The mountain of the Citadel was another leftover from the long-ago Elder War, a testament to the cataclysmic powers that had been unleashed on the world. The continent’s northern coast consisted entirely of the towering Dwarnskold mountain range, shielding the lands to the south from the raging equatorial storms, but giving them no harbor or access to the sea of any kind between Puna Dara and Onkawa. Near the longitudinal center of the range stood a particularly huge peak, whole and imposing when viewed from the sea, but its leeward side hollowed out as if an egg-shaped chunk had been neatly scooped out of it. The damage had been done by one of the rampaging Elder Gods, leaving behind an artifact much like the half-sunken plateau at Last Rock, the several massive craters in the Deep Wild, and the shorn-off mountain of Tiraas. These and other things loomed here and there in the world, a reminder to mortals not to reach above themselves, for there were powers in the world well beyond their ken.

On most of these mighty relics, mortals had built something as a testament to their own greatness, and the Lee was no exception.

Far more than the University at Last Rock or even Tiraas itself, though, the Citadel on the Lee was a marvel to rival the grandeur of its setting. The fortress itself hovered near the center of the great, smooth gap in the mountain, supported by towering pillars of stone connecting it to both the floor of the basin and the overhanging ceiling high above. Branching out from the central structure, held in place by networks of massive chains and deceptively slender columns, were smaller “islands” bristling with greenery, as did the terraces of the Citadel itself. These hanging gardens, aside from being a wonder of the world, more than amply supported the population of the Citadel.

The basin far below the lofty structure formed a sheltered lake, now, filled with the runoff from the Citadel’s irrigation system. A network of tunnels and cisterns carved into the living rock of the remaining mountain funneled water from the storms that wracked its northern side, leaving the Citadel sheltered on the mild-weathered Lee while still amply provided for, despite the vast desert stretching out from the foot of the mountain itself.

That, indeed, was the continent’s most arid stretch of land, with not a living thing to be seen between the Citadel and the northern rim of the Golden Sea to the south. The windblown sands offered the possibility of no roads or tracks, and the ascent up the mountainside was steep and dangerous even before it reached the frighteningly slender staircase that ascended from the rim of the bowl, through an impossibly long stretch of open air to the suspended Citadel.

Residents of the Citadel on the Lee liked their privacy.

That wasn’t to say that they were disconnected from world events, as was evidenced by the conversation taking place on one of the structure’s upper terraces.

Three figures slowly paced the path ringing the garden there, bracketed between greenery on one side and a chest-high stone wall on the other, beyond which loomed a horrifying drop.

“With regard to the Empire, my scrying attempts have become effectively useless,” said the only woman in the group. She was human, and of very advanced age, her face deeply lined and with white hair hanging nearly to her knees, but she stood straight, moved smoothly and her eyes were sharp. “Modern countermeasures are simply too effective, and Imperial Intelligence has learned to use them quite…intelligently. Oracular divinations, of course, are much harder to shield against, but less reliable by nature, to say nothing of the difficulty of obtaining an actual oracle of any kind these days.” She sighed, a short sound of annoyance rather than resignation. “This all came to a head this week, when I received a very polite missive from Lord Quentin Vex, offering to cooperate with the Order’s information-gathering efforts.”

“That’d go against our neutrality,” rumbled one of her companions, a dwarf in light mail armor. “Not to mention it’s bad policy. The Empire itself being the thing most likely to be hiding information we seek, allowing them to direct our efforts…”

“You needn’t point any of that out to me, General,” the woman said, giving him an indulgent little smile before her expression sobered again. “Of most concern was the method. He had his letter translocated into my quarters, quite precisely onto my desk, despite the immense distances involved and my own wards. The letter was secondary; the message was that the Empire’s capabilities far outstrip ours, and to the extent that we watch them, it is because they choose to permit it.” She sighed again, pursing her lips. “My use as a tactical scryer appears to have reached its end. It is quite a thing, staring one’s obsolescence in the face.”

“Your magical skills have innumerable uses beyond intelligence gathering, Nandia,” said the third man firmly, “and you have inestimable value beyond magic.”

“Flatterer,” Nandia said with a smile, which he returned.

He towered over both of them and outshone them by far. Everything about the man’s aspect was gold, from his neatly-trimmed blonde hair to his tunic and trousers, and even the elaborate scalemail armor he wore over it. The material looked exactly like burnished gold, though such armor would have been far too heavy and far too soft to be in any way useful.

Most striking were his golden eyes: smooth, featureless orbs without pupils or irises, emitting a steady golden glow.

“We’ve been over this and over it,” the tall man in gold went on, frowning as he gazed abstractly out over the desert beyond their sheltered vertical crater. “For all these many years, in the Council’s meetings and in countless private talks like this one. The rise of the Tiraan Empire changes everything. One ascetic Order which eschews entanglement with terrestrial powers can be a beacon of the Light in a fractious world. So it has been for centuries. But sitting amidst the territory of a monolithic state… Perhaps Lord Vex’s message to Nandia revealed our salvation as much as our weakness.” He grimaced. “The Order cannot but stand against the Empire if it grows as corrupt as we fear it may. It may be our good fortune that we are too insignificant to be crushed.”

“Empires fall, Lord Ampophrenon,” said the dwarf, “without exception.”

“And should we just sit here in our mountain and wait for Tiraas to collapse?” the old woman asked sharply. “For however many centuries or millennia that takes? The Order is here to lend aid to the world where aid is needed, Oslin. You would go as mad as I, or any of us, passively watching it pass us by.”

“You have the measure of me as usual, Archmage,” the General said with a grin. His expression quickly sobered, though. “Can we afford to place our own wants above the greater good? The world has changed; the Order will need to adapt. We’ve always provided a sanctuary and safe haven here at the Citadel. Truly neutral ground is of service to the world in innumerable ways. Maybe…maybe it’s time to reduce our role to that. Even if it makes me and my rank completely superfluous.”

“If the question had a simple answer,” said Ampophrenon, “I rather think we’d have uncovered it before now. This need not be decided this day, by us. The Council continues to deliberate.”

“I’m not sure that’s correct, my Lord,” said Nandia with a thoughtful frown. “The Council would follow your edict if you cared to lay one down. If you are unsettled in your own mind on the subject… If we can help you to resolve an opinion, perhaps your leadership would give us exactly the sense of purpose we have lost over the years.”

“That, too, has its dangers,” he admonished gently. “The Order has always been led by a Council, with the Lords of the Citadel only directing operations where such direction is needed. This has been our strength, since long before I came along, and I hope to leave behind an Order pure to its own purpose rather than my will when I depart this world. In any case,” he went on more briskly, turning his back to the battlements to face them directly, “while the growth of Tiraas has inhibited our movement among human lands, the Empire is still not truly absolute, even on this continent. We have at least as much business in the dwarven kingdoms, and there are still the elves, the Punaji and the Tidestrider clans. Even the drow—”

A bell began tolling in the Citadel, followed in moments by others. All three of those on the terrace whirled, staring outward over the vista of desert.

“Light watch over us,” Nandia whispered.

A dragon was approaching the Citadel.

“Will you deal with him, m’Lord?” the General asked tersely. “Or shall I muster the regiment?”

“No,” Ampophrenon replied, staring fixedly at the serpentine blue figure as it banked and glided closer to the mountain. “This is not an attack. See how he tacks back and forth in that broad pattern? That is to show us he’s coming. A dragon could be from over the horizon to our walls before we could respond if he chose. In any case,” he added, frowning, “I know this one. I can’t imagine him attacking a fortified target under any circumstances. It seems he is simply…paying a visit.”

The Archmage and the General exchanged a look, then she cleared her throat and held out a hand, palm up. A glowing distortion appeared in the air above it. Oslin, nodding thanks to her, stepped over to speak directly into the light.

“Attention Citadel guards, this is General Skaalvyrd,” he said, his voice booming throughout the fortress. “The dragon is not hostile. Stand down high alert.” He glanced quickly up at Lord Ampophrenon, who was still closely watching the incoming blue. “Remain at defensive posts. Stand by mages and healers.”

Ampophrenon turned and nodded approvingly to him, then motioned them backward.

They began stepping back, retreating nearly the full width of the terrace and well into the garden proper, Nandia letting her magical effect vanish. The dragon banked once more, turning to fly directly toward the Citadel, close enough now that the beating of his enormous wings echoed off the walls of the half-hollowed mountain.

He dived toward the front of the Citadel and then swooped back upward, rising to hover for a looming instant directly in front of the upper terrace, wings fully outstretched. The sight was awe-inspiring; he was a massive, sinuously graceful creature, cobalt scales glittering in the sun like a sculpture of faceted sapphire. He began to plunge forward toward them, and Oslin reflexively jumped back. There was simply not room for a creature that size to land.

The dragon shrank as he fell, though, diminishing in seconds, so that it was a humanoid figure in lavish blue robes who landed nimbly on the battlements themselves, and executed a courtly bow to them before hopping down to the floor.

“Zanzayed,” said Ampophrenon, nodding gravely. “Hail, and be welcome. To what do we owe this…most unusual visit?”

“And hello to you, too, Puff!” Zanzayed the Blue said brightly, wearing a cheerful grin as he strode forward to join them.

“Here, now,” exclaimed the General. “That’s the Lord of the Citadel you’re speaking to. Show a little respect!”

“Don’t,” Nandia said quietly. “He likes to get a rise out of people. If you give him one, he’ll never quit.”

“Why, Archmage Nandia!” Zanzayed said smoothly. “You’re still alive? How lovely.”

Ampophrenon cleared his throat. “I’m certain you haven’t come all this way to socialize, cousin. It’s not like you to spend time in places such as this. We practice a simple way of life here.”

“Yes, as I can tell from your fabulous outfit,” said the blue. “You are correct, though, I’m here on business. With all respect to your little secret society, dragon business.”

“The Order of Light is hardly a secret,” Nandia said dryly.

“What can we do for you, then?” Ampophrenon asked.

Zanzayed looked pointedly at the human and the dwarf. “Dragon business, as I said. If we could speak privately…?”

“These are my closest friends,” said Ampophrenon calmly, “from whom I keep no secrets and upon whose counsel I rely. You may either speak in front of them or they can hear everything you have to say later, when I discuss the matter with them. I would prefer to limit the number of steps involved.”

Zanzayed pursed his lips in annoyance, then sighed. “Very well, if you insist. I’m afraid there’s a problem with Khadizroth.”

“Oh? Is he well?”

“That’s… Complex. Before we even get into where he is now, you’ll need to understand where he has been recently. You supposedly keep an eye on the world from your little clubhouse, yes? I trust you know what happened to the Cobalt Dawn tribe a couple of years back?”

“It was more than a couple,” Nandia said archly. “These piddly distinctions do matter to we mortals, Zanzayed. Yes, we are aware of these events.”

“’Twas a ruddy shame,” Oslin said solemnly, shaking his head. “I hate to see such loss of life among elves. So much eternity, wiped out so quickly… But it cannot be denied that the Dawn instigated that conflict. A state does have the right and the prerogative to defend its people.”

“Yes, well, what concerns us now is what happened immediately after that,” Zanzayed continued. “Khadizroth rounded up and hid the survivors, tending to the wounded and raising the young. There weren’t more than a couple dozen of them total, as I understand it.”

“That sounds quite commendable,” Ampophrenon noted.

“That’s because you’ve not heard the whole story,” Zanzayed replied, grimacing. “As I was told, Khadizroth’s plan to was to raise the females from childhood, ensuring they were loyal to him, and then use them to…breed.”

Ampophrenon frowned deeply. “Breed?”

“Breed dragons,” Zanzayed said grimly. “A whole…clutch? Drive? Flock? Do we even have a word for a family of dragons?”

“No,” said Ampophrenon flatly, “because the idea is absurd. This accusation is severe indeed, Zanzayed, most particularly because the deed you describe is dramatically out of character for Khadizroth.”

“Not if you consider his known motives and predilections,” Zanzayed countered. “It’s not as if he had a sudden attack of late-onset domesticity. The idea, Puff, was for him to have a force that could counter the Empire. You know how he feels about the Tiraan. Consider what he’d just seen them do to the Cobalt Dawn, coming not long on the heels of what happened to Elivathrined…”

“In both those events, the Empire was acting defensively,” Nandia noted.

“That’s beside the point,” Zanzayed said impatiently. “Think of what it means. This Empire has proved it can bring down a marauding dragon without taking significant losses, and crush a force of plains elves on the prairie, things we all thought were well beyond humanity’s grasp. Taken in the context of overall human progress and the Empire’s proven tendencies… Well. We all remember Athan’Khar. Khadizroth may be one of the nobler among us, but he is also a planner and a pragmatist. Is it really hard to believe he would cross a moral line if he truly thought it necessary?”

“What is the basis of this theory?” Ampophrenon asked, still frowning. “I trust you have evidence?”

“It was first brought to me by Arachne…”

Nandia snorted loudly, as she usually did when Tellwyrn was mentioned in her presence.

“That,” said Ampophrenon, “is a less than reliable source, considering the extreme nature of the accusation.”

“Hah!” Zanzayed grinned and folded his hands before him, making them vanish into his wide, embroidered sleeves. “I trust Arachne more than I trust you.”

“That just might be the single most asinine statement any sentient being has ever uttered,” said Nandia in a tone drier than the desert beyond.

“Arachne doesn’t deceive people,” Zanzayed replied, “because she’s too bullheaded, self-absorbed, and lazy to be bothered with what anyone thinks. Virtues have a way of crumbling if you apply just the right pressure to them; character flaws, however, are all but invincible. In any case, no, I didn’t just take her word for it, not being a complete idiot myself. Khadizroth’s plan allegedly collapsed when two of his would-be broodmares revolted and smuggled away their fellow refugees to hide them among several elven tribes. That left a verifiable trail; I’ve spent the last six weeks tracking them down and asking details. No easy task,” he added with a long-suffering sigh, “given how elves ward against scrying. I have my confirmation, however. I’ve spoken to several elves in four different tribal groups who confirm they were part of Khadizroth’s little…colony. And there were three other tribes who refused to speak with me, which itself is suggestive; elves don’t turn away a dragon without a very good reason. I only got through to talk with those who would see me when I assured them I was hunting for evidence on Khadizroth’s doings, not working with him.”

There was a pause while the three Citadel residents exchanged long looks.

“This is significant news indeed, then,” Ampophrenon said finally.

“It is a repulsive action on Khadizroth’s part, if it’s true,” Nandia agreed.

“And, dragon business or no, this is exactly the kind of thing the Order has a stake in,” added Oslin. “He could disrupt the whole balance of power on the continent if the Empire learned there was a dragon plotting to bring it down.”

“But you say the plot was stopped,” said Ampophrenon, turning back to Zanzayed. “Did you come here merely to carry tales of Khadizroth’s misdeeds?”

“If that were the end of it, I’d be glad enough to turn him over to you and wash my hands of the whole sordid business,” the blue dragon replied with a distasteful grimace. “It gets worse, however. The first point of interest is something Arachne did not know, which I learned from the elves: those two who turned on Khadizroth are eldei alai’shi.”

“Light above preserve us,” Nandia breathed in horror. “Two of them at once? How is it we’ve not heard of this?”

“That’s the scary part, isn’t it?” Zanzayed said lightly. “Hopefully they’re dead by now. If not, we’re dealing with the prospect of headhunters who have acquired new skills: working in teams, and laying low. Their inability to do such complex things in the past has been the only thing that’s brought them to an end.”

“You said the first point of interest,” said Ampophrenon. “Does it get worse yet?”

Zanzayed sighed. “Before I set off to investigate the elves, I managed to track down Khadizroth himself. Quite by coincidence, he was brought pretty close to where I happened to be at the time.”

“Brought?” Ampophrenon said sharply.

“Oh, yes.” Zanzayed’s tone was grim. “It seems he didn’t manage to keep his little endeavor fully under wraps. Someone sent a strike team after him, composed of several top adventurers, including a certain Mary the Crow. She managed to bind him into his lesser form; to the best of my knowledge, he’s still stuck that way.”

“A disturbing thought,” Ampophrenon said slowly. “However, under the circumstances I can’t find it in me to fly to his rescue. It sounds a fair enough penalty for his actions.”

Zanzayed held up a hand, jeweled rings glittering on his fingers. “I’ve not come to the bad part yet. In Khadizroth’s moment of weakness, he seems to have been recruited by the Universal Church. Archpope Justinian aims to use him as a weapon toward his own ends.”

There was a moment of stunned silence.

“Flamin’ Light in the sky,” Oslin said eventually.

“Well bloody put,” said Zanzayed with a grim smile. “Obviously, this is not acceptable. Justinian cannot be allowed to have a dragon on a leash, for just all kinds of reasons.”

“There are far too many holes in this,” said Ampophrenon. “You are certain about these details?”

“I’ve told you everything I’m sure about. As you say, there are obvious gaps in the narrative. We need more information before moving.”

“We?” Nandia demanded, raising her eyebrows.

Zanzayed sighed melodramatically. “Yes, I’m afraid even I am sufficiently disturbed by the implications of this to have put aside my own business to deal with it. If mortals get it into their heads that they can make dragons do their bidding… The mind boggles.”

“It is not the old days,” Ampophrenon warned. “It’s not as if we can swoop down on Tiraas and burn it do the ground for its temerity.”

“No, indeed,” Zanzayed nodded emphatically. “The world is changing; I’m afraid we have shamefully failed to keep up with it…most of us, anyway. This is going to call for a whole new way of doing things.”

“Whatever it is you intend,” said Ampophrenon, “there is the matter of Mary, if she is still involved. If, as you say, it was she who struck Khadizroth down, then the ancient respect owed her by our kind is in abeyance, at least with regard to him.”

“That’s what you’re concerned about?” Zanzayed demanded incredulously. “The Crow can take care of herself. And if not, she’s buttered her own bed this time, as you pointed out. We have far more serious concerns, Puff. I have a plan, or at least the broad strokes of one, if you’d care to hear it.”

“This should be good,” Nandia said wryly.

“Speak,” Ampophrenon commanded.

“Right. First of all, I’ll need your help to gather the aid of any of our brethren who may be willing to take part. For one thing, you know most of them better than I; you’ll know whom to approach, and in what way. Besides which,” he added with a disarming grin, “I’m afraid most of them wouldn’t take me very seriously. There’s a good reason I came to you first.”

“Yes,” Ampophrenon noted, raising an eyebrow, “remarkable the effect a few thousand years of determined frivolity can have on one’s reputation.”

“Yes, yes, laugh it up. Moving on to my second point… The fact is, we just don’t know how to handle this. As a race, we command such power that we lack the skill of being…subtle.”

“The Order is accustomed to acting carefully in the mortal world,” Oslin said proudly. “And we stand behind Lord Ampophrenon.”

“Ah, yes, the Order of Light,” said Zanzayed, moving his head in such a way it was obvious he was rolling his eyes, even despite their lack of visible pupils. “It’s been a hundred years since you were a significant factor in anyone’s calculations, and you know it. We need relevant and current skills and knowledge. We also need someone who can impart these skills to dragons. Luckily, there is a perfect prospect… One who I, rather than his Lordship here, should probably approach.”

Ampophrenon curled his lip disdainfully. “You surely do not propose to involve him.”

“I just did propose that,” Zanzayed said acidly, “and let’s call it what it is: you don’t have an actual objection to my plan, you just dislike him on a personal and philosophical level. Put that aside for a moment and think about what we’re dealing with, here. Razzavinax lives and works more closely with humans than any of us, anywhere. He knows their trends and current ways, and he is well accustomed to navigating among them without making unnecessary waves.”

“He is a sly conniver, you mean,” Ampophrenon said, glaring. “As is only to be expected, given the particular mortal company he keeps.”

“Puff,” Zanzayed said in exasperation, “a sly conniver is exactly what we need. Or do you have a better idea? Really, let’s hear it. You want to challenge the Archpope directly?”

The three stared at him in silence.

“Yeah, I didn’t think so,” he said smugly. “The two things we, even if we all combined, cannot face down are the Pantheon and now the Tiraan Empire. We’re in the ugly position of having to contend with both. This needs subtlety. It needs Razzavinax the Red.”

“You will never persuade me to trust him,” Ampophrenon said, folding his arms.

“And that’s another thing,” Zanzayed said relentlessly. “The very fact that you dislike him so much is why his voice will be essential in bringing the others to join us. There hasn’t been a silver or black dragon since Ilvassirnil and Semathlidon finally succeeded in ridding the world of each other. You two represent the farthest extremes of philosophy among the living dragons. If you both come together to do this, the others will have basically no choice but to join in and help.”

Ampophrenon shook his head slowly, then turned, facing his companions. “What say you on this, my friends?”

“He speaks reason,” Nandia said, somewhat grudgingly. “It is not a complete strategy, but it is a solid basis for one, and his arguments on all points have merit. If we are to take on this challenge—and I don’t see how we can morally let it pass—we may have to make certain…compromises in order to meet it. We should be careful, as we proceed, that those compromises are strategic and not ethical in nature.”

“I don’t like this,” Oslin murmured, “any part of it. But then… It’s not the sort of thing a sane person should like, is it? I agree with Nandia’s reasoning. My gut warns me to be mistrustful, however. Of a lot of things,” he added, giving Zanzayed a long look. The blue dragon grinned at him.

Ampophrenon drew in a deep breath and let it out as a sigh. “Very well. This merits further discussion, but I fear we cannot afford to tarry. At the least, the Council must be informed before we proceed further. Zanzayed, will be you stay here as our guest while we attend to these details?”

“If that’s what it takes” Zanzayed replied, glancing around somewhat disparagingly. The view from the Citadel on the Lee was absolutely magnificent, awe-inspiring in all directions. The architecture and trappings of the Citadel itself, however, were notably spartan. “Let’s not make it too long, however. Urgent matters, you know. What sort of wine do you serve around here? How friendly are the girls?”

“Well,” Nandia noted wryly, “it seems our fears of fading into obscurity, at least, are delayed.”

Ampophrenon the Gold sighed again. “And thus does the Light remind us to be careful what we wish for.”

< Previous Chapter Next Chapter >

Bonus #9: On Being a Man, Part 2

May 18, 2015UncategorizedGabriel, Jonathan Arquin, Madeleine, TobyD. D. Webb

< Previous Chapter Next Chapter >

A week was basically an eternity. Gabriel managed to go that long without having a complete breakdown, which maybe wasn’t so terribly impressive as he only really felt like doing that at about two in the morning when he was lying awake, staring at the ceiling. His father mostly let him be; Toby was clearly perplexed by his newly surly disposition, but after a gentle reminder that Gabe could talk to him about anything, didn’t push. Toby was always understanding that way. For once, Gabriel actually felt grateful that his entire social circle consisted of two people. While he occasionally missed the opportunities to eyeball the girls in his former class, it wasn’t as if his fellow students had ever gone out of their way to make him feel welcome, and right now he definitely didn’t want to deal with their crap.

It was a week after he walked out of the cafe, leaving Madeleine behind, that he received a note from her, delivered to his home and distinctly smelling of her perfume. Jonathan handed it to him with a faint, knowing smile—not an amused or teasing smile, just knowing, which almost made it worse. It came right at the point where his resistance was weakest, and Gabriel couldn’t help wondering if she had timed it that way precisely…and if she had, where she’d learned to do such things.

He had told Madeleine he needed to think, and he’d spent the week doing exactly that. He had nothing to show for it. Exactly what he felt toward her was impossible to sort out; one minute he thought he might be in love with her, another he felt certain he’d just been overwhelmed by a pretty face and an impressive bosom whose owner favored tight bodices. Not to mention the comforts of her lifestyle. He couldn’t make head or tail of her motivations, either. Did she truly just like him? Was she up to something? If so, what could it possibly be?

He couldn’t think of anything anyone would want him for, diabolically speaking; it was the children of spellcasting demons who made prodigy warlocks. What use was there for a half-hethelax, who had no gifts but nigh-invulnerability and an urgent need not to lose his temper? The problem was that he didn’t know, and didn’t dare to research it. Even asking those questions would be enough to raise the kind of alarms that resulted in a visit from Imperial Intelligence. Could he be rendered down for reagents? Demons were, by nature, magically reactive… Horrifying as that idea was, Gabriel couldn’t envision Madeleine’s treatment of him leading in that direction, even at his most paranoid. Someone who wanted to cut him up would just have snatched him off the street; as much as he roamed around the Wide Spot, these days often alone, it wouldn’t have been hard.

Hours of pacing the alleys and his room, going round and round this way, led him nowhere, until he finally decided he had no choice but to bite the belt and reach out.

“And that’s pretty much where I am,” he said, the day after receiving Madeleine’s letter. He’d been pacing back and forth as he recounted the last part of his story, and now came to a stop, shrugging helplessly.

Toby nodded slowly, looking earnestly up at him from his seat on one of the stone benches. Technically they were trespassing, but the owner of this building was out of the city at present, and had never been particularly uptight about the two boys sitting in his rooftop garden before; they’d always been careful not to make a mess or disturb anything. It was quiet and out of the way, and more to the point, one of the few places now where Toby could be free from both the monks of his order and journalists or other curiosity-seekers.

“Sounds…confusing,” he said.

Gabriel rolled his eyes. “Yeah, I’d say that about bloody sums it up.”

“Well…how do you feel?”

“Um…confused? Weren’t you listening?”

“I was.” Toby shook his head. “It sounds to me like you’ve been trying to think this thing through. Which, yes, is a good idea, especially given the risks. But on the other hand… Has this Madeleine ever given you a reason to think she’s up to no good? Or is that just a fear? That makes all the difference, Gabe. If you’ve seen a real warning sign, that’s cause to stay away from her, I think. But if you’re just being afraid, then you may be blowing something possibly very good for no real reason. What you feel is pretty central, then.”

“How I feel?” Groaning, Gabriel sank back down on the bench opposite him. “I feel like I’m self-aware enough to know I’m an idiot about girls. I don’t think I can trust my feelings. All they tell me is ‘smell pretty, look pretty, cuddly soft and wow those boobs.’ None of that is particularly helpful, y’know?”

Toby laughed. “Fair enough. Yeah, I know the feeling… Sometimes you just have to make the mistake.”

Gabe sighed. “I don’t…know if the risk is worth it, though.”

“Well, what is the risk? What do you think she’s going to do to you?”

“I don’t know! But just because I don’t know what she might do doesn’t mean there’s nothing!” He sprang to his feet and resumed pacing. “Toby, it’d be one thing if she wasn’t bothered by me being a half-demon. That would be awesome. But she was…she was interested. And she knew what hethelaxi are. Do you see why that might concern me?”

“Well,” Toby said, not trying very hard to repress a grin, “don’t rule out that she just has a very interesting fetish.”

Gabe stopped his pacing and glared down at him. “That’s cute. Real classy, man.”

“Sorry,” Toby said, openly laughing now, but holding up his hands in surrender. “It’s just… In seriousness, that’s not unlikely. Never underestimate the appeal of a bad boy.”

“I’m a bad boy?” Gabriel snorted.

“For someone who hasn’t grown up with you? You’re a demonblood from a poor neighborhood. That might be plenty bad enough for a sheltered rich girl, which is how she sounds to me. Gabe, I’ve actually done some reading about hethelaxi since Omnu called me. The Church has given me access to lots of material, and I thought… Well, I thought maybe I could stumble across something helpful.”

“Yeah?” Gabriel folded his arms, trying not to look interested. “Did you?”

“In this case? Maybe…” Toby shrugged. “You could say it’s good news. A hethelax isn’t a spellcasting demon, as—yes, I’m aware you know that, stop making faces at me. Warlocks who summon a hethelax are usually looking for muscle—that’s actually pretty common. Half-bloods sometimes end up doing that kind of work if they can get it. The Thieves’ Guild and the Army don’t want half-demons as a rule, but there are nobles and others who have money and no scruples. Half-hethelaxi are very useful brawn.”

“This is real fuckin’ cheerful,” Gabriel muttered.

“My point is, Gabe, that’s it,” Toby said, staring intently up at him. “Just like any other half-demon, they tend to get targeted by sshitherosz to become warlocks, but just because they’re outcast and emotionally vulnerable, not because they have more magical potential. You’re in no danger of that.”

“Yeah, I like to think I’m not quite that stupid.”

“So, no, I really don’t think Madeleine is likely to be…y’know, up to something. If anything, the fact that she knows a bit about demons is a good sign. A novice warlock might think you’d be useful to them for power; somebody who’s read up on hethelaxi would know better. It sounds like she really does just like you.”

Gabriel sighed heavily, dragging a hand through his hair. “Man… I just wish I could be sure.”

Toby nodded slowly, frowning. “Well… Hm. In the letter, what does she say she wants?”

“To talk to me,” he said, shrugging. “She wants me to meet her tomorrow. At the Falour Street market. Someplace nice and public, as she points out.”

“Okay.” Toby straightened up on the bench. “Then I think you should meet her.”

Gabriel frowned. “Just like that?”

“Well, not just like that. Like I said, I don’t think there’s probably any danger. But just in case…” He grinned. “It’s not like you have no way to protect yourself.”

He would have recognized her in the crowd even had he not been looking for her specifically. She was just… Madeleine. Her dress was royal blue—she favored blue—and her hair, that rich chocolatey shade just shy of black, tumbled down her back in curling waves. She wasn’t overly tall, and some might have thought her a bit on the plump side; the Avenic ideal favored a wide bust and hips, it was true, but it preferred them on a long, lean, muscular frame. For Gabriel’s money, though, she was the most perfectly beautiful woman alive.

That was why he was in such trouble.

She turned as he was approaching through the crowd. The the way her whole face lit up at seeing him made his heart stutter.

“You came,” she said quietly, reaching out to squeeze his arm when he got close enough.

He had to pause and swallow painfully before he could answer. “I… Didn’t come alone. So…yeah.”

Her expression fell slightly; the note of hurt in it made him want to kick himself right in the face for being such a heel, even as the paranoid little voice in the back of his mind wondered whether this wasn’t precisely the reaction she was trying to convey.

“Well, my dear, it’s not as if there aren’t plenty of witnesses here anyway,” she said wryly.

“Yes, that’s true,” he replied, unable to think of anything wittier. “It’s… I just… I’m really glad to see you.”

Her eyes lit again, and he began to have the strong feeling he wasn’t going to win here.

“Gabriel,” she said softly, “you haven’t told me more than bits and pieces about your life… Has it been terribly hard, having to hide? Are you constantly hounded by people trying to take advantage of you?”

“I…wouldn’t say constantly,” he said nervously, glancing around at the crowded market street. “Or…ever, really. I do have to be discreet, you know, but I don’t think anyone’s ever tried to use me.” He stopped himself barely short of adding before.

She gazed up at him, her expression serious and with that faintest tinge of reproach that made him feel like an utter ass. “Then… I’m wracking my brain trying to think what I’ve done to earn such suspicion, and… I confess I don’t understand.”

“It’s not…that you’ve done anything,” he said awkwardly. “It’s more that… No one’s ever done anything. I’ve never had a reason to…to talk about… That is, what I mean is, you’re the first person who seemed to think of it as a good thing. The only people who think positively about…well, you know, are… Well, you know.”

Madeleine raised one eyebrow, her perfect lips quirking in amusement. “Would you like to step indoors and talk? I know a charming little cafe not at all far from here.”

“I think…” He glanced around again. “I think it’d be better to stay in public. For now.”

“All right, then,” she said amiably, then raised her voice just a hair. “The thing about demonbloods—”

“Hsst!” Gabriel quickly shushed her, looking surreptitiously about. At least half a dozen people had turned to stare at Madeleine’s comment. Grabbing her by the arm, he ushered her quickly through the crowd to an open alleyway. Stacks of pallets and empty wooden crates filled it beyond a few feet in, but there was a little nook left clear near the opening. She allowed herself to be pulled along without protest. “Fine, you win,” he growled, pushing her in ahead of himself and sticking his head out to peer around.

“Gabriel, for heaven’s sake, stop looking shifty,” she said, amused. “That only draws more attention. We’re two attractive young people in a shadowed alcove; believe me, no one will question that, unless you act like you’re up to something.”

He sighed heavily, gritting his teeth. For having done the pulling himself, he had the distinct feeling of having been maneuvered.

“I understand your concerns,” she said more quietly. “Not having grown up with the pressures you have… Well, I can only imagine the things you have to worry about. But, Gabriel… It breaks my heart, seeing you so willing to give up on yourself.”

“Me?” He stared at her. “I’m not giving up on anything.”

“No? Yet after our conversation over tea, you seem to have decided I must be up to something insidious. Why?”

“You were…” He looked away, finding himself unable to meet those big blue eyes. “Madeleine, it’s not normal for someone to be happy when they find out your mother was a demon.”

“It is normal to be happy,” she said so fiercely that he turned back to stare down at her. She stepped in closer till their bodies were nearly touching, grasping him by both upper arms. “Everyone has the right to be happy! Even—no, especially you. After all you’ve been deprived of, don’t you deserve it?”

“It’s not about what I deserve,” he said doggedly. “Demons are incredibly dangerous. People are right to be worried about me.”

“Are you dangerous?”

“I… I could be.”

“Oh, Gabriel.” Her smile as achingly sad. “Your whole problem is that you couldn’t be if you had to. You’re the most harmless person I have ever met. The agonizing thing is how afraid you are of yourself. You’re not worried about me, my darling. You’re afraid of what I represent.” She lifted one hand to press her palm against his cheek. “The first person who’s ever told you it’s good to be what you are. That you deserve the same happiness, the same respect as anyone.”

“That… I don’t…that isn’t what…” He trailed off, finding no answer for her. In that lack of rebuttal came a new and deeply disturbing uncertainty.

Madeleine pulled back slightly, studying his face. “You want some assurance that I mean you no harm?”

“I…I guess… I mean, what could that be?”

“Come with me,” she ordered, smoothly stepping up next to him and sliding her hand through his arm. She led him back out into the street. “Now, where did you leave your father and Mr. Caine?”

He came to a dead stop. “I never told you who I brought with me.”

“Gabriel, dearest,” she said, smiling knowingly up through her lashes. “There are precisely two people in the world you could have brought as backup, which you say you did. It’s either them, or only one of them, or you were bluffing. I do hope it’s Mr. Caine, otherwise I’m afraid I’ve dragged you back out here for nothing.”

He sighed heavily. “It really doesn’t help that you’re smarter than me.”

“I really am not,” she said gently, pressing herself into his side in that extremely distracting way she had. “Just more accustomed to maneuvering. That’s what happens when you grow up around moneyed people. I’m sure I wouldn’t last a week in your life, either. Now, which way?”

Resignedly, he led her back up the street to where he’d left Toby and his dad lounging against the iron fence surrounding someone’s private yard. They both came alert at his approach, their attention fixing on his companion.

“Dad,” he said somewhat nervously. “Toby… This is Madeleine.”

“Glad to finally meet you,” Jonathan said calmly, offering his hand. Madeleine offered hers in such a way there was nothing he could really do except bow and kiss it. To Gabriel’s amazement, his father did so smoothly and without hesitation.

“The pleasure is all mine,” she said warmly. “Gabriel speaks glowingly of you both. And Mr. Caine, what an honor!”

“Oh, I’m nothing so special,” Toby said, smiling a little uncomfortably.

“You clearly are very modest, for being one of the most important people in the world,” Madeleine said with a smile. “Forgive me if you don’t prefer to discuss it, but I think you can perhaps help put Gabriel’s mind to rest. I believe he is worried I’m out to corrupt him or something. Tell me, isn’t it true that paladins can sense evil?”

“Um…’evil’ is a hugely subjective term,” Toby said carefully, frowning. “I can’t sense hostile intentions or differing philosophies or anything like that…which is most of what’s commonly called ‘evil’ end up being.”

“That has the ring of dogma,” Madeleine noted.

“Well, yes,” he replied with a sheepish grin. “The monks of Omnu are careful not to condemn anyone just for having different perspectives. But some things… Undead, demons, some kinds of spirits, yes. I can sense those.”

“Fascinating,” she said. “Are you certain? Have you ever encountered such a thing?”

Toby’s smile faded and he glanced around. No one was paying them any attention; his image hadn’t been widely circulated, and once he’d ducked the press, as far as anybody could tell he was just a teenager of Western descent in rather drab clothes. “After I was called… The Church keeps summoners on retainer. I was brought to a secure location and shown demons confined to spell circles, so I’d recognize the sensation. Yes, I’m sure.”

“I am glad to hear it,” she said, smiling. “And…?”

Toby smiled bad. “You seem positively lovely, miss, and about as evil as I am, I’d say.”

“Thank you, Mr. Caine,” she said smugly, smiling up at Gabriel. He had to smile back.

“So,” said Jonathan in a deceptively mild tone that Gabriel recognized with dread, “any particular reason Gabe thought you might have it in for him?”

Madeleine turned the full force of her smile on him. “I would say it is the result of a lifetime spent in hiding. He was, perhaps understandably, startled at being told that there is nothing wrong with being who and what he is. That perhaps there may even be advantages.”

Jonathan stared at her in silence for a long moment; Gabriel didn’t dare to speak. Toby glanced rapidly between the three of them. “That,” Jonathan said finally, “is a very dangerous line of thinking.”

“Dangerous doesn’t mean wrong,” Madeleine noted calmly.

“No, it doesn’t,” said Jonathan, his eyes boring into her. “It just means dangerous. No, it’s not fair, the way the world sees and treats Gabriel. It’s not right. But I’ve had a go at changing the world myself, and I know exactly how much the world doesn’t like that. I want my son to survive, and find what happiness he can. That means keeping his head down and not courting trouble.”

“It means being a second-class citizen,” she said grimly.

Jonathan transferred his gaze to Gabriel. “Yes,” he said softly, “it does. And I hate it so much that sometimes it could choke me. But I want him to live. If you stand up to the world, the world will put you back down. As hard as it can.”

“The world is changing,” Madeleine said, tightening her grip on Gabriel’s arm. “In a lot of ways. I happen to think that in the coming order, those who leverage whatever gifts they have will rise to the top. Your son is an extraordinary young man, Mr. Arquin, and it pains me how unaware of that he is. He could be destined for great things.”

“Mm.” Jonathan studied her face carefully. “How old are you?”

“Dad!” Gabriel burst out, mortified. Toby winced.

“Oh, my,” Madeleine said mildly. “How toweringly rude.”

“It’s just that I do recall, dimly, being a teenager,” Jonathan continued. “I wasn’t bad looking, if I say so myself.”

“I believe that,” Madeleine said sweetly.

He rewarded her with a ghost of a smile. “And even so, I couldn’t have dreamed of attracting the attention of a beautiful, wealthy woman in her…twenties?” She only smiled in silence, and after a moment he continued. “Between that and your…opinions concerning Gabriel’s prospects, I begin to see how he might wonder about your intentions.”

“Perhaps,” she replied, “you simply are so accustomed to worrying about his survival you haven’t had the chance to think about his prospects for having something greater than just existence. To answer your question, Mr. Arquin, I am far too young for you, and not too old for Gabriel. That is all that anyone needs to know.”

“Fair enough,” he said with a shrug. “As you said, though, I do have to think about these things. He’s a good boy, but it is somewhat odd that learning about his heritage makes you more interested and not less. You’re certain there’s nothing you’d like to tell us? Something that might explain your, shall we say, attraction to—”

“Have you lost your mind?” Gabriel burst out. “Do not talk to her like that!”

“It’s all right, darling,” Madeleine said, patting him on the arm, though she kept her eyes on Jonathan. “It’s a parent’s right and duty to be protective.”

“And there are any number of perfectly innocent explanations,” Jonathan said agreeably. “If you have a relative with a certain kind of bloodline yourself, for example…”

“Mr. Arquin, you seem to enjoy speaking bluntly, so allow me to do the same,” Madeleine said, her voice steely now. “Gabriel is, for all intents and purposes, as human as you or I, at least to look at. I have seen illustrations of full-blooded hethelaxi. Perhaps you, of all people, should think carefully before criticizing anyone else’s choice of lover.”

Everyone froze.

“Gabriel,” Jonathan said after a moment, meeting Madeleine’s gaze.

“Yes?” Gabe asked tensely.

Jonathan turned to look him in the eyes, finally, and smiled. “I like her.”

“But be careful around her,” he admonished as they walked.

Gabriel sighed. The sun was setting and they were finally heading home, having parted from Madeleine some time ago. He felt a great deal more at ease with and about her, but the tension between her and his father was clearly not completely in the past.

“I’m not going to bother explaining,” Jonathan continued, eyes on the street ahead, “as you clearly figured it all out. There are a few things that are…odd. Just speaking more generally, she’s clever and strong-willed, which characterizes the best women you can possibly get involved with, and also the worst.”

“As Toby pointed out,” Gabriel said, glancing over his shoulder at Toby, who was walking a few steps behind them, “it’s hard to imagine an ulterior motive for her. There’s almost no point in manipulating a part-hethelax. When they tested us at school they said I have pretty much the normal human aptitude for magic and no notable infernal gifts.”

Jonathan nodded slowly, making no reply. They continued on in silence for a while before he spoke again, his voice softer. “You’ve never asked me about your mother. I keep waiting for it, but you never have.”

Gabriel drew in a deep, slow breath and let it out just as slowly. “Is…there any chance of me meeting her?”

Jonathan shook his head. “I can’t imagine any situation where that could happen. If it looks like one is about to arise, you have my word I’ll give you as much warning as I can.”

“Do you think…I ought to know her?”

“I don’t know,” Jonathan said after a moment.

“Then, unless you change your mind, don’t worry about it,” Gabriel said firmly. “I know it’s been hard on you, Dad. Having me around, I mean. I figure talking about…her, and whatever happened between you, has to be rough. You don’t need any more stress on my part. And anyhow… I don’t really want to be any more in touch with that side of my heritage than I absolutely have to. Being Jonathan Arquin’s son is as much as I could want.”

Jonathan moved closer and threw an arm around his shoulder. “Madeleine and I agree on at least one thing, Gabe. There is nothing, not one damn thing, wrong with you. It’s the world that has the problem. You’ve gotta keep it in mind, got to be careful not to provoke trouble you’re not prepared to contend with. But don’t ever let anyone tell you you’re less than anyone else.” He stared forward as they walked, as if challenging the horizon. “Don’t you dare let them.”

< Previous Chapter Next Chapter >

Bonus #8: On Being a Man, Part 1

May 15, 2015UncategorizedGabriel, Jonathan Arquin, Madeleine, TobyD. D. Webb

< Previous Chapter Next Chapter >

“It feels weird… I mean, it’s the least of what feels weird, but being at school would be something familiar, at least. The term’s starting and I’m not there. It’s like being adrift. A little something else about my life that’s different.”

“Man, you overthink everything,” Gabriel said, grinning and kicking an errant pebble out of the path. “My dad pulled me out of school and I am as happy as a shroomhead.”

Toby looked at him in surprise. “You? Why? Gabe, tell me you didn’t flunk out. Your grades—”

“Excuse you, I am an extremely mostly acceptable student,” Gabe said haughtily. “Nah, it’s just… Well, it’s not exactly a secret we’re friends, y’know? People would be after me to tell them all the juicy secrets about you, and Dad figured me being the center of attention was a bad idea for several reasons.”

“I suppose that’s logical.” Toby frowned. “I don’t like being the cause of upending your life.”

“Toby, seriously, you are the glummest human being alive. I am not in school!” Gabriel grinned hugely. “When Dad first said ‘tutor’ I was having visions of some hot blonde number in a tight little bodice like Mrs. Tanner used to wear—”

“What is it with you and blondes?”

“—and instead I got this beak-nosed old guy who smells like dust, I kid you not. I didn’t realize dust had a smell till I met this man. And even so, I can’t say I was disappointed, because hello, not in school!”

Toby kept his eyes on the sidewalk ahead of them as they approached the Omnist complex. He had resisted, thus far, efforts to have him moved into the main Temple of Omnu on Imperial Square, but felt it was coming whether he liked it or not. “So, uh, how is… I mean, your dad, how’s…”

“How’s he affording a tutor?” Gabriel’s smile rapidly diminished. “He just tells me not to worry about it.”

“And you left it at that?”

“Of course not. I kept asking until the answer turned into ‘don’t worry about it’ in his ‘boy I am not damn well kidding’ voice. That’s where I left it.”

Toby chuckled ruefully. “Even I wouldn’t challenge that voice.”

“What, you, the great and mighty paladin?”

“Gabriel, I’ve met Omnu, and I’ve met your dad. In my official opinion as his Hand, I can honestly say that Omnu is a safer person to have mad at you.”

The last vestige of Gabriel’s smile faded. “For you, I guess.”

Toby winced. “I didn’t mean—”

“It’s okay.” Gabe gave him a quick little smile. Then they had reached the gates of the monastery, where a small knot of monks in traditional brown homespun were trying not to look like they were waiting.

“Tobias,” said the man in the forefront, a middle-aged, hawk-nosed man whose black hair was no longer retreating and had been thoroughly routed. “Did you have a pleasant walk?”

“Yes, Brother Cavin,” Toby said dutifully.

“Very good,” the man said with a sharp nod. “Come, it is nearing time for evening prayers. Say good-bye to your friend.”

Toby gave him a polite smile, turning to Gabriel. “Well, guess I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“In fact,” Cavin said firmly, “you had better make it good-bye.”

Toby stiffened, slowly turning back toward him. “I don’t think I take your meaning, Brother.”

“This…acquaintance…has been good enough, I suppose, for a child. Indeed, it seems you have done your part to keep him out of trouble. Some trouble, from what we hear. But a time comes to put away childish things. It comes for all, but you in particular have your role in Omnu’s plans to consider.”

“You can’t be serious,” Toby said incredulously.

Cavin continued addressing him directly, not acknowledging Gabriel with so much as a look. “Tobias, we have made our views on this clear from the beginning. You must accept the reality of your changing situation, and your responsibilities. What you do and with whom you do it will reflect on all of Omnu’s people from now on. Now… Say good-bye to your acquaintance.”

Toby looked at Gabriel, who looked thunderstruck, then back at the implacable Brother Cavin. Then, slowly, his own shocked expression resettled itself into firm lines.

“Brother Cavin,” he said softly, “of what crime, precisely, are you accusing Gabriel?”

Cavin frowned. “It is not a question of what he has done, but what he is. The demonblooded—”

“That’s not the question I asked you,” Toby went on, his voice firming.

“Toby,” Gabriel warned, but Toby held up a hand to silence him.

“I am asking you, Brother Cavin, what grounds you have to stand in front of Gabriel Arquin and declare, to his face, that he is unsuitable company for a member of our faith.”

Cavin was starting to actually look unsettled. “It—Tobias, you are not just a member of the faith.”

“Am I not? Should I lord over the faithful like a Vernisite trade priest? Gabriel has been my best friend for years. He is one of the best people I know. If you are going to condemn him for an accident of blood, you’re on very dangerous ground.”

Cavin’s mouth hung open now. In the entire seventeen years of his acquaintance with Tobias Caine, the boy had never once talked back to him.

“The people of Omnu, above all else, are to show compassion,” Toby said, his voice pitched loud enough to resonate both on the street and into the courtyard of the monastery. “Care between living things is the stuff of which life is made. You taught me that; I am disappointed to see you’ve forgotten. I think you should go back inside and ponder it.”

Brother Cavin stammered in shock. “I—Toby, that—”

“Go!” Toby snapped, pointing past him at the monastery.

The monk gaped at him in silence for a long moment, before jerking in a half-hearted bow and backing away. He turned and strode off to the wooden doors of the monastery’s main building, pausing once on the threshold to glance back at Toby, then vanished within.

The other monks slowly trickled after him, though several gave Toby encouraging grins. “Don’t be out too long, Toby,” an older woman said gently, then gave Gabriel a quick smile before following the rest of the group.

Toby drew in a deep breath; it shuddered audibly on the way back out.

“Wow,” Gabriel said in awe. “That was… Damn. Are you sure… I mean, be careful, Toby. I don’t want you messing things up for yourself on my account.”

“Gabe, I’m sorry to burst your bubble, but that was only slightly about you.” Toby managed a shaky smile. “It was slightly about me getting out from under Brother Cavin’s shadow before he makes himself my personal agent or something, but mostly it was exactly what I said. Omnists are to be compassionate. We don’t make as much a thing of justice as the Avenists, but you can’t be kind without some basic grasp of fairness.” He paused, then reached out to squeeze Gabriel’s shoulder. “I’ve been your friend long enough to see the way society treats half-demons is messed up. And I can’t very well be the Hand of Omnu if I see something like that without trying to do something about it.”

Gabe squeezed his lips together, trying to fight back a grin and ultimately failing. “So… Do you actually have the authority to give them orders?”

“Eh,” Toby hedged, wincing slightly. “It’s not a doctrinal prerogative, but… Hey, if the Hand of Omnu gave you a direct order, would you say ‘no?’”

“Heh, is that a hypothetical question or am I gonna have to find out?”

“Well, if we’re talking hypotheticals… I’m not saying I can be bribed with pastry…”

Gabriel laughed aloud, a sound that was more relief than amusement. “See you tomorrow, then?”

“Yes,” Toby said firmly. “You will.”

He stayed to watch the Hand of Omnu re-enter his monastery before turning and heading back toward his own apartment, whistling softly. Not even the furtive watchers in the street spoiled his good mood. Ever since Toby had been called by his god, the both of them had drawn more attention and curiosity than either liked, and the countermeasures against it weren’t much better. People had quickly figured out to leave them both alone, due to a combination of the monks’ influence, Gabriel’s father’s firm hand in the community, and worst of all, a heavily increased Imperial presence.

Even now, he could see more soldiers patrolling the Wide Spot than it reasonably warranted, and even a woman in the ankle-length navy blue coat of Imperial Intelligence. Aside from its long cut, that coat was identical in style to those worn by the Army, but it meant so much more. Intelligence operatives didn’t gad about in uniform due to the nature of their work; the presence of an agent in formal attire as a message that whatever was happening was Imperial business and all those present had better mind their own. The pestering had thus been much less than it otherwise might have, but Gabriel wasn’t about to argue with his father’s wisdom in pulling him out of school.

On the other hand, he didn’t much care for being watched. It was a learned instinct.

“Hey, pretty lady,” he said impishly to the woman in the Intelligence longcoat as he passed her spot on the street corner. “Where do I get a coat like that?”

The look she gave him was a skillful blend of amusement and condescension. “You don’t.”

“Well, that’s okay, it was just a pretext to break the ice anyhow,” he said, stopping. “What’s the matter? Never been flirted with before?”

Her smile remained unchanged; he noted a little belatedly that it didn’t go anywhere near her eyes. She moved on hand slightly, drawing back the coat just enough to reveal the heavier-than-normal wand holstered at her belt. “Not twice.”

Gabriel coughed awkwardly and resumed walking, a little quicker than before.

Head down, he very nearly ran smack into the next woman he encountered, who was backing carefully into the sidewalk from an antiques shop. Gabriel actually (to his mortification), let out a yelp of surprise, having to dance awkwardly into the street itself to avoid plowing into her.

“Oh!” she exclaimed in startlement, whirling and dropping her shopping bags.

“Gods, I’m sorry,” he blurted. “I wasn’t watch…I just…I…”

At some point deep in the abyss of her blue eyes, he forgot what he’d been trying to say. They were exquisitely framed by dark lashes, set in a heart-shaped face that somehow combined adorably rounded cheeks with an almost elvishly pointed little chin. Her rosebud lips were strikingly deep pink against her pale skin; dark hair flowed around her visage like…like a… Gabriel found himself trying to concoct a poetic simile and shook his head as though to chase fog out of his eyes.

“Uh, here, let me help you,” he said, bending to reach for one of the fallen bags. He slowed in the process, nearly forgetting what he was doing again as he noticed the rest of her. She had the kind of figure that could have been described as “thick” or “curvaceous,” depending on how she carried it… And she carried it very, very well indeed. The sleek, tailored blue dress she wore did a lot to heighten the effect. He had never imagined a bosom like that could exist…

Well, that wasn’t true. He’d just never expected to see one in person. Not this close, at least.

“That’s…all right?” she said somewhat archly as the silence stretched out. “I guess I can manage?”

Gabriel flushed, realizing that he was half bent over, one hand outstretched toward her bags, face inappropriately close to her chest and unabashedly staring. Quickly he finished the motion, fumbling to snatch up the shopping bag and hand it to her.

The amused, knowing expression on her face made his flush heat to the point he feared combustion. Even so, he couldn’t stop looking. Those eyes… Five minutes ago he couldn’t have conceived of a pair of eyes that could draw his gaze away from such a pair of…well.

“Mm, well,” she said without reaching for the bag, perfect lips curling up in an impish smile, “if you’d like to make it up to me, you can help me carry those. My carriage is parked just around the corner.”

“Oh! Uh, sure, that’s… I’d love to! I mean, least I can do, you know. Nearly hit you and all. I mean, not hit you, but almost…”

“That’s settled, then,” she said brightly, stepping around next to him and tucking her hand into his free arm. He was instantly paralyzed; she had to tug gently to get him moving. “My name’s Madeleine.”

“Madeleine,” he breathed. “That’s…wow, that’s gorgeous.”

Her laughter was a delightful trill, like birdsong. “You’re too kind!”

“I’m serious. It’s really pretty.”

She smiled up at him through her lashes, an incredibly unfair maneuver. “And… You are…?”

“Oh! Uh, I’m, uh…”

“You’ve forgotten?” she inquired sweetly. “Take your time.”

“Um, Gabe. Arkriel. I mean, Gabwin…” He closed his eyes, gritting his teeth in mortification. “Gabriel Arquin,” he managed finally.

“You’re sure, now?” Madeleine asked, grinning openly. “You wouldn’t like to reconsider? I have time.”

“Positive,” he mumbled, flushing to his collar and probably lower. “I’m just… Sorry. Not good at… I, uh, don’t know what to say.”

“Try the truth?” she suggested.

“The truth… The truth is stupid.”

“Probably less so than you think. Try me.”

“…and embarrassing.”

“I would never judge you, Gabriel Arquin,” Madeleine promised, again doing that brutal through-the-lashes trick.

“…you are the most beautiful thing I have ever seen in my life and I cannot think with the words making right now.”

She laughed brightly. He could have listened to it forever.

“You just may be the sweetest boy I’ve ever met,” she said, eyes twinkling up at him.

“I’m quite serious,” he said, her encouragement doing wonders to repair his equilibrium. “I am extremely stupid right now and it’s all your fault. Well, mostly your fault. I was only slightly stupid before, I promise.”

“Well, that’s good to know,” she murmured. “A lady likes to be reassured that she can render a gentleman…stupid.” She hugged his arm closer, quite coincidentally pressing his elbow into the plushness of her breast.

Gabriel managed to freeze completely without losing his stride, nearly the entirety of his attention concentrated on that elbow. He felt like a hunter staring, frozen, at a grazing deer, afraid the slightest movement on his part would spook her into flight. He was young enough, yet, to think such a maneuver on her part could be accidental.

“Perhaps I should make it up to you, then,” Madeleine suggested, coming to a stop and causing him to do the same. Belatedly, he realized they were standing next to a late-model Falconer roadster. This was the first time in his life he’d been this close to such an expensive carriage, and he had almost no attention to spare for it.

“What’s that, then?” he asked dumbly.

“Would you be a love and help me with these?” she asked sweetly. He found himself obediently lifting her bags into the carriage and settling them on the passenger’s seat. It was a tiny little thing, with hardly room for two.

Madeleine climbed gracefully into the driver’s seat, producing the control rune from a pocket. “For being rendered stupid on my behalf. I feel I ought to give you a chance to show me how clever you can be. A gentleman deserves the opportunity to put on his best face in order to win a lady.”

“W-win,” he stammered, gazing up at her.

“Mm. How does tea sound?”

“…tea? Sounds…good.”

“Tomorrow?”

“Um… Tea tomorrow? I guess…”

“Splended,” she said, smiling mysteriously. “Four o’clock. Be here. Ta ta, Gabriel Arquin.”

She wiggled her fingers flirtatiously at him, and then the carriage was smoothly accelerating away with a whisper-faint arcane hum.

Gabriel stood on the corner, gazing after her. When he finally gathered himself enough to turn and head back home, he was whistling again, mostly as an exercise in self-control. What he wanted to do was sing.

“So what’s her name?”

Gabriel choked on a mouthful of stew, which luckily provided him with a priceless few seconds of coughing in which to formulate a clever reply.

He finally lifted his eyes to look at his father across the table. “…what?”

Jonathan Arquin was smiling at him, an expression just short of smugness. “Y’know, son, as much as you enjoy getting in trouble, I’d think you’d have learned to lie better after seventeen years. Come on, now, is it that you think I’m an idiot, or that you think I sprang up fully-formed and was never a teenager? It’s been two weeks. You’re constantly running off to mysterious assignations which I know aren’t with Toby. And if they are, well, that raises some questions about the dopey grin you’re always wearing.”

Gabriel dropped his eyes again at that, his expression sobering. His father didn’t know how on the nose that crack actually was. The reminder jarred him back to a semblance of control. “I don’t know if…if I’m ready to… Well. Introduce…um.” He trailed off. Well, a semblance was better than nothing.

Jonathan leaned back in his chair, the mirth slipping away from his face. He pushed aside his stew bowl and folded his arms. “Gabriel, I think it’s time we had a talk.”

“Oh, no. Oh no.” Gabe dramatically covered both his eyes with his palms. “Dad, I’m begging you, please. We have had the talk. It was every bit as hideously awkward as every joke about parenting in every story makes it sound. Let’s never, ever go there again.”

“Not that talk,” Jonathan said wryly. “No, I think we covered all the salient points that time. There’s more to all this than just…mechanics.”

“Dad, I swear by all the gods…”

“Shut up and listen.” He didn’t raise his voice or put any heat into it, but Gabriel knew his father’s tone well enough to tell when the time for slippancy was over. He lowered his hands, leaning back in his own chair and giving his full attention. Not without a dramatic sigh, of course.

Jonathan had paused, and was now gazing abstractly at the now-cold wood stove in the corner of their cramped little kitchen, gathering his thoughts. “Despite the best efforts of the Avenists,” he said finally, “women get put under a lot of pressure in our society. A lot of bullshit pressure, most of it. Wasn’t always this way. Your great-great grandfather was an actual, honest-to-gods adventurer, in a time when that meant something impressive. In the stories he used to tell, a good half the people in his field were women, and nobody dared show ’em a whit less respect than they asked for.” He shook his head. “You can pretty much tell things have changed. It’s like everyone turned a little bit Shaathist at some point without knowing how or why.”

He turned back to stare intently at his son. “You’ve spent enough time around other teenage boys by this point to have heard a lot of horsewash starting with ‘women are all.’ How they talk too much, how they manipulate men to get what they want, how they never say what they really mean and don’t make sense most of the time. The truth is… Well, there’s a lot of truth in all that.”

Gabriel cringed. “Ugh. Dad, every time I hear somebody say something like that I expect my old history teacher to pop up and smack ’em with a ruler.”

“Julin Avelea, right?” Jonathan nodded, eyes glinting approvingly. “I liked that lady. It was almost a shame you outgrew the levels she taught in. No, women really do have a tendency to do stuff like that, and the thing you need to keep in your mind is why. Fact is, women are taught from the cradle to be nice. They’re expected to be friendly, to be non-confrontational, nurturing. A woman simply can’t afford to approach problems the way a man does in this society. Unless she’s wearing Silver Legion armor, the best she could hope for is not being taken seriously. In some places—hell, a lot of places, that kind of thing could put her in real danger.

“In a way, you just might be better positioned to understand women than ninety percent of boys your age, Gabe. You’re under a lot of bullshit pressure, too. You know all about keeping quiet when it isn’t fair, when nobody else has to. Think about that when you react—no, before you react to anything a woman does. They’re nice because they have to be; they’re indirect because they can’t afford not to be. And it’s men who made up these rules. Far too many men see a girl’s smile and react like it means ‘take me, I’m yours.’ Most of the time, what it means is more ‘I’ve noticed that you exist, please don’t rape me.’ So yes, they play word games and mind games and whatnot, because what the hell else are they gonna do? Everyone has to live, and we don’t let women live fairly.

“There are two critical, very easy mistakes a man’s likely to make. The first is assuming he’s been promised something, or is entitled to something, when he’s been shown just a little bit of encouragement.” Jonathan’s eyes bored into Gabriel’s, his expression flat. “The second is trusting too easily that a woman’s manipulations are just harmless female hijinks, when there may actually be something sinister going on.”

Gabriel frowned. “…sinister?”

Jonathan drew in a deep breath and let it out as a sigh. “Gabe…you are who you are, and who you are is basically a good kid. But you’re also what you are, and… There are always going to be a lot of people looking to hurt you…and a good few people looking to take advantage of you.”

Gabriel stiffened. “Madeleine is not—”

“Easy, boy,” Jonathan said firmly. “I don’t know this lady of yours; I have no idea what she is or isn’t about. I want you to think about what you see and hear from her, understand? Getting to spend time around a girl intimately, especially for the first time… Well, if she’s anything like the girls I met at your age, you’re gonna find that huge swaths of what she says and does don’t make any damn kind of sense. That just means you’re thinkin’ about it from your perspective, not hers. Pay attention, try to understand where she’s coming from… And always think about what it means.

“A man who takes advantage of a woman and demands more than she’s willing to offer is less than a man. I’ve made my share of mistakes, but I know I’ve raised you better than that. On the other hand… Don’t be in a hurry to offer trust where trust hasn’t been earned. And don’t mistake pretty eyes and a soft body for rightly earned trust. Understand?”

Gabriel nodded, staring down at the table.

“Gabriel.” Jonathan’s voice was gentle, but firm. “I need to know if you understand what I’ve told you.”

Gabe lifted his gaze. “…yes, sir.”

Jonathan sighed again, running a hand through his graying hair. “All right. I know damn well it’s a bunch of theory and it won’t start making sense until after you’ve make a whopping big mistake or three. Just try to think back on what I said at that point, eh?” He huffed the soft shadow of a chuckle. “Well…anyway. Want the rest of your stew?”

Gabriel stared at his half-empty bowl. “I… No, thanks. I don’t think I’m very hungry.”

“I know I shouldn’t have told her off, but oh, she makes me mad! I mean, the catty little put-downs are one thing, but interfering with my dressmaker? There is a code. There are rules. For heaven’s sake, we are trying to have a society here!”

“Mm hm,” Gabriel observed.

Madeleine sighed prettily, cradling her teacup in front of her. “I know you must think me dreadfully shallow to care about these things, Gabriel dear, but… Such is the world I live in. If I don’t pay attention to it, it’ll eat me alive. Anyone’s world will do that, left unattended. You’re ever so tolerant to let me prattle on so about things that don’t concern you.”

“Mm hm,” he agreed.

She studied his face thoughtfully for a moment. “Well. I’ve decided to paint my teeth green and grow a second head. That’ll show them.”

“Good idea,” he said vaguely, gazing at a point over her left shoulder.

Madeleine remained quiet, simply looking at him with that thoughtful expression. After a protracted moment, Gabriel slowly turned his gaze back to her eyes.

“And…that last bit was a test to see if I was listening.”

“Bravo!” Her eyes twinkled with amusement, in that distinctive way they did that always made his heart flutter. No one else had eyes like hers. Not even close. “You passed. Belatedly, but still! That makes you more sensitive than most men.”

“Glad I have that going for me, then,” he said, trying at a light tone with only marginal success.

“Gabriel,” she said gently, “you have very kindly indulged my chattering all afternoon. It was probably easier, with you clearly being in another world. Would you like to share what’s on your mind?”

He dropped his gaze from hers, studying the tablecloth.

“I have never judged you,” she said quietly, “and never shall.”

He lifted his eyes again, meeting hers. There was nothing, for a brief eternity, except her blue gaze and the simple openness in it. The soft sounds of the upscale cafe around them seemed to fade into the distance. He had to forcibly jerk himself back to focus.

“I… There are things you don’t know about me.”

“We’ve known each other for…two weeks, yes?” She smiled lopsidedly, a mischievous expression he loved. “There are scads of things we both don’t know about each other. You can tell me anything you like, darling.”

He glanced around. The cafe was too perfect for intimate assignations to have been anything but designed for it. Tables were separated by thick walls which served as planters for enormously healthy philodendrons, their leafy vines crawling over decorative lattices and frosted glass partitions. The table was approachable only from the front; he could barely hear any of their neighbors, and couldn’t see them at all. It was a lovers’ place, a place for secrets.

Even so, he lowered his voice.

“I’m a half-demon.”

He had dreamed and feared saying the words for so long; now they hung in the air like a bad smell.

Madeleine just looked at him in silence, her expression not changing a bit. Gabriel met her gaze, shifting nervously in his chair.

Finally, when he was thinking seriously about getting up and fleeing, she spoke.

“What kind?”

Gabriel blinked at her. “Um… What?”

“I mean, what kind of demon,” she clarified. “There are several that are known to interbreed with humans.”

“You’re not… Surprised?”

“Oh, Gabriel.” Smiling fondly, she shook her head. “You mustn’t think I’ve been spying on you, but… Well, a lady gets curious about the gentleman with whom she keeps company. I have asked around a little bit, and people in your neighborhood are only too eager to talk about the resident demonblood.”

He stared at her. “You…you never mentioned…”

“Is there a reason it should bother me?” Her smile was vaguely feline. “I assumed you would tell me when you felt comfortable doing so. I’m very glad that day has come; I’m honored you would trust me. I am curious, though. What kind? It does make a difference, if I’m to know what to expect.”

He leaned back slowly in his chair, still staring at her eyes. “Hethelax.”

“Hmm…” Madeleine nodded slowly. “That’s good.”

“Good?!”

“Hethelaxi aren’t spellcasters,” she said, as calmly as she had discussed dresses and the tea, and more calmly than she’d related the would-be theft of her seamstress by another well-heeled young lady. “If you’d had sshitherossz blood, for example… That could be problematic. Young demonbloods who accidentally develop magical skills… Well, that kind of magic tends to land one in trouble, no? Hethelaxi, though, that blood won’t give you anything too troublesome. A bit of a temper, maybe, which I know by now you haven’t got. So… All you’ll have inherited is an allergy to divine magic, and a complete imperviousness to…well, everything else!” She smiled broadly. “A very fair trade-off, don’t you think? After all, what use it the holy light to someone who can’t be hurt?”

“You know your demonology,” he said quietly.

“I read.” Her voice had a faint edge to it now. “Demons, as I’m sure you’re aware, are quite dangerous. It seems only foolish not to know the basics.”

“You’re just so… So gorgeous,” he murmured.

“Well, it’s an abrupt change of subject,” Madeleine purred, “but I can’t find it in me to complain. Do go on.”

“So, just, perfect. Beautiful and poised and sexy and fun.”

“Excellent, just excellent. Continue, please.”

“And in addition to all of that, you’re…” He waved a hand, indicating the demurely tasteful cafe, the lace-trimmed napkins, silken tablecloth and fine china. “Riding around in that fabulous carriage of yours, eating in places I could never dream of affording… It’s been like a dream.”

“Well, not quite as complimentary,” she said dryly, “but I suppose it would be churlish to refuse even distant praise.”

“And with all of this,” he said, “it just hasn’t occurred to me to wonder what a woman like you would want with someone like me.”

“A woman. Like. Me.” Madeleine set down her teacup, interlaced her fingers and propped her chin in them, gazing at him. “If I did not know you were such a sweetheart, Gabriel, I might have to strain to think of a context in which that was a compliment.”

“You could have pretty much any man in the capital begging at your feet. And here I am, a seventeen-year-old kid from a rough neighborhood. I really am an idiot for not…wondering.”

“Oh, so now I’m too old for you?” She raised one sculpted eyebrow. “You’re backpedaling in very much the wrong direction, darling.”

“And you are deflecting,” he accused.

Madeleine shrugged. “If you must pry, I am still well on the right side of thirty. Perhaps I seem distantly sophisticated and mature to you, Gabriel, but the gap between us isn’t as great as all that. It will grow less significant with each year that passes.”

“Maybe I’m being unfair…”

“That seems to be a man’s prerogative, in my experience.”

“But,” he continued doggedly, “now that the subject is raised, I just can’t stop wondering what it is you might want with a demonblood.”

Madeleine unlaced her hands and reached across the table, wrapping her dainty fingers around his wrist. Her skin was silky, soft and cool. “A demonblood in general? I can’t imagine. But one demonblood in particular? Gabriel.” Her tone was soft, firm, coaxing. “I know it hasn’t been long. I know there’s so much for both of us yet to reveal. But please don’t think I don’t see you for who you are. There is so much to you. Such…potential.” She all but breathed the last word, gazing limpidly at him.

Slowly, very slowly, he pulled back, withdrawing his hand. “I…” Gabriel finally broke his gaze from hers. His movements suddenly awkward, he rose from the table. “I, um. Thank you for the tea, Madeleine. And the company. I’m… I’m gonna walk home. I need to think.”

“Of course, love,” she said sadly. Gabriel swallowed heavily, turned and shuffled off, shoulders hunched and hands stuck in his pockets.

Madeleine watched him go, waited until he was out the doors of the cafe and beyond sight of its plate glass windows before moving again. She delicately picked up a fork and speared a bite of frosted sponge cake.

“You think, my dear,” she murmured to herself. “So will I.”

Enjoying The Gods are Bastards? Please support it by voting!

< Previous Chapter Next Chapter >

Bonus #7: Songbird

May 13, 2015UncategorizedProfessor Tellwyrn, Teal, VadrienyD. D. Webb

< Previous Chapter Next Chapter >

She wasn’t afraid of them. That was what was different.

It didn’t mean she wasn’t afraid.

“Still the same old Teal,” Massi said in her too-sweet voice, a heavy layer of syrup covering the taste of poison. “And here I’d almost thought a few months in Tiraas would teach you some basic social skills. Alas,” she said with a sigh, half-turning to her cronies and making a languid gesture with one hand that encompassed Teal from her thick (comfortable) shoes to her wind-ruffled hair, starting to come loose from its ponytail in drifting strands.

Massi was tiny, dark and pretty. She had always made Teal feel inadequate just by existing, even before she learned to make an art form of it.

Teal crossed her arms over her chest, well aware it was a defensive motion, fully conscious that the girls would react to the apparent sign of weakness like sharks scenting blood, but not able to stop herself. Some girls were smooth, self-contained, poised. Others were like her.

“Massi,” she began.

“That’s Lady Massi to you, commoner,” the teenager said coldly, lofting one elegantly sculpted (and plucked) eyebrow. Teal, despite her growing fear, sighed.

It was all so predictable. Massi Taluvathi hailed from an ancient noble line—ancient, but these days not wealthy or influential. In fact, her father worked for Teal’s family, as did the parents of both of Lady Massi’s sycophants, girls of less excellent breeding but similar dispositions who now stood flanking her and smirking maliciously at Teal. One complaint from Teal could have rendered all their families unemployed; a serious effort on her part could quite possibly have left the homeless. It galled a girl like Massi to be in a subordinate position to the nouveau riche Falconers, and having discovered that Teal wasn’t going to do anything to her, she had taken to sharpening her emotional claws on Teal as if it was her only joy in the world.

Teal shifted, her heavy shoes clunking on the planks of the old footbridge. She had so been looking forward to this, to walking in the familiar forest behind her home, the place where she had spent so many of her happiest hours growing up. Massi and her coterie had discovered this habit, of course, but even so, it was a large forest with numerous paths; she could usually manage to escape them in it—unless, as today, they headed her off on a narrow trail.

“So,” Massi purred, slinking forward one swaying step at a time—Teal gulped, averting her eyes—“you clearly were not at finishing school. Whatever could have induced your family to rush you off to the city in such a hurry? A medical emergency, perhaps? Or something less…wholesome?”

“I heard she got caught with her hand up the maid’s skirt,” Lorette said, grinning with sadistic delight at Teal.

“Oh, please, my brother goes through maids like pastries,” Damania said dismissively.

“But he’s your brother,” Lorette replied gleefully. “That’s natural. Unlike some things I could name.”

“Anyhow,” Damania went on, smirking so hard she seemed to risk facial injury, “I heard it was someone more…important. Whose skirts did you try to climb, Teal, darling?”

“You know,” Lorette tittered, “Duke Madouri’s daughter is very nearly of age.”

“Now, ladies,” Massi reproved with malicious complacency, “you’re not giving dear Teal the chance to explain yourself. What about it, Teal, dear? Have you moved on from ogling women to, say, farm animals? They do say perversion is a slippery slope.”

Lorette and Damania rewarded this with obligatory gasps and giggles.

“Don’t,” Teal said tersely.

“I’m sorry, dear, what was that?” Massi asked sweetly. “Do try speaking in complete sentences. Pretend, for a moment, that you are a civilized human being, if only for our sakes.”

Teal didn’t bother explaining that she hadn’t been talking to them. She didn’t have the extra attention to spare. Explaining things to them was wasted energy anyway; they’d never understood why she allowed this treatment. Yes, she could have had their fathers sacked, but that would have been an exercise of force. Violence was violence, however indirect. The girls weren’t the only ones present having trouble with this concept.

Teal hated herself a little bit for what she said next. “I don’t have time for this today,” she said, tension thrumming in every line of her body. “Go away, or…or I’ll—I’ll tell my father.” Gods, how she hated it, hated failing herself like that. A threat was a threat. It was all she could think of, though, her best plan for warding off something far worse.

Maybe a peaceful walk in the woods hadn’t been such a great idea.

Lorette and Damania paled in unison, glancing nervously at each other. Teal had never shown them even this much spine before, and the threat was a significant one. To live in Tiraan Province and be at odds with the Falconers was a recipe for serious trouble.

Massi, however, narrowed her eyes, her false smile dissolving into a far more honest sneer. “Oh, no, Teal, we just can’t have that. I think you’ve gone and picked up some bad ideas while you were off in the big city, apparently not being cured of your freakishness.” She stepped closer; Teal tensed further. “You will respect your betters. You don’t talk to me that way.”

“Don’t!” Teal repeated urgently, barely conscious of Massi and the others now.

“Don’t what, sniveling little pup?” Massi snapped, stalking forward. “Really, speak up, I am dying to hear this. Don’t. What?”

On the last word, she shoved Teal hard in the shoulders with both hands.

Teal stumbled backward, flailing for balance. It cost her the last bit of her control.

Her body twisted painfully, warping; her arm, when it lashed out at Massi, was half again as long as it should be, warped and distorted so severely the sleeve of her dress burst around the bulging, malformed muscle of her forearm. Her fingers locked themselves around Massi’s throat, long enough to encircle her neck and overlap again, tipped now in murderous claws.

The other two were screaming, now. Massi looked like she wanted to, if she could breathe.

Oddly enough, with the thing she had so feared coming to pass, Teal felt only resignation. She sighed mentally, not currently able to do so physically, and settled back to watch.

Vadrieny hiked Massi bodily off the ground by the neck, grinning up at her. Teal’s jaw distorted, her lips stretching abnormally wide, almost to her ears, mouth suddenly bristling with jagged teeth. She couldn’t see her face, of course, but knew well enough what it would look like. The eyes Massi was now staring into, panicked, were fathomless black pits, a dancing spark of flame deep within.

“Do you know what a teenage girl’s liver tastes like?” Vadrieny asked pleasantly. Despite the grotesque twisting she inflicted on Teal’s body, her voice was beautiful, hauntingly so. She pulled Massi down closer, till their noses were nearly touching; the girl twitched and flailed helplessly, eyes rolling in panic. “I do,” the demon whispered.

Damania had fled already. Lorette huddled on the dirt path, rocking back and forth, apparently paralyzed by terror.

“You know what your problem is?” Vadrieny went on, grinning insanely and displaying six cats worth of fangs in the process. “You’re just…so…pretty. You are a lovely little doll, and everyone has spent your whole life teaching you that this means you can get away with anything. You’ve never had to develop any character, never had to make an effort on your own behalf. Never had to treat others with the merest hint of compassion or respect. Really, being so pretty is the source of all your problems.”

She lifted Teal’s other arm, the limb bulging, twisting, bending in places it wasn’t supposed to. Her fingers stiffened like a bird’s talons, not growing as long as those on the other hand, but sprouting black claws from the tips. Vadrieny gently traced those wicked claws down Massi’s cheek.

“Pretty,” she cooed, “is fixable.”

Massi emitted a shrill noise like steam escaping a teapot. It was more than Teal could bear.

She lashed out with all her will, slamming the sheer force of her personality against Vadrieny. Their shared body twitched and heaved with the struggle; Teal managed to seize enough control to loosen her fingers.

Massi wasn’t so much dropped as thrown, but at least she was away. She struck the ground hard and rolled.

“Run,” Teal rasped, forcing her voice out in the process of writhing physically with inner conflict. Vadrieny, her cruel suggestions of a moment ago already forgotten, was flailing against her in the throes of a berserker fit. “Run. RUN! GO!”

Mercifully, they did. She actually took two involuntary steps after them, and didn’t manage to stop her legs from moving. They buckled, however, the right leg suddenly longer and ending in malformed talons that had shredded her shoe, the left twisting so that its knee didn’t work quite right. For once, Teal felt pure gratitude for the chaotic effect Vadrieny had on her body.

Why did you do that?!

You know why! Why do you allow them to treat you that way?!

It’s better than the alternative!

Better? BETTER?! An inhuman screech tore itself from her throat, Vadrieny’s expression of pure frustration. I can see your memories! They abused you for years, and you could have stopped it at any time! Destroyed them, driven their whole families out of the province! How can you tolerate that? How can you be so weak?

“WEAK?” Teal roared, vocally as well as in her head. Her jaws gnashed, not fully under her control; murderous fangs ground into her tongue, and the pain was sharp, but no real damage was done. Her body, deformed and tortured as the demon made it, was also all but invulnerable, even to itself.

You dare call me weak? she raged on inwardly. Of course I could have made them stop! I didn’t, because I have principles! I don’t make people do things, that is not who I am. Do you know what that’s like? Can you even fathom it? Day after day of this, refusing to bend or compromise what matters to me no matter what they poured on? Could you have done it? You don’t know what strength IS!

There was a moment of silence. Not a bird or insect made a sound in the nearby woods. Vadrieny had that effect on wildlife.

Then, silently, the demon sent her a rush of affection. It was uncertain, hesitant, stuttering… She had difficulty with simple love, almost as if she feared it, but she was getting better about that, and the emotion was sincere. They didn’t have the capacity to hide feelings from each other.

Teal panted heavily, grimacing with discomfort as her body began to un-twist, restoring itself to its proper form. Not all the way, though. Enough that she could walk, that her arms evened up, the lopsided warping of her spine and ribcage subsiding, allowing her to stand fully upright again.

You are weak, Vadrieny said, but…also strong. You’re right, Teal, that took strength. But…you could have acted. You could have done something. You didn’t, because you were afraid.

I was not—!

You can lie to yourself; obviously you have been. You can’t lie to me. You were afraid.

She closed her eyes, sinking slowly to her knees on the footbridge. Resting one hand against it, she felt fresh gouges in the wood, raked there by Vadrieny’s claws.

I don’t know what else I could have done.

The demon sent another rush of love, a mental embrace, more confidently this time. I don’t either.

“Oh, gods,” Teal whispered aloud. “Oh, gods, we are in so much trouble.”

Oh…yeah. The Church sort of warned us not to do things like that, didn’t they?

“Sort of,” she mumbled. “…what are we going to do?”

Silence.

“We’re not going to fight off the Church,” Teal said firmly.

I wasn’t going to suggest that!

“You were thinking it.”

I can’t help thinking it. We have the strength.

“Not to take on the Universal Church and the Empire, and even if we could, that would be it for any chance of having a normal life.” She slumped lower. “Not that I did anyway…”

I’m… I’m sorry, Teal.

“No,” she said firmly, wrapping her arms around herself and responding to Vadrieny with a wave of pure affection. “No, I’m sorry. This situation isn’t your fault. I didn’t want to make you feel unwanted.”

A tentative mental hug in reply.

“Us being bonded, I meant. That’s not your fault,” Teal said after a moment, the ghost of a smile creeping onto her face. “This situation, revealing yourself and assaulting a noblewoman, that’s all on you.”

I am not going to sit quietly while you let yourself be savagely abused! Get used to the idea.

Teal sighed heavily. “…I guess we’d better go home and deal with this.”

I guess so…

They sat there in silence.

…yeah, me either.

Teal nodded.

Are we being cowardly?

“No.” Teal shook her head. “No, we’re going back. Just…” She swallowed. “Gods. Just not yet. I need some…I need to…”

Me too.

She stood abruptly and bolted into the woods, in the opposite direction from home. Vadrieny gave her no argument.

They’d been walking for nearly an hour, pushing through underbrush and around trees, before Teal asked.

“Why…why do you think it’s so messed up and twisted, when you come out?”

It took Vadrieny a little while to answer; Teal could feel her mulling silently, comparing dimly-perceived sensations.

It’s…wrong. It doesn’t feel right. Being in your body that way.

“Like…you’re not supposed to have a body?”

No, not that… I think I am supposed to have one. Something about the way I’m in yours. It…doesn’t fit right.

She nodded thoughtfully, momentarily distracted by extricating herself from a blackberry bramble. Her dress was well and truly ruined… Ah, well, that was the least of her problems today.

“None of the priests or wizards ever asked about this. I don’t think they cared much about the why.”

I think it was more that it seemed appropriate to them. Me being a twisted thing. It suits their image of demons.

“Is that image…right?”

Talking about demons is like talking about animals. That’s not just one type of thing. A dog would feel wrong if you put it in a fish’s body.

Teal stopped suddenly in the middle of a stream.

“What if…what if it felt right?”

I don’t think I understand.

A prickle of excitement was growing in her; she wasn’t sure if it was hers or Vadrieny’s. Maybe both. An idea was slowly taking shape in her mind, and it enthused her even as it formed.

“You’re always fighting it. We’re always fighting it. I can feel it in both of us… Trying to repress it.”

Shouldn’t we? I don’t belong…

“Don’t say that,” Teal said fiercely. “There are no priests here. You’re a person, you matter, you have the right to exist, and I love you! Damn it, Vadrieny, be!”

The excitement was rising, the demon’s mirroring her own.

How?

Teal stretched her arms to both sides, as if to embrace the forest around them. “Forget keeping quiet or fighting yourself back. What does it feel like to be you?”

You know I can’t remember!

“Don’t remember, then. Don’t think it, feel it. If you can feel wrong about the way you come out, that means something in you remembers the right way.”

But…it’s your body.

“It’s ours.”

Teal…

“We’re both here. We have to share this life. There is room for you. Feel yourself!”

Vadrieny didn’t reply, but Teal could feel her pondering. She spun in an exuberant circle, silently willing her invisible partner to share the sheer experience of being, of physically existing in a body. Then, tentatively, the sensations rose, the now-familiar presence of another intelligence moving her limbs. It was much more hesitant this time, though. Usually it was anger or protectiveness that caused Vadrieny to show herself; this slower, thoughtful approach was new.

Teal had lowered her arms; her right one lifted itself again, and she watched it with interest, waiting for the shift. It never came out quite the same way, but the end result always reminded her of a gorilla’s arm crossed with a tree root: powerful, twisted, irregular and too long for her frame. Nothing like that happened, though. She felt Vadrieny’s consciousness slowly explore down her arm, not changing anything… And then her fingers shifted.

Only the fingers. Where before the black claws were stubby things that burst through the skin at her fingertips, this time the fingers themselves elongated, shifting. Then, she raised her left arm and watched as it followed suit. Teal, feeling some control return to her, flexed her hand experimentally, studying them. The claws were huge, black, and bladed, more like sickles than any weapon an animal had. Yet, they were graceful. Elegant, even. And they were the merest touch, an addendum to an arm that was still recognizably hers.

It’s ironic.

“Hm?”

It’s a much smaller change, isn’t it? When I’m not trying to stop it from changing.

Teal laughed, swinging her arms. She sidestepped to a rock outcropping and slashed her left hand at it; the boulder crumbled under the blow, gravel spraying from beneath her claws. Dancing back the other way, she planted her right palm against a tree and shoved. The crash it made as it toppled was astoundingly satisfying.

“More!” she ordered.

Hmm… Move your legs.

Teal danced lightly from side to side.

Not like that, you loon, Vadrieny chided in amusement. Just walk! Like you normally would.

Teal set off through the trees again at a brisk pace, all but bouncing. The exuberance she had begun to feel was growing, resonating with Vadrieny as if they amplified each other. She could feel the demon silently, carefully exploring her body, running her consciousness through her limbs, gently testing how everything felt. It was like being caressed, all over, from the inside. It was weird and wild and oddly sweet.

She almost didn’t notice, so smooth was the transition. From one step to the next she rose slightly off the ground, her feet reshaping themselves according to the demon’s half-understood self-image. The partially destroyed shoe was the first to go, followed immediately by the other, ripped apart by enormous talons. Teal didn’t slow, but studied them as she walked (narrowly avoiding running into a tree). They looked much like birds’ feet, though more muscular, the three splayed toes tipped in thick, wickedly hooked claws. And…they were symmetrical. Frightening, menacing, but in comparison to the previous mutilation that had accompanied Vadrieny’s appearances, not monstrous.

A laugh bubbled up in her, and she increased her pace to a run. The talons impeded her not at all; she balanced on them as naturally as if she’d been doing so her whole life. Then, emerging from the trees into more open space, she burst into a series of jubilant bounds. Her legs were like pistons; she could leap for yards, hopping nimbly over the tumbled boulders that marked this edge of the forest. Vadrieny’s own exultant laughter echoed in her mind.

Then, suddenly, she skidded to a stop, pinwheeling her arms, just a few feet short of plummeting over a precipice.

Wow. Where are we?

“That’s…that must be the River Tira,” Teal said, craning her neck to peer down the canyon at the water frothing below. It was a massive gorge, though not nearly so wide or deep as it would be miles to the south, where it terminated in towering falls to either side of the island on which Tiraas was perched. “Wow. How long have we been walking?”

Vadrieny didn’t respond in words, but with a gleeful, silent urging. Teal found herself sorely tempted to follow the impulse, but argued nonetheless.

“That has to be two hundred feet down!”

We could fall from the very roof of the sky, and only the ground would suffer!

Bravado it was, but she knew it was also truth. A wild grin stretched over Teal’s features. It was crazy… But in the opposite direction from that plunge down to rushing water and jagged rocks was her own life, what was left of it. The Church was probably looking for her by now.

She laughed aloud, not even truly deciding to do it. It was just, quite suddenly, being done, and with a powerful spring of her taloned feet, Teal was hurtling into empty space over the drop.

Her stomach plummeted out from under her as she arced out and began to descend, screaming and laughing all at once. She had never in her life felt so alive, never imagined that she could. Inside her, Vadrieny whooped and gloried in the fall. Wind rushed past, buffeting them, and the distant bottom rose furiously to meet them.

Then something exploded from Teal’s back.

Her dress was savagely ripped; sprays of blood were hurled into the air from between her shoulder blades. In and around her own pained shock she felt Vadrieny’s incongruous sense of rightness. It was like the sensation of a scab being torn off, magnified by a thousand. It was agony. It was wonderful.

And until her wings began to beat, she didn’t truly understand what had happened.

Then she was screaming, laughing and crowing in delight all at once. Her descent evened out, becoming entirely horizontal just before she would have reached the bottom; Teal extended a hand, dragging her claws through the river, before beginning actually to rise again.

The wings continued to form even as they worked, spindly and ragged feathers filling in and multiplying; pinions no more substantial than cobwebs fleshed themselves out until she possessed a full spread of gleaming white eagle wings. Even at their final, massive spread, they wouldn’t have been enough to support her weight in the air; birds flew in part because of their hollow bones and other adaptations. Anyhow, she had begun to ascend before the wings were substantial enough to support even themselves. Clearly, their flight owed more to more magic than physics.

It didn’t matter. Teal’s newfound delight was echoed even more deeply by Vadrieny’s. They were right.

They soared up over the rim of the canyon, then continued to angle upward, till they were rising nearly vertically. The wings carried on beating, but they were ascending at a rate well beyond anything for which wings could be credited. Teal realized she wasn’t controlling their flight, exactly… She could feel Vadrieny’s command over it, and felt she could influence that with a thought… It was surreal and confusing, even as it was gloriously liberating.

How high can we go? The wind was rushing past her with such intensity she didn’t even try to speak.

How high? We can go until “high” doesn’t mean anything anymore!

Show me!

Faster and faster, higher and higher, till the wind passing them burned with the intensity of their rush through it. Teal grinned into the thinning sky, knowing she should be suffering some ill effect from this, and feeling nothing of the kind. Vadrieny was feeling like herself, feeling truly free for the first time since they had been joined. It was a deeply satisfying thing to experience, enough to distract her from the gradual vanishing of the air itself.

The sky darkened and brightened at once. Wispy atmosphere faded away behind her, and Teal gaped in awe at the stars. There was nothing to breathe up here, but she found she had no need to. The cold was so intense it burned; that didn’t bother her overmuch either. She’d had no idea there were so many stars, or that they had colors. It was as if the sky were a solid carpet of them. Gazing around at their sparkling glory, she had the sense that even in the black spaces between them lurked more stars, invisible only due to great distance.

Almost lazily, Vadrieny pivoted. The world floated below them, an enormous plate of green, blue and brown, partly obscured by cloud banks that looked completely flat from up here, limned by a faint fuzz of atmosphere around the edges.

If only there had been air, she would have laughed for sheer joy. They shared it between them, needing no words.

Then, at a sudden, unspoken consensus, they dived back down.

The planet had turned somewhat out from under them; Vadrieny brought them in at an angle, heading back in the general direction of their starting point. Well, at least they were aiming at the right continent; the finer details they could work out later.

As they plunged back into the atmosphere, air began to actually burn against them with the speed of their passing. Soon, Teal could scarcely see through the haze of flames. She paid that little mind. Something about this was resonating within Vadrieny, and she lent the demon her mental support, emoting encouragement, acceptance. She sensed another transition in the offing, and sensed that it would be a final one. Vadrieny’s form far more closely matched the half-seen conception in her mind. There couldn’t be much more to change.

Teal’s dress, though reduced to rags by one thing and another now, didn’t burn. Somehow it was protected by her presence. That was new; Vadrieny’s changing form clearly brought gifts aside from the physical.

They descended in a column of flames. Almost as an afterthought, the demon shifted something in Teal’s eyes, enabling them to see through the fire. The flames rose up from within, matching those without and achieving equilibrium between them.

That was it.

As though sparked by the revelation, fire erupted from them, from hair and feathers, blazing from within their eyes.

Teal couldn’t see her form, but she felt it intimately. She knew what she looked like. Herself, a young woman, but augmented with burning wings, with a mane of fire, with wicked talons and claws, a mouthful of even, glossy fangs, eyes that were like gateways into the inferno of her spirit.

You’re beautiful!

We are beautiful, Vadrieny corrected her.

They pulled sharply out of their dive, plunging into a valley between mountain peaks and rising again. Teal peered about, trying to orient herself. She didn’t know the landmarks very well, but she guessed they were in the Stalrange, far to the east of her home in Tiraas. And likely somewhat north; this range extended all the way up to Puna Dara.

There was air, now, though, and they had slowed and leveled enough that it wasn’t burning around them. She let out a whoop of sheer exultation, and then on impulse, turned it into a note.

Vadrieny lent her voice, and without any planned melody in mind, she sang. They sang.

Swooping in and around jagged peaks, diving through valleys, they sang for pure joy, for freedom, for power and victory, and finally being themselves. There was no tune, but there was harmony. It was all they needed.

They banked, beat their wings to slow, then plummeted forward once more, executing a completely unnecessary midair somersault before slamming talons-first onto a mountain ledge hard enough to crack the stone. Grinning with mad delight, they drew in a deep breath of the sweet, icy mountain air, preparing to unleash the full force of Vadrieny’s voice in an expression of untouchable joy.

“Stop!”

They whirled, startled, as another figure careened out of the sky, skidding to an ungainly halt on the snow-dusted ledge. Even as she somewhat clumsily caught her balance, the woman was frantically waving her arms. “Stop! Don’t do it!”

“Uh…what?” Vadrieny tilted her head.

The new arrival was an elf in green woodfolk attire, and, unlike any elf Teal had ever seen, gold-rimmed spectacles. She irritably straightened her shirt, brushing snow from the sleeves as she landed, but didn’t seem bothered by the cold, which was intense. Elves, having relatively little muscle and almost no body fat, tended to avoid colder climates.

“Does the word avalanche mean anything to you?” the elf demanded, glaring at them. “You’ve got possibly the most powerful set of pipes of anybody alive. For the love of Omnu, don’t unleash them! People live in this mountain range!”

Teal froze, looking guiltily around at the snowy peaks.

“Yeah, didn’t think of that, did you?” The elf planted her fists on her hips. “I think you’ve already caused me enough trouble for one day, thanks. Tracking a person-sized target moving at speeds like that is damn near impossible; luckily I’m me, and you two are making a rather cosmic spectacle of yourselves.”

“Who, exactly, are you?” Vadrieny asked.

“My name is Arachne Tellwyrn.” One corner of her mouth rose in grim amusement at their expression. “Ah, got your attention now, have I? Splendid. Well, Vadrieny, Miss Falconer, I hope you realize you’ve gone and scared the Church officials who are keeping tabs on you good and proper. There’ll be consequences for that.”

“We… I didn’t hurt her, not really,” the demon said defensively.

“Her?” Tellwyrn’s eyebrows rose. “…what did you do?”

“You mean you’re not here about—”

“What did you do!”

“Just scared a smug bitch who was picking on Teal,” Vadrieny growled.

“Oh.” Tellwyrn visibly relaxed. “Pfft, is that all you were worried about? Please, your handlers knew something like that was bound to happen when they let you off the leash. I’m sure it’s already being taken care of. No, I’m referring to you having reassembled your true form, Vadrieny. Impressive as this is, you need to think about how it looks. You’ve gone from a warped, erratic thing to…” She waved expressively at them. “This. A picture of demonic power and glory. This is not going to make anyone happy.”

“Out of the frying pan, into the fire,” Teal said glumly. Somewhat to her surprise, Vadrieny spoke the words aloud, even using her precise inflection. This bond was eerie at times.

“For starters,” said Tellwyrn, “I’m going to recommend that you keep quiet and keep inside as much as possible. No one is likely to forget you’re in there, but Teal is a lot less threatening, and appearances count for more than most people in power like to admit. Aside from that, however, I think it’s time you started considering your future.”

“What future?”

“To begin with, the hope that you can have one, which at this point is far from certain.” She folded her arms, studying them thoughtfully. “I’m sure you’ve heard that I run a school. You’ll be old enough in a few years; I’d like you to attend.”

For a moment, demon and teenager were silent, studying the elf suspiciously while the wind howled around them. “What do you get out of that?” Vadrieny asked finally.

“Ah,” Tellwyrn said in a satisfied tone, smiling, “good. Very good. That is a question you need to think about carefully, every time it crosses your mind—and begin training yourself to think about it even when the matter is not immediately before you. The fact is, you two represent a massive, living challenge to the plans of just about everyone who has any. Quite apart from the incomparable destructive potential you represent, you’re a walking—and now, flying—challenge to huge swaths of established theology. People are going to try to use you, because people just can’t leave well enough alone. Everyone has an agenda. Don’t forget that for a moment.”

“Uh huh,” Vadrieny said, echoing Teal’s skepticism. “And what’s yours?”

Tellwyrn tilted her head to one side, studying them thoughtfully. “I am one of the most powerful beings in the world, and I’ve been in it for three thousand years. If I had any intention of running anything, I would be doing so. The fact is, I’ve got exactly what I want: my University. Trust is something laboriously earned, but with regard to my intentions, you can be assured based on simple logic that I’m not out to use you in some scheme of my own.

“I have a pet theory,” she continued. “Values vary by time and place; virtue is a matter of perspective; morality is almost entirely made up. Where people come to grief is when they don’t damn well think about the consequences of their actions. That is why I took up the mantle of educator: I look around at the world, and rather than any kind of evil, at the heart of every problem I can identify is some manner of stupidity. Someone, somewhere, has failed to think something through carefully and caused a ruckus. You two are a cataclysmic ruckus just waiting for an excuse. On the other hand… You have potential. Both of you. Learn to exercise some restraint and use those brains.”

“Like…for example… Getting rid of bullies without disemboweling them?”

“That’s an art unto itself, yes,” said Tellwyrn dryly, raising an eyebrow. “As is phrasing requests in a manner that doesn’t reveal too much about your intentions. We’ll work on that… Or can, anyway, if you choose.”

“You have a whole school to teach that?” the demon asked incredulously. “What even is that? Wisdom? Restraint?”

“Good qualities both,” Tellwyrn replied. “The University has a rigorous academic program in its own right, but yes, I would say our specific focus is on the fine art of not being a dumbass.” She smiled faintly. “And I invite students who most need to learn that art, both for their sakes and that of the world around them. There’s nobody else quite like you two, but you’re much less alone in the world than you may think. If nothing else, you’d be surrounded by people who have a lot in common with your perspective. That, alone, would do you a world of good.”

She sighed, shaking her head. “Look, it’s quite early yet. This is a couple of years sooner than I usually approach prospective students—those I don’t just wait to come to me. But as much of a show as you were putting on just now… Well, it seemed like a good time. My point is, you needn’t make a decision right this moment. Right now, in fact,” she added, “I think it would be wise for you to head straight home. Your parents are worried nearly out of their minds.”

Tellwyrn turned, strode to the edge of the rock outcropping, then paused, looking over her shoulder at them. “Think it over. Carefully…but not for too long. The world waits for no one.”

Then, with no flash or fanfare, she was simply gone.

Teal and Vadrieny stood there in silence for long minutes, staring at the spot where she had been, contemplating together and burning against the cold.

< Previous Chapter Next Chapter >

Bonus #6: A Light in Dark Places

May 11, 2015UncategorizedFross, Jacaranda, Professor Ezzaniel, Professor Rafe, Professor Tellwyrn, Professor YornhaldtD. D. Webb

< Previous Chapter Next Chapter >

Jacaranda’s grove had been formed eons ago during the Elder Wars, when a rival god had launched an attack into the Deep Wild, aimed at Naiya. That wasn’t even his greatest mistake, but it was his last; Mother Nature had little sense of humor and no capacity for forgiveness. Jacaranda hadn’t come along until uncounted centuries later, long after life had come back. At this point, she’d had plenty of time to make it her own, and her claim was respected by all the Deep Wild’s inhabitants, even the dryads. Occasionally they, or the odd satyr, would poke their heads in at the very edges, and sometimes would stop to talk with a pixie if they met one, but mostly the grove was left to its own peace. There was ancient bad blood there.

Of course, the little frost fairy knew none of that; she mostly knew that it was safest where it was loneliest, around the uppermost, outermost edges. Dryads, satyrs and the odd questing adventurer were interesting and a little scary, but for the most part, they were harmless.

The crater had, over time, been reclaimed by nature, as everything ultimately was, and now was home to a deep, ancient forest of towering sentinel trees that all but blotted out the sky above, leaving only deep blue-green gloom throughout the crater’s floor. Relatively few plants could flourish in the dimness, just mosses, lichens and fungi, several of which were luminous. A few streams cut through the massive roots, descending to form a deep pool at the very bottom. From the center of this rose a little rounded hill, topped by lushly soft moss, where perched the Pixie Queen, surrounded by her court.

There were no animals in the grove beyond insects, and of those, only species adept at hiding. Nothing else lasted long.

She went in cycles, lurking in the outer reaches, then gradually drawing closer to the middle before fleeing back to safer, darker territory. The closer one flew to the center, the more pixies one encountered, and the reverse was true; the outer reaches were dim and silent, nothing but wide open spaces between massive tree trunks. At the very middle and the bottom, of course, Jacaranda’s mossy throne was the center of pixiedom, and they buzzed about her with such intensity that the whole clearing was always as bright as day. The frost fairy was one of relatively few who could make the comparison; she had flown up above the canopy to see what daylight looked like, several times.

This time she was drifting closer to the middle again, warily greeting other pixies as she passed through the gradations of population density. There were lots of new pixies today; the Queen had made a bunch more, which was the thing that had piqued her curiosity enough to draw her in. New pixie days were always…interesting. She would get carefully closer and closer, possibly until she could see the court itself with all those hanging about their Queen, until something happened to spook her into retreat. An encounter with an aggressive pixie, perhaps. Or maybe, if she stayed long enough, a brush with that idea which had begun growing in the back of her mind. She wasn’t sure quite what the idea was, just that when it came almost close enough to consciousness for her to recognize, it scared her into fleeing.

The woods weren’t quite bright at this elevation, but they were neither silent nor as dim as she was used to. Pixies were about, not in any great concentration, but on all sides, filling the near distance with their chiming and their multicolored glow. She paid careful attention to them. None seemed too interested in her, unless—

“Hello!”

One popped up from under the dirt, hovering right in front of her. The frost pixie jangled in alarm and shot upward and back, quivering. He just hovered there, staring quizzically up at her. He was a dirt fairy, with a green glow. She’d begun to think, lately, that the earth-type elementals really ought to be brown or something, yet they were always green. She wasn’t sure where the thought came from.

“Hello,” she said cautiously. “You startled me.”

“I’m sorry!” His tone was bright and obliviously cheerful, even by pixie standards. “I’m exploring! I like it out here. How are you?”

Comprehension dawned. “Ohh. Are you…new?”

“Yes!” He bobbed up and down. “I am! It’s nice to meet you!”

The frost fairy relaxed, drifting down closer to him. “You should be more careful. If you startle people, something bad might happen.”

“Like what?”

She sighed, chiming softly. “You’ll find out soon enough, I suppose. Nice to meet you.”

She fluttered by him, giving him a respectful berth, and continued on her way toward the middle. The concentration of other pixies was growing; at the point where she could see the constantly-shifting inferno of multi-hued light around Jacaranda’s throne sparkling through the trees, but not quite see the clearing itself, she paused, darting upward to hover above a thick branch and observe. Most pixies, she’d noticed, didn’t go up too high, not much farther from the ground than the Queen could physically reach them if she happened to be standing there. Not that she ever left her perch. They also tended not to look up; sitting on a branch or just over it kept her relatively hidden.

“You’re making frost on the bark! Are you an ice fairy?”

She chimed in alarm and shot straight upward. That silly earth fairy had followed her and was now floating just behind her perch.

“What are you doing?” she demanded furiously.

“Following you!” he said brightly. “You’re my first friend! It’s nice to meet you! Are you going to the middle? I like it in the middle, everyone’s there. She’s there,” he added with a dreamy sigh. “It’s so busy, though, very crowded, so I decided to go exploring. You know, have a look around.”

The frost fairy slowly drifted back down as he spoke, her alarm abating. He seemed harmless. “Yes, I’m an ice fairy. And I might go closer to her throne. It depends on what I see. Sometimes it’s risky.”

He chimed in puzzlement. “Why?”

“Um… Have you ever had a…bad encounter with another pixie? Or seen one?”

“What kind?”

She sighed. “Nevermind. I’m going closer.”

“Okay! Wait for me!”

She was annoyed. The fool fluttered along behind her, chattering aimlessly and making stealth quite impossible; she had to keep a careful eye out for other pixies, but despite their increasing prevalence as she drew closer to the middle, none approached. The frost fairy kept to the higher reaches, going up a few more feet whenever she saw another pixie rise to her elevation; it was the surest tactic she’d found for being left alone. Though she wasn’t exactly alone this time; her new friend hovered right with her.

Even he fell silent, though, when she brought them to stop in the high fork of a tree, just where they had the best view of the throne. This tree leaned inward, as a lot of them did so close to the pool, and the frost fairy’s selected perch put them only a short distance away from Jacaranda’s spot and nearly above it, closer horizontally than vertically.

“Hush,” she urged. “Someone will hear you.”

He didn’t seem to hear her. “There she is,” he whispered in awe. “Isn’t she beautiful?”

“Yeah,” the frost fairy agreed, sighing. Some of the tension slipped away from her and she joined him in just staring dreamily down at their Queen.

She really was beautiful. Jacaranda resembled an elf in size and general build, though her hair was a cloud of wispy azure the floated about her in the breeze. Her ears, too, were resplendently long, though basically elvish in shape; they towered above her and leaned somewhat out to the sides, sort of like a rabbit’s. Glorious dragonfly wings sprang from between her shoulder blades, sometimes waving slowly, sometimes buzzing as she moved about, this way and that. They glittered with a profusion of colors, four crystalline stained glass sculptures carrying her on the breeze. All she wore was a sheer, diaphanous “dress” assembled from scraps of fabric that concealed nothing but accentuated nicely. The effect was wasted on the pixies, but Jacaranda liked to occasionally take lovers from the adventurers who stumbled into her grove.

Right now, the Pixie Queen drifted above a patch of luminous toadstools on her island, reclining backward in the air. Her wings fluttered slowly, not enough to keep her aloft through aerodynamics; like her little creations, she flew by magic. The wings were mostly decorative.

Those creations were putting on a show for her benefit. The little coterie of pixies who constituted her present court swirled and danced through the air around her, creating trails and flashes of their elemental effects; the rest of the eager cloud of pixies had retreated from the immediate vicinity, likely after a few of them had been singed, splashed, and/or blasted. Little bursts and streamers of fire followed the largest, an orange flame fairy; there were sprays of water, artful gusts of wind that swirled fallen leaves into their own little dance (before being incinerated in a spiteful display by the fire fairy), shoots of grass that sprang up from the moss and danced to their own rhythm. Flowers blossomed from nothing, even a few in midair, where they drifted down to rest in the water. Even small spires of rock and crystal sprouted artistically from the ground around the island, quickly crumbling and falling into the pool.

These were the pixies who had names. The others were nearly as much in awe of them as they were of Jacaranda herself—largely because those names were a sign of her favor, of the lucky recipients’ intimate place at their Queen’s side. A pixie’s fondest dream was to one day be given a name and join Jacaranda’s court.

The frost fairy didn’t know them all; their roster tended to shift. She recognized Fiero, though, as well as Flurr, Arokk, Wautri, Gusti and Kistral. A few she remembered from previous visits were missing; a few others were here now. Fiero, the fire fairy, was the only one who had always been here, at least since the frost fairy had been made. By this point, he was the biggest and brightest, and unquestionably Jacaranda’s favorite. Everyone knew it, even if they didn’t come out and say it.

Their uncoordinated display staggered to a rather destructive halt as flashy elemental effects interfered with each other until most of their individual efforts to show off had turned into clouds of steam, dust and ashes. Just when it seemed about to devolve into an outright fight, however, Jacaranda sat up straight, beaming with happiness, and applauded, as though the mess had been a perfectly orchestrated climax. And just like that, the pixies forgot their ire at each other, swooping over to swirl around her adoringly. From around the clearing came enthusiastic chiming from the rest of those present.

“Didja see that?” the earth fairy chattered. “How she brought them all together like that? She’s so smart!”

“Yeah,” the frost fairy said with a wistful sigh. She really was. Smart and beautiful and just perfect.

And then, like the creeping scent of a predator stalking her through the trees, that thought began trying to bubble up. She tensed, about to shoot off into the darkness as usual. She couldn’t flee from her own mind, but the act of fleeing was usually enough to distract her…

“Oh, how you do keep me entertained,” Jacaranda said below, and her voice—her beautiful voice—arrested the frost fairy completely. “Whatever should I do without you, my little friends?”

“You’ll never be without us!” Wautri cried, the assurances of the others coming a split second behind her. Fiero aggressively bumped into the water fairy, irked at not being the first to praise the Queen, but it went no further than that.

“I’m just so in need of distractions lately,” Jacaranda said with a melancholy sigh, settling backward to lounge in midair and raising a hand to her brow. “It’s just so tedious, all these…these people. I can’t get any privacy in my own grove anymore!”

“Stupid adventurers!” shouted Arokk. “Stupid humans, bothering our queen!” There came a chorus of outraged agreement from the others. Above, the frost fairy buzzed her wings thoughtfully. Not more than a handful of adventurers came to the grove a year; Jacaranda usually wanted them brought to her pool for sex before having them disposed of. Was that too many? How often had they come before? For that matter…how old was she?

“So…do you not want us to bring them to you anymore, my Queen?” Gusti asked hesitantly when it quieted enough for him to be heard.

“Oh, don’t be silly, my pet,” Jacaranda chided, laughing. She raised her hand, allowing him to perch on her fingers for a moment to take the sting out of the rebuke.

“It’s just awful that you should have to suffer for this,” Fiero said decisively.

“We should try to catch some satyrs or something to patrol the grove!” Arokk added.

“Yeah,” Flurr chimed, sparking in excitement. “The big dumb fairies outside should be doing their jobs! What are those dryads thinking, letting humans into your grove?!”

“What was that?” Jacaranda sat bolt upright, her expression suddenly fierce. The overall light level in the clearing plummeted as panicked pixies fled in all directions from her displeasure.

Flurr’s lavender glow dimmed as she realized her mistake. “Oh, I… I didn’t mean… I didn’t say… It was just a slip—”

“Those creatures are not to be spoken of in my presence!” the Pixie Queen raged. “I won’t have it! I hate them! You’re not to remind me! You know this!”

“I’m sorry!” Flurr wailed. “I didn’t mean—”

“Remove her!” Jacaranda commanded.

“Yes, my queen!” the rest of the court chimed in unison.

“Nooo!” Flurr sped off toward the treeline in terror.

Not fast enough.

It was Fiero who caught up to her. It was almost always Fiero anymore, the frost fairy noted, shifting her position to watch. A blast of fire sent the flower fairy fluttering to the ground with singed wings; in half a second, he was on her.

Despite their distance, the two fairies lurking on the branch high above could clearly see what followed. It took only seconds; Flurr’s wail died away quickly as Fiero landed on top of her, her glow diminishing to nothing and the tiny physical form beneath it withering away to wisps of vapor that streamed upward and into the fire fairy. His own aura flared brighter for a moment, and then he sprang upward, giddy with the rush of energy.

“How awful,” the earth fairy whispered. “Why would he do that?”

“Because he can,” said the frost fairy just as quietly. “That’s what I meant about aggressive pixies. We have basically infinite energy, you know; we’re all connected directly to the Queen herself. There’s really only one kind of creature that’s a threat to a pixie.” She buzzed her wings once. “Other pixies. Look around. Down, outward, at the others.”

He drifted over to the other side of the branch, peering down. Now that she’d pointed it out, he could see the spectacle of Fiero and Flurr being repeated here and there amid the rest of the random gyrations of pixie lights.

“…why?”

“That’s how we get stronger,” the frost fairy said noncommittally. “It’s how you gain power. You have to get a lot to be allowed close to the Pixie Queen. If you’re not strong enough to assert yourself to the rest of the court…they’ll eat you. I mean, literally. This is what happens to most new ones. Not a lot last.”

“Wow,” he said in an awed tone. “Wow, I’m really lucky to be up here with you.”

The frost fair buzzed again, turning to peer at him. “You know, I’m older and a lot stronger than you. What makes you think I won’t do that to you?”

“You wouldn’t do that,” he said immediately. “You’re my friend.”

She chimed in confusion. “Why are you so convinced we’re friends?”

“Why wouldn’t we be?”

She was spared having to answer by the sound of the Queen’s voice, which immediately commanded the full and undivided attention of every pixie in earshot.

“Well, anyway,” Jacaranda tittered, “what were we talking about?”

“How pretty you are!” Arokk proclaimed. He was swiftly echoed by the others.

“Oh, stop, you,” Jacaranda said modestly, beaming.

The frost fairy quailed. That thought was creeping up on her again.

“We really ought to do something,” the Pixie Queen went on, again seizing her attention. “The humans have never been so aggressive before. I mean, there’s an awful lot of them these days. I don’t know what they think they’re even doing in the Deep Wild, but if Naiya won’t rein them in, I suppose it falls to me.” She sighed tragically. “As it always does.”

There came a round of sycophantic condemnation of Naiya and humans from the surrounding pixies; they all blended together. The frost fairy didn’t bother trying to pick out individual voices, fixated as she was on the Queen.

Jacaranda, for once, seemed to be ignoring her hangers-on, frowning in thought. “All right, it’s decided,” she said suddenly, cutting them all off in an instant. “We must address the humans directly! I’ll send them an emissary. Let’s see… Who rules the nearest kingdom?”

She peered around expectantly; bashful pixies dimmed, drifting downward to hover a bit lower.

“Oh, honestly,” Jacaranda exclaimed, planting her fists on her hips and frowning in disapproval. “Doesn’t anyone know?”

“We…we don’t like to leave your side, my Queen,” Wautri said hesitantly. “We don’t know much about the world outside your grove.”

“What else could we want?” Fiero added. “You’re here!”

“Aww.” Jacaranda gave him a little smile, then suddenly brightened in earnest. “I know! I’ll send someone to the Arachne. She knows fairy ways and human ways; she can introduce my emissary to the human king. It’s perfect!”

Above, while the pixies of the court fell over themselves to assure their Queen how brilliant it truly was over her modest protests, the earth fairy asked, “What’s the Arachne?”

“I don’t know,” the frost fairy admitted.

“But who shall I send?” Jacaranda asked in a voice that made the question a proclamation. “Who shall go forth into the world on my behalf?”

Her court hesitated, caught on the horns of a dilemma. On the one hand, they longed for nothing more than to please her; on the other, this duty would mean leaving her side, when everything they had struggled for was represented by being in her presence.

Other pixies, not having made the same risks and sacrifices to attain their positions, were not so conflicted. They also weren’t accustomed to being addressed directly by their Queen, and so the cloud of would-be volunteers drifting out over the pool was slow, hesitant.

With the exception, of course, of one who’d not yet learned circumspection.

“Me!” shouted the little earth fairy, plunging over the edge of the branch and down into the court. “I’ll go!”

“What are you doing?!” the frost fairy hissed, unheard.

“I’ll go!” he cried obliviously, fluttering down toward the Pixie Queen. “Send me, my Queen!”

Jacaranda glanced up at him, and he froze in midair, poleaxed by her smile.

“Hey, now!” Seizing an opportunity to deflect attention from his own recent failure to volunteer, Fiero shot upward, hovering menacingly before the earth fairy. That close, the differences between them were blatant; the fire fairy’s aura was a whole order of magnitude larger and brighter. “Who do you think you are to bother the Queen? Were you given permission to approach?”

“She—she asked for someone to go,” the earth fairy said dumbly.

“She asked for someone to go,” Fiero mocked, eliciting a chorus of derisive giggles from the rest of the court. “And you thought that meant you?”

“Well, I—hey!” He plunged a few feet, buffeted by a burst of flame. “Ow! What’d you do that for?”

Above, the frost fairy wanted to look away, and found she couldn’t.

“Stop it!” the earth fairy cried plaintively, trying to flutter away now. Fiero was too fast, and too strong. The next wash of flame was in earnest, sending the little earth fairy careening toward the ground with a scorched wing. The fire fairy dived after him.

The frost fairy finally tore her eyes away, edging back over the branch to hide the spectacle from view.

It was only seconds later that Fiero re-emerged. “Pfft, hardly worth the effort. No energy at all!”

The other pixies of the court joined in his mocking laughter.

And suddenly, the frost fairy was mad.

She tried to repress it. Getting mad didn’t help anything. This was the world; this was just how life was.

“Yes, yes,” the Pixie Queen said languidly. “Enough of your little games, now, though, let’s be serious.”

“Little games?” the frost fairy heard herself say quietly. Suddenly that thought was there, clawing at the gates to her consciousness. She could feel it about to break through. Reflexively, she plunged into action to drive it away.

Yet this time, she wasn’t running away.

Fiero was still grandstanding, hovering above the others. Jacaranda was looking in another direction. It was perfect. The frost fairy plummeted down into the court’s space and hit Fiero from behind with a blast of elemental frost.

“WHAT the—” he squawked, buffeted off course. Righting himself, he pivoted to stare incredulously at the icy pixie, no more than half his size and a fraction of his power, hovering a few feet away. The frost fairy gave him another blast for good measure, then turned and buzzed off into the darkness as fast as her wings could carry her.

“WHY YOU!” Fiero was right behind her in seconds.

The rest of the pixies scattered from their path, unwilling to face Fiero’s wrath. Some few might have the foresight to try to curry favor by helping him, but they wouldn’t be willing to risk him in this mood. She could count on there being no interference.

She led him on a spiraling course through the trees, laying down a trail of frost for him to follow across the ground, over roots and through fallen logs. He blasted it to vapor as he went in a showy display of magical ferocity. For the first few tense moments, she wasn’t sure of her surroundings, but soon enough she found a landmark, and then another, and then she was on familiar ground, just outside the center of pixiedom. Leading him on the same course she’d led all the others. Still, she backtracked and pivoted, making ice tracks and permitting herself some grim satisfaction as he blazed them away. It cost her almost no energy to lower the temperature around her, turning the moisture in the air into frost; it was costing him a lot to throw all those fire blasts.

The longer this played out, the less energy he had.

Still, she couldn’t tire him out too much; biggest and strongest pixie or no, Fiero was still a pixie, and had a strictly finite attention span. Very quickly, he began to slow behind her, the fire blasts petering out.

“Yeah, you better run,” he called out, coming to a stop. She halted as well, but he didn’t see; he’d already turned and was fluttering back toward Jacaranda’s pool.

No good.

She hit him from behind with another ice blast.

This time he let out a yowl of wordless fury, streaking off after her again.

The bursts of fire which followed were aimed at her, now, and she decided to cut this short. He wasn’t a very accurate shot, but if he set the forest on fire the Queen would be annoyed. Was he weakened enough? Well, no time to wonder. She followed the familiar turns of the ground, around the big old tree with the tunnel under its roots, then around and down into the darkness, slowing just enough on the turn to make sure Fiero saw which hole she entered.

She’d done this maneuver enough times for it to be nearly instinctive. The tunnel branched off ahead; she coated the rim of the hole leading straight down with frost, then zipped around a blind turn. She was just far enough ahead in the twisting darkness that he shouldn’t have seen which way she’d gone, hence the false trail of ice. This particular tunnel twisted around, coming out right above the fork. She arrived back at that point just in time to see Fiero plunge into the iced hole with a cry of triumph, thinking her cornered.

He was quick; he managed to come to a halt before plunging into the water that filled the deep hole. He wasn’t so quick that he didn’t stop and stare dumbly at it, completely at a loss as to what had just happened.

They all did.

The frost fairy plunged down on him from above, channeling a tight, focused burst of her power onto him. The fire fairy was forced downward into the water, where his power was stifled. He tried to boil the liquid around him, but she continued pouring cold on. He wasted energy flailing blindly, spewing instantly-doused flames in all directions, no longer even sure which way was up, while all around him the water froze faster than he could boil it. Tired out before he’d been lured here, panicked, confused and in the very unfamiliar position of total vulnerability, all his power did him no good. If he’d focused, he could probably have beaten her. Easily, even.

None of them understood what she did: smarter was better than stronger.

The first time she’d done this had been a total accident. A stronger pixie was chasing her, and she’d tried to hide in the tunnels… The second, she’d done it deliberately, remembering the useful twists down here. For a while, the frost fairy had used this tree’s root complex as a defense mechanism for when she couldn’t avoid a confrontation, honing her method, developing the false trail of frost for those enemies a bit more quick-witted than the rest. This was the first time she had deliberately goaded someone into the trap.

Fiero’s critical moment of weakness came, and she reached out with her mind, with her being, seizing that which was him and drawing it into herself. He flailed harder, sensing what she was doing, but he was an aimless ball of panic at this point, and could do nothing to stop her.

Amazing, how quickly that much energy was absorbed. It was almost fast enough that she absorbed the sheer power for its own sake, rather than doing the thing that only she knew how to do…but she held onto herself, and changed the power as it rushed into her.

Pixies didn’t gain the full energy of another pixie they absorbed, not by a long shot. There was substantial energy loss in the process. The frost fairy’s method didn’t take in the energy directly, though, but channeled it into…something else. Something smarter. She didn’t have a way to measure, but she had the impression she kept a lot more of the power this way, even if she didn’t get power from it, exactly. Energy flowed into her mind, sharpening, organizing, heightening. Her senses grew more acute; connections she hadn’t been conscious of before were suddenly there. Everything about the world made a little bit more sense.

Her ice wasn’t any stronger, but that was fine. She had something better.

No…more than a little bit more sense. She’d never taken in a member of the Court before. This changed a lot. Fiero’s power represented enough mental acuity to shift her thinking several steps ahead.

In that moment, an understanding settled on her, followed by an idea.

The understanding was that she hated living here. The idea was that she had the chance of a way out.

The frost fairy shot out of the tunnel complex, making a silver streak back toward the Pixie Queen’s island. This time, not recognizing her, the other pixies didn’t get out of her way; she navigated swiftly around them, single-minded in her goal.

It had only been moments. Tense as her deadly encounter with Fiero had been, it had gone at the highest speeds the two of them could manage, and she made it back before too much had changed.

“Well,” the Pixie Queen was saying with some asperity, “if nobody wants to go, I can always just pick someone. I would have hoped you’d all care enough about me to volunteer, but I see—”

The frost fairy zipped out of the treeline, right past the startled members of the court, and slammed to a midair halt directly in front of the Pixie Queen’s face, where they wouldn’t have dared create a disturbance.

“My Queen, I volunteer! It would be my honor to serve you!”

“Why, what have we here?” Jacaranda said, tilting her head bemusedly. “It’s a little ice spirit. Hello, little one. Have I spoken to you before?”

The answer to that was simply no, but the frost fairy had a newer, subtler understanding now, derived from all the time she’d spent watching the court from above. “I have never had the honor, my Queen. I’m sorry to presume like this. But no one else was coming forward, and I just couldn’t stand to leave you without the help you need!”

The chiming from the pixies of the court took on a distinctly annoyed tone, but Jacaranda smiled in pure delight. “Why, what a dutiful little pixie you are, my dear. Yes, indeed! For this service… Yes, I believe you deserve a name of your own.”

The frost fairy almost fell out of the air in shock. Volunteering to be sent on a mission outside was one thing, but this… “I…I’d be honored, my Queen,” she whispered tremulously.

“It’s no more than you deserve, my newest little friend,” Jacaranda proclaimed. “Hm, let’s see, you’re an ice fairy, aren’t you? Yes… We shall call you Fross.”

Fross. She had a name!

The sheer bliss of it was spoiled by an unwelcome rush of comprehension. Fross, like “frost.” Fiero, fire, Wautri, water… They were all like that. She’d just named them after their elements, with no imagination at all.

In that moment the thought she’d been avoiding all this time finally crashed through:

The Pixie Queen was kind of stupid.

Very fortunately, the sheer, horrified shock of having had this treasonous thought paralyzed her, preventing her from blurting it out. That very likely saved her life.

“Now, Fross,” Jacaranda was saying imperiously, “my most faithful little servant, here is the task I have for you…”

Nothing had prepared Fross for how big the world was. She counted forty-three days of travel, but that was after quite a few had gone by before it occurred to her to keep count.

She’d found a helpful dryad in the Deep Wild beyond Jacaranda’s grove to give her directions and advice. She was nervous about approaching the tree spirit—despite her Queen’s loathing of dryads, she knew very well where they stood on the hierarchy of fairies, and it was well beyond the reach of anyone she should be speaking to. Aspen had been friendly and seemed glad to help, though, and over time her directions had proved spot-on.

Fross had learned to keep up as high as possible. The ground was full of predators; at a given altitude, there were only hawks to deal with. Being eaten wouldn’t have harmed her significantly in the long run, but it would have been inconvenient, not to mention gross. She’d had to ice a good few birds on her journey, but they were the lesser hazard. The winds up high were something else; it was tricky to stay on course.

Choosing to err on the side of caution, she’d swung to the south to avoid the Golden Sea, which, from above, wasn’t really distinguishable from the non-magical prairie surrounding it. Thanks to Aspen’s advice, she learned to recognize the landmarks of human construction as signs she was safely outside the Sea’s radius. In fact, they proved extremely useful. Once she came to the Sea’s edge, she just had to follow the towns, forts and whatever else, making sure to drift southward for safety’s sake in the long stretches between them, before she eventually, finally came to the one she needed.

Last Rock was well-named and truly unmistakable.

Luck was on her side when she finally got there; she didn’t have to look far to find the Arachne. Upon being smacked into a windowsill by an errant gust of wind, Fross decided that was as good a place as any to stop and rest, which she’d not done in several days. The window was open slightly, and she could hear conversation from within.

“But only seven? It’s without precedent.”

“Eight, Alaric. We won’t be seeing Vadrieny most of the time, gods willing, but she’ll be conscious, so I’m putting her on the rolls.”

“Eight, then. Even so, Arachne, that’s less than half the size of any previous incoming class.”

Fross buzzed upward, her weariness forgotten. She was through the open window in an instant.

The room was an office, carpeted in royal blue and surrounded by bookcases, inscrutable devices and old maps on the walls. Four people were present: an elf sitting behind a desk, a dwarf standing before it, a half-elf lounging in a chair against the wall and a human standing at ease near the door.

She knew immediately who her goal was. Quite apart from being the only elf present, the Arachne was just like the dryad’s description: She wore green clothes, gold-rimmed lenses over her eyes and a scowl.

“I refuse to pad the rolls, Alaric,” the Arachne was saying. “Besides, there’s an argument to be made about quantity as opposed to quality.”

“I wasn’t aware we took on students of poor quality,” the human said in a mild tone.

“Ahem,” said the half-elf, looking directly at Fross. None of the others paid him any mind.

“You know what I mean, Emilio,” the Arachne said impatiently. “Consider the names we’ve already got. I very much fear it’s going to be all we can do to attend to them properly. Yes, it’ll be a small class, but as things stand I don’t feel a need to go looking for more. And that’s what we’d have to do, gentlemen. These are the students who’ve been brought forward to us, and that’s how we’ve always recruited. The University does not ask for attendees.”

“Hey, guys?” said the half-elf.

“For heaven’s sake, Admestus, what?” the Arachne exclaimed.

He pointed at Fross. “Whose pixie is that?”

Everyone turned to stare at her.

“Hello!” she said. “My name is Fross!”

“What the hell is this now?” the Arachne said by way of greeting.

“That’s not a very nice word,” Fross admonished.

“Yes, I know. Just what are you doing in here? If your witch is trying to get my attention, there are easier ways.”

“Uh, my… I’m sorry, I don’t have a witch,” she said nervously. This wasn’t going at all the way she’d anticipated. “I’m here on a mission from the Pixie Queen to the human lands!”

“Fross, was it?” the human said in his calm tone. “Are you sure that’s the story you want to stick with?”

“Arachne,” the dwarf said softly, frowning up at Fross.

“Yeah,” said the elf. “I see it.”

“Care to let us in on the joke?” asked Admestus the half-elf.

“This pixie is brimming with arcane magic,” said the Arachne.

“I, uh… I don’t know what that means,” Fross said, keenly aware that this conversation had well and truly gotten away from her.

“It means you’re not much like any other pixie that’s ever existed,” said the Arachne.

“Well…I sort of knew that.”

“Is it even possible?” the human asked, frowning.

“I would not have said so,” replied the dwarf, “but…there she is. Arachne…she can’t be more than a few years old. They have tiny auras, but the energy they draw upon… If she’s somehow converting it into the arcane, and storing it up, why… In a couple of centuries, she could rival any archmage in existence.”

“Is that…good?” Fross asked uncertainly.

“Well, it could be good,” the Arachne mused. “Or, alternatively, it could be very, very, incredibly bad. That all depends on you, Fross.”

“What are you talking about, converting fae magic into arcane?” the half-elf scoffed. “Even I know my Circles of Interaction better than that. Even Ezzaniel does, I bet. Converting pressurized oil into fire is more like it.”

“Do you suppose this is a latent trait of pixies that no one’s discovered before?” the dwarf asked thoughtfully.

“I can’t credit the idea,” said the Arachne, shaking her head. “Witches who have pixie familiars tend to be of the more ambitious sort. Someone would have noticed and made use of it. No… I don’t think pixies are secretly the gnagrethycts of the fairy world. Far more likely we’re looking at an outlier. Sort of like our November.”

“What does that mean?” Fross asked. “And what’s it have to do with me?”

“That is the question, isn’t it?” the Arachne said thoughtfully, staring up at her.

“Well, yes. That’s the question.”

The elf smiled. “I think you’d better tell us your story, Fross.”

< Previous Chapter Next Chapter >

Bonus #5: Of Which Reason Knows Nothing

May 8, 2015UncategorizedGabriel, TobyD. D. Webb

< Previous Chapter Next Chapter >

“You can’t just say things like that!” Toby protested, looking furtively around. It was late afternoon, and plenty of people were about in the street, but none seemed to be paying them much attention.

“What?” Gabe asked, shrugging with an innocence spoiled by his grin. “It’s a compliment!”

“It’s not respectful!”

“Oh, come on, all I’m saying is she’s hot. Where’s the harm in that? She’s not even my type, I like ladies with a little something to hold on to,” he said, leering and making a squeezing motion with both hands.

Toby slapped a hand to his face. “Gabriel, would you talk like that in front of her?”

“What, you think I’m an idiot?”

He didn’t take the bait. “If you’re talking about a lady in a way you wouldn’t be willing to say to her face, then it’s not a compliment and you know it. Mrs. Tanner’s always been nice to us; you should show her respect.”

“Bah,” Gabriel said, rolling his eyes. “You’re starting to sound like Ms. Avelea.”

“Uh huh, and how many times has Ms. Avelea been wrong that you know of?”

“About what, history? How would I know? All I know about it is from her class!”

“I…I just… That’s such a golden opportunity to make a comment about all you know about anything, but there are just so many I can’t pick one.”

“You’re a jerk,” Gabe said, elbowing him without rancor. “Get down off your altar, chorus boy. I’m a thirteen-year-old man who was not raised in a monastery. This is all perfectly natural, not that you’d know.”

“What I know is the phrase ‘thirteen-year-old man’ is wrong at least twice.”

“Oh, now you’re sounding like every teacher we’ve ever had. You can’t do this to me, Toby! Don’t join the adults! It’s us against them!”

Toby didn’t bother pointing out the contradiction in this, peering around again at the street. Still, they weren’t garnering much attention, but he had learned not to relax his guard around Gabriel. The combination of his friend’s seeming inability to keep his mouth shut and the prejudices of a fair number of people in the district could be dangerous. What would be laughed off as boyish hijinks from anyone else suddenly looked a lot more sinister coming from the neighborhood half-demon.

The Lower Middle Western Ward, commonly called the Wide Spot for no known reason except that nobody could be bothered with its official name, was a poor district, but not a rough one. Rather than criminals, it attracted more harmless undesirables—not the kind who occupied Drowtown, or Lor’naris as folk were calling it these days, but gnomes, dwarves, a few elves who dressed and acted “civilized” rather than in keeping with their own culture, and miscellaneous Imperial citizens who’d managed to make themselves unwelcome elsewhere. For example, by working in the the non-Vidian theater, or being a little too fond of glittershrooms, or siring a son by a demoness.

The streets were patrolled by both military police and Thieves’ Guild enforcers, both equally likely to smile and chat with the locals. Notably, most of the locals knew who the enforcers were, this was such a Guild-friendly district. People in the Wide Spot didn’t want trouble, and could get rid of it simply by pointing at it in the presence of a soldier or enforcer. Most adopted a live-and-let-live mentality, but more than a few had pointed at Gabriel over the years. Fortunately, Jonathan Arquin had had the foresight to approach both the Army and the Guild upon moving in, explaining that being a half-demon was neither illegal nor disruptive to business. The soldiers were more accommodating toward a man who’d once worn their uniform than they otherwise might have been, and the Eserites, despite not generally being what Toby would call ethical, were some of the least judgmental people in the world. Trouble didn’t tend to stick to Gabriel long enough to get serious, but it still fell his way even more often than he deserved. Which was saying something.

The Wide Spot contained shroom farms, at least one brothel, and money changers who were not attached to the cult of Verniselle, to name a few of its more unsavory features. However, it also had an Imperial Army police station, a fairly good Imperial public school, and of course the Omnist complex, incorporating a small temple, monastery and missionary office. It was a safe enough district for two boys to roam around in, but still interesting to make it worthwhile for them to do so.

Among its amenities was the misleadingly-named Tannery, the shop they now approached, its window display filled with jars of sweets. Gabriel actually grinned and rubbed his hands together before pulling the door open and stepping inside.

“Alms for the poor?” he cried out tremulously on the threshold.

Eshani Tanner smiled wryly at him from behind the counter. “If I see any, I’ll be sure to give. Hello, Gabriel, Tobias.”

Mr. Tanner mostly worked in the back, making sweets and leaving his pretty elven wife to man the counter, a tactic that had served them well in business. Gabriel was far from alone in his assessment of her.

“But look at the poor guy!” Gabe said piteously, shoving Toby forward. “They never give him any candy at that prison!”

Toby shot him a quelling look, which of course was ignored. Growing up in a monastery devoted to the god of agriculture, he’d been reared on the freshest produce available, and learned to enjoy it. He liked a little candy now and then—who didn’t?—but didn’t have nearly the sweet tooth Gabriel did.

“Hello, Mrs. Tanner,” he said politely.

“He’s wasting away!”

“I am taller than you,” he exclaimed, nudging Gabe right back.

“Hey, hey,” Eshani admonished gently. “No roughhousing, boys. Will it be the usual this week, or are you inclined to be adventurous?”

“Pfft, Toby doesn’t know the meaning of the word,” Gabriel said cheerfully, swaggering forward and opening his meager coin purse to extract his allowance.

“I know the meaning of enough other words to get by,” Toby retorted. “And to help you with your homework.” He stepped forward as he spoke, fishing out his own money. It would be preferable to collect his lemon drops and go before…

“Hey, guys,” said Raslin, entering from the back room with a crate in his arms. He set this down beside the counter, grunting. “Here you go, Mom.”

Eshani tousled her son’s hair affectionately with one hand, measuring out scoops of little yellow candies into two brown paper bags with the other. Raslin had her blonde coloring, though aside from being on the lanky side he looked fully human. He grinned at Gabriel, giving Toby a wink; Toby cleared his throat uncomfortably, averting his eyes.

“There you go, boys,” Eshani said, then paused, smiling, and tipped another couple of lemon drops into Toby’s bag. “For your poor, deprived nutrition, Tobias. And for Gabriel, for being such a good friend,” she added, giving him an extra couple.

Gabe gave her puppy eyes in return. “Oh, come on. I’m a better friend than that.”

“Gabe!” Toby exclaimed. “Don’t be greedy!”

Eshani, though, smiled at him, and added one more lemon drop. “And another because a lady always likes to be complimented. Most prefer to be complimented with a bit more grace, but I make allowances for a man of thirteen.”

Gabriel’s smile slid from his face. “I, uh… What?”

Grinning now, Mrs. Tanner tapped the pointed tip of her left ear with one finger.

Suddenly looking sickly, Gabe swallowed so hard it was audible even to those without elven hearing. “I, uh, I… Oh, look, somebody I…that…yeah.” He turned and bolted from the shop, leaving his coin purse and bag of lemon drops on the counter. Toby sighed.

Eshani Tanner, though, laughed. Then, to Toby’s horror, she flicked a quick, sly glance from him to Raslin. “Ras, would you mind finishing up here? I need to go check on your father.”

“Sure thing, Mom,” he said casually, stepping over to the register. Toby drew in a deep breath, mentally running through his calming exercises while the elf slipped out the back way, leaving him alone in the shop with Raslin. Why did it have to be so quiet? After the last time he’d promised himself only to come here during peak shopping hours.

Raslin was a picture of calm efficiency as he counted out coins and made change.

“Thanks,” Toby said quickly, gathering up both bags and tucking Gabriel’s purse into a pocket alongside his own. “I’ll just…take these out to him.”

“Of course,” Raslin said with perfect innocence, giving him a bland smile. “Will there be anything else, sir?”

“I, um, no thanks. See you in school, I guess.” He started to turn away.

The half-elf was over the counter in a liquid bound; for all that he looked human, he had speed and agility that was well beyond even Toby’s athleticism, and Toby had been practicing the martial arts since he could walk. Good as he was at grappling, he was thrown off his game by the bags of candy, one in each hand, and quickly found himself maneuvered against the wall of shelves.

Then again, perhaps he didn’t struggle as hard as he might have.

Jars of confections rattled as they struck; Toby had just barely started a protest when Raslin’s lips pressed against his own, and he completely forgot what he was going to say. The boy was a year older and a bit taller; he was slim, but Toby wasn’t exactly burly either. Rarely did he feel so overpowered. Never did he so little mind it.

It was an embarrassingly long few seconds before he twisted his head away, finishing that protest. “Someone will see!”

“Meh,” Raslin said expressively, giving him that wicked grin that Toby knew he shouldn’t find so beguiling before diving back in.

He struggled loose in breathless, half-hearted stages. “No,” he panted, finally wriggling out of Raslin’s grip and putting some space between them. “I told you…”

“And you keep telling me,” Ras replied with a languid smile, no longer chasing after him. “Yet, here we still are. Each time, you’re in a little less of a hurry to leave.”

Toby opened his mouth to reply, but found he had nothing to say. Ducking his head, he turned and fled the shop after Gabriel, the half-elf’s laughter ringing behind him.

“There you are,” Gabe hissed from the next shop down, beckoning him over. “Gods, did you stop to chat? I was about to go back in and fetch you.”

“No, you weren’t,” Toby snapped. “It’ll be next week before you have the guts to show your face in there again, which is your own fault. I warned you about that!”

Gabe reared back in surprise. “I… Well, yeah, okay. Sorry.”

“Sorry for what?” Toby demanded in exasperation. “You didn’t do anything to me except be embarrassing. Which I’m sadly used to. Here, take your junk.”

The other boy did so, frowning. “Hey, are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Toby said tersely, digging out Gabriel’s coin purse now that he had a free hand. “And here. You have got to start keeping track of your stuff, Gabe. I’m not gonna be around to hold your hand forever.”

“Man, what is it with you today?” Gabriel asked, exasperated. “Every time I turn around you’re sounding more and more like a teacher.”

Toby unconsciously scrubbed his mouth with the back of his hand. “Yeah… Well… I guess we have to start growing up sometime.”

“I think I was just talking about that very thing a little bit ago,” Gabriel said, popping a lemon drop into his mouth.

“Gabe, making lewd comments about women you know doesn’t make you grown up. It kind of does the opposite.”

“Spoilsport.”

“That’s not sport!”

He grinned. “Spoil…sin?”

“Well, yes. I am a monk.” After a moment, he had to smile back.

“Oh, good, you’re still here!”

Toby started violently; a couple of lemon drops spilled to the pavement. He whirled to find Raslin smirking at him.

“Oh, hey, Ras,” Gabe said a little guiltily.

“Gabe,” the half-elf said with a smug smile. “So, still drawing an allowance from your old man?”

Gabriel’s expression hardened. “What’s it to you?”

Raslin shrugged casually. “Hey, I’m the last person to make fun of a guy for liking candy. I mean, I don’t really plan on going into the family business, but it’s hard to argue with candy, right? Sweet stuff is always good. But man, wouldn’t you rather be earning some real money instead of mooching like a little kid?”

This was setting off all kinds of alarms in Toby’s head, but he found himself tongue-tied. The paper bag crinkled in his grip.

Fortunately, Gabriel wasn’t as dense as he sometimes acted. “Now hold it. I know this pitch; I’ve gotten this pitch before. Whatever you’re into, you can forget it, Ras. Some of us don’t have the luxury of getting tied up with the wrong people. I make one good mistake and my head’s on a chopping block under a blessed ax.”

“Come on, now, would I do that to you?” Ras asked with such an air of wounded innocence that Gabriel burst into derisive laughter.

“Man, you don’t need to call me stupid. Which you basically just did. What about you setting up Travis Bond to get in trouble for you painting on the school blackboard? And everybody knows about you ‘helping’ Faila Mavanour climb the clock tower to ‘see the city lights’ and then not letting her down till you got a kiss.”

“Okay, that did not happen the way she said,” Raslin said piously. “Girls have to be careful of their reputations. Sometimes they’re perfectly willing and then decide after the fact that they weren’t, when they’re telling the story. You want some good advice, don’t trust Faila farther than you can throw her.”

Toby forced his hands to relax, then forced the image of Raslin and Faila out of his head. That wasn’t helping his equilibrium any.

“All right, fine,” Gabe said, audibly skeptical. “But there are a dozen other stories like that. You’re kind of a snake, Raslin. I dunno whether this is one of your practical jokes or you’re actually into something illegal, but count me out.”

“Now, you hear that?” Raslin asked Toby. “This is the thanks I get. I promise you it’s nothing illegal, Gabriel. And as for jokes, I wouldn’t do that to you. Sure, some people are just asking to be taken down a peg, but us half-bloods gotta stick together. Am I right? I just thought you’d like a chance to make some real money, is all. A man should work for his keep.”

“I do work,” Toby heard himself say. “And I don’t need any more money than the monastery gives me.”

“Yes, Toby, we all know that,” Raslin replied with an exaggeratedly patient tone that stung Toby a lot harder than it should have. “I was talking to Gabe, here. Look, if you want in, you can join us at the old DawnCo factory at midnight.”

“Are you on the shrooms?” Gabriel exclaimed. “Midnight? And you’re asking me to believe this is legitimate?”

“All right, it is Thieves’ Guild business—”

“I knew it!”

“But! Not everything the Guild does is illegal, you know. They’ve got to do a lot of legitimate commerce, too. Stealing money and valuables is one thing; they can’t steal their supplies and equipment, or the people who make that stuff would all have it out for ’em. It’s just very basic warehouse work. Moving boxes around, that’s it. The Guild is just more comfortable working after dark and in private, is all. Smaller guys like us’d be relegated to sorting and counting, stuff like that. It’s pretty good pay for the kind of work, and a chance to make contacts.”

“Those aren’t contacts you need, Gabe,” Toby warned.

“Don’t I know it,” Gabriel said darkly.

“And,” Raslin went on patiently, “I get a bonus for bringing you in, so I’d owe you a favor.”

“I don’t…know,” Gabe hedged.

Raslin shrugged again. “Hey, the offer’s there. A few hours of work, twenty in silver.”

Gabriel’s eyes popped. “Twenty silver? Twenty?”

“The Guild can afford to pay well,” Ras said smugly. “And it’s good policy for them to keep their workers happy.”

“Gabe!” Toby said sharply. Gabriel glanced back and forth between him and Raslin, indecision written plainly on his features.

Raslin grinned. “Look, you don’t have to decide right now. Think it over. You want an easy payday and the chance of more in the future, just show up. DawnCo plant, midnight. Now, onto another subject, just what kind of compliments have you been paying my mom?”

Gabriel’s ears flushed bright pink. “Oh, I, um… Hey, I gotta get home, my dad’s waiting. Um, bye.” He turned and bolted off down the sidewalk, not waiting for Toby.

Raslin laughed with a derisive edge, his gaze growing sharper as he turned it on Toby. “He’s gonna find out sooner or later,” he said quietly.

Toby might have replied, or might not. All he was really conscious of was pounding off after Gabriel, getting himself away from there as quickly as possible.

The Wide Spot was one of the relatively few districts in Tiraas where it got significantly dark. There were still fairy lamps, of course, but only on the streets themselves. The buildings didn’t glow the way much of the city did; most of their inhabitants couldn’t afford fairy lights, and a lot couldn’t afford to burn candles or oil lamps after dark, either because the things themselves were expensive or because they had work in the morning and lacked the luxury of staying up late. All this made it an attractive district for after-dark shenanigans of various kinds. Of course, the people doing them also weren’t lighting any lamps, at least not where they could be publicly seen.

So, though Toby had never snuck out before, he didn’t find it hugely challenging. A lifetime of building a good reputation with the monks among whom he lived meant he had a good bit of leeway in his personal schedule. Getting out of the monastery was fairly simple, as was navigating the streets, which he knew like the halls of his own home. A few times he passed subtly moving shadows in alleys that were clearly people, and studiously ignored him. Not his business.

Everyone knew the DawnCo factory; Toby had been too young to pay much attention when it had closed, but that had been bad news for the whole district. The Wide Spot had recovered, mostly, people finding other work, but quite a few of them had to travel farther to get to it. To date, the old factory hadn’t acquired a new owner, but the residents were optimistic. Tiraas was a city which could not expand in terms of territory, and was expanding economically at a rapid rate. A valuable piece of property like that surely couldn’t go unused for much longer.

The factory was dark, too, and boarded up. Toby had to go over a fence (not hugely challenging) and in through a window whose wooden covering had been knocked very deliberately ajar, working up a good head of steam the whole time. He knew Gabriel well enough to know that his repeated entreaties that afternoon were going in one ear and out the other. Perhaps he could intercept his friend and get him to go home… If not—Gabe could be impossibly stubborn, usually when he knew he was in the wrong—he could at least stay and keep an eye out, make sure he didn’t get into more trouble than he could cope with.

For the life of him, though, he couldn’t find this alleged Thieves’ Guild meeting. The whole place was dark and silent. More than he would have expected even if he hadn’t known of a “job” being done here tonight; there weren’t a lot of vagrants in Tiraas, but no city this size was free of them, and an abandoned space like this should have played host to no end of squatters. He passed no one, though.

Toby cut short his exploration of the disused factory floor when a small light bloomed in the clouded glass windows of an upstairs office. It was more like a little cell than a proper room, reached by a rickety old flight of stairs and positioned to loom above the floor where enchanters and drudges would have labored over DawnCo carriages. He crossed quickly and quietly to the steps, glancing around as he went. Still no thieves. Still no Gabriel.

They creaked, of course, and even shifted slightly under his weight. Toby climbed carefully, though, and the steps didn’t seem to be in danger of giving away. That would have been a humiliating end to this venture. The staircase terminated above in a small catwalk, which itself led directly to the door to the little office. That door was ajar.

He pushed it open, peering carefully inside. The place was empty, dusty. Even the furniture was gone. There was nothing but the lamp, set on the floor… And Raslin.

“Took your time,” the half-elf said with that knowing grin that always set Toby’s spine tingling.

“I…” Humiliatingly, he had to pause and gulp. “Where is everyone?”

“Well,” Raslin drawled, taking a step forward, “home safe in their little beds, I should think. I sent Gabriel a note at his place that the job was off.”

“Why is the job off?”

“Toby, Toby.” Raslin shook his head, still advancing. Toby held his ground, his hear thumping so hard he was certain it must be echoing in the rafters. “I’m sorry for jerking Gabe around like that, but really? There was never a job. Be honest, how else was I going to get you alone?”

Toby tried to swallow again; his throat was too dry. He took a step backward toward the door. When had he stepped so far into the room in the first place. “I…think…I should go.”

“You probably should,” Raslin agreed, still advancing. He was almost within arm’s reach now. “But you’re not going to.”

“I…”

“Poor little monk. You won’t reach out for what you want, no matter how badly you want it.” And then he was there, close enough to touch. Touching. His hands on Toby’s shoulders, face drifting closer. “But you’ll always be there to pull Gabriel’s demonic butt out of the fire. This is for your own good, you know. Sometimes it takes a little manipulation to bring people out of their shells.”

“I don’t…”

“You can thank me later,” Raslin murmured, drawing him close.

Time stopped working; space was flexible. There was just warmth, intoxicating sensation. The half-elf’s lean body pressed against his, his own back shoved against the window, questing lips on his own. Raslin made encouraging little sounds; Toby found himself offering up his own.

Then he heard something that wasn’t either of them.

He jerked his head up, gasping for air and peering around. In an instant, all the heat rushed out of him, leaving him cold.

Gabriel stood in the doorway, open-mouthed.

“Oh,” Raslin said languidly. “Did I send that note? I meant to. Ah, well. Like I said…sooner or later.”

Sunrise over the city was beautiful, or at least it seemed like it should have been. Toby couldn’t remember seeing the sun actually come up. He didn’t exactly remember getting out of that factory, either, at least not with any clarity. Gabe had been blocking the only exit from the office… He must’ve gone past him. Pushed past? It was a blur. Toby didn’t particularly want to remember. He didn’t particularly want to think at all. Or to exist.

He’d be missed at the monastery soon, if he hadn’t been already. That should have worried him quite a bit. He found little energy to spare for it.

“There you are.”

Toby froze. Gabriel’s head had appeared over the edge of the roof, where the ladder connected. With a grunt, he tugged himself up, carefully lifting a covered basket and setting it down on the rooftop to finish clambering over, talking as he went. “There are exactly five places you go when you want to think, and you’re just lucky you’re only in the second one I checked. If I’d had to climb up onto all five bloody roofs before I found you, I’d have been downright cranky by the time I did.” Dusting himself off, he bent to pick up his basket again.

Toby swallowed, flexing his hands into fists at his sides. “Gabe…”

“Here.” Gabe crossed the roof in quick strides, not seeming to notice when Toby shied back. He plunked himself down to sit cross-legged and pulled back the cloth covering the basket; Toby barely registered the mouth-watering scent that suddenly wafted out. “Nice thing about being up at this completely stupid hour of the morning is you get first crack at the bakeries. Here, I managed to score some of those non-frosted apple raspberry turnovers you like so much. Yes, you do, don’t try to pretend you don’t. Can’t say I agree with your tastes, but I’ve seen you inhale them.” He held up a pastry, grinning. “…okay, and I’m not gonna be shy about eating my share. Dang, these actually smell a lot better when they’re this fresh.”

It was funny, what finally penetrated the fog that had been weighing down Toby’s thoughts. “I… Those are… How’d you afford this? Gabe, please tell me you didn’t steal these.”

“Nah,” Gabriel said, shrugging. “That might’ve been fun, but the last thing I need is a trip to jail. You just know I’d be caught the first time I ever tried to steal anything; that’s my luck. No, I had a little money tucked away. It’s no big deal.”

Toby looked down into the basket. He had two dozen of those turnovers in there at least; they weren’t cheap pastries. “A…a little? Gabe, are you… This had to have been your whole savings!”

Gabriel looked up at him, meeting his eyes for a moment, then dropped them to look out at the city skyline, shrugging again. “Yeah, well. I figured you’d need a little pick-me-up, after the night you’ve had. You’re worth it.”

Toby was horrified to find his eyes moistening. “Gabriel…”

“Don’t start gushing at me,” Gabe said irritably. “Sit your butt down and eat your breakfast before you faint and fall off the roof. They’ll totally say I murdered you.” He took an unnecessarily vigorous bite out of the one in his hand and began chomping defiantly.

Toby sat down beside him, reaching into the basket.

They’d had two each of the small turnovers before he could bring himself to speak. “I guess… I don’t know what to say. That’s not…how I would’ve wanted you to…”

“I’m sorry,” Gabriel interrupted, still looking out over the city.

“…you’re sorry? For what?”

“I guess I was kind of a… I mean, that was a surprise, you know? Standing there gaping like a fish was maybe not the nicest thing to do in that situation. Heck if I know what was, though,” he added with a chuckle.

Toby stared down at his hands in his lap. The crumbs clinging to his fingers were suddenly fascinating.

“Please don’t tell anyone.”

“Of course I won’t,” Gabriel said fiercely, turning to glare at him. “It’s nobody’s business! It’s not even mine. I’m just sorry I, y’know…found out. You obviously weren’t ready to talk about it yet. Though I guess we both know whose fault that was,” he added darkly.

Toby heaved a soft sigh. “That…he… Yeah, not one of my better judgment calls. I have no idea how I’m going to talk to the monks about this. If I even can.”

“How can they possibly have a problem?” Gabriel exclaimed. “I mean, come on! You know what the Izarites are always saying. ‘All love is good!’ And Ms. Avelea had a whole rant about this that one time, remember? Heck, Avei’s got a whole army of lesbos. This is the twelfth century!”

Toby shook his head slowly. “You remember Ms. Avelea having an unexpected vacation right after that rant?”

“…was that when that was? Stuff kinda runs together. I don’t pay much attention to teachers. You may have noticed.”

“I paid attention to that,” Toby said somberly. “That was the school administration making a gentle suggestion about what is and isn’t appropriate classroom material. Whatever the Avenists may think… There’s what the Empire thinks. What society thinks.” He stared at the horizon. “What the monks will think.”

“Are they not… I don’t really know Omnist doctrine about… Y’know, this.”

“It’s not about doctrine, it’s more about tradition.” Toby sighed again. “Omnu is the god of life, and agriculture. Y’know, fertility and stuff. The whole notion of sex is… It’s all about procreation. You grow up, you marry someone who can help you raise babies, and then you make some babies with them. Anything else is seen as…frivolous. At best. It’s not prohibited… But it wouldn’t be welcome.”

“Well, screw them,” Gabriel said with sudden ferocity. “Tobias Caine, you are the best human being I know. You’ve got more compassion than any six merely decent folks; you’ve basically kept me from getting beaten to death by our wonderful classmates just for existing, and don’t think I don’t know it. If the gods have a problem with you, then…then… Well, damn the gods! We are what they made us. Be what you are.”

Toby reflexively tried to warn him against blaspheming—a particularly dangerous thing for Gabriel—but couldn’t speak around the sudden lump in his throat. In all the years they’d been friends, despite all the disadvantages Gabriel faced, he had never once heard him complain about his lot. Gabe had never before expressed any resentment of the Pantheon.

Not on his own behalf.

“Still, though,” Gabe went on in a more moderate tone, then actually grinned. “Raslin? I mean, come on, man. The guy is a jerk. Please tell me you’re not actually surprised he’d pull a stunt like this.”

Toby grimaced. “I know. Believe me, I know.”

“And yet…”

“Okay, you know how Ami Talaari is a mean, sneaky, backstabbing bully?”

“Um, yes? Speaking as one of her favorite targets, I have managed to notice that.”

“Uh huh. And you know how she’s pretty and has got the most amazing boobs of any girl in our year?”

“…well, yeah.”

“So if she offered to make out with you for hours, no strings attached… Would you turn that down?”

Gabriel blinked, twice, then his lips started to twitch with imperfectly repressed laughter. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. I would never do such a thing.”

Toby gave him a look. “Gabe.”

“Oh, come on, we both know the truth. Just let me enjoy my high horse for a minute. How many times in our lives am I gonna be the one showing more sense and discretion?”

Toby had to laugh along with him. It was like a dam breaking; it all rushed out of him, and then they were both howling and doubling over, knocking the basket of pastries on its side.

“Okay, so, you do notice boobs, though, then?”

“Well, not the way you do, but… Those boobs? How could I not?”

At that, Gabriel actually fell over on his side, laughing so hard he could barely manage to breathe. It wasn’t more than a couple of moments before Toby was in similar straits.

It was as wild as the dawn, as warm as the sun, as healing as the divine light the priests of his order bestowed. Years of fear, anxiety and stress dissolved under the sheer force of laughter. It wasn’t even that funny… They just needed to get it out.

It was a long morning, spent talking, laughing and eating pastries until the sun was nearing its zenith, and eventually they both fell asleep on the rooftop—Toby too dark-skinned to burn, Gabriel basically un-burnable.

Anyway, the sun was Omnu. He relaxed back against the baking stone, in the company of the only two people he knew would never condemn him, more at peace than he had ever hoped to be.

Whatever came in the future, there would always be this.

Enjoying The Gods are Bastards? Don’t forget to vote! I greatly appreciate every bit of support.

< Previous Chapter Next Chapter >

5 – 31

May 6, 2015UncategorizedAlia Ravoud, Archpope Justinian, Branwen Snowe, Captain Ravoud, Finchley, Khadizroth the Green, Kheshiri, Moriarty, Rook, the Jackal, Thumper, Vannae, Zanzayed the BlueD. D. Webb

< Previous Chapter Next Chapter >

Mercifully, the sun was finally slipping toward the sea in the west, but it was still more than warm on the rocky plains outside Onkawa. He trudged along through the scraggly bushes and lone patches of stubborn tallgrass, coat thrown over his shoulder and only a pilfered straw hat to protect him from the rays. At least he was alone. The distant city had been built on the cliffs above the sea, along the tributaries of the river, deriving scant resources from its rocky environs. Onkawa’s livelihood was trade and fishing; no one attempted to use this land for anything else.

Shook stopped as he came to an old dirt road running north to south, looking warily up and down it. Beyond that lay the mountains toward which he was headed; this was the first sign of civilization he had encountered since fleeing the city, and anxious as he was to avoid anyone who might be pursuing him, it brought him up short. Still, the road was empty. There was no other sign of life except for an enormous monitor lizard sprawled on a nearby outcropping of rock, still soaking up the heat trapped in the stone even after the sun had faded away.

The creature half turned its head toward him and flicked its tongue out, tasting the air. It looked to be nearly as long as he was tall.

“Don’t even fucking think about it,” Shook growled, reaching for a wand with the hand not holding up his coat.

The monitor flicked its tongue again, blinking both sets of eyelids.

He was contemplating shooting it on general principles when movement from the corner of his eye caught his attention. Shook swiftly sidestepped, repositioning himself to keep both the lizard (probably harmless, but he was well past the point of making assumptions) and the approaching figure in view. As the airborne dot grew close enough to become more distinct, however, he relaxed slightly.

Kheshiri swooped down and came to a graceful landing a few feet away, beating her wings once to slow her momentum. The quick breeze it caused was extremely welcome, even if it did knock his hat off. It was a stupid hat anyway.

“Master,” she said, looking tense but relieved. “I was worried. Did you get use out of the supplies I—”

“I have spent the whole goddamn day plodding across this goddamn desert, and I’m not dead of dehydration or heatstroke. Yes, I made good use of the supplies; the potions should be enough to last us till the mountains, if you’re sure you don’t need any.”

She shook her head, watching him warily. His voice was a subdued monotone, and contained an uncharacteristic lack of threats and bluster. “I don’t have many physical needs. I’m just glad you didn’t get chased down. I didn’t want to leave—”

“What’d you find out?” he asked curtly.

Kheshiri pursed her lips, then sighed. “It’s not good, master. Saduko lived. Vandro’s calling in special healers to make sure she has a full recovery. Amanika’s fine, and apparently on a fast track to heading up the local Guild chapter house. Vandro is upgrading his security system.”

He just nodded. His expression was blank, exhausted; there was something empty in his eyes.

Kheshiri sidled closer, lower her voice to a gentle murmur. “We’re gonna be fine, master. You’re smart and tough as hell, and you’ve got me. We’ll get them all for this, I promise.” She tried to cuddle up under his arm, but he pushed her away, not nearly as roughly as he usually did.

“Took you that many hours to find that much out?”

“Most of it was travel time,” the succubus said, suppressing irritation. “And…I saw an opportunity to take Vandro out of the picture, so I went for it. It…didn’t pan out.”

He glared. “You tried to… Goddamn it, you stupid wench, he has a Butler. The man is never out of earshot. It’s a miracle you aren’t dead! It’d serve you right, doing a stupid thing like that.”

“Yes, he has a Butler,” she said in exasperation. “A servant! How was I supposed to know he’s some kind of martial arts genius?”

“It’s a fucking Butler!” Shook shouted. “How can you not know what a Butler is?!”

“How would I?” she shot back. “Last time I was on this plane of existence, a butler was a guy in a suit who served tea and looked fancy! Maybe I could be more useful to you if you’d explain these things instead of making fun of me!”

She broke off, breathing heavily. Shook just stared at her. Any moment now would come the tirade, possibly with a punch in the jaw for emphasis.

Any moment.

He sighed and turned away. “Ask questions, Kheshiri. We were in that house plenty long enough for you to start wondering. You don’t understand something, you ask.”

“Yes, master,” she said meekly. While his back was turned, she permitted herself a fleeting expression of gleeful triumphant. Oh, he was all but broken. Clay to be reshaped. “I’m…sorry, master,” she added hesitantly. “I messed that whole thing up. I smelled a rat from the beginning, but… I thought it was Amanika who’d turn on us. Vandro took me by complete surprise. Luckily my precautions were of some use.”

He opened his mouth to reply, then turned his head sharply, looking up the road. A carriage was trundling along the dirt track in their direction. Shook swiftly peered around them, shoulders tensing.

“No cover,” Kheshiri said tersely, shifting silently into her local girl appearance. “It’s okay. We’re just two people out…”

“For a romantic stroll through the howling goddamn wilderness at sunset?” He gave her a disparaging look.

“…we can play the lost travelers angle, maybe bum a ride?”

“Look at that old jalopy, Kheshiri,” he said, staring at it. “Needs painting, broken head lamp…scruffy and busted.”

“I don’t think we’re in a position to be picky, master…”

“Shut up. Look at it, but listen to it. Damn near silent. That’s not some farmer’s raggedy-ass old carriage, it’s a well-maintained modern rig running the best Falconer enchantments, made up to look like a farmer’s old carriage.”

He really wasn’t stupid. Fantastically dense on certain subjects, emotional and easily manipulated, sure, but once in a while he’d abruptly remind her that he was fully trained by the Thieves’ Guild.

“Think they’re here after us?”

“Be ready for a fight,” he said as the carriage drew close. “Maybe they’re passing by on the way to some other… Oh, god damn it. Why should we get any luck?” he added in a growl as the vehicle began to slow and then pulled over to the opposite side of the road. This close, they could see that it was driven by an elf in traditional forest attire, with the addition of a pair of tinted goggles protecting his eyes from road dust.

“Shift back,” Shook said quietly.

“Master, I—”

“We’re past the point of pretenses, here. Let’s make ’em think carefully about whether they wanna fuck with us.”

“Yes, master,” she said grimly, fading back to her true form and stretching her wings menacingly. They weren’t all that useful in a fight, but they made for fantastic dramatic effect. The monitor lizard, apparently unimpressed by the carriage, recognized a traditional “puffing up” display and shifted a few feet away from them on its rock, tasting the air again.

“Now, now, there’s no need for that,” said a voice from within the carriage, and another elf emerged, stepping down into the road. He wore a pinstriped suit and an obnoxious grin. “We come in peace! I have a business proposal, if you’d like to put down those—”

Shook fired a bolt of white light into the ground right in front of his feet, cutting him off.

“I have exactly no patience for whatever bullshit this is,” he growled. “Next thing you say had better be a damn good reason for me not to shoot your ass.”

“Okay,” the elf said, his smile widening. “I’m the Jackal.”

Shook eyed him up and down. “Bullshit.”

“What’s a jackal?” Kheshiri stage-whispered.

“Look at it this way,” the elf said brightly. “I’m either the Jackal or some idiot who’s going to get killed for walking around using his professional moniker. Which do you think is more likely to intercept you on a deserted road in Buttfuck, Onkawa Province?”

“…god damn it, I hate today,” Shook muttered. “That sounds like a pretty good reason to shoot you, frankly.”

“You’d have done it if you were going to,” the Jackal said merrily. “Still could, but… I’ll tell you up front, others have made that mistake. None twice, though.”

“Who is this guy?” Kheshiri demanded, an edge to her voice.

“An assassin,” Shook said curtly.

“Oh, good,” she purred, waving her tail languidly behind her. “I love killing assassins. They appreciate the irony so much better than average shmoes.”

The Jackal laughed. “And this must be the charming Miss Kheshiri! Delighted, my dear, simply delighted. Driving our humble conveyance is my good friend Vannae, and allow me to introduce your other new friend…”

Out of the shadows of the carriage’s interior stepped another elf, this one with flowing green hair, a thin strip of beard… And eyes like luminous, smooth-cut emeralds.

“Khadizroth the Green,” finished the Jackal.

“I hate my life,” Shook corrected himself.

Khadizroth studied him over, then directed a distinctly contemptuous look at Kheshiri before turning to the Jackal. “These are the people with whom you insisted on meeting? Very well. I am patient, but not infinitely. Speak your piece, please.”

“Right then!” the Jackal said with relish, rubbing his hands together. “Quite so, quite so, you’ve been more than patient. I have brought us all together to present a fairly simple opportunity.” He spread his arms, smiling like a salesman. “How’d you all like to work for the Archpope of the Universal Church?”

In the silence that followed, the monitor tasted the air again.

“I think he’s making fun of us,” Kheshiri said, sounding offended. “Let’s kill him.”

“Now, hear me out,” the Jackal said, laughing again. “Archpope Justinian has embarked on a bold new project to rally the world’s remaining adventurers under his own thumb. Eventually, the plan is to have what amounts to a Church-controlled army of people very talented in the fine art of causing destruction.”

“First of all, adventurers are washed-up losers,” said Shook.

“Commonly, yeah,” the Jackal replied cheerfully. “I’m referring to the couple dozen or so individuals who aren’t. And, not coincidentally, don’t call themselves—ourselves—adventurers in this day and age. But the reality is the same. Three hundred years ago, we’d have been wandering, campaigning, dungeon-looting heroes, all of us.”

“Not all,” Khadizroth said quietly. “Some of us would have been targets of the rest.”

“Okay, leaving all that aside,” Shook snapped, “this is the dumbest fucking idea I’ve ever heard.”

“You are young,” the dragon said dryly.

“More to the point, this is not something I think I like the idea of the Archpope doing. So no, you can count me the fuck out.”

“Oh, honestly, Thumper, do you think I want him doing this?” the Jackal asked condescendingly. “It’d be an unmitigated disaster. Nobody needs to have power of that kind, and if anybody does, it’s definitely not the Church. Gods, no, this has to be prevented at all bloody costs.”

“And yet, you’re recruiting for him?” Shook demanded.

“That’s right.” The Jackal tucked his thumbs into his belt and rocked back on his heels, grinning broadly. “I am.”

“What the fuck—”

“It’s because he doesn’t think he can kill Justinian,” Kheshiri said quietly.

The Jackal pointed a finger at her. “Bingo!”

Shook narrowed his eyes. “What?”

“Killing the Archpope is the most logical solution to this…problem,” the succubus continued, studying the assassin through narrowed eyes. “Failing that… To oppose him directly would be suicide. The Church probably has more resources than the Empire, considering it’s stretched across the whole planet. The only workable strategy for stopping this is to go along with it. Earn trust, get placed close to Justinian, then watch for or create an opportunity to sabotage it.”

“Hm,” Khadizroth said thoughtfully.

“The lady is dead on, and proving that I was right in picking you two,” the elf said, still as cheerful as if discussing the sunny weather. “I am, to be quite honest, the best there is at what I do, and I will tell you that killing a sitting Archpope is simply not in the cards. There are limits to what Justinian can do with his power, but the gods are watching over him. I don’t mean that as the passe benediction it usually is; the actual gods keep their actual eyes on him, at least to the point of protecting him from harm. It’s part of the pact that led to the Church’s formation. No, he’s here to stay. All that’s left to do is to unwork his plans before he can complete them.”

“And you chose us?” Shook looked expressively around at the little group. “You’ve got interesting taste.”

“He’s completely insane, is what,” Kheshiri said disdainfully. “I am, in case it slipped your notice, a demon. Me going near the Church is a death sentence.”

“It might interest you to know,” the Jackal replied with a sunny smile, “that while I proposed this roster of talents, each of you was personally approved by His Holiness.” He paused, letting that sink in for a moment. “Justinian is a very forward-thinking chap.”

“Indeed, this new Archpope seems quite permissive,” Khadizroth noted, “considering we were brought here by a Black Wreath shadow-jumping talisman.”

“The skills represented by this group are plenty impressive enough to warrant recruitment,” the Jackal declaimed. “There’s me, of course, and Khadizroth here is… Well, I’m sure I don’t have to delve into his resume to impress you. Kheshiri is a noted conniver and corrupter even by succubus standards, and our boy Thumper is a veteran of security at the central office of the Thieves’ Guild. He’s the lad they send to break kneecaps when the kneecaps in question are attached to someone most people don’t want to mess with.”

“What’s his story?” Shook asked, nodding at the elf perched in the driver’s seat.

“Oh, he comes with the dragon,” the Jackal said offhandedly. Vannae tightened his mouth, but remained silent. “Even better, each of us has a hook. Justinian likes to deal with people he can control—or thinks he can. Kheshiri is bound to a kind of soul jar. Shook is currently on the outs and on the run from his own Guild. Khadizroth has been placed under a curse that severely limits his options, magically speaking. And me, well, I’ve spent the last couple of years laboriously building up the impression for Justinian’s sake that he has me on a leash. So that’s why he approves the lot of you for his venture. What’s far more interesting is what’s in it for us.”

“Go on,” Khadizroth prompted.

“We four displaced villains have enemies in common,” the Jackal continued, his smile turning grim. “There’s Justinian’s own scheme, of course, but we’ve all suffered from the attentions of one man: Bishop Antonio Darling.”

“Wait just a goddamn minute,” Shook said. “I have no quarrel with Sweet. He’s always been straight with me. Helpful, even.”

“Oh, Thumper, open your eyes,” the assassin said disdainfully. “Think about what’s happened to you. You had one little difference of opinion with an errant member of your Guild, which stemmed from you being sent by them to bring her to heel because she was out of line. Next thing you know, you’re wanted and on the run, and Principia is welcomed back with open arms. Do you even know why?”

“How do you know about any of that?” Shook demanded.

“Oh, I have my ways; that’s not important. What matters is that Darling was the one who sent Principia to Last Rock in the first place. As I understand it, you were sent by the Boss of the Guild to take her to task and she turned outright traitor, yes? Then the Boss sent you out again to drag her back.” He smirked. “Next thing you knew, the Guild wanted your ass on a platter. What you don’t know is what happened in between, in Tiraas. Someone with the power to lean on the Boss of the Guild, and with a pre-existing tendency to favor Principia, stuck his fingers in. Do the bloody math, Thumper.”

Shook had slowly stiffened as the elf spoke, and by this point had clenched his fists so hard around his wands that they vibrated. His expression was a portrait of barely-held control.

“And so, here we are,” the Jackal continued. “United in threefold purpose: We need to cozy up to Archpope Justinian to undercut his plans, we need to find ways to dismantle the various shackles placed upon each of us, and we most especially need to administer some long-overdue comeuppance to Antonio Darling and his various lackeys. As a professional courtesy to one another, I think we can find time to deal with the two friends of his who have caused us the most grief: Mary the Crow and Principia Locke.”

“And what’s to stop you from stabbing us in the back?” Shook asked tightly. “You’re not exactly a trustworthy figure, and I note this whole damn thing is your idea.”

“Alternatively,” Khadizroth suggested, “Any of us could turn on you. Or each other. I see little, if any, cause for trust here.”

“Okay, let’s think that through,” the Jackal suggested brightly. “Say you gang up, kill me and run back to Justinian with the story of how I was setting up a scheme against him. Curry a little favor, remove some competition, right? Then whoever was left would be in exactly the same position: needing to secure their freedom and revenge, and with one less ally.” He shook his head, still smiling. “It just doesn’t make any sense. We’re all professionals, and we all know where our best interests lie; in this case, that’ll suffice in place of genuine trust between us. Hell, I’d venture to say it’s the closest thing to real trust anybody ever gets in this life.”

Another silence fell; the thief, the demon and the dragon regarded each other speculatively.

“I’ve gotten us started with a little good-faith effort,” the Jackal continued smoothly. “I recently helped our buddy Khadizroth here out of a jam caused by Darling’s little hit squad. Interestingly enough, Darling is officially in charge of the Church’s adventurer recruitment program, but Justinian apparently doesn’t trust him completely. Can’t imagine why, heh. So I was dispatched with orders not to let it be known who I was, since Darling and the Crow both know who I work for.” He smirked smugly. “I may have failed to execute that as carefully as I might. By which I mean, I made damn sure two of the would-be dragonslayers got a good look at me.”

“How in the hell is that a good faith effort?” Shook growled. “That’s helping Darling.”

“Sure is,” the Jackal said cheerily. “Specifically, it’s helping him see who his real enemy is: Archpope Justinian. It’s helping to place our two groups of enemies at each other’s throats. Let them wear one another down with schemes and counterschemes while we position ourselves. By the time they’re done with that, whoever’s left over will be ripe for the picking.”

“I find this entire affair distasteful, for countless reasons,” Khadizroth said, frowning. “…however, your logic is compelling.”

Shook nodded slowly.

“I don’t trust this, master,” Kheshiri said tersely.

“Good,” Shook replied. “You’d be a fool to. But…the enemy of my enemy.”

“That never works out in the long run.”

“Oh, I’m making no promises about the long run,” said the Jackal with a grin. “Right now, we’re at the point of making sure there is a long run for any of us. We are each other’s best bet of doing so.”

“I will join you,” Khadizroth said solemnly.

Shook sighed. “Hell with it. We’re in. Not like we have any better options.” Kheshiri lashed her tail furiously, but kept silent.

“Excellent,” the Jackal purred. “Pile in, then, my friends, and let’s get out of this dump. We could all do with some rest and a good meal. And in some cases, a bath.”

Full dark fell as the carriage, loaded with its new passengers, whirred smoothly off on its way down the road. The monitor lizard watched it go, flicking out its tongue to sense the air. It made no reaction to the departing carriage, nor to the disturbance that developed in the air nearby once the vehicle was nearly out of sight.

The air shifted, twisted and rippled, as though reality itself were putty being stretched and mashed in a child’s hands. Out of the distortion stepped a stately figure in absurdly ornate blue robes, allowing the illusion effect to fade behind him.

“Now, you see that?” Zanzayed the Blue asked the monitor. “I swear, every time I see him, Khadizroth has minions. He doesn’t even try. He’s just always got some bloody mortal to fetch and carry for him, even while he’s apparently cursed, blackmailed and guilty of a ridiculously villainous plot to overthrow the Empire through organized miscegenation. It’s just not fair.”

He sighed moodily. “Now, if I had minions to talk to instead of you, little cousin, I could get some real feedback here. They’d say, ‘Zanza,’—they’d call me Zanza, I run a pretty loose hypothetical ship—’Zanza,’ they’d say, ‘you’ve tried to keep mortal followers too, and you always lose interest after a few years and forget about them. Remember the time you left four girls in a tower and forgot to feed them for thirty years? That was just gruesome, that was.’ And I’d have to shrug bashfully and admit they’re right.” He huffed in annoyance. “Of course, the alternative is this thing right here, where I’m standing alone in the wilderness talking to myself. Maybe I should give it another try. Whatever, I blame Khadizroth. Thanks to him and his idiocy, now I have to go do actual work. Bah.”

In the falling darkness, he shifted, swelling, his luminous blue eyes rising skyward, first with the revelation of his greater form, and then as he beat his massive wings and took off.

The lizard, unimpressed by travelers, carriages, impromptu conferences and dramatic magical effects, was nonetheless very impressed by finding itself in the company of the ultimate apex predator. It whirled and scuttled away with astonishing speed.

Zanzayed, though, was already halfway toward the mountains, paying it no more mind.

Captain Ravoud couldn’t help being awed. He had been to the Grand Cathedral, of course, but never beyond the public spaces dedicated to worship. Its inner halls were stately, opulent, almost perfectly designed to make him feel glaringly out of place in his stark uniform.

The soldiers of the Holy Legion who escorted him only added to the effect. Resplendent with their decorative armor and elaborate polearms, they were stern and aloof, more rigid in their bearing than the Imperial soldiers whose company he was used to. Even Ravoud’s certainty that his troops would vastly overmatch this lot in any real action did nothing to assuage the intimidation he felt. These were an honor guard, a ceremonial unit. They existed for psychological effect. It was no more than natural that he felt it in their presence, or so he told himself.

It was almost a shock when they came to what was apparently the right door; it had begun to seem he would wander this extravagant maze forever, as if trapped in a dream. His escorts, however, smoothly shifted formation (with needless but well-choreographed stomping that made their armor clank in unison), two of them moving to flank the polished oak door. One knocked.

“Enter,” said a slightly muffled voice from within. The guard turned the knob, stepped aside and saluted Ravoud. The captain returned the salute (the other man did it wrong) and stepped through. The door was pulled shut behind him, separating him from his erstwhile guards.

This space was smaller, and impressively managed to seem somewhat cozy, despite being made of the same carved white marble as the rest of the Cathedral, illuminated by towering stained glass windows as well as modern fairy lamps. The furnishings were of very dark-stained wood, bookcases laden with old leatherbound volumes, overstuffed armchairs upholstered in deep burgundy, small cabinets and stands scattered in a profusion that seemed almost cluttered. A comfortable fire labored against the winter chill in an ostentatious hearth on the far wall. The whole effect conspired to seem comfortable, habitable, offsetting the grandeur of the office itself.

Ravoud gave it all scarcely a glance, immediately falling to one knee as the Archpope of the Universal Church himself approached him.

“Your Holiness,” he murmured, kissing the proffered ring.

“Captain Ravoud,” Justinian said with a beatific smile, and withdrew his hand. “Thank you for joining me so swiftly. Rise, my son.”

He obeyed slowly. “I…was surprised by your summons, your Holiness. I confess I’m not at all sure what it is I can do for you…”

“Well, we can discuss that presently,” said he Archpope, turning to face the far end of the long office, near the fire. “First, there is someone where whom I think you should meet.”

Ravoud turned, and instantly froze, the blood draining from his face.

She stood in front of an armchair, an afghan sprawled on the floor beside her where it had clearly fallen from her lap when she abruptly rose. She was thinner than he remembered, her hair longer, but there could be no mistaking that face. It had haunted his dreams long enough.

“Alia?” he whispered.

“Nassir?” he little sister replied hesitantly, stepping convulsively forward once, then stopping as if unsure of herself.

“Alia!” he cried, completely forgetting the exalted company in which he stood and rushing forward. She ran to meet him, bursting into tears, and in the next moment she was in his arms. She wept—they both wept, rocking slowly, wrapped around each other.

“I thought you were lost forever,” he whispered finally, when enough of his breath and mental faculties recovered to form words. “I was… I tried, Alia, I tried so hard to reach you, but they blocked me at every turn. I was so close to giving up…”

“I missed you,” she sniffled, nuzzling at his shoulder. “Oh, gods, Nassir, you have no idea. I thought if I could just see you again…”

“Have you seen Papa yet? Oh, Alia, he hasn’t been the same since we lost you.”

“Not yet, I’ve only been here in the Cathedral.” She drew back slightly to smile up at him. “Papa’s still okay?”

“He will be now,” Ravoud promised, cupping her face in his hands.

“Thank the gods,” she said, tears still brimming in her eyes. “It’ll be so good to see him before I go back.”

He froze. “…go back?”

“I’m not supposed to be out,” she said, suddenly nervous. “I’m going to be in so much trouble…”

“Alia, that’s all over,” he soothed. “You’re safe now, in Tiraas. We’re not going to let any drow get to you.”

She was shaking her head before he even finished. “You don’t understand… It’s not my place, Nassir. I know where I belong. Mistress is going to be so disappointed… I’ve got to make it all right, I didn’t want to come, but they made me…”

“Alia, what are you talking about?” he demanded, his blood chilling.

“This has been an extremely trying time for all of us,” the Archpope said smoothly, stepping up next to them. “We must take the time to discuss these matters fully; it needn’t all be done tonight. Miss Ravoud, of course you should reconnect with your family. Your mistress will understand a brief delay.”

“I…” She bit her lip, glancing between Justinian and Nassir. “I guess… I don’t have permission, is what worries me…”

“All will be well,” the Archpope promised, smiling gently at her. “You are very tired, I know; it’s been a long day. I need to have a few words with your brother, my dear, and then you two will have all the time you need to talk. Branwen, would you kindly take Miss Ravoud into the sitting room and see that she’s comfortable? I’ll send the Captain in momentarily to join her.”

“Of course, your Holiness,” said a new voice, and Ravoud only then realized there was another woman present. It was a testament to the distractions occurring that he hadn’t; she was exactly the kind of woman he usually spotted right off. Short, yes, but pretty, curvy, and with striking hair of a deep red. She smiled warmly, taking Alia by the hand and gently pulling her away. “Come along, honey, let’s let your brother deal with his business as quickly as possible, so you two have all the time you need to talk.”

“All right,” Alia said, reluctantly letting herself be drawn away. “Don’t take too long, though, Nassir? I really want to talk with you, and, and, I can’t be gone too much longer.”

He only managed to nod, trying for a smile. A lump of congealed horror in his throat blocked all efforts at speech.

“Oh, but maybe you can meet mistress!” she said brightly, her face lighting up at the idea. “I just know you’ll love her. Everyone loves her.”

He couldn’t even nod. Alia didn’t seem to notice. She let Branwen escort her to a side door near the fireplace, and then through.

The moment it clicked shut, he rounded on the Archpope.

“What is wrong with her?! A spell?”

Justinian shook his head, his expression grave. “Narisian drow do not waste energy on such effects when more mundane methods will do. The crude term is ‘brainwashing.’ There is a hidden compliment to your sister in this; she would not have been so dramatically…worked upon, were she not unusually resistant to them in the first place. The mind, Captain, is always growing, ever adapting. The essence of the technique, as I understand it, is to introduce the subject to sufficiently severe trauma that they are forced to adapt new ways of thinking to survive, and then guide that adaptation in directions that serve your purposes.”

Ravoud was barely conscious of being ushered over to a large desk and gently pushed into a chair in front of it. He bit his fist, gazing emptily into the distance in shock. “Can… You can undo it?”

“There is no going back, I’m afraid. Only forward. That is how the mind works, Captain; you cannot change what has been done.” Justinian placed a glass of brandy on the desk in front of Ravoud, who hadn’t even seen him pour it. He went on more gently, a calm smile wreathing his face. “But we will put her right. It will be many times easier than having so distorted her in the first place. She already knows how to be a free, independent person, and has memories of the habits and patterns that will enable her to do so. It is simply a matter of bringing them back to the forefront, giving her time to heal, and to forget the behavior modifications that were forced upon her. It is a process, Captain; you must understand this. There is no magic incantation. It will take time and expert guidance. Luckily, we have the best. A man named Orthilon, once a Narisian slave trainer and now a resident of Lor’naris. There is no better expert on their methods.”

“More drow,” Ravoud said bitterly, closing his hand around the glass. He didn’t lift it to his mouth.

“Some disdain to use the tools and weapons of the enemy,” Justinian said mildly. “Personally, I find there is no more elegant victory for the righteous than to unmake the wicked upon their own depravities. Orthilon is trustworthy and diligent; I will personally vouch for your sister’s care. I am also,” he continued, turning and pacing over to gaze out the window at the arcane-lit city, “working to extract Tamra Faroud, who I understand was engaged to your late friend Corporal Khalivour. This is taking time and substantial energy, but I am confident it will be done. Unfortunately, so doing will expend the last of my resources in Tar’naris; I likely will not be able to rescue any more of the enslaved unfortunates there. The drow city is in the grip of a pagan goddess. It is possibly the place where my influence is thinnest.”

Ravoud swallowed the lump in his throat. “I… I can never thank you enough, your Holiness. What have I done to deserve this favor?”

Justinian turned to face him, his expression calm, thoughtful. “Let me ask you a question in return, Captain. What do you think of my Holy Legion?”

Ravoud carefully removed his fingers from the glass of untouched brandy. “They are…very impressive, your Holiness. Very dramatic. Stylish.”

“Anyone could tell me that,” Justinian said with a faint smile. “I am asking you not as a casual observer, but as a military man.” When Ravoud hesitated, he added more gently, “I beg you to speak honestly, Captain. I can assure you that nothing you have to say will offend me.”

“Well,” Ravoud said slowly. “From a strictly military standpoint… I don’t see any use for them. At all. Almost no one fights with armor and bladed weapons anymore, and of those who do… Honestly, those men wouldn’t stand a chance against the Silver Legions. I just… Your Holiness, I assumed they were meant to be strictly ceremonial. You can’t send those men against any significant threat. They’d be slaughtered.”

He trailed off, afraid he’d gone too far, but the Archpope only smiled warmly. “You have the right of it, Captain. I fear I had to engage in distasteful maneuvering and expend a great deal of political capital to gain authorization for the Church to build a military force within the Empire’s borders. Making that force an obviously ceremonial token army with little practical value has been a necessary step in soothing the feathers that were ruffled in this process.”

Justinian folded his arms behind his back, his expression growing distant. “The world, alas, is not so blessedly simple as to let me carry on in such a fashion. The fate of your sister is an example of a persistent problem the Empire faces: all too often, the Emperor is constrained by politics and unable to act…or perhaps, simply lacks the will to do so. I would not presume to judge his heart; I can only analyze his actions. Then, more recently, events in Lor’naris have reaffirmed the concerns which prompted me to form the Holy Legion in the first place. The shadowy forces at work in that debacle prove the need for the Church to strike directly against evil when it arises. It is a capacity we must develop.”

“Are you… Your Holiness, have you managed to learn anything about the people who were trying to organize that uprising? The Army’s investigation hit an immediate wall.”

“Suffice it to say, Captain, that you will hear no more from the individuals responsible,” the Archpope said with a smile. “I can assure you of that personally. I do, you see, have some ability to act where needed. As these events prove, however, more direct and forceful action is often necessary. You may not have heard of it yet, but the Black Wreath is rising, the fae in the wild places are growing restless, and in all corners of the world are whispers that a great doom is coming. Where the Empire cannot or will not act, the Church must. And to that end… While those who would oppose us are calmed by my extremely pretty, entirely useless guards, I have a mind to put together a smaller but considerably more effective force to act on my behalf.” He paused, studying Ravoud thoughtfully. “I will need someone to lead it. Someone trained in modern military tactics, experienced in leading men… And, while loyal to our Empire, someone very personally aware that governments cannot always be counted on to act where action is necessary. The more I learn of you, Captain Ravoud, the more I begin to think I have found that man. I understand you have been offered the chance to resign your commission in the Imperial Army due to the recent events in Lor’naris. While this may have seemed a punishment to you at the time… Often, the gods have a greater plan for us.”

Ravoud barely waited for him to finish speaking. He practically lunged up from his chair, starting at the Archpope and nearly trembling with fervor as he replied.

“Your Holiness, I am your man. To the death.”

Justinian smiled kindly, reached out and squeezed his shoulder.

“I know.”

The Imperial Rail station in Tiraas never truly closed. Despite the end of standard running hours, there was often a need for various persons on Imperial or other urgent business to charter private caravans. One of these was just now departing a platform, laden with agents of Imperial Intelligence on some clandestine night mission. In the relatively quiet hours of the night, though the doors remained open and the lights on, the station was protected from loiterers, vagrants and vandals by a light but steady presence of soldiers.

By and large, they let people be. Various night owls wandered through the station on no particular business; it was also a popular spot for all sorts of assignations, being clean, well-lit and safe. By the very nature of the traits that made it attractive, the Rail station was not prone to hosting any gatherings that were illicit or illegal, so the soldiers patrolling its platforms rarely interfered with anyone who did not give them specific cause.

The guards certainly didn’t bother three men in Imperial Army uniforms, standing on a platform next to a station trolley loaded with an assortment of backpacks and small satchels, rather like the light luggage of maybe a dozen people or less. After the men had been there for well over an hour, though, just standing, one of the guards finally approached them.

“Evenin’, lads,” he greeted his fellow soldiers, finally getting close enough to note their faces. One looked amused, one furious, the third merely perplexed. “Need any help?”

“Brother,” said Rook with a grin, “you have no idea.”

“They can’t possibly have just forgotten us!” Moriarty burst out.

Finchley sighed heavily, turning to the mystified station guard. “Do you happen to know if there’s a telescroll office open this late?”

< Previous Chapter Next Chapter >

5 – 30

May 4, 2015UncategorizedBishop Darling, Fross, Gabriel, Gravestone Weaver, Joseph P. Jenkins, Juniper, Longshot McGraw, Mary the Crow, Professor Tellwyrn, Ruda, Shaeine, Teal, Tinker Billie, Toby, TrissinyD. D. Webb

< Previous Chapter Next Chapter >

He couldn’t remember if he dreamed. The next thing he was conscious of was her face again, swimming into focus above him. It was a few seconds before he realized he’d actually opened his eyes.

The focusing continued, however, the haze on all sides resolving into the dim light of a room with its curtains half-drawn, and her face changed till it wasn’t her. The features shifted, the hair faded to black. Mary.

“Wh—!” Memory crashed down on Joe and he tried to sit upright. He was in a bed, drowning in pillows. “Is everyone—”

Mary planted a hand in the middle of his chest, gently preventing him from rising. “Everyone is fine,” she said soothingly, “with the possible exception of you. Be easy, Joseph, and take your time. There is no urgency. Decide how you feel and what you feel ready to do about it.”

He paused, slumping backward, and she removed her hand. “I feel…weak,” he said grudgingly after a few moments of following her advice. “And restless, but sleepy.”

“Not uncommon, after having been in bed as long as you have,” she said with a glimmer of amusement. “The weakness—”

“Joe!”

Apparently, the door had been left open; at any rate, Billie didn’t need to push through it before bounding onto a nearby chair and hurling herself bodily at Joe, arms outflung for a hug. Mary snagged her by the back of her shirt, holding the struggling gnome bodily off the ground.

“Do not assault my patient, please,” she said firmly.

“Unhand me, y’great bully!”

“Hi, Billie,” Joe said with a smile.

“Hey, you’re up!” McGraw appeared in the doorway, grinning, then stepped inside, admitting Weaver behind him. “It is damn good to see you alert again, son. You had us right worried.”

“I’m glad to see all of you, too,” said Joe, while Mary set Billie down on the floor with a murmured warning. “But what happened? Last thing I remember…” He trailed off, and swallowed heavily. “Well, it was no fun, and it left me with a good few questions. For starters, where are we?”

“You’re at my house,” said the newest arrival, poking his blond head in. Bishop Darling wore a conservative suit rather than his ecclesiastical robes, and seemed more relaxed than when Joe had previously seen him. “Which, by the way, you may consider your own until you’re back on your feet. I, uh, think you’ll find the room a lot more comfortable when it’s a lot less populated.” Indeed, it was suddenly quite cramped in the modest bedroom, but Joe didn’t spare a moment’s attention for that.

“What? We’re in Tiraas? But… You’re not supposed to move injured people by Rail. Unless…” He began trying to sit up again. “How long was I out?!”

“One day,” Mary said quietly, this time helping him up and arranging the pillows behind him for support. He needed it; it was hard to breathe, and the act of getting his torso upright wiped him out. “And we did not travel by Rail. McGraw brought us here via magic.”

“Really?” Joe turned his gaze to the old wizard. “You can do that?”

“There are exactly two places in the world to which I can teleport five people,” said McGraw, “and one is the Wizards’ Guild sanctum here in Tiraas. They’ve got a permanent portal focus on a major ley line nexus, to which all initiates are attuned.”

“You shoulda seen their faces when we all popped in,” Billie said, grinning. “Someday I wanna do that again when I don’t have a partner bleeding to death on the floor so I can properly enjoy it.”

“I really can’t tell you how relieved I am you’re comin’ through,” McGraw added solemnly. “I was right there, so busy catchin’ my breath I had no idea anything’d happened until that guy spoke. And then… Well, he was gone before I could even get a proper look, and there wasn’t a thing I could do for you. I’ve seldom felt so useless.”

“Despite our assurances that he wasn’t at fault, McGraw has seen fit to give himself a bad case of mana fatigue in getting us back here so expeditiously,” said Mary, a portrait of calm. “Portal nexus or no, that five-person teleport coming on the heels of his exertions in the crater had its price.”

“Are you okay?” Joe asked the old man worriedly.

McGraw waved a hand. “Feh, few weeks’ rest and I’ll be good as new.”

“Mana fatigue is a minor ailment,” Mary said, “provided the patient refrains from using magic until his system recuperates. Otherwise, he risks triggering a variety of permanent degenerative conditions, including anemia, hemophilia, diabetes, autoimmune dysfunction—”

“Lady, I know what the risks are,” McGraw said patiently.

She arched an eyebrow at him. “I have observed that men usually benefit from being reminded of the risks, whether they theoretically know them or not. Which brings us back to my other patient.” She gently smoothed Joe’s hair back from his forehead, an almost motherly gesture that took him aback. “Joe, you were stabbed directly in the heart. That is not a small thing. I reached you within moments; even so, I have lost patients under similar circumstances. I fear my magic might not have been sufficient if not for Billie’s aid; she administered a health potion via some kind of…device.”

“Hypodermic syringe,” Billie chimed in, beaming up at him. “Hottest shit out of Svenheim!”

“In addition to the wound itself,” Mary continued, “that knife was coated with a poison which appears to have been a carrier for raw infernal magic. You are extremely lucky that we didn’t have a priest with us. Most healing done these days uses divine magic; that would have reacted violently with the poison, causing massive internal hemorrhaging wherever it had spread and blasting a fist-sized hole at the knife wound itself.”

Joe swallowed again, heavily. “That…seems unnecessarily cruel.”

“Yes,” she said grimly. “As it is… Shamanic healing neutralizes infernal magic as a matter of course, but the damage was done; the venom spread throughout your bloodstream before I was able to purge it. The wounds are healed and I suspect you will recover fully—provided you follow my advice in the weeks to come—but for the time being, your cardiovascular system is in a state comparable to that of a sixty-year-old obese man recovering from a heart attack.”

“So,” he said wryly, “you’re saying I’m not gonna be attending any hoedowns in the next couple weeks.

Mary smiled, brushing back his hair again. “I’m saying I’ll put you back to sleep if you try. In fact, getting exercise will be vital to your recovery, but it will be gentle, supervised exercise, especially in the beginning.”

“Hey, you’re not alone in being useless,” McGraw drawled. “Without magic, I’m just an old man with questionable fashion sense. We can sit on the porch together complaining about kids on the lawn.”

“I have a finite amount of space,” Darling pointed out.

“Okay, but…what happened?” Joe demanded. “I mean, who was that guy, and why did he butt in? And what happened with Khadizroth after I—um, you know.”

There came a pause in which everyone’s expression grew grimmer.

“He is a professional assassin known as the Jackal,” Mary said finally. “Someone I neglected to kill when I last had the opportunity, for which you have my apologies. I assure you I will not repeat that error.”

“Khadizroth got away,” Weaver added. “Which was apparently the point. The Jackal got everyone to cluster around you instead of around the dragon, and spirited him off.”

“Weaver was the only one who stayed on point,” said McGraw, nodding to the bard. “He tried to apprehend Khadizroth, but…”

“But even a diminished dragon is more than I can handle on my own, it turns out,” Weaver said dryly. “I gave it a try and in two minutes was running for my life. In hindsight, it’s lucky I didn’t get a knife in my own back; I never even knew that asshole was there until I found you on the ground with the others.”

“So, you put aside your concern for me and stuck to the mission,” Joe said, grinning. “Good man.”

“I’m sure you’d have done the same for me,” Weaver replied offhandedly.

“Well, I sure will next time.” The bard actually laughed, sounding more relaxed and cheerful than Joe had ever heard him. “So, uh… How did you mean, diminished?”

“I bound him,” Mary said simply. “A dragon is a creature of shifting forms, as you know. Its larger shape is often called its true form, which is a misnomer; both are natural and intrinsic. In his full size, however, he has a larger aura to accompany his larger mass, and thus greater access to his powers in addition to muscle, armor and natural weapons. The spell I laid upon Khadizroth restricts him to his elven form, which greatly limits his options. Even so, as Weaver pointed out, he is effectively a shaman of nigh-matchless power in his current condition. So while we did not achieve our objective, it was not an unequivocal loss, despite the Jackal’s intervention. Khadizroth will be that much easier to deal with next time.”

“Yeah, well, considering we dealt with him last time with a wild-ass gambit that really should not have worked,” Weaver groused, “and in the future he’ll be on the alert for us, not to mention having a brand new assassin buddy… Forgive me, but I’m not gonna chalk this up as a win.”

“How long will your spell bind him, Mary?” Darling asked quietly.

“It has no limit on duration,” she said, shifting to face him. “I am confident that Khadizroth himself, in his current state, cannot free himself from it… But what can be done can be undone. The greatest impediment to him freeing himself at this time is that he will not be willing to appear vulnerable in front of any of the people who might help him. Nearly all of those are other dragons.”

“Okay,” he said thoughtfully, nodding. “The other thing you all should be aware of is that the Jackal, when he was last seen, was in the employ of Archpope Justinian.”

That brought another momentary silence.

“Doesn’t mean he is now,” McGraw said reasonably. “That Jackal’s a blade for hire, everyone knows that.”

“Ask yourself why he would have stuck his hired blade into that particular situation,” Mary said darkly. “Why follow us to Khadizroth? Why care? No one has an interest in this matter except Darling, the Church and the Empire.”

“And the Imps would have sent their own people,” added Darling. “They’d also have killed the dragon while they found him vulnerable, not helped him escape. No, this leaves the Archpope as the only other person who even knew what was happening out there, and the question is…why would he care? He’s not the vengeful type, and with Khadizroth’s Cobalt Dawn scheme broken up years ago, the dragon is no threat to his interests.”

“What remains,” said Mary, her face falling into a baleful stare, “is Archpope Justinian’s plan to gather powerful adventurers to his side, which you are allegedly to oversee, Antonio. Khadizroth in his current state is a very rare thing: a dragon powerful enough to be a potent force, but vulnerable enough that he may have no choice but to accept terms.”

“Hang on,” Billie objected. “I thought we were the ones working for the Archpope, here?”

“On paper, yes,” said Darling. “But when I look back on it, Justinian handing his adventurer program over to me came at a moment when he had to give me something to keep me loyal. I’ve asked him since you lot reappeared, and he claims the last he heard of the Jackal, the man was rotting away in the Sisterhood’s custody.”

“So it’s like that, is it,” Weaver said grimly. Darling nodded.

“Excuse me, it’s like what, exactly?” Joe asked.

“There are now two Church-sponsored initiatives to control adventurers,” Mary explained. “We represent one, the Jackal clearly being another. The Archpope has to know that Darling knows of his second group, but at the moment, I assume they are unwilling to confront one another.” She turned to raise an eyebrow at Darling.

“Do you really think anything good would come of that?” Darling asked dryly. “I’m in no position to take him on, and he doesn’t benefit from rocking the boat. None of this is particularly out of character for Justinian. He’s used his own agents to winnow each other down before—in fact, that’s what he was doing with the Jackal when I last crossed paths with him. I suspect he’s not shy about surrounding himself with people he knows are working against him, either. It’s a classic technique; keep your enemies closer, as the saying goes. This is a reminder that he is still in control, that he still holds all the cards.”

“Does he?” Weaver asked, staring intently at him.

Darling actually grinned. “He may hold them, but I very much doubt he understands what they do. The nature of individuals such as yourselves is chaos. That’s the specific thing adventurers are known for: succeeding when they should not. Justinian’s a planner and a manipulator; chaos is the one thing he’s least suited to handle. There’s also the fact that his other group are presumably operating under some kind of duress. They wouldn’t be adventurers in the first place if they were sympathetic to anyone in Tiraas looking to control him. No…for the time being, this game continues. Politely.”

Weaver folded his arms, his chin jutting out challengingly. “And that raises the issue of whether we want to continue playing.”

“Of course, you’ll still get paid for this expedition,” Darling said smoothly. “And Justinian has not blocked my access to his room full of oracles; I am still working on the answers I promised you.”

“Also, we’re not feckin’ idiots,” Billie added. “We’re all still in. Don’t give me that look, Weaver, you know damn well we are. None of us is gonna sit still while Justinian puts a collar ’round our necks. It’s either join him, try to ignore him, or stick with Darling and undercut him when we can, aye? Tell me none of ye are daft enough to think that’s even a choice.”

“All this can be discussed in more detail in the days and weeks to come,” Mary said firmly. “Right now, Joe needs rest.”

“I’ve had nothing but rest for the last day, apparently,” Joe complained.

“You were stabbed in the heart,” she said with a touch of asperity. “You will not be recuperated in a matter of hours. Or weeks.”

“Feh, don’t listen ta her,” Billie said cheerfully. “She’s older’n dirt’s granny. We’ll give you all the miracles of modern alchemy, have you back in shootin’ shape in no time at all!”

Mary gave the gnome an extremely level look, but offered no comment.

“Well, if we’ve got a little downtime,” Billie prattled on blithely, “sounds like a good opportunity to spend some quality time gettin’ ta know each other! And seriously, I’ve got questions. Like, Joe, how the hell did you manage that with the portals and that ridiculous shot you pulled off? And you!” She pointed accusingly at Weaver. “Just what the hell manner of beastie is it ye got sittin’ on yer shoulder, eh?”

Silence descended, in which they all peered warily around at each other.

Then Darling laughed out loud. “Well, I think this is the beginning of a beautiful partnership. All right, I have to go tend to a political situation in the city. Try not to kill each other, please. At least not in my house.”

“So how was brunch with the Emperor?” Gabe asked as the group descended the steps into the Rail terminal.

“’bout as boring as I anticipated,” said Ruda. “We sipped tea, nibbled delicately on frou-frou little cakes and communicated entirely in mincing doublespeak. Got the job done, though, no one’s bearing any grudges, our great nations are still friends, yadda yadda, and everybody politely avoided mentioning how your great nation could pulverize mine with a good sneeze. Gotta say, though, I like your Empress. I think that lady is constitutionally incapable of taking anybody’s shit.”

“Well, that’s kind of true,” he said with a grin. “I was half expecting you to come back beheaded.”

“I’m not an idiot, Arquin. I don’t talk to people who matter the way I do to you.”

“Oh, so you don’t stab everyone you meet?”

“You are just never gonna let go of that, are you?”

“I cannot think of a single damn reason why I should.”

“Isn’t it kinda late?” Fross asked, rising upward a few feet to get a better view around the station. “Are we gonna be able to get a caravan?”

Afternoon had passed into early evening; there was still sunlight, peering through a rare gap in the Tiraan cloud cover, but it was reddish and streaming in from the west through the large plate glass windows which illuminated the Rail station. Indeed, the place seemed nearly deserted, the Rails themselves silent and the only people still present pushing brooms along the platforms in the near distance. The Empire was large enough that the sun didn’t occupy the same place in all its skies—by now it would be fully dark in Puna Dara and still late afternoon in Onkawa—but evidently it was past the hour when people were expected to be traveling.

“I think you kids have made quite a sufficient spectacle of yourselves for one week,” said Tellwyrn, bustling along in the head of their group. “There’s a reason I left you here all day rather than hopping the first available caravan. We have a special charter taking us back to Last Rock. They don’t usually like to run this late, but someone at ImCom agreed with me that the less attention we garnered, the better.”

“Well, it all works out,” said Gabe lazily. “I got to hear Trissiny’s speech and visit my dad. Nice, easy day after the week we’ve had.”

“It’s a shame you didn’t get to have brunch with our beneficent rulers, though,” Toby said with a smile.

Ruda snorted. “Now him she would’ve beheaded. Me, I was only worried about missing the paladins getting reamed out now that Her Professorship has graciously decided to rejoin us. The suspense is killing me.”

Tellwyrn glanced over her shoulder. “You’re a sadistic ghoul, Punaji. Anyone ever tell you that?”

“Not so much since I left home. I kinda miss it. Nobody pitches a yelling fit like my mama.”

“No one’s getting reamed out,” said Tellwyrn, facing away from her again. “You lot mostly did well.”

“Seriously? They practically got the place burned down.”

“Ruda, must you?” Trissiny asked wearily.

“I don’t must, strictly speaking. It’s mostly just for my amusement. You may have noticed I’m kind of a bitch.”

“Failure wasn’t really a prospect,” said Tellwyrn, coming to a stop and turning to face them. “As I told you up front, this was a lesson, not a test. Toby and Trissiny, it seems, did the best job of learning it, perhaps because they caused the most incidental trouble. And the lesson was…?”

The two paladins exchanged a wary look.

“Pick your battles?” Trissiny said finally.

“More or less,” Tellwyrn nodded. “Minor variations for your specific cases, but yes. I could indeed make a speech about the importance of not trying to slay every monster you come across, but as I said, you seem to have gotten the point on your own. You two did exactly what I expected you to do; you soaked up the lesson better than I’d hoped, though. Well done. Arquin, Fross, you weren’t in a position to be tested very thoroughly on your own terms, but you seem to have done well in assisting your classmates while not causing collateral damage. Punaji, of course, understood this well going in and very properly refrained from getting involved where her involvement would have done no good. And, of course, Falconer and Awarrion performed much the same, though I wonder if either of you are willing to look me in the eye and claim your chosen actions were due to a careful analysis of the needs of the situation and not you taking the opportunity to hold hands and canoodle on a romantic holiday in the big city.”

Teal and Shaeine glanced at each other, then Teal lowered her eyes, blushing. Shaeine met Tellwyrn’s gaze evenly, but said nothing.

Tellwyrn grunted. “Remember, inaction is a course of action; it’s only the right one in circumstances when it specifically is the right one. Most of the time, it’s one of the worst things you can do. And you.” She turned a baleful stare on the last member of the group. “I am not impressed, Juniper. Sheltered and naïve you may be, but there are limits to how much of your denial I’m going to tolerate. You are too powerful and too important to be allowed to stagger aimlessly around the world with your head up your ass.”

Juniper, who had been subdued and glum for days, slumped her shoulders and dropped her gaze, saying nothing in reply.

Tellwyrn grimaced, peering around. “And now, where the hell is the special caravan I chartered? They’re late. I swear, the more modern conveniences get installed the less anything runs on time… Hang tight, kids, I’m going to go terrorize the station master for answers.”

“Um, Imperial Rail personnel aren’t supposed to give out schedule information…”

“Yes, Fross,” Tellwyrn said patiently. “You have never see me bored enough to terrorize someone without good and specific reason. It is goal-directed terror, I assure you. Be right back.”

She swished off in the direction of the ticket office, leaving the students staring after her.

Gabriel stepped over to Juniper and draped an arm around her shoulders. “D’you…wanna talk about it?”

“No,” she mumbled.

He nodded, drew in a breath and said very carefully, “You, uh, heard her, though. Eventually you’re gonna have to talk about it.”

“Not right now,” she said with an edge in her tone. “Okay?”

“Okay.” He rubbed her shoulder soothingly. After a moment, she leaned against him; he staggered before catching himself and bracing one leg.

“Well, look who thought they were gonna slip away without saying goodbye!”

The group started in unison, swiveling around; Flora and Fauna had appeared behind them, wearing identical grins.

“Gah!” Gabe exclaimed. “Don’t do that! In fact… How did you do that? There’s no cover in here!”

They exchanged an amused glance. “We’re Eserites.”

“We’re elves.”

“Honestly, Gabe, try to keep up.”

“It’s not that complicated.”

“I’m just so glad you decided to come visit,” he grumbled. Fauna laughed, stepping forward to ruffle his hair.

“I didn’t get a chance to ask,” said Trissiny with a smile. “How are you two? Last I saw you, it seemed like the Bishop was annoyed with you.”

“Oh, he’s always annoyed about something,” said Flora, waving dismissively.

“It’s all part of his charm.”

“He loves us, don’t you worry.”

“I think we’re actually gonna miss you, though, and not just because keeping tabs on you gave us an excuse to avoid studying.”

“I knew it,” Ruda exclaimed.

“Well, yeah,” Flora said with a grin. “You do realize we don’t always hang around seedy inns in Lor’naris, right?”

“Seriously, though, it was fun,” Fauna added, smiling with a little less mischief. “Someday we’ll have to do that without a riot brewing. I feel like we barely got—”

A thunderclap sounded right in the middle of the group; Flora and Fauna were bodily hurled across the platform, slamming into the far wall.

Tellwyrn reappeared in their midst, planting herself between the students and the two felled elves. Her body was encased in a suit of armor that seemed formed of pale blue light; she held a gold-hilted saber in each hand, both in a ready position. The crackling blue sphere of an arcane shield surrounded her; three orbs of lightning orbited her swiftly, emitting sparks and the sharp smell of ozone.

“What the hell?!” Ruda squawked.

Flora and Fauna surged to their feet, glaring at Tellwyrn with bared teeth.

“I will say this only once,” the Professor declared, her voice resonating hollowly from within her magic armor. “You are not my business. These students are. So long as you don’t move to combine those two things, I look forward to forgetting I ever saw you. Understand?”

“Do you really think you can—” Fauna broke off as Flora gripped her firmly by the shoulders from behind.

“It was good meeting all of you,” she said firmly. “Come on, Fauna.”

Fauna glared at Tellwyrn a moment longer, then sneered, whirled and stalked away toward the stairs out of the station. Flora lingered a moment, giving the students a sad look, then turned and followed her fellow apprentice, cloak billowing behind her.

Tellwyrn held her position until they were out of sight out the doors before straightening from her combat stance. Armor, shield and lightning balls faded from view, leaving behind only the telltale scent of ozone; she twirled both sabers once and then sheathed them at her waist. Or made motions as if doing so, anyway, despite the fact that she wore no scabbards; the blades vanished as if sliding into sheaths, and when she took her hands away, the hilts were gone too.

“Allow me to emphasize and elaborate on my initial question,” said Ruda. “What the fucking hell?! I liked them!”

“I don’t believe in coddling,” Tellwyrn said flatly, finally turning to face them. “You need to face the world in order to learn about it, and I’m not shy about sticking you into risky situations if it furthers your education. So on the rare occasions when I refuse to explain something, it’s because something is going on which doesn’t concern you, would fruitlessly endanger you to get involved with, and which even knowing about would necessarily involve you.” She dragged a hard stare around the group, making eye contact with each of them. “I am refusing to explain this. Understand?”

The students glanced around at each other.

“Understand?” Tellwyrn said insistently, this time getting a few muted acknowledgments.

“Wait,” said Juniper, “is this because those two are—”

“Juniper! You are not, now or at any time in the future, to discuss this with anyone unless I specifically tell you otherwise!”

“Um,” the dryad said meekly, “okay.”

“As for the rest of you,” Tellwyrn went on firmly, “If you ever encounter either of those women again, you are to immediately get as far away from them as you can, as fast as you can, and find me as quickly as possible. Is that clear?”

This time, she waited, staring them all down, until everyone had agreed.

“Good,” she said finally, turning away from them to the Rail, which had begun to glow and sparkle. “And…ah, there we are. Better late than never.”

The students stood in silence, staring at her back as she waited for the approaching caravan to come to a stop, her arms folded, tapping one foot. The doors hissed open, emitting no passengers, and Tellwyrn was the first to step through.

“I, uh, hope nobody saw that,” Fross said a little belatedly.

“The janitors are gone,” said Gabriel. “I guess that’s just good sense, with an archmage having a fit nearby.”

“Let’s just get out of here,” said Juniper, ducking into a car. One by one, the others followed her, arranging themselves inside.

Trissiny was the last to enter the caravan; she paused on the threshold, half-turning to look out at the station and the distant view of Tiraas through its huge windows, and sighed softly. Then she stepped in, pulling the door shut behind her.

< Previous Chapter Next Chapter >

5 -29

May 1, 2015UncategorizedAlan Vandro, Bishop Darling, Kheshiri, Trissiny, WilberforceD. D. Webb

< Previous Chapter Next Chapter >

Most people were automatically on their best behavior in the presence of the Silver Legions, whose by reputation didn’t embrace any kind of tomfoolery. Reporters, it seemed, were made of stiffer stuff—or less mentally balanced stuff, perhaps. The dozen notebook-wielding men milling around in the street tried to interrogate everyone they came across, with varying degrees of politeness. The residents of Lor’naris who had gathered to watch the show were happy to be interviewed, but were mostly left alone as the newspapermen quickly discovered they knew nothing. It was at the Legionnaires standing guard that they directed most of their energies, seeming to take the troops’ stoic refusal to respond—and increasing hints of irritation—that they were hiding something.

The vacant shop which had been appropriated by the Third as a makeshift command post now had a small platform erected in front of it, hastily constructed of planks laid over shipping crates. A Legionnaire stood at either end of this, as well as in a loose formation sectioning off the bit of street in front of the shop. They made no moves to impede anyone coming and going, simply making it clear by their presence that this patch of land was currently under their protection. The only other apparently noteworthy individuals present were a couple of soldiers in Imperial Army uniform, standing with the Lorisians waiting for the show to start, and a dwarf woman on the platform in the white robes of a priestess of Avei. The Imps were as willing to talk as the citizens, and as quick to reveal their ignorance. The Sister didn’t bother to refuse to answer questions; she had Legionnaires to shoo nosy reporters away. For all intents and purposes, she was in a kind of meditation, standing still and in silence, staring across the crowd with a calm smile.

Finally, late enough in the morning that several of those present had begun to think about slipping away for lunch, the door of the shop opened and a blonde man in the robes of a Bishop stepped forth, smoothly mounting the improvised platform. Immediately the gathered reporters brought up notebooks and pencils, fixing their eager attention on him.

“Gentlemen, thank you for joining us,” Darling said with a beatific smile. “I apologize for keeping you waiting, but I do promise that you will be glad to hear what you are about to hear, as will your editors. I mentioned this to each of you when inviting you to be present, but let me repeat: this will be a simple address. Questions will not be taken. And with that and no more ado, allow me to introduce to you the Hand of Avei.”

He stepped smoothly to the side, standing next to the priestess, over whom he towered. A stir went through the onlookers as the door opened again and out stepped a slender blonde figure in striking silver armor over a winter coat, battered sword hanging at her hip and her eagle-marked shield on her back. There was a smattering of applause from the residents of Lor’naris, but the reporters only stared hungrily.

She strode to the center of the platform and fell automatically into parade rest, feet braced and hands clasped behind her. For a moment, she panned her gaze around at the modest crowd, expression unreadable, then cleared her throat and began.

“Gentlemen, thank you for coming. My name is Trissiny Avelea.” A soft swell of murmurs and the frantic scratching of pencils followed the lack of a title given, but Trissiny pressed on. “I will come to the point: there has been a lot of uncertainty and many questions about events in this district in the last few days. I’ve been told there is a lot of general curiosity about me, as well. For the record… I don’t really consider myself that important. I’m here to serve, not to court attention. But some answers need to be given about events in Lor’naris.

“Briefly, there have been several abuses of power by members of the Imperial Army tasked with patrolling this district. I understand you’ve all been given many of these details already, so I won’t bore you; any further questions should be directed to the Army, which I am assured has the matter well in hand. The guilty parties have been apprehended and are awaiting justice, and no aspersions should be cast upon the character of the Army, nor of the regiment responsible for this part of the city. In fact, the officer in command of Barracks Four, Captain Nassir Ravoud, has done a great deal to help calm the tensions all this has caused. I myself have been a signatory to a letter of commendation to General Panissar on his performance, along with a member of the Narisian House Awarrion and the Hand of Omnu.”

This time, she did pause to let the muttering die down a bit, frowning vaguely as if gathering her thoughts. “These things…happen. Troubles come and go. I’ve played an…incidental part in all this, which I don’t think is important. What I asked you here to speak about is a matter that has been increasingly troubling me as I’ve come to know the people of Lor’naris.

“This is a district of outcasts. In this street live half-bloods of various mixtures, including, I am told, a handful of half-demons. Dwarves, elves, lizardfolk and gnomes reside in Lor’naris… As do drow. The drow are here in the greatest numbers, of course, and have become sort of iconic. What the residents of this street have done here is nothing short of amazing: in a mere decade, they have converted a slum to a clean, safe, productive district. At this point, they stay here because they have invested so much in it. This is their home, and everyone here has more than earned her or his place.”

She took a deep breath and let it out slowly, her frown deepening. “But they came here for very different reasons, for the simple reason that they were not wanted anywhere else. That the Lorisians are mostly content to remain in this district does not change the fact that they would be heavily pressured to do so if they attempted to spread out through the city. Or the Empire. I consider this a significant problem.

“The Pantheon have long been known as the protectors of humanity. Humans do not enjoy the innate benefits many of our neighbors do. We haven’t the sturdiness of dwarves, the agility of the elves, or the long lifespans of either. We are not so hardy as lizardfolk, as strong for our size as gnomes… We don’t compare to dragons by any measure. What we have is the protection of our gods, and our…resourcefulness, our adaptability. If there’s a consistent strength of humanity throughout our history, it is our skill at making our way wherever we land, storing up skills and knowledge to pass on to the next generation, leaving our descendents stronger and better-equipped than those who’ve come before. Our strength, in short, is cumulative, and has been building for these eight thousand years. Finally, a tipping point has been reached, and passed. Humans are now the dominant force among mortal races by a wide margin. In becoming so, we’ve changed the very world around us.”

Trissiny glanced over at Bishop Darling. “It was recently pointed out to me that Rail lines and scrolltowers represent connection. The world is drawn closer together by our advances, and this, more than our new weapons and modern conveniences, has changed the way we live. The other races aren’t distantly-glimpsed figures of legend anymore. They are everywhere. They come forth to partake of what we’ve created, bringing their own ways and cultures, and there has been some pushback against them because of it. That reaction is quite understandable.

“However, I think it is a serious mistake.”

She let that sit for a moment, staring out over the crowd. “Right now, too many Imperial citizens think of the other races as the same distant oddities their ancestors did, which doesn’t work when these people now live next door, open shops to sell their traditional foods in human cities and play their music on street corners. They are here, and we need to figure out what to do about this. Accept and embrace the foreigners, or…out of some belief in human ‘purity’…attempt to expel them? In this, as in all things, my advice is to look to the gods for guidance.”

Trissiny swallowed, stiffened her shoulders and raised her chin. “I cannot speak for the other cults, of course, nor for the Universal Church. But I believe Avei has made her view clear by selecting a half-elf as her Hand.”

Instant pandemonium exploded. Reporters shouted questions, waving their hands frantically to get her attention, scribbling in their notebooks so vigorously that some were tearing pages. Trissiny stood firm and silent through the onslaught, drawing a long breath in slowly through her nose.

Bishop Darling stepped to the front of the platform, raising his hands and gently making soothing gestures at the crowd. “Please! Peace, everyone. Calm yourselves. Gentlemen, this is most unbecoming. You’re adults.” It took him several repetitions even to become audible over the hubbub, but eventually the gathered newsmen complied with generally ill grace. “I said we would not be taking questions. Now, kindly hear General Avelea out.”

Trissiny nodded to him in thanks as he moved back to his position. “I have been speaking about these matters with High Commander Rouvad; any further questions may be directed to the Temple of Avei after we’re done here. What I called you here for was to see what steps the Sisters of Avei are taking to adapt to the changing world we live in. My first day here in Lor’naris, I was taken to task—quite justifiably—by a woman who, despite our pledge to protect all women in need, was not served by the Sisterhood when she most needed help. We have, and have always had, dwarves, elves and gnomes among our ranks, and even a few in the Silver Legions. All, however, sought us out, with great effort and often, significant personal risk. Each non-human among every cult of the Pantheon represents an exceptional story. Not all, I am not proud to admit, have been accepted. And we have never made an effort to reach out to them.

“That, now, will change.” Trissiny nodded firmly, as if someone had questioned her. “I am hereby announcing the formation of a new arm of the cult of Avei: the Silver Mission. The building behind me will form its first outpost, and given the Mission’s purpose, it is perfect that it be here, in Lor’naris. This will not be a cloistered order like the Sisterhood, nor a heavily disciplined one like the Legions. Each outpost shall be administered by a small core of priestesses—in many cases, no more than one or two—and an equally small detachment of Legionnaires, if any. The Mission will be staffed by un-ordained volunteers. Its purpose shall be to serve the priorities of Avei in whatever community it inhabits; it shall be open to all, and welcoming to any who offer their aid. In short, the lay worshipers of Avei will be given support and the means to advocate their faith and do whatever good they might in the world, so long as they are willing to bring outsiders into the fold. Outposts of the Silver Mission will be placed, at least at first, in areas with high concentrations of foreigners, aliens and any considered ‘undesirable’ by human society at large. And,” she added, her brows lowering challengingly, “in the interests of accommodating all who are willing to serve, these outposts will be unconsecrated, so as to provide for the needs of demonbloods.”

All Darling’s hard work went up in smoke as the reporters again devolved into a question-shouting melee. However, they were silenced this time by Trissiny herself. Golden wings sprang forth from behind her, stretching to their full, awesome span above the crowd. Stunned silence fell as the visible presence of Avei loomed over them all.

“Justice is for everyone,” Trissiny declared, her voice booming across the street as if amplified. “Avei calls all who will support it to her side. All. No one who comes in good faith will be turned away.”

The wings faded; she blinked twice, as if rousing from a dream, then squared her shoulders again. “With me is Aeldren Yrrensdottir, the priestess who will oversee this first outpost of the Silver Mission. I will now turn the floor over to her; she can better explain the Sisterhood’s intentions here, and answer any questions you have.

“Thank you for coming, gentlemen. Walk in the light.”

Aeldren smoothly stepped forward as Trissiny backed away, then turned to duck back into the building, Darling right on her heels. A couple of reporters attempted to follow her and were politely but inexorably dissuaded by the Legionnaires.

Inside, she let out a breath and slumped backward against the wall. “Oh, goddess, I think I’m going to faint.”

“You did great, kid,” Darling said, amused. He glanced at the closed door, though which the voices of the crowd were still audible. “Seriously, that was a stellar performance. If you want to keep your mystique, though, we should keep moving. Won’t be long before those vultures find the rear entrance.”

She drew in a deep breath, then another, shuddering. “Why on earth is that so hard? I’ve been trained to face demons and warlocks and battle of any kind… Public speaking, though…”

He laughed. “Well, you may complain, but you’re a natural.”

“I’m a what?” she asked, aghast. “How can you say that? I’m just grateful I didn’t shake hard enough they could see.”

“Maybe,” he said, still smiling. “But you gave that speech from memory, without notes. You kept on point, didn’t ramble, and showed a nice turn of phrase.”

“You wrote it,” she grumbled.

“The bulk of it, yes, but you improvised quite a few lines, and improvised well.”

She groaned, dragging a shaking hand over her face.

“That’s a good thing,” Daring said gently. “It’s like you just said out there: the world is small and connected, now. You can’t solve every problem with your sword the way your forebears did. Get used to fighting with words, Trissiny. Those are the weapons of the future.”

“Never thought I’d miss the centaurs,” she muttered. “I know what to do with centaurs.”

“Hey, I’m just a telescroll away,” he said, patting her on the pauldron. “If you ever need advice, consider me at your disposal. Probably not for the rest of today, though; I’ve got an unexpected load of houseguests to attend to, along with continuing to untangle the snarl of Barracks Four and Lor’naris, on top of my usual run of being too busy to breathe.”

Trissiny nodded, took another deep breath, and straightened up, adjusting her sword belt and shield almost absently. “I…appreciate that. If it’s all right… Someday when I have more time to think about it, I may ask you about…Principia.”

He nodded, starting to move toward the back of the shop; she unconsciously fell into step alongside. “Of course. When you’re ready, I’ll tell you what I can.”

“You…do know her, then?”

“Not intimately, but yes.”

“What…in broad terms, I mean… What do you think about her?”

“I don’t like her,” he said frankly.

Trissiny turned to stare at him. Then, surprising herself, she burst out laughing.

“How’re the numbers looking?” Vandro asked, gazing down at the workmen replacing shattered fairy lamps in the garden. This particular balcony didn’t give him the best view of the grounds, but for that very reason it was more secure.

“Financially, this episode has been a dismal one,” said Wilberforce, studying a clipboard. He didn’t need it, nor the papers on it, having every relevant detail committed to memory, but he enjoyed his props. “Between damage to the estate and the resources funneled into the Om’ponole job, which has ended up yielding no revenue, it has been an unmitigated loss. Not more than we can bear, of course. Indications are that we shall not need to dip into the investment capital to recoup this over time. The widespread damage to the villa does, in fact, afford us the opportunity to make some upgrades, including to the security system.”

“That was already supposed to be beyond state of the art.”

“Yes, sir, when we installed it, six years ago. Advances have been made. In particular, it may now be possible to apply a life-force lock to the control runes that will prevent another event like that caused by Kheshiri.”

“Life-force lock? That’s witchcraft. You can’t work that into an arcane enchantment network.”

“According to a source in Calderaas, it is now possible. I will investigate this carefully before recommending we spend any money, of course.”

“Hm. Of course, that means anyone wanting to do what she did will have to secure my ass instead of the runic controls.” He grinned. “Heh…I like that. If they have to involve me, they can’t keep me from playin’ ’em. Look into it.”

“Consider it done, sir.”

“Good.” He sighed. “And in the future, no matter how clever I think I’m being at the time, I have a new rule: no more goddamn demons.”

“Yes, sir.”

Vandro half-turned to raise an eyebrow at him. “Go on, you can say it. An ‘I told you so’ here and there isn’t a violation of your contract.”

“That will not be necessary, sir, as you clearly recall that I did. In any case, barring further mishap, the financial loss from this venture should not increase. We appear to have reached the limit of the bills, and can begin laying plans to recoup.”

“Mm. Is that estimate including the bribes and whatnot needed to keep Trigger off Om’ponole’s shit list?”

“Indeed, sir, though that is proving more problematic than anticipated. I have sent overtures, making it clear that we commissioned the fireworks and taking full responsibility for the regrettable accident, but it appears there was pre-existing bad blood between the two. Hence Trigger’s willingness to participate in the first place. Also, Chief Om’ponole is not so abysmally stupid that he has failed to deduce your hand in the incursion on his estate. He seems inclined to be obstreperous.”

Vandro snorted. “Pompous dickhead. If he won’t take the carrot, apply the stick. I got into his estate once; I can get into his bedroom while he sleeps.”

“I shall so remind him if need be, sir.” He flipped a page on the clipboard. “Amanika has sent her compliments. Toss is, in her opinion, not long for the chapter’s leadership, following the events of last night and your masterful verbal destruction of his character.”

“See, Wilberforce? Nothing’s ever a total loss, if you look carefully enough!”

“As you say, sir. Amanika would previously have been a front-runner for the post once Toss is removed from it, though following the revelation of her involvement with you, her credibility is badly damaged. It will likely take years to recover, denying her this chance at the leadership.”

“Ah, well. It was a hell of an omelet; wish I could’ve picked the eggs more carefully.”

“Saduko-san is stable and expected to recover in good health, though the clerics say she will almost certainly lose the use of her voice.”

“Mm…” Vandro swirled his omnipresent cocktail, frowning into the distance. “…no, she won’t. Somewhere, there’s a healer who can fix that. Find them. Send out feelers to Tiraas, Svenheim, the Green Belt… Hell, Tar’naris. Who knows what mojo the darklings are brewing down there.”

“Yes, sir. That will be a considerable expense, of course. And Saduko-san was spying on you, possibly with the intent to sabotage your plans.”

“Yes, yes, for the Guild.” Vandro sipped the drink, not looking up from his intense perusal of the near distance. “In any war, Wilberforce, the greatest of all tactics is to turn the enemy’s soldiers into your own. Saduko’s heard my views on the Guild and its failings, and spy or no, I know my reasoning is sound and its presentation compelling. She was just paraded about like a puppet by the Guild and got a slit throat for her trouble; I will be the one to selflessly undo all that damage and make sure she gets her life back.” He chuckled sardonically. “She’s a smart girl; she’ll figure out where her best interests lie. They say you can’t buy loyalty like that; in my experience, that’s exactly how you get it.”

He froze, staring down at the knife which had appeared under his chin, attached to a hand reaching over his shoulder. “…why, hello, Shiri. You’re late. Punctuality not one of your—”

Vandro was cut off by a blue flash as the knife plunged toward his throat and rebounded off his shielding charm. In the next instant, she was yanked bodily away from him.

He turned leisurely in his chair, careful not to spill his drink. Kheshiri was now on the opposite side of the balcony, glaring; she darted forward again, to be repelled by a lightning-quick spear-hand strike from Wilberforce to her throat. The succubus staggered backward, gagging and clutching her neck.

“Jerry mentioned you didn’t recognize the Butler uniform,” Vandro said conversationally. “You’ve been in that bottle a long time, haven’t you, girl? Yeah, I guess the Service Society sprang up during the interim. No matter how clever you are, this just isn’t your world anymore. You don’t know how things work.”

Kheshiri gulped, grimacing in annoyance, and pulled a wand from behind her belt. In the next instant she dropped it with a gasp; no fewer than four small throwing knives were embedded in the pale skin of her arm, black ichor beginning to well up around them. Wilberforce calmly readjusted his sleeves, clearly preparing to produce more weapons if needed.

“You played a good game, and protected your own interests,” Vandro went on. “I respect that. No hard feelings on my part.”

The succubus beat her wings once, darting sideways and diving for Vandro from out of Wilberforce’s reach. The Butler, moving with impossible speed, flashed across the gap between them, seizing her by the uninjured arm. What followed was a blur of motion, culminating in Kheshiri being bodily tossed back across the balcony with an audible crack of breaking bone.

She didn’t cry out, just leaned backward against the railing in shock, both arms now dangling uselessly.

“Business is business, but business isn’t everything,” said Vandro, pausing to take a sip of his drink. “You do anything to harm my boy Jerry… Well, that I will take very personally. It’s a new world, Kheshiri; a smaller one, a wonderfully interconnected world. It ain’t nearly big enough for you to hide from me.”

He held her gaze, his own eyes boring relentlessly into hers. Kheshiri drew in a ragged breath, then slowly straightened up, rolling her shoulders. As they watched, the four knives slid out of her flesh, clattering to the floor; her other arm rippled, its sickeningly wrong angle straightening out. Moments later, she shook both arms, flexing her fingers.

“Thanks for the party, Alan,” she cooed, blowing him a kiss. “I had a great time.”

The demon turned, bounding nimbly onto the railing, and launched herself into space. There came an outcry from below as she was spotted by the workmen, followed by another when she vanished in midair.

“Did she just use shapeshifting to heal herself?”

“So it appears, sir.”

“I thought that was supposed to be impossible.”

“When last I read up on magical theory, it was deemed theoretically achievable, but too complex in practice to be done under normal circumstances.”

“Hnh. She’s a piece of work, that one.”

“Quite so, sir.”

Vandro stared thoughtfully after the departed succubus, idly swirling his drink. Behind him, Wilberforce discreetly cleared his throat.

“Given what we know of Kheshiri and her intentions, sir, it seems probable that she will act to make this matter, as you say, personal.”

“Personal?” Vandro leaned forward, shifting to hold his cocktail in both hands and glaring out over the railing. “Oh, we are well beyond that point, Wilberforce. I promised Kamari a job, a home and a life here. Thanks to her, all he got for his good faith in my service was an unkind death.” He heaved a deep, mournful sigh, shaking his head. “That man could mix a cocktail that’d make Izara herself cream her skirts. It’s just… It’s a senseless fucking loss to the world. Besides which, he was mine, or would have been.” Vandro stood, setting his glass down on the railing, and leaned on it with both hands. “And as you well know, Wilberforce, if there is one thing I absolutely cannot stomach, it’s a presumptuous whore messing with my things.”

“Quite so, sir,” the Butler said calmly. “Her efforts do seem calculated at securing Master Shook’s ear. It may prove challenging to separate them.”

“Nothing worth having is less than a challenge to get, Wilberforce. Right now, getting the estate back in shape and securing what’s left of our allies in need—Trigger, Saduko and Amanika—is your priority. But, time permitting, I have another task for you. Something more long-term.”

“I am, as always, at your disposal, Mr. Vandro.”

“This one is going to be difficult. And more than a little risky.”

“Indeed, sir, and I appreciate your willingness to accommodate my aversion to boredom.”

Vandro turned to look at the Butler over his shoulder, a wicked gleam in his eye. “I want you to start the process of arranging for me to have a sit-down with the Black Wreath. One of their bitches has slipped her leash and made a mess on my lawn; I intend to chain her up again. All I need’s the right kind of collar.”

< Previous Chapter Next Chapter >

Enjoying The Gods are Bastards? Please consider voting for it at Topwebfiction! Every bit of support helps keep me writing!

5 – 28

April 29, 2015UncategorizedAlan Vandro, Amanika, Avrith, Bishop Darling, Bob, Captain Ravoud, Fross, Gabriel, Juniper, Professor Tellwyrn, Ruda, Saduko, Shaeine, Teal, Thumper, Toby, Toss, Trissiny, WilberforceD. D. Webb

< Previous Chapter Next Chapter >

“Sir,” Wilberforce murmured, leaning close to Vandro’s ear. He already had his employer’s undivided attention, having arrived far more quickly than his usual efficient but decorous pace. Unusual behavior from Wilberforce was a cardinal sign that something had gone wrong. “We have visitors from the Thieves’ Guild in significant numbers. I have taken the liberty of activating the golems; if you move now, you may be in time to greet them at the gates.”

Vandro nodded, turning back to his erstwhile conversation partner with a rueful smile. “Terribly sorry, m’lord, but it seems I have to go put out a fire. The perils of hosting, you know how it is.”

“Indeed,” the aristocrat replied with a lofted eyebrow, looking somewhat bemused. It always came as a surprise to his type that lowly commoners found something more important than themselves on which to focus.

Thanks to Wilberforce’s warning, Vandro made it to the broad, well-lit pathway between the gates and the house that formed the party’s center of mass just before the Guild made their entrance. He wasn’t quite in time to pose front and center and be waiting languidly for their arrival, but it would have to do. Pacing and presentation mattered in these affairs.

Six entered first, fanning out to either side of the path in a reverse arrowhead formation. Though swift and coordinated, no one would have mistaken the ragged bunch for soldiers; they wore clothing in dark colors and advanced states of scruffiness, ostentatiously displayed clubs and knives, and menacing expressions. The guests drew back from them, conversation disintegrating into nervous whispered all over the gardens, followed by chilly silence as the thieves took up positions, apparently if not actually controlling the estate’s entrance.

Of course, all that was for show, as well. Most of these people dressed comfortably and casually when at their real work, and quite a few slept on silk. A good thief was someone who did not stand out in a crowd; they usually had to go out of their way to properly menace the normals, including dramatic changes in costume and demeanor.

Vandro narrowed his eyes slightly at the next wave to enter, but carefully held his neutral posture. Four more Guildmembers came forward, pushing a pair of bound prisoners before them. They stopped a few yards into the estate, ignoring the gasps of the onlookers, and forced the captives to their knees. Jeremiah Shook merely looked furious, if somewhat rumpled; Amanika had clearly been worked over. Her clothes were torn and stained with both dirt and blood, one of her eyes was swollen shut and a dried trickle of blood from the corner of her mouth still decorated her chin. She slumped to the ground, head lolling.

Finally, another pair entered with the last three armed thieves behind them. The well-dressed man, a dark-featured Onkawa local, was slim, tall and stately, wearing an intolerably self-satisfied smirk. On his arm, looking stupefied and as tense as a plucked guitar string, was Saduko.

“Forgive the overly dramatic entrance, Webs,” he said airily. “It seems someone forgot to deliver my invitation.”

“Why, that’d have been me, Toss,” Vandro replied easily. “I confess I plumb forgot to want you at my party. Things start to slip the mind, when you get to my age.”

Toss, the leader of the local Guild’s chapter, grinned at the frisson of nervous conversation that swept through Vandro’s crowd of well-heeled guests at the sound of his tag. He was known in the city.

“Ah, but how could I let this occasion pass unremarked? I confess I’ve had cause to be worried about your loyalties of late, but our dear Gimmick, here, has put my mind to rest.” He patted Saduko’s hand where it lay on his arm; she flinched. “And to think we thought she was spying on you. Instead, you have oh-so-deftly rooted out the subversive elements within our local chapter and delivered them into our hands. Along with the fugitive Thumper! Truly, this is a great night for the followers of Eserion, and we owe all this success to you, Webs. Bravo,” he said, drawing out the last word in a silky drawl.

Vandro studied Saduko idly, his mind whirling. Her, Guild? Possibly. He’d checked out her credentials, but those were so very fakeable, especially coming from overseas as they did. He had also studied how she thought and acted while his guest, and found her generally self-contained and a skilled walking poker face as long as she had time to prepare, but easy to rattle and throw off her game. Right now she looked good and rattled, and clinging to her equilibrium by a ragged fingernail.

That was one plot uncovered, then; Saduko had been sent to observe and possibly interfere with his and Amanika’s undercutting of the Guild, but she was either a far more advanced player than he believed, or her own scheme had come unraveled. There was no reason to assume the former when he knew the latter could be explained by yet another actor whose full play had yet to be revealed.

Kheshiri. What could she hope to gain by all this?

“Son of a bitch,” Shook spat, his voice soft. Vandro gave him a warning look, and was met with a venomous glare. He suppressed a sigh. Jerry was a good kid, when he used his head, but that damn temper of his reliably made him stop using it, exactly when he needed it most.

“Seems you’ve been a little rough with our friends, there,” Vandro said mildly. “I mean, if you’re gonna work someone over, sure. Dragging valuable prisoners all over the city, though, letting one apparently bleed herself half to death? Truly, the complexity of your plots is over my head.”

Amanika lifted her face a fraction, and the look she gave Vandro was fleeting, but icily calculating. Not so dazed and beleaguered as she appeared, then, and apparently not taking this turn of events at face value. Good girl; if only she’d been a trifle less homely he’d have looked for reasons to have her around more often.

“I think the time has come for a clearing of the air,” Toss proclaimed, smiling with immense self-satisfaction. “There has been too much suspicion and discord, do you not think so? Let all of Onkawa see that the Thieves’ Guild stands united. Let them see what befalls those who seek to undermine Eserion’s people.”

Vandro shrugged and took a sip of his cocktail. “Your funeral.”

Toss’s smile did not diminish in the slightest. “Why, Webs, I could very nearly take that as a threat. And on the heels of your very valuable assistance to your Guild, too! Surely you cannot have meant that the way it sounded.”

He made a swift motion with his free hand and the six thieves forming his advance guard began moving slowly forward, their gazes coldly intent upon Vandro.

Then Wilberforce glided forth out of the crowd to stand at Vandro’s shoulder. The enforcers instantly halted in their tracks, staring at the Butler. Two glanced uncertainly back at Toss; the rest were studying Wilberforce, clearly mentally calculating whether they could take him on.

They couldn’t, which was beside the point as far as Vandro was concerned. He couldn’t afford to let this come to blows. To say nothing of the risk to his guests, it was blindingly obvious that Toss wanted a confrontation. Whether or not he believed that Vandro was behind the ensnaring of Shook and Amanika (he hadn’t got that from Saduko; why would Kheshiri promote that particular notion?), he knew a rival when he saw one. If Vandro fought the Guild openly, whether he won or lost the battle would be irrelevant in the long run.

“This is why I don’t invite you to parties, Toss,” he said genially. “Nor do I intend to stand here all night bantering with you. Honestly, I don’t give you a thought when you’re not right in front of my face. No point, really; you’re not gonna be in charge long.”

Toss’s smile became a hungry grin. “Oh, I think you’ve grown a little too flushed with your recent success, Alan Vandro. You challenge me openly? In front of all these—”

He tried gamely to keep on talking, but the sheer volume of Vandro’s booming laugh made it pointless. Vandro had practiced that laugh, honed it for that very effect.

“Challenge you?” he chortled, wiping at his eyes. “You silly, sad little man. If I were to challenge you, in the best case scenario I’d end up having to do your tedious job. Nah, what could I possibly gain by going to the trouble? I mean, look around you. Look at this!” He indicated them all, the enforcers, the prisoners, with a contemptuous flick of his wrist. “This very public display of force, this airing of Guild laundry in the faces of all the finest folk in the city? This just isn’t how we do business, Toss, and it’s inconceivable to me that a chapter house head hasn’t figured that out at by this stage in his career.”

“Don’t you point at my—”

“And that’s another thing,” Vandro went on merrily. “This here thing you’re doing, this attempt to use social pressure to force me to either confront you or bend knee? Well, Toss, this is just plain clumsy. I almost hate to tell you, my boy, but you suck at this game. Challenge you? Please. Tell you what I’m gonna do. Since I’m retired and all, I’m gonna sit here in my villa, enjoying the ill-gotten fruit of my lifetime of labor, throwing ridiculous parties and hobnobbing with all my fancy friends, and generally ignore you. I don’t have to challenge you, y’moron. Hell, I don’t think I could save you if my own life depended on it. It’s a damn miracle you’ve lasted this long.”

Toss’s grin had become a decidedly less controlled baring of his teeth; his grip on Saduko’s arm was clearly hard enough to bruise, now, though, she bore it without complaint. “You are one more careless word from—”

“All systems are corrupt,” Vandro said, projecting from the diaphragm and completely overwhelming Toss’s growling delivery. Tragic, how few thieves studied public speaking; it was a priceless skill in their line of work. “We all know the catechism, Toss. You didn’t have to go so far out of your way to prove it.”

The enforcers were all watching Toss, now, their expressions a lot more thoughtful. Vandro knew most of them personally, knew there was nothing personal against him in their presence here, merely the execution of what they saw as their duty. A duty he’d just called into question by turning Toss’s attempted trap around on him.

He glanced at the prisoners; Amanika was smiling, keeping her face angled downward to mostly hide it. Shook still glared at Vandro, his expression a mask of betrayal. Hopefully he could calm the boy down long enough to explain…

In that moment, he understood Kheshiri’s plan. All this had been arranged, his plans subverted, Saduko’s deception turned against her, Toss’s ambition and cruelty manipulated, to create this scene, where Vandro was accused of betraying Shook, and couldn’t afford to deny it. Amanika could read between the lines well enough, but Shook and Toss were thugs who’d made good through hard work and judicious brutality. Shook had heard Vandro tacitly admit having set him up for a fall and the reward, and wouldn’t look beyond that. Unless he could separate Shook from Toss’s custody now, the boy’s trust in him would be completely severed. Leaving him alone in the world with the Guild and the law after him, no one he could trust…except his demon.

He also realized that his understanding had come a moment too late. Because that was the moment, and he was totally unprepared to take advantage of it.

Vandro opened his mouth to press his case, to begin working around to a demand that Shook and Amanika be released to his custody, knowing he wasn’t going to have enough time.

Sure enough, the winged form melted out of nothing right behind Toss, reached around with a large knife and slashed Saduko across the throat.

The screams and panic that followed broke what remaining order there was among the Guild enforcers. Toss stared at the woman now dangling limply from his arm, convulsing as she helplessly pressed a hand to her neck, completely failing to stifle the gushing of her blood. The three enforcers at the rear rushed forward, their swings missing the demon as she went aloft with one powerful beat of her wings. One of them actually struck Toss, sending him and Saduko crashing to the ground.

Kheshiri descended on the two men holding Shook, stomping directly on the head of one and launching herself off again, swooping about them as all four guards abandoned their charges to swipe at her. Released, Amanika turned and struggled frantically over to Saduko as best she could with her arms bound behind her, already glowing with healing light.

In the confusion, the succubus slashed through Shook’s bindings; he rolled forward, coming nimbly to his feet, and bared his teeth in a snarl at Vandro, reaching into his coat. Did he still somehow have his wands? Toss, that damned idiot…

“Jerry, my boy,” Vandro began.

“Save it!” Shook spat, bringing out his weapons. He glanced at Wilberforce and very deliberately did not point them at Vandro.

“Protocol: activate!” Vandro’s voice boomed across the garden, considerably louder than a human throat could actually have spoken. Unsurprising, as it came from Kheshiri, who was now perched atop a palm tree. “Execute program: great escape!”

They unfolded on all sides: benches, wastebins, pieces of decorative statuary, picnic tables. The various heavy stone accents decorating Vandro’s garden slid apart in pieces, revealing their interior metal frames and the blue glow of the arcane magic that made the golems run. Re-sorting themselves swiftly into more or less humanoid shapes, they took form and stepped forward, raising the wands that had been concealed within them.

Vandro sighed. His own security commands prevented them from revealing those weapons except in a case of utmost emergency. Outfitting golems with wands was extremely illegal; this was gonna cost him a fortune in bribes.

“Now, when did you find time to do that?” he asked, a note of admiration in his tone.

Kheshiri smirked down at him. “I suggest you all listen carefully,” she said, still boomingly loud, but in her own voice. Silence fell at her command, the guests and Guild enforcers staring up at her in horror. In that tense moment, the only sounds were the canned music still playing throughout the garden and Amanika’s furiously whispered prayers as she attempted to heal Saduko without the use of her hands. “The program these golems are acting on means they’ll destroy anyone who attempts to interfere with my master or myself as we make our departure. It also locks you out from issuing further commands, Alan, so don’t bother.”

“Simple, but effective,” he said, nodding. “As a professional courtesy, I hope you’ll leave me the counter-code to discover after you’re safely away.”

“Oh, there’s no counter-code,” she said sweetly. “You’ll have to shut them down the hard way. Whatever that may be.”

“Those were expensive, Shiri.”

“You can get more golems, Alan. I only have one master.”

Vandro sighed, turning his gaze to Shook. “Jerry, my boy, think this over carefully. You are being played, here.”

“How stupid do you think I am, Alan?” he snarled, convulsively raising his wands.

Wilberforce tried to step in front of Vandro; Vandro gently pushed him aside. “Watch it, boy,” he said firmly. “Right now, that question has an answer.”

“Master, run,” Kheshiri urged. “I’ll stay here and make sure nobody tries anything.”

“Just think on it, first chance you get,” Vandro said firmly, his eyes boring into Shooks, willing him to understand. Damn it, boy, think!

Shook stared back at him, and beneath the raw fury in his expression, Vandro saw the hurt. Hurt, he knew, was at the bottom of all rage. This was going to damage the boy, maybe beyond what could be fixed.

“Go, master. Please.”

Shook steeled himself, directing his eyes upward at his thrall. “Right. I’ll meet you at—”

“Don’t say it! Don’t give them any clues. Just go, be safe, hide. I can find you anywhere.”

Shook turned without another word, and set off for the gates at a run. In seconds he was out of view around the corner.

“Now then,” Kheshiri purred, turning back to grin down at Vandro. “Since we’ll be together for a while, I see no reason for the party to end here. How about you give us a little jig, Vandro.”

“You can’t be serious,” he said dryly.

“Can’t I?” She grinned with near maniacal glee. “I own your golems, Alan. I can demolish these Guild lackeys and your own security with a word. That means I own you. So…dance for me. Now.”

“You played a good game, Shiri,” Vandro said. “I respect skill. If you’d been willing to be professional, I’d have let you leave here safely. You need to learn when to quit, girl. Wilberforce, power up.”

None of the onlookers could see Wilberforce apply his thumb to the master control rune in his pocket. They only saw the entire estate explode.

Only the magical appliances therein, of course, but in a fully tricked-out modern rich man’s home like Alan Vandro’s estate, that might as well have been the whole thing. Every reserve power crystal in storage spontaneously poured its full load of energy into all the active devices; suddenly channeling several orders of magnitude more power than they were designed to contain, every apparatus on the grounds that used arcane energy burst apart in a series of booms and flashes. The whole house was lit up, windows blazing as if lightning had struck within; the gardens hosted a ferocious shower of sparks and explosions as light fixtures, music boxes, food fresheners and security golems disintegrated, flinging sparks and fragments in all directions.

The screams trailed off a few seconds after the explosions, leaving behind shocked quiet. It was darker, but not totally dark; the levitating party lights operated under their own power, and cast shifting, eerie patches of colored illumination in the absence of the estate’s main lighting. The smell of smoke and ozone hung heavily over everything. Small fires flickered in dozens of places.

The golems slumped, inert and smoking, emitting small sparks and most missing pieces.

“What say we play a different game?” Vandro suggested cheerfully. He lifted high his cocktail glass in Kheshiri’s direction as if toasting her. “Friends and neighbors, servants and gatecrashers, fellow acolytes of Eserion! For one night only, I’ll be paying the sum of one hundred decabloons to whoever brings me that demon’s corpse!”

Kheshiri took one look at the sheer number of those present who turned out to be carrying wands, and vanished.

Snow had begun falling, a soft counterpoint to the ominous quiet that filled the street.

The soldiers were hard-eyed, but disciplined, holding their ranks as they marched into the district. The full regiment seemed to have come; they filled the entire avenue, offering no path of escape past them.

Opposite them, residents of Tar’aris, bundled against the cold, had begun melting out of doors and alleys, staring equally hard-eyed at the approaching troops. Quite a few of them were openly carrying wands. They began to form a loose crowd blocking off the street as well.

Silver Legionnaires in their concealing winter gear stood at attention at intervals, several patrols having stopped and positioned themselves along the sidelines between the two groups. They stood firm and rigid, offering no move in either direction.

The students of the University wormed their way out of the crowd, where they had been trying to talk with various members of the community. Teal and Shaeine parted from Avrith, Bob and the small knot of citizens they had accompanied, stepping forward to meet the others in the middle. Ruda appeared out of an alley, Fross darting about above her head. Trissiny, Toby and Gabriel arrived in more of a hurry, having had a longer walk from the inn; they were accompanied by two Legionnaires and Bishop Darling. The latter was leaning close to Trissiny as they walked, whispering urgently into her ear. The paladin appeared to be listening closely, deep in thought.

A startled motion rippled through the watching crowd as Juniper arrived from a nearby rooftop, hitting the ground with a solid thud that left cracks in the pavement. She straightened up, brushing at her ill-fitting dress, and stepped up to join her classmates.

Darling peeled off and Trissiny directed the Legionnaires away with a simple hand motion. The rest of the students gathered with them, placing themselves between the soldiers and the citizens. The eight students—nine, including Vadrieny—represented enough offensive power to seriously damage that regiment, if not to smash through it entirely. Fortunately, they didn’t look like it; the soldiers didn’t see the threat, and thus didn’t react as if threatened. At least, not so far.

The man marching in the lead held up a hand. “Halt!” Behind him, the troops came to a stop in unison, their boots thundering once upon the pavement.

For a few moments, all was still. The groups stared at one another across the uncomfortably small open space in the street between them.

It was Captain Ravoud who finally spoke up.

“I see a lot of Silver Legionnaires in this district, General Avelea. May I ask what your intentions here are?”

Trissiny glanced at Darling; he nodded encouragingly at her.

“There has been serious misconduct on the part of a few of your troops, Captain,” she said firmly, her voice echoing in the silent street. Several soldiers shifted at her words. “That has given rise to a lot of rumor and ill feeling. Silver Legionnaires are known to be women of good character, also trained to understand military actions, and to see and report accurately on tactical details. I’m sure you’ll be relieved to know they are here to observe.” She paused, then added more pointedly. “Whatever transpires here, there will be no unjust accusations of misconduct against your soldiers. We’ll see to that.”

Ravoud stared at her for a long moment, then nodded slowly. “I appreciate that, General.”

She nodded back, then began stepping backward toward the sidewalk. Toby was the next to move, widening his arms and silently ushering the rest of the students along with them. Ruda snorted disdainfully, but let herself be herded. As a group, they shifted out of the way, taking position at the edge of the street and clearing a direct path between the soldiers of Barracks Four and the citizens of Lor’naris.

Ravoud squared his shoulders and took one step forward. Two figures emerged from the crowd; Bob and Avrith paced forward to come nearly within arms’ distance of him.

“Corporal Robert Hollander,” Ravoud said, his voice pitched loud enough to be clearly audible to all present. “And… Avrith, isn’t it?”

“You may call me Mrs. Hollander, Captain, if it makes you more comfortable.”

Ravoud’s lips thinned. “I thought it was the women of your kind who determined the family name.”

“As a rule, yes,” she said, her voice mild. “My family, however, do not care for me to use their name so long as I choose to bind myself to a human. Bob’s family are my family, his home my home. His country my own.”

“Be that as it may,” Ravoud said firmly, “I have received intelligence that there is an armed insurrection forming in this district. You will immediately surrender any weapons being gathered for the purpose of rebellion against His Majesty the Emperor and submit any persons responsible for this action to Imperial custody.”

“Yep,” Bob said laconically, pulling a wand out of his pocket and holding it out to Ravoud, butt first. “Here you go.”

The Captain stared at him, open-mouthed.

“This has only been going on the last day or so,” Bob went on. “Folk none of us knew, making very pointed suggestions in taverns and the like. Several of us got together and decided on a course of action: we took to meetin’ with these chumps, tried to encourage them along a bit. I wish I had better to tell you, but we got nothing out of ’em but these gifts. If I have some of my friends come forward carrying arms to turn in, Captain, will you kindly refrain from having them shot?”

Ravoud blinked twice, then visibly steeled himself. “If… As long as they approach slowly, with hands in plain view and those weapons held pointed down.”

“All right, you heard the man,” Bob said more loudly, half-turning to address those behind him. “Slow and polite. Let’s not make the lads any more nervous than they already are.

A dozen people melted out of the crowd. Drow and human, male and female, they all held wands by the hafts, hands nowhere near the clickers, tips aimed at the pavement below their feet. Ravoud watched them approach warily, then turned his head to issue an order of his own. Two soldiers stepped forward and began collecting the wands, looking somewhat bemused.

“We have examined those weapons and unfortunately found nothing that seems useful,” said Avrith. “They are mass-produced and of middling quality. Perhaps the resources of the Empire can find out more about them than we, but I fear they were meant to be untraceable.”

“Everyone you see here was personally present at a meeting with at least one of these agitators,” Bob added. “Well, I mean, those of use stepped forward, here. The rest of those folk back there are just curious about the commotion, I think. We’re all happy to recount everything we saw and heard.”

“The men in question took pains to be anonymous,” said Avrith. “I cannot prove the use of disguise charms, but it would not surprise me. They offered no names and refused to reveal any patron, or the source of those weapons. However, several of us are soldiers, of both Tiraan and Narisian extraction, and two of the witnesses are trained diplomats. We met with them with the specific intention of gathering information. It is my hope that some of our recollections will prove useful to you in tracking them down and putting a stop to this.”

Ravoud just continued to stare at her, seeming at a total loss for words.

“Tiraas is our home, Captain,” Avrith said more softly. “This city has offered us a place when our own would not. We will protect and serve it in any way we can, as fervently as any other citizen. All of us.” Bob took her gloved hand in his.

“I…” Ravoud trailed off, then swallowed, squaring his shoulders. “I…thank you for your cooperation, citizen.”

“Great,” said Bob wryly. “D’you mind if we have the rest of this discussion someplace a bit warmer? We can go to your barracks, if you’d like, or there are spots closer where we can set up and do interviews.”

“None of us have any appointments,” Avrith added. “Consider us all at your disposal.” There were agreeing nods from the rest of the individuals standing alongside her.

“I…think a local place would do fine,” Ravoud said slowly. “No need to drag this out any more than it must be.”

Trissiny cleared her throat, stepping forward. “Captain, the Third has set up a command post in an unoccupied shop nearby. You may consider that at your disposal.”

“Thank you, General,” he said, nodding respectfully to her. “In fact, that would be perfect. Your Legionnaires can continue to…observe.”

“Of course. Soldier, show him where it is.”

The nearest Legionnaire saluted her before stepping over to Ravoud. She patiently stood by while he turned and issued orders to his men; shortly, the bulk of the regiment had turned and were marching back out of the district. Quite a few looked mystified, but they kept their ranks and their discipline. A small detachment of Imperial soldiers remained with the Captain and the citizens who had stepped forward to be interviewed, and in short order they, too, were departing, led by the woman in armor toward the Legion’s command center.

Darling drew in a deep breath and blew it out dramatically as the street finally began to clear of onlookers. “All praise be to whoever the hell is watching over us and willing to take credit for that. And I mean that in my official, ecclesiastical capacity.”

“Wait, so…that’s it?” Ruda demanded. “All that work, all that skullduggery and gathering tension, and it all ends like that? Just a few words and everybody’s friends again?”

“It is a little anticlimactic,” Fross agreed.

“Yes, Ruda, that’s it,” Toby said firmly. “And I, for one, will be spending a great deal of the rest of the night giving prayers of thanks. This is the best ending to all this we could possibly have hoped for.”

“I don’t know how much credit any of us can take,” Trissiny added grimly.

“Cheer up, kid,” said Darling, patting her on the back. “You’ve just successfully refrained from igniting a civil war. It was a good day.”

“Great,” she muttered.

“And no, Princess, everyone’s not friends,” he added more seriously. “There’s a long way yet to go… But the going has begun, and will continue. The hard part was always getting us through this confrontation.”

“But…we didn’t do anything,” said Gabriel.

The Bishop grinned at him. “No, you didn’t, did you? If you remember nothing else about this mess, Mr. Arquin, remember that. Good people taking care of their own affairs are always a force to be reckoned with. Sometimes, people need saving, that’s true. Most of the time, though, a hero is just somebody who reminds everyone at large to be their own best.”

“Aw,” said Fross. “Now, that’s uplifting! How come Professor Tellwyrn never gives us lessons like that?”

“Combination of complex factors,” said Ruda. “Mostly stemming from the fact that Tellwyrn’s a rotten bitch on her best day.”

They began drifting back in the direction of their inn, letting off tension in the form of good-natured bickering as they went.

Behind them, leaning against the wall of an alley, Professor Tellwyrn stood in silence, wearing a calm smile. She simply watched until the students were nearly out of sight around the curve of the street, then straightened, brushed off her tunic, and vanished with a soft pop that barely disturbed the falling snow.

< Previous Chapter Next Chapter >

The Gods are Bastards

It was a world of sword and sorcery, but that was a thousand years ago.

6 – 1

Bonus #9: On Being a Man, Part 2

Bonus #8: On Being a Man, Part 1

Bonus #7: Songbird

Bonus #6: A Light in Dark Places

Bonus #5: Of Which Reason Knows Nothing

5 – 31

5 – 30

5 -29

5 – 28