Far better to continue enjoying your day. I’d recommend against making assumptions about the future, though.” Vanessa shook her head. “Have you discovered anything about Veilgrad’s problems? Our working theory right now is that there is a chaos rift somewhere in the area. That can become a catastrophe the likes of which you can hardly imagine. Never turn down help.”

“I could call for the police,” Teal said. “Have you arrested.”

“For what?” Vanessa chuckled. “Don’t worry, my lady, I am not offended; you’ve had some unfortunate accidents of education. Experience is a good teacher. Just remember what I said, girls. When you need us, call.”

It was a shady street, but it was nonetheless shocking when the shadows swelled up around Vannessa, then receded, leaving nothing behind but the flower stall.

On the counter sat the small wreath of dark flowers, braided with black ribbon.

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9 – 19

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“I appreciate your patience,” said Bishop Shahai, entering the room. “At ease.”

The squad relaxed on command, at least a little bit. They had been holed up in this spartan office for half an hour, waiting for someone to come collect them. It was a space containing nothing but a desk, chairs, wall-mounted fairy lamps and a currently empty bookcase; for decoration there was only a golden eagle sigil painted on the wall, somewhat in need of touching up. The downside of the Bishop’s accessible and friendly choice of office space was that they were relegated to unused back rooms like this one when anything requiring privacy was to be discussed.

“All part of the service, ma’am,” Principia said cheerfully.

Shahai gave her a wry glance as she glided around the desk to seat herself behind it. “Yes, yes, just because your patience was required does not mean I don’t appreciate it. Despite how it probably seemed cooped up in this dusty attic space, I have managed to expedite matters considerably.” She set the folder she had been carrying down on the desk and flipped it open. “I’ve read your reports of this morning’s events, as well as the preliminary results of the interrogations.”

“They’re already interrogating the suspects? Ma’am,” Farah added belatedly, flushing.

“That is the technical term being used, but no, I wouldn’t really call it that,” replied Shahai with a small smile. “All three are being left to think about their possible futures for a few more hours before the real questioning starts, as is standard procedure. The man, though, seems eager to tell anybody in his company everything he knows. Which, unfortunately, is little; his girlfriend is the one who dragged them all into this affair, and she is not yet feeling talkative. His comments do, however, indicate an organized third party behind the attack.

“Also,” she added, glancing at the door, which she had left open, “I’ve requested the presence of another expert for this meeting, so let us refrain from any further discussion along those lines for now. The long and the short of it is this: we seem to have organized anti-dragon activists in the city.”

She let that digest for a moment.

Frowning, Ephanie spoke up. “Excuse me, ma’am, but…how? Even the dragonsworn are barely organized at this point; they’re still lining up at the embassy trying to get in with the Conclave. Who could possibly…”

“That is one of the matters to be discussed with the other party I invited, whose confirmation suggested he would be here…well, soon. Busy men are difficult to pin down more precisely than that. I was fortunate to be able to get a message to him on such short notice.”

“What expert is this?” Principia asked.

Shahai smiled coyly at them. “I have it on good authority that all of you are acquainted with Bishop Darling.”

Merry’s left eyelid began twitching uncontrollably.

“I’m…not sure I understand, ma’am,” said Casey.

“This goes beyond the issue of Saduko a.k.a. Gimmick’s involvement,” said Shahai, steepling her fingers. “The Sisterhood is woefully unprepared to engage in espionage and counter-intelligence, particularly in the city, which is exactly what this business has become. This is one of the duties for which your squad is being groomed, but I think you will have to acknowledge that said grooming is still in a preliminary state. We had one expert in such maneuvering, who is currently banished to the Abbey for…well, you of all people know what she did. It just goes to show the foolishness of having only one expert on hand. Until the five of you are more experienced, positioned and connected, we need help with things like this. Additionally, the High Commander is interested in increasing interfaith cooperation outside the aegis of the Church—both in general and with the Thieves’ Guild in particular. Thus, including Darling addresses two needs, with the added bonus that he is also involved in the Imperial government and can help steer us away from missteps in that direction. The last thing we need on top of everything else is to offend Imperial Intelligence.”

“Do you trust Darling, your Grace?” Casey asked quietly.

“I trust him to behave in a manner consistent with his nature, his interests and his established patterns,” said Shahai, still with a slight smile. “I have taken pains to know what these are. You raise a good point, Elwick; allies are not necessarily friends, and mutual reliance is not necessarily trust. Darling has no motive to play us false in this and many reasons to be cooperative, but don’t let him worm into your affections.”

“He is very good at that,” Principia noted.

“Ah, your Grace, ma’am?” Farah asked timidly, raising her hand. At Shahai’s nod, she continued. “Um, why does the High Commander want to increase cooperation with the Thieves’ Guild? Aren’t we…well, not enemies, but almost the next best thing?”

“The Guild and the Sisterhood have always had a complicated and often adversarial relationship,” the Bishop mused. “As for Commander Rouvad’s specific motives, I’m sure she would tell you if she wished you to know. In general, I feel comfortable in saying that the world is growing increasingly complicated, matters in this city are getting tricky even faster, and it’s generally more useful to have the Guild as a friend than an enemy.”

“If nothing else,” Ephanie said slowly, “if we build up some goodwill they’re one less thing to worry about.”

“You should never not worry about the Guild,” Principia advised. “They aren’t generally aggressive toward other cults, but if they decide someone is corrupt or abusive in a position of power…”

“They didn’t do anything about Basra Syrinx,” Casey muttered. “In fact, I think Darling tried to protect her.”

“Complicated,” Shahai said quietly.

A rather morose silence descended upon the room, during which each of them in turn glanced at the half-open door.

“Well,” said Shahai after a long moment, straightening in her chair, “there is little point in discussing anti-draconic activity or the Guild’s involvement until Darling arrives, as we’ll just have to go over anything covered twice. I don’t expect that to be a long conversation, anyway. In the meantime, is there anything else you would like to know about our assignment? I encourage questions; the more you know, the better prepared you are.”

“Actually…” Casey cleared her throat. “I don’t know how relevant it is to anything, but I’ve been wondering about the colors on the Conclave’s, um, symbol. I thought there were only four dragon colors, but they have black and gray, and you mentioned it to Zanzayed in a way that implied there was some significance there… I guess it’s not very relevant, though,” she added.

“Nonsense,” Shahai said briskly. “It is, indeed, a rather obscure piece of lore, but you’ve touched upon an important subject, Elwick. The five of you are being asked to deal, in one way or another, with dragons. Anything you can add to your knowledge of dragons will be helpful; please don’t hesitate if you have questions. In fact, I may have to look up some additional reading for you…”

“Oh!” Farah perked up, her expression brightening. “I can help with that.”

“Oh. Good.” Merry’s face and tone were completely impassive.

Shahai grinned at her. “Well, for those who find reading a little dry, I can try my hand at storytelling. To begin with, Elwick, you can’t really tell from looking at the Conclave’s device, but that represents silver, not gray. There are, in fact, six known draconic colors, though black and silver dragons are extremely rare, and have not been seen in centuries. Let me see, where to start…”

She let her gaze drift toward the ceiling, slowly drumming the fingers of one hand on the desk in thought.

“Back at the very beginning, I suppose,” the Bishop murmured at last. “I’d thought to keep the matter as immediately relevant as possible, but there are some things that simply can’t be fully understood outside their context. Before the Elder Wars, everything was different. There were no Circles of Interaction, as each god provided their own system of magic to the world, to be used by their own followers. It was a much more chaotic arrangement, and this will become significant to our discussion momentarily. The other thing you need to know about the Elders is that they shepherded the mortal—and immortal—races very much like we do with domestic animals today, and for many of the same reasons.

“We know from surviving information, of which there is sadly little, that the Elders had a hand in the development of humans, dwarves and elves as they exist now. They created the gnomes, goblins and lizardfolk from whole cloth, so to speak. Other various offshoots, such as the demon and faerie species, have their origins in the same period, from the manipulations of various Elder Gods, which explains the state of sentient life today: many diverse races, but clearly arising from common stock, and most still capable of interbreeding. Of all the intelligent races the Elders made to serve them, the rarest and most powerful by far were the dragons.”

“Oh!” Farah’s eyes widened in realization. “Is that why dragons are always male? It would be a way to control their breeding and population!”

“That’s a fairly common theory, yes,” Shahai said with a hint of amusement.

“Let’s let the Bishop tell her story, Szaravid,” Principia said pointedly.

“Oh.” Farah wilted slightly. “Um, sorry, your Grace. Please go on.”

“Dragons,” Shahai continued, “were designed to be vessels of enormous quantities of magic. Their entire beings are expressions of that power, which is why they change colors to express the system of magic they choose to embody. The four colors we have today are dragons at their basic level: in their youth most of them dabble in all systems, focusing on one by the time they reach maturity and coming to express it almost exclusively. Most dragons are able to cast some spells from outside their own specialization, but for the most part that specialization seems integral to their very being and identity. They do sometimes change their colors and focus, but I know no accounts of a dragon attempting to express more than one school of magic equally at the same time. This is the usual state of a dragon, but there is another, rarer one beyond that. As the Elders originally designed them, particularly favored dragons could be imbued by their patron god with a far greater degree of power, becoming…something more.”

She paused, frowning in thought, before continuing. “It’s…hard to say what makes the difference, exactly. Records from that time are few and partial at best. Dragons, of course, do not discuss their business with others, and there are limits to what one can learn merely by observing. What we know is that for a dragon to ascend to this second level of their being requires the specific blessing and empowerment of whatever deity controls the source of of their own magic, and that when this is done, they become creatures of immense power, something very close to the level of gods themselves.

“The silver and black dragons,” she continued, “are those final, higher expressions of the divine and infernal systems of magic, respectively. A gold or red dragon who secures the favor of their deific patron can become a silver or black, and all the power that implies. It should go without saying that the world is very fortunate this is a rarity.”

“But…why?” Casey asked, tilting her head. “Wouldn’t it serve the gods’ interest to have powerful servants like that?”

Shahai shrugged. “Gods, Elwick, are even more inscrutable in their motives than dragons. I can tell you from a simple study of history that the Pantheon has empowered silver dragons only to serve as a counter to a black dragon when Elilial has empowered one—which she has done only three times. The last such case was Ilvassirnil the Silver, who perished in the act of destroying Semathlidon the Black, which he accepted as the consequence and indeed the purpose of his elevation. So the initiative is clearly Elilial’s, and she seems generally disinclined to trust a dragon with that degree of power. She has ample reason, too: even Scyllith apparently swore off the practice. She elevated no black dragons for over two thousand years before her own fall, after Belosiphon the Black dabbled in forbidden powers and turned against her. She was forced to call on an alliance of other dragons to destroy him.”

“You are very well-read about this, ma’am,” Ephanie noted.

“It’s a hobby,” Shahai said modestly, “and one which has been useful in the past. Generally it’s wise not to involve oneself in the affairs of dragons if it can be avoided—but when it can’t, more knowledge is always better than less. Pertaining to that, I will tell you something of more immediate relevance.” She folded her arms atop the desk, staring intently at them. “I strongly advise you not to bring this up in conversation with or near him, but it is an open secret that Ampophrenon the Gold’s fondest ambition is to be elevated as a silver dragon.”

“He…craves power?” Merry asked.

“No more than any dragon, and in fact, probably less,” said Shahai. “Ampophrenon’s convictions are quite sincere; I believe he simply desires to be the greatest servant of the light he can possibly be. Whatever the reason, it is likely a forlorn hope.”

“I guess there’s not much we could do with that knowledge anyway,” Farah mused. “I mean, we, meaning the Sisterhood in general. Even if Avei wanted to elevate him, it takes the whole Pantheon, right? I mean, you didn’t say that, your Grace, but I got that implication.”

“Your inference is correct,” said Shahai, nodding. “Infernal and fae magic still answer to their original creators, but the divine is the gift of the entire Pantheon, forged from the energy left over after the rest of the Elders were destroyed. Without the blessing of the Pantheon, or at least a quorum thereof, there will be no more silver dragons. We should hope that there never are, for that would mean another black dragon. There is nothing the world needs less than one of those.”

“But…that’s only elevated forms of two kinds of dragons,” Casey protested. “What about blue or green ones?”

“Well,” said Shahai with a smile, “presumably, in theory, there could be elevated forms of those, but it has never been seen. Naiya has no apparent interest, which suits her personality perfectly. She likes her strongest servants unquestionably subordinate to her, and anyway has little interest in taking an active role in the world. Thus, there are no elevated green dragons. As for the blues… Many scholars theorize that there must be a deity associated with arcane magic, but if such a being exists, it has never made itself known, and certainly never empowered a draconic champion.”

She broke off, her eyes moving to the doorway, and Squad One shifted to follow her gaze.

“Well, don’t stop now,” said Bishop Darling, leaning against the door frame and smiling disarmingly. “I didn’t know any of that. Fascinating stuff, and quite possibly useful now we’ve got a city full of dragons!”

“Not to worry,” said Shahai, rising and smiling at him. “I had conveniently come to a stopping point, anyway. Please, Antonio, come in. I understand you’re acquainted with Squad One.”

“Of course,” he said, nodding to them. “And congratulations on your promotion, ladies. Sergeant,” he added, bowing gallantly to Principia.

“This is difficult,” she mused. “There’s Legion protocol concerning the address of Bishops, but as a good Eserite I’m practically obligated to sass you in the harshest terms.”

“Perhaps we can skip such formalities,” Shahai said, giving Principia a look that was just a hair shy of warning. “Have a seat, and thank you very much for coming so quickly. I realize this must be an imposition to you.”

“That’s no fault of yours,” he said, his expression sobering as he positioned himself in one of the chairs across from her desk and angled it to include the Legionnaires in the conversation. “It’s an imposition, yes, but we are all together in being imposed upon. Such is life these days. Can you bring me up to speed, Nandi?”

“Gladly.” She folded her hands atop the open folder. “I told you what little I knew of Saduko’s involvement in the attack this morning—she left here upset but unharmed, but I think can be considered the primary victim. At the least, she suffered by far the greatest paint coverage. Beyond that, preliminary disclosures from our three suspects suggest some kind of organized movement reacting to the Conclave of the Winds, specifically against it. We have nothing further, yet. Certainly nothing provable or definitive.”

“Indeed.” Darling slouched slightly in his chair, frowning into the distance in thought. “This is… The word I keep coming back to is ‘weird.’”

“Agreed,” Shahai said with a smile.

“Well!” He straightened up again and panned a look across the soldiers. “To begin with, Principia and company, I’ve raised the issue of Saduko’s involvement with the Boss.”

“I’m sure I can guess how that went,” Prin said dryly.

Darling grinned. “I’m sure you can. She’s not working for the Guild on this matter, which means she’s not violating your neutrality. Saduko is a free agent; she can work for whomever she wants and talk to whomever she wants as long as she doesn’t violate any of the Guild’s codes, which she’s not. If she cons or attacks you, that’s another matter, but talking isn’t something Tricks is interested in doing anything about.”

“She did sneak onto the Third Legion’s grounds,” Ephanie pointed out, scowling.

“So I hear,” Darling said gravely. “It’s a fairly minor offense, but one the Boss could act upon if he felt a need. Tricks’s opinion of this matter is that if there’s one person who does not need her hand held, it’s Principia Locke. So long as Saduko maintains her current level of respect, you’re on your own in that department.”

“Aw, how flattering!” Principia said, beaming. “I didn’t know he thought so well of me.”

“Yes, well, that was the heavily edited version. The original was about sixty percent cussing.”

“For the time being, I think it best suits us to leave Saduko alone,” said Shahai. “Her presence is non-threatening, and is a potentially useful link to the Conclave. That being said, I would like to know as much about her as possible. I dislike all the blind spots in this affair. She is foreign, that much I can tell. What do we know of her?”

“She…froze,” said Principia with a frown. “It struck me as odd. When the carriage came around the corner I immediately adopted a defensive posture in a doorway, which startled her. And she just stood there. Didn’t react until it was close enough to be obviously dangerous, and even then she couldn’t think of anything better than backing against the wall. Which, if that thing had been trying to ram us, would have gotten her killed.”

“So she’s not too bright, then?” Merry suggested.

Principia shook her head. “It’s just…peculiar, for a Guild member. Oh, there are blockheads among Eserites, just as there are in any group of people, but even thieves without much native intelligence are generally trained to have better instincts than that. And she actually struck me as quite perspicacious in conversation.”

“That tracks with what relatively little I know of her,” said Darling. “She is a new arrival on the continent; the news I have comes from her involvement in a mess in Onkawa last year, but this is consistent with everyone’s observations. Saduko’s central weakness is an inability to improvise. She’s a good planner—a specialist in magical security systems, both creating and cracking. She follows orders well and seems to be a good actress when she has a script to read from. But surprises throw her off pretty easily. You’re right, Locke, that’s not an ideal trait in a Guild member; she’d never have passed her apprenticeship like that in Tiraas, but the Guild chapter in Kiyosan is in a different situation, and has different priorities.”

“Can you get records from them?” Farah asked.

He winced. “In…theory. The Boss would have to decide it’s important, which I don’t see happening. That would take weeks at best and…well, without getting into a long digression on Sifanese culture and politics, the Guild over there has concerns that are foreign to Tiraan sensibilities. These are tricky waters to navigate.”

“Still, this is useful information,” Shahai mused. “A security specialist who is known to be poor at improvising—an odd choice for the task of approaching Principia.”

“An odd choice for the task of approaching Zanzayed,” Darling said, looking significantly at her.

“Bishop Shahai brought me up to speed on Webs and his involvement,” Principia said, scowling. “Do we know if this has anything to do with Shook?”

“There’s no way it doesn’t, but we’ve no provable link at this time,” said Darling. “Whatever the connection, it’s remote. I suggest we focus on more immediate concerns for the moment. The impression I get is that Saduko is being used in these schemes because she was the most convenient piece to be moved, not because she was the best for the job.”

“And a pawn being sacrificed may be persuaded to shift her loyalties,” Shahai said with a faint smile. “It is worth bearing in mind as things progress. For now, the progression of things must be our immediate concern, I think.”

“I agree,” said Darling, nodding. “I have one overriding impression about all of this: it’s happening so fast.”

“Yeah,” said Principia with a bitter twist of her mouth. “The dragons come to town, and within two days there’s an organized counter-dragon group which is far enough along in its development to be attacking its perceived enemies? The whole thing reeks.”

“What are you suggesting?” Farah asked somewhat tremulously.

“At this time, merely that this is all adding up far quicker than it naturally should,” said Shahai. “In addition to the improbable speed with which this anti-dragon group has apparently developed, there is the matter of its choice of target. Splashing paint is a time-honored expression of disapproval and usually fairly harmless, but under the law it is considered assault. And assault, even if only of a technical variety, is a very peculiar manner in which to approach the Silver Legions.”

“I agree,” Darling said emphatically, nodding. “Even if somebody felt aggrieved enough to be molesting soldiers, the Silver Legions are respected in a way that even the Imperial Army isn’t. This kind of aggression is almost as jarring as the pace of these developments. We’ve got a political movement taking shape far too quickly to be natural, and its agents acting in an irrationally hostile way. People do dumb things in the name of causes all the time, but this combination of factors says to me that someone with deep pockets is deliberately arranging this.”

Casey cleared her throat. “Or, it was three kooks with a carriage and too much free time who only got caught because Principia can throw a lance better than any Legionnaire I’ve ever seen. And it’s not hard to imagine that guy is just spinning stories to try to keep himself and his girlfriend out of trouble.”

“That brings us back to the strikingly odd fact that they attacked a Silver Legionnaire on active duty,” Shahai mused, “but you are correct, Elwick; we don’t yet know enough to draw firm conclusions, and one of the possibilities still extant is that this is all just…nothing. Coincidence, random events. I would consider that possibility remote, however, and growing more so all the time. Another piece of the puzzle is Zanzayed’s oddly persistent interest in Principia, which we tested yesterday. Saduko isn’t the only person he keeps sending after her.”

“So,” Darling mused, “Zanzayed is moving very quickly and very fixedly on his goal of Principia. Someone opposed to dragons is doing the same. If you take those things in the context of one another…”

“That bastard is making me a target!” Principia burst out. “Veth’na alaue, all this drilling and saluting is turning my brain to porridge! How did I not see that earlier?!”

“It’s a pretty standard trick, if one has hidden enemies,” said Casey. “Put up a strawman for them to beat on.”

“With that,” Shahai said, smiling grimly, “these events begin to make a certain kind of sense. I caution everyone against premature conclusions, but this, at least, presents a general shape of things which merits further pursuit, I think.”

Principia drew in a deep breath and let it out in a growl. “And, of course, the only logical method of pursuing this line of inquiry is to go talk to bloody Zanzayed!”

“I agree,” Shahai said mildly. “Needless to say, Locke, I will need to be present for that conversation.”

“I would prefer to bring the whole squad, ma’am,” Principia said stiffly.

“Good,” the Bishop nodded. “I believe we can construct a very suitable little drama out of these roles. The Legionnaires forming chorus and backdrop, your very justifiable ire at the position he has placed you in, and myself as the voice of calm.”

“Good guard, bad guard, but with extras,” said Darling. “Zanzayed may be a noted fool and reprobate among dragons, but he is still a dragon. In fact, he’s one of the more social ones. I think you’ll have to consider the prospect of him seeing through this.”

“Yes, of course,” said Bishop Shahai with a coy little smile. “But Antonio, this is not the sort of game in which we are attempting to deceive one another. Right now, everyone is playing everyone else, and everyone knows it. At question is how well we play. I think that impressing Zanzayed the Blue with the level of our game will be an excellent starting point.”

 

Some minutes later, Principia waited until Squad One were safely ensconced in their cabin with the door shut before speaking.

“Well, I hate to say it, ladies, but our own schedule just got bumped forward a good bit. That extra project is no longer a long-term plan. Be ready to get working on it immediately.”

“You think that’s necessary, Sarge?” Ephanie asked, staring intently at her. “I thought we had time, yet.”

“I don’t know whether it’s necessary,” Principia admitted. “But it’s looking increasingly like it might be. You heard the Bishops: the overall theme of this assorted bullshit is that it’s all coming together too fast. Whatever’s coming at us, I want to be ready to meet it head-on.”

“Aren’t you always telling us that the roundabout way is usually better than the straightforward one?” Merry asked dryly, folding her arms.

“I am, and it is,” Principia said, nodding. “But that’s just it, Lang. When things are rushing at your face, would you rather trust your ability to dodge, or…” She reached over and tapped Merry sharply between the eyebrows. “Wear a helmet?”

“Get out of my face,” Merry said sullenly, leaning away from her.

“Is it… I mean, you said you were gonna have a lot of work to do to get this together,” Farah said worriedly. “Can you?”

“My contacts have put together the raw materials for me,” Principia replied. “I’ve been working as I had time. I’ll have to pull an all-nighter to finish it up, but I can have the stuff ready by tomorrow. Then it’s just a matter of practice.”

“Drilling,” Casey said fatalistically. “More drilling. Ugh…this is gonna mean more coffee, isn’t it.”

“For me, for one day, yes,” Principia said firmly. “I can take it; your health I wanna be more careful with. Drugs are not a substitute for sleep, girls. I’m really sorry to have to do this, but… This is gonna have to come out of your personal time.”

A glum silence fell, broken after a moment by a derisive snort from Merry.

“Well, what the hell,” she said. “It’s not as if any of us has a life, anyway.”

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“Nothing?” Trissiny shouted. “You cannot be serious! The Tiraan Empire can do nothing?”

“If you want to take this up with the Emperor, General Avelea, that’s your prerogative, though I can’t say I’d advise it.” Colonel Adjavegh was not a diplomatic man; the effort he was putting into being patient with his guests had become increasingly evident in his tone throughout the conversation, which had not helped Trissiny’s mood. “I, however, am required to follow the law. And the fact is, Lord Sherwin Leduc has not broken any laws.”

“He was keeping a woman in a cage!” Trissiny snapped, planting her fists on his desk and leaning over it. “His stated purpose—”

“Yes, we know!” Adjavegh interrupted. “Frankly, Avelea, we don’t need to hear it again! But the situation is entirely changed by the fact that Leduc’s alleged victim was a demon!”

“Alleged?!”

“No one doubts your word, General Avelea,” Major Razsha said calmly. She stood beside the desk, positioning herself as a neutral party between Trissiny and Adjavegh, with the other three members of her strike team seated behind her on the Colonel’s couch. “The issue, as Colonel Adjavegh has pointed out, is about laws. All crimes are alleged until a conviction has been rendered, which I’m afraid won’t happen in this case.”

“I have absolutely no trouble believing you, to be frank,” the Colonel said, finally displaying open asperity in his tone. “The Leduc boy has always been a weird little twit, even by the standards of his family. That he would summon a demon and try to brainwash it for sexual purposes, while gross in every possible way, seems quite in character.”

“Her,” Gabriel commented idly, “not it.”

“Yes, of course,” said Adjavegh, back to being overtly patient. Behind him, his aide coughed discreetly, which he ignored. “The point is, no actual laws have been broken. Leduc has all the relevant permits for his activities, both the hereditary permissions House Leduc procured years ago and his own. He’s actually quite scrupulous about keeping everything up-to-date with the Imperial government.”

“That’s characteristic of intelligent people who don’t want their business pried into,” said the Major with a humorless smile.

“Of all the adjectives I could apply to that guy,” Gabriel said, “’intelligent’ is way down the list. I swear he either has a death wish or an actual mental disability.”

“Again, that’s consistent with what I know of him,” Adjavegh snorted, “but lordlings always have a crew of buzzing lawyers and managers to be intelligent on their behalf.”

“Needless to say,” Razsha continued, “he did not have permission to summon a succubus. The Empire doesn’t give permits for that. But since by your own description he didn’t manage to do it, and any evidence of the attempt is long gone, I’m afraid there’s little point in pursuing that matter. There also aren’t permits available to summon a…what was it called again?”

“A Rhaazke,” said Drust from the couch behind her. His Strike Corps insignia had an orange background, marking him the warlock of the team.

“Right. The problem there is there aren’t any actual laws covering those, and you yourselves have indicated it was an accident. Since he apparently summoned the creature into an incredibly secure facility, it’s doubtful he could even be charged with reckless misuse of infernal magic.”

“Which is actually quite impressive,” Drust noted. “You can almost always charge warlocks with reckless misuse. They’re almost always guilty of it.”

“If Leduc had done this to any woman of a mortal race, Imperial citizen or no, I’d have him in a cell before his fancy lawyers could so much as blink.” Colonel Adjavegh folded his arms on his desk, staring pointedly at Trissiny’s fists until she got the hint and acknowledged it, removing them and straightening back up. “Hell, I could almost wish he had managed to acquire a succubus, since I could throw his skinny ass in a cell for that.”

“If he had acquired a succubus,” Toby said dryly, “he would probably be dead and she on the loose by now.”

“I said almost,” Adjavegh grunted. “The reality of the situation is that demons don’t get protection under the law. They can’t; it’s simply not possible to treat them as you would a mortal, they are too aggressive and unstable by nature. General Avelea, I think I can appreciate how this matter must place your priorities into conflict. Seeing that degenerate little twerp trying to forcibly enslave a woman of any race had to be even more galling than hearing about it is. But if there is one person I would expect to understand both the needs of justice and the need to apply different rules to demons than people, it’s you.”

Trissiny drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly.

“What we can do is watch Leduc a lot more carefully from now on,” Adjavegh continued, keeping his eyes intently on her face. “A paladin’s testimony counts for a lot; I believe this constitutes probable cause. If you’re willing to give me a written statement I bet I can get scrying authorized. Since he didn’t get his succubus and, as you say, he suffers from an appalling lack of sense, he’s likely to try again, at which point I can stick the little shit in a dungeon to rot.”

“We’d be glad to,” Toby said pointedly, his eyes also on Trissiny.

She nodded. “Yes. Of course. My apologies, Colonel. You’re right; this is…jarring. I hate having seen the man do something like that and have to just accept it.”

“Well, I do appreciate you bringing this story to me,” Adjavegh continued, leaning back in his chair and folding his hands in his lap. “There are apparently several points that we need to discuss more urgently, beginning with this demon. First of all, I would like to speak with your archdemon friend; this whole matter is difficult enough to believe, coming secondhand. If it were anybody but you three coming to me with this story, I doubt I could make myself swallow it.”

“That’s very kind of you, Colonel,” Gabriel said sweetly. “A paladin’s life is service, after all.”

“We don’t speak for Vadrieny,” Toby interjected hastily, “but I can’t imagine she’d object. We’ll pass that to her today.”

“Thank you,” the Colonel said, nodding. “In the meantime, there’s the matter of what to do with this creature. Having an exotic demon running loose isn’t an option, obviously.”

“She’s hardly loose,” said Toby. “Our group is keeping an eye on her when we’re at the manor. As is Malivette, I understand.”

“You don’t know?” Adjavegh said, frowning.

“We came right here from Grusser’s house this morning; there hasn’t been time to fully catch up with the girls,” Gabriel explained.

“In fact,” said Trissiny, “Malivette seems even better at keeping her under control than we are.”

“That’s all well and good,” said the Colonel, frowning, “but from an official perspective…”

“Actually,” Major Razsha said, calm as ever, “from an official perspective a Hand of Avei’s custody is adequate; neither Army regulation nor Imperial law require anything further to keep a demon. The addition of two more paladins, to to mention the rest of their group, is just icing on the cake, as it were.”

Adjavegh gave her a dark look. “Thank you, Major.”

“My pleasure, Colonel,” she said with a faint smile.

In the ensuing silence, the other three members of Razsha’s strike team sprouted matching smiles, Toby half-turned to divide a warning look between Trissiny and Gabriel, and Adjavegh’s aide, Corporal Timms, raised an eyebrow, but did not otherwise break composure. This was not the first time since the paladins had arrived that the Major had subtly reminded the Colonel that the Strike Corps did not answer to him. That strongly suggested it was a running issue in this barracks, and one they would be better off not involving themselves in.

“I would still appreciate as much information as you can give me on this,” Adjavegh continued after a moment, finally tearing his dour stare from Raszha’s face. “These creatures are wholly unknown; we have enough troubles in Veilgrad without having unknowns running around. As it is, the information we have on this demon could be entirely made up by your friend, for all I know. That’s not an accusation, of course.”

“I know of Rhaazke,” Drust piped up. He shrugged when everyone turned to stare at him. “Not much, of course. They’re the stuff of myth and legend, but the basics are known, and consistent with what the paladins have already told us. Both physically and magically powerful, mentally and emotionally stable thanks to Elilial’s intervention, residents of the unreachable sub-dimension hellhounds come from.”

“If this place is so unreachable,” Adjavegh said skeptically, “how in blazes do you know of it?”

“Summoning a hellhound is sort of an ultimate quest for extremely skilled and powerful warlocks,” Drust replied with a smile. “It’s actually quite simple in concept and damn near impossible in practice: you have to go through a hellgate, perform the summoning in Hell itself, and come back with your hellhound. It’s been attempted by a number of people but achieved by precious few. There are also accounts by individuals who failed in their effort but made it back from Hell; those are usually the ones who fell afoul of the Rhaazke. According to the accounts, Rhaazke like poachers even less than demons in general do.”

“That seems like an improbable amount of trouble to go through for a pet,” said the Colonel.

Drust shrugged. “If you have a source of hellhound breath you can basically consider yourself richer than Verniselle’s bookie. Any well-read warlock can confirm the existence of Rhaazke, but nothing more about them except that they are even less to be trifled with than the other denizens of the infernal plane. I would give Simmons’s left nut to interview this creature.”

“I insist that you leave me out of your fantasies,” said Simmons, the cleric in their team. Drust grinned at him.

“It might be best if as few people as possible bother her,” Trissiny said, scowling. “She’s had a difficult time on this plane, as I’m sure you can imagine, and the fact of her origins means we don’t yet have a plan to send her back. The less she’s agitated, the better.”

“That, at least, I agree with,” Adjavegh said with a sigh. “This demon, she has a name?”

“It’s hard to say,” Toby replied.

“What, you didn’t ask?” The Colonel raised an eyebrow.

“No, I mean, it’s hard to say,” Toby repeated.

“It’s a name in Demonic,” Gabriel added. “Sounds like a mouthful of spitting and gargling to me, and apparently if you get it wrong you’ve declared a feud. We’ve just been letting Vadrieny and Malivette handle her; it’s not like she speaks any Tanglish anyway.”

Adjavegh sighed heavily, rubbing the bridge of his nose between thumb and forefinger.

“In any case,” said Major Razsha, folding her hand behind her back, “the theory that Veilgrad’s troubles were chaos-related is one we’ve been seriously considering. In fact, it has been a leading theory, as the sudden presence of chaos cultists is highly correlated with such events elsewhere. I think we can now consider that theory confirmed.”

“You’re certain?” Adjavegh asked wearily, looking up at her from between his fingers.

She nodded, her expression grim. “The spell to summon a child of Vanislaas is nigh-impossible to botch; it is designed so that a Vanislaad can compensate for any errors from the other end if their attention is caught by even a partial summons. They are quite eager to have access to this dimension. More to the point, accessing the Rhaazke plane from here is utterly impossible. A chaos effect is the only conceivable explanation for that demon being brought by Leduc’s summons.”

“Then I trust this is all you need to search Leduc Manor for that, at least?” Trissiny said sharply. “Being the most distinctive effect yet seen, surely that indicates the manor is the likely location.”

“That’s, uh, not really how that works, Trissiny,” said Gabriel.

“Indeed,” Razsha nodded. “If anything, this all but conclusively rules out Leduc Manor as the source of the chaos rift.”

“What?” Trissiny exclaimed. “How?”

“Think about it,” said Gabriel. “There were lots of infernal spell effects at work in that place. We fried a bunch of them ourselves. They seemed to be working correctly.”

“That is the long and the short of it,” the Major agreed. “One spell of Leduc’s going wrong due to chaos means there is a chaos effect active…well, somewhere. If it had been on the grounds, everything he did would have dramatically misfired. That would have drawn attention long since. No, the existence of a practicing warlock who’s had only one major misfire pretty conclusively means the source of chaos isn’t in or near the Manor.”

“Where, then?” Adjavegh demanded. “Can we narrow it down at all?”

“Not from this information alone,” Razsha mused, rubbing her chin thoughtfully. “A single effect tells us almost nothing; the rift could be on the other side of the planet and cause that. Chaos is…chaotic. Unpredictable by definition. The other troubles cropping up in Veilgrad strongly suggest it is somewhere in the vicinity, though.”

“Chaos cults,” said Toby, frowning, “undead incidents, generally increased aggression in the populace…”

“Don’t forget the werewolves,” Trissiny added.

“They’ve always lived in the hills nearby,” said Adjavegh. “The Shaathists keep an eye on them; we had maybe one problem every five years up till now. No confirmed attacks yet since this started, but they’ve been howling non-stop, which means they’re transforming even though the moon isn’t full. It’s only a matter of time before there is an incident.”

“And other unknowns,” added Razsha. “People have disappeared in the mountains nearby, lately. That could be anything at all. No, the chaos is focused here. Unfortunately…that doesn’t even mean it’s located here.”

“Are you kidding?” Gabriel exclaimed.

“It probably is,” the Major clarified. “But I know of one incident of a chaos rift opening and, for some reason, causing all of its effects in a concentrated area hundreds of miles away.”

“I think I know the one you’re thinking of,” added Drust. “There’s at least one other. There’s a precedent.”

“Wonderful,” Trissiny growled.

“With some certainty that it is a chaos effect,” Razsha continued, “I can begin scrying protocols. You can’t find chaos directly, but it’s possible to use a straightforward search grid. Scry at locations in a pattern covering the region; odd are good any that attempt to target the source of the chaos will be disrupted, which tells us more precisely where to look.”

“That sounds time-consuming,” the Colonel said, frowning.

“It’s a standard search grid,” Razsha admitted, “so yes, it is. Less so than quartering the ground on foot, but still… Targeted scrying effects take time to set up. I’ll need to requisition additional personnel from Tiraas in order to do this on any kind of schedule. We’re talking about days to check the city, in the best case scenario. Weeks if we have to search the whole province, maybe more. That’s based on my best guess of how may scryers the Army will spare me.”

“You’ll be limited to arcane scrying for this,” said Teloris, the strike team’s witch. “I am not sending my spirits after a chaos rift. The risk to them is catastrophic.”

“I will also be sending people to search Leduc Manor on general principles,” the Colonel added with an expression of dark satisfaction. “Between your report on his activities and the occurrence of one chaos effect on the grounds, I believe I’ve got reason enough to stand up to an inquiry. May or may not find anything useful, but I highly doubt anyone is going to object to me keeping eyes on Sherwin bloody Leduc.”

“No one who matters, anyway,” the Major agreed with an amused little smile.

“You keep saying it’s a rift,” Toby noted. “Could it be something else? An artifact, a person?”

“Very unlikely,” said Razsha. “Not impossible—with chaos, nothing can be really ruled out—but those are vanishingly rare. Chaos usually comes from a dimensional rift. Its source is outside the dimensions.”

“You’ll keep us informed?” Trissiny said pointedly.

“Of course we will,” the Major said quickly before Adjavegh could speak. “With a matter like this, I definitely want as much help as possible.”

“We would also like to interview any of the chaos cultists you may still have imprisoned,” she added, fixing her stare on the Colonel.

“I don’t see the harm in it,” he said after a moment. “They’re not here, though. The Imperial prison is across the city.”

“Seems inefficient, doesn’t it?” Gabriel noted.

“Not really,” said Trissiny. “There’s some overlap between the functions of prisons and military bases, but they’re meant to do different things. And in the event of a mass escape, it’s not ideal for convicts to have access to military hardware.”

“I will send a message to the Warden authorizing you to speak with the prisoners in question,” said Adjavegh, half-turning in his chair to nod at Corporal Timms. “Paladins or no, that’s one thing you can’t just walk in and do without official permission.”

“We greatly appreciate that, sir,” said Toby.

“In the meantime,” said Major Razsha, “please tell every magic-user in your party—which I gather is most of you—to be extremely careful. Chaos causes magic to go wrong. I’ll expect any sharing of information to go both ways.”

“Of course,” Toby said quickly. “The more of us are working together on this, the faster we can sort it out.”

“Right,” the Colonel said more briskly. “If there’s nothing else, Timms will escort you out. Give me an hour to notify the prison; after that you should have no trouble there. Make sure at least one of you three are part of any group sent to interview the cultists. The Warden isn’t going to open his doors to just any gaggle of exotic teenagers.”

“We’ll send you a message at Dufresne Manor if we learn anything constructive,” added Major Razsha. “You can reach us here.”

“We will,” Toby promised. “Thanks for all the help, both of you.”

Timms was already at the door to the office, holding it open for them and standing impassively at attention, an inescapable hint. Trissiny paused to salute the strike team before following the others out.

“I cannot believe that little toad is just going to get away with this,” she growled to herself as the corporal led them through the barracks.

“They’ll be watching him,” Gabriel said comfortingly. “That guy is just dumb enough to try his scheme again, no matter what Juniper said to him. This time, hopefully the Empire will catch him at it. I get you, though,” he added more thoughtfully. “It would be really satisfying if we could just go back there and punch his stupid face a few times.”

“You hold him, I’ll punch.”

“It’s a date,” he said, grinning. “You’ve probably got a better arm, anyway.” Toby sighed heavily.

“The laws exist for good reasons,” said Timms. “Unfortunate that those good reasons result in a rich bastard getting away with something vile, but that tends to be the case.” She paused at the front doors of the barracks, turning to them with a smile and idly rolling a doubloon across the backs of her fingers, in stark contrast to her stiff bearing in the Colonel’s office. “All systems are corrupt—that doesn’t mean you abandon the systems, just that you sometimes have to work around them. Be sure to visit us again, General, gentlemen. Especially if you want help doing that.”

She made the coin vanish up her sleeve, saluted them, then turned and strode off back the way they had come, leaving the three paladins staring after her.

“All systems…” Gabriel frowned. “I’ve heard that somewhere before. What’s that from?”

“That,” said Trissiny, still staring after the corporal, “is one more complication here. I’ll explain when we meet the others back at the safe house.”

“Yeah,” Toby said slowly, “we need to catch up with everyone on how the demon’s doing, anyway. Thanks for coming straight here, by the way; I expected you to at least bring Shaeine along.”

“I think Triss had the right idea,” said Gabriel. “The three of us have some standing with the Army, and the Colonel didn’t enjoy having our noses stuck into his business anyway. The less he has to deal with the others, I think, the better.”

“We have a lot to talk about when we all reconvene,” Trissiny said, turning to go. “I still haven’t told everyone about the night I had, either.”

 

It was warm and peaceful, rather pleasant. Strange, then, the sense he had from the moment consciousness began to return, the feeling that something was wrong. He felt groggy, but not unhappily so. More or less as one should feel after awakening. Which was odd, as he was normally quite alert upon rising.

His eyes drifted open. Stone ceiling overhead—this wasn’t his room… Oh, right. Svenheim. He was studying…

“Well, there he is! Morning, sunshine.”

Memory crashed down upon him all at once, and Yornhaldt sat bolt upright in bed.

“Easy, there!” cautioned the man seated on a stool at his bedside. “Glad you’re feeling chipper, old fellow, but you got quite a dose of katzil venom. Luckily my man Bradshaw pumped you full of antivenom almost immediately, or you’d be doing a lot worse. You know how it is with infernal poisons—the longer it has to work, the nastier the lingering effects. There you go, take your time.”

He did just that, finding himself in no immediate danger. The speaker was unfamiliar to him: human, Western, apparently in later middle age, of a gangly build and wearing a white suit with a matching flat-brimmed hat pulled down almost over his eyes. The other men in the room were more familiar to Yornhaldt. Another human stood by the door in a gray robe; Yornhaldt had seen his face only momentarily, but it had stuck in his mind, considering the man had just jabbed him with a syringe.

In the far corner of the room was the dwarf who had attacked him, bound with cords and chains, from which glyphed ribbons of paper hung. Well, that made sense; one didn’t try to imprison a magic-user with strictly mundane methods. The dwarf glared daggers at him, but didn’t try to speak. A tightly-bound strip of cloth held a gag in his mouth anyway.

They were in a bedroom, unfamiliar to Yornhaldt and generally nondescript. There were no personal touches of any kind; it had the aspect of an inn room, neat but starkly plain.

“All right,” he said slowly after a moment. “This is altogether surprising. Does someone mind filling me in?”

“Gladly!” said the man in the white suit, his grin a gleaming slash in his dark face. “My name is Embras Mogul; I have the honor of leading Elilial’s followers on the mortal plane.”

“I see,” Yornhaldt said neutrally, glancing between Mogul and the other warlock. He wondered what would happen if he tried to call up a spell. Probably something swift and bad for his health.

“Over there by the door,” Mogul continued cheerfully, “is Bradshaw, who came to your rescue in the library. And this chap, well, we haven’t got much out of him just yet. That’ll come in time, of course, though frankly I believe we can deduce all the relevant particulars from the situation.”

“Can you?” Yornhaldt asked warily.

“Well, let’s review, shall we?” Mogul tilted his head back so his eyes were finally visible beneath his hat, and winked. “Here we have the good Professor Alaric Yornhaldt, probably the single most inoffensive person affiliated with the University at Last Rock. You’re a man without enemies, a moderating influence on your peers and widely beloved by your students. As such, not only are you unlikely to be the target of a personal attack, but anyone using you to get at Professor Tellwyrn would be far too screwy in the head to mobilize a careful strategy like this one. The vengeance that would descend upon such a fool would be apocalyptic.”

“You flatter me,” Yornhaldt said carefully, “and in fact may be overstating the case. Arachne has managed to antagonize a number of very unstable people. One might argue that’s the inevitable result of her being in their vicinity.”

“Ah, well, perhaps I indulge in a bit of hyperbole,” Mogul said airily, waving a hand. “You take my point. We can assume with some certainty, then, that this is not a personal matter. Especially since we have a much more likely motive! You’ve been looking into some very particular and very hidden knowledge, my friend—alignments, histories, powers and secrets that all point toward the culmination of the Elder Wars eight thousand years ago. The greatest mystery of the modern world: apotheosis. A person who’d been following your efforts might conclude you were trying to puzzle out how to make a god.”

There was silence in the room for a long moment, Yornhaldt staring mutely at his smiling host.

“Or, I suppose, unmake one,” Mogul finally mused. “There was some of both going on at that point in history. Either way, I can think of few organizations that might take exception to your research, and none of them are local. The dwarves are admirably self-motivated folk, I find, not overly concerned with gods and religions. There’s the Order of Light, of course—in fact, they’re headquartered not far from here! But that theory is busted by the fact that this fellow,” he pointed at the bound dwarf, “is not merely a cleric, but a holy summoner. The Order, being generally sensible people, do not mess about with demons, and in fact put a swift stop to that foolishness wherever they find it. Go on, you can say it, I promise I’ll not take offense.”

“No need,” Yornhaldt demurred. “I flatter myself that I’m well-read enough to know the Wreath don’t deal with demons indiscriminately.”

“Splendid!” Mogul grinned broadly at him. “So we’re looking for someone interested in suppressing inquiry into the origin of the gods, who uses divine power to control diabolic forces and isn’t affiliated with the Kingdom of Svenheim, who gave you specific permission to root through their archives after this. Someone who, furthermore, is confident enough in their own power to risk the wrath of the great and terrible Tellwyrn if it means shutting you up. Do correct me if I’ve missed a candidate, but that seems to point at no one but the Universal Church of the Pantheon. Anything to add, there, friend?” he said, turning to the prisoner. The summoner simply transferred his glare to the warlock, making no attempt to speak around his gag, nor signal a desire to.

“That’s…a theory,” Yornhaldt acknowledged. “I trust you’ll pardon me if I don’t take your word for it.”

“My dear fellow, I would be sadly disappointed if you did. You’re a man of science, after all—you seek your own answers. There are few things I admire more.”

Yornhaldt glanced once more between Mogul and Bradshaw. “Putting that aside, there seems to be another pressing question. Why would you, of all people, help me? Even if it was the Church behind this, I see no motive here besides ‘the enemy of my enemy.’ Which, if you’ll pardon my saying it, doesn’t seem to justify going to this kind of effort.”

“Why, it’s quite simple,” Mogul said, smiling blandly. “We want you to succeed.”

“You do?” Yornhaldt blinked.

“My people have had eyes on you almost from the beginning,” Mogul informed him. “It was only a matter of time before someone cottoned on to what you were after and tried to put a stop to it. Pursuant to that, Professor, it appears you’d achieved something of a breakthrough just before this regrettable business kicked off. Not to tell you how to run your affairs, but I will suggest this is an excellent time to head back to Last Rock and share what you’ve got so far. Once Tellwyrn is in on your findings, the cat’s out of the bag—there’ll be no further point in anyone coming after you.”

“I will take that under advisement.”

“Do,” Mogul said, rising and stretching languidly. “Anyhow! I’ve taken the liberty of making some preparations for you. Your suit, I’m sorry to say, was rather the worse for wear after your little misadventure. We’ve got a replacement hanging in the wardrobe there, for you. Not a tailored fit, but it should suffice. You’ll find your shoes in there as well—those were fine, fortunately. My people also rescued your books and papers. Both those you were carrying, and those you’d left in your rooms. Sorry for the presumption, but it was very likely somebody would try to destroy them.” He leaned over and patted the nightstand. “In the drawers, here. They have not been tampered with, though I fear your rather obscure filing system might have been disrupted by the simple act of moving them.”

“They were all over every surface,” Bradshaw noted with a smile. “Even the bed. Anyway, there’s another matter.” He reached into his robed, pulled out a bottle, and almost immediately dropped it.

Mogul dived across the room with astonishing agility, snagging the bottle before it struck the floor.

“Augh…thanks, Embras,” Bradshaw said, lowering his shaking hand. “Sorry.”

“No harm done, old friend,” Mogul said, straightening up and patting him on the shoulder.

“I say, is he quite all right?” Yornhaldt asked, frowning. He had noticed only then that Bradshaw had a persistent tremor in his left hand—luckily, not the one with which he’d applied the syringe.

“It’s just a spot of major nerve damage,” Bradshaw said dismissively. “A little souvenir from my recent stint as the Archpope’s guest.”

“I keep telling him to take some time off and let the healers do their jobs,” Mogul said, frowning at him. “It’s like talking to a particularly stubborn wall.”

“Hard to sit on my ass while the people who do things like this are sitting on thrones,” Bradshaw said curtly.

“Anyhow,” Mogul continued, pausing to pat Bradshaw’s shoulder again before turning and lightly tossing the bottle onto Yornhaldt’s bed, “that’s another supply of antivenom. A specific one for katzil bites, rather than the general anti-infernal Bradshaw gave you. The syringe is better of emergency doses, of course, but that can be taken orally. I’m afraid the taste is quite appalling; there was nothing to be done about that, sorry.”

“You should be fine, given some time and rest,” Bradshaw added. “Still, infernal venoms are tricky; you might have recurring issues for a few weeks. I trust a man of your education knows the symptoms of infernal corruption; be watchful for them. Take one teaspoon if you notice any, and no less than four hours between doses. I recommend you seek out a witch or shaman as soon as you’re able for a more comprehensive healing than we could provide. Avoid divine healers for now; exposing the light to any lingering traces of the venom can cause tissue damage.”

“And with all that out of the way,” Mogul said, striding across the room to the prisoner, “we’ll leave your fate in your own capable hands, Professor. Pardon us for rushing off like this, but there’s always so much to do, and not enough hours in the day! We’ll keep our eyes on you till you’re back at Last Rock, just in case someone decides to have another go.”

“I…ah…thank you,” Yornhaldt said weakly.

“Not at all, think nothing of it! As you pointed out, old fellow…the enemy of my enemy.” Mogul winked again and tipped his hat. “Never stop seeking the truth, Professor. The truth is what will set us all free.”

He casually gathered up a fistful of the captured dwarf’s coat, and then the shadows swelled up around them. A similar effect washed over Bradshaw, and a moment later, Yornhaldt was alone.

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“All right, here we are,” Principia announced upon their arrival at the quiet intersection. “Pair up and move out. You know your routes and your orders; meet back here in thirty.”

“Sarge,” Farah said hesitantly. “Are you…sure about this?”

Prinicipa raised an eyebrow behind her helmet. “Am I sure about going out on patrol? If you don’t feel like it, Szaravid, you’re welcome to tell the captain. No, wait, I just remembered I’m responsible for you dodos. The captain is not to hear of this. Move your butt.”

“I mean, splitting up,” Farah said doggedly. “What with the…you know, situation.”

“We’re in the middle of Tiraas, and the situation is annoying, private, not an immediate threat to life and limb. We’ve lived through those; you should know the difference. Besides which, we are all trained, armed and armored professionals.”

“I just…”

“Avelea, if your patrol partner is not moving by the time I finish this sentence, kick her in the…there we go.”

Ephanie grinned at Principia as she turned to follow Farah down the street. Casey nodded to her and peeled off in the other direction.

“She’s not wrong, you know,” said Merry, setting off after her.

“I know,” Principia replied. “That doesn’t mean we get to just do whatever. Off you go, Lang.”

She waited until both pairs were a few yards distant and moving without glancing back before crossing the intersection and setting off on her own route.

The city was just waking up. Tiraas never truly slept, but its activity went in patterns. The hours before dawn were always the quietest, when the night-dwellers had begun to finish their business and creep home but the more average citizenry were not yet up and about. Now, with the sun just barely peeking over the walls, the streets were lit both by the gray of dawn and the harsher glow of fairy lamps. Activity was present and growing, but still quiet, sporadic, and as often as not carried out by people who seemed half-asleep.

Principia exchanged nods with a few shopkeepers unlocking their doors, as well as some early pedestrians, and granted a few to several who didn’t acknowledge her. That was par for the course in a major city, though she had noted that people in general were more inclined to be friendly toward Legionnaires than other random citizens. It also seemed to mitigate the hostility that some felt toward elves, or at least the expression of it.

“Morning,” she said cheerfully to a pair of men in Imperial Army uniforms coming toward her on the sidewalk.

“Good morning… Sergeant,” one said politely, pausing to glance at her insignia. “What brings you out this early?”

“Same as you, I expect,” she said, coming to a stop, as did they. “First light patrol.”

“Oh?” The older man, with a lieutenant’s bars, glanced around. “Huh.”

“Something wrong?”

“I guess not. Just never seen a Legionnaire patrolling without a partner before.”

“Well, it’s not standard practice, but my squad’s under-staffed at the moment and this is the shift they gave me.” She shrugged. “I just go where I’m kicked, y’know?”

“That I do,” he replied with a nod and a faint smile.

“We should move on, Talour,” said the other soldier gruffly, not looking at Principia. The lieutenant gave him a disparaging look.

“So, what’s his story?” Principia asked easily. “Doesn’t like elves? Not an Avenist?”

“I don’t—” The corporal whipped his head back around to peer more closely at her face, what was visible through her helmet. “Wait, you’re an elf?”

“Yeah, but keep it under your hat,” she said solemnly. “Nobody’s caught on yet. I’m hoping to make captain before they find out.”

Lieutenant Talour grinned outright. “Don’t worry about him, Sergeant. No one in the Army has a problem with Avei, and any who have a problem with elves keep it to themselves. Some of the lads don’t as much care for having other military forces active in the city, is all.”

“Not that spears and shields are any threat to a modern army,” the corporal added with just a hint of sullenness. “It’s the principle of the thing.”

“Huh,” she mused. “Well, I guess I can see that. The way I always figured it, though, you and I are in different lines of work.”

“Oh?” The corporal frowned.

“Well, if somebody were deranged enough to snatch a purse right in front of me, then sure, I’d deal with that. Ultimately, though, you lads are the ones charged with protecting the city. When the Silver Legions are sent to actually fight something, it’s something exotically evil, usually at the end of a very long trip. Here on the home front, we’re mostly to be seen. A reminder that Avei’s still watching over us all.” She smiled disarmingly. “Scenery, as one of my superiors recently put it.”

“I…suppose that makes sense,” the corporal said. Despite his grudging tone, he relaxed his posture slightly.

“Okay, I have to ask,” said the lieutenant, “and please feel free to tell me off if I’m crossing a line, but… Isn’t that helmet uncomfortable with your ears?”

“You cannot imagine,” she said fervently.

“Oh, I can imagine a lot,” Talour replied with a grin. “I’ve done tours at Fort Vaspian and Tidecall. My feet still aren’t dry. And have you ever tried drow cuisine? Bugs and mushrooms.”

“Yeah? Imagine, then, wearing a codpiece two sizes too small. Twice.”

He gaped at her. The corporal tried to smother a snicker behind his hand.

“They’re sensitive, is what I’m saying,” Principia added, winking.

“I…well. I’m sure I’ll find some use for that information,” he said, blinking.

“Got a use in mind?” Principia grinned. “Don’t start with flowers—give her candy. Chocolate if you can afford it. Elves hardly ever get real sugar at home.”

“We’d best move along,” said the corporal, now grinning openly. “Stay safe, Sergeant.”

“You too, boys,” she said cheerfully, offering a salute and resuming her walk.

They’d barely had time to recede out of earshot (theirs, not hers) when another presence materialized alongside her.

“That was very well handled.”

“Good morning, Gimmick,” Principia said without turning to face her. “How surprising it is to see you first thing on the very day after I last got rid of you.”

“My duties leave me mostly at liberty,” Saduko said pleasantly. “I do so enjoy the city at this hour. It was always my favorite time of day, even at home. I like the grayness of dawn, when there is daylight but before the true glow of the sun appears. The contrast with the city’s artificial lights is interesting.”

“I would never have taken you for a poet. So, what duties are these?”

“Few, specific and rather lenient,” said the thief with a shrug. “At present, I am to befriend Zanzayed the Blue on behalf of my employer. On behalf of Zanzayed I am to solicit your attention—he very much desires to speak with you. It is a veritable chain of secondhand befriendment. Is that a word? Befriendment? It seems as if it should be.”

“I’ve never head it, but Tanglish is forgiving, and evolves fast. I bet if you use it in public a few times it’ll catch on.”

“Splendid. In any case, after you have duly rejected Zanzayed’s vicarious advance of the day, I will once again be twiddling my thumbs, so to speak. Unless there is someone whose favor you would like me to solicit?” She half-turned her face toward Principia as they walked, smiling.

“Everyone I want to talk to, I already can,” Prin replied. “What, exactly, does Zanzayed want with me?”

“I do not know,” Saduko admitted, “and I am not curious. All I am told is that he wishes to speak with you privately. Beyond that, I very much hope to resolve the matter in one way or another before I am forced to become curious. Knowing too much about the affairs of dragons seems unwise, to me.”

“A strange perspective for someone who works for one.”

“I don’t work for him,” Saduko said with a thin smile. “I work for someone who wants me to get on his good side. You are Guild; you appreciate such distinctions.”

“You know, the fact that I’m Guild is at issue, here. The Guild respects the time I spend on duty with the Legion. Both cults do; they do not get into each others’ hair with me as a go-between. You are courting trouble, Gimmick.”

“I am not representing the Guild,” Saduko said mildly, “nor violating its policies. Yes, I have no doubt you have already initiated an investigation into me. Frankly, if the Boss orders me to leave you be, that will be something of a relief. It is an excuse which will satisfy both Zanzayed and my employer, and will spare me having to keep annoying you. A mere half-blood I may be, but where I am from, making a pest of oneself represents a contemptible failure of character.”

At that, Principia finally glanced at her. “Half…what?”

“Half Sifanese.”

“And…? I’m sorry, but I can usually spot a demihuman. I must be losing my touch.”

“Ah, yes,” Saduko said, shaking her head. She smiled as she did so, however. “This is why I enjoy Tiraas; no one can even tell, and if they could, they would not care. No, I am entirely human, but only half Sifanese; my mother hailed from an even farther country, one not thought of kindly in Sifan. Kiyosan is not Tiraas; there is only one breed of human widely represented there, and they can immediately spot one with the wrong kind of blood.”

“I see,” Principia mused. “You’re being remarkably forthright.”

“You will see my reticence if you touch upon a subject I consider private.” Saduko shrugged again. “As I have said, it disagrees with me, being an imposition upon you. I would rather emphasize that I mean neither harm nor trickery.”

“A little selective openness, sure,” Principia nodded. “I know the tactic. What about your real employer, then? Who’s he? Or is that one more sensitive?”

“Alan Vandro,” Saduko said immediately, “also known as Webs. Are you acquainted with him?”

“I’ve heard the name. Both names. He’s got a rep. Isn’t he retired?”

“I believe he tried,” she said with amusement. “A person like that can never truly quit the game, though, any more than you could.”

“And so he sends you to risk your hide meddling with dragons, Avenists, and myself. Must pay well.”

They turned a corner, putting the rising sun to their backs. Saduko was silent for a long moment before speaking.

“He is a purist, dissatisfied with the Guild’s current structure. In Vandro’s opinion, the Guild has become far too centralized, too much of an institution.”

“Sure,” Principia said immediately, nodding. “He’s right about that; ever since Catseye was Boss. I’m not too worried, though; the Guild goes through cycles, same as everything else. I’ve lived to see two previous rises of bureaucracy. The Big Guy always straightens things out.”

“Ah, but ours is a hands-off kind of god,” Saduko replied. “When he wants something cleaned up, it is we who hold the brooms. I think Webs sees that as his duty, this time.”

“And you agree.”

“I was sent by the Guild to infiltrate his operation,” she said frankly. “For my efforts, I got this.” Saduko reached up to unbutton the collar of her shirt and tug it open, lifting her chin to display her throat. At the base of it, a pale of scar tissue line stretched across her windpipe above the collarbone, faded and only slightly ridged. The wound was either very old or had been heavily treated through magic and/or alchemy. “Oh, they paid me well, of course—but you and I both know the value of money.” Face now impassive, she carefully re-buttoned her collar and straightened her shirt. “I used to love to sing. I used to be able to. It is only because Alan Vandro expended his resources without restraint or hesitation that I am now able to speak. He did this even though he should have counted me as his enemy.”

“Man knows how to recruit,” Principia murmured.

“I know his flaws,” Saduko said curtly. “I know when I am being bribed; I am not blind. But this was a bribe I was pleased to accept.”

“Are you pleased to work for him?”

Saduko tilted her head, giving Principia a thoughtful sidelong look. “He is one of those men who has an innately poor opinion of women. You are acquainted with Jeremiah Shook, I understand; Vandro was his first trainer, and from what I have gathered, the source of some of his attitudes.”

“I see,” Principia said flatly.

“They are very different men, however. Whatever Vandro thinks of women, he does not discriminate professionally, nor speak disparagingly to anyone’s face. The man is professional enough to look past his prejudices, far-sighted enough to care generously for those in his employ and willing to extend mercy to fallen foes. A sense of honor covers a multitude of moral failings. I am content in his service, to the point that I care little what he thinks of my sex. Perhaps I would not fare so well as you in Avei’s service.”

“Hm.”

“Now I have talked a great deal,” Saduko continued, her tone suddenly light. “What of you? Perhaps you can tell me why Zanzayed the Blue would be interested in you to the extent of—”

Principia dived forward, rolling nimbly into a doorway and bracing herself in a compact crouch behind her shield. Saduko broke off, staring at her in confusion, only moments later looking up to behold an enchanted carriage barreling down the street toward them. It was an expensive Falconer, or had been; a model several years old and with its body replaced by mismatched and clearly shabbier part, but the base enchantments were clearly fully functional. Functional, and performing up to the famous Falconer standards. The thing was moving at a speed that could only conservatively be called “unsafe.”

Saduko glanced back at Principia, then at the carriage, then finally pressed herself against the wall of the storefront as it drew abreast of them. It veered close to the sidewalk in passing, the side door flew open and a figure leaned out, which was the last thing she saw before a tremendous splatter of blue paint few out and over them both, coating Principia’s shield and most of Saduko’s torso.

Prin was rising smoothly to her feet the instant her shield had absorbed the impact. In a single rapid motion, she stepped out to give herself room, drew back her lance and hurled it like a javelin after the fleeing vehicle.

The weapon flew straight and true. As the carriage accelerated away, the lance zipped straight into the spokes of its rear wheel. It immediately slammed against the frame, locking the wheel and sending the carriage skidding to one side. There came a sharp bang and a burst of sparks as the wheel enchantment broke, and the wheel itself came flying off, sending the carriage to the street. Its driver tried to keep it going for a few more seconds, resulting in another shower of sparks as it dragged its rear fender along the pavement, followed by several more bursts of light and a prolonged noise like fireworks signaling a broken axle and subsequent cascade failure of the charms running it.

“And that’s something new to add to my list of shit not to try on an elf,” Principia said with belligerent satisfaction. “You okay?”

“W…why… I…” Saduko blinked and spat out a dribble of blue paint. She had been absolutely soaked; it covered her from chin to knees. Principia had paint on her boots and helmet, including one stray drop on her eyebrow, but most of the wet volley had been absorbed by her shield, where it now completely obscured Avei’s golden eagle.

The driver of the carriage had already hopped down and was skittering off down a side alley. Two more men struggled from within, one staggering as he wrenched himself loose from a strap around the arm which had kept him from falling out while he threw the paint. In moments, both were taking off after the first man.

“Hey,” Principia said more firmly. “Are you injured? Speak to me!”

Saduko twisted her mouth, finding an untouched spot on her sleeve on which to scrub her tongue. “Fleh. Vile.”

“I guess that’ll do. You should probably come back to the barracks with me,” said Prin, gently taking her by the elbow and urging her forward. “Get looked over by a healer and have a dose of potion. Depending on what the paint was made for, and from, it could be toxic. Lucky you didn’t take in much.”

“Does this happen to Legionnaires often?”

“I have to say, this I did not expect,” Principia said mildly. “C’mon, we’re falling behind.”

“Surely you don’t mean to chase them,” Saduko protested. “They have a substantial head start. And I know elves are fast, but you are weighed down by armor…”

“I am trusting my squad to have done their jobs, which will render chasing unnecessary,” Prin said smugly. “I assume it occurred to you that it was odd for Third Legion patrol routes to be posted in the public area of the temple, yes?”

“When would I have seen—”

“Gimmick, I’d love to play this game with you, but I really do not have time right now.”

Saduko paused in wiping paint off her face onto her remaining sleeve to give her to a disgruntled look. “Fine, very well. I presumed it was some manner of trap. Given the Legion’s nature, what we would think of as a noble con, one I could walk into and not trip so long as I did nothing manipulative or hostile. Did you not find me very forthcoming? You mentioned it specifically.”

“Yes, I’ll acknowledge my mistake there: it was you I expected to step into this. I’ll be very interested in learning who those guys are. Anything to add to that?”

Saduko’s expression grew even darker. “Merely that when you do find out, I insist on seeking some recompense for this. I don’t have so many clothes that I can replace whole outfits easily. And if you have never been struck by liquid moving at that speed, it stings.”

“Yes, that would be standard procedure. In here, this is where they went.”

“How could you have arranged a trap?” Saduko demanded, following Principia into the alley. “Surely you haven’t blocked…every…”

Principia drew her sword and the three men skidded to a halt as they tried to exit back the way they had come.

“So,” she said firmly, “that’s assault, and while I don’t exactly know the civil codes pertaining to the use of an enchanted carriage, I bet you just broke a bunch of them. Needless to say, you are under arrest.”

“We don’t answer to dragon-lovers!” one snapped. The voice was clearly female; this was the individual who had been driving the carriage. All three had made some effort at concealing their identities, with heavy coats, caps and scarves. The driver also had a thick pair of goggles over her eyes.

“Is that what this is about? Just who are you people? Don’t.” Principia’s calm tone suddenly turned hard as the three tensed together. “There’s something you don’t know. Y’see this young woman behind me, who took the brunt of your attack? She is a member of the Thieves’ Guild. You’ve assaulted members of two major cults. So I’ll tell you what I’m going to do. You can either submit to arrest and be taken back to the Temple of Avei to face justice, or you can try to run, and the Guild will take this up with you in its own time.”

They hesitated, huddling closer together and exchanging a round of glances.

Behind them came the tromp of boots. Saduko leaned around Principia to look past the attackers, discovering two Silver Legionnaires advancing up the alley in shield wall formation. Only two were enough to block the narrow space; in those confines, their braced shields with lances protruding made a very menacing spectacle indeed.

“Avelea, Szaravid,” Principia said, nodding to them. “Good timing.”

“Only kind we have, Sarge.”

“Now, you’re thinking you are anonymous,” Principia went on, returning her gaze to the vandals. “In the first place, that carriage of yours had a deliberately rebuilt frame over solid core enchantments—if the person who did that for you isn’t actually a member of the Guild, he or she works with them on a daily basis. It’s a finite roster of enchanters who do that kind of work. Besides, this end of the alley may look less stabby than the other end, but all I have to do is take down one of you. I guarantee that one will tell the Sisterhood anything they choose to ask. Someone will find you if you run, and you had better pray to Avei it’s her people. So what’s it gonna be?”

The tallest figure immediately raised his hands in the air.

“Jethro!” protested the third, who by voice was also a woman.

“I said this whole thing was dumb!” he exclaimed. “I said it! I’m not getting in any worse with the Legions, Talia, and I’m sure as hell not setting the Guild after me! Omnu’s balls, you and your damn schemes…”

“Wise man,” Principia said approvingly. “Whoop, it appears to be academic now, anyway.” Behind her, with another clatter of heavy boots on pavement, Casey and Merry had appeared in the alley’s mouth. In the near distance a bell was ringing, the kind used by the military police to summon aid to a crisis. “You had your window to run if you were going to try it. Does anybody feel like getting themselves in any more trouble?”

Moments later, all three were on their knees on the alley floor, hands on their heads, stripped of hats and scarves and being efficiently searched by Ephanie.

“How did you do this?” Saduko asked quietly. “I watched your squad split off. They were going in completely separate directions. And there is no way you could have predicted which alley they would run down!”

“I sure as hell didn’t predict the carriage,” Principia muttered. “Getting sloppy, making assumptions… Maybe I’m just too old to adapt fast enough to new enchantments. No, Saduko, it sounds like you didn’t do your homework, either. You saw the same things these turkeys did, and concluded exactly what you were meant to. Them, I understand; you should raise your game a bit. Tell you what, if you’ve figured it out by the time we get back to the temple I’ll buy you dinner. Oh, hey there, lads!”

She moved toward the mouth of the alley, where the two Imperial soldiers from before had arrived, staves in hand, studying the scene carefully.

“Sergeant,” said Lieutenant Talour. “Looks like you did manage to find something more than scenery.”

“It found me,” she protested innocently.

“I assume this has something to do with the wrecked carriage now blocking the street?”

“Bet your bars it did.” She half-turned to point with her sword at the three captives, now being helped to their feet with their hands bound behind their backs. “I’d appreciate an Army escort back to the temple to observe proceedings—it’ll cut down on the number of reports and interviews to be done later.”

“But?” Talour drawled.

“Yeah, as the target of an obviously premeditated assault, I’m claiming Legion privilege on this one.”

He sighed heavily, looked carefully at Saduko, at the three attackers, at Principia and finally at the remaining Legionnaires.

“All right,” he said finally. “But after this, I’m gonna ask you to stay safe again, and this time, put some effort into it, yeah?”

“I will do my very best,” Principia said sweetly.

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“Yoo hoo!” Malivette called from the distance as soon as they emerged from the basement. “We’re in the dining room, ducklings. C’mon in, join us!”

Trissiny and Ruda exchanged an expressive look, but obediently stepped out into the hallway and toward the side entrance of the long dining room as directed. Ruda fell back and moved behind Trissiny in the narrow hall, allowing Shaeine to slip in ahead of her; the drow gave her a nod of thanks in passing.

Upon entering the dining room, however, they all clustered in a knot at the door and stared.

Malivette was lounging against one end of the long, heavy table, grinning delightedly, which had the effect of emphasizing her elongated canines. Professor Rafe sat in one of the chairs, also grinning, with a large book open on the table between him and the next chair over. In that chair, sandwiched between Rafe and Malivette, sat Schkhurrankh, her towering form looking painfully out of place even behind the hefty table. In fact, she looked cowed and uncomfortable, which was jarring; even locked in a cage, the demon had not appeared actually intimidated at any point.

“There you are,” Malivette cooed at them, wiggling her fingers in a girlish little wave. Teal approached the door from the side, smiling in relief, and reached out to brush the back of her hand against Shaeine’s; the drow smiled back at her, permitting more warmth in the expression than she usually displayed in public.

“Well, everyone made it all right, then!” said Juniper, peeking over Ruda’s shoulder. “We were a little worried about you carrying her all the way here. She looks heavy.”

“We carried Gabe to Last Rock from halfway into the Golden Sea,” Teal pointed out. “Frankly, this was easier. She is heavier, but Vadrieny’s strength and flight are magical, so that doesn’t matter much. It was a much shorter flight, and she squirmed less, and didn’t complain at all.”

“Well,” said Rafe with an insane grin. “Not till you got back here, anyway.”

“Is…everything all right?” Trissiny asked carefully.

Teal cleared her throat, jerking her head toward the other end of the long dining room. The rest of the girls crept farther into the room, peering down in the direction she indicated.

“Oh,” said Fross. “Oops.”

At the opposite end of the room stood a heavy sideboard, which was now scattered around in pieces. The floral wallpaper had been ripped completely away from most of that wall, and even the oak paneling beyond was smashed in several places. There was a large dent in the floor, with the jagged end of a broken floorboard poking upward. The entire area was marred by scorch marks.

Teal cleared her throat. “There was a bit of a…”

“Yeah,” said Ruda, “looks like there was.”

“Well, as I said,” Teal continued quickly, “Rhaazke are are matriarchal culture. Now that it’s been established who’s the dominant female in this house, there won’t be any more issues.”

“Which is almost a shame,” Rafe said happily. “That was a hell of a spectacle. Pun not intended, but so perfect now that I think of it that I am retroactively claiming it was.”

“You beat down that?” Ruda exclaimed, turning to Malivette. The vampire was scarcely taller than she, gaunt as a winter tree, and her expensive black dress didn’t appear so much as rumpled.

“Don’t fight with vampires,” Trissiny advised quietly.

“Anyway, do watch your step if you have reason to be down at that end of the dining room,” Malivette said gaily. “I’ll have it all fixed up as quick as I can, but the way things are in Veilgrad right now, getting workmen is going to be a time-consuming prospect. They don’t much love coming up here at the best of times. It’s likely to remain that way for the duration of your visit; my apologies.”

“I brought her here,” Teal said quickly. “I’ll pay for the damages.”

“Oh, pish tosh,” Malivette said, waving her away. “I’ve got scads of money, and nothing to spend it on. I don’t eat, I hardly ever have guests, and I can only buy my girls so many pretty dresses before they start to ask what I’m bribing them for. Honestly, you kids are the most fun I’ve had in years! You’re even more interesting than my class at the University, and they sent me to Hell once!”

Rafe straightened up, swiveling his head around to frown at her. “Wait, they did freakin’ what?”

“It was very exciting!” Malivette said, beaming. “I was down there almost two days and actually got to meet Prince Vanislaas! He sent me back with a very strongly-worded letter for Professor Tellwyrn. Charming fellow.”

Everyone stared at her in dead silence. Schkhurrankh’s eyes darted back and forth; she seemed almost afraid to move.

“Well, the girls are preparing a room for our new guest,” Malivette continued lightly, “and Admestus is working on teaching her some Tanglish. Oh, but what happened to your boy?”

“Toby went back with Gabriel,” said Juniper. “He didn’t want Gabe to have to go home alone. He’s a very thoughtful person.”

“Gabriel, from what I understand, isn’t really alone most of the time,” Malivette noted, some of the good cheer leaking from her expression.

“Yeah, well,” Ruda snorted, “his personal company consists of grim reapers and fuckin’ Ariel. I can’t blame him for wanting some better conversation. If that sword had a head I’d say it was broken.”

“Ariel lacks empathy and isn’t able to adapt her personality to social changes,” Fross chimed. “That’s pretty standard for sentient objects; Gabe and I looked it up.”

“Anyhow,” Malivette went on, brightly, straightening up, “we’ll just keep something warm for Toby, and dinner will be ready for the rest of you in two shakes. Sapphire’s working up something marvelous; she hardly ever has people to cook for, you’ve just made her year! This is turning out to be such an exciting visit! I can’t wait to see what happens next!”

Beaming, she patted Schkhurrankh on the head, right between her horns. The demon flinched.

 

It took Trissiny more than an hour to give up on sleeping. The house was quiet; she didn’t want to disturb any of her classmates, or Malivette’s friends, and especially not the demon. Vampires did not sleep, but Rhaazke were an unknown species to her, and of unknown nature and habits. Regardless, she didn’t particularly want to have a conversation with either of them. Malivette made her nervous for reasons not necessarily related to her condition.

Moving as quietly as possible and taking nothing but her sword, rather than clunking around in full armor, Trissiny slipped out of the house. She paused for a moment outside, drawing in a deep breath and just experiencing the night. It was only partially cloudy, and cooler than Last Rock was at this time of year. For all that, though, if she lifted her eyes to gaze above the walls ringing the manor grounds, the view reminded her of home. While the Stalrange were craggy, younger peaks crowned by sharp edges rather than the ancient rounded mountains of Viridill, they had the same effect of blocking out swaths of the night sky all around. Feeling encircled by mighty, ancient sentinels was, for just a moment (if she squinted a bit), like standing on the parade ground of the Abbey at night.

She had entertained thoughts of taking a stroll around the property, but quickly changed her mind. Clearly no one bothered to trim or tend anything on these grounds; the lawn was overgrown and interrupted by small thorny bushes. Trissiny was willing to wade through any number of horrors, but not to collect ticks, fleas and scratched knees just to stretch her legs. With a soft sigh, she stepped down from the porch, heading slowly toward the gates of the manor, thinking a couple of laps up and down the path would help settle her nerves. The unease that lapped at her had diminished outdoors; she knew it wasn’t her senses for evil setting it off, for all that she could still pinpoint Malivette’s exact location in the house (she was in the far southeast corner of the attic). It was just…the situation.

Her plan was changed by the music.

It was a thin, high sound, clearly some kind of flute. It came from somewhere not too far distant, though obviously outside the manor grounds. Moreover, the melody was as familiar to her as the weight of her sword—no, more so, since she’d known it longer. Mother Narny had hummed that tune when calm and happy, usually when tending to the young girls in her charge, those not yet old enough for the barracks. Trissiny associated that tune with the happiest, calmest memories of her childhood, to the point that hearing it here of all places brought her to a physical stop. She had never heard it elsewhere.

Even while considering the various kinds of suspicious this was, she found her feet moving, her face falling into a scowl and her hand finding the hilt of her sword. She did not believe in coincidences of this magnitude; someone wanted her attention. If they meant her harm…well, they could try.

The wrought iron gates were not locked, nor were they as heavy as they looked; unlike the yard, they were well-cared for and didn’t even squeal as she pushed one open just enough to slip through. After a moment’s thought, Trissiny pushed it nearly shut, leaving just enough of a gap to slip a hand in. It would be extremely bad manners to leave Malivette’s estate open to the night, but she was aware that this excursion might result in a need for her to quickly re-enter the grounds.

After another moment’s thought, she braced her feet, focused her will and murmured a short prayer. Gold flared from her aura, along with blazing wings; for just a second, she lit up the night like a sunrise. When the light faded, she wore her silver armor and had her shield slung over her back. For the moment, she left it there, though she drew her sword as she advanced toward the music.

A convenient path branched off from the road just a few yards from the gates, leading into a dense stand of pine trees. As Trissiny paused at its entrance, the music grew slightly in volume, just a hair more than could be explained by her increasing proximity to the musician. She narrowed her eyes and started forward, the faintest limning of gold arising over her form.

It wasn’t a long walk, but a slightly winding one through just enough turns to hide the destination from view of the road. In short order, the path terminated in a small clearing which was obviously of some importance. Standing stones ringed it, defining a cleared space apart from the forest on all sides, and a lower altar of the same ancient granite stood just off-center amid the circle.

On that altar sat an elf.

She was a wood elf to judge by her ears, but was dressed in stereotypical plains elf style, fringed buckskins bleached pale and dyed with subtle vertical patterns that would provide camouflage in the Golden Sea’s tallgrass. The object she held to her mouth was clearly the source of the music, though Trissiny couldn’t quite make out how; it was palm-sized and potato-shaped, dark brown in color. Most strikingly, she had coal-black hair.

She also had impressive timing. The tune came to an end just as Trissiny stepped carefully within the circle of standing stones.

“Where did you hear that song?” the paladin demanded.

“It’s an old ballad,” the elf replied calmly, lowering her peculiar instrument. “Old even by the standards of my people. The story of an elven warrior and his human bride. Obviously, it does not end happily. The spirits told me that tune was the specific thing that would get your attention, so I find myself wondering where you heard it. I actually have not in several decades. Things fall out of favor with the passing of time, the shift of trends.”

“So you wanted my attention,” Trissiny said curtly. “You have it. Speak.”

The elf rose in one fluid motion, nodding deeply to her; standing atop the altar, she towered over the paladin. “My name is Kuriwa. Tell me, Trissiny, have you ever looked at someone and felt an inexplicable but powerful sense of kinship?”

“What?” Trissiny frowned, staring suspiciously up at her. “What are you talking about?”

“I see.” Kuriwa looked disappointed. “The blending of kinds can have middling effects on things like the shape of ears, general build, the acuity of senses… But there are elven traits that one either inherits, or not, always in whole, never in part. You have the aura and metabolism, I can see that much at a glance. I had thought perhaps… Well. Elves are not neatly sorted into generations like humans; we have a more complex relationship with heredity. An extra sense, a way to tell when we are in the presence of genetically close family. No doubt an adaptation against inbreeding. If you possessed it, you would know the feeling.”

“I’ve only met one elf who I was related to,” Trissiny said, scowling, “and all I felt was suspicion and disappointment.” She already had a sense of where this was going.

“Yes,” Kuriwa said with a rueful little smile, “she has that effect, though I think she would be hurt to hear you say it. For your future edification, however, the combination of black hair and the ears of a forest elf exists only in one bloodline. When you see it, you are in the presence of family.”

“The Sisters of Avei are my family,” she stated. This was not a surprising revelation after that build-up, but she was surprised at how little she felt toward this woman. After Principia, she had not really considered her heritage, nor felt inclined to seek it out.

“Yes,” Kuriwa repeated, nodding in agreement. “The bond of family goes far beyond blood, and may in truth have nothing to do with it. You have been denied even the opportunity to know those who are kin to you, however. I offer you the chance to rectify that lack, if you wish to take it.”

“What are you doing here, now?” Trissiny exclaimed. “If you were interested, you’ve had years to track me down. This is not exactly a convenient time for me to deal with this!”

“Convenient times do not exist,” Kuriwa said with an oddly roguish grin, which made her resemble Principia more strikingly. “But yes, you’re right. In truth, you have always been in competent care and once grown, admirably in command of yourself. Had I had cause to worry, I would indeed have sought you out. But no, this was something distantly related to happenstance. I have been in Last Rock a great deal lately, working on something with Arachne. She naturally prefers that her students not be meddled with—which I more than understand—but while at the University, I noticed you. It has made me think that it might be worthwhile for us to talk.”

Trissiny sighed heavily. “With all due respect, Kuriwa, I have not had great luck with relatives so far. What is it you want from me?”

“Nothing,” said the elf. “Not a thing. It is as I said: I came to offer you a connection to your heritage, if you want it. The only request I make is that you do not commit to a definitive answer right now. This is indeed a hefty thing to drop on you out of the sky, as it were.”

“Frankly, this is less hefty than finding out I was a half-blood in the first place. Much of that had to do with who the source of that half turned out to be. She’s not a very impressive example of your race.”

“Half-blood,” Kuriwa mused. “That term, I’ve found, is nearly universal…it seems odd to me, and somewhat annoying. You are clearly not half a person. If anything, you are twice-blooded. Both, not less.”

“Uh…” Trissiny took a half-step back, still watching her askance. “I never really thought about it.”

“You have more immediate things to think about,” the elf agreed, nodding. “I hope, though, that should you meet any more of your elven kin, you will greet them hospitably. Ours is a diverse an often fractious line, infamous among elves for its non-compliance with tradition, but there are no kinslayers among us, nor many who would disappoint your own standards. In fact, your own mother is the one example most likely to offend both elven and Avenist sensibilities.”

“She is not my mother,” Trissiny said firmly.

“Have a care,” Kuriwa replied, and while her tone remained calm, her gaze turned similarly firm. “Bearing and birthing a child may be a common enough thing, in the greater scope of the world, but you don’t get to decide it’s a small thing until you’ve done it. I know Principia’s numerous flaws very well, and I will not deny her what measure of credit she has earned. However disappointing you find her, it is to her that you owe your existence.”

“I can be lectured any time I like if that’s what I want,” Trissiny retorted. “By any number of people. I’m not interested in hearing about or discussing Principia, and if having family among the elves means being chewed out in the woods, I’ll pass. Good night.”

“Wait,” Kuriwa said, and her calm tone actually did prompt Trissiny to hesitate in turning away where a more commanding one might simply have spurred her on. The elf hopped lightly down from the altar; standing on the ground, she was almost exactly as tall as the paladin. “You’re right, of course; I ask your pardon. As a shaman and an elder I have developed a habit of dispensing wisdom to people, sometimes when they don’t want any. Meeting someone who feels like kin to me, it’s easy to forget that I have really no right to tell you what to do. Narnasia raised you well, and has much to be proud of; you’re doing fine without me. Again, my apologies. For now, I would like to give you something.”

She tossed the peculiar little instrument; Trissiny snagged it out of the air more by reflex than plan. It was carved from a single piece of wood, polished smooth and without any adornment. The instrument was a hollow, round-edged oval rather like a flattened egg, with irregularly-spaced holes for fingers and a small protrusion ending in another hole, presumably to blow into.

“Um,” she said intelligently.

“It’s called an ocarina,” Kuriwa explained with a smile.

“A traditional elvish instrument, I suppose?”

“Actually,” the shaman mused, “I believe it comes originally from the Tidestrider islands, though I have seen them in many places. It’s a conveniently portable and durable instrument. That one also has just a touch of magic.”

“Just a touch?” Trissiny repeated, holding it gingerly.

“Just enough to get my attention,” said Kuriwa, nodding. “Something I prepared for you, as it seemed unlikely you would want to sit and have a long talk here in the woods in the dark. Play the tune I was playing on that instrument, and I will come find you. It gives you a way to call me if you decide you wish to learn about your heritage—or if you are in trouble. Remember, whatever you may think about me, Principia or elves in general, I look upon you as kin, and I will not suffer you to be harmed if I can prevent it. If you play and I do not come, it means I am myself in immediate and extreme danger. Nothing else restrains me from my blood.”

“Ah,” Trissiny said, raising an eyebrow, “you do realize I have no idea how to play this thing?”

“It’s actually quite simple,” Kuriwa said with a grin. “That’s another reason they are popular in multiple cultures. You have a friend who is a bard, correct? Teal? I’m sure she wouldn’t mind teaching you how.”

“I’m pretty sure Teal doesn’t know how to play it, either. I’ve never even seen one of these.”

“Whether she does or not, I guarantee she can figure it out in moments, and teach you in only minutes more. The ocarina is a simple instrument for anyone, and as easy to play as a tree is to fall from for an actual musician.”

“I see,” Trissiny said carefully, the frown not leaving her face. “Well, then. Thank you, I suppose.”

“You are suspicious.” Kuriwa smiled at her. “Good. The world is full of enemies, and you have more than most—and the most dangerous among them are those who come bearing gifts and a fair countenance. Keep in mind, though, that the world is also full of friends, and teachers. You’ll find there’s more overlap than you expect between those categories.”

Trissiny sighed. “Okay.”

“And now I see I have strained your patience.”

“It’s just, this…inscrutable elvish wisdom. I’ve known enough elves by now that I’m surprised to find one actually matching the stereotype.”

At that, Kuriwa laughed aloud. “All right, all right, fair enough. I should be moving along anyway; your next teacher is on the way here as we speak.”

“Excuse me, my what?” Trissiny straightened up, hefting her sword. Having the ocarina in her other hand rather than her shield made the movement feel oddly incongruous.

“Keep your wits about you and your guard up,” Kuriwa advised. “I rather suspect you’ll do that anyway, but it bears repeating. Those you are about to meet can be trusted, and you can learn several very important things from them—both for yourself in the long term, and with regard to your mission here. Trust, but trust carefully.”

“What?” Trissiny exclaimed. “Who? What are you talking about?”

“You’ll find out by the time I could explain it, and things will go better if I’m not here. If you want to speak to me again, young one, you have the means. Go well.” With a final, warm smile, Kuriwa took two steps backward from her.

And then there wasn’t an elf there, just a crow that fluttered up above the level of the standing stones and then soared smoothly away into the darkened trees, cawing once as it went.

Trissiny stood for a long moment staring after it, then shook herself off as if banishing a dream from her mind. She had little idea what to make of that encounter, but suspected she would be chewing on it for a while. Perhaps tonight was going to turn out even more sleepless than she’d previously suspected.

With a soft sigh, she carefully tucked the ocarina into one of her belt pouches and turned to go back. The armor could be summoned, but not dismissed the same way; she was going to have to clank through the house, which would inevitably culminate in explaining to Ruda what she was doing up and armored at that hour. Odd that they would agree to share a room again when there were enough rooms for everyone, but neither felt fully relaxed around their hostess, and preferred known company in that house. That arrangement hadn’t been made with this specific situation in mind, though.

Abruptly she stopped. The forest was silent. She hadn’t particularly noticed while talking with Kuriwa, and anyway wasn’t attuned enough to nature in general to find meaning in the noises of various animals, but when she had set out there had been a constant hum of crickets, and the occasional calls of night birds. Owls, and others she did not recognize. Now, nothing. No birds, which meant a predator. No insects, which meant something unnatural.

Trissiny fired up her divine aura, reached out with her senses. Detecting evil wouldn’t necessarily work on…

The growl came from behind her.

She turned—quickly, but in a careful, smooth motion. Anything sudden or jerky might provoke an attack.

The werewolf towered over her, dwarfed only by the standing stone beside which it stood, and that not by much. It had to be as tall as Schkhurrankh, and similarly bulky with muscle. The creature’s pelt was a pale, tawny color that likely meant blonde hair when it was human, which was all she could deduce about its other form. Even its sex was hidden; it wore the ragged and torn remains of a shirt and pants, which hid its groin, and female werewolves in that form had no visible breasts. They weren’t even reliably smaller than males.

A dozen yards of space yawned between them. It could be across that in one bound. Exactly how aggressive the creature might be depended on a number of unknowable factors, but they were always more prone to attack than any simple animal. Like wolves, they fought with tooth and fang; like humans, they tended to kill what they had no intention of eating. The malice of whatever arch-fae had first created this curse left them unreasoning and violent in many cases, likely to show savagery in this form that their human selves would bitterly mourn later.

It wasn’t even a full moon. Something was horribly awry in this town; Gabriel’s chaos theory gained more weight with everything she learned.

Trissiny itched to reach for her shield, but there was no telling what reaction that would get. There were just so many variables, and she was not a specialist in werewolves, having known only one before. Depending on the individual, the specific strain of the curse, and the innumerable ways in which these and other factors interacted, a werewolf might be in nearly complete control of itself, or as vicious as a rabid dog. This one wasn’t charging on sight… But then, a sentient being didn’t stand and snarl at people with its hackles raised.

“If anything of the person you truly are can hear me,” she said quietly, “restrain yourself. I will not, and it is beyond my means to incapacitate you without doing grievous harm.”

If anything, the creature’s lips drew farther back; its growl deepened in tone, and it hunched forward, shifting toward her. Its half-human, partially canine form blurred the body language of either, but the pose of a creature preparing to lunge was unmistakeable.

That shaman would have been very useful right now. Trissiny shifted into a fighting stance, raising her sword and beginning to move her free hand carefully toward her shield.

The chime of a bell rang through the silent forest, and the werewolf twitched, turning to its right to stare into the darkened trees, its snarl vanishing. Ears pricked upright, it waited. Across the clearing, Trissiny waited, too. Anything which might lead to this ending without violence was worth a bit of patience on her part.

The bell rang again, and forms melted out of the darkness into the thin moonlight which illuminated the clearing, then came closer, close enough to be shown in more detail by the golden light streaming off her aura. There were five of them, all human, three men and two women. They wore sturdy leather clothes in shades of brown and green; two carried bows, two axes, and the last man held a bell in one hand and small mallet in the other.

As they eased carefully within the circle of stones, he struck the bell a third time.

The werewolf laid its ears back and actually whined, but then turned and shuffled away into the night, in the opposite direction from which they had come.

“She’s heading toward Malivette’s place,” said one of the men with a bow. “Klara, Rolf, follow. The vampire’s scent will turn her aside and there’s no telling which direction she’ll go.”

A woman carrying two tomahawks and the man with the bell both nodded at him and strode off after the departed werewolf, keeping their pace even and their footsteps eerily quiet against the forest floor. In moments they, too, were lost again among the shadows.

The man in the lead, who had spoken, turned to Trissiny, bowing. He had a full beard, originally a ruddy brown but now flecked with gray, and smile lines radiating from the corners of his eyes. “General Avelea, well met. You’re unharmed, I trust?”

“It—she didn’t attack me,” Trissiny said carefully. “Do I know you?”

“Well,” he replied with a grin, “you are the only person on the planet with armor like that, and we were made aware of your presence in Veilgrad. But no, we’ve not met before. I had dearly hoped that we might. There’s a great deal I have wanted to discuss with you.”

“I see,” she said, frowning. “And…you are…?”

“Oh!” He clapped one hand to his forehead, disturbing the cowl of his green cloak. “Bah, I’m sorry. Wolf-herding duty tires the brain. My name’s Raichlin; these are Tabitha and Frind.”

“It’s an honor,” said the remaining woman, bowing. The other man just nodded deeply to her.

“You’re…” Trissiny studied the woman, who carried a longbow and had a tomahawk and heavy hunting knife hanging from her belt. “…not Shaathists, are you. The Shadow Hunters?”

Tabitha rolled her eyes; Frind grunted.

“Not the name we choose,” said Raichlin with a humorless little smile, “but it suits well enough, for now. You are here to see to the troubles plaguing Veilgrad, yes?”

“That’s the plan,” she said warily. “Progress has been…spotty.”

“I can only imagine,” he said, his smile broadening again. “Well, General, I would certainly never have set out to take up your time in the middle of the night. But since you are up and about, may I offer you the hospitality of our lodge? It is only a few minutes’ walk away. We would dearly love to speak with you.”

“Your lodge is within walking distance of the manor?” she said in surprise.

“The manor was not always the home of a vampire,” he said seriously. “The Dufresnes have always been good neighbors, and often good friends. Malivette, for obvious reasons, keeps her distance… But like our other acquaintance whom you just met, she suffers from a cursed condition that grants her a predatory nature, and goes to great lengths not to actually prey upon anyone. Such restraint and honor one cannot help but respect.”

“I see,” she said, frowning. Kuriwa had said to trust these people, that they could teach her something important… But how much could she trust Kuriwa? Even if the elf was actually family, the only confirmed family she had was possibly the least trustworthy individual she had ever met.

Trissiny reached within herself, seeking that core of light that was the goddess’s presence. Avei rarely communicated with her directly unless she sought her out in ritual prayer, but she felt only calm within. No warning, just strength and serenity.

“I’d be honored,” she said, finally lowering her sword.

 

Dawn came late to the mountain-sheltered town, with the Stalrange barring the east. It would be hours until actual sunlight fell upon Veilgrad, and some time in fact before it even glowed over the mountaintops. But there was a gray pallor to the sky, now, that hinted the sun was at least considering making its ascent.

Trissiny yawned, carefully securing the gate behind herself and then trudging back up the path toward the manor. Sword sheathed and shield slung over her back, she had a hand free, holding the book the Hunters had given her; her other hand kept straying of its own accord toward the pocket in which rested Kuriwa’s ocarina.

This had been a strange night indeed, but fruitful.

And now she had a reception waiting.

There wasn’t normally any furniture on the manor’s porch—it seemed to eschew outward signs that people were actually welcome there. Rafe had apparently dragged one of the dining room chairs all the way out, and now sat with it propped up on its back two legs, leaning against the wall beside the door.

“Rough night?” he said sympathetically as she climbed the steps.

“Eh,” Trissiny grunted.

“Do me a favor,” said the Professor, gazing past her at the gate and its view of the mountain road beyond. Veilgrad itself was barely visible in the valley below, partially hidden by the bend of the road and the intervening forest.

“Hm?” Trissiny paused, turning her head to look at him.

“Next time you go haring off on a solo nighttime adventure, take your roommate along.”

She frowned. “I’m able to take care of myself, Professor.”

“Oh, for sure,” he said easily. “Nobody doubts that. But, aside from the fact that there’s hellacious trouble afoot in this region and people do actually care enough about you to be worried out of their fucking minds when you mysteriously vanish in the middle of the night… Zaruda needs the exercise.”

“She…what?” Trissiny stared at him, not sure whether to be more flummoxed by that statement or the oblique rebuke which had preceded it.

“Ever stopped to consider what you’re dealing with out here?” Rafe said in a mild tone. “And how Ruda might respond to it? She’s a fantastic kicker of asses, but you’ve yet to narrow the search to a culprit who can be apprehended. She’s a people person who’s good at motivating groups, but the locals are standoffish and specifically mistrustful of you lot, which denies her the chance to use that skill. She’s clever, good at making plans and unraveling mysteries, but there’s just so damned little to go on, you’re all still in the dark, at least mostly.” He shifted in his chair, making it wobble slightly, to face her directly. “Can you imagine anything that would grind on Zaruda Punaji more painfully than feeling useless?”

Trissiny gaped. “I…that…”

“Not much of a people person, are you, Avelea?”

“Excuse me?”

Rafe shrugged. “Well, you aren’t. Should think about looking into it; people are actually really interesting. I bet if you bothered to pay attention to the ones who don’t need to be rescued or stabbed, you’d enrich your life considerably.”

It took her a few seconds to remember to shut her jaw.

“Well, anyway,” he carried on, leaning his head back against the wall and closing his eyes. “Imma nap out here for a while, but you’re probably better off back in your own bed, if you wanna try to catch some Zs before breakfast. Got at least an hour or so, I reckon. Go on, skedaddle.”

After a moment, she did. Mostly because she couldn’t think of a better idea, or a response.

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Price would never have admitted how much she enjoyed dressing up the apprentices, and Darling would certainly never press her, but the results spoke for themselves. They got looks, of course, as they always did in the Cathedral, but so far as he could tell the looks were entirely due to their ears and not their attire or mannerisms. Flora and Fauna followed him demurely, clad in conservative but graceful frocks of dark blue and gray respectively, and had so far played the role of clerical students so well that even he could find no flaw in their performance. Of course, he still wouldn’t attempt this kind of test of their skills without his supervision. No one was going to interfere with a Bishop’s retinue, but elves alone in the Cathedral might otherwise not get ten paces without being stopped and questioned.

Or so he was idly reflecting, debating whether the innate injustice of it was something he ought to (or even could) address, when his theory was contradicted.

“Your pardon, Bishop Darling?”

He halted immediately, turning with careful smoothness—the Bishop’s mannerisms were more poised and languid than Sweet’s, and with all the various action lately the two roles had started to blend more than he liked. He seized upon every opportunity to emphasize the difference.

Of course, he recognized the person approaching him. There were relatively few elves in service to Pantheon cults, scarcely any in the employ of the Universal Church, and exactly one entitled to the uniform of a Bishop.

“Please, it’s just Antonio,” he said with a beatifically Bishoply smile. “I must endure far too much tedious formality as it is, without demanding it from equals.”

“Antonio, then,” Nandi Shahai replied with a nearly identical smile, and he immediately began to suspect that this one was trouble. Basra Syrinx’s absence had, needless to say, shaken up many people’s plans and routines, and her replacement was discreet enough to make it a challenge for anybody to get a good read on her. She had virtually no reputation outside the Sisterhood, who had nothing to say to any of his rumor-gatherers. “I wonder if I might requisition a few moments of your time?”

“You need only ask,” he replied, widening his smile by a very precise increment. Hers shifted equally precisely to match. Oh, yes, she was dangerous. He had seen the calm control of the older elves; seeing the calm control of a modern politician on an elf raised frightening prospects. “These are my apprentices, Flora and Fauna. Is this to be a private matter, or do you mind if they observe? My schedule affords me sadly few opportunities to show them the more ecclesiastical side of my work.”

He kept his expression open and solicitous, very much just a colleague dutifully concerned for the proprieties. Shahai once again shifted her own to mirror it in the most exact nuance, which confirmed his assessment that she was a skilled operator and made him begin to wonder whether she was subtly poking fun.

Darling made a mental note to grill the girls extensively later for their opinions of the new Bishop of Avei.

“The matter is no secret, at least not to me,” she said serenely, nodding to Flora and Fauna, who bowed in return. “I will leave it to you to judge whether it is sensitive—it concerns a member of the Thieves’ Guild with whom the Sisterhood may have a burgeoning problem.”

“Oh?” he said, allowing his gaze to sharpen. This was in line with his official duties and his numerous less-than-official ones, as she assuredly knew. Moreover, it was a disturbing prospect. Eserites who went sufficiently rogue to cause trouble for other cults tended to be big trouble for everyone before being finally reined in. “Please go on, you have my undivided attention.”

“Thank you,” Shahai said politely. “I shall try not to take up too much of your time. The individual in question is a Sifanese woman with the given name Saduko, who has claimed the Guild tag Gimmick. Her only distinguishing feature is a husky voice that suggests an old throat injury. To begin with, aside from the voice, we have only her word on any of that. I am not considering it confirmed that she isn’t simply someone using those names as cover.”

Darling, of course, was too professional to betray the sudden chill that ran down his spine, or so he hoped. One never knew what elvish senses could pick up; Flora and Fauna claimed that public spaces were usually too noisy for them to distinguish the speed of individual heartbeats.

“I am aware of a person matching that description, in fact,” he said, affecting a slightly worried wrinkle between his eyebrows. “The Saduko of whom I’ve been told is a model Guild member and an admirably discreet young woman. What has she done to antagonize the Sisterhood?”

“It is most puzzling,” Shahai said solemnly. “First, she appears to have entered the employ of the Conclave of the Winds, or at least of one member thereof. It is on behalf of Zanzayed the Blue that she intruded on the Third Silver Legion’s grounds and attempted to secure an unsolicited meeting with Sergeant Locke.”

So many new connections spontaneously formed in the web of intrigues he carried around in his head that he could swore he felt his ears pop. Saduko and Zanzayed meant Webs—Webs was a link to Thumper, who was after Keys, who hung precariously between the Guild and the Sisterhood and had dangerous ties to both Tellwyrn and Trissiny Avelea. Saduko had been sent to undermine and sabotage Webs; was she operating with or against him now? That assignment had long since expired, which made either possibility troubling. Could he really have nothing to do with this? No; she, Webs, Thumper, Zanzayed and Tellwyrn—and bloody Kheshiri—had all been present at that disaster in Onkawa. Darling didn’t believe in coincidence…

“That is most troubling,” he murmured, frowning thoughtfully into the distance beyond Shahai’s shoulder. For once it was a totally unfeigned expression, as his natural response suited the role he had to play. That was always good; a successful liar had to be as natural as possible.

“Forgive the change of subject,” Shahai said, watching his face intently, “but I believe you worked closely with Bishp Syrinx, did you not?”

Oh, what was she up to now? Had that whole affair been a feint?

“A few of his Holiness’s initiatives put us side by side, yes,” he replied, controlling his expression again.

“These are interesting shoes I am left to fill,” she said with an inscrutable little smile. “I wonder, what did you think of her?”

“Basra’s ability to get results has been missed by several of us around here,” he said frankly. “She is quite skilled. One must be, to get away with being so difficult to work with.”

Shahai’s answering smile was a few degrees warmer and more genuine. “I see. I apologize for derailing the conversation. You seemed so concerned, it put me in mind of the many snipped threads which I am left to grasp here and weave back together. I fear Captain Syrinx did not leave detailed notes on most of her projects with the Church. Could this issue be related to one of them?”

“I would be astonished if so,” he said slowly. Of course, he knew well that a good way to get a moment of honesty out of someone was by forcing them to abruptly change focus. And she surely would know that he knew that… Just how old was this woman? She carried herself with the classic aloof calm of the older elves, but hell, he had taught Flora and Fauna to do that in the course of a week. Shahai could be younger than he, or older than the Empire. There was no telling how much skill and experience he was contending with here, and now she wanted to stick her nose into…

Well, why not? He’d had unexpectedly good results in the last year from extending unasked trust and honesty. Perhaps this was a good opportunity to build on that.

“Pardon my slowness,” he said with a self-deprecating little smile. “There is a whole tangled web of priorities and agendas you’ve just brought up, Bishop Shahai, and I almost didn’t know where to start.”

“Please,” she said pleasantly, “it’s just Nandi. I am but a temporary replacement.”

“Of course,” he replied in the same tone. “Ultimately, though, we have a cult member in common, and her safety must come first.”

Shahai’s gaze sharpened. “Safety?”

“Girls,” he said, angling his head to include his apprentices in the conversation, “go to my office and retrieve the blue folder in the top right corner of my desk, please.”

“You locked your office, your Grace,” Fauna noted.

“Oh, it’s not merely locked,” he said with a hint of a properly mischievous Eserite grin, mostly for Shahai’s benefit. Let her chew on that. “Fetch me the folder, and when I inspect the office afterward, if I can find no other traces of your retrieval, you both get two days off from training.”

At that, they both smiled right back, their delight unfeigned, but its presentation still well controlled. Oh, they were coming along nicely.

“Consider it done,” Flora said with rransparently feigned solemnity, and they turned in unison and glided back up the broad hall down which he had just led them.

“Nandi,” he said, turning back to his fellow Bishop and letting his own face grow serious again, “I wonder if we could step into your office? I’ll need to pass the information you gave me on to Boss Tricks, but first there are a few things you, Commander Rouvad and especially Principia need to know.”

 

A short succession of raps sounded on the office door, and then it was pushed open. Shook stepped inside, nodding to Khadizroth and then to Svarveld. “Am I interrupting?”

“Just tedious progress reports,” the dwarf said with a tight little smile. “Made ever more tedious as well as irritating by the lack of any progress to speak of.”

“You mustn’t be so negative, Mr. Svarveld,” Khadizroth said with a patrician smile. “Every dead end your crews explore in the old mines rules out a threat and furthers our progress. I am only sorry that your team must shoulder the tedium themselves.”

“Well, the lack of actual retrieval is unusual and tad disheartening,” the foreman said, relaxing so far as to smile at the dragon, “but it’s not as if mucking around in tunnels isn’t our favorite thing to do. And I must say this surveying work is far quicker than actual digging.”

“Nonetheless,” Khadizroth replied, “if there is anything any of us can do to make your jobs easier, please don’t hesitate to come to me. This isn’t a pleasant task for any of us; I don’t want anyone to suffer unduly.”

“Oh, we’re all right,” Svarveld demurred quickly. “As I said, we’re all professionals. I may want to talk to you in a few more days about shift schedules, though. We’re getting far enough out from the town that the space we need to cover spreads us pretty thin. If those elves get any more aggressive, that could be a problem.”

“That,” said Shook with a cold half-smirk, “could finally relieve the tedium for the rest of us. I just did a sweep of the town’s outskirts, K, and Shiri’s off scouting Raea’s band from the air. And yes, before you ask, from a very safe distance. I know my girl; she doesn’t take unnecessary risks.”

“I appreciate your diligence, Jeremiah,” said Khadizroth, leaning back in his chair. Aside from his smooth emerald eyes and green hair, he looked simply like a wood elf, right down to his preferred attire. That made his surroundings seem peculiar; wood elves, or indeed elves in general, were rarely found seated in plush chairs behind heavy desks.

“Well, I may be a thief, but I’m not dishonest enough to accept unearned praise,” Shook said, shrugging. “Truth is, I am bored to the ragged edge of insanity, here. We all are, and I’m frankly beginning to worry about what’ll happen if Jack doesn’t find some outlet for his…himself. If those elves don’t start getting aggressive, I might suggest we move first.”

Svarveld coughed discreetly. “Well. Security’s over my head, gentlemen. Unless you want my input, Mr. K?”

“Your input is always valued,” Khadizroth said, nodding deeply to him. “But your skills are best used directing your miners, Mr. Svarveld. I won’t keep you from your work any longer.”

“Till next report, then, sir,” the dwarf replied, bowing. He paused in the act of turning away to give Shook an exceedingly blank look, then crossed to the door, stepping widely around the enforcer, and slipped out, shutting it quietly behind him.

“If I were a more paranoid person,” Shook said dryly, “I might be tempted to think he doesn’t like me.”

“He has, in fact, passed along to me a few complaints regarding you, Jeremiah, from several of his crew,” Khadizroth said. His tone remained soft and mild as usual; his blank green eyes were annoyingly hard to read, but the dragon’s expression was merely thoughtful.

Shook snorted, crossing to one of the other chairs in the office—the one near the bar—and pouring himself a drink even as he sat down. A drink of water, of course. Risk had no standing bodies of water, but boasted no fewer than three wells, and was well equipped to supply its current occupants. Shook had taken to enforcing a limit on hard drinks on himself: one, after dinner, period. It grated, but as dull as it was around here, he knew very well he would drink himself comatose before noon every day unless he maintained serious self-discipline.

He had scarcely exaggerated. The boredom was weighing heavily on their whole party. He had nothing to do with his time except patrol the town, inspect the miners, screw Kheshiri and play cards with the Jackal and Vannae—gods knew the elves were no good for conversation. He was also seriously concerned about what the Jackal might do if he grew too bored. Shook had been around enough men who enjoyed killing and hurting to recognize the type. If you couldn’t get rid of them, keeping them entertained was a high priority.

Not that he’d mentioned it to Khadizroth, nor would, but Kheshiri’s growing boredom was also making her an ever-increasing hassle to deal with. He knew little about the psychology of succubi, but the Jackal had mockingly disclosed enough of that lore to make him suspect he had underestimated the volume of trouble he was taking on in keeping her on a longer leash. Well, if worse came to worst, he could always put her back in the reliquary. That would be a shame, though; he very much liked having physical access to her.

“You seem unsurprised,” Khadizroth prompted, and Shook realized he had drifted off in thought.

He grunted and took a sip of water. “Feh. Dwarves. In their culture, thieving is a greater crime than murder.”

“That is a slight exaggeration,” said the dragon with an amused little smile.

“A very slight one,” Shook snorted. “The long and the short of it is, I’m hardly surprised that dwarves wouldn’t take to me. Fortunately, I do not give one single shit what they think. Makes my life a lot easier.”

“In the short term, I suppose it would,” Khadizroth murmured, folding his hands atop the desk and staring across the office at his pool. Not for the first time, Shook pondered how calm, how approachable the dragon was. Stories about them made much of their aura of majesty, the tendency they had to command awe and obedience simply by their presence. Khadizroth was, if anything, humble. Despite everything, Shook couldn’t help liking him a bit.

He liked the office, anyway; the dragon had simple but expensive tastes, and the magic on hand to indulge them even out here in the frayed end of the sticks. It was a pleasingly masculine space, paneled in dark wood, with a plush maroon carpet and old weapons displayed on the walls. Old weapons, bladed ones, nothing magical or modern, and all of them not only of quality make but bearing the marks of long use. Despite the generally low level of light, the dragon grew plants in large pots in each corner. Cacti, succulents and stands of field grasses, not floofy flowery plants like some ladies’ teahouse. Opposite his desk he had constructed a stone semi-circle which contained a pool of water, complete with two lazy carp and floating lily pads.

“Specifically,” the dragon went on after a long moment, “Svarveld says your inspections of his delving operations do more harm than good.”

“Yeah. Well.” Shook took a drink of water, averting his gaze. “Quite frankly, I’ll have to own that. I know precisely fuck all about mining; I only go down in those holes to get away from the rest of our delightful crew and keep myself occupied. Sorry; I’ll give ’em some space. Not like I was doing any good down there anyhow.”

“They don’t seem to much mind having their shoulders looked over,” Khadizroth said mildly. “The miners take great pride in their work, justifiably. But several have complained that you bother the women in the crews.”

Shook snorted loudly. “Oh, please. What the hell are women doing in a mining crew anyway? I don’t know whether they’re being indulged by rich daddies or are there to provide comfort to the real workers and dwarves are just too cagey to admit it in front of tall folk. Either way, the whole idea is ridiculous. Anyhow, they’ve got nothing to complain about. I’ve not laid a hand on a one of them, nor given ’em a cross word.”

“You might be surprised how much you can convey merely by looking.”

Shook grinned. “Then again, I might not. I’m an enforcer, K; you can’t effectively enforce by breaking everybody’s kneecaps. Mostly, people just need to be afraid of you. Break one or two kneecaps and get real good at glaring, that’s how it’s done.”

“If any of the female members of Svarveld’s crew are afraid of you, they’ve not mentioned it,” said the dragon with a thin smile. “I don’t believe they are intimidated by much, in fact; dwarves are a famously stalwart and hardy people. They have seemed to me offended, annoyed, in some cases even disgusted. But no, not afraid.”

“You sure seem to have done a lot of listening to these women’s opinions,” Shook said, scowling.

“As you yourself pointed out, my friend, there is a lack of much of anything to do, with our dwarven allies shouldering most of the actual work. I find that listening to everyone’s input fills my day quite satisfyingly.”

“Yeah, well, take ’em with a pinch of salt. Half of what a woman tells you is drama, a third is lies, ten percent is useful pertinent information, and the rest random noise.”

“What specific figures,” Khadizroth said, gazing calmly at him. “You’ve expressed similar views before, Jeremiah. I wonder what makes you think this? You are, after all, talking about half of all sentient species.”

“Not dragons, I note. And aren’t you the biggest, baddest, most powerful race there is? And not a female amongst you. I think my point stands.”

“There are roughly as many dryads as dragons in the world,” Khadizroth said wryly, “if not more. In any case, pardon my curiosity. I am simply interested in the reason for your antipathy. Such hostility is never without some root cause, in my experience.”

Shook made an involuntary twisting expression with his lips; even he couldn’t have said whether it was a grin or a sneer. “Root cause? I trust the evidence of my senses, that’s all.”

“Really?” Khadizroth suddenly leaned forward, staring intently at Shook as though his attention were captivated. “You do? Why is that?”

Shook stared back at him. “…are you kidding? What else can you do?”

“I wonder if you would indulge me in a little experiment,” Khadizroth said with a smile.

“Sounds creepy,” Shook said warily.

“I suppose anything can be, if looked at askance,” the dragon replied. “But I think you’ll find this instructive. Close your eyes for a moment.”

Shook squinted at him suspiciously, but Khadizroth only gazed calmly back at him. After a few seconds, moved more by idle curiosity than anything else, he complied.

“Good,” said the dragon. “What do you see?”

“Are you serious?”

“Well, eyelids are very slightly translucent, of course. Can you see the outline of the window behind me?”

Shook frowned. “Nope. Just black.”

“Very good. Now raise your right hand and wave it back and forth in front of your face.”

“…are you just trying to make me look stupid? You must be as bored as the rest of us.”

“I’ve seen the rise and fall of nations, Jeremiah,” the dragon said wryly. “I am not so easily entertained. Trust me—just try it.”

Shook sighed, but finally did so, lifting his hand and waving it rapidly in front of his closed eyes. A moment later he frowned, and did so again more slowly.

“What do you see?”

“It’s… Just a shadow. A faint image of… Well, that’s a neat trick, I guess, but like you said, eyelids are slightly dah!”

He yelped embarrassingly and jerked backward in his chair nearly hard enough to tip it over. He had opened his eyes to find Khadizroth’s face inches from his own, the glow of his eyes dominating his view.

“Clearly not,” the dragon said with a measure of satisfaction, straightening up and backing away a few steps. “Why, then, were you able to see the shadow of your hand through your closed eyelids?”

“That’s a rhetorical question, right?” Shook growled, clenching his hands on the arms of the chair and clinging to his self-control. He did not appreciate pranks like that. Approachable or not, though, Khadizroth was still a dragon, and not someone to whom it would be smart to show his temper. “This reeks of a lesson.”

“It’s a simple trick of the mind,” Khadizroth said, turning and pacing back around behind his desk. “Your brain knows where your extremities are. Even when you cannot actually see, it constructs an appropriate image. Especially when you cannot see, in fact; when you actually can, it has no need to. That is not the only thing about your vision which is counterintuitive. Due to the specific anatomy of the human eyeball, the picture you have of the world is upside-down and has a blank spot in the center. The brain corrects for both of those deficiencies.”

“That’s…interesting,” Shook said carefully.

“You don’t believe me,” Khadizroth replied with a smile, seating himself again.

“All due respect, K, if you’re gonna tell tales like that, you can’t fairly expect to be taken at face value.”

“You are a trained follower of Eserion, Jeremiah; you know how lies work. If I were going to lie, would I not tell a believable story?” He gave that a pause to let it sink in before continuing. “A less believable tale isn’t necessarily true, of course. In this matter, though, are you willing to acknowledge that my knowledge widely exceeds yours, and that I have no motive to trick you?”

“I…suppose,” Shook said grudgingly.

The dragons folded his hands in his lap, leaning back. “In any case, those interesting facts only serve to demonstrate my true point. Everything we see, hear, and touch…everything we know about the world…is filtered and processed through very imperfect mechanisms. We do not interact with reality itself, Jeremiah, but only with the vague shadows our senses tell us, reconstructed by our flawed minds.”

“What’s your point?” Shook demanded.

Khadizroth shrugged. “You say you trust the evidence of your senses? I don’t. It’s a lesson I have learned painfully.”

“What can you trust, then?” Shook exclaimed. “I don’t get what you’re driving at. Do you stagger around blind?”

“No,” the dragon mused. “Obviously you cannot function without placing a great deal of faith in these flawed perceptions. One must, however, keep in mind that those perceptions do have flaws, and potentially great ones. Believing without question in what you see is a path to self-deception. Over time, I have learned that the only true wisdom is in knowing that you are a fool.”

“I don’t much appreciate being called a fool,” Shook said, clutching the chair even harder.

“I was referring to myself, actually,” Khadizroth replied, his tone mild as ever. “Though the point applies to anyone. I have been dramatically wrong about many things, Jeremiah. I have made great, terrible mistakes. Rather recently, in fact.”

“Well,” Shook said, beginning to relax slightly, “I don’t get the impression anyone who lacks some flaws of character ends up in a merry little band like ours.”

“Indeed,” Khadizroth said with a wry smile. “Ultimately, I think, it is about power.”

“Power?” he repeated cautiously.

Khadizroth nodded. “One tends to blame others for one’s misfortunes—it is natural and instinctive. The mind reacts to protect its self-image. Obviously, whatever unpleasant thing befalls us is someone else’s fault, because we are each of us the hero of our own story. We cannot be in the wrong, or the world just doesn’t make sense!” He sighed. “I am embarrassed at how long I had to live to get over that gut reaction. I have seen so many others brought to ruin by it. In the end, it robs you of your power. So long as I am at fault for the ills of my life, so long as I accept the responsibility and the blame, I remain the one in command of my destiny. If I am the architect of my failures, I can be the architect of my successes. If they are imposed upon me, however, I become a victim. Weak, helpless…at the mercy of others.”

“This…is all pretty roundabout,” Shook said, frowning. “You’re starting to lose me.”

“Yes, forgive me, I do tend to natter on. One of those faults I was telling you about.” The dragon shook his head, smiling self-deprecatingly. “I suppose my point is that it’s unwise to place too much faith in yourself. Embrace being wrong, my young friend. It’s the only path I’ve found, in all my years, to eventually being right.”

“How did we get onto this from discussing women, of all things?”

“Well, it is a general observation,” Khadizroth mused, “but it did not come out of the blue. I suppose we are all wrong about certain things in particular.”

Blessedly, Shook was spared having to find a safe and useful response to that by the abrupt opening of the door.

“Is—master!” Kheshiri skittered in, sliding across the floor to kneel beside Shook’s chair. She was grinning hugely, her tail waving in eagerness.

“Whoah, girl,” he said with an indulgent smile, fondly resting a hand on her head. “What are you, a puppy? Rein it in. What’s got you so worked up?”

“Apparently she has news,” the Jackal drawled, strolling in after the succubus. “Wouldn’t give poor old me the time of day until she’d checked in with her dearest, darlingest master.”

“As is proper,” said Shook, smirking faintly. “What’s the big idea, Shiri?”

“Raea has friends,” the demon said, grinning savagely. “Three new arrivals are meeting with her little band now—three whose descriptions I recognize. An old man, a Westerner, in a ragged coat with a wizard’s staff. Younger man in a dark suit, ponytail and goatee. Gnome chick with far too many pockets.”

At that, a similar grin spread across the Jackal’s narrow features. “Well, finally. I was starting to think those lazy bastards would never get here. It’s just rude, making us wait around like this.”

“You are extremely fortunate, Kheshiri, to have made it back here safely,” Khadizroth said grimly. “The necromancer Weaver travels with a soul reaper.”

Kheshiri suddenly went deadly still, staring up at the dragon with a frozen expression.

“Excuse me, a fucking what?” Shook demanded.

“A complication,” said the Jackal, grinning even more widely. “An invisible death spirit which can send your little pet there straight back to Hell with a touch. My, this does make our job more interesting! Looks like you’re not gonna be with us much longer, pretty bird,” he added, leering down at the succubus. She gave him a disdainful look.

“We’ll not squander any of our number in the pursuit of foolishness,” Khadizroth said firmly. “If those three are meeting with Raea, we must assume the others are nearby, or on the way. Kheshiri, let’s hear as many details as you managed to gather.” He leaned back slowly in his chair, raising his green eyes to study the ceiling, and allowing himself a faint smile. “It does not do to act without information. Since we are about to have such important company, we must be certain to greet them properly.”

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Trissiny hammered on the door for the third time. “Last chance,” she said flatly.

“I think if he was gonna come to the door, he’d have done it when we rang the bell,” said Gabriel. “Or at least the second time we rang the bell.”

“I believe his reticence is understandable,” said Shaeine. “After our previous visit, he doubtless has some idea what to expect.”

“I’m not sure I like the idea of barging in on a warlock who’s expecting it,” Ruda commented.

“I very much doubt this guy has anything to throw at us that we can’t handle,” said Trissiny, drawing her sword. “And as of now he has officially had his chance.” She wedged the tip of the blade behind one of the door’s iron hinges and began levering at it. Like most of Leduc Manor, the wood was rotted and the fixtures loose; progress wasn’t fast, but it began working free almost immediately.

“Um, I’m not sure you should be doing that,” Toby said hesitantly.

“An ax or crowbar would be better,” Trissiny grunted, “but at least I know this won’t break.”

A fiery glow washed over the manor’s ragged courtyard as Vadrieny emerged. The archdemon cleared her throat politely.

“Trissiny, if I may?”

The paladin yanked her sword free and stepped aside, allowing her up to the door. Vadrieny calmly sank her claws into the wood around its old iron latch, then ripped the entire thing free and tossed it aside. Immediately, the door sagged inward.

“Ah,” Trissiny said in satisfaction. “Thank you, Vadrieny.”

“My pleasure.”

She shoved through the door and into the ruinous entry hall, pausing to peer around.

“You feel it, I assume,” Toby murmured, coming in behind her.

She nodded. “No surprise. Even if Lord Sherwin hasn’t laid traps, this was home to a family of diabolists for who knows how many years.”

“Pshaw, bring ’em on!” Fross chimed, swooping in above their heads. “We took on a hellgate!”

“What do you think you’re doing!?” bellowed a reedy voice from the back of the hall. In the darkest, most distant corner behind the stairs, a door flew open and Sherwin Leduc himself stomped out, glaring furiously. “How dare you burst in here! Do you have any idea who—”

“Shut up,” Trissiny ordered. “We’re here to release your prisoner. Are you going to be helpful, or are you going to get hurt?”

“This is your doing!” he raged, pointing a trembling finger at Vadrieny. “I should never have let you in!”

“I’m done with you, little man,” she said disdainfully. “Now you deal with the paladins.”

“Through that door, then?” Gabriel said, circling around the rest of the group and stepping with care on the decayed floorboards. “Well, if he’s not gonna lead the way, I trust you two remember?”

“It is not far,” said Shaeine.

“Absolutely not!” Leduc shouted. “You thugs are not messing with my work! I have spent too much time and effort and money arranging this to have it all undone by a bunch of kids. I don’t care who you are!”

“You probably should,” Juniper remarked. She had removed her ring outside and now showed her normal coloring, not that it seemed to make much impression on him.

“Enough,” Trissiny said curtly, stalking forward. “Get out of the way.”

“You think you’re going to invade Leduc Manor without consequences, little girl?” he snarled. “I have means of dealing with interlopers. Don’t you dare take another step! You don’t have the authority—”

“I am the Hand of Avei!” Trissiny roared, flaring alight. Golden wings sprang forth from behind her, stretching into the cavernous emptiness of the hall and filling every corner with Avei’s radiance.

The entire building groaned as if its very stones were trying to fall down. There came cascades of sparks from across the walls and ceiling, and flashes of flame as invisible demonic wards combusted in midair around the room. Toby and Gabriel added their own blazing auras, accelerating the reaction of the manor’s defenses, and soon the whole place was filled with a haze of sulfur-scented fog. The sounds of splintering wood and breaking glass continued to echo from distant rooms.

The whole time, Trissiny didn’t so much as pause.

“You are keeping a woman imprisoned for purposes that don’t even bear mentioning!” she snarled, continuing on toward the suddenly ashen-faced Lord Leduc. “My authority ends where you muster the power to stop me, which I think you will find is nowhere!”

She casually slammed her shield into him, shoving him aside, and stalked right past. Leduc caught himself against the wall, staring in apparent stupefaction as the rest of the party trooped after Trissiny. Most gave him disdainful looks in passing. Only Fross dallied a few extra moments in the hall, conjuring up a cold wind to clear out the smoke.

“This way,” said Shaeine, slipping into the lead in the kitchen apartment and showing the others to the rear door that concealed the staircase. Vadrieny had to fold her wings in tightly to pass through, but did not retreat back into Teal. The three paladins dimmed their glows at a pointed look from the archdemon.

Moments later, the group was spreading out in the dark hall at the base of the stairs. It branched off to either side, but the room converted into Leduc’s elaborate prison stood almost across from the stairwell. Vadrieny stepped up to the door and spoke a few harsh syllables.

The others clustered around, craning their necks to peer within. The cage’s occupant had sprung upright, grasping the bars, and now stared eagerly through them at the archdemon, babbling rapidly in the same rasping tongue.

After a momentary exchange, Vadrieny nodded and withdrew, leaving only Teal, who glanced behind her at the others. “Watch your step,” she cautioned. “I don’t think the sigils on the floor will hurt any of us, but I’m not sure I wanna learn what happens when you break a holy sigil with this many demon-blooded people in the vicinity.”

“Well,” said Fross, coming to hover above her, “depending on the circumstances and the deity in question—”

“It was rhetorical, Fross,” said Ruda.

“Oh.”

“Get away from there!” Leduc howled, barreling out of the stairwell behind them. “Don’t touch her! You can’t just come in here and do this! She’s mine, I can do whatever I like with her! I know the law—succubi have no legal standing under—”

“You unbelievable imbecile, that isn’t a succubus!” Gabriel exclaimed. “Are you daft or just blind? Look at her!”

“They’re shape-shifters, you twit!” Leduc snarled right back. “She’s just being obstreperous. I have this in hand, and you will not—”

“That should have been the thing that clued you in,” Toby interrupted, staring severely at him. “A succubus wouldn’t have told you ‘no.’ They essentially never do. She’d have accepted your advances and any terms you offered and immediately begun manipulating you and working around them. You’re a diabolist; you should know that, or you have no business trying to summon one.”

“He has no business trying to summon a child of Vanislaas under any circumstances,” Trissiny snorted. “No one does.”

“Oh, so here’s the big Avenist to make sure nobody has any fun,” Leduc sneered at her. “You can talk about justice all you like, we all know you just hate the thought of a man not needing women. What are you without that control? Just a whore priced out of the market!”

Trissiny whirled and stalked right at him at a pace barely short of a run, bringing up her sword.

“Trissiny!” Shaeine said firmly. “Justice.”

The paladin came to a stop, glaring at Leduc through slitted eyes; he had staggered backward against the wall, apparently realizing only belatedly what he’d said, to judge by the horrified look on his face. After a moment she drew in a deep breath and let it out in a long hiss through her teeth. “Right. You’re correct. Thank you, Shaeine.”

“I do believe,” Ariel commented, “this man is the dumbest nominally sentient being I have ever encountered.”

“And she hangs out with Gabe! That’s sayin’ something.”

“Thank you, Ruda, for your input.”

“Oh, don’t give me that look, Arquin. Difference is, you learn. Eventually.”

Juniper cleared her throat and took Leduc by the upper arm. “Hey, can I have a word with you upstairs?”

“June,” Toby warned.

“I’m not gonna hurt him,” the dryad reassured them. “I just want to talk. C’mon, this way.” She pulled Sherwin back into the stairwell, so abruptly he nearly lost balance.

“Hey—let go of me! I won’t want—”

“Yeah, I don’t really care. You can feel free to hex me all you want, if it makes you feel better.”

His protesting voice gradually diminished as they ascended the stairs.

“I…am gonna go keep an eye on that,” Fross said, fluttering over to the stairwell. “If you need my help with anything down here, just shout.”

“Will do,” Gabriel promised, then glanced at the stairs with a frown. “And Fross? Same goes.”

“Yeah,” the pixie agreed, then zipped through the door and up the stairs.

“All right,” Toby said, turning and stepping carefully into the prison room. “What’s the plan, here?”

The rest of them followed him in, and paused, the group stretched out along the walkway of planks leading to the cage. Within, the demon now stared at them in silence, still clutching the bars.

Trissiny slowly pivoted in place, studying the room. It was practically papered in holy symbols, interrupted only where the lights were hung and the fairy altars set up.

“Well, we can’t bring her out with all this here, she’d just burn,” said Teal. “I guess…step one should be taking down those altars? They’re feeding power into the sigils. From there… I dunno. Breaking them seems like a bad idea.”

“It is,” Trissiny agreed. “Gabe, Toby… Do either of you happen to know the ritual of deconsecration?”

“Wait, you can de a consecration?” Gabriel exclaimed. “Man…I am so far behind.”

“Not in this case,” said Toby, frowning. “I’ve never even heard of that.”

“I hadn’t either,” Trissiny murmured. “It wasn’t part of my education. After that demonblood shopkeeper in Tiraas gave me an earful last winter, I looked it up. I know the ritual to purge a blessing from an Avenist sigil. But if you don’t…”

“Merely deconsecrating the golden eagles in this room is unlikely to make a substantial difference, even considering Avei’s primacy of place within the Pantheon,” said Shaeine. “Even if Toby and Gabriel can do the same with their own sigils. That would leave most still active.”

“It’s a universal ritual,” said Trissiny. “Should work on anything. But…”

“Uh, yeah,” Toby said worriedly. “I don’t know what would happen if three paladins scrubbed the blessings off a bunch of sigils of every god, but I doubt it would be much better than just breaking all these.”

“Azh’khthash mavhtchaar!” the demon said impatiently.

“Oh, keep your pants on, we’re working on it,” Gabriel retorted.

“She’s not wearin’ pants,” Ruda said helpfully.

“Look,” he snapped, rounding on her, “if you want actually do something useful, what about that sword of yours? Mithril blocks magic—it could neutralize the sigils.”

“You want me to go through this room individually poking every one of these goddamn things?” she said dryly. “That’s great, Arquin. Sure, why not. I didn’t have anything else planned for this fucking year.”

“It probably wouldn’t take more than a few hours,” said Teal, rubbing her chin. “And…well, our other option is to carefully and respectfully move each of these out of the room.”

Trissiny shook her head. “I have to say this is a dilemma I never expected to face.”

“Okay, hang on,” said Gabriel, closing his eyes.

“Uh, hey,” Ruda said, “can you nap on your own—”

“Ruda, be silent,” Shaeine said flatly. Ruda blinked and turned to her in surprise. “He’s reaching out to his deity. At this point, we should welcome any option.”

“Right,” Gabriel said, heaving a sigh and opening his eyes. “Okay. Got a solution. I can shadow-jump her out of the cage and into the hall. It was safe for Vadrieny outside the room, so she should be fine.”

The others stared at him, Trissiny and Shaeine having to crane around their classmates to see.

“You can shadow-jump?” Trissiny finally demanded. “Since when?”

“Gabe,” Toby said, frowning, “you haven’t been studying infernal magic, have you?”

“Little known fact,” said Gabriel, “but shadow-jumping isn’t actually infernal magic. It’s a kind of shadow magic, which can in theory be done by any of the four schools, but the infernal is easiest. Anyway, no, I can’t just do it at will. But it’s something Vidius does upon request for his most…uh, senior priests. If he considers the reason worthwhile.”

“And he considers this worthwhile?” Trissiny frowned, turning back to peer at the caged demon. “I have to say I’m…surprised.”

“Hey, if you want to know why a god does something, I can’t help you,” Gabriel said wryly. “He did say last spring that he was interested in seeing if demons are worth more than just target practice. And, I mean, he’s no Avei, but the guy has a basic sense of fairness. This shit right here would be unacceptable even if she was an aggressor. Considering she was basically kidnapped…”

“All right,” said Teal, “I’d better try to explain it to her. Excuse me…”

She very carefully edged past Toby and Trissiny to the front, approaching the cage. The demon watched her flatly. That close, the contrast with Teal made it obvious what a physically powerful specimen the prisoner was—she towered head and shoulders above the bard, and was far more muscular of build than any woman any of them had seen before. Aside from the spiked iron bracers, her only garment was a leather wrap that encased her from just below her arms to just above her knees—it left a lot of her skin on display, and every inch of that was laid over bulging muscle.

“Hhthrazhkin duon,” Teal said carefully. “Vreskin hrazth ag szhagsnad.”

The demon, incongruously, grinned widely and snickered. Teal sighed heavily, running a hand over her face.

“Are you telling her jokes?” Ruda demanded.

“No,” Teal said in irritation. “It’s just… Vadrieny’s feeding me the words, but they’re hard to form. My pronunciation…isn’t great. If I could just let her out to do this it’d be a lot easier, but last time the sigils…”

“You’re lucky you have that Talisman of Absolution,” said Toby. “Or you both could have been seriously harmed.”

“Yeah,” Teal agreed, turning back to the demon. “Talk amongst yourselves, I’m gonna try to explain things. It could take a bit to get it right.”

“I’m not surprised,” Ruda said in a quieter tone as Teal carried on rasping at the demon. “That whole fucking language sounds like a cat horking something up.”

“I’ve always wondered about that,” Gabriel murmured. “It seems weird. Most demons have the same basic kind of vocal apparatus we do, right? I mean, the sentient ones.”

“They do,” said Trissiny, “and it’s neither weird nor a coincidence. Demonic is a constructed language; it was designed by Scyllith. The goddess of cruelty.”

“It’s not just the pronunciation,” Shaeine added. “The Scyllithene dialect of elvish is influenced by demonic. The accent is only subtly different, but grammar and word order is all turned around, and not in a pattern that seems consistent. Admittedly, though, our exchanges with our Scyllithene cousins are rarely verbal.”

They all turned to watch for a moment as Teal fell silent and the demon began speaking; her voice was deep and made the guttural tongue seem to fill the room. Several of the sigils rattled very softly against each other.

“So, about shadow-jumping,” Toby said quietly. “Care to go into a little more detail on that, Gabe?”

“All right, well…” Gabriel scrubbed a hand through his hair. “I know you guys have only taken Yornhaldt’s basic classes, but in the actual arcane degree program….uh. Let me think how to put it. Fross is better at explaining these things…”

“Allow me?” Ariel suggested. “Shadow magic refers to any classification of spell that does not belong to one of the four schools on the Circle of Interaction. There are few such, but they do exist—for example, the source of vampires. Shadow-jumping is one such type of spell. Its magic cannot be accessed directly by our methods, and requires an intermediary use of Circle-compliant magic. Doubtless it was easier to access before the Elder War, but many of the rules were changed with the fall of the Elder Gods and the creation of the divine and arcane energy fields.

“In essence, it is an issue of power. Infernal magic has a naturally corrosive effect on physical reality, and so when manipulated in the right way is useful for boring a hole between two places, which is the essence of what shadow-jumping is, and activates the effect. With the other three schools, there is just not enough energy. An arcanist can simply teleport far more cheaply; a cleric could not handle the requisite amount of divine power without being incinerated by it. And by the time a witch gathered up enough totems of power and fairy allies to perform such a feat, she could have just walked there. Thus, shadow-jumping is commonly only done by diabolists. The only exception is when a deity intervenes to do it for a follower, as is apparently the case with Vidius and his senior priests and now Hand. I didn’t know that either,” she added somewhat petulantly.

“You’re a pretty good lecturer, Ariel,” Toby said, grinning. “You could almost teach a class yourself.”

“I have often thought so. Not that Professor Ekoi sets the bar very high.”

“Hey, I like Ekoi,” Gabriel protested. “I mean, when she’s not sticking her claws in me. She’s funny. Sly, I mean, not goofy like Rafe.”

“Okay,” Teal called. “I think we’ve reached an understanding here. Gabriel, you need to touch her, right?”

“Right.”

“She’ll allow it, as long as you’re respectful.”

“Dear gods in the sky,” he said, wide-eyed, “I just need a grip on her arm. I’m not gonna grope her.”

“I understand that, Gabe,” the bard said patiently, “but you need to consider where she’s been and what Leduc’s been trying to get her to do. Her tolerance is understandably low.”

“Ah… Yeah, point taken.”

He carefully eased past the others to join Teal at the bars.

“Schkhurrankh, vzash’ke Gabriel,” Teal said. “Gabriel, meet Schkhurrankh. Don’t try to say it; I’m having a hard enough time, and the slightest mispronunciation of someone’s name is basically demanding a duel in her culture.”

“How the hell are they not all dead?” he marveled. “Uh, hi there…ma’am. Nice to meet you. I’m Gabe; I’m a friend, promise.” He gingerly slipped one hand through the bars, holding it up toward her face. Schkhurrankh peered at it, then tilted her head, frowning down at him.

“Gabriel, she is hardly going to sniff your fingers,” said Ariel, “and I dearly hope she doesn’t understand the implication.”

“Uh, right!” he said, quickly lowering his arm and gesturing toward one of hers.

“Let’s be moving back toward the hall,” suggested Trissiny. “Leave them space to arrive, but…”

“But it’s best if we’re around when she’s out of that cage,” Teal agreed. “I think it’s best if Vadrieny’s there, in fact.”

As they filed out the door, the demon finally took Gabriel’s arm, wrapping her enormous clawed fingers around his wrist and leaving him to do the same with hers.

“Vladskhaar n’zud, tzukhlunth,” she warned.

“Somehow, I don’t even need that translated,” he said. “All right, hold on to your… Uh, you know what, never mind. Here we go.”

In that brightly-lit room, the swelling up of shadows around the cage was so visually wrong it was disconcerting; the simultaneous deepening of the darkness in the already-dim hall outside seemed much more appropriate. Gabriel and Schkhurrankh re-materialized in the center of the hall, just as Trissiny stepped out of the prison room, the last to arrive. In the next moment, Vadrieny emerged from within Teal, adding her orange glow to the dimness.

Schkhurrankh drew in a deep breath, her powerful chest swelling, then let it out as a deafening roar, whirled and began slamming her fists into the stone wall. Craters formed immediately; dust shook from the ceiling and more and more fragments of stone were sent flying, prompting Shaeine to shield herself and Ruda behind silver spheres. Toby held up a hand to protect his eyes; Trissiny was armored and Gabriel durable, and added no magical effects. All three paladins were reluctant to flash any divine magic at the towering demon. She was grinning in exultation as she systematically pummeled the stonework, as if punishing the manor itself for daring to have imprisoned her.

“Um,” said Toby, “not that she doesn’t have every right to be pent-up, but I have no idea whether this is a load-bearing wall…”

“Ashask zsakhar!” Vadrieny snapped, and Schkhurrankh immediately stopped, turning and bowing low to the archdemon.

“Well, then!” Gabriel said, wiping his palms against his coat. “I guess that’s the hard part taken care of.”

“Think so, do you?” asked Ariel.

 

Leduc’s apartment was still unoccupied. They finally found their reluctant host and the fairies all the way out in the collapsing entrance hall, where Fross was slowly drifting around the ceiling, laying patches of ice here and there for some reason. Juniper and Sherwin were seated side by side on the bottom of the once-grand staircase. Strangely, he was slumped forward with his face in his hands, and she had an arm draped around his shoulders.

Before anyone could even ask, Schkhurrankh let out a furious roar and charged at them.

Vadrieny lunged, but was a hair too slow. Juniper, however, managed to stand and place herself in front of Leduc; she caught the charging demon with one outstretched hand and very calmly threw her back.

Schkhurrankh went flying across the room, slamming against a the far wall. Beside her, the boards that had been covering the window collapsed, along with a good chunk of the stone wall itself. The demon sat there, blinking in astonishment.

“Oh,” Juniper said, wincing, “oops. She’s not as heavy as she looks. Is she okay? I really didn’t mean to hurt—”

The demon brayed again in wordless outrage, bounding to her clawed feet and beginning to lunge forward again.

This time, Vadrieny got there first, seizing Schkhurranh by the throat and whirling her around the slam her back against the wall. An entire segment of it collapsed, showering both demons with falling masonry; the whole building groaned in protest, part of the roof caving dangerously toward the new depression.

Sherwin and the students, with a chorus of yells, skittered away to the opposite side of the room, with the exception of Fross, who dived at the collapsing section, spraying out water that instantly froze. In seconds, she had propped up the falling masonry with ice, temporarily halting the collapse. It was hardly a permanent solution, however; aside from the fact that it wouldn’t last long, the ice added more weight to the already beleaguered masonry.

The two demons paid this no mind, any more than they did to the stone and rotted timber that had smashed down on top of them; both were yelling at each other in demonic. It was a peculiar sight; despite Vadrieny’s impressive mane and wings of fire, she was physically a good bit smaller than Schkhurrankh. Despite this, she held the bigger demon in place without apparent effort. In fact, the Rhaazke didn’t seem to dare struggle against her, contenting herself with words.

“I…I should go apologize to her,” Leduc said miserably, wringing his hands.

“That would be an incredibly bad idea,” Toby said firmly.

“That appears to be the only kind he has,” Ariel commented.

“Now you want to apologize?” Trissiny demanded, rounding on Leduc. He flinched back from her, hunching in on himself and dropping his gaze.

“We’ve been having a talk,” Juniper explained. “I think I made him understand why what he did was wrong. Sherwin isn’t malicious; he’s just naïve, entitled, repressed and was in denial about all the rest of it. We worked through that and made a real breakthrough!”

“That,” Shaeine said carefully, “is so impressive as to defy believability. Mental healers work with patients for years to make that kind of progress, Juniper. He is quite possibly scamming you.”

“Nah, he’s not quick-witted enough to do that.”

“Hey!” Leduc protested weakly.

“Well, you’re not,” the dryad said reasonably. “Remember what we discussed about acknowledging your faults? Anyhow, Shaeine, most mental healers can’t tell every detail about a person’s sexual identity and desires by their scent. Since this whole messy business is bound up in his sexuality, that pretty much told me everything. Also, most mental healers don’t physically restrain their patients from leaving until they listen. Even so, the poor guy really does mean well, he just—”

“The poor guy?!” Trissiny shouted, practically spitting with rage. Leduc gulped loudly and edged behind Juniper.

“Yeah, the poor guy,” the dryad said firmly, meeting Trissiny’s gaze unflinchingly. “He should be held responsible for this, Trissiny, I am not arguing that. But come on… I refuse to believe that mentally healthy people do things like this to each other. At the root of all evil is pain, or ignorance. Acknowledging that doesn’t mean we don’t see justice done.”

“W-wait,” Lord Leduc said tremulously. “I-I thought…”

“Sherwin,” Juniper said in exasperation, “you kidnapped somebody, imprisoned and tortured her, and were going to rape her eventually. Now, I’ve got more empathy than most for somebody who did something that awful out of ignorance, but come on. There have gotta be consequences. You may not believe it now, but I promise you need to face them if you’re ever gonna straighten yourself out. I’ve been there.”

Leduc let out a soft squeak and seemed to wilt in on himself even further.

Across the room, Schkhurrankh’s tone had become pleading rather than enraged. Vadrieny was no longer gripping her by the throat, but had her clawed hands on each of the larger demon’s shoulders, and seemed more to be holding her up than holding her back.

“Excuse me,” said Ariel, “but why are we restraining her? Letting the sexually deviant warlock be killed by the demon he abused seems both efficient and equitable. Poetic, even.”

“That is not what we do,” Shaeine said firmly. “We will have justice, not more senseless violence.”

“Not all violence is necessarily senseless,” Trissiny said darkly, “but you’re right. Justice is all the more important when it is tempting to just dispatch the criminal.” She glared at Leduc, who had peeked around from behind Juniper at her. He squeaked again and ducked back into hiding.

“Excuse me, I hate to rush what’s obviously an important moment,” Fross chimed from above, “but you two are standing right under the part of the room that’s gonna collapse and this really is not going to hold it up much longer. Do I need to build a bigger ice brace, here, or can we move all this outside?”

Vadrieny looked up at her, then back at Schkhurrankh, and said quietly, “Thatznha. Shlvakhshka rhe. Zhtzi?”

The Rhaazke drew in a deep breath, bared her fangs for a moment, but then nodded. “Tzkhorsa lkhai.”

“I believe we are done,” Vadrieny said, finally releasing Schkhurrankh and stepping back. “Let’s get out of here before it all comes down.”

“That language is really interesting,” Fross said brightly, descending toward them. “That whole time I don’t think I actually heard you repeat a syllable. It doesn’t actually have grammar, does it? Kinda like the gnomish Patter, but with—”

“Fross!” Ruda exclaimed.

“Oh. Right. Escaping, yes, got it.”

They made their slow and wary way toward the broken door, keeping a careful eye not only on the damaged roof and rotten floor, but also on Schkhurrankh and Leduc, who had locked eyes from across the room. After a moment, he mumbled something, turned and scurried off into the darkness down another side hall. The demon snorted loudly and stalked the rest of the way to the door, not minding how the wood crunched under her talons. The rest of them followed much more carefully, but also quickly.

Outside, they regrouped in the courtyard, and apparently not a moment too soon. Behind them, half of the entry hall collapsed, the tinkle of shattering ice added to the roar of broken stone and fallen beams. It went on for long moments before stilling.

“D’you think he’s okay?” Juniper asked, frowning.

“That fucker has never been okay in his life,” Ruda snorted.

“Whether he is or not, this isn’t over,” Trissiny said firmly. “He has yet to face any meaningful consequences for what he did.”

“You mean, apart from collapsing half his house?”

“Ruda,” she said impatiently, “if he cared about that, the house wouldn’t have been in this state to begin with.”

“Also, it wasn’t half the house,” Fross added. “Pretty much just the front room. Still looks solid behind that.”

Schkhurrankh growled loudly and punched the crumbling remains of a gargoyle perched beside the manor’s front steps. It dissolved into a spray of gravel.

“Brilliant,” said Ariel. “Look what we get to babysit now. I hope everyone is pleased.”

“Shut up, Ariel,” Trissiny said wearily. “The problem now is getting her back to Dufresne Manor. Obviously, taking her through Veilgrad is not even a prospect. Gabriel…?”

“No dice, I already asked,” he said shaking his head. “Getting the imprisoned victim out of the cage was apparently worth divine intervention; facilitating convenient travel, not so much.”

“Deities generally prefer not to be called upon lightly,” Shaiene noted.

“Also,” said Ruda, “we came right here from Veilgrad, which means Malivette has no idea we’re bringing her another houseguest from an unreachable sub-Hell who doesn’t speak a word of Tanglish. So, that’s gonna be an interesting conversation.”

“So much for the hard part being over,” Toby said wryly, looking at Gabriel.

Gabe sighed heavily. “Come on, guys. What is it gonna take for you to stop listening when I talk?”

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At least they didn’t have to spend time looking around on this trip. Billie and Weaver disembarked from the caravan to find McGraw leaning idly against the wall of the station, chatting with the young woman in the Army uniform who stood watch. At their arrival, he straightened up, tipped his hat to her and ambled over to join them. The soldier watched him go with a faint smile before resuming her ostentatiously bored perusal of the sleepy town outside.

“Omnu’s balls, I swear I’ve got the knees of a man twice my age thanks to these fucking things,” Weaver growled, stretching and casting a dirty look back at the parked caravan. “I am not getting back in that damned contraption until this whole damn business is over with. Hell with it, I might just walk back to Tiraas afterward.”

“I fully support this plan,” Billie said solemnly.

“Top o’ the mornin’,” McGraw said, coming to a stop alongside them. “I don’t mean to alarm anyone, but you seem to have forgotten somebody.”

“Aye,” said Billie with a grin, “Joe’s of the opinion he can straighten out our bad reputation in the town. Whole idea sounded barmy t’me, but the Bishop seemed to think it had merit.”

“Idea?” McGraw asked, raising an eyebrow.

“He and the kid are tracking down a friend of Joe’s from Sarasio,” Weaver said disinterestedly. “An Imperial Surveyor. For once I agree with the pocket bomber here; bunch of wasted time. If Desolation was worth a damn, the Empire would’ve been active out here already, and bureaucracies do not move fast enough to be any use to us. But Darling thinks he can get some help to the place, maybe whip us up some support.”

“Well, the effort ain’t likely to hurt, I suppose,” McGraw mused, lifting his hat to scratch his head. “Long as it’s Darling handling the bureaucracy and not Joe. Not that the boy ain’t smart in his way, but if he doesn’t get over some o’ that naivete of his, somebody’s gonna stab him in the back. Again.”

“Tryin’ ta get results out o’ the Imperial Department of Red Tape should speed that process along,” Billie said cheerfully.

“This does complicate things a mite, though,” the old wizard continued. “I’m also close to tracking down an old friend who I reckon can help us out, but doing it’ll mean headin’ out into the Badlands. I’d thought we might be able to just move on from that to hittin’ Risk, but now it looks like we’ll have to backtrack again and pick up the Kid. I don’t like the thought to takin’ on Big K without his wands. He say when he expected to be back?”

“He’s gonna come tomorrow at the latest,” Billie reported. “Leavin’ Darling to finish up motivatin’ the Empire.”

“One day to get government action initiated,” McGraw said dryly. “Truly, that boy is the very soul of optimism.”

“Mm. You still wanna head out, then?” Weaver asked.

McGraw sighed heavily. “Yeah…we’d better. I’ve been sendin’ up smoke signals, so to speak. Little disruptions in the… Well, it’s technical; if you’re really curious I can go over it while we’re walkin’, since we won’t lack for time. The long and the short of it is if I fail to put in an appearance, my little attention-getters may be taken as a hostile move.”

“Then by all means, let’s not piss off anybody else around here who we’re not sent specifically to rough up. That means you,” Weaver added, pointing at Billie, “touch nothing, say nothing, and do nothing.”

“Honestly, the way you carry on,” she huffed. “Where I’m from, blowin’ up a bar is a constructive criticism on the drink menu.”

“Off we go, then!” McGraw said cheerfully, ambling off toward the far side of the station, which had a view of the desolate Badlands beyond the town.

“Now, refresh my memory,” Weaver said as they stepped out into the morning sunlight, “that girl you were talking to. Isn’t she the one who was on duty yesterday?”

“Yup, that’s her,” McGraw replied. “They don’t exactly keep a well-staffed garrison in this backwater.”

“Because it occurs to me,” Weaver mused, “that she didn’t so much as poke her nose out when the saloon exploded and then a mob very nearly started in on us. Maybe there’s a reason certain individuals get posted to the ass end of nowhere.”

“Now, as to that, allow me to direct your attention back over your shoulder for a moment,” McGraw said cheerfully. “You’ll notice a distinctive edifice rising from Terminus Station. The scrolltower office is part of the same complex as the Rail depot.”

“The word ‘complex’ is maybe givin’ this town a little too much credit,” Billie snickered, “but go on.”

“I’ll remind you that a bare few minutes after we were rounded up into custody,” McGraw continued, “a very official message came in for the Sheriff, apparently ordering him to let us all go. And I’ll add, as a point of general information, that while soldiers are trained to respond immediately to a crisis, Imperial Intelligence operatives are trained to observe and take action carefully, subtly, and only as needed. They are also the only people who don’t face prosecution for impersonating soldiers.”

“Exactly how did your conversation with that one go?” Weaver asked, frowning now.

“Oh, you know how it is,” McGraw said with a shrug. “Small talk. The weather, the economy, what’s trendy in Tiraas these days. Ain’t much point in pokin’ the bear, as a rule; if the Imps are keepin’ an eye on us… Well, so far they seem inclined to leave us at liberty, don’t they?”

“Well, well, well,” Billie drawled. “So it seems this little job the esteemed Mr. Darling has roped us into is even more fraught than he let on. ‘Scuze me while I shit me pants in shock.”

“If you need to go behind a bush,” Weaver sneered, “try to find one with a rattlesnake.”

“Y’know, Damian, the more I get t’know you, the more sense it makes the only creature that seems ta give a damn about you is an extra-dimensional death specter.”

McGraw raised his eyebrows, shifting his head to give Billie a warning look. She met it with a grin and a wink. Weaver just walked on in silence, his face suddenly an icy mask.

“I reckon this is enough distance,” the wizard said after a long few moments, glancing back. Desolation was receding behind them, still well in view but not close enough for any individuals to be more than ant-sized from this range. “A big part of the thrust of my information-gathering over the last couple days has been about the movements of elves in the region. That had to be phrased carefully; you may have heard that elves are not popular round these parts.”

“It was mentioned, yes,” said Weaver.

“Upside of that is people are more’n willing to gripe about any sighting of a pointy ear, provided I pitch my own interest as similar hostility,” McGraw continued. “It was a sure bet there’d been some; elves likely wouldn’t come near the town, knowing they aren’t liked, but there are always tribes passing by this close to the frontier, and nomadic people as a rule are allergic to bein’ told where they can and can’t go. I was bankin’ that between our old friend Khadizroth and the presence of the skull, some would be sniffin’ around here specifically.”

“And?” Billie prompted.

“News was good. Strong hints that one of the parties takin’ an interest in the area is an old friend of mine; she’s distinctive enough to create rumors. So I’ve been… Well, it’s a little hard to explain if you’re not a practitioner. Poking at the aether, I guess you could say. In such a manner that any practicing shaman close to Desolation would know I was stickin’ out feelers.”

“Feelers?” Weaver said dryly.

McGraw grinned. “More like a wet finger in the ear. Not harmful, but not fun. I wanted to make sure it wouldn’t be missed.”

“Yup,” the bard said, rolling his eyes. “I can see how someone might take that as hostile.”

“Just lettin’ you know what we may be walkin’ into,” McGraw said with a shrug. “I left a trail that’ll lead back to me, an’ to where we’re goin’. Expect to be met there. Hopefully it’ll be my old comrade, who in all likelihood will help us out, if she ain’t workin’ on Mr. K an’ his friends already.”

“Or it could just be pissed off random elves,” Weaver said, scowling.

“Could be,” McGraw allowed. “Worst case scenario is a fight, but that’s a relatively remote scenario. If it ain’t my friend, it’ll be an irate shaman wantin’ to know what the hell I think I’m up to. As a rule, if you give elves an explanation and it’s a good one, they’ll leave you alone. But that’s a rule, and individuals are exceptions. We’ll see.”

“Well, look at that,” Billie said brightly. “Turns out blowin’ up the saloon wasn’t the most reckless thing this group’s done!”

Weaver sighed dramatically. “I hate you. So much.”

“Which of us are you talkin’ to?”

“Yes!”

 

In their eerie, barren way, the Badlands were profoundly beautiful. In aggregation the terrain looked flat, stretching endlessly away till the mountains rose up to the north and east, and into the infinite distance everywhere else, but viewed up close there was complex depth in that flatness. It was a huge plain of stone, what had undoubtedly been a rock shelf at some point, but had been carved by ages of rain, wind and periodic flooding into the most fanciful shapes. The stone was wrought in rounded forms, twisted and flowing. Though the outcroppings rose to a nearly uniform height, there wasn’t enough space to navigate on the top of the formations, forcing travelers to walk through the rain-carved gulleys between them.

It didn’t make for easy hiking, to say the least. Plain as the Badlands might look up top, the floor of the formation was uneven and rarely flat. For once, Billie was the faster, her small size making her agile and efficient at moving through terrain where Weaver and McGraw, with their long legs, were at a disadvantage.

Still and all, the beauty couldn’t be denied. The twisting rivulets cut through the stone had a pleasing quality all their own, augmented by the multicolored layers they revealed. Countless eons of rock formation were laid bare, the history of the very land exposed by erosion; it was profound as well as aesthetic, to any who cared to contemplate it. The occasional small thorny bushes added further character, though ironically their angular, mostly bare branches looked even less organic than the flowing contours of the stones.

Beautiful it may have been, but not pleasant. It was scorchingly hot, and the rock walls on all sides provided little relief from the sun as it climbed overhead. Initially, there wasn’t a hint of life apart from themselves, but after they had been trekking more than an hour, a lone vulture appeared in the sky above.

It began following them.

“What the hell cold possibly be out here?” Weaver snarled.

“Hard to see from this angle, down among the rocks,” McGraw replied equably, picking his careful way along with the aid of his staff, “but there are a few interesting features in the landscape. Enough that the Badlands have always had a population of sorts. It’s like any other desert; life’s concentrated around the few little enclaves where it can live. Springs, mostly. Risk is one o’ those; we’re headin’ for another.”

“Care to offer a little more detail on our destination?” Billie asked, cheery as ever. They were all fortified against sunburn, heatstroke and excess loss of moisture by aid of charms provided by her and alchemical supplies purchased by McGraw, which made the hike merely arduous instead of potentially deadly. Still, the gnome was faring better than either of them; not even her good mood was diminished by the hostile landscape.

“It’s an old crater,” said McGraw. “No water source, so it’s not inhabited, but it’s served as a meeting place for ages. Elves, dwarves an’ more recently humans have all used it. They mostly all respect it, too. I’m no expert on what dwarves think, but to some o’ the plains tribes the spot’s considered sacred.”

“Great,” Weaver groused. “This is the place you directed attention to with a metaphysical poke in the ear?”

“Like I said,” McGraw replied, his tone mild despite being slightly out of breath, “it was a sure enough way to get their attention.”

“So’s an actual poke in the ear.”

The old wizard didn’t bother to reply to that.

“How can you navigate in this?” Weaver demanded a few minutes later. “There’s no possible way you can remember a path through these alleys.”

“Elves do,” McGraw said. “I cheat, of course. Simple waypoint spell, keeps my noise aimed at where we’re goin’.”

“It’s good to be a wizard,” Billie said philosophically. “Or to travel with one.”

“It’s true,” McGraw agreed.

“It’s especially good when your wizard can just teleport you places,” Weaver noted. “I am taking it on faith, here, that there’s an excellent reason we’re not doing that.”

“Yup,” said McGraw. “Droppin’ in unexpectedly on a bunch of elves ain’t exactly wise.”

“Especially after you’ve poked them in the ear, I’ll bet.”

“The approach gives ’em a chance to gain the upper hand. It’s easier in forests or plains, of course, but elves can stalk pretty much anything through pretty much any terrain. They know who I am an’ where we’re headed; lettin’ ’em spend the hike out there watching and listening to us is a show we mean no harm.”

“Um, excuse me,” said Billie, coming to a stop and turning to frown at him. “If you’ve riled these theoretical elves, is it a good idea to give ’em the upper hand?”

“Well, look at it this way,” said McGraw with a grin. “We’ll either get arrows in the back outta nowhere, or we won’t. If you think about it, that’s the case anywhere and everywhere, at all times.”

“Aye, that’s true enough,” she said with a shrug, and turned to resume hiking, apparently mollified. At the back of their little column, Weaver began cursing monotonously under his breath.

Fortunately their journey didn’t last long beyond that. Their emergence into the crater was quite sudden; they rounded a turn and there it was.

The depression wasn’t very deep, not much more than twice the general depth of the shallow ravines; it was most significant for its relative smoothness. Rather than standing formations, it had uneven ridges marching toward its bottom. They were conveniently sized to form seats, making a natural amphitheater of sorts; several had carvings, simple pictograms and a few lines of text in elvish. Aside from that, it was a plain and barren space, baked by the overhead sun without even the meager and intermittent shade of stone formations.

Slowly, the three stepped forward, and down onto the first shelf, peering around.

“Welp,” Weaver said at last, “here we are. Notably still by ourselves.”

“Give it a tick,” suggested Billie. “McGraw went an’ spoiled the surprise, tellin’ us they were watchin’. Now they gotta make us wait ta re-establish dominance.”

“You would think immortals would be above petty social games,” the bard grumbled.

“You sound like you never met one,” Billie said, grinning. “These marks look important, in an ancient artifact kinda way. If yer in such a crashin’ damn hurry, I s’pose I could blast a big hole outta—”

The shade increased, marginally, as the upper lip of the crater was suddenly lined with elves. There were scarcely a dozen; they perched upon the topmost layer of the rocks, which offered very little space even for such lithe individuals. These were plains elves, their buckskins dyed the color of rock dust, and every one was armed. Bows, staves and wands were all represented, all aimed at the three below.

Weaver and Billie both dropped into fighting crouches, reaching for their own weapons.

“Whoah, whoah, whoah!” McGraw exclaimed, holding up both hands and letting his staff fall into the crook of his elbow. “Let’s nobody go an’ do anything hasty! Weaver, hands away from those hot rods—you’d be full of arrows before you could think too hard about usin’ ’em.”

“Why is it every time she threatens to blow something up, I get blamed?” Weaver complained. He slowly raised his hands away from his wand belt, however.

“Well, ye sorta got one o’ those faces,” Billie commented. “Though mostly it’s yer personality.”

They fell silent as another shape appeared on the rocks, this one more visibly ominous. Directly above them an enormous black panther leaned forward from the lip of the narrow outcropping upon which it perched, glaring down at them through pitiless yellow eyes. Its paws, positioned on the very edge of the stone, flexed, unsheathing huge claws.

“Pretty sure that ain’t native,” Billie said.

And suddenly, without appearing to transition, it wasn’t a panther. An elvish woman knelt there on the edge, studying them dispassionately, a tomahawk dangling from her loose grip. She was dressed like her fellows, but stood out from them dramatically. For one thing, she had upward-pointing ears, marking her a wood elf and not kin to the plains hunters now ringing the crater. More noticeably, however, her hair was glossy black.

“Elias,” she said evenly. “I might have known.”

“You might’ve,” he agreed, tipping his hat to her. “In fact, I’d be plumb astonished if you didn’t. Mornin’, Raea! Been far too long, ain’t it?”

“I’m not sure,” she mused. “I only ever seem to see you when something truly aggravating is afoot.”

“Now, c’mon, that ain’t fair,” McGraw protested. “You can’t blame me for all a’ those incidents. Really, any of ’em but the first one.”

“Ah, yes, the curse of the adventurer,” she said gravely. “The more you appear to help in times of trouble, the more associated with trouble you become. The wandering profiteer becomes a celebrity, while the wandering hero becomes a symbol of bad luck.”

“I ‘spect you know a bit about that yourself,” McGraw said, grinning.

“Would you two like some privacy to catch up?” Weaver exclaimed. “Should we come back later?”

Raea shifted her gaze to focus on him. “A little patience would suit, traveler. It is you who trespass here. This ground is sacred to us—many of our forebears are buried here.”

“Bullshit,” he snapped.

The elf leaned back slightly, raising her eyebrows. “I beg your pardon?”

“No one is buried here,” Weaver retorted. “No one has died here, at least not in centuries. McGraw, are these really the best elves you could find? I can handle the inscrutable ineffable crap, but this one thinks she’s funny. That’s gonna get real old, real fast.”

McGraw sighed heavily. “You’ve got a real way with people, Gravestone.”

Suddenly, Raea grinned, and made a quick gesture with one hand. All around, the assembled elves lowered their weapons and straightened up, visibly relaxing, though their expressions did not appreciably alter.

“I’ve been wondering for some time if our paths would one day cross, Deathspeaker. Well met.”

“Uh huh,” he said skeptically, planting his fists on his hips.

“This is my ol’ friend Raea,” said McGraw. “I’m afraid I’m not personally acquainted with any of these other folk, but I reckon there’s time to rectify that. Raea, you apparently know Weaver. This is Billie Fallowstone.”

“The Tinker,” Raea said, nodding to the gnome. “Your reputation precedes you, as well.”

“Damn skippy!”

“She wasn’t kidding about blowing the place up,” said Weaver. “That’s just what she does. You see those little hands going into her pockets, run.”

“Oh, shove it, ye great lumbering canker.”

“You went out of your way to get my attention, Elias,” the elf said, returning her gaze to him. “What are you doing out here?”

“I suspect the same thing you are,” he replied. “How acquainted are you with a town called Risk?”

Raea only raised one eyebrow, but a stir ran through the other elves. The nearest shook his head, turned to her and said something curt in their language. She gave him a sidelong, unmistakeably irritated glance.

“Mr. K and his dwarves, yes,” she said to McGraw. “Risk is perched conveniently near several mineral veins. Elves also harvest the silver and turquoise and have competed with other miners in the past, but there are no tribes in the area currently.”

“No tribes?” Billie said, looking around at them. “What’re you lot, a flock? A herd? A gaggle?”

“A murder?” Weaver mumbled.

“We,” Raea said with a grim smile, “were drawn here by the miners, as I gather you were. They are not just mining. They delve with peculiar arcane arts—most unusual for dwarves. They go out of their way to destroy any sacred objects or traces of elven influence, which is also unusual, and not acceptable. These lands have few sites of major significance to the tribes, but they are riddled with smaller traces. Barrows, burials, altars to various spirits, charms left by young shaman on their first vision quests. Things any respectful traveler leaves alone—even the humans who used to mine this region seldom disturbed them. This…attempt to expunge any trace of us from the land is deeply disturbing. And then, too, there is the nature of this M. K and his personal aides.”

“What do you know about the fellow?” McGraw asked with deceptive mildness.

Raea shifted position, seating herself on the edge of the stone with one leg dangling, the other folded beneath her. “I have already delivered a patch of exposition, Elias. I believe it’s your turn.”

“Now, now,” he said placatingly, “allow a fella some dramatic pacing. C’mon, Raea, you know I wouldn’t pump you for info without offering what I know in kind. Fact, I think we may be able to help each other out here. Do you know what you’re dealing with?”

“The dragon Khadizroth,” she said, a scowl falling over her features, “who of all beings in this world should know better than to deface cultural artifacts. The mystery grows deeper and darker when one considers his…lieutenants. Not all are as unsettling as others, but he has a murderer tauhanwe among them, as well as a child of Vanislaas.”

McGraw and Weaver both straightened up in alarm; Billie frowned deeply.

“An incubus?” Weaver said, “Fuck. That’s just what nobody needs.”

“A succubus, in fact,” said Raea. “What do you know of this, Elias?”

“We know what he’s doing,” said McGraw. “Or at least, what he’s after. Why he would hire dwarves of all folk, much less destroy things sacred to elves, is beyond my imagination. They’re lookin’ for an artifact we have reason to believe is buried out here.”

“You do have some useful knowledge, then,” she said. “Tell me, does this have anything to do with the blinding of the visions? Every shaman I have spoken to in the last two months has managed to see nothing in the spirit realm but portents of the dragons, and of seething chaos.”

“Well, there’s dragon shit goin’ down in Tiraas,” said Billie, “but aye, the rest of it pertains to this business out here.”

“Khadizroth,” said McGraw, “is seeking the skull of Belosiphon the Black. If he finds it, he means to deliver it to Archpope Justinian.”

The elves went stone still; one cursed softly in their language. Raea stared down at McGraw in silence for a long moment.

Abruptly, the huge panther stood up and bounded down to the shelf on which they stood; despite her light landing, the size of the cat made an audible thump upon the stone.

“I think,” said Raea, again an elf, “we should talk in detail.”

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“And this person was unfamiliar to you?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Principia said crisply. “I keep aware of the Guild’s leadership but I’ve always been somewhat standoffish. I’m afraid I’m not close enough to any other members to comment reliably on a person’s standing.”

“There must be hundreds of Sifanese in the capital alone,” Bishop Shahai said thoughtfully, her eyes on Commander Rouvad. “They are one of the Empire’s closest allies. I don’t know how common a name Saduko might be. A surname would be helpful, of course…”

“Which is doubtless why one wasn’t offered,” the Commander said dryly, glancing up and down the hall. They were having this discussion right outside her office, where Principia had waited for the two of them to emerge and given her report on the confrontation on the parade grounds. It was hardly private, but the subject matter wasn’t secret, either. “What of her…other name? Perhaps the Guild can tell us why this Gimmick would be working for dragons.”

“As Sergeant Locke pointed out,” said Shahai, “she is not working with the Guild on this matter, or she would not have come here and threatened Locke’s neutrality. I can make inquiries with them.”

Principia cleared her throat.

“You have something to contribute, Sergeant?” Commander Rouvad asked, raising an eyebrow.

“With the greatest respect, ma’am, I would advise that the High Commander do that,” Principia said, standing subtly more rigidly at attention.

“Oh?” Shahai said mildly.

“They will respect an open approach, and will not challenge the leader of a major cult directly. Your Grace…you are very smart. Being smart with the Guild isn’t a good approach. If they think you’re playing games with them…well, the games will begin.”

“The Bishop hardly indulges in scheming for scheming’s sake,” Rouvad said pointedly, “unlike some individuals we all know. This isn’t yet important enough I want to make it an official cult-to-cult affair; the existing interfaith infrastructure of the Church will suffice. Speak with your fellow Bishop, Nandi; Mr. Darling has struck me as a man who loves doing favors and forming connections. Locke, you’re certain Gimmick is the correct tag? Could it be a false one?”

“Tags are a sacrament, ma’am. Eserites don’t falsify them.”

The Commander raised an eyebrow. “What, never?”

“Not twice,” Principia said, pursing her lips. Shahai smiled in amusement.

“That leaves the question of this dragon, Zanzayed,” the Commander said, her dark eyes boring into Principia’s. “I realize you are jealous of your privacy, Locke, but this is not the time to be cagey. You are certain you know no more of him than you’ve told us?”

“I know of him, ma’am,” Principia replied. “In honesty, probably less than Bishop Shahai does. She, at least, has researched the Conclave delegates. Anyone who lives long enough and is active in the world learns the names of the active dragons; Zanzayed is the one they respect and fear the least. Beyond that, I have no idea. I am frankly a little alarmed that he’s interested in me. The feeling is not mutual.”

“According to your report,” said Rouvad, turning back to Shahai, “he called it a family concern.”

“I’m afraid that narrows it down very little,” the Bishop said, shaking her head. “Locke’s bloodline… How would you put it, Locke?”

“Half of them are loner tauhanwe and the other half are the most deliberately boring, traditional elves they can be, to dissociate themselves from the first half,” Principia reported. “Neither will have anything to say to emissaries from a human faith, if you can even find any. If you want to know what interactions Zanzayed has had with the Crowbloods, ma’am, it’s probably best to ask him.”

“Interesting,” Rouvad mused. “And is Crowblood your actual surname?”

“We don’t have surnames in the sense you do, Commander, unless they’re earned.” She glanced momentarily at the Bishop without turning her head. “It’s just something my bloodline tends to be called, owing to its oldest member.”

Commander Rouvad heaved a sigh and turned back to Shahai. “All right, Nandi, this is pertinent to your assignment. Do you need anything requisitioned to proceed?”

“I believe what I already have will suffice admirably, Farzida,” the Bishop replied. “If the sergeant and I are dismissed?”

“Of course. I leave this in your skilled hands.”

Shahai bowed to the Commander, Principia saluting behind her, then turned and glided off down the hall. “Come, Locke. Let’s go waste some time.”

“I knew there was a reason I liked you,” Principia said, following.

Commander Rouvad stood, frowning after them in silence for a long moment, before turning and departing in the other direction.

 

“Partial success,” Ruda announced, plunking herself down in a chair. She fished a bottle of ale out of her coat with one hand and snagged one of Juniper’s cookies with the other. “The Huntsmen definitely know something about the werewolves.”

“They told you so?” Toby said, frowning. “What did they say?”

“It’s not what they said, but what they didn’t,” said Gabriel. “And how they didn’t say it. They really did not like us asking about the werewolves; the whole lodge went dead silent, and suddenly everyone was a lot less friendly.”

“They were friendly?” Trissiny said, raising her eyebrows.

“Actually, yeah, they seemed like a pretty laid-back bunch before that point,” Ruda mused, leaning backward and tilting her chair up on two legs. “Good hosts, glad to have company.”

“Ruda got flirted with,” Gabriel reported with a grin. “A lot.”

“And why not? I am the fucking personification of brains, beauty and brawn.”

“Back on the subject,” Trissiny said with some exasperation, “what exactly did you learn? About werewolves or anything else?”

“Not a lot that was specific, or useful,” Gabriel said ruminatively. Suddenly he glanced around. “Uh, before we get into details, should we maybe wait for Teal and Shaeine to get back?”

“We can go over it again,” Ruda said dismissively. “Hell, there really aren’t details. You’ve already heard the whole damn thing, guys. We talked to the Huntsmen, they were nice—they’ve got a nice pad, by the way, I like their notion of decor—and everything was fine until Arquin happened to ask if having werewolves around interfered with the hunting. Then bam, serious faces, and nobody would talk about it. The lodge master finally said the subject was not fit to be discussed.” She shrugged and took a gulp of ale. “That’s it. It’s a start, but not much of one.”

“In a way,” Juniper mused, “it makes some sense. Wolves are sacred to Shaathists, right? And so is manhood. A werewolf is, like…both.”

“Any insights on this, Trissiny?” Toby asked. “You at least got some training on the other cults. The monks didn’t really give me any, and the Church was more interested in teaching me about demons and warlocks.”

“The training I got was mostly in threat assessment and how to deal with doctrinal conflicts,” Trissiny said, frowning. “I could explain in detail exactly how Shaathist dogma is aberrantly misogynistic, and how to handle being in a fight with a Huntsman, but as for exactly what they believe and why, or how they worship…” She shrugged.

“You Avenists sure are clear about your priorities,” Ruda commented.

“Yes, I would say that’s true,” Trissiny said flatly.

“Oh! It’s them!” Fross chimed, shooting straight upward and then darting out over the balcony to stare down into the market square below. In the daylight, she was hard to spot against the sky. “And…uh oh, I think something’s wrong with Teal.”

“Freeze!” Ruda snapped as all of them twitched toward the bannister. “Damn it, you numbnuts, we’ve got eyes on us. Basically all of them. Don’t act alarmed about something and definitely don’t direct attention to Teal and Shaeine. Fross,” she added while they settled reluctantly back into their seats, “what does it look like? Is she hurt?”

“Not to bad, I don’t think,” Fross reported. “She looks…tired. She’s kinda leaning on Shaeine.”

“What could make Teal…” Trissiny trailed off, glancing back into the crowded pub behind them. The townsfolk were still trying to be relatively discreet, but it was hardly a secret that their table was the center of attention.

“We’ll know momentarily,” Toby said quietly. “Sounds like it’s not urgent; Ruda’s right. Let’s not court attention that may lead to trouble later.”

“Any more than you can help by nature, that is?”

“On the fuckin’ subject of not drawing attention,” Ruda said in exasperation, “maybe it’d be best if any fucking inanimate objects at the table refrained from talking?”

“Nobody’s close enough to tell,” Gabriel said quietly, stroking Ariel’s hilt. “Still, though, she’s got a good point. Best to be discreet, partner. I’m not sure I wanna know what the locals would think about you.”

“You never take me anywhere nice.”

He rolled his eyes; Ruda snorted back a laugh.

“And for the record, ‘fucking’ is not punctuation, your Highness.”

“Fuckin’ is if you fuckin’ use it right. Fucker.”

“Come on, Ariel, you were asking for that,” Juniper said. The sword made no further comment.

It took a rather tense few minutes for Teal and Shaeine to navigate through the building to the upper-level pub, and cross the space toward their classmates. Up closer, Teal looked strained and tired, though she was walking under her own power now. Shaeine was even more inscrutable than usual, being fully hidden beneath her hood and gloves. A mysteriously cowled figure naturally drew attention, but the group had unanimously agreed it would be less attention and of a more harmless variety than the sight of a drow. All three Underworld entrances were on the other side of the Golden Sea from here; to the Stalweiss, dark elves were monsters out of legend.

“Hey, glad you two made it back all right,” Gabriel said, standing and solicitously pulling out a chair for Teal. “Have a seat, you look bushed. You okay?”

“Thanks, Gabe, but later,” Teal said tersely, glancing around. “Guys… Can we leave, please?”

“What’s wrong?” Trissiny asked, instinctively grasping the hilt of her sword.

“We need to go somewhere private and talk,” Teal said. “We have a big problem.”

 

“Forgive me if this is none of my business, your Grace, but who’s funding all this?” Principia asked, setting down her teacup. “I understand the basics of what you’re doing, but it seems somewhat…tenuous…to the military mind. How’d you convince a Legion quartermaster to let you go shopping on Avei’s purse?”

“Oh, no, neither the Legions nor the Sisterhood have paid for any of this,” Shahai said with a light laugh. “Not today’s excursions, nor our previous—and rather more expensive—shopping trips. It all comes out of my own pocket. It won’t be wasted,” she added more pensively, “eventually I’ll find places to donate everything. For now, though, the potential dragon bribes need to remain in my possession; I doubt I can get rid of that much wealth without drawing attention, and I want our targets to think I’m planning to shmooze them a bit later. And, subsequently, to grow increasingly curious when I do not.”

“Those are major expenses to come out of your own pocket, your Grace,” Principia said carefully.

“I can afford it,” the Bishop replied mildly. “As can you. For, more or less, the same reason. My rent is paid by the Church; the Sisterhood provides me meals and any necessary medical care. I prefer a simple existence, and hoard only a few possessions for their sentimental value. As it is not politically prudent to refuse my rather exorbitant salary, it just…builds up. Frankly I find it a relief to be able to unload it now and again. Projects like this are the reason I don’t simply donate everything to the Omnist food pantries.”

“Ah,” Principia said, nodding sagely and gazing out over the old spice market. “And thus do we establish a point of commonality and encourage me to open up a bit about my own mysterious history.”

“Your history is less mysterious than you may be aware,” Shahai said calmly. “And I do know that one of the most effective ways to disarm conversational manipulation is to point it out. I am glad, Principia, that you are growing more comfortable with me. It’s my hope that soon we will be able to dispense with this fencing entirely. I don’t begrudge you your caution, however.”

A silence fell, in which both elves contemplated their tea and the view. They were sitting on a balcony patio on the highest level of the old spice market, at a much more expensive and less discreet restaurant than that at which Principia’s squad had met Bishop Darling a few weeks prior. It did offer dampening charms and scry blockers to keep conversations private—almost all the shops in the market’s upper levels did—but this one, in fact, was chosen specifically for its high prices and outdoor seating. It was popular among people who had too much money and desired to be seen proving it. Principia would never have been caught dead in the place, were she not under orders.

Principia had a bag of spices on the table before her, their final purchase of the afternoon and the alleged purpose of their visit to the spice market. Their purchases from two (needlessly expensive) specialty butcher shops had been wrapped and delivered, as it wasn’t wise to carry meat around on a leisurely sojourn through the city. The whole trip had begun with a visit to a pricey restaurant, where Bishop Shahai had asked the chef to come out for a word, requested a recipe for bacon-wrapped shrimp, and had Principia write it down.

Now, they sat sipping tea and being seen. They had been there a good half hour already, and the Bishop showed no signs of wanting to leave. Principia knew better than to prompt her. Besides, there were other things about which she was more curious.

“Comfortable,” she said quietly. “You know, I think if I were comfortable, I’d go completely insane.”

Shahai cracked a grin at that, a broad expression of true amusement. “Well…perhaps not. You seem to be coping well with the routine and discipline of the military.”

“At least that keeps me engaged.”

“It can. You have the advantage of good leadership. Not every captain is Shahdi Dijanerad, however, and in terms of keeping things interesting, contending with a powerful enemy can be a great boon. Give it time, Locke, and not much of that. You will come to know what true drudgery is.”

“Fantastic,” she said fatalistically. “Well. Since we’re suspending the bullroar by unspoken agreement, we both know what I’m doing here. How did you cope with the…drudgery?”

Shahai sipped her tea, gazing out over the busy market. “I joined the Legions because my mate was an Avenist. One of the last Silver Huntresses.”

Principia’s eyes widened in surprise. “Oh… You’ve been here a while, then.”

“Indeed.”

“Forgive me, but… You hold the Legion rank of Captain, correct? That seems…”

“Paltry, for one who has served more than three centuries?” Shahai gave her an amused sidelong smile. “There are loopholes to be exploited in regulations that were not conceived with elves in mind. For instance, if you meet the physical requirements, there is nothing barring you from re-enlisting anew after retirement. I have cycled through the ranks three times, and taken time for myself between careers. And, of course, one can refuse promotions of a certain level; Avei does not want ranking servants who don’t desire to be there. Ultimately, though…I always come back.”

“Why?” Principia asked quietly.

Shahai continued gazing into space. “When Dizhara died… Have you ever lost someone, Principia?”

She averted her own gaze. “Y—no. I dunno. I gave someone up, once. Never have fully sorted out how I feel about that. I actually thought of going to an Izarite temple for help, if you can believe it.”

“I would strongly recommend it, if you have the desire, and the uncertainty. The disciples of Izara, like all true faithful, are good at what their goddess commands. It was explained to me the best by a shaman, though, not any priest. Healing, he told me, is about growth. It only seems like the restoration of something old; it is in truth the creation of something new in the place and the shape of something previous. Our kind are slow to heal, physically and mentally, because we are slow to grow. Because we do not live as quickly or as fervently as the mortal races, because it is our natural tendency to seek equilibrium with our environment. How do sentient beings act, on average, as overall societies? Humans adapt and conquer. Gnomes explore and seek challenge. Demons destroy. Dwarves study and create. Elves…find balance.”

She smiled faintly, pausing to take a sip of tea. “The loss of a loved one creates a hole in your being, an absence where that person is meant to exist. It’s a huge part of you, simply no longer there. You can no more function in that state than after the loss of a leg or a lung, not until you’ve had time to heal. And healing means building up more of yourself, living your life, gaining new complexity and adding new substance to your being. That hole never goes away, but as you develop, as you grow, you gradually close it over with new parts of yourself, until eventually it is only a space, and no longer a wound.” Her smile grew slightly. “And military training…”

“My DS went on and on about that in basic,” Principia said quietly. “It was one of her favorite themes. The point of training, of becoming a soldier, is to break you down…”

Shahai nodded. “…and build you back up. When I lost my partner… In the many years since, I have continued to serve because Avei, her Sisters and her Legions have more than earned my loyalty, because my life here is one of purpose in which I find great fulfillment. But I joined, initially, to become a soldier. Because I would have become anything if it meant no longer being a broken shell.”

The silence that followed was oddly calm, considering the subject matter. Shahai lifted her eyes to gaze idly at the clouded sky; Principia was frowning in thought, her stare intent but unfocused.

“Well,” Shahai said abruptly, setting down her cup, “that should be enough time. Off we go! And walk slowly, Sergeant, I wish not to dissuade anyone attempting to intercept us.”

“I see,” Principia said, rising and picking up the package of spices. “You believe Zanzayed wants something urgently enough to have me—or possibly you—followed and accosted in public?”

“I believe nothing,” Shahai replied, walking serenely toward the front of the tea room. “It is a critical error to form theories in the absence of facts. I am, however, interested to learn whether he wants something that badly. It will not reveal everything, of course, but will narrow down the possibilities, in one direction or the other. Come along.”

It was a peaceful and quiet trip through the tea room and the upper levels of the ancient fortress, of course. These were the halls haunted by the rich, the powerful, and others who were careful of their privacy. Even had the peace not been enforced, by soldiers both Imperial and Avenist, to say nothing of private security personnel, hardly anyone was reckless enough to get on the bad side of a whole swath of the city’s elite by being disruptive in their favorite haunts.

“I almost don’t know which to hope for,” Principia murmured as they descended a staircase to a wide path along a lower level. “On the one hand, if this is urgent to Zanzayed it’ll be over with faster…”

“Knowing either way enables us to end it faster on our own terms,” Shahai replied in total calm. “I understand your uncertainty, however. The manner in which this plays out may determine—”

“Your pardon, Ms. Locke?”

Both elves halted, and turned in slow unison. A portly middle-aged man stood behind them—not the same one they had seen petitioning at the Conclave’s residence, but clearly one of his ilk. Well-bred, well-heeled and well-mannered, the sort of professional toady who made excellent foot soldiers in the social wars between the upper aristocracy. He clutched his hat diffidently in front of himself, not quite concealing the loud badge pinned to his lapel: a familiar multicolored hexagon overlaid with a vaguely wing-like sigil.

“I do most humbly apologize for this interruption, ladies,” he said, bowing. “If I could beg a moment of your time on behalf of my employer, Ms. Locke?”

The two elves exchanged a look, and the Bishop permitted herself a thin, satisfied smile.

Principia cleared her throat pointedly. “That’s Sergeant Locke, thank you.”

 

“Okay,” Ruda said in the queasy silence that ensued after Shaeine finished speaking. “That is fucked up in multiple directions, and I think we can all agree that Sherwin Leduc needs his ass kicked in the worst way. But I got the impression, Teal, that there was something more urgent than this going on. Not that we can’t spare the time to go deal with it, but it doesn’t seem like a crisis.”

Teal nodded, her expression unhappy. “I’m going to let Vadrieny explain; it’s easier than me translating.” So saying, she took a half-step away from the group and in the next moment, the orange glow of hellfire was added to Fross’s silvery illumination.

The basement in which they met had a single fairy lamp, kept dim more to avoid attention than to conserve energy. The warehouse above was busily in use, which provided excellent cover for its true purpose: below was a space which had a discreet exit into a back alley at one end, and the hidden opening to a tunnel leading to one of the cellars of Dufresne Manor. It was a long tunnel and a dark one, and not their preferred method of getting to and from the city, but it did afford them a way to do so without attracting the attention that Malivette’s ostentatious carriages inevitably did.

“The demon in the cage,” Vadrieny said grimly, “is called a Rhaazke.”

“I’m not familiar with that species,” Trissiny said, frowning. “Do they resemble Vanislaads?”

“About seven feet tall,” Vadrieny said, “very muscular, mottled skin. Slitted eyes. Claws, horns, feet like mine…no wings, but they do have spaded tails. Physically quite powerful, and gifted magically. I’m not surprised you haven’t heard of them, Trissiny; I don’t know much surface-level demonology, but it would be very hard for one to get to the mortal plane ordinarily.”

“That sounds kind of…nothing like a succubus, doesn’t it?” Juniper said. “So why’s Lord Leduc think she is one?”

“Lord Leduc,” said Shaeine, “is obsessive, emotionally stunted and deprived of social interaction, to say nothing of whatever psychological damage was inflicted by his family. Keep in mind that whatever they did was enough to get them arrested by the Empire—and this in a province in which they are such an established power that rival Houses are reluctant to move against one young man living alone in a crumbling manor. In short, he is exceedingly lucky not to have summoned an actual succubus. By this point he would be her willing slave.”

“What do you know about hellhounds?” Vadrieny asked.

“True hellhounds, or khankredahgs?” Trissiny countered.

“The first group. Like the ones Melaxyna had.”

“They are impossibly rare,” Trissiny said slowly, “because it is not possible to summon them from the mortal plane. They’re native to a… Well, it’s a dimension accessible from Hell but not from here. You have to go into Hell and open a portal from there to reach them.”

“Seems like a lot of effort for an exotic pet,” Gabriel commented.

“Hellhound breath is fantastically useful!” Fross chimed. “It counters any kind of magical sleep—any sleep at all, in fact! It’s such a potent awakener that it’s used in necromancy.”

“Which doesn’t explain the relevance of this tangent,” Trissiny said pointedly.

“Rhaazke,” said Vadrieny, “are the dominant species in the dimension from which hellhounds come.”

A momentary silence fell.

“Then,” Toby said slowly, “how did Lord Leduc summon one?”

“That is the reason I…overreacted,” Vadrieny said, looking slightly abashed. It was a most peculiar expression on her ferocious features. “Such a thing is profoundly impossible; it violates every law of… Well, suffice it to say, it can’t be done, and if it’s been done, something is terrifyingly wrong. I… Didn’t know I knew that. The information was just there when I saw her. Ordinarily I have more restraint, but the shock…”

“I see,” Trissiny said, staring intently at her. “Can we expect similar to happen if you are exposed to more demonic stimuli?”

“Your guess is as good as mine,” Vadrieny said tersely.

“That sounds like an important development,” said Gabriel, frowning deeply, “but one we can worry about at a later date. Fross…are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

“I believe so!” the pixie chimed. “But even if we could afford a telescope that size, where would we put it?”

Everyone stared at her.

After a moment she dropped lower in the air, her glow dimming noticeably. “That’s…a joke. I was joking.”

“It’s all in the timing, glitterbug,” Ruda said, not without sympathy.

Gabriel cleared his throat. “Yes, well, anyway. I’ve just had a horrible thought. We were told there are chaos-worshipping cults that keep popping up in this town, right?”

“What of it?” Juniper asked.

“Oh, no,” Trissiny whispered, her eyes widening.

Gabriel nodded. “Chaos… Trissiny, how hard is the spell to summon a succubus?”

“You’re asking her?” Ruda exclaimed. “Why would she know?”

“Because it’s immediately relevant to my calling,” said Trissiny. “And the spell is appallingly easy, which is exactly how Vanislaads keep getting onto the mortal plane. Even other demons don’t like them, and won’t let them near a hellgate from the other side. The summoning ritual is simple, versatile and requires very little power. A layperson can do it with readily available arcane materials. In fact, few actual warlocks would want an incubus or succubus around; they know how much trouble they are. It’s usually some idiot fantasizing about a beautiful, sexually insatiable servant and having no idea what they’re messing with.”

“Right,” said Gabriel, nodding again. “So we’ve got a very simple incantation, cast by a clearly skilled warlock—and one not only competent, but thorough enough to have built an elaborate, sadistic demon prison before he even started. If this guy’s a little unstable, that could well be why he won’t believe his prisoner isn’t a succubus. They’re shapeshifters, and if it’s that simple and hard to botch…”

“Then how did he botch it?” Juniper demanded.

“Chaos,” said Ariel. “A spell which has not only gone inexplicably wrong, but gone wrong in a way which is totally impossible… This is consistent with observed chaos effects. It causes magic to misfire in horribly unpredictable ways.”

“What she said,” Gabriel added. “I mean, if it was just this one thing… But here’s this impossible magical happening, and also there are chaos cults in Veilgrad? Multiple ones? No, that’s too suspicious.”

“Then…we have an avenue of investigation,” Ruda said slowly. “So we can quit wandering around talking to random assholes. Surely the Empire didn’t just kill all these cultists. The Imps have to have some imprisoned. Boots, you said they were amenable to working with us? So we go to the Imperial facility, talk with the chaos-worshiping dipshits, and hopefully learn our next move.”

“Which is good,” Vadrieny said impatiently, “but we have a more immediate problem. Rhaazke are culturally sort of like drow: matriarchal and militaristic. They are also loyal to Elilial, and emotionally stable, like hethelaxi without the berserking. In fact, those two things are related. It was their pocket dimension that Elilial launched her first campaign against Scyllith from. She bought their loyalty and keeps it by altering them so they don’t lose mental stability to infernal effects. These creatures are dangerous.”

“Well, this one is in a cage,” Ariel pointed out.

“You’re not listening!” the archdemon exclaimed. “Metal is rare in Hell—she was wearing iron bracelets. This girl is powerful, possibly royal. She has family who are doubtless frantic about her disappearance. They will be using every considerable magical resource they have to track her down. If they manage to get to this plane and find her in a cage in that imbecile’s basement, they will raze Veilgrad to the ground in their outrage. If they figure out what he intends for her, they won’t stop with the city.”

“Oh,” said Ruda. “Well. Fuck.”

“I doubt any clan of Rhaazke is a match for the Empire,” Vadrieny continued grimly. “There’s no political entity in their realm with comparable numbers or resources. But by the time they were beaten, this city and its surroundings would be infernally irradiated ruins.”

“What are the odds of them getting up here?” Trissiny asked.

“Exactly zero,” said Ariel.

“The sword is correct,” said Vadrieny, nodding. “Also zero were the odds of that one Rhaazke being here.”

“The demon is correct,” said the sword. “If this truly is a chaos effect we are dealing with, anything is possible and nothing is truly likely. The nature of chaos is unpredictability.”

“Wait, that can’t be right, though,” Gabriel protested. “For it to mess up Leduc’s summoning, the chaos effect has to be here, right? They can’t follow it from the other dimension.”

“I dunno if that’s a help,” said Fross. “Chaos is trans-dimensional by nature. The whole point of it is it’s the stuff that exists outside of reality. From between dimensions.”

“Then Leduc and his prisoner just became our most urgent priority,” Toby said flatly, his expression severe. “In addition to the important matter of correcting his…mistake…we may find evidence in Leduc Manor of whatever chaos effect is working on Veilgrad. If we’re assuming that is the root of the city’s problems.”

“Beats any other theory we have,” said Gabriel.

“Is no one else going to point it out?” Ariel complained. “We are talking about releasing a powerful, hitherto unknown type of demon whose defining characteristic seems to be that we cannot send it back where it came from. What do you intend to do with the creature once it’s free?”

“Two points,” said Vadrieny, folding her arms, “both of which I’ve already been over. Rhaazke are emotionally stable, not prone to the aggression of other demons, and they are loyal Elilinists. I can make her behave. Or at least obey.”

“She reacted strongly to Vadrieny’s brief presence,” Shaeine added. “I’m relatively certain she recognized her.”

“Also,” said Ruda, glaring at Ariel, “let’s keep in mind we are talking about a sentient being—a person—who is being kept in a sadistic prison in an insane pervert’s basement, being tortured into compliance so he can make her his concubine. It is immediately morally necessary that someone put a stop to this horseshit, preferably while also stuffing Sherwin Leduc so far simultaneously up his own ass and down his own throat that he ends up a living portal to Hell.”

“I am willing to acknowledge demons as people strictly on a case-by-case basis.”

“Hey!” Gabriel snapped. “Do you wanna go back in the Crawl?”

“Well! Let us hope Rhaazke are more grateful than half-hethelaxi.”

“Enough!” Toby exclaimed. “There’s more to discuss, but Ruda is correct. This calls for immediate action, both tactically and morally. We can hammer out details on the way. Right now, I think we need to go have a talk with Lord Leduc.”

“You can talk,” said Trissiny, turning and stalking toward the door, one hand on her sword. “I have something else for him.”

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Teal tugged the rope a second time; once again, they heard the bell chime distantly within the manor.

“Maybe no one’s home?” Teal suggested, stepping back from the door and craning her neck back to peer up at the towering face of the house.

“Grusser said he never leaves the house,” Sheaine replied. “I inquired further of Pearl this morning, who concurred. It’s apparently common knowledge in the city. Lord Sherwin has accounts with local merchants and gets his supplies delivered.”

“Mm. He surely doesn’t live in there all alone.”

“From here,” Shaeine said tactfully, “it looks as if he might. Malivette’s house suffers somewhat from having only four servants to look after it. This seems like it could result from a residence of this size having none.”

Leduc Manor was less isolated from the city than the Dufresne residence, but still lay outside its walls, and occupied a defensible position in the mountains overlooking Veilgrad. In fact, the grounds were on a broad ledge, its rim now secured behind a towering wall, reached by a single wide trail which switchbacked twice on the way up. It had a stunning, if somewhat vertigo-inducing, view of the city and the prairie beyond. The plot of land might have been an acre or two; it was difficult to tell due to the walls and structures therein.

The manor itself was of a similar general style to Dufresne Manor, with its intricate carving and steeply tilted roof, though its plan appeared to be more rambling and less square. The primary difference between the two was that Leduc Manor was falling apart. One entire wing, off to their left, had a collapsed roof, and to judge by the sky visible through its glassless windows, a missing wall on the opposite side. In fact, the only windows which had any glass left in them were cracked or broken panes which opened onto dark rooms. It seemed that only the central part of the house was still inhabited; there, at least, the windows had been boarded up against the fierce Stalrange winters. The grounds were overgrown with weeds, vines, and several enormous thorny bushes, and strewn with a variety of trash. Piles of masonry were left here and there, both broken rubbish that had clearly fallen off the house and newer-looking specimens that appeared to have been slated for repairs before the idea was abandoned. An entire carriage—old-fashioned, not a modern horseless one—sat broken and decaying with a scraggly bush growing up through it.

Still, there was no sign of the lord of the manor.

Teal pulled the bell rope a third time. Then, after a long moment, she banged her fist against the door.

“It is not necessarily suspicious that he won’t come out,” Shaeine observed. “This behavior suits the harmless recluse people seem to believe him to be. However…”

“Yeah,” Teal said, nodding. “It also suits some less harmless possibilities.” She turned to peer back the way they had come.

The outer gates of the manor had long collapsed; the grounds could be easily entered, and the doors reached by way of an overgrown path which still held pieces of paving stones amid the weeds.

“Can you hear anyone nearby?” Teal asked.

Shaeine shook her head. She had lowered her cowl when they passed into the Leduc grounds, exposing her face to the cool air. They had decided unanimously not to subject the people of Veilgrad to the sight of a drow if it could be avoided. “There is nothing living in the vicinity that I can detect. In fact, that is rather odd. An abandoned building this size, even if only partially abandoned, would normally be teeming with small animals.”

“I guess that depends on who lives there,” Teal said with a grimace. “All right, well… I don’t like to be pushy, but we’re going to have to deal with this guy, one way or another. In the long run I think digging him out of his hole for a talk will be less intrusive than having to come back here with Trissiny and Ruda.”

“What do you intend?” Shaeine asked quietly.

“Just a little something that I suspect will get a warlock’s attention.”

She took a step back from the door, glanced suspiciously over her shoulder again at the empty gates and the city far below, and shifted.

Vadrieny stretched her wings once, then wrinkled her nose, glancing around. “What a dump.”

“That’s hardly polite, love,” Shaeine said with a small smile.

The archdemon grinned at her, the expression warm and fond despite the fangs it displayed. “I promise not to say it to his face. In fact…best I don’t talk with him at all, don’t you think?”

Shaeine tilted her head. “Doesn’t that rather defeat the purpose?”

“If it comes down to terrorizing him, sure. I think we’ll get better—calmer—results from making him wonder what it was he sensed out here.”

“Ah.” The drow nodded, smiling approvingly. “A very good thought, strategic and considerate.”

“Teal’s idea,” Vadrieny said, stepping forward. She raised one hand, formed a loose fist—her claws weren’t retractable, and prevented a clenched one—and hammered hard on the door. It rattled violently in its frame, the wood splintering slightly on the last blow, and fragments of dust were shaken loose from the entire door frame. A single screw popped out of one of the heavy iron hinges.

“Ah,” Shaeine said a moment later, “someone is coming.”

“Good,” Vadrieny said smugly. “See you in a while, then.”

The drow forestalled her with a gentle hand on her arm. When Vadrieny paused, looking down at her in surprise, Shaeine stepped forward, craning her head up to kiss her on the cheek.

Vadrieny was still smiling as she withdrew, leaving Teal to inherit the grin. She mastered her expression, however, as the footsteps approaching the door grew loud enough for her ears to detect.

There came a rattling as locks were undone from within—several of them—and finally the door jerked open. Unusually for such an apparently defensible structure (at least it had been, when it was built), the door opened inward.

“What the hell do you gah!” Sherwin Leduc actually jumped backward at catching sight of Shaeine. He was a physically unimpressive sight: short and slight of build, his sandy hair in need of a trim and wearing three days’ growth of beard. A pair of round spectacles perched on his nose, the lenses lightly scratched in a few places. He appeared to be in his pajamas, with a threadbare robe thrown on over them.

“Have I the pleasure of addressing Lord Leduc?” Shaeine asked, bowing.

He stepped back again, keeping one arm fully extended to retain his grip on the door, and squinted suspiciously at her. “Who wants to know? See here, I have nothing to offer Scyllith and I don’t want anything from her.”

“Excuse me, you are mistaken,” Shaeine said, the faintest note of warning entering her tone. “I am a priestess of Themynra. My people have spilled lakes of our blood over the millennia to ensure that Scyllith’s agents do not darken your lands.”

“Well, that exhausts my only theory for what a drow would want here,” he said, eying her up and down, and then turning to peer skeptically at Teal.

“I am Shaeine nur Ashale d’zin Awarrion of Tar’naris; this is Teal Falconer. We are not here in any official capacity related to my home, but visiting from the University at Last Rock.”

Leduc’s expression collapsed into a scowl. “Oh. Come to finish what the last group of Tellwyrn’s students started here?”

“We actually don’t know anybody who’s been here before,” Teal said quickly. “Whatever happened then, it’s got nothing to do with us.”

“What happened is… Well, no, sorry, I’m being irrational.” Leduc sighed, scrubbing a hand through his shaggy hair. “House Leduc killed itself; Malivette’s University friends just ended up being the weapon. Still. Having you show up here out of the blue is a little disturbing.” He resumed staring suspiciously at them. “What do you want?”

“Well, hopefully we won’t have to bother you any further after today,” Teal said. “We’re just eliminating possibilities. How much do you know about what’s happening in Veilgrad?”

“Don’t know, don’t care,” he said bluntly. “I stay up here, people leave me alone. I’m happier, town’s happier, everybody wins.”

“Have you heard the howling in the mountains at night?” Shaeine asked quietly.

At that, he grinned unpleasantly. “Oh, sure. They don’t come here, though. Let ’em try; I’m not helpless.”

“Well, that’s basically the issue,” Teal said. “The city is slowly but surely falling apart; something is stirring up dangerous elements on all sides. The werewolves are just part of it.”

“Oh just let me guess,” Leduc said, rolling his eyes. “And you are here to get to the bottom of it.”

“In a nutshell, yes.”

“Well, I’m not at the bottom,” he snapped. “Or the top, or anywhere in between. I am not involved. You hear me? The Leducs don’t rule Veilgrad anymore, and never will again. In fact, this is it: you’re looking at the last of the line, and good riddance to it. Malivette can have the title and may it bite her harder than the thing that turned her. I stay on my property, I bother nobody, and when I die no one will notice for months. That’s how I like it. Good day.”

He started to close the door; Shaeine deftly inserted herself into the gap. “If you’ll consider the matter from our perspective,” she said smoothly, “surely you understand why that doesn’t really address any of our concerns?”

“Did I stutter?” he exclaimed. “I don’t care about your concerns. Now go away!”

“We really just want a few minutes of your time, Lord Sherwin,” Teal said. “Just to get your perspective on things, so we can go back and tell the others you’re not a factor here. That’s all we’re doing, eliminating possibilities.”

At that, he hesitated. “Others?”

“Indeed,” Shaeine said placidly. “We are traveling with, among others, all three current paladins. And a dryad.”

Leduc sucked in a long, slow breath through his teeth. “So,” he said tightly, “I can talk to you, or I can talk to them, is that it?”

“People are in danger,” Teal said softly. “Believe me, we’re not normally this pushy, but the problems in Veilgrad are escalating. If you could just help us rule you out as a factor, that would be tremendously helpful, and then you’ll never have to hear from any of us again.”

The young lord sighed heavily, and more than a touch melodramatically. “Ugh, fine, if that’s what will make you go away. You might as well come in, I guess.” He turned his back on them and stalked into the manor, leaving the door standing open.

They followed, Teal pausing to gently push the door shut behind them. The great hall into which they stepped was a panorama of ruined grandeur; unlike Malivette’s, it had not been cleared out, its opulent furnishings simply left to decay. In fact, the degree of decay was startling, considering it had taken place within a span of a relatively few years. Finely carved end tables were partially collapsed, shards of broken porcelain lying amid their ruins. On marble bust of a woman lay face-up, missing half its head. Tapestries were ragged and torn in addition to rotting; oil paintings appeared to have been slashed, those that hadn’t fallen to the ground, their frames splintered by impact. In one corner, the walls black with mold, a large crop of toadstools was growing. The centerpiece of the whole sad display was an enormous wrought iron chandelier, still containing the burned-down stubs of candles, lying broken in the very middle of the hall where it had fallen. The floorboards beneath it had cracked and buckled severely.

The smell was indescribable.

Leduc led the way along one side of the hall, where tracks had been worn into the dust—and into the carpet—a safe distance from the ruptured floor beneath the chandelier. His path avoided the grand double staircase at the opposite end of the room, leading straight to an unobtrusive door hidden beneath it.

Teal and Shaeine drew closer together as they followed him into the dim hall beyond, pressing the backs of their hands against each other. Even here, Narisian modesty prevailed, but it was a place that made them instinctively reach for comfort.

The corridor was dark, dusty and smelled of mildew, though less severely than the once-grand entry hall, but it blessedly wasn’t terribly long. After only a minute, they turned a corner and shortly emerged into a warm and brightly lit space, a very pleasant sight after the one which had preceded it.

It was a kitchen, a long, stone-walled space large enough to have served the fully-inhabited manor in its heyday. The whole thing had been heavily altered, though. A warm fire burned in the hearth, which bore the fixtures of an old roasting spit, long since removed. There was also an oven with a stove top, and a currently dark cast iron stove with a pipe leading out through a hastily-cut hole in the ceiling. Firewood had been stacked along one wall. A modern enchanted cold box stood next to the fridge, alongside a faucet and sink attached to a water-conjuration apparatus—difficult and very expensive work, seldom used because it was generally cheaper and easier just to install indoor plumbing.

The rest of the room, however, had been cleared of any kitchen-related paraphernalia and converted into an obvious living space. Laden bookshelves lined the walls, a single bed was tucked into a corner—unmade, of course—and there was a heavy armchair dragged up near the fireplace, with a small end table beside it on which sat a mug of beer.

It was cluttered, but in the way of a casually maintained bachelor pad—clothes were tossed about the sleeping area, books were stacked on the floor by their shelves somewhat haphazardly, and there was a pile of dishes on the counter by the sink. The whole place could have used a good sweeping and dusting. It was a lived-in state of disorder, though, quite unlike the filthy decay of the rest of the house.

“All right, here you are,” Leduc said with poor grace, stalking across to his armchair and flopping down in it. “So, let’s have it. What do you want to know so badly?”

“The pattern of incidents growing in Veilgrad have no immediately discernible root,” Shaeine said, gliding over to stand in front of him, a few yards away. “In addition to the werewolves, there has been a recent proliferation of minor chaos cults, several incidents of necromancy, and a Shaathist offshoot cult that has taken to harassing the local Huntsmen. More than that, violent crime and violence in general are rising, as if the general populace is becoming more prone to acting that way. There was an actual mob attack upon Malivette’s property.”

“Couldn’t happen to a nicer person,” he sneered. “Though I’m not sure that word still applies to good ol’ Vette.”

“I found her rather nice,” said Teal. “In her own way. Not that she isn’t eccentric.”

“That isn’t the word I meant.”

“It has been pointed out to us,” said Shaeine, “that one possible root cause of generalized aggression is a great deal of loose infernal magic. Clearly, thus, it is advantageous that we speak to you.”

Leduc frowned thoughtfully, rubbing his chin. “Hm. Yeah, infernal magic does have that effect… That really can’t be it, though.”

“Why not?” Shaeine inquired.

“All kinds of reasons. For one thing, that’s only one of its effects; if there were widespread infernal corruption going on, people would be getting sick, plants would be alternately dying or growing thorns where they didn’t use to have them, any animals born would be mutated… Apart from that, people would notice infernal energy loose in the streets. The Shaathists don’t actually have more than a couple of priests, I don’t think, but there’s a sizable Omnist temple here, and a grand old Universal Church chapel. Plus, the Empire keeps an eye and has means to notice such things. Hell, I would’ve noticed, and something like that I would have to respond to. Ninety percent of being a warlock is control; you just cannot have infernal magic running loose.”

“I see,” Shaeine mused. “That certainly seems reasonable. I suppose it only leaves the question of what it is you actually do up here alone.”

“None of your business,” he snapped.

“Lord Sherwin,” she said solemnly, “I come from a culture which prizes discretion and personal privacy. I assure you, the last thing I wish is to intrude upon yours. I would not dream of coming here to ask such prying questions were there not an immediate need.”

“The problem in a nutshell,” Teal added, “is we don’t know what is causing all this to happen, which means any major unanswered questions look more suspicious than they otherwise would. With all respect, my lord, it’s very unusual for a person to live alone and shun all contact.”

“If you’ve made any inquiries into the recent history of Veilgrad,” he grated, “you might understand why my own life has been somewhat traumatic, and why I’m not inclined to give a damn what happens to that town or the people in it.”

“That sentiment,” said Shaeine, “is somewhat more ominous in light of the town’s troubles, not less.”

“What we really want,” said Teal, “is to be able to go back to the others and assure them you’re not an issue. You get left alone that way, and we write off one more avenue of investigation. It helps us both. But if we have to leave with no hint as to how you spend your time, or why you need so much privacy or to practice infernal magic… Well, if we can’t find any other promising leads, we’re probably gonna come back to the warlock on the hill. You see what I mean?”

“This is bullying,” he complained, grimacing.

“I am sorry that it seems that way to you,” Shaeine replied calmly. “If you insist, we will go. Hopefully something else will turn up and we will not need to come back. I’m afraid not all of our associates are as patient…”

“Bullying and threats,” he grumbled. “All right, fine. Look. I’m not a bad person, okay? I just want… I want to be left alone, to not have to deal with any of the bullshit of the nobility or the damn city, and… What I mean is, I don’t need people getting into my business, or stories circulating about me. That is… Well, if I tell you anything, I’m concerned about who it might get back to, all right?”

“I assure you,” said Shaeine, “we have already intruded upon you more than is comfortable. We would only share anything you’ve revealed with others if there were an immediate need, pertaining to the safety of the city.”

“The thing about safety,” he began.

“Can I just interrupt you there?” said Teal. “I bet I know the speeches you’ve heard about infernal magic, and most of them weren’t wrong, but with all due respect, we don’t much care what you do with yourself. If you end up cursed or sick or exploded, well, that’s your business.”

Leduc actually grinned at her. “Now I’m curious why you’d have heard those speeches. Well, anyway, fine. It’s…it’s people I don’t much like or trust, get it? Growing up the way I did, I’ve repeatedly observed that demons are pretty predictable, and actually pretty understandable if you take into account where they come from, but people are just… A person might do anything. Any damn thing at all, and half the things they do are just mean for no good reason. So… Well, it is a little lonely up here, and I have the means to, erm… Create my own company, as it were.”

“We assumed there was a certain amount of demon-summoning involved in being a practicing warlock,” said Shaeine. “At issue is what you do with anything you summon.”

“Really, that’s it?” he said, surprised. “No speeches about how demons aren’t good company?”

“It depends on the demon, doesn’t it?” Teal said quietly.

Leduc frowned at her. “Why did you two get the job to come talk to me?”

“That is neither here nor there,” Shaeine said smoothly. “Can you perhaps be a little bit more specific? Many kinds of demons are no great threat if properly contained.”

“Can’t I keep a little bit of privacy?” he complained.

“You can keep most of it,” Shaeine assured him. “We only want some assurance that you’re not doing anything dangerous to the town.”

Leduc sighed heavily. “It’s… Well, just… You’ll judge me. I hate that. It’s half the reason I don’t like talking to people.”

“Without going into too much detail,” Teal said wryly, “none of us are in a position to be judgmental. And whatever you’re up to, I’m willing to bet we’ve heard worse.”

He sighed again, heavily, and gulped down the rest of the beer in his mug. “I… It’s… Well, a person does have some needs, you know, even if… And, I, what I mean…” He trailed off, glaring into the bottom of the mug.

After a few moments, Shaeine opened her mouth to speak, but before she could he burst out. “I summoned a succubus, all right? Are you happy now?”

Teal’s eyes widened and she took a step back.

“Not particularly, no,” Shaeine said quietly. “That is not the kind of harmless thing we can ignore, Lord Sherwin. Children of Vanislaas are incredibly dangerous.”

“If you let them run around loose, yeah!” he exclaimed. “I know what I’m doing! What did I tell you? Ninety percent control! Trust me, my containment systems are absolutely foolproof.”

“Famous last words,” Teal said.

“Oh, what would you know?” he scoffed. “You wanna know what I’ve been doing up here for years? That! I’m not an idiot, I know how dangerous Vanislaads can be, so I’ve spent my time devising a proper facility to hold one. Years! And believe you me, it works! She can’t get out or she would have long before now. And my training program hasn’t really had time to work fully, but I’m already loosening her up a bit. She’s difficult, yeah, but in no time…”

He trailed off again, finally noticing the way they were looking at him.

“Let me see if I understand you,” Shaeine said in deadly quiet. “You are keeping a woman locked in a cage for the purpose of breaking her will so you can sexually exploit her?”

“A demon,” he said, more than a hint of whine in his voice. “Not a woman. I think you’ll find it’s perfectly legal to treat demons any way you like.”

“Not a woman, huh,” Teal said, barely keeping her own outrage in check. Her fists were clenched at her sides. “So, an incubus would’ve been just as good for your purposes?”

“Oh, please,” he said disdainfully. “I’m a loner and a warlock, not a pervert. Everyone has lines they won’t cross.”

“You disgusting little—”

“There! See!” He pointed accusingly at her. “Judging! I’ve had just about enough of you two. Get out of my house!”

“I think we had better see this…containment system,” Shaeine said coldly.

Leduc folded his arms and slumped back into his chair, adopting a mulish expression. “Not happening.”

 

“This is a serious imposition,” Leduc griped five minutes later, grudgingly inserting a key into the door at the bottom of the spiral staircase from his kitchen apartment. “I’m in the middle of an isolation phase. She’s not supposed to have any company for another couple of days; you’re setting back my program by who knows how much…”

“You know what?” Teal said tightly. “It might be best if you just didn’t say any more.”

“Open the door, please,” Shaeine said quietly.

Leduc sighed dramatically, but turned the key and pushed it open, stepping through. They followed right on his heels.

The basement room was completely covered in charms and sigils. They practically plastered the walls and ceiling, and even the floor; a raised path of wooden planks led from the door to the huge apparatus in the room’s center. Icons of every conceivable deity were present, pressed against each other and in some cases overlapping. The entire Pantheon was represented, even the trident and hurricane sigils associated with Naphthene and Ouvis, who lacked organized cults. In several places, the balance scale emblem of Themynra began to shine subtly at Shaeine’s presence. The icons were of a variety of metals, wood and stone, some even formed of clay. There had to be thousands of them.

Other things had been built up in the chamber: fairy lamps occupied each of the corners, filling it with a cold, white light. There were also stands interspersed along the walls that resembled small altars, displaying a variety of natural objects: shells, rocks, crystals, branches and a variety of dried plants, even the bones of small animals. Each had an inscrutable array of modern enchanting paraphernalia built up onto it.

Predominating the space, in the center, was an enormous cube of metal, also decorated with holy sigils, and also with pipes, wires and crystals of arcane enchantment bordering its corners. More mundane systems of gears and pulleys connected it to a metal structure bolted to the ceiling directly above; a little examination revealed its obvious purpose of lifting the sheets of steel that formed the sides of the box.

He clearly hadn’t boasted; this setup must have taken years to construct, especially if he had worked on it alone.

“This is probably the most holy place in Veilgrad,” Lord Leduc said smugly, seemingly oblivious to his guests’ expressions. “Sure, you don’t get as much power per sigil with the god in question not actively blessing it, but basically all the cults sell holy icons. Oh, they don’t call it selling, but you make a donation and get one. Religious people can never just call something what it is. Now, those altars, there? Those are also important; I had them designed by an expert witch to produce pure fae magic. That’s the trickiest part of the whole thing, ‘cos I have to re-charge them from time to time, which means gathering up more sacred fairy crap to put on them. It’s expensive, too, but I have people who work on that for me. The altars themselves have enchantments designed to convert that fairy power into the divine, which adds more juice to the sigils. Well, not convert it directly, you need an actual magic user consciously doing that, but if you’re willing to accept a power loss of over ninety percent, you can rig it so the divine magic tends to naturally feed on the fae. It’s enough to make a completely demon-proof barrier. I could hold an archdemon in this room.”

“Wanna bet?” Teal asked softly.

Leduc nattered on, ignoring her, apparently pleased to have an audience to whom to boast about his project, despite their clear antipathy. “The enchantments over the cage itself are the most complex part; obviously I have to have some protection for my demon or she’d just be incinerated in this room, right? So that’s what that is. You see the sigils suspended outside the superstructure, there? Those are actually keyed into an infernal spell matrix, a kind of reverse blessing that counteracts all the loose divine energy in here. So, yeah, she probably can get out of that cage, but she’d regret it. Briefly.” He snickered. “I made sure to demonstrate this before leaving her alone, of course.”

“Open the cage,” Shaeine said quietly.

“Whoah, now, I agreed to show you my containment system,” Leduc said. “Seriously, you are going to mess up my training program if you go any further, all right? She’s sitting in the dark thinking about what she did, and going to for a few more—”

He broke off as Shaeine turned to face him fully. She was as still and superficially calm as always, but whatever he saw in her face made him take a step backward, eyes widening.

“Open it,” she ordered.

Leduc opened his mouth, shut it, grimaced, and swallowed heavily. Muttering sullenly to himself, he stepped to one side of the door, carefully picking his way between the holy sigils laid into the floor, and tugged on a large lever attached to a system of chains and pulleys that ran to the cage via the ceiling.

With a loud rasp of metal, the sheets of steel blocking off the sides of the box slid smoothly and quickly upward, revealing the rather mundane iron cage within. There was nothing in there with the inhabitant except a few bowls and buckets of obvious purpose.

She sat on the floor with her back to them. Her skin was pale, oddly mottled and striated with patterns of black and purple. Short, spiky hair was surmounted by a pair of barbed horns sweeping back from her hairline over her skull, rather like the ones Elilial was often depicted with. Her tail lay limply upon the floor of her cage, tipped in a wicked stinger. Aside from spiked bracers of beaten iron, all she wore was a simple wrap of some kind of leather. Her shoulders were broad, her arms thickly corded with powerful muscle, but despite the intimidating figure she made, she hunched in on herself at the loss of the barriers between her and her captor.

“You fool,” Shaeine hissed, “that is not a—”

Teal erupted in hellfire as Vadrieny burst forth with a furious howl. Leduc barely had time to stagger backward from her when the entire basement erupted in light. A tone like a struck gong resonated through the air, and Teal collapsed to the plank path, human again and unconscious. All around the room, sigils smoked, several of them now visibly cracked, but the light faded as quickly as it had come.

Shaeine was instantly on her knees at Teal’s side, ignoring Leduc as he ranted above them.

“What the hell? Why didn’t you tell me your friend was possessed? Do you know the kind of risk you took, bringing her in here? And why would she try to—I just said this room is demon proof, I even told you how it works! Omnu’s balls, does she have a death wish? Gods above and below, this is not my fault, you have to…”

He carried on babbling, while Shaeine gently took Teal’s face in her hands, closing her eyes in concentration.

Behind them, the demon had turned, and now clutched the bars of her cage with clawed fingers, her slitted eyes staring intently at Teal. None of them were looking, but her expression was intent, ardent, and alight with sudden hope.

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