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It was only seconds before a group of a dozen or so buzzing demons peeled off from the swarm, diving directly toward the freshmen.

Trissiny spoke rapidly. “Hiszilisks have a compound hive mind. The whole swarm doesn’t act as one, but smaller groups can. Keep your mind on the group, and don’t let yourself focus on an individual. They’ll try to make you do that, bait you into being distracted so the others can get you from behind.”

“Right,” said Fross. “Goddamn demons. Got it.”

“Practice situational awareness, stay in circle formation and don’t let them flank us or get behind anybody,” Trissiny said tensely. “Here they come.”

The group of demons had descended close enough to be much more than specks now; still somewhat vague with distance, it was apparent that Vadrieny’s earlier description had been accurate. The hiszilisks flew on thrumming, wasp-like wings and had stubby tails tipped in hooked stingers. They possessed only four limbs, though, which despite being proportioned somewhat like an insect’s ended in lizard-like claws. Their faces, topped with antennae, were oddly humanoid, notwithstanding the addition of huge compound eyes and snapping mandibles extending from their jaws to cover their mouths.

As they descended the shrill whine of their wings was augmented by a raspy screeching from their open mouths. The group approached at a steep angle that would have overshot their target, except that they abruptly dived with uncanny synchronization, plummeting almost straight downward.

They ran straight through a sudden puff of icy mist; their orderly dive-bombing was transformed into an ungainly tumble as wings froze over. The entire flock smacked into a silver shield that slammed into place above the group, keening and chittering unintelligibly. It clearly burned them on contact; they thrashed in pain, only about half their number managing to get back aloft, the others twitching and smoking against the shield. None of them got far. A second barrier rose above the silver one, this one golden and completely diffuse, more a mist than a wall. It rose upward, catching the demons as they tried to escape and causing them to burst actively into flame. All but one finally fell, plummeting down to land with their smoldering cousins against the barrier.

The survivor, the largest of the group, retreated upward a few yards, screaming furiously down at them.

The golden glow vanished, and directly below him, a circular hole appeared in the silver shield.

The hiszilisk screamed and dived straight at it, trailing soot. It plowed right into a bolt of lightning from Gabriel’s wand. Sparking, smoking, and now tumbling aimlessly, the creature hit the ground in the middle of their circle and lay there, legs twitching and charred wings still trying to buzz. It lurched to one side, snapping its mandibles at Teal’s leg.

Trissiny planted a boot in its neck, holding it down, and Ruda impaled the demon through the center of its body with her rapier. Finally, its struggles ceased.

The hole in the shield closed, and the entire thing tilted sideways, sloughing off the pile of burning demons, before finally winking out. They fell to lie in a smoking heap on the grass beside the students, not a one so much as twitching. Juniper grabbed the last one by its stinger and casually heaved it over to join them; she overshot the mark, sending the corpse spinning off to impact one of the columns in front of the cafeteria.

“And that is how it’s done,” Trissiny said with grim satisfaction.

“Let’s save some of the fun for those of us with swords, yeah?” Ruda said, grinning. “I don’t think that last one counted as a kill.”

“I suspect you will have plenty of opportunity,” Shaeine said.

“I feel kinda bad saying it, since I didn’t really help that time,” Juniper said with a huge beaming smile, “but we’re kinda awesome, aren’t we?”

“Nobody get cocky,” Toby warned. “Never around demons, that’s how they get you. Stay sharp, we seem to have drawn some attention to ourselves.”

The swarm was diverging, various groups descending gradually toward different parts of the campus, others continuing to circle above as if looking for something. None of them appeared to be in any great hurry—except for those which had clearly spied the students. As they watched, two smaller swarms honed in on them, one swinging out wide from across the campus and coming at a nearly horizontal angle, a second heading almost straight downward at them over the portal.

“Gabriel, Fross, Toby,” Trissiny pointed with her sword at the hiszilisks coming from the side, “soften those up before they reach us. Toby, make a shield if any get to melee range. Shaeine, hit that group above. Don’t just block them, smack them. Try to get them dazed and out of the air.”

Nobody offered any argument or discussion, but moved swiftly to obey, changing positions around the group to have the line of sight they needed. In the next second, Gabriel was blasting lightning bolts and cleaner beams of white light into the oncoming demons, augmented by more lightning expelled by Fross. Toby held himself at the ready, waiting until they came close enough for him to control a light shield effectively. Shaeine, with Teal holding her shoulders gently, executed her command perfectly. A silver shield raced upward, impacting the swarm as it dived at them; the force with which they hit apparently stunned the entire group, actually sending several tumbling straight upward from the blow. The entire cluster fell in all directions, smoking and flailing. The silver shield remained mobile, lashing back and forth to slap any which looked to be regaining their wings.

“Excellent!” Trissiny said firmly. “All right, any who make it to the ground will regroup to come at us as one unit; let them, it’s a lot easier to hit them while they’re massed than with them flying around everywhere.”

In fact, none of the first group survived; Gabriel and Fross had so decimated them that buzzing into Toby’s golden shield destroyed the only three which had survived to that point. True to Trissiny’s prediction, however, the demons that plummeted to the ground held off, reorganizing themselves in front of the observatory tower rather than charging directly.

“How’s everyone doing on energy?” Trissiny asked, facing the assembling hiszilisks but keeping her eyes moving in case more groups honed in on them.

“I am not tired.”

“So far, so good!”

“I’m okay!”

“All right,” the paladin said. “Toby, give us a thin, diffuse shield to soften ’em up as they charge. Ruda, Juniper, to the front with me, we’ll take these and give our casters a break. Gabe, behind us, shoot down any that try to flank. Here we go!”

It went beautifully, the demons buzzing obligingly into the golden glow Toby threw up in their path. Screaming, they tumbled into the ground, their forward momentum keeping them rolling right to the foot of the freshman formation. Juniper kicked the first to arrive, hard enough that it flew back over the heads of its compatriots in three pieces. The next managed to recover themselves enough to actually attack, but one paused to scream menacingly at them and received a rapier thrust directly in its open mouth. The third hit Trissiny’s shield; she pushed it back and lopped off its head before it could regain its balance. Two survivors did indeed attempt to circle around them, one falling to Gabriel’s wand. Fross froze the second, which had successfully used the students for cover to avoid his fire. Ruda stepped forward and neatly flicked the tip of her blade through its throat before it could get its wings working properly again.

“Fish in a barrel,” she said, grinning.

“Does anyone actually do that?” Gabriel asked. “Shoot fish in a barrel?”

She blinked at him. “…huh. Now that you ask, I can’t figure a reason why somebody would.”

“Focus!” Trissiny said sharply. “More incoming. General formation, defensive stances. Shaeine, make us a choke point. Ruda, up here with me. June, I need you to support Shaeine. Boost her energy if she tires, like you practiced.”

A silver dome appeared above them, but with a wedge-shaped section missing, like a cake with a slice cut out. Trissiny and Ruda stepped up into the breach, Fross hovering above their heads.

At least five separate groups of hiszilisks had come swarming down on them, buzzing furiously around the shield where there wasn’t room to attack the opening. And attack they did, so furiously that the press of bodies deprived the rest of space to push through.

Trissiny wedged herself forward into the gap, glowing furiously and laying about with her blade and shield equally. Ruda held position just behind, her nimble rapier lashing to to stab any attackers who made it past the paladin. Fross unleashed blasts of ice, lighting and explosive blue orbs of pure arcane energy, blowing back demons and felling them in considerable numbers.

Not considerable enough. As the pitched battle dragged on, more and more hiszilisks zeroed in on them, pressing at the barrier. Toby was spinning in a slow circle, having cast a wall of diffuse golden light that he dragged around and around outside Shaeine’s bubble, mowing down the demons that clawed at it from all sides. They burned, screamed and faltered as the orbiting cloud washed over them, some perishing beneath it, but more always came. Sparks began to fly from the impacts of claws and stingers on all sides of the shield; Shaeine was gritting her teeth in concentration, her expression very nearly one of pain. Juniper had shouldered Teal aside and wrapped her arms around the drow’s shoulders from behind, holding onto her; there was no visible exchange of magic, but Shaeine was nonetheless holding up the shield under enormous pressure, far better than she’d ever managed before.

“This can’t last,” Gabriel shouted. He held both wands at the ready, but had no avenue of attack except through Ruda and Trissiny. “If Shaeine wears herself out, we’re screwed!”

“Step back,” Teal ordered, moving into the center of the circle; he obeyed, crossing to the wall opposite Trissiny’s glow.

There was barely space within for Vadrieny’s wings, but she flared them outward nonetheless, grazing the silver shield on two sides. It seemed there was a momentary lull in the hiszilisks’ attack at the archdemon’s appearance. Then she threw back her head, flexed her claws outward, and screamed, and all doubt was removed.

The enormous swarm broke, buzzing away in all directions a lot faster than they had arrived. In seconds, the students were left surrounded by smoking corpses, piled into a chest-high drift in front of the opening and littering the grass on all sides.

Finally the bubble collapsed and Shaeine slumped backward against Juniper.

“I’ve got her,” the dryad said as Vadrieny jerked compulsively toward her. “Don’t touch, you’ll lose form if you grab me.”

“I thought these demons weren’t in Elilial’s pocket?” Gabriel said, still scanning the skies. For the moment, the swarm seemed unwilling to approach them again. “Wasn’t that the whole problem here? How come they listen to Vadrieny now?”

“Coyotes don’t answer to the bear, either,” said Trissiny. “Doesn’t mean they want to try charging it. Shaeine, are you all right?”

“Tired,” the drow said, gently pulling herself upright and out of Juniper’s grasp. “Not burning yet, but I cannot do that again tonight. I suggest we find some physical cover before engaging again.”

“What’s our endgame here, Trissiny?” Toby asked. “They just keep coming. Even if we get set up to survive a long siege like that one, what good does that do? No telling how many of these have already headed out to who knows where.”

“Which is why we can’t rely on Vadrieny except in a crisis like that; scattering them is a long-term defeat. For now, we trust that the gods have a plan,” Trissiny said firmly. “And that is not a religious platitude; this is all on their orders and we don’t have a better option right now. The astronomy tower can be entered from above, but its lobby will have only two access points, the front door and the stairwell. Shaeine, if we hole up in there, can you block off the stairs so we can defend the door?”

“That will be much less exhausting, yes.”

“All right, let’s move—”

The sound that emerged from the portal wasn’t quite a roar. It was like a breath, almost like a whisper—except, like a roar, it was powerful enough to shake the ground and the very air around them. It almost wasn’t a sound; there was something more to it, as if it was resonating across more than physical space. As one, the students looked up at the portal, just in time to see what began to emerge.

“What is that?” Ruda whispered, too stunned even to curse.

“That,” Trissiny said flatly, “is a good reason to keep two paladins and their allies on site.”

 

The enchantments powering the vehicle were designed for pulling entire caravans, not propelling a single car under full thrust. It screamed along the Rail line at a speed that could only charitably be called “unsafe.” The Rail glowed a furious blue beneath it, and where it passed there were not only sparks but flashes of lightning. As the car rounded the final long curve approaching Last Rock, its emergency inhibitor charms activated, causing the Rail to gleam nearly white with the volume of arcane power being used. Sparks flew in a wide fan to its right, and the car actually began twisting slightly off-center.

With a brilliant flash and a bang that echoed across the plains like rolling thunder, the lead car finally tore loose from the enchantments binding it to the Rail. The Rail line itself snapped at the point of breakage, its two halves twisting away like rearing serpents and spraying sparks and arcs of lightning in all directions. The tallgrass burst alight in a dozen places.

The car itself was flung forward, tumbling end-over-end through the air like a stone hurled from a catapult on a course that would have sent it smashing into the middle of the town. It righted itself midair, however, slowing dramatically, until it drifted lightly the last dozen yards of its journey and settled to the ground next to Last Rock’s Rail platform so delicately that the nearby tallgrass was not even disturbed.

Lacking the support of the enchanted Rail line on which it was meant to rest, it immediately toppled over on its side.

The hatch burst open and Professor Tellwyrn bounded nimbly out, landing on the platform and straightening her vest. “Offhand I can think of a dozen ways to improve the performance of that vehicle,” she muttered. “Ah, well. Any landing you walk away from, as they say.”

A figure emerged at the hatch, dragged itself weakly over the lip and tumbled to the ground.

“Earth!” Rook gasped, pausing to actually kiss the dirt. “Sweet, blessed ground! I will never leave you again. Pleh, blah,” he added, spitting out loam and wiping his mouth.

“Remind me never to get in anything with you again, Professor,” Finchley added shakily, pausing astride the hatch to give Moriarty a hand up.

“Oh, you’re fine, you drama queens,” Tellwyrn said disparagingly. “I made certain of that. Pull yourselves together, this night is going to get harder before it gets easier.”

She strode to the edge of the platform and stood, fists on her hips, staring up at the peak of the mountain. Above the campus, swirling black specks swarmed in all directions. Behind her, the three soldiers finally straggled up.

“Oh, fuck me,” Rook whispered, staring up at the distant demons.

Tellwyrn grunted. “The time for that was before all hell broke loose. Now we focus.” She hopped down from the platform, disdaining the stairs, and strode forward into the town.

Rook snorted as he and the others followed. “Well, it’s not like that was on the table, anyhow.” “How would you know? You never tried.”

He missed a step. “Wh—you’re not… Wait, that could actually…?”

Tellwyrn glanced over her shoulder, grinning. “Too late now.”

Rook sighed heavily, shoulders slumping. “You’re a bad person, Professor Tellwyrn.”

“Mm hm. Whine more, women love that.”

“Professor,” Moriarty said hesitantly, “I’m not entirely sure why you wanted us along for this.”

“Because I need my faculty riding herd on those damn kids. Who knows what else they’ll come up with; I’ve already had one pry open a hellgate and the entire freshman class do this bullshit. All it’ll take is for one more disaster to happen in the middle of a major city and I’ll never get the Imperials off my butt. What we need to do here is close that damn portal, which means somebody has to go through it to work the other side.”

Finchley squeaked.

“Not you,” she said acidly. “I will see to that. Luckily two of the little asshats up there are arcanists and three are light-wielders, so assuming they can follow simple instructions, they can handle it from this end. But with part of the group doing that, I need somebody to shoot demons and let them work on it. That’s your job.”

“Shooting stuff we can do!” Rook promised.

“Hm,” she grunted. “It occurs to me suddenly that I’ve never actually seen you try.”

“That’s not true, remember when that Longshot clown was—”

All four came to an immediate halt when they heard the noise. The sheer wrongness of it made it more disturbing than the sound itself deserved to be; what should have been an eerie whisper was powerful enough to vibrate their very skeletons. In unison they lifted their eyes to the hellgate above the University.

What emerged was horrifying first and foremost for its size. The armor-plated, birdlike face, ending in a wickedly hooked black beak, was surmounted by a triple row of incandescent red eyes that seemed too small for it by far. It was easily large enough to swallow a Rail caravan. And still, the thing kept coming. It oozed outward, snapping at a group of hiszilisks in passing, its sinuous body continuously unfurling from the portal. The thing was proportioned very much like an eel, but partially covered with plates of rusty-looking armor, from between which emerged an orange glow, as if the beast were filled with fire and its skin cracking. An almost comically small pair of fins waved just behind its head, with above them pulsing translucent sacs that definitely were full of fire, inflating and collapsing with the rhythm of its breath. When it finally fully emerged from the portal, with a flick of its finned tail, it was longer than a passenger zeppelin, and roughly as massive.

“No,” Moriarty whispered.

“Hm,” Tellwyrn mused. “That hellgate’s bigger than I realized.”

“What the hell is that?” Rook asked shakily.

“It’s called a nurdrakhaan,” she replied, resuming her stride. They trailed along behind her, after a moment’s hesitation. “You may note a similar root in there to the word ‘dragon.’ That’s Hell’s version of the same basic thing. Less intelligent, less restrained, considerably more destructive.”

“You’re awfully calm,” Rook said, his tone almost accusing.

“Just as soon as it becomes productive to panic, I assure you, I’ll take up the habit. Now, since we can’t teleport this close to the active gate, we’re gonna have to take the slow way back up the mountain.”

“I don’t know about you,” said Finchley, “but after hiking up that thing we may not be in the best shape to fight demons!”

“I said the slow way, not the stupid way,” Tellwyrn snapped. She had led them across the outer square of the town, abutting the Rail platform and scrolltower office, to the front of the Ale & Wenches. The Professor grabbed the front door by its handle, which immediately glowed blue for a moment, and the lock clicked open. She pulled the door open and stepped within. “Come on, come on. Time’s wasting.”

 

“Well…that’s one way to do it,” Ruda said slowly. They watched, weapons at the ready, as the enormous monstrosity spun through the air above them, snapping up whole clusters of hiszilisks in its gigantic maw. It appeared to move slowly, its undulations almost dreamlike, but that was an illusion created by its size. It was clearly faster than the smaller, more nimble demons. Their habit of grouping together made them more vulnerable to its attacks, but they didn’t seem in a hurry to learn.

“Why is it helping us?” Gabriel demanded, turning to look at Trissiny.

“It’s not,” she said tersely.

“But it’s only attacking the demons, not the campus!”

“A nurdrakhaan doesn’t help.”

“We were told those demons don’t answer to Elilial,” Toby said slowly, frowning up at the scene playing out above them. “With the implication that whoever opened the hellgate and brought them here didn’t, either. What if she sent something to clean up the mess on the other end?”

“Regardless,” Trissiny said sharply, “that thing cannot be allowed to run amok on the mortal plane. In the very immediate term, yes, it seems to be cleaning up the hiszilisks for us, which is fine. But it’s also a vastly greater threat than they are, and we need to bring it down.”

“What if it just goes back through the portal after it finishes with those guys?” Fross asked.

“Demons don’t do that.”

“Then the question,” Shaeine said softly, “is how do you propose to kill it?”

Trissiny frowned. “…Vadrieny, can you knock it out of the air?”

“I don’t have the physical strength,” the archdemon admitted. “There’s no leverage in the air. It’s not aerodynamic, as you can see; it flies by magic, and it has a lot of magic. I don’t know how to interfere with the spells holding it up.”

“How much can you hurt it, do you think?”

She flexed her claws. “As much as I can get these on, which…would annoy it, sure. Maybe I could put out its eyes?”

“Somehow I don’t think having that thing reeling around blind would be a positive development,” said Gabriel.

A small pack of hiszilisks came at them from a steep dive, screeching. They hit a cloud of ice expelled by Fross, then tumbled through a barrage of Gabriel’s wandfire into a haze of golden light, finally impacting a silver shield which immediately flickered out, leaving them to tumble, smoking, to the ground a few feet distant.

“What about mithril?” Fross suggested. “Sounds like it’ll fall naturally if we block the magic in it. In fact, that might kill it outright. I doubt that thing could breathe in this atmosphere if we impose objective physics on it.”

“We have one mithril item in our possession,” said Ruda, patting her rapier, “and apart from the difficulty of getting it up there, it’s just not big enough to make much of a dent.”

“Triss, does it have vital points?” Juniper asked.

Trissiny shook her head slowly, still staring up at the gargantuan demon. “Presumably. It’s not as if anyone’s ever dissected one in a lab. I imagine they’re somewhere on the inside.”

“Then we brute force it,” said Gabriel. “Vadrieny can probably rip through that armor, given time and space to work. Juniper cancels infernal power just by touching it. Ruda’s sword—hell, Trissiny’s sword will harm it. So…all we have to do is get it on the ground, dazed or too wounded to fight.”

The nurdrakhaan opened its huge maw and that disconcerting hissing roar sounded again. Hiszilisks fled in all directions; one group was too slow, and vanished in a snap of its jaws.

“Oh, is that all,” Ruda said. “Well, we’re just about done here then, aren’t we? I’ll go get a head start on planning our victory bash.”

“I hope that’s making you feel better,” he told her, “because it sure as hell isn’t helping.”

“Right, keeping on point,” said Toby. “I think Gabriel’s right. So we need ideas.”

“To begin with, we can’t do that here,” said Trissiny. “There’s just not room on the mountaintop for that thing to lie down. We’ll have to abandon this position and lure it down onto the plain somehow.”

“Then I’d better take point,” Vadrieny said. “I’m the only one mobile enough in the air to manipulate it that closely.”

“Ahem,” said Fross.

“Fross, even if you’ve got the firepower to damage that thing,” said Gabriel, “you’re probably too small for it to see.”

“You may be right,” the pixie said grudgingly.

“What if you get eaten?” Trissiny asked Vadrieny.

The demon grinned, displaying her disturbing complement of fangs. “Then I’ll be closer to its vitals, won’t I?”

“Let us call that Plan B,” Shaeine said firmly.

“Then we have a strategy,” said Trissiny. “Moving will attract the hiszilisks, which isn’t ideal, but I don’t see a choice. We need to make our way down the mountain and away from the town. Vadrieny, you’ll have to stay on top of the nurdrakhaan. As long as it’s just killing hiszilisks, leave it alone, but if it—”

“Incoming,” Fross interrupted. “Two o’clock, eighty degree elevation.”

Trissiny turned her head to scowl at the cluster of hiszilisks now heading straight for them in a steep dive. That particular flock had just had half their number snapped up by the nurdrakhaan, which was now moving past behind them.

“Shaeine, rest,” Trissiny said tersely. “Gabe, discourage them. Toby, Fross, stand by for them to close.”

Gabriel had already raised both wands and unleashed a barrage of blasts at the incoming demons. Lightning snapped through the cluster, arcing between several targets; they were singed but not as badly affected by pure electricity while not grounded. His other wand, the ebony-hafted enchanter’s weapon the Crawl had given him, did a lot more damage. Two demons plummeted from the sky, and a third veered to the side, clipped by a wandshot.

“You’re getting better with that thing,” Toby commented.

Gabriel grinned, half-turning his head to reply.

In that moment a stray shot struck the nurdrakhaan, near the tip of its tail.

The enormous beast instantly pivoted in midair, turning to glare down at them directly, and opened its mouth to emit that skeleton-vibrating hiss.

The good news was that the hiszilisks immediately abandoned their attack, scattering in all directions.

“Oh, come on,” Gabriel whispered. “It’s made of armor. How did it even feel that?”

“Arquin, we’ve only known each other less than a year,” Ruda said in a tone of resignation, “but somehow I feel I’ve always known that when I died, it would be your fucking fault.”

“Shh,” Trissiny murmured. “Don’t move. Maybe it—”

The mammoth demon hissed again and dived straight toward them. Suddenly its motion didn’t seem nearly so slow.

“Get moving!” Vadrieny ordered, and with a beat of her wings shot upward, straight at the creature.

The archdemon curved sideways in flight to approach it at an angle, and slammed straight into the side of its armored beak, actually forcing the monstrosity off course. Letting out a wild scream, she clawed savagely at the thick shell plating its face, tearing loose handfuls of chitinous armor. The nurdrakhaan hissed in protest, shaking its head to dislodge her.

“New plan!” Trissiny announced. “Run for it! Keep an eye on the sky, we’ll have to—”

Another, even louder hiss that literally shook the ground made them all pause, wincing; Shaeine clapped both hands over her sensitive ears. The nurdrakhaan twisted in midair, smashing its face against the upper level of the astronomy tower and crushing Vadrieny into the edifice. Stone crumbled under the blow, the entire structure swaying dangerously. The nurdrakhaan pulled back; in the next second, Vadrieny was visible, dragging herself out of a collapsed pile of masonry and flexing her wings for another takeoff.

Moving faster than they had yet seen it do, the nurdrakhaan whipped around, smashing its tail against her and the tower.

The entire tower was pulverized, rubble flying outward over the side of the mountain to plummet to the plain below. There was no sign of the archdemon amid the carnage.

“She’s fine,” Trissiny said, grabbing Shaeine’s shoulder as the drow took a compulsive step toward the ruins. “No amount of physical force will harm her. She has her job to do; we need to keep moving! Stay together—”

“No,” Ruda shouted, “scatter!”

It came down on them like a falling star, ridged jaws wide and hissing furiously. The students bolted in two directions as the colossal demon hit the ground mouth-first. It scooped out a huge swath of the lawn, changing course at the point of impact with astonishing agility, seemingly unfazed by the force of its own landing. Dragging its long, armored bulk through the rut it had bitten out only widened it, tossing soil, fragments of stone walkways and hiszilisk corpses in all directions.

No one was slow enough to be swallowed, but no one was agile to get completely out of the way, with the lucky exception of Fross.

“I gotcha!” the pixie shouted, yanking Ruda with her on an invisible cord of magic. The pirate flew straight backward into the hefty doors of Helion Hall, where she crumpled to the ground, dazed. “Oh, crap,” Fross yelped, zipping over to her.

Juniper managed to keep her feet, even as the very ground under her was torn up and rippled outward like a tidal wave. She even bounded toward the massive demon as its coils ground past, slamming a fist into its side. The blow was ineffectual and cost her enough balance to send her tumbling back down, but for at least a moment she managed to provide a testament to the martial forms in which Professor Ezzaniel had drilled her in lieu of having her actually fight other students.

Shaine and Gabriel were hit directly by the edge of the nurdrakhaan’s beak; he went sailing straight into a tree, managing to keep a grip on only one of his wands. She had the presence of mind to wreath herself in a silver shield, and to sustain it as the magical orb was sent bouncing down the stairs to the next terrace down, where it collapsed, as did she.

Toby, rather than running from the demon, threw himself at Trissiny, who had side-stepped neatly but not attempted to flee. Throwing his arms around her shoulders from behind, he wreathed them both in a golden glow, firmer than those he had been using against the hiszilisks. Her own golden shield covered them more closely. The double layer of protection barely saved them.

Her dodge had taken her out of the immediate range of the demon’s mouth, but in the subsequent disturbance of the ground, she hadn’t the footing to evade the impact of its fin. Whether by chance or intention, it flicked them upward, sending the two paladins hurtling onto the roof of the cafeteria. Their joined shields held up to that blow and the impact, but that was all.

Toby staggered to the floor, winded, Trissiny barely keeping her feet. Just beyond them, over the low lip of stone that surrounded the roof, the nurdrakhaan ascended skyward again, hissing.

“Now what?” Toby wheezed, dragging himself upright.

“I have a plan,” she said grimly, her eyes on the beast. Her aura flared gold again. “Are you close to burnout?”

“Not nearly. I’ve been pacing myself. I’m assuming you can go even longer, being part elf?”

She nodded. “Light up. Shield yourself and put out as much of a corona as you safely can.”

He did so, watching her for further cues. She followed her own advice, keeping her gaze fixed on the enormous demon. Between the two of them, the entire roof of the cafeteria blazed as if under the noonday sun.

“Okay, what next?”

Trissiny pointed at the beast with her sword; the ancient, pitted blade glowed nearly white with the intensity of the magic gathering in it, then blazed forward in one concerted burst.

He could see why she didn’t use that tactic as a weapon. The light flowed out more like radiance from a shuttered lantern than the directed energy of a wandshot. It was focused enough, however, to make a gleaming patch along the side of the nurdrakhaan.

The monster whirled again, fixing its six scarlet eyes on them, and hissed.

“Trissiny?” Toby said urgently.

“Gather and rally everyone,” she ordered, glaring up at the demon.

“Oh, no you don’t, I know what you’re thinking and you can forg—”

“Together we can do this, but they’ll be picked off individually,” she snapped. “They must rally. Get it done, Caine.”

The nurdrakhaan hissed once more and dived straight at them.

Trissiny whirled and planted a snap kick right in the side of Toby’s shield, booting him toward the edge of the roof.

All his years of training in the martial arts were thwarted by his own shield; he had never practiced keeping his balance while at the fixed center of an indestructible sphere. The orb of energy hit the foot-high wall and rolled neatly over, lifting his feet right off the floor and sending him plummeting off the side.

He hit the ground hard for the second time in the last sixty seconds, again losing his hold on the shield. He immediately flung it back up, barely avoiding being crushed by debris as the nurdrakhaan ripped a huge gouge out of the roof of the cafeteria.

Through the dust, at a painful angle around the broken masonry between him and the beast, he could see it rising skyward again, hissing its displeasure, the source of which was the glowing Hand of Avei clinging to its face with her sword lodged in one of the gouges Vadrieny had made in its armor.

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7 – 6

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“Hey, Sweet,” said the woman in the leather coat, stopping in surprise. “They’ve got you doing enforcer duty?”

“Nah,” Sweet said airily. “I have rank enough to get around the curfew, is all. I thought this would be a good educational opportunity for the ducklings.” He jerked a thumb over his shoulder at Flora and Fauna, who rolled their eyes in unison. Of course, he couldn’t see them doing it, but he knew very well they were.

“If you say so,” the Guild enforcer replied, shrugging. Beside her, her more taciturn partner tapped his foot impatiently. “I’ve gotta say I don’t see it, though. It’s not a good time to try pulling a job; everybody’s inside, where the loot is, and even if you pull something off the Boss and maybe the Empire would land hard on you for taking advantage of the situation.”

“Well, I concur with that analysis, Duster,” Sweet replied easily. “But no, we’re not looking to gather up stray valuables. It’s the situation, my friend. This is, to put it mildly, unusual. It’s in a crisis that you see what people are really made of. That’s why you should always find a moment to look around during a crisis. They never let you see it otherwise.”

Duster snorted. “Nothing’s gonna happen. The actual trouble is out on the frontier, where the soldiers are going, and that bawling herald has pretty well spooked everybody indoors. Just a night of creepy quiet streets.”

“Let us hope,” Sweet said gravely. “I’ve got a hunch, though.”

“And we have a route,” the second enforcer said pointedly. “Stay outta trouble, Sweet.”

“You too, Togs,” he replied with a grin. “Duster. Be safe.”

“You bet,” she said, winking, and the two continued ambling along their route. Sweet headed off in the opposite direction, Flora and Fauna pacing silently along in his wake.

“Do you actually have the Imperial rank to break a curfew?” Fauna asked.

“You know, I’m not really sure,” he mused. “Doesn’t really apply in this situation, as me being out in the streets tonight is all part of the plan. Something to wonder about, though.”

“I note that Duster didn’t wonder,” Flora remarked. “Or didn’t care.”

“Well, of course not. She’s a Guild enforcer; I’m a ranking member. Far as she’s concerned, as long as I’m not acting against the Big Guy or the Guild, I can do whatever damn thing pops into my head.”

“Handy,” Fauna grunted.

“Damn skippy,” he said cheerfully.

They fell silent, the only sound his soft footfalls on the sidewalk. Over the last year he’d grown more or less accustomed to the preternatural silence with which elves could move when they chose—which had helped him pick up on the subtle mockery they sometimes employed by slapping their feet down as loudly as humans—but the context brought back all the nervous uncertainty of the first few weeks of them being in his house, when he kept turning around and finding them suddenly there, without warning.

The city’s silence was oppressive. Tiraas was known as a city of lights, and the lights were all still on. In fact, they were even more on than usual; people were huddled together in their homes, and a lot fewer of them than usual at this hour were sleeping. Light blazed from nearly every window they passed, to the point that the streetlamps seemed superfluous. None of it helped. Tiraas, like all cities, was also a place of the constant, thrumming noise of people, and in the absence of it, a terrifying wrongness hung over the streets. The cheerful glow from all quarters only served to underscore how amiss everything was.

Sweet felt an urge to glance back and make sure the girls were still with him. He didn’t, of course.

“What are we doing here?” Flora asked at last.

“This is but the first stop on our evening’s itinerary,” Sweet replied, strolling across the empty square to the facade of the Rail station. “Up we go, girls. I want to show you something.”

Like many Rail stations, the huge structure was a blend of modern architecture—which was to say, enormous expanses of glass in wrought iron frames—and a faux-classical style, replete with ornamental stonework. The former was extremely difficult to scale, even with elven agility, and quite impossible to do so without being seen from within. The latter was an urban climber’s dream, but its odd proportions made it a challenge to ascend the narrow stretches of building that provided handholds while avoiding the huge window-walls. It took them a few minutes longer than was usual, and he had to accept a helping hand from his more nimble apprentices a couple of times, but soon enough they were ensconced on the roof of the station, peering in through another bank of massive windows at what was occurring within.

“I’m not sure why that was necessary,” Fauna commented. “I mean, look at the size of these windows. We could’ve gone up the fire escape on that factory across the street and seen in just as well.”

“Practice,” he said sternly. “You never know when you’ll have to climb a building like this.”

“Why would we climb a Rail station?” Flora asked curiously. “You told us not to try robbing Imperial—”

“Enough!” he exclaimed. “Just look!”

It was a sight worth seeing. As they watched, a caravan streaked away, shooting outward through a gap in the city walls and along the Rail line attached to the side of the great bridge arching between Tiraas and the canyon wall far beyond. Immediately, another caravan waiting behind it eased forward and began taking on passengers.

He hadn’t gone to all this trouble to show them caravans, of course. The station was thronged with Silver Legionnaires in full armor, filing into caravans and departing the city.

“I don’t understand,” Fauna murmured, frowning. “The herald said the Avenists were going to be taking part in enforcing the curfew.”

“Yes,” Sweet said glibly, “and tomorrow he’ll be saying how the Black Wreath took advantage of the city’s momentary weakness to launch an insidious attack. Governments, thieves and religions have two things in common, girls: they all steal, and they all lie. Think, now. Why send the Legions away?”

“…in an actual military crisis,” Flora said slowly, frowning in thought, “the Silver Legions would go where the danger is.”

“Especially danger like this,” Fauna added. “Responding to a demonic threat is exactly what they’d do.”

“Telling the populace the Legionnaires are guarding the city…it’s just propaganda. Crowd control. People trust the Legions, even after the ruckus earlier this year.”

“If they knew it’s just the Guild and the Huntsmen in the streets…holy hell, that by itself would start a panic.”

“You know, I haven’t actually seen any Huntsmen either,” Flora noted.

“Very good,” Sweet said, nodding.

“But… Why actually send the Legions away?” Fauna asked, frowning deeply. “Do they not know the gods don’t want them at Last Rock? I thought Avei herself was one of the gods who sent that message.”

“You’re on a productive track,” Sweet said approvingly. “Now continue thinking on it while we proceed to our next stop of the evening. Off we go, girls!”

“You mean, off we go down that difficult climb we didn’t really need to make in the first place?”

“Walk and think quietly,” he suggested.

 

 

The small group of five men and women in Universal Church robes with the golden ankh-and-chain logo of the holy summoner corps stitched into their tabards came to a stop in the empty intersection. For a moment, they only stood. Without any specific plan, they had drifted into two groups with a small gap between them; the three actual Church summoners, and the Imperial Intelligence warlocks.

“All right, like we practiced,” the priestess in the lead said finally. Even her hushed voice in the city’s eerie silence was unnerving. “Let us get started, and then you chip in. Bring them across slowly, make sure we can keep them under control.”

“Right,” one diabolist said tersely.

“Remember, our method isn’t like yours. We don’t have as much fine control, but for this we won’t need it, and the tradeoff is that we can keep tabs on more of them at once. The aim is to keep them from harming people as much as possible. Property damage is acceptable. If—”

“We have all been briefed,” the second summoner snapped. “If we’re going to do this lunacy, let’s get on with it before somebody faints.”

“We are not about to faint,” one of the other priests snorted.

“I might,” she said frankly.

“Look, just because you—”

“Enough,” the lead priestess said firmly. “She’s right. The time for talk is over. Slowly, carefully, and keep focused.”

She drew a deep breath and held out one hand. The other two clerics did likewise, all facing away from each other.

They didn’t draw conventional summoning circles; golden rings of pure light formed on the pavement before their outthrust hands, their glow diminished by the fairly lights blazing from all around.

For a long moment there was only more silence, while the clerics concentrated and the warlocks stared nervously.

Then, in the first of the circles, a shape began to emerge from the ground itself, hissing in displeasure at its proximity to the divine light.

More followed.

“This is madness,” one of the warlocks whispered, rubbing sweaty palms against her robe.

No one argued.

 

“That’s thirteen confirmed locations,” Bradshaw reported, turning away from the robed cultist who had rushed over to hurriedly whisper in his ear. Dismissed, the woman melted back into the shadows. “Small groups in Church livery, opening summoning portals and just…letting things wander through.”

“It’s a disaster,” another Wreath member breathed. “It’s insane. What do they think they’re meddling with?”

“All of them are following a consistent pattern,” Bradshaw continued. “The demons they’re calling are non-sentient. Mostly katzils and khankredahgs. Not by themselves a major concern, but they’re bringing them by the dozens. There is no way they can hope to keep them under control.”

“As for why, that is all too painfully obvious,” Embras said, not turning from his perusal of the silent city. The Wreath members were huddled on a balcony above an old clock tower. Ironically, the building below them had once been a Universal Church chapel before being deconsecrated and sold off. “Demons loose in the city? Soldiers conveniently absent from the scene? The Universal Church up to insidious trickery? This looks like a job for the Black Wreath!” He turned, finally, leaning backward against the stone rail, and grinned at his assembled subordinates.

“I did warn you,” Vanessa said reprovingly, lowering her cowl so he could see her scowl at him. “More than half the summoner corps has walked out in disgust over this; Justinian wasn’t shy about revealing his plan. He wants chaos so he can blame the Empire. As soon as the demons have had a chance to wreak some good, solid havoc, the streets will fill with Church clerics and the Holy Legion to restore order and discredit the Silver Throne. There’s no reason to for us to get caught in the middle of this.”

“Vanessa, Vanessa,” Embras said sadly, shaking his head. “For that to happen, the summoners will first have to hide. The Legion will have to muster. Bradshaw, have any of our people reported any such movements?”

“It’s early yet,” Bradshaw replied, “but the summoners are being absurdly brazen. It’s less like a covert operation and more like they’re…taunting. As for the Holy Legion… Not a peep out of them, no. Even if they did muster, those are modern Army soldiers trained to fight with battlestaves in light uniforms, now wearing impractical armor and carrying polearms. Hardly any of them are actually able to draw on the light. They’d do nothing against demons.”

“And that’s just logistics.” Embras winked at Vanessa, who was looking increasingly embarrassed. “One must also consider the personalities involved. Justinian is a spider; he doesn’t strike until his prey is fully ensnared in his web and tired out from struggling. This? This is ludicrous. It’s reckless, destructive and all but guaranteed to backfire on him horribly… If the goal is the one he’s floated to his summoners. No, he’s not making a move against the Empire. This is aimed at someone else who has an interest in demons running amok in the city. Sound like anyone you know, hm?”

“No matter who’s behind it,” Bradshaw said, “it’s awfully aggressive. It’s incredibly risky. There’s no way they can contain the damage this will cause. I’m not even sure how they’ll work out the propaganda afterward; almost any version of the story makes them look bad.”

“There’s a compliment in there somewhere,” Embras noted. “We’ve got them good and panicked, if they’re this desperate to flush us out. Now we just need to survive this little brouhaha with our own plans intact, and we will effectively have our enemies on the run.”

“If, if, if,” Vanessa said sourly. “How are we going to deal with this, Embras? If you’re right and they don’t plan to end it themselves… We can’t just let them do this to the city. Even if it is a trap… We just can’t. They’ve found the one bait we’ll have to spring for.”

“Mm, yes,” he mused, stroking his chin. “…but not in the way they expect. Oh, they have a cleanup plan, I guarantee it. That doesn’t mean we need to remain fully hands-off, though; you’re right, the Lady has given us an obligation, and we must take some steps, at least. Bradshaw! I want the cells spread out; send one to each confirmed summoner site.”

“You want to attack the summoners?” Bradshaw asked.

“Under absolutely no circumstances,” Embras said firmly. “They’ll be trying to keep whatever they call up under a modicum of control. They’ll fail, of course, but neither Church nor Empire—and I will eat my hat if both aren’t involved in this—would just summon up demons and turn them loose in the city. I want our people to let them have their fun and clean up after them. If a demon slips the lead, they’re to enact standard freerunner protocol. Coax the errant away from prying eyes, then put it down. Give the summoners no hint they’ve been seen. And above all, everyone must be cautious. This is just the opening play; there will be layers to this we’ve not yet seen. Avoid engagement with human foes at all costs.”

Vanessa raised her cowl, settling it over her dark curls. “One cell per site? That leaves a good proportion of our people to…what?”

Embras turned again to study the city, rubbing once more at his chin. A grin stretched across his features. “This, as I pointed out, isn’t like Justinian… Nor Sharidan, or Vex. Nor Eleanora, who’s the power behind both of those two anyway. But I believe I know somebody who would try something like this. When I get my hands on him, I mean to ask how he persuaded so many powerful people to go along with this raging insanity. But! Meantime, rather than indulging the Church in their little hoedown, I think it more fitting to teach them not to do such things in the future.” He turned his head to grin over his shoulder at them. “Don’t you?”

“I don’t like where this is heading,” Vanessa said warily. Bradshaw had already stepped away and was whispering instructions to a small cluster of robed Wreath. They began peeling away and shadow-jumping out.

Embras actually laughed. “While Bradshaw is coordinating that, Vanessa, gather up the remainder. We are going to Dawnchapel.”

She stiffened. “The holy summoner headquarters?”

“Yes, it is,” he said cheerfully. “At least until we get done with it.” Embras turned his gaze back to the skyline, his grin growing brittle, and spoke more softly. “I see your hand in this, Antonio. You do like to sign your name, don’t you? Nice try, my friend, but…not this time.”

 

“Aww, come ooonnnn,” Flora whined. “There’s nobody there! It’s perfect!”

“Girl, you had better be attempting to make a joke,” Sweet said severely, not slackening his pace. “I hardly know where to begin with what’s wrong with that. First that we are on a mission and you don’t stop for random jobs while working! More importantly, you don’t just up and roll a Vernisite temple no matter how much loot is in there or how unguarded it is.”

“That’s not a Vernisite temple,” Fauna protested, lingering outside the locked iron gates to stare longingly at the looming marble structure. “It’s a bank.”

“Pots and kettles, and you know it. Nobody touches a place answering to Verniselle unless their protection isn’t paid up. And even then, a job like that would go to a senior agent, not a couple of randoms.”

“You’re a senior agent!”

“A senior agent who is busy. Chop chop! Come on, get away from there.”

“You are no fun,” Fauna grumbled as they reluctantly followed him up the street.

“That is an insult and a damned lie, you ungrateful wench. Anyway, put it out of your mind, we have arrived!” Sweet ambled to a stop and leaned against a lamppost.

The two elves made a point of walking past so he could see them expressively gazing around at the completely deserted intersection.

“Very nice,” said Flora. “Quaint.”

“It’s a very classy neighborhood.”

“Still as empty and creepy as everywhere else, though. What are we doing here?”

“Oh, we won’t be long,” he said lightly. “This is just the rendezvous point.”

“Rendezvous with whom?”

A soft croaking sounded from the top of the lamppost on which he was leaning.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Flora grumbled.

The crow launched itself with a soft flutter of wings and glided in lazy spirals toward the ground. Mary flexed her knees slightly as her moccasins touched down on the paving stones.

“Mary, my dear!” Sweet exclaimed, straightening up and throwing his arms wide. “How lovely to see you! And my, don’t you look radiant this evening!”

She raised an eyebrow. “You are charming, Antonio. And you’re clever. Those are not traits I seek in a man. Everything is prepared as agreed.”

“Excellent, the others are all here?”

“As agreed,” she said wryly. “I will repeat it as many times as you require, but I thought time was a factor this evening.”

“What others?” Fauna snapped.

“The remaining members of our…team,” Mary said, glancing unreadably at Darling. “The Tinker, the Kid, the Longshot and Gravestone. I have shifted them slightly out of phase with this reality; they will not be discernible from the mortal plane, but they can move through and react to it, able to follow along until needed. I will call them back forth when we meet the enemy.”

Flora frowned. “Hm… Couldn’t the Wreath spot that? I mean, they’re summoners. Their whole shtick is crossing the planes.”

“The nature of the infernal arts creates a blind spot of sorts,” Mary said calmly. “Warlocks are especially vulnerable to otherworldly influences, unless they take rigorous measures to shield themselves, which all competent warlocks do. The Black Wreath does not employ any who are less than competent. They might, possibly, catch a glimpse of our compatriots in the brief moment of casting a summons… But the space between the planes is full of dimly-glimpsed things which are best ignored, as paying them attention tends to earn their attention in return.”

“That’s where you stuck your friends?” Fauna demanded.

“They are not all my friends. Anyway, nothing that lurks between the planes will challenge what lurks alongside them.”

“What does that—”

“Anyway!” Sweet said loudly. “If that’s all settled, we are ready to move out.”

“Perfect,” Flora sighed. “Where now, then?”

“Oh, nowhere in particular,” he breezed. “It’s just such a pleasant night for a stroll, don’t you think?

“Do you seriously believe you’re funny?

“You are mistaken.”

Sweet shook his head despairingly. “Girls, girls, you have got to learn to embrace the banter. It’s a vital skill in the business; no other Guildies will take you seriously if you can’t hold up your end of a pointless, irritating conversation. But since you are clearly under excessive stress already, I will explain. Walk and talk, ladies, walk and talk.”

Mary fluttered back upward without another word, and Sweet set off down the street at a lazy pace.

“Embras is far too clever an operator to blindly snap at the bait we’ve set,” he explained as they strolled along. The Crow drifted silently above them; Flora and Fauna kept shooting her dirty looks. “He won’t play the game I’ve set him up to play. No, in his position, the only thing to do will be to seize back the initiative and strike us where we don’t expect.”

“But you do expect?” Fauna asked.

Sweet grinned broadly. “It’s all about what he doesn’t know, my dears. There are two likely targets of his ire tonight, and none of them are our hapless summoner cabals. Both are alluringly undefended, or so it will seem to him. One is us.”

“Ah,” Flora murmured, glancing up at the Crow again. “Less undefended than all that, I see.”

“Exactly,” Sweet said cheerfully. “The other… Well, hopefully it won’t come to that, as it’ll mean more walking and an extra stop. Or not; I’ll need to finish this up at the prepared location anyhow, but there’s no point in… Ah, never mind, all that may not become a factor. For now, we are going to go visit one of the summoner cells.”

“Why?”

“Because near them there will be warlocks. And I think I know just the way to get their attention!”

He clenched his right fist, and with a flash of gold, a chain made of pure white burst into being, snaking its way around his arm all the way up to the shoulder.

Both elves came to a stop, staring at it. Above them, the Crow let out a hoarse caw.

“Whoah,” Flora said, wide-eyed. “When did you learn to do that?”

“Last week!” Sweet grinned hugely at her. “Branwen suggested I should take advantage of the free summoner training available to Bishops, and I’ve followed her advice. Something tells me it’ll come in very useful before the night is out.”

“So the plan is for you to make yourself a target,” Fauna huffed. “Thanks so much for inviting us along with you.”

“I’m glad you’re having fun,” he told her with a wink, then turned to resume his course. “I put the odds at fifty-fifty that Embras and company will swoop down on us. It’s not exactly the smarter of his two options, but…it may be the more tempting.”

“You and that guy are developing an unhealthy relationship,” Flora commented.

“Yeah, but maybe that’s the point,” Fauna added. “If he’s half as obsessive, he’s probably on the way here right now.”

“We’ll see,” Sweet murmured, staring forward into the brightly lit, silent night. His smile remained in place, but grew hard. “You know I’m here, Embras. I know you’re watching. Come and get me, you son of a bitch.”

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7 – 5

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The scene at the central Rail station in Calderaas was one of orderly chaos, a familiar sight to those who had lived through well-mannered disasters. In accordance with the Imperial proclamation freezing Rail travel, the station was emptied of its normal clientele and much of its normal staff. With the throngs of travelers gone, the cavernous space turned out to have ample room for the refugees from Last Rock, though they were huddled uncomfortably close together in some cases.

Imperial personnel moved rapidly about, mostly civilians from the Ministry of the Interior in suits and dresses, distinct from the townsfolk chiefly by their silver gryphon badges and brisk manner. Uniformed soldiers carrying staves were posted at the entrances and windows and strategically throughout the station, keeping watch; more of them, sans weapons, had been put to work helping to shift cargo. For the most part, the townsfolk were admirably calm and orderly. The frontier bred hardy people more inclined to work than to complain, and the proximity to the University had taught these particular souls a degree of comfort with the unexpected. Nonetheless, there were raised voices, minor scuffles and the odd backup of traffic as someone misunderstood directions or refused to follow them. Clerics were moving through the crowd, mostly Universal Church parsons, Omnist monks and several Izarites, helping to keep people calm and seeing to whatever needs they found.

The townsfolk were being settled into hastily-cleared offices and storage warehouses, with several in tents erected along the wider thoroughfares and main lobby, while the students were being set up along the platforms suspended above the actual Rail lines. Imperial officers, familiar with the handling of upset civilians in a crisis, had taken one look at the two groups and promptly separated them. Even now, with distance and casually wandering soldiers between them, a lot of the townspeople were directing angry looks and mutters at the students. Even aside from the general presumption that the University was responsible for whatever nonsense befell the town, there were more than a few Rockies intelligent enough to do the arithmetic on the situation and deduce that a student, or students, had to be personally responsible for the hellgate. By this point, that awareness had sifted through the entire population, and even some of the more laid-back citizens were growing irate. The usual run of University tomfoolery was one thing, but they’d now been separated from their homes and were facing the possibility of having no homes to which to return. The priests had a full job maintaining calm.

Professors were helping with that. They moved among the students, keeping order better than the Imperials could (apparently enough of the Interior personnel were acquainted with college students to know not to try clamping down on them), and also speaking with the civilians. University staff grew to be more familiar to the folk of Last Rock than students, simply by virtue of having more time to get to know them. Most were liked, at least to an extent, and they had a measure of trust accumulated which was paying off in this situation.

Nobody was under the delusion that this was a long-term solution. Apart from the simple sanitary concerns of having that many people in a confined space, the simmering tensions would only get worse the longer people were kept in such a tight situation. It was just a matter of time until someone lashed out, one way or another, and that raised the very real possibility of an escalating conflict. In theory, it should all be resolved one way or another within two days, but the Ministry of the Interior was already drawing up a resettlement plan for the refugees. So far, only some of the senior University faculty and the mayor and Sheriff of Last Rock had been informed of this, on the reasoning that seriously discussing the possible destruction of the town would only escalate tensions. For the time being, everyone was focusing on tending to the needs of the refugees and keeping calm and order among them.

“YOU WHAT?”

Almost everyone.

Professor Tellwyrn stood nose-to-nose with a man whose Army uniform bore a captain’s stripes below a Strike Corps insignia; he stared back at her with remarkable calm considering the situation.

“We are not embarking for Last Rock, or anywhere else,” the captain said patiently. Behind him, the three other members of his strike team stood in relaxed postures that belied the cold stares they all directed at Tellwyrn. A second strike team stood off to the side, having casually arranged themselves into a staggered diamond formation that gave them all a direct line of sight at the Professor, placing their warlock at the head of the group and the cleric in the back.

“Tell me that again,” Tellwyrn hissed. “This time, speak slowly and use small words, as I appear to have gone completely insane. There is no other possible explanation for what I thought I just heard.”

“The orders are directly from the Emperor. Forces are being dispatched from Tiraas, and as I just said, Professor, all other details are classified. I couldn’t tell you more even if I knew more.”

“Do you?”

He smiled thinly. “That’s also classified.”

“That’s nonsense!” she barked. “Calderaas is the provincial capital and the established staging area. There is no reason to re-route resources from Tiraas, hundreds of miles south, when there are soldiers, zeppelins and strike teams here!”

“I am confident that his Majesty knows what he is doing,” the captain said calmly.

“Maybe I should go ask him,” Tellwyrn snorted, taking a step back.

Immediately, a faint buzz of arcane energy sprang up around all eight Strike Corps members, along with a small but noticeable increase in the ambient temperature and a golden glow wreathing the two clerics. Both fae magic users slipped hands into their coat pockets.

“Be extremely careful, Professor,” warned the captain quietly. “That was uncomfortably close to a threat to the Emperor.”

“Boy,” she said disdainfully, “do you really imagine I’m impressed by—”

“Do you imagine I am?” he shot back. “Yes, yes, we know, big bad Arachne can bring this whole place down around all our heads. Either do it or pipe down and behave yourself, lady. There’s a crisis going on, if you haven’t noticed, and nobody has time for your grandstanding. The Empire is handling this. You will be informed of anything you need to know.”

Behind him, the priestess in his team sighed heavily and shook her head. The warlock next to her grinned.

Tellwyrn regarded the captain with a curious expression for a moment before opening her mouth to speak again.

“WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?”

“Oh, what now,” Tellwyrn muttered, turning her back on the Strike Corps to seek out the new disturbance.

She stalked through the informal blockade of soldiers, none of whom moved close enough to make that difficult, to the platforms where the student groups were being organized. A mixed gaggle of sophomores and freshmen were clustered together, confronted by Janis van Richter, who was scarlet-faced and hyperventilating with a mixture of panic and fury.

As Tellwyrn arrived, Professor Yornhaldt emerged from the crowd in response to the noise, several other faculty members and a couple of Imperial Marshals gravitating over behind him.

“Janis,” Tellwyrn said sharply, “what is the—”

“Look!” Janis shrieked, reaching out to grab Ruda by the shoulder. Her hand passed straight through, eliciting no reaction from the girl. Next to her, Tanq and Natchua exchanged a nervous glance.

Tellwyrn halted, frowned, and pushed her spectacles up her nose, peering at the students through rather than over them. Her expression immediately grew an order of magnitude more angry. She held up one hand and snapped her fingers.

Instantly, the entire freshman class dissolved in a clatter of sparks and falling objects. Smoke drifted up from the wreckage of charred enchanting components now lying inert on the metal platform. The one exception was Fross, who immediately veered sideways and went shooting drunkenly off over the Rail tracks. In seconds, she lost cohesion and dissolved in a blur of mist.

“Wh—that—they—“ Professor Yornhaldt clapped a hand to his forehead. “I didn’t even— Arachne, I’m afraid I must immediately tender my resignation on the grounds that I have become a senile old fool.”

“Oh, shut up, Alaric,” she growled. “If I expected you to match wits with duplicitous teenagers I’d have to pay you better. What’s more to the point is they could not have done this alone; eight illusionary kids boarding a caravan would have drawn some notice.” She tilted her head down, glaring at the members of the sophomore class now standing around the destroyed golems. “Unless someone was covering for them.”

“The Hand of Avei has a calling, and an obligation to face the demons,” November said stridently. “It’s an honor to be of service to her in that!” She was only present because a caravan with a special safety harness had been found to carry her, and was now (much to her irritation) confined to a wheeled chair with a heavy lap quilt on Miss Sunrunner’s orders.

Beside her, Natchua shrugged, folded her arms and looked away. “If the froshes all want to get killed, I respect their choices.”

“Wait, wait, stop,” said Chase, his eyes wide. His lower lip started to tremble dramatically. “You man…that wasn’t really them? D-does this mean me and Trissiny aren’t getting married?” November shot him a filthy look.

“Those. Little. Shits.” Tellwryn hissed.

Behind her, Professor Ezzaniel cleared his throat. “It’s not like that group to do something so dangerous without a specific reason, Arachne. Considering the situation, I suspect Omnu and Avei are directly behind this.”

“Who did you think I was talking about?” she snarled, whirling and stalking away up the platform.

There was a clatter and a fountain of sparks as the connector between the Rail driver car and the compartment immediately behind it severed. Instantly, the entire empty caravan fell onto the Rail itself with a tremendous crash that brought people running from all directions. Except the driver car, which floated up into the air, turning completely around as it drifted back past the wrecked caravan and settled gently onto the Rail, facing back the way it had come.

Immediately, its hatch swung outward and a shaken-looking Imperial enchanter leaned out. “What in Omnu’s flaming name—?”

“Change of plans!” Tellwyrn said, stomping up to him. “This car is going back to Last Rock. Now. Out.”

“I’ve received no such orders,” he blustered.

“You just did, boy,” she snapped. “Get out of the car before I have to get you out.”

“Now see here!” He drew himself up fully, which was quite impressive as he was still leaning awkwardly forward out of the hatch. “The Imperial Rails answer to no one but his Majesty! If you think for one moment—”

“Driver!” a voice shouted from the near distance. The crowd of nervous onlookers parted, disgorging three Imperial soldiers with Private Moriarty at their head, pointing imperiously at the enchanter. “A further crisis has developed. On the authority of his Imperial Majesty I am commandeering this vehicle. I’ll need you to step out, please.”

“Oh, well,” he hemmed, glancing back into his compartment. “I guess if that’s—eep!” The enchanter staggered, barely catching his balance as Tellwyrn tugged him out onto the platform.

“Good work,” she said curtly, pausing just inside to point at the trio. “You three! Get in here, I may need some warm bodies to throw at a problem.”

“Well, if you’re gonna sweet talk us, I guess we have no choice,” Rook drawled, ambling forward.

It was crowded with four of them in the compartment. The three soldiers pressed themselves back onto the padded bench along its rear wall, groping for the provided handholds, of which there were not enough for all of them.

“Ugh, what is this?” Tellwyrn growled, yanking the hatch shut and glaring at the runic console. “What a mess. I told them to keep the controls simple. What does this even do?” She prodded a bank of symbols and immediately the Rail beneath them began to glow blue, humming furiously and emitting odd sparks. “Oh, I see. Well, that’s handy, needed that anyway. What are you leering at?” she demanded, turning her head to look at Rook, whose insane grin had been reflected on the inside of the windscreen.

“Moriarty broke a rule!” he crowed.

“The exalted rank of private doesn’t give us the authority to commandeer anything,” Finchley added. “Especially Imperial property.”

“An Imperial Rail driver wouldn’t yield his assigned place under any threat,” Moriarty huffed, folding his arms. “And he was standing between Arachne Tellwyrn and what she wanted. I just saved that man’s life.”

“You are rapidly becoming my favorite, Moriarty,” Tellwyrn said, turning back to the controls. She flicked her fingers across two runes and grasped a lever.

“Oh, gods,” he groaned, and that was as far as he got before she pulled the lever.

The car shot forward like a bolt of lightning, accelerating faster and far less smoothly than Rail caravans were meant to. Within seconds, they were outside the city and rounding the first gentle curve, smashing the three men into the wall and eliciting a chorus of screams. Tellwyrn gripped the lever and a hanging strap, balancing upright without apparent difficulty.

“For heaven’s sake, cut out that racket,” she snapped. “Let me concentrate! I’ve got about ten minutes to figure out how to stop this thing.”

For some reason, that didn’t seem to help.

 

“Did you see them go?” Ruda asked as the girls stepped onto the bridge toward the main campus from Clarke Tower. After months of making the trip, they barely gave the frightening drop a glance.

“Fross came to collect us,” Shaeine replied. “We were not attending the window at the time, but I gather it is confirmed? We are alone on campus?”

“Oh ho,” Ruda said, waggling her eyebrows. “And what were you attending—”

“Somehow that was the first time I’ve watched a Rail caravan depart from the vantage of our room,” Trissiny interrupted her. “It was a surprisingly awesome sight. Makes me feel like I’ve wasted opportunities all these months to see it happen. You just don’t appreciate how fast those things move when you’re inside one.”

“On the inside you mostly appreciate how roughly they move,” Teal said with a grin.

“Well, it’s not like you can just sit at your window waiting for it,” Juniper said reasonably. “Last Rock is only barely on the regular stop roster, and most the time nobody’s coming here, much less leaving. The caravans don’t come around all that often.”

“How do you know that?” Ruda asked.

The dryad shrugged. “I read, I talk to people. It’s not exactly a secret.”

“I thought the plan was to meet up on the cafeteria lawn,” Trissiny said as they reached the gate to the main campus and found Toby and Gabriel there waiting.

“Yes, well, we decided to surprise you,” said Toby with a smile. “Purely out of concern for your well-being and not at all because this place is unbearably creepy when it’s deserted.”

“It’s hard to tell,” Gabe added, “but I think it would be even without… You know.” He pointed skyward, and they all paused to look up.

The wispy spiral of clouds had, over the last hour, grown to a huge thunderhead, twisted into a slowly rotating vortex and casting a shadow over the mountain, the town and their surroundings. There were no other clouds in the sky, as if all had been drawn to the hellgate. As the sun was falling and the sky reddening, a sickly orange glow illuminated the clouds. It might have been a natural result of the sunset, except that it was too faint, and the way it reflected on the swirls of vapor made it plain that the source was at the center of the spiral. There was no thunder, no sound of any kind, but flashes occurred periodically among the clouds, like distant lighting, except an ominous red in color.

“Might as well get over there, anyway,” said Fross. “I don’t know how much difference it’ll make, but…that’s where the center of it is.”

“Yeah,” Trissiny agreed, nodding, and set out on the path toward the cafeteria. The rest fell into step with her.

“Arquin, just what the fuck do you think you’re doing with that thing?” Ruda demanded.

Gabriel placed a hand protectively on the hilt of the black sword hanging at his side. “Well, considering what we’re up against… I figured it was best to be as prepared as possible.”

“Being prepared means knowing how to use the weapons you have,” she snorted. “You’re prepared to cut your damn foot off.”

“It doesn’t cut me,” he said, scowling. “I checked.”

“Yeah, way to really hone in on the important point there.”

“Gabriel has been training with the sword,” said Trissiny, “with my help. He’s making progress.”

“Really?” Ruda raised her eyebrows. “Well, damn. Color me impressed.”

“I do what I can,” Gabriel said with blatantly false modesty.

“Progress,” Trissiny clarified, “in this case meaning that I trust him, barely, not to harm himself more than an enemy. I’m a lot less confident about him swinging that thing around while the rest of us are standing nearby. Please stick to the wands, Gabe.”

“I was planning to anyway,” he said with a sigh.

“Why do you even still have that?” Fross asked. “I thought you were gonna have the spells on it analyzed. Somehow it seems like Tellwyrn would have made you get rid of it.”

“Which is why I didn’t take it to Tellwyrn,” he said, winking at her. “I showed it to Professor Yornhaldt; he said it’s very old and was clearly the work of an archmage or something similar.”

“That’s it?” Teal asked. “No word on what the spells actually do?”

“He couldn’t tell. Apparently they’re extremely complicated and very tightly woven together, or…something. It got a bit technical for me; I learned some new terms to look up but even so I never did follow the whole thing. But no, he said to really understand what the magic was supposed to do, he’d have to start unraveling the enchantments on it, which would probably ruin them. He did suggest I could probably sell it to a collector for a good sum, or even turn it into the Empire for a bounty. Apparently the government likes to take powerful magical artifacts out of circulation whenever possible.”

“And yet…there it still is,” Toby noted.

Gabriel shrugged, looking self-conscious; he touched the hilt again, lightly brushing his fingers over it. “It’s… I dunno. It just didn’t feel right. It’s almost like I rescued her, y’know?”

Ruda snorted. “Her?”

“Well, Ariel’s a girl’s name, right?”

“I’m a little more concerned with the fact that you’re carrying a weapon loaded down with extremely powerful spells and you don’t even know what they do,” Trissiny said, turning to glance at him as they walked. “I wish you’d just left it in your room, Gabriel. Failing that, please leave it in the sheath. We are assuredly not going to need extra sources of trouble tonight.”

“Yes, General,” he grumped.

They walked in silence the rest of the way to the lawn, and by unspoken design formed into a loose circle outside the broken cafeteria windows, gazing upward. Silent lightning flickered through the clouds. It was subtle, but distinct: the flashes were coming more regularly now.

“It will be all right,” said Toby quietly. “This isn’t an accident. The gods sent us here; they have a plan.”

“Yup,” said Ruda, unconsciously gripping the jeweled hilt of her rapier. “I’m just hoping the plan isn’t ‘these paladins suck, let’s waste ’em and get new ones.’”

Everyone turned to look at her, wide-eyed.

“No,” Trissiny said solemnly. “Omnu would never do such a thing.”

The tension abated just like that; Toby actually had to clap a hand over his mouth to stifle a burst of laughter.

“I’m telling her you said that,” Ruda said with a grin, lightly punching her roommate’s shoulder.

“By all means, do,” Trissiny replied, smiling. “That’s a conversation I would dearly love to see.”

“Guys,” Gabriel said tersely. “Look.”

They saw them just barely before they heard them. They started as tiny black specks, pouring out from the center of the maelstrom, but in the quiet, the sound of buzzing immediately became audible…and then, grew. Figures continued to stream out, still too distant to be distinct, but swarming ever closer to the ground. Dozens of them, scores… Quickly, though they were uncountable in their multitudes, it became clear they numbered in the hundreds, at least. As they came, the sound of buzzing wings grew ever more insistent.

“Just so we’re clear,” Trissiny said grimly, “nobody minds if I kill these, right?”

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The warning bells continued to toll, a pervasive backdrop to the tension that hung over the entire city like a taut net, tugging people rapidly toward their destinations and pinning them in place once they got there. Since early afternoon, the bells hadn’t let up. Banner-sized copies of the Emperor’s full proclamation were displayed at every major intersection and in front of all Imperial offices; people still clustered around them, though not as many as when they had first gone up. By this point, most people were just trying to get home ahead of sunset. The rhythm of marching feet sounded through multiple streets as the city’s garrisons were systematically emptied, soldiers streaming into the Rail stations.

Once again, as it did every fifteen minutes, the magically augmented voice of an Imperial herald boomed out from every scrolltower in the city. There wasn’t one located in this neighborhood, but with the windows open, they could hear perfectly well.

“The Emperor has declared a state of emergency. A hellgate has been opened at the frontier town of Last Rock in northern Calderaan Province. In response to this crisis, the entire Rail network has been commandeered to evacuate the town and move soldiers to the frontier. This hellgate is in no way a danger to the capital. Forces from across the Empire are being re-routed to face this threat; due to the city’s garrisons being dispatched, a curfew has been ordered for this city. Once again, Tiraas is under curfew as of sunset. All citizens must be in their homes or otherwise off the streets in two hours, seventeen minutes. Persons without homes may seek shelter in any office of the Universal Church, its member cults, or designated Imperial facilities. Once again, a curfew will be enforced at sunset. All citizens must be off the streets in two hours…sixteen minutes.”

Lakshmi sighed, stepping back from the window.

“Oh, just close it already,” Sanjay huffed. “We’ve heard it, we’re already inside, and I’m tired of that guy’s whining.”

“You button it,” she ordered. “Once dark falls, believe me, we’re gonna want this shut and everything locked and barred. Let’s have some fresh air while there’s still air to be had.”

“C’mon, what’s the big deal?” he asked, lounging on their threadbare sofa in the narrow living room of the garret apartment. Sanjay had appropriated an apple from the fruit bowl, but so far was just toying with it, not taking a bite. “The soldiers are leaving and they don’t want anybody on the streets, fine, whatever. Doesn’t mean everybody’s gonna sneak out after dark and start burning the place down. The whole city isn’t full of psychos.”

“Don’t underestimate what people will get up to when nobody’s watching,” she cautioned. “The average person’s stupidity and incompetence is the only thing holding their malicious intentions in check.”

He groaned dramatically, throwing his head backward over the arm of the sofa. “Uggghhhhh, don’t quote Guild crap at me, sis. I’ve heard it all. Honestly, who is gonna take the opportunity of the soldiers being gone? The Guild won’t, and there’s nobody else who does crime.”

“There’s nobody else,” she said patiently, “because the Guild breaks their elbows if they try. And if the Guild is also indoors…” She trailed off, raising her eyebrows.

Sanjay scowled sullenly. “I still think you’re overreacting.”

Lakshmi turned back to look out the open window. “Maybe. I’ve heard rumors, though, in the Guild. Something big is going to happen tonight.”

“Big is vague.”

“Yeah, and I’m a professional listener, so if that’s all I’ve got, that’s all there is.” She shivered. “There’s some weird shit in this city, little brother. After that business with Sweet, I don’t think I wanna be near anything the Guild considers ‘big.’”

“Well, that’s a career-advancing attitude,” he snorted.

“Career, bah. I’ll make my own opportunities. If the Guild wants to futz around with Imperials and the Church and the Wreath and whatever else, they can do it without my help.”

Sanjay sat bolt upright, the apple rolling from his fingers, and leaned forward, staring at her avidly. “Wreath? The Black Wreath?”

Lakshmi grimaced. “No. I didn’t say that, and you didn’t hear it.”

“Aw, come on—”

A sharp knock at the door made them both freeze. They exchanged a wary glance, then turned in unison to face the front of the room.

“Who is it?” Lakshmi demanded.

“Just me, ma’am,” the muffled voice replied.

Grinning hugely, Sanjay was off the couch and skittering toward the door before she could reply. He made quick work of the knob lock, both deadbolts and the chain, yanking it open.

“Hey, kid,” said Joe, grinning.

“Hey, Kid!” Sanjay replied.

“Mind if I come in for a spell?”

“C’mon in! Want anything? Let me getcha an apple!”

“No, thanks, I can’t stay long,” Joe replied, stepping across the threshold and removing his hat. “Hi, Lakshmi. How’re you holding up?”

“I was just fine until a minute ago,” she said, planting her fists on her hips and putting on a stern expression. “What have I told you about calling me ‘ma’am?’”

“Sorry. Force of habit,” he replied, grinning unabashedly.

“What’re you doin’ out, Joe?” Sanjay demanded, failing to contain his excitement. Lakshmi indulged in a smile. Out of all the nonsense that had occurred that night, her ongoing friendship with Joseph Jenkins was one bright spot, not least because her little brother’s hero-worship for the Sarasio Kid meant he had at least one positive role model. “The whole city’s about to be shut down!”

“Yeah, well, as to that, I’m afraid I don’t get to rest indoors with everybody else,” Joe said, wincing. “I’ve been officially deputized for the duration.”

“Deputized?” Lakshmi raised her eyebrows. “To do what?”

“Can’t really discuss it,” he said ruefully. “I doubt you’d be happy to hear the details, anyhow. I don’t even know all the details.”

“You’re still working with Darling, aren’t you?” she said. “Not knowing the details seems to be par for the course.”

“I’m getting’ that impression, yeah,” he said. “Anyhow. Jay’s right, it’s not really the time for sociable jibber-jabber. You’ve been keeping up with your practice, right?”

“You mean, aside from your own weekly sessions at the range?” She folded her arms. “Bet your ass I have. I am not getting caught helpless again. Ever.”

“Attagirl,” he said approvingly. “All right, remember that little test I had you do with my wand last time?”

“Yeah, the enchanter test? I don’t see what difference it makes, Joe. Spark or no spark, I’m not about to become a wizard. I have a job. I actually like it, when it doesn’t involve me being snared into chasing—” She broke off, looking at Sanjay, who gazed back with an expression of wide-eyed innocence that would absolutely terrify anyone who had ever raised a twelve-year-old.

“Yes?” he prompted. “Go on. You were chasing…?”

“Well, no one’s sayin’ you need to become a sorceress,” Joe said quickly. “It’s just like any other talent. Not everybody who has the capacity to do arcane magic ever does anything with it. But in your case, it means you can handle a better class of armament than that cheap spark-spitter you picked up at a sleazy pawn shop.”

“I take offense at that,” Lakshmi said haughtily. “What makes you think it was a sleazy pawn shop?”

“Is there such a thing as a non-sleazy pawn shop?” he asked curiously. Sanjay snorted a laugh.

“Okay, I may have to give you that one,” she said grudgingly after a moment.

“Well, point being, I brought you a gift.” Joe reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a long, glossy wand with a thick handle.

“I don’t need charity,” Lakshmi said sharply.

“I am well aware of that, Shmi,” he replied, unperturbed. “That’s what makes it a nice gesture. Here.”

She held his stare for a moment, then with a reluctant sigh, reached out to accept the weapon. “Yeah, well, I guess… Thanks, Joe.”

“It’s my pleasure. Be sure to bring it to our next session at the range, and I’ll help you get a feel for it. It’s a lot different than firing a wand with a clicker.”

“That’s great!” Sanjay beamed. “Shmi gets an upgrade, so I can have the cheap old one to practice with!”

“No,” they said simultaneously.

“Aw, come onnnnnn,” he whined. “You were shootin’ outlaws at a younger age than me!”

“That is not a good thing,” Joe said firmly. “Anyhow, it ain’t my business, Jay. It’s for the lady raisin’ you to decide when you’re old enough for a weapon.”

“Okay, well, hypothetically,” Sanjay wheedled, “as a matter of general principle, you agree I’m old enough to own a wand?”

Joe glanced at Lakshmi, who was giving him a very even look.

“Hypothetically,” he mused, “as a matter of general principle…”

“Yessss?” Sanjay practically vibrated with eagerness.

“…it’s for the lady raisin’ you to decide when—”

“Omnu’s balls!” Sanjay exclaimed, throwing up his arms and collapsing back on the couch in a huff.

“You watch your language,” Joe said sternly. Outside the window, another repetition of the herald’s warning began to undercut the constant tolling of the alarm bells. “And you should be grateful you’ve got somebody who cares to look after you, kid. I was shootin’ outlaws at your age because I lived in an unspeakable hellhole, which I wouldn’t wish on anybody. No one should have to grow up in a place like that. Your sister deserves some respect, at least—”

“Hsst!” Lakshmi said suddenly, making a slashing motion with her hand, and crossed to the window. “Listen! It’s changed.”

“…hours until the sunset curfew,” the herald was announcing. “Due to the departure of troops from the city, personnel from the cults of Avei, Shaath and Eserion will be patrolling the streets, enforcing curfew.” For the first time, he hesitated in his recitation before continuing. “It is vitally important that no citizen be out on the streets after dark.”

“Something big,” Lakshmi whispered.

“Yeah,” said Joe with a heavy sigh, replacing his hat. “It’s gonna be a long night.”

“Ten minutes,” Trissiny muttered, pacing back and forth down the dividing line in their tower bedroom. Or rather, just to her side of it, so that her boots clicked satisfyingly on the stone floor. Attempting to walk on the line itself would have been awkward; Ruda’s rugs were piled deeply enough to make the surface notably lopsided.

“It’ll be fine,” Ruda said with a sigh, sitting at the window. “Gabe and Fross know their jobs, and so does Juniper.”

“If I could just help,” Trissiny said, reaching the door and turning around for another lap.

Ruda looked up from her perusal of the town below. They had an incredible view, which was actually rather useful for this evening’s planned events. “You know what your problem is, Boots?”

Trissiny came to an abrupt halt and gave her a long, sardonic look. “If I asked very nicely, would you tell me?”

“You don’t have enough faith in your crew,” Ruda obliged, grinning. “C’mon, our friends know what they’re doing, and they’re not the same collection of numbnuts and airheads we started the year with. It will be fine. And if it’s not, Tellwyrn will be here to collect us, so it’s not as if anybody’ll die. I’m sure even Avei will understand if you get collared by the great Arachne Pigheaded Walking Magicpocalypse Fucking Tellwyrn.”

“She needs to get that printed up on business cards,” Trissny snorted, resuming her pacing. Ruda laughed.

The paladin made three more laps before stopping again. “I still don’t feel right about involving you all in this…”

“Tough shit,” Ruda said, looking out the window again.

“But…and it sounds horrible even to say this…the others just aren’t as important as you. Teal probably isn’t in much danger from anything that comes out of a hellgate, and even so…her family are just industrialists. Toby and I are supposed to be putting our lives at risk against demons. Even Shaeine is the third daughter, so her House won’t be in jeopardy if she dies. But you’re the only heir the Punaji have.”

“Not how it works,” Ruda said quietly, not turning from the window. “I’m no relation at all to most of those who’ve worn the name Punaji. The surname is attached to whatever family holds the crown, which changes. My people won’t tolerate weak, incompetent, corrupt or selfish leaders. You hold onto the people’s respect or your ass gets kicked out and someone more worthy takes your place. We have succession crises more often than other countries, sure, but on the other hand our royalty isn’t so goddamn inbred they need six servants to use the shitter.”

“Well…I guess that’s something,” Trissiny said, turning to resume her path.

“I’m not going to seek out death,” Ruda said even more quietly. “That’s a coward’s way out. And I’d hate to make my parents grieve. But… If I’m not there to watch what’s going to happen to my people, I think I’ll be happier.”

Trissiny stopped again, turning to stare at her. “What’s… Why? What’s going to happen?”

Ruda turned her face from the window to stare at the floor in front of her. She was silent for so long that Trissiny had just decided she had nothing to say when she finally spoke.

“When I was thirteen, my papa took me out on my first actual raid. We overtook a merchant ship. Big, fat thing flying Lantonese colors. Big fat captain, too. When we boarded and had men looking over the inventory… I swear, that fucker acted like he was being inconvenienced by a valet taking too long to park his fucking carriage. Sneering and making condescending remarks to the goddamn Pirate King himself about how long this was taking and his fucking schedule.”

“That doesn’t sound like a very smart thing to do,” Trissiny said, wide-eyed.

Ruda snorted. “Hell, no, we tied a line to his ankles and hung him head-first over the side until we were done. Told his crew not to haul him back aboard till we were over the horizon. Dunno if they did or not…” She sighed heavily. “I’m not supposed to know this, but my father had to make a formal apology to the king of Lanton. With financial remuneration for the insult.”

Trissiny held her peace, unsure what to say. Ruda’s face was gradually falling into a bitter scowl.

“We patrol the sea, you understand,” she went on at last. “The days of slitting throats and burning ships are long since over. Actually, the Punaji never did that, which is why we’re still around when more brutal pirates have been stamped out. The Punaji stand for something. We were slaves, once, centuries ago, and when we overthrew our rulers and claimed Puna Dara for our own, we established a culture of freedom. Punaji raiders have toppled tyrants, wiped out slavers, rescued hostages… And we never take all of a ship’s wealth. Just some supplies to tide us over and a tithe of their cargo. And so, they tolerate us.

“You remember our very first class with Tellwyrn, when she made us do that idiot fucking get-to-know-you exercise? A ‘maritime vassal state,’ that’s what she called us. And it’s true. The Tiraan Empire swallowed up what’s now Upper Stalvar Province, right next to Puna Dara, and Queen Ramanshi saw which way the wind was blowing. Signed the treaty with Tiraas, ensured our independence…at the cost of just a little of our freedom. And the rest has just been chipped away, bit by bit. In a world of modern navies, of treaties and laws and tariffs and…” She paused, sighing heavily. “There’s just no room for pirates in the modern world. We’ve become one big band of ruthless, marauding tax collectors. Pay the Punaji so they’ll keep aiding ships in distress and not preying excessively on your commerce. Just a cost of doing business. If they overstep, you can always complain to the Silver Throne and have Tiraas lean on Puna Dara. Works every fucking time.”

“Is that…so terrible?” Trissiny asked gently. “All nations are having to make an accommodation with reality. All faiths are. Everyone. The world’s changing for us all.”

Ruda finally looked up at her, and rather than angry as Trissiny had expected, she looked haunted. “You know what happens in this century if you rescue hostages being held for political gain? That’s an act of war, interfering in the internal affairs of a sovereign state. Kill off slavers? Same fucking thing. Rescuing slaves is grand fucking theft. Theft! Of living people!” She slammed a fist ineffectually against the windowsill; to Trissiny’s astonishment, tears were glistening at the corners of her eyes. “If some asshole is living like an emperor while his people starve, well, that’s pretty much just fucking that, because if you attempt to raid his palace and do something about it, you get chewed to shreds by mag artillery emplacements, and even if it works, assholes always have allies now. Then you’re dealing with naval blockades and trade embargoes and your own people starve because you tried to stop some other people from doing the same. A world of rules only helps the people who make the fucking rules, Trissiny!”

“I don’t—”

“It’s all coming to a head,” Ruda barreled on, turning away again and scrubbing at her eyes with the back of a hand. “Within another generation, the Punaji will just be another bunch of folk, scraping by however they can. Our days as a people who mean something are over. And the one thing I pray for is that it holds off long enough that my papa doesn’t have to see the end.” She sighed deeply, closing her eyes. “I will. I’ve given it plenty of thought. The Empire’s friendly enough now, but the situation won’t last forever. It’s an era of social change and the Throne is focused inward, but eventually Tiraas will stabilize and start looking to expand again. That’s what empires do. I won’t repeat Ramanshi’s mistake and wait for history to force our hand.” She slumped her shoulders, looking more utterly defeated than Trissiny had ever seen her. “Kingdoms that voluntarily joined the Empire have gone on to be its most prosperous provinces. Onkawa, Calderaas… Compare them with Vrandis or the Stalweiss. No, I’ll make the first overture. Kill off everything my people once stood for, so the people themselves have a chance to survive.” She laughed, bitterly, hollowly. “I wonder what they’ll call me. Zaruda the Weak? The Betrayer?”

Trissiny stepped away from her to grab the other desk chair, dragged it over next to the window and sat down beside her.

“It won’t happen that way,” she said calmly.

Ruda looked up, scowling. “Oh, what the fuck would you know about it?”

“Not a thing,” she said frankly. “There’s a lot of history and politics here that’s completely over my head. I’ll tell you what I do know, though, and that’s you. You’re pretty much the smartest person I know, Ruda.”

“Pfft, grades are just—”

“Yes, I happen to agree, but I’m not talking about you being at the head of the class. You’re clever. You think fast, you can make complicated plans, you’re incredibly good at reading people, and most of all, I’ve only started realizing all this recently. That’s how good an act you put on. So, no, I don’t know the full situation in Puna Dara, but you are too intelligent and too cunning to be snared like that. You remember that thing in the Crawl that made us face fears?”

“Oh, that?” Ruda snorted. “No, that completely slipped my mind.”

“Well, I sort of understand your problem with accountants a little better,” Trissiny said with a smile, “but that’s not the point I’m making. The point the Crawl was trying to make, I think. If you hold onto a fear long enough, it starts to look like the biggest thing in the world. Like something you could never possibly contend with… But if you get out of your own head and look at the truth of the situation, there’s always something. Just listening to you, I can tell this has been weighing on you your whole life. No offense, Ruda, but I think you’ve lost perspective on it.

“And I’ll tell you what else,” she added. “You’re not going to have to deal with it alone.”

“What, you’re offering to help?” Ruda said skeptically.

“Yes, I am!” Trissiny nodded firmly. “I mean…think about what you’ve got here, what you’ve gained from this University. I’m still not convinced Tellwyrn’s ideas about education are doing any of us any good, but if nothing else, you’ve got relationships, and some of those are very powerful. Just politically, you have strong ties with two major religions, the diplomatic House of Tar’naris and Falconer Industries. Juniper is a pretty significant thing even without her connection to Naiya, and Fross is all kinds of talented.”

“Don’t forget Arquin,” Ruda said, cracking a smile. “Every court needs a jester.”

Trissiny laughed. “Look, you get the point I’m making, right?”

“Yeah,” Ruda swallowed and scrubbed at her eyes again. “Yeah, I… I mean, I still don’t think you grasp the extent of the situation…”

“There’s time to learn,” Trissiny said firmly. “I do not intend for any of us to die here. The gods ordered us to stay for a reason, and as you were pointing out, we are a formidable group. We’ll live past this, and past whatever else our University years throw at us. We have a purpose in the world, all of us. And we’ll all be connected to each other, one way or another.”

She laid a hand on Ruda’s shoulder and gently squeezed.

“It will be all right.”

Ruda actually laughed softly, reaching up to squeeze Trissiny’s gauntleted fingers. “You’ve been picking up new skills, too, Boots. I’d never have guessed you’d get good at comforting people. The Trissiny I barged in on the first day would’ve been shit at that.”

“Oh, I really wish I could argue with you,” Trissiny said ruefully, prompting another laugh.

“All right, well.” Ruda stood up, pushing back her chair, and straightened her coat. “That’s years in the future. We’ve got the small matter of a hellgate full of demons to deal with tonight. It’s about time, too.”

“Yeah,” Trissiny agreed, also rising. “Fross should be here any minute to report in, if it’s all gone according to plan.”

“Heh, wouldn’t that be nice, for once?”

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7 – 3

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“Trissiny, could I borrow you for a moment?”

Trissiny rose smoothly from the crouch she had assumed on the lawn (a position she claimed was quite comfortable, which none of the rest of the group had been able to hold longer than five minutes), turning to face the approaching elf.

“What is it, Ms. Sunrunner?”

“She goes by ‘Miss,’” Ruda said helpfully.

The shaman and paladin both ignored her. “November is awake,” Miss Sunrunner said, “and is…not going to be an easy patient. All she really needs is to lie still and rest for a while, which she seems adamantly averse to doing. She’s requested your presence.”

“Mine?” Trissiny raised her eyebrows.

“I’d hoped you could perhaps get her to listen,” the healer said dryly. “At the very least. Otherwise I’m going to have to sedate her, which I hate to do unnecessarily, even with someone who won’t need to be bundled into a Rail caravan within the hour.”

Trissiny sighed softly. “Oh.. Of course. Be back in a bit, guys,” she added to the others before following Miss Sunrunner into the cafeteria. They simply stepped over the broken sills of its front ledge, the glass having already been swept up.

“That’s gonna be embarrassing,” Gabriel said cheerfully. “Fross, can you rig up a remote-listening spell on the fly?”

“Yes I can, and no I won’t!” The pixie dived in front of him, barely avoiding bopping him on the nose. “That’s extremely rude! How would you like it if someone spied on your private conversation?”

“Whoah, hey!” Gabriel protested, holding up his hands. “It was a joke!”

Fross chimed discordantly. “You know, Gabe, I’m starting to think you just say that when you don’t want to face the social consequences of something you said in earnest.”

“She’s onto you,” Toby murmured. Gabriel shot him a scowl.

There occurred a soft disturbance of raised voices and shifting bodies as the various students and staff assembled on the lawn turned to look upward. The freshmen did likewise, those who had been sitting shooting to their feet.

From the swirling vortex above, an orange streak had materialized and arced outward in a long spiral toward the ground. Vadrieny banked out over the campus so as to approach from a shallower angle and beat her wings upon nearing the ground, settling down softly in a clear space. Before sending her up, Professor Tellwyrn had spoken to her sharply about her habit of plummeting down hard enough to shake the ground, pointing at the fresh gouges in the stone floor outside the cafeteria for emphasis.

“You’re all right?” Tellwyrn asked, striding over to the demon.

“Perfectly,” Vadrieny replied in a clipped tone. “There’s little enough in Hell that can threaten me, and apparently not much that would want to try.”

Tellwyrn nodded. “What did you find?”

“It’s not good,” the archdemon said. Students shifted forward to listen, though her distinctive voice was powerful enough to be plainly audible all over the lawn. “In fact, it’s virtually as bad as it could possibly be. There’s a sizable hiszilisk hive a few miles distant into the Darklands, close enough to be plainly visible. It has a citadel built into the top displaying Scaontar iconography. Most likely the demons there are in control of the hiszilisks. That’s not uncommon.”

The Professor frowned. “Scaontar? What’s that?”

“Oh?” Vadrieny raised an eyebrow. “You mean there’s something the great Professor Tellwyrn doesn’t know?”

“Young lady,” Tellwyrn began, scowling thunderously, “this is not the time—”

“Yes, yes,” the demon snapped, waving a clawed hand. “They’re…not quite a faction, but a philosophy. They oppose Elilial, but not in any organized manner, so she hasn’t moved against them in force. Really, they oppose any organized power; they fought Scyllith during her reign, too. They’ll even fight each other if different groups cross paths. Sort of like centaurs, or some tribes of plains elves.”

“In other words,” Tellwyrn said grimly, “we’re positioned exactly next to a major concentration of the one force in Hell who won’t stand down if you tell them to.” Vadrieny nodded. “Did they appear to be mobilizing?”

“It’s impossible to tell,” the demon replied. “The hiszilisks were swarming about, but that’s what they do. They can’t have missed seeing the hellgate open, though, even if they weren’t behind it. They definitely won’t pass up the opportunity. Best to assume they are gearing up to attack.”

“Did you seriously not know you were building a University right across the dimensional barrier from something like that?” Anoia burst out. A junior in the divinities program, she was an elf with the horizontal ears of the plains people.

“First,” Tellwyrn said, shifting her body to face the assembled students as a whole, “hellgates don’t just pop open in the normal course of things, which is why no one looks into what’s on the infernal plane when beginning construction unless they plan to be messing with dimensional barriers. Just looking is sometimes enough to let something slip through. Second, the Darklands are a counterpart to the Golden Sea, and in fact are connected to it. That is how centaurs navigate; they use demonic contacts on the other side to move the Darklands, which causes similar shifts in the Sea, until the Sea reorganizes itself to mend the changes.”

“Still, awfully bad luck, though,” Chase noted.

“Luck has absolutely nothing to do with it,” Tellwyrn snapped. “Whoever opened that gate had a powerful demon ally on the other side to communicate with; they have to be worked at from both ends. Most likely that gnagrethyct. A creature like that could easily shift the Darklands to plant something exceptionally nasty next to us, either before opening the gate or right afterward.”

“What’s a hissy-lisk?” Tanq asked.

“Picture a cross between a wasp and an iguana,” said Vadrieny, “the size of a wolf, nominally sentient, and venomous.”

“So… Not answerable to Vadrieny, raider philosophy, and with a bunch of fliers,” said Professor Rafe, who had returned from the town only a few minutes previously. “I do say that’s tailored to be a threat to this campus. Look, kids, if you’re not happy about the food, there’s a suggestion box. This is just excessive.”

“Admestus,” Tellwyrn said wearily, “do shut up.”

Everyone turned to look as one of the three zeppelins parked below began to ascend, the silver Imperial gryphon embossed on its long gas capsule gleaming blindingly in the prairie sun. Two remained on the outskirts of Last Rock, still taking on passengers.

It had been several tense hours on the lawn; Tellwyrn had insisted upon everyone remaining in sight, in case the gnagrethyct returned. Over that time, runners (chosen from the faculty and in groups of two) had moved back and forth between the campus and the town, keeping her appraised of developments, since her teleportation was apparently unsafe to use. Miss Sunrunner had given her an earful about being non-consensually teleported that close to the hellgate, to which Tellwyrn had replied that obviously it wasn’t yet open at that point.

This had set off no end of speculation. Most of the student body had been present in the cafeteria at that time, and clearly none of them had been engaged in infernal portal-opening. Then again, if that order of events was correct, the gnagrethyct had crossed over before the gate had been formed. Either there was something more behind the situation that they hadn’t yet figured out, or whoever was responsible had taken great pains to confuse the issue and cover their tracks. Quite possibly both.

By this point, the University’s non-essential personnel—which Tellwyrn defined as those lacking any skills that would be useful if demons began pouring out of the portal—had already been sent below and evacuated via Rail. The dorm overseers, Stew the groundskeeper and a few of the professors were already gone. The students and more powerful faculty remained, both to pose a threat to anything emerging from the hellgate and to give more vulnerable people first access to the evacuation measures in place. They were also the most likely targets of further gnagrethyct attacks, a risk that was somewhat mitigated by having all of them present and under Tellwyrn’s watchful eye. Even after sending Vadrieny up to scout the portal, she had assured them she could deal with the demon if it returned. She had declined to explain further, and yet no one doubted the claim. For the most part it had all gone quite smoothly, except for a kerfuffle when Mrs. Oak flatly refused to abandon her kitchen and Tellwyrn flatly refused to make her. They both seemed quite unconcerned with the situation, but a number of the students were upset at the thought of leaving her behind, despite the cook’s surly disposition and general lack of popularity.

Trissiny emerged from the cafeteria and stalked back toward her classmates, just as Vadrieny withdrew, leaving Teal to do the same. They reached the group at more or less the same time. Shaeine gently took Teal’s hand in both of her own; Trissiny just came to a halt, glaring into the distance with her jaw set. A faint but noticeable blush hung over her cheeks.

“So,” Gabriel said sweetly, “how did it go?”

“She’ll be fine,” Trissiny said shortly. “I could have done without hearing her deathbed confession.”

“Wait, deathbed?” Juniper frowned. “I thought you said she’ll be fine.”

“I did. She will. I think she was rather embarrassed to learn it, afterwards.”

“How the hell did she not learn it until you got there?” Gabe asked, grinning in delighted schadenfreude. “I mean, she had to have woken up with Miss Sunrunner right there explaining things…”

“You’ve met November, haven’t you?” Trissiny snapped.

“And what did she confess, exactly?” Ruda asked, grinning insanely.

“There is no need to discuss it,” Trissiny said curtly. The pirate burst into laughter.

“We should respect other people’s privacy,” Toby said, carefully keeping his expression neutral. “I actually hadn’t realized before today that November was a priestess of Avei.”

“She is not,” Trissiny said firmly.

“But…we all saw her, with the glowing,” Gabe said, frowning. “And everyone knows she’s an Avenist. I think she’s managed to make that clear to everybody in the province.”

“November discovered Avei last year, after arriving at the University,” Trissiny said with a sigh. “She was born with the ability to channel divine energy without a relationship to any god.”

“What?” Juniper tilted her head. “I thought that was impossible.”

“A lot of dwarves can do it, but yes, for humans it’s unheard of,” Trissiny replied. “That’s why she’s here, instead of at a school for normal people.”

“Maybe she’s part dwarf,” Gabriel speculated.

“Are you kidding?” Ruda snorted. “I could fit both my hands around her waist. If anything, she’s part elf. She’s got the pointy features.”

“Anyway,” said Toby more firmly. Trissiny looked up, meeting his gaze, and after a moment they nodded at each other. In unison, the two paladins turned to stare seriously at their classmates. “Guys…we need your help. Fross, can you do some kind of silencing spell over us so we can’t be overheard?”

“Simplicity itself!” the pixie boasted, zipping outward and flying in a complete circle around the group. A very faint shimmering effect rose in the air, roughly spherical and isolating them from the rest of their classmates. Within the pale blue ball, all sound from outside was abruptly cut off.

“Neat,” Gabriel noted. “For the record, I could’ve done something similar.”

“Yeah, but you mostly use glyph engraving,” Fross replied. “That would’ve taken longer. More stable, though. So, uh, why did I need to do that?”

Toby took a deep breath and held it for a moment, apparently looking for word. Trissiny spoke before he could find them.

“We have to stay,” she said simply. “We need you guys to cover for us.”

The others stared at them in silence. Toby let out his breath, finally nodding in mute agreement.

Outside their bubble, several other students were watching them curiously, plainly aware what the spell was for, but no one was moving to approach. Tellwyrn was currently distracted by a conversation with Professor Ezzaniel, who had just returned from the town.

“Gonna need a little more detail than that,” Gabriel said tersely.

“Omnu spoke to me while Professor Tellwyrn was talking just now,” Toby said quietly, carefully angling his body so no one outside the group would be able to read his lips. He raised an eyebrow, glancing at Trissiny. “I assume Avei said the same to you? Right. This is a paladin thing, a matter of our calling. We’re to remain here after the mountain has been evacuated, and face whatever comes out of that portal.”

“Obviously, Tellwyrn isn’t going to have it,” Trissiny added. “She’s made it abundantly plain, numerous times, that she has no regard for the command of the gods. So…we need help. I’m sorry to have to ask this, but we need you guys to conjure some kind of illusion to make it seems we’re bugging out with everyone else, and make sure she and Professor Yornhaldt don’t get a close enough look to penetrate it. You can do that, right, Fross? Gabriel?”

“Actually,” Gabe mused, “I might have just the thing. It’s something new, so Tellwyrn probably isn’t aware of it. It’s actually based on something a succubus tried to do in Onkawa earlier this year, making portable self-directing illusion golems to impersonate people. Substituting arcane techniques for the infernal magic used, some of the big experimental spellcrafters in Calderaas replicated the effect and published their work. All so they could make a quick doubloon, of course; they’re selling kits. I bought some.”

“You bought magic golem kits?” Ruda asked, raising her eyebrows. “With what money? We didn’t clear that much from the Crawl.”

“Actually this was months ago, before the Crawl,” he said, “and it wasn’t that expensive. It’s called mass-production, Ruda, join the century. Anyhow, remember when you guys got jewels from the Golden Sea expedition and you insisted I get a share? That’s how I can afford it.”

“I thought you were going to build up some savings,” Toby said with a note of reproach.

“I was,” said Gabe, grinning unrepentantly, “but then this one started kicking my ass in the class rankings.” He nodded at Fross. “Since I can’t skip sleep to study, I’ve subscribed to several trade journals and catalogs and I’ve been ordering junk to tinker with. Come on, you’ve seen my collection. Did you think I was stealing it?”

“How many of these kits have you got?” Fross asked. “If you show me the diagrams I can help you put them together. Depending on how complex it is, we can maybe rig up some spares from general components if you haven’t got enough to cover all seven people.”

“Seven?” Toby said sharply.

“Should have plenty,” Gabriel replied to the pixie. “I got these to tinker with, remember, and you should always count on ruining some units. I should have about a dozen left. If we’re careful not to overload or miswire any it oughtta be enough.”

“You’re gonna need biological samples from each of us, aren’t you,” Ruda said resignedly. “Ugh, fine, you may pluck one hair. I’m not donating any fucking fluids.”

“Will it be okay to use mine?” Juniper asked worriedly. “I’m pretty much made of fae magic; that can react badly to arcane stuff.”

“Now, hold on,” Toby protested.

“There’s a standard spell lattice to work around that,” Gabriel assured the dryad. “It’s…hm, it takes some specific reagents, though, and we’ll have to be very careful about integrating it into the golem units. I don’t have the materials on hand.”

“I’ve got some,” Fross assured him, “and I can swipe the rest from one of the spell labs. Easy peasy, it’ll take me two minutes, tops.”

“Of course, you’re easy enough to duplicate,” he said, grinning up at her.

Fross bobbed up and down, chiming excitedly. “Standard will-o’-the-wisp illusion! I can anchor it to one of the golems without messing it up, I think.”

“Stop,” Trissiny said firmly. “You are not coming with us.”

“Trissiny,” Shaeine said serenely, “you know that I like and respect you, I trust?”

“I… Well, I suppose so,” the paladin said, frowning. “But—”

“Good. With that established, in this case, I must regretfully instruct you to shove it sideways.” Trissiny and Toby rocked back from her in unison; the rest of the group turned to stare, with the exception of Teal, who tried to cover a smile with her free hand. “It is an insult and a diminishment of our friendship that you so blithely assume we would abandon you to face such a threat,” the drow said firmly. “Do you note that every one of us immediately assumed we would accompany you? It seems to have been obvious to all except yourselves.”

“This is something we have to do,” Trissiny insisted. “It’s about what we are. There’s no reason for you guys to put yourselves in the same kind of danger.”

“Before you build up that stand-alone complex too much, let the resident bard lay a little lore on you,” Teal said. “Historically speaking, paladins rarely acted alone. And in fact, only a few gathered up followers exclusively or even mainly from within their own religions. You guys may be used to feeling isolated because there haven’t been paladins in a few decades, but most of your predecessors depended heavily on their allies. Heck, a lot of the greatest adventurer teams were built around some paladin or other.”

“But—”

“Look,” Ruda said, cutting Toby off. “We can stand here jabbering in a circle about history and responsibility and whatever other shit you wanna bring into it, but at the end, what’s goin’ down is that we are not leaving you. You can accept this with or without me needing to slap the stupid off your face, Boots, but the outcome will be the same. I don’t get the feeling we can spare the time to argue about it. Am I right?”

Trissiny sighed, looking down at the grass between them. “I just… I’ve been prepared to die since I was called. I’m a lot less prepared to be responsible for you dying.” Toby nodded agreement.

“Bullshit,” Ruda snapped. “Every one of us is capable of making our own goddamn decisions. Being a paladin may be about sacrifice, but it doesn’t give you the right to decide where anyone else spends their own lifeblood.”

“You’re our friends,” Juniper said simply. “I can’t let you do this alone, not when I could help you.”

“Hell, you guys are the only friends I’ve got,” Gabriel added, grinning. “And think about what you have here. Half-demon with wands and spells, fairy mage, dryad, archdemon, shield-specialized priestess, swordswoman with a magic-blocking weapon. This group is practically custom-tailored to beat back a demon invasion. Come on, guys, did the gods specifically tell you that you’d have to do this without help?”

Trissiny and Toby locked eyes, a silent question passing between them.

“Didn’t think so,” Gabriel said smugly. “So maybe entertain the possibility that the gods want us to help you, yeah?”

“We have not spent the last year learning to work together for nothing,” Shaeine added.

Trissiny sighed. “All right.”

“What?” Toby exclaimed. “Triss—”

“Maybe this is the bias of my own upbringing talking,” she said, “but I don’t have it in me to tell brave people they can’t fight when their conscience commands them to. That doesn’t mean I feel good about this,” she added, dragging a baleful look around the rest of the group. None of them looked remotely repentant.

“All right,” Toby said grudgingly. “I just… Augh. You’re right that we don’t have time to argue. But this leaves us in exactly the same position. No, a worse one! The whole class can’t just disappear, and those golems aren’t going to fool Tellwyrn. I bet she can see right through one.”

“If she has reason to look closely, yeah,” said Gabriel, frowning. “Tricking an archmage isn’t exactly part of my novice repertoire…”

“If you think like an arcanist, sure, that’s a tall order,” said Ruda. “That calls for a more basic kind of trickery; we just need to arrange for her to be looking in another direction. Let’s be honest, Tellwyrn is a hammer-headed brute. Surely we can work around her.”

“Once again, same position,” Toby said in annoyance. “We need somebody to actually do that for us, and if you guys all insist on being there, that won’t work. Someone has to stay behind.”

“Nah,” Juniper said brightly, “we’ll just have the sophomores do it.”

Everyone turned to stare at her.

“What?” Gabriel said finally.

“The sophomore class,” she explained. “I mean, think about it. There’s several people there who’ll help us out, for various reasons. November would do pretty much anything Triss asked of her.” Trissiny flushed again, looking away, but the dryad carried on blithely. “And she’s laid up, and she’s being difficult about it, so that’s a distraction right there. With some of the others to help, she can hold attention. I bet Natchua would help, too.”

“Natchua hates us,” Gabriel protested.

“No, she does not,” Shaeine said quietly. “Natchua is grappling with her own issues. She can be generally rather hostile, but I do not believe she harbors actual malice.”

“Not even toward you,” Juniper agreed, nodding. “I’ve actually talked with her.”

“In bed?” Ruda said resignedly.

The dryad shrugged. “Yeah. Most people are more willing to talk about personal stuff after sex, I’ve noticed. I keep meaning to ask why that is.”

“Later,” Ruda said firmly.

“Yes, right. Anyway, Natch’ll help if we ask her the right way, and Chase and the guys definitely will.”

“Whoah, hang on,” Gabriel protested. “Chase and the guys who tried to…um, y’know, get too handsy with you last semester?”

“Yeah,” Juniper said matter-of-factly. “They mostly follow his lead, and Chase was pretty accommodating even before that. Now that he knows I can give him really great sex or yank out his spine with one hand, he pretty much falls over himself to do whatever I ask.”

“Something about that is profoundly wrong,” Gabe muttered, “but I can’t quite put my finger on it.”

“If we survive this, I’ll explain it in detail,” Trissiny sighed.

“On second thought, ignorance is bliss.”

“Okay, so!” Ruda said. “We split up as soon as Tellwyrn lets us. Juno had better talk to the sophomores, since she’s the one with all the ins. Or maybe we should have Triss speak to November?” She grinned at Trissiny’s expression.

“Nah, I’ll talk to her,” said Juniper. “After that confession she’s probably too embarrassed to talk to Triss anyway. She’ll be especially eager to make amends.”

“Right,” Ruda went on. “Fross, Gabe, where can you go to work on that golem shit?”

“Our room,” Gabriel said immediately. “The lads went down to the town with the first group, so we have it to ourselves. It’s where I’ve got all my stuff anyway.”

“Except that female students can’t get into your dorm,” Teal protested.

“Nah, Fross and I work together on homework a lot anyway,” Gabriel said with a dismissive wave of his hand.

“Yeah!” Fross chimed. “Remember Tellwyrn said the sex barrier is to lower the chances of someone getting pregnant? Well, I’m nominally feminine but I don’t have a biological sex, so it doesn’t bar me.”

“Handy,” said Ruda. “We have a plan, then?”

“I wish you guys would just stay behind,” Toby muttered.

“Yeah, well, sorry. Your friends love you.” Teal grinned at him. “Life’s hard, Toby. Suck it up.”

Sound abruptly rushed in on them as their sonic barrier collapsed. They whirled in unison, finding themselves face-to-face with Tellwyrn, who still had a finger upraised from pricking their magic bubble.

“Now that we are all present and attentive,” she said dryly, “it’s time to begin heading out. The town is nearly emptied; there are just a few left to get on the zeppelins. There are Rail caravans standing by; it’ll take several trips to move all of us, but the caravans will keep coming as soon as room is made. The Empire is devoting a lot of extra resources to this, but there is only a single Rail line through the town. The situation is this: we have likely a few hours until something comes out of the portal, and according to Professor Shinhai and Miss Sunrunner, the gnagrethyct appears to have left the area. However, this is no time to be complacent. I want you in groups of no less than two at all times, and I would prefer much greater. You have half an hour to collect any necessities from your rooms and re-assemble at the campus gates. That much time should be enough to get the last of the townsfolk out and begin moving you lot and the faculty. I will be down in Last Rock attending to a few final matters.”

“Professor?” asked a junior. “What’s going to happen to the University?”

“I am not ceding my campus to whatever idiot did this,” Tellwyrn growled. “As soon as you are all safely away, I will be coming back here to close that damned hole. I’ll need help, but the Empire is surely sending strike teams at the least. Don’t you worry about that; we’ll all be back in time for graduation.”

She turned in a full circle, taking stock of those present. “All right, time’s wasting. If any of you feel the need to say last-minute goodbyes or anything else in private, tough. You should’ve emulated the freshman class, here. Get whatever stuff you urgently need and that you can’t afford to possibly lose to demons, and above all, don’t make me come get you. That, you will regret till the end of your days, I promise.”

“We’ll have to move fast, then,” Gabriel murmured.

“Yes, Mr. Arquin,” Tellwyrn said acidly. “If only you displayed such a keen grasp of the obvious in class. Alaric, you stay here and keep your eyes on that portal. If anything comes through, dissuade it. Taowi, Admestus, stay and help him in any way he requires.” She peered around at the assembled students and teachers one last time. “All right, kids, time is not on our side. Move it.”

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7 – 2

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If he was a little put out, it was because he was striding through the halls of the Imperial Palace in the slightly ragged, poorly color-coordinated suit of Sweet the thief, rather than the tailored ensemble or ecclesiastical robes that fit the role he played here. Not that Darling’s superiors didn’t know who he was in any aspect of his life, of course, but it was the principle of the thing. He liked to keep strict walls up between the aspects of his life, if only to help keep his mind organized.

Of course, when a Hand of the Emperor informed you that you were summoned to the Throne, you didn’t ask to stop and change clothes first.

This particular fellow was a Westerner, with dark skin and a shaved head, which made no real difference. The Hands had no names and firmly discouraged people from inquiring after their personal details.

“So, come here often?” Darling asked cheerfully.

The Hand gave him a sidelong glance.

“It’s a joke,” Darling explained. “Because obviously you do. It’s ironic. You know, juxtaposing the common phrase with a completely inappropriate context.”

The Hand simply continued leading the way. They appeared to be heading toward the throne room itself, having entered from one of the Palace’s side doors.

“Okay, it wasn’t laugh-out-loud funny,” Darling mused. “More of a grunt-of-acknowledgment kind of joke. They can’t all be side-splitters or we’d never get anything done.”

“I don’t get many people trying to joke around with me,” the Hand commented. “Being that legally, it’s the same as doing so with the Emperor.”

“Well, his Majesty and I don’t really hang out socially. Which I’ve always thought is a shame. He looks like a chap who knows how to have fun.”

The Hand glanced at him again.

“I mean, have you noticed how calm he always is? With the weight of responsibility on that poor man, he has to be an absolute master of relaxation.”

The Hand ignored him after that, and Darling decided to stop pushing his luck. His discomfort might technically be the fellow’s fault, but the both of them were just little wheels in a much larger machine. Also, a Hand of the Emperor could legally punch him quiet if he deemed it necessary.

Imperial Guards, men and women in Tiraan Army uniforms which were black instead of blue, were posted in the halls nearing the throne room, and around the towering double doors leading into it. Upon Darling and the Hand’s approach, two pulled open one of the silver-plated doors (it took two; the thing was three stories tall and thick enough to withstand a ballista bolt), saluting. The Hand stepped to the side, nodding Darling in, then followed once he was through. He pulled the door closed himself, without apparent difficulty.

The throne room, the ceremonial and cultural center of the Imperial government, was every bit as grand as its role demanded, without being excessively grandiose. Rather than the florid style of decoration that was currently in vogue among the aristocracy and the newer wealthy class, its ornamentations were all geometric patterns, mostly quite simple, except for the stunningly elaborate mathematical designs in mirrored glass that sprawled across the vaulted ceiling. The squared pillars were plated in mirror-bright silver and engraved with angular designs, the stained glass windows showing similar designs in pale colors—and, incidentally, were enchanted to stand up to mag artillery fire. It was the floor that was truly eye-catching, seemingly all of one colossal piece of opal, a translucent surface showing immense depth, with organic swirls of shimmering substance beneath.

Darling didn’t exactly loiter around here, as a rule, but he’d been in the throne room several times, and on this visit was less concerned with the décor and a lot more interested in who was present, and who was not. It seemed cavernously empty, the chamber designed to hold audiences in the hundreds now containing a bare handful of individuals. Usually there would be courtiers and functionaries by the dozen, but none were in evidence. There weren’t even any of the Imperial Guard, which was how he knew something very serious was up. A score of Hands of the Emperor were positioned around the room, looking ominous in their long black coats, which meant this was still likely the most secured place in the Empire; each of these men was a force capable of facing down demons, wizards and whatever else, though the nature and source of their powers remained a mystery to all but themselves and their Emperor.

His Majesty occupied the Silver Throne, of course, gazing down the long chamber at Darling’s entrance. To his left, Empress Eleanora perched on the edge of the Swan Throne, her eyes narrowed to slits. To the right of the royal couple, Lord Quentin Vex stood at one edge of the dais, alongside the balding, craggy-faced Hand of the Emperor who sat with him and Darling on the security council.

Most interestingly of all, Archpope Justinian stood, serene and beatific as ever, at the base of the steps to the Imperial dais.

His escort having melted into the shadowed arcade along the side of the throne room, Darling set off toward the dais as fast as his long legs would carry him without breaking into an unseemly trot. Arriving at the foot of the steps, he sank to one knee, bowing his head.

“Your Majesties.”

“Rise, your Grace,” said Sharidan, his voice empty of inflection.

Darling obeyed, only then half-turning to bow to the Archpope, who nodded in acknowledgment.

“This room has been cleared and fully secured, as we have called you here to discuss a matter of the utmost security,” the Emperor said without further preamble. “A little past noon today, a new hellgate was opened above the mountain at Last Rock.”

Darling stiffened in surprise. “A…new one, your Majesty? Above the mountain?”

“Hellgates, like any dimensional portal, require operatives at both ends to open,” the Empress said coldly. “And the University’s campus has, in addition to the best of modern arcane security, a fairy geas of colossal power warding it against outside interference. Only an initiate of the University itself could have done such a thing. Thus it is proved that Tellwyrn has utterly lost control of her students.”

Sharidan moved his left hand slightly, laying the first two fingers upon Eleanora’s wrist on the arm of her own throne. She scowled, but subsided.

“Disturbances of various kinds are common at Last Rock, as is inevitable, considering the people gathered there,” Lord Vex said, looking owlishly somnolent as always. “We’ve always known it was just a matter of time until something of this magnitude occurred; Professor Tellwyrn by and large does well in keeping order, and has proven amenable to working with us. It seems her first reaction in this case was to notify the Empire and begin evacuation procedures.”

“Can the hellgate be closed?” Darling asked, frowning. “Surely if anyone can handle such a task, she can.”

“Within forty-eight hours or so of opening, yes, a dimensional rift can be sealed with little effect,” Vex replied. “The longer it’s open, the more stable it becomes, until it can be considered more or less permanent. Tellwyrn can and has closed hellgates, as have the Imperial Strike Corps, but the problem is that this must be done from both sides, just as they must be opened. Even she can’t be in two places at once, especially considering what happens to teleportation in proximity to an active dimensional rift. Tellwyrn has rightly prioritized the safety of her students and the citizens of Last Rock.”

“In that order, no doubt,” the Empress said.

“We’ve stranded strike teams in Hell?” Darling asked in horrified fascination.

“The Empire isn’t quite so profligate with the lives of its most valuable agents,” Vex said dryly. “Done right, there’s a window after activating the necessary spells in which the gate can still be traversed. This particular gate is anomalous in that it’s located some hundred yards above the peak of the mountain. It presents a logistical challenge, but not one which would stymie the Strike Corps. However…”

He turned to bow in the Archpope’s direction. Justinian nodded to him, then turned to direct his words at Darling, who was clearly the only person present who had yet to be briefed.

“I was visited in my meditations this afternoon by avatars of all three of the Trinity,” the Archpope stated solemnly. “It was the first I had heard of the events at Last Rock, but the gods have rendered a command with regard to them. The Pantheon is seeing to the matter directly, and they forbid any interference by mortal powers. The events at the University must play out according to their design.”

There was a moment of silence while Darling groped for something to say.

“Huh,” was all he managed to come up with.

“The gods ask a great deal,” the Emperor said quietly. “If the situation is not contained, then we are effectively ceding Last Rock to the forces of Hell. Demonic armies could spill from there into the Golden Sea and emerge at any point around its perimeter. It would make the days of Heshenaad’s rampage seem a Sunday picnic in comparison. The Empire simply does not have enough standing forces to maintain an active battlefront around the entire frontier, which is what would be required. Even mobilizing for war, instituting a draft if necessary, would take time in which demons could overrun entire provinces.”

“Not to mention the unknowns,” the Empress added. “There can be simply no guessing what would result from Elilial having access to the Crawl. Or the shape of Tellwyrn’s reaction to the loss of her precious University. Her expressions of disappointment tend to be cataclysmic.”

“In such an eventuality, we would not fight alone,” said Vex. “Silver Legions from across the world would be called in. The elves would help; the Narisians would have to, as per our treaty. Even the dwarves would likely contribute forces against a full-scale demonic invasion.”

“Tar’naris has less entire population than we have soldiers,” Eleanora said sharply. “The last elven tribe that tried to keep a standing army were the Cobalt Dawn, whom we destroyed. And the dwarven kingdoms cannot afford to equip or even feed an army. They are barely supporting their own citizenry at this point.”

“Your Majesties are correct,” Justinian said solemnly. “Those are the stakes. They are, indeed, chilling.”

“You’re about to counsel that we have faith in the gods,” Eleanora said, transferring her sharp stare to him.

The Archpope nodded slowly. “It is a hard thing to do, when so much is on the line. The fate of the world itself, starting with our Empire. I would remind your Majesties that the fate of the world is always in the gods’ hands, at every moment, and we cannot imagine the catastrophes that do not materialize because they have sheltered us from them. Ultimately… In my own moments of darkest doubt, I maintain my trust in the gods because if they cannot be trusted…all is lost anyway.” He spread his hands in a gesture that was just a shade too beatifically patriarchal to be a shrug. “As all is clearly not lost, we can know that they watch over us.”

“There is also the fact that this was a command from Omnu, Avei, and Vidius in person,” Lord Vex added. “Defying them outright is likely to add to our troubles, not alleviate them.”

“I will not be sanguine about this until that hellgate is closed and my people are safe,” the Emperor said darkly. “However, I agree. The gods must be trusted, even if only because they will not allow any other outcome.” He shifted his gaze to Darling. “Evacuation proceedings are underway. I have declared a state of emergency; the Rail network is frozen, and all available caravans have been re-routed to participate in the evacuation of Last Rock. Three military zeppelins have been dispatched from Calderaas under full thrust to retrieve the citizens too infirm to travel via Rail. They should arrive within the hour.”

“The gate itself has yet to produce any demons,” Vex added, “no doubt due to its altitude. That gains us a breather, but has a downside: just as on the mortal plane, whatever comes through will have to heavily organize in order to reach it. The cost of the hours we are granted to prepare is that it will be an invasion, not a trickle of lost demons with no agenda except escape. Professor Tellwyrn has insisted upon the citizens of the town going first; her students and faculty will be the last to evacuate. As I’m sure you can imagine, they represent a force that can at least slow anything that comes out of that portal, and possibly convince it not to try again.”

Eleanora turned to give him a narrow look. Apparently this was the first she had heard of that. The Emperor only frowned pensively.

Darling, by this point, was barely managing to contain his expression. Seizing upon the momentary lull in the conversation, he turned to the Archpope.

“Your Holiness, who else knows about the gods’ command?”

“And now we come to it,” Eleanora said bitterly.

“No one outside this room has been informed,” Justinian replied, nodding significantly. “I saw immediately what you have just seen.”

“Indeed,” said the Emperor, lacing his fingers together. “And that is why you were summoned here, Bishop Darling. This presents a golden opportunity to implement the strategy you proposed following the recent Wreath attacks.”

“Let it be known,” Eleanora growled, “I despise this plan.”

“It is not something that gives me any pleasure to contemplate, your Majesty,” Darling replied respectfully. “However… It would work. It is only left to decide whether it is worth it.”

“What you propose,” Sharidan said, still in a soft tone, “involves literally unleashing Hell in the streets of this city. Widespread damage and civilian casualties would be certainties, not risks.”

“Yes, your Majesty,” Darling replied simply.

“I support the Bishop’s idea, for whatever that may be worth,” said the Archpope. “And I have since he brought it forth. All it needed was a suitable crisis. I do not foresee any other such opportunity that involves so little direct risk; we cannot ask more than a divine assurance that the problem in Last Rock is under control.”

“We can’t stop word of the situation in Last Rock spreading anyway,” Vex mused. “The Rail freeze is a dead giveaway. The people need to be told something or there will be dangerous levels of unrest. As long as no one else knows of the gods’ command, the hellgate crisis provides a pretext to move troops out of the city.”

Eleanora stared at him directly. “What is your opinion of the Bishop’s plan, Lord Quentin?”

“Under ordinary circumstances,” he replied, bowing to her, “I would not consider it worth the inevitable cost. However…we are dangerously past ordinary circumstances. Elilial and her Wreath are more active than at any point in recent history, and we do not know their plans. What little we do know of her intentions with regard to the Throne is terrifying. Playing the intelligence game with the Wreath as we have been is, effectively, a stalemate, which is a situation that favors them. Something must give.” He sighed. “In my professional opinion, your Majesties, these are the desperate times that necessitate this desperate measure. I support the plan.”

“There will be a heavy price to be paid for this,” Darling said into the quiet which followed Vex’s response. “What we stand to gain, however, is the effective destruction of the Black Wreath in Tiraas. I leave it to your Majesties to decide whether the benefit is worth the cost.”

“This presupposes that the Wreath will behave as you predict,” Sharidan noted. “It defies credulity to expect them to heroically step up in the face of a full-scale demonic incursion in the city.”

“That actually is one of the more reasonable expectations in this,” said Vex. “Whatever else they may be, the Wreath are notably sincere in their claims to be defenders of the mortal realm against infernal forces. Imperial policy with regard to demonic incursions is always to let the Wreath work without interference if they happen to beat our agents to an attack site. They clean up demons faster, more thoroughly and with less collateral damage than we have ever managed.” He nodded to the Imperial couple. “If they find Tiraas suddenly swamped with infernal summons and the bulk of Imperial forces moved to the frontier, they will intervene. Their religion demands it.”

“The history of political maneuvering between the Church and the Throne creates an opportunity to establish a believable narrative,” said the Archpope. “I have expanded the holy summoner program in response to increasing demonic activity of late. I will simply take advantage of the situation to call up demons in the city, in order to undermine the Throne’s authority.” He nodded to Darling. “Assuming, as we must, that the Church, the Empire and all cults have Wreath infiltrators, selling the story will be a simple matter of making this plan known to my summoner corps.”

“How fascinating that you trust them so,” Eleanora said icily.

“In fact, your Majesty,” the Archpope replied, “that does present a wrinkle. Such an action on my part would be treasonous, not to mention highly irresponsible. I expect many of my people to refuse outright to participate. Possibly most. I am not certain that I will be able to field enough reliable summoners to enact this part of the plan.”

“If you provide the Church livery, I can provide you summoners,” said Vex.

“With every additional person brought into this,” Darling cautioned, “the risk of a Wreath spy getting word of it goes up.”

“I’ve enough trustworthy people to get it done,” Vex said mildly. “I know who the Wreath agents infiltrating Imperial Intelligence are. I can work around them.”

“You what?” Sharidan asked sharply.

Vex bowed to the Emperor. “It is not worth the effort of purging them, your Majesty. That would just leave me having to figure out anew who the replacement spies are. As it is, I can exert a measure of control over what they learn. It’s a stable arrangement.”

“Hm,” the Emperor mused. Eleanora placed a hand on his arm; they exchanged a silent look, and he relaxed slightly.

“How many trustworthy spellcasters do you have available, Vex?” Darling asked.

“Depends on what you need them for.”

“Mages. Teleporters, specifically. Later stages of the plan will require me to bring in some personnel who, presently, are scattered all across the Empire. With the Rails locked down, portal mages will be the only discreet method of bringing them into the city.”

“Anyone who can shadow-jump will be needed for the Archpope’s part,” Vex mused, rubbing his chin. “Arcane teleportation is trickier across large distances, especially if you’re adding passengers. Hm… On hand in the city, I can provide four who I trust and who have the necessary magical reserves.”

“Four… That will mean a lot of return trips. I’m going to have to ask them to exhaust themselves, Vex.”

“These are servants of the Throne,” Vex said calmly. “They will do whatever duty requires. If,” he added, turning to the Emperor, “we are indeed going to do this.”

Sharidan stared silently into space above their heads. Eleanora watched him, her face an impassive mask. Behind Vex, the Hand of the Emperor attended the conversation mutely. Hands spoke with the Emperor’s voice; there was no need for them to talk in his presence.

“I might normally ask the gods to forgive us for this,” the Emperor said at last, “but at this moment, I find myself with less regard than usual for their input.” He sighed, turning to meet Eleanora’s eyes. She frowned slightly, but then nodded once to him. Sharidan nodded back, then turned his head to the others and squared his shoulders. “We will have to see who is left to offer forgiveness when it is done. Gentlemen, you may proceed. May someone watch over us all.”

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7 – 1

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“She’s evil!”

“Mm.”

“She’s a maniac!”

“Eh.”

“I sense a lack of solidarity, here,” Gabriel groused.

Toby finally looked up from his report, making a sardonic face. “Gabe, if you want to gripe, don’t let me stop you. Personally, I don’t find much use in it.”

“Look, we’ve had to do some crazy shit at this school,” Gabriel said, slapping his own report down on the table and narrowly missing Teal’s bowl of pudding. “But it was all craziness with a purpose.”

“You and I remember things very differently,” Trissiny murmured, still reading her own.

“Granted, the purpose was usually only apparent in hindsight, but this? It’s over now! We’re in hindsight territory, and it still doesn’t make any goddamn sense! Why the hell would she assign us a test that can’t be passed?!”

“If you think about it,” said Teal with a smile, “this whole pass/fail dynamic really only happens in academia. I see it as a good sign that Tellwyrn isn’t just teaching us how to be good students.”

“Besides, the logic of it is pretty apparent, at least to me,” Trissiny added. “It was an impossible challenge, but one that was still worth attempting. And we’re still being graded on our efforts; it’s not as if our essays were thrown to the wind.”

“I, for one, found Professor Tellwyrn’s commentary unusually insightful,” Shaeine remarked, eyes on her own report sheet. “Acerbic as always, but in depth and clearly intended to be helpful.”

“Well, I liked the assignment,” Fross added. “It was challenging!”

“It was impossible!” Gabriel complained.

“Um, yes, by definition,” the pixie replied. “It doesn’t get much more challenging than that.”

“Really, seems like only one of us is throwin’ a fit about this,” Ruda said, grinning. “Didn’t do so good, didja, Arquin?”

He huffed and folded his arms sullenly, crumpling his report in the process. “I don’t wanna talk about it.”

Ruda cackled. The others continued alternately to read over their reports and work on the remains of lunch in relative quiet. The atmosphere in the cafeteria as a whole mirrored that at the freshman table; somewhat subdued, as students studied the results of exams and finished meals, with here and there outbursts of dismay (mostly relating to the former) and exultation. Beneath the distracted quiet and the periodic upsets, there was a feeling of anticipatory excitement in the air. Classes were over, tests administered, and a few free days remained before the senior class’s graduation and the ensuing mass exodus of the student body for summer break.

“How’d you fare, then?” Gabriel pointedly asked Ruda, who had been busy eating, seemingly unconcerned with such trivialities as her grades. She had only just pushed away her empty plate and opened the folder in which her academic results waited.

“Not bad. Good marks. In Tellwyrn’s exam…huh,” she mused, studying the report sheet. “I passed.”

“Excuse me, you what?” Juniper demanded, setting down her spoon.

“What do you mean you passed?” Gabriel exclaimed. “Nobody passes the freshman history exam. That’s the point!”

“The assignment was to propose and defend a plan to achieve world peace,” Trissiny added, staring at her roommate. “If it could be done, it would have been done. How in heaven’s name…”

“Well, I got to thinking about what peace really means, and how it can be achieved,” Ruda mused, her eyes darting over her report and Tellwyrn’s commentary. “So I laid out an eleven-step plan to obliterate all sentient life on the mortal, divine and infernal planes. I got an academic award.” She turned the page. “…and a notice from Tellwyrn that I’ve been added to some kind of Imperial watch list. Neat! Wait’ll I tell Papa!”

“I desperately want to be surprised by this turn of events,” said Gabriel, shaking his head. “But…it just isn’t there.”

Trissiny grunted. “You don’t have to sleep in a room with her.”

A sudden, bone-chilling wail of agony tore through the room, catapulting students to their feet and all but physically turning them toward its source.

At the table currently occupied by the sophomore class, November Stark had bolted straight upright, howling in pain. In fact, her posture was so erect it was nearly unnatural, right up to the neck, beyond which her head lolled as if she were suspended from a noose. As everyone stared in shock, she rose still higher, till her feet left the floor.

A golden corona flickered to life around November, but an erratic, lopsided one, faltering in multiple places as if the power she was drawing on were being leeched away. In the glow, however, a shadow appeared. It was only a vague shape, but it roughly mirrored that of her own body, only larger. The discoloration, revealed where her divine glow exposed it, seemed to encase her like a cocoon, or to be trying to.

“Something’s got her!” Chase shouted, scrabbling among the silverware on the table as if looking for a weapon.

Tanq and Natchua both grabbed November by the legs, trying to pull her back down; almost immediately he went staggering back with a cry of pain. The drow gritted her teeth, clinging doggedly even as a more visible curl of shadow extended, wrapping around her upper body. All around the room, golden light sprang up as nearly every divinely-gifted student in the cafeteria called up power.

“Stop! No blessings!”

Vadrieny’s choral voice froze everyone, even as another shriek of pain tore itself from November’s throat. The archdemon flared her wings once, propelling herself forward; in a single, enormous leap, she shot across the cafeteria, planting her talons on the sophomore table and reaching out to grab November by the throat. Her enormous claws completely encircled the young woman’s neck. Vadrieny forcibly hauled November and her attacker closer, opened her mouth to fully display her complement of fangs, and screamed.

Everyone reeled backward, clapping hands over their ears; several of the elven students cried out in pain. After two seconds of the noise, the plate glass windows lining the south wall of the cafeteria shattered, followed by glasses and plates all across the room.

And then, another voice joined the screaming. Not as loud as Vadrieny’s, but somehow more terrible; it wasn’t so much a physical sound as a rending vibration through existence itself all around them.

The shadow faded to full visibility, and finally relinquished its victim. Drifting backward from the archdemon, it lost cohesion and shot upward in a cloud of smoke, vanishing into the ceiling.

Vadrieny broke off her cry, carefully catching November before the girl could fall to the ground.

“Healers!” she exclaimed, sweeping the mess of dishes and papers off the table with one clawed foot and lowering November to its surface. Natchua, who hadn’t let go the entire time, helped arrange her, quickly assisted by Hildred. Students began stepping forward through the mess of shattered crockery.

“Back up, all of you!” Professor Tellwyrn ordered, stalking forward from the cafeteria doors. “Clear a space there. Yes, that means you, Warwick. Move.”

At her furious direction, the students shifted back, making an opening near the head of the table on which November was now lying unconscious. Tellwyrn pointed there, and with a soft pop, Taowi Sunrunner materialized in the space. She had clearly been sitting down and staggered, but with characteristic elven agility regained her balance and straightened up, her eyes immediately falling on November.

“What happened?” she demanded, shooing Vadrieny and Natchua aside and bending over the fallen girl’s head.

“Gnagrethyct attack,” Tellwyrn said tersely.

Miss Sunrunner jerked her head up, staring at her in shock, but only for a split second, then was bending over November again, carefully running her fingers over the patient’s head and the sides of her neck.

“W-w-what?” Hildred croaked, ashen-faced.

“Gnagrethycts are also called priestkillers,” Tellwyrn explained, raising her voice slightly to be heard by all those present. Behind her, Vadrieny withdrew, leaving Teal looking shaken until Shaeine approached to take her hand. “They have the gift of transmuting divine and to a lesser extent other types of energy into infernal. A living insult to the Circle of Interaction. Miss Stark was extremely lucky today; about the only thing a gnagrethyct does not want to mess with is a bigger, meaner demon. All your blessings would only have killed her faster. Had Vadrieny not been here, we would be dealing with a corpse.”

“Where did it go?” demanded one of the soon-to-graduate seniors. Several students immediately directed their eyes to the patch of ceiling into which the gnagrethyct had vanished.

“A pertinent question indeed,” Tellwyrn said grimly. “I’m more curious right now about where it came from. Gnagrethycts do not bumble about the mortal plane indiscriminately. These are favored and rare servants of Elilial. There are only nine in existence—”

“Seven,” Teal interrupted.

Tellwyrn turned to stare at her, and the bard’s cheeks colored. “Um…sorry. Go on.”

“As I was saying,” Tellwyrn continued, finally tearing her piercing gaze away from Teal, “these are powerful demons which are very seldom seen. I have made my own arrangements to ensure that Elilial does not personally encroach upon this campus, which means that thing is here because one of you little bastards summoned it. And that means somebody has gotten neck-deep into something they absolutely should not have.” She panned a grim stare around the assembled student body. “Look, kids. I didn’t assemble the best and brightest destructive troublemakers in the Empire onto one mountaintop without expecting some seriously twisted shit to occur from time to time. I’m a reasonable woman—Avelea, if I turn around and see that you’ve opened your mouth—good. I’m a reasonable woman, and I’ll deal with this reasonably. Meaning, if the person responsible for this comes to me and explains what happened, how, and why, I will do what is necessary to clean it up without being a whit more vindictive than the situation absolutely demands. If, however, I have to chase down the culprit, she or he will be treated as a traitor and enemy to this campus and a threat to the students under my protection. People who fall under that description learn things about pain that none of you possess a sufficient frame of reference to adequately fear. Is that understood?”

The students stared back in silence, several unwilling to meet her icy stare.

“Yes, ma’am!” Chase said loudly, saluting. Tellwyrn gave him a sour look before turning back to the campus healer.

“Taowi, how is she?”

“Weak,” Miss Sunrunner replied immediately. She had her eyes closed and one hand resting on November’s forehead, concentrating. “No worse than that, as best I can tell. I detect only the most minor physical damage, and no infernal corruption worth noting. This is a case without precedent, Arachne; not a lot of people have been attacked by gnagrethycts, and this is the first survivor ever, to my knowledge. I will learn more when she wakes, but for now, this seems very like a bad case of mana fatigue. The best cure would be rest.”

“Good,” Tellwyrn said tersely, nodding. “Commandeer any of these layabouts for any assistance you need. Falconer! Come along, I want a word with you.”

She turned and strode toward the cafeteria’s side exit, students parting before her in silence. Teal sighed, glanced nervously back at her fellow freshmen, and followed.

Behind and around the building, everywhere except for the glass-walled (and currently unwalled) south face looking over the lawn, ran an open-sided but roofed walkway, shady and pleasantly cool in the summer weather. It was also relatively private; along the western side, it overlooked a small drop to a decorative pond, beyond which was a sunken garden and then only the exterior wall of the University grounds, separating them from a plunge to the prairie far below. Tellwyrn led the way to the halfway point of this stretch of colonnade, then turned.

She gave Shaeine, who had silently followed, a long look, then grimaced, shook her head and turned to Teal. “All right, out with it.”

Teal glanced at Shaeine and then back at Tellwyrn. “Professor?”

“Falconer, my patience for nonsense is even lower than usual at this moment. That demon of yours is supposed to be amnesiac. First I find that someone has summoned one of Elilial’s own servants onto my campus, which not just any warlock could do at the best of times. And then you start spouting specific and hitherto unknown tactical information about the forces of Hell. Believe me, if there were any record on the mortal plane of two of the gnagrethycts having been lost, I’d have heard of it. None of them have been here in six centuries. Vadrieny’s memories starting to return would be a serious concern under any circumstances. Right now, it’s officially a problem.”

Teal’s eyes had progressively widened as she spoke. She shifted her gaze to the near distance, apparently focusing inward; Tellwyrn gave her a moment of quiet, crossing her arms and drumming her fingers against her sleeve impatiently.

“She…doesn’t know,” Teal said finally. “It’s like…common knowledge. Not anything with a personal meaning attached.”

“Mm,” Tellwyrn grunted. “In fiction, retrograde amnesia which deletes personal memories while leaving general knowledge intact is a common enough plot device. In reality, that’s something that technically could happen but pretty much never does, because that is not how brain damage works. Such effects generally only occur as a result of magical manipulation, where someone imposed them deliberately. So even if Vadrieny’s memories are not starting to spontaneously return… This isn’t a good sign.”

“I understand,” Teal said seriously. “But, Professor… Even if Vadrieny’s memory came back, it’s not as if she would suddenly return fully to what she was. She and I are too integrated… And even with the restored memory of her old life, the new one isn’t nothing. I don’t think it would be as simple as her just…reverting to a destructive demon.”

Tellwyrn sighed, turned, and began to slowly stroll along the colonnade. Both girls fell into step behind her. “That’s all well and good… But I’m left with the question of just who the hell has been summoning powerful demons onto my campus. It has to be an initiate of the University itself; the geas on these grounds would stop most warlocks and alert me to any powerful enough to beat it. Initiates necessarily occupy a blind spot, as I can’t come running every time a student casts a spell around here. For the record, Teal, I do believe you. However, until this matter is cleared up one way or another, Vadrieny has to remain a suspect.”

“I get it,” Teal said softly. “I guess I’ll…work extra hard to keep away from demonic influences then.”

“That is what you should do to deflect suspicion,” Tellwyrn said slowly. “But…I’m not sure that’s the most important priority right now. If Vadrieny looks to be regaining her past, for whatever reason, it’s probably best that this happen on her own terms, and yours, rather than according to the plans of whoever sent her here.”

“I cannot believe that having Vadrieny research demonology would yield a positive result,” Shaeine said quietly.

“Not demonology,” Tellwyrn retorted with some asperity. “Demonic history, though, is another thing. I’m sure you were told the basics by the Church, but we have things in the archives here that they don’t show to people, and even a few they may not have. I’ll instruct Crystal to help you.”

“That…actually, I think that would be good for her,” Teal said slowly. “We’re doing pretty well, making friends and connections here, but it’s hard for her, having no hint of where she comes from. I mean…someone could be missing her, you know? I don’t know how they do things in Hell, but surely even demons have families.”

Tellwyrn abruptly came to a halt and pivoted to stare at her, wide-eyed. Both girls stopped, Teal’s expression growing nervous under the elf’s uncharacteristic look of shock.

“Professor?” she said uncertainly.

Tellwyrn’s voice was quiet. “You don’t…know?”

“I, uh… What don’t I know?”

“I never imagined… You spent months with the Universal Church. You were personally examined by several deities. They didn’t tell you?”

“What are we talking about?” Teal demanded.

Tellwyrn shook her head slowly, still staring at her. “Teal, I… I’m sorry. It was never my intention to keep it from you… The thought simply never crossed my mind that you hadn’t been told. The Church has buried a lot of records, but it’s not unknown. It doesn’t make sense; they had to expect you would find out sooner or later. I thought even Trissiny might know, given her upbringing…but I guess not, if you’re still in the dark. That girl can no more keep her mouth shut than she could punch the moon.”

“Professor,” Shaeine said sharply, “the dramatic suspense grows excessive.”

Tellwyrn pulled off her spectacles and polished them on her sleeve, dropping her gaze from Teal’s. “Vadrieny is a known figure, Teal. She’s been on the mortal plane before, and made quite an impression every time. I’ve not personally encountered her before you came along, but I was alive for quite a few of those incidents. We know exactly where she comes from, and who she is.”

“What?!” Teal exclaimed, stiffening. “You do? How can… Wait, the Church knows this?”

“The Church, the Wreath, the Empire… It’s sort of classified, but not very. Kept out of the general public’s eye, but any Nemitite in a central temple could probably dig up the records if you asked them.”

“How is that…” Teal trailed off and she swallowed heavily. “They never said a thing about it. Well, who is she, then?”

Tellwyrn stared at her in silence for a moment as if gathering her thoughts, then sighed and put her glasses back on. “Vadrieny is one of the seven daughters of Elilial.”

It took Teal a long few moments to close her mouth, swallow, and manage a whispered reply. “What?”

“This is beyond ridiculous,” Tellwyrn muttered, frowning into space. “Especially after you were sent here. What the hell is Justinian playing at? He can’t possibly have expected it would be kept a secret from you forever.”

“She…has a family?” Teal asked, her voice trembling. “You said seven daughters? She has sisters?”

Tellwyrn looked back at her, then closed her eyes and shook her head slowly. “Ugh… I really am the worst possible person to deliver news like this…”

“Just spit it out!” Teal snapped.

The Professor sighed. “Teal… We’ve identified all the attack sites. Seven occurred simultaneously, Vadrieny’s possession of you and six other identical attempts. You…were the only one who managed to integrate the demon.”

“No,” Teal whispered. Shaeine stepped close, wrapping an arm around her.

“I have since had personal confirmation from Elilial,” Tellwyrn said quietly. “The other girls perished. The demons, too, in the attempt. Vadrieny…is the last. I’m sorry.”

Teal pulled roughly away from Shaeine, hunching forward and clutching her head. The sound that emerged from her was not one a human throat could have produced.

“Love, please.” Shaeine said urgently. “You are not alone.”

Vadrieny emerged in a rush, claws gouging deep rents in the stone floor. Her wings fanned out behind her, barely missing Shaeine. “Please,” she rasped. “I need…just let me…”

The demon clenched her teeth, then suddenly threw back her head and let out a long wail of anguish. In the next moment, she had staggered to the side, out from under the roof, and shot skyward.

Shaeine clenched her fists at her sides. “I don’t disagree, Professor,” she said tightly. “You are the worst possible person to deliver news like that.”

Tellwyrn sighed again. “She’ll be all right.”

The drow slowly turned to stare at her. “In what possible manner do you think she will be all right?”

“Do not get snippy with me, miss. I didn’t say it would be quick or easy. But yes, she will heal. People do, you know. And she’s not alone. She’ll be less alone when she calms down enough to talk with you about it, but even now, she has Teal. I have faith in them both.”

The Professor turned and set off toward the front of the building, her forehead creased in a frown.

“You do?” Shaeine asked quietly, following. “Just moments ago you were suggesting she was guilty of summoning demons.”

“Look at it this way, Miss Awarrion: I can either have faith in Teal, or put her down like a rabid animal. Which would you prefer?” Tellwyrn shook her head. “Anyhow, as I said at the time, I don’t seriously consider them suspects in this, though they logically have to remain such on paper. Neither has the aptitude for such skullduggery. Vadrieny has always been something of a brute, and Teal… Well, I’ve rarely met a bard so straightforwardly ethical, let me put it that way.” Abruptly she stopped, lifting her head. “…do you feel that?”

The ground shook from the impact of Vadrieny landing a few feet away, in front of the cafeteria.

“Well,” said Tellwyrn, “that was fast. Feeling any—”

“No,” the archdemon said curtly, “but my problems are not the center of the universe. There’s something you need to see.” She pointed one long, curving talon skyward.

Tellwyrn stepped out from under the roof, turning and craning her head to look. Shaeine followed suit, even as she pressed herself against Vadrieny’s side, wrapping an arm around her waist. They weren’t the only ones there; students had begun to trickle out of the damaged cafeteria, several already looking upward. Most of the rest did likewise, to see what so commanded everyone’s attention.

“No,” Tellwyrn whispered. “Damn it, no.”

It was a very standard sort of day for the region—clear, but windy, with puffs of white cloud scudding rapidly across the sky. Except that now, they seemed to have halted in their course and begun to swirl around a central point directly above the University, rather like water going down a drain. The broad spiral of white vapor was already wider than the mountain, slowly revolving and shifting in size as more clouds were caught in it.

Professors Rafe and Ezzaniel stepped up next to Tellwyrn, having evidently been inside the cafeteria. Ezzaniel remained silent; Rafe muttered something in elvish.

“Yeah,” Tellwyrn agreed quietly, then placed a fingertip against her throat. In the next moment, her voice boomed across the entire mountain, audible in every room on the campus. “All students and faculty will immediately assemble on the lawn outside the cafeteria. This is an emergency. Do not use any kind of teleportation, nor attempt to access any bag of holding or other dimensional storage. There is an effect active over the mountain which makes any kind of portal magic extremely dangerous.” She removed her finger, turning to the two professors, and spoke in a normal voice. “You two, get down to the town pronto. Emilio, go to the scrolltower office and contact the Empire. Hold nothing back; we need help, immediately. Admestus, speak with Sheriff Sanders, have him pass the word on to the mayor. Last Rock needs to be evacuated. Within hours, as soon as it can be done. Go.”

“Evacuated?” Ruda demanded stridently, stomping up to her as the two men nodded and dashed off toward the stairs down the mountain. “What the fuck is the big crisis? What’s going on with those clouds? Is that swirly thing dangerous? Doesn’t look like any storm I’ve ever seen; a cyclone would be moving a hell of a lot faster and this isn’t typhoon country.”

“That swirly thing,” Tellwyrn said grimly, “is the result of air pressure equalizing across a rift between two different atmospheres. As for why it’s dangerous, Punaji, look at the expressions of any of your classmates who can sense infernal energy. That, kids, is a brand-new hellgate.”

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The city of Kiyosan, glittering jewel of Sifan, rose from the calm waters of the bay in whose center it was set. The rounded mountain island was roughly shaped like the narrow end of an egg, long since carved into steps and terraces and its entire surface covered by the city. Over time, ambitious building projects and strict zoning regulations had transformed the once-mismatched hodgepodge of structures to a beautiful, perfectly symmetrical edifice, surmounted by the towering Opal Palace, which soared from the very peak of the mountain like a gilded needle. By day, it was merely beautiful; in the night, it truly glowed.

Sifan was a nation of islands, occupying an archipelago northeast of the Tiraan continent, in balmy waters sheltered from the equatorial storms by a combination of fortuitous ocean currents and the protection of another continental shelf to the north. Several of its largest landmasses approached each other in one spot, near the geographic center of the archipelago, where the space between them was further marked out by small, rocky islands in the channels dividing the major isles. The result was a nearly perfect circle of calm, glassy water with the rounded mountain of Kiyosan at its precise center.

The city’s selection as capital was inevitable. The symbolism, its central location, its defensibility all made it an ideal choice.

It had the further advantage of being surrounded by several of the nation’s other notable sights. The Temple Island guarded the passage to the northwest, surmounted by a stunning temple of Ouvis and with multiple shrines to Naphthene at its base. The temple was a work of art to rival the capital itself, the bulk of the island terraced to form ingenious hanging gardens, while the ancient shrines mostly left to the wild—Naphthene had no organized worshipers to maintain them, but fishermen, merchants and others who depended on the sea’s grace for their livelihood chipped in when they needed repair.

To the south, ringed by fortresses and heavily patrolled, the city was faced by the Underworld entrance which led directly to the drow city of Nathloss. These were possibly the only drow in the world who had developed a knack for sailing, though that skill had lain fallow for some decades, the skirmishes between the two kingdoms having been ended by Sifanese fortifications around the tunnel mouth. In fact, given the duty of these surrounding sentinel isles in defending the capital, many of them housed garrisons and fortresses, or at minimum watchtowers. The only exception was the face of Tsurikura, a smaller but still major island in the archipelago, which for the last century had been home to the several orcish clans who lived in Sifan on the royal family’s hospitality. To post guards over the orcs would have been a dangerous insult, and anyway was not necessary; the clans were fiercely loyal to the human nation which had given them a home after the cataclysm in Athan’Khar.

North and slightly east, the towering cliff face of Kinosyuke Island rose toward a mountain peak, but broke off a bit more than halfway there. The jagged perimeter of the peak still remained around two thirds of the rim, but the rest had become a smooth, slightly bowl-shaped depression, tilted to face the bay and carpeted with lush grasses.

The meadow was nearly impossible to reach except by a single, terrifyingly dangerous staircase carved into the living rock of the cliff, which today was sealed off and guarded by royal samurai. Only the peak of the Palace itself rose high enough to overlook the lofty meadow, and on this day, the Palace’s upper rooms were closed and emptied of people, the Queen holding her court in the larger audience chamber at its base. There were few telescopes in Kiyosan powerful enough to enable a viewer to read the lips of those meeting there, and they had been moved to storerooms deep within the mountain and locked away. Samurai in their iconic armor patrolled the upper reaches of the cliffs surrounding the meadow, accompanied by robed mage-priests, without exception facing outward to safeguard the Queen’s guests’ privacy against any would-be interlopers. They carried no chains, ropes, or any means of securing prisoners. In this matter, Queen Takamatsu’s mercy extended only to a swift death.

They were not the only sentinels. At one end of the oval meadow, a green dragon sat, his long neck extended upright and slowly swiveling to study every detail of the surroundings. He would periodically rise, pace to a new position and resume his vigil. At the other end lay a larger specimen with sapphire scales, apparently asleep, except for his wide-open eyes. He had not blinked once since taking his position. The Sifanese watchers gave them both a respectful berth.

The Queen had not arranged any protections over the mountain against scrying. Laying spells of any kind on the place preparatory to the visitors’ arrival might have been taken amiss, and in any case, her guests were amply able to attend to such details themselves.

A veritable banquet had been laid out in the center of the valley, long tables heavily laden with delicacies of every description, and all of a quality fit to grace any royal dining hall. The whole thing seemed somewhat incongruous in its loneliness; no servants attended the tables, and no guests stood near them. Several servants had stood watch to protect the food from birds and rodents until the guests of honor had begun to arrive, at which point every small animal in the valley had very sensibly gone into hiding. Now, the visitors were all off to one side, ignoring the sumptuous feast and thronged in a huddle around a single figure.

Or, actually, two, counting the infant in her arms.

Razzavinax stood several feet back, keeping watch and looking thoroughly smug, but letting Maiyenn have the spotlight. She was nested comfortably in a basket chair piled with pillows, her earlier unease at the presence of all these dragons forgotten, and now looking serenely pleased with herself. Around her were piled gifts to the new dragonmother from various “uncles,” selected with care from over a dozen hoards and representing a staggering amount of wealth. Jewels, fine fabrics and powerful enchantments were the running themes among the miniature hoard that had taken shape.

The men huddled around her were of every race and description, though nearly all of them favored paler complexions that pleasingly offset their starkly chromatic hair and gem-like eyes. They rotated in and out, very gently pushing and jockeying for position so that each could have a moment in the front, with the best view of the little one, and all of them remaining respectfully quiet and not moving to touch either the infant or his beaming mother, though several were clearly tempted. Eager whispers and even incongruous cooing were constantly heard, the latter of which would be politely forgotten by everyone here who knew what was good for him.

Through it all, the child slept like a stone, his shock of thick, white hair tousled in the gentle breeze that blew over the valley. Everything else was swaddled up in a thick, quilted blanket of embroidered silk that could have graced a royal throne; only his sleeping face and the blunt fingers of one tiny hand emerged from his cocoon.

“Has he told you his name yet?” a slender human with viridian hair asked eagerly.

“Oh, don’t be an ass, he’s a newborn,” scoffed a more thickly built blue. “He’ll talk in his own time.”

“Hmf. How long’s that take?”

“How long did it take you?”

A piercing cry cut off their argument. The guest of honor had awakened.

“Gentlemen,” Maiyenn said with sharp reproach. “Quietly, please.”

Murmured apologies were all but lost in the infant’s wailing; the assembled dragons rapidly drifted away while his mother attempted to soothe him, breaking formation and then re-convening as they approached the banquet table. Razzavinax stepped up beside Maiyenn, stroking her hair once and bending to whisper to the child.

“They’re cute at that age, aren’t they?” Zanzayed noted. He had been the first to lose interest in the baby and make for the food, and was idly preparing a plate by the time the others got there. “Ah, how time flies. Before you know it he’ll be flying, then taking a woman of his own, siring the next generation… And possibly killing off a couple of you louts in the process. How time flies.”

“I see you haven’t changed in the centuries since I’ve seen you,” a green with an elven form said acrimoniously. “That’s excellent to know. I am spared wondering whether it would be worthwhile to look you up again.” Zanzayed just laughed at him.

“Let us please refrain from arguing, inasmuch as it is possible,” Ampophrenon said firmly. He was attired in flowing golden robes, having left off his armor as a symbolic gesture.

“One does not assemble eighteen dragons in one location and expect proceedings to be entirely peaceful,” remarked a blue in the form of a dwarf. He wore his beard in the old dwarven style, untrimmed all the way down past his belt. That plus its striking cobalt color made for an interesting sight.

“As I said,” Ampophrenon replied with a smile, “inasmuch as possible. Content yourselves with the bounty of her Majesty’s generosity, and be mindful of the little one present. I do not expect us all to agree on everything—or even much—but there is no reason we cannot limit our contention to words.”

“Well spoken,” Razzavinax agreed, joining them and nodding to Ampophrenon. The gold nodded back, somewhat stiffly, but politely. Several of the others muttered, but followed the advice tendered, occupying themselves with delicacies and wines. It sufficed, for the moment, to keep peace among the group. In the near distance, Maiyenn succeeded in rocking her infant son back to sleep.

They were an eclectic group, but in their variety were consistent themes. Human forms were the most common, though elves and dwarves and a single gnome were represented as well. Two others besides Zanzayed presented themselves as half-elves. One green dragon wore attire of homespun brown, and a blue was dressed in a dashing doublet and breeches (three hundred years out of style) in black, but all the rest dressed themselves to show pride in their colors, and in most cases to show wealth. Blues and greens overwhelmingly predominated, with a rough balance between the two colors. There were, however, four reds (including the gnome), and one youthful-looking human dressed in green, whose hair and eyes were an intermediate shade, signifying his ongoing transition to gold. He kept mostly to himself, and the others gave him a radius, politely ignoring him much as they would have averted their gazes from one another’s hoards.

“I, for one, am eager to hear the point of this meeting,” said a red, who wore a dashing cape over a sharp modern suit in black with scarlet accents. “It’s impressive indeed that you’ve managed to assemble so many of us. This has to be nearly everyone still alive on our continent. What’s the urgency?”

“Can’t it wait till after eating?” inquired a somewhat sloppily-dressed blue in disdainful tones.

“On the contrary,” said Razzavinax, “I am all in favor of discussing business over lunch. If nothing else, it may help keep the peace if we all have something into which to sink our teeth besides each other.”

There were several chuckles at this.

“Very well, then,” said Ampophrenon. “Zanzayed, you first brought the matter forth. Would you begin, please?”

“Wait, we’re here because of Zanza?” scoffed a green dragon, a human with a beard of almost dwarven proportions. “I do wish someone had warned me of that. I could have spared myself a long flight.”

“Hush,” said a fellow green curtly. The bearded one rounded on him.

“Did you just tell me to—”

“Will you think? Everyone here was rallied by either Ampophrenon or Razzavinax. This is important, to bring them into agreement. Besides, the very fact that Zanzayed is a self-indulgent twit is telling; what could be so dire that it would shift him from wasting time on his own tomfoolery?”

“It’s so gratifying to be appreciated,” Zanzayed stated with a beatific smile. “We really should have these reunions more often.”

“Zanza,” Razzavinax said dryly. “Your story, please?”

“Oh, fine, fine.” Zanzayed set down his plate, tucking a bite of sashimi into his mouth and chewing languorously before continuing. The assembled dragons stared at him with a mixture of expressions that revealed a unified opinion of his meager theatrics. Finally, he swallowed and continued. “Some of you may have heard rumors already, but to bring out the full truth: this is about Khadizroth.”

“I wondered at his absence,” remarked a young blue. “It’s unlike him not to insert himself into anything important occurring.”

“You’re about to hear why,” Zanzayed said darkly. “Khadizroth had himself a plan to take down the Tiraan Empire: he adopted a group of elves the Empire had thoroughly beaten and was raising their young females to be loyal to him. Once they were of age, he planned to use them to sire a whole family of dragons to contend with Tiraas.”

“That’s disgusting!”

“Khadizroth did that? You lie. He’s even more puritanical than Puff and twice as pompous!”

“Oh, I don’t know, it sounds rather elegant to me. Anyway, what should it bother us if someone humbles this Empire?”

“No dragon needs that kind of power. What would happen once he was done with Tiraas? We would have been next, one at a time!”

“It’d never have worked anyway. If you attack humans on that scale, the Pantheon gets involved. Never fails.”

“Attacking overtly, yes, but there are subtler—”

“Please,” Razzavinax said firmly, cutting off the growing argument. “Let him finish. Everything will become clear, I assure you.”

“A thousand thanks, Razz,” Zanzayed said, smirking. “I assure you, gentlemen, I haven’t flown off in a tizzy about this without first verifying it. I spoke to the elven tribes currently fostering Khadizroth’s ex-harem. It seems the whole thing fell apart when some of his breeding stock decided that compared to serving in his plans, the pilgrimage to Athan’Khar was the lesser evil. He found himself with something in his nest that he was not prepared to contend with.”

“Is he dead?” asked the gnomish red, grinning.

“No,” said Zanzayed with uncharacteristic grimness. “No, that is where we come to the real problem. Khadizroth reached above himself and was humbled; if the story stopped there, I would consider it adequately resolved. First, he was attacked by Tiraan interests. Adventurers, specifically, including the Crow, who laid a geas on him binding him to his lesser form.”

“The Crow, working with the Tiraan?” interrupted an elven blue. “That’s even less believable.”

“If I understood why the Crow does anything, maybe I could manage to have a conversation with her that doesn’t degenerate into shouting and fireballs,” Zanzayed said sourly. “It hasn’t happened yet. I’ve not asked her, but I assure you, this happened. And I haven’t come to the serious part yet. Thus weakened, Khadizroth was…conscripted. By the Universal Church. Justinian means to use him as some kind of enforcer, in exchange for seeking a cure for his condition.”

Angry mutters circled around the group; one member actually growled.

“How certain are you of this?” demanded the red in the suit. “What’s your evidence?”

“This last part I witnessed myself, having tracked him to Onkawa.”

“And there the matter stands,” said Ampophrenon, raising his voice slightly over the murmuring of the assembled dragons. “As I see it—as well as Zanzayed and Razzavinax—Khadizroth’s temerity has been adequately punished already. The matter of chief concern now is that his situation reflects dangerously upon us all. It is unequivocally unacceptable for a mortal power to have a dragon under its thumb. Any mortal power, but Archpope Justinian is a particularly dangerous specimen. We must remedy this. Does anyone disagree?”

There were more angry mutters, but no voices raised in coherent statement until the gnome spoke again. “What are you proposing, then?”

“That is what we have assembled to discuss,” Razzavinax said smoothly. “Above all else, we must proceed carefully. The methods we have always used in such situations are simply not optional. The might of the Empire and the Church are sufficient to beat back any assault one or a few of us launched; if we attacked in unison, we would inevitably find ourselves contending with the Pantheon.”

“That’s awfully pessimistic,” the dwarven blue commented.

“Not at all,” Razzavinax replied, “I am simply explaining the situation. I consider this far from hopeless—at least, with regard to accomplishing our goals. The greatest difficulty, I think, will be adjusting our own habits to do what we will need to.”

“Which is?”

He smiled. “We must think like mortals.”

“What, with our dicks?” A green with short hair grinned broadly. “Done and done.”

Several burst out laughing, several others glared at him in disgust. Ampophrenon closed his eyes and began whispering a prayer for patience; Zanzayed shook his head and picked up his plate again, resuming his lunch.

The ground shook as the large blue who had been standing guard at the far end of the valley landed beside them.

“Pay attention,” he growled, not bothering to shift into his smaller form. “We are old and set in our ways. We rarely if ever work together. Most of us do not like Razzavinax, or respect Zanzayed. These are facts. It is also a fact that the world has changed around us, and we have failed dismally to adjust to it… With the exceptions of Razzavinax and Zanzayed. The situation is too dire for this nonsense. Pay. Attention.”

Silence held.

“Thank you, Ramandiloth,” Razzavinax said politely, bowing to the elder blue. “As I was saying, gentlemen, what we must do in order to extract Khadizroth from Justinian’s clutches is move among the humans. Either ourselves, or more likely, using agents. We cannot fall upon them with fire and claws and magics; a subtler form of warfare is necessary.”

“Skulking and spying is beneath us,” scoffed a red.

“And diplomacy?” Ampophrenon asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Definitely beneath us,” the red grinned.

“Fine,” said Razzavinax. “Don’t participate. Go back to your den and wait for death.”

He narrowed his eyes. “Is that a threat?”

“I am far beyond needing to threaten any of you. Ramandiloth spoke correctly: those of us who have adapted most successfully to the way the world is now are myself, Ampophrenon and Zanzayed. I have bent my knowledge toward the establishment of my school, and carved out a place for myself in the politics of the mortal world. An important place that prevents them from moving against me. Ampophrenon’s Holy Order have credibility and history, even if their actual power is diminished of late. Zanza, though he rarely seeks to accomplish anything of worth, has grown adept at moving among mortal societies and even being accepted within them. Why would I threaten you? If I wished any of you dead, I would simply withhold my counsel and aid in reaching your own accommodations with the mortals and wait for it to happen.”

There were ugly mutters at this, but Razzavinax pressed on. “Beyond the immediate situation with Khadizroth, I must propose something even more radical: it is time for us to organize ourselves. Permanently.”

Another disturbance began to develop, made of equal parts laughter and shouted outrage, and managed to mature for all of two seconds before Ramandiloth snorted loudly. Everyone fell silent.

“This,” Ampophrenon said quietly, “is not what we discussed.”

“You are correct,” Razzavinax replied, nodding to him. “But I see no other way. In order to employ our power effectively against and within the mortal societies in which we must now move, we need to be unified in purpose and in method. This requires a common plan and a suitable division of labor. And while we are arranging this to contend with the present urgency, it is illogical not to look to the future. It’s a new world, gentlemen. We can’t live in it as we have. The simple fact is that the mortal races have less to fear from us than ever before, and no less reason to resent us. Right now the balance has shifted so that we are roughly even in power with many potential mortal enemies—a stark shift, for we are all accustomed to being the unchallenged terrors of their world. That balance will continue to shift, until we find ourselves at an outright disadvantage. The crisis forces us to act now. If you truly insist upon doing so and then going back to the way you were…” He shrugged. “As I said, I for one can simply wait for you to die.”

“Bloody hell,” Zanzayed grumbled. “If I’d known Khadizroth’s nonsense would lead to this I’d have just killed the idiot while I had him under my eyes.”

“Wasted opportunity,” snorted the gnome. “Story of your life.”

“Why are you so eager to establish at…permanent dragonmoot?” demanded a blue who had not spoken yet. “Since you’re so comfy with that school in which you take such pride.”

“A valid question indeed,” Razzavinax said gravely. “I am eager because however you argue the point—and I know many of you will—I am right, and you are all too intelligent not to see it eventually. Our species will not die out. We will see the truth and take the only possible action to face the future. And when that happens, I would far rather be a founding part of the draconic order that forms than hide on my island and wait for it to overwhelm me.”

“Hmph,” Ampophrenon grunted. “You do speak sense. And there are precedents among the mortals. Societies that govern along democratic lines.”

“Governed,” the dwarven blue said acidly. “Past tense. None of those last; democracy is inherently unstable.”

“Because such societies are comparatively enormous,” Ampophrenon replied calmly. “They are groups of thousands, even millions of individuals. They demand enormously complex rules and structures just to run, each its own manifold opportunity for the enterprising and corrupt to pick apart the system. We are eighteen. There are scarcely more than a hundred of us left in the world. If we cannot manage to bend ourselves toward a common goal…then perhaps we deserve to die out.”

A thoughtful quiet answered him.

Ramandiloth’s reverberating voice broke it. “This will not be decided upon, much less organized, easily. Certainly not quickly. But I support this goal.”

“We have not the luxury of years to dither,” said Razzavinax with a small smile, “but the matter is not of an urgency that will overtake us in the next day. There is time, brethren. Not much time, but enough. Come, we have a great deal to discuss.”

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The grate lifted seemingly on its own and Professor Ezzaniel pushed the doors open, letting in a rush of cool night air laden with the scents of earth and grass. The whole party pressed forward, and would have pushed him out of the way had he not stepped quickly aside. They straggled out and stopped, a unified sigh of relief rippling through the whole group, and all stood, faces up, savoring the coolness and the moonlight.

Only one person was there to meet them.

“Well,” said Professor Tellwyrn, planting her hands on her hips. “Well. We do very occasionally lose someone down there, but this… This is unprecedented, I must say. How exactly did you pick up gnomes?”

“She makes us sound like a case o’ hiker’s foot,” Steinway muttered to his companions.

“They were lost,” Fross reported. “In fact, there may be other things in the Crawl that aren’t supposed to be, these days. Rowe was doing something he shouldn’t in the Grim Visage, trying to get out.”

Tellwyrn raised an eyebrow. “Was? Did you ruffians kill my bartender?”

“He was alive the last we saw,” said Ruda with a leer. “He’ll probably stay that way at least a while. Melaxyna doesn’t strike me as the type to give out swift and merciful punishments.”

“You took him to…” Tellwyrn sighed heavily, rolling her eyes. “Ugh. Now I have to go trap another Vanislaad demon, or something equally sketchy. Leaving a succubus down there without competition isn’t on the table; she’d be running the place within a year. Shamlin, what the hell were you doing in my Crawl?”

“Making my fortune,” he said with a broad grin. “Oh, come on, don’t act surprised, Professor. It’s been two years; I’ve talked with every student group and faculty guide you sent. You had to know I was down there. Nice to see you again, by the way!”

“Well, here it is barely a week on, and here you lot are.” Tellwyrn adjusted her spectacles and fixed her eyes on Teal, who was carrying the long wooden box. “Only the third freshman group even to reach the objective, and you’ve absolutely destroyed the previous speed record. Let’s have a look.”

“I’m sure you already know everything, seeing as how you were here waiting,” Teal said, stepping forward as the others cleared a space. “I got a look at the apparatus in the basement of the Visage, the one that I gather students aren’t supposed to see.” She knelt, setting the box down on the grass, unlatched it, and lifted the lid. Within, in their custom-fitted grooves in the red velvet lining, lay the elven sword and dagger, gleaming lustrously under the moonlight.

Tellwyrn gazed down at them for a long few moments, her expression far away. Then, she blinked, shook herself slightly, and lifted her eyes. “Well! That’s the treasure, all right. Since you were lugging them around, Teal, may I assume the honor of the find was yours?”

“It was a group effort,” Teal said firmly. “I was the one to put my hands on them. We had to divide forces to make that happen.”

“She’s being modest,” said Gabriel, grinning. “Teal made the plans that led to us getting them at all. Fairly earned spoils, I’d say.”

“Well, I certainly cannot argue with results,” Tellwyrn said. “I’ll be reading Professor Ezzaniel’s report in detail, but frankly, you completed your assigned task with flying colors, and showed up every previous group to undertake it in the process. Unless you were transcendently stupid in your approach to every step thereof, which seems improbable, you not only receive an A, but a measure of extra credit for this. Right now, kids, I think you can consider last semester’s Golden Sea debacle obviated.”

“Yay!” Fross cheered.

“And we’ll find lodging for our guests, of course,” Tellwyrn went on, turning to the trio of gnomes, who had moved to the side with Shamlin. “I won’t send you down to the town at this hour; neither of the resident innkeepers would appreciate being roused after midnight. If you can bear with me, though, I’ll have to wake my groundskeeper and have one of the unoccupied student dorms opened up. I’m afraid they’ll be rather dusty.”

“Ma’am,” said Sassafrass respectfully, “we’ve been livin’ in the Crawl these last…what’s it been, lads?”

“Least ten months, I reckon,” said Woodsworth. “Me sense o’ time is understandably a bit off-kilter. I’d no idea it was night out.”

“Point bein’,” Sassafrass continued, grinning up at the Professor, “dust is nothing. If you can offer us a bit o’ somethin’ other than mushrooms and stringy ham, an’ a mattress not made o’ patchy leather, you’ll ‘ave gained three devoted slaves.”

“No, thanks,” Tellwyrn said with a wry smile. “The downside of slaves is having to feed them; they make expensive pets. Anyhow, I believe my hospitality can furnish a higher standard than that.”

“It’s a real honor to meet you, by the way,” Steinway said, grinning broadly.

“Yes, I’m sure. As for you.” Tellwyrn leveled a finger at Shamlin. “You may as well stay the night, too, though I’ll be wanting a prolonged word with you before you skitter off.”

“Uh oh,” he said, grinning.

“All right, that’s enough for now,” the elf went on briskly. “It’s an altogether ungodly hour and I have class in the morning. You lot are excused from tomorrow’s classes, of course, but that’s all the time you’ll have to reset your biological clocks. Education waits for no one.”

“Oh, come on,” Juniper protested. “You thought we’d be down there for three weeks! We should get some time off.”

“Juniper,” Tellwyrn said, staring at her over her glasses, “what have I told you about whining?”

“Um…well… Actually, nothing.”

“Mm hm. Would you like to hear my opinions about whining?”

The dryad crept backward a half step. “Actually, now that I think about it, no.”

“Good. All right, off with you. Emilio, have time for a cup of tea with me before retiring?”

“I’m just beginning my day, Arachne,” Ezzaniel said amiably. “I don’t look forward to classes next week. The young can spring back from these sleep cycle disruptions so much more quickly.”

“I have faith in you. Shamlin, the Wells is currently empty. I know you know where that is. Kindly escort our guests there, and I’ll send Stew along to spruce it up for you.”

“Oh, my,” said the bard, grinning. “But Professor, that’s a girls’ dorm!”

“When there are girls in it, yes,” Tellwyrn said acidly. “I’ll just have to trust you not to impregnate the dust bunnies. Move along, Shamlin.”

“Your wish is my command!” he proclaimed, bowing extravagantly. Tellwyrn snorted at him and strode off, Ezzaniel prowling along beside her.

“Welp, it’s been a right pleasure adventurin’ with you kids,” said Woodsworth.

“Aye,” Sassafrass agreed, “you be sure to pay us a visit before we ‘ave to head out.”

“Count on it,” said Toby with a smile.

They stood in silence, breathing in the clean night air and watching the other two groups vanish around corners into the shadows of the campus.

“Well,” Ruda said at last, “who woulda figured it was midnight?”

“I think I’ve had enough of being underground forever,” Juniper muttered. “No offense, Shaeine.”

“None was offered, even by mistake,” Shaeine replied, smiling. “I doubt I would fare well in your home, either.”

“Actually,” said Fross, “Crawl excursions are kind of a big deal at this school. We’ll probably have at least one a year. Maybe one a semester from now on.”

Juniper groaned.

“Here’s what I’m thinkin’,” said Gabriel. “The pubs down in the town are closed, and our dorms are spelled to keep out the opposite sex. But since we’re all awake, and we’ve been subsisting on Crawl food for a week…” He grinned wickedly. “Who’s up for raiding the cafeteria?”

“That is extremely out of bounds!” Fross said shrilly. “It violates multiple school rules as well as personal directives given out by Professor Tellwyrn, Stew, and Mrs. Oak! We could get in so much trouble, especially since we’re supposed to be going to bed!”

“Well,” Ruda began.

“So,” the pixie continued, “you’d better let me go ahead and scan for detector charms. Gabe, I may need your help with the locks!”

Chiming exuberantly, she buzzed off in the direction of the cafeteria.

“Well, blow me down,” Ruda said in wonder. “They really do grow up fast, don’t they?”

 

“I know how many of us suffer, day by day,” Branwen said. Her voice and expression were painfully earnest; the magical spotlight illuminating her was an expensive piece of spellwork that made her easily visible to anyone looking, as if she were standing right in front of them. The charm that made her words echo throughout the grand auditorium was a more conventional piece of magic. “The sad thing about the trials in everyone’s lives is how they can disconnect us, how they can distract us, encourage us to retreat into ourselves and become fixated upon our own problems. It creeps right up on you, doesn’t it? But if you look around you, at the people here tonight, at the people you pass on the street every day, even at the people you love, people you work with… Each time, you are passing another whole story, someone with his or her own struggles. They are different struggles than yours, but no one’s challenges are less important. What you should mourn is not that you face challenges, but what they can cost you, without you even realizing it. It’s the saddest thing in the world, not to see another’s pain.

“Because it’s in those challenges that we have our greatest opportunities. It’s in the connections we can form with our fellow human beings that we may find the simplest solutions.” She smiled, an expression so brimming with optimism and love that Darling, as a fellow artist working in the medium of facial features, found himself in awe of her mastery. Awed, and wondering just how deep those waters ran, considering her well-established facade of pretty uselessness. “It is natural that we should look upward, to the gods, in our most troubled times. But we must be careful. That can lead to despair when solutions do not come down to us from the gods. And that despair is a trick, played on us by our own minds. It’s not what the gods can give us, but what they have given us, that matters.”

She placed a hand over her own heart, a gesture that was totally innocent and yet drew attention right to her impressive bosom. The plain Bishop’s robes she wore, with the pink lotus pin of Izara at the shoulder, were far more carefully tailored than those of her colleagues, emphasizing her voluptuous figure in a manner that was just subtle enough not to be called out upon, while still pushing the envelope of ecclesiastical dignity.

“Each of the gods stands for something which they have bestowed on the world for our use. To cry out to them to solve our problems for us is missing the point of these precious gifts. The gods have given us the means to raise ourselves up. They ask that we have faith in them, because they have faith in us!” Her expression stayed solemn, though her eyes were alight with passion. “The gods believe in you. I believe in you. Whatever you face in your life, I know you can rise to meet it. You must believe in you!”

The mostly-silent crowd stirred at that, a smattering of applause and hushed voices rising up. It was a bit more exuberant than the last such; Branwen was working this audience with absolutely masterful skill. Darling had seen this done before, many a time, in his observations of religious ceremonies. There was a rhythm to it, a familiar pattern. It would be a while yet before she built it to its climax. Tonight’s festivities had only just begun.

He tore his gaze from Branwen to look around the darkened theater. She’d drawn quite a crowd, with the full resources of the Church and every major newspaper in the Empire pushing her forward to fame. The place was full of the hoi palloi thronging the cheap seats below, the slightly more upscale classes in the balconies and the wealthy few occupying boxes like himself. The arrangement tickled at his mind. It somehow seemed very appropriate to have used a commercial theater for this address rather than the Cathedral.

“Damn, but she makes a good speech,” Embras Mogul remarked, dropping heavily into the seat next to Darling and stretching out his long legs. “Fills out that robe quite exquisitely, too, doesn’t she? I have to say, that was a genius move on Justinian’s part. I wonder how long he’s been grooming her for this? Doubtless the lady has her own ambitions, but his Holiness doesn’t strike me as the type to catapult one of his underlings into power without spending a good long while sculpting them first.”

Darling was aware that he was staring, and didn’t bother to stop. “Well,” he said finally. “You’re not quite the last person I expected to see tonight, but… If Scyllith pops in here, too, I may just have to check outside and see if the world has ended.”

“If you encounter Scyllith under any circumstances, I think that’s a worthy concern,” Mogul said, grinning broadly.

“To what do I owe the honor, Embras?”

“Oh, this’n that. I thought you might be missing your tracking charm.” Mogul’s spiderlike fingers deposited a small metal object on the arm of Darling’s chair. It had been badly scorched and bent nearly in half. “Somehow it ended up under my collar. Funny, the way these little things wander off, isn’t it?”

“You said it,” Darling said easily, picking up the destroyed charm and making it vanish up his sleeve. “I owe you one, old man. I tore my whole study apart last night looking for this.”

“I don’t doubt it.” Mogul crossed his legs, lounging back in the plush chair. Below them, Branwen continued to soliloquize, but neither man spared her a glance. “After our little game of tag yesterday, I found myself mulling over your motivations.”

“I’m flattered!”

“And I’m curious. Here’s a man clearly playing both ends against the middle. Or all three ends, or more. The point is, you’re balancing far too many loyalties to be truly loyal to all of them.”

“It does seem to keep people on their toes,” Darling agreed solemnly.

“Loyalty, now, people don’t generally understand how that works,” Mogul mused. “It’s a lot less important than they think. What matters is motivations, those are what lie at the root of loyalties, and everything else. So I got to wondering, and decided to arrange a little test.” He leaned away from Darling and angled his body toward him so he could spread his arms wide. “Thus, here I am! The big, bad leader of the Black Wreath, sitting not a foot away, in a theater just crawling with the Church’s agents. A golden opportunity for you to raise the cry and try your luck at cutting off the snake’s head, so to speak!”

“This speech has the smell of an approaching ‘but’ about it,” Darling said wryly.

“Oh, I dunno,” Mogul replied, grinning broadly. “Or at least, that is what we’re here to find out, isn’t it? After all, you’d be pitting the assembled powers of the Church against whatever I have prepared to come to my aid, which you just know is gonna be something nasty. Obviously I’m a powerful player and I wouldn’t have come here unless I were pretty confident of my chances. On the other hand, Justinian wouldn’t have placed his newest, prettiest pet in such an easily shootable position without ample protections at the ready. Sounds to me like a pretty close contest! The only thing that makes it complicated…” He leaned forward, crossing his arms on the box’s low wall, and peered down at the rapt crowd below. “…are aaaallll those innocent people, just waiting to be pulverized in the crossfire. Priests and demons and the gods know what else, running amok in a crowded theater. Why, it fairly scalds the imagination, doesn’t it?”

“Innocent people.” Darling chuckled darkly, turning his gaze back to Branwen. “We both know there’s no such animal.”

“That a fact?” Mogul leaned back again. “Why not kick off the festivities, then, Antonio? Unless you’re bothered by the thought of unleashing hell on their heads.”

“Have you learned nothing about the modern world from this little campaign?” Darling said mildly, gesturing at Branwen. “Everything’s connected. There are a lot of reasons beyond the moral not to start a fire in a crowded theater.”

“Yes, and we could discuss in detail why the Church doesn’t need to worry about those matters, but that would be a tediously long back-and-forth and quite frankly, I believe we’re done here. At any rate, I’ve got what I came for.” Mogul smiled at him, a thin, smug expression. “So there is a core of decency motivating you, old fellow. Well, I must say, that is…fascinating.”

“I’ll be honest, this kind of gloating seems beneath you,” Darling remarked. “You can’t possibly be that bored. Are you really that sore about losing out to the Archpope on this project? I’m sure your pet columnists would have been valuable and all, but just look at her! Isn’t she adorable? A gift to the world, if you ask me.”

“Losing out,” Mogul mused, raising his eyebrows. “Maybe you can clarify that for me. I have a respected journalist setting out to present my perspective to the world. I have that bosomy little piece speaking what amounts to secular humanism, mortal ambition and self-empowerment—all the things the Wreath stands for. And frankly I have to admit she does make a better mouthpiece than anything I had lined up to do the job, and with the Church’s own credibility behind her, too! The people of this city and the Empire have begun questioning the line of divine bullshit they’ve been fed from the cradle. The cults that pose the greatest threat to me have lost face, while that scheming spider Justinian has gained power, and don’t even pretend you fully understand what he aims to do with it. So, what is it, exactly, that I have lost? I confess the point escapes me.”

“You know, I am trying to watch a speech. If you want to exchange taunts, we can do that in the heat of battle sometime. Butting in like this is rather rude.”

“Why, you are absolutely right.” Mogul stood, swept off his hat and bowed deeply. “My most sincere and humble apologies, Antonio. You enjoy the rest of the evening, now. It’s a great speech.”

“See you later, Embras,” Darling said, waving languidly at him, his face already turned back toward Branwen.

Mogul didn’t even try to move silently and didn’t shadow-jump out, simply pacing back to the curtained door of the box, whistling. Darling listened to him leave, ignoring Branwen for now. With his back to the warlock’s exit, he permitted his features to fall into a grim scowl.

 

Midnight had long passed and the moon was drifting toward the horizon when the doors to the Crawl eased open again. A wary, slate-gray face peered out, glancing left and right, before pushing them wider. The figure who stepped forth was followed by two others, all looking around in blended wonder and nervousness.

“Just as he said,” the lone male whispered in the subterranean dialect of elvish.

“We will go directly,” said the woman in the lead. “There are sure to be wards and defenses, and we are not out for a fight. Stay low, and—”

The soft pop was the only warning they got.

“Right on schedule,” Professor Tellwyrn said grimly, stepping out of thin air. “Congratulations! Most of your compatriots aren’t dumb enough to try this. You get the rare honor of being an example.”

The three drow had fallen to their knees before her as soon as she spoke.

“Arachne,” the second woman said breathlessly. “We’ve—”

“I don’t think I like hearing that from you,” Tellwyrn interrupted. “Well, the good news is, with Rowe’s nonsense at an end, it shouldn’t be too hard to find and plug whatever hole you lot are creeping out of. I do not need drow in my Crawl, except the ones I send in myself. Hm,” she added thoughtfully, frowning. The three kneeling elves flinched. “Now, there’s an idea. A Scyllithene priestess would be a worthy check on Melaxyna’s ambitions. If, that is, I could find one of a modest enough nature not to be an excessive pest. Doesn’t seem likely.”

“We are both priestesses of Scyllith,” the second drow woman said eagerly, not seeing or ignoring her companion’s frantic expression of warning. “I would be—”

“Well, not you, obviously,” Tellwyrn said with a grimace.

The flames were brief, lasting only a split-second, but more intense than the interior of a blast furnace while they burned. In the darkness and quiet after they had vanished, Tellwyrn dismissed the invisible shield over her and brushed drifting ash from her sleeves. A circular patch had been scoured completely clean just in front of the Crawl’s entrance, the upper layers of dirt melted to a puddle of still-steaming glass. It was rapidly hardening, cracking as it did so, the energy of the fire having been removed far more swiftly than simple physics would allow. Nothing was left, not even skeletons. They had not even had time to scream.

“Stew is going to gripe about this for weeks,” Tellwyrn remarked, wrinkling her nose at the hardening glass. “Ah, well. He loves griping.”

She stepped around the burned area to the doors, pushing them carefully shut, then paused. The Professor laid a hand against the dark wood for a moment, smiling fondly, before turning and setting off to wake the groundskeeper for the second time that night.

 

“Good evening, your Grace,” Price said serenely, taking his coat. “I trust the presentation was enjoyable?”

“Good morning, Price,” he said, yawning. “The presentation was fine, as propaganda shows go. I never object to staring at Branwen. Then I had to go to the Intelligence office and the Church and report on more Wreath nonsense. Brandy, please.”

“Of course,” said Price. “Your Grace has a guest, waiting in the downstairs parlor.”

“I have a— It has to be one o’clock in the morning!”

“Yes, your Grace,” she said calmly. “The Crow appears generally unconcerned with such trivialities.”

“Oh, for heaven’s sake,” he muttered, stalking off toward the parlor.

“Ah, Antonio,” Mary said as he entered. She was sitting on the back of his favorite chair, her feet perched on one of its armrests, nibbling one of Price’s scones. “It seems I picked a poor moment to leave the city on business. You managed, though, did you not?”

“Mary, it’s an absolutely stupid hour of the morning and I’m exhausted. What do you want?”

She tilted her head. “You are unusually tetchy. I’m accustomed to seeing you more smooth under pressure. Was it really that stressful?”

“If by it, you mean the grand cavalcade of stalking and violence you missed, then no. It was actually rather fun. But I’ve just had my nose rubbed in it by the Wreath’s mortal head and had to explain all this twice, to two separate groups of superiors, so yes, I’m damn well tetchy. Even more so now that I find myself again having to repeat. What do you want, Mary?”

“Merely to discuss events,” she said, hopping lightly to the floor. “I waited, as I’ve found you generally amenable to holding late hours, but if you are unduly stressed I can return tomorrow. Would you like me to ease your weariness before I go?”

“Thank you, no,” he grumbled. “But do you happen to know a time travel spell? What I would like is to go back about a week and a half and warn myself not to get into it too closely with Embras bloody Mogul.”

“As I should hardly have to remind a Bishop of the Church,” she said evenly, “messing with time travel is an extraordinarily bad idea. Vemnesthis punishes such infractions without mercy. Even I don’t aggravate the gods in person. You might ask Arachne.”

“It was a joke,” he said wearily. “The last damned thing I need is Tellwyrn anywhere near anything I’m trying to do.”

Mary studied him in silence for a moment. “What happened?” she asked, her voice more gentle. “You are rattled. I confess it’s a little disconcerting, coming from someone so self-assured.”

“Yes, well, circumstances and other people’s bullshit I can cope with just fine,” he said. “Ah, thank you, Price.” Darling tossed back the proffered brandy in one gulp, then set the glass back on her tray. “It’s more disappointing when I screw up. I’ve been going about this all wrong, sneaking around, playing the thief against the Black Wreath. It’s been mentioned often enough lately—hell, I’ve had reason to comment that Eserites and Elilinists think very much alike. I should never have tried to match them at their own game.”

“Is that not also your game?” Mary asked mildly.

“Yes, and that would be the problem,” he said, striding past her to the window, where he pulled aside the curtain and glared out at the dark street. “The whole reason the Empire has done so well militarily is its doctrine of asymmetrical warfare. Not just the Strike Corps utilizing the Circles of Interaction to advantage, but leveraging different kinds of assets against different enemies. Hit them where they’re weakest. The Guild against the Wreath is just…attrition. For all the Church’s resources, Justinian is a schemer, too. He and Vex have been doing the same thing. We’re never going to get anywhere if we keep obliging their love for skullduggery.”

“What, then?” Mary inquired. “If the Empire were able to pin down the Wreath and use its military power against them, it would have done so long since.”

“I can pin them down,” he said. “Next time, I am going to hit the bastards with sheer overwhelming force.”

“You don’t have overwhelming force,” she pointed out.

He turned from the window, grinning broadly at her, a predatory expression that was not meant to be pleasant. Mary, unsurprisingly, seemed totally unimpressed, which didn’t bother him.

“I cannot fathom why people keep saying things like that to me,” he said. “New strategies or not, I’m still a priest of Eserion. When I need something, I’ll take it.”

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“Ah, perfect.” Mogul calmly adjusted his lapels as he stepped out of the shadows onto the latest rooftop. Carter landed beside him, for once without stumbling, and had to repress a moment of pride at how well he was adapting to shadow-jumping.

Their new perch was an especially narrow structure four stories tall, facing what had clearly once been a park before being piled with trash and the debris of preliminary deconstruction of some of the district’s buildings. The piles of rubbish were short, though, affording them a view of both the street leading to the bridge out of the empty district, and a side street which intersected it, down which a small party of people was now moving at a good clip.

“That’s them?” Carter asked, stepping up to the edge of the roof. He couldn’t see identifying details at this distance, but it pretty much had to be. The only other people around were Wreath warlocks, who were in hiding, and the four were clearly fleeing away from or toward something.

“Mm hm,” his guide murmured in reply, turning his back to the scene below.

“You called?” said a new voice from behind them. Carter embarrassed himself by jumping in surprise, then whirled to face the speaker. He might as well not have bothered; it was another figure shrouded in the gray anonymity of their ceremonial robes. Definitely male, possibly of a large build.

“There you are,” Mogul said, cheerful as ever, leaving Carter wondering by what mechanism he had called the man. “How’s it look out there?”

“You can see the Bishop and his servants nearing the square,” the warlock replied, nodding his hood in the direction of the street beyond. “There’s also activity just over the bridge. Looks like reinforcements coming to meet him.”

“All expected,” said Mogul. “What’d he bring?”

“His Butler, a pair of elves in…what I guess might be Eserite garb, or maybe they’re just stupid. Also two Huntsmen of Shaath.”

“That is interesting!” Mogul sounded delighted. He turned to look at Darling’s group and then at the bridge. Carter couldn’t see figures at that distance, but he wasn’t about to make assumptions regarding the warlocks’ capabilities. “Why, this is all shaping up marvelously. The timing is impeccable! The Lady smiles on us tonight. All right, you know the plan. Get started. Unleash the demons at both groups. Carefully, stagger the attacks so as to give them a sporting chance. If it isn’t too difficult to manage, do try to time it so that they meet up about as the demons run out.”

“I’ll see what I can do.” The robed figure put his hands together; there came a soft clicking noise, and he vanished in a swell of darkness.

“How many of those talismans do you have?” Carter asked.

“As many as we need, and a few extras to play with.”

“I must say that’s…oddly generous. That bit about giving them a sporting chance. These are your enemies, aren’t they?”

Mogul half-turned to give him a knowing smile. “And why waste a perfectly good enemy? I’m just getting to know this one. As soon as you kill the bastard you’re used to, you’ll find yourself hip-deep in an unknown quantity. Anyhow, I am taking the opportunity to…clean house a bit.” He turned back to watch the street. Darling’s party had slowed as they neared the square; suddenly there were flashes of fire and the white sparkle of wandshots from their vicinity. Infuriatingly, their path had taken them behind as shattered old clock tower, leaving Carter with no idea what was happening.

“The demons I’ve brought to this little hoedown are…troublesome sorts,” Mogul continued, idly gazing down on the street as if he could see the action. Nothing was visible except the odd flash of light. “Some of the more animalistic ones who just aren’t taking their training… Some sentients who seem determined to use the Wreath to scheme toward their own ends. Exactly the sort of thing we are on the mortal plane to put a stop to. Of course, we have our own methods, but when fortune gives me a squad of bloodthirsty Church enforcers, why waste the opportunity?”

“I see,” Carter said, frowning.

“Come now, Mr. Long, why do you imagine I really allowed Darling to finish his little obstacle course and get himself set up where he wanted to be? He needs to be in a position of strength if I’m to let him get out of this alive.”

“In that case…I’m afraid I don’t see,” Carter admitted.

Mogul laughed. “It’s all about expectations. As I told you earlier, I want to have a few words with Mr. Darling this evening, but following that, he can go home and do whatever it is Eserites do when not cutting purse strings. If I simply offered them the chance to leave unmolested, they would either suspect a trap and attack, or see it as a sign of weakness…and attack. If they’re going to attack anyway, I’d rather they be tired out mowing down the fodder first. Then we’ll have a nice, polite little stand-off and they can leave believing they forced us to a truce.”

“You’re that certain they’ll be so aggressive?”

“I am, as I said, cleaning house.” Mogul gave him a considering look. “I began this sequence of events by sending some of my less reliable members to visit the Church. Warlocks who, like the demons below, have been scheming on their own to amass personal power through the infernal arts, at the expense of their duties. Now, we attract all manner of miscellaneous oddballs and I’m quite indulgent of eccentricity in the ranks, but abuse of power is absolutely not to be tolerated. Ours is a sacred calling. So off went the ne’er-do-wells, and not a one came out alive. That’s what the servants of the Pantheon do when they catch someone who doesn’t bend knee to their power.”

“I’m not aware of Church personnel behaving that way, as a rule,” Carter said very carefully.

Mogul grinned bitterly. “I encourage you not to take my word for it. Look into the events of warlocks being killed by Bishops recently. They have floated the official story that the Wreath attacked them, and frankly I doubt there will be any contradicting evidence left intact. But have a long, deep look at the histories of the Bishops in question. Things may become more clear to you then.”

“This is all…absolutely byzantine,” Carter said, shaking his head.

“Demons are a responsibility, and an occasional means to an end,” Mogul replied. “They’re not the point of our faith; we serve the goddess of cunning. Who, through no fault of her own, was consigned to a dimension full of demons by her own family, and even still took it upon herself to defend the mortal world by disposing of the last hostile Elder Goddess. You don’t think it interesting that the only other deity who bothers to keep Scyllith away from our civilization is Themynra, who also is not of the Pantheon?”

Carter frowned, deep in thought. Below, Darling’s group moved out from behind cover, at a more cautious pace than before, but he barely saw them.

“Welp, looks like matters are coming to a head,” Mogul said cheerfully. “Come along, Mr. Long. Let’s go have us a chat.”

 

The third and final katzil demon rebounded off the wall against which Weaver’s wandshot had smashed it, emitting an aimless puff of flame from its mouth at the impact. The feathered serpent shook itself, barely staying aloft, and opened its fanged maw to direct another blast at them.

Joe fired a bolt of light straight down its throat. Soundlessly, the creature flopped to the pavement, where it immediately began to crumble to dust and charcoal, as the other two had.

“You seein’ what I’m seein’?” Joe asked, warily scanning the streets with his wands up.

“I see fucking demons!” Peepers practically wailed. She was trying to hide behind Darling, who had a throwing knife in each hand, but had let the two men with wands take the lead against the onslaught.

“Yeah,” said Weaver. “Small groups, one at a time. No warlocks, just demons. Not hitting hard enough to herd us away… We’re being softened up. Wonder what’ll be at the end after we mow down the disposables.”

“Hard to say what is and isn’t disposable with these guys,” Darling noted. “This whole thing started with them sending twelve trained spellcasters to their certain deaths. It’s odd that they’d do this now, when we’re close to the edge of the district. That’s not a smart place for the Wreath to set up a confrontation. Any ruckus kicked up in sight of the public will bring the Army down on them.”

“So, basically, we don’t know what the fuck is going on,” Weaver snorted. “Situation normal.”

“Standard procedures, then!” Darling proclaimed. “Forward! There’s a somewhat reasonable chance we’ll be having help soon.”

“Hate you so much,” Peepers growled.

“He’s right, to the extent that we can’t exactly stay here,” said Joe. “Exit’s just up ahead. How’s it look, Weaver?”

“Actually…” The bard tilted his head in that way he did when listening to his invisible friend, then smiled. “Well, fuck me running. Looks like Twinkletoes’s non-plan is actually working.”

 

“Stay back,” Price said in a clipped tone, simply striding forward, the clicking of her shoes on the pavement lost in the thunder of the charging demon’s footsteps.

“You can’t—”

“What can two little elves do about this?” The Butler gave Flora a sharp sidelong look before returning her attention forward as the baerzurg reached her.

She sidestepped neatly, allowing it to charge several steps past. Roaring in fury, the hulking, bronze-scaled brute rounded on her, striking out with a ham-sized fist. Price calmly stepped inside the swing of its arm, grasping it as it went past. Her hands looked absurdly tiny against its forearm, which was as thick as her waist. At that moment, however, there came a tiny golden flash as the creature stepped on the small holy charm she had dropped the second before. With a bellow of pain, it staggered into the impetus of its own punch.

The movement of its body momentarily hid the Butler from view; they didn’t see exactly how she did it. In the next second, however, the huge creature had been spun to the side, staggering back against the bridge’s railing. This came only just past its knees, and scarcely served to stop the baerzurg. It teetered at the edge, flailing with its arms.

Price took two running steps forward and vaulted, landing lightly with both feet against the demon’s massive chest.

Roaring, it toppled backward, grasping at her and just missing as she hopped lightly back down to the bridge’s surface. Behind her, the bellowing demon plunged into the canal. Price pause for a moment to straighten her tie.

“Whoah,” Fauna muttered.

An arrow whistled above their heads, and a second later there came a squawk of protest. A flying katzil demon dropped to the ground, a quivering shaft still embedded in its neck.

“We will create a path through these trash,” Andros growled, stalking past the two elves with Tholi and Ingvar flanking him. “Your agility will be needed against the warlocks when we near them. Stay behind us.”

Another arrow, fired by Ingvar, brought down a sshitherosz that spiraled upward, apparently seeking a higher vantage from which to strike. The next creature to charge forward was a grotesque abomination of tentacles and claws that looked like it would be more at home underwater. It faltered as an arrow from Andros’s bow, glowing gold, thudded into its upper chest. Then Price had darted forward and past it, reaching around to rip a small knife across the creature’s throat. Blue-green fluid sprayed forth and it dropped.

The next moment, Price had to dodge backward as a sinuous, crocodile-headed khankredahg snapped at her. She bounded onto the bridge’s rail, then back down, retreating from its powerful jaws. For being built like an elongated bulldog, it was awfully fast.

Tholi was there in moments, striking out with a hatchet. The beast paused, maw gaping open to hiss threateningly as the Huntsman and Butler moved to flank it.

“Hsst,” Flora said, joining Fauna on her side of the bridge. “Tell me you see it too.”

“One at a time, never enough to push us back,” Fauna replied, nodding. “Something’s up.”

“Let’s get behind the lines.”

“Remember the rules…”

“Oh, come on, we’re still elves.” Smirking, Flora switched to elvish. “If we can’t sneak past this lot without teleporting, we don’t deserve the name.”

Exchanging nods, they separated and dived over the bridge on both sides. In the next moment, while their companions pressed forward through a sequence of demonic attacks, they were clambering horizontally along its decorative stonework just below the level of its surface.

 

“There, and there,” Darling said, pointing at two side alleys. “Uglies coming out, attacking in both directions, but not trying to block the way. As a strategy, it’s so ineffective I have to assume it was meant to be.”

Even as he spoke, the latest khankredahg collapsed with a piteous groan, incidentally bearing down the young Huntsman who had charged forward, thrust his arm into its open mouth and driven a knife into its brain. The lad cursed at being dragged down, though he was free almost immediately as the demon began to disintegrate into ash.

“Good evening, your Grace,” Price intoned, striding forward. “I trust the results of tonight’s excursion have been to your satisfaction?”

“Ask me again when I’ve seen the results,” he said cheerfully. “Excellent timing, by the way, Price.”

“Yes, it was. If your Grace is seeking comfort in reminders of the familiar, I also have red hair.”

There came a scream from above, and a figure in a gray robe plunged from a second-floor window to hit the street with an unpleasant thump. A second behind, a slim figure in black leather dived down, landing nimbly beside him.

“Oh, don’t be such a baby,” Fauna told the groaning warlock. “You’re barely broken.”

“More summoners over here!” Flora reported, leaning out a window in the structure opposite. “They shadow-jumped away as I got here, though.”

“Oh?” Darling turned to her, raising an eyebrow. “It’s not like you to give warning of your approach.”

“I’m gonna let that pass because I’m really glad to see you’re okay,” she shot back. “And no, they were already in motion by the time I arrived. Whatever they were up to, it looks like their plan is still going forward.”

“Then it is time we were gone,” Andros rumbled. “These are the two gentlemen you mentioned?”

“Indeed,” Price replied.

He studied Joe and Weaver for a moment, flicked his gaze across Peepers and visibly dismissed her from consideration. “Very well. The force we now have assembled is sufficient to repel a considerably greater threat than we have faced thus far. While they are in retreat, we should do likewise.”

“But we have them on the run!” Tholi said, practically panting in eagerness. “Now is the time to press on and finish them off!”

“Listen to your superiors,” Ingvar snapped. “And to your scouts! The Wreath has planned this, all of it, and it’s gone as they intended. We are in a snare. It’s time to flee.”

“I quite agree,” said Darling, tousling Flora’s hair fondly as she rejoined the group. “C’mon, once across the bridge we’re—”

“Too late,” said Joe, raising both his wands.

The ten of them clustered together, unconsciously forming into a circle in the center of the square. Behind them was the bridge back to the lights of the city, before the desolation of the condemned neighborhood, but all around, there were suddenly shadows rising from nowhere. They appeared in windows, out of doors and alleys, on rooftops, some seeming to rise up from the very pavement. Surges of darkness swelled, then receded, leaving figures in gray robes standing where they had been. Some carried weapons, a mix of wands, staves and clearly ceremonial (to judge by their elaborate design) blades, quite a few accompanied by demons of various descriptions. In seconds, a dozen ringed them; in seconds more, their numbers doubled, and then continued to grow. The Wreath pressed forward, flanking them from behind, not quite cutting off escape but edging into their own path out of the district.

“Hmp,” Weaver muttered, “damn. I forgot to tell you so. Now I can’t say it.”

“These are pups that have cornered bears,” Andros snarled. “If they will not let us leave in peace, crush them.” Tholi growled in wordless agreement.

A final surge of shadows rose up from the street directly ahead, depositing two men in front of the group.

“Now, now,” Embras Mogul said reprovingly. “There you go, offering to solve a puzzle with a hammer. Honestly, how you get dressed in the morning without strangling your wife is beyond me.”

“Are you really still hanging out with these guys, Carter?” Peepers demanded.

“I’m just here to observe,” the journalist said, licking his lips nervously.

Ignoring a hissed warning from Flora, Darling stepped forward out of the circle. “Well, this has been a grand little chase, Embras, but we all have better places to be, don’t we?”

“Quite so.” Mogul stepped forward to meet him, placing each foot with a care that made him resemble more than ever a wading stork. “My people have suffered no end of abuse at your hands already, Antonio, and you’ve worn yours down with your ill-conceived antics.”

“Not to mention that I’ll have to spend my whole day on paperwork tomorrow if I’m party to shooting up a whole district, condemned or no,” Darling replied easily. “I just can’t spare the time. There’s a social event in the evening to which I’ve been looking forward for weeks.”

“Then it’s all too obvious how we handle this, isn’t it?”

They came to a stop less than a yard apart. The priest and warlock stared at one another, grim-faced.

“Indeed,” Darling said softly. “None of you interfere. This is personal.”

“Are you crazy?” Fauna shouted. Price held up a warning finger in front of her face.

“We settle it like gentlemen,” Mogul said, equally quiet.

“Man to man.”

“One on one.”

“To the death.”

There was a horrified silence. The Wreath stood motionless, robes fluttering in the faint night breeze, several of their demon companions shifting impatiently. Darling’s party held weapons at the ready, staring at the pair in disbelieving fascination. The light shifted, faltering, a cloud scudding across the moon and leaving them momentarily illuminated only by the distant glow of the city itself.

And then Mogul and Darling simultaneously burst into gales of laughter.

While the entire assembled crowd stared, utterly bemused, both men roared in mirth. Mogul slumped forward, bracing his hands against his knees; Darling reached out to steady himself against the other man’s shoulder.

“Fuck it,” Weaver said loudly after this had gone on for half a minute. “I say we shoot them both.”

“Oh, my stars and garters,” Mogul chortled, straightening up. “Thanks, old man, I needed that.”

“Hah, makes me wish we could do this more often! Price never lets me have any fun.”

“I admit I’m impressed! For a second there I really thought you were serious.”

“C’mon, Embras, how long have we been at this tonight? Give me credit for a sense of fun.”

“Yeah, I particularly enjoyed your little street-writing display.”

“Oh, you caught that! Better and better. It gets so tedious, running mental circles around people all the time. Sometimes I feel like nobody really gets me, y’know?”

“Tell me about it. Some days I’d trade it all for some intelligent conversation.”

“I hear that.”

“What the hell is going on?!” Peepers shrieked.

“Well, anyway, I’ve got cranky little ones to take home and put to bed,” said Darling, pointing a thumb over his shoulder at the group. “Are we just about done here?”

“Yeah, this seems like a good place to call it a night.” Mogul patted his shoulder, still grinning. “Good game, my man. Mr. Long!” He turned to beckon Carter forward. “I realize this has been more excitement than you planned on seeing. We’ll not detain you if you would rather head back into the city with these folk, but I encourage you to keep in mind what I said about the Church.”

“You’ve said a lot of things,” Carter replied warily, looking as confused and nonplussed as Darling’s allies.

“At the moment,” Mogul said, stepping back from Darling, “you’ve not done anything to earn the Archpope’s ire. Matters will be different if you decide to publish your story, though, and you can certainly expect these folk to lean on you about it one way or another. The Empire’s another matter. Lord Vex is too canny to disappear an inconvenient member of the press and set your entire profession yapping at his heels. Sometimes I kind of miss his predecessor.” The warlock grinned reminiscently. “I could make that guy chase his tail across the city and back, all from the comfort of my rocking chair.”

Carter stared at him, then at Darling, then glanced around, at the warlocks, the assembled mix of Huntsmen and Eserites, the demons. “I, um…”

“Careful,” Mogul cautioned. “You’re thinking with your emotions, remembering who your upbringing has taught you to trust. That’s fine and dandy for an opinion columnist, but if you decide to play the game on the level at which this story will place you, you’ll need to be more careful. Think in terms of whose interests align with yours, not who you happen to feel fondly toward.”

“That is excellent advice for a variety of situations,” Darling said, nodding. “Just keep in mind that telling the truth is the most valuable weapon in a good deceiver’s arsenal. You understand that better than most people, Carter.”

Long’s face grew blank as he clearly marshaled his expression through sheer will. “I…appreciate the reminder, Bishop Darling,” he said somewhat stiffly. “Mr. Mogul, do you think you can drop me off at the offices of the Imperial Herald?”

“Not within it or too close,” Mogul replied. “Your superiors very wisely keep their wards updated, and the whole place had a recent and thorough Pantheonic blessing. We can put you down in the neighborhood and keep watch till you’re safely home, though.”

“I would appreciate it.”

“Very well, then,” Mogul said, grinning widely. The expression he turned on the Bishop was subtly triumphant. “This has been just a barrel of laughs, but…time marches on.”

“Mm hm,” Darling replied mildly, his own face open and affable. “See you next time, Embras.”

With a final, mocking grin, Embras Mogul laid his hand on Carter’s shoulder and vanished in a heave of darkness. All around them, the rest of the Black Wreath followed suit, demons and robed cultists disappearing in a series of shadowy undulations, till in seconds, the small group were clustered alone in the deserted square.

“Either someone is going to explain to me right damn now what just happened or I will begin stabbing people at random,” Peepers threatened.

“You don’t have a knife,” Joe observed.

“I will improvise.”

“Simple mathematics,” Darling said, strolling back over to the group. “They had the numbers, but we have the power, pound for pound. After watching all of us in action, Mogul knew it. A real fight would have left the area in ruins and cost lives on both sides. Neither of us wanted that.”

“I did,” Tholi muttered sullenly. Ingvar rolled his eyes.

“There will be another time,” Andros rumbled. “Did you at least learn what you set out to, Antonio?”

Darling grimaced in annoyance. “We bloodied their noses, cost them some tame demons and I have a few more little pieces of the puzzle to slot into place. For all the general fuss and bother this evening has been, though… I can’t say we’ve gained as much ground as I would have liked. But we drew them out of hiding, got a sense of how much manpower they’ve got in the city, and faced them down. That’s not nothing.”

“It will be worth reporting in detail to his Holiness,” Andros said, nodding. “But I agree. We must make more progress, quickly.”

“I’ve a few more ideas to mull over,” Darling replied, then rolled his shoulders. “Well, anyhow! What say we haul ass out of this depressing dump? I don’t know about any of you, but right now I would kick a nun into the canal for a brandy.”

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