Tag Archives: Bishop Darling

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“Home, sweet home,” Gabriel groaned, carelessly heaving his suitcase through the open door of the first room he came to.

Tellwyrn had rented the entire top floor of an inn, giving the students a pretty comfortably-sized living space. In fact, there were four rooms surrounding a lounge area which contained a table and wooden chairs, as well as the stairwell to the three floors below. It was well-lit, the fairy lamps old and flickering, but the space dominated by a large bank of windows.

In fact, everything was old. The woodwork was pitted and scarred, the furniture ramshackle, the rug little more than a pancake of cobwebs with fond memories of having been dyed. One of the widows was, in fact, a board, and one of the others a pane of wavy, frosted glass that admitted light but didn’t provide much of a view.

“You’ll have to shuffle the room arrangements a bit,” Tellwyrn said brightly, standing with her back to the windows. It was still early enough—and cloudy enough—that the daylight framing her wasn’t adequate to cast her face in shadow. In fact, it was barely adequate for dramatic effect. “At least two of the privates will need to room with Juniper—”

“I bet all the privates would like to—”

“You can be vulgar on your own time, Miss Punaji. I am speaking.” Glaring at them over her glasses, she continued. “A certain amount of hanky-panky is to be expected. I don’t particularly care about that. Just be cognizant that there are people on the floors below you and try not to act like caricatures of college students. I don’t recommend advertizing your identities, but these things have a way of getting out. Some of you are rather distinctive.”

“If you don’t care about hanky-panky,” Teal asked, stifling a yawn, “why is Clarke Tower bespelled to keep boys out?”

“Kids,” said Tellwyrn solemnly, “in the course of my three-thousand-year career, I have traversed every continent, explored the Underworld as far as Scyllithar itself, spent years in the Deep Wild and ascended to the very edge of the atmosphere. I’ve fought in wars, started wars and ended them; I have met, befriended and battled gods, dragons, demons and monsters for which you know no description. I have mastered magics and fighting styles that each demand lifetimes of study, founded cities which are now only dust and memory, and in general participated in such adventures that my memoirs, should I ever get around to writing them, would effectively re-shape history itself. My very name is synonymous with chaos and belligerence. For all that, I know my limitations, and one task I am not foolhardy enough to undertake is to prevent a bunch of teenagers from going at each other like bunnies the moment my back is turned.”

“How,” Gabriel asked in awe, “can you be so talkative this early in the morning?”

“Clarke Tower is bespelled—as is the boys’ barracks, by the way—to minimize the chances of somebody ending up accidentally pregnant. Considering the political status of many of my students, that’s a scandal that could resonate across the Empire and beyond. The hope is that if you have to make plans and arrangements to play hide-the-wand, one or the other participant will remember to take some basic precautions. I do not care in the slightest if matching pairs of genitals are rubbed together in any configuration, and I’ve seen enough of you lot interacting with each other at this point that I know nobody here is going to get the wrong kind of lucky. So! Room where you like.”

“Wow,” Trissiny managed.

“Anyhow!” Tellwyrn produced a gold pocket watch and consulted it. “I have a breakfast appointment, which was the whole purpose of this excursion, so I’ll leave you to it and check back in this afternoon.”

“Wait!” Toby said as she started for the stairs. “What are we supposed to be doing? What’s our assignment for this trip?”

“You had to remind her,” Gabe muttered.

“Ah, yes. That.” The Professor smiled disarmingly. “The first part of your assignment is to figure out what your assignment is. Best of luck! As a personal favor, though, do try not to burn the place down; I like this inn. Cheerio!”

She bounded down the steps four at a time, her footfalls making barely a sound.

“I’m just a little bit in love with her,” Rook admitted after a moment.

“You, sir, are a weirdo,” Gabriel informed him.

“Gods, you have no idea,” Moriarty muttered.

“What I need,” said Ruda, “is to figure out how to tell when she’s fucking with us as part of one of her bullshit secret tests, and when she’s fucking with us just to fuck with us.”

“I believe there are elements of both in most if not all of her actions,” said Shaeine.

“Probably. Anyhow, speaking of you, I’m a bit sleep-deprived so I might’ve been hallucinating, but did anybody else notice that like half the people outside on the street were drow?”

“We’re in Lor’naris,” Gabriel explained.

“Uh huh. And what’s that mean when translated into words?”

“Actually, it’s called a lot of things,” he added, pausing to yawn. “It’s got one of those boring district designations I don’t even remember, but the main avenue is Firousi Street. Lor’naris is a newer nickname, from the last few years when all the drow who apparently don’t like living in Tar’naris moved in here. Most of the city calls it Freak Avenue.”

“Do they indeed?” Shaeine said quietly.

“Hey, I’m relaying information here,” Gabriel said, holding up his hands in a gesture of surrender. “As a long-time resident of the city. This district has always been a gathering place for people who don’t fit in elsewhere. Most of the non-humans and halfbloods and such, except the dwarves, who have their own district. I used to come here a lot when I was a kid, before my dad made me promise to stop. From what I understand, it’s actually a much nicer place since the Narisians basically took over the district.”

“Narisians are great at keeping things orderly,” Teal said, glancing at Shaeine. They exchanged a little smile and shifted their hands together, not clasping fingers, but lightly touching.

“Ugh,” Ruda groaned, “I insist that you two not be so adorable before breakfast. You’re gonna put me off my whiskey.”

“Sorry,” Teal said, grinning unrepentantly.

“Oh, don’t be so grumpy just because you’re pent-up, Ruda,” Juniper admonished.

“Allow me to hastily change the subject,” said Gabriel. “As usual, we don’t know what the hell Tellwyrn’s expecting us to do…”

“Oh!” Fross chimed, buzzing around the ceiling in a circle. “But if she put us here, there’s a good chance it’s drow-related!”

“That’s a logical conclusion,” Trissiny agreed, nodding. “So…any ideas where to start?”

“Yeah, I’ve got one.” Ruda yawned hugely. “With a fuckin’ nap.”

“I’m with her,” Gabe said firmly. “Wait, I mean… I agree with that. I’m not with her, in a bed sense. Not that you’re not pretty, Ruda! It’s just I’d rather not be stabbed again. I mean, not that—”

“Gabe.” Toby laid a hand firmly on his shoulder. “Stop talking.”

“…maybe that’d be best, yeah.”

“You can’t seriously want to sleep,” Trissiny complained. “We’ve just arrived in the capital of the Empire! And it sounds to me like we’re in one of the most interesting districts.”

“Yeah, and it’s probably not gonna burn down while we get the rest of the fucking night’s sleep Tellwyrn was in too much of a hurry to let us have,” Ruda said, turning toward another of the room doors. “Nighty-fuckin’ night, guys.”

“Perhaps some additional rest would not be amiss,” Shaeine agreed. “Especially if we are to be at our best when exploring the district.”

“Okay, here’s what we’ll do,” Juniper said decisively. “Boys in that room. You three guys can split between my room and Gabe and Toby’s, however you want. Fross, Ruda and Triss can room together, and that leaves the smallest one for Shaeine and Teal.”

“Wait, how come they get their own, oh, uh, nevermind.” Finchley trailed off, blushing. Teal blushed even harder, but Shaeine smiled slightly. There was something vaguely smug about it, unlike her usual little meaningless smiles. She’d been doing that a lot since coming back from break.

“I’ll help you unpack!” Fross declared, zooming into the room after Ruda.

“I can’t believe this,” Trissiny said aloud, standing still while the others shuffled off into their various rooms. “Nobody wants to explore? How much sleep do you all need?”

Toby cleared his throat softly. He was the last person aside from her left in the lounge. “I’m pretty well rested. If you want to go have a look around the area, I’m game.”

She gave him a long look, clenching her jaw.

“On second thought,” she said tightly, “maybe a little more rest wouldn’t hurt.” Trissiny turned and stalked into the room after Ruda and Fross, shutting the scratched old door with more force than it deserved.

As Toby stood there, staring at the door, a soft pattering sound began, and quickly swelled. In moments, sleet was peppering the windows. He stared out at the gloomy weather and heaved a sigh.

“It’s gonna be a long trip.”


 

Sleet flowed around her, deflected by the invisible shield of heated air she kept over her head. Tellwyrn had toyed with the notion of vaporizing it from the sidewalks in front of her, too, but had decided that would have been purely self-indulgent. Even the umbrella verged on too much; she had suffered much worse than cold and damp, and could have dried herself of within seconds of being back indoors, but she really didn’t feel like getting iced down this early in the morning. Walking on the slippery mess was no imposition to one blessed with elven agility, in any case.

She was the only person out and about, which might be typical for the hour, but in this case was undoubtedly due to the weather. It was a lovely neighborhood, a long double row of towering old brownstone townhouses, crammed closely together but each behind its narrow little garden. The gentle curve of the avenue, parallel to the city’s outer wall, meant the end of the street was always out of sight around a permanent bend, which was a nice trick by some city planner to ensure the fat cats who lived here wouldn’t have to see the hoi polloi in neighboring districts when looking up and down their own street. Every so often, at artfully irregular intervals, a building plot had been left, holding a small slice of park or a monument instead of a townhouse, serving to break up up the monotony.

It was actually rather peaceful. If one endured the cold and had some protection, the sound of the sleet was soothing, and trees, iron fences and eaves were taking on a surreal beauty as they were gradually encased in ice.

Thanks to discreet but clear street numbers, finding her destination was simplicity itself—luckily. There were places in this old city where one’s only hope for locating a specific home was getting very clear directions from someone in the know. Tellwyrn pushed through the unlocked gate, crossed the ice-soaked garden in three long strides and stepped into the shelter of the tiny porch.

She had barely tugged the bell rope when the door was pulled open, revealing a lean young woman in a Butler’s traditional suit.

“Good morning, Professor Tellwyrn,” she said crisply, stepping back and bowing. “Please, come in. You are expected.”

“I should hope so,” she replied, stepping inside. The Butler shut the door and cast a rapid glance over her; Tellwyrn could almost see her customary courtesies being frustrated. A guest who had just been out in an ice storm, yet wasn’t so much as damp and had no outer garment to take, must have been somewhat disconcerting. Her composure, of course, didn’t so much as flicker.

“His Grace awaits you in the dining room,” she said diffidently. “Breakfast will be served immediately. If you would follow me?”

Tellwyrn trailed after the girl, peering critically about. This place could have been lifted straight from a magazine illustration. The décor, the art, the furnishings… Its immaculate condition testified to the Butler’s touch, but nothing here evinced the slightest speck of personality. She knew a front when she saw one. Of course, given who occupied this house, that made perfect sense. The only unique thing about the Bishop’s residence was the low light. Even for this hour, it was dim; fairy lamps were present in abundance, but only one in the hallway was lit, and at a minimal level. This guy was comfortable working in the dark, then—which also made sense.

The dining room was more of the same: expensively but tastefully decorated, and as blandly impersonal as a museum display. Tellwyrn gave it scarcely a glance, fixing her attention on the man who rose from the table to greet her.

“Professor,” he said warmly, striding forward and taking her hand in both of his own. “I so appreciate you taking the time to visit me—really, it’s too generous. And in this hideous weather! I’d have taken no offense at all had you wanted to reschedule.”

“I never allow the weather to change my plans,” she said. “That just encourages it.”

He grinned with actual humor. Bishop Darling was a man to whom she’d not likely have given a second glance if she passed him on the street—which was probably the exact effect he was going for. A lean, fit man in his thirties, he was of average height, blue-eyed, his blonde hair just long enough to have been styled in a foppishly wavy coif. His suit was casual, but tailored and clearly expensive.

“Please, please, sit!” he said, ushering her to a chair and holding it gallantly for her. “Let’s get some hot tea into you. Price will have breakfast out in a jiffy.”

“Thank you,” she said evenly, watching him like a hawk as he strode around to seat himself opposite her. “Food can wait, however. I was offered a bribe for coming out here, I believe.”

“Ah, yes, of course. Price?”

The Butler stepped forward, holding out an antique-looking flat jewelry box, which she opened and extended to Tellwyrn. Within, on a cushion of black velvet, sat an incongruously cheap-looking necklace. Attached to a simple silver chain, it consisted of nothing but a few carved wooden beads, the largest of which was bound by a twist of silver wire to a lock of golden hair.

Tellwyrn very carefully lifted the charm from within the box, mindful of its great age. It wasn’t at all fragile, however; the enchantment on it was minor by modern standards, but sufficient to have protected it from the passage of time. She simply held it for long minutes, staring at it, lost in memory. The Butler stepped back, allowing her space; Darling held his peace.

Finally, she shook herself slightly, rousing from her reverie, and carefully tucked the necklace into her vest pocket, just over her heart.

“Well,” she said, turning a piercing look on the Bishop, “considering whose priest you are, I suppose there’s no need to ask how you acquired this. I would very much like to know from whom you took it, though. I’m quite curious where it’s been all these centuries.”

“I’m afraid I can’t tell you anything about its journey,” he said, spreading his hands apologetically. He seemed completely unperturbed by her stare, which was the one she used to control classrooms full of the Empire’s most dangerous teenagers. This fellow, clearly, had mastered the art of restraint, for all his apparently warm demeanor. “Except that most recently, Mary the Crow had it.”

Tellwyrn raised her eyebrows sharply. “You stole from the Crow? You surprise me, Bishop Darling. I didn’t come here expecting to be impressed.”

“Oh, wouldn’t that be a hell of a thing,” he said wistfully, as Price began laying out plates and serving scones. “They’d remember my name in the same breath as Foxpaw’s… But no, nothing so dramatic, I’m afraid. I recently asked for Mary’s input on a little problem I’m having. She demurred, pleading ignorance, but then nominated you as the leading expert on the matter. Then gave me that, said it was certain to get your attention.”

“I see. Well, this was worth the trip, to me, and entitles you to a few minutes of my time. So now we come to it. What would this ‘little problem’ be?”

He folded his hands on the table, for the moment ignoring his scone. “Khadizroth the Green.”

Tellwyrn raised an eyebrow. “And what business, exactly, do you have with Khadizroth?”

“Oh, none, I assure you. In fact I’d like nothing better than for him to simply go away and forget about me.”

“That’s wise,” she said, nodding approvingly. “I gather he has business with you, then. This should be a good story.”

“A fairly short one, though some of it might be news to you. Are you familiar with the Cobalt Dawn tribe?”

“I’m aware of them…or perhaps I should say I was. They make a convenient cautionary tale for my history class.”

“Well, it turns out a handful of them survived their attack on the Empire.”

“Oh, don’t tell me,” she groaned. “Khadizroth took them under his wing.”

Darling nodded. “What’s alarming is what he intended to do with them. He specifically rescued the children, and was having them raised with himself as their primary caregiver and role model. Once they were old enough, he intended to use the females to…produce more dragons. A lot of them. Ultimately, his plan was to have a force with which to challenge the Empire.”

Tellwyrn stared. “That’s…actually rather brilliant. Elves aren’t the most fertile race, but there are ways around that. Gods, if he could manage to produce just a dozen adolescent dragons, with him leading them… It would take multiple deities to put a stop to that. I doubt the Empire can yet field anything that could have handled it. To read between the lines, I gather this plan is not currently still viable?”

“Thankfully, no,” Darling said, grimacing and toying with his scone. “The two eldest girls were a little too old when Khadizroth took them in to buy into it fully. They smuggled the other elves away from him, hid them with other tribes, and finally fled themselves. From there they ended up in Tiraas, and then as my apprentices in the Thieves’ Guild.”

“And now, you have a green dragon who wants his property back.”

“Precisely.”

She drummed her fingers on the table. “…I gather that giving them to him isn’t an option.”

“No,” Darling said, and there was an undercurrent of steel in his voice. “It is not.”

“Good,” Tellwyrn said with some satisfaction. “Well then, you do have a problem. I’m not sure I concur with Mary that I’m an expert on Khadizroth…”

“She did say that you’d bested him. Repeatedly.”

“Not alone.” Tellwyrn shook her head. “And that, I think, is the beginning of your difficulty. Your instincts are working against you here.”

“My instincts?” He raised his eyebrows.

“You’re an Eserite,” she said. “Unless I miss my guess, you’re thinking in terms of a long con. Trying to control information, use the dragon’s cleverness against him. Playing the game, in other words. Correct?”

“In essence,” he said slowly, leaning back in his chair. “That’s what we do.”

“And that’s your problem. As things stand… You and your apprentices are mostly safe so long as you stay behind the walls of Tiraas. Without his planned army, Khadizroth won’t risk his own safety against the might of the Empire. He’ll come at you through intermediaries, and none of the individuals who do that kind of work are crazy enough to pick a fight with the Guild. Conversely, there’s really nothing you can do to him, either. Do you even know where he is?”

“No,” Darling admitted ruefully.

“Right. So here you two sit, on opposite sides of a board filled with pieces you can’t even move. I guarantee the dragon’s patience is a lot longer than yours, Bishop Darling. Eventually, someone will have to give up their advantage and take some action. That’s likely to be you, and it’s all but certain to be your downfall.”

He was frowning now, but in thought, not dismay. “I see. What, then, are you suggesting?”

“Ignore your instincts,” she said firmly. “Don’t take him on alone. Make noise, Darling. Tell people what’s going on. This dragon was trying to raise an army against the Empire? The Empire will have very strong opinions about that. He was planning to use women as captive breeding stock? Elves or no, that’s exactly the kind of thing that drives the Sisters of Avei into a rage. They have brought down dragons, too.”

“I’ve been operating on the assumption that his interest in my girls is to find out what they’ve revealed, find out who else he has to silence. Keeping him in the dark on this matter is probably all that’s staying his hand.”

“You’re probably right,” she acknowledged, “but what do you really lose by forcing his hand?”

“I go from being a possible nuisance to a definite target for revenge,” he said wryly.

“True. But Khadizroth isn’t one of the more vengeful dragons; most of the greens aren’t. Once his secret is out, you become completely irrelevant. If he’s having to run and hide from a continent full of enemies… Well, they might actually do him in, but even if not, he won’t have the time or attention to spare for you. Better to be a target for revenge than one of active tactical concern.”

“Sounds logical,” he said, now staring at the far wall in thought. “A simple solution.”

“The best ones usually are,” she said with some satisfaction and took a bite of her scone.

“Yeah,” Darling said, then chuckled and shook his head. “And like all the best solutions, it’s not really a realistic option for me. The problem, Professor, is my apprentices. They’re Cobalt Dawn by blood, and… Well, without getting into the messy details, there are other concerns. Guild stuff, elf stuff, various miscellany. The point is, I really cannot afford to bring them to the attention of the Empire. Either Imperial Intelligence or the Sisters will need credible information to act against Khadizroth, and if I provide it… I place my apprentices at considerable risk.”

“Elf stuff?” she said flatly.

He gave her a disarming smile. “I don’t pretend to understand all of it. Suffice it to say, I can’t afford for those girls to become a pin on the Empire’s maps.”

“Mm. You sure didn’t bring me an easy one.”

“Well, it’s well known that you dislike being bored.”

Tellwyrn chewed a bite of scone for a long moment before replying. “Then I guess you were right to ask me. I can offer you some insights into Khadizroth that you may be able to use.”

“You are a gentleman and a scholar!”

“First of all, my original recommendation still applies. If you can’t bring official attention down on him, there are others who’ll help you. Since you somehow have Mary the Crow in your address book, by all means tell her about this, if you haven’t already. She tends to get very aggressive with people who abuse elves on a systematic scale such as you’re talking about.”

“Is Mary a match for a dragon?” he asked, clearly fascinated.

“I have no idea,” Tellwyrn said bluntly. “I don’t know if she’s a match for me, either. I don’t know if I’m a match for Khadizroth, because as I said, when I’ve had to tangle with him in the past, I always called in help. It’s all about maneuver, not force. Yes, I’m aware of my reputation and the irony, but when you’re talking about the affairs of gods and dragons and archfae—anything that deserves a Zero Twenty designation, really—different rules apply. We do not engage one another in destructive contests of power, nor enact grand plans to seize more terrestrial power than we need. Khadizroth clearly just did that last one, and in a way that’s likely to damage the reputation of all dragons—such as it is—should the story get out. Find and tell any dragon what he was up to, and he will immediately have problems of exactly the kind he was trying to inflict on the Empire.”

“Dragons, unfortunately, I do not have in my address book,” he said with a grin, then leaned forward, staring at her intently. “I wonder—”

“No, I will not take him on for you,” she said firmly. “I’ve made my own accommodation with the new order of the world, Darling. I perch atop my mountain and train my students, and the Empire tolerates me occasionally throwing my weight around because I’ve very carefully made it plain that I only do so when I perceive a real need. I’m not an adventurer any more, and acting as one would be a betrayal of the responsibility I owe my students.”

“I see,” he said regretfully. “Well, had to ask.”

“I’ll tell you what I will do for you, though,” she went on. “I know one dragon who’ll listen to me; the others will listen to him. Once I set that in motion, it’ll just be a matter of time before Khadizroth has far more important things than you and your apprentices to worry about.”

“That would be greatly appreciated,” he said fervently. “It surprises me to hear you have a dragon for a friend—though on second thought, I really don’t know why it should.”

“More a nemesis than a friend,” she said, grinning. “A three-thousand-year pain in the ass. Zanzayed was the first individual to cause me real problems when I… Well, that’s not important. We’ve been dueling off and on basically forever now. After that kind of time… Friends come and go, Darling, but the right kind of enemy can become more important to you than a lover. I don’t know what either of us would do if something were to befall the other at this point. When my husband died, it was Zanzayed who tracked me down and talked me out of doing something extremely rash.” She shook her head. “Anyway. Of course, I’ll have to find him first; I’ve not heard from him in a few years, and he does enjoy his intrigues. It’s likely to be months before I can get that in motion. You’ll have to cope in the meantime.”

“Zanzayed the Blue?” he said, tilting his head. “He’s in Onkawa.”

Tellwyrn stared.

“Or was a few weeks ago,” Darling amended, “pursuing some woman. I only know that by happenstance, but I do have access to intelligence reports. I can find out where he went after that, if indeed he’s moved on.”

“No,” she said slowly, “a few weeks is a fresh enough trail. Apparently it’s best if you don’t have the Empire looking into this matter, remember?”

“Quite so. That being the case, thank you very much for the help.”

“Then here’s what you should know about Khadizroth,” she said, pushing aside her plate and leaning forward over the table. “He has the capacity for subtlety, but for the most part disdains it. Sneaking around offends his sense of honor, and of his own majesty. If he feels you’re manipulating him…well, don’t do that, you don’t want him to start making effective use of his resources. If you’re careful, though, if you engage him directly, you can keep his attention focused and his actions relatively aboveboard.”

“I see,” he said thoughtfully. “The fellow sounds a bit like you.”

She raised an eyebrow.

“Sorry,” he said, smiling slightly. “But there it is.”

“Okay, I suppose I’ll have to grant you that,” she said ruefully. “The other significant fact about Khadizroth is that he’s a people person.”

“….oh?”

“Most dragons tend to regard the mortal races as beneath them. Some are relatively benevolent, though, and by and large, Khadizroth is one of those. He likes to attract and keep followers, and in fact has a knack for earning very real loyalty from the people with whom he surrounds himself. It sounds like your girls scattered the bulk of his retinue, but it’s best to assume he has devoted servants ready to throw at you.”

“At least one that I know of,” Darling said, frowning.

“It’s not all bad news. He recruits based on loyalty, not skill.”

“Yeah, that fits the guy I met,” the Bishop grinned.

“Khadizroth is, in his way, loyal to his followers. It’s very much the loyalty of an autocrat toward his country; filtered through his ego, but sincere. An attack on them is an attack on him, and in fact he may take that more personally than he would a direct strike against himself. He expects enemies to attack him, you see. Going after his people is dirty pool.”

“I see,” he said, wincing. “And…hypothetically, what if I already roughed up one of his servants? Possibly the only one he has left?”

“Then,” Tellwyrn said dryly, “that revenge thing is likely to be a higher priority for him than I previously suggested.”

“…bollocks.”

“Well, now you know,” she said lightly. “You might be able to make amends. I do encourage you to open a line of communication and keep it open until you can get somebody powerful on his scaly tail. Your best case scenario is to set enemies after Khadizroth without revealing you were behind it. He may be willing to negotiate an end to hostilities with you if he finds you honorable and has bigger fish to fry.”

“That may be a slice of pie in the sky,” Darling said, “the situation being what it is. If anybody gets wind of what he was doing with the Cobalt Dawn and comes after him for it, he’s going to have to assume I was behind that.”

“True,” she said nodding, “but as long as you keep it relatively polite, again, that’s just business as usual. If you’re a declared enemy, he’ll expect you to be hostile. He may still be willing to make peace and turn his attention to more serious threats.”

“Then it sounds like I have a working plan.” He smiled, leaning toward her. “I really can’t thank you enough, Professor Tellwyrn. I know this must have been out of your way—”

“Stop.” She held up a hand. “I’ll tell you what, your Grace. After this is over, if you and your apprentices are still alive and free, look around at your situation and decide whether you still want to thank me. You’ll know where to find me if so.”


 

After the Professor had left, Darling paced in his study, working off some of the tension. She had proven a lot more personable than rumor suggested, but the facts were what they were; Tellwyrn was by far the most dangerous individual he’d ever had under his roof, including the Crow. Mary, at least, was somewhat predictable. Her motives were understood.

Still, it had been well worth it. Tellwyrn’s information was extremely useful, and her offer to help had been more than he’d dared to hope for. Of course, he was still stuck in a contest of wills with a dragon. There was nothing for him to cheer over just yet.

Price cleared her throat softly from the doorway. “Would your Grace like a brandy?”

“Y—no,” he said. “No, Fauna lectures me enough as it is. It’s not even noon, Price. Honestly, I’m surprised at you. What kind of bacchanal are you running here?”

“As you say, your Grace,” she said, perfectly neutral and yet accusing. He grinned at her.

“Price, I have just had a thought.”

“Shall I alert the fire marshal, your Grace?”

“My, aren’t you hilarious. I’ve been thinking I needed to keep this dragon issue as strictly separate from the Archpope and his schemes as possible.”

“That sounds sensible, your Grace.”

“Mm hm. However.” He turned from her and began to pace again. “Based on Tellwyrn’s recommendation, I need to find something straightforward and aggressive to point at Khadizroth until she can get some other dragons to deal with him. On the other hand, the Archpope expects me to recruit and control some of the world’s most dangerous adventurers. My biggest problem there has been finding something for them to do; these aren’t people who’ll be willing to be put on retainer and sit around in pubs until they’re called for. And what, I ask you, is more of a classic task for adventurers than slaying a dragon?”

“I confess I had rather hoped your Grace would task them with the collection of proverbial bear rumps. I have an excellent recipe.”

Darling grinned fiendishly. “Sometimes, Price, when the gods smile on us, two problems are the solutions to each other.”

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5 – 2

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Despite the intermittent freezing drizzle, Sweet was enjoying himself. For one thing, he was full of hot spiced tea (with just a smidge of brandy); for another, the weather was an excuse for him to peacock a little bit. His customary loud, slightly scruffy suit was augmented with a truly garish scarf, a ragged broad-brimmed hat trailing a patchy old feather halfway down his back, and a Punaji-style greatcoat. Also, he was wearing personal heating charms that kept the worst of the elements from troubling even his exposed face and fingers. Truly, modern enchantment was wonderful.

Mostly, though, it was good to be out and about, talking to people, tasting the air, being seen. He’d been making his rounds most of the morning, for the first time in more than a week—far too long. Sweet wasn’t meant to be kept in the safety of the Guild or Church, and no matter how he savored the high-stakes intrigues of Justinian and the Empire, he did get tired of associating only with the rich and well-bred. That was the Bishop’s turf. It was good to just be Sweet again. He needed to find or make time to do this more often; it kept him grounded.

Which was why he was annoyed when someone behind him cleared his throat and said, “Your pardon, Bishop Darling?”

He was passing through one of the city’s back alley markets—not of illegal goods, in this case, but simply the kind of place where the less-than-wealthy could acquire non-perishable items for less than the going rate, due to the fact that most had been damaged or worn out and shoddily (or not at all) repaired. And yes, well, some of them had probably fallen off the backs of various carts.

Sweet suppressed his annoyance and turned, putting on an amiable smile. His instinctive reaction was that nobody who ought to be talking to him would have called him that, here, in this getup, but that was just knee-jerk defensiveness; just because this fellow didn’t know his ways didn’t mean he had nothing worthwhile to say. Some of Sweet’s best tips came from people he wouldn’t have paid to shine his boots.

Upon finding himself face-to-face with an elf in a sharp suit, he immediately thought of the Jackal, but just as quickly dismissed that idea. This elf wore a startling emerald green shirt under his jacket, and had a diffident aspect totally unlike the assassin’s insouciance. Also, he was underdressed for the weather, and tensely hunched in on himself, though not quite shivering.

“Well, hi there,” Sweet said easily. “I don’t think you’ve had the pleasure. What can I do for you?”

The man smiled thinly at him. “I’m afraid I must take up a certain amount of your time, Bishop Darling. You have something which belongs to my master, Khadizroth.” He stopped, gazing significantly at Sweet with the distinctive expression of someone who has just dropped an important name and awaits the awed recognition thereof.

“Oh?” Sweet replied. “Can you narrow that down for me?”

The elf’s smile faded. “I think you know.”

“Sonny Jim,” Sweet said condescendingly, “I’m a ranking priest of the god of thieves. I make it a point of principle not to own anything that didn’t use to belong to someone else. So no, seriously, I need you to be a lot more specific about several details. Is it…bigger than a breadbox?”

The elf glanced furtively about, and Sweet wanted to roll his eyes. This one was clearly a newcomer to illicit dealings—but the fact that he betrayed his nervousness of onlookers revealed that his business was, at minimum, illicit. Still, nobody was paying the two of them the slightest attention. Just because the people selling wares in this alley were on the right side of the law didn’t mean they were strangers to seeing shady deals unfold. Everyone present had the good sense to vigorously mind their own business, especially when an agent of the Guild was involved.

“I am referring,” the man said in a lower tone, all but glaring now, “to the two women. Lianwe and Shinaue.”

Sweet coughed to poorly cover a chuckle—and skillfully conceal his sudden unease. “Buddy, you may want to reconsider your terminology. This city is crawling with Avenists. We don’t refer to women as ‘somethings’ around here, nor imply that one can have ownership of them. Also, neither name rings a bell.”

“Enough,” the elf snapped. “I know you have them. Two teenage elves; you’ve hardly been secretive about the fact that they live in your house! My master has a prior claim to those girls.”

“I see,” Sweet said slowly. “Well…how about that. And here I thought they were free range.”

“That was my master’s impression,” said the elf, calming slightly. “Which is why he sent me to approach you as a gentleman, and discuss a deal. You have clearly made an investment in them, unaware that you were poaching in his territory. To demonstrate that there is no ill will, my master has authorized me to discuss fair compensation for your trouble, once they are returned to him.”

“Mm hm,” Sweet said seriously, wearing a thoughtful expression. “I see, I see. Well, if he’s willing to be reasonable about it, perhaps we can do business. So your master—Khadgar, was it?”

“Khadizroth,” the elf said peevishly.

“Right, yes, sorry. I have the most terrible memory, though in my defense, that’s barely even a name. Anyhow! I think we can establish a starting point for negotiations.” Smiling blandly, he held out his hand. “Can I ask you to carry a message to him?”

“I—if necessary,” the elf said reluctantly, very slowly moving to clasp Sweet’s hand in his own. “My master is not to be lightly bothered; I have full authority to negotiate on his behalf—”

Sweet wasn’t a fighter by specialization and didn’t oversee most of his apprentices’ combat training, but in the course of their education he’d managed to pick up a few points about sparring with elves. They were devilishly fast, agile, and impossibly coordinated, but not very strong at all. The key was to get your hands on them. Once the sparring match turned into a wrestling match, the advantage was the human’s.

He gripped the elf’s wrist, whirled and took off at a run. His momentum kept his gasping prisoner trailing along behind him, too off-balance to even keep his feet, much less launch an attack, his meager weight barely even a consideration. Sweet dashed a couple of yards till he found a particularly slick stretch of pavement and dived into a controlled slide, still dragging his flabbergasted hostage. Pushing forward with a foot every once in a while, he kept going until they approached the mouth of another alley running across this one, its mouth on one side filled with a heap of broken, half-rotted barrels that smelled of the ancient memory of fish and decomposition. Then he hopped to the side, onto a patch of cobblestones that gave his feet better purchase, spun the elf in a full circle, and hurled him bodily into the trash.

It probably wasn’t hard enough to damage him seriously, but elven physiology being what it was, the poor fellow was dazed, winded, and carrying a collection of bruises and scrapes that were going to be with him for a good while, unless he went to a healer to have them dealt with.

Sweet glanced around to make sure everyone nearby was pointedly not seeing any of this—as they should be—then stepped over to him and knelt next to the elf’s head. The man blinked, glassy-eyed, up at him.

“Be sure you convey that message exactly,” he said cheerfully. “So much nuance is lost in translation, you know? Oh, and a little addendum. Those girls are apprentices of the Thieves’ Guild. They aren’t his, and they aren’t mine.” He let the good-humored facade drop and stared grimly down at the fallen elf. “They belong to Eserion. Your boss should think about picking on somebody his own size.”

With that, he turned and strolled away.

Back the way he came, though, rather than on to the rest of his customary rounds. It seemed that, once again, his usual habits would have to yield to the newest crisis.


 

“You wouldn’t have to hold it closed like that if you’d just get a coat like a normal person.”

“Oh, shut up. You’re just jealous because I’m stylish.”

“Stylish? Stylish? You are the only person in this century who wears a cloak!”

“Well, yeah! What did you think ‘stylish’ meant?”

Price arrived while the two elves, grinning and bickering amiably, finished hanging up their outer garments in the hall.

“Good afternoon, girls,” she said. “He’s waiting for you in the study.”

“Uh oh,” Flora said, grinning. “Not the study.”

“Nothing good ever happens in the study! Are we about to get spanked?”

“You wish.”

“Oh…ew. Gross. You are such a freak.”

“You love it.”

Price stood, watching them expressionlessly as they climbed the stairs, then followed at a distance.

Fauna rapped twice on the study door before pushing it open and ducking her head in. “Hey there! What’s up, Sweet?”

He was sitting in the overstuffed chair behind his desk, gazing moodily at the far wall. At her entrance, he looked up, but didn’t smile. “Ah. Girls. C’mon in.”

They slipped inside, their own cheerful expressions growing more solemn. Sweet’s distant, thoughtful attitude didn’t exactly promise disaster, but it was sufficiently out of his normal character to be cause for concern.

“Is everything okay?” Flora asked.

“That’s a good question,” he said seriously. “Here’s a better one: Who’s Khadizroth?”

In the following silence, they both went rigid.

Sweet regarded them for a moment. “You’ve made excellent progress in the last few months, girls. It’s gotten almost impossible to shock you off your cool, and you’re turning into very competent little liars. So, based on this reaction, I’m going to assume whatever’s going on is a big damn deal.”

“Where did you hear that name?” Fauna whispered.

Sweet shook his head. “I haven’t pried into your history because you’ve the right to keep it to yourselves if you want. Matters become different when your history shows up in my city looking to collect you.”

“He’s here?” Flora squalled in alarm.

“I don’t know!” Sweet exclaimed. “But some poncy elf in a green shirt who claims to work for him told me today that you two are considered missing property.”

“We’ll go,” Fauna said tremulously. “We don’t want to involve you or the Guild in this. We’ll take—”

“Shut. Your. Mouth.”

Both their eyes widened at the ice in his tone. Sweet glared up at them, leaning forward and planting his hands flat on the desk. “You’re Guild; we don’t abandon our own. You’re my apprentices, and that means I protect you, I don’t give a shit who or what is after you. Goddammit, we’re family. If you have a problem, I have a problem, and straightening out problems is what I do. I don’t want to hear any more talk like that, understand? Ever.”

“Okay,” Flora said in a small voice, smiling despite the sheen of tears in her eyes. Fauna only nodded, biting her lip.

“Okay,” Sweet repeated, leaning back and relaxing slightly. “With that out of the way, my original and increasingly pertinent question remains. Who is this Khadizroth?”

They looked glumly at each other.

Fauna drew in a deep breath, visibly steeling herself. “Khadizroth the Green is the dragon who basically raised us. We took the headhunter pact to kill him. Obviously, we failed.”

Sweet stared at them silently for a moment, then drew in a breath slowly threw his nose and blew it out in a huff.

“PRICE!”

She entered, calm as always, carrying a tray bearing a glass of brandy.

“Ah. Thank you.” He took it from her and had a sip. “How do you always know?”

“Sir, it’s me, Price,” she said, deadpan. Sweet grimaced and took another drink.

“All right…stick around, I suspect you’ll need to be kept in the loop. Girls, sit. No, over there on the loveseat, might as well be comfortable. All right, let’s have it from the beginning, shall we?”

Once ensconced on the little sofa, the two elves looked at each other again. He couldn’t tell if they were silently communicating in the way they sometimes did, or just stalling.

“I believe it’s Flora’s turn to speak,” he said dryly.

She sighed, then did so. “Our parents were from the Cobalt Dawn tribe.”

“Dammit!” They both looked up at him in surprise. He shrugged. “I owe Style a doubloon. Sorry, go on.”

“I take that to mean you know what happened to the Cobalt Dawn,” Fauna said with some annoyance.

“Tried to fight the full power of the Imperial Army, yeah. It’s not exactly a state secret. Honestly, though, nobody’s seen or heard from any member of that tribe in more than a decade. The Army claims to have all but obliterated them. I always figured the rumors of holdouts were just fanciful nonsense.”

“They were,” Flora said, nodding. “There was a group of survivors, but… We were kept under tight control. I guarantee no rumors escaped.”

“After the Army routed the tribe,” Fauna continued, “Khadizroth rounded up what survivors he could. Only nine adults, all badly injured. Badly. Aside from broken bones and organ damage, they had lighting burns, mana burns… The kind of wounds that mean you need constant care. He also manged to find the tribe’s children, though.”

“All eight of us,” Flora chimed in. “We’d been sent away with the tribe’s youngest shaman before the battle. He ended up being the last grown member with an intact body.”

“We…were the oldest of the kids.”

They fell silent, staring at the carpet, and Sweet glanced at Price. Her face, as always, gave no hint what she thought of all this.

“What did a green dragon want with a bunch of elves?” he prompted after a moment.

Flora drew another deep, steadying breath. “He… Offered his protection. He would safeguard and provide for the remainder of the Cobalt Dawn tribe, make sure the wounded lacked for nothing. That we young ones would have a chance to grow up, safe from the Empire.”

“Generous,” Sweet said skeptically.

“Oh, there was a price,” Fauna said bitterly. “I assume you know how dragons reproduce?”

“Gnh.” He grimaced.

Flora nodded. “Of the surviving warriors…well, nobody was in adequate shape, nor likely ever would be again. But six of the young ones were girls.”

Sweet twisted his lips in revulsion, then frowned. “Wai, six? That’s…uncharacteristic. Dragons have always gone after one woman at a time. It’s their whole shtick.”

“Khadizroth wasn’t doing it for the pleasure, or the chase,” Fauna said grimly. “He had a plan.”

“He was concerned about the ascendancy of the Tiraan Empire, and the human race in general. What he wanted…was his own force to challenge them. A force of his own offspring.”

“That was the deal,” said Flora, looking suddenly exhausted. “The survival of the last of our tribe, and in exchange… We were to give him children, when we were old enough.”

“As many and as often as we could.”

“That,” Sweet said weakly, “is very nearly as terrifying as it is abhorrent. Gods, an army of dragons? But why did he need captive elves for that? Even when they go after one woman at a time, dragons sometimes resort to brute force rather than persuasion. Seems like he could just collect a harem from whoever was handy.”

“Well, it wasn’t as if he wanted to raise his own spawn,” Flora said venomously. “No, taking in a group of orphans was ideal. He would raise us, make sure we were loyal to him, then entrust us with bringing up…” She broke off, turning her head to glare at the wall.

“Sounds like that didn’t quite work out,” Sweet noted quietly.

“We were too old,” Fauna said, her voice uncharacteristically quiet, almost meek. “We…played along. It was the only way to survive. The younger ones bought into his cult of personality, but… We remembered our real families, we knew what it was he expected of us and what it meant. And as we got old enough to…to…”

“To start our duties,” Flora whispered, her eyes still averted. Fauna draped an arm around her and pulled her close.

“You ran,” Sweet said.

“We ran.” Fauna nodded. “But not just to get away. We went to Athan’Khar.”

“It…was the only thing we could think of.”

He let them compose themselves in silence. It took a couple of minutes, but Sweet simply kept his expression open and calm. Finally, Fauna drew in another breath.

“Well… We waited until he was away to come back. Then we…abducted the rest of the tribe. In small groups, using arcane and infernal teleportation.”

“The older ones were cowed, broken, dependent… The younger ones thoroughly invested in Khadizroth. He was their whole world. None of them would have left willingly.”

“We took them to other tribes, split them up across as wide a space as we could, explained to the elders and shaman what was going on.”

“They wouldn’t let us stick around,” Flora said bitterly. “We were eldei alai’shi. But they would certainly protect imperiled elves from a dragon. Even if it meant dealing with a certain amount of…”

“Brainwashing.”

“Yeah.”

They shared one of those long looks.

“Needless to say, he wasn’t happy when he got back.”

Sweet resisted the urge to whistle. A dragon against two headhunters? That had to have been a cataclysmic fight. It must indeed have happened deep in the Golden Sea, or everyone would have heard about it.

“It didn’t happen the way you’re probably thinking,” Flora said with grim amusement. “We ambushed him. Even with our powers, he’s still a dragon. Giving him a fair fight would have been suicidally stupid.”

“Apparently, though, he realized what we’d done, and didn’t think a fair fight against two headhunters was in his interests, either. So he fled.”

“After that… We roamed around a bit. We were free, but… Alone. No elves would let us near them, and the spirits…”

“We’d traded a bad situation for a worse one.”

“Eventually, we came to Tiraas, and…”

“And we’re pretty much caught up,” Sweet said firmly. They both looked up at him as he stood and came around to the front of the desk. “All right, on your feet, both of you.”

They stood, watching him with obvious trepidation. He stepped forward, wrapped his arms around them both, and held them close.

“I am just so goddamn proud of you girls. The initiative, the sacrifice, the sheer bloody willpower to get through that… You’re fucking amazing. Don’t let anybody try to tell you different.”

After a moment’s stiff resistance, they slumped, then melted, burying their faces in his shoulders. He just held them there while they quivered with silent sobs.

“We destroyed our own family,” Fauna said at last, muffled.

“They were furious…betrayed. They’ll never forgive us.”

“You destroyed nothing,” he said firmly. “Your family were drafted into a war. No matter how this dragon’s plans went, any confrontation with the Empire would have been messy as hell. Honestly, I can’t imagine what his endgame could have been. If he’d attacked the human race with a force that could have significantly threatened us, he wouldn’t just be dealing with the Empire. The Pantheon would have stepped into that; they’ve done it before, with things like demon invasions. A marauding dragon army would certainly have been serious enough. He was going to get what remained of your tribe killed. You saved their lives, not to mention the countless others who would have died in the conflict. Hell, you girls saved the whole bloody world, and look what you’ve given up to do it. No paladin who ever lived has anything on you for heroics.”

They finally pulled back enough to smile up at him. Weakly, through tears, but genuinely. He grinned back, gently ruffling their hair.

“The elf you say you spoke to…” Fauna said. “Did he look…scarred?”

“Was he really young?”

“No,” Sweet said, frowning. “He was an adult. No scars on his face or hands, and he didn’t have any trouble moving around. Or at least he didn’t before I threw him into a pile of driftwood.”

Their eyes widened. “You…did what?”

“Hey, the asshole was talking about you two like pieces of luggage, and clearly expected me to do the same. I chose to take exception.”

They glanced at each other, suddenly scowling. “Vannae,” said Flora.

“Old friend?”

“So-called shaman who was supposed to have been looking after us,” Fauna spat, finally pulling away from him. Flora followed suit.

“He was the one who campaigned for Khadizroth’s deal, got the other survivors to agree to it.”

“We stuck him with a forest elf tribe as far from the Golden Sea as we could get without crossing the ocean.”

“We figured even he would be grateful to get out from under the bastard’s scaly green thumb.”

“Apparently he’s managed to become actually loyal to Khadizroth after all these years.”

“And here we just thought he was a sycophant.”

“He did have that indefinable air of the brown-noser,” Sweet agreed solemnly, getting a pair of grins in response. “Well. That brings us to the here and now.”

He backed up and perched on the edge of his desk. Flora and Fauna didn’t sit back down, standing close together with arms around each other’s waists, watching him. Price looked on, cool as a cucumber.

“Even a dragon wouldn’t attack a whole tribe of elves,” Sweet said, frowning into the distance as he thought out loud. “Nor would a tribe of elves allow your compatriots to get away until they were sure they’d undone the damage of their upbringing.”

“The Empire finished off a tribe of elves pretty effectively,” Fauna said, scowling.

“With all due respect to your kin, the Cobalt Dawn picked a fight they failed to understand. It’s not widely known, but tribes out of the Golden Sea have skirmished with Imperial forces since then, too, and the results are a lot more even. By maximizing their advantages they do pretty well. This is still a massive shift; for most of history, any armed conflict between humans and elves was a decisive elven victory, which is probably why the Cobalt Dawn thought they could actually conquer a slice of Imperial territory. Anyhow, the point is, elves know how to deal with dragons, and it doesn’t usually involve fighting. I think it’s best to assume your buddy…Vannae, was it? He went back to the Big K on his own. Until we learn otherwise, the most logical conclusion is the rest of your people are still where you left them. It might not hurt for you to discreetly check up on them in the next week or so, though.”

They nodded in unison.

“The tribes won’t stand for us hanging around,” said Flora, “but they’ll probably be reasonable if we make it clear we’re just checking that our kin are all right.”

“So the issue is, what does Khadizroth want with you now?” Sweet stood and began pacing back and forth. “His dream of a dragon army is effectively wrecked. Revenge?”

“That would be like him,” Fauna said darkly. Sweet was already shaking his head, though.

“No… Doing it this way, he’s inviting your attention. Unless it’s to lure you into some kind of trap, that’s not a winning move on his part. You’re dangerous enough to give him pause. If he wanted to end you, he’d try what you tried: an ambush. So why let you see him coming?”

Sudden realization showed on their faces. “He wants to know who we’ve told!” Flora blurted.

“Bingo!” Sweet grinned. “Here we’ve got a green dragon who was actively plotting a massive campaign against the Tiraan Empire. Here the only people who know of it and have proven willing to resist him are hanging around Tiraas itself. He needs to find out who knows what before silencing you.”

“So…what do we do with that information?” Fauna asked hesitantly.

“For the time being, you leave it to me.” Sweet nodded, his expression firm. “The nature of his interest means he’ll be cautious; we have a little time to maneuver. All right… You two head off to dinner. I’ll be along shortly. I just need to think a bit.”

“Sweet,” Flora said, staring at him worriedly, “he’s a dragon.”

“It’s not that we lack respect for your skills, please don’t think that…”

“But don’t try to take Khadizroth on. Please.”

“What, are you two somehow under the impression you’ve been training with the Silver Legions all this time?” Sweet grinned at them. “We’re thieves. We don’t take people on. Sure, if they’re small fry, maybe we bust their kneecaps, but for a worthy foe? This calls for plans, traps, and tricks. This is the perfect time for a really good con. You let me work on this for a bit, okay? Trust me, we’re gonna be fine. Now seriously, you head down and get fed.”

Impulsively, they both rushed forward and hugged him again.

“Thank you,” Fauna whispered.

“For everything.”

After they had left, he slowly paced back around to his chair and sank down, frowning into space. How did one go about conning a dragon? He needed a lot more information on this Khadizroth…

Immediately the thought of the Chamber of Truth sprang to the forefront of his mind, and just as immediately he dismissed it. He wasn’t sure, yet, whether Justinian had some means of keeping track of what was researched in the hidden library, and wasn’t about to take the risk of pulling the Church into this. Justinian and his schemes were enough of a nightmare without giving him a dragon to play with. Besides, he had several very good reasons for wanting to avoid bringing Flora and Fauna to anyone else’s attention. No, far better to keep those two pieces of his life strictly separated for now.

Of course, he realized, he did know someone who was likely well-acquainted with dragons and any other major players operating in the world. Of course, their interactions had always been pointedly at her initiation, not his.

“Price,” he said, a grin stretching across his face.

“Sir?”

“I want you to find, buy, steal or build a scarecrow.”

“A…scarecrow, your Grace?”

He nodded vigorously. “And then place it on the roof.”

Price was still and silent as a tombstone for a second and a half, which was what she did because she was far too proper to dramatically sigh. “May I suggest that if your Grace desires to antagonize the neighbors, there are more elegant ways?”

“You’re hilarious, Price. Seriously, hop to. I’m gonna need to call in some major help with this one.”

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