Tag Archives: Kheshiri

5 – 22

Uncategorized, , , ,

< Previous Chapter                                                                                                                           Next Chapter >

The garden was lit up like a dream from a fairy tale, and Shook wasn’t appreciating any of it. Floating lamps drifted about, some trailing intangible sparkles, trays of food hovered aimlessly through the crowd in lieu of waiters, submerged lights gleamed in the pool, soft but cheerful music played everywhere, and mysterious little flickers evocative of pixies (but thankfully not the real thing, as evidenced by the lack of destructive elemental invocations) darted among the greenery. The guests certainly seemed to be having a good time. At least, they were eating, drinking and talking to each other. A few were dancing. It was all rather subdued, but then, it was early. A good party got progressively more interesting as everyone got progressively more drunk. He could have resented the fact that he wouldn’t get to participate in that, were he not too tense to enjoy himself anyway.

Kheshiri hovered nearby, watching the guests with avid interest and occasionally dropping broad hints that she would like to circulate, which Shook ignored. They lurked at the edges of the garden, in a relatively shadowed corner—quite a few of those were scattered about, left deliberately out of the network of magical party lights. Vandro, being a thoughtful host, had made sure to provide semi-private canoodling cubbies at convenient intervals. This, too, was wasted on them; Shook held a mostly untouched whiskey in one hand and kept the other hovering near his holstered wand, seeming uninterested in putting his succubus to use.

She was, in her way, as tense as he, though for very different reasons. And unlike Shook, Kheshiri was enjoying the tension.

Shook eased slightly out into the light, noting their host approaching. Vandro moved deftly among the guests, navigating social currents like a salmon swimming up a river; Kheshiri had to admire his skill. He nodded, smiled, laughed, told jokes, putting just enough sincerity into each interaction to place his targets at ease, but not allowing himself to be slowed. Engaging without being engaged, leaving no resentments in his wake. For a moment, she considered longingly what might have happened had Vandro come into possession of her reliquary rather than a meathead like Shook. She might have been content to stick around longer, in that case; the fun they could have.

“Jerry, my boy,” Vandro said more quietly, coming abreast of them. “We may have a problem.”

Shook’s tension increased all but imperceptibly. “How big a problem?”

“Not sure, yet. The plan can’t go forward without access to Om’ponole’s estate, which is Kamari’s job.” He glanced idly about, looking completely nonchalant, but verifying that no one was within earshot—and that no one within eyeshot have pointed ears. “He was supposed to send a message via courier with countercharms and shield frequencies for Saduko to get you inside the gates; they’re changed daily. That never showed.”

“Well, if we can’t get in…” Shook let his statement trail off.

“Anything might have happened,” said Vandro. “Not all of the possibilities kill the plan, and I’m not willing to waste this much preparatory work if we can help it. I need to borrow your girl, here.”

“Wanna work off a little stress?” Kheshiri asked flirtatiously. Shook shot her a glare.

“Down, girl,” Vandro said, amused. “I need you to do some scouting. It’s a while yet before we’ll have to move, but time is tight; you can get across the city fast enough on those wings, and you can get close enough to get some intel with your other gifts. If Kamari was caught, it’s all over, but if he was just delayed or unable to send a message, you can get the codes from him and we can proceed.”

“How’s she supposed to get in, if we don’t have those codes already?” Shook demanded.

“There’s nothing shielding the estate from directly above,” said Vandro, grinning. “I checked.”

“Also nothing shielding this estate from above,” Kheshiri noted.

“Yeah, and don’t think I won’t be correcting that first chance I get.”

Shook nodded. “All right, sounds like time’s of the essence. Get going, girl. And be careful.”

He gave her a pat on the butt that was half affectionate and half shove to get her moving. She tittered and grinned at him, but set off through the crowd as commanded.

She was just one more festively-dressed girl, hardly worthy of note. More people were coming than going, this early in the evening, but there was enough back-and-forth at the gates that her departure wasn’t attention-getting, either. Kheshiri slipped outside, strolled casually around a corner, and faded into invisibility as soon as she was hidden from view of the street between a bush and the outer wall of Vandro’s estate.

She patted the pocket in which was hidden Kamari’s missive, which she had intercepted earlier in the day. That had been her only opportunity to get out during the last-minute preparations, and her plans required some careful timing—the first step was now, and Vandro, predictably, was clever enough to see the solution she offered to the problem he didn’t know she’d created. Much better than dealing with Shook, to whom she often had to propose maneuvers while letting him think they were his own ideas. That was usually just the kind of challenge she enjoyed; it was mostly just annoying, now, as many times as he’d made her do it. Variety was the spice of life.

A pump of her wings sent her invisibly skyward; deftly navigating the winds, she followed the pattern of streets she’d memorized days ago, going nowhere near the Om’ponole estate. Following Amanika directly had been out of the question, as she wasn’t quite willing to trust her new enchantments to hide her demonic aura from the priestess’s senses. Luckily, Vandro had dealings with other members of the Thieves’ Guild; identifying them among his rotating roster of houseguests had been the only tricky part. From there, learning the location of their headquarters in Onkawa had been simplicity itself.

She set down in another darkened alley, double checked that it was empty, then faded back into view, adjusting her features as she did. When Kheshiri stepped out into the street and began walking toward the dilapidated drug den under which lurked the local Guild chapter, she wore the appearance and mannerisms of the Sifanese Eserite, Saduko.

“Stop me if you’ve heard this one,” she murmured to herself, passing a few huddled tramps in various states of inebriation—most genuine druggies, several definitely Guild lookouts. “A succubus, an archmage, a dragon and a whole bunch of thieves walk into a party, and only one walks out happy.”

She didn’t permit herself to giggle; that would have been out of character. Besides, Saduko’s mysterious little smile suited her mood just fine.

Tellwyrn stood on the balcony, watching over the party like a gargoyle and feeling about as festive. She had refused offers from the servants of food, drink and entertainment, and met the tentative suggestion that she might enjoy socializing with the other guests with a chilling stare that had warded off any further overtures. Standing still in one spot while close to a hundred people immediately below enjoyed themselves wasn’t exactly her idea of a good time, but a good time was not what she’d come here to find. In three millennia of life, she had learned plenty of patience, for all that she didn’t usually care to exercise it. Anyway, this was far from the most uncomfortable vigil she had ever kept.

A stir began at the gates, and she zeroed in on it. This balcony wasn’t positioned to give her a clear view; a whole stand of ornamental palm trees thrusting out of an island in Vandro’s ridiculous little garden pool obstructed the details. However, around the periphery, she could clearly see people edging away from whoever (or whatever) had just walked into the grounds. The crowd rippled, looking from above exactly like a pool in which something had been dropped. She could hear, over the music and the general hubbub, some of the shocked whispers beginning to dart back and forth, including some which contained the all-important word.

Dragon.

A discreet little cough sounded behind her. “Professor Tellwyrn, the guest for whom you were waiting appears to have arrived.”

“Remarkably swift work, Wilberforce,” she said politely, nodding to him. “Thank you very much.”

“Of course, madam.”

With no further ado, she vaulted over the balustrade, dropping to the garden below and causing no small stir herself, which she ignored. Tellwyrn strode forward through the crowd, making a beeline for the gates and disregarding the protests of those she darted around. Pushing people out of the way better suited her temperament, but archmage or no, an elf was still an elf; shoving a bunch of humans would have required magic, which elevated it from rudeness to a misdemeanor. Even bothering to speak to Wilberforce had been more time than she’d wanted to spend, but there was absolutely nothing to be gained from alienating a Butler.

She was antsy to get this dealt with and get back to Tiraas; the gods only knew what those kids were up to. Leaving them unattended had been part of her strategy for the lesson she meant them to learn, otherwise she’d have popped back to check up every two hours. That didn’t make the anticipation any easier to bear.

Tellwyrn darted rudely between a conversing couple, swatted a floating tray of cocktails out of her way (and into the pool), squirmed through tiny gaps in the denser crowd now ringing the gate, and finally stepped forward into the clear space, gaining her first sight in several years of Zanzayed the Blue.

They preferred the shapes of humans or elves—Astratirox the Red walked around as a gnome—but the humanoid form of a dragon was always unmistakeable. There was the aura around them, the indefinable quality of magnetism and majesty, but universal as that was to their kind, it wasn’t conclusive or distinctive; lots of mortals were charismatic. The monochrome hair in improbable colors could have been the result of alchemical dye. No, what truly gave them away was the eyes. Pure, solid expanses of color, devoid of pupils, irises or any features at all, glowing intensely enough to light up a room, yet not so bright that one couldn’t comfortably gaze into them from inches away. Nothing else had eyes like a dragon.

Zanzayed was half-elf in aspect, which was unique among the dragons she’d met; he could have passed for a human in general body shape, albeit a tall and lanky one, but for the subtle points of his ears. His hair and gem-like eyes, of course, were cobalt blue. As usual, he was excruciatingly overdressed, in flowing multilayered robes of blue, silver and white, somewhat akin in style to a Sifanese kimono but far too heavily embroidered and surmounted by an oversized mantle that made his shoulders look absurdly broad for his lean frame. The delicate, jewel-encrusted slippers that peeked out from under his hem were pointed, curling up extravagantly at the tips; he actually had some kind of giant white fluffy thing like a feather boa draped decoratively over one shoulder, wrapped around his waist and trailing behind him. His long blue hair was tied back in a simple tail, but bedecked with white ribbons and bejeweled combs. The overall effect was breathtaking, which had more to do with his draconic aura than his sense of style. He was dressed like a particularly pretentious wedding cake; anyone else in that outfit would have looked idiotic.

“Arachne!” he cried in apparent delight, spreading his arms and striding toward her. Despite her rush to get to him, she stopped, folding her arms and awaiting his approach. Of course, the polite thing would have been to let their host greet such a distinguished guest first. Naturally, she didn’t care about that in the slightest. “Whatever brings you out to this corner of the world?” the dragon asked, coming to a stop before her and grinning. “I must say I was starting to think nothing would coax you down off that mountaintop of yours. Well, in the last decade or so, that is. Before that I was wondering how long it’d be before you lost interest in that whole ‘school’ thing. Really, Arachne, you, an educator? I can’t imagine it.” He reached out to chuck her under the chin.

“Zanzayed,” she said calmly. “You’re at least partially right; this isn’t my scene. In fact, I came here looking for you.”

“Oh, no!” he exclaimed in mock horror, placing a hand—each finger sparkling with rings—against his chest. “Are we going to have one of our celebrated duels? Let’s please don’t; I quite like this villa. It’s so delightfully tacky!”

The muttering among the onlookers had intensified when he spoke her name; at the word “duel,” the crowd began dropping its pretentions and trying in earnest to get away from them.

“I’m so glad you like it!” Alan Vandro boomed, approaching. “See, this is why I enjoy your visits, Zanzayed; you get me. I like to think I’ve started a trend here, and ‘delightfully tacky’ will soon be the go-to style for the rich and tasteless all over the Empire.”

“Inviting Arachne to your little soirees isn’t a solid strategy for living to spread your legend, Vandro,” Zanzayed said, smirking. “She does so love to break things.”

“How do you know that’s not just when you’re around?” Tellwyrn asked dryly.

“I read the history books, darling.”

“Why, you two are just like an old married couple,” Vandro said cheerfully. Around them, the other party guests seemed tentatively to be calming, taking note of the genial mood and Vandro’s presence and clear lack of alarm. “I gather you don’t get many chances to catch up?”

“Indeed, I find I must take every possible opportunity to enjoy Arachne’s company!” the dragon said, stepping up next to Tellwyrn and draping an arm around her shoulders. She raised an eyebrow. “After all, this is the future mother of my children you’re looking at. We have an arrangement.”

“We have a bet,” Tellwyrn corrected firmly, “and you haven’t won.”

“I will, though.”

“You’d better hope not. If it starts to look like you’re going to, I’ll simply kill you.”

“Darling, if you had the capacity to kill me you’d have done it centuries ago.”

“I’ve never tried in earnest, Zanza. I’m willing to risk my life in dealing with you, but not my ass.”

“And yet, we have that bet.” He grinned down at her.

“Because you’re not going to win. In any case, I didn’t come here to discuss that, either. Step inside with me; we need to have a talk.”

Zanzayed sighed dramatically. “Honestly, for such a rambunctious hellraiser you are such a drag sometimes. It’s a party. I just got here. We can discuss business after I’ve hobnobbed a bit and eaten Vandro here out of house and home.”

“Let’s kindly keep that to the metaphorical sense,” said Vandro with an easy grin. “I can’t exactly get a new house catered.”

“I have already spent more time on this than I wanted to,” Tellwyrn snapped.

“What, pray tell, is so very urgent?” Zanzayed asked in an aggrieved tone.

“It’s about Khadizroth.”

The dragon raised an eyebrow. “Oh, honestly, Arachne. What’d you do to him this time?”

“I’ve not been near him in four hundred years. It’s about what he did, and I’m not involved. I am passing on a message because I promised to do so.”

“Well, I haven’t spoken to him in nearly that long, and quite frankly I find him insufferably dull, so whatever—”

“Because,” she pressed on, “what he’s been up to is likely to mean trouble for all of your kind, and you’re the only one I can easily find and who I know will listen to me.”

At that, finally, Zanzayed’s expression sobered. “…all right, against my better judgment, you have my attention. I do hope you’re not planning to spoil my whole party experience, Arachne; Onkawa has been altogether a disappointment and I just don’t think my delicate constitution can take another blow. Vandro, you’d better have those delightful bacon-wrapped shrimp on hand.”

“In fact, I’ve got a reserved tub of them with your name on it!”

“Smashing! Whatever else happens, then, this night won’t be a total loss. Come along, my dear.” Zanzayed wrapped an arm around Tellwyrn’s waist and began leading her toward the main house; they moved effortlessly through a mobile open space, the other guests parting to let them pass like a school of fish making way for two sharks. “Let’s hear what my errant cousin has gotten into that you find so very pressing.”

“Hear that, everyone?” Vandro said genially behind them, grinning around at the onlookers. “Best sample the bacon-wrapped shrimp while there are any left. But for the love of all the gods, don’t eat them all before he gets back!”

Kheshiri caught his eye in passing, heading back for Shook’s corner; it would have looked a little suspicious for her to appropriate Vandro’s personal focus in the middle of the party. Anyway, even with them walking away, she wanted to stay as far as possible from Tellwyrn and that dragon. She had done her fair share of manipulating powerful and dangerous people, enough to know that she could, and also to know when she shouldn’t. Tellwyrn was a classic example of the kind of person to leave alone. Different people reacted in different ways to discovering someone was toying with them; she was prone to torching everything and salting the earth. That went double for dragons.

Shook had scarcely moved in the hour she’d been gone, if at all. He perked up at her approach, which was gratifying, even if his tone was typically curt. “Well?”

“Looks like the party’s back on, master,” she said softly, leaning in close. “You want the full report, or should we wait for Alan?”

He lifted his eyes from hers to glance around. “Mm… Just give it a moment. I’m sure he’ll be along pretty quickly.”

Indeed, Vandro was back within a minute, moving somewhat more quickly than previously. “Shiri, my dear, welcome back!” he said jovially.

She surreptitiously slipped a folded sheet of paper into his breast pocket. “All’s well, boss man. Kamari had it in his room along with an explanatory note; seems he’s in trouble on some trumped-up charge or other and has been on a heavily supervised extra shift all day, couldn’t find a moment to himself to engage a courier. But he apparently figured you’d be able to get someone in to check his things. Smart boy.”

“Smart boy who knows we have a succubus,” Vandro corrected. “See, Jerry? Intimidation value aside, this is why I wanted our partners to know what’s up. No plan survives contact with real circumstances; you can’t adapt on the fly if you don’t know the capabilities of the people you’re working with.”

“Appreciate the lesson, Alan, but I’ll leave you to handle the planning,” Shook said with a tense little smile. “Just point me at whoever’s head needs cracking.”

“Consider yourself pointed, my boy. Move on out; Saduko will meet you at the rendezvous spot in the city. You know the plan. Shiri, you’re up; just wait for them to get gone first. Oh, and Amanika’s at the Guild tonight, speaking of changing plans, so don’t make any appearances with her face.”

“Check and check.” Kheshiri gave him a mock salute.

“Showtime, kids,” Vandro said with a grin of pure delight, then turned and ambled off, calling a greeting to some acquaintance or other.

“All right, you heard him,” Shook said in a low tone. “Get in position. I’ll see you after the job.”

“Good luck, master,” she said, leaning up to kiss him on the cheek.

He smirked and reached behind her to squeeze her bum. “I won’t need it.” With that, he turned and swaggered off in the general direction of the gates.

“Of course not, master,” she said sweetly.

< Previous Chapter                                                                                                                           Next Chapter >

5 – 16

Uncategorized, , , , , , , , , , ,

< Previous Chapter                                                                                                                           Next Chapter >

“You’d think she could hang out with us a little,” Gabriel grumbled as he and Trissiny stepped into the inn’s stairwell. Behind them, Ruda appeared already to be making friends—despite having left them just seconds ago—by swaggering up to the most crowded table in the common room and offering to buy a round.

“Ruda’s a social creature, and she sees us all the time,” Trissiny said with a shrug. “Let her relax in her own way. We still see plenty of her during study sessions and our activities on behalf of the district.”

“I’m half tempted to ditch the studying, what with Tellwyrn not even being here,” he grumbled. “I was really hoping to have time to visit my dad while I’m in the city. Should’ve done that today, while Juniper’s having her sulk.”

“Tellwyrn would know.”

“Yeah,” he sighed. “She always knows.”

“Perhaps you could send your father a message?” she suggested. “If he’s not too busy to join us briefly, I’m sure he’d be glad to see Toby again, too. And I wouldn’t mind meeting—”

“Oh, no you don’t,” he said sharply. “Seriously, not a good idea. My dad… He’s not as bad as Elspeth, but he doesn’t much enjoy the company of cleric-type people. Too many have asked pushy questions about my, uh, origin.”

“The word is ‘conception,’” she said dryly. “And yes, I can imagine. I’m a little curious myself about—”

“And that is why this isn’t happening,” Gabe said firmly. “Perhaps I should have said ‘smug, disdainful accusations disguised as pushy questions.’ We don’t talk about it. You will just piss him off, and he doesn’t need or deserve it.”

“I suppose that’s fair,” Trissiny said slowly, keeping her eyes on the stairs as she climbed. “It isn’t right to impose. I just can’t help…wondering. Clearly he had his reasons. I mean, you’ve got your issues, Gabe, but you’re generally too well-adjusted to have been raised by some kind of deviant lunatic.”

“Be still, my heart.”

They arrived at the top floor and came to a stop in unison. There were strangers in their lounge area.

“Um,” Gabriel said slowly. “Afternoon, ladies. Sorry to be pushy, but, uh, this floor is reserved…”

“Yes, and you took your time getting here,” said one of the elves, grinning.

“But you’re here now,” added the other. “So let’s talk business! What can we do for you?”

The visitors were both elves, dressed in simple clothing that might have belonged to any factory laborer if not for a striking preference for very dark shades. Grays, browns and deep blues, specifically, rather than black. One wore a suitably heavy winter coat; the other had a thick cloak draped around her shoulders, which ruined her otherwise passably normal look.

“Do for us?” Trissiny asked carefully. “And…you are?”

“I’m Flora,” said the one in the cloak, flourishing it as she bowed, then arranged herself atop it in a chair.

“I’m Fauna,” added her counterpart, offering a mocking salute.

“You called for aid from the Thieves’ Guild, yes?”

“So, here we are. Whatcha need?”

“…seriously?” said Gabriel. “Flora and Fauna?”

“They use tags rather than their real names,” said Trissiny. “It’s a religious thing, don’t be rude.”

“While she’s not wrong,” said Flora, “we’re apprentices; no tags yet.”

“Those actually are our names.”

“I see,” Trissiny said slowly. “And which of us are you following?”

The two elves exchanged a quizzical glance. “Following?” Flora asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Gabriel has just come back from speaking with Elspeth. It would take time for a message to be sent and responded to—much more time than this. You, or one of your compatriots, were waiting. Since you managed to get back here ahead of us, you’d almost have to have been there when he spoke with Elspeth.”

“Well, well,” said Fauna, smiling. “And here we were told she wasn’t quick on the uptake.”

“This is much better,” Flora added. “Dense people are such a pain to work with.”

“Consider it our audition, then,” Fauna added, smiling broadly at Trissiny. “We know what we’re about and can get the job done.”

“Which brings us back to our increasingly tedious original question…”

“What is the job?”

Trissiny drew in a slow, calming breath. “This is a very sensitive matter. Can I trust you two to be…discreet?”

“That’s a little like asking a Legionnaire if she’s ready for a fight,” Flora remarked.

“Not quite insulting,” added Fauna, “but missing the point to a nearly insulting degree.”

“Fine, sorry,” said Trissiny. “I’ll just have to trust you to keep this to yourselves, then. I’m sure you’ve heard about the increasing problems Lor’naris is having with the city guard. Are you aware of the firebombing attempt this morning?”

“Of course, we’re not blind.”

“And yes, we know who was behind it.”

“You weren’t exactly subtle with the guy.”

“Okay, do you two always talk in tandem?” Gabriel asked. “I’ve gotta tell you, that’s more creepy than cute.”

The elves grinned broadly at him.

“And what makes you think we intend to be cute?”

“I need evidence!” Trissiny said loudly, shooting Gabe a glare. “Something concrete to tie the corrupt soldiers of that barracks to the bombing. Any such will be inside the barracks itself.”

The elves exchanged a glance.

“What, you expect them to have a log of their illegal bombing attempt?”

“No I don’t—why does everyone keep—” Trissiny cut herself off and breathed deeply again. “Look. I don’t anticipate there’ll be a signed confession. That operation, like all operations, required resources, and those came from somewhere. The Army’s bureaucracy being what it is, there will be a paper trail. If there’s anything definitive, I’d like you to find and retrieve it.”

Flora and Fauna regarded her in silence for a moment, then shifted to look at each other. They seemed to be having a mute conversation. Finally, Fauna stood from the chair she’d commandeered and paced over to the windows, where she peered out at the street. Flora crossed her arms, leaning back in her own seat. The cloak draped over it and under her created the suggestion of a queen on a throne.

“Robbing the Imperial Army itself, hm,” Fauna said at last. “That’s dicey.”

“Not the central headquarters, obviously,” said Trissiny.

“It’s more plausible than it sounds,” Flora mused. “People who it would be absolutely crazy to try to rob tend to skimp on their security. It’s unlikely anyone has ever tried this.”

“At least not at that particular barracks,” Fauna added, earning a grin from her counterpart.

“All right, General, we’re in.”

“There’s one important point,” said Trissiny. “I know how important credit for successful thefts is to you people, but it would really be best if your involvement in this is kept scrupulously quiet. For something so illegal and guaranteed to antagonize the soldiers in question…well, it’s better if the weight of it falls on me.”

“Hang on,” Gabriel interjected. “You said that if it’s for the greater good and we successfully prove the guards are corrupt, any charges for the break-in will be forgiven.”

“No,” she said patiently, “I said there is a precedent for that. Imperial magistrates have discretion in such matters, but they don’t pardon vigilantism in general—that’d be a recipe for anarchy. Hands of Avei are useful to the justice system because we operate with but outside the law.”

“Sharidan’s a pretty laid-back sort of chap,” added Fauna, “and the whole Tirasian Dynasty espouses the philosophy of the velvet glove, but at least on paper, the Empire is still a military dictatorship.”

“Imperial magistrates have an admirably ruthless appreciation for whatever gets the job done,” Flora agreed, “but she’s right—a Hand of Avei doing it is a whole different subject from a couple of apprentice thieves.”

“They take a very dim view of folks undercutting the power of Imperial authorities in particular.”

“Anything that smacks of rebellion, really.”

“So, no, Trissiny, we have no problem with you hogging the credit on this one,” Fauna said, grinning.

“All right, then,” Trissiny said. “You’re certain you can handle this? You’ve mentioned you’re just apprentices; I don’t want to be responsible for you getting hurt. Adding Bishop Darling to the list of people annoyed at me wouldn’t be a good move.”

“We wouldn’t have agreed to help if we weren’t confident,” said Flora.

“And I thought we’d already passed our audition,” Fauna added, “but if not…here, catch.”

Trissiny turned and snagged the object the elf tossed out of the air, then frowned. “…this is my coin purse.”

“Sure is. Have I made my point?”

Flora rose gracefully to her feet and joined her compatriot. They bowed in unison, smiling cheekily. “You’ll be hearing from us as soon as the job’s done. Hope you’re not a heavy sleeper.”

“I’m not one to care overmuch about money,” said Trissiny grimly, looking into her coin purse, “but I had a little more silver than this.”

“Consider that a fee,” said Fauna cheerfully. “Not for the job—that’s just our civic duty—but for summoning a couple of thieves and then impugning our skills.”

“See you soon!” Flora chirped, and they set off down the stairs at a good pace that wasn’t too efficient to disguise an obvious swagger. The two students watched them depart.

“Man,” Gabriel said at last, “you make friends everywhere you go, don’t you?”

 

“Well. Well well well well well well!”

Shook froze, stiffening. Beside him, her arm tucked through his, Kheshiri shifted to look over her shoulder at the voice from behind them.

Strolling through the courtyard wasn’t exactly his idea of a good time, but he was running out of ways to keep himself occupied, and in any case needed some time to think. Even Vandro’s endless supply of amenable girls were losing some of their novelty, largely because Shook had become rather spoiled by having a woman on hand who obeyed without question, refused him nothing, never complained about her treatment and always came back for more. He was now wondering if this was just the natural side effect of having a captive succubus or if Kheshiri was deliberately messing with his head. He’d told her to be quiet, so there was little harm in having her along while he contemplated her wiles. Anyhow, it made her happy; she’d actually been acting jealous of him and the time he spent around other women, which was almost endearing.

Slowly, he turned to face the speaker, who was framed in the open gate to the villa’s grounds, hands on her hips, wearing a particularly shit-eating grin.

“Look who’s out and about and not in jail,” Arachne Tellwyrn said brightly. “Those Guild lawyers really know their stuff. And Kheshiri! Someone finally let you out of your bottle, I see.”

Kheshiri, who was in her standard mortal disguise, scowled in blended puzzlement and irritation. “Excuse me? Have we met?”

“Oh, that’s right, you didn’t know I was watching… Well, never mind, that’s all ancient history. Whatever are you doing with this galoot?”

“And why wouldn’t I be?” the succubus asked, twining both of her arms around Shook’s and resting her chin on his shoulder, smirking. “He’s a demigod in the sack.”

Tellwyrn snorted loudly.

“May I fucking help you?” Shook grated.

“Why, Jerry, you found us an elf!” Alan Vandro exclaimed, strolling up to them with a cocktail in one hand. “Why don’t you introduce us? I see you two have met.”

Shook wasn’t quite sure what Vandro did with his time when the man was out of his sight, but this was not the first time he’d seen his host appear as if by magic in time to prevent a tense situation from going sour. Vandro described his estate as a haven of fun and relaxation, and it seemed he had the will and the means to prevent anyone from ruining the atmosphere.

“Alan Vandro,” Shook said tensely, not taking his eyes off the new arrival, “this is Arachne Tellwryn.”

At that, Vandro actually looked startled. “Wait—really? Are you sure? The Tellwyrn?”

“The the herself,” Tellwyrn said dryly. “Good, you’re the fellow in charge of this joint. I understand you like to throw a lot of frivolous parties.”

“Why, yes I do!” Vandro said, beaming. “Some of the best and most frivolous people in the province put in appearances at my little shindigs, but I must say you would be an honored guest indeed.”

“Uh huh,” she said, deadpan. “I’m looking for someone who’s been loitering in this city, likely crashing the most hoity-toity events being held, if I know him. Unfortunately I’m having the damnedest time tracking him down, as just mentioning his name seems to make people wet themselves and slam the door in my face.”

“Oh. Really?” Vandro frowned thoughtfully. “You’re looking for Zanzayed the Blue?”

“Ah,” she said with satisfaction, “then he is here?”

“Well, I certainly hope so,” Vandro replied, grinning. “I’m having one of my asinine little get-togethers two nights hence and I’ve already ordered all his favorite hors d’oeuvres. It’ll just break my little heart if he doesn’t come.”

“You want him to come?”

“Are you kidding?” Vandro grinned even more broadly, idly swirling his drink. “Everyone practically shits themselves at learning they’re in a room with a dragon. Ever seen a bunch of rich, powerful assholes in that sweet moment when they learn they are not the biggest, baddest thing around?”

“Frequently,” she said with a reminiscent smile.

“Glorious, isn’t it?”

“Definitely has its points.”

“Yeah, Zanzayed was still in the city last I heard, but there’s no telling how much longer he’s going to stay. Apparently things went sour with that noblewoman he was trying to work over. If I were him, I’d find the place serving the most free drinks and put them out of business, but who can say how dragons think?”

“Mm. As long as the drinks are of good quality, served by pretty girls in the company of well-dressed nobles…that’s more his scene.” Tellwyrn sighed, glancing around the courtyard. “Day after tomorrow, then? Damn it all, I’d really hoped to have this dealt with faster than that, but there’s just no running him to ground when he doesn’t want to be…”

“Well, now, I’d hate for you to have come all this way only to leave disappointed,” Vandro said magnanimously. “We’ve got all kinds of room, and it’s full of absolutely tasteless amounts of luxury. Why not stay and enjoy my hospitality until you find your friend?”

“What?!” Shook burst out. “Alan, have you lost your mind? This creep lives to wreck other people’s business!”

“Jerry, son,” Vandro said, suddenly tense, “let’s not be needlessly provocative with the charmingly eccentric archmage.”

“The hell with it,” Shook snapped. “If she decides to incinerate everyone or turn me into a lawn sculpture, she’ll just fucking up and do it, and there’s not much anybody can do to stop her. I’ll be damned if I’m giving her the satisfaction of seeing me cringe and grovel first.”

“Why, Mr. Shook,” Tellwyrn said with a little smile. “You’d best be careful; keep showing that kind of backbone and I’ll find myself respecting you. Then I’ll be really annoyed.”

He just glared at her. Kheshiri, wisely, remained silent.

“There, see? All friends!” Vandro said cheerfully. “What do you say, ma’am? My home is yours as long as you need it.”

“Very generous,” Tellwyrn said skeptically. “What’s the catch?”

“Well,” Vandro said, stepping over and placing a hand at the small of her back, gently ushering her toward the main house. For a wonder, Tellwyrn let herself be ushered. “I’m afraid you’ll have to put up with me clumsily trying to get into your pants.”

“Ah, I see.”

“I’m over-ambitious, y’see, and not terribly bright.”

“I believe you.”

“Honestly, hon, it’s not even that you’re my type, but… The bragging rights. You understand.”

“Quite.”

Shook, staring after them, clenched his fists until his knuckles crackled under the strain.

 

“You look like hell,” Gabriel noted.

“Nice to see you too,” Toby said wryly, massaging the back of his stiff neck and glancing around the lounge. Dusk was falling; the dim light from the windows had taken on a reddish tint. “Where is everyone?”

“Ruda is downstairs in the common room and looks like she plans to make a night of it; the lads just trooped down to join her. But you probably knew that. Shaeine and Teal took off for the embassy hours ago, and I suspect they found something a lot less official to occupy themselves after that. Fross and Trissiny went for a walk—well, a walk and a hover, I guess. About time, too, she was pacing like a caged tiger and looking about as friendly.”

“I assume you don’t mean Fross,” Toby said, grinning.

“Good catch, smartass. And of course, you know where Juniper is.”

Toby sighed heavily. “I’m ridiculously tired for as little as I’ve actually done all day.”

Gabriel shut the book in his lap, moved it to the low table and set down the clipboard with the paper on which he was writing on top of it. “I don’t think so. You’ve basically been holding yourself at maximum tension waiting for the hammer to fall all day. That’d exhaust anyone. And seriously, man, I know I say this a lot but right now you specifically need to lighten up.”

“I know,” Toby groaned, leaning against the wall. “So you keep telling me. And it’s not even that I disagree…”

“But…?” Gabe prompted.

He sighed. “I just… I don’t understand her.”

“She’s a fairy, man. You’re not supposed to understand her.”

“Yeah, but it’s…” Toby sighed again. “Tastes like pig. You know?”

“She’s not gonna start hunting people in the streets,” Gabe said. “You know the rules she’s operating under.”

“It’s not that. Something’s bothering her, and… With most people, I’m good at working out what’s wrong and helping if I can. Lots of them just need someone to listen. But with Juniper… I can’t read her. One minute she’s just this naïve, good-hearted girl who’s kind and cheerful and I know exactly where I stand, and the next she’s something terrifyingly alien. That’s what’s weighing on me. If she does snap and start… Well, I don’t know how to see it coming.”

“Toby, I hate to say it, but you’re probably making it worse.”

“Worse?”

“Seriously, you’re just pissing her off at this point. I really don’t think we have anything to worry about unless something specifically sets her off. Which you’re kind of doing.”

Toby frowned. “She told you that?”

“No, I haven’t talked to her since this morning. But she told us all she wants some space to herself with no people around, and you then spent the whole day hovering. Come on. How would you feel?”

“That’s…well, crud, you’re completely right.” Toby leaned his head back, thunking it against the wall. “Uh, I’m an idiot.”

“You’re overburdened with the cares of others,” Gabriel said wisely. “Sometimes, my friend, you’ve gotta let people make their own mistakes.”

“Well, it seems to have worked with you.”

“Exactly!” Gabe said cheerfully. “In any case, just…go relax, man. Take a nap, go down and hang with Ruda and the boys. Something to take your mind off all this.”

Toby glanced at the short hall which terminated in the narrow stairwell that led to the roof. “I don’t… Finchley, Rook and Moriarty only agreed to take a break because I said I wouldn’t leave her unwatched.”

“You’re not,” Gabriel assured him. “I will sit in this room until she either comes through and goes to bed or you come back out. Fair?”

“I…yeah. Thanks. In fact, a nap sounds like a really good idea. We’ll try again tomorrow.”

“Or, don’t try again. Try leaving her alone for a while.”

“I’ll think about it,” Toby muttered, turning and shuffling into their room and shutting the door gently behind him.

Gabriel shook his head and reached for his book again.

“Psst.” He looked up to find Juniper peering around the corner from the roof access hall at him. “Is he gone?”

“Uh…he’s in there, getting some sleep. Are you okay?”

She was still in her human guise, but had dispensed with all the mandated outer garments. After spending the whole day on the privacy of the roof, she was soaked with sleet, her hair wind-blown, sopping wet and actually twisted into odd shapes by patches of frost. Freezing water dripped down her, plastering her sheer sundress very distractingly to her skin. Despite all that, she didn’t seem at all uncomfortable.

“I’m fine,” Juniper said crossly. “I just wanted a little time to myself. There aren’t many plants in this city, and the only animals are humans. It’s all so…weird. Hard to center myself.” She sighed, turning to stare gloomily out the windows.

“Hey, can I ask you something?” Gabriel inquired, getting up and walking over to join her.

Juniper shrugged. “I’ve never understood this thing where people ask about asking. If you’re curious, ask. No harm in that.”

“It’s about respecting your feelings,” he said with a smile. “Giving you a chance to cut off the conversation if you don’t want to talk.”

“Oh. Well… I guess that makes sense. That’s actually very considerate.” She turned to give him a bright smile. “What did you want to know?”

“Well, it’s… A little awkward, I’m not sure how to…”

“Gabriel, you have had your penis in every part of me where it would fit. Seriously, just spit it out. I’m not gonna be shocked.”

He flushed deeply, then cleared his throat. “It’s just, if this weren’t a school sanctioned trip, if there were no rules… I’m just trying to figure out where we stand. Would you actually…y’know…eat me?”

“Of course not!” she exclaimed, looking scandalized.

Gabriel un-tensed a bit. “Okay. Yeah, I figured, but I just…”

“I mean, no offense, Gabe, but nothing eats demon. Blech. I realize you’re only half, but I can smell it on you, and… Yeah, it’s not unpleasant, you know, but definitely not appetizing.”

He had re-tensed while she spoke. “I…see. Um. What about the others?”

“Others? Our classmates?”

“Yeah.”

She shrugged, looking back out over the street. “Well, mother forbids us eating elves, so that rules out Trissiny and Shaeine. And Fross is basically a little clump of pure magic; no nutritional value except to other pixies.”

“And…” He paused to swallow heavily. “Ruda? Toby?”

“Sure,” Juniper said nonchalantly. “I mean, I’d have to be hungry. Not just peckish, but seriously needing nutrition. Otherwise I’d must rather keep them alive. I like Ruda and Toby. Even when he’s being an annoying mother hen.”

“I don’t… I don’t understand how you can think that way,” Gabriel said very carefully. “They’re… They’re your friends. Wouldn’t you miss them if they were gone?”

“Of course I would,” she said patiently. “And I will, when they die. Which they will. You’re all going to die, eventually, and when you do, something will be nourished by your flesh. I would think you’d care enough about me to prefer that would be me than some random bunch of microbes.”

“I, um… You should know there’s a kind of a disconnect there,” he said. “This kind of talk really bothers people.”

“You asked!” she exclaimed.

“Yes, I did,” he said soothingly, “and I appreciate you clearing it up for me. It’s just gonna be hard to…process. For humans, caring about someone… Loving someone means you wouldn’t eat them.”

“Oh, you people and your taboos,” she said, scowling. “Your laws and customs, and stupid square buildings and fences and domestications and all these completely arbitrary, made-up rules that don’t mean anything but you act like they’re the center of the world!” Juniper’s voice rose steadily while she spoke, until she finally slapped a hand against the windowpane. The whole thing rattled in its housing, but thankfully didn’t break. Gabriel began easing backward away from her. “I’m just so tired of it! How can you live like this? You’re animals! You are all. Just. Animals! Just act like it!”

Juniper stopped, drew in a deep breath and let it out explosively. “Feh… Now I’m all tense and wound up. C’mon, let’s go have sex.”

“Um,” he said hesitantly. “I, um… It’s not that I don’t… I mean, I’ve just gained a sort of perspective about you and I, uh, I need time to think about it. I mean, I’ve kind of misjudged you, and I want to treat you fairly, and that’s gonna involve some sorting out how I really feel, and, y’know, what to do about it…”

“Gabriel,” she said impatiently, “you can do all that anytime.” A sudden, sly smile crossed her face, and she pressed forward, backing him against the wall and pushing her chest into his. Gabriel let out a soft squeak when she leaned in and nipped gently at the base of his throat. “You can do that after you spend a couple of hours enjoying every pleasure my body can give you.”

“I…well…that… Yeah, okay.”

 

“Yeah, yeah,” Lakshmi said, smiling fondly. “You can tell me all about it on the way home.”

“Aw,” Sanjay whined. “It’s still early! I wanted to go to the park!”

“Kid, it is nearly dark. You know what kind of creeps hang around in the park at night?”

“Creeps like you?” He stuck out his tongue at her.

“Exactly,” she said, nodding solemnly. “You wouldn’t want to meet them in the dark of the night, would you? C’mon, squirt, it’s getting colder and we still have to eat. Home.”

Sanjay fell into step beside her. The sidewalks had emptied enough for them to walk together without needing to weave and dodge around other passersby. “Home was in Puna Dara,” he muttered rebelliously.

“Yeah,” Lakshmi said softly, nodding.

Sanjay looked up at her in surprise. “What, really? You’re not gonna give me some speech about how this is our new home?”

“What, this ice city?” She shuddered. “Please. Tiraas is a place, like any other. We’re Punaji, and don’t you ever forget it. But…this can be a good place. There are opportunities here we’d never have found back home. Just takes a little work and cleverness, is all. If we do our part to take care of the city, it’ll take care of us.”

“So that’s why you were in such a hurry to tell that paladin about the bomber?”

“Exactly. That, and she’s a useful person to get on the good side of.” Lakshmi patted him on the head, which was covered by a thick knitted cap. “Now c’mon, pick up those feet. I don’t wanna be out in this miserable cold any longer than we absolutely have to.”

As they passed a small newsstand, boarded up at this hour, a young woman in a thick longcoat and heavy scarf who’d been leaning against the nearby wall reading the day’s paper looked up, honing in on their conversation. She stood in silence while Sanjay and Lakshmi continued up the sidewalk, letting them get a good twenty paces ahead before folding the paper and tucking it under her arm, stepping out onto the walkway after them.

As she fell in, she carefully adjusted her collar, making sure the heavy overcoat and scarf concealed the Imperial Army insignia below. Night was falling, people were hurrying to get home out of the cold, and nobody paid any attention to her, least of all the two Punaji she followed toward their home.

< Previous Chapter                                                                                                                           Next Chapter >

5 – 14

Uncategorized, , , , , , , ,

< Previous Chapter                                                                                                                           Next Chapter >

Joe hunched his shoulders, trying to lift up the high collar of his coat to the brim of his hat and offer his ears some protection from the Tiraan cold. The coat was new, and pleasingly thick—a necessary adaptation to the climate—but he’d lacked the foresight to invest in a scarf or gloves. The weather in Sarasio made such considerations unthinkable, and so he hadn’t thought them. He was kicking himself now.

The sidewalks in this ritzy neighborhood had been cleared of ice, so he felt safe in accelerating his pace, the better to get out of the cold as quickly as possible. Carriages and riders passed him on the road now and again, but no one else was braving the elements on foot, which spared him the effort of removing his hat should a lady pass. Manners came before comfort, but he could still be grateful that the need didn’t arise. Any other time, he might have peered around appreciatively at the graceful houses with their elegant gardens; despite having grown up in a rough town, he couldn’t help feeling that all this was much more to his taste. The girls back at the Shady Lady would give him no end of ribbing for that…

The right house wasn’t difficult to find; he’d memorized the address, the old brownstones were clearly numbered, and the street was logically laid out. The gate at the correct address was unlatched and standing open a couple of inches in unspoken invitation. Joe carefully restored it to the same position behind himself after slipping through, crossed the narrow garden in a few strides and pulled the bellrope.

He had only a couple of seconds to wait on the little porch before the door opened, revealing a young ginger-haired woman in a black-and-gray suit.

“Mr. Jenkins?” she said. “Welcome; you are expected. Do come in.”

“Ma’am,” he said politely, removing his hat as he stepped inside. Faint social discomfort nagged at him; she was obviously some sort of servant, but he wasn’t about to relax his standards with regard to the treatment of ladies. It worsened when she deftly helped him out of his overcoat; Joe tried not to shuffle his feet awkwardly as she hung it and his hat on a peg in the hall alongside several others. He was accustomed to doing for himself.

“This way, please,” she said, indicating a short hallway splitting off near the stairs to the second floor. “The Bishop and the rest of your party await.”

“I’m not late, am I?” he asked uncertainly. He’d been careful to allow himself plenty of time…

“Not at all, sir. Please, make yourself comfortable within. Refreshments shall be provided momentarily.”

Joe nodded to her and stepped warily through the indicated door. It was a well-appointed parlor with blue patterned wallpaper, tastefully furnished and just short of crowded; the group wasn’t large, but neither was the space. He had only a moment to gather impressions before his host descended upon him.

“Mr. Jenkins! I’m so glad you could come. Please, have a seat, enjoy the fire. I hope the Rail ride wasn’t excessively horrible.”

“Could’ve been worse,” he replied, carefully eying the man now vigorously shaking his hand. Antonio Darling was blond and well-groomed, wearing an open and honest expression of the kind that, in Joe’s experience, honest people seldom used. “Thanks. Hope I didn’t keep everyone waiting.”

“Well, you’re the last one here. What do you think?” The speaker was a man in a dark suit who could have been anywhere between twenty-five and forty, to judge by his face, unlined but set in a disgruntled expression that gave the impression of being habitual. He had a somewhat scruffy goatee set in a wash of five o’clock shadow, and brown hair pulled back in a low ponytail. What appeared to be a guitar case leaned against his chair.

“Oh, don’t be any more’ve a dick than you can help,” said a gnomish woman perched on the arm of the couch, reaching over to swat the man’s knee. “We’re all early; no need to criticize the boy fer bein’ the only one with the good manners to show up on time.” She grinned and winked at Joe, who smiled tentatively in response. He’d never met a gnome before. She wore what he’d have thought of as men’s work clothes, with an improbable pair of thick goggles perched atop her reddish hair.

Joe sank into the only available seat, on the couch between the gnome and the only other woman present, nodding at each of them and doing his best not to stare. The other woman was an elf; she had upward-pointing ears like the wood elves he was used to, but was dressed in the style of the plains tribes, in bleached and fringed buckskins with faintly dyed vertical patterns that would have provided camouflage in the tallgrass. Most strikingly, her hair was black. She gazed at him contemplatively for a moment before nodding back, face expressionless.

The other man present, sitting across the low table from him in another chair, nodded as well. He was an aging fellow in a ragged suit that had once been of good quality, his brown face deeply lined and fringed by a neatly-trimmed white beard. An impressive wizard’s staff leaned against the arm of his chair, inches from his hand.

“Welcome, everyone,” said Bishop Darling, returning to his own seat at the head of the table, a position from which he effectively commanded the room. “Now that we’re all here, allow me to introduce everybody! I, of course, am Antonio Darling, Bishop of the Universal Church and your host. It’s good of you all to come; I apologize for the short notice and appreciate your flexibility.”

“I’m as flexible as needed when properly bribed,” said the lean man in the black suit.

“Indeed,” replied Darling with a smile. “This, of course, is Damian Weaver. Occupying the other chair is Elias McGraw, and on the sofa, our new arrival Joseph Jenkins, the irrepressible Wilhelmina Fallowstone—”

“That’s Billie, to those who don’t want their kneecaps blasted off,” said the gnome, grinning and punching Joe in the arm. For such a tiny person, she hit hard.

“And, finally, Mary the Crow, who presumably has another name but declines to share it.”

“I offered you my name once, if you’ll recall,” said the elf mildly. “You weren’t interested.”

“Forgive me, dear, I’m not quite myself when mind controlled. By definition.” There was something icy in Darling’s smile; Mary smiled in return, evidently in complete calm. “We’ll have tea and biscuits out in just a moment, but for now, I imagine you’re all curious why I asked you to join us.”

“I might be mistaken,” said McGraw, “it wouldn’t be the first time. But given the roster you’ve assembled, I’d have to guess you want something difficult, dangerous and possibly of questionable legality accomplished.” Joe silently agreed. He had heard, of course, of every one of these people; he’d grown up on the stories of their exploits. Being intimidated by the company he kept was a new experience for him, but he found himself tongue-tied.

“The legality of what I want is something of a gray area,” said Darling with a grin, “but we’ll come to that in a moment. There’s an important background to this that you should understand before we get to discussing any specific tasks. Ah, thank you, Price.”

The girl in the suit had returned bearing a tray of tea and cookies, which she set on the low table and made a discreet exit. The Bishop began pouring tea and handing out cups as he continued.

“I’m sure you heard about the recent rash of murders in Tiraas, targeting clerics in supposedly secure areas.”

“I followed that rather closely,” McGraw said, nodding.

“I didn’t,” said Weaver. “Murders? What happened?”

“The details are gruesome and mostly irrelevant,” Darling continued, his expression solemn. “The short version is that virtually anyone associated with the Church or a major cult who was both known to be involved in some kind of shady business and had taken part in operations against the Black Wreath has been wiped out. Most were killed inside actual temples, where they by all rights ought to have been safe from warlocks or even assassins.”

“Sounds like the Wreath made themselves useful for once,” said Billie, grinning. “Is this still goin’ on? I’ve been out east for the last few months.”

“Not that I’ve heard,” said McGraw. “the assassinations trailed off a couple weeks ago. Almost as suddenly as they started.”

“What’s reasonably sure is that this was beyond the capability of the Black Wreath itself,” Darling said, folding his hands in his lap now that everyone had their tea. “If they could do stuff like that on a whim, they’d likely have been doing it for lo these many years. His Holiness the Archpope is of the opinion the Wreath contracted with high-level, extremely dangerous adventurers to do the deeds themselves. Two such, the assassin known as the Jackal and our friend Mary, here, were known to be in the city during these events.”

The five of them exchanged a round of wary glances. Well, four of them; Mary seemed calm to the point of being disinterested.

“High-level adventurers,” McGraw said at last. “A fella could almost take that for an accusation, your Grace.”

“Oh, don’t be dense,” Weaver snorted. “If he thought we were priest-killers of that caliber, he wouldn’t have put himself in a room with all of us, Butler or no Butler.”

“Lemme stop ya there,” said Billie. “’Priestkiller’ is the common name for a gnagrethyct, a particularly nasty bugger of a demon. Not something you wanna accidentally bring up in the wrong company, ‘specially when the Black Wreath is being discussed.”

“Why, thank you, Miss Fallowstone,” Weaver said with saccharine disdain. “I do so enjoy a spot of aimless pedantry with my tea.”

“Enough,” Mary said quietly. “Focus.”

“I bring this up,” Darling went on, “to explain Archpope Justinian’s newest project. There just aren’t that many adventuring types left in the world, at least not of the caliber of those of you can claim. You five represent a significant chunk of those who are still in the business, so to speak.”

“I’m out of the business,” Weaver cut in, “and I’m still waiting to hear about what you offered to tempt me back in.”

“I am coming to that,” the Bishop assured him. “His Holiness has decided that if the likes of you are still going to exist in this world, they should work for the Church, or not at all. Those who can be recruited, he plans to use to deal with those who refuse. I am responsible for executing this program.”

Another silence fell, this one colder; now, they all stared at Darling. The expressions were not friendly.

“A fella could take that for a threat,” McGraw said grimly.

“Same objection applies,” Weaver mused. “You’re not quite daft enough to threaten us all to our faces, are you, Darling?”

“Indeed,” said the Bishop with a knowing smile. “I should point out that it is Justinian’s grand idea. I am the man in charge of making it happen.”

“It’s unclear to me why that hair needs to be split,” Joe said quietly.

“Is it truly?” Mary asked, raising an eyebrow.

“He’s not gonna just come out and say it,” said Weaver with a smug little smile. “One doesn’t just up and tell a bunch of dangerous strangers that one isn’t completely in the pocket of one’s nigh-omnipotent boss.”

“Let’s just say that my warning you all of this is a good faith offering,” Darling said smoothly. “You all know, now, which way the wind is blowing, and have some time to arrange your affairs to deal with it in whatever fashion you will. I, for my part, have a much more personal matter for which I would like to employ your skills. Justinian’s adventurer project means I can justify making the Church’s resources—and funds—available to you if you should choose to help me with this goal, and while you are officially on a Church payroll, you are assured not to be a target.”

“Uh huh,” Billie said wryly. “And once you hook us, we’re good an’ hooked. We leave, the rest hunt us down, yeah?”

“Nope,” said Weaver, pausing to sip his tea. “The hell I’m going to mix it up with any of you lot, I don’t care who’s paying or how much. And if I walk out of this deal, be it right now or after a long series of engagements together, I will go straight back to Last Rock and screw anybody who wants to try and dig me out.”

“Gonna go back to hidin’ under Arachne’s skirts, then, eh?” asked Billie with a smirk.

“First of all,” Weaver replied, looking down his nose at her, “there is no shame in taking advantage of the protection of an extraordinarily powerful and cranky individual, and second, you’d take position behind her skirts too if you knew what an exquisite little butt she has.”

“Language,” Joe said coldly. Everyone turned to stare at him. “Let’s consider what kinds of conversation are appropriate in the presence of ladies.”

They continued to stare. Finally, though, Mary smiled.

“Oh, this one is absolutely adorable,” Weaver said at last, grinning unpleasantly.

“He ain’t exactly wrong, however,” McGraw noted. “If you can’t be a gentleman, at least show a little restraint. And in any case, all this is cuttin’ into our host’s exposition, which I for one would like to hear.”

“Thank you,” said Darling gravely, his lips twitching with repressed humor. “I’m not going to make you any guarantees about what the future may hold. Suffice it to say that for right now, I’m offering the prospect of sanctuary from the Archpope’s bad list and the opportunity to profit considerably.”

“What’s the job, then?” asked Billie, cocking her head to the side.

Darling smiled beatifically. “I want to hire you to deal with a dragon.”

“Oh, hell yes!” she crowed, hopping up to stand on the couch and grinning with manic glee.

“Hell, no,” said Weaver, standing and setting his teacup on the arm of the chair. “Include me out. I have been on more than my share of suicidal exploits, thank you. There’s not enough gold in the Imperial treasury.”

“Please!” Darling held up a hand. “Everyone, please. Sit, allow me to explain. I wouldn’t presume to drag you all out here with only the offer of something as pedestrian as money. Recall that the telescrolls I sent to each of you indicated that far more valuable forms of payment would be rendered.”

“Knowledge,” Mary said quietly. Weaver and Billie sank back into their respective seats, both studying Darling very carefully now.

“Knowledge,” the Bishop said, nodding. “As a high-ranking official of the Universal Church, I have access to certain resources of an oracular nature.”

“Bullshit,” Weaver said, smiling pleasantly.

“Language,” Joe said automatically.

“Hush, child.”

Mary shifted in her seat. “He speaks truth…at least partially. The Archpopes have been accumulating oracles of all kinds for centuries; that is precisely why they are so rare in the world at large. I am surprised to learn that anyone besides Justinian himself has access to them, however.”

“That is a fairly recent development,” Darling admitted. “But think about it: my claim is its own proof. Each of you wants something, some specific piece of knowledge that, for all your skills and powers, you have not been able to acquire yourselves. Billie wants to know a location; the Kid is hunting for a name, Longshot for a method. The Crow seeks the elaborate answer to a deceptively simple question, and Gravestone wants nothing less than to spit in the eye of a major god without suffering the obvious consequences; he only needs to know how. And assuredly, none of you have let it be known what you’re all after. How, then, did I find out enough of your desires to tempt you out here?”

The Bishop leaned back in his chair, hands folded before him, wearing a smile that was half serene and half smug.

“And knowing what I seek to know,” Mary said softly, “you would still help me learn it?”

“I will, if you agree to accept my terms, do my best to uncover your answer and deliver it to you honestly and in full,” Darling said gravely. “In your case, however, I make no promises about what else I may do with that information.”

“Hm,” she mused, but spoke no further.

“I am similarly skeptical,” Weaver commented. “You described my ambitions pretty well. I’m finding it hard to believe a man of the Church would be willing to help me in that.”

“The Church, though it tends to forget this fact, is ultimately just an administrative convenience,” said Darling with a grin. “It’s there to help the various cults coordinate and avoid conflict. It’s not my god you’re looking to thwart; I don’t figure it’s any of my business how you feel or act toward other faiths.”

“And after we deal with this dragon of yours, we get our answers?” McGraw said, peering at the Bishop through narrowed eyes.

“That is the somewhat thorny issue,” Darling admitted. “I don’t know if any of you have ever tried to extract a straight answer on a factual subject from an oracle, but it’s very much like pulling teeth. Rectally.”

“Convenient,” Billie noted. “And bloody disgusting metaphor, by the way. I might just borrow that one myself.”

“Be my guest,” Darling said with a smile. “Getting your answers, in all honestly, is likely to be a longer-term project than wrangling Khadizroth.”

“Khadizroth the Green?” Weaver exclaimed. “Omnu’s balls, you don’t ask for much, do you?”

“What I mean,” Darling pressed on, “is that what I am offering does, indeed, imply a longer-term cooperation between us. For your immediate help, however, there will, as I said, be ample remuneration, provided by the Church.”

Another quiet fell.

“Tempting,” McGraw said, stroking his beard. “Very tempting. Also tricky and potentially problematic in several different ways.”

“If by that you mean it’s a big fat trap, then I agree,” Weaver said grimly. “I’ve not quite made up my mind whether the bait is juicy enough to lunge for.”

“By all means, you should take time to think it over,” Darling said smoothly. “In fact, talk amongst yourselves without me present. I do have certain time constraints, but I certainly won’t begrudge you taking the day to consider.”

“A whole day, eh?” Billie said dryly. “Well, that’s downright magnanimous of you.”

“Time is, as I indicated, a factor.”

“Welp!” She set aside her plate and hopped down from the couch; on the floor, she wasn’t tall enough to see over its back. “If we’re done here for the time being, how’s about us honored guests toddle off and have a high-level adventurin’ lunch? Seems we’ve got notes to compare.”

Weaver sighed. “Might as well, I guess.”

“I for one would welcome some additional perspective,” Joe murmured.

“Perfect!” the gnome grinned up at him. “I know just the place.”

 

“Hey there, neighbor!” Kheshiri said cheerfully, popping out of a side room.

Saduko jerked away from her, skittering almost to the opposite side of the hall, and the succubus tittered in amusement. It was a reaction of pure revulsion, not startlement—the enchantress had proven quite difficult to surprise. The demon was in her disguise as the local girl Shiri, a pretty young woman who had no apparent reason to arouse such a reaction. Luckily for Saduko, they were alone in this particular hallway.

“Why are you off your leash?” Saduko demanded coldly.

“Oh, Master’s off playing with his wands again,” Kheshiri said, pouting. “I swear, all he does anymore is gossip with Vandro and blast artificial targets. I’m just about crawling up the walls with boredom.”

“That is neither my problem nor of any interest to me,” the woman said with her customary Sifanese reserve. They weren’t quite as cold as drow, but they had stern ideas about proper behavior. “Leave me be, creature. I have no wish to interact with you outside of planning sessions.”

“Or even then?” Kheshiri asked, grinning. Saduko merely turned and strode away. “That’s a shame,” the succubus said cheerfully, falling into step behind her, “because I find you very interesting. What ever can you be up to, sneaking about the way you do?”

Saduko’s shoulders stiffened—almost imperceptibly, but Kheshiri was finely attuned to the tiniest shifts of body language. She grinned savagely, enjoying the effects of her needling. “It’s how good you are at it that caught my attention. People sneaking around clumsily are dull; they almost never lead to anything good. Just fools having affairs and stealing things, mostly. But you? No uncomfortable glances around, no awkwardness or fumbling, you just very skillfully manage to be coming and going from empty places all the time, just when nobody’s there to catch you. How very fascinating. I just can’t resist a puzzle.”

“In the courts of Kiyosan, discretion is a priceless skill,” Saduko said icily. “One must step lightly and know how to avoid attention, or one does not survive, must less prosper.”

“There, see!” Kheshiri said brightly, running a few steps to bring herself alongside the woman. “Already you’re sharing things about yourself. I feel very close to you. We’re making progress!”

“I explain the minimum that I must, because you will make trouble otherwise,” the woman snapped. “Now leave me.”

“Aw, don’t be like that. Whatever you’re after, you just might find I can help. I’m a helpful kind of girl!”

Saduko came to a stop, reached into the collar of her shirt and pulled out a necklace, a silver ankh on a thin twisted chain. She thrust this at Kheshiri, chanting a few words in Sifanese.

Kheshiri yelped and staggered backward against the wall; her facade rippled, momentarily exposing glimpses of her milky complexion and sharp features through her disguise. The shadow of wings flickered behind her for a bare second.

“That,” she snarled, “is rude.”

Saduko smiled coldly. “I attempted the polite approach first, for all that things such as you deserve no such consideration. Now leave, before I am forced to be truly insistent.”

“See you when I see you, then,” the succubus sneered, and faded into invisibiliy.

Saduko stood staring at the place where she had been for a moment, then glanced warily around the hall before turning to continue on her way.

At the next intersection, she suddenly spun, yanking out the ankh again and brandishing it, snapping out her chant.

“Dammit!” Kheshiri squawked, popping into visibility a mere few feet away and staggering backward.

“You have entirely consumed your meager allotment of my patience,” Saduko said, glaring at her. “I am also carrying a wand, creature. If I have to dissuade you from meddling a third time, I shall be forced to assume the holy symbol is insufficient for the task.”

“You are not nearly as clever as you think,” Kheshiri growled. “A smart person would make allies out of enemies, not the other way around.”

Saduko didn’t even bother to answer this time, reaching into her pocket and drawing out a short wand. Its stubby shaft couldn’t hold a large power crystal nor provide sufficient carving space for the runes that would improve its range and accuracy, but it’d be more than adequate for delivering crippling electric shocks from a few feet away.

“Fine!” Kheshiri snapped, backing away. “Your loss, bitch. When it counts, remember I made the offer.” She faded from view again, continuing to retreat as she did so.

For a moment, she feared the woman would fire the wand into the apparently empty hall for certainty’s sake, but after another few seconds of suspiciously staring about, she pocketed it again and went on her way.

The succubus, of course, followed her all the way to her room.

At the door, Saduko played her little trick with the ankh again, holding it up and delivering the singsong blessing as before. Kheshiri, waiting invisibly a few feet away, grinned in silence. Very few people ever actually encountered demons; in this age of scrolltowers, newspapers and mass-printed novels, a lot of folk had acquired some truly absurd notions in lieu of the survival knowledge their ancestors might have had. For example, when dealing with demons, faith counted for nothing; you needed power. That demanded a pact with some god or other, which it was clear that Saduko did not have.

Satisfied that she had at last driven off her pursuer, the enchantress began unlocking her door, and Kheshiri did a quick survey of their surroundings to see what she could use. Potted plants, wall hangings, windows… Ah, windows with unsecured shutters. They were in a hallway near the back of the estate; as with most places in Onkawa, the window was large and left open by default to admit a cooling breeze. Kheshiri slipped silently over to it, leaned out and took a grip on the shutter.

As Saduko opened her door, she yanked. The shutter clattered against the window frame, simulating an errant gust of wind, an illusion aided by the powerful flap of the demon’s wings, which it effectively disguised.

The children of Vanislaas were gifted with the power to shift into any shape worn by their erstwhile species—that is, they could disguise themselves only as humans. Kheshiri, never one to be content with any limitations placed upon her, had pressed the boundaries of what was acceptable and possible to the point that even those trained at handling incubi and succubi had often been completely blindsided by her tricks. In a way, that had been her downfall; ultimately, the Black Wreath had found her too interesting (and too potentially useful) to simply destroy, but far too dangerous to leave running around loose. Thus she had been cornered and bound to that damned reliquary.

Now, the thing she shifted into was human, technically—a human a bare few weeks into its earliest development cycle. Her timing was perfect: once propelled forward into the air by the beat of her wings, she shed nearly the entirety of her mass in a display that made a shameless mockery of physics, shriveling to a tiny blob of invisible flesh. Immediately she was blind, deaf and totally helpless, the zygote unable to do anything but exist, and that not for long in the open air. It wouldn’t take more than a second, however. As Saduko spun to stare at the banging shutter, the little lump that was Kheshiri sailed right over her head, through her open door and into her room.

Unable to see, she had to guess at the timing, but she was well-practiced at such dicey maneuvers. Just inside the door, Kheshiri snapped invisibly back to her true shape, spreading her wings to halt her forward momentum. There was, of course, no space to glide, but she had ample room to come to a midair halt, clasp the thick beams supporting the high ceiling and swing herself up onto it, where she crouched catlike, wings compressing against her back. Barely a second had passed; to Saduko, the tiny sound of moving air this caused was only a continuation of the same gust that had startled her in the first place.

Satisfied, the enchantress stepped into her chambers, closing and locking the door behind her, oblivious to the demoness crouching above. Kheshiri could feel the lines of power trapping the walls and windows, the spells that would alert their mistress if the door’s frame, hinges or lock were manhandled, even the few miscellaneous enchantments on the carpet ready to impede the unwary. Saduko hadn’t exaggerated her resume, clearly; she was a very competent spellcaster when it came to security. She’d neglected, however, to provide measures to warn her of anyone passing through a door that she herself had opened, and as Kheshiri had learned long ago and many times since applied to her own benefit, nobody ever looked up.

The enchantress made a quick visual check of her room, no doubt ensuring that her spells were all active. Lucky that she hadn’t added anything specifically to detect demons, especially since she knew she was sharing a house with one and clearly wasn’t happy about it. It had been a gamble, risking that, but anti-demon measures were divine magic; few arcanists had reliable tricks in that line, and hardly any of those were as young as Saduko. Kheshiri noted with some satisfaction that her room wasn’t nearly as large as Shook’s suite, nor as well-appointed.

Her smugness vanished when Saduko knelt before a small cabinet, taking nearly a minute to disarm protective spells and open it, and drew out a tiny idol. The faint, acrid crawl of nearby divinity stung her while the enchantress prayed. No priestess was she, but sincere enough in her faith that her meditations attracted some small amount of her god’s attention.

Kheshiri slunk backward as far and as silently as she could, till she was huddled against the wall, barely clinging to the beam, and poured as much concentration as she could manage into her invisibility, even reaching into her rarely-used gifts for deflecting divine detection, tricks she had learned from an unwary Elilinist warlock ages ago. She didn’t fear the bombast of Avei, the pursuit of Shaath or the various eccentricities of most of the gods, but this one… This one was savvy. He didn’t fling his power around, but he kept an eye on his people, and they were capable enough to be treated with caution.

Despite her discomfort and fear, Kheshiri’s imagination bloomed with this revelation, and with new possibilities.

People in the Empire tended to think the Empire was the world. It was understandable; in addition to being the planet’s most politically powerful government, Tiraas housed the leader and central offices of the Universal Church, as well as those of nearly all the Pantheon’s cults. It was easy to overlook the fact that the cults existed outside this continent.

Which, she reflected as Saduko tucked away her little idol of Eserion and set about re-sealing its housing, made this a wonderfully clever ploy on the part of the Thieves’ Guild; send in a foreigner to infiltrate Vandro’s operations, and nobody would think to wonder if she might be one of theirs. Even if they did, it was unlikely Vandro had the capacity to check up on her history in Kiyosan—if that was even where she came from. Saduko’s accent was right, but accents could be faked, and there were more than a handful of ethnic Sifanese born and raised in the Empire.

It seemed that Kheshiri wasn’t the only party interested in derailing the planned heist for her own benefit. She was going to have competition and no end of trouble. This whole thing had just gotten immeasurably more complicated. Even as she began pondering the problem of getting out of this room undetected and unscathed, Kheshiri grinned to herself.

Oh, the fun she was going to have.

< Previous Chapter                                                                                                                           Next Chapter >

5 – 10

Uncategorized, , , , ,

< Previous Chapter                                                                                                                           Next Chapter >

“First duty shift?”

They both nodded, Farah adding a belated “Yes, ma’am” after a moment.

“Don’t call me ma’am, I work for a living,” replied the Legionnaire, but she did so with a lazy grin.

“It’s a good shift to pull for first-timers,” added the other, older soldier, indicating the great temple space with a jerk of her head. Reflexively, Casey glanced around the huge chamber, at the Legionnaires standing at attention, the priestesses near the dais with its grand statue of Avei, the worshipers and petitioners coming and going. She couldn’t help feeling vaguely uncomfortable, as if she ought to be doing something specific, but they had been posted to the front of the temple, ready to be put to use as needed by Avei’s guests and at the discretion of the overseeing priestess. In between such discretionary acts, this seemed to chiefly involve standing around, waiting.

“I was sort of afraid they’d assign us to guard the Temple of Izara,” Farah admitted, permitting herself a shy smile.

The younger soldier snorted a laugh. “Yeah, they threaten all the newbies with that. Don’t worry, cadets are rarely assigned guard duty at non-Avenist temples. The bronze are too afraid you’ll do something to embarrass the faith.”

“I would be, too,” Farah murmured, adjusting her cuirass for the umpteenth time. Their armor was visibly lighter than that of full Legionnaires, but both of them were still very much unaccustomed to the weight. This was their first actual duty shift wearing it.

“Well, if you’d care to make yourself useful, keep your mind off the armor and the pressure, this posting means you can do some basic caretaking duties around the temple,” the younger Legionnaire said casually. “Refill the pixie dust, for example.”

Farah blinked. “Pixie dust?” Casey narrowed her eyes.

“Nobody likes doing it,” the soldier went on, while her older partner watched impassively. “It involves getting up on a ladder and opening the fairy lamps manually; it’s a pain. You’d probably rack up some serious brownie points for making the effort.”

“I…uh…what?” Farah frowned at her in confusion, then craned her neck to look around at the globes set above each of the hall’s columns, between the stained glass windows lining its upper story. “Fairy lamps are fully self-contained. Aren’t they?” she added uncertainly.

“The new ones, sure. These are historic, though; they won’t even hear about upgrading them. Apparently there was enough of a flap back when they put these in; the priestesses aren’t about to mess with the temple’s décor again. You can find pixie dust in with the cleaning supplies in the second sub-basement.”

“All fairy lamps, by definition, are self-contained and would simply break if you opened them.” Casey said firmly to Farah, then turned a hard stare on the Legionnaire. “It’s not kind, or just, to play pranks on someone who’s already out of her element. Ma’am.”

The soldier glared at her. “Are you sassing me, cadet?”

“All right, private, that’s enough,” the older woman interrupted. “You’ve had your fun, and she’s not wrong. Mind the chain of command, girl,” she added to Casey, “but good show of backbone. You’ll do well in the Legions.”

Farah suddenly snapped to attention, her eyes widening. The two Legionnaires followed her gaze, then immediately straightened up themselves, looking similarly shocked. Casey had to turn around to see what was up.

They had been approached by another soldier; Casey reflexively looked for her rank insignia to see what had the others so startled, but the woman didn’t seem to have any. She was going to catch hell for that from her commanding officer… Couldn’t have been very highly ranked, though; she was barely older than Casey and didn’t seem even as old as Farah. Just a rangy teenage girl with blonde hair tied back in a regulation braid.

Only then did she process the fact that the newcomer’s armor was silver, not bronze. In the space of half a second, Casey cycled through shock, self-recrimination and nausea, and only then finally came to attention, saluting. Beads of sweat manifested on her temples.

“All right, there, cadet?” the Hand of Avei asked mildly, looking directly at her.

Casey fervently wished she could just skip the preamble and die on the spot. “Yes, ma’am!”

The young paladin glanced her over. “You weren’t raised in the Avenist tradition, were you, cadet…?”

Outright terror burst in her. This was it; her first day in armor, and she had managed to antagonize General Avelea herself. She was going to be thrown out of the Sisters, and then straight into a prison like her parents…

“Cadet Elwick, ma’am!” she barked, frantically trying to suppress the quaver in her voice. “No, ma’am!”

Avelea nodded. “All these regulations and practices must seem downright oppressive.”

Oh, goddess, she was just fishing for an excuse now.

“Not at all, ma’am,” Casey croaked. “I find it…that is, it’s all very…”

“Arbitrary,” Avelea said with a smile. “Pushy, pointless, and apparently calculated to exhaust and confuse you to no real purpose. Yes?” There was absolutely no safe reply to that, but while Casey was struggling to come up with something, to her astonishment the General reached out and placed a hand on her shoulder. “It’s like that for everyone, Elwick,” she said gently. “Getting through training takes faith. I don’t mean in religion; faith that the rules serve a purpose, and faith in yourself that you’ll find the strength to push through. You truly will, though. In hindsight, you’ll be astonished by how much sense it all makes, and how much you’ve grown for the experience.” She let her hand fall, turning her head to include the other three in the conversation. “At ease.”

They didn’t ease up much, considering whose company they were in, but did relax slightly, staring. Casey couldn’t tear her gaze off the paladin’s face; suddenly, all she could think was that Avei had chosen perfectly. She could see herself following this woman into battle.

“General Avelea,” said Sister Ramousi, gliding over to join them. “Welcome. Forgive the reception; I was not even aware that you were in the city.”

“It’s something of a surprise to me, too,” said Avelea. “I won’t take up your time, Sister. If someone could simply direct me to the quartermaster? I’m afraid I haven’t visited this temple often enough to remember the layout that well.”

“Of course!” said the priestess. “I’ll be glad to escort you, with a proper honor guard.”

“That isn’t at all necessary,” the paladin said quickly. “Your soldiers have much better things to do than chaperone me around. Directions will suffice; I can find my way.”

“It’s no trouble at all,” Ramousi replied. “Quite the opposite, it’s a matter of honor. You have not visited the Temple in several years; we cannot do less than show the respect due your station.”

Avelea looked momentarily annoyed, but quickly schooled her features. “If you say so, Sister. I wouldn’t want to let down the dignity of the temple.”

“If you will follow me, then?” Sister Ramousi bowed to her, then nodded at the two Legionnaires and their attending cadets. “Fall in, ladies. Lieutenant! Cover the door post, please.”

Stares and whispers followed them as they crossed the great chamber. For once, Casey didn’t have to struggle with the irrational worry that somebody had sussed out her secret; everyone was quite obviously watching the paladin. Endearingly, she seemed slightly uncomfortable with the attention. All in all, Trissiny Avelea was not how Casey would have imagined her. If anything, she was much better.

It eased up when they passed into the quieter halls of the temple. Avelea and Ramousi walked in the front of their little formation, the priestess deftly leading the way without stepping in front of the paladin. The Legionnaires followed on their heels, with the two cadets bringing up the rear. Farah and Casey took advantage of the momentary lack of scrutiny to exchange excited glances.

Once they were out of the full view of the public, the General spoke to her guide. “If I could trouble you to carry a message to High Commander Rouvad, Sister, I would like to arrange a meeting in the next few days, as soon as it is convenient.”

“Of course, I’ll be glad to,” Ramousi said, somehow managing to bow while walking without looking foolish. “If you wish to speak with her today, though, you most assuredly are entitled to her time.”

“The Commander is busy,” Avelea said firmly. “I will not disrupt the running of this Temple and the Sisterhood by intruding on her schedule unless the matter is urgent. Which it is not.”

“Very well,” Ramousi said diplomatically. “If you have questions or concerns of a lesser nature, General, I’d be glad to offer any insight I may?”

She left the suggestion hanging. From the rear, Casey of course couldn’t see the General’s expression, but the quiet stretched out as they walked. She had just about decided Avelea was refusing to continue the conversation when the paladin spoke.

“Are all temples and facilities used by the Sisters consecrated?”

“As…a matter of policy, yes,” Sister Ramousi said slowly. “Some divisions of the Legions, in particular, may make temporary use of unsanctified structures and locations, but blessing the spaces we use is a high priority, both for spiritual and defensive reasons.”

“Even our social outreach missions? Women’s shelters?”

“Of course.”

“Hm. Then what considerations are put in place for the care of demonbloods?”

Ramousi actually missed a step. “Demonbloods, General? What… Are you referring to prisons?”

There was a bite in Avelea’s tone when she answered. “I was discussing, specifically, shelters. The Sisterhood offers sanctuary to any woman who claims need of it. If all our facilities are sanctified, how do we accommodate half-demons?”

“I… I am not sure that has ever come up. Or would.”

“No? Who, I ask you, is in a more vulnerable position in Tiraan society than a demonblooded woman? She would face all manner of persecution through no fault of her own.”

“Half-demons do show a pronounced proclivity toward joining the Black Wreath, General…”

“That’s hardly a wonder, if they are denied any better options.”

“Perhaps, General, you may fail to appreciate the full historical context of the issue,” Sister Ramousi said very carefully. “I have made something of a study of the history of our faith. Like all the cults of the Pantheon’s gods, the Sisters of Avei have always been a specifically human institution. Of course, we welcome any who are called to Avei’s service, and there are elves, gnomes and dwarves among our ranks. But originally and ultimately, the Sisters have been raised up for the protection of the human race. Our species does not enjoy the natural advantages of many of the others. We haven’t the longevity or magical aptitude of the elves, the hardiness of dwarves, the resilience of lizardfolk or the famous gnomish versatility and adaptability. If you will forgive me for pointing it out, General, this is why paladins have always been human. The gods protect us as their chosen. If the demon-blooded are not accorded a share of this protection…perhaps that is the will of the gods at work.”

“I see,” the paladin said quietly. Casey had to bite down on the inside of her cheek to keep herself in check. Showing her tongue to a priestess and the bloody Hand of Avei herself would lead to nothing but trouble.

“It seems the world truly is changing, then,” Avelea said after a pause. “And surely Avei must expect us to change with it. Why else select a half-elf as a paladin?”

Farah stumbled, but luckily, no one so much as glanced back. Casey could almost see the two Legionnaires studying their paladin with fresh eyes, taking note of her golden hair, lean build and narrow features. She could definitely see the wide-eyed priestess half-turn to do the same.

“Thank you, Sister,” Avelea said politely. “You have given me some things to think about.”

Ramousi managed a strangled noise that might have been acquiescence. Casey was paying her no attention, her gaze fixed on Trissiny Avelea’s back past the shoulder of the soldier in front of her.

Never mind battle. She would follow this woman straight into Hell.

 

Getting the day to herself had been refreshingly challenging. Kheshiri’s management of Shook had become stiflingly routine, almost dull; she’d had to think creatively and make good use of their surroundings in order to get out from under his thumb for a few hours.

Luckily, their surroundings included Alan Vandro’s constantly rotating collection of vapid young women drawn to his villa by the promise of leisure, fun, free food and booze, and if they played their cards right, the prospect of becoming a kept woman to one of the wealthy men who also frequented the estate. For a certain kind of person, any number of little indignities were bearable if it meant attaining a comfortable life without having to get a real job.

Shook, of course, had noticed them—often, and in detail. They’d noticed him, too, and taken note of his clearly privileged position in Vandro’s eyes. He had kept fairly aloof, however, concerned about his anonymity and the Guild hunting them… At least until Kheshiri had started getting clingy and jealous. When she began viciously trying to chase other girls away from him, Shook had latched onto an amenable pair and led them toward his room. A particularly shrill tantrum from Kheshiri had resulted in her being banished from the suite with instructions not to wander far.

For a being who had traversed continents, centuries and the very planes of existence, “far” was an extremely relative term.

Now she knelt in a small, natural cave she’d found connected to the city’s sewers. Some detritus strewn in its corners suggested this place had once been used by smugglers, back in the days before Onkawa’s extremely lax import and export laws made most smuggling pointless. Kheshiri was losing patience and growing tense; she couldn’t afford to spend any more time than necessary at this, and she was on her fourth attempt already. The first three summons she had attempted had yielded nothing, the demons called upon either dead or already on the mortal plane. Much had changed while she’d languished inside that damned reliquary. She was running out of names, and wasn’t about to risk calling up an unknown.

Before her was drawn the faintly glowing circle, on which she was putting the final tweaks, spelling out yet another name in demonic runes. More modern enchanting paraphernalia sat in neat stacks near her. The night before, Vandro had taken them to his “guy” in the city to get her reliquary modified for improved stealth. She knew, then, to leave him alone, and had confined her “shopping” to other enchanting suppliers throughout the city, making use of a different face for each. None had even caught her stealing, but if any happened to remember her after they discovered their missing goods, whatever they told the city guard would lead them nowhere.

The fascination of applying a small arcane charge to the summoning circle hadn’t worn off, at least. Back in her day, this would have involved no end of chanting. She’d still be on the first attempt, in all likelihood. Really, it was amazing the things humans came up with.

She all but cheered aloud when a figure began to form inside the circle this time, but kept her calm and put on a smug, aloof smile while he coalesced. In just a few seconds, the incubus was fully present, peering around quizzically and stretching his wings until the tips brushed the edges of the circle. He grinned, his eyes falling upon her.

“Well! This is the best in a string of surprises. It’s been, what…ninety years? I thought you’d been bound, Kheshiri.”

“Oh, they tried,” she said airily. “You should know I’m not so easily taken.”

“That’s not what I hear,” he said with a leer.

“Now, now, let’s be polite, Adrimas,” she admonished, grinning and wagging a finger at him. “I’m assuming you do want out of that circle eventually, yes?”

“And I’m assuming it’s going to cost me,” he said lazily. “By all means, darling, let’s hear it. I’m in a mood to be mercantile; I’m sure you know very well I’d part with everything but my manhood to be loose on the mortal plane again.”

“Well, before you go running off and getting into trouble, you may want to hear a bit about how humans have advanced. You just would not believe some of the stuff they can do, now. For example.” She picked up a slender object from the nearby pile of arcane goods and held it up between thumb and forefinger, waggling it at him.

Adrimas leaned forward till his nose nearly brushed the tubular field containing him, peering quizzically at the tip of the wand as she shifted her grip to the clicker. “What’s that?”

At that range, the shot threw him bodily backward. He bounced off the back of the circle, sliding down to lie twitching at its base, his whole head a smoking ruin. It was only seconds before he suddenly slumped through the invisible wall that had been partially propping him up, wings and one leg flopping outside it as well. The summoning circle had been designed to contain living demons, not dead flesh of hellish origin.

Kheshiri hummed to herself, exchanging the wand for for a large hunting knife and setting up her sample jars in the arcane cooling matrices that would keep their contents fresh for weeks (according to the manufacturer, anyway). She got to work, collecting and storing pieces of flesh. Piled on her other side was work for another day, the much more complex tangle of spell components and golem logic controllers. She’d have to do some finagling to mix that enchantment with her infernal craft, but the right modern golem circuitry in combination with the proper spells and the all-impotant magical substance of an incubus should, in theory, yield six portable, self-driving illusions. Servitors that would play her assigned role in Vandro’s plan, impersonating the conspirators, while Kheshiri herself, left behind while the others went to burgle the chieftain’s safe, would find herself with a wholly free evening—at exactly the right time to make the best use of it.

She worked as quickly as she could without sacrificing precision. Best to be back at Shook’s side as soon as possible; today’s window of freedom was brief, and not well-timed to take good advantage. Very soon, though, she’d have a better one. A perfect one.

 

“Hey, Toby!” Gabriel called across the common room, waving. “C’mon over!”

Toby threaded his way through the tables. It was early evening, yet, not by far the busiest time for inn common rooms, but it was already well into the dinner hour and the chamber was filling up. The noise and fuss was distracting, but it would afford a measure of privacy, he reflected as he slid into a seat across from his friend. Relative privacy would be good. So would sitting down and not having to be responsible for anything for a little while.

“Dang, you look worn out,” Gabriel observed, pouring an amber liquid from a pitcher into a mug and pushing it across to Toby. “Long day?”

The paladin peered suspiciously at his pint. “What, exactly, are you giving me?”

“Oh, relax,” Gabe said with a grin. “It’s spiced cider—the family friendly variety. Good stuff for this weather. Yeah, our jovial innkeeper has been warned against serving us the hard stuff.”

Toby took an experimental sip, then a longer one. He had learned to mistrust the food in this establishment, but the cider was actually quite good. “Mm. Thanks, I needed this. You do realize, though, you could probably get beer if you really wanted. It’s a big city, and Tellwyrn’s already left for Onkawa.”

“Why, mister Caine, are you trying to corrupt me? I am shocked. Shocked!”

“Oh, sod off,” Toby said, grinning. “Just not like you to pass up a chance for mischief, is all.”

“Yeah, well.” Gabriel paused to take a long drink of his own cider. “I’m reasonably sure Tellwyrn would just know, somehow. And then she’d strap me down, stuff a funnel in my gob and pour me full of holy water.”

Toby grimaced. “You know, I really wish it was harder for me to imagine her doing that.”

“I know, right? So what’s got you looking so knackered? Surely Juniper hasn’t caused any trouble. I have a feeling I’d have heard about it if she had.”

“No…nothing. Yet.” He took a long drink, staring contemplatively at the wall past Gabriel’s head. “That’s part of what’s starting to wear on me, Gabe. I’ve just got this feeling… Something is gonna go wrong. I can feel it.”

“Hm.” Gabe set down his mug and folded his arms on the table, leaning forward to peer at Toby. “This feeling. Is this an Omnu thing?”

“Not divine in origin, if that’s what you mean. I just…” He glanced around and lowered his voice. “She’s a dryad. In Tiraas. How can this possibly go anything but badly? But all she’s done so far is just…look. Walk around, look at stuff. She seems kind of confused, really, like everything’s disorienting. No hostility. I’m starting to go a little crazy from the anticipation, I think.”

Gabriel leaned backward. “Toby, don’t take this the wrong way, but…”

“Oh, this should be good.”

“Well, if you’re not getting a warning from Omnu about this…maybe it’s all in your head?”

“My head,” Toby repeated, giving him a look.

Gabriel shrugged. “Let’s face it, you’re a worrier. This is not news. You feel responsible for everything that goes on anywhere near you, you’re always wanting to help people and prevent any kind of misfortune.”

“This whole thing is a giant misfortune waiting to happen!”

“Is it, though? Honestly, man, I think you’re not giving Juniper enough credit. Or Tellwyrn, when it comes down to it. Yeah, she’s definitely a sink-or-swim mentor, but think back. She’s never tossed us into a river where we didn’t have the chance, at least, to swim. Plus, for all her big bad wizard act, I don’t think she wants to piss off the Empire. Who would? I suspect the situation with Juniper is more stable than you’re thinking.”

“Hm.” Tobdy drummed his fingers absently on the table, frowning in thought.

“This kinda concerns me, actually,” Gabe went on, regarding him seriously. “Juniper is… I don’t know if ’empathic’ is the word, but she’s got senses we don’t. People senses. She responds very directly to emotion.”

“I thought that was all sexual stuff.”

“It’s mostly sexual stuff,” Gabriel admitted. “But…not all, no. I think she can perceive people’s feelings sort of directly. At least, I’ve known her to pick up on things that…well, that’s neither here nor there.”

“Uh huh,” Toby said, grinning.

“What concerns me,” Gabriel went on hastily, “is if you’re spending all day around her, being all tense and nervous and holding the idea in your head that she’s about to snap or something… Well, I can sort of see that becoming a self-fulfilling prophecy. Y’know?”

“Hm. You’ve…maybe got a point,” Toby said reluctantly. “I don’t know what else to do, though. With all respect to our roommates, I don’t think it’s smart leaving them in charge of a dryad by themselves.”

“Yeah, no, you’ll get no argument from me on that.” Gabriel grinned broadly, picked up his mug again and took a drink.

“Well, why don’t you come with us, then? I mean, what have you been doing all day? I know the girls are all tied up in preparations for that party tonight.”

“I’ve been hanging around at the local magic shop,” Gabe said casually. “The shopkeeper is…interesting. Nicer to me than most people in the city, too.”

“Well, how about you come along with Juniper and the boys and me tomorrow? I bet you’d be a help in getting her acclimated. She likes you.”

“Oh, she likes everybody,” Gabriel said dismissively.

“Yes, that’s true… But in addition, she likes you.”

“…really?”

“Yes, really. I mean, don’t fall in love with her or anything…”

“I’m not quite that lacking in self-preservation,” he muttered.

“I wasn’t gonna make assumptions,” Toby said with a grin. “But seriously. She does like you. She’s calmer around you.”

“Where is she now, by the way?”

“Upstairs with the fellas,” Toby said, wincing.

“With the…ah.”

They both drank.

“…wanna take bets whether they’ll come out grinning or traumatized?”

“I am a monk, Gabriel,” Toby said piously. “Gambling is a sin.”

Gabe snorted. “Especially for someone who’s as bad at it as you.”

“That aside,” Toby said more thoughtfully, “you’ve gotten remarkably insightful lately. It’s almost like you’re growing up or something.”

“You know, I’ve discovered the most fascinating thing,” Gabe said cheerfully. “So I walk around doing stupid shit like I always do, y’know? But it turns out, if I pay attention to what happens as a result of that, sometimes I actually learn stuff. Incredible, right?”

“Wow. You should write a book.”

“I’m thinking about it!” He gestured with his half-empty mug. “Dumbass: The Life and Times of the World’s Lamest Half-Demon.”

“It’s got a nice ring to it.”

“Anyhow,” Gabriel went on, his expression sobering, “yeah, sure I’ll come with tomorrow. It’s not like I have anything better to do, and I do like hanging out with you guys. And Juniper, of course. Seriously, I don’t think you need to worry all that much. This must all be alien for her, but she’s smart. And Tellwyrn brought her here for a reason. I really think there’s more, y’know, humanity in her than we may be giving her credit for. Come on, she even looks almost human. Why would dryads look like beautiful women if there wasn’t something fundamentally human about them?”

Toby toyed with his mug, staring into it. “You remember last semester when I couldn’t find half the allegedly common medicinal plants Rafe set us to collect from around campus, and he let me do a research paper to make up the credit?”

“Mm?”

“I ended up reading a bit on the local insect life. Did you know the way fireflies flash is a kind of mating dance?”

“…kinky.”

“They actually signal with very precise timing. But out in the Golden Sea, there’s a species of predatory worm that climbs up on the tallgrass and flashes back at them. It uses exactly the right firefly signals to lure them in close, mimicking a receptive female. Then when an amorous firefly lands…crunch.”

He raised his eyes, staring grimly at Gabriel’s suddenly serious face.

“That’s why dryads look like beautiful women.”

< Previous Chapter                                                                                                                           Next Chapter >

5 – 8

Uncategorized, , , , , , , , , , ,

< Previous Chapter                                                                                                                           Next Chapter >

“Oh, hey!” Fross cried suddenly, and zipped off toward the door of the cafe, leaving her classmates staring after her, mystified. The door opened a few inches, untouched, and she swerved through the gap into the street outside.

“Uh…” Gabriel looked down at his sandwich. “Are my table manners that bad?”

“Yup,” said Ruda lazily, then belched. “You should be ashamed of yourself. Uncouth fucker.”

The door swung open again, fully this time, and Teal stepped back, holding it for Shaeine, who passed through with a smile. They made straight for the other students’ table, Fross buzzing excitedly around their heads.

“Hey, guys!” Ruda said cheerfully, waving a breadstick. “How’ve you been? Seen Juno and the boys?”

“We have not encountered them since this morning,” Shaine said, “though we’ve been outside the district.”

“Oh?”

“We actually went to see Imperial Square, and Shaeine had to stop by the Narisian embassy on the way,” said Teal, holding out a chair for Shaeine.

Trissiny looked up from her ruminations at that. “Official business?”

“Of a sort,” the drow replied, calmly folding her hands in her lap. “I anticipate no further need of my presence at the embassy, but it was necessary to present my compliments and offer my services to the Ambassador.”

Trissiny frowned. “Why’s that, if you don’t think you’re needed?”

“It is a question of status,” she explained, smiling at Teal as the bard sat beside her before returning her gaze to Trissiny. “As the matriarch’s daughter, my hereditary rank in House Awarrion considerably exceeds hers. As an appointed ambassador to our most important ally, however, her earned position considerably exceeds mine.”

“So how do you decide who’s top dog?” Ruda asked.

“That is precisely the issue. Those two things do not correlate in any way. So long as the matter was left unaddressed, my presence in the city would throw the social calculations of all resident drow into disorder; leaving the matter that way would be considered an openly hostile act on my part. Quite apart from the fact that my mother would seal me in a spider box for doing such a thing, it would be incredibly irresponsible to so disrupt Narisian operations in the city.”

“Well, yeah,” said Ruda, grinning. “Hence the spider box.”

“You guys actually do that?” Gabriel exclaimed. “I thought that was a joke!”

“Presenting myself to the Ambassador,” said Shaeine, disregarding the byplay, “and publicly placing myself at her disposal, resolved the issue. I acknowledged myself to be subordinate, and thus her authority remains unquestioned.”

“When I was growing up,” said Teal, “my parents always told me that social rules and customs were arbitrary and often silly, but it was important to respect them in order to get along with people. Going to social events and dealing with the nobility, it always seemed to me they were dead right. The more I learn about Narisian culture, though, the more elegant it all seems. Purposeful.” She smiled at Shaeine. “Everything they do has an immediate reason behind it.”

“You think spider boxes are in any way reasonable?” Gabriel said, grimacing.

“Narisians are extremely courteous and responsible from a very young age,” Shaeine noted serenely. “How has your morning been?”

“We found some trouble,” Trissiny said dourly. “I don’t know if it’s what Tellwyrn brought us here to do, but it’s not something I think we can afford to just leave alone.”

“Oh?” Teal frowned. “What’s up?”

“It seems the guard have been pressuring the residents of Lor’naris. They don’t seem to like the idea of the locals providing their own neighborhood security.”

“I suppose,” Shaeine said slowly, “that is not entirely unreasonable. Tiraas is a military power; the thought of foreign citizens establishing a militia in its capital might be seen as hostile.”

“Those people are not a militia,” Trissiny said firmly, scowling. “They have no armor, no weapons. They don’t even have a chain of command! There’s barely even a schedule, they just show up and keep an eye on things. There are never more than six on duty at one time; four to watch the entrance to the district and two more to walk up and down the street. All they do is walk and watch; if there’s an actual problem, they call for help from the rest of the citizens. I think I know a little about military matters, and I’m here to tell you the Lor’naris volunteer watch is a complete and total non-threat. They wouldn’t pose a hazard to an actual militia, much less to the world’s highest concentration of the world’s largest and best-equipped military.”

“What kills me,” said Ruda, leaning back in her chair and folding her arms, “is the goddamn stupidity of it all. Doesn’t the local guard benefit from people keeping their own shit together? The less trouble there is, the better they look.”

Gabriel drew in a deep breath and blew it out in an explosion that was barely a sigh; Fross, hovering silently over the middle of the table, was actually pushed back a few inches. “You guys are missing the point. Tiraas is a human power.”

Everyone stared at him.

“Yes,” said Teal. “And?”

“And,” he said, frowning at her, “right here in its capital, in the very jewel of the Empire, a bunch of weird-ass foreigners show up—no offense, Sheaine—move into a slum district that even the local guard had given up on, and whip it into shape in just a couple of years. Suddenly the place where you could always go to get knifed or robbed is full of people taking their kids to school, all clean, orderly and increasingly prosperous. It’d be a slap in the face to the guard if Tiraan citizens had done it. The Narisians made them look bad.”

“That’s fucking idiotic,” Ruda snorted. “The guard made themselves look bad. I’m sorry, but if a bunch of outsiders who don’t know the culture show up out of nowhere and make a better go of it than you were, the issue is that you suck.”

“Yeah?” Gabe said wryly. “Why don’t you go explain that to the soldiers. See what happens.”

“Soldiers?” Shaeine tilted her head. “I thought the problem was with the civil guard.”

“They’re—” Trissiny and Gabriel started to speak at the same moment and broke off, staring at each other. He bowed his head, gesturing for her to continue.

“In the capital, they’re the same,” she said. “Tiraas is Tiraas. In many respects, the city is the Empire, at least in miniature. There’s no mayor or distinct municipal government; the Emperor is the local head of state, and Imperial offices run the city directly.”

“Holy shit,” Ruda said, shaking her head. “And stuff actually gets done?”

“Well, the relevant Imperial offices have separate departments for managing the city,” Gabriel said with a grin. “Otherwise, no, nothing would get done. But yeah, among other things, there’s no civil guard as such. The Imperial Army provides military police.”

“So it’s the Lor’narisianites against the Army?” Fross chimed in distress bobbing up and down. “Wow. Oh, wow. They’re really not gonna win that.”

“So far it hasn’t become a ‘versus’ issue,” said Trissiny, “and hopefully it will not.”

“Well, hell, if it comes to it, Trissiny can just call in the Legionnaires, right?” Gabriel suggested, grinning.

“I sincerely hope you’re not suggesting I set the Silver Legions into armed conflict with the Imperial Army in the heart of the Empire,” she grated, glaring at him. “Yes, they would muster if I called them, unless their officers invoked the long-standing precedent we have of disregarding unethical or incredibly stupid orders. And then, once Avei got through ripping my hide into strips, High Commander Rouvad would take her turn.”

“Was just a thought,” he mumbled.

“I thought you had the same rank in the Imperial Army?” Teal asked.

“That…is a courtesy, as I understand it,” Trissiny said more calmly. “A concession to Avei’s authority and the influence of the Sisterhood, based on the logical presumption that a Hand of Avei is well-trained in matters of strategy and may at any time be involved in campaigns that might necessitate the aid of soldiers. Those men are not spontaneously harassing the locals on a whim; someone is ordering it. If I start countermanding them… Well, I would pretty much have to go to whatever barracks is responsible for securing this area and take it over. That would also cause endless trouble.”

“But, uh, what are you gonna do, then?” Fross asked. “It sounds like you’re taking this pretty seriously.”

Trissiny sighed. “I got the name of a commander and am going to send him a letter. If it continues, I’ll go down there and speak with him personally.”

“Fear the Hand of Avei!” Ruda crowed. “For her wrath is terrible and her boots are shiny!”

Trissiny scowled. “And what’s your idea to help, then?”

“Me?” She snorted and took a swig of her drink. “Hell no, I’m staying out of this.”

Trissiny straightened up, frowning. “What? But I thought…”

“Look, it’s not that I don’t sympathize with the people here,” Ruda said. “I’m always gonna side with the people keeping their own shit together over uniformed assholes trying to push them around. But, first of all, I am not convinced that us butting into this is a great idea at all. Folks in Lor’naris are, as I said, capable of dealing with their own issues. It seems to be pretty much their defining trait.”

“But—”

“Furthermore,” Ruda went on firmly, “let’s keep in mind that I am heir to the throne of the Punaji nation. I can let my hair down in Last Rock and nobody gives a damn. This is different. Me sticking my sword into an internal security matter in Tiraas would cause an even bigger shitstorm than you calling in the Legions.”

“That…kind of goes for me, as well,” Teal said nervously. “I mean, my family aren’t royal, or even noble, but anything I do in the capital will reflect on Falconer Industries. Me butting into the Army’s affairs is… Well, we can afford to lose some business, frankly, but it’s not just about the bottom line. Damaging my family’s credibility could put a lot of good enchanters out of their jobs. At minimum.”

“Opposite problem.” Gabriel raised a hand. “First rule of being a half-demon in Tiraas: keep your head the fuck down. This city is full of people who barely need an excuse to blast it off, and have the authority to do that.”

“Pfft, you can count on me, Trissiny!” Fross declared, zipping back and forth. “Apparently nobody takes pixies seriously around here. We’ll just see about that!”

“I’m not asking for any rash action, Fross,” Trissiny said quickly. “I still don’t know what needs to be done. I’ve spoken with the residents at some length, at least those who serve in the watch, but I don’t yet have the Army’s perspective on the matter.”

“I will speak with Ambassador Shariss about this,” said Shaeine. “It clearly is a diplomatic concern if Narisians are being abused by the Army in the capital—though in acknowledgment of Ruda’s point, the fact that the residents of Lor’naris have not already sought aid from the embassy is telling. They would take such action if they deemed it necessary. However, with regard to your plan to talk to the Army… Perhaps it would save time to go over the heads of the local barracks? Seek out a higher authority? You have the explicit rank, not to mention the prestige.”

“It isn’t that simple,” Trissiny said glumly. “I think you may underestimate how much bureaucracy is involved in running an army. It’d take me longer to get an appointment with a highly-ranked official than we’ll probably be in the city. I could barge in, but that’s an excellent way to guarantee they don’t listen to a thing I tell them, particularly when they’ll probably resent me butting into their business in the first place. The local barracks captain is my best bet. I do have enough authority to get to him and make him listen.”

“You realize that’s probably the guy whose idea all this is,” said Gabriel. “Some outsider forcing her way in and telling him how to run his barracks is likely just gonna make him dig his heels in.”

“Yes,” she snapped, “I do realize that, thank you.”

“Perhaps there is another option,” said Shaeine. “As part of my introduction at the Narisian embassy, I was informed of major social events occurring in the city during the course of my projected stay. I did not think any such would likely be relevant to me at the time, but I do recall that General Toman Panissar, the commander of the Imperial Army, is hosting a very lavish party at his home tomorrow night.”

A momentary silence fell.

“You’d need an invitation to get into that,” Teal said at last, frowning.

“Oh, the hell you would,” Ruda replied with a grin. “C’mon, look who’s at this table. We’ve got foreign royalty, foreign nobility, the heiress to the biggest non-noble name in the Empire and the freakin’ Hand of freakin’ Avei. One or two of us might be able to gatecrash. Three, they probably wouldn’t turn away. All four? No chance, they wouldn’t fucking dare tell us we couldn’t come in. And hey, Fross is a curiosity! Extra points right there.”

“Yay! I’m curious!”

“What about me?” Gabriel demanded.

“Gabe,” Ruda said condescendingly, “what the hell would you do at a fancy society party? Do you even know which one is the shrimp fork?”

“Really, now?” he said sourly. “What would most of you do at a society party? I can see Shaeine fitting in there, but… Do you know which one is the shrimp fork?”

Ruda grinned. “Yup. The shrimp fork is the one with which I stab the shithead who tells me I’m using the wrong fucking fork.”

“I shall consider my point made,” he said.

“I don’t know about this,” Teal said nervously. “I mean… I try to avoid parties. That means dresses, and I really do not have one. And tomorrow night? That’s kind of late to…”

“Nah, it’s fine,” Ruda said breezily. “A good tailor with the right enchanted equipment can do a rush job, set us up with suitable duds overnight. That shit ain’t cheap, but let’s be honest, we can afford it.”

“Okay, you want me to come out and say it?” Teal grimaced. “I hate wearing dresses.”

“Then don’t,” Shaeine said quietly. Teal turned to her, raising her eyebrows in surprise. “I have seen Imperial formal wear, and… You would look positively stunning in a well-fitted tuxedo.”

Teal flushed slowly, but said nothing, merely holding the drow’s gaze. They stared into one another’s eyes in silence.

“Ugh,” Ruda groaned, throwing her head back. “People are still eating in this room, you two.”

“I don’t have a dress uniform with me,” Trissiny murmured, “but I could get one easily enough at the Temple. And… Gabriel isn’t wrong; I can’t imagine being anything but profoundly uncomfortable at a society event. But it would get me in a room with General Panissar.”

“Yup,” Gabe said fatalistically. “And that can only end well.”

Silence held sway in the room.

Amanika stared at Kheshiri, blank-faced. Saduko and Kamari glanced uncertainly at once another, at Vandro, at Kheshiri and Shook. Vandro himself simply stood there, holding his drink and smiling complacently. Kheshiri kept her gaze on Shook, who had tensed to the point that his hand quivered on the glass it held, the other clenched in a fist at his side.

“Shiri, honey, we’re waiting,” Vandro prompted gently.

At last, she cut her eyes to him, expression blank. “You don’t command me.” She returned her gaze to Shook.

After a tense moment, he nodded slowly. “Do it.”

She sighed, shrugged…and changed.

Warm brown skin bleached white in two seconds—not pale as some strains of humans were, but white, an icy matte color that didn’t belong on flesh. The broad features of a pretty Onkawi girl lengthened into more sharp-edged shapes; her black hair uncoiled itself from its braids, taking on subtle highlights in unnatural colors. Dark eyes faded to crystalline blue-violet, her tail uncoiled behind her, and finally, in acknowledgment of Vandro’s initial command, a pair of spiny wings stretched into existence, then stretched further, extending until they brushed the walls.

Kamari dropped his glass.

“Aiya,” Saduko whispered, backing up until she was pressed against the wall.

“Now, let’s nobody go an’ do anything abrupt,” Vandro said cheerfully. “My boy Jerry has full control over her. Ain’t that right?”

Shook nodded curtly, glancing at Kheshiri. The succubus dropped her eyes demurely. Then, moving with a sinuous grace and far more sway than necessary, she stepped over to him, descended to crouch on the ground at his feet and wrapped her arms around his leg. Cheek pressed to his thigh, she stared smugly at the others in the room.

Shook rested his free hand on her head after a moment, twining his fingers in her hair.

“So you see,” Vandro went on, swirling his daiquiri idly in one hand, “just what we have attending to stealth and security. You have nothing to worry about, my friends. Anybody trying to put pressure on you will be very capably dealt with.”

“And,” Saduko said quietly, “any betrayal from us will be punished beyond the mercy of death.”

“My dear,” said Vandro, shaking his head sadly, “I am very nearly hurt. I only hope in time I can reassure you that I don’t deal so heavy-handedly with my business associates.”

“Bringing this thing here was not a step in that direction,” she said evenly.

“We’re running a complicated job,” he replied with a grin. “We’ll make use of every available resource—particularly the ones nobody expects we have. To that end, it should go without saying, but I’ll say it anyway for thoroughness’s sake: the demon is a secret. Not a word of this is to be breathed to anyone outside this room. Clear?”

He waited for them to nod before carrying on, beaming. “Jolly good! Now, I beg your forgiveness for hustling you along, but I need to clear up a few things with Jerry in private. Of course, you are all honored guests here; avail yourselves of any amenities my villa has to offer. Kamari, I’m afraid you’ll have to do so in the private areas, as we don’t want to getting around that you have any association with me just yet. Still, there’s plenty for you to do. Wilberforce will see to it you don’t lack for entertainment.”

“Thank you, sir,” the burly servant said nervously. He hadn’t taken his eyes off Kheshiri yet.

They filed toward the door in silence, all three stepping well out of their way to avoid the spread of the demon’s wings, now somewhat furled and closer to hip level. As soon as the door clicked shut behind Saduko, the last to leave, Shook whirled on Vandro.

“Just what the hell—”

“First of all,” Vandro said calmly, “I am not upset at you bringing a demon into my home, Jerry. It’s apparent you do have her restrained, and hell, in light of our earlier conversation I’m glad to see you reaching at unconventional resources. You’re gonna need that if you mean to run down this Locke bitch and straighten out the elements in the Guild that’ve turned on you. But boy, you have got to be more careful. She was spotted the first day here.”

“How?” Kheshiri demanded, scowling.

Shook swatted her on the side of the head. “You keep your mouth shut till someone asks your opinion, whore,” he growled without looking at her. “It’s a good question, though, Alan. How? Who?”

“Jerry, my boy, you were just in a room with a priestess. You had a demon within arm’s reach of her; you really think any magical disguise would’ve fooled someone soaked in the light of the gods? Come on, now. Amanika’s in and out of this estate all the time; she spotted your little pet immediately.”

“She did? She is?” Shook frowned. “I never…”

“Never noticed her?” Vandro said dryly. “No, I’ll just bet you didn’t. No rack or ass to speak of, face of a billy goat, dresses like she’s trying to convince all the other dykes to bow down before their queen. Boy, I have told you about this, time and again. Women are trouble, every last one of ’em, but most are not in any way stupid. That’s exactly why they’re trouble. You have got to start paying attention to the women around you. There are much more important calculations to be made about a woman than the likelihood and desirability of nailing her. The pretty ones use beauty as a weapon; the homely ones make use of the fact they’re basically invisible. If Amanika didn’t happen to be more indebted to me than the local Guild chapter…well, guess how that would’ve ended for you. She’ll keep your secret because I vouched for you.”

He stopped and sighed; Shook actually lowered his gaze, abashed.

“Anyhow,” Vandro went on, “Amanika assures me you’ve got no more infernal magic in you than the piddly residue you’d get from spending time around this critter.” He leaned down and ruffled Kheshiri’s hair. “So either you’re one of the most powerful warlocks alive, or not a warlock at all, and having trained you myself I pretty much know which. So I busted out the scrying equipment and observed you have an object of considerable infernal and arcane power on you. That’s the mechanism, I take it.”

“Yeah,” Shook said slowly, nodding. “She’s bound to a reliquary. I can put her in it, when I get tired of her mouth. It’s vintage Black Wreath work, but I had it modified with some modern enchantments to secure her more thoroughly and bind it to me.”

“Good man,” Vandro said, nodding approvingly. “This is why you’re still my favorite student. You’ve got your blind spots, Jerry, but you use the ol’ noggin more than most enforcers can be bothered to. Still, you’re pushing your luck. What was spotted once can be spotted again. I’m gonna hook you up with my magic guy in the city; he can mod this reliquary of yours to help keep your pet concealed. Long as you take a little more care about who you rub elbows with, it should prevent another slip-up like this.”

“This guy’s trustworthy?” Shook asked tensely.

Vandro burst out laughing. “Boy, if you’re gonna ask dumb questions…”

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” Shook muttered.

“Boris has never let me down yet. He does infernal and arcane work; between the two, you can spot pretty much any type of magic if you’ve got the right equipment. Or, more importantly, you can stop any school of magic from spotting what you want hidden.”

“There’s always a bigger fish,” Kheshiri murmured.

“I see you’re forgetting your manners, bitch,” Shook said, staring coldly down at her. “We’ll discuss that in private, later.”

“Sorry, master,” she said, a quaver in her voice.

“Now that’s what I like to see,” Vandro said, beaming in approbation. “If only you could shut the real kind up as easily. But yeah, she’s got a point; you get her in a room with an archmage or paladin and the jig’ll be up no matter what kind of precautions you take. Still, shouldn’t be too hard to stay away from those. Now, then, about the plan. She can do it, I trust? Shapeshift to mimic us and secure our alibis?”

“Answer him, girl,” Shook said.

“Changing shape is simplicity itself,” the succubus said promptly. “Mimicry… That’s all about acting. To really sell the role, I’ll have to spend time around each of them, enough to properly observe their mannerisms. I don’t think they like me, though.”

“That shouldn’t matter,” said Vandro, waving a hand. “At the party you won’t be spending enough time around anybody to need to sell the illusion. You’ll have to do for all six of us, remember. The point is to be seen here and there. Don’t waste time conversing with people, just make sure you’re spotted with each face on.”

“Then yes, sir, I can do it,” she said, waving her tail. “Easily.”

“Attagirl,” he said with a grin, and turned his face back to Shook. “And now, of course, the real, ultimate question. How is she in the sack?”

Shook stared at him silently for a moment, then slowly, a smile stretched across his face. He lightly stroked Kheshiri’s hair with his fingertips. “Absolutely, incomparably magnificent. She’s a handful sometimes, but I’ve got to say, the bitch knows what she’s for, and she takes pride in her work. Justifiably.”

“Ah, my boy,” Vandro said, shaking his head, “I think this is divine compensation for your run of bad luck lately. What I wouldn’t have given for a girl with a body like that who’d shut up on command at your age… Hell, I’d give a lot more for one now.”

Shook looked contemplatively down at Kheshiri, then gave her hair a gentle tug. She rose smoothly to her feet.

“Well, don’t take my word for it,” Shook said with a faint grin. “Why don’t you try her out?”

Vandro raised his eyebrows. “You’re joking.”

“Alan, it’s like you said: we’re family. Besides, you’ve been more than generous with your hospitality. I’m serious, borrow her for the night. And don’t worry about bringing her back in the same condition; she heals up fast, and she’s an experience you won’t wanna hold back with. Now, Kheshiri,” he went on, turning his stare to her, “Alan is the man to whom I owe everything I know. I expect to hear you’ve given him the greatest night of his life, or I’m gonna take it out of your ass. Clear?”

She looked thoughtfully up at him for a moment, then turned her considering gaze on Vandro, and smiled. “Mm… He strikes me as a man who’s sampled innumerable pleasures over a very full life. That’s a tall order, master.”

Shook chucked her gently under the chin. “You’re a tall girl.”

“I won’t embarrass you, master,” she said, waving her tail, then gave him a wicked little smile, gazing up through her lashes. “And afterward, if I bring back a favorable review… Can you still take it out of my ass, please?”

“Okay, damn,” said Vandro. “I want one.”

“No, you don’t,” Shook replied. “Enjoy the good and don’t worry about the headaches involved with keeping her reined in. My gift to you.”

“Well, of course,” Vandro said easily, grinning as Kheshiri stepped over to him and snuggled under his arm, draping a wing around his shoulders. He wrapped an arm around her and squeezed her rump. “It’s like I’ve always said; if it’s got tits, it’s trouble. Best you can do is find one that’s no more trouble than she’s worth.”

The demon smiled.

< Previous Chapter                                                                                                                           Next Chapter >

5 – 7

Uncategorized, , , , ,

< Previous Chapter                                                                                                                           Next Chapter >

The unforgiving sun made midday naps a venerated tradition in Onkawa—at least during the summer. Now, in winter (such as it was), the climate was mild enough that Shook had no trouble bearing the heat with nothing but a wide-brimmed hat to shield him. He was sweating, of course, but that didn’t bother him overmuch.

Vandro’s palatial residence truly had it all, including a shooting range. Shook stood in the long, shaded alley between the rear of the villa and the defunct city wall it abutted, firing bolt after bolt of light into the targets eighteen yards away. A whole bank of sizeable power crystals supported the shielding charms over them; these could have stood up to artillery fire. There were also golem logic controllers that would make the targets move. Much as it galled him to acknowledge it, he wasn’t up to that just yet.

He was getting pretty good, though. After a fourth consecutive bullseye, his concentration was momentarily disrupted by a cheer and applause from Kheshiri.

Shook glanced over at her, annoyed but keeping his features carefully schooled. She was off to the side, lounging on a low divan shaded by a huge parasol. She had, as usual, draped herself to show off her figure, lying on her side in a way that emphasized the curve of her hip, twisting her torso so as to make the arch of her breast stand out. Since she’d been around, he had been paying close attention to her wiles, and had incidentally picked up a few things about women that he’d never bothered to know. For instance, that unnatural position, mouth-watering as it was, must put an excruciating strain on her lower back. Or at least, it would have on a real woman’s. He also knew that the tight, colorful Onkawi robe she wore didn’t contain the kind of undergarments that would make her bosom stand out that way when she was reclining, which meant she was using her shapeshifting to cheat.

He had told her first thing, in their very first meeting: he was not stupid. Still, her games didn’t particularly surprise him. She thought she was leading him along, into some trap down the road, wearing down his alertness, earning his trust. He was rather looking forward to brutally disappointing her. Shook had already decided he’d be keeping Kheshiri, even after he’d straightened out Principia and got himself back in the Guild’s good graces, as he deserved. This was looking like it’d be a long-term project, though; plenty of time to break her in properly. Even knowing she was trying to undermine him, the succubus was enjoyable to have around. Not just sexually, either. She had a biting sense of humor, an appreciation of malice that was gratifying when he was dealing with somebody who needed to be taken down a peg, and a knack for easing his tensions that was no less effective because he knew she was using it to manipulate him.

Seeing his distraction, she took the opportunity to ooze upright, daintily picking up one of the tall glasses of iced punch that sat on a tray on the ground nearby, and slinked over to him, offering it. “A cold drink, boss? You need to be careful in this heat.”

“Mm,” he said noncommittally, picking it up and taking a sip. Damn fruity concoction, not at all to his taste, but using chilled drinks as everyone here did to beat the heat, it would have been a bad idea to go for the hard stuff he preferred. Even he wouldn’t have been able to hold that quantity of liquor.

“Good shooting, my boy,” said Alan Vandro, strolling forward. Shook managed, barely, not to jump; he hadn’t noticed the man there. Kheshiri, of course, was clearly not surprised, though she positioned herself behind him, peering demurely at their host over Shook’s shoulder. Their cover story was that she was a Shaathist, not particularly devout, but into the cult because she enjoyed being told what to do and occasionally slapped around by her man. This explained their dynamic, but necessitated some change in her public address of him; even for an alleged Shaathist, “master” would have raised eyebrows. He didn’t much like abusing Vandro’s hospitality by deceiving him, but a captive succubus was something he didn’t fancy trying to explain—to anyone. “You’re enjoying my little gift, then?”

“It’s anything but little, Alan,” Shook replied, tilting the wand skyward to study it. Not a proper enchanter wand; he hadn’t a spark of magic in him and couldn’t have used one. Still, this was a top-of-the-line model, hand-crafted using the finest materials by a master enchanter. It packed a significantly stronger punch than its mass-produced cousins, would last longer between rechargings and had several useful enhancements. Vandro had given him two of these, along with a proper wandslinger’s belt which held extra power crystals and components, plus grounding and shielding charms to repel incoming wandfire. “I’ve gotta say… Part of me hates the necessity. Seems like there’s no honor in the old profession any more. If you’re gonna kill a man, or just rough him up, you should be able to see the look on his face when you do it.” He sighed, lowering the weapon and slipping it back into its holster. “But that’s the world, now. It’s becoming clear to me I’ve been living in the past; failing to make use of the resources available is part of the reason for my current troubles. This was…timely. And they’re beauties. I can’t thank you enough, Alan.”

“Hell with that, you’re family, my boy,” Vandro said, waving him off. “And don’t sweat your missteps. What matters is you learn from your mistakes and survive to apply the lesson. Isn’t that right, honey?” he added, winking at Kheshiri.

“If you say so, sir,” she said demurely, lowering her eyes.

“It’s not all tactics and equipment, you know,” Vandro went on, watching Shook’s face closely. “Ever think you might have made some errors in how you behave? Who you trust?”

Shook narrowed his eyes. “What are you getting at, Alan?”

“Think about it, boy. You’ve always been a faithful man of the Guild… And yet, here you are. They want you dragged back kicking and screaming, and the bitch who set it up is apparently lounging on her sofa, eating bonbons and having a giggle at your expense. Something sure as hell ain’t right about this. How’d you manage to get so thoroughly taken for a ride? It doesn’t seem like the kind of thing that should happen if everything in the Guild is being run as it should.”

Shook frowned, but didn’t comment, finding nothing he could say to that.

“So, say you clear your name,” Vandro went on, still studying him carefully. Kheshiri, now, was watching him just as closely. “What do you gain? Your name should’ve been clear to begin with. Someone aside from Principia fucked you over—or at the least, she took advantage of failures in the Guild’s leadership. How long before it all happens again? Will throwing her ass in an oubliette somewhere really solve the problem?”

“Well, what the fuck do you expect me to do?” Shook demanded, flinging his arms out in a furious shrug. “I can’t just leave this like it is! What’s the point of anything if I can’t get my life back?”

“The problem isn’t you, my boy,” Vandro said, reaching out to place a hand on his shoulder. “Never was. All I’m saying is, it looks like the problem runs deeper that you may have realized. I’m glad to see you’re lookin’ beyond the immediate future, expanding your repertoire, so to speak. Here’s the question: how far are you willing to expand it?” He glanced significantly at Kheshiri, and Shook felt a moment of unease. “How many things are you willing to consider you may have been wrong about?”

“I know when something’s being hinted at,” Shook replied. “Get to the point, Alan. This kind of pussyfooting around isn’t like you.”

Vandro threw back his head and laughed. “Ah, fair enough, my boy, fair enough. C’mon, there are some folks I think you should meet. I was just about to have a discussion with ’em myself; you should come along, see if you can’t learn anything useful.”

“All right,” Shook said, nodding. He was far from certain where all this was leading, but Vandro had more than proven his trustworthiness, many times in the past and more recently as well. “Shiri, I’ll be back later. Stay out of trouble.”

“Nonsense, bring her along!” Vandro said glibly, slapping him on the shoulder. “I bet you can find a use for her in all this, too.”

Shook frowned again, saying nothing, but let Vandro lead him off into the main house. He had a feeling about this… Not a bad feeling, but not a comfortable one. The two men stepped into the shade, Kheshiri trailing obediently behind them.

 

The villa was even larger than it looked; more than half its interior volume was under ground level, carved from the massive slab of granite on which Onkawa sat. Underground living was another adaptation against the heat which was widely practiced in the city, or at least was among the wealthier classes. The effort of actually carving out subterranean chambers discouraged many.

Vandro led them to a long, narrow lounge two levels down. It was lavishly appointed, as was everything in the villa, lit by sun crystals rather than fairy lamps, which enabled potted ferns and a dwarf fig tree to flourish in the corners.

The meeting, it seemed, was already in session when they arrived. Vandro’s party doubled the population of the room. On a wicker chair against the far wall sat a young Sifanese woman who rose on their entry, bowing politely. Two others, locals by their dark coloration, stood beside the room’s small bar, holding cocktails. The man wore a fairly cheap suit and a nervous expression; he was of average height, but very powerfully built, making him look almost squat. The woman was tall, bony and rather gawkish, though her manner was stately. She wore a simple tunic and slacks, in a style that wasn’t quite Tiraan or Onkawi.

“Here we are!” Vandro boomed, holding out his arms as he stepped into the room as if to embrace everyone present. “All finally gathered. Thanks for waiting, everybody, I hope it wasn’t too long. Damn it, Kamari, I told you you don’t have to serve drinks! You’re a guest here.”

The burly man had already begun mixing three more daiquiris. His teeth were large, even and very white; his grin was almost luminous in his black face. “This is Onkawa, Mr. Vandro. Guests are family, and family do for each other.”

“Cheeky bastard,” Vandro said with a grin, gesturing Shook and Kheshiri in. “Everyone, this is my old apprentice, Jeremiah. I’ve told you about him. And that’s his ladyfriend, Shiri. Jerry, the fellow who won’t get it into his head he’s not a servant here is Kamari; take advantage while you can, he makes the best damn cocktails I’ve ever had in my life.”

“Only glad to serve,” Kamari said cheerfully.

“Over there is Saduko, a visitor from Sifan. Hands off, now, m’boy, she’s an honored guest. And this, of course, is Amanika, priestess of Eserion and something of a muckety-muck in the local Guild chapter house.”

Shook froze, staring at the woman. She inclined her head to him, politely but distantly. “That’s the first time I have been called that, exactly. Hm, I might just keep it, though. Has a nice ring.”

“You should get business cards printed up,” Vandro said, winking.

“Alan,” Shook said warily. “I’m not sure if…”

“Relax, my boy, nobody here is gonna snitch on you. Yes, Amanika knows the orders about you, but you’re in my place, and I vouch for you. We’ve already had this conversation. Isn’t that right, Nika?”

“Quite,” she replied calmly, peering first at Shook and then Kheshiri. “All is as I told you.”

“See? There you go, all friends here.” He handed Shook a daiquiri. “Nobody’s gonna turn you over to the Guild. Hell, nobody here is turning anything over to the Guild. The fact is…we’re here to plan a job. I want you to be part of it.”

“I’m…honored,” Shook said carefully, holding the icy drink but not sipping. Kheshiri had accepted another from Kamari. “That’s problematic, though. My situation being what it is, it’d raise all kinds of eyebrows if I sent in my tithe on a job.”

Vandro sipped his daiquiri, watching Shook with a knowing little smile. “Now, Jerry, what did I just say? We’re not giving the Guild shit.”

Shook stiffened, his hands clenching on the glass. “Alan… You know you’ve been like a father to me, and I owe a lot to your generosity. But I can’t be party to shafting the Big Guy. Eserion does not let people get away with that, even if I were willing to turn against him. Hell, you of all people—”

“Now, Jerry, there you go making assumptions,” Vandro interrupted, grinning. “Nobody’s gonna try to stiff the Big Guy. Even Kamari and Saduko have agreed to pay the proper tithe, despite the fact they aren’t Eserites. No, Eserion gets his cut, as always; this is not negotiable. We’re just not giving it to him through the Guild.”

There was silence in the room, while Shook scowled and others sipped their drinks, or in Saduko’s case, just stood with an impassive expression.

“Go on,” Shook said finally.

“It started three Bosses ago,” Vandro said, beginning to pace up and down. “Catseye was…just too damn ambitious. She pulled off some epic jobs, yeah, and that bought her a lot of cred, which is how she got away with all she did. She organized us far too heavily, personally mobilizing large groups on large jobs. Made the Guild more centralized than it used to be.

“Then came Sweet, the ultimate people person. Honestly, I liked him, and I’d have been all right with his style of leadership if he hadn’t followed Catseye…or if he’d been willing to dismantle her bureaucracy. He didn’t; instead, he used it. Kept his eyes everywhere, stuck his fingers into everyone’s business. Again, nobody complained, even though he never pulled down the kind of income Catseye did, because Sweet was all about keeping everyone happy. Not much of a Guild leader, in short, but he was a kickass high priest. A lot of us owe him a great deal.”

“Yours truly included,” Shook said, finally sipping his fruity drink and grimacing at the taste. “Sweet was the first person aside from you who took an interest in me, made sure I got a fair chance.”

Vandro nodded. “Which brings us to the current situation. Tricks is another Catseye, an operations fellow. And he, again, built on what those before him created. Catseye’s ops protocols, Sweet’s information network, and his own cunning and knack for planning cons. Once again, everybody seems fine with this state of affairs; he doesn’t keep the Guildmembers as happy as Sweet did, but damn does he rake in the gold.”

“I’m not seeing the problem, here,” Shook said.

“Don’t you?” Vandro’s stare bored into him. “You, of all people? Boy, just how the hell do you think Principia managed to get her tentacles into the Guild’s structure and use it against you the way she has? The Guild is not supposed to have a fucking structure, at least not one like this. We all know the catechism. All systems are corrupt. The Thieves’ Guild has lost its way, become an institution. It is behaving exactly as institutions do: accumulating power, developing new rules and traditions, and gradually twisting everything around till all its actions are about prolonging its own existence, instead of pushing the Big Guy’s principles.”

“Omnu’s balls, Alan,” Shook breathed. “You’re talking about rebelling against the Guild!”

“No, no, Jerry.” Vandro shook his head emphatically. “Come on, you’re smarter than this. You overthrow something, well, then you’re stuck with the unenviable task of running whatever you just took over. Hell no, we’re not rebelling. That’d just put us in power, which isn’t what we want or what the Guild needs. The problem isn’t that the Guild needs a regime change; it’s that the Guild needs to not have a regime.”

Shook frowned into his drink, pondering. Amanika spoke into the ensuing silence.

“We do not propose to replace the leadership of the Guild; merely to undermine it. To introduce the random elements that should be the norm for those in Eserion’s worship.”

“It’s about setting a precedent,” Vandro agreed, gesticulating with his glass. “What we do here will be carefully spread around the continent and beyond, whispered of until others try it—with, perhaps, a little help from us. One by one, jobs will start being sponsored that cut the Guild out of the action, making the Boss look impotent and foolish and depriving the bureaucracy of tithes. Eventually the Boss will go back to being the figurehead and spiritual leader he’s supposed to be. Not a man who’s knee deep in everybody’s damn business.”

“I can…see your point about undermining respect for the Boss,” Shook said slowly. “But you’re not about to starve the Guild. Trust me, I worked security at the Imperial Casino for years. The Guild could run itself on that place alone. Indefinitely.”

“One thing at a time, my boy,” said Vandro, grinning. “One thing at a time. The relevant question in the here and now is this: are you in?”

Shook glanced around the room. Vandro was grinning, as was Kamari. Amanika studied him with a calm yet intent expression; Saduko was impassive as a statue. Finally, he glanced over his shoulder at Kheshiri. She nodded slowly.

“Hell with it,” he said. “What’s the job?”

“That’s my boy,” Vandro crowed. “All right, we’re still in the early planning stages, but I’ll run you over the basics. Our target is one Chief Om’ponole.”

“They still have chiefs here?” Shook demanded, curling his lip.

“We have chiefs in the way that the lord governor of Calderaan Province styles himself a King,” said Amanika with a faint smile. “Nations that joined the Empire willingly enjoy certain privileges. At the end of the day, though, there is only one law under Tiraan rule.”

“Om’ponole doesn’t even have any political clout,” agreed Vandro. “What he has are business interests. In short, he’s a rich asshole of exactly the kind that we exist to teach a little humility to.”

“All due respect, Alan, what’s that make you?” Shook asked, smiling wryly. “I mean…this place.”

“You’re not wrong, boy,” Vandro said with a grin. “That’s our in, though. As far as the rest of the hoity-toity types in Onkawa know, I’m a rich asshole just like them. That means I get invited to all their bullshit parties, and they come get shitfaced on fruity booze here in my humble abode when it’s my turn to pass out invitations. You would be amazed how much I learn about all their various palaces this way.”

“Alan is hosting one such party fairly soon,” said Amanika. “Om’ponole will be here, as will everyone who fancies themselves important. While this is going on, we will liberate the contents of his personal safes.”

“Everybody has a role,” said Vandro. “Kamari, here, is a servant on Om’ponole’s estate—a servant who isn’t paid a living wage, nor given so much as a ‘thank you’ or solstice bonus. Classic rich asshole mistake; you keep this in mind when you’re my age and have your own nest egg, Jerry. Everyone working on these grounds is well provided for. I don’t employ people with drug addictions, gambling habits, or chronically sick or imprisoned relatives. No cracks for somebody to get their claws in. I know all their names and ask about their day; I damn well say ‘please’ and ‘thank you’ when they water my plants and fetch my slippers.”

“Mr. Vandro has very generously offered me employment on his estate,” Kamari said with his infectious grin. “I am only too glad to help him arrange a proper resignation for me from the Chieftain’s household.”

“Hell, I’d run more than a job to get this man on my staff,” Vandro chortled. “So help me, if I could slap a pair of tits on this daiquiri I could get rid of all the damn girls always cluttering up my gardens; I’d have no more need of them.”

“You give me far too much credit, sir,” Kamari laughed.

“Needless to say, Kamari’s our inside man. He gets our team into Om’ponole’s estate, and Saduko gets us into his valuables.”

“She’s a safecracker?” Shook asked, turning to regard the young woman.

“I am an arcanist,” she said calmly. Her Tanglish was good, but carried more than a hint of a lilting accent.

“Saduko comes to us from the University at Kiyosan,” explained Vandro. “In fact, she’s a specialist in creating magical security—exactly what we need to defeat it. Unfortunately, she has found that Onkawa isn’t exactly the melting pot that Tiraas is, and in any case, the lucrative avenues of legitimate employment are typically granted to citizens over foreigners, even when the foreigner is the better man—or in this case woman—for the job.”

“So it is everywhere,” Saduko said philosophically. “The economy in Sifan does not support many persons of my skill set at present. I gambled that life would be better in the Empire. When one gambles, alas, one must expect eventually to lose.”

“Don’t you worry, darlin’,” Vandro said, grinning. “You help us through this and I guarantee I’ll have plenty more work for you.”

“No more stealing,” she said stiffly. “That was our arrangement.”

“I’m a man of my word, Saduko. One job to prove your skills, and after that… Well, you’ve seen my place. I have plenty of perfectly legal uses for a person of your profession.”

“I, for my part, will handle the Guild end of this,” said Amanika. “Ensuring that the Big Guy receives his cut without going through Guild channels. That will require some creative laundering and the aid of someone with a close spiritual connection to our god.”

“The fact that Amanika’s on board with this is a sign of Eserion’s favor,” said Vandro smugly. “You know how many people there are with exactly that skill set?”

“I will also, as needed, act to direct the Guild’s attention away from us,” added the priestess with a faint, mysterious smile.

“Sounds solid so far,” said Shook slowly. “What is it you need me for?”

“You and the girl,” said Vandro. Shook raised his eyebrows sharply.

“Shiri? What the hell do you expect to do with her?”

“Now, now, my boy, don’t be modest!” Vandro smiled beatifically, turning back to face the rest of the group and holding his daiquiri for all the world like a scepter. “Jeremiah, here, is one of the best enforcers the Guild has. He and the girl are providing security. I’m gonna have to level with you all, and I hope you won’t take offense: for a job like this, when we Guild thieves employ outside contractors, security is needed not only for our protection during the heist itself, but also…afterward. There are all kinds of pressures that can fall on a person to rat out their partners, and for those of you who don’t enjoy the Guild’s direct support…well, extra measures are needed to keep you safe. Should you have any trouble with authorities, or anyone, Jerry and Shiri will see to it they get off your back. In addition to getting you through the job itself without getting shot, stabbed or imprisoned.”

“And,” Saduko said, twisting her mouth distastefully, “should we decide to reveal what we know to any outsider, they will silence us.”

“Now, darlin’, I’m not even considering that possibility,” Vandro said kindly. “I respect your intelligence far too much; you both know very well which side your bread is buttered on. In theory, yes, that could happen. I’m sure we don’t need to worry about it, though. Do we?”

“No worries, boss,” Kamari said, nodding emphatically. “I’m with you all the way.”

“I keep my word,” Saduko said coldly.

“I think you’ve got the wrong idea about Shiri,” Shook said, glancing at her. She was doing a marvelous impression of demure confusion. Even he was nearly fooled. It seemed Kamari was likewise puzzled by her inclusion in this, though Saduko was unreadable and Amanika wore a knowing expression that he didn’t like at all.

“Well, now, we have two uses for your little pet, there,” Vandro drawled. “There is the matter of after-the-fact enforcement. She’ll be marvelous for tracking down anybody who needs to be hushed up, not to mention getting close to them. During the job itself, though, she’ll be providing our alibis.”

“What are you talking about?” Shook said sharply.

“We’ll all be at the party,” said Vandro. “We will be seen there, by innumerable witnesses of unimpeachable character. Since we, obviously, will in fact be across the city at Chief Om’ponole’s palace, this will be a perfect job for a shapeshifter.”

“A…a shape…” Shook stared at him.

“Absolutely,” Vandro said, grinning broadly. “You know what they say: when life gives you demons, make demonade. How’s about a little demonstration, first?” He turned to Kheshiri and winked. “Darlin’, show us those pretty wings.”

< Previous Chapter                                                                                                                           Next Chapter >

5 – 3

Uncategorized, ,

< Previous Chapter                                                                                                                           Next Chapter >

For centuries Onkawa had been known in song and story as the Jewel of the West, but in the modern era it had also taken to calling itself the Tiraas of the West. The first city-state of the coastal provinces to join the Empire’s march and the only one to do so willingly, it had old and deep ties to the Silver Throne and was one of the only places in this part of the continent where to be seen as Tiraan was considered desirable.

Like Tiraas, Onkawa was a political capital, a seat of learning and culture filled with libraries, museums and academies, as well as a financial center home to trade guild halls and trading syndicates. It was also a city whose shape was defined by rivers and cliffs, with some districts perpetually filled by the roar of waterfalls.

The similarities ended there. The cliffs which bordered Onkawa on its western edge were an uneven sixty to a hundred feet high—tall enough to be good and fatal if one were to tumble off, but hardly the imposing drop of the Tira Falls. All manner of stairs, ramps and tunnels made travel up and down all but routine. Three rivers passed through the city, broad, shallow and sluggish as opposed to the Tira’s furious rapids, pouring over the cliffs into a lake below the city. Where Tiraas was a walled city tightly packed onto its island mountaintop, Onkawa sprawled across the granite plain above the marshlands below; no fewer than three concentric rings of old walls marched through it, most now crumbling and neglected, and the city continued to meander ever outward like a spreading urban puddle. There was no major industry to speak of, no factory antennae lighting up the night, though the Onkawi had their share of fairy lamps, Rail lines and scrolltowers. Best of all, at this time of year, was the city’s tropical clime.

In fact, quite a few of the well-to-do of Tiraas chose to winter in the Jewel of the West. The pace of life was slow, the cost of living low, the streets colorful and the people cheerfully outgoing. If one hadn’t the luxury of garden walls and hired guards, though, life in Onkawa tended to be dangerous and dirty. For the richer classes, the squalor of the baking streets just outside their villas was as distant as the freezing drizzle back home in Tiraas.

Approaching one of these estates, Kheshiri couldn’t help being impressed by both its defensible position and lavish appointments. The walled compound backed right up against a stretch of the old city walls, which towered above, cutting off the view to the south. Its own walls were much more modest, but glistened along their upper reaches, where shards of broken glass had been arranged into abstract mosaic murals—with their sharp edges extending outward. Beautiful and vicious; she appreciated every part of it. From the street out front, she could see three guards patrolling the tops of these walls, as well as the tops of trees extending upward from the gardens within.

The broad gates, though, stood open. A guard lounged outside, slumped against the wall and seeming half-asleep under the beating sun, but she could feel his acute attention to his surroundings. A broad-brimmed hat protected him from sunstroke while also concealing his eyes, and he wore neither armor nor uniform, though a scimitar was thrust through his colorful sash and he cradled a staff in the crook of one arm. As she strolled up, a trio of laughing young women sauntered out of the compound, ignoring both her and the guard.

Kheshiri paused in front of the open gate, peering about and putting on an intimidated expression. There was music and laughter from the gardens within; she could see people lounging around a broad pool. It seemed more like some kind of resort than a private residence.

“Help you?” asked the guard, eying her up and down with lazy approval.

She had chosen to style herself as a local. Her skin was as dark as his, a shade or two past mahogany, her thick black hair tied back in the multiple braids currently worn by fashionable young Onkawi women. The rubber sandals flapped annoyingly when she walked—amazing how they all seemed used to it here—but she enjoyed the sheer, colorful wraparound garment that passed as a dress, tied about the waist by a broad sash in a manner that emphasized her curves.

“I-is this Mr. Vandro’s residence?” she asked a little uncertainly. Kheshiri, as always, knew precisely where she was, but a big man with a weapon usually liked to feel superior, especially when talking with a pretty girl. Confidence and competence played up the “mysterious and alluring” angle, which didn’t suit her current character.

“It is,” he said, nodding and not exerting himself overmuch to maintain eye contact. “Come to join the party?”

“Oh, I… No, I’m not visiting. I have a message for Mr. Vandro.” She raised the envelope in her hand, pressing it protectively against her breast—and drawing his attention there.

“Shame,” the guard said with a vaguely smarmy smile. “Just head on in. Follow the path straight through the garden to the main house. Mr. Vandro’s probably busy, but you can leave a message with Wilberforce, his Butler. Any of the servants can call him for you.”

“Oh! Oh, um, okay. Thanks!”

He looked her over again, one side of his mouth twitching upward in a grin. “Don’t mention it.”

Kheshiri affected a bashful duck of the head as she trotted past him into the grounds. She didn’t roll her eyes once out of his view—there were people about, it wouldn’t do to break character. It was tempting, though. Big man with a weapon.

She looked thoroughly impressed and out of her element while traversing the lavish gardens, hunching her shoulders and picking up her pace on being catcalled by one of the guests. All the while, she analyzed her surroundings carefully and came up impressed. The guards weren’t numerous, but they were strategically placed. Doors were sturdily constructed, in contrast to the usual Onkawi custom of making things as flimsy and open as possible to encourage cooling breezes; Vandro’s estate made use of heavy oak doors and shutters, often with large cut-outs as a concession to airflow, set with thick iron bars in sturdy frames. More bars lined the windows, and whatever access there was to the wall tops was apparently locked away, available only to authorized personnel. More of those deadly glass murals lined the inner walls; this place could protect itself from its guests as well as any potential invasion.

The central building was pleasantly cool, shaded from the sun and inhabited by a constant, gentle breeze. The architecture provided part of that, no doubt, but considering some of the things she’d seen lately Kheshiri had to wonder if there was some passive enchantment at work, too. The long hall rose two stories from its marble floor, lined with huge silken hangings that billowed in the soft currents of air; a long, low pool ran the length of the center of the floor, fed by a laughing fountain at the far end.

It was quieter, too. A young Sifanese woman sat on a bench near the far end, idly fanning herself and reading a magazine; she glanced up at Kheshiri but quickly dismissed her from interest. A local servant was pushing a mop across the glossy marble; the succubus made a beeline for him.

“Excuse me,” she said politely, “I just have a message to deliver, I was told to ask for Wilberforce?”

The man looked up at her, blinking as though waking up. “Oh, uh, he’s around somewh—”

“May I help you, miss?”

Kheshiri had heard him approach, of course, but still jumped slightly and gasped before whirling to face the Butler. He was a man in his later middle years, hair gone steely gray, but still trim and unbowed, his eyes sharply intelligent. His neatly pressed suit looked like it would have to be horribly uncomfortable in this climate, but he didn’t even appear to be sweating.

“Um, are you the, uh, him?”

“I am Wilberforce, Mr. Vandro’s Butler,” the man said blandly.

“Oh! Good, the guard said… That is, I have a message for Mr. Vandro. He said you could get it to him?”

“And may I tell Mr. Vandro who called upon him?” the Butler asked, deftly plucking the envelope from her hand.

Kheshiri bit her lip. “I don’t think I’m… I mean, I’m sure it’s all explained in the letter.”

“I see,” he said, somehow clearly expressing disapproval without breaking his courteous deadpan in the slightest. She was impressed in spite of herself. “I will see that Mr. Vandro receives this with all haste.”

“Oh, thanks so much,” she said, practically gushing with relief. “I, uh… I’ll just be going then. Thank you!”

“Not at all, miss,” he said politely.

She could feel his eyes on her as she trotted back out into the garden, and he wasn’t inspecting her rump. Kheshiri made a mental note to be careful around that one in the future.

“Be safe,” the guard outside said to her as she exited the compound.

“Thank you!” she replied with a demure smile, setting off back the way she had come at a respectable clip. He did stare at her butt as she departed. She resisted the urge to put a little more than her customary sway into it.

Two streets over, five minutes later, she was still in a wealthy district, though the walled private villas had yielded to exclusive shops—jewelry, antiques and the like. The street ran along one of the city’s three rivers, an ornamental iron rail on one side and storefronts on the other. She had subtly tweaked her appearance as she stepped onto the boardwalk, not drastically enough to draw attention, just the addition of some jewelry and cosmetics and an improvement in the cut and fabric of her dress, so she wouldn’t look out of place in this neighborhood. The guards wouldn’t pay attention to a clearly wealthy woman out for a mid-morning stroll.

People flowed along on all sides, and she let the currents of the crowd carry her. Most of those present were Onkawi, tall humans with dark skin and colorful local garments, though in a district this ritzy there were more than a handful of olive-skinned Tiraan present, and even some paler Stalweiss types. Or possibly folk from the newly-settled Great Plains region; they apparently tended toward pale complexions as well. The new world took some getting used to; last time Kheshiri had been out and about, there was nothing within leagues of the Golden Sea but elves and centaurs. She spotted three gnomes sitting on the rail, chatting, and at one point a dwarf trundling along the street, but the people were overwhelmingly human. No elves at all, which suited her fine. Elves were annoyingly perceptive.

The street was well-patrolled and orderly, for the most part. One person tried to pick her pocket; she calmly raked the offending hand with vicious claws that in the next instant weren’t there. The would-be cutpurse was too professional to draw attention, but she could feel the pain and shock radiating from him. She savored it until he vanished into the near distance behind her.

It took her nearly half an hour, keeping to a meandering pace, to spot a suitable mark. He was clearly a merchant, strolling along rapidly, his mouth moving in silence as he peered at a sheet of expensive white paper in his hand. His clothes were well-cut, but rumpled and bore ink stains. Rich, but careless—perfect.

She had placed herself at the rail, leaning against it and gazing dreamily out over the water. At the target’s approach, she “absentmindedly” backed up, and he walked right into her. Kheshiri yelped and went staggering, wheeling her arms for balance.

“Oh, gods!” The man dropped his list and reached out frantically, catching her in time to save her from tumbling to the pavement. “I’m so sorry, I wasn’t—are you all right?”

“Watch the hands!” she snapped, pushing him away. “And watch where you’re going, idiot!”

“I’m so sorry,” he repeated, wringing his hands as he stepped back. “I just didn’t see—are you quite all right? Let me make it up to…”

“Hmph!” Sticking her nose in the air, she strode past him, stalking away down the boardwalk and ignoring his last shouted apology as he receded into the crowd behind her.

She crossed the river at the next footbridge that came up, and waited till she was two streets distant from it to inspect the contents of the merchant’s purse. Excellent—loaded with doubloons, and even four decabloons. A few silver pieces, too, but clearly he was of a class that didn’t consider copper coins worth the effort of carrying.

Kheshiri stopped at a food cart to acquire a delightful confection of crushed ice and orange juice. In and around flirting with the scrawny youth manning the cart, she inspected the enchanted devices which composed it. A cold-creating charm, another to condense moisture out of the atmosphere and a third, much simpler enchantment powering a grinding wheel to keep the resulting frost thoroughly mixed, all working together to create an unlimited supply of crushed ice—at least as long as its power crystal held out, which was likely to be basically forever. Those things were used in wands, staved and even horseless carriages.

It was amazing. Back in her day…well, it wasn’t that magic wasn’t used on such frippery, but only the richest of the rich could have afforded it. Royalty, or upper aristocracy at minimum. Now? This car sat right on the street, dispensing wonder for pocket change to whoever happened by. Humanity had come so far, so fast…

Kheshiri found a bench in a small, sunny park, and lounged, basking in the sun and enjoying her frosty treat. It wasn’t that she had nowhere to be, but she took her time finishing the confection, then licking the melted juice from her fingers unabashedly before finally rising and continuing on her languid way.

 

It was nearing noon and the streets had mostly cleared by the time she got back to the crumbling, sprawling inn-cum-tenement from which she had set out that morning. The heat was nothing to her, obviously, but the city’s human residents customarily took shelter during the hottest part of the day. Kheshiri navigated the stained hallways and rickety steps back to the room and rapped on the door.

There came furtive motion from within; she stood patiently, waiting for him to identify her through the peephole. All of a sudden, the door was yanked open and Shook grabbed her by the arm, hauling her roughly inside and slamming it behind her.

“Where the fuck have you been?” he snarled, rounding on her.

“I’m sorry!” she said, shrinking in on herself and staring up at him wide-eyed through her lashes. “I really thought I knew this city, but it’s not like Tiraas, with all the historical architecture. They keep changing everything! All the landmarks are different, some of the streets are different even. There’s some kind of temple where the Royal Avenue used to be!”

His annoyance diminished visibly, even to the point of a faint smirk cutting through his scowl. “You got lost?”

“Not lost,” she hedged. “Just a little…turned around. A few times.”

Tension leaked from his shoulders and he actually chuckled, grinning at her unpleasantly. “Well, of all the goddamn things. I thought succubi were supposed to be smart.”

“I am smart,” she said defensively. “It could’ve happened to anyone!”

“Sure,” he said dryly. “Did you at least get your errand done, you silly trollop?”

“Of course I did! I wouldn’t have come back if I hadn’t. Your friend Vandro has a hell of a place; he’s done pretty well for himself, by the looks of it. I didn’t get to see him but I left the letter with a servant—”

He crossed the space in one long step, seizing her arm in a bruising grip and glaring down into her eyes. “You gave that letter to a servant?”

“It was the best I could do!” she squealed. “I promise, master, I couldn’t get any closer—that place is like a fortress. It was obviously a senior servant, he had on a suit even in the heat…”

“Wait, what kind of suit?” he said sharply. “Describe it.”

“Uh… Black coat with tails, charcoal gray slacks, waistcoat and bow tie.”

Again, Shook relaxed. Not for the first time lately, Kheshiri wondered about the effect his mood swings must have on his heart. “Oh. A Butler. That’s okay, then. I guess you managed not to completely fuck it up.”

“I wouldn’t let you down, master,” she said earnestly.

“No,” he mused self-importantly, studying her down his nose. “You’re a bit of a ditz sometimes, but I can’t say you don’t know what’s good for you.”

He released her and crossed to the window, twitching aside the ragged curtain to peek out. The little room was stifling; even in his shirtsleeves, Shook was drenched in sweat. The curtain admitted only a slight breeze, but he had insisted on it being left in place, and the door closed, despite the usual custom in Onkawa. Their privacy was far more important than their comfort. Well, his comfort. She could make do anywhere.

Kheshiri shifted back to her own appearance, stretching. She didn’t have room to extend her wings in here, but coiled and uncoiled her tail vigorously, savoring the freedom of motion.

“So,” she said hesitantly, “now what, master?”

“Now we wait,” he said, still peering out through the gap at the edge of the curtain. “Alan’s never let me down yet. He’ll come through.”

She slinked up behind him and began to knead his shoulders. “Then everything’s going according to your plan,” she breathed into his ear. “I’m sorry I made you wait, master. Can I help you…ease the tension?”

Shook turned to study her face, lifting one hand and stroking her cheek with the back of his knuckles. He smiled, the lopsided, self-satisfied little smirk he often got when inspecting her. Not bothering to reply, he tugged her close, tilting up her face to kiss her roughly.

Kheshiri purred and melted against him. The kissing was relatively new, but he’d been doing a lot more of it lately. Bit by bit, he was growing more relaxed around her, more certain he had her firmly under control.

Everything was indeed going according to plan.

 

Late in the afternoon, the sun had lowered enough that the constant breeze over the plains had begun to alleviate its fury. Shook and Kheshiri, again in her disguise as a local woman, sat on an outdoor patio at a restaurant several orders of social magnitude above their current residence, sipping iced lemonade and watching the street. Even in his best suit and with her looking fully presentable, the waiter had given them some very dubious looks. Fortunately, Shook was too preoccupied to notice. It was always a headache, running interference between him and polite society.

Several hours after she’d returned, a uniformed messenger, looking even more out-of-place in their slum than they did here, had arrived, directing them to this restaurant at this time. Or rather, to this restaurant half an hour ago. Shook kept his attention on the street, watching for the arrival of their putative guest; uncharacteristically, he remained calm. Aloof and somewhat tense, but not gradually working himself up the way he usually did when someone made him wait. Kheshiri had to wonder about this Alan Vandro and his relationship with Jeremiah Shook.

She shifted her chair subtly closer to his and experimentally ran her foot up his calf under the table.

“Cut it out,” he said curtly, not even looking at her. Kheshiri didn’t have to feign her disappointed frown. Whatever was going on, it was enough to distract him from the effect she had on him. That wasn’t good.

Shook straightened. An enchanted carriage had arrived out of the traffic, pulling up against the curb outside, an unnecessarily large and lavish model driven, she saw, by Wilberforce the Butler. He brought the machine to a stop and hopped down from the driver’s seat, opening the door.

The man who stepped out had clearly been big and powerful in his youth and was only slightly less so now. He had just the faintest stoop to his posture and a modest gut, but his shoulders were broad and his arms still thick. Clearly not local, he had what had once been a pale complexion, stained patchy red by sun and wind, his wild hair and neatly-trimmed beard gone pure white. Stepping out of the carriage, he instantly fixed his eyes on Shook and grinned so hugely she could have counted his teeth, regardless of the distance.

“Jerry, my boy!”

Alan Vandro bounded up the steps to the little terrace, his loose khaki-colored suit fluttering around him in the breeze. Shook had also stood, Kheshiri following suit behind him, and stepped forward to meet the man, grinning just as broadly. They clasped hands firmly and Vandro clapped Shook on the shoulder.

“I hear you’re living like a king out here,” Shook said, still smiling broadly. “Palace and all!”

“You don’t seem to be doing as badly as I expected, yourself,” Vandro replied, leaning around him to leer at Kheshiri. “What’s this little morsel, eh?”

“This is Shiri,” Shook said, letting go of the older man and stepping back to the table. “My most prized possession. Shiri, Alan here taught me everything I know.”

“I tried to teach him everything I know,” Vandro said, still grinning, “but there’s a limit to how much sense can be pounded into a skull that thick.”

Shook, to her amazement, laughed. Vandro, meanwhile, bowed over her hand, pressing a kiss to the back of her knuckles. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Shiri. Jerry, lad, I’ve been telling you all these years you need to come out here and sample the local flavor. I guess now you’ve finally acquired a taste for dark meat, here you are.”

“Well, I’d like to say I just wanted to look you up for a visit,” Shook replied as they resumed their seats, Vandro taking one across from them, “but the truth is I need your help.”

“Goddamn right you do, boy,” Vandro said, his expression growing more serious. Kheshiri was fascinated. Here the man kept Shook waiting, mocked him to his face and flirted with his woman, and rather than blowing up the way she’d learned to expect, Shook treated it all as a joke. Amazing. “I’ve been hearing the rumors. Dunno what you did to piss Tricks off, but he’s good and pissed off.”

“Gnn.” Shook bared his teeth, grunting in annoyance. “I’ve only been able to get bits and pieces, here and there—the first of which convinced me to avoid Guildmembers for the time being, which is exactly what’s made it hard to get news. What’ve you heard?”

“Well, my boy, you’re wanted back at the Guild posthaste,” Vandro said, lounging back in his chair and accepting a glass of lemonade from the waiter without even glancing up at him. “And not in a friendly way. Somehow you’ve also managed to get the Avenists out for you. That’s pretty fucking impressive, Jerry.”

Shook growled. “None of this is my fault. It all comes back to that fucking bitch Principia.”

“Yeah, I figured from the context there was a woman at the back of this somewhere.” Vandro shook his head. “I’ve told you and told you, my boy, they are none of them worth upsetting your life over. I dunno what it is with you and women, but you’ve got to learn to just get what you need and kick ’em to the curb when you’re done.”

Kheshiri, too amused to be offended, kept her peace. Clearly these two man’s men wouldn’t welcome her input in the conversation. That suited her just fine; one learned more and revealed less by keeping one’s mouth shut.

“That cunt is a traitor to the Guild,” Shook snarled. “I’m the one tasked with dragging her home. And what do I find? Tricks no sooner sent me out than turned on me.”

“The word on Principia Locke is she’s also wanted to answer some questions,” Vandro said ruminatively, sipping his lemonade, “but far, far less urgently than you. Clearly, she’s held in somewhat better regard. How’s that work, with her evidently being a traitor?”

“I don’t fucking know!” Shook exclaimed, clenching his fists on the table. “But I am gonna find her and find out.”

“Now, there you go, getting worked up about it,” Vandro said easily. “I bet that’s exactly how you got into all this in the first place. You take everything too damn personally, always have. Now, this Principia… I never met her, but I’ve heard the rumors for years. She’s got a good, solid rep on her. Sneaky as a weasel and a big pain in the ass to deal with. Not hard to figure she’s twisted events to make you look bad. You can’t let it get under your skin, Jerry, that’s how she plans to bring you down. You’ve gotta get your side told. Even the playing field before you get yourself and her back into the Guild’s clutches.”

“Not so easy to do when I’m the next goddamn thing to being declared traitor, myself,” Shook said morosely.

“Well, now, we’ll just have to see what we can do about that,” said Vandro with a grin. “Obviously, things aren’t gonna stand as they are. Some bitch gaming the system to make my apprentice her fall guy? No, I don’t fucking think so. We’ll deal with this, Jerry. You were right to come here. Long as you’re out there chasing after her like the coyote and the hare, you’re playing her game. Now, we’ll play mine. I guarantee the bitch won’t know what hit her. Meanwhile, you and your ladyfriend will stay with me.”

“You don’t get Guild visitors?” Shook asked sharply.

“I get Guild visitors.” Vandro’s grin widened. “And they know to mind their fuckin’ manners in my place. This isn’t Tiraas, my boy; the Guild’s a powerful presence here, too, but matters are different. It’s not so hard to move without their say-so…or their knowing about it. Trust me, I’ll show you the ropes. Who knows, maybe I can even arrange for you to have some work while you’re here. A thief shouldn’t be sitting on his ass when there’s a city this rich full of complacent turkeys waiting to be plucked.”

Shook grinned, and Kheshiri didn’t bother to hide her fascination. So even a man like Jeremiah Shook could have a friend—an actual friend, who seemed to care about him as a person. What was more, a powerful friend, whose presence opened up all kinds of options for him.

She’d have to do something about that.

< Previous Chapter                                                                                                                           Next Chapter >

4 – 4

Uncategorized, , , , , , , ,

< Previous Chapter                                                                                                                           Next Chapter >

Darling rarely got much use out of his dining room, but he couldn’t help noticing how much louder the whole house seemed with guests. Generally, he did his socializing elsewhere, but for several reasons—most of them having to do with his colleagues’ lack of private living space—he had ended up hosting this meeting. Now the other three bishops sat around the long oak table in the dining room, and he was mentally composing an apology to Price, whom he had gently mocked on several occasions for her determination to keep the room spotless despite the lack of action it saw.

Price, currently, was supervising the “housemaids,” standing at attention near the door to the kitchen. She might have been a wax statue except for her eyes, which followed every motion the two elves made. They hadn’t been best pleased at this assignment, but Darling had approved of it; the ability to blend in and assume another identity was a vital skill for a thief, and considering what these two were, would be especially vital for them if they hoped to survive long. This was good practice. Unfortunately, they were already getting more practice at self-control than anyone had expected or wanted.

As Flora leaned forward to place a small tray of cookies on the table, Andros eased back in his chair to cast an eye over her backside. For just a moment, Darling feared he would pat her and something would happen that he would be very hard pressed to explain away. It wasn’t quite that bad, luckily, but Andros apparently couldn’t resist a comment.

“Not bad,” he rumbled approvingly, nodding at Darling, who sat at the head of the table. “A tad scrawny for my tastes, but there’s something to be said for the exotic.”

Flora straightened, her face utterly impassive, and eased back from the table with the precisely controlled gait of someone repressing a physical urge.

“Let’s speak respectfully to and of my staff, please,” Darling said quietly. “In general, but especially in their presence.”

“You feel there is a lack of respect? I assure you, Antonio, that’s a simple doctrinal difference.” Andros raised one bushy eyebrow. “It was a compliment on your taste. I don’t doubt your women are talented in many ways, but a woman is meant to be decoration as well as utility and personality, just as a man has his own role to play in a household.”

Basra and Branwen were sitting very still, both looking at him sidelong. The cults of Avei and Izara had deep conflicts over the role of women and the very nature of femininity, but they held in common the belief that the Shaathist approach to both was purely abhorrent. Neither seemed about to jump in, though. Basra, in fact, appeared to be repressing a smile. Darling found that more than a little alarming.

Andros actually smiled; his beard mostly hid his mouth, but the crinkling at the corners of his eyes suggested the expression was sincere. “I rarely am hosted in a home outside my faith which is so correctly run. Your girls are admirably well-behaved—especially impressive, given how difficult it is to housebreak elves. We should discuss training methods sometime, man to man, when we don’t have more pressing work.”

The man couldn’t possibly be this daft. Elves were thought in popular culture to be savage and unpredictable; more enlightened minds knew them to be dangerous for entirely other reasons. He was also delivering this speech in front of a skilled swordswoman who didn’t particularly like either of them, but would surely take Darling’s side on this issue. No… This, Darling realized, was a test, not stupidity. It was an utterly Shaathist thing to do: no sooner step into another man’s domicile than begin feeling out the situation, trying to determine who was alpha male here.

He hadn’t a shred of interest in such games, which unfortunately meant he needed to win this one decisively and immediately or Andros would never let it drop.

“Leave,” he said softly.

Andros raised his eyebrows. “I beg your pardon?”

“You heard me just fine. Remove yourself from my home.”

The humor had faded from the Huntsman’s face; now his eyes narrowed into a glare. “My presence is commanded. We are here on the orders of the Archpope himself—”

“And when you go whine to him about it, be sure to explain that I threw you out for insulting and harassing my domestic staff,” Darling said evenly. “You’ll look a lot less foolish than if he has to hear it from me after the fact. Now are you going to walk out with some dignity, or shall I have my Butler toss your ass bodily into the street?”

Flora and Fauna had drifted against the back wall and were standing stiffly in an approximation of the demure pose Price had taught them. Price herself was expressionless as ever, but everyone at the table tensed slightly. Andros held Darling’s gaze for a few seconds…pushing it. Just when Darling was about to back up his threat, the Huntsman pushed back his chair and stood.

Instead of moving toward the door, however, he turned to face the two elves and bowed deeply, and then did the same to Price. “I ask your pardon, ladies. I am accustomed to things being done a certain way, and at times I fail to remember that not everyone lives as Shaath commands. Truly, my words were meant to convey respect, and I regret my failure to show proper courtesy as a guest.”

Price, of course, didn’t respond. Fauna and Flora glanced at each other.

“I’m sorry, sir, did you say something?” Fauna asked sweetly.

Price cleared her throat very softly and Darling winced; Basra grinned wickedly, and Branwen failed to repress a giggle behind her hand. Obviously, Price would be having words with them later, but Darling found himself torn. A good servant did not sass her employer’s guests no matter how they behaved, but on the other hand, a good Eserite did not take crap from a stuck-up windbag who couldn’t actually do anything to her.

Andros looked back at him, expectant, but silent, and not pushy. His apology hadn’t sounded in the least forced or resentful, which was rather striking as it was possibly the first thing Darling had ever heard him say that wasn’t forced or resentful. Darling simply nodded and gestured with one hand to the chair, and Andros seated himself again.

“I didn’t realize you served theater along with brunch, Antonio,” Basra said, smirking.

“Well, I hate to let an opportunity go to waste. When we reach a stopping point I plan to bring up marriage customs and the proper treatment of apostates, just to see what happens.” Branwen groaned and covered her face with a hand, but Basra laughed.

“Anyway,” Darling said, “I believe you brought props, Bas?”

“Indeed,” she replied, patting the stack of thick folders sitting on the chair next to her. Darling sat at the head of the table, with the others occupying the seats nearest him. Basra fished out four small sheafs of paper—the newer, more expensive, almost-white paper, he noted—and handed them out to each of them while the two elves slipped out of the room and shut the door behind them. Despite the sensitivity of their conversation, none of the Bishops objected to Price’s continued presence. A Butler’s discretion was sacrosanct. “These are copies of the basic list I’ve assembled of agents who meet the Archpope’s criteria and are known to be active.”

“Agents?” Branwen wrinkled her brow, removing the clip holding hers together and leafing through it. “I thought most of these people were unaligned.”

“They are. It’s just a technical term, dear,” Basra said condescendingly. “It’s as complete a registry as I could put together based on the information the Church and the Sisters have. If anybody knows of a name I haven’t got here, by all means sing out. Not all of these are going to be equally relevant, though. The entire first page are people we can rule out immediately.”

“How confident are you of that?” Andros asked.

“Quite confident, though I’ll gladly explain my reasoning if you need me to. At the very top, of course, are Arachne Tellwyrn and Gravestone Weaver, both of whom are more or less permanently stuck in Last Rock, at that University of hers.”

“Tellwyrn still moves around,” Branwen noted, frowning at her list. “Even I’ve heard details of some of her…trips.”

“Right, yes, but keep in mind what we’re looking for: suspects, possible agents for the Church to recruit, and especially people who might be both. Tellwyrn is pretty obviously neither. Whoever’s been assassinating clerics is very discreet, very stealthy. If Tellwyrn had been doing that, she’d have blasted in the doors of every temple she visited, autographed the corpse she left, instructed at least six terrified bystanders to spread her legend and then personally barged in on the Archpope in his bath and dared him to do something about it. I’m glad I amuse you, Antonio.”

“You do! Have you ever been on stage?”

Basra rolled her eyes, but continued. “In addition to method, there’s the question of motive. Whoever’s doing this is either acting on a personal vendetta or in the employ of someone who has one. Tellwyrn has no reason to do something like this; she’s known to be on civil terms with most deities and to be personally friendly with several. And she definitely isn’t for hire. So, no, I don’t consider her a prospect.”

“And this Weaver?” Andros asked.

“Much the same: no motive, not his method. Also he hasn’t left Last Rock in the preceding five years. I don’t know exactly what kind of leash Tellwyrn has him on, but hey, whatever works. Next… Can we all agree that the Hands of Avei and Omnu aren’t reasonable prospects? Good. The next seven names are dragons, and of them, only Zanzayed the Blue even might do something like this, and it’d be a departure for him. Also, like the rest of the dragons there, his whereabouts are known and have been for several years; the Empire and the Sisters both keep very careful tabs on them. He’s in Onkawa, working on some noblewoman.”

There was a brief pause, filled by a round of grimaces and a delicate shudder from Branwen. The mating habits of dragons weren’t a subject for polite conversation.

“Below that is Tethloss the Summoner… This isn’t common knowledge, but I trust you can all be discreet. He’s actually dead and has been for at least a year.”

“What?” Andros looked up at her, frowning deeply. “Huntsmen at the lodges in Thakar Province regularly report that his territory is still unsafe.”

“Yes, but what your Huntsmen don’t know is that his minions and constructs are now operating on their own, with one or more of the intelligent ones controlling the operation. At least one of those is a demon, so clearly that can’t be allowed to flourish. But with the Summoner himself dead and no functional hellgate in the vicinity, they can’t get reinforcements. The Fourth Silver Legion is en route as we speak to mop that up.”

“That’s good to hear,” Branwen murmured.

“On page two,” Basra went on, turning over the first sheet of her packet, “we come to some names that I do consider very viable prospects. Antonio, I understand your people recently had a run-in with one Elias ‘Longshot’ McGraw.”

“A thankfully brief one,” he said offhandedly, unsure how much she knew, given Principia’s involvement.

“Who is this Longshot?” asked Andros.

“An adventuring wizard of the old school, though he uses a lot of the affectations of the modern frontier wandfighter. The man’s got a sense of drama. He’s mercenary, in both senses of the word: work for hire, and known to be ruthless once contracted. So that’s motive taken care of. And while this suite of murders is more ambitious than anything he’s known to have done, the fact that he’s an arcane mage is suggestive. A powerful enough warlock could bash through a temple’s defenses, maybe, but a powerful enough wizard could slip in, carry out a kill and slip out, nullifying the defenses and leaving no trace. That’s exactly what we’re looking for.”

“Says here he was last seen in Puna Dara a few weeks ago,” said Darling.

Basra nodded. “He’s known to have a permanent residence in Calderaas; I have no up-to-date intelligence on that, however. If we can agree this man’s a suspect, I can get Church personnel on it immediately. I’d have to explain something to Commander Rouvad if I wanted to have Sisters look into it.”

“Of course,” said Darling. “I think that’s a good idea.”

“Splendid, we’ll consider that done. Next up is also a very good prospect: Mary the Crow.”

Branwen frowned. “Who?”

“My goodness,” Basra said with clear amusement, “you Izarites really do live in satin-lined ivory towers, don’t you?”

“Let’s please not resort to maligning each other’s faiths,” Darling said hastily as an uncharacteristic scowl settled across Branwen’s features. “In this group, that could get out of hand before any of us realize what’s happening. Bas, just assume we’ve all been living in a basement somewhere and know nothing about anything. This isn’t a subject most of us have had reason to research.”

“I have,” Andros disagreed under his breath, but thankfully didn’t pursue the matter.

“Fair enough,” said Basra with a shrug. “The Crow is… Well, think of Arachne Tellwyrn without the whimsy, and a witch instead of a mage. She’s dangerous enough in practice that several people have assumed she’s a headhunter, but in truth she predates the fall of Athan’Khar by centuries. Reliable reports place her back as much as six hundred years ago, but more legendary accounts predate the founding of the Empire.”

“So…she’s an elven witch? A shaman?”

“Yes, Branwen. She is at least centuries and possibly millennia old, and with that long to practice her craft, she is damn good at it, scary enough to take on just about any other name on this list and walk away, if not win.”

“Hm,” Andros rumbled. “Think she could handle Tellwyrn?”

“There’s no telling. I know what you’re thinking, and don’t. Neither of those women take orders, and trying to manipulate them is a staggeringly bad idea. But no, if she’s even met Tellwyrn we have no record of it. A lot of the older names on this list seem to deliberately avoid each other, in fact. Which is probably good sense.”

“So what’s Mary’s deal?” Darling asked.

“The short version is she has a vendetta against the Empire. We don’t exactly know over what; the few times she’s talked with anyone, she wouldn’t say. But she has stated explicitly that her aim is to see the Tiraan Empire fall. For all that, she’s not reckless or stupid; her exploits have varied from wiping out inconsequential border forts to infiltrating major operations and causing significant damage, but she treads a very careful line. When the attention gets too pointed, she’ll vanish for years or decades to let it die down. She knows exactly how dangerous the Empire is, with all its resources, and she doesn’t piss it off enough to put herself at the top of a kill list. Elves, as a rule, can afford to be patient, and this one knows exactly how long the human generational attention span is.”

“So…smart, hostile, has a sense of perspective, subtle…” Darling whistled. “Damn. Yeah, I’d say we’ve got a match. Anything we can glean from those reports of her past doings that might be helpful?”

“I’ve given them a look over, but you’re welcome to try yourself.” Basra pawed the stack of folders next to her, pulling out an especially thick one after a moment and thunking it down on the table. “The problem is she’s smart enough to change up her methods. Still, when she pops up she makes for a distinctive figure. A black-haired elf sticking her nose into things and generally causing a ruckus, that lingers in people’s minds. Of course, matters become a bit more confused in the last two centuries when there have been two women of that description active, but I’m sure I don’t need to tell you about that.”

A prickle ran down his spine. “Beg pardon?” he said politely.

Basra grinned. “Page three, fourth name from the top.”

Darling flipped the page over and looked down at it, then had the rare experience of needing to focus quite hard to keep his facial expression under control as he zeroed in on the name.

Principia Locke.

“Who’s this?” Andros asked, having also followed Basra’s directions.

“One of Antonio’s people,” she said lightly. “But don’t worry, I don’t consider her a prospect either. Not only would a killing spree be totally out of character, I find no reason to think she has the physical capacity.”

“So this is a thief?” Branwen asked.

“For all intents and purposes,” Basra said with a grin, “the Queen of Thieves.”

Darling very nearly fell out of his chair, and devoutly hoped his years of constant play-acting were keeping his shock mostly invisible.

“Then why be in a hurry to dismiss her?” Andros frowned. “We’re looking for someone who slips through defenses without a trace. A skilled thief is exactly the right kind of target, I would think.”

“She’s not that kind of thief,” Basra said.

“Prin’s a con artist,” said Darling, grasping for some control. He was relieved to hear his voice come out as light and unaffected as always. “She doesn’t take things; she creates elaborate intrigues to trick people into giving her things.”

“And she’s been active all but non-stop at a very high level, preying on the richest and most powerful people alive, for a good two hundred years,” Basra continued. Darling listened intently, managing to keep calm despite the way his urge to boggle at her was renewed with every word. “The Sisters have only been keeping tabs on her specifically for the last eighteen, though. Locke also happens to be the new biological mother of Trissiny Avelea.”

Andros frowned again. “Who?”

“The new Hand of Avei,” Branwen supplied.

“Oh,” he said dismissively.

“Since we’re already talking about her,” said Basra, “I’ll say that Locke is a possibility for someone to tap for the Archpope, if we can find her, but no, I don’t consider her a suspect.”

“That,” Darling said carefully, “is an exceptionally bad idea. She doesn’t like authority any more than Tellwyrn, but instead of blasting everyone in sight she just creatively misinterprets orders and plays extravagant, vicious practical jokes until everyone gives up on trying to make her behave.”

“There are ways to cure a woman of that attitude,” Andros growled.

“You’d have to catch her first,” Darling said dryly. “Better than you or I have tried, and embarrassed themselves. Basra, this is a little off topic, but would you mind if I have a look at those files on Principia? I find it pays to keep aware of what she’s up to.”

“Sure, help yourself,” she replied, fishing out another thick folder and sliding it down the table at him. “Those are copies; you can keep it if you want. Glad to be of service. Anyhow, moving back to where we were: top of page two, third entry. Tinker Billie is included here on the strength of reputation, but these attacks are not at all her pattern, and frankly well beyond the scope of her skills. I’m not sure I’d suggest bringing her in as a contractor, either, but we can discuss that in more detail after we go over…”

Darling let her voice wash over him, trying sincerely to pay attention but more fully aware of the thick folder now under his hand, begging to be opened and read on the spot. But no, that would have to wait. One job at a time. He just couldn’t get over the shock of it, though. Prin was a modestly performing thief at best, too much of a nuisance to be tasked with important Guild missions and utterly lacking in initiative. Could the Avenists be mistaken about who they were following? Surely they were.

On the other hand, he realized with a sinking sensation, maybe it was the Guild that was mistaken. They simply had never bothered to pay much attention to one irritating, mid-level member who paid her dues and rubbed people the wrong way whenever she was close enough to do either.

For not the first time in the last ten seconds, he forced his attention back to Basra’s recitation, and away from the growing suspicion that resting under his hand were the details of what might be the greatest con in history.

 

“Lunch!” the girl sang out, holding up her basket as she stepped into the Imperial Law office.

“Cassie!” Behind the desk, Marshal Task set looked up from the form at which he’d been scratching with a battered old pen, grinning delightedly. “Girl, you’re gonna spoil us.”

“We could maybe do with a little spoiling,” said Lieutenant Veya with a smile. “Hi, Cass. Are you sure it’s okay for you to keep doing this? It’s the third day in a row; we do get paid enough to eat, you know.”

“Oh, it’s no expense,” Cassie said, tittering coquettishly—but not too coquettishly, no sense in irritating the two Legionnaires. “The bakery gives us these extras for free, and if I don’t get rid of them somehow, Uncle Ryan will just eat them all himself, and the poor man doesn’t need all that bread junking up his system. He has enough troubles,” she added conspirationally, setting her basket down on the corner of the Marshal’s desk and beginning to pull out cinnamon buns.

“Well, I’m sure gonna be disappointed when y’all leave town,” said Task, reaching for a bun. “How long’re you planning to stay?”

“Maybe a few more days?” She screwed up her face in an expression of intense thought, one that suggested this was an unfamiliar labor for her. “Uncle Ryan isn’t sure. He gets crabby when I ask, just tells me his wares will sell when they sell.”

“He’s not…mean to you, is he?” asked Tirouzi Shavayad, the other Sister present. She was a lean, tawny-skinned ethnic Tiraan, unlike the Veya and Task, who were dark-complexiond Westerners from this region.

“Oh! Oh, nothing like that,” Cassie said hastily. “My goodness, you mustn’t think that! He just gets so worried, and it makes him cranky. Uncle Ryan wouldn’t hurt a mouse. Anyway, this is a good trip; he always complains, but his fabrics are selling quite well. I guess that means we’re not around for much longer,” she added wistfully, then held out a bun to Tirouzi. “Here you go!”

“We’re on duty,” the senior Legionnaire said firmly, but with a smile. “But thank you for bringing them, Cass. We’ll have some later. Assuming the Marshal leaves us any,” she added, raising an eyebrow at Task, who was already on his second.

“Hey, don’t look at me like that,” he said with his mouth full. “I can’t eat like I used to, y’know. Sides, there’s plenty. Our girl here doesn’t skimp on her generosity.”

“Oh, you,” Cassie giggled, perching on the edge of the desk and kicking her legs. The position was perfect—the childlike demeanor to play to Tirouzi’s maternal streak, the pose that gave Veya tantalizing glimpses into her cleavage and Task a splendid view from behind of the way her slender waist flared into womanly hips. They were all either actively eating or hungry—in other words, distracted—and each presented with just what they wanted to see, in such a way they never imagined the contradictions in how each of them beheld her. Damn, but she was good.

“I know that look, young lady,” Veya said with a try at firmness, but she spoiled the effect by smiling. “Now, what ulterior motive does a traveling merchant’s niece have in hanging around the Marshal’s office so much?”

Cassie blushed and ducked her head shyly, then glanced from side to side. She leaned forward a bit more, not missing the way Veya’s eyes darted to her bodice and back up, and whispered. “Well… I was talking to Deputy Tonner last night…”

“That damn fool boy,” Task muttered behind her, reaching for another roll. “Can’t keep his mouth shut for five minutes.”

“Oh, but he didn’t tell me a thing!” she said sincerely. “Not on purpose, anyway, and he clammed right up when he thought he’d let something slip.” She lowered her voice to a nervous whisper. “Is it true there’s a rapist loose in this town?”

The two Legionnaires exchanged a dark look.

“No,” Task said firmly, “it’s not true. That’s…misrepresenting the facts. Which, by the way, you don’t need to stick your pretty little nose into, kid.”

“She has a right to know,” Tirouzi said with a hint of belligerence, then met Veya’s warning look fiercely. “Well, doesn’t she? Every woman deserves to know something like that.”

“But that’s not what…ah hell, it ain’t classified,” Task grumbled as Cassie scooted herself around, changing position to keep all three of them in view of her rapt gaze—a pose which lifted one leg onto the desk, incidentally tugging her skirt well above the knee. She affected not to notice their glances, but a thrill of amusement rippled through her. It was just so easy.

“He’s not a rapist,” Task said, folding his hands on the desk top and giving her his stern I Am The Law look. “Just a man wanted for questioning in connection with such a case. And this is a warrant put out by the Sisters, so it doesn’t have legal force, but of course the Emperor’s agents are always glad to help out in Avei’s work,” he added with a respectful nod for the Lieutenant.

“In connection with a rape case?” she breathed, her face a perfect blend of horror and morbid fascination that looked so perfectly natural on her innocent young features.

“No such has been committed,” Veya said firmly. “He’s only accused of threatening it, and we have only rumor that he’s been sighted in Tallwoods. From a fairly good source, though it’s hard to imagine what a city slicker like that would want in a town like this.”

“To hide, maybe,” Tirouzi muttered darkly.

“Anyhow, hon, you’re perfectly safe,” Veya added to Cassie in a more gentle tone, then spoke with increased firmness. “And this business isn’t common knowledge, so don’t you be spreading it around.”

“Yes ma’am!” she said, nodding eagerly. “I mean…no, ma’am! I mean… I won’t.” Veya softened under her limpid gaze. Really, this was almost too easy. In the back of her mind, she found herself planning out a seduction. The woman was older and liked her position of authority; well, she’d had plenty of practice lately playing the submissive role. It would be so simple, she could just run the hesitantly intrigued ingenue routine from start to finish: curious about the rumors concerning Silver Legionnaires, not quite believing but fascinated despite herself, let the woman think she was the one coaxing the eager young innocent into her first taste of feminine love… And just like that, much of the interest went out of the matter for her. Too routine. Nobody in this little podunk town had enough imagination to offer her any real fun.

“All the same,” Veya added firmly, “if you meet or hear of any man called Jeremiah Shook, you come get the Marshal or one of the Legionnaires. Understand?”

“Yes, ma’am!” she replied, nodding. “I will. I better get going now, though,” she added regretfully, hopping down and treating them all to a minor show as she smoothed the dress down over her hips. “Uncle Ryan gets worried if I spend too much time at the market. But I’ll see you all again, at least once! We’re not leaving tomorrow, I know that much.”

“You take care, darlin’,” said Task, gesturing with his fourth roll. “And be sure you do come say goodbye before you leave, understand!”

“You bet I will!” she said cheerfully, breezing out through the door and pausing only to wiggle her fingers flirtatiously at them. “Bye!”

Outside in the street, she set off with a bouncing stride, passing the citizens of Tallwoods with cheerful smiles and greetings, enjoying how many of them failed to keep eye contact—and how many of the women were visibly annoyed. Her dress was modest in cut and quite plain, but very flattering, and of course the figure it flattered was exceptional. That was all easy, though, practically cheating. A challenge, now, was to pose as someone plain, ordinary, and still coax an unsuspecting person into heights of pleasure they’d never dreamed of, followed by a slide into the most delicious depravity…

She caught herself licking her lips slowly and giving the bedroom eyes to a passing workman who allowed his gaze to linger on her bust. No, no…focus. That kind of thing wasn’t at all in character for Cassie, the innocent merchant’s niece. She affected a blush and modestly downcast look when he grinned and winked at her, which hopefully would repair some of the damage. Still… It would be the easiest thing in the world to drag him along, glances and glimpses making as firm a lead as any chain, till she could lure him into some dark alley, close enough for a kiss… Close enough for a knife across the throat.

And then what? The Tiraan Empire had gotten markedly more sophisticated since she’d last been here, and she wasn’t about to tangle with law enforcement until she was certain what its capabilities were. The could do things with enchantments now that would have been unimaginable fifty years ago. Plus, there was an entire Silver Legion currently camped just outside the town. Those never failed to be a problem, if they found out who and what she was.

She did slip into the first convenient alley, however, making sure she wasn’t followed. No sooner was she out of sight of the street and certain of the absence of prying eyes than she rippled and vanished entirely from view. Behind her invisibility, the arrangements of features that made Cassie melted away. Her true form was very much the same, only with different coloration, different attire, and very different features. A more total disguise was more effective, obviously, but she enjoyed dancing on the razor’s edge. Besides, who around here would have ever seen her before, or ever would again?

Humming to herself in satisfaction, Kheshiri pumped her wings once, shooting skyward, and sailed invisibly out over the roofs of the town. She veered sharply in the opposite direction from the Fourth Silver Legion’s camp; the clerics wouldn’t be likely to spot her unless they were specifically looking, which they had no reason to be, but it didn’t pay to take chances with Avenists.

She zipped along, low enough to the ground that she could have sailed under the branches of the trees in the oak forest, though she skirted its edge. Flying in there would be an amusing challenge, but also a waste of effort and likely to end with an embarrassing pratfall.

Even staying low and taking the roundabout route at the edge of the woods, it still took her only ten minutes or so to cover the distance. In short order, she was settling to the ground outside the dilapidated little shack. All was quiet. The birds and squirrels had fallen silent at her approach, but slowly resumed their noise as she stood there.

Kheshiri paced around the shack twice, noting the closed door and boarded windows. No signs of anything having been tampered with… Well, they had no reason to suspect anyone know they were out here. She faded back into visibility and strolled right up to the front door, then knocked.

The quiet from within stretched out so long she very nearly knocked a second time, then the door was abruptly yanked open and she found herself staring down the shaft of a wand.

Kheshiri put on a look of relief. “Master,” she said breathily, and threw herself forward, pushing past the weapon to wrap her arms around Shook and bury her face in his chest. It wasn’t the way he’d instructed her to greet him when they were alone—honestly, the man seemed to think he was a Stalweiss chieftain in how he expected women to behave around him—but she was finding that she could get away with a lot if her transgressions were cloaked in a hint that she actively enjoyed his treatment of her. Shook was another man who was almost too easy to be fun to play with.

“You took your goddamn time,” he growled, but didn’t reprove her further, wrapping his free arm around her and tugging her inside, then kicking the door shut. Kheshiri grinned into his coat as he slid his hand down her back to pat her butt. Easy…but still amusing.

“I get so worried every time I come back,” she said, lifting her head to nuzzle at his throat. “I’m always afraid this will be the time I’ll find you gone or in chains and a bunch of Avenists standing around with swords…”

He gripped a handful of her hair and pulled her roughly away, and she immediately toned it down, looking up at him meekly but without a hint of flirtation. The last thing she wanted was for him to start associating her moments of warmth toward him with suspicion. Slow and steady, that was what did it…it had to look like a real attachment. They took time to unfold.

“We’d have a lot less to worry about if you could find out what I keep sending you into that town to learn,” he said coldly.

Her face lit up with pleasure. “Oh, but master, I did! Finally, those women unbent enough to tell me a little; I was afraid I’d have to work on them all week. The Legion’s here after some rogue warlock or wizard a few miles to the north; they’re just waiting for their scouts to report back and will move out within a week.”

Shook nodded, some of the tension going out of his frame. “So they don’t know I’m here.”

“They don’t know,” she said, wincing. “I got a straight answer out of the Marshal, finally, too. You were spotted outside town that night, and apparently by someone who’d seen your sketch. They’re treating it as a prospect they have to take seriously, but nobody’s out looking. I don’t think they actually believe you’re in the area.”

His face settled into a scowl. “Fuck. That fucking bitch. When I find out how she managed to call down all this trouble, I…” He broke off, fixing his wandering gaze on her face. “What’s that look for?”

She quickly schooled her features. “Nothing.”

He struck quickly; even expecting the slap, she might have been hard pressed to dodge or deflect it. She did neither, of course, just rolling with the blow and then looking back up at him, wide-eyed with one hand pressed to her face where he’d hit her.

“What have I told you about lying to me, whore?” he said dangerously.

“It’s just…I just…” Kheshiri swallowed. “I don’t think you’d believe me. I didn’t want to make you mad.” She ended on a near whimper, obviously cowed.

Obviously.

“You don’t want me to be mad?” he breathed, still with one hand in her hair. He twisted it hard, wrenching her head back. “Then you answer a question when I ask it, and you tell me the fucking truth.”

“Yes, master,” she said meekly, dropping her eyes. “I… I just… I like it. When you talk about Principia.”

There was silence between them for a moment. The birds kept up their cheerful noise outside.

“You like it,” he said finally.

“It makes you so mad, and then you talk about what you’re going to do to her, and…” She trailed off.

“Go on,” he said coldly. She knew his voice, now, knew his every detail; this was the coldness of fire being held barely in check.

“It’s just, you’re so…” Kheshiri swallowed, finally lifting her gaze to his. “It makes you seem…powerful. Cruel. I am what I am.” She shrugged, a tense little motion, jerky enough to make her breasts wobble in their tight, inadequate confines. Naturally, his eyes shifted right where she wanted them, then back. “I’m a little drawn to that.”

“Is that so,” he growled, relaxing his grip on her hair and leaning back with a self-satisfied smile. “Well, then… Let’s see what we can do about that, shall we?”

Grinning, she eased forward and reached up to begin unbuttoning his shirt, while he slowly ran his hands up and down her sides, and over other spots. “Master?”

“Hm?”

“You didn’t have to stop twisting, you know,” she said, making her voice a shade huskier. “I appreciate that you’re careful, but…you can hurt me, a little.”

Fingers glided up her neck, took her by the chin, tilted her face up. He wore the smug smirk of a man firmly convinced of his absolute control. “That so? Then is there something you want to ask for, my pretty little bitch?”

Kheshiri bit her lower lip, then said in a bare whisper, “Hurt me.”

He was on her like a pouncing wolf, then, and she played along flawlessly, suppressing the laugh that wanted to bubble up from her. Oh, so easy. Really, the man would be downright dull if she weren’t operating under such a massive handicap. It was the reliquary that made this game interesting, that and the extra spells he’d added to it. Getting out from under his thumb was going to be a long game at least, deliciously slow, determined by very careful attention to every detail. Oh, there was fun to be had, here. Still… Not as much as if he were actually smart.

As he threw her forward over the table and positioned himself behind her, she came to a decision. There was just too much downtime involved in this game; she’d go mad if she played it straight, without something else to occupy her energies. This Principia… Kheshiri hadn’t managed to unearth any information about her on her various scouting trips—yet—but she knew from Shook’s own descriptions and stories that the elf was a manipulator. Somebody worth playing against.

So be it, then—she could play two games at once. She was going to get rid of Shook, for the obvious reason that his ownership of her wasn’t acceptable, but before finishing with him, she’d at least help him attain his heart’s desire. Principia Locke would never know what hit her.

This was going to be fun. Thinking on it meant she didn’t have to entirely fake her moans.

< Previous Chapter                                                                                                                           Next Chapter >

3 – 10

Uncategorized, , , , , ,

< Previous Chapter                                                                                                                           Next Chapter >

Finally, after days of preparation and waiting, he twisted the cap.

Greenish smoke hissed out of hidden apertures at the end of the reliquary, but didn’t act as smoke should; sliding to the floor in a sinuous stream, it coiled and rose like a rearing serpent, expanding and taking shape. Color blurred into the misty translucence, and finally the succubus emerged.

She tilted her head inquisitively to one side, darting a quick glance around the room before fixing her eyes on Shook. A sly smile tugged at one side of her mouth.

“Well. This is a—”

“Be silent.”

Her obedience was instant; if she resented it, no sign showed on her face. She simply watched him, her expression open and patient.

He kept her waiting. Plenty of time presently to explain her new situation; for now, he wanted to get a good look at his acquisition. Pacing around her in a slow circle, he did just that, from every angle.

The obviously inhuman touches were noted, analyzed and dismissed in moments. Spiny, bat-like wings sprang from her back; currently folded (squirreled away as they were in his basement room, they had no space to spread) they looked like they’d have a span of eight or nine feet once unfurled. That didn’t seem big enough to support her in flight—but then again, she wasn’t a purely physical creature. Physics only applied so far, probably. Her tail began just above the cleft of her buttocks, too wide at the base for him to encircle with his forefinger and thumb—he tested—tapering to a finger’s width before flaring out into a spade shape, just long enough to drag along the floor except that she kept the end curled upward.

There were subtler differences, too. Her hair fell to mid-back in waves, gathered up between her wings; appearing a simple yet lustrous black at first glance, he noted something shifty about its color upon closer inspection. As the light hit it just so, he could swear its highlights were a reddish purple, but the effect seemed to vanish as he tried to focus on it. Her skin, too, was like porcelain, and not in he sense that the comparison was usually used. It didn’t quite look like skin: milk-white, faintly glossy, and completely uniform in color, with no hints of blood beneath. Silky and soft to the touch, though. Her eyes were an exotic violet. He’d half expected slitted pupils or some such, but they were normal in that regard, except that they appeared distinctly crystalline in the way they caught and refracted the light, like bowls of carved amethyst.

Shook didn’t restrict himself to looking with his eyes—and why should he?—as he took in her more humanlike assets, which were plenty striking in their own right.

It was no surprise that she was stunningly lovely; succubi were just like that, everyone knew it. She had a gorgeous, heart-shaped face, with pouty lips and an impish little nose, but Shook had never found women’s faces to be among their more interesting features, provided they weren’t dog-like enough to put him out of the mood. The succubus wore a stained, torn dress that had originally been suited for a prostitute: low-cut, high-hemmed and backless (which accommodated her wings), giving him excellent access. He made a second circuit around her, taking in details visually, running his hand along her shoulders, down her arm, up the curve of her waist. Buxom, wasp-waisted, with generously curvy hips and long legs that practically undulated… She looked like a woman should, if the gods had intended the world to be fair. He cupped a hand around her breast, then slid it down to heft it from beneath, testing its weight. It was all her flesh, no hidden augmentations in that dress. She sighed softly and subtly arched her back, pressing herself into his hand, and he smiled.

Finally Shook stepped back, having come around to stand in front of her again.

“My name is Jeremiah Shook,” he said. “Also known as Thumper among the Thieves’ Guild. And you, Kheshiri, belong to me.” He bounced her reliquary in the palm of his hand, noting the way her eyes snapped to it. “You were…a gift. From someone intending to trip me up, figuring I’d come to grief trying to handle you. I’m an enforcer, you see, a man who lives by asserting his will physically. People who live by schemes are always thinking they’re smarter than me. Annoying as that is, I’ve come to enjoy the looks on their faces when they learn otherwise.”

She smiled at that, an expression of malicious delight, and he found himself warming up to her a bit.

“It wasn’t a bad idea,” he went on, “or wouldn’t have been fifty years ago. That’s the way it’s always been, after all: mundane people meddling with magic always came to sticky ends, right?” He smiled, slowly, and waggled the reliquary at her. “Well, that was then, and this is now. You’ll have noticed some of the modifications to this. The extra chain binds it to my life force; you’re not going to get out from under my sway by having it stolen or lost. That’s a commercially available enchantment, these days. Lots of people wanting better control over their bespelled heirloom doodads. For someone who knows the right back-alley enchanters to ask, it’s easy enough to have some of the safety features lifted—like the clause that breaks the enchantment when said life force is terminated, for example. I die, Kheshiri, and you’re the slave of a corpse. You go right back in the bottle and you fucking stay there—for eternity. It’s in your best interests to ensure that I don’t die. Also,” he added, smiling and tossing the reliquary from hand to hand, “my guy didn’t think it was smart to try modifying the spells on your leash, here, but apparently adding to them was child’s play. Hence the extra runed bands around the end, as you see. You will not lie to me; you will not harm me; you will not act against my wishes. Those aren’t orders, little girl, they are statements of the facts of your life, now. And here’s another one: I have not told you all the extra features I’ve added, nor will I. Only way you’ll find them is if you go poking around for ways to work against me—and believe me, I will know if that happens. Then, I’ll be annoyed.” He stepped forward and reached out to caress her cheek; keeping her eyes fixed on his, she leaned into his touch like a petted cat. “I see no reason we can’t get along perfectly well, Kheshiri. If I get annoyed, though, we—by which I mean you—will have a problem.” He let his hand fall, but held her gaze. “This is an order: you will remember your place, and show me the proper respect at all times. You are to address me as Master, or Sir, if we’re in public and don’t want to draw attention. Do you understand?”

She stared up at him through her lashes, her violet eyes limpid. Silence stretched out, and Shook felt fury beginning to grow in him. Already a challenge? He was going to have to— Then realization hit, and he had to smile. Well, well. It seemed she did take direction, after all.

“You may speak,” he amended.

“I understand, master,” Kheshiri said immediately. Her voice was delightful, a sulty alto. Just the kind he liked. So many fool women thought it was attractive to affect a childish, breathy timbre.

“Good girl,” he said condescendingly. “And as long as you stay a good girl, I’ll take good care of you. We’ll have plenty to do to keep your wits exercised. And you can bet I’ll be sure you stay fed.”

“I don’t need to eat,” she said, then blinked, and smiled. “Oh, did you mean…? That’s a misconception, master. We don’t need sex to live.” Tail waving behind her, she underwent a kind of slow-motion, full-body wriggle. “We just really, really like it. Who doesn’t?”

Shook laughed, chucking her gently under the chin. “I think I like you already. We have work, my dear: you were given to me for the purpose of finding and apprehending someone who’s caused a lot of trouble for a lot of people. Me, especially. We need to bring her in alive…but not necessarily unharmed. And who knows, maybe we’ll have time to have a little fun with her before handing her over.”

“That sounds delightful,” the demon purred, fluttering her eyelashes up at him.

“All that’s in the future, though,” he said, his voice growing rougher. He reached up to cup her face in both hands, then slid them slowly down her throat, over her upper chest, and squeezed her breasts, before lifting one again to the top of her head and using it to push her downward. “On your knees, bitch.”

Kheshiri giggled, dropping almost eagerly, and reached for his belt buckle without further prompting. Finally, a woman who knew her place without needing to be told, or kicking up a fuss about it.

He let out a long sigh and leaned his head back as she got to work, already modifying plans in the back of his mind. After dealing with Principia, he just might decide to keep this one. After all, it wasn’t every day you found the perfect woman.

 

A thick fog hung over Puna Dara, which was about the only thing that could shut the city down. Though they knew better than to risk their precious ships in bad weather, the Punaji themselves had a positive affinity with storms, staying out in the streets as long as they possibly could when the wind and lightning raged. The city had mostly flat, stone roofs, and it was a tradition that a newly married couple hadn’t properly blessed their new home until having made love on the roof in a storm.

Fog, though, was a different matter. Storms could make a person feel alive; fog was just inconvenient and depressing. Better than anything else, it reliably drove the Punaji indoors to their fires. Thus, Lakshmi had the docks mostly to herself.

Light blazed from the windows of the Mermaid’s Tail, three piers down; the distance was just enough to mute the noise of laughter and music from within, though it was still audible in the quiet of the night. The soft lapping of waves against the pier was more immediate, which was fine. It was also more soothing, and she needed a little relief from tension.

“You’re gonna fall in one of these days.”

Lakshmi squawked and flailed in startlement, slipping off her perch on the barrel she’d commandeered as a seat and windmilling her arms at the very edge of the pier, desperately trying not to prove the voice’s prediction. A hand grasped her firmly by the collar and tugged her backward to safety.

“Damn it!” she scolded, whirling to glare at her laughing rescuer. “Fucking elf! Stop doing that! You scared the hell out of me!”

“Oh, calm yourself,” Principia said, grinning. “I wouldn’t’ve let you fall—”

She broke off as Lakshmi lunged forward and threw her arms around her.

“I didn’t mean that, jackass,” she said fiercely. “Do you know how worried I’ve been? Weeks with no word! And if something had gone wrong, it’d be my fault, since I’m the one who sent that message to the Guild. I should know better than to get dragged into your crazy schemes…”

“You should know my crazy schemes always work,” Prin chided gently, hugging the girl back before extracting herself. “And, as usual, it did. You did perfect, Peepers. The Guild got word I’d turned on them, they set Shook loose to come after me—that was the only part I was a little worried about, but in the end it was too good a ploy for Tricks to pass up—and then I got them the truth, once Thumper was out of sight. Now the Boss feels guilty and I’ve dropped down the priority list. He’ll be a lot more accommodating once I do decide to go home, and that turd Thumper is well on his way to getting what’s coming to him. Just takes a little patience and caution from here on out.” She spread her arms wide, grinning. “Everything’s coming up Prin.”

“Except that Thumper is still after you,” Lakshmi retorted, scowling. “If half what you’ve told me about that asshole is true, that’s not a small thing!”

“Oh, sure it is,” Prin said, waving a hand dismissively. “He hasn’t a chance in hell of actually finding me. And if by some miracle he does, he’ll have used up all the luck he’d need to catch me. Everything I needed is in motion, hon. Thanks for playing your part so well.”

Lakshmi shook her head. “I dunno. Yes, you’re a professional, but I’ve got a bad feeling about this.”

“Yeah? Maybe this’ll make you feel better,” Principia replied, handing her a folded slip of paper.

“What’s…?”

“You memorize that, then you destroy it,” Prin said firmly. “It’s the access details of an account with Heath & Farousi. They’re not one of the biggest banks, but they’re about the most widely-spread; you can get into that account from just about anywhere in the Empire.”

“What account?” Lakshmi said curiously.

Principia grinned rakishly, bobbing up on the balls of her feet. “My account. That’s the product of two centuries of running cons up and down every inch of this continent and beyond. Congratulations, you are now stupidly rich.”

Lakshmi’s eyes went wide and she tried to thrust the paper back at the elf. “Prin, no! I can’t! Are you crazy, this is your whole life’s work!”

“No,” Principia said firmly, thrusting a finger of admonishment into the girl’s face. “The work was my life’s work. You know what I’ve done with that money, Lakshmi? Let it sit, gathering dust and interest, mostly. Once in a while I’ve needed to dip in to extract myself from one of my rare blunders, but for the most part…” She shrugged. “It’s not about the money, hon. It can’t be; don’t let it be. An account full of liquid assets is a wind in your sails; a house full of luxuries is an anchor chain around your neck.”

“Oh, a nautical metaphor. I do believe I’m being pandered to.”

“Watch it, squirt. Just because your grandfather’s not around to paddle your butt anymore doesn’t mean you’re too big.” Prin aimed a halfhearted swat at Lakshmi’s head, grinning. “Look, the fact is, a thief doesn’t need riches. I don’t need that money, and right now, you do. I want you to get out of Puna Dara. This is not a good city for thieves.”

“Oh, not this again,” Lakshmi groaned. “The Punaji way of life is the closest thing to the Guild’s philosophy—”

“Yeah, I know. And doesn’t that make it seem odd that the Guild has such a small presence here?” Prin shook her head. “It’s because you’re ruled by pirates, and pirates do not like competition. Quite apart from the fact that Eserites aren’t wanted here, we aren’t needed. Blackbeard’s laws keep the idle rich humble and on their toes, and he doesn’t rob from his own people. There’s just not much to do here. I want you to go to Tiraas, get yourself set up with a place. Something modest, you don’t want to draw attention. Thanks to my little scheme, you’ve got some rep with the Guild now; you’re the girl who unmasked a traitor, remember?”

“You did this on purpose,” Lakshmi accused.

Principia grinned. “Come on, now, any action that serves only one purpose isn’t an efficient use of your time. Yes, I made an opening for you. Take Sanjay and go. Tiraas is a melting pot; for the gods’ sakes, there’s a whole district full of drow. Anybody can make it there. You’re an information girl, Peepers; try to get in with Sweet, he’s the master of that craft. He doesn’t take apprentices, so don’t go for that angle, but he’s fair-minded and has a soft spot for younglings. Do some good work in his field and make sure he sees it.”

“Prin, where is all this coming from?” she demanded. “You show up out of nowhere after leaving me to stew for weeks, and now you’re insisting we both uproot our lives?”

The elf sighed, glancing out over the bay. A few ships’ lights were visible, but for the most part, the fog made it a featureless blur. “It’ll be a while before I see you again, ‘Shmi. Where I’m going next, I won’t have any need for money. And Shook won’t be able to get at me no matter what he does. Hell, I sort of hope he tries.”

“Prin, you’re scaring me.”

“Hey, don’t worry,” she said more gently, stepping forward and taking both of Lakshmi’s hands, the paper crumpling in their combined grip. “I’m not about to do anything desperate. I think I may be entering the most safe and rational phase my life has ever had. It’s just…unfamiliar territory for me. And since I’m likely to be out of pocket for a while, I want to make sure you and Sanjay will be all right before I go. I promised the old man I’d keep an eye on you as I had time. Go to Tiraas, Lakshmi. Only use the money when you need it; live on your wits. I know you’ve got enough to do so. Promise me.”

“I can’t just—”

“Promise.”

Lakshmi swallowed heavily. “I promise. You promise you’re going to be okay.”

“Aw, honey, nobody can guarantee that about anybody. I give you my word, though, I’ll be taking care of myself as best I can. And I’ll be back in touch just as soon as the opportunity comes up. I’ll expect to find you in Tiraas, clambering up the ranks in the Guild, you hear me?”

She drew in a deep breath and let it out, then managed a weak grin. “Are you kidding? Look who you’re talking to. Hell, once I get out of this backwater to a place where there’s opportunity, I’ll be running it by this time next year.”

“That’s my girl.” Principia grinned and gently patted her on the cheek. “He’d have been so damn proud of you, y’know.” She stepped back, then again, tendrils of fog beginning to swirl around and obscure her from sight. “Live free, Peepers.”

“Live well, Keys.” The lump rose again in Lakshmi’s throat, nearly cutting off the traditional Eserite farewell. By the time she finished it, the fog had closed in around the slender figure of the elf, leaving her alone on the docks, holding the crumpled key to a fortune.

 

Flickering torchlight nearly overshadowed the sickly glow of the spell circle. The corners of the chamber were lost to shadow, but there wasn’t much to see aside from cobwebs and mildew. The sewers of Tiraas had many such private nooks, their original purpose now unknown; those who traversed the dark tunnels knew well enough to stay away from any secluded spot where there was light and voices.

It wasn’t like summoning the sshitherosz demon had been. The basics of the circle were the same, enchanted glyphs standing in for the presence of summoners, the reason this could be done by someone who knew no infernal magic. There were differences in the runes and structure of the circle, of course, and the final product didn’t look the same at all. Where the sshitherosz had clambered up from below, the incubus sort of congealed out of the air, collecting scraps of shadow and sparks into a form.

He flicked his tail idly, peering about. You could always tell whether an incubus or succubus had been recently on the mortal plane by their attire. They liked pretty things, fancy things, but there just wasn’t much to wear in Hell except the skins of things one had killed. This one wore nothing but a ragged fur loincloth hanging to his knees, secured by a wide belt with a hammered pewter buckle.

Naturally, he was ridiculously good-looking. Once you got past the tail and wings, of course, and the garnet-colored eyes. The demon’s face was long and flawlessly formed, somehow combining a rugged handsomeness with an effete pretty-boy look that didn’t seem like they should go together at all, much less as well as they did. He had the lean musculature of a swimmer, and those perfect muscles shifted beneath his exposed alabaster skin with even the slightest motion as he turned this way and that, studying his new environs. Darling had never been interested in men, but he’d also never been this close to an incubus before. It was hard not to admire the sheer artistry of the demon’s perfect body.

“Haha!” he bellowed, throwing up his arms in an over-the-top gesture of theatrical triumph. “Behold your doom, creature of the pits! I have called you forth, and it shall be I who is your undoing!”

“Do I know you?” the demon asked languidly, his expression sardonic.

Darling was dressed in a stained and ragged robe of the sort worn by Omnist monks, though the monks of course kept their attire in much better repair. The right touches of makeup had made his eyes and cheeks hollow, his hair dirty and unkempt. The rest was all mannerisms. In total, he made the perfect image of a deranged religious fanatic, if he did say so himself. Which he had.

“Spare me your blandishments, fiend!” he screamed, spittle flying from his lips. “I heed only the voice! The voice commands and I carry forth its will! Yes, one by one I shall call you, one by one I shall strike you down! The voice knows the way! The pits of hell shall be emptied by my hand!”

“Oh, honestly,” the incubus said in disgust, looking him up and down. “Why do I always get the crazy ones? Useless, the lot of you; one can’t even have proper revenge on a madman. It’s like whipping the wolf that killed your dog. It takes some sanity to truly suffer properly.”

“Be silent, unclean thing!” Darling bellowed, his voice cracking. “You need not speak, you need only die!” A nimbus of golden light sprang up around him; the demon flinched back, sparking where he impacted the cylinder of magic thrown up by the summoning circle. “Yes, now you see your doom!” Darling cackled. “Now you know its face! Repent with your last breath, worm!”

“What the hell are you even doing?” the demon demanded, shielding his eyes. “You’re going to summon demons one by one and kill them? Do you know how many eons that would take? And anyway, the Black Wreath will be on you within days.” A honeyed tone entered his voice. “Look, if it’s dead demons you want, perhaps we can be of service to each other. Between you and me, I can’t stand most of—”

“SILENCE!” he screamed, frothing with mad rage, and called up more light than he ever had in his life, enough that he could feel the burning in his fingertips. Enough that the infernal runes holding the circle steady exploded, winking out and dissolving the demon’s prison. As they had been designed to do.

The incubus snorted, gave one pump of his wings and lunged backward out of the range of Darling’s aura. “Nice move,” he said, chuckling. “Well, I guess this is it, then. Thanks for the lift, friend! I’d been looking for a way back to this plane for years. Ta ta!”

Turning, he darted down the long tunnel into the sewers, fading into invisibility as he went.

“NOOO!” Darling howled behind him, raging and stomping up and down. “This cannot be! The voice promised! This is the way! Reveal yourself, monster!” Throwing his hands out hither and yon, he sent aimless bolts of holy power in all directions, splashing against the walls of the chamber and shooting down the corridor. That kind of thing was well outside his areas of expertise; they wouldn’t have done much against a demon of that caliber, but even the incubus wouldn’t have been able to remain invisible if hit by one. All he succeeded in doing was establishing that the creature was long gone.

Finally, he fell still, then permitted himself a grin. “All right, girls, show’s over. You can come out now.”

From the two back corners of the room, shadows deepened, then fell apart, revealing the forms of the two elves. They stepped forward carefully, eying him as though concerned for his health.

“That,” Flora said, “was a hell of a thing.”

“Care to let us in on the joke, finally?” Fauna added with a touch of asperity.

“Gladly!” Turning to face them, Darling tucked his thumbs in the ragged cord currently serving as his belt. “I don’t know how it is for elves, ladies, but when a human dies, if they weren’t a faithful enough follower for any god to claim their soul, it becomes a concern for Vidius. He’s a pretty easygoing chap; you can be a filthy agnostic your whole life, but if you made a solid effort to be a decent person, you’re still likely to end up on the divine plane. It’s not as much a certainty as if you followed a god faithfully, but there it is. For the rest, though…they get sent to Hell. What goes on down there we don’t much know, but we do know that some of them take to it.”

He jerked a thumb over his shoulder in the direction the demon had fled. “That was an incubus, a demon…sort of. Incubi and succubi are the souls of humans who were, first, so wicked in life that they warranted infernal punishment, and second, so clever and strong-willed even in death that they managed to survive and advance themselves in the infernal realms, where basically everything is stronger than they are and wants to destroy them. Those who make it long enough or do well enough come to the attention of Prince Vanislaas, the first incubus, and are reborn as…that. Human soul, so corrupted with stabilized infernal magic that they are almost unrecognizable. Not well liked in Hell, and down to the last one, obsessed with getting back to the mortal plane to spread their corruption among their own former species.”

He grinned broadly. “Their powers include shape changing, invisibility, all manner of illusion and flight. They’re cunning almost beyond belief; they live to seduce and corrupt. A nasty piece of work, in other words, and not easy to take down. And, in at least a metaphysical sense, human. Best of all, there is absolutely no question that they need to be destroyed. So!” His grin broadened. “Think that’s enough of a challenge to satisfy your spirits?”

They stared at him, and then as one, delighted grins blossomed on their faces.

“I think that would do very nicely,” Fauna breathed.

“Well, then, you’ve given the bastard a sporting head start. I’d say the hunt is on.”

She dashed past him without another word. Flora paused only to lean in and peck him on the cheek.

“World’s best boss,” she whispered, then dashed off down the tunnel after her sister. They were gone in seconds.

Darling let the cheerful expression drop from his face, leaving him haggard and exhausted. He stepped backward until he came to the rear wall of the chamber and slumped against it. Momentarily he’d need to clear up all this detritus and then bless the space; one couldn’t be too careful when it came to demonology. He just needed a moment, first, to gather himself.

It was the best solution he could think of; the girls had certainly seemed to think it a good one. The incubus was crafty, but not nearly a match for one headhunter in terms of magical firepower, let alone two. The only question would be whether they could catch it… But no, they’d managed to pierce the secrecy around a vault sealed by the Church and the cult of Nemitoth without even trying. They could run this thing down, it would just give them a workout in the process. Of course, he had just set loose a devious corrupter demon in Tiraas. Yeah, there was absolutely no way this could end badly.

But no. They could do it. He just had to have faith in his little monsters.

Darling straightened up and began cleaning up the room, hoping, not for the first time recently, that he wasn’t in over his head.

< Previous Chapter                                                                                                                           Next Chapter >