Tag Archives: Ariel

14 – 15

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In the end, it was unbelievably simple.

They proceeded down the sloping bridge toward the ledge, the door, and the demon, keeping to a walking pace despite Schwartz’s original idea of rushing their foe’s entrenched position. Toby didn’t need to have had Trissiny’s upbringing to see the flaws in that plan, and besides, those fireballs hit hard enough to impair his balance even at a walk.

Another impacted the shield and he hesitated, gritting his teeth. Waves of golden light rippled from the spot, characteristic of an infernal spell striking a divine shield. Contact with matter and arcane energy would simply weaken it, but no matter how tightly woven the shield, touching the infernal would trigger some disruptive effect.

“You all right?” Schwartz asked from right behind him. Toby didn’t need the bracing hand against his spine—it wasn’t as if he was about to fall over—but there was comfort in the tangible reminder that a friend had his back.

“Yep,” he said, eyes narrowed in concentration, and stepped forward again. This time he made it another three paces before another massive fireball exploded against his shield. It was followed swiftly by two more, a veritable volley. The demon grew more aggressive the closer they got.

“Just saying, if you need more juice I do know the conversion charm that’ll let me feed fae energy directly into your shield…”

“Appreciate it,” Toby grunted, stepping again and pausing to weather another blow, “but power isn’t the problem; Omnu isn’t about to run out. Don’t suppose you’ve got anything to treat burnout…”

There came an ominous hesitation.

“Uh…yes, actually, but also no.”

“Do tell,” Toby suggested, making four quick steps and pausing again in time to weather another explosion. Those things weren’t going to break his shield unless he really dawdled, but they hit hard. The combination of their sheer kinetic force and the explosive effect of two opposing schools of magic crossing made the whole shield quaver and gave him unpleasantly physical feedback with each hit.

“I know a spell that’ll numb you to the effect of burnout so you aren’t inhibited by it until it becomes…um, lethally dangerous. So, no, nothing helpful.”

Toby gritted his teeth again, absorbing another blast, and then pressed forward. “Schwartz, why would you even know a spell like that?”

“It’s meant to be an offensive spell! Believe me, nobody does that to someone they like.”

“That doesn’t really answer the question.”

“I, um. I had to really go digging in the archives to find that one. I’m under advice from someone schooled in the arts of war to equip myself against a divine caster.” The conversation and their progress was interrupted by another hit. “…which is a long story, and why don’t we table that for a less under fire sort of occasion?”

“Good idea,” Toby agreed, making sure to file that away for an actual future discussion.

“DIE!” the demon bellowed, this time hurling two fireballs simultaneously.

They both halted, not just because the double impact created a wash of flame to both sides of the shield and caused Toby’s balance to momentarily waver, but because this was the first time the demon had spoken, or demonstrated any intelligence or intent beyond its desire to throw explosions at them.

A pause ensued, in which it panted visibly, slightly hunched. Apparently there was a good reason it didn’t usually chuck two spells at once.

“It can speak,” Schwartz said unnecessarily. This was answered by a series of squeaks from Meesie that, impressively, was clearly sarcastic, which had not been the first time Toby was surprised by the little elemental’s ability to communicate without words.

Unfortunately, Meesie was not the only member of the peanut gallery.

“Well spotted!” Athenos said with clearly forced enthusiasm. “With that keen eye for detail, it’s no wonder you were drawn to the Collegium. I’m sure the odds of you incinerating yourself in an easily avoidable summoning accident before the age of thirty are much less than they appear.”

“How would you like it if I dropped you into this bottomless pit we’re currently crossing over?” Schwartz suggested.

“Based on the last time that happened? I wouldn’t love spending the time down in the Tower’s underbelly. It gets weird down there. On the other hand, it would mean not accompanying you…fine young people…the rest of the way to the top. That’s a thinker, all right.”

“He really is worse than Ariel,” Toby marveled.

“Yes, well,” Schwartz muttered, shuffling along behind while they crossed as much ground as they could during the demon’s momentary lapse, “talking swords are known to be missing the personality centers for empathy and compassion, but there’s also significant holdover from the original personality used as a template. It’s possible Athenos was just made from a bigger jerk than Ariel.”

“I can’t speak for that other arcane can opener you so rudely dragged into my domain, but I can attest that my mortal incarnation was a real piece of work. I retain no memory of that, of course, but his antics have continued to influence events even here. That guy getting used to make a talking sword was not a coincidence, I’m sure.”

Toby braced himself against another explosion; the demon had clearly got its breath back. “How self-aware of you.”

“No, just aware. I am a separate entity, not a piece of him.”

Apparently their foe had its second wind, now; five more impacts struck the shield in quick succession, forcing them once more to stop completely while under the barrage, and then for a few seconds more as the haze of smoke, sparks, and lingering golden flickers around them cleared.

“This thing is really a puzzle,” Schwartz observed when they were able to press forward again. “Usually the magically gifted demon species are the smaller, daintier ones. Even baerzurgs are mostly pretty dumb, with just a few casters per colony. It clearly has incredible mana reserves, though! No warlock could have been casting such potent spells almost continuously for—”

A demonstration of those potent spells interrupted him.

“He,” Toby insisted a moment later, “not it. Come on, Schwartz; we even know he’s sapient, now.”

“Before you get too comfortable up on that high horse,” Athenos interjected, “what makes you so sure it’s a he?”

“Well, look at him!” Toby said shortly.

Actually, the demon looked more like a minotaur than anything: at least eight feet tall, incredibly muscular in build, balancing on enormous hooves and even wearing the traditional hide loincloth. Its horns were long, curved, and pronged like antlers, though, and its head more resembled a dragon’s than a bull’s. And instead of fur, it had lustrous scales in patterns of green and bronze.

“Yes, look at it,” Athenos agreed. “It’s obviously somewhat reptilian in nature. Why would it have breasts? And what makes you think females of its species are smaller and slimmer—or that this one isn’t a smaller, slimmer variant of whatever it is? Projecting your own assumptions onto demons, which come from a plane of pure chaos, is an exceptionally ignorant practice.”

“He sort of has a point,” Schwartz said grudgingly.

Toby just sighed. “Are we close enough yet? I’m not about to burn, Schwartz, but I can feel the strain building…”

A momentary hesitation answered while Schwartz did a quick estimate. “It would be better if we could make it another yard or so. At that point I can be relatively certain.”

“Another yard it is,” Toby replied grimly, stepping forward.

He kept going, this time, dividing his focus to maintain balance while his shield was hammered with a succession of fireballs, while he felt the subtle pulling of his divine magic reacting to the spell Schwartz was forming right behind him. That effect Toby had never particularly noticed before; already the Tower had been strangely educational. Divine magic embodies the principle of order. That was not how any of his teachers had put it, but it made so much sense. As a thing of order, it was predictable and behaved according to natural laws. As another form of energy flared up nearby which it was the nature of the divine to consume and negate, the power glowing around him unthinkingly shifted in its direction. Not enough to destabilize his well-formed shield, but even so, he tightened his focus.

“Okay, this has to be close enough,” Schwartz muttered. “Can you distract him for a second?”

“It,” Athenos corrected cheerfully, and Toby couldn’t even have guessed whether the sword was trying to be accurate or simply annoying. Ariel tended to be both, and so far, Athenos seemed to be basically like Ariel, but more so.

Pushing all that aside, Toby raised his voice and called to the demon, which was only a few yards away, now. The whole time he had been half-prepared for it to charge up the bridge at him, but it was either constrained to stay by the door or preferred to attack at range. Even when he addressed it from this close, it did not move.

“You have to know that’s useless by this point,” he said, projecting his firmest tone. “This is not a contest you are equipped to win. Stop attacking, and let’s talk about how we can all resolve this problem together. It doesn’t have to end in violence.”

Of course, he realized his mistake instantly: demons were creatures defined by infernal magic, by its seething, clawing imperative to destroy. It compelled them to ceaseless, senseless, unrelenting aggression. Some had means of coping with or sublimating the urge—the Rhaazke through Elilial’s grace, the Vanislaads by channeling what would otherwise be bloodlust into compulsive mischief, the hethelaxi through their berserk state. For more of them than otherwise, though, the expression of infernal nature was very simple.

They wanted it to end in violence. Whether they could win was simply not a factor.

Even so, Toby couldn’t help hoping that he could resolve this challenge peacefully. Even knowing that his plea had been a cover for Schwartz’s sneak attack. Even despite his strong suspicion that Schwartz had been right in that this was a test of character, not of magic. None of this was straining either of their magical capabilities, but it was forcing them both into exactly the thing they were both most disinclined toward, the thing the infernal itself most infamously expressed: direct aggression.

“YOU WILL DIE!” the demon howled, raising its hands overhead and beginning to conjure something much nastier than those fireballs, to judge by the way streaks of shadow and fire began to coalesce in the space between them.

“What a splendidly single-minded chap,” Athenos observed lightly. “Not to be pedantic, but so far we’ve no compelling reason to believe it is sapient. A moderately sophisticated golem can parrot simple ideas like that.”

Toby was spared having to either answer that or deal with whatever the demon was about to hurl at them by Schwartz deploying what he had been working on.

What he flung over the side of the bridge looked for all the world like a desiccated leaf; Toby wasn’t enough of a botanist to recognize the kind, but it was one of those which ended in a sharp tip, the reason for which became clear a second later. A gust of pure, fae-impelled wind rose from nowhere, caught the leaf, and directed it with far more precision than any wind actually blew fallen leaves. It shot as straight and true as an arrow, striking the demon straight on the broad target of its chest and imbedding itself up to half its length in the creature’s flesh. Obviously, leaves would not penetrate those glossy scales under normal circumstances, but what was fae cleaved through what was infernal like a red-hot ax through water, leaving behind steam and bubbles as the destruction continued even after its passing.

Steam and bubbles were exactly what arose, to Toby’s horror. Actually, the gout of what rose from the wound was more like smoke, a dark and acrid jet of gas as if the demon were a balloon filled with something noxious which Schwartz’s improvised weapon had just punctured. The bubbles were worse, though. The scales around the puncture point warped, then black liquid began to seethe out from that spot, as whatever the beast was made of boiled.

“Schwartz,” Toby gasped in protest.

“Oh, dear,” Schwartz muttered, peeking over his shoulder. The golden shield discolored their view of what was happening, but left the picture all too vivid for comfort. “I…may have overdone it a tad.”

“A tad,” Toby snapped over Meesie’s shrill agreement.

The demon, obviously, had lost concentration on what it was conjuring, and clawed frantically at its chest, where tendrils of dark magic were spreading visibly outward from the puncture wound. Its bellowing was familiar to them by now, but it had risen two octaves in pitch, the over-the-top rage changed to unmistakable pain.

“No, no, that’s not right at all,” Schwartz protested frantically. “It’s—there’s no way the reaction should be that extreme! I had to spitball it a little because I don’t know that demon species particularly but by the simple quantity of the infernal magic it was casting that spell should have just…just disrupted it!”

“Appears to be well and truly disrupted,” Athenos replied. “Good job.”

“But that’s too much!” Schwartz exclaimed. “I—I didn’t mean for that— Wait, was this it? Did I just fail the magic test?”

“The Tower’s tests can be fairly brutal, but they are brutally fair. You had no means of gauging the quantity of magic needed that accurately, therefore the Tower would not have expected you to. Clearly, this is not that kind of test.”

The demon—their victim—threw its head back to howl in gut-wrenching agony. Now, green light blazed from the wound in its chest, then tracked along the dark veins which had streaked out all along its scales. With sickening clarity, Toby recognized the pattern it made. It was like the spreading of roots through the ground—or like the spreading of cracks in a shell that was just about to shatter.

“PLEASE,” the demon wailed, its booming voice purely piteous now. “PLEASE, NOT LIKE THIS!”

“Oh, gods,” Schwartz whispered.

“Uh oh,” said Athenos. “You may want to pour a little more oomph into that shield—”

“NOT…LIKE…”

The explosion, blessedly, was nothing like what you’d expect from a living being inside which a bomb had gone off. The substance of the demon simply disintegrated, vanishing into dust and mist, which was sprayed outward by the shockwave of sheer magic which blasted forth. Despite Athenos’s warning, it caused barely a ripple on Toby’s shield, the divine magic being quite unimpressed by the fae. What erupted from the demon’s form was not bone and viscera, but life. For an instant there was the luminous green afterimage of a tree swirling outward from amid the eruption. Then light coalesced into form, and the tree was there.

It stood tall, held off the ground by a root system which managed to be reminiscent of the erstwhile demon’s thick legs and somewhat stumpier tail. Branches spread outward from the point in what had been its chest, the central fork in nearly exactly the spot where the initial wound had been struck, rising to a canopy of pale, fluffy leaves. Even the branches unsettlingly suggested the outline of spread arms and an upraised head.

Softly, the leaves began to fall in the silence.

After a moment, Toby dropped the shield. For a time, they could only stare. Even Meesie was silent.

“But,” Schwartz said feebly, at last. “B-but that…that wasn’t what…”

Toby stepped forward, crossing the remainder of the bridge at an even pace. He came right up to the tree, reaching up to rest his hand on its bark. It was smooth, papery, like a willow, though a warm golden-brown in color. Embedded in its trunk was a disc of glowing crystal, an odd yellow-green.

“I thought we’d have time,” he said aloud, to no one in particular. “The plan was to subdue the demon. I thought we could…figure something out. Find a way not to kill him.”

“I…tried,” Schwartz whispered, finally stepping onto the ledge right behind him. “I don’t understand why that… Toby, that spell was barely a nuisance. It’s an Emerald College standard against demons, used to disrupt casters. It…stings them, makes their spells fizzle. And that’s the more delicate, magic-using demons! Baerzurgs or hethelaxi don’t even notice it. Why would…”

“It wasn’t your fault, Schwartz,” Toby said quietly. “It was a good plan. As far as you knew, it would have worked. This is just…the Tower.”

“Seems to have gone better than it might, even,” Athenos offered. “If that thing was that overly sensitive to hostile schools of magic, just think what could have happened if you’d hit it with a divine spell. They’d be scraping you two out of cracks in the ceiling. Probably using me, given my luck.”

Toby whirled and grabbed. He had learned and drilled techniques for disarming opponents who were actively trying to kill him; twisting a magic sword out of the limp grasp of a spell-shocked witch didn’t even count as effort.

“Why?!” he demanded, holding Athenos up before his face as if by staring into the sword’s hilt he could make it feel the weight of his fury. “What was the point of that?!”

“If you are asking me to explain the Tower’s decisions, I really cannot help you. That is not an evasion; I would do so if I could. Explaining is my whole function. Understand, the Tower is the construct designed to discern what you need to be tested on and devise trials to do so; I am a construct of far, far lesser sophistication. Basic human emotions are often more than I can parse. I will say,” Athenos added in a more pensive tone, “I fail to grasp the utility of any of that. Especially that last bit, with the pleading. That little touch seemed…quite unnecessarily cruel.”

Slowly, Toby lowered the blade, meeting Schwartz’s eyes. Meesie, still silent, was leaning her entire weight into the witch’s cheek, rubbing her head comfortingly against him like an affectionate cat.

Schwartz blinked, cleared his throat, and adjusted his glasses, clearly grasping for some semblance of poise. “Ahem. Ah…well. I guess…what’s done is done. Let’s just get this damned thing open and get out of here.”

He strode over to the door, pointedly not looking at the magical tree he had created even as he had to step around it. The door was quite simple in design, the only impressive thing about it being its dimensions. There were no visible hinges, but the two stone panels were marked by a line down the center. Straddling this, at chest height, was a metal panel with a round indentation the size of a dinner plate.

Schwartz frowned at the door, then tried to tug at every part of it into which he could get his fingers, first the crack and then the edges of the panel. Nothing made the slightest impression on it. Toby stood back by the tree, watching him and feeling vaguely…disconnected. It seemed there ought to be something more helpful or at least productive he could be doing. But Schartz didn’t seem to want help as much as he wanted to be distracted from his thoughts, and Toby, for the moment, just wanted to stand there and try to come to grips with his own.

“Augh!” Schwartz suddenly roared, making Meesie jump nearly off his shoulder in fright. The witch pounded both his fists against the door in pure frustration. “What the hell now? There’s no lock, not even a latch. What more do you want from us?!”

“Uh, Schwartz?” Toby said carefully. He reached up to grasp the crystal disc lodged in the tree’s trunk, finding to his surprise that it came free as smoothly as if it had been carefully laid there with a jeweler’s precision; he’d expected to have to wrestle it loose from the wood. He held up the glowing plate of crystal. “Is it just me, or does this look to be about the same size as that indentation, there?”


Stepping into the swirling portal was a daunting prospect, but it wasn’t as if any of them had anywhere else to go. Contact with the door was nothing like stepping through a door, though—or through a magic portal, for that matter. The sensation was exactly the same as that which had taken them all into those testing chambers: impact, vertigo, the sense of falling, and then suddenly new surroundings.

Or, rather, old ones.

All four stood in the central chamber of Salyrene’s Tower, blinking in confusion in the dimness. It was quiet and cool as before, with the vast space soaring up above them, crossed by bridges, and the huge statue of the goddess herself directly in front, the broad Circle of Interaction diagram inlaid into the floor in black marble spreading out. They stood on the platform that had been the elevator which brought them here, and Trissiny had just put her first foot outside it.

The four of them froze, turning, to stare wide-eyed at each other.

Then Schwartz crossed the platform in two long strides and wrapped his arms around Trissiny. Without hesitation she hugged him right back. They stood that way in silence while Meesie cooed softly, leaning over to gently pat both of their faces.

Gabriel let out a small sigh, stepping over to lay a hand on Toby’s shoulder. “Hey. You okay?”

Slowly, Toby nodded, then shook his head, then closed his eyes and shrugged. “I’m…not hurt. Neither of us are. But that was… Gabe, this Tower has a sadistic streak. How about you? Are you guys…?”

“We’re fine,” Gabriel said quickly, though if anything he looked more alarmed than he had a moment before. “We had to do something…annoyingly counterintuitive to get out of that room, but I dunno if I’d say sadistic. What the hell did it do to you?”

“Can we not?” Schwartz’s voice was slightly muffled by Trissiny’s hair, but he lifted his head and spoke more clearly. “Please? It’s over, I would much rather leave it at that.”

“I don’t know if we can not, is the thing,” Trissiny said, pulling back from him with a soft sigh. “Supposedly we’re here to be tested. We’ve just discovered this Tower won’t hesitate to rip us apart or sort us into arbitrary groups, or… Who even knows what rules it plays by, if any. I think we’d better compare notes, while the opportunity exists. No telling when it suddenly won’t again.”

“I kind of have to agree,” Toby said reluctantly. “Sorry, Schwartz, but she’s right. This isn’t over. If anything, that was just the very first round. Better safe than…even sorrier. The thing that most strongly jumps out at me about what we just experienced was that it was completely pointless.”

“Yes,” Trissiny said emphatically, nodding at him. “Pointless is exactly the word I would choose. I don’t even know what the Tower is meant to be testing with that…that…”

“What jumps out at me,” Gabriel said with a frown, “is that we all landed back here at the same time. Did you guys have to deal with a forest full of caplings?”

“Caplings?” Schwartz exclaimed. “If only! I would kill to—” He cut himself off abruptly, going pale as a sheet, and Trissiny looked up at him in concern. Meesie cheeped softly, burrowing her face into his hair.

“That’s what I thought,” Gabriel said, nodding. “Different rooms, different tasks, otherwise why split us up? It’s pretty hard to believe that we’d all finish them at exactly the same instant. So…?”

“I believe,” said Athenos, “I told you specifically that in this Tower, Salyrene’s will trumps all competing influences—even those of Vemnesthis. I’m quite certain I mentioned that in particular.”

“You!” Trissiny barked, leveling a finger at the sword and not seeming to make note of the fact that he was in Toby’s hand now rather than Schwartz’s. “Explain that! What was the point of…any of it?!”

“As I was just informing your marginally less tedious friends,” Athenos said in a particularly long-suffering tone, “I do not and cannot know. The Tower yields different trials for different heroes. It is unusual that you would be snatched off the platform for a preliminary test before even reaching any of the lowest doors—unusual, but not without precedent. I cannot explain why the Tower thought that necessary, much less why it chose those particular…events. Though I don’t disagree with your assessment; the specific purpose of what we just experienced eludes me. I am as hesitant as you ought to be to guess what is in store for you next.”

Light blazed through the dimness, and they whirled to confront its source. The giant statue of Salyrene had opened its eyes, and they gleamed white, as had the smaller statues below. Given its size, those lights were like a sunrise in the shadowed chamber.

“My Tower is built to teach,” the statue said. Its voice was the same as its smaller counterparts, though as with the eyes, much larger. It was not deafening, though; it simply filled the wide open space with an almost tangible presence. “This, children, is a place of learning. As with all tests in such places, these are meant both to impart lessons and to gauge how well you have learned them. But there is more, much more, to learning than testing. You, in particular, needed a little preparatory study before embarking on the true series of trials. The Tower composed a short lesson for you, for each of you, on the necessity of trying solutions which are outside your normal mode of acting. Things, specifically, that you are reluctant to do on your own.”

“Oi!” Gabriel shouted, stepping forward and brandishing a finger at the talking statue. “Just where the hell do you get off?”

“Gabriel!” Trissiny hissed. “Do not chew out goddesses! How many times in an average week do you want to get smote?”

“Oh, let me vent,” he snorted. “It’s just another jabbering automaton, like those little ones down in the entrance puzzle and that freaking pest.” He actually drew Ariel and whirled to point with her at Athenos.

“Oh, really?”

It had been the statue which spoke, and Gabriel’s eyes suddenly went wide. Slowly, he turned back around to face her.

The statue spread her arms, and…changed. It was a most disorienting thing to behold: at the same time the goddess appeared to expand till her presence filled every iota of space in the Tower, even as she physically shrank from the enormous size of the statue to one barely twice as tall as Gabriel. Hovering in the air above them, arms extended and legs gracefully poised like a dancer, her shape emitted a blinding flash.

Light pulsed out from her in visible waves like ripples in a pool, and she changed. The sense of her awesome, enormous presence vanished, causing all of them to suddenly start breathing again and then notice that they had momentarily stopped. At the same time, the stone exterior melted away, leaving her mostly bare skin an inky black, crisscrossed by constantly shifting patterns of multicolored light. Slowly, she drifted down to alight gently on her toes upon the stone floor before them.

Salyrene was, unsurprisingly, quite beautiful when she took mortal form—in the sense that a woman might be attractive, not to mention the highly aesthetic effect of the light-on-darkness that was her outer skin. Her clothing was a sheer diaphanous robe which, in truth, seemed little more than strips of cloth that concealed little and flowed about her as if underwater, seemingly woven from sunlight and cobwebs. She had no hair, her skull smooth and perfectly round. Though of course nothing of her ethnic descent (if such things even still mattered to an ascended being) could be determined from her skin, Salyrene had the broad nose and lips of a Westerner.

Right at that moment, those features were set in an imperious stare.

“So! What, exactly, do you kids think you are doing in here?”

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14 – 14

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Sheathing her sword, Trissiny bent and picked up the shard that last capling had just hurled at her. “Gabriel, you’re being ridiculous. How can you know what these creatures are thinking? There’s no way…”

“Here’s the thing about puzzles,” he said, still grinning. “You have to try things to work out the solution. It’s sort of a given, going in, that the first few things you try aren’t going to work.”

“Uh huh,” she said skeptically. “And if we lose pieces? We need these to open the thingy and get out of here.”

He shrugged, that infuriatingly placid smile not faltering. “We’ve got nothing to lose but time. We’re in an enclosed space, here; nothing’s leaving the room until we get the door open. Worst case scenario, we play some tag with the caplings and then have to try something else.”

She tilted her head back to stare plaintively at the ceiling.

“By the same logic,” Ariel pointed out, “you could try something else in the first place. This room is entirely filled with living biological matter, which your scythe can reduce to decomposed fragments.”

“I’m not murdering the caplings,” Gabriel said with a sigh. “Mass murder is not the solution, Ariel. Ever.”

“Just to be sure you have noticed, Tobias is not here.”

“Wow, is that not the point.”

“Well,” Trissiny mused aloud, “we could still just take the pieces from…” Her voice petered out as her eyes fell on the little mushroom-person who was still hopping up and down, emitting birdlike calls and waving its scrawny arms, and she physically flinched. “Oh, what the hell.”

The capling squealed in pure delight when she tossed the crystal shard in a gentle arc, hopping to intercept; in its eagerness, it hit the shard with its conical head, causing it to bounce away, but immediately on landing the fairy scrabbled after it, scooping up the glowing prize and vanishing around a tree trunk with a triumphant shriek.

The other two, likewise, dived away into the mushrooms and moss which constituted the underbrush, leaving the two of them alone by the door.

Trissiny turned and gave Gabriel her best, most pointed look. “Great. Well, now what?”

“Come on, I thought you said you’d played tag before,” he chided her. “It’s no fun if you just stand there.” He crept toward the trees on his toes, then suddenly lunged past the nearest trunk to duck his head around behind it. “Boo!”

Shrieking and yelping in delight, a capling burst out around the other side of the trunk and pelted a crystal shard at Gabriel’s back, where it bounced off his coat. Immediately, another one burst to life from a nearby stand of large mushrooms and skittered by, snatching it up and darting off along the wall emitting a series of whoops like a monkey. Gabriel, laughing, dashed after it.

“This is asinine,” Trissiny protested.

“I tend to agree,” Ariel’s voice replied from some distance away in the trees. “Keep in mind that this is clearly a fae-aligned room, and also a test of character administered by an automated construct devised by a goddess not noted for her excellent judgment where character is concerned. That it is clearly asinine does not necessarily mean anything is amiss.”

Her echoing voice seemed to waver and move as Gabriel traced a path through the trees ahead. Now he popped out again from behind a stump as tall as he was to give Trissiny a sardonic look. “Try not to have fun, Triss. I’d hate it if you started bleeding internally or something.”

“You are asinine,” she snapped.

“I love how you say that like you’re pointing out something we don’t all know,” he retorted cheerfully, then charged off in the direction of a scuffling sound.

Heaving another sigh, she strode reluctantly into the trees after him, muttering all the while. “I’m just saying, we don’t have to kill the little things. I bet a good scare would make them give up the…”

Something bounced off the back of her head and she whirled. A reddish capling with a flat, white-spotted mushroom cap made a noise that was too much like a laugh to be a coincidence and dived away into the shadows beneath a moss-laden branch.

Scowling, Trissiny bent and picked up the shard it had flung at her. “Playing tag with jagged pieces of crystal. Somebody doesn’t have to worry about vulnerable organs, I see. If the girls back at the Abbey had done something this foolish I’d’ve—”

The red and white capling poked its head out of the moss and made a rude noise at her.

“Oh, you little pest!” Trissiny surged after it, arm upraised to throw the shard, and it skittered away again, whooping. She ducked through the hanging moss and slid to a stop in the loam, looking around; there was no sign of her tormentor. However, while she was peering about for it, she caught another capling rising stealthily out of a waist-high stand of mushrooms, arm upraised and ready to throw another shard. Acting on reflex, Trissiny beaned it right on its cap with the shard in her hand. “Gotcha!”

It staggered out of the mushrooms, spun in a full circle on its heal, and flopped onto its back, letting the shard tumble free from its grip.

“Oh, Vesk would love you,” Trissiny said, ignoring a distant shout from Gabriel which was followed by a long crashing noise that sounded like a smaller tree being felled. She frowned, the capling continued to lie there, unmoving. Did they have vulnerable organs? Those crystals really did have sharp edges, and she realized with a measure of guilt that she’d thrown a lot harder than they had been so far. “Hey,” she said uncertainly, stepping forward. “Are you okay?”

The capling didn’t move, even when she nudged it with her boot. “Oh, no,” Trissiny muttered, kneeling to carefully prod at its cap with her fingertips, looking for a damaged spot where the piece might have hit. Her healing, never her strongest suit, was absolutely useless here; divine light was not at all healthy for fairies.

Suddenly the capling rolled over, snatched up both the pieces of crystal, and dashed off into the trees, whooping triumphantly.

“That does it!” she barked, charging after. “You actually worried me, you little menace!”

The capling unwisely picked a straight route through the trees; given that her legs were longer than it was tall, Trissiny outpaced it in seconds, and scooped the little fae up bodily with both hands. “Hah! Who’s clever now?”

It raised its hands in apparent surrender, one shard clutched in each, and then very lightly tossed one of them. She shut her eyes instinctively, but the shard bounced off her forehead, not even hard enough to leave a mark. If it has wanted to put her eye out at that range, with a double handful of sharp crystal, it certainly could have.

“Mm hm, that’s one,” she said wryly, while the shard fell to lie on the dead leaves around her feet. “Now come on, cough it up.”

The capling held up the remaining shard before her face, atop its palm, and she noted for the first time up close that its “hands” were little fleshy pads ringed by six stubby, opposable digits. Before she could do anything, though, it suddenly tossed the shard over her shoulder and made a gargling noise like a turkey.

Trissiny turned around just in time to see another capling scuttling off into the trees, holding aloft the shard.

“You little booger,” she said, and her captive gobbled at her again. She started to drop it, but thinking better of that, turned and gently set it down atop a large tree root—taking care to snatch up the fallen shard before it could reach it again. “I guess this round’s a draw,” she said, holding up the glowing fragment of crystal.

Her erstwhile opponent hopped up and down and made a shrill whoop that she only recognized as the call of a peacock because there happened to have been one in the botanical gardens in Tiraas from which she’d once stolen a mimosa blossom. Then it hopped down and scurried away, still cawing.

Trissiny felt she ought to be soundly annoyed by that whole episode, but found herself grinning, much to her own surprise.

“All right,” she called, turning in a slow circle in search of more signs of movement, “who’s next?”

On cue, Gabriel came crashing through a stand of mushrooms, none of which were sentient, fortunately. Before Trissiny could say anything, he tossed her an insane grin and then a shard of glowing crystal. Her reflexes were amply sharp enough to snatch it out of the air, since she saw it coming.

“Really, Gabe?” she snorted.

“Is that all you’ve got?” he shot back, holding up a fist with several jagged crystal tips protruding through his fingers. “Man, Trissiny. I’m still not clear on what the rules are for this game, but I think we can safely determine that you suck at it.”

“How the—you were gone for a minute and a half!”

“I was gone for a minute and a half, screwing around.” He winked. “I have it on good authority that that’s my greatest strength.”

“Well, isn’t this handy,” she said ominously, taking a step toward him. “And here I was just asking who was next.”

He fled, cackling nearly as obnoxiously as the caplings. Trissiny got five paces after him before instinct and a flash in her peripheral vision made her twist and snatch another crystal that was flying at her. She stuck out her tongue at the capling who had thrown it, earning a truly bizarre trumpeting noise in response, and immediately flung the shard at another one which was trying to creep up on her from an oblique angle barely within her field of view.

“Can I just point out,” she shouted to the room at large, “I’m the only one here with eyeballs and no hethelax invulnerability? Go easy, for heaven’s sake!”

“Maybe they are!” Gabe called from off to her left, hidden by the forest. “Maybe that’s why you’re lagging behind.”

“I’m gonna lag your behind!”

“I have no idea what that means but it’s somehow the must unsettling thing I’ve ever heard.”

“You disappoint me, Trissiny,” his sidekick added. “I was counting on you to be a wet blanket, as usual. Now he’s going to try to solve all his problems by playing tag.”

“Shut up, Ariel!” they belted in unison.

Trissiny chased off after him, trying to follow his laughter as he moved away, and not quite managing to keep up. She’d always been more than his match in agility, but Gabriel had grown more nimble thanks to Professor Ezzaniel’s efforts and their various adventures, and no matter how used she was to moving in armor it was inevitably somewhat cumbersome in close quarters like these. Before she even caught a glimpse of his coat through the woods—or maybe she did, it was the perfect color to be excellent camouflage in here—another capling reared up, its hand upraised with a crystal shard whose glow cut through the shadows.

They were, she soon decided, actually taking it easy on her; three times she caught sight of Gabriel being pelted with shards hard enough to make him yelp in protest, though biologically speaking it couldn’t possibly have hurt. To her, though, the caplings tossed them relatively softly, and either telescrolled their movements so she had ample time to react or hit her from behind, with no threat to the eyes. Was this sensitivity some inherent characteristic of caplings? It seemed more likely it was one of the Tower’s safety features at work, though she had already resolved to do some research on these little creatures anyway when she had the chance. Just from sheer curiosity, and also because this was the second time she’d encountered them in dungeons.

It was to her own amazement that she discovered that some of the laughter echoing through the chamber was her own.

Trissiny, following a flicker of movement from ahead, hesitated in the shadow of a tree, listening to rustling from its other side, then lunged out to ambush the crystal-bearing capling she’d been tracking. Unfortunately, she discovered two things: that she had emerged again into the clearing around the door, and that Gabriel had had the same idea from the other side of that tree. Trissiny didn’t have enough reaction time for a proper wrestling throw, luckily for him, but managed to turn what would have been a head-on collision into an awkward sidestep.

And then Gabriel, with a deftness she knew for a fact he couldn’t have achieved had he been trying, tangled one of his legs through hers in the act of trying to evade her, and sent them both crashing to the ground.

Surprisingly, they were both still laughing when they landed.

“And still in the lead!” he chortled, scraping up his collection of shards where he’d just dropped half of them among the leaves. “You’ve got, what, three?”

“It’s a good thing you’re so bad at everything,” she snipped back, unable to suppress her own grin. “You’re a terribly ungracious winner, Gabe.”

“Oh, hey,” he said in surprised, lifting his eyes from her. “I guess…that means we won.”

They were fully surrounded by caplings, now; once the whole tribe was out in the open, there were over a dozen of them. More than half were carrying shards, but instead of throwing them, they now clustered around, carefully depositing the fragments in the pile Gabriel had just accidentally made.

Trissiny spied the little red-and-white-capped one from before and patted it gently with her gauntlet, earning a series of songbird-like chirps in response.

“That was officially the best test ever,” Gabe announced while the caplings, their business apparently done, turned and vanished back into the fungal undergrowth.

“I don’t understand anything that just happened here,” Ariel complained. “What was the point of that? You accomplished nothing, learned nothing, and demonstrated no skills of any kind. Salyrene’s Tower is supposed to test the strength and intellect of magic users. No one even did any magic!”

Gabriel and Trissiny shared a look, both still grinning.

“Ariel,” she said in a deliberately pompous tone, “some things…are just beyond comprehension.”

“So, I should take that as an admission that you are just as baffled as I?”

“Maybe, but at least I got my heartbeat up and worked some muscle.”

“I have never had one of your squishy biological experiences, thankfully. Without exception they sound utterly revolting.”

“Okay, enough,” Gabriel said, patting her hilt. “If you’re just gonna grouse, be silent.”

“Ah, yes. Far be it from me to trespass on your turf.” Having had the last word, though, she at least stopped talking.

Gabriel and Trissiny shuffled onto the cleared stone surface near the door, carefully depositing all the crystal pieces between them, and began the process of fitting them back together. This proved a challenge mostly because they were meant to form a rounded disc-like shape, to judge by the indentation in the door panel, which did not want to sit upright on a flat surface. After a couple of failed attempts to get the pieces to sit still, they settled for starting to arrange them on the floor in roughly the correct position, but with some inches between them.

“So how are we going to get this thing together when we’ve figured out all the right places?” Trissiny asked. “I think it’s gonna be too big to fit in our hands…”

“Solving the problem in front of us before worrying about the next one has worked so far,” he said glibly. “I say we stick with that. So, uh, Triss… I was just wondering about something.”

“Just one thing?” she asked with a chuckle. “You’re doing better than I am, then.” She glanced up at him, and then hesitated in her sorting efforts, finding his expression more serious than she’d expected.

“Most of what I know about Eserites comes from Val Tarvadegh’s crash courses on Pantheon theology,” he said, now wearing a faint frown. “So, I’m just gonna assume it’s, shall we say, incomplete, when not actually tainted by a Vidian perspective.”

“A Vidian perspective, as I understand it, isn’t a whole lot different from an Eserite one…”

“Yeah, that’s…the thing. He sort of mentioned that. Okay, so, I’m really not trying to start any shit, here, but…you seem to not like playing games all that much. Or, at least, to not want to. It seemed like you had fun just now, once you got into it?”

Trissiny looked up at him again, raising an eyebrow.

“Val always said…” Gabe hesitated, then tried again. “He made it sound like Eserites were inherently playful. Like…they viewed everything as a game. As a kind of…cult-wide attitude.”

“It’s more than an attitude,” she said softly, again lowering her eyes to the shards she was trying to organize. He had paused in the work, but she kept at it, not mentioning that. “It’s doctrine. Life is struggle, and life is a game. The more serious the matter is, the more important it is to approach it as a game. Too much tension stiffens up the mind, makes you slow and clumsy, leads you into mistakes. The game never stops; if you stop playing, you start losing.”

There was silence. After a moment, he began moving crystal pieces again, saying nothing.

“And you’re having trouble reconciling the two,” Trissiny said at last, in a dry tone. “Has it occurred to you that maybe I’m just not a very good Eserite?”

“Uh, no. I can’t really conceive of you not being good at something. At least not something you care enough about to make an effort.”

She glanced up again in surprise, finding an unexpected warmth rushing to her cheeks. Fortunately, he was looking down at the crystals now.

“Gabe, do you remember when we played chess in Sarasio?”

“Yeah, and you kicked my ass.”

“Because you let me win.”

“I did not let you—”

“Come on, we went over that at the time, I saw what you were doing. You kept your mind on the broader situation instead of a specific game, used the first two to learn my strategies so you could counter them. That was my first actual hint that you’re smarter than you tended to act back then.”

“Aw, shucks,” he gushed, giving her a broad grin.

She rolled her eyes at him. “My point is, you didn’t see me shouting and whooping over the chessboard, did you?”

“No, but now that you’ve put that image in my head, I feel like I really missed out.”

“There’s more than one way to enjoy a game, Gabe. Sometimes just losing yourself in the flow is the most satisfying thing there is. No running or laughing involved.”

He looked up again, this time catching her gaze. “You know, I’ve never seen you running and laughing before today. You really should do it more often, Trissiny. It’s a good look on you.”

She lowered her eyes again. “…I know. I just… Part of me thinks doing anything for myself, just for fun, is…a waste of Avei’s resources. So much depends on me.”

“That sounds like a quick way to drive yourself completely insane.”

“Thank you.”

“I mean it, you’re still hu—you’re just as much a person as anybody, Triss. We all need some things just for ourselves. Just to function.”

“Yes, yes, I know,” she said with a sigh. “Being a hu—person, I have my flaws, too. One is that I’m not great at taking care of myself, emotionally.”

He didn’t seem to know what to say to that, and she didn’t look up again. For some inexplicable reason, she felt nervous about learning what look was on his face at that moment.

“So, on that subject,” he said after a pause, “I’ve been meaning to pick your brain about Eserite ideas, anyway.”

“Oh?”

“Having to do with what Vidius wants. The lion’s share of that seems to be cleaning house within his cult, which… I mean, the only success at all I’ve had at that involved scaring the pants off a bunch of them at the temple in Last Rock. But that was one serious priestess and then a gaggle of random followers; if I’m gonna deal with the real movers and shakers, I think I need to improve my game. Uh, considerably. Lady Gwenfaer struck me as the kind of person who has six plans in place to win any conversation before it happens.”

“How do you win a conversation?”

“That was a question I wouldn’t even have thought to ask before I met Gwenfaer. I assure you, it’s doable. She’s good at it. Me? Not so much.”

“I’m gonna stop you there, Gabe,” she said, also stopping work to look up at him seriously. “Bad idea. Fear is a volatile tool.”

“Yes, I know,” he replied in the same tone, also stilling his hands. “That’s why I wanted to ask you for advice before trying to just run off and do stuff. I know that’s a good part of how the Guild operates…”

“And you aren’t the Guild,” she said matter-of-factly. “Rule number one: do not frighten people and then give them a target. Fear transmutes itself to anger under even the slightest pressure; as soon as someone identifies the thing that’s scared them, they’ll either run from it or attack it. You can’t always predict which. The Guild gets away with this because it is formless. The Thieves’ Guild is ancient, and it’s everywhere. You can strike down one thief, and then you’ll have a dozen more after you. By now, the whole world knows better than to do that. And even so, people take swings at us all the time, mostly when they’re too spooked to think straight. You are in the opposite situation with the Vidians, Gabe. You’re one person, and they are a whole, vast network of clever operators sustaining a web you’ve barely glimpsed. The moment they decide you’re a threat to their interests, you’ll find yourself completely surrounded by hostile actors who are better than you at sly maneuvering. That’s a lethal position to be in.”

“Well, that’s good and fucking discouraging,” he muttered.

“With that said,” she continued, now wearing a faint smile, “I think you have a good idea, asking for Eserite insight. I don’t recommend trying to scare the Vidians straight, but there’s still some general practice you can learn from the Guild that can help you deal with them.”

He leaned forward, his whole face lighting up eagerly. “Such as? I’m all ears!”

She couldn’t help grinning along with his enthusiasm. “Well, some basic enforcer strategy, first of all. You always want to give your mark an out.”

“An…out?”

“A way out of the pressured situation you’re placing them in. You never, ever back somebody into a corner with no escape. A cornered animal immediately becomes ten times as dangerous, and people are the most dangerous animals to begin with.”

“Huh…what if the whole point is that you don’t want them to escape? You’re just trying to…take them out?”

“In that case, you do it before they see you coming. Enforcers have a certain reputation for theatricality, and there’s a reason for that: the Guild teaches it almost as much as Vidians and Veskers. Coercing people is more about creating the proper manipulation than actually applying force, and coercing people into compliance is the core of an enforcer’s job. But that also serves to disguise the fact that Guild street soldiers are also trained to hit hard and fast, and be gone before anybody realizes what’s happened. That idea also exists in Avenist doctrine: if you mean to destroy someone, do so before they have a chance to react. Ideally, before they ever learn you plan to attack them.”

“Hm,” he mused, frowning off to the side now.

“So, when you want to make someone do something, you create a situation around them. Yourself as the threatening force moving them in a certain direction, walls and situational barriers to limit what they can do, and—and this is most important—the out, which is the thing you want from them. Give them a means of escaping you that makes them do whatever it is you’re trying to get them to do.”

He frowned deeper. “That sounds like a really complicated way to tell somebody ‘gimme your money or I’ll stab you.’”

“That’s one example of the principle in action,” she agreed, nodding. “The Rogue’s Classic, they call it. Understanding the theory is important, though, if you plan to deal with sly people—like Vidian clerics, for example—and get them to do anything more complex than hand over their purses. And in fact, there’s a lot of prep work involved if you do it right. The best practice is to make sure your mark’s out not only lets them escape you, but benefits them.”

“…benefits?”

“Yep,” she said, nodding again. “Give them a way to actually profit from complying with you, and you’ve created a useful contact that you can leverage in the future. Even if the process involved terrorizing them a little, it’s amazing how positively people will view you if you do the job right. Just force someone to do what you want or suffer the consequences, though, and all you’ve created is a person who knows not to cross you. Which…is useful, but a lot less so in the long run.”

“Okay,” he said, grinning, “this is great stuff. I think I wanna have a longer conversation about this, but maybe someplace more comfortable when we have more time.”

“We seem to have nothing but time, here,” she said with a sigh, “but point taken. I think this thing is… Well, I’m pretty sure I can see where they all go. Now, how are we gonna get it back together?”

They both looked down at the array of crystal shards in silence. Laid out as they were, the shape of the finished disc was apparent, but its rounded surface made it impossible to balance in its complete shape.

“Hmm,” he said, rubbing his chin. “Okay, I think we can do this with just our hands; we’ve got four, after all. You gather pieces together from that end and I’ll do it from this end, and we’ll meet in the middle.”

“That’s about the only thing I can think to try,” she agreed, “unless you brought some glue.”

“Please do not try to reassemble magical artifacts with glue,” Ariel interjected.

“Thank you, Ariel, for the input,” Gabriel said with a sigh. “Ready?”

It was less awkward and worked better than she’d hoped, perhaps because the Tower didn’t intend this part to be a real trial. That only raised more questions—as Ariel had pointed out, chasing caplings around hadn’t seemed like much of a test of anything, especially since they hadn’t had to use any magic. Why would the goddess of magic’s personal dungeon care about their ability to relax and play with fairies? Regardless, once they managed to shove the pieces into a mostly together-ish shape, the fragments abruptly snapped into their full combined form as if drawn magnetically. Just like the crystal obelisk down below, a flash of light coursed over the finished product, and then it was whole, with no remaining cracks or anything to suggest it had ever been broken.

“Well, how about that,” Gabriel said cheerfully, getting to his feet with the completed disc in his hands. It was about the size and shape of two dinner plates stuck together, glowing uniformly in a sickly shade of yellowish green. “Looks like we’ve won this round! And now, for the finishing touch.”

Trissiny also stood, coming to hover by his shoulder while he stepped over to the door and carefully pushed the completed crystal disc into the space in its center. Unsurprisingly, it fit perfectly.

With a suddenness that made Gabriel jump and lose his grip on the disc, the stone double doors slid apart, both halves receding into the walls on either side. Fortunately, the disc stuck in its housing and wasn’t dropped in the process; with the door fully open, half of it still stuck out of the door frame on the left.

Beyond was a swirling vortex of light suspended amid inky blackness.

“Uh huh,” Gabriel said skeptically. “And we’re to just…step into that, are we.”

“It’s a portal,” she said with a shrug. “They’re often depicted that way. The swirling effect is caused by equalizing—”

“Yes, I remember the hellgate,” he said, sighing. “I guess in the tower of magic, what swirls is shiny nonsense rather than clouds. So! You wanna go first?”

He turned to her with an impish grin, but Trissiny was staring ahead, blank-faced. Not at the portal, but at nothing.

“I keep having to learn the same lessons,” she whispered. “It’s been almost two years since I had the epiphany that I’m allowed to make mistakes, and thinking I wasn’t only goaded me into worse ones. I figured out I needed subtler methods to deal with the problems of this century, so I went to the Guild… And I learned how to be even more of a brute than I was, just…more efficiently. I just… It’s the same thing over and over. Even when I try to become better, somehow I keep falling right back into the same… What’s wrong with me, Gabe?”

To his credit, he didn’t try to answer that question. Instead, after a momentary pause, he carefully wrapped an arm around her shoulders.

“Back there, when Ariel was talking about killing all the caplings,” he said quietly, “you seemed like you were about to agree, but then you hesitated, and suddenly threw the crystal piece to one. I had this weird thought at the time which I dismissed, because it’s not like I can know what you’re thinking… But to play a hunch. Were you remembering that night at Last Rock where we…you know?”

Trissiny drew in a deep breath and closed her eyes. “It all comes back to that, doesn’t it. Don’t answer, of course it does. I tried to murder somebody for…for… Of course it comes back to that. There are things you simply don’t…get past.”

“Yeah,” he said softly. “And that’s why you keep having to learn the same lesson.”

At that, she finally looked up at him, her eyebrows drawing together.

“Triss, take it from somebody who’s made an art form of messing up in life: you have to let it go. When you fuck up, find the lesson in it, and don’t do that again. You can’t carry the weight of it. That does literally nothing except wear you down. So we were two dumb, angry, ignorant, crappy people, and one night that all came to a head and somebody nearly died. We’ve both grown. We’re not those people anymore.” He squeezed her, hard enough she could feel the comforting pressure even through her armor. “We’ve both forgiven each other. Trissiny, you have to forgive yourself for that.”

“No,” she said instantly, shaking her head in denial. “No, that’s not—no, I don’t, Gabe. Don’t pretend we were the same. You were stupid and rude and generally needed a kick in the teeth, but you weren’t out to kill someone just for being stupid and rude and… Don’t you get it? Mistakes are one thing. I cannot be that way. If I ever give up being…horrified, and ashamed of that, I’ll—”

“You’ll be able to grow past it,” he interrupted, pulling her closer and leaning his head against hers. “Toby’s always telling me that it’s carrying a grudge that takes effort; forgiveness is the easiest thing in the world, as soon as you stop convincing yourself it’s not. You forgave me, didn’t you?”

“It…wasn’t all that hard, really.”

“Uh huh, then here’s a harder one. Have you forgiven Principia?”

She sighed again, heavily, and finally leaned into him, letting her cheek rest against his shoulder. “I know. We have the same doctrine in my religion. My first one, I mean. Forgiveness is for the person forgiving, not the one forgiven. It’s about letting go of the burden. But when I’m both, I don’t have to—”

“Yes, you do,” he insisted. “It’s like you were just saying. Life’s a game; if you tense up and take it too seriously, you’re not playing anymore, and you start to lose. Let it go, Trissiny. The girl who took a sword to me that night was a self-righteous, ignorant bigot. You are not, any more than I’m the same depressed, resentful little shit who was screaming curses in your face. Tellwyrn was right to make us get used to each other instead of handing down a real punishment. If we’d both gotten what we deserved, we wouldn’t have been able to grow past that. Now we have. You are one of my best friends in the world, and it kills me to watch you torture yourself. Please…just let it go.”

She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to form a reply to that, and found it cut off by an unexpected little gasp. Then another.

Gabriel pulled her around, wrapping both arms around her, and just held her in silence while she shuddered with quiet sobs. They stood framed between the twisted trees and the swirling portal, not moving to step through just yet. There was time.

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14 – 13

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Her first order of business was to find a tenable position. Right here, Trissiny was surrounded by this maze of decayed greenery, in which anything could hide—and ambush her. Turning in a slow circle and raising her eyes, she followed the line where the walls connected to the vaulted ceiling. There was no sign of any sort of door from this angle, but she did discover that she wasn’t in the center of the room.

The floor appeared to be flat stone where she was standing, but even a casual glance around revealed that it was far from even. Trissiny scraped at the dirt with her boot in the nearest spot where it seemed to rise upward, and found the variance in the terrain to be nothing but piled loam, with a layer of leaves and occasional mushrooms atop, seemingly arranged to shore up the root systems of whatever trees were nearby. In fact, now that she looked, the “hills” were subtle rises around a stump or tree, none growing more than a foot off the ground at most.

So there would be no high ground to speak of. And climbing one of these trees for a better view was a bad idea; with their roots sprawling over a stone floor instead of digging into the earth, she could very well tip one over. Especially wearing armor.

The next best option was to limit her chances of being flanked, so Trissiny turned and headed for the closest wall. This necessitated a circuitous course through a lot of blind obstacles, between the trees and the hanging moss. She kept both sword and shield at the ready, and kept her eyes in constant motion.

Tiny little flickers of motion kept catching the corner of her eye. Nothing she could identify once she looked directly, which quickly began to wear on her nerves. The Guild had taught her to watch for that and trust her instincts; unless you were congenitally paranoid, according to Style, having the feeling that you were being followed or stalked usually meant that you were being followed and stalked. This forested room was a whole different game from the streets of Tiraas, though. Those little flashes might have been insects, lizards, birds, any number of things that belonged among trees. But any such mundane creatures would be readily seen and not hide when looked at.

It did not help that the constant chatter of animals all around both obscured any possible sounds of someone creeping up on her and emphasized the incongruity in her surroundings. She could hear a profusion of animals in all direction and see not a single one.

Trissiny made sure to regularly turn and look behind her as she moved.

She reached the wall in relatively short order, though, which brought a little relief; at least it meant there was one direction from which she wouldn’t be ambushed. Craning her neck, Trissiny studied the surface all the way up to its ceiling, then knelt to prod at the floor where dirt and old leaves had drifted up against it. This was surely a cathedral-sized room, and appeared to be roughly square. There was light, but no windows or visible lamps. The wall itself appeared to be of the same huge granite blocks as Salyrene’s Tower.

Which wasn’t really a surprise; apparently the Tower hadn’t seen fit to let them choose their own trials. And apparently, it didn’t want her having help.

Well, her next decision was just a coin toss. After glancing back and forth, Trissiny went left, not for any particular reason. If there was an exit, it would surely be along the wall, and by following the wall she would come to it eventually.

At least, that was what logic told her. Another little voice told her there was no way it was going to be that easy.

She took a moment before starting out to memorize the nearest tree; fortunately they were all of unique, contorted shapes which made this prospect a little easier. That way, if there were shenanigans afoot which meant the exit wasn’t on the outer wall, she would know when she got back to this point. As she progressed, Trissiny kept glancing at those same little flicks of motion as they happened, still with no result, and making sure to check behind herself. The noise, the sense of being hunted, they all bore down with an almost physical weight. She was prepared to handle greater stress than this, thanks to moving meditation techniques from the Abbey.

How closely was this “trial” tailored to her, specifically? Trissiny chewed on that question while progressing steadily along the wall. This definitely put her well out of her element, but if the Tower was trying to crack her through psychological pressure, it had picked the wrong woman.

When she caught one, it came as a surprise to them both. At a distinct twitch of movement only a few feet distant, Trissiny whirled, snapping her blade up to point at the threat. Caught in the act of slipping back into hiding, it paused, quivering, and then stood up.

It was…a mushroom. Just under two feet tall, a thin stalk with a broad cap, shuffling on stubby little legs and with spindly arms and no face that she could see. It seemed to quaver indecisively for a moment, then suddenly hopped up and down in apparent excitement, waving its appendages.

“…caplings?” she said aloud. Yes, these were the little fae monsters from the Crawl, the ones on Level 1 of the descent. Creatures suitable to stock a dungeon, but of the absolute minimum possible threat level. Trissiny groped inside her own brain for what she knew of them, which was little; her class had discussed the caplings only briefly, as Juniper’s presence had made them automatically honored guests among the fungal fairies and they hadn’t had to do anything about them at all. Suddenly, she had a new appreciation for the Crawl’s aggravating insistence on learning lessons and doing things the hard way.

The capling tilted its head back, and a gap in its upper stalk opened, clearly a mouth of sorts. That was right, Juniper had said the hunted in packs, so it would eat like an animal rather than absorbing nutrients like a mushroom. But then the little creature emitted a long, undulating whoop unlike any of the squeaky shroom-people she remembered from the Crawl, and Trissiny instinctively raised her shield.

She did not recognize what animal was supposed to make that noise; it sounded more at home in some kind of jungle than any landscape with which she was familiar. But she had been hearing it off and on ever since arriving in this room. Trissiny straightened, lowering her shield at the lack of any aggression from the capling, and looking around with new eyes.

The mushrooms…they were everywhere. From tiny specimens barely bigger than her thumb to growths even larger than the capling in front of her, they clustered around the trees, sprouting from gaps in the root systems and the tops of stumps. If caplings hid among them, if they were the source of all those invisible animal noises…

Before she could digest the implications of this, the capling reached up, sticking a tiny hand into the fleshy frills at the base of its cap, and withdrew something which glowed brightly. Trissiny didn’t get a good look before the little fairy chucked the object right at her.

“Hey!” Trissiny ducked behind her shield again, and the projectile bounced off it with a thunk. “What the—”

The whooping sound came again, but rapidly diminishing in volume. She peeked out from behind the shield, just in time to see the capling’s shape vanishing among the trees.

“Trissiny?”

She perked up at the voice—one she actually recognized. “Gabriel!”

Immediately, Trissiny cringed at her own impetuousness. It seemed she was being tested under fae terms, and fairies were known to be tricksome creatures, as she had just been vividly reminded. But in the next moment he came crashing out of the underbrush nearby, grinning at her with his divine weapon in one hand, diminished to its wand form, and Ariel in the other. “Oh, thank the gods, I thought I was alone in here.”

“Me, too,” she said, smiling back and lowering her own weapons. “I take it that means you haven’t seen the others?”

“Not hide nor hair,” he said, coming up to her, slightly out of breath. “I only just heard you shouting. Speaking of, why? What happened?”

“Oh, right.” She glanced past him in the direction in which the fairy had gone. “I encountered one of the residents. I think they’re what’s making all these animal noises, and the little flickers of motion you barely catch at the corner of your eye.”

“I hadn’t seen anything like that,” he said, turning to follow her gaze and therefore missing the wry look she gave him. Well, after all, Gabriel had had neither Avenist nor Eserite training; she supposed his cursory Vidian education wouldn’t have focused on alertness to movement in his vicinity. “In fact, I was wondering about that. It sounds like we’re in some kind of damn jungle, but I can’t see anything but plants. You think they’re some kind of…wait, what did you see?”

“Plants,” she said significantly, “and mushrooms.”

Gabriel turned back to stare blankly at her. “What? Aren’t mushrooms plants?”

“Gabriel.”

He had the temerity to give her an impish grin. “I’m kidding. You think the mushrooms are making all these hoots and hollers?”

“Just the ones that are actually caplings, I suspect.”

His eyes narrowed. “Caplings…? Oh, you mean those mushroom creatures from the Crawl that Juniper liked so much?”

“I caught one moving,” she said, nodding. “It made that shriek like a bird or monkey or whatever it and threw something at me.”

“Huh.” Still squinting, Gabriel shifted his gaze to the left in that was she’d noticed him doing when he was wrestling with one of his enchanting problems. “They can mimic animal sounds? The ones in the Crawl didn’t. Did Juniper tell us they could do that?”

“Not that I remember, but I just saw it happen,” she said, suddenly distracted by recollection, and knelt. “Move your foot, please.”

When he shifted his boot to the side, the glow re-emerged. There, pressed into the loam by his footprint, was a jagged shard of crystal little bigger than her forefinger, a sickly yellow-green in color and glowing intensely. Trissiny sheathed her sword and carefully picked it up, straightening and holding the object up between them.

“What the capling threw at you?” he said.

She nodded, frowning at the crystal. “It didn’t throw hard, but look at this thing. Could put somebody’s eye out… I’m not sensing any divine or infernal magic from it. Can you?”

“Nope,” he replied, “nor any arcane enchantment. Ariel?”

“I detect no direct magical presence, which is telling,” the sword replied. “If it had even fae magic, at least one of the three of us—most likely myself—would be able to discern it by the effect that made on the energies of the other schools. It appears to be magically inert, yet it is glowing.”

“Could be a purely physical reaction,” Trissiny suggested, now lightly bouncing the crystal on her palm. “There are things in nature that glow.”

“It is also not radioactive, if that is your concern.”

“I don’t even know what that means.”

“Of course you don’t,” Ariel said with a touch more condescension than usual. “More likely, it is part of the inherent magic of the tower, which will not register to my magical senses so long as we are within its grasp as it constitutes a part of the baseline of our existence.”

“And that means,” Gabriel said slowly, “it’s probably necessary to solve this puzzle.”

“Puzzle?” Trissiny raised her eyebrows, then turned and looked expressively around at the twisted little forest.

“Yes, puzzle,” he insisted. “Think about it, we’ve already established that’s how the Tower likes to test people.”

“One of those puzzles in the entry chamber was a pure combat test,” she pointed out.

“Sure, but it’s one you and I smashed through with basically no effort, and I note that we’re the ones stuck in this particular room. Do you really think the Tower’s going to give us problems to solve that we’ve already proven we’re good at? Athenos made it sound like us being paladins meant we were gonna get the hard stuff.”

She frowned. “Oh, great.”

“Yep,” Gabriel said, nodding. “So yeah, puzzle. We’re locked in a room, and supposed to do…something. It involves caplings and that crystal.”

She sighed and slung her shield onto her shoulder by its strap, then shifted the shard to her left hand to keep her sword hand free. If they weren’t going to be fighting, the shield wouldn’t be as necessary, but Trissiny generally felt better when she had swift access to her sword. “All right, well… We haven’t seen enough pieces of this puzzle yet to even guess how to solve it, so I guess we’d better keep looking. I was following the wall; that’s where the door is most likely to be, and something tells me when we find the door, we’ll find the heart of the puzzle.”

“I already feel more at ease,” Gabriel said with an annoying grin. “If all this hullabaloo is just caplings playing some kind of game, that’s a lot less dangerous than half the stuff I was imagining.”

“I didn’t come here to play games,” Trissiny grunted, stalking off along the wall. “Come on.”


“Well, wherever they are, I hope they’re having more fun than we are,” Schwartz said sourly, then cringed as another colossal fireball impacted the rock behind them.

For a moment, Toby’s glow brightened by reflex, creating a tingling sensation in them both as it burned away the wash of infernal magic which came with those balls of fire, then he deliberately dampened it down enough to create no visible shine above the rocky barrier. Likewise, Schwartz reached up to grab Meesie and place a finger over her mouth, stifling her outraged squeals. She could easily have squirmed free of his grip, but seemed to get the message, laying her tiny ears back in displeasure but not struggling.

The crackle of flames slowly receded from the rock; those explosions left little fires everywhere, which burned for a few seconds with no visible fuel. Both held themselves still and silent, hardly daring to breathe. After a few heartbeats, there came a powerful snort from across the chasm, followed by the rhythmic stomp of massive hooves as the demon resumed its pacing.

Schwartz let out a sigh and slid down to sit with his back against the wall. “Okay. Obviously, we’re meant to get past that thing.”

“It’s a demon, not a thing,” Toby said quietly, squatting on his heels.

Schwartz scowled in annoyance. “You know what I mean. Look, I’m just vocalizing the situation in detail; it’s a problem-solving method that works for me. Feel free to contribute, but not to nitpick.”

“Fair,” Toby agreed with the ghost of a smile.

“We’re in a square chamber,” Schwartz mused, letting his eyes wander around the high stone walls and vaulted ceiling for a moment. “Obviously part of Salyrene’s Tower.”

“I thought I made it clear you wouldn’t be permitted to leave the Tower until you passed all the challenges it arranged for you,” Athenos interjected.

Schwartz ignored him. “All of this is very obviously themed. Black volcanic rock, erratic growth, the general evidence of destruction. Even the air is orange, to say nothing of the giant flipping demon. This is clearly an infernal test.”

Toby nodded in agreement. “Also, take note of the way these rock outcroppings are arranged around the floor up here. We encountered something that looked very similar in the Crawl, though that one was full of hellboars. The arrangements are obviously artificial, since no volcano put them here. Their seeming randomness lays out a perfect obstacle course for a fight to range across the area, just enough obstructions to make it interesting.”

“I’m starting to see the shape of it,” Schwartz murmured, frowning deeply, “and what I see troubles me.”

“Me, too,” Toby said, matching his frown. “I don’t care for being pushed into battle.”

“No, I mean…it’s too simple,” the witch said. “Too obvious. This is a test, a trial, right? In the chamber down below, we had to think critically and…well, laterally. If everything points at it being a straightforward fight, I’ve got a sneaking suspicion that as soon as we try that, the real hammer will come down. Do you have anything to add?” he asked, holding Athenos up.

The sword’s runes flickered blue, looking faded and sickly in the faint, reddish mist which hung over the room. “It’s good that you are thinking outside the box, so to speak. I’m not here to solve your problems for you, however. Good luck.”

“Why are you here, exactly?” Toby asked pointedly.

“As you discovered in the vault below, I serve as a key to access new areas of the Tower, and to explain its nature and functions as such questions become relevant. At my own discretion, I may provide assistance with…certain challenges. But I’m certainly not going to tell you how to solve the very first one you are dropped into. I’m not a member of your party, boys, keep that in mind. I’m an impartial observer representing the interests of the Tower and its goddess.”

“And what does it mean,” Schwartz demanded, “that you’re with us and not with Trissiny or Gabriel?”

“All trials are individualized. I have never seen this one before, and likely wouldn’t recognize whatever they are facing, either. Rarely does the Tower repeat itself with a new adventurer. It means, in short, that they are there, and not here.”

“That’s immensely helpful, thank you,” Schwartz grunted.

Toby edged over to the jagged barrier of igneous rock behind which they were huddled and very carefully raised his head to peek over the top.

The two of them had been deposited in different spots, but both were on the upper floor of the room and had quickly found one another; there wasn’t anything else up here except the erratic maze of rough black stone set up atop the Tower’s floor of much paler granite. This floor, however, only covered about half the space. Past the barrier in front of them, which blocked off most of the drop, was a chasm whose bottom they hadn’t been able to peer into. There was only one bridge of rough obsidian extending down to the lower level, itself an outcropping of rock rather than another smooth floor. The door out of the room was positioned on that, and pacing back and forth in front of it was a demon.

“Do you happen to know what species it is?” Schwartz asked.

“He is of a species I don’t recognize,” Toby replied, slipping back down. The brute hadn’t spotted him this time, fortunately; every time it had caught sight of either of them, it had hurled pumpkin-sized fireballs that exploded and strewed patches of persistent flame in all directions, not to mention a general haze of infernal magic. “He’s built a lot like a baerzurg, but clearly not one of those.”

“Looks more like a minotaur to me,” Schwartz opined, turning and poking his head up over the barrier. “Albeit with scales instead of fur, and those horns are much larger than—”

He broke off and hurled himself flat, Toby doing likewise, and a second later another fireball sailed past overhead. This one missed their improvised parapet entirely, arcing above them to impact the far wall.

“Smooth,” Athenos commented. “Your grasp of strategy is truly a wonder to behold. Hey—get this thing off me!”

Meesie had scampered down Schwartz’s arm and begun biting furiously at the sword’s leather grip. Schwartz looked down at them for a moment, then gently laid Athenos on the ground, careful not to disturb the elemental who was still going at it with all her teeth and claws. “Sorry, I’m not here to solve your problems for you. What do you think, Toby?”

“Well, it’s not like we can just rush the bridge,” Toby said with a sigh. “If we had Trissiny, or Gabe’s scythe… Maybe that’s the thing. The challenge could be that we have to link up with them before we can solve it.”

“In that case, they and therefore we have a problem,” said Schwartz. “The magic sword which serves as a key to this place is in here with us. All right, Meesie, enough. I think you’ve made your point.”

She looked up, whiskers twitching. Then with a tiny snort and a final swat of her tail to Athenos’s pommel, the glowing rat turned and scampered up Schwartz’s robes, reaching her customary perch on his shoulder in seconds. There, she looked superciliously down at Athenos and gave him one last derisive squeak.

“Silly me,” the sword said irritably, “for thinking the last imbecile who got in here was the greatest headache I could ever possibly have to endure.”

“Yeah, you’ll want to avoid tempting the fates that way,” Toby replied with a faint smile which faded almost immediately. “Well, if we have to get down there but can’t… What if we bring the demon up here?”


“Oh, I get it,” Trissiny said with a heavy sigh.

They stood before the obvious door out of the chamber, an enormous stone portal in a metal frame. Across the dividing line where its two halves met was a round panel made to house a large piece of crystal. They knew that because a few of the shards were still stuck around its edges, the same color and material as the glowing piece she had retrieved from the capling.

“So they have the pieces,” Gabriel mused, holding up their fragment as if by putting it in front of the disc he could figure out where it would fit in the finished whole. “We have to first get them from the caplings, and then reassemble it, and…I guess that’ll open the door. That’s honestly more straightforward than I was expecting.”

“In what twisted fantasy world is that going to be straightforward?” she demanded in exasperation, turning to gesticulate at the forest behind them. “We’ve got to find every one of the little…”

Trissiny trailed off, and Gabriel turned to follow her gaze. Suddenly, they were not alone.

Three caplings stood at the edge of the cleared area around the door, lurking hesitantly in the shadows of trees.

“Uh, hi there,” Gabriel said, and held up the piece of crystal. “I don’t suppose you guys would be interested in handing over…”

He broke off as all three suddenly bounded out into the open. Trissiny raised her sword, but the caplings weren’t attacking. In fact, two jumped up and down, emitting a mismatched pair of birdcalls. The one in the middle, however, waved its arms frantically overhead.

The two paladins looked at each other in confusion, and then back at the fairy.

Apparently growing frustrated, it made beckoning motions at them.

“You…want us to follow?” Gabriel said, taking a step forward. Immediately, though, the capling reversed it gestures, waving at him to stay back. It turned to point at one of its fellows and made a loud croaking noise like a frog. The other capling reached into the frills of its own cap and pulled out another crystal shard.

Trissiny started to step toward it, but before she could get more than one pace the capling tossed the shard in a shining arc; the one which had been waving at Gabriel had to hop into the air to catch it, but then it did a little celebratory dance, waving the crystal piece overhead.

“Okay, whatever else you can say about that,” Gabriel said, grinning broadly, “look me in the eye and say that’s not the most adorable thing you’ve ever seen.”

“Remember Fross’s first solstice party?”

“…you’ve just always gotta be right, don’t you. Smartass.”

The middle capling, meanwhile, turned and tossed the shard to the third one, which missed its catch and had to dive to retrieve it from the fallen leaves. The capling which had had that shard in the first place dashed for it as well, but was too far away, and number three got the prize and bounced back upright, whooping like a crane in triumph.

Then the one in the middle once again turned back to Gabriel and began waving its tiny arms again while the other two chased each other around the nearest stump.

“Oh, you want the…no, sorry,” Trissiny said. “We need those to wait don’t you dare—GABRIEL!”

Grinning, he tossed the shard. It was a gentle throw, which the capling caught without difficulty and immediately began rolling around on the ground in celebration.

“Have you lost your mind!?” Trissiny shouted. “We have to collect those things! How are we going to do that if you give them back to the—ow!”

Another shard struck her on the temple and she whirled, raising her blade. The caplings just continued to dance about, making their miscellaneous animal calls and apparently having a blast. One threw the shard back to Gabriel, who immediately tossed it to a different one, now grinning widely.

“I figured it out!” he said, turning to her.

“Do not say what I think you’re about to say,” she warned.

“Aw, c’mon, it’ll be fun.”

“I hate fun.”

“Trissiny, I used to think you were born with a stick up your ass,” he said, playfully punching her armored shoulder. “I’ve come to realize, though, you work hard to keep it there. Well, it won’t kill you to un-clench for a little while.”

“You’re proposing that we stop and play catch with a bunch of annoying little fairies?” she snapped.

“Some combination of catch and keep-away, I’m not real clear on the rules. But that’s exactly the point, don’t you get it?” The smile faded, and he turned to face her fully, his expression growing serious. “The Tower hasn’t given us an easy test, just like you thought. It’s exactly what Vidius told me I should be doing more of: screwing around.”

“He didn’t tell me to do that!”

“Well, I’m telling you now.” He reached out to lay a hand on her shoulder. “This is a trial, a test. It’s making us do something that’s hard for us…hard, but important. Trissiny, when was the last time you played tag?”

“I can’t believe you—”

“I’m serious. When?”

To her surprise, the expression in his eyes was serious.

“When I was fifteen,” she found herself replying in spite of herself. “Actually…it was the day Avei called me. Right before that, at the Abbey, the girls were scuffling on the lawn. I used to…”

Gabriel smiled again, but more gently, and gave her a little shake. “Hell, I used to do nothing but goof around. That was before I had actual responsibilities, though. I get it, Triss, believe me I do. But maybe… Maybe we got in too much of a hurry to grow up, and did it too far, or too fast.”

“Gabriel, this is beyond asinine,” she protested. “I’m not going to run around engaging in playground games with a bunch of caplings.”

At that, his impish grin returned. “You are if you wanna get out of here. C’mon, Triss, pick up the crystal. Looks like you’re it.”


“Okay, this isn’t working,” Toby called, ducking behind another pillar of rock while fireballs pounded the area in front of him. “We’ve tried taunting, pleading, reasoning, formal challenging… He’s not biting the bait. Have you got any other ideas?”

Schwartz stood a few yards distant behind another large chunk of stone, near one of the traps he’d laid on the ground. They had peppered the entire area with fae circles, sigils, and objects, ready to be triggered against the demon once they got it to chase them into the maze—which it had steadfastly refused to do, simply remaining on its platform and answering any challenge with a barrage of explosive fireballs.

“Schwartz?” Toby prompted as the last explosions petered out and the witch continued staring into space. “Are you okay? Were you hit?”

Meesie sat upright, patting Schwartz’s cheek, but she pointed at Toby and squeaked imperiously.

“I believe,” said Athenos, currently in Toby’s hand, “the insufferable little rat wants you to let him think.”

“We’re wrong,” Schwartz said suddenly, his eyes snapping into focus and meeting Toby’s. “We’re going about this all wrong.”

“Yes, so I gathered,” Toby said wryly. “Have you a better idea? Because aside from forcing him into a trap—”

“We need to attack.”

“Schwartz,” he said patiently, “we decided that’s exactly the thing we don’t need to do, remember? It’s an obvious trap.”

“That’s not the trap.” Schwartz turned to him, shaking his head. “I get it now. The trap is…all this. Us. The Tower challenges us, Toby. We’re supposed to…to test our boundaries, to learn and grow. Think about it: you and I would naturally try to do anything but charge the giant demon in a brute force attack. You always want to seek the peaceful solution to any conflict, and I approach problems like…well, like problems. I’m inclined to fall back on cleverness and tricks rather than…”

“Rather than suicidal charges,” Toby exclaimed. “Good. Let’s say, for the sake of argument, that we can’t reason with that demon—which I don’t truly believe, anyway. We would have to get down the bridge—”

“We haven’t tested those fireballs directly against one of your divine shields.”

“…and then deal with the demon himself.”

“You’re a master martial artist, and we both specialize in forms of magic which would be incredibly harmful to it. Toby… This is it. This is the test. Sometimes we don’t get to handle things the way we want to. Sometimes you just have to fight.”

Toby shook his head stubbornly. “There is always a better way than that. Always.”

“No, there’s not,” Schwartz retorted. “Believe me, I sympathize, but it’s true. Sometimes there just plain isn’t. The most terrifying creature I ever met wasn’t a giant fire-throwing demon, and it wasn’t an amalgamation of undead souls left in Athan’Khar by the Enchanter’s Bane. It was a smart, skillful, highly professional woman who cares for nothing but herself and simply cannot be reasoned with. And I’ve spent months letting her run amok because I’ve been trying to build up a clever ploy to deal with her rather than…dealing.”

“I don’t—”

“Toby, don’t you see?” Schwartz said, and his voice was suddenly filled with the strangest mix of desperation and bone-deep weariness. “This is exactly the same mistake you and I keep making. The demon isn’t the challenge, here. We are.”

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14 – 12

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“Uh.” Schwartz, nonplussed, peered at the sword in his hand, then helplessly over at the others. “We can’t exactly…do that.”

“You’re clearly resourceful enough to have broken in,” Athenos retorted. “Give it a go.”

“Yeah, that’s kinda the thing,” said Gabriel. “The way we got in…doesn’t leave a way out.”

“Your problem, not mine.”

“The tower is here to test adventurers, right?” Trissiny said. “Well, we’re here, and we’re—”

“You were not invited. The goddess has no time for walk-ins.”

“What’s she got to do that’s so very important?” Trissiny retorted. “Listen, our business is important, and this tower of yours is just a means to an end. If you don’t want us tracking mud on the carpets, fine; all we need is to talk to Salyrene.”

“Oh, is that all you need,” the sword replied with ponderous sarcasm. “A personal audience with the goddess of magic, apropos of nothing. I’ll repeat: the Tower is closed. Get lost.”

“Well, I say,” Schwartz grumbled, scowling at the sword now. “Your help would be appreciated, but if it comes down to it, we can just use you to unlock the elevator and proceed. What are you going to do about it?”

“Ahem?” Ariel’s voice cut through the gathering argument, and a moment later she slid free of her scabbard, untouched by Gabriel. The black saber drifted up into the air and did a slow pirouette, her blue runes glowing steadily with arcane magic. “I advise you not to handle a sentient weapon which doesn’t like you. We are far from helpless. The enchantments may vary, but some form of motive charm is standard.” Gabriel plucked her from the air, sliding her back into the sheath while shaking his head.

“What. Is. That.” If anything, Athenos sounded positively enraged now. “You brought another— All right, I have had enough of you clowns.”

“I think we’ve all gotten off on the wrong foot here,” Toby interjected, stepping closer to Schwartz, holding up his hands placatingly and using his most soothing voice. “Everyone, please relax. We know talking swords are made with a lack of empathy; there’s no need to get hostile just because Athenos is a little abrasive. Now, can we start again?”

“Very well,” Athenos said curtly. “Welcome to the Tower of Salyrene, which is not currently accepting visitors. Go away.”

Trissiny rolled her eyes, turning to stare expressively at Gabriel, who shrugged. Meesie clambered halfway down Schwartz’s arm to hiss menacingly at the sword until Schwartz picked her up with his free hand, depositing her on his other shoulder.

“I realize this is something of an imposition,” Toby continued in his calm tone. “It is for us, as well, believe it or not. We really would prefer to be done with our business as quickly as possible and with a minimum of trouble caused for anyone. Especially Salyrene. But I’m afraid we don’t have the option of just leaving. So why don’t we try to meet in the middle, here? If you’re willing to work with us, hopefully we can keep the disruption minimal and be out of your hair. Ah, your…metaphorical hair.”

“And you think it’ll be as simple as that?”

“Well,” Toby pointed out with a smile, “we did get into the place. Surely that shows we have some measure of capability.”

“Ah, yes.” The sword’s voice was suddenly weighted with even greater disdain. “Just like every clod who discovers a gimmick, you imagine yourself to be unique. Let me clue you in, then: people have been breaking in here almost the whole time it has been closed off. Starting eighty-odd years ago with that walking incendiary bomb Tellwyrn and just getting more obnoxiously wacky from there. We had an actual incubus running around in here for who knows how many years. Just last week some screwloose kitsune clawed a hole in the outer barriers and dropped off a transmogrified ex-dryad as if this were some sort of puppy rescue. The fact that Salyrene is not interested in the Tower and its visitors does not, unfortunately, make it inaccessible; it only means her attention is not focused here, and therefore things tend to unfold in a way she absolutely did not intend when originally designing the place. This Tower’s innate magic is more sophisticated than anything else in existence, but it is still no substitute for the active oversight of a goddess. So if I seem wildly unenthused by the prospect of shepherding you clods through here, understand that it’s not a personal judgment. I don’t know you, and even less do I care to. It’s because what you’ve brought me is the very great likelihood of a big, ugly, stupid, pointless, nigh-disastrous waste of everyone’s time!”

A stunned silence fell after his rant came to a close. It was, ironically, Meesie who broke it, with a shrill whistle.

Toby cleared his throat. “I certainly understand—”

“You understand nothing,” Athenos snapped. “You know what? Your buddy there was right. If you choose to unlock the elevator and help yourself to my Tower…fine. There’s really not much I can do to stop you. Oh, there’s a little I can do, but I won’t. My function here is to guide those being tested, even when they are a useless, unwanted pain in organs I am very lucky not to possess. But know this: you’re walking into a danger of which you weren’t forewarned. Nobody is overseeing this place, and it has neither pity nor the capacity to stop. There’s nobody at the top who will grant you a reward for succeeding—if you ever do. Once you ride that elevator to the Tower proper, you can’t come back down. You will be in there until you complete its trials and escape, and escape is the only prize it’ll offer you. So before you decide to charge ahead, I suggest you think very carefully about whether this is a good use of your time. Why are you so sure you’ll succeed, and more importantly, why would you bother?”

“Well,” Gabriel drawled, “as to the second part, we are on a quest mandated by a god of the Pantheon. Granted, it’s just Vesk, but he still counts. And as for the first, we’re paladins.”

“Well, they are,” Schwartz clarified. “I’m simply a witch of the Emerald College, helping out. But these are the hands of Omnu, Avei, and Vidius.”

“Hand of Vidius,” Athenos said scornfully. “If you want to think I’m an idiot, that’s your lookout, but I’ll ask you not to speak to me as if I were an idiot.”

“You’ve been locked up in here for quite a while, haven’t you?” Trissiny asked.

“Obviously.”

She shrugged. “Well, things are changing out there in the world, but I don’t know how to convince you…”

“You don’t need to,” Ariel cut in, “he is simply being obstreperous now. We are well equipped to discern and examine auras in our proximity, and Gabriel’s is unmistakably that of someone with an exceptionally powerful connection to the divine. Given that he is also obviously, to senses such as ours, a half-demon, logic dictates that this was done at the personal intercession of a god. Therefore, paladin.”

“That conclusion is hardly inevitable,” Athenos huffed. “Still… Fine. Your time and lives are your own to waste. Who knows, if Vesk is the one who sent you here, perhaps you can coax Salyrene to take a personal interest again. That would be a great relief.”

“Very good, then,” Toby said quickly before any more bickering could ensue. “If we’re all on the same page now, we might as well proceed. Schwartz, lead the way!”

“Don’t mind if I do,” Schwartz said, still looking somewhat bemused and holding the sword a bit awkwardly. He turned and crossed the chamber to the elevator, where he paused, holding up Athenos and peering hesitantly at the metal plate with the slot in it. “So, ah… I just…insert…you?”

“If you are perplexed by a simple key-and-lock interface, you are going to have a very hard time climbing this Tower,” Athenos snipped. “I suggest you take a moment to reconsider this course of action.”

“He’s even ruder than Ariel,” Trissiny observed.

“Maybe very slightly,” Gabriel said in a solemn tone.

Schwartz, suddenly scowling, lifted the sword and pressed its tip against the slot in the panel. He had to try a couple of times, being unused to handling blades at all, much less against such a precise target, but once the tip caught, he shoved the sword home in a single motion. Athenos stopped with an audible thunk with about three quarters of his length in the mechanism.

What remained visible of the runes lining his blade flashed blue. Then, as if spreading from contact, so did another set of runes on the metal panel surrounding him, which had not been visible at all moments before. In fact, they appeared to hover half an inch from the surface of the panel. They rotated in a full circle, and the whole slot did likewise, twisting Athenos’s handle and forcing Schwartz to quickly release it. This was an eerie sight, as there was nothing constituting a moving part on that flat piece of metal. As soon as the slot and sword had rotated all the way back to their original position, the bars separating them from the elevator abruptly withdrew—not through any mechanical process, but all dissolving from the top down, each seemingly washed away by a descending sparkle of light.

“Flashy,” Gabriel remarked, raising his eyebrow.

Athenos flickered again as he responded, still stuck in the wall. “You’d better get used to that. The goddess of magic is many things, but ‘subtle’ does not usually rank among them. Once again: as soon as you ascend to the main floor of the tower, you are good and there until it finishes with you. Last chance to reconsider.”

“It isn’t really up for debate,” Schwartz grunted, grabbing Athenos again and tugging the blade free of the wall. “We’ve already established that going back where we came from isn’t a feasible option, and that’s not even considering the divine quest we still have to fulfill. Onward and upward!”

“Hang on,” Trissiny said suddenly as he started to step into the opened elevator. “I have some questions. I wouldn’t mind learning a bit more about this Tower before we go charging headlong into it.”

“Finally, a note of circumspection,” Athenos said with the first approval he’d shown any of them. “Congratulations. You are now my favorite adventurer in at least the last century.”

Trissiny bit back her first retort, which was to the effect that his personal opinion was of no interest to her. If Athenos functioned more or less the same as Ariel, nothing was going to rectify his uncooperative attitude and snapping back at him wouldn’t even hurt his feelings. Still, there was no point, and definitely no good in getting in the habit. Gabriel was grinning at her as if following this entire line of thought, which earned a wry grimace from her in reply.

Instead she moved on to her actual concerns. “First of all, I want to know exactly how this Tower works—”

“Then I hope you have several decades to spare for the relevant education, and have brought someone willing to explain it all.”

Trissiny gritted her teeth, ignoring Gabe’s silent laughter, and pressed on. “Not the details of how the magic works, I’m just curious about the broad strokes. If Salyrene is not here, and not paying attention to what happens in the Tower, how is it supposed to test people? You strongly implied the trials are still working.”

“The Tower of Salyrene is a thing more of magic than of substance. Its function is to test adventurers. Obviously, this works better with its creator overseeing the tests, but it does not stop working simply because she is absent. You lot solved a Circle of Interaction puzzle to get this far; dare I hope that, unlike my last intruder, you at least understand the basics of magical theory enough to know what I mean by ‘subjective physics?’”

Trissiny nodded. “Yes, magic is a process of imposing subjectivity on physical reality so it can be altered by thoughts.”

“Close…enough,” Athenos said with only slight disdain. Which, given the way he’d acted so far, bore out his claim to like Trissiny the most of all of them. “Therefore, the Tower of Salyrene is a structure entirely of purpose. Subjectively, it determines what the most appropriate test is for whoever is in it, and provides that. So, to head off what I expect your next question will be, no I do not know how you will be tested. To be clear, I wouldn’t help you cheat anyway, but the truth is that I literally cannot. We will find out what your tests are when they begin.”

“That sounds…far-fetched,” Gabriel said skeptically. “Are you sure Salyrene is actually absent and not just…sulking?”

“Sulking.” The sword’s tone was utterly flat. “A goddess of the Pantheon.”

“That was literally the word Avei used,” Gabe replied with a little grin.

“If your theory is that she’s actually here,” Schwartz said, frowning reproachfully, “maybe keeping thoughts like that to yourself might be a good idea.” Meesie nodded, adding a chirp of agreement.

Gabriel cleared his throat and hurried on. “What I mean is, you’re talking about analyzing people based on practically no data, determining the extremely vague concept of their needs, devising an entire trial system for each on the fly… I was willing to accept that idea if there was a goddess specifically doing it, but you want me to believe this Tower has that process automated? It really stretches my credulity.”

“Actually,” Schwartz replied, adjusting his glasses with his free hand, “what you’re talking about would be fairly simple to set up given a sufficient quantity and mastery of fae magic; these kinds of intuitive functions are arguably its primary advantage over the other three schools, Circle negation effects notwithstanding. And if there is one place in all the world where there’s sufficient magic…this is it.”

“That thing in the Crawl that gave visions,” Toby added, “seems to have done more or less the same, albeit maybe not to the same extent. So we know the theory works.”

“Hm,” Gabriel grunted, looking unconvinced, but he nodded at Trissiny and offered no further comment.

“So, based on that,” she said slowly, “as you said, the Tower is actually more dangerous without Salyrene’s oversight.”

“The Tower is…not exactly dangerous,” Athenos admitted grudgingly. “I…enhanced the facts somewhat for effect, previously. It is definitely more chaotic, and intruders have been able to take advantage of that. The incubus I mentioned caused no end of trouble in precisely that way; without Salyrene’s personal attention, there exists the prospect of such foreign dangers arising. But the Tower itself is designed to be explicitly safe. For one, all your biological needs will be suspended while you are in here.”

“I say, that’s handy,” Schwartz chimed in. “And I was just starting to notice that myself! I haven’t felt even slightly hungry or tired since we arrived.”

“And I haven’t needed to pee,” Gabriel added. “I was a little worried about that. Guess it’s Horsebutt’s tomb all over again.”

“Heshenaad,” Toby corrected, then grinned at Gabriel’s scowl.

“Furthermore,” Athenos continued with mounting annoyance, “part of the Tower’s innate systems are designed to protect adventurers from any injury which may occur in the course of testing. In this place, Salyrene’s will trumps all other laws, including those of the other gods. Should you be lethally or debilitatingly maimed, either by a test or more likely through your own clumsiness, a time-reversal effect ordinarily available only to Scions of Vemnesthis will restore you to a point before it occurred with your memory intact. In this way, you not only survive your errors, but learn from them. The Tower is, ultimately, an enormous teaching device.”

“Well, yay for more education,” Gabriel commented. “You mentioned you had Tellwyrn come through here? You might like to know that she runs a University now.”

“…and isn’t that just the icing on the cake,” Athenos said in pure disgust. “Someone needs to notify Avei that there is no justice in the world.”

“Anyway,” Trissiny said loudly, “that sort of brings me around to my other question. What happened to the other people who’ve broken in here while Salyrene wasn’t running it?”

“That depends on the individuals. As I said, they climbed the Tower. All of them managed it…eventually. In the old days, the goddess would sometimes evict someone if they proved particularly dense or their conduct became personally objectionable to her, but now? All the Tower knows is to test, and try, and keep doing so until its subject has passed all their allotted trials and is allowed to leave.”

“So they all did succeed, in the end?” Toby asked in unfeigned interest. “I suppose that’s a positive sign. How long does it take, on average?”

“Again, it depends. I have had idiots stuck in here for literally years.”

“But you said a dryad was dropped off here last week,” said Schwartz, “and also that no one’s there now. She managed it that fast?”

“Years is an outlier,” Athenos acknowledged. “It is more likely to be a matter of hours or days, in most cases. And…the dryad proved a far more adept adventurer than I’d have expected based on her initial foray. The Tower did go easy on her; it was mostly a succession of logic puzzles and very basic Circle of Interaction effects. I suppose there is a hidden advantage for the ignorant and/or stupid, as the Tower does not test people beyond their capacity.”

“Can you offer at least a guess as to what kind of tests we’ll be facing?” Toby asked.

“That is not one of my functions,” Athenos replied, audibly smug. “I will warn you not to expect the daffy dryad treatment. For three paladins and a witch, this is not going to be easy.”

“Great,” Gabriel muttered.

“At this point, I think we’re just procrastinating,” Trissiny said, “and his ominous portents of doom aren’t helping. Unless someone else has any immediately relevant questions?”

“In fact, I rather think you’re right,” Schwartz agreed. “The sooner we get started, the sooner we get finished. So! Onward and upward, for real this time!”

He led the way into the elevator, Meesie squeaking a charge and pointing forward from atop his head. The others followed with a bit more reluctance, especially after having listened to Athenos’s dire predictions, but as had already been established, it wasn’t as if they could do anything else.

No sooner had Toby, the last in line, stepped inside than the metal bars re-materialized with the same glittery effect in reverse. It was crowded with four of them in there, but by unspoken agreement they all stood clustered together, nobody taking a seat on the padded benches provided.

“Hey, there’s no roof,” Gabriel commented, and they all looked up. Indeed, the elevator shaft stretched upward for an unknowable distance. It was far enough, at least, that they could see nothing but light at the top.

Then the elevator lurched once, making Schwartz and Gabe stumble, and began smoothly rising.

It accelerated rapidly as it went, enough that the passage of the stone walls outside was a little alarming; given the cage-like construction of the elevator, they could probably have reached through to touch them, and at that speed had a fingertip sanded off for their trouble. The trip was made even more unnerving by the fact that those walls were decorated with glowing patterns in orange, gold, blue, and green. They must have been arranged in static positions along the stone shaft, but when viewed at speed they formed smoothly shifting images evocative of the four schools of magic. Flickering flames, uncurling vines, exploding stars and shimmering figures all were features, most passing by so quickly they were barely-understood afterimages almost as soon as they appeared.

“You weren’t kidding,” Gabriel muttered, barely audible with the hum of their passing. “Flashy stuff everywhere.”

“You have hardly seen everywhere,” Athenos replied dryly.

The elevator began to slow, just as the distant light above them started growing in intensity. Its speed had diminished to a smooth crawl by the time the upper borders of the vehicle passed what turned out to be an open gap in the floor of the chamber above. Or would have, had they remained attached; in actuality, the cage walls clicked against a thin lip of the portal above and were pushed downward as they rose. When the elevator finally came to a stop, it was with its metal floor perfectly level with the floor of the tower, leaving only its partial ring of padded benches standing up around them.

This, finally, was clearly a tower. The chamber in which they now stood was vast, and octagonal in shape. There was nothing in the center except the little platform on which they stood, and a broad Circle of Interaction diagram spreading around them, laid into the gray stone floor in black marble. Somewhat ominously, they were standing right in the middle of the innermost circle, where the destructive forces of opposing schools of magic met with the most explosive effect.

The height of the tower was truly impossible to guess. All around them was relative dimness; there was no visible source of the light, but it was enough to make their immediate surroundings visible. Above, however, the empty tower stretched away into darkness, its entire length crossed by bridges set at varying angles. They vanished into the blackness no less than ten stories above, with no hint at how much further it stretched.

Closer at hand, spiraling staircases climbed the outer walls to a balcony which ringed the inner space about two stories up. The four doors which branched off from this, each corresponding to one of the four points on the Circle diagram, were large enough to be clearly visible from their position.

Directly in front of them was another statue of Salyrene, depicting her exactly as those down below had. This one, however, showed her only from the waist up, and even so was tall enough that the smooth crown of her head nearly met the balcony above. With her glowing eyes fixed right upon their point of arrival, that was the most unnerving thing of all.

Once again, the silence was broken by a tiny, shrill whistle of awe.

“You said it, Meesie,” Gabriel agreed.

“And now, here you are.” There was something vaguely menacing about the smugness in Athenos’s tone. Even dangling from Schwartz’s limp arm, the sword’s flickering runes managed to convey leering satisfaction. “Best of luck to you, heroes. I expect you shall need every bit you can grasp.”

“You,” Trissiny ordered, “be quiet. When we have questions, we’ll ask them. Otherwise, if you’re not going to make yourself useful, at least refrain from being a pest.”

“Oh, of course. Far be it from me to disrupt your trials. This is, after all, my very purpose in life.”

“When you referred to climbing the tower,” Gabriel said, craning his neck back to peer into the climbing abyss of darkness above, “did you mean…all the way?”

“What you seek is at the top,” Athenos confirmed. “Each trial you pass will grant you another level of ascent.”

“This,” Gabriel said slowly, “is gonna take a while.”

Toby sighed, and rolled his shoulders. “Well, I gather at a glance that it starts about the same way that puzzle down below did. Four doors, four schools. Shall we pick one and get started?”

“The divine would be that way,” Trissiny said, pointing at the arched doorway just visible about Salyrene’s stone head. On the floor directly in front of them, there was indeed the circle marked by the ankh symbol. “Start there, again? At minimum, that seems most likely to be a trial that won’t punish us too much.”

“It’s as good a place to begin as any,” Schwartz agreed, Meesie nodding eagerly.

“All right, then,” Trissiny said, and stepped forward between two of the benches and off the elevator platform.

Whatever hit was like the impact of a stone wall, if she’d fallen on it from a great height. Blinding white light exploded in her eyes, and then she was slammed onto her back on the ground.

Onto…soft, crunching leaves, piled upon dirt.

Trissiny rolled to her feet, grunting in pain at the lingering soreness this antagonized, but not allowing herself to slow. She was now standing in a forest.

No…a room.

Stone walls rose all around in the near distance, and there were even windows in them. Above stretched the vault of an arched ceiling. These features were not what leapt out at the eye, however. All around her stood a profusion of trees—twisted things covered with dark, gnarled bark, mostly leafless and covered with climbing vines, streamers of hanging moss decorating their bare branches. A profusion of mushrooms sprang up from around their base, some reaching waist-high on her, and most in poisonously vivid colors which contrasted sharply with the overall gloom. What leaves there were seemed to be on the ground, dried out as if they had fallen long ago.

And it was loud. Trissiny couldn’t identify half the animals she heard; the profusion of crickets, birds, chatters and whoops and the occasional distant scream made an overall din that was all the more unsettling because she couldn’t actually see any of the creatures making the noise.

Oh, wait, no, there was a pair of glowing eyes watching her from the shadows in the roots of the closest tree.

Altogether, this scene was so disturbingly ominous she had to conclude it had been deliberately designed to be.

And she was alone. There was no sign, anywhere, of her companions.

Trissiny sighed and drew her sword. “Typical.”

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14 – 11

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“Well, it doesn’t look much like a tower from here,” Gabriel observed.

In fact, it was a tunnel. An apparently natural one, complete with lichen, dripping water, and a general unpleasant dankness. It was also noticeably cooler than the temple in Vrin Shai had been. Their view of the uncut stone walls was made eerie by the color of the light: there was none inherently present, but Meesie’s fiery red and Ariel’s luminous blue runes cast enough shifting illumination for them to at least see each other’s faces, barely.

“Herschel knows what he’s doing,” Trissiny said, her voice echoing slightly off the stone walls. “And Avei did prompt us in this direction. If we made some kind of mistake…we’ll deal with that.” She trailed off, and none of them pointed out that if they’d made some kind of mistake they could be absolutely anywhere. “I guess for now, all that’s left is to pick a direction.”

“That way,” Toby said, turning and pointing. The tunnel extended into blackness in both directions; he had selected the angle that sloped upward. “We’re obviously underground. If we want a tower, we want to go up.”

“That reasoning’s as sound as any,” Gabriel agreed. “So, uh… Should one of us put up an aura? Because this mood lighting is all very romantic, but I will trip and break my neck if we try to shuffle through this cave with only Meesie and Ariel for light.”

“Your neck is unbreakable,” Ariel replied. “Ingrate.” Meesie squeaked chidingly at him.

“I guess that means me,” Trissiny said dryly. “If we don’t want to risk someone burning out, given we’ve no idea how long this might take.”

“Or we could take it in turns,” Toby suggested.

Schwartz cleared his throat. “If I might?”

While they all turned to stare at him and Meesie cheeped smugly from his shoulder, he held out a hand, palm up. Wind rose in the tunnel, followed by sparks of light, whirling into a vortex suspended above his palm which coalesced into a single glowing orb. It illuminated their surroundings as cleanly as a fairy lamp.

“Rule of thumb,” Schwartz said in a self-satisfied tone. “When the objective is to conserve energy, let the witch do it. My power sources are all external.”

“Nicely done!” Gabriel said, sheathing Ariel and clapping him on the shoulder. “All right, off we go, then. We’re not getting any closer to Vesk’s doohickey by standing around here.”

As it turned out, they almost needn’t have bothered with the light. After a scant few minutes of walking, the tunnel abruptly turned into a paved hallway, with glowing chunks of crystal set into the walls at intervals. Schwartz paused, glancing back at them, and then dismissed his glowing orb. In its absence, the steady gleam of the lamps provided ample light. They did not resemble conventional fairy lamps, which contained glowing elements within a glass housing; these were solid crystals which produced light at a considerable intensity. If anything, they were brighter.

Directly ahead, the corridor ascended steeply in a granite staircase. They all paused just before climbing it, to study the moon-and-stars sigil of Salyrene engraved on the floor at its foot.

“Welp, guess this is the right place after all,” Toby remarked.

Trissiny let out a soft breath of relief. “Whew. Not that I doubted it,” she added hastily at Schwartz’s dry look.

The stairs were a tad steeper than stairs usually ran, but it was not a long climb; in fact, they ascended for scarcely twice their own height before it opened out onto a clean, octagonal chamber, just inside which the four stopped, staring around. Meesie let out a low noise that sounded an awful lot like a whistle of awe.

Much of it was hidden from view by its sheer size and their perspective, but it was obvious at a glance that the entire floor of the chamber was decorated with a Circle of Interaction, set in black marble amid the pinkish polished granite of which most of the room was constructed. Directly in front of them was the lowest circle, complete with the wreath symbol of infernal magic. Above head height the walls had not been carved, and the domed ceiling rose in a staggered mess of stalactites; obviously this chamber had been hewn from an existing natural cave. More of the glowing crystals were set in the stone walls at regular intervals, and scattered artfully among the natural formations above.

From the center of the Circle diagram, the small innermost ring indicating the point where opposing schools of magic interacted at their most explosive, there rose an octagonal stone plinth. Thrust into this for half the length of its blade was an ornate longsword, its crossguard and pommel golden and in an apparently elven design—unusual, as elves favored curved swords—and a series of runes marking the length of its blade. Surrounding the sword, as if growing from the top of the pedestal itself, was a crystal, transparent by clouded.

“That has to be the most bardic thing I’ve ever seen,” Gabriel remarked. “If there’s not an epic adventure story about a sword thrust into a pedestal and then encased in crystal, there ought to be.”

“Well,” said Trissiny, pacing toward the frozen sword and peering around, “that wasn’t the only way to come in.”

They trailed after her, surveying the edges of the chamber even as they made their way toward the encased blade. In addition to the stairwell from which they had emerged, there were four wide gaps in the walls, each positioned midway between two glyph points on the Circle diagram; each had a statue of Salyrene as she was usually depicted in Pantheon artwork, with the added detail that each statue’s eyes glowed a steady white. The statues seemed to split the hallways, which curved away to either side of every one, their destinations out of sight around the bend.

“Hey, look at this,” Toby called from up ahead. The rest followed him to the opposite side of the chamber from their entry point, where another doorway was blocked by a grille of bars that appeared to be solid gold. The group clustered around, studying this. Beyond it was a tiny chamber, octagonal as this one and lined with benches bearing opulent red velvet cushions.

“Looks like an elevator,” Trissiny observed. “Newfangled devices as we know them, but I guess it shouldn’t surprise me that Salyrene had such things in her Tower thousands of years ago.”

“I’d hesitate to draw conclusions about that,” said Schwartz. “She’s never been shy about borrowing inventions from her followers, and rearranging her Tower would be exactly as difficult for her as thinking.”

“Uh oh,” Gabriel said, stepping forward and placing his fingertips on the metal panel set along the right side of the elevator door. It had Salyrene’s moon sigil set in its top, and below that, a deep slot. “Am I crazy, or does this look to be about the perfect size and shape to fit…” He turned around and pointed at the sword suspended in crystal. “…that?”

They all stared at the sword, then back at the elevator door. Schwartz reached out, gripped the bars with both hands, and gave them a good firm shake, which accomplished precisely nothing. At their stares, he shrugged. “Worth a shot.”

Trissiny prodded experimentally at the slot with her own sword; only its tip penetrated. The leaf-shaped blade widened too much to fit.

“Try Ariel?” Toby suggested.

“Do not stick me in that hole,” Ariel snapped. “It’s a puzzle, obviously. This place is sacred to the goddess of magic; that’s not a tumbler lock. Only the proper sword will open it.”

“Puzzles,” Gabriel grunted, turning and trudging back to the pedestal. “All right, let’s have a look at this, then.”

While the rest watched from a circumspect distance, he paced in a complete circle around the plinth, finding no significant features on any side. Stepping back, he gingerly tapped the crystal with the tip of his scythe. It made an unpleasant ringing sound, but aside from that, nothing happened.

“Well, we finally found one thing that scythe can’t kill,” Toby remarked.

“And isn’t that just a little alarming,” Schwartz murmured. “It cut through time and space itself, not to mention the exterior defenses of this tower.”

“Well, ultimately, people are supposed to be able to get in the tower,” Gabriel said reasonably. “This, though… Obviously we’re expected to do something in particular to get the sword out, and Salyrene doesn’t want us cheating. I guess it makes sense it’s going to be harder to brute-force the puzzles here than in the Crawl.”

“Let’s not try,” Toby said firmly. “As I recall, that approach made the Crawl mad enough to nearly dump us all in a bottomless pit, and it’s just barely conscious. Salyrene doesn’t want us in here in the first place; now that we are, I suggest we refrain from tweaking her nose any more than necessary. Look, this place is for testing adventurers, so obviously there’s a solution. And since nothing’s apparent in here, it’s clearly through one of these doorways.”

“Or all of them,” Schwartz said, his expression eager, and rubbed his hands together. “Well, tallyho, then!”

Trissiny sighed and shook her head, but followed him along with the others through the gap positioned between the divine and fae circles on the diagram. There they all clustered together, studying the statue of the goddess and glancing up and down the two hallways.

“This way,” Toby decided, stepping to their left.

“Any particular reason?” Gabriel asked.

“Extrapolating from the architecture,” Toby said, “these side halls loop around to meet again at the four cardinal points. Each corresponding to one of the schools of magic, which suggests the shape of what we’ll find beyond. If I’m right about that, this direction leads to the divine.”

“Sounds good to me,” Trissiny agreed, and set off in that direction without waiting for further discussion.

Toby was, indeed, right; the curving hall arced all the way around, and right at the point where it was directly behind the elevator another doorway opened up onto a chamber beyond. This was a tall, round space, most of which wasn’t visible from the door because the entrance was about a story below its main floor. Curving staircases wound around from each side of the entrance, and directly before them, set into the wall, was another statue of Salyrene with glowing eyes.

As soon as they stepped into the chamber, this one shifted her gaze to face them and spoke, making Gabriel and Schwartz yelp in surprise.

“Divine magic embodies the principle of order,” the statue said. Though clearly made of stone, her hands and facial features moved as fluidly as flesh while she lectured them in a resonant alto that had an echoing quality very like Ariel’s. “It is associated with serenity, harmony, preservation, and the spirit of law. This form of magic is the gift of the gods of the Pantheon, formed by them from the energy released when the sinister Elder Gods were destroyed for their crimes against the people of this world. Today, the divine is accessible through the auspices of the gods, and wielded by their followers to protect themselves and their fellow mortals against all evils which might assail them. But clerics must be wary, and treat the divine light with the greatest respect. Draw too greedily upon it, and it will burn both body and soul.”

The statue returned to its base position and fell silent.

“…Lady Salyrene?” Trissiny said hesitantly.

“That is not she.” It was impossible to tell if Ariel’s voice was particularly scornful; it had that aspect most of the time anyway. “Your recent encounters with gods may have given you unreasonable expectations; most are not terribly modest in person. Salyrene, in particular, has always been a strutting cockerel. Were you in her presence, you would know. This is clearly an automated enchantment she left behind to greet adventurers.”

“So far, so good,” Gabriel said cheerfully, turning right and beginning to climb the curving steps. “Let’s go see what else she left for us!”

The stairs twisted all the way around the chamber, till they met at the top, opposite the door down below, on a small landing connected to the round platform which filled most of the chamber. This was strewn entirely with wreckage. Fragments of crystal and stone, ranging from fist-sized to bigger than their heads, littered the whole surface. They stopped and stared around at this in mute confusion.

“So,” Schwartz said at last, scratching his head, “it’s…broken? Whatever it is?”

“Well, you did say nobody’s been in here or heard from the goddess in a hundred years,” Gabriel said. “Crap. What now? Should we go try one of the other rooms?”

“Wait,” Toby said suddenly, narrowing his eyes. “Look at those fragments.”

“We’re looking,” Gabe said wryly. “There’s not much else to see.”

“No, look. Whatever this was, it wasn’t wrecked, at least not the way something made of stone and crystal would be. There’s no dust, no tiny chips. These are all…pieces. Irregular in shape, but it looks like the should, theoretically, still fit together.” He turned to face, them, and grinned. “Divine magic embodies the principle of order. Well, what we’ve got here is chaos. To embody the divine, we have to fix it!”

“You mean…rebuild that…whatever it is?” Trissiny said, raising her eyebrows. “Oh. Won’t this be fun.”

“Puzzles,” Gabriel snorted. “Themed puzzles. Tell us again how this place isn’t a dungeon, Schwartz.”

“’I told you so’ loses much of its weight when everybody agreed with you in the first place, Gabe,” Schwartz retorted, grinning and pushing back his sleeves, Meesie cheeping in excitement atop his head. “Well, what are we waiting for? Let’s build us a thingumajigger!”


It was easier than it looked, in the end. The sprawl and disorder of the fragments was deceptive; once they started sorting them, piecing them back together was surprisingly straightforward. Clearly they had been designed for that purpose. By far the hardest part was the sheer size and weight of them. These were, after all, chunks of stone, some of them pumpkin-sized. As a three-dimensional jigsaw puzzle it proved not very challenging, but as a sheer test of strength and resourcefulness it quickly became apparent why this was used as a trial for veteran adventurers.

They had their means of overcoming it, though all of them had to get creative. Schwartz’s magic was the most versatile, both boosting their physical ability to lift and move stone and providing aids in so doing, in the form of powerful bursts of controlled air which provided erratic but serviceable platforms. He also tried to use some seeds which he claimed would have grown into trees and vines that could support them better, but these failed to do anything; apparently the inherent divine magic of the chamber was interfering. Fortunately, they had other resources. Gabriel’s arcane glyphs turned pages from his enchanting book into invaluable levitation devices, and Trissiny was even able to conjure hardlight constructs that served as scaffolding, though they didn’t hold long under pressure.

The structure was an obelisk, apparently carved of white marble with its center hollowed out to leave a stone frame, the interior being filled with crystal. The faces of this were decorated with deeply engraved glyphs and runes which none of them could read. The moment Toby, suspended atop floating glyph-pages with the aid of a sustained windburst from Schwartz, set the capstone in place on top, the entire thing pulsed once with light, and then was suddenly whole. No lines were left to mark where the pieces fit together.

“So…that’s it, then?” Gabriel said uncertainly while Toby hopped to the ground beside him. “Based on how flashy that was, I’d have thought we’d get some kind of…I dunno, announcement. At least a bell ringing or something.”

“Let’s go back to the central chamber and see if anything’s changed,” Trissiny suggested, already leading the way.

They paused at the statue of the goddess, but it seemed she had nothing else to say to them. In the central room, though, something had indeed changed: on the massive Circle diagram, the ankh symbol representing divine magic was glowing with intense golden light. The same illumination filled the ring around it, creeping along both arcs of the outer circle and down the central lines to the stone plinth in the center. In fact, it looked strikingly reminiscent of the spell circle Schwartz had made back in Vrin Shai to get them here.

“Oh! Oh oh oh I see!” Schwartz’s robes fluttered as he rushed toward the pillar, excited as a child. “Let’s go do the infernal chamber next!”

“I’d’ve thought you’d want to see the fae one,” Gabriel commented.

“Well, yes, sure, but look!” Fairly dancing in eagerness, Schwartz pointed at the glowing lines on the ground. “The divine magic travels along here to reach the center, see? The central circle where the sword is, the one that on the Circles of Interaction diagram represents opposing reactions. The explodey kind!”

“So,” Trissiny said, beginning to catch some of his enthusiasm, “we activate the opposite one, it travels up to meet this in the middle…”

“And the force of it shatters the crystal and frees the sword!” Toby finished, grinning.

“And,” Schwartz added, “there’s at least a possibility we can free it with only two schools, which would spare us having to deal with all four trials! Come on, come on!”

He set off through another of the wall portals at a near-run, Meesie clinging to his hair, and almost slipped as he turned to scamper around the corner toward the chamber opposite the one they’d just completed, directly behind the stairwell through which they had first entered.

The entrance was identical to the other one, complete with a statue of Salyrene which came alive and adressed them at their approach.

“Infernal magic embodies the principle of chaos,” she intoned. “It is associated with aggression, destruction, corruption, and mutation. This form of magic was created by Scyllith, one of the last surviving Elder Gods and the goddess of light, beauty, and cruelty. Though limited in its applications, the infernal is unparalleled in effectiveness at the few uses it has, and is accessible to all intelligent beings who understand how to reach out and touch it. But warlocks must be wary, and treat the powers of hellfire with the greatest respect. The slightest mistake or mishandling of the infernal dooms the careless practitioner to a most agonizing, and inescapable, fate.”

“Is she going to explain every kind of magic as we come to it?” Gabriel wondered aloud. “You’ve gotta figure anybody ending up here of all places would already know this stuff.”

“Well, we aren’t supposed to be here,” Toby pointed out.

“And we already know this stuff,” he replied. “How the heck would anybody even get in here, invited or not, without knowing a lot about magic?”

“Oh, you know a lot about magic, do you?” Schwartz asked, grinning as he brushed past Gabriel up the curving stairs. “Got nothing more to learn from the very goddess of magic herself, have you? Must be nice.”

“All right, point taken,” Gabe muttered, following.

Atop this platform were four stone gargoyles. They were hideous things, apparently carved from black marble, but didn’t appear particularly magical at first glance.

“Okay,” Toby said, frowning at them. “So, the last one was about order, and we had to repair something that was broken. This one’s chaos, and there are unbroken statues. So maybe we just…smash them?”

“There is absolutely no way it’s that easy,” Gabriel said skeptically.

As if he’d invoked the magic words, a roaring nose erupted from the gargoyles, and each of their eyes burst alight with seething orange flame. The statues began moving, and unlike those of Salyrene, these did so with a horrible grinding of stone on stone. Their movements, furthermore, were clearly aggressive, rounding on the four intruders and baring fangs and claws.

“Called it!” Gabriel shouted even as the three boys backpedaled frantically toward the stairs.

Trissiny, however, did not retreat. Instead light flared up around her, coalescing into her silver armor, shield, and the sword already in her hands. “Now this is my kind of trial!”


“What in the blazes did that steward polish this with?” she was asking incredulously a few minutes later as they made their way back toward the central chamber again. “Look at me, I’m practically glowing.”

“I believe that’s a light-refracting alchemical polish,” Schwartz replied, experimentally poking at an un-scuffed patch on her breastplate. She had picked up only a few scratches, leaving the rest of her armor to gleam blindingly wherever the faintest light touched it. Altogether that had not been one of their more significant battles, though Gabriel’s scythe had proved far more efficacious than Trissiny’s sword. Though slow and not smart, the gargoyles were made of stone, and there was a limit to how much damage she could physically inflict. His weapon, on the other hand, destroyed the magic animating them as neatly as it did everything else. The whole thing was over in seconds, before she had a chance to get properly beaten upon, as she was now complaining.

“I think he’s right,” Gabriel agreed, not bothering to hide his amused grin. “See, it actually creates a molecule-thin protective layer over the metal that catches and magnifies any light that hits it.”

“Look at this!” she exclaimed, waving her arms and sending reflections cascading along the walls. “I’m not wrong, am I? Isn’t this just a little excessive?”

“Well, yeah,” Schwartz agreed, “that stuff is intended for jewelry. Enough to coat a suit of armor must’ve cost a blooming fortune.”

“And I thought I was so clever for leaving it behind,” she growled.

They emerged into the broad octagonal chamber, and slowed. As expected, the infernal symbol now glowed a burning orange, projecting its radiance along the circle to the sides and forward to meet the divine beam from opposite. Indeed, there was a cascade of sparks and the odd crackle of lightning wreathing the central pillar now. In fact, there were visible cracks in the crystal which housed the sword. Not large ones, though, and no sign of them growing.

“Bollocks,” Schwartz said feelingly, then suddenly grinned and rubbed his hands together in that way he’d taken to doing lately. Atop his head, Meesie repeated the gesture, squeaking in eagerness. “All right, then! Fae next!”

“Whatever you say,” Gabriel replied airily, following him across the room to another curving corridor. Trissiny fell to the back of the column, still grumbling to herself about her improbably glossy armor. Such showiness was not appropriate to Avenist sensibilities; she would have to find time to scuff herself up good and proper before any Legionnaires or priestesses had a chance to see her.

As before, they were greeted by the resident statue of Salyrene upon arriving in the fae chamber.

“Fae magic embodies the principle of organic growth,” she informed them. “It is associated with empathy, creativity, rejuvenation, and nature. This form of magic was created by Naiya, one of the last Elder Gods and the matron of the wild. Ordinarily, fae magic is not directly accessible to mortals, but is touched through the auspices of fairies, beings of magic also of Naiya’s creation. Whether by making use of fae-blessed objects or by establishing relationships with fae beings, the practitioner’s craft is a matter of forming connections, and nurturing them. But witches must be wary, and treat the wild magic with the greatest respect. Fairies are unpredictable, fickle, and often vengeful; to deal with them risks carnage as much as it promises blessing.”

“Well put,” Schwartz said approvingly, already bounding up the stairs toward the top of the platform.

Fittingly, this one was covered in trees, a collection of stumps and leafy branches, with the odd boulder arranged beneath them and a thick carpet of moss covering the stone platform itself. Hefty mushrooms sprouted here and there, both from the lush surface of the moss and from the various wooden surfaces. Trees, ferns, and rocks were arranged in a rough horseshoe shape, opening toward the landing on which the staircases terminated, with a pool in the center.

“Hey, look!” Gabriel said, grinning and pointing at a large blue mushroom sprouting from the roots of a tree. It had the distinct conical cap studded with refracting crystalline growths identifying it as a glittershroom.

“No,” Trissiny said flatly.

As if in response to her voice, life burst into evidence all over the display. Dozens of tiny creatures were suddenly everywhere, poking their heads out of hiding places beneath leaves and behind rocks. They filled the air with a cheery cacophony of chirps, whistles, and croaks. Birds, lizards, fish, and frogs were all in evidence. Except…

“Okay, so here’s a question,” Gabriel said, tilting his head to one side. “Why are there birds in the water and fishes in the trees?”

“Something tells me that has to do with what makes this a puzzle and not just a cute diorama,” said Toby.

“Yow!” Gabriel had experimentally reached out toward a fish flopping about on top of a tree stump, and it hissed and sank all its impressive teeth into his finger. “What the fuck! You little— It bit me! I’m bleeding!”

“You’ll live,” Trissiny said dryly.

“I am a god damned hethelax half-demon,” he snapped, shaking his affronted finger and glaring at the unrepentant fish. “I’m supposed to be impervious!”

“Not to fairies, you aren’t,” Schwartz said with a smile, and stepped over to kneel beside the stump, gazing at the little fish. “Come on, guys, I see the test. We have to help all these little fellas back to their proper habitats.”

Trissiny slowly extended her hand toward a colorful songbird which was fully underwater and emitting a stream of bubbles. She immediately pulled it back when the creature began thrashing so violently it sprayed water in all directions. “I don’t think they want help.”

“Fae magic is about empathy, about connections,” Toby said, now grinning. “We have to coax them. Just gotta be gentle, and make them understand we mean them well.”

Trissiny stared at him, then around at the shrieking, splashing, scrabbling zoo before them. “…how about I go wait in the sword chamber? Or get a head start on the arcane trial?”

Gabriel patted her on the pauldron with his bitten hand. “Come on, Triss, take off your gauntlets and try being nice. Looks like we’ve got a lot of friends to make.”


Trissiny made a go of it, but to the surprise of no one, least of all herself, she was ultimately the least productive during that trial. This was in large part because the entire thing annoyed her and, according to Schwartz, the little creatures they were supposed to be helping could sense that agitation. Ultimately, she managed to fish a bird out of the pond, stroking it with a fingertip until it stopped flailing, and set it gently in a ready-made nest half-hidden in the fork between two branches. That experience brought a genuine and unguarded smile to her face, especially when the bird cheeped ather in obvious gratitude as she retreated. Her only other contribution, however, involved being bitten right on the web between her thumb and forefinger by a particularly snap-jawed fish, and hurling it violently into the pond. After that, Schwartz banished her to the landing.

He and Toby, unsurprisingly, were having a whale of a time playing with the cute little animals. Even Gabriel seemed to get in on the fun of it, though he collected quite the assortment of bites and peck wounds on his fingers in the process. Meesie was surprisingly helpful, considering that she was a shrill and energetic creature made of fire who was slightly larger than any of the woodland creatures they were trying to help. These clearly were not natural woodland creatures, though, and responded quite positively to the little elemental.

Still, it took longer by far than piecing the obelisk back together had; more of them than otherwise either ran or attacked when approached, and required a fair amount of gentle crooning to calm them enough to be helped back where they belonged. When it was done, though, it was just as sudden as with the other trials. Toby gently deposited the last tree-bound fish back in its pond, and as if a switch had been flipped, the entire thing went silent. Every tiny creature hid away, and stillness descended upon the whole scene.

“Finally,” Trissiny snorted, already stalking down the stairs.

She ignored the snickering behind her, leading the way back across the central chamber and to a gap on the other side. They all glanced at the sword display in passing; the fae symbol was alight in radiant green, now, but didn’t seem to be doing much to the spot where divine and infernal energies were still burning uselessly against the crystal. Running low on patience with this entire business, she didn’t slow until they had wound their way through the passages to the other side of the complex, the last side chamber, and one more talking statue of Salyrene.

“Arcane magic embodies the principle of intellect,” it said when they had all clustered around. “It is associated with mathematics, independence, amorality, and progress. This form of magic is…of mysterious origin. The arcane is readily available to all, and can be harnessed and exercised by any who know the basic method. It has no inherent risk or drawback, inflicting no direct harm on its user as a cost of its power, though the power of the arcane is limited by what a practitioner can gather, shape, and deploy—a capacity which must be gradually exercised over time to improve. But mages must be wary, and treat the luminous science with the greatest respect. Mortals are often their own greatest tormentors, and hubris inflicts its own punishment. That which expands the power of the mind promises great advancement, and the prospect of a stunning fall.”

“Is it just me, or was that more ominous than the one about infernal magic?” Gabriel asked while they edged past the statue up the stairs.

“The luminous science,” Schwartz mused. “I like that! Never heard it called that before. I’ll have to remember it for my friends in the Sapphire College.”

“Well, you’re already the first Salyrite in a century to see this place,” said Toby. “Don’t gloat too much, Schwartz; that’s how you lose friends.”

“Ironically,” the witch said with a sigh, “lately most of my friends are thieves, bards, soldiers, priests…”

“Sounds like a well-balanced team!” Gabriel said cheerfully, stopping as they arrived at the top of the platform. “You’re shaping up into quite the classic adventurer!”

“Please don’t encourage him,” Trissiny groaned. “More to the point, what is all this now?”

This was a sweeping array of glowing, colored glass balls suspended in the air. It formed a wall encircling nearly the whole platform, leaving only an opening for them to enter from the landing. Nothing visible was holding the balls up, but they were arranged in a perfectly neat grid. In contrast to that orderly structure, their colors seemed to be distributed without pattern; some were red and some blue, roughly half and half, but they were an apparently random assortment.

Gabriel stepped forward, raising a finger.

“Why is your first impulse always to poke something?” Trissiny demanded.

He paused to grin at her over his shoulder. “Hasn’t led us wrong yet.” And with that, he tapped a blue bead.

It didn’t move, but instantly changed color to red—as did the four beads directly above, below, and to either side of it. Or rather, three of them; the one which had already been red switched to blue. Gabriel withdrew his hand, frowning.

“OH!” Schwartz actually hopped up off the ground in excitement. “I know what this is! I saw an enchanted children’s toy like this in Tiraas. You touch one to change the color, and it changes the ones around it as well. You have to keep doing that in the right pattern to get the whole thing one solid color!”

“You saw a children’s toy,” Toby said slowly, “like this.”

“Um…based on this basic principle, yes. It was, I’d say, several orders of magnitude less expansive.”

“A logic puzzle. Well, that suits the arcane, I suppose.” Trissiny drew in a deep breath and blew it out slowly, turning to sweep her gaze around the long wall of glowing beads. “This…is gonna take a while.”

“All right, let’s divide this up into quadrants,” Toby said, stepping over to one side of the wall. “Everybody pick a spot and get to work.”

“Which color are we trying to turn them?” Gabriel asked.

“Blue, I should think,” said Schwartz. “It is traditionally associated with the arcane. And not just traditionally; arcane spell effects tend to be blue unless specifically modified to be otherwise.”

“Then we have a plan,” Trissiny said, taking a spot next to Toby. “Let’s not waste any time.”

It did, in fact, take them even longer than the fae test, but oddly she found it much less onerous. Schwartz, Toby, and Gabriel carried on joshing and playfully bickering to pass the time while they tapped beads, but she fell silent, losing herself in the work. She found it to be unexpectedly meditative. It was simple, rational, orderly. So unlike all the messy problems that came from dealing with people. As the minutes passed, Trissiny found herself slipping into a state familiar to her from martial arts practice, a kind of serene focus that activated every part of her mind while soothing away the irritation that had been growing, what with one thing and another, ever since they’d arrived here.

Privately, she resolved to herself to find one of those toys next time she was in a major city.

The trickiest part turned out to be where their respective regions of space abutted; merging their individual fields of blue involved some backtracking and blurring of the borders before they could correct the discrepancies that sprang up when two patterns ran into each other. There was no sun, of course, and none of them owned a pocketwatch, so they couldn’t gauge precisely how much time had passed, but Trissiny estimated it was close to an hour. By the end, when Gabriel and Schwartz were working on the last piece near the bottom of the wall between their individual regions, the boys had grown quieter and downright irritable. Well, not Toby, of course, but the other two did not come from a meditative tradition as he and Trissiny had.

“Thank the flipping gods,” Gabriel groaned as the last four beads switched colors, creating an unbroken wall of blue. “I was about ready to—”

He broke off, eyes widening, at the unmistakable sound of an explosion from the central chamber, slightly muffled by distance and the intervening walls.

“Hopefully,” said Schwartz a little nervously, “that’s a good thing? That is pretty much what we wanted, after all.”

“Well, we’re not going to find out standing here,” Trissiny said briskly, picking up her shield and starting down the steps.

It was, indeed, exactly what they had hoped. They’d missed the explosion, but that was probably for the best; it had thoroughly pulverized the crystal. Pale shards of it littered the entire chamber, strewn across the floor and quite a few lodged in cracks in the walls. Gabriel whistled, flicking one of these with a fingertip.

In the center, atop the pedestal, the sword now stood unprotected. All four of them approached and gathered around it, gazing with a blind of uncertainty and suspicion.

“Well,” Toby said finally, “I doubt it’s a trap. That doesn’t seem in Salyrene’s character. Schwartz, she’s your goddess, after all. Would you like to do the honors?”

“Suppose I may as well,” he agreed, “as the only non-pacifist here who hasn’t already got a sword. Here we go!”

He grabbed the hilt, paused to take a breath, and pulled. It came cleanly out with a soft rasp of steel against stone, leaving him holding the weapon and grinning. Its long blade was marked by runes embossed in some black material almost all the way to its spaded tip.

Schwartz had just opened his mouth to speak when the runes along the sword began to flicker blue, and a resonant, masculine voice emerged.

“Welcome, adventurers, to the Tower of Salyrene. Here the worthy come to be tried, tested, and if not found wanting, rewarded. I am Athenos, a servant of the Tower, and guide to heroes throughout their trials within.” There came a short pause, and then the sword continued, in a much less sententious tone. “Now, I don’t know how you reprobates got in here, but kindly return me to my pedestal and sod off back wherever you came from. We’re closed.”

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14 – 10

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“You think I can use this thing to shadow-jump?” Gabriel’s tone was dubious, but clearly intrigued, and he held up his scythe while peering at it closely.

“That is not what I said,” Schwartz retorted irritably, his attention on the finishing touches he was placing on the spell array. Suddenly, though, he straightened, frowning at the far wall. “Actually… Now that you’ve said that, I’m almost positive you could. You understand the theory of shadow-jumping?”

“The broad strokes,” Gabriel replied with a shrug. “For obvious reasons, I’ve been reluctant to peer too closely into infernomancy.”

“Well, the infernomancy I can’t really explain anyway, as that’s far out of my field,” Schwartz said, turning toward him with an increasingly animated expression. “But in physical terms, the essence of shadow-jumping is to bring two pieces of reality together, then bore a hole through them and step across.”

“To grossly simplify,” Ariel added.

“Yes, yes,” Schwartz said, “but that is the core of the thing. But think about it, Gabriel! There are arcane means of achieving the connection between two locations; something similar is used for standard teleportation. But the scythe! The exercise you’ve been practicing shows it can cut magic. If you were to create the location merging effect…”

“Then slice a hole between them,” Gabriel continued, eyes widening in mounting excitement, “I could do the same thing without the infernal element!”

“There are drawbacks,” Ariel interjected. “The range of arcane teleportation, unlike shadow-jumping, is limited by the caster’s mana pool. That stipulation would also apply to this theoretical method. Further, the infernal hole-boring, as you put it, is a corrosive process which naturally remedies itself once the magic is no longer being applied due to the inherent ontological inertia of the universe. Slicing a hole with that weapon might create a permanent rift.”

“Well, I’m not saying there aren’t complications,” Schwartz blustered on, “that’s only to be expected when theorizing a new application of magic. But the theory—”

“Ahem,” Trissiny practically shouted. Both boys halted mid-conversation, turning to blink at her. “Can you two theorize some other time? We were trying to accomplish something specific, here.”

“Oh, right,” Gabriel said, again peering at his scythe. “Yes, back on track. If you didn’t mean shadow-jumping, Schwartz, what were you talking about?”

“Ah, yes, well,” Schwartz said, clearing his throat with an abashed glance in Trissiny’s direction. “I quite understand why you thought that’s what I meant, since the method I described was quite functionally similar to shadow-jumping. Hence the confusion. Which only goes to show—”

“Herschel,” Trissiny warned.

“But anyway,” Schwartz said hastily, “that example explains how the scythe changes this equation. What’s significant here is that we’re not doing the very much more difficult work of forming a connection between two physical spots.”

“I thought that was exactly what we’re doing,” said Toby, gesturing to the sprawling spell circle. “Isn’t that the point of all this?”

“Not exactly.” Schwartz turned back to frown at the diagram on the floor, adjusting his glasses. “This invocation should, if it works, create a sympathetic resonance with Salyrene’s Tower, which is so inherently magical that if it even has a physical location it shouldn’t matter. That isn’t all that hard to do; nobody bothers with it because under ordinary circumstances there’s just no way to get in. Admittance to the tower is at Salyrene’s personal invitation only, and the private barriers put up by a god are more than virtually anybody can get through.”

“Unless,” Gabriel said, nodding, “you have a weapon crafted by another god, which can cut basically anything.”

“Except,” Trissiny said skeptically, “I thought the big deal about that scythe wasn’t that it cuts anything, but that it kills anything. Am I the only reason who sees how this could go horribly wrong? Ariel’s right, what you’re talking about is creating permanent holes. That sounds like a great way to get on Salyrene’s bad side.”

“Excuse me, Trissiny, but I guarantee I have foreseen more potential problems than you have,” Schwartz huffed. “Anticipating and countering problems is a basic step in any major spellcasting. In this specific case, however, we have no less an authority than Avei to tell us this will work!”

“It’s not that we doubt you,” Toby said gently, “either of you. But that isn’t what Avei said.”

“She said I knew the way to the door, and that Gabriel had the way to open it. Both those things are pretty obvious, are they not?”

“The scythe I’ll grant you,” Toby agreed. “I can’t conceive of anything else in Gabriel’s possession that could perform the task. Even Ariel is more of a helper than a weapon. But Schwartz, this spell circle of yours… I admittedly only have a basic grasp of ritual casting, but I don’t see Salyrene invoked anywhere on this thing.”

“Ah, yes,” Schwartz agreed, nodding. “There’s a reason for that, Toby. The goddess forbids spurious invocation of her name or sigil—which she defines as anything for which she hasn’t given express permission ahead of time, which is everything since nobody’s heard from her in a hundred years. Generally, trying that triggers a swift retaliation. And since we are specifically trying to do something she doesn’t want us to, drawing the goddess’s attention would scuttle the whole shebang! I’m confident this will work provided Salyrene doesn’t notice us doing it. Our cheap tricks are not going to thwart the direct efforts of a major deity.”

“Are you sure you’re all right with this, then?” Trissiny asked, frowning in concern. “This your own goddess we’re talking about.”

“Oh, it’s fine,” he said airily, waving her off. “She’s always encouraged her followers to test boundaries, it’s considered a major virtue within the Collegium. Inventively breaking some absolute magical rule is exactly how at least half the spellcasters invited to the Tower got invited! So, yes, anyway, this circle is pretty big and grandiose, as you can see, but I’m afraid that was necessary. ‘Find Salyrene’s Tower’ is a pretty complex instruction, for magical purposes. Lots of variables in that simple directive that have to be defined. That’s what the major portion of it there, the central rings, are. Then the divine circle around the outer edges serves to isolate the entire working from the powerful ambient divine energy of the temple, so the rest of it can function without interference. And the central one is the real doozy! That bit in the middle will provide the core sympathetic connection that makes the whole thing work, once we power it on.”

The central ring, in fact, was the plainest by far; in it, Schwartz had drawn a standard Circle of Interaction diagram in arcane enchantment chalk, leaving blank the four small rings around the edge which would ordinarily contain the icons signifying the four main schools of magic. His fae spell circle around it was a sprawling work of art which resembled calligraphy, with its flowing lines and spiraling glyphs, all laid out in streams of several kinds of powder he had carefully spread across the floor. The outermost ring was downright spartan by comparison, a simple circle marked by angular glyphs and sigils to invoke and direct divine magic.

“I hate to be critical,” Gabriel said archly, “but this would’ve been a generally less annoying and stressful hour if you had taken two minutes to explain all that before you made us watch you do it and set me and Trissiny to doing magic exercises.”

Trissiny snorted. “What do you mean, you hate to be critical? The gods frown on lies, Gabriel.”

“Ah, yes… Um, sorry about that,” Schwartz said with a rueful grimace, running a hand through his already messy hair. “When the inspiration takes me, I’m afraid I’m prone to getting a mite carried away. Ahem, yes, anyway. The circle’s done, and you know your role. Toby! I wonder if you would take over Trissiny’s role in the exercise we’ve been practicing?”

“We?” Trissiny muttered.

“Aw, come on, man,” Gabriel groaned. “It’s been working perfectly, almost since the beginning! Once I got the hang of it—”

“I know, I know,” Schwartz said soothingly. “I’m not trying to impugn your performance at all. It’s just… Thoroughness. This is all for naught if the method doesn’t work, I just want to see you try it out with magic from a different divine caster and verify that it occurs the same way. And besides, we’re still waiting for the fourth artifact to be delivered, so it’s not as if we have anything better to do.”

“Herschel,” Trissiny said flatly, “the High Priestess of the central temple of Avei is not a delivery girl. Sister Astarian is doing us a great favor, on little more than our say-so, and some respect from you would be appropriate.”

“Quite right,” he said contritely. “My apologies. I will convey them to her as well when she returns. I fear I was a little caught up when I asked her…”

“Just a little,” Gabriel said with a grin.

“Well, he has a point, anyhow,” Toby said mildly, stepping around the edge of the basement to avoid the spell circle and approach the group. Sister Astarian had conducted them to a rectangular chamber deep in the underlevels of the temple, set up specifically for ritual casting. That meant it was rather warm, as the light came from torches rather than fairy lamps. Most of what would have been used in here was divine magic, which worked better without the presence of arcane enchantments.

Toby began to glow subtly as he drew near the other two, and stopped a few feet away, holding up one hand. Just as Trissiny had been repeatedly doing for the last hour while Schwartz worked, he called up a rectangular pane of golden light in midair. The shield was quite energy efficient, being very simple in shape and not containing enough power to really stand up to much abuse. Even so, there was a reason she and not he had been doing it up till now; Trissiny’s elven metabolism gave her the mana reserves for such constant casting. Toby might have been feeling the first twinges of burnout by that point, had he been the guinea pig.

Gabriel sighed, shrugged, and raised his scythe. He brought the blade down against the shield in a slow and careful gesture; it passed through at the first touch, causing the entire thing to ripple. Their first experiments had instantly demolished Trissiny’s conjured shields, the scythe’s destructive magic simple snuffing out the animating power of whatever it touched. Now, Gabriel began to glow faintly as well, using his own connection to the divine to carefully nudge the scythe’s inherent power. He stubbornly claimed he was not feeling burned out himself, and the others had taken him at his word, excessive stoicism not being one of his faults. It was a very small use of magic, anyway.

Just as it had against the majority of Trissiny’s shields, the scythe cut the pane of divine light like butter, creating a long rent in it. Gabriel drew the blade all the way through and then stepped back, turning to give Schwartz a pointed look with his eyebrows raised.

“That feels weird,” Toby murmured, frowning thoughtfully at his now-bisected divine shield before letting what remained of it wink out.

“Excellent!” Schwartz said, grinning and rubbing his hands together again. “Consistent, reproducible results! I think we have a real plan here, people! Now, Gabe, could I borrow Ariel for a moment?”

“What the hell for?” Gabriel demanded.

“Oh, um, sorry, nothing major,” Schwartz said quickly. “I know she’s valuable, I don’t mean to presume. I’d just like to have someone double-check my spellwork. With all respect, you’re an arcanist, not—”

“No need,” Ariel interrupted, “I can detect it perfectly well from here. Your spellcrafting has a typically fae approach, Mr. Schwartz: needlessly grandiose and complicated to the point of being…poetic. You’ll find your systems would be far more efficient if you didn’t structure them like a conversation with a difficult fairy you are trying to schmooze. Regardless, I discern no actual errors, and the power sources you have in mind for this working should be more than adequate. Provided your underlying assumptions are correct, there is no reason it will not work.”

“Oh. Well. Um.” He blinked twice in rapid succession. “Thank you.”

The three paladins were still grinning merrily at his discomfiture when the basement door opened a moment later. Sister Astarian entered, an iron-bound wooden box cradled before her in both hands. She nudged the door shut with her foot on her way in.

“All right, Mr. Schwartz,” the priestess said calmly, “you specified a potent but contained infernal artifact with a connection to adventurers. I believe this meets your criteria.”

“Ah, yes, thank you, Sister,” he said absently, peering at the box with his head tilted to the side. “Though optimally, I would be able to peruse the available artifacts and select—”

“Herschel!” Trissiny barked.

He broke off and swallowed heavily. “…but clearly we trust your judgment, High Priestess, and very much appreciate the assistance. And, um, I’d like to apologize for my manners. I didn’t intend to be disrespectful…”

“Young man,” she said with an amused little smile, “you are hardly the first preoccupied, bookish spellcaster with whom I have worked. Rest assured, no one in this temple will be shy about telling you so if you give offense.”

“Oh. Well.” He cleared his throat awkwardly. “That’s…good. Nonetheless, I’m still sorry.”

“I accept your apology. Now, then.” Astarian knelt to set the box on the floor, and carefully opened its catch, then raised the lid. “Allow me to introduce the demon Xyraadi.”

All four of them clustered around her to gaze at the contents of the box. Sistar Astarian discreetly stepped backward to give them room.

“Wow,” Gabriel commented. “The demon Xyraadi looks remarkably like an uncut ruby the size of both my fists. Has he lost weight?”

“Interesting,” Schwartz breathed. “That’s a soul prison! Never seen one quite so…”

“She,” Astarian corrected. “Xyraadi is a khelminash demon, and by all accounts a uniquely amiable specimen of her kind. She was in service to a Salyrite warlock named Celeste Lavene, an adventuring companion of Trouchelle Dulac, a Hand of Avei who lived six hundred years ago in Glassiere. Interestingly, the remaining accounts make it clear that Xyraadi was Celeste’s companion, not a thrall under her control.” She hesitated before continuing. “Glassian is a nuanced language so rich in innuendo that it’s literally where the word comes from. This was a long time ago and the accounts are secondhand, but several of the terms used to describe Celeste and Xyraadi’s relationship can be translated as ‘lover.’”

“Warlocks,” Trissiny snorted, curling her lip in disgust.

“Elspeth is half khelminash,” Gabriel mused. “Hm. I guess I can see why they might be tolerable to a Hand of Avei. She told me their entire species is female.”

“That doesn’t make any biological sense,” Toby protested.

Sister Astarian cleared her throat delicately. “The khelminash have two biological sexes like humans, but are not very sexually dimorphic. To tell the difference you have to…remove their pants. It’s believed they have only one gender. By all recorded accounts, they look like women, and in heavily gendered languages like Glassian and Tanglish they have all insisted on feminine forms of address. I should warn you, Mr. Arquin, that some sects within Avei’s faith regard them as a particularly vile perversion. You may not wish to voice such observations in mixed company, lest you wade into an argument you weren’t expecting.”

“Thank you very much for the warning,” he said fervently.

“What is significant about Xyraadi,” the priestess continued, “is that after Celeste’s death, the demon requested being placed in that soul prison by the Collegium and given to the Sisterhood, to be called upon again if we ever needed her.”

A short silence fell at that, all five of them staring down at the scarlet crystal with varying degrees of bemusement.

“I always thought…” Trissiny trailed off, shook her head, then started again. “Mother Narny was very firm about demons. She made certain to warn me that their infernal corruption drove them to aggression…”

“She was correct, that is a known effect of infernal magic,” Sister Astarian said firmly, placing a comforting hand on Trissiny’s shoulder. “It occurs in every species corrupted by it, even plants. Narnasia’s teachings do, as you seem to be suspecting, lack some nuance, but for good reason. She isn’t wrong. Demons are individuals with the power to make choices, but they are inundated with magic that twists their minds to viciousness. Yes, there are known individuals who have worked with humanity, even with Hands of the Pantheon. But for every demon who has truly labored to overcome their nature there have been ten who feigned it in order to spread corruption. That’s a favorite tactic of the sshitherosz, in fact. Narnasia’s work involves training and educating young women, and failing to warn the young and idealistic against demons is as good as offering them up on silver platters. Still.” She squeezed Trissiny’s shoulder, giving her a strangely sad little smile. “You’re not a child anymore, Trissiny, and the complexity of the world shouldn’t be hidden from you. I have been an advocate of Avei’s faith for over sixty years, and I can tell you that the Sisterhood’s greatest and most pervasive flaw is a tendency to impose black and white where there should be shades of gray.”

Trissiny nodded mutely, her expression troubled, but reached up to gently squeeze the priestess’s hand.

“Good gods,” Gabriel said suddenly, frowning at the soul crystal. “She’s not conscious in there, is she?”

“Doubtful,” Ariel replied. “That is Salyrite work. If one must dabble in infernomancy—a contention I will accept only for the sake of argument—the greatest benefit of the Topaz College, as opposed to the Black Wreath or Scyllithene shadow priestesses, is that they eschew needless sadism. To imprison a sapient being in an inanimate object and leave them able to think and sense their surroundings would be staggeringly cruel.”

“Ariel,” Toby said quietly, “you’re a sapient being imprisoned in an inanimate object.”

“Your empathy, as usual, is excessive and misplaced,” the sword informed him, her eerily resonant voice without inflection. “I am not a biologically grown sapience like you, but a constructed intelligence roughly based upon one. This housing is my natural habitat and comfortable for me. If you put my personality in a human body, I would be disastrously unable to function in your society. Are you familiar with the elvish term anth’auwa?”

“I am,” Schwartz said in a suddenly grim tone. “Well. Thank you very much, High Priestess. This artifact, I think, is exactly what we need.”

“I’m glad to hear that,” she said, nodding to him. “What is next, then?”

“Well, with this, I believe we’re pretty much done!” Schwartz said. “Ah, this is safe to handle, right?”

“Fully contained, with no infernal leakage,” Sister Astarian said mildly. “You did specify that, Mr. Schwartz.”

“Ah, yes, quite, quite. I don’t mean to doubt your thoroughness, Sister, I simply like to exercise my own. It’s an important habit to cultivate when one works with magic.” He bent and, with great care, picked up the crystal from its box. The stone glinted dully in the torchlight; it had no glow, no hidden motion in its depths, nothing to indicate it was magical in nature. Schwartz, though, had recognized it at a glance, so its properties must have been apparent to those properly attuned.

He stepped to one side, cradling Xyraadi’s prison before himself, and cleared his throat. “All right! For the first step, I need a Light-wielder to activate the outer circle. Trissiny?”

“Or I could give it a go,” Gabriel offered. “No offense to anybody, but I have the most casting experience among the three of us.”

“And Trissiny has the greatest mana reserves,” Ariel retorted. “Neither of which is a significant factor here, as a divinely imbued monkey could activate a stabilized containment ward.”

“You’re unusually talkative today, Ariel,” Toby observed, kneeling by the outer circle and touching one of its most prominent sigils with his fingers. A subtle glow rose around him, then shifted to the circle. Light traveled smoothly around its circumference till it covered the entire design, at which point it emitted a soft pulse and faded. There was no longer an active glow, but the diagram itself now gleamed in the torchlight as if it were metallic gold embossed on the floor.

“Splendid, Toby, thank you!” said Schwartz. “And now, step two. Gabriel, hold her for a moment, would you?”

“Uh…” Gabriel accepted the soul prison purely by reflex when Schwartz thrust it at him. He carried it far less casually, holding it away from his body and watching the crystal uncertainly, as if it might suddenly pick this moment to explode after spending six hundred years inert in a vault.

Schwartz stepped carefully across the golden barrier, positioning his feet in empty space where they did not touch the powder diagrams he had drawn of the broad fae circle, and closed his eyes. Whatever he did was inscrutable from without, accompanied by no spoken words nor so much as a finger gesture, but after a pause of only a few seconds, the diagram burst into flame.

Gabriel yelled and almost dropped Xyraadi’s prison; Trissiny surged forward, stopped only by Toby grabbing her before she crossed into the circle. Schwartz did not react at all, and indeed the swift-burning fire didn’t seem to touch him. It raced around the diagram in a matter of seconds, incinerating the entire thing to leave the design scrawled upon the floor in black ash, faintly smoking. As soon as that was done and the last sparks had gone out, Schwartz opened his eyes, grinned, and clapped his hands once.

The ash seemed to melt into the stone floor, leaving behind the same pattern traced in subtly luminous green and violet. A faint breeze rose in the room, seeming to circle the spell diagram and carrying a pleasant herbal scent. The torches flickered slightly, but held against the gentle movement of air.

“Is witchcraft always that extravagant?” Trissiny asked, straightening up and adjusting her coat.

“Well, that’s a large question,” Schwartz said seriously, turning to her. “One of the hallmarks of mastery in any of the schools of magic is the ability to achieve effects with a minimum of display. Like how arcane teleportation creates a distinctive whining noise and blue visual effect, but Gabriel told me that it’s instant and silent when Tellwyrn does it. But anyway! This is baked in, now, so you can all come forward. Stepping on the diagrams will not damage them, and we’ll all need to be in the circle anyway.”

So saying, he snapped his fingers and Meesie appeared on his shoulder in a puff of sparks and smoke. The little elemental sat bolt upright, letting out a single salutatory squeak, then bounced up onto Schwartz’s head and peered around, whiskers twitching inquisitively.

“Is she okay here?” Gabriel asked, gingerly stepping forward and holding out the soul prison to Schwartz. “I thought the temple would be a problem for her…”

“That’s the purpose of the outer ring,” Schwartz explained, accepting the crystal. “It isolates this space from the temple’s ambient magic, so as to enable complex work in the inner space without having to compensate for Circle of Interaction effects. I’d never have been able to whip up a significant fae working in here without it. But yes, Meesie will be fine so long as we stay within the circle!” Meesie hopped down to his shoulder and squeaked affirmatively at Gabriel, nodding her little head. “Now, then! For the last step…”

He took the crystal back from Gabriel, to the latter’s clear relief, then stepped toward the center of the spell circle. Schwartz knelt and very carefully set Xyraadi’s prison upon the small ring marking the bottom of the Circle of Interaction diagram, the one which signified infernal magic. At its contact, the lines of that circle began to glow a fiery orange, the color bleeding outward along the markings in both directions till it tinged the spots which would represent fae and arcane energy.

Schwartz turned his head to whisper something to Meesie, who raised one twitching ear to listen. Then, with an approving cheep, she scampered down his extended arm toward the floor below. He smoothly shifted his hand till it was above the fae ring, and the little elemental hopped down to sit in the middle of the small circle there. Immediately, green light rose around her, stretching outward as before; it reached all the way to the divine circle on top of the diagram, pushing back the orange light of the infernal icon till the two colors switched at a subtly wavering barrier halfway between them.

“Ah, I see,” Gabriel said, nodding. “And you wanted an infernal artifact because there’s no warlock in the group to provide one.”

“Just so!” Schwartz said with clear satisfaction, straightening up to survey his unfolding handiwork with his fists braced on his hips. “This should suffice, though of course we could get a better leverage from sympathetic principles if the infernal artifact were in some way associated with this group. Four adventurers, four schools of magic, and so on. But the only way I could think of to arrange that would be for Gabriel to donate a body part, which seemed, you know, excessive for the purpose.”

“If that was all you wanted,” said Ariel, “you could have extracted a vial of blood. That is the most commonly used biological substance in spellcraft anyway, and the loss of a few ounces would not have affected him unduly.”

“Yeah, well, what’s done is done,” Gabriel said quickly while Trissiny and Toby grinned at him. “The High Priestess went all the way down to the vaults for this, let’s not waste her hard work.”

“It isn’t that far from here,” Astarian said, smiling blandly. “And I enjoy having an excuse to examine the artifacts.”

“What exactly did you have in mind for the last two, Schwartz?” Gabriel asked, stubbornly ignoring Trissiny’s open laughter.

“Swords!” Schwartz said brightly. “Ariel is strongly associated with you and an arcane construct of great significance, not to mention a long history. If you would, kindly place her on the arcane circle.”

Gabriel frowned slightly, but stepped forward, drawing Ariel from her sheath. “…so, lying across it? There’s no other way that I can see, but she won’t fit inside the ring the way Meesie and Xyraadi do.”

“Yes, in fact, containing her within the ring may be significant to the structure of the spell circle,” Schwartz said seriously, “so I compensated for that. Simply balance her on her tip and she should remain upright.”

“Okay,” Gabriel said dubiously, bending to do as directed. He gingerly removed his fingers, keeping his hand at the ready as if to grab Ariel before she fell, but the saber remained standing on her tip. Blue light stretched out across the diagram from her, pushing back the orange of the infernal and meeting the green of the fae on the yet-unused divine ring.

“For the record,” she said, the runes lining her blade flickering visibly now that she was out of the scabbard, “I can do this myself. I presume the holding effect was enacted to restrain the other sword, which has no such features.”

“And I guess that’s my cue,” said Trissiny. Light coalesced out of the air, condensing into her outstretched hand and forming a shape which glowed too brightly to look at directly. It swiftly faded, however, leaving her holding the battered-looking short sword of the Hands of Avei. She stepped across the spell circles, joining the others at the innermost ring, and knelt to carefully balance the sword on its tip in the last marked spot.

When she pulled her hand back, the sword remained upright just as Ariel had, and a golden glow stretched out from the circle in which it rested, pushing back the fae and arcane light of its neighbors.

“Okay,” Toby said from a few feet away, the only one of them still outside the circle. “Is it done, then? Was something else supposed to happen?”

“It worked,” Schwartz breathed. “Okay, there’s no visible effect, but… Can you guys detect anything? It’s gonna be hard for Gabriel to do his part if I’m the only one who can sense it.”

“I feel a kind of…pressure,” Trissiny replied, stepping back from the central circle and narrowing her eyes at the space above it. “Hard to describe. There’s definitely something there.”

“I feel it,” Gabriel said, also staring at that spot. “Pushing on me with every kind of magic. Divine, arcane, infernal… I can’t actually feel fae effects, but I assume that’s part of it, as well. So this is what it’s like to brush Salyrene’s domain. Pretty much as uncomfortable as I would’ve expected.”

“You’re up, then,” Schwartz said, edging backward and nervously clasping his hands in front of himself.

Gabriel stepped toward the inner circle, raising his scythe. He hesitated, peering narrowly at the apparent nothing which hovered over the Circle glyph, then slowly extended the weapon with both hands on its haft for guidance. Again, a faint glow of divine light swelled into being around them, extending along the scythe.

Schwartz actually made a hissing gasp of pure excitement when the tip of the blade penetrated the air, vanishing from view onto the other side.

Gabriel slowly drew it downward, and the rent extended till he finally stopped a few inches from the floor. Once made, it seemed to take on a life of its own, the sides creeping outward as though pulled. Only a vague discoloration in the air delineated its borders; through the narrow gap, darkness was all that could be seen.

“Amazing,” Sister Astarian whispered.

“Are we absolutely sure that goes to Salyrene’s Tower?” Trissiny asked, frowning. “It doesn’t look like much of anything.”

“As certain as I could be of any part of this,” Schwartz assured her. “As I said, Trissiny, we are acting on instructions from your goddess.”

“The trick with gods,” she replied, “is being careful that you’re interpreting their instructions correctly.”

“Schwartz, I think I see a flaw in this plan,” Gabriel added, stepping back and pointing at the ring of artifacts below the portal he had just cut. “Xyraadi can stay here, obviously, but the rest of these things are kind of important. I don’t feature hopping through a magic doohickey into gods know where and leaving them behind.”

“I quite concur,” Ariel said in her eerily dry tone. Meesie straightened up on her haunches, pointing at Schwartz and squeaking a tiny tirade of agreement.

“You know, I don’t so much mind having the particulars of my methods second-guessed,” Schwartz said irritably, “but I rather resent the implication that I lack basic common sense. I assure you, this was accounted for. Those four sources of magic are anchoring the portal; as they are removed, it will become weaker, and once the last is withdrawn it will begin to collapse. We’ll take Meesie, Ariel and Trissiny’s sword through, leaving Xyraadi to hold it open. The soul prison should suffice plenty long enough for us to get in. Then, once Sister Astarian removes the crystal, it will start to collapse. Without the power sources anchoring this spot to the Tower, it will become a hole between nothing and nothing—which itself is nothing. Disrupting the outer ward will erase it finally, as the Temple’s ambient magic will finish the job. The divine works chiefly on the principle of order; that’s why it is so useful for sealing rifts. I am sorry to stick you with the clean-up, Sister,” he added, turning to Sister Astarian with a rueful little bow. “I couldn’t figure a way around that.”

“Please don’t apologize, Mr. Schwartz,” she replied, smiling. “That’s what this chamber is for, after all. In fact, I’m very glad to have been part of this, however peripherally. I rarely find a pretext to survey the treasures locked below the temple, or exercise my knowledge of demonology.” Her eyes shifted to Trissiny, and her smile broadened, accompanied by a respectful bow of her head. “As one who has grown up and served Avei after the Age of Adventures was long held to be over, it has been the fulfillment of a childhood fantasy to have even one short brush with a heroic venture.”

“We couldn’t have managed this without your help, sister,” Trissiny replied warmly.

“We had best be about it expeditiously, though,” Schwartz added. “As I said, it’ll stay stable enough for us to get through once we start removing the anchors, but the less dawdling, the safer.”

“Right,” Gabriel said dryly. “So! Who’s first?”

A round of mute stares passed between them.

“Oh, for heaven’s sake,” Trissiny grunted, stepping forward and snatching up her sword. “Be well, Sister Astarian.”

“Goddess watch over you, Trissiny.”

The Hand of Avei gave the High Priestess a final nod, then stepped through the rent in space, vanishing into the darkness beyond.

“Off we go, then!” Schwartz crowed, bending to offer Meesie a hand. She bounded onto it, squeaking in excitement, and scampered up to his shoulder even as he turned sideways to slip through the portal after Trissiny. Gabriel followed, sheathing Ariel awkwardly with the one hand not holding his Scythe before he stepped in.

“If I could make a request, Sister,” Toby said, hesitating at the entrance to the portal.

“Yes?”

“When you put Xyraadi’s prison back in its box, would you please include a message? If she ever is released, I’d like her to know what happened here, and that we are grateful for her aid.”

“I’ll see it done myself,” she assured him with a warm smile.

Toby nodded. “Thank you for everything, Sister.” The portal had already begun to narrow; he turned and slipped through before it could close any further.

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14 – 9

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“Go ask Avei,” Gabriel muttered, turning to stare out across the city and the plains beyond. “Why did we think this was a good idea?”

“I have better questions,” Trissiny replied. “What’s your problem with it, and why are you only bringing it up now?”

“Oh, I’m just…I dunno.” He sighed, and hopped down from the stone guardrail—just in time, as the nearby Legionnaire who had been eyeing him finally turned away. This was not the kind of place where standing on the rails was looked on kindly. “Don’t mind me. It is a good idea, but the closer we get to doing it, the more I’m…nervous.”

“Why?” she asked more quietly, stepping up to the rail beside him.

Gabriel shrugged, staring at the horizon. The forest was just visible as a darker line at the edge of the world, and beyond it, a rise of distant mountains deep within Athan’Khar. “It’s Avei. And I’m me.”

“Yeah,” she said thoughtfully. “Maybe you shouldn’t talk to her.”

He gave her an irritated look. “I’m being serious, Triss. You never exactly made it a secret that she has a problem with demonbloods.”

“It…was more that I had the problem,” she replied, now staring into the distance as well. “And the problem was my ignorance, not your blood. It’ll be fine, Gabe. You’re a paladin, now.”

“Mm.” His lips twitched in a faint grimace. “Seems not quite right that that makes it acceptable for me to exist.”

Trissiny opened her mouth, then closed it again, failing to find a worthy response to that. Instead she turned to check on the other two.

Schwartz was far from the only person winded by the climb. Vrin Shai was a remarkably vertical city, clambering up the slope of the mountains surrounding it toward its uppermost terrace on which sat the central Temple of Avei, flanked by the main administration buildings of the Silver Legions and the Imperial government. The city had been laid out with defense in mind; there was only one path from the gates to the highest terrace, with the ramps to the next terrace up at alternating ends of each, requiring pilgrims to traverse the entire length and breadth of Vrin Shai to arrive at the temple. It had never been tested against an invading army—none had got past the walls—but had done in plenty of visitors. A plaza was laid out atop the steps leading to the highest level, discreetly lined with stone benches on which over a dozen people were currently resting, watched over by Silver Legionnaires and a few priestesses trained in the healing arts.

There was, consequently, a thriving taxi industry, but Schwartz had refused to hire one when they offered, insisting that he had made this climb before. It wasn’t that he was flabby or even quite as scrawny as he sometimes appeared in his voluminous robes, but as far as physical shape went, he wasn’t on the same level as the three paladins. In truth, Trissiny had been mildly impressed that Gabriel wasn’t also winded when they reached the top.

“Whew!” Schwartz puffed, coming to join them with Toby still hovering solicitously nearby. “Sorry ’bout that. Thanks for waiting, guys, I don’t mean to hold us up.”

“You’re fine, man,” Gabriel said, grinning. “Gave me a chance to procrastinate for a little bit; you know how much I like that. Well, shall we go face the music?”

“Nothing bad is going to happen,” Trissiny said firmly. “This is probably the safest place in the world. Come on, boys. Follow my lead.”

Meesie was not in evidence, having been temporarily dismissed while they were on holy ground. This temple was one of the world’s most sacred places, the historic center of Avei’s entire faith; the sheer concentration of millennia of built-up divine energy was the main reason Schwartz hadn’t been able to rejuvenate himself with a quick fae spell (and Toby’s divine healing did little for simple fatigue, unfortunately). His elemental familiar would have found it extremely uncomfortable.

Gabriel craned his neck back to look warily up at the enormous statue of Avei surmounting the temple, her outstretched sword pointing south toward Athan’Khar—and incidentally extending forth as the only part visible above them as they passed beneath the temple roof.

Being one of the world’s most important temples, there was enough of a crowd to keep them anonymous. Trissiny had neither armor nor sword with her, and Gabriel’s scythe was safely tucked away. Ariel, hanging from his belt, drew a few eyes—in this of all temples there were a good number of people who recognized a rare elven saber when they saw one—but of the four of them Schwartz stood out the most in his Salyrite robes. Pantheon temples did not bar one another’s worshipers, but they were hardly common visitors; he drew several raised eyebrows from the priestesses and Legionnaires in attendance.

Once inside the great sanctuary, Trissiny immediately led them to the side, out of the main path. The layout was identical to the central sanctuary of the Temple of Avei in Tiraas, which had been patterned after this one: a long room running from its broad doors to a great bronze statue of the goddess at its opposite end, with shaded colonnades running along the sides. At the rear of these, doors led deeper into the complex. Silver Legion soldiers stood guard at every entrance, but these were still open areas and they were not challenged upon passing through.

The door she sought was in a rotunda where several halls met—in fact, very similar to the door which led to the art gallery in the Tiraas temple, which she had forcibly opened last year with Teal. Here, the bronze doors towered eight feet high, wrought in a depiction of a long-ago Hand of Avei in battle against orcs. They were guarded by four Legionnaires at attention. A priestess in white was speaking with a well-dressed woman in front of them; both paused their conversation to look up in surprise at the four as they approached.

“Excuse me,” Trissiny said politely. “We need to enter the inner sanctuary.”

The priestess narrowed her eyes, looked Trissiny up and down, then glanced quickly across the three boys accompanying her. “I’m sorry, but the inner sanctuary—being one of the holiest places in existence—is not open to the public.”

“It’s open to me,” she replied with a small smile. “I’m Trissiny Avelea.”

All four Legionnaires, though already at attention, stiffened slightly; the rich-looking woman with the priestess gasped, her eyes widening. The cleric, however, just made a disapproving face.

“You’re Trissiny Avelea,” she said with barely-concealed disdain. “Young woman, no one in this temple will find that amusing. Now, if you have need of guidance, I can find a sister to help you.”

“Be so good as to find Sister Astarian,” Trissiny said. “She knows me.”

“The High Priestess is no more available to wandering supplicants than is the inner sanctuary,” the woman said in mounting expasperation.

One of the Legionnaires behind her cleared her throat. “Excuse me, Sister—”

“As you were,” the priestess snapped without glancing back.

At the sudden change in Trissiny’s expression, the woman in the expensive dress began edging circumspectly away.

“I believe,” Trissiny said in a much cooler tone, “a supplicant does have the right to request an audience with the High Priestess of the temple. She is not obligated to grant it, but the request is to be conveyed. Any of these soldiers can do so; tradition dictates that the doors may be guarded by as few as two soldiers.”

“You are well read,” the priestess said in annoyance, “but nonetheless, you don’t get to walk into the central temple of the Sisterhood of Avei off the street and make demands.”

“Sister, she is correct,” the soldier interjected. “I will personally notify—”

“As you were, Sergeant,” the priestess repeated, now turning to give her a flat look.

And that was the limit of Trissiny’s tolerance.

“Gentlemen,” she said, “you may want to shield your eyes.”

All three of them stepped back while the priestess turned to scowl at her again. “Now, look here—”

The light that erupted from her was blinding in that enclosed space. It receded quickly—far from completely, leaving her aglow, but diminishing enough to ease the burden on everyone’s eyes and enable them to see her golden wings, stretching nearly to the walls on either side of the rotunda.

Gaping, the priestess stumbled backward, nearly running into the woman wearing sergeant’s stripes, who was now trying very hard not to look smug. Trissiny stepped forward, forcing the woman to retreat right up against the doors and remaining just close enough to be uncomfortable without becoming too aggressive.

“Visitors to this temple are to be greeted and treated with respect,” she stated, wings of light still fully extended behind her. “If insane, they should be handled as gently as possible. If aggressive, they should be neutralized with the minimum possible force. In all other circumstances, they should be accommodated as much as is reasonable, and addressed courteously when they can be accommodated no further. While you stand in this temple, wearing that robe, you represent the goddess. There is no circumstance in which you should speak to a supplicant in that manner. Do I make myself clear, Sister?”

“Yes, ma’am. General. My apologies,” the priestess said, nearly stammering.

Trissiny remained silent, and held eye contact. The silence drew out excruciatingly, filled with the faint sound of divine magic, a harmonic tone like both a bell and a flute which hovered at the edge of hearing.

“My sincere apologies,” the priestess repeated, swallowing.

Finally, Trissiny nodded to her, and allowed the wings and the light to fade; with them went the subtle music of the divine, leaving the sound of strained breathing suddenly very audible.

“The door, then?” she said calmly, still standing just a touch too close.

Before the woman could reply, the doors were pulled open from within, revealing a stately woman with iron-gray hair tied up in a severe bun. Azora Astarian wore no mark of office aside from the uniform of a Sister of Avei and former Legionnaire: the white robe, with a golden eagle pin at the shoulder, and a belt from which hung her sword, a plain Legion-issue weapon with no decorative touches to call attention to it. In theory, the High Priestess of such an important temple occupied a place of tremendous honor in the hierarchy of the Sisterhood; in practice, she was as practical a woman as many who ranked highly in Avei’s service, and had never sought any particular recognition for herself.

“Trissiny,” she said with a warm smile. “I hope all is well; unexpected visits from paladins are often dire portents.”

“I’m sorry to descend on you without warning, Sister,” Trissiny replied, smiling back. “Don’t worry, there’s no emergency. Our business is merely unexpected, not dire.”

“That’s a relief.” Astarian shifted her eyes to the other cleric, her expression cooling noticeably. “Thank you, Sister. You may go.”

“High Priestess,” the younger woman replied in a somewhat shaken tone, inclining her head, “I was—”

“You may go,” Astarian repeated. The woman hesitated, bowed, then turned and hustled away. The visitor with whom she’d been talking had already fled, leaving Trissiny and her companions alone in the rotunda with the Legionnaires, who were still holding admirable composure.

“Who was that?” Trissiny asked disapprovingly, glancing after the departing priestess.

“An advancement-minded bootlicker,” Sister Astarian replied with a distasteful grimace. “Her work gets done and she causes a minimum of trouble, though the girl prioritizes doing favors for well-connected supplicants above accomplishing anything useful. She’ll be Bishop one day, mark my words. And who are your friends?”

“Oh, of course, I’m sorry,” Trissiny said hastily. “Everyone, this is Sister Azora Astarian, the High Priestess in command of this temple. Sister, may I present Tobias Caine, Gabriel Arquin, and Herschel Schwartz.”

“Ah! An honor, gentlemen. Welcome,” Astarian said with grave courtesy, bowing to each of them. She showed no less respect to Schwartz, whose name obviously carried far less weight than those of either paladin.

“Thank you very much, Sister,” Toby said with equal politeness. “We’re sorry to intrude so suddenly.”

“You are always welcome here,” Astarian replied with firm kindness. She stepped back and aside, gesturing them in. “Please.”

“Thank you,” Trissiny said, and nodded to the sergeant before following, the boys trailing after her.

Toby had moved to the head of the group, and now placed a hand gently on Trissiny’s back as Sister Astarian led them within. “That,” he murmured, “was a much better look on you than holding people’s faces in punchbowls.”

Schwartz was walking close enough to overhear and did a double-take, eyes widening. Trissiny just sighed through her nose and continued walking. Behind them, the Legionnaires pulled the doors shut, enclosing them in the inner sanctuary.

It was similar in layout to the main one, though more compact. The long corridor was lined with weapons, each displayed in an obviously custom-designed wooden mount affixed to the wall, small pillars forming arched alcoves to created a unique space for every one. They were an idiosyncratic lot, from spears, staves and warhammers, to crossbows, Shaathist-looking longbows, spiked iron knuckles, a bullwhip, even an orcish ak-tra. These were personal weapons owned by past Hands of Avei, tools of war each woman had used in addition to the sacred ones provided by the goddess.

At its end, the corridor opened into a round, domed space, encircled by flowing water which was fed by small fountains around its walls. In the center stood another statue of Avei. It was a marked contrast from the proud bronze statue in the main sanctuary, which depicted the goddess in an almost arrogant pose, chin up and sword aimed forward. This one, made of dark marble which contrasted with the white stone of the temple, showed her with her head bowed in contemplation, hands clasped behind her.

Toby and Trissiny both slowed, turning their heads to peer at an incongruous object among the weapon displays: a battered old leather-bound libram, its cover marked with the sunburst sigil of Omnu. The placard identified it as having belonged to Laressa of Anteraas.

“Don’t,” Ariel’s voice advised behind them, and both turned in time to catch Gabriel swiftly withdrawing his fingers from the namesake warhammer of Sharai the Hammer. Its haft was nearly as long as he was tall.

“What brings you to seek the inner sanctuary, Trissiny?” Astarian inquired when they joined her before the statue of Avei.

“It’s a bit of a story,” Trissiny explained, “and we are trying to keep it from becoming more of one, if possible. The short version is that we are on a divinely mandated quest. From Vesk.”

“Uh oh,” Astarian said dourly.

“Yeah,” Trissiny replied in the same tone. “Our movements have been directed by him personally, and brought us here. We are at a bit of an impasse, and wish to consult the goddess about our next move. I don’t lightly call upon her in person, but I think that is the pattern of this venture in particular. Vesk sent us on it personally, Vidius has already put in a direct appearance, and now we have reason to think Salyrene will become involved.”

“I see,” Sister Astarian said, frowning in thought and nodding her head slowly. “Well. You are right, business of Vesk’s is unlikely to mean anything terribly important is brewing. Still, it does sound like you’re being directed to seek out the gods. I can well imagine Vesk wanting to arrange that, in particular. Let me ask you, Trissiny, is the matter on which you want to consult Avei in any way secret?”

“I don’t…think so,” Trissiny replied with some confusing, turning to glance at the others.

“I bring it up,” Astarian explained, “because this is a truly rare event. Most followers of the goddess—of any of the gods, for that matter—will go their entire lives without being in the presence of their deity. If it is an imposition upon your quest I of course won’t ask, but if it’s not, might I have several of the senior priestesses and Legionnaires present? It would be a great honor for all, and a tremendous benefit to morale.”

“I can’t see any harm in it,” Toby said in response to Trissiny’s questioning look. “We’ve been given no reason to suspect our mission is secret or sensitive. She is your goddess, though, Triss; I’ll trust your judgment.”

“Uh, scuze me?” Gabriel said, raising one finger. “Sorry, Sister, could we have a moment alone?”

“Gabe, I trust Sister Astarian without reservation,” Trissiny interjected quickly.

“And if you have an objection, Mr. Arquin, you’ll find I’m hard to offend,” Astarian added with a smile. “I also know that paladin business is none of mine unless I’m invited to participate. Please, speak your mind.”

“Well…okay, then,” he said a little hesitantly. “Sorry, I just didn’t want to be rude. Triss, you remember Tellwyrn’s lectures about the gods, and how their nature can work against them, particularly if invoked by their own paladins?”

“Tellwyrn is hardly what I’d call a theologian,” Trissiny said skeptically.

“Yeah,” he replied, “and that’s exactly why I’m inclined to listen to her about the gods. She knows all of them, personally, and isn’t terribly impressed with most. Plus, there was that whole business with Avei and Juniper in the Crawl, remember? We know that the way we call on them can affect how they manifest.”

“What are you driving at, Gabe?” Toby asked.

“Just that the manner in which you call on Avei is likely to determine the manner in which she replies. A formal invocation in front of a solemn audience might very well make the difference between a reasonable person we can have a conversation with, and a fifteen-foot-tall being of light who speaks solely in grandiloquent pronouncements. I think, in this case, we want the first one.”

“Oh,” Trissiny said, frowning.

“He has rather a point, there,” Schwartz admitted. “Theology isn’t my strong suit, either, but that much is sort of basic.”

“It is…uncomfortable to acknowledge,” Sister Astarian added with some reluctance, “but yes, Mr. Arquin is correct about the principles involved. When the gods grant someone the privilege of calling on them, exercising that privilege becomes somewhat inherently coercive. It is an expression of great trust between deity and paladin. And the absolute last thing I wish is to intrude upon that trust.”

“I really hope that isn’t too much of a disappointment, Sister,” Trissiny said.

“On the contrary, Trissiny,” Astarian said, smiling again, “it’s a needful reminder. We are all called to serve; the gods are not put there for our amusement. Well! It sounds, then, as if you have need of the sanctuary and some privacy. I will see that you’re not disturbed until you are done.”

“Thank you very much,” Trissiny said warmly.

They waited until the priestess had retreated and closed the sanctuary door behind her.

“Sooo,” Gabriel said, tucking his hands in his pockets. “Full disclosure, I barely know how my own religion works, and apparently my god signed me on specifically not to care. So, uh, I’ll do my best but…”

“You don’t need to do anything, Gabe,” Trissiny said with an amused smile, patting him on the arm as she passed him on the way to the statue. Then she hesitated. “Actually… Just try to be respectful, okay?”

“I can do skittish and tongue-tied. Will that work?”

“That’ll be very authentic,” Toby said solemnly.

“It certainly beats the alternative,” Ariel added.

“Right then,” Schwartz said, clearing his throat. “Is there, uh…someplace I should stand?”

“Actually, guys, it would help if you’re just quiet,” Trissiny said, kneeling before the statue. “This isn’t very formal or ceremonial, but it is very personal. It’s not something I’m used to performing in front of an audience.”

“Mum’s the word,” Gabriel promised. “Oh, uh, wait. Is ‘mum’ a gendered—”

“Gabe.” Toby placed a hand on his shoulder. “Hush.”

Quiet fell, the peace of the sanctuary augmented by the soft sound of water. Trissiny remained on one knee before the statue, making a harmonious contrast to its contemplative pose. Nearby, Toby and Schwartz both fell easily into a kind of standing meditation; they came from different traditions, but both emphasized the ability to still the mind, and each instinctively recognized a situation in which that was important. Gabriel, at least, managed to be quiet. He stood rigidly to the side, both hands jammed into his pockets, his shoulders tight with tension.

He was the first to react when Trissiny moved, twitching once as she started to rise.

“Did it work?” he asked in a hushed voice.

“I don’t…know,” she murmured, a frown falling on her face even as she opened her eyes. “Avenism isn’t a very mystical tradition, Gabe. I just…felt something was…finished?”

“That’s a very good sign!” Schwartz added brightly. “In fact, you have a good instinct, if you’re not accustomed to recognizing that. Learning to identify that subtle sense is an important and often difficult step in mastering the—eep!”

“At ease, Mr. Schwartz,” said a warmly amused contralto voice.

All turned, Trissiny with the most grace, to find themselves in the presence of a goddess. Avei, at the moment, was making even less of a production than Vidius had; both, in their recent appearances, had simply presented themselves as people without the overwhelming aura of power their presence could carry, but she didn’t even have his dramatic props. She was a tall and broad-shouldered, in a simple Imperial Army uniform, with her black hair pulled back in a regulation ponytail. The most physically striking thing about Avei in person, at least in this form, was that she was a vividly beautiful woman. As was inevitable, to eyes raised in a culture which had based its ideal of beauty upon her.

“You came,” Trissiny said, somewhat surprised in spite of herself.

“You do have the prerogative to call on me,” Avei replied, stepping forward to stand in front of her. “Which is not to say I indulge every such request, but your assessment was correct, Trissiny. I don’t consider this a frivolous invocation. And yes, I already know of your quest—and the dilemma you face.”

“It’s a presumptuous thing to ask, I know,” Trissiny said quickly, bowing. “Obviously, Salyrene doesn’t want intruders into her sacred tower. If this is something you cannot or would rather not help with, I understand that completely.”

The goddess gave her a wry smile, tinged with fondness. “You really don’t care for Vesk’s little project, do you, Trissiny?”

“I don’t care for being manipulated,” Trissiny replied, her expression darkening. “Nor do I see the point in anything Vesk does.”

“Yet, you went to study the very art of manipulation, among other things, with the Eserites,” Avei observed. “And while Vesk’s personality is every bit as annoying as you have noted, he is a god. He sees and knows things beyond your imagination. You would be well advised to learn from him while you have the opportunity.” She paused to look at each of the four in turn, her expression betraying nothing. “Everything Vesk is sending you to find, he could acquire far more easily without involving mortal agents. His key is not the point—or at best, only part of it. This is one of those journeys which is more important than its destination.”

“One hears about those,” Gabriel murmured. “Honestly, I never thought that old saw made much sense.”

Avei glanced at him again, briefly, before continuing. “In truth, I am strongly inclined to encourage this, and will be glad to help. As a rule, intruding upon the private domains of the gods is a thing I advise you not to do, but this…is a unique case. Salyrene is personally to blame for the entire state of the world today, and I grow weary of her sulking.”

“That’s…I…” Schwartz trailed off as the goddess’s attention turned to him, and swallowed heavily. “…thank you.”

“Everything you need, you already have,” Avei said. “I will not do more than prompt you in the right direction—solving the riddle for you would invalidate the exercise, not to mention that me prying open a door to my errant sister’s tower personally would ignite a conflict the world truly does not need. But guidance is all you require. Mr. Schwartz, you need only guide your party to the door; you will know where to find it, as you always have. Mr. Arquin, you have the means to open it.” She paused, wearing a knowing little smile, to glance over them again. “Any questions?”

“What’s wrong with the world?” Gabriel asked, staring at her with a frown.

“Is that a serious question?” Avei asked dryly.

“You said Salyrene is to blame it,” he said, narrowing his eyes infinitesimally. “That’s an interesting word, blame. The world is better right now by just about every measurable standard. There’s more food, more wealth, more peace. And most of that comes from uses of magic. Salyrene’s domain. So what’s your problem with that, exactly?”

“Gabe,” Toby warned.

“You have taken an interest in the history of the Infinite Order, have you not?” Avei said calmly to Gabriel.

He hesitated before replying in a warier tone. “Yes. Is that wrong?”

“Not in and of itself,” she replied. “Anything you should not know is beyond your ability to learn, anyway. No, Gabriel, perhaps you should pursue that interest. Look into what drove the Infinite Order to leave their world, and come to this one. These things of which you speak so highly have a price. One this world has not had to pay in eight thousand years. One we gave up everything to prevent it having to pay. Nothing is free, young man. Every moment that life becomes easier, a bill is being tallied up. Were I you, I might look into returning some of those gifts before payment is demanded.”

“Like what?” he retorted.

“Gabriel,” Trissiny said sharply, frowning at him.

“This hostility is about more than ancient knowledge, isn’t it?” Avei suggested.

He met her gaze for a long moment, then looked away. “I spoke out of turn.”

“The time to regret that was before opening your mouth,” the goddess said. “Rest assured, I don’t find you threatening. Please speak your mind, Gabriel.”

“I guess I’m a little uncertain on the concept of justice,” he said, squaring his shoulders. “I met another half-demon in Tiraas, named Elspeth. She told me about trying to come to you for protection, and being burned. Physically, right where she stood, just for trying to pray. To you. Which part of that is just?”

“None of it,” Avei said, nodding her head deeply. “That was a grave injustice, as have been many incidents like it. It’s injustice I am tremendously pleased that Trissiny has begun taking steps to correct. The Silver Missions are a start; shifting the attitudes of a whole society is the work of lifetimes. But that is why we need you, Gabriel. We are…what we are. In some ways, we are fixed in place; in some ways, we are terribly vulnerable to the very belief people place in us. Paladins provide us a way to correct course when we have gone wrong.”

She stepped toward him, and he stiffened further, making an abortive backward movement as if to retreat. In the end, though, he stood his ground. Avei simply reached out to lay a hand on his shoulder. Standing that close, she was taller than he, but only but a few inches.

“I applaud courage,” she said in a much gentler tone. “It’s an admirable thing, that you are willing to speak painful truths to great power. But be wise, Gabriel. Lashing out at a deity is not…strategic. A just cause is worthless if it is guided only to defeat.”

“I…see,” he said, then bowed his head. “Thank you. For the advice.”

“You are welcome.” Avei stepped back, lowering her hand, then turned to smile at her own paladin. “You are all doing rather well in this. And Trissiny… I am extremely proud of you.”

With a final nod to them, she turned and strode away up the corridor toward the bronze doors. Rather than opening them, she was simply no longer there when she reached them.

It took a few moments of silence for the tension to ebb enough.

“Gabriel, really,” Trissiny said in exasperation. “What was the one thing I asked you to do?”

“This is why people stab you,” Ariel said. “You understand that, right?”

“Ah, ah, ah.” Gabriel held up a chiding finger again. “People fucking stab me. I think I was safe, there. A goddess would never do something so undignified.”

“If anyone could provoke her to, it’s you,” Trissiny snapped.

“Hey, when you guys are done bickering, I think Herschel has an idea,” Toby said mildly.

They turned to find that Schwartz, indeed, was pacing up and down, muttering to himself. “Already know, and always have… Oh, gods, of course, it’s so obvious. How could I not have seen that? And having to pester an actual deity just to jog my fool memory! Augh, how humiliating.” He pressed both hands to his temples, grimacing as if in pain.

“Herschel?” Trissiny said uncertainly.

“Yes!” He turned to her, lowering his hands and suddenly looking so animated she instinctively stepped backward. “Trissiny! We need a warlock!”

“A warlock?” she replied incredulously. “Herschel, this is Vrin Shai. Even the Topaz College doesn’t have a presence here!”

“No, no, what am I saying? Of course not a warlock,” he grumbled, turning and beginning to pace again. “That’s just borrowing trouble, not to mention making the whole affair more complicated than it needs to be. Yes, I see…don’t have enough skilled casters to take that approach anyway, all we need is to build an array of…” He trailed off, then turned and pointed quickly at each of them in turn, lips moving as if he were counting something.

“Are you…okay?” Gabriel inquired.

“Yes!” Schwartz suddenly whirled and dashed away toward the door.

“Hey,” Gabriel called after him, “I’m pretty sure there’s no running in Avei’s inner sanctuary!”

Ignoring him, Schwartz reached the doors, grabbed both handles, and hauled them open with no further ceremony. “Sister! Ah, there you are!”

Sister Astarian was, indeed, waiting right outside, and had turned to face the doors at their sudden opening, her eyebrows rising in surprise. “Here I am. Your efforts were successful?”

“Oh, yes, quite,” Schwartz said distractedly. “But anyway, sister, this is an ancient and very important temple, yes? So you must have vaults?”

Her brows lowered again in puzzlement. “Of course. Some very old, containing all manner of… Well, what is it you are looking for, exactly?”

“Perfect! Perfect!” Grinning in evident delight, Schwartz eagerly rubbed his hands together. “Where do you keep all your most dangerous and evil artifacts?”

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14 – 7

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This, naturally, begat a confused pause.

“Um,” Gabriel finally ventured, “where are we going?”

“On the next leg of your journey,” the god of death replied, smiling vaguely at them with his eyes half-lidded. It was a mild, almost sleepy expression, and something about the contrast of that with who and what he was, plus the sunshine and cheerful people in the near distance, was subtly unsettling. “I was asked to give you a ride, by a mutual acquaintance of ours.”

“Vesk,” Toby guessed unnecessarily.

Vidius inclined his head slightly in Toby’s direction. “Chauffeuring isn’t among my usual duties, but what the hell. Three paladins are worth making an extra trip for, if anyone is. And hey, it’s a chance for us to chat! We get so few. Assuming, of course,” he added, turning to Trissiny, “you’re all coming along.”

She hesitated scarcely a moment longer, then nodded politely and stepped up to climb into the open carriage. “Thank you kindly, Lord Vidius.”

“Please, none of that ‘lord’ nonsense,” he said lightly, waving a hand. “We’re the next best thing to family, as I see it.”

“Family,” Gabriel repeated in a nonplussed tone, still standing there and making no move toward the carriage.

“Well,” Trissiny said, settling down into the surprisingly deep padding of the seat, “I hardly know how to talk to him, which pretty much sums up my experiences with family.” That earned a laugh from the death god up front.

“So you are coming, after all?” Toby asked, himself climbing into the carriage now. Gabriel shrugged fatalistically and clambered up behind him.

“Apparently so,” she replied. “Some good advice I got is sort of stuck in my mind.”

“Ah.” Toby nodded, smiling. “I had a feeling that’s what Rainwood wanted to talk to you about.”

“As a matter of fact it was, but that isn’t what I meant. I’ve heard from several people over the years that the things you don’t try end up being much greater regrets than the things you try that go badly. And besides, the involvement of a god who has some credibility improves the overall outlook of this…quest.”

“Happy to be of service,” Vidius said brightly, and flicked the reins. The carriage lurched into motion as its creepy steeds started forward, and they trundled off up the path toward the park gates. People got out of the way without once seeming to notice it was even there.

“Okay,” said Gabriel, shifting uncomfortably and pulling Ariel into his lap. The bench seats were not designed for people with things attached to the belt. “But…where are we going?”

“All in good time,” Vidius replied. His position on the driver’s seat put his back to them, but his voice carried just fine. “I understand that Vesk and his antics can be rather frustrating, especially from the perspective of any mortal caught up in an affair in which he takes an interest. But I’ll tell you this much: the rest of us in the Pantheon, however we may feel about him personally, choose to accommodate him. The reasons for that are challenging to explain…and often unnecessary. You will likely gain some insight into the matter in the course of following him around. For the moment, though, if you don’t trust Vesk, I’ll ask you to trust me. And Omnu, and Avei, who would already have intervened if they didn’t want you going along with this.” He turned his head, so as to give them a sidelong glance. “This will work out for the best. Even if none of us yet know how.”

Another uncertain silence fell at that, the three paladins studying one another’s faces for cues which were not forthcoming. Toby had seated himself on the front bench, facing backward, and on the opposite side from Vidius so he could still see the god by turning his head. Gabriel and Trissiny were opposite him. Now, both frowned when Toby suddenly straightened up in surprise, his eyes shifting past them.

“Gah!” Trissiny had turned to follow his stare and let out a yelp, then immediately subsided, placing a hand on her chest. “Oh. Sorry, Vestrel, you startled me.”

The valkyrie was perched on the back of the carriage like a gargoyle, her wings arched protectively over them. Apparently proximity to Vidius—or maybe it was the carriage—rendered her visible, but she was still clearly disconnected from the world, a wavery and faded image whose details were completely obscured. The black wings and dark armor, contrasting with a pale complexion and blonde hair, were all that could be discerned.

She also, apparently, could still not speak across the gap. In silence, Vestrel reached forward and very gently patted Trissiny on the head. Or at least, sort of; her hand didn’t quite make contact, and Trissiny couldn’t help stiffening slightly at the sheer eeriness of it.

“Oh, there was also a message,” Vidius said from up front, defusing the awkwardness. “For when you arrive.” He turned again, this time laying his arm across the back of the driver’s seat to look at them directly. “You will need his help.”

“Well…we’re already in the carriage, so I guess that’s taken care of,” Gabriel said, frowning.

“I doubt it means Vidius,” said Toby. “I mean, we are in the carriage. What would be the point of that?”

“I question how much of a point there is in any of this,” Trissiny muttered. “All we know for sure about Vesk’s directives so far is they are deliberately misleading more often than not.”

She glanced to the side, and blinked in surprise. They were trundling down a sparsely-trafficked highway, on a gentle slope that was clearly several miles from Calderaas. Evidently this thing moved much faster when its passengers weren’t paying attention. Which, all things considered, wasn’t surprising. It also meant there was no way of even guessing where Vidius might be taking them. She knew better than to ask again.

“So,” their driver said lightly, “you kids have been doing fairly well for yourselves. This is all uncharted territory, for all of us. A lot changed with your calling; the old routines simply don’t work as they once did. And we gods are nothing if not creatures of routine. We’re all feeling our way in the new world together, but you three, slowly but surely, are acquitting yourselves well. Trissiny in particular.”

The boys both looked at her in surprise, and she blinked.

“…thank you,” Trissiny replied uncertainly.

“I have my biases, of course,” Vidius acknowledged, turning his head again to glance at her. He wore a knowing little smile which was made to look even more sly by his hawkish profile. “You’ve recently gained a great appreciation for duality. More than most Hands ever have; paladins, particularly those of Avei, tend to be rather fixed on one idea. And, of course, you have become more acquainted with death.”

He turned to face forward again, and the silence which fell had a distinct chill. Trissiny stared ahead, at a point past the god’s shoulder.

“You can’t appreciate,” Vidius said after a pause, “how unusual it is that three paladins, two of them five years into their calling, are still so insulated from the effect of death. A Hand of Avei with your seniority, Trissiny, would ordinarily be standing on a veritable mountain of corpses by now.”

“I’ve killed,” she said tersely.

“And even those of Omnu,” the god continued as if she hadn’t spoken, “would be expected to have known the loss of friends. Yours is dangerous work. Of course, the situation is new, as I said. Sending you to Arachne has been a good practice, I think, but not without its downsides. You are a little coddled by the tutelage of such a fire-breathing mother hen.”

“Coddled isn’t a word I would have chosen,” Gabriel said, grinning.

“How many friends have you had to grieve, Gabriel?” Vidius asked mildly, instantly wiping the smile off his face. “I don’t think this is good for you, to be frank. Death and life are intertwined deeply; to live on is to know the loss of those you have loved. You, Trissiny, have only recently become acquainted with death. So far, you could be handling it more gracefully—but you are doing no worse than I might expect. With time and experience you will become better acquainted, and better able to cope.”

She turned to stare out over the side in silence. They were now plowing through a rolling field of stubby tallgrass, the slope of the mountain on which Calderaas stood far behind them.

“I think I’ve killed more than Trissiny,” Toby said, also staring into the distance.

“Hey, that isn’t fair,” Gabriel protested. “You’re still talking about the hellgate? You were the conduit Omnu used to vaporize a lot of demons. Blaming yourself—”

“I don’t think of it in terms of blame,” Toby interrupted. “But I was there, and voluntarily or not, I was the means by which it was done. Demons or not, those were sapient beings—thinking, feeling people. To cause such destruction…” He shook his head slowly. “I’ve grown used to living with it, and I think that bothers me the most. It’s been a year, and I still don’t understand. And…Omnu won’t enlighten me. I don’t know what I’ve done wrong.”

“Nothing,” said Vidius. “Omnu isn’t displeased with you, Tobias, trust me. He’s just…not very communicative. As a general personality trait, but particularly with regard to his Hands. Your lineage has always had the least personal guidance from your patron. Omnu’s approach has always been to trust his Hands to make the right choices, and encourage them to trust themselves.”

“By not answering simple questions?” Gabriel demanded, frowning.

“Yup,” Vidius said noncommittally. “You’ll note I don’t go out of my way to hold your hand, either, Gabe. But in my humble opinion, Omnu overdoes it.”

“I feel…like I’m not doing so well as a paladin,” Toby said quietly, still staring off at nothing.

“You could be doing better,” Vidius said bluntly. “If I’m any judge. It’s not time to worry just yet, Tobias, but you have room for improvement. Let me tell you this much, as an observer who knows Omnu and has watched you with interest: a big part of the reason the gods call Hands is because we are bound by concept and structure in a way that ‘mere’ mortals are not. A Hand is an agent of action, and of change. You confuse pacifism with passivity, Toby, and that is what predominately holds you back. The world doesn’t respect peace; if you intend to bring piece to the world, understand that you will have to inflict peace where it is not wanted. Learn to assert yourself, boy.”

Toby was frowning by the end of that, but nodded. “Thank you for the advice.”

“Wow,” Gabriel murmured. “After all that, I’m almost afraid to ask how I’m doing.”

Vidius glanced back at him. “Toby and Trissiny represent a departure from established patterns, Gabe. You represent something new entirely. I encourage you to learn from them, and from past paladins, but please don’t try to walk in their footsteps.”

“I…really haven’t been,” Gabriel said, shifting nervously in his seat. “I mean, what I’ve been trying to do is pretty much what you just said.”

“I know. But you could be trying harder.”

Gabe’s expression flinched before he marshaled it. “I…see. How so?”

“For example, your scythe. You haven’t done a lot of experimentation with its capabilities, have you?”

“I note that they weren’t explained to me,” Gabriel retorted with some exasperation.

“That is correct,” Vidius replied calmly. “What do you make of that?”

Gabriel opened his mouth, scowling, then snapped it shut.

“Y’know, it wasn’t so long ago that nothing would have stopped you from spouting the first thought that flittered across your mind,” Trissiny said, and lightly punched him on the shoulder. “I’m proud of you, Gabe.”

“It wasn’t so long ago that your support came with a dose of condescension,” he shot back. “Oh, look! I guess we haven’t all changed too much.”

She just grinned at him and leaned back in her seat.

“The scythe destroys things,” Gabriel continued in a more measured tone. “Just about anything the blade touches. Even magic. That’s… I mean, quite apart from the fact that a divine artifact deserves to be treated with some respect, this thing is incredibly dangerous. It’s not something to just screw around with.”

“Gabriel,” said Vidius, turning again to fix him with a look. “What I’m about to tell you is in response to that, but it also applies well beyond it. Screwing around is your greatest strength.”

“Oh…kay,” Gabriel said slowly, after a momentary pause. “I’m…not sure what that means.”

Vidius chuckled and turned to face forward again. “It’s something to chew on, isn’t it?”

“Or screw around with?” Toby suggested with a smile.

The god laughed. “See? He gets it.”

“This may be none of my business,” Trissiny said hesitantly, “and I’m sorry if that’s so, but… Why now? Why, after eight thousand years, have you suddenly decided to make such an enormous change as calling a paladin?”

Vidius gazed ahead without responding, and they glanced at each other again. The only sounds were the gentle rumbling of the wheels and the creaking of the carriage itself, oddly mundane for a divine vehicle, and the much more exotic ringing of the unearthly horses’ hooves against the ground. They were now wending their way through a forest, a moss-carpeted and well-tended vault of redwoods that had to be an elven grove.

“Have you ever given much thought to religion?” Vidius asked suddenly, just when the quiet had begun to stretch into discomfort. “Not to yours in particular, I know you’ve pondered your specific dogmas. But the thing itself, religion as a phenomenon. What it is, how it works?”

“I’m…not sure I understand the question,” Trissiny said, frowning.

“Sure you do,” he replied easily. “But the answer is ‘no’ and you feel awkward admitting that even to yourself. Don’t back down from such challenges, Trissiny. We are all our own greatest rivals; growth is a process of overcoming your own weaknesses. But yes, religion. Seems peculiar how something can both uplift and destroy people to such a great degree.”

“Well, that’s any tool, though,” Gabriel pointed out. “It’s only as good or bad as what you do with it.”

“Yep, and faith is a powerful tool indeed,” Vidius agreed easily. “But for context. You boys recall the faith of the Infinite Order you encountered in Puna Dara?”

“Ugh,” Gabriel said, grimacing. Toby just nodded.

“Fross mentioned something about that,” Trissiny said. “She disapproved of it pretty firmly.”

“It’s sheer positive thinking,” Gabriel explained. “The idea is that what you think becomes your reality.”

She frowned quizzically. “How is that a religion?”

“Well, it comes with its own cosmology,” said Toby, “which itself is rooted in fact. The Rust cultists talked about arcane physics a lot, how observation determines reality.”

“Ah, yes,” Trissiny said, nodding. “We’ve been over the broad strokes of that in Yornhaldt’s class. So, if they’re correct, what’s the problem?”

“The problem,” Ariel interjected, “is that the entire barrier to widespread understanding of arcane physics is that sub-atomic particles and their interactions are subject to fundamentally different rules than the physics which govern your experience. Such principles describe nothing with which a sapient mind will ever interact under ordinary circumstances. Attempting to apply arcane mechanics to one’s personal life is like trying to shoe a horse with a toothbrush and a wheel of cheese. Those tools are wildly unsuited to that task.”

“That about sums it up, yeah,” Gabriel agreed, grinning. “You’ll have to excuse Ariel. She’s designed to assist with magic, and misconceptions about it irritate her.”

“I am not irritated, I am simply right.”

“And that’s the crux of it,” said Vidius, his hat shifting as he nodded without looking back at them. “That cult was authentic, at least to that extent. That was the official religion of the Infinite Order—the original Infinite Order, the Elder Gods. In fact, they were utterly contemptuous of religion. They didn’t call themselves gods, and got mightily offended when someone did. Which, of course, is why I still do,” he added with a chuckle. “They instituted and spread that faith for the specific purpose of hampering the mortal population of this world. It served the dual goals of impeding actual scientific understanding, and shifting the onus for the plight of every suffering person onto themselves, instead of the megalomaniacal omnipotent beings oppressing them. And yet… It was something that, at its core, they believed in. The Infinite Order came to this world to pursue their great experiment with godhood because of faith. They were scientists, but what impelled them was sincere belief.”

“The…Elder Gods…believed in positive thinking?” Trissiny said slowly, frowning in pure confusion.

“Their driving faith was that the process of evolution was an orderly and purposeful progression,” Vidius explained. “From the great explosion that created reality, to the formation and death of stars, to the formation of planets, to the birth of life from a coincidental chemical reaction, to the process of evolution, to the emergence of sapience, with its capacity to deliberately advance evolution according to plans rather than random chance. They believed the universe was trying to understand itself, and the emergence of intelligent life was the most recent step in the process. They wanted to advance to the next step, and approached the task with great reverence. Who knows, they may even have been right; it explains the universe as well as any other idea I’ve ever heard. Based on what happened next, ascension was obviously not that next sacred step, but that doesn’t necessarily invalidate the idea. It does demonstrate my point, though. That same faith was used for great advancement and great oppression, by exactly the same people.”

“It’s not exactly a surprise to me that people can misuse religion,” said Trissiny. “I’ve met wonderful and terrible people among the Eserites. Some of the best people I know are Avenists, but I think the very Bishop of the Sisterhood is a dangerous, deviant lunatic.”

At that, Toby and Gabriel both gave her sharp looks, but Vidius nodded.

“And so, my question: What is a religion?”

“What do you think it is?” Toby asked carefully.

“There are many ways to answer that question,” said the god. “To embrace my own idiom, I think that a faith, a true faith, is a duality of two things: a problem, and a solution. A religion which actually provides for the spiritual needs of people must posit what the core problem of mortal experience is, and then offer a way to solve it. And this has been true since long before the emergence of actual gods, going back to the faiths of the old world from which the Elders came. Humanity had faiths before it had actual deities. Faith speaks to something in the core of what it means to be a person.”

“Wait, how does that work?” Gabriel protested. “How did they have religions if they didn’t have gods?”

“Well, perhaps I misspoke,” Vidius said, amusement lightening his voice. “They had gods, all right. They didn’t strictly exist in the physical sense, but they had ’em.”

“What’s the point of a god that’s not even real?” Trissiny huffed.

He glanced back at her. “Anything that makes a difference in people’s lives is real. The gods of the old world were invisible and silent, unverifiable and imaginary, but they were very real. The weight of their presence was deeply felt. It was inevitable, because there were problems, and there needed to be solutions. To the Christians, the problem was sin and the solution was grace. To the Muslims, the problem was hubris, and the solution was submission to the divine.” His shoulders shifted minutely in a little chuckle. “To the Satanists, the problem was corruption in all the other cults, and the solution was mischief and defiance. And so on, and so on. There were more faiths there than there are here. A lack of gods did not mean a lack of problems.”

“Hey.” Grinning, Gabriel nudged Trissiny with an elbow. “Those last guys sound a lot like Eserites.”

“And that is another point,” Vidius agreed, turning his head and nodding at Gabe. “Creating religions was the last thing my brothers and sisters in the Pantheon were after. We sought to bring down the gods, not join or replace them; we simply adapted to the way things turned out, from sheer necessity. We had become beings whose very identities were broadcast throughout the world via the magic which fills it. Dogmas and rituals rose around us over time, rooted in what we each thought was best in life. And our own ideas, like everyone’s, were shaped by the knowledge of those who came before us. There is an iron barrier across your history, children, but you are the heirs of traditions much older than you know. Ancient faiths still resonate through the cults that exist now.

“And that brings us to the world as it is today. We have the Pantheon, guided by gods who acknowledge and—to an extent—respect each other. In a way, this has eased a dilemma which plagued the old world: that everyone does not have the same problem. That the faith which soothes one person’s anguish might be the very cause of someone else’s.”

The carriage was now climbing, the road taking them up a steep incline. All around rose the rolling hills Trissiny remembered from her childhood; they were passing through Viridill.

“Works in theory,” Gabriel said skeptically. “Actual religions, though, don’t tend to be quite so…open minded.”

“Yes,” Vidius agreed, nodding. “The fallacy of the god-shaped hole survives; people of faith tend to assume that what fills the void in their heart must do the same for everyone else’s. Which, unfortunately, isn’t the case. But consider the different gods and cults, and how they approach this. Take the gods which embody simple, straightforward archetypes: Izara, Ryneas, Nemitoth. Love, art, knowledge. Their core duality is quite clear: these are the solutions they offer, to the problem of the lack of whatever it is. Now, have any of you ever heard of an Izarite, Rynean or Nemitite loudly insisting that someone should convert to their faith?”

“Izarites do tend to be awfully preachy,” Trissiny muttered, glaring at the passing hills.

“To an Avenist, I’ll bet,” Toby said in a much milder tone. “There’s a deep and well-known doctrinal divide, there. With all respect, Trissiny, Izarites are just about the most inoffensive people in existence. I think your perception of them simply comes from disagreement.”

She snorted, but didn’t try to rebut.

“Good,” Vidius said from up front, nodding again. “In such simple pillars of faith is a built-in acknowledgment that there are answers they cannot provide. Now, consider some others: Eserites, Veskers…” He hesitated fractionally. “Elilinists. Defiance, narrative, cunning. Less concrete ideals, less simple ones, and designed to address a different sort of problem. Overarching problems, the problems which infect whole societies. These cults also do not presume to be universal; they want only a specific kind of person to join them, and don’t aspire to run anyone else’s life. They are, at their core, oppositional.”

“Solving other people’s problems,” said Gabriel, “whether they want it or not.”

“Exactly,” Vidius agreed. “That’s an aggressive way to live, but not a domineering one. And now broaden it further, to the gods of multilayered concepts. Myself, for one. Avei, Omnu, Themynra, Shaath. Duality and death. Justice, war, femininity. Life, the sun, peace. Those are big things, ideas which span huge swaths of mortal experience; things which are not easy to sort into neat little boxes. Even judgment and the wild… Singular concepts, but what are they? How is a person supposed to separate such sweeping ideas out from other aspects of their lives? They subsume everything. And what else do you notice about those cults in particular?”

“Those,” Gabriel said almost defiantly, “are the ones most likely to tell somebody else how they ought to be living their lives.”

“I’ve never heard a Themynrite say such a thing to anyone,” Trissiny protested.

“Themynra’s worship has a racial component which pretty well precludes that,” said Vidius. “The noteworthy thing there, Trissiny, is that it wasn’t Avei you immediately defended.”

“Okay,” she said with growing irritation. “You’ve made your point, but I still don’t think I really understand why you made it. What’s the lesson, here?”

“Speaking as an Avenist, Trissiny,” he said, “what problem are you trying to solve?”

“Injustice,” she replied immediately. “And that is also speaking as an Eserite; it’s only the methods that differ.”

He let out a whistle. “A tall order. What about you, Toby? What’s the problem, and what’s the solution?”

Toby stared rigidly at the distance, looking quite perturbed. “I don’t…know. That’s not… I was never taught to think of it in those terms. Life is important because we are life. Peace is the optimal condition for living. That’s just…how things are.”

“Mm hm,” Vidius said noncommittally. “And you, Gabriel? What problem and solution do you find in Vidianism?”

“Man, the fuck if I even know,” Gabriel said bluntly. “Almost every Vidian I’ve ever met was fully invested in creating their own damn problem, as best I can see.”

The god turned again in his seat to look at them with a satisfied smile. “And that is why I have called a paladin after all these millennia: to correct what I see as a growing problem. In the world, but specifically within my cult. Because when a faith encompasses potentially everything, its practitioners will try to make it encompass everyone. Because people who think they have all the answers are incredibly dangerous, to themselves and everyone around them. And so, I have given the clever Vidians a paladin who has no idea what the hell he’s even doing, one whom I trust to screw around. Because they know a lot less than they think they do, and they need to be made to appreciate that fact. And so, Gabriel, does everyone else.” He fixed his gaze on his own Hand, expression becoming more severe. “You are called to question, to challenge, and to generally make everyone uncomfortable. I don’t expect you to have all the answers. I expect you to force people to consider the questions.”

Gabriel could only gape at him.

“That,” Trissiny said slowly, “just might make this the single most appropriate choice of Hand in all of history.”

“You just had to sneak in a shot,” he muttered, giving her an accusing look.

This time, it was she who prodded him with an elbow. “It’s a good thing, too, Gabe.”

“It’s something to think about,” Vidius said brightly, turning forward again and giving the reins a pull. “Well, this has been great! I’m glad we had the opportunity to chat. But for now, we have arrived.”

The carriage had pulled to a stop on the street of a city, next to a canal. All around them rose structures of white marble, and the city itself ascended along one side in terraces, falling in the other direction to a double set of high walls and a broad plain beyond. In every other direction, towering mountains arose.

“This is Vrin Shai,” Trissiny said in surprise. “Why are we here?”

“I suspect you’ll find that out quite soon,” Vidius said solemnly. “For now, though, I have to be moving along. The business of death is eternal. Everybody out!”

“Thank you very much for the ride,” Toby said politely, standing. “And…the lesson.”

“Yes,” Trissiny agreed. “I have a feeling I’ll be mulling this conversation for quite a while.”

“That’s the mark of a really good conversation, you know,” Vidius replied, while they all clambered out onto the cobblestones. Vestrel flared her wings and ascended, her vague shape vanishing from sight when she departed the carriage. “I hope you do continue to think, and learn. But such things are interludes in life; eventually, the action picks up again. I hope you’ll be ready.” He touched the brim of his hat, nodding to them. “Take care, kids. I’ll see you again.”

And with that, the god of death flicked the reins, the unearthly steeds began moving, and his carriage rolled off into the crowd.

Its departure left them standing with their backs to the stone wall separating them from a drop to the canal below, looking at the street. And directly in front, revealed by the departure of the carriage, was a man staring right at them.

A man with tousled blonde hair, spectacles, and a scowl, with a glowing rat perched on his shoulder. Both of them had their arms crossed.

Trissiny’s eyes widened. “Oh. Um. Hi, Hershel.”

“Hello, Trissiny,” Schwartz said flatly, then raised his hand. A blast of concentrated wind rose out of nowhere and shoved her right into the canal.

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14 – 6

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“As promised.”

Yasmeen handed her the object, a shaft of metal no longer than Trissiny’s index finger. She accepted it almost gingerly, immediately holding it up to the intermittent light passing through the windows of the carriage. If the vehicle had interior fairy lamps, they were dormant, leaving only the shifting glow of the city to illuminate them. In a way, that helped prove the composition of the key fragment. Under full sunlight, the blade of Ruda’s sword might pass for steel, but in dimmer and especially moving light, it caught and refracted illumination in a way that both emphasized its paler color and made it almost resemble a jewel. This piece had the same quality. She lightly probed at its indentations with a fingertip; they matched the illustration in the book. Had she stumbled upon this thing without context, Trissiny doubted she would have interpreted its shape as part of a key, but knowing the fact made the arrangement obvious.

“I had the royal jeweler extract it from its setting,” Yasmeen continued while she studied Gretchen’s Dowry—or what was left of it. “I honestly thought the poor man was going to burst into tears.”

“I hope this won’t get you into trouble with your mother,” Trissiny murmured.

“Oh, nonsense, you don’t think I’m keeping this from her, do you?” Yasmeen snorted in a distinctly un-royal manner, and Trissiny had the sudden thought that between her and Ruda she had no evidence that the snooty stereotype of princesses actually existed outside of books. “Believe me, the Sultana of Calderaas is always pleased to assist the Hand of Avei in a quest, and while tonight’s main event was my idea, I wouldn’t dare set something like that into motion without Mother’s approval. She regrets not being able to present her compliments in person, but House Aldarasi’s involvement in all of this must remain a secret, or there’ll be real trouble from the Houses represented in that party you just crashed. Speaking of which…”

“I’m sorry, what?” Trissiny glanced up at her. “Who are you? How’d you get in this carriage?”

“The Sultanate appreciates your discretion,” Yasmeen said primly.

“In seriousness, though, does your mother know that you came to supervise this personally?”

“Ah, well.” The princess turned to face forward, folding her hands demurely in her lap, but ruined the effect by giving Trissiny a sidelong look accompanied by a sly little smile. “Mother can’t be expected to know everything. Ruling a country is complicated business, after all.”

“Yeah, I had a feeling.”

The princess had arranged two carriages with drivers; Trissiny did not quite follow her assertion that this would be more discreet than piling everyone into a larger, more luxurious model, but had been too distracted by her thoughts to make an issue of it.

“You seem unhappy.”

She glanced up to find Yasmeen looking at her now, her expression open and even. Trissiny closed her fist around the fragment of mithril; she hadn’t handled it long, but it didn’t seem to have picked up any heat from her hand.

“I understand the necessity of what happened back there, or I wouldn’t have agreed to participate. But I think something would have to be very wrong with me if I came away feeling good about it. I just beat and tormented a woman who was no physical threat to me, at all. Do you really think Lady Araadia deserved that treatment?”

“Wrong question,” Yasmeen murmured in a pensive tone which took any rebuke out of the statement. “Whether she did or not, summarily assaulting someone isn’t justice. If I know my Avenists, that’s the thing that sits most poorly with you.”

“Good insight.”

The princess nodded. “No, frankly, I don’t think she did. Irina Araadia is a splendidly useless creature as only a noble can be, but she wasn’t by a wide margin the most corrupt person even in that room. While her little museum scheme is surely one of the more asinine manifestations of the problems in Calderaas, it certainly was not among the most abusive. The point was to remind an entire stratum of society that there are limits, and beyond them, consequences. Yours was merely the ugly part; Toby’s role was equally important, and there will come more maneuvering by my mother and the cults in the days ahead to encourage the Houses to act rightly, using more…positive methods. A jolt of fear to shake their arrogance is but one tactic in a larger strategy.” She shifted her head to gaze aimlessly out the window at the passing city scenery. “In that, Irina was a sacrificial lamb. The greater good always leaves victims, by definition. Otherwise it would just be the good.”

“You sound almost Eserite,” Trissiny said with a sigh of her own. “I went to the Guild to learn how to plot my way around confrontation, the way the Wreath has done to me a few times. What they mostly taught me was how to be creatively cruel and terrorize people into compliance.”

“Good,” Yasmeen said firmly. “The more you can frighten someone into obeying, the less you’ll have to hurt them.”

“You don’t find that attitude just a little horrifying?”

“Yes, but it’s the basis of all criminal justice. Almost every aspect of rulership is a little horrifying, that’s just how societies work. Someone has to do some brutal jobs so that the majority of people can go about their lives in peace. You are, unfortunately, one of those specialists. As long as you do your job only when it’s needed and don’t try to run a whole society that way, all will be well. Let me ask you this, Trissiny.” Yasmeen shifted toward her almost fully on the seat, folding one of her legs across it between them. “How familiar are you with the history of paladins?”

Trissiny opened her mouth to answer, then hesitated. “Well. That was a major emphasis of my early education, but not so long ago an Eserite courtesan of all people pointed out a few massive blind spots in it. What did you have in mind, specifically?”

“I had a feeling,” Yasmeen said, nodding. “We have a bit of the same issue here. With all the Avenist influence, the history most people learn is just a tad romanticized—and the Church pushing a narrative of a united Pantheon exacerbates it. At this point you have to go to the Veskers or Nemitites to learn how paladins historically related to each other. Which is to say, like strange cats, most of the time.”

“Really?” Trissiny’s eyebrows involuntarily shot upward. “All right, you got me. That I wasn’t taught. I mean, there have been scuffles between paladins in all the great adventure stories, but…”

“But they were presented as passing misunderstandings?” Yasmeen shook her head, smiling ruefully. “There’s a reason an episode like that happens in almost all the great epics. Hands of Avei and Sorash considered each other worse than demons. Hands of Omnu firmly disapproved of just about everything every other paladin did, and most of Toby’s predecessors did not share his reluctance to assert himself. Hands of Salyrene were only intermittently useful to the cause of protecting humanity; their goddess was just as interested in advancing knowledge through experimentation, and quite a few of her Hands got up to things that resulted in other paladins putting them down. Magnan the Enchanter took it to a new extreme, but he was treading a well-worn path. There is an entire theological school of thought, which has fallen out of the public eye only in the last century, that the whole purpose of gods calling paladins was to fight with each other without using their full power and thus devastating the world the way the Elder Gods did.”

“Why does everyone know more about the history of my lineage than I do?” Trissiny complained.

Yasmeen laughed, reaching over to squeeze her upper arm below the silver pauldron. “Oh, I assure you, everyone does not. Like I said, the Church has gone to great lengths to encourage the view you were taught; not everybody has access to royal archives and a fondness for old adventure sagas. But I wasn’t changing the subject, Trissiny. Remember that I didn’t just ask you to barge into that party and slap Irina around; I asked all three of you to intervene, and in specifically different ways. Toby to appeal to their better nature, you to impose order, Gabriel to project chilling eldritch menace. You see the hierarchy, there?”

“Velvet mentioned the same thing,” Trissiny acknowledged. “Toby’s part, anyway. Maybe some of those people will be more receptive next time an Omnist politely asks them to consider others.”

“Oh, I guarantee they will,” Yasmeen assured her. “And not just because they don’t want to meet your fist, or even because they don’t want to find out what else that scythe can do. House Araadia is going to take a long time to recover from this setback, but every other House represented at tonight’s gala is, I promise you, already planning how to take advantage of this. Most will reach out to the Sisterhood directly; I expect your Silver Missions will find themselves most generously funded in the days to come. If you stay in one place and make yourself accessible, aristocrats will begin trying to court you—in some cases, quite literally.”

“What kind of person flirts with their own natural predators?” Trissiny demanded in exasperation.

“Nobles,” Yasmeen answered immediately. “That’s what we do, Trissiny. It’s what we are. Nobles are predatory toward each other to a truly insane degree; we expect nothing less, from anyone. Nobody takes it personally. Well, Irina will after the way you lit into her, but the rest? You didn’t damage them directly, so the question is not how they will stop you, but how they can use you. That is why it was so important to present yourself as a force of nature beyond their control, not a rival for power. Otherwise, anything you did to any of them would have been business as usual.”

Trissiny could find no immediate answer for that, and Yasmeen heaved a deep sigh, her gaze growing unfocused.

“That’s the thing, you see. The best thing that ever happened to me was getting out of my palace, going to Last Rock and spending time with peasants, oddballs, and people from all walks of life. The most important thing I learned from interacting with them is that they all want the same things I do. Growing up rich and in control, it’s so easy to assume that poor people are…lesser. Lazy, selfish, somehow to blame for their situation. But people are just people. And even at their most venal, the basic drives that motivate them ensure that most people, most of the time, do the right thing. People want to contribute, to belong, to feel and to be valuable, to be part of something greater than themselves. No end of trouble results from people misunderstanding or disagreeing on what is the right thing to do, but in the end? We all want what’s best, as best we understand it.”

Slowly, she shifted back to face forward, still perched in that awkward way half-on the seat. Her gaze had become distant; Trissiny wasn’t sure whether Yasmeen was still talking to her, or arguing with herself.

“The two exceptions are despair, and power. People who are so ground down that they have no hope stop bothering with anything that could give meaning to their lives. And people who have power…” Her whole expression tightened unhappily. “Power distorts the mind like nothing else. It becomes the end and the means, the only thing you think about or care about. Most people will do right because with a modicum of intelligence, self-interest is at least somewhat altruistic. The powerful only do right when they are afraid to do otherwise. And powerful people are the leading cause of populations falling into despair. So, yes.” She turned back to face Trissiny, her eyes coming back into focus and glinting in the dimness. “You’d better believe I am comfortable unleashing whatever monster I can catch against the powerful. That’s what constitutes working with them.”

“And then,” Trissiny said quietly, “there’s us, who can do a thing like we just did and then flitter off into the night without consequence. What does that say about us?”

Yasmeen expelled a soft breath that might have been a sigh, though she smiled thinly at the same time. “It says we are walking a very narrow path, and had best watch where we step.”

“You are a puzzle,” Trissiny said frankly. “You seem downright happy-go-lucky most of the time. But the way you talk about the responsibilities of your position, you make it sound so grim. Which one is the act?”

“Oh, Trissiny.” Yasmeen eased closer and placed an elbow on the back of the seat, to lean her cheek into her hand and give Trissiny a fondly chiding look. “Any Vidian can tell you that the secret to acting is not to act, but to believe.”

“That’s a deflection if I ever heard one.”

“Not at all, it’s an explanation.” Casually, she reached out to brush back a blonde lock which had come loose from Trissiny’s braid, and only her practice with the Guild on not giving away every little thought prevented her from stiffening up. Surely the princess didn’t… “Life is grim, if it’s nothing but responsibility. Taking time for oneself can feel like selfishness, to the conscientious person, but in truth a little maintenance for the mind and spirit is necessary.”

“Now it sounds like you’re describing prayer. Or exercise.”

“Both good approaches,” Yasmeen agreed readily. “It depends on the individual. It’s an absolute necessity to find moments of joy, whatever form they may take for you.” Idly, she shifted her hand again, lightly brushing the back of her fingers along Trissiny’s cheekbone, while very slowly but inexorably leaning closer. “We serve no one by falling into grim despair, my dear. We must take whatever pleasure we can from life. With whoever will share it, for however long the opportunity lasts. After all…who can say what might happen tomorrow?”

Well, this explained the separate carraiges, anyway.

Carefully, Trissiny eased backward, away from those caressing fingers. “I don’t get a lot of opportunities to…share pleasure. It’s probably the armor. Only women ever seem to approach me, and I have never been even slightly attracted to my own sex.”

Yasmeen stopped, her eyes widening in open surprise. “…really? But you’re the actual Hand of Avei! Didn’t you grow up in Viridill?”

“Ooh, darling, yes,” Trissiny said, utterly deadpan. “Stereotype me. Harder, please.”

The princess stared for a shocked moment, and then burst into laughter so hard she almost doubled over. Somehow, though, she turned the movement into gracefully retreating back to her side of the seat.

“All right, point vividly made,” Yasmeen gasped once she could, brushing a tear out of her lashes. “Well! My loss, then. Can’t blame a girl for trying.”

“Nothing will happen if you don’t try,” Trissiny agreed, smiling back. With the awkwardness defused, Yasmeen’s mirth was quite infectious.

“Stay reckless, Trissiny.” Just like that, though, the laughter faded from the princess’s countenance. “As long as you can be hurt, as long as you’re not too comfortable, not insulated from the consequences of your actions, you’re not turning into one of them.” She shifted to stare out at her city as they passed through it in the night. “I hope.”


“Man, what is it with you and that entire family?” Gabriel asked, shaking his head. “You’re like Aldarasi catnip.”

“I shouldn’t have told you,” Trissiny grumbled.

“You probably shouldn’t have,” he agreed. “I’m constitutionally incapable of letting it go, now.”

“Such a funny little thing, to be the focus of so much trouble,” Toby mused, studying the key fragment on his open palm. Strolling through the park under the morning sunlight as they were now, it looked like any miscellaneous piece of metal, albeit highly polished. “I’m really curious what it is this thing is supposed to unlock, when it’s restored.”

“It’ll turn out at the last minute that the real treasure was friendship or something,” Trissiny said, rolling her eyes. “Mark my words.”

“So…you’re still coming along, right?” Gabriel asked, nudging her with an elbow. “You’ve come this far with us!”

“I’m still considering that,” she hedged.

She was saved from having to go into any more detail by their arrival. The park seemed more crowded today than on her previous visit, but then, they weren’t creeping off into its most secluded corner this time. The three paladins had followed the footpath as directed to a small fountain in a little paved roundabout surrounded by benches and lamp posts, where their contacts were waiting. All were making a go at discretion, now that they’d thoroughly offended a swath of the city’s nobility. Trissiny was back in civilian clothes, her armor left in the Sultana’s palace for safekeeping—under the care of a particularly devout steward who Yasmeen said would doubtless consider the task the highlight of her life. Toby could’ve been any young Western man to someone who didn’t know his face, now that he was back in street clothes rather than formal robes, and Gabriel had taken the precaution of hiding his distinctive coat in a dimensional pocket. Ironically, he was sweating more without it; the weatherproof enchantments on traditional Punaji greatcoats were the reason sailors wore them from the equator to the arctic.

“Hey, guys!” Jeb called, waving exuberantly. “Ya made it!”

“Course they made it, ya galoot, what’d ya think was gonna happen,” Zeke said, but tipped his hat in greeting, grinning at them.

“Boys,” Trissiny said, nodding distractedly. Most of her attention was caught by the other person present.

“You wanna make a quick sketch?” Rainwood suggested dryly. “It’ll last longer.”

“Sorry,” she said automatically. “I’m just surprised by how well you clean up.”

In fact, he looked a lot like he had in her shamanic vision, though his hair was still much shorter. It was clean, now, brushed and even styled, giving him a rakish look. He also wore a green robe of supple dyed leather, ornately decorated with silver accents and beads, and carried a hardwood staff which was oiled and polished till it fairly glowed, topped with a chunk of rose quartz the size of her fist. Rather than a homeless layabout, he fully looked the part of an elvish shaman.

“A word in your ear, cousin, if I may?” Rainwood said more quietly, tilting his head pointedly to the side. Trissiny glanced at the others; Toby gave her a smile and a nod, Gabriel already in conversation with the Jenkinses.

She and Rainwood stepped a few feet away, not truly out of earshot but gaining a little privacy.

“So, have you decided on your next move?” the elf asked her.

“Not…entirely,” Trissiny admitted. “I’m leaning toward going back to the grove. This whole episode has left me feeling the need for more quiet contemplation.”

“Well…with apologies…I’m going to offer you some unsolicited advice,” he said seriously. “I know little enough of your life, Trissiny, but I’ve been around. A lot. So take it for whatever it may be worth. Go on the quest.”

She sighed. “Why?”

“If I’m not mistaken, you have an Avenist’s impatience with pursuits in which you see no practical benefit. Right?” He smiled lopsidedly.

“That’s not just an Avenist thing,” she pointed out, folding her arms. “I don’t know of anybody who enjoys wasting time with other people’s pointless nonsense.”

“Actually, lots of folks do. Anyone who would rather enjoy life than stress about meeting arbitrary goals, in fact. But that isn’t an argument I would pitch to you, of all people. Let me put it this way…” He shifted, half-turning to look out over the park, where people were walking, playing, and reading in the sunlight. “Vesk’s missions are never pointless, any more than a story is. To him, they’re one and the same. They are very literally character-building exercises. To put it in Avenist terms, training. He will break you down and build you back up, just like you would a new recruit into an army.”

“I’m not sure I trust what Vesk would want to build me into,” she retorted.

“Well, what are you?” Rainwood looked at her again, smiling faintly. “Because that’s what he’ll aim for. Think in storytelling terms, in archetypes. Are you the knight in shining armor? The thief? The orphan? The point of a hero’s journey is to bring you through the darkness and into the wisdom and greater power you earn on the other side. He’ll try to make you more of whatever it is you are.”

“That sounds…unpleasant,” she admitted.

He nodded slowly, turning his eyes back to the park. “Mm. Education is usually no fun, even when you seek it out and pay your tuition. Having it thrust upon you unsolicited is almost as enjoyable as surprise dental surgery. But the fact remains, it’s one of the best and most important things you can experience. I will say this, though, Trissiny: if you do decide to continue on, have a care. You’ve begun this journey by besting weaker foes with scornful ease. If this were a story, that would mean you have a real test coming down the line. And if you’re working for Vesk, it’s always a story.”

“No.” She shook her head slowly, also gazing out across the park now, even as Rainwood turned to look at her in mild surprise. “That wasn’t the test, or the lesson. Those simpering nobles were never the enemy. I was. I…don’t think I won that battle.”

He reached up to squeeze her shoulder. “Yeah. You’ll do just fine, kiddo. All right, now I’ve gotta be moving along myself.” The shaman hiked up his staff, leaning it over his shoulder, and turned to amble back toward the group, Trissiny following along. “As I mentioned before, I have my own quest. The spirits are guiding me westward, where my help is needed.”

“By whom?” Toby asked, turning to him.

Rainwood grinned and shrugged. “No idea! That’s the fun of both shamanism and adventure: you figure it out as you go.”

“Well…uh, nice meeting you, then,” said Gabriel.

“I’ve got a funny feeling our paths haven’t crossed for the last time,” Rainwood replied, winking. He patted Trissiny on the upper back. “But who knows? We’ll all find out what’s in the future when we get there. Till then.”

It was the strangest thing to observe; he didn’t seem to transform, exactly, but one moment he was an elf and then he wasn’t, and it was as if he never had been and they’d only just noticed. Trissiny recalled Kuriwa doing very much the same thing. Jeb let out a muffled exclamation of surprise, which the little black cat ignored, trotting away across the park. They all stared after him until he ducked under a bush and was gone from sight.

“That was one weird dude,” Zeke observed. “Paid well, though.”

“You’ve got interesting relatives, Triss,” said Gabe.

She sighed. “You don’t know the half of it.”

“So!” Jeb grinned broadly at them. “Where y’all off to next, then?”

“I think you boys mentioned you were between steady jobs at the moment,” Trissiny said. “And that you came from a ranch originally. Right?”

“Hey, you remembered!” Jeb said cheerfully. “See, Zeke, I told you she was nice! Pays attention to us little folk an’ everything.”

“I never said she wasn’t nice, Jeb,” Zeke said quickly, glancing at Trissiny. “I said she has more important stuff to do than worry about the likes a’ you an’ me. Which was true.”

Trissiny opted not to weigh in on that. Instead, ignoring Gabriel’s snickering, she reached into her coat and carefully extracted the sealed letter she had stashed there, holding it out to Zeke. “Right. Well, you did help me, in the end, and I didn’t want to just cut you loose and vanish—”

“All right!” Jeb whooped, actually jumping into the air and pumping a fist skyward. “You just say the word, boss lady! We’re off ta kick ass and praise Avei!”

She stared at him for a moment, then turned back to his brother. “…so I wrote you a letter of recommendation. If you decide you’ve had enough of Calderaas, charter a Rail caravan to Last Rock and give this to Mr. Ryan Cartwright. He owns most of the horses along that stretch of frontier; anybody in town can direct you to him. Gabe and I worked for him last year, and he liked us both well enough I’m confident my recommendation will get you a job.”

Jeb had fallen still, frowning at her in consternation. Zeke slowly reached up to accept the envelope, also looking puzzled. “Uh, maybe it’s none o’ my business, ma’am, but why was a couple’a paladins workin’ as ranch hands?”

“Punishment duty,” Gabriel explained, grinning. “One of the options Tellwyrn gave us was jobs in town with wages transferred to the University. We both went for that one, since it involved the greatest distance from her squawking.”

“Last Rock is a tiny town,” Trissiny continued, “but it’s not a boring one. You’ll meet all kinds of people. Especially girls,” she added, giving Jeb a pointed look. “The sort you like, with backbones and no patience for your crap, Jeb. Townies, passing adventurers, University students. If you get tired of trying your luck in the city, it’s an option, anyway.”

“Girls?” Toby’s eyebrows had risen so high it almost looked painful. “Trissiny, you’re helping them get dates?”

“Uh…how certain are we that this is really Trissiny?” Gabriel muttered out the corner of his mouth, sidling closer to him.

“Her aura is unmistakable,” Ariel replied, making Jeb jump and look around for the source of her voice.

“That’s…real thoughtful of you, ma’am,” said Ezekiel slowly. “I appreciate the gesture. You don’t owe us nothin’, though. It was a plumb honor to help out a little.”

“I thought we might could come with you!” Jeb burst out, suddenly giving up searching for the voice and turning to her, hat in hand and being roughly squeezed the way he did when nervous. Zeke sighed, but his brother continued on, undaunted. “Cos, y’know, you’re sorta right, Calderaas ain’t been that great for us. But, come on, what’re the odds a’ two guys like us meetin’ a paladin? Twice? Maw always said, the gods move in mysterious ways. We can both ride an’ shoot and we ain’t afraid o’ hard work!”

“Good,” she said firmly. “Those are traits you’ll need on Cartwright’s ranch.”

“Yeah, but—”

“People like you get killed for following people like me!” she snapped. “Ignore anything Rainwood told you about adventure, Jenkins. That stuff’s for storybooks. My life is violence, destruction, and being manipulated into one disaster after another. Do you understand? You will die, and I don’t need to see that happen.”

“Well…shit, Ms. Trissiny, everybody dies a’ somethin’,” Jeb said earnestly. “Our great uncle Leroy, Vidius rest his soul, got swarmed by kobolds. But he made it mean somethin’! He protected his family an’ the house till help could come. I figured, ever since, if everybody’s gotta go out, I wanna make it…y’know, important.”

“Well, you can do that on your own time, if that’s what you want,” she said curtly. “I have real work to do, and no more time to babysit you.”

“C’mon, Jeb,” Zeke said quietly, taking him by the elbow. “It was a good day’s work, now let’s not waste the paladin’s time.”

Jebediah resisted his brother’s tugging, still staring at Trissiny with a frown of increasing consternation. “Hell, ma’am, we ain’t made a’ glass. If you just don’t like us, you can say so.”

“Why would I like you?” Trissiny roared, causing him to shy back in shock. “The whole time I’ve been saddled with you two nincompoops has been one mess after another, all cause because you two are more incompetent at everything you attempt than any human being can possibly be and still be alive! I swear, you’re either fairies in disguise or you’re doing it on purpose, and either way I have had just about enough of your nonsense. You act like that in my business and within one week, tops, you’ll be dead with your entrails spread around a two-acre area. And just because I don’t want to watch that doesn’t mean it would be any less of a relief!”

Jeb gaped at her with his mouth open. Zeke, Toby, and Gabriel were a little more contained, but not by a lot; the shock appeared to be universal.

After a few excruciating seconds of silence, Jebediah closed his mouth, swallowed heavily once, and took a step backward. He carefully tipped his hat to her, turned, and walked away.

Zeke, seeming unsure what to do, himself, finally cleared his throat and tipped his own hat in her direction. “…ma’am.” Then he followed after Jeb, leaving stillness behind.

Trissiny watched them go, slowly drawing in a deep breath. She let it out with the same deliberate slowness, as if maintaining that control could expel everything seething in her at that moment.

Toby stepped up next to her. His expression, now, was purely concerned.

“Please don’t,” she said. He opened his mouth, closed it, nodded, and patted her on the shoulder.

“So, uh,” Gabriel said from behind them, “far be it from me to interrupt all the awkwardness, but you guys might wanna look at this.”

They turned, and what was coming up the path drove the whole conversation out of their minds.

Easily the most incredible thing was that none of the other people in the park reacted to the approach of the carriage; it appeared no one could even see it. Apart from being an unusual open-topped model and painted solid black, the carriage itself was not very noteworthy. Its driver, though, was a lean man in a broad black hat, holding a vicious-looking scythe which towered over his seat. It was the horses pulling the vehicle which were most alarming, though. Skeletally emaciated, they had eyes which flickered with dim blue flames, and streaming wisps of black smoke for manes and tails; their hooves made a peculiar ringing sound on the path, shod with brightly glowing metal which tended to send up sparks when it touched the ground.

The carriage pulled up to a stop right alongside them, and the driver tugged the brim of his wide hat, which was too broad to comfortably lift, and gave them a thin smile.

“Morning, kids,” Vidius said pleasantly. “Interest you in a lift?”

 

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Prologue – Volume 5

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After everything, it was strangely pleasing just to be out in nature.

He walked at a moderate pace, being in no hurry. Golden tallgrass stretched away in all directions, a sight familiar from the border of the Golden Sea, though this was subtly different country. The ground here rolled and undulated slightly, the grass helping to conceal little valleys and subtle hillocks; it was the kind of terrain that could easily have tripped him up had he tried to rush through it, city boy that he was. This grass, too, seemed a shorter variant than what lived around the Great Plains. Its upper fronds rose barely to the level of his chin, not obscuring his view the way the tallgrass of the Golden Sea did. It was darker in color, too, closer to amber.

The sun was arcing toward its zenith and beating down from a cloudless sky, the kind of weather that threatened to burn exposed skin, were his skin vulnerable to that. He found the heat a little tiring, but also not unpleasant. Cicadas, invisible in the grass all around, provided a constant music underscored by a faint, refreshing breeze and the rustling it caused among the stalks. Once in a while there came the cry of a distant hawk.

On he walked, toward the line of trees in the distance. Though he hardly needed the support, he had his scythe out, held in one hand near the blade, and used it as a walking stick. Occasionally a strand of tallgrass would be nicked in passing and immediately wither, but luckily the weapon was long enough that few reached it. It was a good few miles from the nearest town—not a small hike. He had time, though. He’d never been an outdoorsy person, really, but something about the peace and quiet made him begin to appreciate some of Juniper’s speeches.

He tilted his head slightly, glancing to the side and listening to a voice not physically audible. After a few moments, he came to a stop, planting the butt of the scythe’s haft on the ground and slowly peering about. As far as the eye could see, he was totally alone out here on the rolling plain, still a long walk from the forest and already beyond sight of the town.

“Well, I appreciate not being shot,” he said aloud. “How close were you planning to let me get before saying anything?”

There was no sign of any response for another few moments. After pausing, he shrugged and took another step.

The elf seemed to materialize right out of the tallgrass, holding a staff and garbed in a robe dyed in patterns of white and bronze that blended perfectly with the plants. He inclined his head, expression remaining impassive. Three more popped up, one carrying a bow, two with tomahawks in hand. Though armed, they kept their weapons at their sides and their stances free of aggression, staring flatly at the person they had surrounded.

“Well met,” the man with the staff said. “I am Adimel. What brings you?”

“I’m Gabriel Arquin,” he replied, carefully nodding his head back to precisely the same degree.

“The Hand of Vidius.”

“Oh!” Gabriel blinked. “You know about that, then.”

“We live in a grove,” Adimel replied dryly, “not the underside of a rock.”

“Uh, sorry, I didn’t mean anything by it,” Gabriel said, wincing. “I’m not used to being…known. It’s barely been a year and I was kind of a nobody before. It’s eerie that word’s traveled all the way out… Y’know, that’s neither here nor there. First of all, I’m not looking to bring trouble, don’t worry.”

“Most of the trouble brought to the groves of woodkin has come packaged in good intentions,” Adimel said evenly. “I intend no disrespect. To answer your question, we have been studying you, and considering. An uninvited human would have been intercepted already, but you present…a puzzle.”

“I get that a lot,” he said solemnly.

“You smell of demon blood and divine magic. You have a soul reaper following you, which could be a great character reference or the opposite. You carry a weapon of the gods, but also…” Drawing his lips into a thin line, Adimel pointed at Ariel. “That.”

“I didn’t make Ariel, if that’s what you’re concerned about,” Gabriel said, placing his free hand on her hilt. “I don’t know who did. She’s helpful, if not exactly personable…”

“That wasn’t the worry at all; no one your age would know such craft. And…Ariel?” The elf raised an eyebrow. “You couldn’t find one called Jane?”

“What does everyone think that’s so very clever?” Ariel asked aloud.

“Shh.” Gabriel patted her scabbard. “Look, I know elves like your privacy, and I’m sorry to just show up like this. It isn’t my intention to be disruptive; I just need to ask your Elders for help with something.”

“What do you need, paladin?” Adimel asked in a neutral tone. “Your status as Hand trumps most other considerations, in the end. The grove would ordinarily be glad to host you, but this is an awkward time. If your request is important, the Elders will still hear it, at the least.”

Gabriel hesitated, glancing to the side; the elf followed his eyes, clearly somehow able to perceive Vestrel even if he couldn’t actually see her.

“I would like to speak with the Avatar.”

The cicadas sang over the wind in the silence which followed.

“I encountered one in an old Elder God complex under Puna Dara,” Gabriel explained when it became clear none of the elves intended to say anything. “That facility is, uh…no longer accessible. Vestrel said there are only two others still open on this continent, and the other one’s under Tiraas and being used by the Imperial government. I sort of figured the grove Elders would be more reasonable to talk to than the Emperor.”

“Why,” Adimel said slowly, “do you want to speak with another Avatar?”

“I have questions. About where the world comes from, how it ended up this way. About the gods, in particular.”

“Some of those answers may be dangerous to acquire,” the elf warned.

Gabriel nodded. “Vidius also has questions. He called me because of that. Because he thinks the gods have been wrong about some important things, and fears what might happen if they don’t adapt. The Pantheon is shifting all over; the new Hand of Avei is a half-elf who’s been trained by Eserites. My whole purpose is going to involve changing things. And… It’s dangerous to introduce change into a system you don’t understand. I’d think elves would know something about that.”

Adimel glanced at each of his comrades in turn; none of them spoke, but stared back with subtle changes of expression which seemed to communicate something to him.

“Well.” The shaman thumped the butt of his staff against the earth once. “At the very least, the Elders will wish to hear your request, Gabriel Arquin. If nothing else, it is news to us that there are accessible Elder God systems available to the Tiraan and Punaji. I will not make you a promise on the Elders’ behalf, but I believe that if you are willing to share information, they will respond in fairness.”

“Well, that sounds good to me,” Gabriel said with a broad grin. “Fairness is pretty much the best anybody can hope for, right?”

“Indeed,” Adimel said gravely, inclining his head again. “If they are very lucky.”


“I don’t know,” Aspen said worriedly. “This place… It’s not safe for humans. I mean, with us he’s fine, but if you want to leave him out here…”

“All of that,” Kaisa said severely, “would have been worth considering before you insisted on dragging him along, girl.”

“If you really thought I was gonna just leave him behind,” the dryad flared.

“Please.” Ingvar nodded to the kitsune, reaching over to touch Aspen’s cheek. “I am very honored to have been included this far. No Huntsman has ever journeyed so far into the Deep Wild. If I can go no farther, it’s not as if I’ve a right to complain. This is family business, after all. And if Ekoi-sensei says the protection she has left will be enough, I see no reason at all to doubt her. Has she misled us yet?”

“She was pretty much a butthole to me in Last Rock,” Aspen grumbled, folding her arms.

“No offense, sis, but you kinda brought that on yourself,” Juniper pointed out.

“I was worried about you!”

“Yeah, I know. And I love you for it. But that, and then what happened to you right after…” Juniper shook her head, turning to Kaisa. “That’s really what all this is about, isn’t it? Maybe it’s just the two of us so far, but dryads are starting to interact with the mortal world. And we can’t keep doing it the way we have. It just gets people hurt.”

“That is the heart of it, Juniper,” Kaisa replied. “The world is changing. The daughters of Naiya must change, as well, and change is an inherently difficult thing for us to face—but no less important for that. I have done everything I can to make my own sisters see this, and by and large they simply will not. Perhaps we can still salvage something of your generation, however. I allowed you to bring your young man on this journey which is manifestly none of his business, Aspen, because I deem him an extremely positive influence on you. I strongly advise you to listen when he speaks. And for that alone, you can be certain I won’t allow him to come to harm.”

“Go see to your sister,” Ingvar said gently, squeezing Aspen’s hand once. Then he stepped back, beneath the branches of the cherry tree Kaisa had just caused to sprout from nothing. It now fanned overhead to a great height, heavily laden with pink blossoms which continually drifted downward, already having laid down a plush carpet over its roots, delineating a circle of protection. “I will be here when you return.”

“Stay safe, Ingvar,” Fross chimed, zipping around him once in a quick pixie hug before returning to the others.

Kaisa led the way into the deeper, darker grove, Fross hovering along right behind her and casting a silver glow upon the shadowy underbrush. Aspen brought up the rear, constantly turning to look back until Ingvar was out of sight through the trees. He stood calmly, with his longbow in hand, gazing out at the jungle of the Deep Wild.

Within the forested crater of Jacaranda’s grove it was both cooler and darker, with moisture in the air as well as resounding through the stillness in the form of numerous streams trickling down toward the deep pool in the center. Tiny flickers of light and color were visible in the near distance, but none of the pixies were brave enough to approach the group.

“You’re unusually quiet, Fross,” Juniper observed softly as the procession picked their way steadily downward.

“Yeah, sorry. It’s just…memories, you know? This place seemed a lot bigger in my mind than it looks now. And scarier. Now it’s just…trees.”

“It’s called growing up,” Kaisa said from the head of the group, not glancing back at them. Amusement faintly laced her voice. “By and large, Fross, you have done well at it. The price for wisdom is innocence, but that is life’s best bargain. The only value of innocence is that which it persuades you it has—which is a lie.”

“Um, Professor Ekoi?” Fross chimed, drifting forward to flutter along beside the kitsune.

“It’s very unlikely I will be returning to Arachne’s school, Fross,” she replied, glancing at the pixie with a smile. “At least, not as a teacher. Since there is only family business between us now, you should call me Kaisa.”

“I, uh…okay. It’s just… Do you really think we can help her?”

A faint frown settled on Kaisa’s features, and one of her triangular ears twitched sideways twice. “A basic rule of life is that you cannot help a person who refuses to be helped. This entire situation…is tricky. Jacaranda’s predicament is not entirely her own fault. Any more than Juniper or Aspen’s is. Or yours. Or mine.” She shook her head. “Our mother scarcely deserves to be called by the word; we are all abandoned in one way or another, and none of you were taught anything you need to know before being hurled from the nest. This kind of intervention carries risk and no promise of success. But we must act on the presumption that any sister of ours is worth the effort. Jacaranda will not thank us for what we’re about to do…at least, not any time soon. But in the fullness of time, she yet may.”

“…okay.” Fross chimed a soft descending arpeggio.

“And Fross, purge irritating non-communication like ‘uh’ and ‘um’ from your speech. A wise person who has nothing to say says nothing; fools fill the air with meaningless noise. You are the daughter of a goddess, even if once removed, and the heir of a cultural legacy older than life on this world. Act like it.”

“Yes, ma’am!”

“Welcome to the family,” Aspen muttered from the back of the line.

The pool was visible before they reached it, and the thick clustering of multicolored pixies around it apparent long before that; their chiming was audible form halfway up the sides of the crater, even with the intervening trees and underbrush to soak up noise. Activity over Jacaranda’s pool itself was a lot more fervent than normal. Clearly, the Pixie Queen had been warned of their arrival.

“How dare you come here?” she shrieked as they lined up at the edge of her pool. She had gone so far as to rise from her usual reclining position, and now hovered upright above her little island in the center of the water, gossamer wings buzzing furiously. “I will not have dryads in my realm! Vile creatures, begone with you!”

“Good to see you, too, Jackie,” Aspen said dryly, lounging against a tree trunk and folding her arms. “How’ve you been?”

“DON’T YOU CALL ME THAT!” Jacaranda screamed, turning vivid pink with rage. “Pixies! I want these invaders gone. Get rid of them, my little ones!”

“Fross?” Juniper said warily as the hundreds of glittering lights around began to swirl menacingly, raising a cacophony of shrill little voices and buzzing wings.

Fross hovered forward, putting herself in front of Kaisa; in this proximity to so many of her kind, it was immediately obvious that she had a much brighter glow and larger aura. The surrounding pixies surged forward at the four on the bank of the pool.

Fross emitted a single pulse of pure arcane magic. A blue corona rippled out from her, instantly disorienting and stunning their attackers. Little voices switched from threats to shocked outcries as pixies tumbled from the air all around them, or drifted off-kilter in confusion.

After the first blast, Fross maintained a steadier, more subtle arcane current; not enough to do anything, but plenty to create an unpleasant reaction with the fae magic which absolutely saturated the heart of Jacaranda’s little kingdom. An abrasive whine of protest rose from the air itself, a sound that was thicker than sound, that crawled across the skin.

“Stop that!” Jacaranda wailed, planting her hands over her ears. “Stop it, stop it! No, wait—where are you going? Come back! Don’t leave me!”

All around, the pixies were fleeing, shooting desperately away from the noise and disruption despite their queen’s pleas. Aspen and Juniper were wincing and Kaisa had laid her ears flat against her skull, but none of them seemed nearly as badly affected.

Once they were all gone, Fross let the effect drop. After it, the silence was somehow even louder.

“Hello, my queen,” Fross chimed quietly. “I don’t suppose you even remember me.”

“Remember… You. Fross.” Jacaranda lowered her hands slowly from her ears, her face twisting into a snarl. “How dare you betray your queen? I gave you everything—your very existence! You’re mine, do you understand? I made you. I own you! You will bring the rest of my pixies back here right this second!”

“My queen,” Fross replied evenly. “…mother. It’s time we had a talk.”


“This is unexpected, of course,” Ravana said as she led him through the halls of her ancestral home. “When I submitted my application to the Service Society, it was with the presumption that I would not have an honored place on the waiting list. To be frank, I had not expected to interview a prospect for several years.”

“The Society takes great care to match a Butler with any prospective client with the utmost caution, your Grace,” Yancey said diffidently, following her at a perfectly discreet pace which called no attention to how much longer his legs were than hers. “It is a matter of compatibility rather than seniority. Clients are obliged to wait until a suitable match is made, irrespective of how long it takes.”

“Of course,” she agreed, “a wise system. I understand the relationship is considered quite intimate—though, naturally, my data is all secondhand. I applaud your regard for custom, Yancey; I am something of a traditionalist, myself. Still, Grace is a somewhat archaic form of address for my rank—technically correct, but more commonly associated with Bishops these days. I am phasing it out, along with the rest of my father’s ponderous pomposities.”

“Very good, my lady.”

“I understand,” she said thoughtfully, “you were previously Butler to Duchess Inara of House Tiradegh.”

“I had that honor, my lady.”

Nodding pensively, Ravana paused while Yancey slipped ahead of her to open the door at the end of the hall. He held it for her, bowing, and she glided through.

“I do not wish to seem indelicate.”

“I beg that you speak your mind, my lady. A Butler does not take offense, and the aim of our discussion is to assess honestly our suitability to form a contract.”

“Very well,” she said, eyes forward and voice contained. “Part of a Butler’s function is, of course, as a bodyguard. Rumors abound concerning the late Duchess’s passing, but the official and most credible account is that she was murdered. I wonder how it came to be that you were unable to prevent this.”

“A most reasonable concern, my lady. Please take no insult at the question, but may I presume that anything said between us will go no further?”

“You may rely on my discretion.” He walked at her side, a half-step behind, positioned just forward enough to discern her very faint smile though she didn’t turn to look at him. “I realize trust between us is not yet earned; for the moment, rest assured that I am not fool enough to antagonize the Service Society by betraying a confidence.”

“More than adequate assurance, my lady. Her Grace the Duchess left this world at a time and in a manner of her own choosing, in the pursuit of her own goals. I would have considered it a rank betrayal of our relationship to intervene, however her passing grieved me.”

“Ah. Then Lord Daraspian did not kill her?”

“He did, my lady. She arranged it with the utmost care.”

“Thus disgracing House Daraspian,” Ravana murmured, eyes narrowing infinitesimally in thought, “and further bringing down the scrutiny of the Empire, effectively cutting off its largely illicit sources of funds. And thereby assuring the future of its principal rival, House Tiradegh. What a fearless and fiendishly elegant maneuver. If there is one thing we aristocrats consistently fail to anticipate in one another, it is a willingness to embrace sacrifice.”

“Just so, my lady.”

They had arrived at another set of doors, and again he stepped ahead to open them and bow her through. Ravana emerged onto a balcony, Yancey following and closing the door behind them.

After a thousand years of rule, the manor of House Madouri was a huge complex completely encompassing the rocky hill upon which the city of Madouris had originally been built. The manor itself was a relatively small structure at the apex of the miniature mountain, itself palatial in size but dwarfed by the sprawl of gardens, lawns, fortifications, and other structures which made the complex a self-contained little city within Madouris and the most heavily fortified House position in the Empire.

Madouris itself stretched out in three directions; the towering outcrop of the manor abutted the canyon through which the River Tira coursed far below. It was a sizable city, rivaling Tiraas in scope, though not nearly so tightly packed. Madouris didn’t have much heavy industry compared to its neighbors, and thus had preserved more of its traditional architecture than Calderaas or Tiraas; the scrolltowers were concentrated at a central location for efficiency’s sake rather than spread across multiple offices over the city, and there were relatively few factories. The huge bulk of Falconer Industries rose ominously past the city walls to the northwest, fairly bristling with lightning-wreathed antennae. It, like much of the newer construction, had grown up outside the old walls. The age of fortifications had ended with the Enchanter Wars, according to conventional military wisdom.

The manor had the best view in the province, and this, Ravana’s balcony, had the best view in the manor.

“I am…dithering,” she said pensively, gazing out across the city her ancestors had ruled for a millennium. “The prospect of retaining a Butler may weigh my decisions in one direction or another. Classes resume in a few weeks, and I must decide before then whether to return to Last Rock, or take my education in a different direction altogether. If I do return to the University, having a Butler along would present difficulties. I rather think Professor Tellwyrn would make them even more difficult than necessary. She vividly disapproves of what she considers presumption in her students.”

“I will keep this under consideration, my lady. We are, of course, only in the earliest stages of our acquaintance. It is yet too early to commit to a relationship.”

“Of course, of course. I simply want you to be aware of my situation.”

“I appreciate your candor, my lady.”

“So. You have come to meet me, because you perused my application and felt we might have some compatibility.”

“Just so, my lady.”

“Knowing what I do of Duchess Inara Tiradegh, I take that as high praise indeed. What is it, Yancey, that attracts you to the prospect of my service?”

The Butler’s posture remained exquisitely poised, his expression neutral and speech perfectly diffident. “You remind me of her, my lady, both by reputation and by the details you yourself provided in your application.”

“House Madouri is not presently in nearly so secure a position as House Tiradegh, it pains me to admit. We are older, wealthier, more powerful by any measure, that is a fact. But secure… In truth, my position is precarious indeed. Thanks to my father, many of our old alliances have been squandered to nothing. The Silver Throne is tentatively well-disposed toward me, but entirely out of patience with the Madouri name. I have just barely salvaged a relationship with the Falconers, and I fear I rather traumatized Teal in the process. And after my recent illness in Last Rock, any confidence my people had in me is shaken. You should know that any number of potential calamities might sweep me from power at any moment.”

“Yes, my lady.”

She turned to give him a cool look. “This appraisal does not surprise you, Yancey?”

“I made certain to be aware of it, my lady. It is part of what drew me to you.”

She raised one eyebrow mutely.

“I cannot say what the future holds for you or for House Madouri, my lady. But I can say with certainty that you will continue to face your trials as you have already: with cunning, ferocity, and to the great surprise of your enemies. I confess I am drawn to the prospect of seeing it firsthand.”

Ravana considered him for a moment, then gazed south, toward Tiraas; the capital was just barely too distant to be seen from Madouris, close enough that the two cities had viewed one another as severe threats before the Imperial era. Then she turned, directing her eyes north. Calderaas lay many miles in that direction, well beyond the horizon. And still further beyond that lay Last Rock, at the edge of the Golden Sea.

“Let me pose you a hypothetical question, Yancey,” she said at last, eyes still on the endless distance. “Say that you had it on good authority, from a source so trusted that you must take it as given despite the poetic melodrama of the very claim, that…a great doom is coming. How would you recommend proceeding?”

“I would advise, my lady, that you make yourself a greater doom, and lie in wait for it.”

Slowly, a smile curled her thin lips.

“Yancey… I have a very good feeling about this.”

 

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