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Grip seemed even more disinclined than usual to talk, if the blistering pace she set was any indication. Of the four of them, Ross had the shortest legs, and was beginning to breathe heavily by the time they got out of Glass Alley into one of the slightly less disreputable districts which bordered it. The whole area of the city was poor and none of the surroundings were particularly nice, but it was a strange thing to see, how precisely contained Glass Alley was. The lines of demarcation were invisible, but they were there. The five of them stepped into a place which was just another place, from a broken netherworld inhabited by the desperate and ruled by thieves.

It took that long for even the most talkative of them to screw up her courage.

“You’re sure about that?” Tallie asked, keeping pace. Grip had turned right, heading back toward the city center and the home of most of the major cults’ headquarters, including the Collegium. “I mean, Ironeye is kind of an evil bitch. I’m just surprised you’d leave things like that, in her hands.” She hesitated for a fraction of a beat. “And quite frankly, after all that bullshit back there I’m a little less inclined to just assume you know best.”

“And what else did you notice?” Grip turned her head to give Tallie a look over her shoulder; her expression was cold but not hostile, which under the circumstances was downright encouraging. “She trusted me just as much. One sentence from me, and she took it on faith that I was being straight with her, enough to risk deploying her assets and involving the Boss. Even when I showed up with you losers, not to mention our own issues.”

“Got a bit of history, there?” Darius asked.

Grip grunted. “The intermittent history of two people with the sense to avoid each other whenever possible. I can’t fucking stand that woman, and I do believe I’m slightly fonder of her than she is of me. None of that matters. When it comes down to it, we both know the score.”

“You’re both Guild,” Jasmine murmured.

“That is part of it.” Grip kept her eyes forward as she strode onward. The snow was thickening, flakes both larger and denser; the wind wasn’t too sharp, but most sensible people had still vacated the streets. They passed very few others, and most of those safely ensconced in enchanted carriages. “There are more calculations to consider in a situation like that. Each of our goals, agendas, personalities, loyalties. Whether we’d risk Guild censure to embarrass the other—which neither of us would. Whether both of us are truly devoted to Eserion’s goals, and in neither case is that in question. You don’t ever just trust someone, even a fellow thief. Hell, especially a fellow thief. Eserites like to keep one another on their toes, and the Guild encourages that. But a good Eserite knows the score. In the thick of it, you’ll know who you can count on, and when.”

“Fucking how?” Tallie exclaimed.

Grip glanced back again, this time with just the faintest smile. “None of you have been at this more than two weeks, right? You wouldn’t need to learn if you knew everything. You’ll get there. Despite your multiple fuckups, considering the situation you kids have stumbled into, you’re not doing half bad for your level of experience. Don’t sweat it if you don’t grasp everything. As long as you’re apprentices, you can trust senior thieves to watch out for you. Don’t get used to leaning on that, but take advantage of it while you need it.”

She fell silent as they crossed a street, one of the concentric rings which rippled outward from Imperial Square toward the walls. The difference wasn’t as marked as leaving Glass Alley, but they were definitely stepping upward in the wealth and class of the districts they traversed. This one had taller and sturdier buildings, more commercial than residential, and slightly broader sidewalks. It was only early afternoon, but between the snow and the cloud cover, the fairy lamps here had been ignited; those in the previous district through which they passed apparently did not warrant the same priority of attention.

“Do you actually believe all that?” Jasmine asked quietly.

“You’ll need to specify.”

“You know what I mean. That…what you said. All the things that justified the cruelty you showed that woman.”

“And clearly, you weren’t listening,” Grip said irritably. “I told you, I don’t justify anything; I do what is necessary. I am not a nice person, Jasmine, and most days I doubt I could be considered a good one. I have my integrity, though. My honor. That matters a great deal more, in my opinion. And yes, I wouldn’t do things like that, or any of this, if I didn’t believe in it.”

“Omnu’s balls,” Tallie muttered. “Is the whole Guild like that? I’m not gonna lie, lady, that was some scary shit back there.”

“Pretty twisted logic, too,” Ross muttered.

“All systems are corrupt,” Grip recited. “The Guild tries not to be more of a system than it can help. I told you the straight truth of what I believe and why I act the way I do, and as devoted as I am to my way, it’s just that: mine. We’re not big on doctrines, here. Look at the Eserites you kids have grown to know: Style, Lore, Glory, Webs, Ironeye. All starting from the same basic philosophy, all gone off in totally different directions, yet still devoted to that same central truth. Most of the people on that short list wouldn’t cross the street to spit on each other, but in a situation like this, we come together to protect our own.” She paused, glancing back at them again, her expression now unreadable. “Even if you get specifically sponsored by someone, the point is not to become a doctrinal clone of anybody. On the contrary, you’re supposed to understand the very simple starting point of Eserite philosophy, and make it your own. If you don’t wanna become me, then you’d better not try. But you fucking listen when I tell you something. Every perspective you come to understand contributes to you finding your own.”

“I think what we’re driving at,” said Darius, “is that the crap you were just talking is… Fuck, that’s how over-the-top Black Wreath warlocks rant in bards’ stories. I mean, if the Guild can lead to that, we’ve gotta wonder if we’re in the right place…”

Grip actually laughed—it was a short, bitter bark, but a laugh nonetheless. “Oh, you sweet little children. Any philosophy can lead to any extreme. All fucking systems, kids. Look at the Hands of Avei: paragons of justice or mass-murdering loons, depending on which one you pick. And hell, they even had a pacifist, once. What was her name?”

“Laressa,” Jasmine said quietly.

“Right, sure. That’s an easy example; Avenism is all about war, it justifies a whole mess of atrocities under the right circumstances.”

Jasmine scowled, but remained silent as Grip continued lecturing.

“The Hands of Omnu, now, those are interesting. Wandering healers, some. There was that Sheng chick, I don’t think I could pronounce the name if I could even remember it, who used to carry a broom and sweep her path so she didn’t accidentally kill a bug while walking.”

“Chang Zhi,” said Ross.

“Uh huh. And then there’s my favorite, the Sun Style grandmaster Adeche N’tombu. Sun Style fighting has zero offensive moves, it’s all about redirecting an attacker’s energy back at him, but you can maim the fuck out of somebody with their own energy if you know what you’re doing. That magnificent bastard walked from town to town in the Bandit Kingdoms, leaving a trail of torn ligaments and compound fractures until there were so few bandits left they had to change the name. ‘I have come to bring peace,’ he said to everybody. Love that guy. But to talk to any Omnist monk today, it’s hard to picture either of those extremes, right?” She shook her head. “In my opinion, every religion that survives long enough to be called one does so because it makes some very good points. And those don’t really matter all that much. Faith is a pretext; people are going to do what they’re going to do, and find their justifications after the fact. Systems are corrupt because people always corrupt them. The Eserite way works because it’s simple, basic. The belief is just two things: an acknowledgment that power corrupts, and a statement that virtuous people must oppose that corruption. The doctrine just boils down to a command to develop your skills and rely on them as a way of life.”

“All governments and all laws exist to benefit those in power,” Tallie recited. “I mean, I’m here because I’ve got a hard-earned suspicion of authority figures. But after seeing where this can lead to tonight, I just… I’ve gotta wonder if that’s not overstating the case.”

“You can take it literally,” Grip said, shrugging. “I do. Not all Eserites do, though. Silence doesn’t; Tricks doesn’t. We don’t exactly chitchat over tea and biscuits, but I’m pretty sure neither Glory nor Sweet think every government is devoid of altruism. Both of them are pretty tied up in the Imperial regime, in their own way. And you know what, it works for them. Both are good Eserites, as are some others I’ve known who argued at length that most of the catechism is a warning to be wary of people with power, overstated because hyperbole makes a point. We’re going to table this discussion for now, though.” She turned her head to look at them. “See if you can glance back without making it obvious what you’re doing.”

All of them but Jasmine faltered slightly in their steps. In uneven unison, the four shifted position slightly to glance over their shoulders at the street behind.

Grip sighed heavily. “I can see we have a lot of work ahead of us.”

“That carriage,” Tallie murmured. “It’s going awfully slow.”

“Could be…just driving safely in the snow?” Darius offered.

“When you noticed it,” said Grip, “and for fuck’s sake don’t stop, you jackalopes. When you noticed it, what was your first, immediate, instinctive response?”

“Well, that it was following us,” Jasmine replied. “But there are other explanations…”

“I’ll get to those in a moment.” Grip turned her head to study the storefronts on the opposite side of the street, only the fastest flick of her eye taking in the carriage behind them. “Always trust your instincts about danger. There’s a little voice in the back of your head that warns you when things are about to go bad. That voice is smarter than you, and sees things you won’t notice. Once the trouble starts, you have to keep a cool head and think, but when that little voice gives a warning? You damn well listen to it.”

“Noted,” said Ross. “So…the carriage?”

“It’s not slow because of the snow,” said Grip, now studying the storefronts they were passing close to. “That’s a late-model Dawnco sedan; anything built in the last five years by one of the big names in carriages has traction control enchantments. Take note, by the way, those things are fantastic vehicles for pulling jobs. Not nearly as eye-catching as a Falconer and a hell of a lot more reliable than older carriages. Those old jalopies are all but invisible, but they break down at the drop of a hat. Dawnco economy models are cheap enough you can abandon one, too, if your take is big enough to justify the expense. Or you can invest in modifying the body to make it look like an older, less interesting rig. The Guild has a couple of enchanters and craftsmen who do that kind of work.”

“Before you turned this into a lesson,” said Tallie, “I believe you were saying that thing is following us? Or am I getting ahead?”

“You are, but I was,” Grip said, her voice still calm despite the gathering tension in each of them. “Also note that thing has lanterns, and they aren’t lit despite the weather. Driving a carriage at a walking pace with the running lights off means it’s following somebody. I’ve been watching, and nobody else walking has stayed on the same course since it turned up.”

“Shit,” Darius said feelingly.

“Cool head,” Grip reminded him. “Think. You know the situation, and you know who your enemy is. This isn’t an immediate danger, but it could become one if we get onto a street with no other bystanders. Slow your pace slightly, kids. Right now, we’ve got a captive who will give information, and have uprooted their nest. Once that information gets back to the Guild, especially if they actually have Pick in there, it’ll be open season on their asses. They are not prepared to deal with both the Guild and the Empire, and politics or no, the Empire will have to come down on any group of dwarves keeping an Imperial citizen hostage.”

“Wait, so…you make it sound like this is over,” Tallie protested.

“No,” said Darius, frowning. “Once Rumor reaches the Guild and we reach safe haven with Schwartz, it’s over. Not yet.”

“Exactly,” said Grip.

“Think they can intercept Rumor?” Jasmine asked.

Grip snorted. “Maybe. They pretty much have to try. As a general rule, though, Rumor doesn’t get intercepted. There’s a reason Ironeye keeps her around, and it’s not because anybody enjoys the company of a surly drunk. Watch your surroundings, now; we don’t want to wander onto a block with no witnesses.” They glanced back again; the carriage was still following them with its lights of, half a block distant. “They’re in damage control mode. If they can’t nab Rumor or break up Ironeye’s posse—and I’ll be amazed if they have the manpower for that—they’ll still have the Guild on them, but they can still keep the Empire out of it by eliminating anyone who can give more information to the police.”

“Meaning us,” said Ross weakly.

“Us and especially your friend Schwartz, given what you said he can do. They’ll need us silenced, and away from him.”

“They won’t let us reach the Square, then,” said Jasmine, risking a glance back at the carriage. “Or anywhere too close to the Collegium…”

“You can stop being surreptitious,” Grip said wryly. “You suck at it. They know we know; don’t act skittish, it makes you look like prey.”

“So, rooftops or sewers?” Tallie asked.

“Hang on, think ahead,” said Grip. “They lose us, they go after the next viable target.”

“Schwartz,” Jasmine said grimly.

The enforcer glanced back at them. “This is your game, kids; I’m just here to coach. We can lose these fuckers almost without effort, but that’ll direct them pretty much entirely at Schwartz. They’re under a time limit; the longer this goes, the more risk of the Guild mobilizing and/or Intelligence taking an interest. Keeping ourselves as a target will split their resources, give Schwartz and whoever else more of a chance.”

“Fuck it,” said Darius, “we don’t ditch friends like that.”

“You presume to speak for the group?” Grip asked mildly.

“In this case, hell yes he does,” Tallie snapped. “We all…know the score.”

She turned again to give them a broad grin, her eyes flicking to the carriage momentarily. “That’s what I like to hear. Guild or not, you’d best not make a habit of turning on allies; that builds a rep that’ll make it impossible for you to function. All right, then, we wanna make this interesting, but not impossible…”

“You don’t seem scared,” Ross noted.

“Oh, I’ve been in worse spots,” the enforcer said with a reminiscent smile. “Frequently. All right, this’ll do. Follow my lead and be quick.”

They had come to another major intersection, well-lit by fairy lamps and with a carriage passing by along the cross street. The district beyond was visibly more genteel than this one…and more empty. Two men in the heavy coats of the Army’s winter uniform were trudging down the sidewalk ahead, but there were no other pedestrians, and no vehicles.

Rather than crossing the street, though, Grip turned sharply right—not along the sidewalk, but into the cafe which stood on the corner. The others dutifully trooped in after her, enjoying the warmth of arcane heating ranges set up under the windows. Their personal heating charms were holding, but they weren’t the same as being indoors out of the snow.

The place was remarkably busy for being after the lunch hour; apparently quite a few people had been caught in the sudden change of weather, and decided to see if it could be waited out here. To judge by the morose expressions of most of the patrons, that hope was fading. Grip made a beeline for the counter at the back of the front room. Or more precisely, for the door beside it.

“Hey there,” she said pleasantly to a startled-looking man standing behind the counter. “Don’t mind us, just need to use your rear door.”

“Oh, no, you don’t!” Before the youth could answer, the door opened and a brawny man with an impressive mustache strode through, planting himself in her path and folding his arms. “Employees only.”

“This really won’t inconvenience you in the slightest,” Grip said, still with a friendly smile.

“Not happening,” he said flatly, staring her down. “If you’re not going to order something, you can leave. Out the front.”

“Aw, c’mon,” Tallie started to wheedle, but Grip snapped her fingers at her and she fell silent, scowling.

Grip, meanwhile flicked her other hand, causing a gold coin to shoot out of her sleeve and into her palm, where she immediately slipped it between her fingers and began rolling it back and forth across her knuckles, still regarding the cafe’s apparent owner with a smile.

“Now, friend, I’m asking you for a simple favor,” she said politely. “And I’ll walk away from here with a memory of how you treated my friends and I in our hour of need. Might be I can direct some business your way, if I’ve a need to.”

Both men had their now-wide eyes fixed on the coin, clearly recognizing the gesture. The big man coughed, making his mustache flutter. “Ah, yes, well… I suppose rules can be bent. If it’s important. Please, uh, don’t mess with anything in the kitchen.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it!” Grip promised, winking and flipping the coin at him. He caught it by reflex, then instinctively pressed himself against the counter as she strode forward toward the door behind him. “You’re a true gentleman, sir. A little token for your trouble.”

In the kitchen behind, she marched straight through, ignoring the stares of the two cooks, though Darius winked flirtatiously at one. There was a door on the opposite side opening onto a rear hallway; the door at the end of this let them out into an alley. Grip led them to the nearest end, and thus back onto a main street running perpendicular to the one they had been on.

“Hang on a second,” Tallie exclaimed, “this is that cross-street we just came to! We could’ve just—what the hell was the point of all that? Look, there they are!”

Indeed the carriage had just rounded the corner going much faster than it had been previously. It immediately slowed, so abruptly that it skidded for a moment on the thickening snow.

“Theatrics,” said Grip, setting off down the new sidewalk at a much faster pace. The carriage had quickly regained traction (she was apparently right about its enchantments) and came after them, now close enough they could hear the hum of its wheel charms. It had its canvas top raised over the driver’s seat and its windscreen was partially obscured by snow, concealing the identity of the driver. It seemed a safe bet it was a dwarf, though. Grip carried on lecturing, seemingly unperturbed by the pursuit. “Never underestimate the value of a little theater. We want them to follow us around; making that too obvious would prompt them to make a move. If we make at least token efforts to get away—ah, good. More.”

This street curved slightly, being one of the circular ones running around the entire city. It apparently wasn’t a major one, to judge by the frequency of “spoke” streets intersecting it; they had already come to one of these, and another seemingly identical Dawnco sedan had come barreling down this, decelerating so fast it went into an outright skid, one of its wheels bouncing off the curb.

“Good?” Ross exclaimed.

“Means we’re holding their attention, all right,” Darius said grimly. “Holy hell, how many carriages do they need?”

“This could be a problem,” Jasmine said tersely as the new carriage came to a stop partially blocking the intersection. “We’re alone.”

“Shit,” Tallie whispered, glancing around at the complete lack of vehicles and pedestrians surrounding them. “I knew we should’ve gone down the street with the soldiers…”

“Relax,” Grip murmured, thrusting her hands into the pockets of her duster. “Calm. Always keep a clear head when in danger.”

“Easy for you to say!” Ross growled.

The first carriage accelerated momentarily, bringing itself around to park perpendicular to the course of the street; between the two, they effectively blocked off the little section containing their quarry.

The new carriage’s door opened and a short, stocky figure in a heavy hooded coat bounded down, carrying a battlestaff.

“Afternoon!” Grip said, waving. “How’s business?”

“Wearing on my patience, thank you for asking,” he replied. The voice was male, but it wasn’t Rogrind; this one was much more tenor. He took the staff in a two-handed grip, not yet bringing it up to point at them. “If you would be so good as to step into the carriage? We’ll have to split you up, I’m afraid, seating is limited.”

“Now, what would you say were the odds of that happening?” Grip mused aloud.

“Fifty-fifty,” he replied, bringing the staff up to point at her. “I would take it as a kindness if you’d join me. Leaving corpses in the street will cause all kinds of trouble.”

“You can’t possibly think you’re going to get away with this,” Jasmine said, clenching her fists. Behind them, the other carriage remained ominously silent, though its driver seat door opened just a crack.

“Indeed, young lady, you have made sufficient trouble that I am, in a word, desperate. Factor that into your calculations.”

“You really don’t know the situation you’re in, partner,” Grip said with a wolfish grin. “Fire that thing once, and everybody gets a lot less polite. I think you fail to appreciate what that will mean.”

“I don’t have time for this,” the dwarf said curtly, wrapping his fingers around the staff’s clicker. “I’m not going to bargain, banter, or listen to threats. Into the carriages now, or—”

He broke off, turning his head to stare at yet another carriage which came roaring up the street at them. This one was larger and a few years older, a well-maintained and rather opulent Falconer luxury rig with, to judge by its speed, significantly boosted wheel enchantments.

It was also, to the apprentices, familiar.

The dwarf only belatedly realized the driver’s intention, swinging his staff around to aim at the oncoming vehicle, which was a mistake.

Before he got it fully into position, the carriage swerved straight at him, impacting him head-on and slamming him into the fender of his own carriage, which crumpled under the blow as the vehicle was spun almost a hundred eighty degrees by the much heavier Falconer, which survived the collision with nothing but a crunched fender of its own.

Behind them, the door of the other carriage burst fully open, but one of the passenger doors of the Falconer had done so before it fully stopped. Before the second dwarf could emerge, a figure wrapped in a coat and heavy scarf leaned out, aiming a battlestaff one-handed, and fired a blast of military-grade lightning.

Glass shattered, wood splintered, and at least one structural enchantment spectacularly failed with a percussive boom that sent a puff of glittering enchanting dust across half the street. The burning carriage collapsed to the pavement, one of its front wheels flying across to bounce off a lamp post.

“Oh, this is good and discreet,” Grip said acidly.

“Well, top of the afternoon to you,” Alan Vandro boomed jovially, raising his staff to point skyward and waving at them. “Can I offer you folks a lift?”

“How the hell did you find oh you conniving son of a bitch!” Tallie clapped a hand to her forehead. “Those fucking charms!”

“Yes, yes, you’ll be wanting to chew me out at length before hearing any explanations,” Vandro agreed. “Might I respectfully suggest this isn’t the time or the place?”

“Hell with it,” Grip growled, striding forward and shoving rudely past him into his carriage, which he bore with a genial grin. “Everybody getting arrested would put a stop to this game, but something tells me we’re not gonna persuade this ass to come along quietly and explain that we aren’t the ones shooting up the street. Get in, you loafers, time’s wasting! I guarantee somebody’s already called for the cops; we saw two patrolmen barely a block from here!”

That got them moving. The carriage’s passenger compartment was roomy enough for six to pile in without being unduly cramped, though it was rather cozy, especially with the three extra battlestaves leaning against the seat opposite Vandro’s.

No sooner was the door pulled shut than the carriage whirred back to life and began swiftly putting distance between itself and the scene of the brief firefight.

“Destination, sir?” Wilberforce asked through the small window separating them from the driver’s seat.

“Well, now, I’m none too sure just what you kids are up to,” Vandro confessed, winking at them. “Only thing my girl Saduko could tell me was you were moving around awful rapidly, and there were arcane implements of torture being fired in your immediate vicinity. Course, considering the company you’re keeping, something tells me those may not have been used on you.” He winked at Grip, who stared at him as she might at a stain of uncertain provenance.

“Short version:” said Darius, “the dwarves no longer want us recruited for information, they want us as silenced as possible before we can cause them any more trouble. We’ve helped capture one of their people and taken their hideout, all of which is now in Ironeye’s hands. Rumor’s been sent to tell the Boss, and we were on the way to find Schwartz, who they’re also after. If we can rescue him, we can use his skills and some intel we’ve gathered to crack open their operation.”

“Hmm hm hm,” Vandro mused. “And they know this?”

“They do,” said Grip. “These are professionals, and they’re now backed into a corner. They’re getting aggressive.”

“We have to get to the Colleg—”

Jasmine was interrupted by an impact which rocked the carriage violently, sending them all careening into the right wall and shoving it off course.

“Sir,” Wilberforce said calmly, “we seem to have more new acquaintances.”

The carriage shook again, the other Dawnco rig that had pulled alongside it ramming against it, seeking to drive them into a lamp post. The Falconer had the more powerful wheel charms, though, and Wilberforce yielded just enough space to gain some maneuverability before expertly swerving to the left, slamming the sides of the two vehicles together again and sending the smaller carriage skidding onto the opposite sidewalk.

“Omnu’s fucking balls!” Tallie shouted, extricating herself from Ross’s lap. “Aren’t there any goddamn police in this fucking city?”

“Not near here,” Vandro said, his good cheer apparently undiminished. “Big cock-up near the north wall. Multiple water pipes burst, a whole neighborhood getting rapidly iced down; most of the nearby city guard is converging there to help. Not a coincidence, something tells me.”

“These assholes actually are good,” Grip said with grudging respect.

“All right, Schwartz will have to look after himself,” Vandro said grimly. “We can ease their desperation by not going after him. Wilberforce, take the next turn that points us away from the Collegium.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Whoah, hang on!” Tallie snapped. “Who are you to decide that?”

“The fella whose carriage you’re riding in, my dear,” Vandro said, his jovial smile returning. “Which, by the way, has taken damage on your behalf amounting to more than you’ve made in any previous three years of your life. It’s good strategy, though.” He winked at Jasmine. “You agree, don’t you, hon?”

She drew in a deep breath, looking profoundly unhappy. “It’s… Well, he’s right. These dwarves are clearly willing to go to extremes now; we can ward off more destruction and possibly harm to innocents by not forcing their hand. And Schwartz… He’s probably the safest of any of us. He’s a caster and hopefully he’s in the Collegium. I hope,” she added, worry lines appearing on her forehead.

“Fuck,” Tallie hissed, slamming a fist into the glossy mahogany paneling of the carriage’s wall. “Shit fuck damn!”

“They’ve backed off,” Grip noted, peering out the window. “All right, we can’t just drive around the city all day, they won’t stay backed off for long.”

“If we go for anywhere safe, they’ll just start up again,” Darius said, frowning. “They can’t have us getting too near police. What’s… Is there a safe spot we can get to that they won’t recognize is safe until its too late?”

“Get us into the most genteel neighborhood you can without going too near the Square,” Vandro instructed Wilberforce, then turned back to the others. “The risk of upsetting nobles will restrain them a bit. Upset nobles exponentially increase everyone’s headaches. This only buys us a little time, though.”

“Glory,” Ross said suddenly. “They don’t know about Glory.”

“I say, that’s a capital idea!” Vandro exclaimed. “Good man! Wilberforce! You know the address?”

“Of course, sir.”

“Wait,” Jasmine said sharply. “I don’t like the idea of dragging her into this. We left Rasha there, too…”

“Actually, that is a good idea,” said Grip. “Glory’s connected to everything in this city, and you’d better believe her home has the best defenses a civilian residence is allowed in Tiraas. They won’t know its significance—hopefully—it’s defensible, and she can get us more help.”

Jasmine pulled aside the rear window shade to stare at the carriage still following them, its fender and side paneling scarred by the recent joust. “If it comes down to it…I can—”

“Whoah,” Grip said firmly. “It’s not time to play the trump card yet, kid. We’re Eserites; we’ll maneuver before we resort to a pitched battle.”

“That’s the spirit!” Vandro said, his exuberant cheer not quite masking the thoughtful look he leveled at Jasmine.

He wasn’t the only one.

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Grip insisted on bringing the dwarf.

Her logic was sound: simply taking directions from their hostage would have almost surely resulted in being sent on a mockingjay hunt. That did not make the prospect a pleasant one, however. Despite the increasingly inclement weather driving people off the streets, there was no chance of dragging a bruised and bloodied captive through the city without attracting notice, even had their prisoner been inclined to behave. Fortunately, a veteran thief like Grip knew ways to get around Tiraas invisibly. Unfortunately, hauling a bound dwarf along pretty well ruled out traveling by rooftop.

That left the sewers.

Once below street level, the apprentices were forced to rely on Grip to navigate, both because only the enforcer knew her path through the tunnels, and because only she had brought a light source. This left them to manage the dwarf, who quickly proved her spirit to be unbroken by the beating. With the rope firmly secured to both her and Ross, she had few prospects for escape, but by the time they reached their destination, she had hauled him off his feet half a dozen times; tripped, hip-checked, and headbutted each of them repeatedly, and made a game of trying to tip them into the “water,” which by its smell, was not even mostly water. The apprentices were lucky to avoid that fate, though due to the dwarf’s antics, none of them managed to avoid getting splashed.

Attempts to earn any favor or cooperation from their prisoner were wasted. She refused to impart any information, including her name, except under threat of further torture. Grip declined to provide this, scathingly reminding them that the Guild didn’t employ such methods to gain what amounted to small talk.

The exit Grip chose from the sewers brought them out in yet another dingy alley. She moved carefully to ensure no one was present before gesturing them all forward, out into the street beyond.

“Oi, what about this one?” Tallie asked, scowling at the dwarf. Any sympathy she had gained for their captive appeared to have vanished at some point, probably between the time the stocky woman had first tripped her and the last time she stomped in a puddle of vile-smelling sewage, splashing all of them. “Dragging her around up top is still going to risk attention…”

“Yeah, well, the address she gave isn’t obligingly right next to a sewer access,” Grip said sardonically, but turned to grant them a cold smile. “Don’t worry, though. They picked a good neighborhood in which to hole up. Nobody here’s going to care, not even if she starts screaming.”

“Uh oh,” Darius said nervously as Grip turned to stalk out into the street beyond. “I’ve got a bad feeling…”

It wasn’t the same street, exactly, but the aspect of the place was unmistakable. The buildings were tall, cramped together, and had been ramshackle and askew even before falling into their current state of disrepair. Everything was filthy, most things were broken, trash littered the sidewalks, and under a thin blanket of newly fallen snow which failed to obscure the squalor, what had to have been several years’ worth of smashed bottles glittered in the gutters.

“Oh, yeah, this is a problem,” Tallie said grimly. “We’re, uh…not exactly welcome in Glass Alley, Grip.”

“Yes, so I hear,” the enforcer said pointedly and without turning. She continued on her way up the street, forcing them to fall into step or be left behind. “Nobody’s going to hassle you as long as you stay with me.”

“Have you met Ironeye?” Darius muttered.

“Met?” They could almost hear her grin as she answered. “Yeah. You could say we’ve met.”

“Now tell me,” Darius asked quietly as he and Jasmine brought up the rear, keeping watch over their sullen prisoner being dragged along by Ross, “was that sexual innuendo or ‘I beat the shit out of her’ innuendo?”

“I have a bad feeling they would sound about the same,” she muttered back, “from either of them.”

“Man, that would be hot if it wasn’t looking increasingly likely one of them’s going to kick our asses before the end of the day.”

“At least one.”

“Bite your tongue.”

The district was much less occupied than when they had last visited, which made sense, considering the snow. They did pass a couple of huddled shapes crouched in the mouths of alleys, one of which shifted slightly at their approach, but no one attempted to interfere with or even acknowledge them. Either Grip was, indeed, a widely known quantity here, or far more likely, none of the hardscrabble residents of Glass Alley wanted to try their luck against five people clearly dragging along a badly beaten woman against her will.

Grip strode swiftly for half a block, then crossed the street and led them into such a narrow alley that they had to walk single file.

“Don’t even think about it,” Tallie warned the dwarf, who just curled her lip disdainfully in response. “Oy, you in the dramatic coat! Aren’t you gonna remind this fool what happens if she doesn’t behave?”

“That crap is for amateurs and bards,” Grip said curtly. “Professionals know what’s up, kid. Look at her; does that look in any way cowed to you?”

Tallie again glanced back at the dwarf, peering around Ross; the captive stared expressionlessly back, eyes hard.

“I know very well she’s going to try to screw us over at the first and every opportunity,” Grip continued, “and she knows what I’ll do about it when she does. Don’t ever let me catch you blathering on like a villain in a story during a job. Or worse, like a hero.”

They emerged into another actual street, albeit an even narrower and dirtier one. Grip paused, glancing up and down, then turned right and continued another twenty yards, coming to a stop in front of an old tenement which looked pretty much like every other structure in the neighborhood, which was to say, falling apart. It was smaller than most, though, only two stories tall and quite narrow.

She paused right in front and grunted, sizing it up. “This is the spot she said.”

“So…what now?” Darius asked quietly.

“It’s believable enough as a hideout,” Grip mused. “The surrounding layout makes it difficult to properly case. With this baggage along, I’m not even going to bother with that. Two stops, then: Tricks needs to be informed of this tip, but first, we check with Ironeye. If a gaggle of dwarves have been using this as a base, she’ll know.”

“Whoah, wait a sec,” Tallie snapped. “If Ironeye knows about this, why hasn’t she warned anyone?”

“Why would she?” Grip countered. “Ironeye’s pretty focused on this district. She’ll know other Guild business when someone’s told her. You kids and your dwarf troubles are nothing more than rumor except to those who’ve followed you or been asked by the Boss to address this. You should be glad she’s not in either category.”

“Uh,” Ross grumbled, “we’re just standing out here in the street… What if they’re watching?”

“If this is the place and if they have any sense, they are,” the enforcer replied. “I’m not interested in catching them all in one place; that’d be a brawl. First rule of enforcement: fight as little as possible. There’ll be at least one guard left, he’ll have noticed us, and he’ll probably have a way to signal the others to stay away.” She grinned unpleasantly. “We just need one. This one would suffice; whoever’s in there is icing on the cake, if they stick around. If not, meh. Our new best friend here is not done talking, by a long shot. C’mon, let’s find Frost.”

“Then why didn’t we just do that first?” Jasmine exclaimed in exasperation.

Grip gave her a withering look as she passed back they way they had come. “The hell I’m getting Ironeye down here without at least having a look first. If this turned out to be a vacant lot or one of her shops or something, I’d never hear the end of it. Now come on.”

“I’m not sure you have time,” the dwarf said suddenly, planting her feet against Ross’s efforts to tug her along.

Grip came to a stop. Slowly, she turned around, then held up a hand to signal Ross to stop pulling.

“All right,” she said flatly. “Let’s hear it, then. What’s your play?”

A very thin smile flickered across the dwarf’s bloodied lips. “Our first source of information has steadfastly refused to be helpful. With things going sour, orders were to give up and dispose of him; they may have already. Maybe not, though. Whiny fellow, name of Pick. I think he’s an acquaintance of yours? He mentioned you.”

For a moment the only sound, apart from the wind, was Tallie’s sharply indrawn breath.

“Oh, bullshit,” Darius said without conviction.

Grip pointed at him and he fell silent. She stalked forward till she stood just beyond arm’s reach of the dwarf.

“So,” the enforcer drawled, “you’ve either imprisoned a member of the Thieves’ Guild, and a personal acquaintance of mine, or you’re making that claim just to tweak my nose. Is there a third option I haven’t thought of?”

“Yes, yes,” the dwarf sneered. “Go on, get it over with, you moronic thug. It’s not as if you have a better way to express—”

A moment later, she gasped and doubled over. Grip had withdrawn the shocker from her coat pocket, aimed it at the dwarf’s groin, and fired. She held its flickering blue beam steady as her victim buckled to the ground, keeping it more or less in place until she had tried to curl into a fetal position, then finally released the switch.

“Excuse you,” Grip said mildly, “but for your information I am a versatile and sophisticated thug. F’rinstance, while some would just use this device to keep you too weak to fight or run, I can wield it very precisely to neutralize your bladder muscles. And oh, look, it works! I really hope whatever heating charm you’re using isn’t about to give out, or you’re gonna literally freeze your ass to the pavement.”

The apprentices, grimacing in unison, stepped back from the twitching dwarf and the puddle spreading underneath her.

“That was just weird,” Tallie said. “Why would she tell you that? Why now?”

“Use your noggin,” Grip said curtly. “I was about to go for reinforcements. Instead of that, she wants me to go in there. So it’s either trapped, or she knows she has allies inside. Or maybe is just trying to waste my time, but she doesn’t strike me as quite that desperate just yet.”

“You think she was lying?” Jasmine asked quietly.

Grip was again staring at the alleged hideout with her eyes narrowed in thought. “…maybe. Whether she is or not, it’s a good trick. But we can’t leave a Guild member in enemy hands.”

“I dunno,” Darius said skeptically, looking down his nose at the fallen dwarf. “Way too convenient. I bet she’s full of it.”

“I know Pick’s faults,” the enforcer said softly. “Far too well. He’s not a coward or a traitor; I’ve been thinking it was out of character for him to bolt after such a minor job fell through, especially when he owed somebody money. Well, shit.” She scowled at the dwarf, who was now catching her breath and snarling into the pavement.

“So we’re going in?” Jasmine asked.

“Not just like that,” Grip replied. “If you find yourself having to do something an enemy wants you to, at the very least do it in a way they don’t want.” She chewed her lower lip for a moment, again raising her eyes to the building.

“We can still go get Ironeye?” Ross suggested.

The dwarf actually laughed. It was half croak, but the intent was obvious. “Tick tock,” she wheezed.

“Yes, Svenheim makes the best clocks,” Tallie said snidely. “Advertise on your own time, sugar lumps.”

“Oh, we’re not backed into a corner,” Grip said softly. “I just have to do something I prefer not to, is all. That’s life.” She put away the shocker and reached into the inside of her duster, rummaging for a moment before pulling out a curious object. It looked rather like two wands attached to either end of a perpendicular handle; one had a large power crystal screwed into it, while the other bore an assembly of wires connecting it to a brass disc engraved with a complex spell diagram. “We need to either coax whoever’s in there to come out, or summon Ironeye and her people here, quickly. I can do both at once. You’ll want to stand back, kids.”

The dwarf, gritting her teeth, had worked her way laboriously to her knees, and now snarled up at the enforcer. “Do you really think you—”

Grip pointed the device at her and flicked a switch with her thumb. Small arcs of crimson lightning sprang from the tips of both shafts, splashing across the dwarf’s body, and she immediately fell back to the pavement, violently thrashing and emitting an ear-splitting scream of utter agony.

“Stop! Stop it!” Jasmine shouted, lunging forward. “What are you doing to her?”

Grip cut off the device, shifting slightly to point it at Jasmine, who instantly skidded to a halt.

“Hurting her,” the enforcer said flatly. “That’s all. No permanent harm, no damage of any kind, just a magical effect that convinces the nervous system it’s in pain. Every part of it, in a great deal of pain. This one, Jasmine, is highly illegal.”

She fired it at the dwarf again, eliciting another animalistic howl. The woman bucked wildly, heaving about so much Ross was nearly yanked into the path of the beam before Grip cut it off again.

“Holy shit, stop doing that!” Tallie said shrilly. “Omnu’s fucking balls, don’t you have any limits?”

“Of course I do, you little twit,” Grip snapped. “I had to explain some to you less than an hour ago.”

“This is too far,” Darius said, more pale than the cold could account for.

“Now, that’s something you’re going to have to work past,” Grip said calmly, giving the dwarf another shock. She had to pause, waiting for the screams to subside again, before continuing. “You’re more or less sane mortal beings; of course you don’t enjoy seeing someone in the extremity of agony. Believe it or not, I enjoy it just as little. Instinct tells you to intervene, to stop this horror, right?”

She zapped the dwarf again as if for punctuation; the resulting scream overrode any response they might have made. It trailed off a moment later, and the dwarf curled up on herself, weeping quietly.

“Instinct will get you killed,” Grip stated, shocking the prisoner once more with a perfectly calm expression. “Being an adult is all about learning to control your instincts, to do what is appropriate and necessary to live in a complex society rather than what your animal brain thinks will help you survive. Frequently it does the opposite.”

“That is bullshit!” Jasmine snarled, deliberately planting herself between Grip and the quivering dwarf. “This is cold-blooded torture. There is no reason this is justifiable, or necessary, or in any way part of the greater good!”

“People who reason that way are just…” Ross trailed off and swallowed heavily.

“Monsters?” Grip’s purely weary tone brought them all up short. She shook her head. “You think kindness is always the answer? Lemme tell you kids a story. When I was an apprentice, I had a friend who lived in this very district. Old beggar; he’d been a soldier, fell on hard times…it’s an old tale, I won’t bore you with it. First real score I had, I came here and gave every penny I could spare of it to him.”

Moving swiftly and smoothly, she stepped to one side; Jasmine, momentarily distracted by her monologue, failed to shift in response, and Grip zapped the dwarf again for a split second, drawing forth a shriek.

“He was dead by dawn,” she continued in a flat tone. “Killed for the money by the other bastards who lived here.”

“Oh, come on,” Tallie said.

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” Grip snapped. “Shit happens. Random crimes occur. Hell, people get struck by lightning, and not because some god was angry with them. But this? This was a specific, predictable event which I caused, because I was kind rather than sensible. I knew he was prideful and lacked self-control; I ought to have known he’d boast of his good fortune. I knew what the dregs here were like, and believe me, this place has gone way uphill since Ironeye made it her mission to straighten it out. Twenty years ago some of the people here were damn near feral. If I’d thought, I would have seen the inevitable result my kindness would have. I didn’t. I did something nice, and got someone I cared about killed.”

“That has nothing to do with—”

Jasmine broke off, staring, as Grip leveled the torture device at her face.

A moment later, the enforcer lowered it again, shaking her head. “You haven’t learned. Obviously I am not going to use this thing on any of you. But facing it down, you didn’t think, did you? No, that was just instinct. Well, let me remind you of something before you get all self righteous.” She pointed at the dwarf again, with the hand holding the weapon; again, Jasmine moved in front of it, but this time Grip didn’t fire. “This creature is a servant of a government. All governments and all laws exist to benefit those in power. The Five Kingdoms are monarchies just like ours; rather like the Tirasian Dynasty, they have a reputation for social progressiveness and reigning with a relatively gentle hand. And just like the Empire, this is for the sake of securing their own power, not out of any moral concern for their people. It’s because the velvet glove makes for more stability than the iron fist, is all. And just like the Empire, their cruelty is totally without bounds the instant they think it better serves their needs than kindness. Do you really think this one and her cronies would have stopped at just mentioning they’ve looked up your families? The people you love are in more danger now than before, and that will change only when every last one of these are stopped as completely and as brutally as necessary.”

Into the short silence which followed, the dwarf drew in a rasping breath.

“Scum,” she whispered hoarsely. “Everyone…compromises. A monster thinks…everyone else…is also a monster.”

Grip studied her for a moment with a tilted head, then suddenly jerked to the left. Jasmine shifted to intercept her, but the enforcer had already reversed out of the feint, stepping around to blast the dwarf again, this time directly in the face.

Her scream was cut off a second later as she heaved backward and cracked her skull against the pavement.

“Do that one more time,” Jasmine snarled, “and I will put you down. Completely and brutally.”

“Who are your family, Jasmine?” Darius asked softly. She jerked around to stare at him in surprise. “They know mine, and Tallie’s, and Rasha’s. Probably Ross’s and yours, too. You taunted him to try and harm them. Maybe they’re untouchable.” He stared at her, wide-eyed. “My family are…maybe safe. Dwarven agents would have to go well out of their way to reach them, and my House has defenses. But…circus folk? Fishermen? Do you want to see this,” he pointed at the twitching dwarf, “happen to someone we love?”

“Th-this…there’s nothing that justifies this,” she replied, but her voice was suddenly drained of much of its conviction.

“You want to be just?” Grip said, baring her teeth. “Go back to the Legions. You want to be nice? Join the Izarites and screw losers out of their sorrows. Join the Omnists, raise vegetables for your soup kitchen. But right now you are an Eserite, and that means your duty is to find evil people and make whatever needs to happen to them, happen.”

“Justifications are luxuries, Jasmine. Not everybody can afford them. But…” Tallie stepped forward, joining Jasmine and staring Grip down. “Jas is right. This is too far. Put that fucking thing away before we have to take it from you.”

“Quit,” whispered the dwarf. They all looked down at her in surprise; she was huddled on the ground with her forehead pressed to the icy pavement, but still speaking through cracked lips. “You children…still…have souls. Don’t let them…make you into—”

“Into you?” Grip interrupted. “Go on, pretend you wouldn’t do the same. We’re both the same monster, you ass; you loathe me because the comparison shows off your hypocrisy.”

“As fascinating as this is, I require a change from exposition to explanation.”

They whirled, finding themselves suddenly confronted by two figures who had appeared silently. Ironeye was armored and garbed exactly as they remembered; with her stood the same well-dressed man who had accompanied her before, wearing no coat but seeming quite comfortable in the chill and surveying the scene with a raised eyebrow and no sign of distaste.

“Where the hell did you come from?!” Tallie demanded. “How do you sneak up on people wearing that pile of tin cans?”

“Shadow-jumping,” Jasmine said curtly. “That man is a warlock.” He smiled pleasantly at her.

“Silence,” Ironeye commanded. “I will hear from the one person present who has any credibility. What kind of mess are you making in my district, Quintessa?”

“About goddamn time you showed up, Vanda,” Grip snapped. “I trust you recognize this piece of shit? You can’t possibly be unaware of this passel of shifty dwarves renting a space in your little slice of paradise.”

“Yes, you are correct, which means you are publicly abusing my hospitality. I’m still waiting for that explanation, and I will not do so for much longer.”

“I’ll keep it succinct,” Grip stated. “You are harboring enemies of the Guild. These dwarves are agents from one of the Kingdoms, trying to plant a mole in the Guild in order to extract information. They’ve been pressuring these apprentices to comply, without success. Now, this one claims they have Pick held prisoner in there.”

“I see.” Ironeye’s tone, impossible as it seemed, hardened further. “That, of course, changes the matter entirely. Avingell, get Branson and Ellis down here with a dozen of whatever street soldiers are handy. I want this place dissected and everyone in it secured within twenty minutes.”

“And send Rumor to the Casino,” Grip added. “The Boss needs to be brought into the loop.”

“As she says,” Ironeye said to the warlock, who had looked to her for confirmation. He smiled and sketched a cursory bow. Darkness thickened out of the air, which looked very peculiar through the fluttering snow, and an instant later he vanished from view.

“Listen,” the dwarf said weakly, again trying to wrestle herself up to her knees. “This woman doesn’t know—”

Ironeye stepped forward, drawing the sword sheathed at her waist, and pressed the tip against the dwarf’s collarbone, effectively pinning her down. The blade was ancient and scarred, its length marked by runes whose faint white glow was hard to discern amid the swirling snowflakes.

“I entirely lack Grip’s genius for causing pain,” the armored woman said. “However, Avingell can make her efforts look like the flailing of an idiot child. I strongly suggest that you earn what you can of my favor before he returns. You may begin.”

“Come on,” Grip said to the apprentices, stepping back. “Untie yourself, Ross, and let’s get the hell out of here.”

“Whoah, wait a sec!” Darius protested while Ross obeyed with clear eagerness. “We’re leaving? Don’t you wanna find out what happens? What about Pick?”

“What we want isn’t a consideration here,” Grip snapped. “We have responsibilities. Ironeye is both trusted and competent; this place can now be considered secured. But there are plenty more of these bastards out there, and we still need to find your friend the witch, who if I heard right is probably their top target now. Come on.”

She strode off up the street, and they could do nothing but follow.

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Of the four of them, only Ross had actually lived in Tiraas before apprenticing. That proved fortunate because he knew of an enchanting shop more or less on their route between Glory’s swanky neighborhood and the central district near Imperial Square where lay the primary temple of Salyrene; they had to detour by two streets, but in the end it proved better than Tallie’s original idea of finding a clothing store. Four personal heating charms ended up costing a lot less than four full sets of hats, gloves, and scarves would have. It was lucky that they found the shop when they did, as they were far from the only ones to have this idea upon the weather’s sudden turn. There was an annoyingly long line in the place, and they barely got there before the charms in question sold out.

That done, they proceeded in much more comfort on their way. Not a moment too soon—as they walked, the sky began intermittently spitting little puffs of snow.

Jasmine lectured them quietly as they proceeded. “The reason this opportunity is important is it may be our only chance to catch one of these people alone. I’ve been considering their situation, and I don’t think there can be more than a handful of them. If they’re an intelligence cell, those are kept small for a lot of reasons. The more people you have, the more likely your cover is to be blown.”

“You really did have the most fascinating upbringing,” Tallie noted. “Anyhow, based on what Glory said, would they really be worried about blowing their cover? Apparently they’re in good with the Empire…”

“The Imperial government has political reason to be somewhat tolerant of dwarves in general right at this moment,” said Darius. “That’s not the same as free reign. Jasmine’s right; a large cell gets noticed, and Imperial Intelligence would be all over any foreign operatives they spotted working in the capital. Sides, even if the Silver Throne is making goo-goo eyes at the Five Kingdoms right now, any kind of tussle between one of their intelligence services and the damn Thieves’ Guild will end up a huge mess for everybody, which they don’t want.” He nodded at Jasmine. “Thus, we can assume the Imps aren’t onto these guys yet, which means we can also assume there aren’t many.”

“Exactly,” she agreed, nodding back. “How many I couldn’t say, I don’t know anything about their operational doctrine. Likely not more than a dozen. Now, considering what they have to do here, the largest group will have been sent to intercept Scwhartz.”

“How come?” asked Ross.

“Schwartz,” Jasmine explained, “is a magic user, and thus a lot more dangerous to them. Dwarves are extremely hardy; they don’t have a lot physically to fear from us, since none of us have wands. He’s by a wide margin the largest physical threat to them. The reason this is significant right now ties in with these anti-tracking charms. Assuming they work, and considering Vandro’s motives I can’t fathom any reason he’d screw us over like that, the dwarves can’t locate us specifically. That means in order to prevent us getting to Schwartz, they’ll have to spread what few personnel they have between us and the Collegium. So if we find one, it’ll probably just be one.”

“Hm.” Darius frowned, rubbing his chin. “There are holes in that. Wouldn’t it make more sense to send their whole force after Schwartz?”

“They may,” Jasmine admitted. “They’ll be trying to be discreet, though—remember our previous points about making a mess in Tiraas and getting in trouble with Intelligence and the Guild. Brute force tactics don’t make sense in their position. They’ll be trying to put down him and us quietly.”

“Don’t like the sound of that,” Ross muttered.

“That’s why it’s important we stay together,” she agreed, nodding. “Silencing one dangerous opponent is a lot easier than silencing a group. What I would do in their position is keep their agents spread out but in communication—when one spots us, they’ll call to the others. From there, they’ll try to impede us from getting to the Collegium without causing an actual fight.”

“I hope Schwartz is okay,” Tallie said, frowning worriedly. “Witch or no witch, that guy’s kind of…y’know, bookish.”

“Not much we can do but get to him as quick as possible,” said Darius. “I don’t think Jasmine was done making suggestions.”

“Right,” Jasmine acknowledged. “The point is, we are going to have to go on the offensive here. Ross, you know the city. Assuming they probably don’t know where we are at this point, we need a place more or less between the Imperial Casino and the Collegium of Salyrene. Something…quiet, private, where there aren’t likely to be witnesses.”

“Can do,” he rumbled, lengthening his stride to position himself at the head of the group. “Bit out of our way from here…”

“How far out of our way?” Tallie demanded nervously. “The gods only know what’s happening to Schwartz right now…”

“He is a magic guy,” Darius said, patting her shoulder. “And we’re on the way. We can help by taking the fight to the enemy, now.”

“Not far outta the way, couple streets,” Ross added. “Weather’s lucky. Nobody’s gonna be outside if they don’t have to. Any place off the streets streets is likely to be quiet.”

“Good,” said Jasmine. “Then keep your eyes peeled for a dwarf showing too much interest in us. If we can manage to run across one of them in the absence of witnesses, we will pull them aside for a chat.”

“Uh…that’s kinda where this falls apart,” said Darius, wincing. “You’re gambling, first of all, that a trained intelligence agent will be spotted when they don’t want to be. And besides, what if it’s just some random dwarf?”

“Anybody out in this weather just hanging around is probably up to something,” said Tallie.

“Yes,” Jasmine agreed, “but Darius is also right. We may not even see one. They may fail to find us entirely. They might be on the ball enough to spot us and get their crew together before we reach the Collegium, in which case we run to the nearest public place—we are not going to try to fight a bunch of dwarves. If they just play dumb when confronted, there’s not much we can do; I’ll not be party to beating up some citizen on a hunch, and anyway, there’s a limit to how much damage we can do physically to a dwarf, unless one of you is carrying a wand I don’t know about. No, what I’m really gambling on is they’ll talk to us if we approach them. Rogrind has kept trying to get us into his service; considering what they want, if we suggest we want to talk, they’ll basically have to listen. And that will tell us they’re one of the people we’re after.”

“Wait,” said Darius. “So…we have to walk up and speak politely with them first?”

“Usually a good first move,” Tallie said, grinning.

“So we’re not gonna ambush a dwarf, drag ’em into an alley, and beat the crap out of them?” He pouted and stuck his hands in his pockets, slouching. “I never get to have any fun.”

“This is it,” Jasmine murmured some time later.

“Yeah,” Darius said tersely. “We all pretty much saw it.”

The snow was still light, but far more consistent, now. Tiny flakes drifted steadily down from the increasingly heavy cloud cover, so far not accumulating beyond a thin layer of white, windblown dust, but it had sufficed to send everyone indoors who didn’t have good and specific reason to be out. In a city like Tiraas, a lot of people had such reason, but Ross had led them two streets distant from one of the main avenues, and suddenly they were for all intents and purposes alone.

It was a narrow street, not wide enough for two carriages to pass each other, the buildings lining it old and towering an average of four stories above. It was clean, and while stonework was chipped and some window glass bore cracks, nothing was boarded up, burned out, or falling down. A relatively poor neighborhood, but not a rough one. The buildings were quite close together, spaces opening between them only every three or four structures. Lights burned in multiple windows, but mostly through drawn drapes. Nobody wanted anything to do with the weather.

Then again, considering it was clearly a working-class neighborhood, most who lived here probably had someplace to be, considering it was just past noon.

“I think we may be disappointed,” Jasmine said quietly, glancing back and forth as they made their way up the sidewalk. “Spreading agents out to intercept would require lateral movement—these buildings don’t give much opportunity for that.”

“I think we may be disappointed for entirely different reasons,” said Darius. “Seems to me the most efficient solution to all their problems would be to use the rooftops. They can move around and spy on us without risking themselves. The Guild does it.”

“Great,” Tallie muttered, glancing furtively at the tops of the structures on all sides of them.

“Well, it was a thought,” Jasmine said with a sigh. “Come on, let’s just get to Schwartz, then.”

“Hold up,” said Ross, slowing his pace.

They followed suit, shifting position to see past him—and in Tallie’s case, over his shoulder—at what had caught his attention. Buildings in this district were mostly reached by short flights of stone steps, which created little nooks on either side of them. Just ahead, one of these occurred right next to one of the street’s rare side alleys, which contributed to their failure to see a four-foot-tall person clearly standing and waiting just ahead in the alley’s mouth.

“Well, shows what we know,” Darius muttered.

Leaning calmly against the wall of the alley and watching them come was a dwarven woman who was clearly also using heating charms, to judge by her lack of head covering. Her dirty blonde hair was tied back in a bun, and she wore a heavy, padded coat which could have concealed any number of implements.

The four apprentices trailed to a stop, staring at her.

“Never seen a dwarf before?” the woman asked wryly.

Tallie barked a laugh. “Oh, we have. But you know all about that, don’cha?”

“You thieves,” the dwarf said, shaking her head. “So put upon. How awful that your planned life of victimizing others is being interfered with.”

“Well, this is a new approach,” Darius commented. “I remember what’s-his-ass as being pretty polite.”

“Professionalism requires one to deal respectfully with all manner of unsavories,” the woman replied. She hadn’t moved at all, her posture apparently relaxed, but the four of them remained stiff and alert. She had hands in her pockets, and there was no telling what they might come out holding. “It’s one thing when you’re being sweet-talked into hopefully providing a service. Now, apparently, you fancy yourselves on the hunt, which changes matters. I’ll be frank, a mutually beneficial and cordial arrangement is still on the table and still much preferred, but I’m under much less pressure from above to be nice to a gaggle of junior predators.”

“What is it about dwarves and thieves?” Darius wondered aloud.

The woman smiled thinly. “You’re pretty far gone if you have to have it explained why someone who’s not a thief would have a low opinion of them. Right, here it is: we have mutually just about run out of patience for one another, and I don’t have a boss looming over my shoulder to shmooze you, so I’ll spell it out. If you’re willing to do the right thing for what I suspect will be the first time in your lives and help us out against the syndicate of criminals and marauders who will probably toss more than half of you out on your ears before you manage to fully join, you’ll be well compensated. I don’t just mean money—you can be protected from Guild reprisal and provided for as necessary. We can help set you up in whatever kind of life you desire. Not to lay about in luxury at our expense forever, but a helping hand to get established can make all the difference for someone willing to work.”

“Listen, you little—” Tallie broke off as Jasmine held up a hand.

“I sort of want to hear this,” she said. “Go on, I think you had more.”

“Indeed,” the dwarf agreed. “What we’re asking of you doesn’t even involve hurting anyone or stealing anything. All we need is intelligence. What you know about the origins of those weapons—and if you’re as in the dark as you claim, your help in getting that information. You have access to the Guild’s inner workings, the ability to talk to people who want talk to outsiders, and that is all we need. This really is an extraordinarily generous offer, and an uncomplicated situation.” She sniffed disdainfully. “I can put some of your stubbornness down to you being young. But fighting so hard not to do the right thing the way you are… Frankly, it won’t break my heart if you decide this has to end badly for you.”

“Badly for us, she says,” Darius sneered, stepping forward. “You don’t seem to have noticed how badly outnumbered and alone you are here, shortcake.”

“Am I?” the woman asked sardonically.

“Shortcake?” Tallie said, raising her eyebrows.

“Oh, that’s an old slur,” said their new acquaintance, rolling her eyes. “Something dwarf women get accustomed to having thrown at them in human lands. It’s a handy way to distinguish the sexist, racist, objectifying twits from anybody worth talking to.”

“You ass!” Tallie exclaimed, punching Darius in the shoulder.

“I am extremely disappointed in you, Darius,” Jasmine said, frowning.

“Really not necessary, man,” Ross added.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake!” Darius exclaimed. “Fine, I will apologize for my terrible rudeness to the little shit who’s been threatening our families, but after she either spills the beans or I’ve kicked the crap out of her. Fair enough?”

“Excuse me, you what?” the dwarf said with disdainful amusement.

“Yeah, back on topic.” He rounded on her, clenching both fists. “We’re not telling you shit. In point of fact, since you’re here, you can now reveal where you’re keeping yourselves in the city, your names, anything we can hand over to the Boss so he can track you down.”

“Generous,” she snorted.

“Not that we particularly want you tracked down,” Jasmine added. “Just that you leave us alone. And since you seem disinclined to do that, a little incentive to leave the city entirely won’t hurt. It was you people who brought this to this point, not us.”

“Well, good talk,” the dwarf said, straightening up her posture. “Answer’s no. Your funeral. Now, then, get out of my way.”

“All right, fuck this,” Darius snorted, and punched her in the face.

He had to bend down awkwardly to do it, but it was a pretty good hit. A moment later he reared back, hissing and shaking his hand. The dwarf had been rocked backward a few inches by the blow, but hadn’t even taken her hands out of her pockets. A very faint red mark on her forehead was the only sign it had happened.

“And that,” she said pleasantly, “is assault, my lad. Or in other words, a believable pretext for self-defense. Thank you for—”

A black blur whipped past them, shoving Tallie aside, and slammed into the dwarf, who this time let out an aborted squawk and went tumbling over backward into the alley.

Grip straightened, keeping her eyes on the fallen dwarf, and held up her right hand, showing the iron knuckles through which her fingers were laced. They glowed with arcane runes and had four ugly, screw-like protrusions in a row along the business end.

“Much as I prefer to let apprentices learn from their mistakes,” the enforcer said curtly, “time is wasting, and you kids are just embarrassing yourselves. Honestly, what was your plan here? You were going to beat her down for information right in full view of the street? Did you actually think she was alone?”

“Well—” Ross began, but at that moment, the dwarf started to surge back to her feet, and Grip pulled her other hand out of the pocket of her black duster. In it was a shortened wand, which she leveled and fired point blank. One flash of blue light later, the dwarf instantly collapsed back to the ground, this time twitching.

“Whoah!” Darius exclaimed.

“Boys,” Grip snapped, “drag her into the alley. Quickly, you idiots, we can’t do this out here on the street!”

“How did you find us?” Jasmine demanded. Darius and Ross had already hopped forward to obey the enforcer’s command.

“I’ve been following you,” Grip said, stepping into the darkness of the alley after the others. “Come along, quicklike. I let that singularly pointless conversation stretch out that much because I was busy neutralizing the other agent who was preparing to land on you from behind. Here, you.” She tossed a coil of tightly-woven cord to Ross. “Tie her hands together with one end, tightly, throw the rope over that fire escape and pull her upright. Just enough so she’s stretched out, toes on the ground. Fast, she’ll be coming to shortly.”

“What is that thing?” Tallie asked in fascination.

Grip smiled unpleasantly, holding up the short wand. “Shocker. Acts directly on the nervous system. Non-lethal, unless you go way overboard, but rather painful.”

“Not to mention highly illegal,” Jasmine said sharply.

“No, Jasmine,” the enforcer said condescendingly. “Flesh-melting potion in a spray bottle is highly illegal. This is just illegal. Can you two buffoons possibly move any slower?”

“Do you wanna try?” Darius snarled, fumbling with the end of the rope he was wrapping around the dwarf’s hands while Ross patiently waited with the other, having already thrown it over the fire escape. “Forgive me, this is my first time stringing somebody up!”

Grip just grunted.

“What exactly are you doing here?” Jasmine demanded. “You surely don’t think I’m going to trust you after—”

“After what?” the enforcer interrupted, grinning. “After I threatened your little friends here and you decked me?”

“Whoah, wait a sec, you what?” Tallie demanded.

“I don’t call people down for doing exactly what I want,” Grip continued, ignoring her and staring fixedly at Jasmine, “so I let it slide at the time. The point of that was to make you stand up and fight, and get past that silly idea you were nursing about being some kind of non-violent thief. But really, kid, you have got to be less easy to goad. A momentary application of common sense would tell you there’s no way a ranking Guild enforcer would actually harm apprentices just to make a point to somebody. It’s okay—you’re new. You’ll learn.”

“She asked a good question, though,” Tallie said. “Why are you helping?”

“Seriously?” Grip gave her a disdainful look. “Fuckers harassing our apprentices, and you ask why I’m helping? I realize you’re having political issues right now, but the Guild will not stand for this horseshit. The Boss isn’t currently able to act overtly. Never, ever assume that Tricks is so much as inconvenienced by such as that. About damn time, boys. And not a moment too soon.”

Ross grunted, holding tension on the rope that was keeping the dwarf strung up by her hands. She was rousing, eyes flickering. They came back into focus, her gaze landing on Grip just as the enforcer smoothly stepped forward, sank to one knee, and slammed her enchanted knuckle into their captive’s midsection. All the air was driven from the dwarf in a burst.

Grip had already pocketed the shocker, and now moved with a swift and well-practiced efficiency that put Ross and Darius’s efforts to shame. She produced what looked like a leather collar with a large rubber ball in the middle from her pocket; the device’s purpose only became clear to the apprentices when Grip roughly stuffed the ball into the dwarf’s mouth and buckled the strap behind her head, entirely gagging her.

“Do you always carry stuff like that around?” Darius asked, fascinated.

“Wait a moment,” said Tallie. “How’s she supposed to answer questions if she’s gagged?”

“First of all,” Grip replied, standing back and watching as the dwarf struggled to breathe through her nose, “that’s to stop the screaming. This is a residential neighborhood; to say nothing of any other reinforcements this one has coming, screams will send people to the police, and police will result in a big waste of everyone’s time. Second and more importantly, kid, you do not hurt someone to get information. Doesn’t work. They’ll just parrot whatever you want to hear.”

The dwarf hadn’t managed to straighten up fully from the stomach blow, despite Ross holding her upright; it resulted in her feet dragging limply on the ground. She had raised her head enough, though, that her wide blue eyes were fixed upon Grip’s face, and the psychotic grin it now wore. Blood trickled from the wound the enchanted knuckles had made on her forehead.

“You hurt someone,” Grip said very softly, “to make a point.”

She flexed her fingers in the iron knuckles once, and then struck the dwarf on the cheekbone with them. The captive could only manage a muffled squeak of pain as she was rocked to the side. Grip backhanded her coming back the other way, making a nearly matching mark on her other cheek.

“You know what really pisses me off?” The enforcer continued to work, methodically driving her augmented fist into various parts of the dwarf’s anatomy, occasionally applying short jolts with her shocker for emphasis. The whole time, she lectured her victim in a calm tone while the apprentices stood around, frozen. “Aside from the obvious territorialism, I mean. Anybody gets upset when you attack the younglings in their organization, that’s universal. No, in particular, after listening to your little speech, it’s obvious that you think you’re better than me. Than us. And that offends me, you hypocritical, insignificant hock of ham.”

She paused, pacing in a slow circle around the dwarf, who now hung limply by her wrists, emitting soft groans. Ross still held the rope, though he looked increasingly horrified.

To judge by the sound that resulted when Grip kicked the dwarf in the lower back, her boots were also steel-lined.

“Consider what I am, and what you are,” the enforcer continued, coming back around to the front and casually zapping the dwarf on one limp foot in passing. “We’re in the same business, you and I: doing bad things for a good cause. After you’ve been running around, stalking kids, threatening their families, you contemptible wart, you really don’t have a pedestal on which to set yourself. No, your only claim to virtue is what you represent.”

She grabbed a handful of the dwarf’s hair to haul her head upright and casually jabbed the iron knuckles right into her chin just below the gag. The blow was carefully not hard enough to break teeth, but blood gushed from the lip smashed against them.

“And what do you represent? You silly bitch, you’re a government agent. Any kind of nationalism is nothing more than taking credit for what you haven’t accomplished and despising people you don’t know. There’s nothing more narcissistic than believing one place is better than any other because you were born there, especially since your birth is in no way your doing. You’re a slave to a hereditary monarchy—people in power because of the happenstance of their own birth. Your entire life, your whole reason for being, is nothing but a series of coincidences.”

She paced in another full circle, back the other direction, around the now-sobbing captive.

“That’s enough of this,” Jasmine snapped, balling her fists.

“You shut your mouth,” Grip said curtly, without looking at her. Coming back around to the front, she actually knelt on the ground before the dwarf, gazing up at her bloodied face. There she just waited in silence, until the woman lifted her chin slightly, opening her eyes to stare at her.

“Ah, there it is,” Grip whispered. “It’s a very expressive look—of course, I’ve seen it enough times to interpret it just by habit. ‘You’re a monster,’ it says.” She shrugged, smiling blandly. “Well, yes, that’s quite true—and equally true of you, as you well know. Me, though? I stand for something. I act in service to a moral authority which I have chosen, one which justifies certain transgressions. In particular, against people like you. Because oh, yes, this would not be happening if you were not also a monster. An enforcer of Eserion has no business with anyone else. You may think me evil, and you’d have a point.” She grinned outright. “What’s your excuse?”

Grip stared into the dwarf’s eyes for another long moment, then abruptly stood. Her captive twitched at the sudden move, but Grip merely reached around behind her head to unfasten the ball gag and pull it off.

The dwarf coughed, spat blood, choked on a sob.

“You…animal,” she gasped, lifting her head weakly. “There was…no point. We don’t resist torture. Could’ve…jus’ asked.”

“Oh, gods,” Tallie whispered, backing up until she was pressed against the wall.

“Aww,” Grip drawled, folding her arms. “Imagine my embarrassment.”

“You—wait.” Jasmine stared at her in horror. “You knew that?”

“SOP for dwarven government operatives,” the enforcer said, smiling pleasantly. “A professional, you see, researches her opponent before engaging them.”

“Why?” Jasmine snarled, taking an aggressive step toward her. “What was the point of this?”

“The point, child, is that an individual who sees no moral problem with threatening innocent bystanders in order to get her way will now carry a vivid memory of what happens when someone stands up to her.” Grip met Jasmine’s furious stare without flinching, without much expression of any kind. She turned her head to nod pointedly at the dwarf, now a mess of sweat, tears and blood. “I told you. We don’t hurt people to get information. We hurt people because some people, kids, need to be hurt.”

She casually reached out to ruffle the dwarf’s hair; the woman tried weakly to duck her head aside, too exhausted to make much effort.

“And now, our new friend will tell us where the rest are.”

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They couldn’t avoid speculative eyes forever, of course, but fortunately it was faster to get to the apprentice dormitories from the infirmary without passing through the Pit, so at least the group postponed their inevitable march through the gauntlet of stares by a little bit. As they neared the rear barracks door, the one near the bathrooms, there were more and more people about, and at least a few gave them speculative looks, though nobody stopped them. Right outside the doors themselves were three other apprentices, chatting and laughing, who ignored them entirely.

“Man, what time even is it?” Darius grumbled. “I know it’s after dark and all, but I really do not feel like sleeping.”

“Nothing says you gotta,” Tallie replied. “There’s still folks up and around; head to the Pit and practice something if you’re too charmed-up to sleep.”

“Think I’m gonna see if they still have food out,” said Ross, then shrugged defensively at their raised eyebrows. “Sandwiches and cookies were pretty small. Didn’t wanna ask for more; we were guests.”

“Why, that’s only fair!” Darius said cheerfully, patting Ross’s somewhat protuberant belly. “You’re a growing boy, after all!”

“You’re lucky I’m tired of seein’ people get beat on tonight,” Ross growled, then shouldered past him and headed into the dormitory—and, presumably, through it toward the cafeteria on the other side.

“D’you think…” Rasha trailed off when they all turned to look at him.

“What’s on your mind?” Jasmine asked quietly.

He glanced at her and couldn’t entirely repress a grimace; the bruise growing on the side of her face was an increasingly alarming sight. At least her conservative style of dress concealed the rest of the bruises she had to have.

“I just…” He swallowed and tried again. “I’m not too much afraid of getting cuffed around the ears. Gods know I’m used to it; where I grew up, that’s just how you kept your kids in line. And I have older sisters, so, y’know…” He glanced up at Jasmine and again averted his eyes. “I never saw someone get…beaten like that, though, not in the name of discipline. That kind of pummeling would be a fight. Or possibly a murder attempt.”

“I’m still…unpacking what I think about all his,” Jasmine said, absently probing at her bruise with a fingertip. “I don’t think that was at all appropriate as a way to enforce discipline. But, on the other hand, I keep being reminded that I don’t fully understand the mindset of Eserites. And that’s exactly what I came here to learn. I’m trying not to pass judgment on things until I have more familiarity. On the other hand, I’m also trying to be wary of losing my own sense of…right and wrong.” She winced and lowered her hand. “It’s getting increasingly dicey.”

“I dunno,” Tallie mused. “This is gonna sound ungrateful and I’m sorry, Jas, but you kinda messed up my chance to figure out how bad it is by jumping in. I mean, I got a punch in the gut, a smack to the head and a yank on my hair. Way I was raised, that’s a fair enough comeuppance for some kid who did something like assault…uh, say, a friend of my parents. The, uh, comparisons kinda fall apart when I try to relate them to my own experiences.”

“I know that feeling,” Rasha grunted.

“Point being,” Tallie continued, “if that was gonna be that, well, I don’t feel hugely put-upon so far. If she was gonna continue beating me down, then yes, that would be excessive and frankly I’d be thinking about leaving right now. Since you hopped in at that point, I guess I’ll never know. What happened to you, though—”

“Was different,” Darius interrupted, hands in his pockets. “You and I got smacked as punishment. Jas was directly challenging Style’s authority. That wasn’t about disciplining apprentices, it was about maintaining status.”

“I suppose that makes sense,” Jasmine said, “though Rasha’s original concern still applies, if this is the kind of place where authority is maintained through beating.”

“You made it about beatings,” he said, then shrugged when she scowled at him. “C’mon, I was there. You were offering her a straight-up fight, and she tried multiple times to talk you out of it. She’s a Guild enforcer, and it was right in front of everybody whose respect she needs to keep. Tallie or I might have sassed her instead, and maybe that would’ve gone differently. But…there it was.”

“Hm,” she grunted, again touching her face. “I suppose. Maybe. I’m still withholding judgment.”

“That’s probably better than leaping to a judgment,” Tallie said, gently patting her shoulder.

Rasha heaved a deep sigh. “I think…I’m gonna take a walk, guys. Clear my head a bit.”

“Okay…” Tallie gave him a worried look. “Just…don’t go outside, all right? Not alone. Those assholes are still out there, and apparently they can tell when we leave the building.”

“Yeah,” he agreed absently, sticking his hands deep in his pockets and turning to slouch off up the hall. “I know. See you guys later.”

“I need to take care of something, too,” Jasmine said quietly after they’d watched him go in silence. “This…hopefully won’t take too long.”

“Grip?” Darius said, raising an eyebrow.

She gave him a faint smile. “You know, Darius, you’re not nearly as dumb as you act.”

“Hey, who’s acting?”

Jasmine shook her head, but her smile remained in place. “I’ll talk to you in a bit.”

“Sooo,” Darius drawled as she strolled off down the other hall. “Whatever shall we do in the interim? Hmm? Hmmmmm?”

“Hey,” Tallie said brightly, “you know who hasn’t seen their fill of violence tonight?”

“Ooh, is it me? I bet it’s me, I—ow! Dammit, woman!”

The number of places apprentices were truly not allowed to go was, in the end, rather small. Once above the Guild proper and into the realm of the Imperial Casino, there were far more areas where scruffy people in general were not welcome. That description applied to more apprentices than otherwise, so they ended up staying out of the Casino’s passages as a rule. However, as Rasha found while prowling through the back halls, there was some leeway. By far the majority of the Casino itself was occupied by its mostly open main room, which itself was the size of a cathedral’s sanctuary. Apart from a few smaller gaming parlors and private rooms of various kinds for the patrons, the rest of the aboveground structure was the realm of the staff who kept it all running.

There, too, he found that the back rooms themselves were mostly off-limits to the likes of him, or so he came to assume after being forcefully shooed away from several. That only made sense; a lot of money was collected and counted in a casino this size, and they wouldn’t want any unnecessary personnel mucking about. For the most part, though, no one bothered him if he just walked the halls. They didn’t even give him much in the way of funny looks; he blended in with the staff about as well as he did with the apprentices.

As such, Rasha found it more comfortable to stretch his legs in the Casino’s back passages than the Guild’s, given the number of people down below who were studying him thoughtfully, as if he were a puzzle box containing a stack of decabloons. Thus far, nobody had tried to corner him, but he figured that was only a matter of time, and resolved to stick closer to his group of friends in the future.

Up here, though, he was left alone. He knew a lot of Guild personnel were involved in the Casino’s running, and in fact had been told that quite a few apprentices worked the more menial jobs here; it had been mentioned to him as an easy way to pick up some pocket money if he lacked a sponsor and an income. And of course, there were plenty of fully accredited Guild thieves about. Despite Tricks’s warning, though, none of the topside personnel seemed to find him interesting.

Or maybe they were just better at concealing their interest. Yeah, he’d definitely try to avoid running around without his group, at least until all this blew over. For now, though, he felt the need to stretch his legs and clear his thoughts. This was a far cry from the familiar back alleys of Puna Vashtar, even when he scrupulously avoided the carpeted and decorated halls which indicated they were public areas in the Casino, but it sufficed for now.

He found himself wandering near the kitchens, though he didn’t step inside after the last upbraiding from the master cook. With his luck, it would be the same man on duty, and Rasha was starting to notice that Eserites in general displayed a mean streak when they had to state their directives more than once. Of course, who even knew whether the cooks of all people were actually affiliated with the Guild… But after the last few days, it wouldn’t surprise him. His idea of what constituted a thief had been significantly expanded as he slowly grew to understand the Guild’s mindset, and the innumerable ways its rebellious philosophy could be worked into all walks of life. Besides, he wasn’t going to assume anything at this point.

The kitchen was skirted by wide passages, though, so he could be within earshot of its hustle (definitely not winding down for the night; the Casino’s patrons would be wanting their meals and snacks until deep into the small hours) without actually getting underfoot. Moved more by curiosity than anything else, he carefully edged along a side hallway, keeping close to the wall to avoid a waiter carrying a laden tray and then a busboy pushing a cart of dishes in the other direction. At the far end was a set of double doors, and Rasha made for this simply because that was the direction in which he happened to be going.

Once through them, though, he paused nervously, finding himself outside. Tallie’s warning sprang instantly to mind. This was one of the Casino’s smaller side entrances; it was an alley, if a broad one, and there was nobody about except a few of the staff.

A young man in a splattered cook’s uniform stood puffing a cigarette and talking quietly with a cocktail waitress. Both glanced curiously up at him, and for a moment Rasha froze awkwardly, fearing he had disrupted a lovers’ assignation. Then movement caught his eye, though, and he glanced across the alley, where a teenage boy was perched on a crate with a bottle of beer beside him, reading a newspaper by the fairy lamp affixed above the Casino’s side door.

“Hey there,” the girl said amiably. “I don’t think I’ve seen you around; you new?”

“Oh, uh, no, but… Actually yes, but…” Rasha stopped, feeling a blush rise to his cheeks, and drew a deep breath, letting it out slowly. The reader had only glanced at him before returning to his paper, but the other two were regarding him with bemusement. “Sorry, I’m a bit out of sorts. I am new, but I’m not staff. I’m apprenticing in the Guild.”

“Ahh,” she said, nodding with a knowing expression.

“If I’m not supposed to be here, I can…”

“Hey, relax, join us,” the cook said lightly, picking up a bottle from the stack of crates next to him and holding it out. Rasha noticed, now, that there were several beer bottles about—all either being worked upon or still sealed. Clearly they did not throw their trash to the ground in this alley. “This is a Guild facility, after all; if you were someplace you weren’t supposed to be, somebody would have an arm around your neck by now. Just don’t get in the way and nobody in the kitchens cares where you go.”

“That’s not the impression I got last time I went through the kitchens,” Rasha muttered.

The young cook laughed. “Oh, yeah. Let me guess, Arfeld was in charge at the time?”

“I…honestly have no idea.”

“Could’ve been any of them,” the waitress said reprovingly, swatting the cook on the chest. “You’ve just got a bug up your butt about Arfeld because of that reaming out he gave you. Yeah, don’t go in the kitchens unless you’ve got specific business there,” she added to Rasha with a grin. “Everything’s got a place and everybody has a purpose; they hate loiterers. But nobody’s going to mind if you hang out in the vicinity.”

“Provided,” said the young man, puffing his cigarette, “you don’t cause any trouble.”

“I’m good at not causing trouble,” Rasha agreed. He found that he had stepped aside of the door and leaned his back against the wall. Was this wise? He was outside the Casino, technically… But, he reasoned, just barely so. The door was right there. Nobody could threaten him here.

Nobody not already in the Guild, of course…

“I was an apprentice myself, for a while,” the girl said, smiling at him. Rasha glanced nervously at her companion; in his experience, men who’d cornered young women in semi-privacy could be very tetchy at being interrupted, but the fellow just placidly worked on his cigarette, pausing occasionally to sip a beer. “I get how you must feel, a little bit. Still slinging drinks here, even after I washed out. I mean, there’s a limited number of things a girl whose best asset is her looks can do to earn a living, and at least here the tips are good and I’ve got the most dangerous bastards in the Empire watching out for me. Beats the hell out of getting fondled in some dive. Or going back to Saddle Ridge and admitting to my mother she was right,” she added with a grimace. The cook grinned around his cigarette.

“Why’d you quit?” Rasha asked, then flushed again. “Um, sorry, that’s kind of personal. You don’t have to answer.”

“No, I getcha,” she said. “I remember being new… Pretty damn overwhelming, isn’t it? No, I…didn’t exactly quit.” She sighed, and scowled at her feet, then kicked at the ground. “You know, you don’t strictly have to be Guild to be Eserite?”

“Not this again,” the cook said with a groan.

“Oh, shut up,” she snapped. “You don’t. It’s a religion and a philosophy, you can believe in it without being actively a thief!”

“Sure,” he said, shrugging lazily. “But if you try acting on that philosophy without the Guild’s backing, you’ll wind up in jail or dead. And believing in it without acting on it isn’t the kind of thing Eserion has much patience for.”

“Pff, what do you know? Not like you ever apprenticed!”

“No, but I work here,” he said mildly, blowing a stream of smoke out over her head. “I know the basics. Everybody who’s been around here more’n two weeks knows the basics, Maisie.”

The waitress heaved a heavy sigh, glaring, then pointedly turned a cold shoulder to the cook, who grinned in amusement. “Anyway. No, I didn’t quit, I just wasn’t very…well, good. I’m quick and I can handle the politics and the social parts just fine, but there’s a big physical element to getting certified in the Guild, and I was just…” She shook her head, shrugging. “Well. I’m Maisie, by the way. As you just heard.”

“Rasha,” he replied with a smile which, to his surprise, was unforced.

“Daoud,” said the cook, waving lazily, then again held out the bottle. “Want a beer?”

“Uh…” Rasha winced. “Thanks, that’s really generous, but I’m kind of abstaining for a while.”

“Ooh.” Maisie winced. “Bad experience?”

“You could say that,” he grumbled.

“Ah, c’mon, it’s one beer,” Daoud said idly. “What could it hurt?”

“Oh, listen to you,” Maisie huffed. “You sound like the villain in an Omnist morality play. He doesn’t want to drink, what’s it to you?”

“Just being hospitable,” Daoud said, grinning around his cigarette. “Hey, isn’t it your job to get people to drink?”

“And I am on break,” she replied, tossing her head. “So, anything in particular on your mind, Rasha?”

“A lot,” he said, slumping back against the wall. “I just… Sorry, I don’t want to sound rude, I’m just not in the mood to talk about it.”

“Hey, we respect that,” Daoud said easily. “Don’t we, Maisie?”

“Of course,” she retorted, frowning up at him. “I just said I’ve been there. No worries, Rasha, you’re always welcome to loiter in the filthy alley with the rest of us gutter trash.”

“Sez you,” Daoud retorted. “I have an actual trade.”

“You’re a cook, you great oaf.”

“Yeah, but I’m a good cook. I’m going to be a chef. With some experience under my belt and a few references, I’ll have a cushy job making fancy pastries for some noble family.”

“You’re way too prideful to get along with nobles,” she said with a grin. “They’d have your head off inside a week.”

“What year do you think this is? Aristocrats in the Tiraan Empire don’t treat employees like serfs.” He shrugged. “Them with the money get to be assholes if they want. That’s the world; I can keep my head down and behave when it suits me.”

“Uh huh,” she said dryly. “Weren’t you the one just talking about how being Eserite meant taking action?”

He snorted softly. “Said I understand the philosophy, not that I subscribe to it. Like you said, I was never an apprentice. This is a job.”

Across the alley, the reader suddenly laid down his paper, shifting to stare in the direction of the front of the building. The others, noticing his movement, followed his gaze, Daoud and Maisie breaking off their argument.

Rasha immediately felt as if he’d been doused in icy sea spray.

“Good evening,” the dwarf said genially, strolling up to them as if his fine suit didn’t mark him as wildly out of place in this dingy alley.

“I’m sorry, sir, this is a staff entrance,” Maisie said politely. “There are entrances for guests in the front and rear of the building.”

“Of course, my dear, of course,” the dwarf replied in a pleasant tone. Rasha had never seen a dwarf in person before this week, but that neatly trimmed reddish beard was familiar even if the general configuration of their wide, blunt features might have confused him. “I just happened to notice a friend back here and thought I’d have a word. How’s apprenticeship treating you, Rasha?”

The cold feeling intensified. He was sure he’d never said his name to any of these people. Of course, he’d been drunk the first time… Had one of the others addressed him by name in front of them? With his blood suddenly thrumming in his ears it was impossible to concentrate on the memory.

“Excuse me,” he said, quietly enough it seemed the pounding in his chest should have been audible over it, “I don’t think we’ve been introduced.”

“Oh, not formally,” the dwarf replied, smiling benignly. “But surely we’re past formalities at this point, you and I. You know, Rasha, your sisters are very worried about you.”

Rasha bolted upright before he could restrain himself, fists clenching so hard they vibrated. “What the hell would you know about my sisters?”

“You might say I’m in the business of knowing things,” the dwarf said, still a very picture of well-mannered calm. “Please, there’s no call for hostility; I assure you, I intend you no harm. In fact, there are a lot of ways we can help one another, I believe.”

“Fuck off,” Rasha spat. “Fuck all the way off back to whatever hole you crawled out of. Stop following us around!”

“I wonder how you’re being treated by these people you are so eager to defend,” the dwarf said pointedly. “Perhaps—”

“Excuse me!” Maisie broke in, planting her fists on her hips, and scowled down at the dwarf. By this point, Daoud had tossed aside his cigarette and straightened up, and the busboy was staring alertly at the dwarf, one hand on his half-empty beer bottle. “He asked you to leave. I think you’d better do it, sir.”

“Is this how you address moneyed patrons, young woman?” the dwarf replied, turning to her with a knowing little smile. “Perhaps I should speak with your supervisor.”

“You are not a patron!”

“No, Maisie, he’s right,” Daoud said tersely. “This isn’t how we do things. Go get an enforcer.”

She instantly snapped her mouth shut, turned, and darted back through the doors.

“Rasha,” Daoud continued, keeping his eyes on the dwarf, “whatever this is, maybe you’d better head back in, too.”

“Of course, you needn’t act as if I’m going to bar you from doing as you like,” the dwarf said pleasantly. “I’m fairly certain my point here is made, Rasha. By all means, go enjoy the rest of your evening. We will resume this conversation at some point. I’m a big believer in not putting things off, but I’ll not tell you how to live your life.”

“You know what I’m a believer in?” Rasha whispered.

The dwarf raised his bushy eyebrows in an expression of polite curiosity. “Do tell.”

“All systems are corrupt.” His heart was pounding, breath trying to catch in his throat. He took a step forward, desperately wanting to turn and flee. He had fled too many times, though, and knew it. Once more and he’d never stop. “All governments and all laws exist to benefit those in power.”

“Please,” the dwarf said with a little sigh, holding up one hand. “Refrain from reciting the whole thing. I’m growing rather tired of thieves and their nonsense, as I’m sure you can understand. None of you are as full of surprises as you like to think.”

“Oh, really,” Rasha said, and startled himself by laughing. “Think so, do you?”

The dwarf shook his head. “Young man, I am perfectly content to—”

That was as far as he got before Rasha struck him in a flying tackle.

Somewhat to her own surprise, Jasmine wasn’t kept waiting long.

“Just so you know,” Grip said as she rounded the corner, “I’m not one to come when called. But after all, I did ask you to speak with me again, so I’ll make an exception.”

“And so,” Jasmine murmured as she turned to face the enforcer, “I also learn that you’re watching my movements.”

“Ahh, she’s beginning to watch and consider,” Grip said with a grin, coming to a stop before Jasmine in the dim corridor. It was the same spot in the Catacombs to which Grip had led her previously, still lit only by the faint light of torches around the bend. “Of course, that’s something you should have assumed anyway, but I have been gratified to see you making progress.”

“Yes, progress,” Jasmine said quietly, staring at her. “I’ve considered your proposal, and I have an answer for you.”

Grip smiled, lifting her eyebrows expectantly.

“Thank you for your consideration,” Jasmine continued. “The implied compliment is appreciated. However, I don’t believe you and I are a good professional match, so I’m afraid I must decline to become your apprentice.”

“Well, I’m afraid that’s—”

“And so that’s where the matter ends,” Jasmine stated, staring into her eyes. “It’s now dropped, and you aren’t going to so much as whisper a word of it to anyone.”

The enforcer’s posture did not shift, but there was an unmistakable threat in her sudden stillness. It was the poised tension of a coiled rattlesnake about to strike. “Child, I think you’ll find that giving orders like that to Eserites generally won’t get you anywhere. Giving them to me will get you places you do not want to go.”

“So you’ve been watching me,” Jasmine replied in the same tone. “I assume you saw this evening’s action.” She dragged her fingertips along the ghastly bruise stretching from her temple down past her cheekbone. “Do I look like someone who’s afraid of pain?”

“Maybe I’m misremembering things,” Grip said with a mirthless grin, “but I’m pretty sure I never offered you pain.”

“No, you just offered to make my life difficult,” Jasmine replied. “I’m making it clear, now, that if my secrets come out, I’m going to assume you were the one behind it. And then you’re going to learn exactly how little I fear any pain you’re capable of inflicting.”

“Keep digging, girl,” the enforcer said icily. “You’re not thinking ahead. Someone with as many connections as you have to other people needs to be mindful of them when making enemies.”

“You’re not my enemy, Grip,” Jasmine replied. “You are nowhere near my league. You’re going to threaten my connections, really? Please, please do that. Go to Last Rock and look the wrong way at one of my classmates, I dare you. If you’re particularly lucky, the kicking of your ass which follows will be over before Tellwyrn feels the need to step in. Go to Viridill and get yourself on the wrong side of Abbess Darnassy, see whether you’re resourceful enough to get out of the province alive. In fact, march yourself right down to the Temple and start something with Locke. Really, go on. I’ll wait here; I bet that’ll make a story I won’t want to miss.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Grip retorted, baring teeth again. “But that’s a fallacy, and you know it. You’re good at making friends, Jasmine. Why, you’ve managed to make some far less dangerous ones here, haven’t you?” She slipped one hand into a pocket, widening her ghastly grin subtly. “Right where I have access to them.”

“Ah. Yes,” Jasmine said softly. “Yes…there is that.”

Dazzling golden light blazed through the tunnel, and Grip reflexively attempted to leap backward, despite being momentarily blinded. Not fast enough to escape the moving wall of solid light that caught her up and slammed her against the stone behind her. She was both nimble and sturdy, and was only off guard for a moment, but that was all the time it took.

Before she could bounce back off the wall, Jasmine had stepped in front of her, a trident made of pure golden light blazing into being in her hands. In the next second, she had driven it straight at Grip’s throat; the widely-spaced prongs captured her whole neck and then sank into the stone wall behind, pinning her against it.

“Something was recently made clear to me,” Jasmine said coldly, “something I hadn’t fully appreciated.” Golden wings flared out from behind her, filling the passage, and she pressed, sinking the trident an inch deeper into solid stone, until it pushed on Grip’s throat hard enough to impede her breathing.

“People fear the Hand of Avei,” Trissiny snarled. “So let me make this explicitly plain, Grip. I’m done with your nonsense, and done with you. You have pushed me right to the brink, and one more nudge will be the end of it. Make me come after you again, and it’s not going to be you against another fighter. It’ll be wild, disproportionate, absolutely ridiculous overkill. It will be every power I can bring to bear on you, and every asset I can leverage to hunt you down if necessary. Do you think you can hide from valkyries?” She pushed another fraction of an inch, and Grip drew a rasping gasp of protest, clutching at the trident. It sparkled where her hands gripped it, where its tongs dug into the wall and where it pressed on her throat. Hard-light magical objects were well known to be degraded by physical contact with solid matter, which was why energy shields didn’t work in the rain. This one, though, did not so much as flicker, a testament to the enormous power flowing through it. “I’m talking about a piece of you in every mailbox in Tiraas. The world will know not to get in my way, Grip, and no one from Boss Tricks to the Emperor himself will dare call me down for it. So you can either make yourself useful to me as an object lesson… Or you can back. Off.”

She held the weapon in place for another few heartbeats, just to let it sink in, and then quite abruptly released it, along with every spark of magic she was channeling. The corridor was plunged back into darkness, and Grip slumped to the floor, clutching at her neck and coughing.

“Don’t make me repeat myself,” Jasmine said calmly, then stepped past her and walked back toward the exit.

She paused at the rasping laugh which followed her.

“That was all I wanted, you know,” Grip said hoarsely, dragging herself upright. “You’re here with this idea you need to be a con artist or something. You’re not. You’re an enforcer, and in the end, Eserion and Avei are on the same side. I just had to know you’re going to do—”

“Grip,” Jasmine said curtly, “I do not care.”

She walked away.

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The layout of the Thieves’ Guild underground headquarters was, unsurprisingly, confusing. Aside from the central complex around the Pit, where things were mostly laid out in a sensible fashion, the whole network was a confusion of oddly-angled tunnels, stairwells, meandering halls, hidden nooks, side rooms, and obfuscatory features in general. No room except the smallest and some not open to the public had only one entry, and there were abundant quiet spots for assignations of all kinds. It was all very useful for many of the purposes of its inhabitants. On the downside, for those not yet used to the place, it was very easy to get lost.

At least it provided means of avoiding the more crowded areas, if one were so inclined. Thus, it was an even nastier shock than it would otherwise have been when Jasmine emerged from the less-used back entrance to the dormitory toilets to find Grip lounging against the wall right outside.

“Morning!” the enforcer said with a bright smile.

Jasmine forced herself to relax, aware that her instinctively combative pose had given away her tension. With that out of the bag, she didn’t attempt to feign disinterest, folding her arms and scowling.

“Well. You’re up early.”

“Yes, I was,” Grip agreed, idly tossing a dagger in the air and catching it, “but that was hours ago. It’s past breakfast.”

“Somehow I assumed you’d be the type to be out all night and asleep—oh, excuse me, mysteriously absent till afternoon.”

“Then we’ve learned something about making assumptions, haven’t we?” Grip replied, grinning.

Jasmine narrowed her eyes. “What are you doing out here?”

“It’s the Guild,” she said with a shrug. “I’m a thief. I’m allowed.”

“You know what I mean,” Jasmine snapped. “And now you’re just trying to irritate me.”

“Yes, I am, and it’s working.” She pointed the dagger at her, expression now serious. “Don’t just experience the encounter, examine it. What exactly am I doing that gets under your skin? Why is it working? How can you counter this next time? What’s my motivation, here?”

“Let’s start simpler. What are you doing lurking outside the apprentices’ toilets?”

“Enforcement is about control, and control is about manipulation. You can’t maintain control through brute force, you’d be drowning in enemies before you could build a power base. It’s little things, theatrical touches and ways of getting under people’s skin that does the trick. Keeping people off-balance is more effective than keeping them afraid. For instance.” She smirked, lifting one eyebrow. “One of the most powerful things you can do to emphasize to someone that you are the one in control is to just show up in places where they think you won’t. Places where they feel safe, that should be out of bounds.”

“And so, toilets,” Jasmine said sourly.

“Toilets, hospital rooms, workplaces… For all the stories about leg-breaking—and we enforcers spread most of those ourselves—we get much better mileage out of embarrassment. Somebody owes money? Threaten them, and they may panic, or just do something dumb. But having shady characters like me turn up at their office, or finding me sitting in their kitchen making polite conversation with the little missus when they get home, or sitting next to them at temple services….? That is how you lean on someone.”

“Hm,” Jasmine said noncommittally. “Well, since you’re here, I have questions.”

Grip straightened up, twirling the dagger to rest with its blade against her forearm, and made it vanish inside her jacket with alarming deftness. “Shoot.”

“What happened with you and Randy?”

“What have you heard?”

“That you tossed him out for shaking down shopkeepers.”

“That’s the long and the short of it, yes,” Grip said, her expression openly annoyed for the first time. “He also got caught doing it by Sweet’s apprentices, which was humiliating—as much for me as for him. Insult upon injury. Was that all you wanted to know?”

“Of course not. I have a personal interest in understanding what you look for in an apprentice. I don’t really see the connection between myself and him. And if there is one, well, that’s a little distressing.”

The enforcer smiled, briefly, but in real amusement, before her expression sobered again. “Randy had—has, rather—hunger. The drive to make more of himself, to succeed, to fight the world. It’s a very Eserite thing. He’s one of those who’s always felt wronged, shortchanged; the world owes him something and he means to collect.” She shook her head, grimacing bitterly. “That we can’t have, it makes people do the most appalling bullshit. Prompted in the right way, though, it can be refined into a less narcissistic, more reasonable drive, the thing good Eserites need. A lust to equalize, turn the tables, bring the mighty down to our level and look them in the eye when they realize what’s happened. And I thought I was making progress with him, I really did. He was… Well. What his personal hobbies revealed was that he was playing me. Playing along, acting like he was absorbing the philosophies along with my tactics and know-how.” Her eyes narrowed to furious slits. “I’m not some thug, nor do I associate with riffraff, and I sure as hell don’t train that kind of scum. Eserion gives us a purpose, and it’s not to line our pockets. I failed Randy, apparently. Worse, he proved he wasn’t going to change. After that, aside from the insult to me, I could never trust that I was training an Eserite, and not just a thief. That was it for him.”

“I see,” Jasmine said slowly.

“Anyway, don’t worry too much about the resemblance,” Grip said, suddenly much more nonchalant. “I don’t have a type. I rarely pick a protege, and only when I spot somebody who I think needs my personal coaching. You have very little in common with Randy.”

“Glad to hear that, anyway.”

“Don’t be,” Grip said flatly. “It was a neutral statement, not a compliment or insult. He’s him, and you’re you. He failed. You still might. Do not get cocky.”

Jasmine tilted her head back, meeting the enforcer’s stare without hesitation. “I have advantages he definitely lacks.”

Grip smiled humorlessly. “And this is why you need me, in part.”

“That’s the other thing I was going to ask. What in the world do you want with me?”

The thief tilted her head, permitting herself a small smile which even looked deliberate. “If you understood my reasons, you wouldn’t need my help. If you were yet in a position to understand, I’d explain it. Some things you have to learn through experience.”

“Uh huh,” Jasmine said skeptically. “Well, this has been interesting—”

“You are on a schedule, you know,” Grip said pointedly.

“Yes, I am,” she retorted. “Right now I have to go deal with Glory again, followed by other things which are no business of yours. And in the slightly longer term, between all that and you I am reconsidering this whole project. You can threaten me with exposure if you like; while I’m debating whether I actually need to be here, that’s nothing more than helping me make up my mind. If I do decide to stay, we’ll talk. But not right now.”

“I’ll tell you what, kid,” the enforcer said, smiling again. “I’m going to grant you a few days’ leeway, because this right here is a valuable lesson. Learning how to weasel out of pursuit and delay the inevitable is a crucial skill for a thief, but not as much as learning the limits of how long you can get away with that. So here you go: learn the limits.” She winked. “And thus, you’re studying under me, whether you want to or not. Think about what I did, and try it yourself. Talk to you real soon, Jasmine.”

She turned and strolled away, leaving Jasmine standing alone in the corridor, staring after her.

After another moment’s contemplation, Jasmine turned and cut back through the toilets and the barracks into the Pit. The route she had started to take was roundabout and three times as long, and…well, there was no point, now.

“Heeeey, there she is!” called the first person she particularly wanted to see, after she’d exchanged nods with a few other apprentices. Tallie waved with her customary exuberance. “Missed you at breakfast, Jas!”

“Oddly enough I don’t have much of an appetite,” she replied, strolling over to join Tallie and Rasha by the pickpocketing dummies. “What’s the plan for today, guys?”

“Ross left early, too,” Rasha said quietly. “Apparently he’s got a lesson and some personal time with an actual Guild member.”

“Stands to reason, he’s been here twice as long as us,” Tallie said airily. “Good on him! We’re just waiting for oh look here he comes now.”

“Discussing who you’d all like to shag?” Darius asked, swaggering up to the group. “Don’t worry, I get that a lot. Morning, ladies.” He grinned broadly at Rasha, who narrowed his eyes.

“You need a new routine, Darius,” Tallie retorted. “That smug cocky guy schtick of yours is way overplayed. Try something original, something your own! Like the friggin’ pox.”

“Hey, don’t joke,” Darius said solemnly. “My uncle died of the frigginpox.”

“Are you sure?” Rasha snapped. “Maybe it was just embarrassment at being related to you.”

“Ooh, and the littlest Punaji tries his best!” Darius grinned down at him. “Not at your quickest first thing in the morning, are you?”

“Before this devolves any further,” Jasmine said pointedly, “you made it sound like you’ve got a plan for today?”

“Hell yeah!” Tallie crowed. “We’re meeting the elf twins preeeeetty much any time now, I dunno where they are. But they’re taking us out actually pickpocketing!”

“In…a group?” Jasmine raised her eyebrows. “That sounds like a good way to court far too much attention.”

“Hey, Fauna and Flora know what they’re doing, generally speaking,” Darius said with a shrug.

“And it’s Flora and Fauna,” Tallie corrected. “How many times I gotta tell you?”

“As many as it takes before that starts making a difference, you daffy bimbo.”

“Anyhow,” Rasha added, “we’re getting a chance to practice what we learned yesterday.”

“Oh…that sounds pretty good, actually,” said Jasmine with a sigh. “Wish I could come, but I’ve got to go dance to Glory’s tune again. It’s less of an honor this time, since I’ve been forewarned that this is the let-down speech.”

“Oh, ouch,” Tallie said, wincing sympathetically. “Not her type after all, huh?”

“And that’s just the start of the day,” Jasmine said dourly.

“Well, hey, don’t feel bad,” Darius replied cheerfully, slapping her on the shoulder. “You weren’t around to get the teaching, so it’s not like you could’ve come, anyway!”

“My, aren’t you a charmer,” Tallie said, scowling at him. “We could teach her what we know on the spot, y’know, and I bet the elves know a lot more than any of us, anyhow. No need to be a dick.”

“It’s a having a dick thing,” Darius said seriously. “Rasha, tell her.”

“Whoah!” Rasha protested. “I have and want nothing to do with you and dicks!”

“Hmm.” Darius made a show of stroking his chin in thought. “I feel I should be able to run with that. There’s a good burn in there, I can sense it, but there are hazards. A lot of the directions I could take it would make me sound pretty gay.”

“How about—” Tallie broke off as Rasha’s finger was thrust into her face.

“Don’t help him! And if you don’t want to sound gay, Darius, try talking a little bit less about dicks.”

“And he recovers from his earlier fumble!” Darius crowed, beaming. “Anyhow, where the hell are those girls? Just like a pair of elves to be shiftless and unreliable. Boom!” He whirled, pointing both fingers behind him. Another passing apprentice, finding herself in his sights, paused to give him a contemptuous once-over before continuing on her way. Darius sighed and turned back to them. “Well, shit, I thought for sure they’d be right behind me if I started bad-mouthing ’em.”

“Nice, boy,” said Flora from directly above them. “Real attractive.”

“And it might’ve worked, if only you were apprenticing with the Veskers,” Fauna added archly.

Both elves were perched nimbly on the edge of the Pit. Half of it was railed, a fairly new addition which had apparently been abandoned partway through, leaving the rest of its surface borders as a constant falling hazard. Flora and Fauna, doubtless to emphasize their agility, had chosen to balance on the iron bannister, sitting as casually as if in easy chairs.

“Ladies!” Darius cried, waving exuberantly up at them. “May I just say you’re looking extra svelte today? And not just because I have a perfect view of your legs from here.”

“Do we really wanna help him?” Flora asked her counterpart.

“Eh, he might as well come along,” Fauna replied with a shrug. “I kinda like the others.”

As if on some inaudible cue, both hopped forward plummeting down to land nimbly beside the other apprentices. Flora’s characteristic cloak billowed very dramatically at her descent.

“So, you coming along today, Jasmine?” Flora asked with a broad grin.

“I’m afraid I have to go oh what am I doing, I know you heard our whole conversation.”

“Dammit!” Fauna huffed irritably, flipping a doubloon to Flora, who caught it with a gleeful cackle. “You had to pick today to start learning?”

“Yeah, I’m increasingly okay with how this has panned out,” Jasmine said dryly.

“Well, cats and kittens, we are burning daylight,” Tallie added. “C’mon, ladies and Rasha, let’s get a move on. See you this afternoon, Jas?”

“Or tonight. It depends on how long I get tied up today.”

“Try not to do that,” Flora advised.

“And if you do, make sure you establish a safe word,” Fauna added.

Jasmine blinked. “…what?”

“Isn’t she precious?” Flora cackled, turning to go with a wide sweep of her cloak.

“I swear, one of these days you’re gonna hit somebody important with that damn thing…”

“Didja see what I did there?” Tallie asked Darius, grinning and prodding him on the shoulder. “Ladies and Rasha, I said. See, the implication—”

“Yes, yes, thank you for defending my honor, Tallie,” Rasha said, rolling his eyes. “C’mon, they’re leaving us behind. Bye, Jasmine.”

The records room at the Silver Legion’s complex in the Temple of Avei was a fairly public space; one needed reason and at least a minimal level of clearance to be there, but such reasons did occur consistently in the normal course of the day. Ordinarily, women would be coming and going through the well-lit archives to retrieve, deposit, or copy files on a regular basis.

It was quiet, now, and empty, and she had to force herself not to rush in her efforts, as rushing led to sloppiness. She was keenly aware, however, that her presence was the reason no one else was in here. She hadn’t left orders not to be disturbed, but had had to identify herself in order to gain access, and…apparently, one thing had led to another.

An hour into her search, though, she was at least making progress. Hopefully the disruption her presence must be causing the Legion’s ordinary functions was minor and easily remedied. Surely if anything important came up that necessitated access to the files, whoever needed it wouldn’t hesitate?

She looked up in mild surprise when the door to the long filing room finally opened, then straightened fully, setting down her folder and blinking. “Oh! Commander! I’m sorry, I hope I’m not disturbing you…”

High Commander Rouvad smiled faintly, pulling the door shut behind her. “Not in the least, I’m glad of the excuse to take a break. Disconcerting, isn’t it?”

“Pardon?”

“Not having to salute,” Rouvad said, her smile widening as she approached. “You’ve got a look I recognize, not knowing quite what to do with your hands. It was awkward enough for me, and I got to this position after long years of making smaller steps. Don’t repeat this, but I still feel uncomfortable, not saluting a General. Somehow I never quite imagined myself as the woman in charge; it still feels like I’m watching somebody else play a role, some days.”

“I…um, I see.” Awkwardly, she relaxed her tense posture. “For the record, I didn’t tell them not to disturb me in here.”

“Yes, I know,” Rouvad said, shaking her head ruefully. “That would be Sergeant Pinitar’s work. A stickler for respect toward the faith’s persons of importance, and quite a fan of yours, incidentally. Don’t worry, you’re not disrupting the Sisterhood’s affairs unduly. I did leave orders that we not be disturbed, though. If it’s not something extremely personal, I can probably help you find what you’re looking for a lot quicker, Trissiny.”

For a moment, she considered insisting on the name. Principia hadn’t been the first to emphasize that while she was Jasmine, she was Jasmine; a convincing deception began with deceiving oneself, on some level. It had been a favorite theme of Tricks’s, when he was initially coaching her in this role. Just for a moment, though. That conversation would be, at best, a distraction, and probably achieve nothing productive.

“I spoke with Principia Locke recently,” she said instead.

Rouvad nodded. “I just learned of that this morning, in fact. Sergeant Locke credits your help with much of her progress on her current mission.”

She drummed her fingers once on the file atop the cabinet directly in front of her. “I’m not trying to get her or her squad in trouble, here.”

“Allow me to lay that worry to rest,” Rouvad said seriously. “A certain amount of politicking is inevitable in any organization the size of the Sisterhood. I have no choice but to engage in it, myself. But among my personal priorities as a commander is to protect my troops from that as much as possible. If Locke has done something that deserves reprimand, she’ll get it. If not, I will not see her put upon in service to anyone’s agenda. I’m afraid,” she added with a sigh, “I have not always managed to shield Squad 391 from that as well as I should have; Locke and her soldiers are already more suspicious of the chain of command than I like to see in a unit, but I can’t blame them for it. Restoring that trust is something of a priority right now.”

“I see,” Jasmine murmured. “Well, perhaps that’s a good lead-in for what I was looking for. When we talked, Locke mentioned someone highly placed in the Sisterhood trying to murder her, and apparently her whole squad.”

“Oh, did she,” Rouvad said flatly. “Might I ask how that came up in conversation?”

“I asked her to see me to gain her insights on my own project; she certainly knows a great deal about being Eserite, and apparently has managed to learn something about integrating the two faiths without dissonance. We were discussing that, and I expressed an opinion that the Guild was inherently somewhat more corruptible than the Sisterhood. That was part of her rejoinder.”

“Hm.” Rouvad turned to lean backward against the file cabinet, folding her arms. “For what it’s worth, her point is well-taken. The Sisterhood is more corruptible by nature, just because it is more structured. Predatory people can exist in almost any environment, and they tend to thrive in the military. Where there are rules, those rules can be exploited. The comparative chaos of the Guild’s structure counters that to a point. Coupled, of course, with its inherent opposition to the abuse of structures.”

“All systems are corrupt,” Jasmine muttered.

“Yes, so they tell me,” Rouvad said dryly. “You know, Locke is a Legionnaire, now. Anything Legion-relevant that you want her to tell you, you can order her to.”

“Yes, I know. As does she. She asked me not to, said she doesn’t want to stir up more politics.” Jasmine shook her head. “And yes, I am aware that she fed me just enough information to help me find what I need, especially since it’s an accusation I can’t just let go. All while covering her own butt. I’m not blind.”

“Avei wouldn’t have picked you if you were obtuse,” Rouvad stated, “despite what I suspect some of those thieves have been telling you. And don’t underestimate Locke. It wasn’t just a matter of protecting herself; by making you dig up your own information, she arranged for you to be more invested in it. That’s a vitally important piece of mortal nature you need to be aware of, Trissiny. It’s why organizations have intense initiation rites, part of why basic training in any military is so brutal. People value something much more if they’ve had to work for it.”

Jasmine sighed. “Forgive me, Commander, but I’ve just come from a singularly unpleasant encounter with a person who breaks elbows for a living and seems to want to teach me to follow the same path. I’m a little sour on the subject of manipulating people at the moment.”

Rouvad cracked a faint, wry grin. “I know that feeling, too. I’m sorry to have to say this, General Avelea, but you’d better get over it. These are the methods by which you keep your troops in order.”

“I know, I know. I’m coping. I was always taught that Avei disapproves of lies, though.”

“That’s Narnasia’s voice talking, not Avei’s. War is deception.”

“Yes, I’m getting quite the education in that as we speak. But since you’re here and offered…?”

The Commander clenched her jaw for a moment, looking away. “Well. Loath as I am to drag you into politics, that’s probably just wishful thinking on my part. Locke may have exaggerated slightly; it wasn’t a murder attempt, so much as a plot to discredit her squad which could have resulted in their injury or death. I have to acknowledge that from their perspective, the difference is just quibbling.”

“She also claimed the person responsible is still in a position of authority,” Jasmine said, hearing her own voice climb in incredulous disapproval. “This really happened? And that’s true?”

Rouvad nodded slowly, turning her head again to meet her eyes. “Yes, Bishop Syrinx is now reinstated to her position.”

For a moment, she could only stare. “…the Bishop?”

“Have you met Basra Syrinx, Trissiny?”

“Once. It was… Well, surprising. She struck me as quite clever.”

“Oh, isn’t that the truth,” Rouvad said in a surprisingly sour tone.

“I don’t mean to be pushy, Commander, but I think I need to insist on a full explanation of this.”

“It’s not pushy,” Rouvad replied immediately. “You’re entitled to know, by virtue of rank alone. I wasn’t keeping it from you, Trissiny, but by default I don’t inform you of the Legions’ doings unless you are specifically involved. But, yes, since you are, now… Well, to begin with, have you ever heard the phrase ‘social pathology?’”

She narrowed her eyes. “I… Actually, I think I have, but only in passing. During one of Professor Tellwyrn’s lectures, I think. I can’t recall specifically what the context was.”

“Well, by that description it could refer to almost anything, but that’s the term used by dwarven mind-scholars. Actually, the elves have a word for it as well, but personally I find the dwarven perspective more useful. Admirably scientific people, the dwarves; their research is all conducted very rationally and well-documented. Social pathology is a condition from which Basra Syrinx suffers.”

“It certainly doesn’t sound pleasant,” Jasmine said pointedly. “I doubt it would even if I didn’t know it was relevant to her attacking her own soldiers.”

“It’s a congenital disorder of the brain,” Rouvad continued. “It causes the victim to have a very limited range of emotions and predisposes them toward certain characteristic traits: egotism, obsessiveness, aggression. The most important fact of it, though, is that it leaves the sufferer unable to form emotional connections to other people—to anything, really.” She paused, frowning at the wall and clearly not seeing it. “How to put this… Well, to you and I, a person, a puppy, and a chair are three qualitatively different kinds of things. They demand different responses and types of treatment. Syrinx lives in a world inhabited entirely by chairs…some of which cut in front of her in line and chew up her shoes.”

Jasmine stared at her in dawning horror, her mind racing ahead to being grasping the full implications. “And…this…person… Is the Bishop of our faith?!”

Again, the Commander heaved a heavy sigh. “This is where it gets difficult, Trissiny—especially for me. It’s another thing you really should have been made aware of before now, as both militaries and the Thieves’ Guild attract people like this. It’s not a common condition, but the studies I’ve read from Svenheim estimate as many as one in a hundred humans and elves have it, and only slightly fewer dwarves. Personally, I would love to throw Basra bloody Syrinx out of the Legions and the cult entirely; dealing with her is a constant strain on my patience and belief in the basic good of the world.”

“And yet she’s still Bishop.”

Rouvad nodded, grim-faced. “Because… For what, exactly, would we be punishing her? You can’t condemn someone for being mad, you can only deal with their actions as necessary. It’s a disease, and it’s not her fault she has it. Understand how someone with a brain like that sees the world, Trissiny. It’s not remarkable that she turned on a squad who personally irritated her, so much that she doesn’t do such things every day. Yes, we have to hold Syrinx accountable for her actions, but punishment is simply not effective on her. She is by all evidence an upstanding citizen and a highly productive member of the Sisterhood, all without being capable of anything you or I would understand as morality.”

“How is that even possible?”

“Because she’s found her own way to live by the dictates of our faith, and society at large. Basra isn’t able to love, or truly to care, but she understands cause and effect and has a sense of her own self-interest. However she does it, she toes the line. When she steps out of line I have to deal with that—but I have to do so keeping in mind what causes her to act as she does, and what methods are necessary to rein her in. They are rarely the same ones that would work on a normal person. Honestly, I’m never sure how well I do at managing her. It’s uncharitable of me, but I can never shake the suspicion that she’s up to things out of my sight far worse than anything she’s ever been accused of.”

“Like trying to murder a squad of Legionnaires?” Jasmine snapped.

“The files on that are classified,” Rouvad replied, “and thus not here. However, I’m going to have them pulled and copied and made available to you. You deserve to know all the facts. I handled that as best I could, Trissiny, but it wasn’t so simple as Locke doubtless made it sound. Do me the favor of knowing everything you can before taking a side.”

“That’s…fair,” she said somewhat grudgingly.

“There is also the matter to consider that Basra Syrinx is a priestess of Avei,” Rouvad added pointedly. “It’s the single greatest reason I extend to her as much tolerance as I do, followed shortly by the fact that her very disability makes her a shrewd and extremely valuable political agent. But in order to call upon Avei’s power, she requires the goddess’s approval.”

“Clerics have acted poorly in the past,” Jasmine pointed out.

“Indeed, yes, but there is always a line which, when crossed, cuts you off from a deity’s auspices. They don’t watch everything all the time, Trissiny, but they see when their power is called upon. So long as Basra has continued access to the light of the gods…I extend to her a little trust. Because I am trusting in Avei.”

A momentary silence fell. Jasmine nodded slowly in comprehension, and reluctant acceptance.

Rouvad studied her face thoughtfully, then sighed again. “Well, that is as good a segue as any. On a very similar note, I want Principia Locke in my Legions about as much as I want Basra Syrinx, and I tolerate her for similar reason. When she applied to enlist, I was inclined to show her the door.” She shook her head. “I was overruled.”

“Overruled? But you’re the High Commander, who could—” She broke off, eyes widening.

Rouvad nodded. “Locke is here because, for whatever reason, Avei wants her. I think you should know that, if you’re going to try dealing with the woman.”

Jasmine bit her lip. “Commander… What do you think of Principia?”

“She’s trouble,” Rouvad said immediately. “But… And I’m surprised to find myself saying this… Not more trouble than she’s worth. She is a lousy soldier and probably always will be…but I have never been able to fault her effort, or her apparent care for the women she leads. And they have the highest opinion of her, including one whose opinion I, personally, value highly. For now… Just as with Syrinx, I’m trusting that Avei knows what she is doing.”

The Commander and the paladin sat in silence for another moment, and then Jasmine heaved a sigh. “Well. I guess I should be glad somebody does.”

Rouvad grinned. “It’s the only thing that keeps me going.”

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They both shifted at the sound of steps on the stairs, turning to see who was descending; it was clearly only a single pair of feet. The boots which appeared were not Silver Legion issue.

Ephanie remained in place, keeping her expression blank, as the girl in the trench coat descended, glancing at the two of them with curiosity but no sign of unease.

Casey, though, after a moment’s hesitation, came fully to attention and saluted.

Jasmine’s eyes cut back to her. She did not pause in descending, though after a bare moment, she nodded almost imperceptibly and continued on her way.

There was still no sound from above. Either Locke was remaining behind for the time being, or for whatever reason had gone for the other stairs. Ephanie waited until the Eserite apprentice was out of sight around the corner before turning and speaking pointedly to Casey.

“Is there something you’d like to tell me, private?”

“I…yes,” Casey replied. “But with all respect, corporal, I think for the moment I had better not.”

Ephanie pursed her lips and drew in a deep breath through her nose. “Elwick… I realize it’s easy to take Sergeant Locke for a fool, but we all know who’s the reason Bishop Syrinx didn’t manage to get us drummed out of the Legion and/or killed. Chain of command aside, if she tells you to butt out of something, you had better do it.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Casey said simply, indulging in one quick glance down the hall in the direction Jasmine had gone. “I know.”

“Well,” Tallie said archly, “look who’s back. Young lady, do you have any idea what time it is?”

“Not really,” Jasmine replied, sliding onto the bench next to them with her tray. “Aside from dinner time. Hey, guys. How was your day?”

“Pretty good,” Ross rumbled. “Got some training.”

“We stayed in,” Rasha added, wincing. “Which was very beneficial for those of us who woke up wishing we were dead.”

“Yeah,” Tallie said, giving him a pointed look. “Next time we go drinking I’ll make sure you get water and food in you. It helps the next morning.”

“Appreciate you looking out for me,” he said wryly. “How ’bout if I’m dumb enough to do that again…don’t let me?”

She snorted and jostled his shoulder with her own. “Anyway, yeah, turns out we’ve managed to build up a little cred, what with one thing and another. Couple senior apprentices showed us a few tricks for picking pockets and cutting strings, and an actual Guild member gave us a lock-picking lesson. Shifty guy named Fingers.” She wrinkled her nose. “I could really go two ways about that tag, but he was good with the locks and didn’t pinch my butt, so I figure he’s okay.”

“Ever wonder about tags?” Ross asked, staring pensively at the forkful of potato he had just speared. “Can’t be the only Eserite ever tagged Fingers. Be surprised if he’s the only one alive now.”

“We’ll have to ask Lore about that,” Tallie said dismissively.

“Sounds like a good day,” Jasmine said after swallowing a bite of bland fish. “Can I beg a lesson from you guys?”

“Trade you for some sparring tips,” Rasha said quickly.

“Deal.”

“Okaaaaay.” Tallie pushed her tray to the side and planted her elbows rudely on the table, staring at Jasmine with her eyebrows raised. “Now you tell us about your day.”

“Hear you got some face time with a veteran thief with serious cred,” Ross added.

Frowning reflectively, Jasmine nodded. “Yeah… Two, actually. This morning I was…well, summoned is a good word. Summoned by someone named Glory.”

“Glory?” Tallie gasped. “The Glory? The one and only?”

“Uh…yes?”

“That’s amazing! Who the hell is Glory?”

Jasmine grinned in spite of herself. “Well…she’s…interesting.”

“Tells us a lot,” Ross noted.

“Shush.” Tallie reached across the table to flick his forehead. “Not everybody’s a semi-bard.”

“Glory’s a…the word she used is ‘courtesan.’ She’s in the information trade. Seemed…well, rich, if nothing else.”

“What’d she want with you?” Tallie demanded.

“She’s looking for an apprentice.”

“Holy shit!” Rasha sat bolt upright. “You actually got a sponsor?”

“No, no,” Jasmine said hastily. “It was more of an initial interview. She’s looking for someone and people have mentioned I’m along the lines of what she wants, but it wasn’t like she’d decided already. We’ve never met before, after all. It was…a strange conversation. Kind of illuminating, but she honestly made me sort of uncomfortable.”

“Well, ch’yeah, if she’s a hooker,” Tallie said.

“Courtesan,” Jasmine corrected. “She was extremely clear on the difference. And actually it seems like a significant one.”

“Whatever,” Tallie grunted, waving away her objection. “Point is, for someone raised Avenist, meeting a hooooookourtesan has gotta be uncomfortable.”

Jasmine stared at her. “How did you know I was raised Avenist?”

“You may not have noticed the presence of lesser mortals around you,” Tallie said dryly, “but you had that scrap with Silence and the ensuing conversation out in damn well public. And honestly it explains a lot. Nobody your age has a right to be such a badass unless you were getting drilled with a sword right out of the cradle.”

“Huh,” Rasha said, studying her speculatively now. “What brings you here, then? Get fed up with Avei?”

Jasmine shrugged uncomfortably, spearing another bite of food. “I have no problems with Avei. The Sisterhood, though…has issues.” She stuffed vegetables in her mouth and began chewing stubbornly, eyes on her plate.

“Must’ve been a hell of an interview, to take all day,” Tallie mused.

Jasmine looked up at her, sighed softly through her nose, finished chewing, and swallowed.

“Well. After that, I looked up and asked Principia Locke to speak with me.”

“Uh huh,” Tallie replied, raising an eyebrow. “The infamous Eserite Legionnaire elf who you won’t tell us how she knows you enough to freak out when she found you in a cell.”

“She’s my mother.”

The apprentice dining hall was rowdy and cheerful as always, but for a few moments in their little corner, it was dead silent.

“Wait…what?” Rasha finally exclaimed.

“We don’t really…talk,” Jasmine said, staring at her food. “It’s not a close relationship. Okay, honestly, it’s not a relationship. I didn’t even know she’d joined the Legions and I still can’t wrap my head around that. But…she was nearby, and I’m learning to do this Eserite thing, and I was kind of turned around and apprehensive after seeing Glory, so I figured…” She shrugged. “Well. Couldn’t hurt to get some tips. I mean, she pretty clearly has insight on belonging to the same two cults I do, if…you know, in reverse.”

“Wait, so you’re a half-elf?” Ross frowned, peering at her through narrowed eyes. “Hm. Actually I can sorta see it.”

“Well, thanks,” Jasmine said sardonically.

“I guess she must be kind of a good Eserite after all, then,” Tallie mused. “She was pretty clearly shocked when she saw you in that cell, but she recovered fast, and didn’t show a hint for the rest of the night. Hmm. Might be someone who’s worth knowing, for apprentices.”

“She really is the most awful person,” Jasmine said sourly. “She just took off right after I was born, and I didn’t see her for eighteen years. That doesn’t just go away. But…” She sighed, and shrugged. “Whatever her reasons…she has them, I guess. People don’t just do random things, and I’m learning that everybody thinks they’re justified in whatever they do. And she is trying to get to know me, now, though I can’t help being suspicious of her motives.”

“Sounds like you should be,” Rasha commented. She gave him a quick little smile.

“I think being suspicious of everyone’s motives is good policy around here,” said Ross.

“Yeah,” Jasmine agreed. “Besides, I have to wonder if I have any right to criticize other people’s actions. We’ve all screwed up.”

“That’s true for everybody,” Tallie said cheerfully.

“Probably truer than most for anybody apprenticing in this cult,” added Rasha.

“Oh!” Tallie suddenly slapped the table with her palm. “I just remembered. HEY! DARIUS!”

The last was spoken over her shoulder at full volume. Across the aisle, Darius turned around on his own bench, raising an eyebrow.

“This had better be the start of either a food fight or a blowjob, ganglepants.”

“You’re an asshole,” Tallie replied, grinning.

“Yes, I know. It’s all part of my charm. Whatcha need?”

“Get over here, I’m not gonna yell everything across the damn room.”

“Oh, no, of course not,” he said sarcastically. “Because that would be uncouth and disrespectful to everyone else in here who doesn’t care about your nonsense.”

“Less sass, more hustle!”

“This isn’t going to stop until I get up and haul my ass over there, is it.”

“Aw, see? Next time somebody tells me you’re as dumb as a block of wood, I can actually contradict them! I mean, probably won’t, but I can.”

Darius sighed dramatically and swiveled fully around, swinging his legs over the bench, and stood. “Ugh, fine. Someone’s a fast learner; you’ve got a long and fruitful career ahead of you as a blackmailer.”

“Thought Style said not to go into blackmail,” Ross said, frowning. “She said blackmailers usually end up murdered.”

“Well, yes,” Darius replied easily, ambling up to them. “I’m guilty of a spot of wishful thinking now and again.”

“Good of you to join us,” Tallie said cheerfully. “Just wanted to let you know, I cornered Style this morning. After she finished calling me cusswords in three languages, I brought up Pick. Fucker’s actually skipped town entirely.”

“Son of a bitch,” Darius spat, suddenly looking genuinely angry. “That sniveling little shitstain! Okay, new rule: next time I come up with a job offer, punch me in the nuts.”

“Done and done,” Rasha promised.

“Oh, but that’s not the good part,” Tallie said, now grinning insanely. “Style was under the impression Pick had already paid us. Now we get our compensation straight out of Guild funds, and the Guild will be compensated by Pick.”

“How’s he gonna compensate the Guild?” Ross asked. “’side from being gone, he didn’t seem to be much of a high roller, and the Legion killed his deal.”

“That’s his problem!” If anything, Tallie’s grin widened. “Because in addition to paying us, he’ll be paying wages for the Guild enforcers send to gather him up.”

“Ahhh.” Darius smiled beatifically. “So by ‘compensation,’ you meant ‘all his money plus one point five kneecaps.’”

“If he’s lucky!”

“I do love a happy ending,” he said, beaming.

“Strange that he would run,” Jasmine commented. “It seems like Guild members, of all people, would know not to try that.”

“Eh, there’s probably a story in there,” Tallie said without interest. “More going on. I really don’t care; we get our money and I’m done with the fucker.”

“Hey, Darius,” Jasmine added. “I, um. I wanted to apologize for being a jerk yesterday. I really wasn’t trying to pick on you, it’s just… Well, I guess I’m a little thoughtless and kind of a show-off. I’m sorry.”

“Hey, water under the bridge,” Darius said easily, sticking his hands in his pockets. “Now I have ammunition to use next time I fuck up and would rather you didn’t tie me in a knot, now that I know that’s a possibility.”

“That’s actually harder than you think,” Jasmine said seriously. “People aren’t really flexible in the right way.”

“You’re kinda cute when you’re not being creepy,” he replied, winking. “Theoretically. I assume. Looking forward to testing that theory. Catch you kids later.”

Pausing only to playfully swat Tallie’s head, he turned and strolled off back to his own dinner.

“Well, that’s kind of a relief,” Jasmine said, spearing another bite of fish. “Good to put that behind us”

“Uh huh,” Tallie said skeptically. “You cling to that optimism, girl.”

Squad One, in preparation for their afternoon’s excursion, had gotten dinner early enough that they’d had to get travel rations from the kitchen. By this point in the evening, the actual meal was still being served, though just barely; the kitchen staff were already wiping down one of the long rows of tables in the mess. Given the Ninth Cohort’s current deployment, very few squads actually ate on the same schedule, aside from breakfast. Fortunately, the person Casey was looking for happened to be present.

“Sergeant Aumbe, you speak elvish, right?” she asked, plopping into a seat opposite her target.

“And hello to you, too, Elwick.” Lontli Aumbe was a sturdily-built, broad-faced woman with skin a deep shade of mahogany, her hair trimmed close to her head in a much shorter style than even the other Legionnaires usually adopted. She was currently working her way through a bowl of the simple, hearty stew which was a staple in the Legion mess, and wearing a customarily wry expression. “Yeah, I wouldn’t say fluently, but I picked up as much as I could while we were stationed at Fort Vaspian. Wasn’t much to do at that posting, and it seemed worthwhile.”

“Wait…Vaspian?” Casey blinked. “Isn’t that the fortress across the entrance to Tar’naris? I thought it was an Imperial base?”

“It is. Used to do cooperative duty with the Silver Legions, until Queen Arkasia asked us to leave. The Third was the last Silver Legion to be stationed there.”

“…she asked the Legions to leave? And they just did it?”

“Apparently,” Aumbe said with a faint grin, idly toying with her spoon, “the Tiraan in general are alien enough to Narisians that she’s not too worried about cultural assimilation. But our army of badass warrior women is enough like the drow ideal there was apparently some concern about Narisian warriors running away to join. Arkasia doesn’t want that, and apparently the High Commander doesn’t either. She shifted us away. Now the Second Legion patrols Viridill, but they don’t actually fortify the tunnel anymore.”

“Huh,” Casey said thoughtfully.

“History’s interesting,” Aumbe commented. “Something tells me it’s not what you’re curious about, though.”

“Oh! Well, I…” Casey shrugged awkwardly. “I guess it doesn’t really matter, if you speak the drow language. Sorry, I just assumed.”

“It’s the same language,” the sergeant pointed out. “The Narisian dialect has some extra grammar for its different levels of formality, and they pronounce their vowels differently, but basically? Same language. Y’know, Elwick, if you need something translated, there are two actual elves in your squad.”

“Yes, I know,” Casey said with a sigh. “They’re sort of why I’m asking.”

Aumbe grunted in amusement. “Ah. They like to talk behind your back to your face?”

“Oh, it’s nothing bad,” she said hastily. “But Locke and Shahai enjoy their little jokes. And especially with Locke… Well, sometimes I like feeling like the smart one in the room for a change. Anyway, it’s not important, if I decide I care enough I can always go to a Nemitite temple and look it up. I just wondered if you happened to know what the elvish word for mimosa is.”

“Sorry, kid.” Sergeant Aumbe scooped up another spoonful of stew. “I don’t even know what that is in Tanglish.”

“Oh. It’s a tree.” Casey wilted slightly even as she spoke. “It has leaves like ferns, and the cutest pink poofy flowers in the spring…”

“Oh! You mean a silk tree!” Aumbe set down her spoon, finally beginning to look interested. “Beautiful things, they’ve got one on the grounds of the Temple of Izara. One of the few things I like about being posted there. Sorry, though, the names of trees aren’t really the kind of thing you learn from the underground elves.”

“Yeah, that makes sense,” Casey said, grimacing and moving to get back up. “Well, thanks anyway!”

“Hang on, though,” Aumbe said. “The thing about elvish is they don’t like making up new words for stuff; when they want to describe something, they build a word out of other words that basically tells you exactly what it is. That’s why elvish is full of those stupidly long words with all the apostrophes. Like, the names of specific species of stuff is just the kind of thing and a descriptor.”

“So…if it’s a silk tree, it’d just be the elvish for literally silk tree?”

“Probably.” Aumbe shrugged and took a bite of her stew, chewing thoughtfully for a long moment before swallowing. “Let’s see. ‘Tree’ is tris, that’s an easy one. The Tanglish word actually comes from that. ‘Silk’ is trickier.”

“How so?”

“Well, I know a word for silk in elvish, but it refers to the spider silk they have in Tar’naris. Whenever the drow talked about, you know, normal silk, they used the Tanglish word. Elvish doesn’t really change quickly, being spoken by immortals, and silk comes from the North. Y’know, Sifan, Sheng-la, Ang Khon. They don’t even have elves in Sifan, and I dunno about the others.”

“I see,” Casey mused. “Well…what’s the word for spider silk?”

“Sini.”

“Hm. So, sini tris.” She kept her features schooled, but a prickle ran down her spine.

“Nah.” Aumbe shook her head and finished chewing another bite. “Nah, they put the words in the other order, and an apostrophe in there that’s pronounced as the tiniest hesitation. I actually never got the hang of that part. But, more or less, ‘silk tree’ would be tris’sini. Assuming, of course, that’s what they actually call it, which…they probably don’t.”

“Of course, of course,” Casey said, nodding. “Well, I appreciate it anyhow. It’s probably not important; sorry to interrupt your dinner.”

“No worries.” Suddenly, the sergeant frowned, holding her spoon suspended halfway back to the bowl. “Hm. That’s almost exactly the paladin’s name.”

“You’re right, it is,” Casey said innocently. “You’d think I’d have caught that! I met her once, you know.”

“Yes, Elwick.” Aumbe rolled her eyes. “We have all heard the story.”

“It’s a good story,” she said defensively.

“Sure it is, kid,” the sergeant replied, grinning. “She sounds like a good one. I mean, aside from the obvious that Avei wouldn’t pick a bad one. I’m sure it’s a coincidence, though. No reason to think I put the word together right, and anyway, what kind of sadistic moron would name their kid Silk Tree?”

“Well, she is half elf,” Casey pointed out. “Who knows?”

Aumbe grunted and finished spooning up another helping of stew. “That’d be kind of interesting if it’s true. But it doesn’t really matter; paladins aren’t any of our business. Why’d you want to know about the word, anyway?”

“Well, if I’m interpreting the conversation right, there are a couple of those trees in the Arboretum that they keep blooming through the winter. So…wow, that was even less important than I thought,” she added ruefully.

“Uh huh. Word of advice, kid?” Aumbe pointed the spoon at her. “Take some time to learn that language. Learning languages is just generally a good thing to do, and maybe it’d put a stop to you being the butt of the joke.”

“Or at least, I could join in and make someone else the butt.” Grinning, Casey stood up from the table. “Thanks, sergeant.”

“Anytime, kiddo.”

She held it together until she was back out in the courtyard, and then had to pause, staring wide-eyed at nothing.

“Holy shit.”

Immediately, Casey got her features back under control, and continued making her slow way in the general direction of Squad One’s cabin. Inwardly, though, her mind was racing. Her early childhood training remained in effect, both at keeping her true thoughts hidden, and her father’s lessons in recalling precise details. Project back to the moment, see every aspect of the environment, remember the exact words used. Conversations from the past flickered through her head, one after the other.

I have a daughter about your age.

Why else would Avei choose a half-elf as her paladin?

Kid doesn’t talk to me…

Holy shit, Locke.

And on the heels of astonishment came, reflexively, more analysis. Ephanie was right; Locke did like to play the fool, and she did it well. Casey, at least, was schooled enough in cunning that she never let herself forget her sergeant was two and a half centuries old, and a veteran Eserite. She had been the driving force behind their outmaneuvering of Syrinx, and was the cornerstone of their hopes of doing it again.

Casey was well aware that the odds of her having penetrated one of Locke’s deceptions by pure happenstance were slim. Once she considered that fact, other points of data clicked neatly into place. There was really no reason for Locke to have dropped that tidbit about having a daughter; she had actually never shared anything else about her personal life. And considering her origins, her admission into the Legions had almost certainly come with some prohibition against seeking out Trissiny. Had Casey been in Rouvad’s place, she’d have laid down that rule.

No. She was following a trail of breadcrumbs. Being manipulated, in truth, but she wasn’t the least bit offended by that. Manipulation was a valid way of relating to people—if you didn’t want to hurt them, at least—and she could see the restraints Locke must be working under.

Besides…

The Silver Legions had put her under the guidance of a murderous, molesting lunatic, who was now back in authority after having had a disgustingly gentle slap on her knuckles. It had almost gotten them all killed by dragon-hating activists. It seemed her tenure here had been nothing but long stretches of useless waiting around, interspersed with mortal peril in pursuit of spurious nonsense.

On the other hand, Principia Locke had fought tooth and nail behind the scenes to keep them safe, emptying her own funds to get them better gear than the Legions would provide—which had saved their lives. Trissiny Avelea had taken the time to reassure a nervous cadet whom someone of her rank could just as easily have viewed as nothing more than furniture. She had gently shut down the racist comments of one of her own priestesses, and launched reforms to reach out to the women the Sisterhood had failed to protect.

If it came down to the Legions versus her sergeant or her paladin, Casey already knew whose side she was on. Especially now that she knew how connected they were.

Which was not to say she understood everything going on, here. There were clearly multiple layers to this; it was not time to act rashly. Or to act at all.

But she would watch carefully, and wait. When either of them needed her, she would be ready.

“Hey, Jasmine!” Grip said with incongruous cheer. “Let’s take a walk.”

Jasmine stopped, glancing back at the others. Tallie rolled her eyes, then made a shooing gesture; Rasha just looked nervous. Ross, as usual, seemed pensive and maybe a little sleepy.

“Okay,” she said with a soft sigh. Grip was already walking away at a respectable pace, forcing her to hasten to catch up. “What’s on your mind?”

“Stuff,” the thief said lightly, stepping through the doorway into the catacombs.

Jasmine hesitated slightly before following.

The corridors of the Guild’s headquarters were a stark contrast to the Casino above, being ancient, worn, and rough-cut, and lit mostly by torches rather than modern fairy lights. Despite the warnings she’d been given about the Catacombs, they appeared to be basically more of the same, at least so far. Jasmine immediately decided, though, not to follow Grip in here past the point she was sure she could remember the way out.

Fortunately, it didn’t come to that. Grip took the first left turn, and then the second, and then stopped. Far from trying to get her lost, this was obviously a position chosen so that she could find her way back unescorted. It was also quite private; she couldn’t hear the noise of the Pit at all.

“So…stuff?” she prompted after a long moment in which the thief just stared at her through narrowed eyes.

Grip folded her arms. “I have a message from Glory. She’ll want you to visit her again to explain herself. As soon as possible, which means tomorrow morning. You do not want to keep Glory waiting. The long at the short of it, though, is she’s decided not to extend an offer of apprenticeship.”

“I…see,” Jasmine said, finding herself oddly disappointed. Which was absurd; she’d had no intention of taking on a proper apprenticeship here, especially to someone like Glory. “Well. Thank you.”

“I’ll take some of the blame for that,” Grip went on, still watching her with hawklike intensity. “Glory and I do chat, and I happened to share with her some insights I’ve had recently. For example, that Jasmine Darnassy was the last Hand of Avei. The one thought everyone would be the last, until the new one popped up.”

“Yes, so I’ve heard,” Jasmine said, keeping her tone light. “And Yasmeen Aldarasi is the crown princess of Calderaas. Same name, different dialect.”

“Mm hm.” Grip’s mouth twisted in what looked ominously like a smirk. “Common knowledge. Not exactly secret, but not as widely known except to those who’ve gone well out of their way to find out, is that Trissiny Avelea is strangely absent from the campus of the Unseen University this semester.”

A beat of silence passed.

“Wait,” Jasmine said. “Did you say Unseen—”

“Glory,” Grip interrupted, “thinks, rather justifiably, that it doesn’t suit her interests to take on an apprentice who is probably going to leave the cult entirely within a very short time. I’m certain the rejection is in no way personal. She seemed quite taken with you.”

“I…” Jasmine swallowed. “Well. That’s… I’m not really sure—”

“Just stop,” Grip said curtly. “Kid, you are a terrible liar when caught off guard. I don’t know how long you thought you were going to pull this off; that’s clearly the first thing we’ll need to work on.”

“We?”

“I’m not really of the same opinion as Glory,” Grip said with a cold smile. “I think you’d make a fantastic apprentice. So, what say we start first thing in the morning?”

“Ah.” Jasmine paused, gathering her thoughts as quickly as she could. “Well. That’s extremely flattering, but with all respect to your chosen path, I’m really not hear to learn more about using force…”

“Well, let me make this easier for you,” Grip said, her smile widening and growing even less reassuring. “That was not a request.”

Jasmine narrowed her eyes. “I beg your pardon?

“You obviously didn’t do this on your own talents alone,” Grip mused, still studying her face intently. “The Boss is in on it. I’m betting Sweet, too. And Style; Tricks doesn’t so much as scratch his butt without consulting her, especially with regard to apprentices. So no, I’m not going to go blow your little charade for the specific reason that that would clearly piss off the whole uppermost level of the Guild.”

“Well, then—”

“So, when the lid is blown off your charade, you can be assured there won’t be a trace of evidence connecting it to me.” The thief grinned broadly. “Let me be plain: if you’re going to stay here, it’s going to be as my personal pupil. Period. I’m sure even you know better than to think you’ll be able to accomplish jack shit in this place once everybody knows who you are.”

She had come in here off guard and been pushed further off it with every step of this conversation, but now, the familiar heat of anger speared through her. With it came clarity, and the restoration of her confidence.

“I think someone is getting way ahead of herself,” Jasmine said icily. “Leaving aside the question of why you’d want an apprentice who’s going to be gone very soon…” She took one very deliberate step forward, fists clenched at her sides. “You’re clearly not planning carefully, if you think blackmailing me is a good idea.”

“Well, that’s the difference between us, Jasmine,” Grip replied with a slow, sly smile. “I know exactly what I’m doing. Take a little time to consider your situation. A very little time. I’ll talk to you soon.”

Without another word, she turned and strolled off back the way they had come, whistling.

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“Well, this place and others like it,” Joe said in response to Tallie’s last question. He had integrated himself quite smoothly into the group, aided by the byplay which occurred upon his statement that he didn’t drink. Jasmine had taken that opportunity to carefully dance around an “I told you so,” and Joe had slipped into a seat next to her. “It’s more’n a mite different from playin’ in a frontier town like I grew up in.”

“Bet a lot of things are different,” Ross grunted.

“Ain’t that the plain truth,” Joe said fervently. “Out there, ain’t more’n a few card sharps to go around, and they’re spread out across whole provinces. ‘Less one came to town, I never had anybody of my own caliber to play against, so the winnings were smaller but more consistent. Here? No shortage o’ high-rollers to compete with, once I found out where they like to hang. Means I don’t win nearly as much, ‘less I wanna try cheatin’, which is a good way to get yourself blackballed. Still, I do okay. The pots are bigger, an’ I take enough of ’em to pay my bills.”

“I’ll say!” Tallie replied, waggling her eyebrows. “I mean, just look at that suit! You’re so snazzy!”

“Thanks,” he said dryly.

“Is there an actual living in that?” Jasmine asked.

Joe shrugged. “If you’ve got a gift for it, there can be. Wouldn’t mind tryin’ my hand at somethin’ that gave a little more back to society, but it ain’t like I’ve got any better trade. All I know is poker and shootin’.” He frowned, eyes growing distant. “Same goes. There’s money in that if you’re good at it, but… Card sharping maybe ain’t the most honorable pursuit, but I’ll never kill anybody for such a dumb reason as money.”

“Killed a lot of people?” Ross asked after a pregnant pause.

Joe grunted and folded his arms. “One’s far too many.”

“Well, I think that’s just fabulous,” Tallie enthused. “This is the most precious thing I’ve ever seen. To our new friend, the littlest card shark!” She raised her glass in a toast. Joe gave her a flat look which hinted at the progressive decay of his patience.

“Sorry about Tallie,” said Rasha, pouring himself a second glass of rum. “She’s very sweet and a little abrasive. I haven’t decided if that should be ‘and’ or ‘but.’”

“Whose side are you on?” Tallie asked, affronted.

“Right now, I am on rum’s side.” He drained half his glass in one gulp.

“Slow down,” Jasmine suggested. “We have all evening.”

“I’m fine,” Rasha grunted. “This isn’t as strong as the stuff I was raised on.”

“We gotta go up four flights of stairs to leave,” said Ross. “Nobody wants to carry you.”

“I said I’m fine!”

“Rasha knows his business,” Tallie said, reaching across the table to pat his arm.

“So, you guys are with the Guild?” Joe said, glancing around the table at him. His inquisitive look settled on Jasmine, who didn’t meet it.

“Well, we’re just apprenticing at the moment,” Tallie said airily. “But hell yes we’re with them! You are looking at the four greatest future thieves ever to roll out of that casino!”

“There’s a colloquialism about counting unhatched chickens that I think applies here,” Jasmine commented.

“Oh, you, always naysaying.” Tallie flapped a hand at her face and had another drink of her rum. “You’ve gotta have confidence! Say it like you believe it, until you believe it, and then keep on believing it until it’s true! It’s all in setting the right goals—set ’em high enough, and the sky’s the goddamn limit!”

“Maybe there’s a little more to success than setting goals?” Jasmine said, her eyes on Rasha, who was pouring a third glass of rum.

“Jasmine, I like you and all, but you’ve gotta stop being the voice of reason. It cramps my style. Hey, why do we say ‘goddamn,’ anyway? Doesn’t that kind of imply only a single god? Wouldn’t ‘godsdamn’ make more sense?”

“Phonetically awkward and theologically inaccurate,” said Ross. “’Goddamn’ rolls off the tongue. Last consonant of the first word is the same sound as the first consonant of the second, so they chain together easily into a single word. I’ve heard ‘godsdamn,’ but it’s just harder to say.”

“Hm, yeah, you’re right,” Tallie agreed, rolling her mouth as if examining the flavor of the word. “Slower, and kind of awkward.”

“Also,” he continued, idly toying with his half-full glass, “notions like the Universal Church as an actual center of worship don’t date back much further than the Reconstruction. For most people, for most of history, there was only one god, or at least only one that mattered to each person.” He paused, blinked, and frowned; everyone at the table was staring at him. “What?”

“I think that’s the most I’ve ever heard you say at one sitting,” Jasmine explained.

“Oh.” He shrugged. “Stuff like that’s interesting to me. Trained with the Veskers for a while. Might still be there if I wasn’t so interested in stuff like the etymology of cussing.”

“To cussing, dammit!” Rasha said loudly, lifting his own glass.

“TO CUSSING!” Tallie roared, following suit.

“Did…they throw you out?” Jasmine asked hesitantly. “I mean, not to pry. You don’t have to answer.”

“Nah, I don’t mind,” Ross said with a shrug. “There’s room for weirdos with the bards; they don’t really throw you out. But if you’re into stuff they don’t think is appropriate… Well, bards are real good at making you uncomfortable without crossing any lines.”

“Really, they were that upset about your study of cussing?” Tallie asked, grinning broadly.

“Eh.” He shrugged again. “Really didn’t get bad till I talked with my language tutor about my hobby. Historical figures with names that turn real embarrassing in Tanglish.”

“Like who?” Tallie demanded avidly.

“Horsebutt the Enemy, for one,” Jasmine said dryly.

“Nah, Stalweiss honor names don’t really count,” Ross said, straightening up and putting his glass aside. He looked more animated than they’d yet seen him. “That’s just a different culture’s ideas what makes for an impressive portmanteau. Horsebutt, for example, makes perfect sense if you’ve been around horses; you’d know damn well which end of the horse not to mess with.”

Tallie burst out laughing so hard she nearly spilled her rum. Ross carried on despite that.

“It’s mostly orcish heroes, though there’s a few others in other human cultures. But the orcs are where the real gold is at. Like Warlord Buddux, or Slobbernock the Wise. That one’s old enough he might’ve been apocryphal. Modern orcish tends to go for shorter names.”

Tallie, by this point, was laughing so hard she was having trouble staying in her chair; even Joe and Jasmine were grinning in amusement. Ross didn’t go as far, but his expression was more relaxed than usual. He clearly enjoyed the attention.

“Yeah, well, the bards didn’t find it as funny,” he admitted with a shrug. “Bards’re big on respecting culture and language. Wasn’t like they were mean to me, I just… Y’know, didn’t feel I fit in, exactly. So, trying something else, here.”

“To the etymology of cussing!” Tallie crowed, lifting a glass which she didn’t appear to have noticed was now empty.

“And gaining new outlooks,” Jasmine agreed more soberly, nodding at Ross.

“Think it’s funny?” Rasha asked more quietly. “Laughing at people because they’re different?”

“It’s kinda mean,” Ross agreed frankly. “Not arguing that. But these people are long dead. And they didn’t think of themselves as what the names sound like to us. Just phonetic coincidence. That’s what makes it interesting to me.”

“It’s just a bit of fun, Rasha,” Tallie said cheerfully. “Nobody’s being wronged.”

He grunted, topping off his glass and raising it to his lips.

“Hey, are you okay?” Jasmine asked mildly, reaching across the table to slide the jug of rum out of his reach. Rasha either didn’t notice or didn’t react to this, polishing off his fourth glass of ale and thunking it back down onto the table, whereupon he stared accusingly at it.

“I’m s’posed to be,” he said bitterly. “That’s the whole point of all this, right? New place, new life, new…everything.”

“New skills, new friends, new connections,” Tallie agreed, still chipper but now not as exuberant, seeming to have caught some of his mood. “C’mon, Rasha, you’ve been here two days. This stuff takes time to do!”

“What if it doesn’t work?” Rasha asked in a plaintive whisper, clutching his empty glass in both hands and staring into it. “I can’t keep going like… I can’t. I’m here to become somebody who’s… Who doesn’t have to…”

“Take anybody’s crap,” Ross rumbled, nodding. “That’s what Eserion’s about.”

“Don’t care about anybody,” Rasha said, his lip trembling. “I’m sick of my crap.”

“Rasha,” Jasmine said gently, scooting closer to him. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m wrong.” Tears began to slide down his face, his thin shoulders shaking slightly. “I don’t fit, and I feel wrong all the time, like I’m not supposed to even be like this. I’m the wrong…wrong person, and life, and…” He squeezed his eyes shut, scrubbing the back of his sleeve across them.

“Okay, this is the most insensitive thing I’ve ever said, an’ I’ll apologize to him when he sobers up enough to appreciate it,” said Joe, glancing casually around at their surroundings. “But this really ain’t the place to break out cryin’. Some o’ the folk in here are just watchin’ for an excuse to jump on anything they see as weakness.”

The others followed suit, surreptitiously peering at the Den. Its noise and crowd seemed to be working in their favor; nobody appeared to have noticed Rasha’s inebriated breakdown, or to be paying them any attention at all.

“Yeah, so,” Ross mumbled, pushing back his chair. “This was fun, let’s do it again sometime. Good time to head home, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Jasmine agreed, rising smoothly and laying a hand on Rasha’s shoulder. “C’mon, Rasha, let’s move out.”

Despite the lack of any direct opposition, not one of them questioned Joe’s warning. New they might be to the Thieves’ Guild proper, but they were all people who knew how the rougher element thought, and behaved. Rarely would anyone else seek out the service of Eserion.

“Now, see here!” Schwartz exclaimed. “We are not in league with—um. That is, I mean… Basra who?”

“Herschel,” Principia said kindly, “hush.”

“Please,” Ami muttered.

“A good number of times in my life,” Principia began, “in fact, just about every time I found myself in a helpless position at the mercy of someone I didn’t like, they took the opportunity to make a speech about how much cleverer they were than I. Okay, not every time, but enough to notice a pattern. It is wholly obnoxious, but it looked like fun, so I’m gonna try it. Besides, you kids clearly need to be taken down a peg right now, for your own good.”

She folded her hands on the table and smiled pleasantly, keeping her body subtly angled to include both Schwartz and Ami in the conversation. Only the bard was physically hemmed into the booth by her presence; Schwartz could have simply stood up and left, but he just scowled sullenly, making no move toward the aisle.

“The last time I saw Ami, here, she was quite literally up to her neck and beyond in Basra’s schemes. Now, I realize you’re a Vesker, Ami dear, and not subordinate to her. Also I understood you were informed of exactly what she nearly did to you, and anyway, you no doubt have a life of your own. Just seeing you again doesn’t necessarily form any connection to the Bishop. However.” She turned her focus to Schwartz, who swallowed heavily. “Making the assumption of Basra’s place in this explains everything so very perfectly that I’m going to have to run with it.”

She rested an elbow on the table to point at him. “You, you claim, have an enemy—someone keeping your would-be turtledove in an abused position. My gods, Herschel, you’re talking about Jenell Covrin? I would never go so far as to claim anyone deserves the kind of shit she’s getting from Syrinx, but that girl could benefit from a few sharp slaps across the mouth in general.”

“Hey!” he barked. “I’ll thank you to keep a civil tongue in your head about—”

“And that’s confirmation,” Principia said smugly, cutting him off; he immediately looked abashed. Ami rolled her eyes. “So, you’ve linked up with Ami, here, another individual who’s suffered from Basra’s excesses, and the two of you are building a base from which to take her down. Oh, she’s a rotten piece who absolutely needs to go, but you can’t deny that for both of you there’s an element of personal revenge in this. Have I left out anything important?”

Again, she folded her hands, raising an eyebrow expectantly.

Schwartz and Ami exchanged a look, and then the bard sighed.

“Well, you seem to have covered the basics,” she said snidely. “Are you pleased with yourself?”

“You know, that is rather satisfying,” Principia mused. “I begin to see why all the villains in bards’ tales do it. I must start outwitting people more often. All right, you two, while I’m the last person who will ever argue in favor of Basra bloody Syrinx getting to wander around at liberty, doing whatever the hell she likes, I am strongly tempted to nip this thing in the bud right here. Largely because I can handle her, and I very, very much doubt that you two can. What I’m entirely confident of is your own belief that you’re capable of slaying the monster and rescuing the princess. You are, respectively, in love and attached to a faith which thinks the world runs on narrative. And you’re both barely out of your teens, which makes you invincible in your own minds.”

“My, she’s a condescending one,” Ami said archly. “Even for an elf.”

“Jenell is not a princess,” Schwartz muttered, “and she doesn’t need rescuing. She needs…backup.”

“Hm.” Principia drummed her fingers on the table. “That, at least, is evidence of some sense on your part. Jenell is somewhat trapped in her situation, but not because she has no possible exits. I’ve offered her one myself, and it wasn’t even the best option available to her. No, she’s there for the same reason you two are doing this foolishness; she wants to be the hero who brings down the villain. Well, there’s a lesson with that: heroes and villains aren’t a thing, and acting this way usually ends up with you firmly in your enemy’s clutches. Much like she is now. Right now, I am heavily inclined to go right to both your cults and tell them you’re plotting against the Avenist Bishop, just to get you two safely collared and out of harm’s way.”

“Are you quite done?” Ami demanded.

“No.” Principia sighed and shook her head. “Omnu’s balls, I’m starting to sound like Arachne. Damned Legions, making an officer of me… All right, listen. I have two questions, and the answers may—may, I say—prompt me to change my mind. I want to hear how you two got hooked up together in the first place, and I want to know who it is who’s been telling you,” she fixed a gimlet stare on Schwartz, “to befriend Eserites in preparation for taking on a creature like Basra.”

“Why?” he asked suspiciously.

“Because that’s very good advice. If you’ve been getting guidance from someone who knows what they’re talking about and is trustworthy… Well, that’s significant. So spit it out. Or shall I go straight from here to Bishop Throale’s office?”

Schwartz drew in a long, slow breath, his shoulders rising with tension, and then let it out carefully, most of the ire fading from his face.

“Abbess Narnasia Darnassy told me to seek out the Eserites,” he said finally. “She also told me to go to an elven grove and ask what anth’auwa means, which I’ve done, and to prepare myself with magic to combat a divine casters. Which…I am working on.”

Principia gazed thoughtfully at him for a long moment, then slowly leaned back against the wall of the booth.

“Narnasia,” she mused. “Yes…I can see it. She wouldn’t be fooled by Syrinx. And she doesn’t suffer evil for political advantage like Rouvad is willing to. All right, consider me…tentatively interested. I still have another question, if you’ll recall.”

“Well,” Ami said, tossing her head, “since that one calls for a story, I believe I shall take over from here, Herschel. If you’ve no objection?”

“Oh, by all means,” he said, waving a hand wearily. “Be my guest. I’m a little surprised you’re that willing to trust her, though.”

“Oh, don’t be silly,” she chided. “She has enough figured out on her own that it hardly matters, after all. And anyway, this isn’t an entirely unexpected development.” A feline little smile tugged at the corners of her sculpted lips, and she glanced coyly at Principia. “After all, we’re due an ally and mentor. It’s about that time in the story.”

“Oh, gods,” Principia groaned. “You kids are so dead.”

“Well!” Ami said, her tone suddenly airy and bright. “You know some of the lead-in, so I shall cut to the proverbial chase. It began for us in a townhouse in Vrin Shai…”

A place like the Den naturally had multiple bolt-holes; all of its entrances and exits were admirably discreet, and fortunately, Joe knew most of them. The group exited by a path which provided a somewhat gentler climb (albeit a longer and more roundabout one), and a less public exit than the one through the floor of the Stock Exchange. When they emerged into the alley behind the Exchange, the sky had darkened; at this time of year, night fell early, and despite the unseasonable warmth the air was sharp.

“All right, gimme a sec,” Ross said, carefully leaning Rasha against the wall. Jasmine and Tallie had both helped pull and push the drunken Punaji along, but Ross had taken on most of the effort. Rasha, who was sober enough to stand, but not to move consistently in any direction, had objected so loudly to Joe touching him that their new acquaintance had quickly backed off and not offered a second time.

“’m fine, gerroff me,” Rasha growled, trying to shove at Ross and succeeding only in tipping himself sideways. Tallie, fortunately, was hovering close enough to catch him.

“You were asking me why I don’t drink?” Jasmine said wryly to her. Tallie gave her a look, but didn’t reply.

“Gonna be a fun walk back to the Guild,” Ross grumbled. “Least it’s clean here. The hell kind of alley is this?”

“A discreet one,” said Joe. “Lots of junk piled at either end, with just enough space to slip through, but we ain’t the only people to make use of this exit. C’mon, it’s just gonna get colder from here, an’ it’ll probably rain before too much longer.”

“Doesn’t really look like rain,” Jasmine said, peering upward. The stars were invisible thanks to the city’s light pollution, but the sky didn’t appear to be overcast for once.

“It’s Tiraas,” Joe said pointedly. “It’s always gonna rain, unless it sleets instead.”

“Fair enough.”

“I’m sorry,” Rasha said tearfully, now leaning against Ross’s huge shoulder. “I runed th’whole night…” Ross sighed and patted him heavily on the head.

“No, you didn’t,” Tallie said. “Although, for future reference, we’re gonna have to limit your drinking. Can’t believe we let you down four glasses of that stuff. You’ve got the body mass of a starved squirrel, boy.”

“Don’ call me small!” Rasha flared up, flailing his arms so ineffectually it was impossible to tell what he was actually trying to do. “I’m not a boy! I’m not gay!”

Ross, again holding him upright, rolled his eyes.

“Alternatively,” Tallie mused, “we could let him finish getting drunk enough to go nice and unconscious. That might be easier. Did anybody think to grab the jug?”

“Easier for you, maybe,” Ross grumbled. “Something tells me you won’t be the one carrying him.”

“Good evening.”

All of them reflexively went still, even Rasha. Ross pressed him back against the wall with one hand, shifting his body in front of the smaller boy; Tallie and Jasmine both widened their stances, and Joe carefully shifted one side of his coat, his hand hovering near the wand holstered on his right hip.

Four figures had materialized out of the surrounding dimness, two from each direction. None were any taller than Jasmine’s shoulder, all where broad and blocky, and all were covered from head to foot in obscuring brown robes that appeared almost clerical. The one who had spoken was on their left, and moved a half-step in front of his nearby companion, continuing in a light Svennish accent.

“I hope the night finds you well,” he said politely. “We wish to have a brief conversation with you.”

“This isn’t the best time,” Tallie said warily, glancing back and forth. The two pairs of dwarves simply stood, the only menace being their obscuring costumes and the fact that they were completely cutting off the exits. They could get back into the Den, probably, but not without turning their backs on the dwarves to finagle the hidden doorway; it wasn’t even visible from this side, having swung shut behind them. “We’re taking our friend home. He’s had a couple too many, as you can see.”

“I think we c’n take ’em!” Rasha blurted, trying to stumble forward. Ross planted a broad hand in the center of his chest and shoved him back against the wall.

“Oh, this need not take long,” the lead dwarf said pleasantly. “You were present last night when an exchange of goods was disrupted by the Silver Legions. We require information regarding that.”

“We don’t have any,” Jasmine said evenly. “We’re just apprentices. We were just keeping watch and carrying boxes.”

“That is, of course, possible,” he said, his shrouded head bobbing once in a nod. “It is also possible that, in keeping with your thief-cult’s general pattern of behavior, you are lying. Either for specific reason or from a general desire to be troublesome.”

“Well, maybe we are and maybe we aren’t,” Tallie snapped. “Doesn’t really matter, does it? We’re done here. Excuse us, we need to leave.”

“Excuse us,” the dwarf replied, still politely, “but we will have to insist.”

As one, all four of them took a step forward, markedly shrinking the space between them and the apprentices.

Joe, in response, paced forward to stand next to Jasmine, facing the dwarves on the left while she faced the others.

“Gentlemen,” he drawled, “I haven’t the faintest idea what this is about; I’m clearly just in the wrong place at the wrong time, here. What I do know is that you have no idea the gravity of the mistake you’re makin’. Now, kindly step aside so we can leave.”

“Young man,” the speaker replied, “there is absolutely no reason this cannot be a perfectly civil exchange. If, however, you are determined not to meet us halfway, I will remind you all that no one knows where you are, and you are none of you important enough to your Guild that they will expend much effort to find you. Now, then—”

He broke off and tried to jerk back when Joe’s wands came up, but not fast enough. The beams of white light were almost blinding in the darkness of the alley, though they flashed for only a second. In that time, the other dwarves surged forward, producing cudgels and long daggers from within their robes, only to stop when Joe shifted his stance to point one wand in each direction, covering both groups.

The first dwarf was now clutching the remains of his robe, which had been neatly sliced along his outline by the wand beams and was trying to fall off him in pieces.

“Pardon my lack o’ manners in not tippin’ my hat, but as you can see, my hands are occupied,” Joe said grimly. “Name’s Joseph P. Jenkins, from Sarasio. You mighta heard o’ me.”

“Hooooo-leeee shit,” Tallie whispered, gaping at him.

The dwarf had given up on his robe, letting it fall to reveal a well-tailored suit covering his stocky frame; he contented himself with clutching the remains of the hood over his head, managing to mostly obscure his features, aside from a reddish beard trimmed just above his collarbone.

“You are a long way from Sarasio, young man,” he said curtly, “and have thrust your wands into matters well above your head. We are not here alone, and our disappearance will be noted—and responded to, swiftly and severely.”

“This is gettin’ to be oddly traditional,” Joe muttered. “Every good-sized city I visit, I end up shootin’ some nitwit in an alley. Buster, you’re standin’ here threatening members of the Thieves’ Guild. That does not say to me that you represent a particularly savvy organization.”

“And you are completely backwards in your thinking,” Jasmine added grimly, “if you believe the Guild won’t react to the disappearance of apprentices. Eserion’s people aren’t in it to steal; we’re training to humble the abusive, the powerful.”

“Damn right,” Tallie added, stepping forward. “You go picking on the Guild’s younglings, and there won’t be a place on this earth for you to hide.”

“Well,” the dwarf said in apparent calm, “that being the case, it does appear to be against our interests to let you leave here, doesn’t it?”

He shifted one hand to his belt; Joe’s wand snapped to cover him, but an instant later his fingers touched the shielding charm attached to the buckle, and a sphere of blue light flashed into being around him. The others immediately followed suit, the bubbles of arcane energy fizzing and crackling where they touched one another.

“All right,” Joe murmured, “gotta say, this could be trouble. I can burn through those shields, but not quickly, an’ takin’ on four dwarves hand-to-hand ain’t a winnin’ move.” He eased backward into Jasmine’s line of view and gave her a pointed look.

She sighed heavily, and clenched her jaw. “Understood.”

Before she could say or do anything further, however, the pounding of multiple booted feet sounded from their right. The dwarves on that side moved in an obviously well-trained pattern, one keeping his face to the apprentices while the other shifted to his back, facing that way.

Three Silver Legionnaires approached out of the darkness, un-helmeted but in armor. Four yards away, the elf in their center barked, “Form line!” Instantly, they shifted to a crouch, shields forward and lances aimed. It was a trifling size for a phalanx, but did effectively block the whole alley. And it was, after all, a shield wall bristling with spearheads.

“You,” the elf announced in a ringing voice, “will immediately deactivate those shields, turn, and depart this scene. You will do this to avoid the bloodshed which will ensue if we are forced to take you into custody.”

A beat of silence followed. The dwarves’ leader, still holding his severed hood, shifted his head minutely, studying the apprentices, Joe, and the Legionnaires. In the next moment, however, he took a step back, bowed politely, and touched his belt again. His shield flickered off, followed by those of his comrades.

“A pleasant evening to you all,” he said courteously. “We will continue this discussion another time. It is my fervent hope we can do so on the politest of terms.”

He and the dwarf beside him began backing away; the other two edged along the wall in front of the apprentices, urged by the continuing advance of the Legionnaires. Once both groups met up, they turned and departed as rapidly as they could without breaking into unseemly haste.

“Holy shit,” Tallie breathed, “I can’t believe I’m glad to see Legionnaires, after last night. And holy shit!” she added to Joe. “You’re the freakin’ Sarasio Kid!”

He sighed. “Miss Tallie, I was hangin’ around in the roughest dive in this city, clearly too young to be drinkin’, an’ dressed in a suit that cost more’n the places most of those galoots live. And yet, nobody even thought too hard about hasslin’ me. You didn’t happen to wonder why? No disrespect intended, but based on the Eserites I’ve known, you may wanna start talkin’ a little less and thinkin’ a lot more if you mean to advance in their ranks.”

“Wow,” she muttered. “I guess I’ll just shut up, then.”

“Stand at ease,” the elf said, and the Legionnaires straightened, lowering their shields and weapons.

“Hey,” said Ross, frowning, “you’re the ones who arrested us.”

“Thin’ we c’n take um,” Rasha burbled, slumped against his shoulder.

“Actually, a different squad arrested us,” said Jasmine, studying the soldiers closely. “These were from the squad who came to hand out punishment. What was it? Interfaith initiative? I’m finding it a challenge to believe that you just happened to be patrolling this alley at this time.”

“As well you should,” said the elf. “I am Corporal Shahai, and we’ve been looking for you. I believe you should consider how it was those dwarves managed to find you.”

“How did you manage to find us?” Tallie demanded.

“Persistence, luck, and elven hearing,” Shahai replied with a thin smile. “They, whoever they are, have only one of those advantages, and I am extremely suspicious of luck. Odd enough that we should have it in such quantity; that they should as well defies belief. That group is extremely well connected, and it would seem, extremely curious about those weapons they were attempting to buy.”

“Let me guess,” Tallie said slowly.

Shahai nodded. “The Sisterhood currently has custody of them, and are likewise very curious. It has proved impossible to tell, so far, what they do. Our squad hoped you could shed some light on the subject.”

“Not tellin’ you nuthin’!” Rasha blustered, pointing off to her right.

“Rasha, go to sleep,” Ross said wearily.

“We’re not tellin’ you nothin’!” Tallie added, pointing dramatically at Shahai.

“Tallie, shut up!” Ross exclaimed in exasperation. “Ma’am…uh, I mean, sergeant.”

“Corporal,” she corrected with smile.

“Right. Well, we don’t know anything about what those were, but we need to look up the guy who set up the trade and lean on him for our own reasons. We’ll find out what we can, and be glad to tell you whatever we learn.”

“What!” Tallie squawked.

“Connections,” Jasmine said quietly. “Not just in the Guild. Right?” She turned to fix Tallie with a firm stare. “We’re supposed to be building connections. Do you really not see how allies in the Silver Legions could be incredibly useful to us? In general, but also, apparently, right now. They aren’t the only interested party who thinks we know something about those staves.”

“And the other party are a lot less friendly,” Ross added in a low rumble.

“I…well…oh, fine,” she huffed, folding her arms. “I guess. I’m still watchin’ you, though!” She leveled an accusing finger at Shahai.

“Noted,” the corporal said mildly. “Your willingness to help is greatly appreciated; I have limited authority, but I’m confident our sergeant will fully reciprocate.”

“Is she actually in the Guild?” Ross asked, frowning.

“Yes, she actually is, and that creates complications when it comes to dealing with Eserites. You may not see her directly very much, but Sergeant Locke has our implicit trust. You can find us most of the time at the Third Legion barracks behind the Temple of Avei. How can we reach you, at need?”

“Uh…” Ross turned to the others. “That’s a good question. How can they reach us?”

“We can leave word at the Casino that any Legionnaires who come asking for us have legit business,” said Tallie, still looking miffed. “I dunno how much weight our say-so has, though. Something tells me the average thief’s urge to mess with the Legions weighs more.”

“It might generally be better if you wait for us to contact you,” Jasmine said wryly.

“So noted,” Shahai replied in the same tone.

“And corporal,” Jasmine added, “try firing one of those staves at a divine shield.”

Shahai fixed her with a sharp stare, and after a moment, nodded slowly. “Very well. I will pass that along to Sergeant Locke. Thank you, Ms…?”

“Jasmine.”

“Ah.” The elf nodded again. “Well met. With that, perhaps you would allow us to escort you out of this alley? I doubt you will be accosted again on the well-lit main streets, but…”

“That is an excellent point,” said Ross, picking Rasha up bodily and hoisting him over his shoulder.

“I dun’ need one!” the Punaji burbled ineffectually.

“Hey, uh…” Tallie turned hesitantly to Joe. “Those creeps know who you are now, too. Will you be okay? I mean, I know, that sounds kinda silly, you bein’ the Sarasio Kid and all…”

“Not silly at all,” Joe murmured. “The more complicated a situation, the less likely you can just shoot your way out of it. But I’m not without friends of my own. Tell you what, though, I believe I may just pay y’all a visit here pretty soon.” He glanced at Corporal Shahai. “Both groups.”

“You would be welcome,” she said with a smile.

As the motley group straggled back up the alley toward the busy street beyond, Nandi half-turned for a moment to look back and up.

Perched in a windowsill of the Exchange overlooking the alley, Grip grinned widely and waggled her fingers at her. Nandi turned without acknowledgment and continued on her way.

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“Well, I can’t say you don’t know how to show a lady a good time,” Principia remarked. “Herschel, with the greatest of respect and all apologies to your delicacy and masculine pride… Are you sure you can afford this?”

He actually laughed lightly. “Oh, well…as a general rule, no, this sort of thing is well out of my budget. However, a good friend of mine works here, and wrangled me a membership so we can meet and talk in privacy. It is an excellent place for privacy, which is why I invited you! But, no, let’s just say I don’t commonly eat here. I mean, the drinks alone… Not that you should feel inhibited!” he added hastily. “Please, you’re my guest, get whatever you like.”

“Not to put too fine a point on it,” she replied dryly, “I’ve been a Legionnaire for a few months and a thief for two hundred years. I could buy this place. Since you’re providing the venue, how about I cover the drinks?”

“Ah, well, if you insist,” he said, not smooth enough to fully disguise his relief. She only smiled in amusement.

She had been intrigued when Schwartz’s message specified formal attire, and even somewhat surprised when he brought her to one of the city’s more expensive nightclubs. Most of these places actively sought to cultivate a men’s club atmosphere, all done up in dark hardwoods, red-stained leather, and either brass trappings with old books or pelts and hunting trophies, depending on the set of moneyed men to which they pandered. The Limelight Lounge, however, was known as a place for assignations between well-heeled couples; it was indeed designed for privacy, and also for softer tastes, its décor running heavily toward silks and velvets in deep blue, with etched glass partitions as décor. It also kept more generous hours than its counterparts, which was why it was not only open this early in the afternoon, but rather well-attended. The layout was also somewhat obfuscatory, with tables and chairs arranged in artfully uneven tiers and terraces around its stage, and two balconies running around the perimeter of the tall central room. No doubt the difficulty this created in navigating was offset by the privacy it afforded its patrons. The many nooks scattered here and there were cleverly positioned to have a good view of the stage and not much else.

They stood out somewhat, unavoidably. Though most of those present were in tailored suits and elegant gowns, Schwartz was not the only person to be seen in the formal robes of his cult, nor she the only guest in military dress uniform. Principia was, however, the only person to be seen in the white uniform of the Silver Legions; she rather doubted this place saw many Avenists. And she was, unsurprisingly, the only elf, unless more were hiding in the secluded booths. Not impossible, but this really wasn’t an elvish kind of place.

“So, this friend,” Principia mused after a moment’s pause, in which they strolled slowly along the rail of the lowest balcony. “Not a waiter or something, I assume, if he was able to get you a membership here…”

“She, actually,” he said, turning to nod toward the stage, on which a very pretty dark-haired young woman sat, singing in an exceedingly well-trained voice to the accompaniment of her guitar. Unlike many players who simply strummed the instrument’s strings, her fingers danced with a virtuoso’s mastery, filling the air with sweet little harmonies which wove around and through her song. “The management thinks quite highly of her around here. Enough to put up with my occasional presence, at any rate! Though, ah, they were quite adamant that pets are not permitted in the club.”

“You mean your little…Meesie, wasn’t it?” Principia tilted her head and smirked. “I should think elemental familiars belong in a wholly different category than pets.”

“Now, see, that’s the argument I made! I was firmly assured, however, that I was incorrect.”

She grinned, stopping and stepping in front of him to lean against the rail, gazing down at the singer. “Soooo. By friend, do you by any chance mean…?”

“Oh, no, nothing like that,” he said hastily. “She’s just a friend, just that, that’s all! Not that there’s anything wrong with Ami at all, of course. She’s certainly lovely—I mean, I’ve got eyes. But there’s, ah, someone…sort of. Maybe.” He trailed off, his expression growing dour, and absently rubbed at his shoulder where Meesie usually sat.

“Sounds complicated,” Principia murmured.

“It…rather is,” he admitted. “I don’t rightly know how she feels, or her situation… And we’re sort of prevented by circumstance from…well, even talking. For now. Maybe for… I don’t know. I mostly think I’m a fool to still be bothering with it at all. It’s a mess, and… I don’t know.”

“Go for it,” she said quietly, still watching Ami sing.

Schwartz blinked, turning to look at her. “Really? But you don’t even know the situation.”

“That’s my advice for most situations,” she said with a wry little smile.

“Hm.” He grunted and turned moodily to gaze down at the performing bard. “My mother advised me to forget the whole thing.”

“And the last thing I’d want is to undermine your mother, Herschel. I never met her, nor was aware of her existence, for that matter, but I will say that I’m likely at least four times her age. And what I’ve learned about love is that heartbreaks fade, but the regrets of opportunities you missed will haunt you forever.”

He simply gazed in silence for a few long moments, clearly no longer focusing on Ami, before replying. “Did you and my dad talk about things like this?”

“We did, actually,” she said, then her forehead creased in a frown. “But… You’re, what, twenty-three? Is that right?”

“Oh, ah, yes. I think I mentioned that.”

“Mm. Let’s find a place to sit, shall we?”

“Oh! Sure, good idea.”

He led her to a booth, screened by lush potted plants whose exuberant state of growth was inexplicable in the dim, windowless club. The table was elevated two steps, shielded from view to either side and affording them a good view of the stage and its performer.

“The thing is,” Principia said as she settled into a seat across from him, “you’d have been a little tyke of about five when I last saw Anton, and I had no idea you existed. I never even knew he was married. Quite frankly, I see why he kept it from me. Matters between us would have been different had I known.”

“Oh?” he said warily.

She grinned. “Let’s just say I’ve been prone to adventure most of my life, since long before that came to be considered a dirty word. It’s not often I find myself in the company of trustworthy friends, and I’m afraid I have a tendency to drag them into all manner of exploits when I have them. I’d have been a lot more cautious with Anton had I known he had a family back home. And he knew that, hence not telling me.” She shrugged. “Well, in the end, he profited from knowing me and I never got him into more trouble than I could get him back out of, but I still feel I owe your whole family an apology. Something tells me your mother wouldn’t be at all pleased to learn of some of what we got up to.”

“Mother certainly isn’t shy about experiencing the rougher side of life herself,” he said. “That’s how they met, in fact. She’d have gone with him on his trips—and did, at first, but once she became the Sheriff, she had an obligation to stay near home. My sister and I were partly raised by a variety of aunts and neighbors.”

“So, Anton’s wife is a Sheriff,” Principia murmured.

“And a former Legionnaire!” he added.

She winced. “All things considered, and with all respect to the lady, I think I’ll refrain from introducing myself.”

“If…you think that’s best,” he said doubtfully.

“So!” she continued in a more brisk tone. “As I believe I mentioned, the way Anton and I left things off, he did me a big favor which I always felt deserved repayment, and I’m sorry I never had the chance to make good on that. But you’re here and I’m here now, so let’s talk about what I can do for you. Why is it, exactly, that you feel the need to make friends and connections with Eserites?”

Schwartz frowned down at his hands, which were clasped together on the table. “I… Well. I’m afraid this is going to sound rather ungrateful, but I have to be frank on the matter of privacy. There are…circumstances. Secrets and dicey situations, and tales that aren’t even mine to tell, risks I can’t take. I’ll understand if this means you can’t work with me, but there’s going to be a lot that I just can’t—”

“All right, stop,” she said with a grin, holding up a hand. “Remember, Herschel, I am an Eserite. And as we were just discussing, your dad and I got along swimmingly without me ever knowing half the important details of his life. I definitely understand secrets and privacy, so you can leave off the flowery explanations. Let’s dispense with what you can’t tell me and focus on what you can. What is it you need?”

“I am not…exactly…sure,” he said, frowning. “Okay, well, the truth of it is… I have an enemy, which is something I am not used to, and not good at handling. I was strongly advised to befriend someone in the Thieves’ Guild to help teach me…well, how to handle an enemy.”

She narrowed her eyes in thought. “How urgent is this situation?”

“Well…it’s not good,” he said darkly. “Urgent, though… She—I mean they don’t know I’m…well, after h—them.”

“So, enemy’s a woman,” Principia said wryly. “Don’t make that face; this will go faster if you don’t try to cover up these flubs. I’m not going to interrogate you about it beyond what I need to know to help. Why is it urgent-ish?”

Again, he stared down at his hands in thought for a long moment. “…have you ever known someone who just… Just needs to be brought down?”

“Yes,” she said simply. “Frequently.”

He nodded. “And…apart from general principles, it relates to the other matter I brought up. Someone I, ah, care about is in danger from this person. Rather…constant danger.”

“Life-threatening?”

“I don’t…know? I suspect not, at least immediately. It’s more a matter of constant, calculated abuse.”

“This…is an ugly situation you’re sketching the outlines of,” she said, frowning. “Well, you may or may not have come to the right person. I definitely know a thing or two about dealing with hostiles, but trying to make a thief of you is probably not the wisest approach. Not knowing the person or the situation, there’s a stark limit to how much good my advice, or anyone’s, will do you. Herschel, I realize you’re a somewhat hesitant speaker in general, but you do seem to be stumbling a great deal over this. I think your first step should be to figure out what the maximum possible information you can give me about this is, and do so. I realize you’ve no personal reason to trust me, and I’ll respect your privacy. I’m not digging; I’m trying to lay out what it is I’ll need in order to help you.”

“I see,” he said, heaving a sigh. “Well, that…all makes perfect sense, I suppose. It’s just that… I was sort of warned specifically that once this person knows I’m coming after her, that’s when the real fight will begin…”

“That is probably the explicit truth,” she agreed, nodding. “And you’d better be ready for that fight when it starts. Which is the point of this, isn’t it?”

“Exactly. And… I don’t mean any disrespect, please believe that, but you’re right in that I don’t know much about you, and every person I let know about this is a chance for word to get back to…her.”

“Good,” she said. “You may not be a practiced enemy, but you’re clearly a careful thinker, Herschel. What I can tell you now is that your best plan for this will be…to plan. I’ve not seen you try to fight, but I understand you didn’t pose much of an impediment to Squad 342 last night. You’re a thinker, not a scrapper. Best to have your plans laid in full before you engage.”

He opened his mouth to reply, then suddenly turned toward the stage, where the music had stopped, followed by muted applause. The bard stood and bowed to her audience before slipping offstage, while a harpist smoothly entered from the opposite side to take her place.

“Ah, good,” Schwartz said in a more cheerful tone. “She always notices when I come in. I’ve no idea how, I swear she doesn’t even look up from her guitar, and anyway how could she see with the lights on her like that? But every time I visit she’ll come talk with me. I should introduce you here in just a moment!”

“Capital idea,” Principia said brightly, rising and slipping out of the booth. “Before that, allow me a moment, will you? I’ll be right back to meet your friend.”

“Ah, of course, sure,” he said, bobbing his head in affirmation.

After she had slid away out of view, he let out a sigh and leaned back against his seat, resting his head on the partition behind him. All this…scheming. With every new development, even the encouraging ones, it was made ever clearer to him that he was wildly out of his element. For a few long minutes he just rested there, breathing evenly and letting the soft strains of harp music from below wash over him.

“My, my, is it that bad?”

He straightened up and managed a thin smile as Ami slid into the booth across from him. “Hello. Lovely performance as always. And no…nothing new is bad. I’m just…coping, as always.”

“Well, you’re taking action, which is all anyone can ask, I suppose,” she said airily. “To judge by the white longcoat, I gather your date is this mysterious new friend in the Legions? Splendid work, Herschel. It can’t be said that you don’t move quickly.”

“Yes, and she’ll be back in just a moment.” He glanced around. “Actually, I’m not sure what the, ah… I mean, probably just the necessary. I thought it indelicate to ask.”

“Setting the trap,” Principia said brightly, appearing at the table again as if by magic. Ami jumped in surprise, then went rigid, staring at her; the elf gave her a pleasant smile. “It wouldn’t do for your friend here to get nervous and bolt, before I could position myself between her and any way off that seat. Young woman, I can see you thinking about it. Now tell me, which do you think is a worse idea: trying to shove your way past an elf, or past a Silver Legionnaire?”

Schwartz gaped at her. “Uh… What is going on?”

“Just a little…reunion between old friends,” Ami said in a strangled voice. “And this, Herschel, is why I wish you’d told me just who you were meeting.”

“I’ll bet you do,” Principia said, her false smile fading into a hard, piercing stare. “Spilt milk, Ms. Talaari. It’s not that I don’t believe in coincidences; I simply don’t like them. So why don’t we all have a calm, quiet discussion about you, me, the Schwartzes, and Basra Syrinx?”

“With all due respect, corporal,” Casey said plaintively, “is this really the best plan we have?”

“Yes, I’m afraid so,” Nandi replied calmly, not glancing back at her. It was a well-heeled neighborhood they were walking through, and they passed mostly expensively-dressed people on the sidewalks, most of whom gave the three Legionnaires inquisitive looks. Several looked again at Nandi, doubtless unaccustomed to seeing elves in that armor. Despite the time of year, it was warm enough that they were not in their cold-weather gear, and as per regulations were not wearing helmets while on city duties that did not specifically require them.

“Um, I just can’t help thinking,” Farah said nervously, “apart from the unlikelihood of just stumbling over these apprentices, if the three of us just patrol in a constant circle around the Imperial Casino, the Thieves’ Guild will eventually notice.”

“Eventually?” At that, Nandi did glance back over her shoulder with a small smile. “I assure you, Szaravid, they’ve already noticed. Silver Legionnaires don’t patrol this district. Apart from the fact that it could be considered a provocative act against the Guild, there’s really no point. Even the Army doesn’t exert itself to keep peace here. No one attempts crime in territory under the control of the Thieves’ Guild. Or at least, no one does so twice.”

“I’m still hung up on the ‘provocative’ part of that,” Casey muttered, glancing about.

“Yes, they’ve noticed us,” Nandi said, again watching ahead. “The longer we keep up, the more curious they will be. Three soldiers are not a threat, and they’ll be wondering what we’re up to. By the third day of this, if not the second, someone will confront us to demand an explanation.”

“Three days of this?” Farah groaned.

“Likely more,” Casey said. “You were right; what are the odds of us just bumping into these apprentices?”

“Slim,” Nandi admitted. “Thus, when we are accosted by the Guild, we will tell them the full and unvarnished truth. Our squad is commanded by a Guild member, we are looking for information about the raid and the weapons confiscated there, and those apprentices are our best lead. If you should find yourselves, for any reason, confronted by Guild enforcers in my absence, these are the facts you will tell them.”

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” Casey said warily.

“Not a good one, but the best one available to us. If we simply walked up to them and asked, they would assume we were lying and up to something, and treat us accordingly. Matters will seem different if we speak frankly when menaced their full strength—and they will make threats, so be prepared for that, but also remember they are very unlikely to harm Legionnaires unless provokes far more severely than we shall. If they refuse to accept our presence, that will be that, and we will have to report back to the sergeant and find a new avenue of approach. But I judge there is at least a strong possibility someone within the Guild will actually help us, if we put it to them the right way. I have dealt with Eserites in the past.”

“It feels risky,” Farah said, “showing them our hand like that.”

“Riskier by far to play games.” Nandi glanced back again, a clear warning in her eyes. “We will not fence with the Thieves’ Guild, ladies. We would swiftly and dramatically lose. And worse, the situation would reflect upon Sergeant Locke, embarrass Captain Dijanerad, draw the attention of Bishop Syrinx, and aggravate Commander Rouvad. Any of those outcomes could be disastrous for us.”

“I dunno,” Casey mused. “Locke’s pretty easygoing, as sergeants go…”

“That,” Nandi stated, “is because we are a small unit, because she knows you, and because the composition of this squad makes it a viable leadership strategy. The Sisterhood has extensive files on Principia Locke, and I have read them. If you had to choose between having her and Basra Syrinx for an enemy… Well, ladies, you can thank Avei for the side on which she has placed you. Trust me.”

“Really?” Casey said skeptically.

“I believe it,” Farah said in a quieter tone. “I like the Sarge, too. That doesn’t mean I underestimate her.”

“Good,” said Nandi with a small smile which they couldn’t see.

They turned a corner in silence, glancing at the white, gilt-edged shape of the Imperial Casino as it was briefly visible across an intersection on their left. For the most part, Shahai was leading them on a patrol route around the Casino at a distance of one street, rather than actually circling its walls.

“I know Locke said to drop this,” Casey said after a pause, “but… Corporal Shahai, that one apprentice, with the brown hair…”

“I know, Elwick,” Nandi said quietly.

“You do? I mean… Sure you do,” she added with a sigh.

“Yeah, it’s really not surprising, is it?” Farah smiled and jostled her affectionately with an elbow.

“Orders aside, Locke’s approach to that situation was the correct one,” Nandi said quietly. “We are being sent into a circumstance in which we may end up interacting with her, closely and repeatedly. Above all else, you will respect her cover and give no hint that you know her to be anything but some girl apprenticing to the Guild. With that understood… Locke has also placed us in position to possibly be of help to her, should an appropriate situation arise. I am quite confident the sergeant does not do such things by accident.”

“What is she doing in the Guild?” Casey wondered aloud.

“Nothing that’s any of your business until she tells you otherwise,” Nandi said flatly.

“Yes, ma’am,” Casey swiftly acknowledged.

Suddenly, the corporal stopped, turning her head. “…well. Then again, sometimes one gets lucky. This way, ladies, quickly.”

“What’s happening, ma’am?” Farah asked, falling into step as Nandi picked up their pace and turned, heading down a street away from the Casino.

“One and possibly more of our targets is now leaving the Guild and moving parallel to us, a block distant,” Nandi said crisply. “Tallie has a very carrying voice. I cannot be sure who, if anyone, is with her.”

“Omnu’s breath,” Casey marveled. “Just how acute is elvish hearing?”

“The acuity is less important in this case than the practice at filtering out specific sounds from background noise. Not many elves have spent as much time in modern cities as I.”

“I bet it’d be easier for her if we both shut up,” Farah muttered. Casey shot her an annoyed look, but she earned an over-the-shoulder smile from Nandi.

In silence, the three Legionnaires strode off into the city.

“Now, isn’t that interesting,” Grip said, watching the soldiers pass by directly beneath the building on whose roof she stood. “And you thought I was in an unreasonable hurry. If this doesn’t teach you to have some faith in my instincts, Silence, I don’t know if anything will.”

The man accompanying her folded his arms, watching the Legionnaires go. “You realize the elf can assuredly hear us.”

“That’s Nandi Shahai,” Grip said dismissively. “If she wants to question why I’m stalking her, I’ll be glad to hear what she’s doing poking around the Guild. Focus, Silence. My hearing’s not on her level, but I caught enough to know I was right. They’re following that group. Specifically the girl, I’d wager a month’s take.”

Silence shook his head. “I still refuse to develop a personal stake in this.”

“I swear,” she complained, “the older you get, the less fun you become.”

“That’s the usual way of things, Quintessa,” he replied with a faint smile. “Still, you are right. In an objective sense, it is interesting. I will examine the girl more closely myself, but unless the results of that are disappointing, I believe it will be worth informing Glory. And if she decides not to lay a claim…”

“Then it’s my turn,” Grip said with a hungry smile. “You do that. For now, I’m going to follow our friends down there. This evening is just bound to get more interesting before it’s over.”

Without another word, she took off at a run and leaped across the street to catch herself on a window ledge on the building opposite, which was one floor taller than this one. In seconds, Grip had clambered up the side, agile as a squirrel, and then went bounding away over the rooftops, swiftly catching up to the four apprentices on one side of the building row and Legionnaires on the other.

Silence stood, watching, until she was out of sight, and then turned to look back at the glittering domes of the Casino, frowning in thought.

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11 – 6

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Darius, growing increasingly frustrated, darted froward again, swinging at Jasmine’s head. During the last minute, he had quickly gotten over his hesitation to strike her; so far, his attempts to do so were proving fruitless.

She had begun by simply standing there, ignoring his taunts and imprecations to attack. When he finally stepped forward, launching a half-hearted jab at her head, she stepped back, avoiding it. The first minute of their duel followed that pattern, Darius growing bolder and more aggressive, without effect. Jasmine not only never struck back, she didn’t even trouble to adopt a fighting stance, keeping her hands folded behind her. She simply stepped smoothly backward and to either side, allowing Darius to chase her in a pointless circle.

The increasing jeers and commentary from the other assembled apprentices was clearly not improving Darius’s mood; his grin had collapsed entirely into a thunderous scowl. Grip, though, grinned like the cat who had eaten the canary, lounging against the wall off to the side and watching avidly. Beside her stood an older man in nondescript clothing, his face lined and hair silver-touched at the temples. Apart from nodding once to Grip in greeting, he had simply watched the fight impassively.

“All right, enough!” Darius exclaimed, coming to a stop and lowering his hands. “Are you about done screwing around? If you’re not gonna fight, we both have better things we could be doing.”

Jasmine raised one eyebrow. “If we’re not fighting… Why are you losing?”

There was a predictable outburst of hooting from the spectators at his. Darius rolled his eyes dramatically.

“Well,” he drawled, “I guess the smart thing to do here would be to walk away, since you’ve sunk to goading me. That’s just sad, Jasmine; we are all cheapened by this.”

“Are we done, then?” she asked calmly.

“Tell you what, cupcake, I’ll leave that up to you.” He slid back into a braced fighting stance, raising his fists. “I’m not gonna flail around while you show off your dancing skill. Either fight back, or we are done.”

She shrugged.

He darted forward a bit more carefully, aiming a jab at her face, which she slapped aside. Darius grinned in triumph, bouncing in place a couple of times, before feinting left and then attacking from the other side.

Jasmine ignored the bait, stepped neatly to the side and reached deftly past his attacking fist to tap him on the head with her palm.

Darius yowled in obvious pain and stumbled to the ground, clutching his ear.

A few of the onlookers let out exuberant cheers, but most of the watching apprentices fell silent, staring in various degrees of disbelief and concentration. Grip’s smile broadened further, but she offered nothing to the tumult.

Jasmine turned to face the crowd, waiting until the shouts died down somewhat before speaking in a tone clearly used to projecting.

“I’m assuming our goal here is not to go around killing and maiming people, right? Well, what you just saw was one of the fastest and easiest ways to put someone out of commission without doing them serious harm.” She glanced at Darius, who had made it back up to his knees, keeping his back to her for the moment, then turned back to the other apprentices and raised one hand. “Here, cup your hand slightly, and gently—gently!—tap yourself on the ear with the palm.”

She demonstrated, and several of the onlookers followed suit, though some stubbornly refrained and a few knowing expressions hinted that their owners already knew where this was going.

“That sensation you feel,” Jasmine continued, “is air being pushed into your ear canal by the impact. Do that harder and it will hit your eardrum with a lot of force, which causes pain, nausea, and loss of equilibrium, not to mention loss of hearing and sometimes blurred vision. Hard enough and you can rupture the eardrum entirely. Do this to someone and they are down. It’s painful and debilitating, but not permanent or excessively cruel—even a fully ruptured eardrum heals naturally in a few weeks, barring infection. And, of course, a quick potion or divine healing can fix it in moments. It’s a weak point all humanoids share, though the ears on lizardfolk are too hard to spot to be worthwhile. Even sturdier races, like dwarves or orcs, will be neutralized by this.

“The best time to do this,” she added, holding up a finger warningly, “is before a fight breaks out, to prevent it from happening. The ear is a small target, and you have to hit it at the right angle. If someone’s already watching for an attack, it’s harder; if you’re already moving around trying to hit one another, harder still. You really only stand a chance of using this in a fight if you’re already a lot better than the person you’re fighting.”

“Oh, nice. That’s a nice touch.” Darius straightened up and turned to glare at her, still clutching his ear. “Couldn’t resist getting in a last little shot, could you?”

“Oh,” Jasmine said, suddenly looking flustered, in a sharp contrast to her previous bearing. “Um, sorry, I wasn’t thinking—”

“I’ll tell you what, Jas,” he said curtly. “Congratulations on being good at fighting. Everybody here’s good at something. The point is to get along with people and gain new skills. You’re gonna have a hard time if you can’t resist taking the opportunity to be an asshole every time you show somebody up.”

“I wasn’t—”

“Whatever,” he snorted, turning on his heel and slouching away, but not before his parting comment was audible. “Bitch.”

“Leave it,” Grip ordered when Jasmine took a step in his direction. The enforcer strode forward, effortlessly scattering apprentices with a sharp gesture. “Do not waste your time on petulant jackasses. The boy was right about that much, though I suspect the irony was lost on him. A word in your ear, kid? This way.” She tilted her head toward the corner of the pit, pausing only to sweep a very sharp look around at the assembled onlookers. Those who hadn’t already got the hint immediately set off in search of something else to do.

“So, you’ve done this before,” Grip said as Jasmine followed her. They came to a stop next to the climbing bars, atop which Rasha and Tallie still sat. The enforcer was surely aware of their presence, but did not acknowledge them.

“I’ve had the benefit of training, yes,” Jasmine agreed warily.

“Well, the fighting, yeah,” Grip said with a knowing little smile. “But also teaching. That’s exactly the right approach to take around here—show people what you know, make yourself useful, earn respect. You’re off to a good start, kid. Now, let’s talk about what you did wrong.”

Jasmine folded her arms, eyebrows lowering. “I thought I handled him pretty well.”

“Once the actual fighting started, yeah, you owned him. Listen, girl, I am an enforcer, and a good one. Inflicting pain and fear in Eserion’s name is my job, my calling, and my faith. So pay attention when I tell you that your objective as a practitioner of the violent arts should be not to fight. You inflict exactly as much damage as you need to in order to get the results you want. Violence is a means to an end; violence being the end in and of itself is a symptom of a particular species of crazy that we don’t tolerate around here.”

“Excuse me,” Jasmine said in annoyance, “but as I just said, I chose the least—”

“Mouth shut,” Grip said flatly. “I am speaking. A corollary of this principle is that as much as an enforcer needs to be good at force, she also needs to be good at theater. You have to control every aspect of your interactions in order to gain the fear and respect you need. How you present yourself, what you say, is a lot more important in the long run than breaking elbows—or eardrums. As such, announcing that you’re a feminist who can be goaded into a fight as easily as that boy did is a serious mistake. I doubt most of those yahoos out there have the motive or the understanding to leverage that, but in other circumstances… You showed a weakness in front of a crowd. Don’t do that.”

“I see,” Jasmine murmured, still frowning, but now in thought. “Thank you. That’s good advice.”

“I wouldn’t waste everyone’s time saying it, otherwise,” Grip said with a humorless little grin. “That aside, good show, kid. I’m gonna be watching you with interest.”

She clapped the apprentice on the shoulder once, and then strode away without another word. As she passed the older man who’d been watching the fight with her, he smoothly fell into step at her side, and they disappeared through the door into the catacombs. Jasmine stood there, gazing after them with a pensive frown still in place.

At least, until Tallie landed on the floor beside her.

“That was Grip!” Tallie enthused, ignoring the way Jasmine started away from her and slipped momentarily into a fighting stance. “You lucky bitch, you!”

“I’d really prefer it if people didn’t call me that,” Jasmine said pointedly, relaxing. “I spoke to that woman once before, briefly. So, she’s an enforcer? Who was that man with her?”

“Oh, who cares?” Tallie said dismissively, while Rasha clambered more sedately down to join them. “It was Grip, Jasmine! And she talked to you! Hell, she took the time to teach you!”

“That’s what full Guild members do with apprentices, right? I guess I’m making some progress, then.”

“Grip,” Rasha said, frowning. “Actually, I remember that name. She was the one Pick trained under, right? Before she threw him back into the general pool?”

“Damn skippy!” Tallie exclaimed, patting him hard on the shoulder. “You’ve got sharp ears and a good memory, my little friend. Dang, everybody’s showing off their potential today.”

“Can we not call people little?” Rasha said irritably.

“That’s the whole point about Grip,” Tallie blustered on, ignoring him now. “She doesn’t do apprentices. Rarely has one, and she’s been even more standoffish than usual ever since Pick proved himself to be a prick. She’s only recently started visiting the pit to watch apprentices again, and this is the first time she’s ever paid attention to one person in particular! Holy damn, woman, I kind of want to kill you and steal your life now!”

“I, uh, don’t think it works like that,” Jasmine said warily. “Anyhow… She doesn’t really sound like the sort of person I’d want to apprentice under.”

“Are you daft?” Tallie exclaimed.

Jasmine shrugged. “It’s just… I already know fighting.”

“I’ll say,” Rasha commented.

“I came here to learn other ways of dealing with my problems,” Jasmine continued, “not to become a better fighter. And especially not to learn how to be a more…intimidating, fear-inspiring person like Grip seems to be. That isn’t the path I want to follow. I hope I’m not gonna have to turn her down or anything,” she added worriedly. “If she’s well-respected around here, that seems like it could cause me some problems…”

“Oh, not likely,” Tallie said dismissively. “I mean, people would think it was weird as hell, you refusing to apprentice under someone with that kind of rep, but Eserites are all about leaving folks alone to do their thing. As long as Style doesn’t think you’re not working or learning hard enough… Or, hell, maybe you’d gain enough cred from her just asking that you’d get a better offer!”

“Maybe,” Jasmine murmured, gazing absently at the wall.

“Anyway!” Tallie said, suddenly with a broad grin. “Let’s do something!”

“Uh, oh,” Rasha muttered.

She scowled at him. “What, uh oh? You don’t even know what I was going to say.”

“I’ve learned that when somebody says ‘let’s do something’ in that tone, I’m about to have a bad time.” Jasmine smiled at him in amusement.

“Oh, you kids and your…pooh-poohedness, pooh-poohing all my enthusiasm,” Tallie said, making a swatting gesture at him. “No, look, seriously, I think Jasmine’s debut calls for something celebratory, and we’re all here to get ourselves trained, right? Well, why choose between them when we can just do both?”

“Um, I’m not sure what needs celebrating, here,” Jasmine said. “I had one brief sparring match and an even briefer conversation with an enforcer.

“I’m curious what kind of training she means, though,” Rasha said.

“It sounds like an excuse to slack off,” Jasmine muttered.

“It is!” Tallie admitted cheerfully. “But, and I’m saying this in all seriousness, I wouldn’t be suggesting it if I didn’t see a real benefit. Training in the Guild is great, it’s necessary, but it’s also a preliminary sort of thing. Eserites are active out there in the world. So, I’m gonna do you the favor a senior apprentice did for me on my first day and show you one of the places we’re gonna need to get to know. That they have booze is just an added benefit!”

“I don’t drink,” said Jasmine.

They both stared at her.

“What do you mean, you don’t drink?” Tallie demanded.

“It isn’t a complex sentence, or subject,” Jasmine said in annoyance. “I do not ingest alcohol. Why is this such a big deal for everyone?”

“It’s a big deal because everyone drinks!” Tallie exclaimed.

“Everyone does not.” Jasmine folded her arms. “I don’t. And I’m hardly the only one.”

“Hey, what happened to letting people do their own thing?” Rasha said quietly.

Tallie heaved a sigh. “Out of the mouths of babes… All right, fine, but I hope you know there’s a serious interrogation coming your way, lady. With every new thing I learn about you, the mystery deepens. You’re like this big, improbable onion. Layer upon layer of new intrigues.”

“I suppose the metaphor fits,” Jasmine said, nodding. “Plus, if you cut me, I’ll make you cry.”

Rasha barked an unexpected laugh, stifling himself when Tallie scowled at him. “What? That was funny.”

“Thanks,” Jasmine said with a smile.

“Anyway!” Tallie said with a roll of her eyes. “Get yourselves together, guys, we’re taking a field trip. Since Grip chased everybody off from Jasmine and we’re all still messed up after our ridiculous adventure last night, it’s the perfect time for gwah!”

She jerked away from Ross, placing a hand on her chest and panting dramatically.

“What?” he asked, blinking in surprise. “You okay?”

“Damn it, don’t do that!” she snapped. “How did you do that? You’re like a buffalo; how the hell did you sneak up on us?”

He shrugged.

“Excuse me, but he snuck up on you,” Rasha said helpfully. “We saw him coming.”

“He just walked up,” Jasmine added. “Hi, Ross.”

“Jasmine.” He nodded to her before turning back to Tallie. “Can I come?”

“I—well, hell, sure.” She chuckled. “More the merrier, and I guess we’ve got as much of a history as we do with anyone else here. C’mon, kids, I’m going to open your eyes to a whole new world.”

“Um…” Rasha glanced around. “Should we…find Darius, first?”

Tallie sighed, shaking her head. “Rasha, we did one job with the guy.”

“One job,” Ross rumbled, “then jail, then cleaning duty.”

“Right, well, the point is, we’re not married to him. He’s off sulking after making an ass of himself with Jasmine. We’ll make other friends, Rasha, don’t get too attached.”

“Excuse me,” Jasmine interrupted, “but where, exactly, are you proposing to take us?”

Tallie winked. “To a place where all good thieves can congregate outside the sanctity of their Guild, to mix with the sort of people with whom they’ll need to do business. A place where we can make contacts, get anything money can buy, and generally do business.”

“For some reason,” Jasmine said with a sigh, “I can’t help assuming this is a place where we can get stabbed, and then get a nasty infection.”

“There, y’see?” Tallie grinned and slugged her on the shoulder. “I said you pick things up quick.”

“What kinda drinks to they have?” Ross asked.

“Plentiful, strong, and cheap!”

He nodded. “I’m in.”

Rasha remained silent, following along behind as the still-chattering Tallie led them up the stairs and toward the hall, unable to dislodge her last piece of advice from the forefront of his brain.

Who else would he be wiser not to get attached to? How long would it be before they realized they could do without him?

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11 – 5

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He woke near noon, despite only having managed a few hours of sleep. Quite apart from his body’s determination that daytime was for activity, he was in an unfamiliar place in which he had yet to manage to feel safe, much less at home. Only exhaustion had brought sleep at all, and couldn’t hold it long.

Rasha opened his eyes, feeling the confusion of dreams fade away as he stared at the distant stone ceiling. The barracks, or dormitory (he’d heard it called both), was certainly not cramped. High ceilings aside, he had what felt to him like a very generous allotment of personal space. His modest bunk, a simple wooden-framed affair with a thing mattress and worn but good blankets, had a chest at its foot and a stool beside it, and was framed on all four sides by privacy curtains. Three were lashed into place, with the forth able to slide open to reveal the central aisle of the…barracksatory? Whatever it was called, it was roomier and more private than accommodations on any ship he’d ever bunked down in, even with the unfiltered sounds of his fellow would-be thieves all around him.

Somehow, he’d expected it to be different here. At that moment, lying there staring at the ceiling, he didn’t know why.

It was there, the crushing feeling of hopelessness that dogged him whenever he stopped to let it. Who was he kidding? A new start, a new life, a new career… None of his would make a new him.

Rasha drew in a deep, fortifying breath and forced himself to straighten up. He’d been down this road many, many times; he knew the drill. It would get better when he started moving. For a while, at least.

Maybe it would be better overall, too. Whatever else he could say about the previous night, it had kept him too busy to welter in his own inadequacy.

His clothes were still hanging on the bedposts, undisturbed. Perhaps Style’s warnings were taken to heart by the other apprentices, though he wasn’t about to trust a bunch of thieves-in-training not to pilfer his things. Fortunately, he had no things, aside from the clothes on his back—which, after being washed, had been unwearably soaked, forcing him to wrap himself in his blankets for security despite the fact the barracks (dormitory?) was kept quite warm by arcane heating ranges at both ends. Both Tallie and Jasmine had tried to loan him nightshirts, but he’d fended them off. He wasn’t about to pile wearing girls’ clothes onto his insecurities. Bathing in the men’s washroom had been enough of a nightmare, for all that Ross and Darius had sought their own corners, likewise disinclined to be social while nude. Thank the gods for small blessings.

They were dry, a couple of damp patches aside, and he dressed himself as quickly as possible, then poked his head out.

There were soft sounds of conversation and vague rustles here and there, but he could see no one. Actually, the dormitory was a lot quieter at this hour than it had been at dawn, when people were starting to get up. Rasha peeked up and down the aisle, uncertain what he was supposed to do with himself now.

The rumbling in his stomach decided him.

He passed through the pit as quickly as possible. It was extremely alive, with people everywhere talking, standing around, and practicing various thiefly arts. Rasha kept his head down and made a beeline straight for the dining room, ignoring everyone and certain everyone was staring at him with condescending judgment.

It was all in his head, he knew that. This didn’t make it feel any less real.

The dining hall was busy, too, but fortunately nobody was looking at him when he came in. Everyone was clustered around one end of one of the rows of tables, at the far side of the hall near the kitchens. Rasha paused in the doorway, studying this, before slipping around to the side of the long room farthest from the crowd and going in search of food.

It was an arrangement he knew well from various galleys. A single cook behind the windows presided over various pots and pans of food, which he ladled out onto the tray and plate Rasha collected from stacks of them at one end. The man was distracted to the point of dismissive, watching the cluster of apprentices nearby, which suited Rasha just fine. He also poured himself a cup of tea from the pot at the end of the window, and then found himself holding a laden tray and in need of a place to sit.

His instinct was to get as far from the crowd as possible. Experience had taught him that people would notice that, and some would choose to take it personally. The happy medium would be to slide as surreptitiously as possible onto a bench at the very edge of the gathering.

They were nearly all apprentices, or so Rasha assumed; they were older teenagers and younger adults. The focus of the group was unquestionably on a man who looked to be a fit fifty or so, with graying hair and a neatly-trimmed mustache, who was perched on the very corner of the long table, telling a story.

While Rasha considered this, he caught Jasmine’s eye. She, apparently a person after his own heart, was lurking at the periphery. Seeing that he’d noticed her, she smiled and patted the empty place beside her.

Well. It was at the edge, and after all, she at least was someone he knew. He rather liked Jasmine. She was quiet, and pretty, and impressive. Also, Tallie was right across from her, and while Tallie could be overwhelming, he’d already developed a fondness for her, too. Perhaps jail and forced labor had that effect on a group.

He made himself smile back, and came forward to climb onto the bench beside Jasmine. “Morning. Or afternoon. I’ve lost track.”

“Just past noon,” Jasmine said.

“Oh, hey, Rasha!” Tallie said cheerfully. Both of them were just finishing off their lunches. “Welcome back to the land of the living. I dunno about you, but I’m gonna be a log tonight. A few hours of beauty rest just does not cut it.”

He gave her a smile before glancing down at the other end of the table. “What’s all this?”

“That’s Lore,” Jasmine replied, spearing a forkful of potatoes.

“Um. What’s lore?”

“Him.” Tallie pointed with her spoon. “Lore. That’s his tag; he’s a priest. This being an actual cult, there actually are priests, believe it or not! And he’s pretty much the top-ranking one, except for maybe the Bishop. He’s also the resident expert on Eserite philosophy, and the guy who’ll be teaching it to us. You pay attention to him; you don’t get tagged into the Guild proper until he says you’re fit for it.”

“Hm.” Rasha paused to tuck into his meal. It was just like the night before: bland, but filling. He was already getting nostalgic for the spicy food back home. His sister Amrit made the best curry… “Does anyone else think this is a weird system?”

“Yes,” Jasmine said emphatically, drawing a grin from him against his will.

“Weird how?” Tallie asked.

“Well, it’s…” He shrugged. “There’s no teachers. Apprentices just do whatever, and… Of the people who seem to be dedicated to looking after us, it’s just these two, right? Lore and Style?” He raised his eyebrows. “The chief enforcer and the chief priest?”

“Who told you Style was chief enforcer?” Tallie asked, frowning. “Last night you didn’t even know who she was.”

“Darius loves to talk.”

“Oh. Yeah, he does.” She grinned, spooning up the last of her carrots. “Almost as much as me.”

“Rasha has a point, though,” Jasmine mused. “These are basically top people in the guild. Apprentices are kind of…at the bottom. Seems odd that they’re the only ones who have a dedicated responsibility for us.”

“All systems are corrupt!” Tallie said cheerfully around a mouthful, prompting both of them to avert their eyes. “Makes perfect sense to me the Eserites’d have a pretty unique system. Eh?”

Rasha coughed, forking up another bite of potatoes. “So, um, anyway. After lunch. What do we…do?”

“Whatever we like,” Jasmine said quietly. “No one tries to organize your activities. But we’re expected to be consistently working toward improving our skills, trying to either get a sponsor or go straight for full Guild membership. Style pulls people aside for a talk if she thinks they aren’t working hard enough.”

“Like I say, good system,” Tallie opined. “The Guild doesn’t need people who stand around waiting to be told what to do. You gotta be a self-starter, have your own motivation!”

“I’m kind of amazed how Style knows what everyone’s up to,” Jasmine murmured. “I only actually see her once in a while, mostly just passing through if she’s not grabbing somebody for one of her little talks. But she does seem to have her thumb on everyone’s pulse.”

“Okay, then.” Rasha drew in a deep breath, let it out, and had a sip of tea. “Training. How’s that work?”

“Well, you wanna learn something, you get somebody to teach you,” Tallie said, again gesticulating with her silverware. “Anybody, really. You can learn from the other apprentices—most sponsored ones don’t live here in the Guild, but they come for training themselves, and the ones with seniority are the closest thing to dedicated teachers. Just cos they don’t have enough status to be turning up their noses at a fellow apprentice who asks for help.”

“Just because their sponsors would land on them if they did that,” Jasmine added. “Isn’t that more or less what happened to Pick?”

“He was doing a little worse than that, but yeah, basically,” Tallie agreed. “Point is, Rasha, you’ve gotta be mindful of reputation and credibility. How much you have, and how much others have. Makes a difference who you can approach and how seriously they have to take you, or who’s likely to approach you, either to give or to ask for help.”

“Ugh.” He rubbed his forehead. “So if you’re not the most social person, this is basically a nightmare.”

“Basically,” Jasmine said dourly.

“Oh, don’t listen to her,” Tallie snorted, pointing accusingly at Jasmine. “This one’s definitely not a people person, but she does okay. A good start is to head out into the pit and demonstrate what you’ve got! Try stuff out, do what other people are doing. It draws attention; people will admire what you do right, and correct you where you’re wrong.”

“That’s true,” Jasmine acknowledged. “I’m not much of a social person, but so far I seem to get by on work ethic. Haven’t really had any proper training except from a couple of the senior sponsored apprentices.”

“Flora and Fauna,” Tallie added, nodding. “The Bishop’s. You’ll like them, Rash.”

“It’s Rasha,” he emphasized.

“Uh, yeah.” She winced. “In hindsight, I can see why it would be.”

“So,” he murmured, toying with a forkful of potato. “Just go out there and…do things. All right.”

“Finish your meal first,” Jasmine advised.

“Oh, believe me,” he assured her, “that wasn’t in question.”

What he could do…

Looking around the pit, where apprentices were working at dummies, sparring, climbing walls, and doing several things whose purpose he couldn’t guess, Rasha felt another moment of profound helplessness. What could he do that would impress anyone here?

Then his eyes fell on the balance bars. They were clearly designed for climbing, being built up in an asymmetrical, complex formation that rose over three yards high, made of smooth-sanded wood darkened by countless hands and joined together with metal fastenings.

He was making his way toward them before he could talk himself out of it again. Somewhat to his surprise, Tallie and Jasmine followed along. It was mildly encouraging that they didn’t have much more idea what to do than he; with them being his primary source of information, he tended to forget they had only been around a few days, themselves.

“Thieves need to climb,” he said, a smile breaking unbidden across his features.

“Well, yes,” Jasmine said behind him. “I suppose that’s—whoah!”

It wasn’t like rigging. The texture, the arrangement, the inflexibility of the bars… But it was grasping, swinging, pulling, knowing the weight of his body, feeling the inertia and gravity as he swam through them. Rasha hopped upward once to grab the lowest bar, and in seconds had bounded nimbly up through the whole arrangement to perch smugly atop it.

He had to grin in sudden pride when his performance was rewarded by cheers and wolf whistles from others about the room. They quickly returned to their own business—these folks had surely seen a lot of more impressive things—but for a few moments, he was the center of attention…and approbation. It was an unfamiliar feeling.

Rasha decided on the spot he needed more of it.

“Hey, not bad!” Tallie called, grinning up at him. “Not bad at all. Lemme have a go!”

Twenty seconds later, she was beside him. Her technique for climbing was very different than his; she swung her body in wide arcs, with graceful flourishes of whatever limb was not currently needed to hold herself in place. It was an inefficient method, but an undeniably beautiful one, and Rasha found himself curious where she’d learned to climb.

He was also uncomfortably aware of how her performance accentuated the long lines of her body.

“Impressive!” he said, hoping his skin was dark enough to hide his blush. His sisters were never fooled, but people of Stalweiss stock, he’d found, often couldn’t spot faint changes in coloration, not when their own faces turned bright pink at the slightest thing. “That’s…wow, I’ve never seen anyone climb like that.”

“Why, thank you,” she said, batting her eyes and simpering.

Rasha cleared his throat. “Um, well. I suppose there’s no mystery about me; just a wharf rat, used to scaling the rigging. I was dancing on ropes before I could walk.”

“Circus rat, here!” she said cheerfully, hopping upward and throwing herself into a somersault. She landed with one hand grasping the bar on which they both sat, and slowly straightened her body out above them, free arm and legs all pointing in different directions, balancing on her palm. “The point is not to get anywhere in a hurry, but to look good while you’re getting!”

“Mission accomplished,” he mumbled.

Tallie turned her head to grin and wink at him upside-down, and he had to drop his own gaze.

“There she is!”

He craned his neck to look below, where a slim blonde woman dressed in black was striding across the pit floor toward Jasmine, grinning.

“Oh!” Tallie swiftly re-folded herself to sit beside him on the top bar. “That’s Grip!”

“Grip… Oh, Randy’s master?”

“Ex-sponsor, yeah. She is not somebody you wanna cross.” She nudged him with an elbow, grinning eagerly at the scene below, where the senior thief had cornered and engaged Jasmine in conversation. “You’ll wanna watch this. Grip was around two days ago, Jas’s first appearance here. She got baited into sparring with one of the other apprentices.” Her grin grew hugely. “Flattened him. Just completely demolished, and didn’t even get bruised. I swear her hair wasn’t mussed. Yeah, Grip’s an enforcer; she saw that, and I had a feeling she’d be back to see some more.”

“I see,” he mused.

Tallie gave him an irritated glance. “What, that’s it? You’re supposed to express disbelief. How can a little slip of a thing like Jasmine be so dangerous?”

“It actually is really surprising,” he agreed, “but this isn’t when I’m learning of it. You remember last night, when we were all literally blind and it still took three Silver Legionnaires to pin her down?”

“Oh,” she said sullenly. “Yeah, I guess so. Fair enough.”

The conversation below had progressed while they were talking, culminating in Grip turning to the other nearby apprentices and asking for volunteers, while Jasmine stood aside, looking uncomfortable.

“Oh, all right,” Darius said, pushing forward through the crowd and trying for a show of reluctance, which was ruined by his broad grin. “I guess I can have a go. But just promise you won’t cry, Jas. I hate to see a pretty lady all mussed.”

Instantly, Jasmine’s posture shifted, reluctance and uncertainty vanishing as she turned to face him.

“All right,” she said quietly. “I promise.”

“He’s not very bright, is he?” Rasha whispered.

“No,” Tallie replied, grinning insanely. “No, he is not.”

“Ah, there they are,” Principia said as Casey and Farah entered the cabin. “Finally. Front and center, ladies, we’re waiting on you.” Indeed, the rest of the squad were clustered around the arcane heater at the end in which they slept, all but Principia herself sitting on their bunks. “We’ve got new marching orders straight from the High Commander. This is the big one, girls: an actual mission, something important to the Sisterhood’s interests, and a chance for us to prove our worth. We will not mess this up. I hope you enjoyed your last hour of normal duty shifts in a while, because once I’ve briefed you, we are off to the races.”

“Um, before that,” Farah said nervously. “We have something to report.”

Beside her, Casey sighed, looking resigned.

“Well?” Principia said impatiently. “Out with it, then.”

“It’s, um…” Farah shuffled her booted feet. “Well, Sarge, you remember the mystery of the jackass cadet who kept signing out prayer rooms under the name I. P. Standing?”

“Oh, no,” Nandi whispered.

Principia glanced at her, then fixed her stare back on Farah. “Vaguely, sure. What of it?”

“Well,” Farah said, “the good news is, today we caught her red-handed.” Casey edged subtly away from her.

“And the bad news?” Principia demanded.

Farah cringed, hunching her shoulders as if trying to withdraw her head into her breastplate like a turtle. “Colonel Standing would like a word with you, ma’am. At your earliest convenience.”

There was a moment of silence, in which Ephanie’s eyes widened in horror and Nandi closed hers. Then Merry burst out laughing so hard she almost immediately rolled off her bunk.

“You remember telling Farah to be more assertive?” Casey added helpfully. “Well, she’s been working on it.” Farah shot her a filthy look.

“Well, isn’t that the fuckin’ cherry on top,” Principia said sourly. “Thank you so much, Szaravid.”

“Sorry, Sarge,” Farah said miserably.

“Elwick,” the sergeant added, “walk over to Lang, and if she’s still on the floor by the time you get there, stomp on her organs. Everybody else, just…sit down and sort yourselves out. This is important.”

Merry was still grinning half a minute later when they had all assembled and arranged themselves under their sergeant’s now-irritated stare, but even she managed to mostly compose herself. Nandi sat cross-legged on her own top bunk; the others spread out on the bottom ones, waiting expectantly.

“Much as we need more warm bodies around here,” Principia mused, “I do rather like the coziness. After all the shouting and drilling, it’s nice to be a group of people and not the armored golems the bronze demands of us. Needless to say, as always, you are none of you to carry tales of how I do things up the chain of command.”

“Yes, ma’am!” they chorused, most smiling.

“All right, to business.” Principia nodded once. “What we caught last night was the tail end of a bigger and more important operation. Rounding up a handful of Eserite apprentices, in addition to being a completely useless thing to do, was not the point. That raid was prompted by a tip from relatively high in the Guild itself, and its point was to seize the weapons being traded in that warehouse. I didn’t bring any to show you, because they’re to stay locked in the main temple at Commander Rouvad’s orders, but what we found are modified battlestaves of strange design and uncertain purpose. They are capped at both ends with large crystals and incorporate some kind of gold superstructure. When fired, they produce a slightly diffuse beam of yellow light which exerts a mild kinetic force on a target and no other visible effect. It is useless against energy shields. In short, the Legion has apprehended strange weapons that someone in the Thieves Guild felt it was important that we know about. We can’t tell what they are, or what they’re supposed to do, or where they come from.”

She let that sink in for a moment, panning her stare around the squad. “And it is now our job to answer those questions.”

“How?” Merry asked.

“In several ways,” Principia said, beginning to pace up and down. She only had room to make about three steps at a time before having to turn. “First, I’m to examine the devices themselves to figure out their purpose; the High Commander has suspended my weapons research until this is done. Second, this squad is to track the origins of the weapons, and try to learn about their provenance.”

“Once again,” said Merry, “how?”

“I’ve been mulling that,” Principia said seriously. “And I’ll come to it in a moment. First, though, there’s another thing you need to know. What I said about this being an important test of the squad’s mandate is true, but the stakes are higher than that. Commander Rouvad has tasked Bishop Syrinx with the same objectives; she is to pursue the matter through political channels. The Church, the Eserite Bishop, and whatever else she can manage.”

“Holy shit,” Casey breathed. “It’s…a race, then.”

“It’s more complicated than that, Elwick,” Principia said grimly. “In addition to doing our actual jobs, we’ll need to carefully manage our situation relative to Syrinx. Yes, this is a chance to pull ahead and prove ourselves more useful than she, which is a step toward the important goal of validating the Commander’s trust in this squad and making Syrinx herself redundant. However, she is not unaware of our stake in this, and if we start to show her up too badly… Well, you all know how restrained dear Basra is when she feels threatened.”

“She just got back from being punished for that,” Ephanie objected. “Surely she won’t lash out again.”

“She is likely to be more careful right now than she otherwise might, for exactly that reason,” Principia agreed, “but never forget that Basra’s calculations are just that. She had no personal restraint or regard for anyone but herself; only self-interest keeps her in check. This is going to be tricky, ladies.”

“Okay,” Casey said, frowning but slowly nodding. “What’s your plan, then, Sarge?”

“To begin with, leave Syrinx to me,” Principia said firmly. “If she approaches any of you in any way, report to me immediately and in detail. Aside from that, just keep clear of her.”

“Always a good policy,” Merry noted.

The sergeant nodded to her. “With that said, there’s the matter of how to actually begin tracking these weapons. The leads are few and the trail cold, ladies; this isn’t going to be an easy job. Maybe not a possible one. But we’re going to do what we can, using the very thing this squad was formed to foster: our connections with other cults.”

They glanced around at each other in confusion.

“Well,” Farah said doubtfully, “I guess one of Nemitoth’s libraries might be able to help identify the enchantments used on those weapons…”

“Yes, true, but that’s not what I meant,” said Principia. “I’m referring to the connections we have formed as a squad.”

“That pretty much is just Bishop Darling, isn’t it?” said Merry.

Principia grinned. “Think more recently. Very recently.”

“Oh, no,” Merry groaned.

“Oh, yes, Lang. We’re going to split into two teams for phase one of this. The first group will consist of Shahai, Elwick, and Szaravid. You will locate those Guild apprentices we met last night, cultivate friendships, and get them to tell you whatever it is they know. Do not treat them as a disposable information source, either. Useless as apprentices are, they won’t be apprentices forever. Not everyone who applies to the Guild makes it all the way—not even most. But we won’t waste a potential connection.”

“Why us, though?” Casey objected. “I mean, all due respect, Sarge, but wouldn’t you be a better choice to deal with the Guild?”

“I do have the knowledge and experience, this is true,” Principia agreed. “And for exactly that reason, I’ll be coaching you on what to say, what to do, and how to proceed. Carefully. But by the same token, I have my own reputation among the Guild, and my presence would be…complicating. Trust me when I say it’s best I remain at a circumspect distance from them for now. But I chose you three by process of elimination. Avelea radiates discipline and dignity even when out of uniform; among Eserites, that’s tantamount to tattooing ‘kick me’ on you forehead. And Lang…” She turned a critical look on Merry, who grinned puckishly. “Honestly, Lang, I could see you either making the best of friends with Eserites, or the worst of enemies, depending on how the conversation went. I’m reluctant to flip that coin when either heads or tails could end with you getting shanked.”

“Your concern for my welfare touches me, Sarge.”

“Yes, yes. Passive-aggressive jab at my leadership, obligatory rejoinder about my boots touching you, and we move on. We three, Lang, Avelea, and I, are going to pursue the other lead we’ve gained lately.” She grinned. “It’s a weak one, but he was on the scene—and given what we’re looking into, building a tie to the Salyrites will be all kind of useful. So while you guys are dancing with thieves, we’re going to look up our new friend Mr. Schwartz.”

“Question.” Farah raised a hand. “Don’t all of these people…um, sort of hate us right now?”

“I thought Schwartz seemed pretty mild-mannered,” Ephanie commented.

“Yes,” Farah said dryly, “but you don’t have to deal with the Eserites.”

“Well, I think you overestimate the level of hostility we’ll meet, Szaravid,” said Principia. “Hate is a very strong word. But yes, there may be some ill feeling. In that case, you will simply have to employ charm and persuasion.”

“And,” Farah said hesitantly, “what if I don’t…have charm and persuasion?”

“Then,” Principia said, “I guess you’re back to being assertive, aren’t you?”

Merry let out a long sigh and leaned back against the frame of her bunk. “Oh, yeah. This is gonna work.”

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