Tag Archives: Marguerite Falconer

Bonus #43: The Audit, part 3

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Akinda wasn’t one to flatter herself, but she thought she was doing rather well considering what had been looming all morning. Her work involved a lot of interaction with rich people in general and nobles in particular, who were arguably more dangerous than Eserite street soldiers in their way. Today, though, would be her first time facing a room of Guild enforcers who were likely to end up being pissed off by what unfolded. To be uneasy at the prospect was wholly reasonable.

But her well-practiced poker face did not suffer for the unaccustomed exercise. She smiled blandly and looked skeptically aloof as an auditor should on a routine inspection while spending the morning looking over the factory’s attached mana well, where a slowly grinding magnetic generator spun infinite circles right in a major leyline nexus and conjured a steady stream of enchanting-grade dust ready to be refined into usable form. It was a pride and mainstay of Falconer Industries, and had been the elder Mr. Falconer’s original cash cow before his son turned his personal fascination with horseless carriages into an even more lucrative empire.

Geoffrey Falconer himself had decided to join her for her noon visit to the employee services center, accompanied again by his wife. This time, to her relief, their daughter was not present. Their Butler, however, was. Depending on how events unfolded, that could prove to be very good, or cause a lot of potentially messy complications.

“I mean, there are limits,” Marguerite Falconer was saying blithely while stirring a bowl of split-pea soup with her spoon. “It’s not a feast fit for the Duke’s table or anything. The factory does need to turn a profit and we’re not running a restaurant! But we do employ dedicated cooks and kitchen staff, and there are firm standards for the quality of ingredients used.”

“And you find this is cost effective?” Akinda asked mildly, taking a sip of soup. It was hard to judge its quality objectively; she hated peas. The buttered rolls were quite good, though, and it was hard to ruin tea.

“Oh, definitely,” Geoffrey said, having swallowed his own bite of ham and peas. “Tarvedh was skeptical when Margeurite first floated this, but it made sense to me from the get-go. Obviously people do better work when they’re well-fed and don’t have to worry about fetching their own meal.”

“Tarvedh was skeptical, was he?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Oh, now,” Mr. Tarvedh blustered, “not at the principle of the thing, merely some of the particular expenditures!”

“It is in line with Vernisite practice,” Akinda said noncommittally. “Human employees are like any beast of burden in that they are most productive when properly cared for.”

A few nearby people in overalls turned to give her flat looks at that.

“You, uh, don’t often talk doctrine in front of the beasts of burden, do you?” Marguerite asked with a reproachful frown.

In fact, she did not. Akinda cleared her throat, covering her momentary lapse by wiping her mouth with a napkin. “Speaking of which, do you often eat with the laborers?”

“Oh, not most days,” Geoffrey said blithely, gesticulating with his spoon and causing his wife to snatch it from his hand before he could spray them all with droplets of broth. “But it’s nice to have this down here, just in case, you know? And one does like to keep in touch with the staff. Can’t very well stay on top of the condition of the place if we’re always hiding away in the office.”

“Truthfully he’d eat down here more, except he often forgets to eat at all,” Marguerite added, giving her husband a fondly annoyed look. He grinned at her and retrieved his spoon.

Akinda had actually never eaten at a picnic-style table surrounded by working class people on their lunch break. She liked to think she was not so snooty as to find their company objectionable in and of itself; it was hard to analyze her own emotional reaction given the constant pressure of what she knew was going to start happening any minute. Every moment that it didn’t only increased the sense of looming threat.

The Falconer’s Butler had not sat down at the table with them, which was no surprise. Suddenly, though, he shifted to look at one of the double doors into the cafeteria from the main floor—the one closer to the factory’s entrance. Then, with no sign of hurry or change in his expression, he took two steps to the left to hover in front of the Falconers.

Akinda inhaled slowly, but deeply, and set down her spoon. Showtime.

She was now listening, and so picked up the sound of a lot of feet on the stone floor outside over the general low hubbub of the cafeteria. Neither of the Falconers had noticed their Butler’s movement; he was staring at the door, and had not yet sought their attention. At the first raised voice outside, the babble of conversation at the tables began to subside. Enough that the brief sound of a scuffle was audible, followed by a wordless shout.

Geoffrey looked up, frowning deeply. “What in—”

They streamed in through the two wide doorways, two groups of four people in mismatched attire immediately planting themselves in wedge formations inside the cafeteria to secure the entries; another foursome glided swiftly to the kitchen doors where they split up to cover those. Then more slipped in around their comrades, slowly spreading to either side to cover most of the room’s front. Not all of them were visibly carrying weapons, but…enough were.

“Excuse me!” Geoffrey said, his voice a sharp crack that cut across the rising murmurs of his employees. He got to his feet and took a step forward, clearly not intimidated by the mass of scruffy people who had just invaded his factory. Marguerite remained frozen in place, clutching a spoon, her face almost white. Tarvedh looked like he might faint.

The Butler shifted with his master, not blocking his view of the enforcers or exactly hovering, but remaining close enough that no thief who recognized the uniform was likely to make a move toward Falconer.

Akinda slowly turned fully around on her bench. She let herself stiffen, let her eyes dart nervously across the ranks of Guild enforcers forming up, just as would someone who was surprised by this development.

There were close to two dozen of them. How many practicing thieves could possibly infest a given economy? This had to be a significant chunk of the Eserite population of Madouris.

“Just what the hell is going on here?” Falconer demanded, glaring.

“Now, now, now!” The ranks in front of the closer door parted and he emerged, swaggering even as he held up both his meaty hands in a placating gesture. Rogue wasn’t dressed exactly as he’d been the night before; the dashing woodsman theme was still in place, but today’s leather doublet actually had gilded embroidery and his pointy hat and blousy shirt were a deep maroon instead of forest green. By all the gods, he was wearing a cape. “Let’s everybody remain calm, shall we? I realize this must look a certain way, but you have my personal assurance that my associates and I don’t intend to so much as ruffle anyone’s hair, nor make off with even one pilfered spoon.” He came to a stop in the forefront of the line of grim-faced thugs, grinning and tucking his thumbs into his broad leather belt. “I do, however, require a few moments of your time.”

“And you are?” Falconer replied acidly. His wife sighed heavily. Akinda had to wonder whether the man was actually brave, or just too perpetually in the clouds to fully grasp the situation. Then, too, she’d met a lot of wealthy people who couldn’t quite parse the notion that bad things could happen to them, even after they were bleeding.

“You may call me Rogue!” The man swept off his insipid little hat and executed a bow elaborate enough for the Calderaan court. “I have the honor of heading your local chapter of the esteemed Guild of Thieves. And yourself, sir! May I presume you are Mr. Geoffrey Falconer?”

“Well, you don’t seem to have trouble presuming,” Falconer snorted. “If you’ve harmed my guards—”

“I’m going to have to stop you there,” Rogue interrupted, holding up one hand as the gregarious smile melted from his face. “You probably think you’re showing some spirit in front of your subordinates and lady wife, sir, but you are not the only one here with an audience. There’s a stark limit to how much backtalk I can afford to take with my own people looking on. So what say we agree to be polite to one another, whether or not either of us likes it?”

“Now you listen to—”

“Geoffrey,” Marguerite pleaded.

He hesitated, half-turned to catch her eye and hold it for a moment. Then a little of the tension seeped from the set of his shoulders and the industrialist turned back to fix his gaze on Rogue.

“Fine,” he said, folding his arms. “What do you want?”

“Well, what do any of us want, really?” the Underboss replied, spreading his arms and grinning broadly. “Peace, justice, happiness, a wholesome world for—”

“Rogue,” interrupted one of his subordinates, a thin hawk-faced woman in a long velvet coat. “You’re doing the thing again. Just because we busted into the guy’s factory doesn’t mean we gotta waste his time.”

“I am justly rebuked,” Rogue said, giving her a sidelong glance. “Right, then, to the point. What I need from you at the moment, Mr. Falconer, is forbearance. As I have said, I’ve no intention of causing any further kerfuffle here than we already have; I believe my point is made. I can get to you, Falconer, any time I so choose. You’ll have to take my word that I can do so subtly—after all, if you knew who the Guild operatives among your staff were, that would be rather missing the point, eh? But now, you are aware the Thieves’ Guild has the forces and the will to march in here at any time we like, and do…well, really, what couldn’t we do?” He winked. “After all, what would you do to stop us?”

“And?” Falconer replied with scathing disdain.

“And that is all I have to say to you, sirrah, and thank you for indulging me.” Rogue tugged the forward point of his hat politely, then raised his chin and his voice. “To everyone else present! Clearly, you value your employment too much to squander it here and now by coming forward. But now you know that your petty overlord is not the almighty tyrant he tries to seem. The working man’s lot in life is going to start improving in Madouris, as of today, and as of here. Starting now, you can be assured that any further abuses by your employer will be…” He grinned lazily, casually rolling a coin across his fingers. “…addressed. We’ll be around, never you fear.”

Akinda’s blood had gone cold, and not because she feared incipient violence—in fact, quite the contrary. Her entire strategy here counted on Rogue creating a confrontation; it had not occurred to her that he might throw down an offer of support and then leave. Did he really need to bring so many enforcers just to do this? Of course he did, she realized. Shows of force were the only language Eserites understood, and this was her fault for assuming that meant they were completely unreasonable. Between the Duke and her own cult pulling strings even Rogue couldn’t entirely be blamed for having been maneuvered into this position.

Now, she had to find a way to push this to a head or the entire endeavor would be a complete loss. And there was just no way she could see that didn’t involve exposing herself…and therefore becoming a personal target of the Guild’s vengeance.

Akinda, for the first time in a long time, froze. Was that a sacrifice she was willing to make? Was it one she should? Would the bank expect it of her, or chide her for recklessness?

And then it was abruptly taken out of her hands.

“You have got some god damn nerve!” roared a man at the next table over, shooting to his feet so suddenly he almost knocked over the bench, and the two coworkers still sitting on it. He was a burly, towering specimen even for a factory laborer, with the handy addition of an immensely bushy black beard to enhance his fearsome scowl. “You come into our factory, you threaten our boss, an’ you wanna talk to us about abuse? Fuck you Eserite pigs!”

An ugly murmur rose in the cafeteria—no, more of a growl, Akinda decided. The assembled crowd of laborers shifted, a stir running through them like a great hibernating beast twitching as it dreamed. Instantly, at least half the thieves in front of them straightened up visibly, reacting on instinct to a threat.

“Yes, yes,” Rogue said in a tone of condescending faux-mollification, “I was made aware that the bosses have their sycophants, as in every—”

“Piece of shit!” screeched another woman, surging forward from her seat the next row of tables back and almost tripping over a bench even as she leveled an accusing finger at the Underboss. “You wanna call Rajesh a sycophant? How about you come over here and do it to his face without your little posse, then?”

Far from being displeased at being thus nominated, the big Rajesh—who was one of the few men in the room physically larger than Rogue—cracked his knuckles, glaring at the Underboss. All around him, more of the employees were rising from their benches, and several had started to stalk forward to the front row of tables.

The row of thieves began inching forward, as well. It seemed that not only were street soldiers sensitive to a hostile mood, but their innate response to it wasn’t a sensible retreat. None raised weapons yet, but a few had started to finger them.

And Akinda, right on the front row of tables, was positioned between the two groups. Well, the good news was she could return to worrying about her physical safety and not her whole plan going belly-up.

“Everyone, please,” Falconer said, turning back to face his employees and finally, it seemed, starting to understand the potential danger here, “let’s not make this worse.”

Rogue was frowning, his eyes cutting back and forth across the increasingly angry crowd of factory workers. Akinda could see him doing the math. Nearly the entire room was furious, many enough to push aggressively forward, and he hadn’t even hit anyone. They reacted this way in near unanimity to having their boss merely insulted and threatened. To a man like Rogue, accustomed to both manipulating individuals and steering large groups, the evidence of Falconer’s popularity was staring him right in the face.

He fixed his gaze on Akinda, and she tried to look confused and alarmed. She wasn’t his sole source of intel on the state of this factory, but he couldn’t miss the significance of her contribution. The plan was for her to be out of the province anyway before the Guild could begin unraveling any retribution against her, but if he decided to make an issue of it here and now…

Meanwhile, the rest of the thieves were growing increasingly nervous, which in their case meant increasingly ready to fight. The cafeteria full of laborers might not be professional knuckledusters, but every one of them had the well-muscled frame of someone who did heavy labor for a living, and they outnumbered the Guild’s presence by a good five to one. If this became a brawl, it was likely to end with Madouris emptied of Eserite presence for the foreseeable future.

Apparently Rogue either bought her helpless act or decided to put off dealing with her for later. Shifting his attention back to the crowd, he raised his hands again. “Ladies and gentlemen, if you please…”

“Get outta here!” a woman’s voice rang out, quickly echoed by a chorus of agreement. The growling crowd pushed a few steps farther, momentarily cutting off Akinda’s view as they shifted in front of her table. She reflexively pushed herself back against it as the sounds of scuffling broke out.

The crowd parted again, letting her see, and apparently the two fronts hadn’t clashed yet; in fact, there were a couple of matching tableaus where particularly aggressive thieves and workers were being held back by their fellows.

A roll of bread went sailing over the front ranks of the laborers, accompanied by an upsurge in the angry noise.

Rogue snatched it out of the air and took a big bite. His eyes widened in surprise. “Hey, that’s pretty good! Are these fresh? And it’s… Is that rosemary and butter?”

He pitched his voice a little too loud for a man commenting on a buttered roll, but it had the designed effect. The crowd—both crowds—calmed slightly as he carried on, studying the bread in his hand and chomping enthusiastically away.

“Well,” the Underboss said after pausing to swallow, “I’m starting to think I’ve been misinformed on a few important points. I realize we’ve already overstayed our welcome a tad, but if you’d indulge me just a moment longer—”

“Fuck off outta here!” one of the laborers yelled, igniting another angry push forward.

“Now just a minute!” Falconer shouted, himself pushing to the head of the crowd. “That’s enough of this. Everybody calm down!” He turned to stare at his employees, waiting for the muttering to subside somewhat, before returning his attention to Rogue. “What, exactly, were you misinformed about?”

The Underboss had taken another bite of the roll and was chewing while watching this scene play out, still projecting a picture of perfect calm. Akinda forced herself to breathe evenly. At least the two men in charge here had enough leadership ability to set an example to their respective groups.

Rogue swallowed and casually brushed off his fingers on his jerkin. “Now, I say this to inquire, not to accuse. Just repeating some stories I’ve been told, you understand. But on the matter of Falconer Industries employees being required to work extra hours, unpaid, and threatened with dismissal if they didn’t—”

“There is nothing like that here,” Geoffrey burst out, glaring.

“With all respect, Falconer,” Rogue replied, actually showing a little respect in his demeanor now, “that’s also what you’d say if that were going on, isn’t it? If you don’t mind, I’d like to hear from—”

“You heard the man!” interrupted another FI laborer, a short but barrel-chested man with dark Onkawi features, pushing to the front of the crowd. “This is a good job. We make the best damn carriages in the Empire and we get paid well for our work. Everybody here is proud of our company!”

The chorus of agreement was very nearly a roar.

“I see,” Rogue said, raising his bushy eyebrows in a serious expression. “And, for another example… These tales I’ve heard, of employees taking sick and their children having to step into their jobs so they don’t lose their positions?”

“Bullshit!” squawked a woman with steel-gray hair, pointing accusingly at him. “We get sick leave, we do! An’ four times a year Mr. Falconer brings a doctor in an’ everybody here gets whatever treatment he can do for whatever it is we got, on the company time. He set my daughter’s busted leg, he did, an’ she don’t even work for FI!”

Rogue, again, let his eyes flicker back and forth across the assembled factory workers while they shouted a disjointed chorus of agreement. He took another bite of buttered roll, chewing for a strategic pause while letting the noise die down somewhat. Geoffrey Falconer also waited, eyes narrowed; thankfully, so did the assembled thieves, though some of them clearly weren’t happy with the prospect.

“Well, this is awfully embarrassing,” Rogue said at last, turning to his compatriots. “Ladies and gentlemen, I’m sorry to say that we have been played for chumps! It looks like we’ve got no business here after all.”

“Damn right!” someone shouted from among the workers, quickly repeated by others.

“Mister Falconer,” Rogue intoned, turning around again and sweeping off his hat in another deep bow. “Assembled men and women of this esteemed establishment! You have my humble apologies for this disruption. It seems I was in error to have so accused you—truly, I am sorry to have caused you trouble. I will be taking my people and myself and getting out of your hair as swiftly as possible.”

“What about her?” The oily-looking young man who spoke was better dressed than most of the thieves in a well-fitting suit, with slicked-back hair and sharp features; he was a stranger to Akinda, but he clearly knew her, and stared accusingly. “If we’ve been misled, it’s obvious who did it.”

“It’s anything but, Thumper,” Rogue said with an ostentatious roll of his eyes. “Whatever person is right in front of you is rarely the one to blame for whatever’s on your mind, and I know we’ve had this conversation before.”

“Yeah, but she—”

Rogue turned to stare at him, and that was enough. Thumper clamped his mouth shut, scowling.

“Again, my sincere apologies,” the Underboss said to Geoffrey, holding up the half-eaten roll. “Thanks for lunch, Falconer. It’s on me, next time.”

“Hold it,” the industrialist said flatly. “After all this, you think you’re just going to walk away? I think I want to have this conversation with you and the police present.”

“Falconer,” Rogue said in a very even tone, “today you have seen the Thieves’ Guild made a fool of. That, sir, is a rare treat for anyone. Now, I truly am sorry to have unduly burdened you. I’m willing to say that I owe you a favor for the trouble—so long as it doesn’t end up being anything too unreasonable. Like, for example, that.”

“Geoffrey,” Marguerite said quietly, “let it go. They’re leaving. That’s good enough.”

Falconer folded his arms again, fixing Rogue with a stare which the thief met without flinching while his assembled enforcers began streaming out through the cafeteria doors. Rogue was the last out; he paused, tipping his hat once again, before vanishing.

Akinda let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding, and felt the tension begin to leak from her body. Slowly, she turned back around on her seat, and found herself face to face with Marguerite Falconer, who was staring at her over steepled fingers.

“Why,” Marguerite asked calmly, ignoring the noise going on around them as the crowd of factory workers began expelling the pent-up tension of the encounter, “would the Thieves’ Guild blame you for their misconceptions about this company, Ms. Akinda?”

Her husband, now, was also staring at Akinda. As was Tarvedh, the Butler, and a couple of nearby laborers who had overheard.

Akinda cleared her throat. “I wonder if I could trouble you for a word in private, Mr. and Mrs. Falconer?”

“Yes,” Geoffrey said pointedly, regarding her with a decidedly unfriendly expression, “yes, I think that is a good idea.”


“With the rapid advancement of the science of enchantment has come rapid industrialization. That’s not news to you, of course,” Akinda said, nodding politely to the two Falconers once they were safely ensconced in their top-floor office. Tarvedh had not accompanied them this time, though the Butler remained discreetly by the closed door. “You have probably had reason to think about the social changes this has brought; the new industrial class are the first incidence of a rising economic power that can compete with the nobility since the first merchant guilds were formed.”

“Yes,” Marguerite said wryly, folding her arms, “Duke Madouri has made that a point of interest to us.”

“And that’s it exactly,” said Akinda. “Responses among the nobles to social change vary widely, but as a group they tend to feel threatened by anything which shifts the landscape on which their privileges rest. Some have moved to profit from the great manufacturing companies springing up within their fiefs. Others have Madouri’s attitude. You may not be aware of this, but a very old trick in the aristocracy’s perpetual maneuvers against each other is to try to trip one another into conflict with the Thieves’ Guild. That’s practically the preferred regional sport in Calderaas. Unfortunately, while the Houses are prepared to play that game, people like you are most often blindsided by it. In the last ten years, there have been several promising companies damaged and in some cases completely dismantled by the Guild over offenses which in hindsight proved to have been completely fabricated.”

“Really,” Geoffrey said, frowning. Now both of them had pensive expressions, which was an improvement over their hostile ones of a moment before.

Akinda nodded. “Eserites, like all religious people, are prone to a few predictable flaws. Once they smell corruption and abuse, they pursue it single-mindedly enough that they can easily gloss over exonerating evidence, even with the best intentions. That is the reason for my presence, and involvement. Obviously, the Guild doesn’t need outside help to investigate Falconer Industries. They do have people here already, as Rogue said. But those people are looking for weaknesses, not reasons to back off. My bank went to a great deal of trouble to give Rogue the impression that he could use me to ferret out your secrets, and arranged for him to acquire falsified evidence of some trumped-up crimes on my part. He believes he is blackmailing me into complying with his efforts here.”

“You’re telling me,” Geoffrey said flatly, “that Duke Madouri manipulated the Thieves’ Guild into attacking my factory.”

“Yes,” she said. “And the Vernisite bank in Madouris, which had been watching for such activity, warned central bank in Tiraas, which sent me. My assignment was to re-direct the Guild’s efforts.”

“You couldn’t just warn them?” Marguerite demanded.

“They don’t listen to bankers,” Akinda replied, shaking her head. “Our relationship with the Guild is rather one-sided. We find them an extremely useful measure against corruption, even within our own ranks—but that only works so long as they keep us at arm’s length, so we deliberately make no effort to cozy up to them.”

“And you couldn’t warn us?” Geoffrey snapped.

“For that, I apologize,” she said, inclining her head. “It’s policy. We tried that, early on; the effect was, consistently, industrialists taking aggressive measures either against the Thieves’ Guild or their noble tormentors, with predictably disastrous results.”

“I can’t believe anyone would do something that stupid,” he huffed.

“Yes, you can,” Marguerite said with a sigh. “You almost did it not ten minutes ago, Geoffrey. Don’t make that face, you were that close to throwing a punch at that guy and you know it.”

“Now,” Akinda said, “the Guild knows better than to attack you. Rogue has been embarrassed and will look into his sources of information with greater care. He will find details my bank has planted revealing the source of Madouri’s original misdirections, and turn his anger on the Duke. Madouri will bleed for this, and hopefully not try it again. Most importantly, his reprisal will come from the Thieves’ Guild and not from Falconer Industries, giving him no pretext to punish you.”

They stared at her, then turned to each other and shared a silent married conversation. Then turned back to her, still staring.

Akinda cleared her throat discreetly. “Needless to say, the bank regrets the imposition, and greatly appreciates your role in this affair, unwitting as it was. This has been a success for everyone—Falconer Industries, the bank, even the Thieves’ Guild. Well, everyone except Duke Madouri, who is soon to be given a lesson in not antagonizing Eserites. This ostensible audit was a formality anyway; FI is an excellent company and has been consistently a valued business partner. Your loan is approved, at twenty-five percent above the asked amount.”

“No.” Geoffrey Falconer stepped closer to her, staring right into her eyes. His wife remained behind, and matched his glare.

“No?” Akinda raised an eyebrow.

“We’ll take the amount originally applied for,” he stated. “And we will take it at zero interest, with no defined term of repayment.”

Akinda could only gape at him for a moment.

“Ah. Mr. Falconer, the bank of course wishes to accommodate you under the circumstances, but not to the extent of obviating the reason we give loans.”

“Tough,” he said flatly. “You can tell this to your bank, Akinda: I don’t need more money from you, I need you to walk away with your knuckles stinging. This scheme of yours came within a hair’s breadth of setting Thieves’ Guild brawlers on my employees. Omnu’s breath, my daughter could have been here. You will hurt for this, is that understood? If the bank will not accept my terms—or if you ever again put any of my people in danger for any reason—I will go right to the Duke, to the Guild… The Empire, the Universal Church, the Sisterhood of Avei, everyone I can think of who even might take exception to a Pantheon cult engaging in this kind of chicanery. I know very well that I’m not a sly manipulator like your masters, Akinda. But I have money, I have magic, and I am pissed off. I’m willing to bet that by the time I get finished throwing blind punches, you’ll have lost a lot more than the interest you would’ve made off this loan. Am I understood?”

He met her gaze in silence after finishing, waiting for her to answer. Akinda stared back, then shifted her eyes to look behind him at his wife. Marguerite raised on eyebrow at her.

“Well,” she said at last, “obviously, I cannot personally authorize such a measure. But I will convey your, ah, terms to the bank. And,” she added, “I will encourage them in the firmest language possible to take your offer, Mr. Falconer. In this particular situation, I am reasonably confident I can persuade the bank to agree.”

“Good.” He turned his back on her and walked back to his wife, who took his hand with an expression of pride. “Then I bid you good day, Ms. Akinda. This audit is concluded.”

She bowed, just for good measure, then turned and walked out, the Butler opening the office door for her. Outside the office, Akinda allowed herself a soft sigh of relief.

Not the outcome she’d gone in looking for, or expecting, but…one she would accept. A hoarder had been thwarted, the bank could continue doing business, and the company would thrive.

It must flow. And for now, at least, it would.

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Bonus #41: The Audit, part 1

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This chapter topic was requested by Kickstarter backer Jonathan Hogg!

“And here we are!” Tarvedh said as grandly as if ushering her into a throne room. He pulled open the frosted glass doors and stepped aside, actually bowing her to precede him into the office. Akinda acknowledged the gesture with a nod in passing, wondering about his demeanor. He, of all people, should know better than to try to suck up to her.

The central office of Falconer Industries was not what she had expected. It was a large space, though not as much as one might expect from the beating heart of a factory this size, and looked more like the private lab of some absent-minded wizard than the headquarters of a manufacturing company. The square room was bordered on three sides by glass: one wall of tall windows looking out at the factory’s front drive, the one opposite overlooking the main assembly line a story below, and the third of frosted glass in which the door was set. Directly across from her, the far wall could only barely be identified as brick, it was so covered in runic diagrams, enchanting schematics, and miscellaneous notes, some of which glowed subtly as if somebody had been jotting down ideas in expensive enchanting ink instead of the customary black. The whole room was a profusion of mismatched, comfortably battered furniture and enchanting paraphernalia, both free-standing equipment scattered about with no apparent plan and an assortment of power crystals and vials of glittering dust interspersed with the drifts of papers covering every flat surface—including, in some places, the floor. Somebody had scrawled what looked like a haphazard summoning circle on the floorboards in the corner.

Three of the four people present looked up at her entry, the smallest abruptly cutting off strumming a guitar, and Akinda was left standing there under their eyes while Tarvedh bustled around her into the office, pulled the door shut behind him, and finally turned to make the introductions.

“Here she is, sir,” he said with the same peculiar eagerness. “Mr. Falconer, this is Auditor Akinda. Ms. Akinda, Geoffrey Falconer.”

“Imbani Akinda,” she clarified, stepping forward and extending her hand.

“Ah! Of course, hello! Good morning!” Falconer was a nondescript man in his thirties who wouldn’t have been taken, at a glance, for either a brilliant enchanter or one of the richest people in the Empire. He set down the rod and vial of arcane dust with which he’d been working—rather carelessly, causing the vial to spill sparkling powder across his diagram—and hurried across the office to clasp her hand.

“Geoffrey!” the woman near him said in exasperation, snatching up a rag and rushing to join them as both Falconer and Akinda jumped slightly at the electric shock that snapped between their hands.

“Oh! Gods, I’m sorry,” the industrialist said, wincing and withdrawing his grip. His hands—and now Akinda’s—bore smears of enchanting dust. “Really, I do apologize, I have no excuse. You’d think that by this time I’d have learned…”

“He does that to everyone,” the woman said, offering Akinda the rag with a smile. “Employees, Imperial Marshals, Duke Madouri, everyone. It’s a wonder nobody’s shot him yet. The cloth is clean and magically neutral, I assure you. I make sure to keep them on hand,” she added, giving Mr. Falconer a look.

“No harm done,” Akinda said neutrally, wiping the arcane residue off her hand.

“My better half, Marguerite,” Falconer said, slipping an arm around the woman’s shoulders. Despite her remonstrative expression, she let herself be tugged against his side. “You know our head numbers man, Mr. Tarvedh, of course. This is Meron Talidar, our head of research and development.”

The man to whom he gestured had not looked up from the desk over which he was hunched with his back to the door, and still didn’t, though at being introduced he raised one hand to wave over his shoulder with an irritable grunt.

“Who is an irascible wizard of the oldest school,” Marguerite added with a sigh, earning no further response from Talidar.

“So I see,” Akinda observed, studying the man sidelong. Even with his back to her, his personal style bordered on affectation. He had unruly hair loosely tied back with a leather cord and apparently untrimmed for at least twenty years, a beard so bushy it was visible to both sides of his neck, and wore robes. Even among wizards, only Salyrites in formal attire and old men who couldn’t be bothered to learn what century it was still went about in robes.

“And this, of course, is our daughter, Teal,” Geoffrey concluded, turning a beaming smile on the last person in the office.

“Hello,” Teal Falconer said with all the uncertain politeness of any ten-year-old girl formally meeting a stranger. She carefully set down the guitar she’d been playing on her chair and approached, more cautiously by far than either of her parents. “I love your dress! That’s so beautiful, I’ve never seen one quite like it.”

“Thank you, Miss Falconer,” Akinda replied with a small but unfeigned smile. “You’ll rarely see a buba outside Onkawa, but I’m fond of traditional dress, even in Tiraas. I’m sorry to interrupt your playing; you handle that instrument beautifully for someone your age.”

“Thanks!” the girl said, breaking into a broad smile. “I get a lot of practice. What brings you to visit?”

Tarvedh cleared his throat, bending toward Teal and raising the pitch of his voice in exactly the manner one should never adopt toward any child old enough to recognize condescension. “Ms. Akinda is just here to do some business, Miss Teal! She’s an auditor from the central Vernisite bank in Tiraas.”

Teal had sighed softly as soon as the accountant started speaking to her, clearly used to him, but at that her eyes widened in alarm. “An audit? Are we in trouble?” she asked, turning to her parents.

“No, no, honey, it’s not like a Treasury audit,” Marguerite soothed, laying a hand on her daughter’s shoulder. “It’s for expanding the main assembly line, remember? We’re taking out a loan from the central bank.”

“They do these things from time to time,” Geoffrey added, waving a hand vaguely. “We do a lot of business with the bank but once in a while they want to send somebody to look the business over, especially when we’re asking for a loan. The bank has to ensure its own interests, after all! It’s pretty routine, nothing to worry about.”

Teal’s eyebrows drew together in a worried expression. “Why do we need money from the bank? Don’t we have enough to just…build it ourselves?”

A round of glances passed between the adults.

“Oh, now, you don’t need to worry about that for a few years yet!” Tarvedh said with boisterous good cheer. “It’s all technical, Miss Teal. You just concentrate on your schooling and your music, there’ll be plenty of time to learn about business later.”

Both the elder Falconers shot him sidelong looks, less openly annoyed than their daughter’s, but not completely neutral. Mr. Tarvedh must really be an excellent accountant; the factory clearly did not hire its top staff based on social acumen.

“It’s actually very rare for a major business to finance its own activities, Miss Falconer,” Akinda said to Teal, in exactly the tone she would use to discuss the matter with a junior clerk at her own bank. As a child, she had hated adults talking down to her. “Especially venturous ones—major expansions and the like. It protects the business from loss, and creates opportunity for investors to profit. If the new venture does well, the loan is paid back with interest, and so the business and investors both benefit.”

“Oh,” Teal said thoughtfully. “What if it fails?”

“Oh, now, we don’t even think about that,” Tarvedh said, grinning nervously. “That is, there’s really no prospect of it! Falconer Industries is fully solvent and very profitable—”

“Thank you, Mr. Tarvedh,” Geoffrey Falconer said firmly.

“That’s the risk you take by investing,” Akinda explained. “There’s great profit in it, if you do it wisely, not to mention the benefit to the total economy by keeping money in motion, and new ventures always rising. Investors are in it for the chance of profit, and in the case of Vernisite institutions like mine, to help keep the economy moving. But whenever you take a risk, there’s a chance you will lose out, and that’s something investors have to accept. We minimize the risk by doing our due diligence and knowing exactly what we are getting into.”

Teal nodded. “And that’s your job.”

“Exactly,” Akinda said, smiling at her.

Geoffrey cleared his throat. “Well! We don’t want to waste your time, Ms. Akinda, so consider us at your disposal. Can we get you anything? Tea, biscuits?”

“Dear,” Marguerite murmured.

“Oh!” Mr. Falconer clapped a hand to his forehead, leaving a comical imprint of glittering arcane dust. “Drat, sorry. Does that count as an unsolicited gift?”

“The bank doesn’t consider basic hospitality an attempted bribe,” Akinda said with an amused smile. “And thank you, but not at this time. Perhaps I will take you up on it when reviewing your books later, but I would like to begin by looking over the facilities, if I may.”

“Of course! Like I said, at your disposal. I’d be glad to show you around myself, just let me find something to wipe off my hands…”

“Actually,” she said, quietly but firmly, “I prefer to roam unescorted by owners, as a rule. You understand.”

“Oh,” he said, blinking. “Of course, yes.” Clearly he didn’t, but wasn’t going to argue, which was good enough for her.

“But I would like to have someone on hand to answer questions,” Akinda continued, “if I could continue to borrow Mr. Tarvedh?”

“By all means, I should be delighted!” the accountant beamed, apparently meaning it sincerely. He didn’t strike her as being mentally equipped for deception. “I can offer a guided tour, Auditor—or, if you’d prefer, just tell me what you’d like to see and I’ll take you there!”

“The latter, I think,” she said, nodding politely. “Thank you, Mr. and Mrs. Falconer. Miss Falconer. I look forward to speaking with you again soon.”

“Of course, take your time,” Geoffrey replied. “I’ll probably be right here, but my assistant can find us for you if not. Tarvedh, take good care of our guest! Make sure she has everything she might need.”

“Without doubt, sir!”

“Bye,” said Teal, waving.

Tarvedh again bustled ahead to open the office door for her, but moments later they were out, and pacing slowly along the walkway leading to the main office, lined by doors to smaller chambers on one side and the railed drop to the factory floor on the other. Akinda stepped to the edge of this, trailing her hand along the rail and setting a slow pace while organizing her thoughts.

She rather liked the Falconers and their operation; rich people who did not let their wealth go to their heads appealed to her Vernisite sensibilities. Geoffrey Falconer more resembled an absent-minded academic than an industrialist, and it was noteworthy that he had married a mousy woman who wore glasses and went about the factory in a workman’s shirt and overalls. Falconer Industries had prospered mightily under Geoffrey, but he had inherited a business already wealthy enough that he could have easily obtained a beautiful noblewoman for a bride. Many young men in his position did exactly that.

Of course, a facade was only that, often as not. The Falconers wouldn’t be the first people she’d ever met who could understand what image would impress a follower of Verniselle and put it on. Even the child could have managed, by that age; she had encountered some truly ruthless sprouts among the seeds of the nobility and the newer industrial wealthy. Money did things to people.

Tarvedh was watching her as if afraid to speak. He was an odd little man—apparently loyal to his masters, and yet the very picture of a good Vernisite. Even the triple-coin pin at his lapel was perfect, richly detailed by a jeweler but made of plain steel, displaying wealth by having given work to a skilled artisan rather than by using expensive raw materials. His clothes were likewise well-tailored but far from ostentatious.

She decided it was better to start by putting him at ease.

“Teal?” Akinda inquired softly, raising an eyebrow.

He cracked a grin at that. “Ah, yes, well. Mrs. Falconer is an artist.”

“Ah, I see. Well, she seems a charming child.”

“Mm, as children go,” he said noncommittally. “Remarkably well-behaved! She often accompanies her parents, and I can’t recall the girl ever having caused a problem. If there must be a child underfoot, I’d rather it be Miss Teal than basically any other. Well! This is as good a place to begin as any! You see the main factory floor—this is where the main expansion we are planning will begin.” He stepped in front of her to the rail and leaned across it, pointing. “You see there, the far wall! The doors currently lead to a large lot with a gravel track where we test-drive carriages, but that can be moved basically anywhere. According to the plans we’ve drawn up, we intend to add a new wing onto the building itself, leaving the wall intact but removing the doors to open both production lines to each other. That’s the goal, of course, a second line added rather than an expansion to the first one.”

“Mm,” she murmured, sweeping her gaze across the room. “Mass-produced carriages are not currently the larger part of FI’s profit.”

“Ah, that is, not at present. Hence our interest in expanding! It’s the Imperial economy, you see—these are boom years, lots of money going around, and falling into lots more hands! Right now, the really expensive custom jobs for nobility and the like provide a wider profit margin, but the demand for mass-produced models has grown steadily, and all our projections insist it will continue to do so.”

“Enchanted carriages still are not a toy for the middle class, though.”

“Yet,” he insisted with a grin. “But the middle class is expanding and growing more affluent, and has been since not long after Empress Theasia was crowned, the gods rest her soul. You know, of course, that his Majesty Sharidan has taken more of an interest in the economy than his mother did, and the good times continue to roll! Especially since the treaty with the drow; the prices of some of our raw materials have bottomed out. But more relevant to our discussion here, the bulk of our R&D at the moment is on improving the efficiency of our production line rather than devising new enchantments. The second line will open up great new prospects for us! With the assurance of one always running, we can use the second for more experimental measures and greatly increase our rate of advancement. By investing in our own processes we will bring down production costs and therefore the costs of our products, making them more widely available to a broader customer base. Falconer Industries has its eye on the future!”

“I’d like to have a look at your R&D division, if possible.”

“…ah. That, as you might imagine, is more sensitive…”

“If it is too great an imposition…?”

“Oh, not at all, not at all!” he assured her hastily. “It’s just that the company will have to have some guarantees of security if you are to view any proprietary enchantments in development. Given your status with the cult, a written pledge of confidentiality will suffice.”

“I’m willing to do that,” she agreed in a noncommittal tone, resting both hands on the rail and gazing down at the assembly line. For the most part, the employees applying enchantments to carriage pieces and assembling them together were bent over their tasks, but once in a while she caught one sneaking a peek up at the walkway. The supervisor pacing up and down the line spent almost as much time looking up as at what she was supervising. Clearly, the rumor mill had forewarned them of her presence, and what it signified. “I have noted that FI is considered the most desirable employer in the province.”

“Not just the province!” Tarvedh said proudly. “I think you will find that Falconer Industries is a leader in the carriage business. We pay the best wages to be found south of the Five Kingdoms! And not merely to our enchanters—Mr. Falconer is adamant about taking proper care even of our unskilled laborers.”

“The employees are his family,” she said, and Tarvedh grinned. It was a tired old joke, but one no Vernisite could pass up, if only because nobody outside their cult ever got it. “It’s a positive sign, of course, very promising. But, obviously, the lack of a trade union’s presence anywhere in the company is a black mark.”

“You know very well there’s nothing we can do about that,” Tarvedh all but snapped, then stopped and drew a deep breath, visibly composing himself. Very loyal; that, too was a good sign. An employer who could secure that kind of devotion from a Vernisite in good standing with the cult would be looked on favorably by the bank. Akinda would note this in her report, but wasn’t about to make a point of it here. “His Grace the Duke,” Tarvedh continued in a calmer tone, “is…how to put this…extremely concerned with potential challenges to his authority. And he is prone to seeing such challenges in places where, well, others wouldn’t even think to look. It’s been an unfortunate characteristic of House Madouri since his Grace’s late father Ravaan had all that trouble with the Thieves’ Guild. Tiraan Province is a veritable wasteland when it comes to trade guilds and unions of any kind. It is far from FI’s fault, Ms. Akinda. And Mr. Falconer does his very best to insure the well-being of his employees in the absence of a proper union.”

“That brings us to the real problem, does it not?” Akinda said quietly, still watching the factory workers going about their tasks. Even to her untrained eyes, the operation was a smooth one. The assembly line flowed steadily, pieces of carriages being conveyed constantly forward on a mix of conveyor belts, enchanted carts, and the arms of burly men and women. Enchanters, upholsterers and woodworkers applied their crafts, and less-skilled laborers fitted pieces together; notably, the factory uniform was the same for all and the workstations were equally well-appointed, the difference in skills revealed only in their application. That was a positive sign, but one which bore further investigation. The bank’s research had found that segregating employees by skillset and level of compensation could damage company morale, but then, so could failing to appropriately acknowledge and reward those who had invested the time and effort to learn valuable crafts. “The bank is, of course, aware of the difficulties his Grace the Duke causes throughout the province. He appears particularly threatened by the success of Falconer Industries. I don’t say this to imply any fault on the part of the company, but it’s a fact that cannot help but influence the bank’s decision.”

“I would never speak ill of the Duke,” Tarvedh said with a bitter twist of his mouth as if not speaking ill of the Duke was a painful task. Akinda could well believe Geoffrey Falconer had given Duke Madouri an arcane shocker handshake, and perhaps not quite by accident. “But yes, his…micro-management of the province is…just in some cases, mind you…at least potentially more trouble than it is actually worth to the provincial government. You know, in terms of revenue generated.”

“Intrusive management is one thing,” she said. “House Madouri’s taxes upon Falconer Industries have grown downright punitive.”

Tarvedh sucked in air through his teeth, his chest swelling. “We make do, Auditor, I assure you. While the High Seat in Madouris may be less than reasonable, at times, the Silver Throne remains very interested in supporting its most valuable economic producers—and the Treasury has been…ah, discreetly sympathetic to our issues with his Grace. I can provide you a full list of the Imperial incentives FI enjoys. Nor do we over-rely on the Throne. Some of the Duke’s more unreasonable taxes and regulations can be evaded by transferring certain, ah, peripheral aspects of the business out of his domain. As the Rails and telescroll network are rapidly filling in their gaps, it is less and less of an imposition. We try not to overuse this method, however, lest his Grace…” His grimace was very nearly a snarl. “…take offense.”

Akinda nodded, keeping her expression neutral. “I would like to have a closer look at the assembly line, if I may.”

“But of course!” And just like that, Tarvedh was all smiles and sunshine again. “Not too close, you understand, our employees have their tasks down to an almost musical rhythm and we mustn’t get underfoot. But I’ll call Ms. Alvaraad over to show you around, and it should be fine. That’s the supervisor, you see—there she is, currently on the catwalk over there. Oh, but we’ll need to pick up goggles and rubber gloves first. I’m afraid the safety rules are inviolable, and apply also to factory guests. Even important personages such as yourself!”

“Good,” she said, nodding in approval. “First, though, could you show me where the…facilities are?”

“Ah! Yes, of course, that’s just perfect,” he burbled, stepping away from the railing and beckoning her own down the walkway. “We’ll make a stop by the employee services area, I think you’ll like what you see there. The cafeteria just underwent renovations last year—we’ve greatly improved upon the institutional benches and tables it used to have! There is also a cafe area with comfortable seating so it needn’t be all business on lunch breaks. And the whole place has been decorated! Mrs. Falconer insisted on having potted greenery, and selected the wall art herself—some of it her own work! You know, Falconer Industries was the first factory in Tiraan Province to provide a hot meal a day to its employees. Just this way down the stairs. Ms. Akinda. Yes, in fact, the washrooms were also improved recently, I think you’ll be impressed! The sinks run cold and hot water—”

“Thank you, Mr. Tarvedh, but this is one inspection I would prefer to make un-escorted.”

“Oh, um. Right. Of course.”


The women’s washroom did, indeed, speak well of the company, being clean and brightly lit, with the amenities Tarvedh had boasted of. Not a single fixture was out of order. Akinda didn’t dawdle just to enjoy the scenery, though; one bank of sinks and public toilets wasn’t tremendously different from another, unless you were a connoisseur of plumbing. Which she was not.

While she took her time washing her hands, twisting the faucets this way and that to get the temperature just right, the washroom door opened. Akinda’s eyes snapped up, watching in the mirror, but then she relaxed. It was nothing but a young girl in a factory uniform. Surely not much more than fourteen, the youngest a person could legally do factory work in the Empire. Of course, people did lie to get work, which this one might have. Her Sheng features made it hard to guess her age; all the peoples of the northern archipelagos tended to be slight of build and aged almost as gracefully as elves.

Well, perhaps it was too early in her visit for her to be contacted. It wouldn’t be too hard to ditch Tarvedh at intervals; he wasn’t the brightest star in the firmament, however good an accountant he might be. If nothing else, she could visit the washroom at least every couple of hours, especially if she took up the offer of tea.

But then the girl, pacing forward with her eyes on Akinda, deftly flicked a doubloon out of the sleeve of her coveralls into her hand. In the next moment she was rolling it back and forth across the backs of her fingers.

Akinda carefully twisted the faucets off and dried her hands on the towel, watching the girl’s reflection in the mirror.

The young Sheng stepped up to the next sink, made the coin disappear, and began washing her own hands, eyes meeting Akinda’s in the mirror without turning her head. “Good day, Mizz Akinda. How are you finding?”

Akinda blinked. That accent was distinctly Sifanese, not Sheng, and thick enough that she was clearly a new arrival to the continent. Most Imperials couldn’t tell the difference, but she had spent four years in Shengdu and was passably fluent in the language; one didn’t prosper in any of the island countries by mixing up their peoples. Most of them did not get along.

“And you are?” she asked politely.

The girl narrowed her eyes, shutting off the water. “It is not I who am she who is questioned.”

People underestimated bankers. In their own way, they had to be as perceptive and as predatory as thieves. Akinda did not speak more than a few words of Sifanese, just enough to place the accent, but she knew its grammar wasn’t nearly that garbled relative to Tanglish. This girl was far more nervous than she.

Well, she was a kid, after all. She had to hand it to the Thieves’ Guild, they knew what they were doing. Any company as big as Falconer Industries would be watching for spies, but they probably wouldn’t think to watch a teenager who barely spoke the language. Of course, there were a number of downsides to having a child do your dirty work.

“Where I’m from, it is polite to introduce yourself,” she said with a kind smile, turning to face the girl directly. “You know my name, after all.”

“Watash—” She broke off, a faint blush rising in her cheeks. “I am Gimmicku, that is all you need.”

“Gimmick,” Akinda said politely, omitting the extra syllable. Eserite bastards; what cruel idiot had given this girl a tag she could barely pronounce? Some of the poor kid’s story was obvious. Akinda was sure those were Sheng features; the teenager had at least one parent from the Kingdom. That could well explain why she’d been eager to get out of Sifan even at such a young age. Even more than most islanders, the Sifanese notoriously did not welcome perceived outsiders among them. Obviously, nothing good would come of vocalizing any of that, so she kept to business. “What do you have for me?”

“I do not have for you,” Gimmick said coldly. “You are to find answers for the Guild, Imbani Akinda.”

“And I will,” Akinda said, projecting calm. “But it will be a slower process if I must do it entirely on my own. I presume the Guild planted you here for a reason beyond making contact with me. If you can point me in the right direction, my work will be done faster and better.”

Gimmick hesitated, her eyes narrowing and cutting to the side. Akinda couldn’t help feeling for her; this was probably her first important job, and it was a much trickier matter than picking pockets or whatever the Guild usually had its younglings do. Not so much that she was shy about manipulating the girl, of course.

“Your boss wants information on the Falconers’ malfeasance,” she said gently. “I’m being escorted around by one of their favorite henchmen, who’s going to try to curate everything I see and hear. All I need is to find a less sympathetic voice. Someone who’s not happy with their job, and who might know certain secrets. I know you’ve been watching and listening here, Gimmick. If you can give me a name, and an idea when and where to find its owner, I’ll do the rest.”

Gimmick finally dried off her hands, again facing the mirror. She glanced at Akinda’s reflection in it, then lowered her eyes. “Thomas Schroeder.” She took her time with the name, laboriously pronouncing every letter, and got them recognizably right. After that, though, her diction accelerated and got less precise. “Staruwaiso man, yellow hair, he is working after the noon shift. Line sup… Soupero— Aiya!”

Definitely half Sheng; she hadn’t picked up that epithet in Sifan. “Supervisor?”

A glare full of adolescent affront met her eyes in the mirror. Gimmick nodded curtly, then turned and strode from the room.

Only after she was gone and the door shut behind her did Akinda allow herself to sigh heavily, grip the edges of the sink, and lean on it for a moment.

A lead. Now all she had to do was navigate her way between one of the most powerful industrialists in the Empire, the House of Madouri, her duties to her own bank, and the bloody Thieves’ Guild, pitting all of them against each other without allowing herself to become a target.

Simple.

Akinda straightened up, composed her expression, turned, and glided back out to the factory floor to continue her tour.

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7 – 13

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“So, we’ve got that hangin’ over us all fuckin’ summer,” Ruda groused. “Come back for our sophomore year and immediately get put to work scrubbing mulch and basting doors and whatever the hell housekeeping tasks Stew thinks up until Tellwyrn gets tired of our suffering. Hoo-fucking-ray.”

“Scrubbing mulch?” Gabriel said, his eyebrows shooting upward. “Have you ever cleaned anything in your life, Princess?”

“Arquin, you will never be demonic enough or divine enough that I will refrain from kicking your ass. Bring the skeevy dude in the hat down here and I’ll kick his ass, too.”

“Sorry to interrupt your blasphemy,” Trissiny said, raising an eyebrow, “but I won’t be joining in your mulch-scrubbing this fall. I’m staying on campus over the summer.”

“Yup!” Fross chimed, bobbing around them. “Professor Tellwyrn is letting us do our punishment duty over the summer and get it out of the way. It’s pretty accommodating of her! We broke a lot of campus rules.”

“Considering she’s still punishing us for obeying a direct command from the gods, I’m not gonna get too worked up about her generosity,” Gabriel muttered.

“To be technical,” said Fross, “she’s punishing Trissiny and Toby for obeying a direct command from the gods, which is actually not at all out of character given her history. The rest of us don’t really have an excuse. I mean, if she’s not gonna accept a divine mandate as a good reason, citing friendship probably isn’t gonna help. Anyhow, I’ve gotta go finish cleaning up the spell lab I was using. Nobody leave campus before I can say goodbye! Oh, Ruda, looks like your dad is here. See ya later!”

The pixie zipped off toward the magical arts building in a silver streak, leaving the others staring after her.

“What?” Ruda demanded. “My—what? Oh, shit.”

It was a characteristically sunny day, with a brisk wind across the mountain cutting the prairie heat. The campus of the University was teeming with people, despite the fact that many of the students were already gone. Parents, friends and family members were everywhere, picking up their kids and being shown around on one of the few occasions when non-initiates of the University were welcomed there. A few curiosity-seekers had also snuck in, though they seldom lasted long before Tellwyrn found and disposed of them. Professor Rafe had already been informed that if he didn’t remove the betting board set up in the cafeteria speculating on where various journalists and pilgrims had been teleported to, he himself would be walking home from Shaathvar.

Now, a sizable party of men and women in feathered hats, heavy boots and greatcoats were making their way up the avenue to the main lawn, on which the six freshmen had just come to a stop. Toby and Juniper had both departed that morning, leaving the rest to make more leisurely goodbyes as they still had time.

Trissiny touched Ruda’s shoulder lightly from behind. “Are you okay? Do you need—”

“No,” she said quietly. “I have to face this. Guys, if I don’t get to talk to you again, enjoy your summer.” Squaring her shoulders, she stepped forward, striding up to the group of oncoming Punaji.

They stopped at their princess’s approach, parting to let the towering figure in the middle come forth. King Rajakhan was a looming wall of a man, a bulky mass of muscle who would have looked squat due to his build if the proximity of more normally-sized people didn’t reveal that he was also hugely tall. The bushy black beard which was the source of his nickname did not conceal a tremendous scowl. He stepped up, folding brawny arms across his massive chest, and stared down at his daughter.

Ruda, uncharacteristically subdued, removed her hat respectfully and stopped a mere yard from him. The onlooking pirates watched, impassive and silent; the remaining freshmen edged closer.

“The news I hear has impelled me to spend from our people’s treasury to have portal mages bring me here,” he rumbled. “I am pleased to see you whole, daughter. Less pleased by the report I have from Professor Tellwyrn. I understand that you were given an order to evacuate, and you disobeyed it. Through magical subterfuge. This is true?”

“My friends—my crew—had to stay, by orders of the gods,” she said quietly. “I wasn’t raised to leave people behind in danger.”

“I hear your justifications, but not the answer I asked for,” Blackbeard growled.

Ruda stiffened her shoulders slightly. “This is true, sir.”

He snorted. “I further understand that you slew three shadowlord demons and uncounted buzzers yourself, placing your own life in danger.”

“Yes, sir,” she said woodenly. “Alongside eight of the best people I know.”

“I further understand that you were stopped only because you somehow ingested the poison blood of your enemy.”

“Yes, sir. We grappled too closely for swords. I bit its throat.” Her lips twisted in remembered disgust. “They have very tough hides.”

He slowly began drawing in a very deep breath, his huge chest swelling even further, then let it out in one explosive sigh that made his beard momentarily flap like a banner. Somehow, it occurred to nobody to laugh at what would otherwise be a comical sight.

“In all the nations on land or sea,” the Pirate King said with a faint tremor in his voice, reaching out to place one enormous hairy hand on Ruda’s shoulder, “there has never been a prouder father.”

“Papa!” Ruda squealed, launching herself into his arms. Rajakhan’s laughter boomed across the quad as he spun her around in circles, the pirates around him adding their cheers to the noise (and half of them brandishing weapons).

“As I live and breathe,” Gabriel said in wonder.

“I feel I have just gained a better understanding of Ruda’s upbringing,” Shaeine said softly, “and some of what has occurred thereafter.”

“Hey, Teal,” Tanq said, approaching the group but watching the loud pirates curiously. “Does your family own a zeppelin?”

Teal abruptly whirled toward him, growing pale. “…why do you ask?”

“I just wondered. There’s a little one moored at the Rail platform down in town; I saw it when I was sending a scroll… It’s got the Falconer Industries crest on the balloon. I just wondered if it was a company craft or if FI was making them now. Pretty sweet little rig, if I’m any judge.”

“Oh no,” Teal groaned, clapping a hand over her eyes. “Oh, no. I told them… Augh!”

She took off down the path at a near run.

Tanq blinked, staring after her, then turned to the rest of the group. “What’d I say?”

“Teal laboriously made plans regarding our travel arrangements from the campus,” Shaeine replied. “I gather they have just been abruptly modified. Excuse me, please? If I don’t see you again, my friends, I wish you the best over the coming months and look forward to our reunion.” She bowed to them, then favored them with one of her rare, sincere smiles, before turning and gliding off after Teal.


She was about to unleash Vadrieny and swoop upward for a better view when a fortuitous gap between buildings happened to give her a view down onto Last Rock, including a familiar silver shape perched at its edges, with an even more familiar sigil emblazoned on its side.

“Why!?” she groaned. “Why would they do that? I had everything arranged!”

They care about you, and this campus was recently the site of a major crisis. Which we jumped into the middle of. Makes perfect sense to me.

“Oh, whose side are you on?” she snapped. Vadrieny’s silent laugh bubbled through her.

It’ll be all right, Teal. They’ll understand.

“I know how to deal with them. I was gonna have time to explain things on the magic mirror, and then they’d have had the carriage ride to get used to it… Oh, gods, this is gonna be so awkward. Damn it, why don’t they ever listen?”

So they may not understand as quickly, or as easily. They will, though.

“Teal!”

She whirled at hearing her name, beholding two well-known figures striding quickly toward her from the direction of the upper terrace.

“Speak of the demon,” she said fatalistically.

“Well, that’s a nice way to greet your parents,” Marguerite Falconer said, trying without success to look annoyed. Beside her, Geoffrey grinned in delight, not even making the effort.

“This place is somehow smaller than I was imagining it,” he said. “But so…gothic. With all this grandiose architecture and these overgrown paths, I almost can’t believe it’s only fifty years old. We actually managed to get lost, if you can believe that!”

“I can believe it,” Teal said in exasperation. “What are you doing here with that airship? I made plans! Everything was arranged!”

“Well, excuse us for jumping the wand,” Marguerite replied, raising her eyebrows and pushing her spectacles back up her nose. “What with our only child, who has already suffered far more than her fair share of disasters, being stuck in the middle of a hellgate, we were just a little anxious to see you again.”

“C’mere,” Geoffrey ordered, stepping up and sweeping Teal into a hug. She hugged him back, despite her annoyance, relaxing into the embrace as her mother joined it from behind.

“It’s not that I’m not happy to see you,” she mumbled into her father’s cardigan. “I just wanted to… I mean, I had a plan. There was some stuff I wanted to, uh, get you ready for before it, y’know…”

“Oh, Teal,” Marguerite said reproachfully, finally stepping back. Geoffrey released her, too, ruffling her hair. “Dear, it’s all right. It’s not as if this is some great secret. You know we’re fine with it.”

“I mean, for heaven’s sakes, our best friend is an elf,” Geoffrey added with a grin. “You said you were bringing someone special home for the summer holiday. We can manage to put two and two together.”

“I’m sure we’ll love her. Our daughter can only have good taste!”

Teal sighed heavily, staring hopelessly at them. At a glance, nobody would take the Falconers for two of the richest people in the Empire. They were a matched set, both with mouse-brown hair cut short, which looked almost boyish on Marguerite and rather shaggy on Geoffrey. He had a round, florid face decorated by a beard in need of trimming, while her pointed features had been described as “elfin,” but they shared a preference for comfortable, casual clothes in a masculine style. Even their glasses were identical.

“Well, I did try,” she said finally. “Give me credit for that much, at least, when this is all falling out.”

“Oh, Teal, I’ve missed you,” Marguerite said fondly. “Dramatic streak and all.” Geoffrey snorted a laugh.

“Teal? Is everything all right?”

Teal heaved a short, shallow sigh, then half-turned to smile at Shaeine as the priestess glided up to them. “Well, that remains to be seen. Mom, Dad, may I present Shaeine nur Ashaele d’zin Awarrion. Shaeine, these are my parents, Marguerite and Geoffrey Falconer.”

“It is an honor and a pleasure,” Shaeine said, bowing deeply to the Falconers. “Your daughter is a great credit to your lineage.”

“My, isn’t she well-mannered,” Marguerite said with a broad smile. “Teal, I can only hope the rest of your friends are such a good influence.”

“I gather you have not introduced them to Ruda yet,” Shaeine said calmly. Teal snorted a laugh.

“Ruda Punaji?” Geoffrey said with a grin. “I’m curious to meet that one, after your letters. But maybe in a more, you know, controlled environment.”

“Oh, stop it,” Marguerite chided, swatting him playfully. “It’s lovely to meet you, Sheen. Don’t mind my husband, he belongs in a workshop, not among civilized people.”

“That was an excellent try,” the drow replied with a smile. “It’s actually Sha-ayne.”

“It’s all one vowel,” Teal added. “Just changes pronunciation partway.”

“Really?” Geoffrey marveled. “I fancy I speak a smidge of elvish. Not as well as Teal, of course, but that’s a new one.”

“Don’t be an ass, Geoff, she’s Narisian. Of course they have a different dialect. Shaeine, yes? How did I do?”

“Perfect,” Shaeine replied, smiling more broadly. “You have an agile tongue, Mrs. Falconer.”

“I’ll say she—”

“Don’t you dare!” Marguerite shrieked, smacking her husband across the back of his head. He caught his flying glasses, laughing uproariously. Teal covered her eyes with a hand.

“Anyway,” Marguerite said with more dignity as Geoffrey readjusted his glasses, still chuckling, “I’m sure we’ll be glad to meet all your classmates, honey, but we should see about getting your luggage together.”

“We saw that crazy tower you’re apparently living in,” Geoffrey added, “but I guess it’s not open to visitors. Inconvenient, but a fine policy in my opinion! I remember my own college days. Barely. It’s also a fine policy that this is a dry campus.”

“Will your girlfriend be meeting us there?” Marguerite asked. “I’m just about beside myself with curiosity! Don’t look at me like that, it’s a mother’s prerogative.”

Teal closed her eyes, inhaled deeply through her teeth, and let the breath out through her nose, trying to ignore the hysterical mirth echoing in her mind from her demon counterpart. Shaeine half-turned to look at her, raising an eyebrow.

The silence stretched out.

Suddenly Marguerite’s face paled in comprehension, and she settled a wide-eyed stare on Shaeine. “Oh.”

Geoffrey looked at his wife, then his daughter, then shrugged, still smiling innocently. “What?”


“So, is this the new thing?” Trissiny asked, pointing at the sword hanging from Gabriel’s belt opposite his new wand, which rested in a holster. “You’re a swordsman now?”

“Oh…well.” He shrugged uncomfortably, placing a hand on Ariel’s hilt. “I just… I don’t know, I find it kind of comforting, having it there. Is that weird?”

“Taking comfort in the weight of a sword is certainly not weird to me,” she said with a smile. “I’m a little surprised you would enjoy it, though.”

“Yeah, I kind of am, too,” he said ruefully. “It’s just… The whole world just got turned upside-down on me, you know? I’ve only had Ariel here for a couple months, but it’s still something familiar. Something I can literally hang onto.”

“I do, know,” she said quietly. “I remember the feeling all too well. It was a very different circumstance, of course… I couldn’t begin to guess whether that would make it more or less shocking to experience.”

He laughed. “Less. Much less. Modesty aside, Triss, you’re pretty much a model Avenist. Me, I’m not even Vidian. I never even thought about whether I’d want to be. It’s not as if I ever prayed, after that one time. Burned my goddamn tongue, and I mean that as literally as possible.”

Trissiny nodded. “There’s… I guess there is just no precedent for what you’re having to deal with. I’ll help if I can at all, though. Anything you need to talk about, just ask. And not just me, of course. Do you know how soon Toby is coming back to campus?”

“Just a couple of weeks, actually. He needs to spend some time with the Omnists and the Universal Church over the summer, but apparently shepherding my clumsy ass is also a significant priority.”

“I have the same duties,” she said solemnly. “But I’m not making my trips to Tiraas and Viridill until later in the summer. I guess I just drew the first Gabriel shift.”

“Har har.” He stopped walking, and she paused beside him. They were in a relatively shady intersection of paths, with the bridge to Clarke Tower just up ahead. Towering elms, swaying and whispering softly in the gentle wind, shielded them from the direct sun. “Triss, I am scared out of my fucking mind.”

“I know.” She squeezed his shoulder. “I know. Look, Gabriel, it’s… It’s just a hell of a thing, okay? But…and I mean this sincerely…you will be all right. I truly do believe you can do this. I would never have predicted it in a million years, but in hindsight, it makes a great deal of sense. This will work. You’ll be fine.”

“That…” He swallowed painfully. “Hah. That means a lot, Trissiny. Especially from you. More than from anyone else, maybe.”

“Well, there’s that, too,” she said, smiling. “Whatever else happens, Gabe, you can always count on me to let you know when you screw up.”

“Well, sure. It hardly even needs to be said, does it?”

She laughed softly. “Well…anyhow. I’ve got to head inside here for a minute. You’re going to be in the cafeteria for dinner?”

“Along with the other losers who are staying over the summer, yup.” He stuck his hands in his coat pockets. “I do need to visit the Vidians at some point, but they’re coming here. So’s my dad. Apparently there’s kind of a controversy around me at the moment. Can’t imagine why.”

“Probably best not to have you in circulation just yet,” she said with a grin. “Well… I guess I’ll see you around campus, then?”

“Yeah,” he said, smiling back. “See you around.”

Gabriel watched her go, until she passed through the gate onto the bridge itself, then shook his head, still smiling, and resumed his slow way along the path.

“That girl has a powerful need for your approval.”

“What?” He laughed aloud. “That is the craziest thing I’ve ever heard in my life. And considering what recently—”

He stopped, frowning and staring around. There was no one nearby.

“Granted, I only know what I’ve heard from conversations around you, but didn’t she try to murder you once? That would weigh on the conscience of anybody who has one. The more she gets to know you as a real person, rather than the imaginary monster she was reacting to at the time, the uglier that whole business must look to her. Of course, a properly spiritual person could recognize all this and deal with it, but… Let’s be honest, Avei doesn’t go out of her way to pick deep thinkers.”

He had spun this way and that, growing increasingly agitated as the voice droned on, finally resting his hand on the sword’s hilt. Through it, he could feel something. Not quite energy, but the potential for it; the same feeling he was used to experiencing when working with raw magic.

“You… You’re the sword!”

“’The sword.’ That’s lovely, Gabriel, really charming. It’s not as if you don’t know my name. Look, I suggest you find a relatively private place to sit for a while. We’ve got a lot to talk about.”


Tellwyrn was grumbling to herself, mostly about journalists, as she kicked the door shut behind her and strode toward her desk. She hadn’t gotten three steps into the office before her chair spun around, revealing a grinning figure in a red dress perched therein.

“Arachne! Darling!”

“Out of my seat, Lil,” she said curtly.

“Ooh, have I told you how much I love this new schoolmarm thing you have going on?” Elilial trilled, giggling coquettishly. “So stern! So upright! It’s very convincing, dear. A person would never guess how much fun you are in bed.”

The chair jerked sideways and tipped, roughly depositing its occupant on the carpet.

“Oof,” the goddess of cunning said reproachfully, getting back to her feet and rubbing her bum. “Well, if you’re going to be that way…”

“What do you want?” Tellwyrn demanded, stepping around the desk and plopping down in her recently vacated chair. “It’s not as if I ever see you unless you’ve just done something terrible or are about to. You’re just as bad as the others in that regard. Though in this case I guess there’s rather a large elephant in the room, isn’t there?”

“All right, yes, that’s true,” Elilial allowed, strolling casually around to the front of the desk. “I do owe you an apology. Believe me, Arachne, boring new hellgates onto your property is most definitely not on my agenda. It seems one of my gnagrethycts took it upon himself to assist in that idiotic enterprise, which I consider a breach of my promise not to bring harm on you or yours. I am humbly sorry for my negligence.”

“Mm,” the Professor said noncommittally. “I heard you were down to seven of them.”

“Six, now,” the goddess said with grim satisfaction. “Demons get agitated if you lean on them too hard; I do try to let them have some leeway. But there are some things I simply will not put up with.”

“A gnagrethyct, or anything else—even you—couldn’t rip open a dimensional portal without having someone on the other side to work with,” Tellwyrn said, leaning back in the chair and staring at the goddess over the tops of her spectacles. “And nobody on this campus could have pulled off such a thing without tripping my wards…unless they were an initiate of my University. Any thoughts on that?”

“I may have a few ideas, yes,” Elilial purred. “What’s it worth to you?”

“You are having a deleterious effect on my already-strained patience.”

“Oh, Arachne, this is your whole problem; you’ve totally forgotten how to enjoy life. Yes, fine, I may have given a helping hand to some of your dear students.”

“You promised to leave them alone, Lil.”

“I promised to bring them no harm.” Elilial held up a finger. “In fact, I went one better and did the opposite. You know I caught a couple of those little scamps trying to summon a greater djinn? I cannot imagine what possessed them to think they could control such a thing. Pun intended. Really, you should keep a closer eye on your kids; I can’t be saving their lives all the time.”

“You haven’t spent much time around college students if you believe they think before doing shit,” Tellwyrn growled. “Did they at least try to hide in the Crawl first? If any of those little morons did that in one of my spell labs I swear I’ll visit them all at home in alphabetical order and slap their heads backwards.”

“Yes, yes, you’re very fearsome,” she said condescendingly. “But enough about that, why don’t we discuss the future?”

“Oh, you’re already going to tell me what you actually want?” Tellwyrn said dryly. “That has to be a record. Are you in a hurry for some reason?”

“Don’t trouble yourself about my problems, dear, though I do appreciate the concern. But yes, I am interested in, shall we say, tightening our relationship. We’ve worked so well together in the past, don’t you think?”

“I remember us working well together once.”

“And what a time that was!” Elilial said with a reminiscent smile.

“You called me a presumptuous mealworm and I goosed you.”

“A whole city left in flames and shambles, panicked drow fleeing everywhere, Scyllith’s entire day just ruined. Ah, I’ve rarely enjoyed myself so thoroughly. Don’t you miss it?”

“I have things to do,” Tellwyrn said pointedly. “Teaching my students. Looking after their safety. Getting tangled up with you is hardly a step in pursuit of that goal.”

“I think you’re wrong there, darling,” the goddess said firmly, the mirth fading from her expression. “This weeks little mess was but a taste. No, before you get all indignant, I am not threatening you. I am cautioning you, strictly because I like you, that the world is going to become increasingly dangerous in the coming days, and the wisest thing a person can do is develop a capacity to contend with demons. And lucky you, here you have an old friend who is the best ally a person could have in such matters!”

“Oh, sure,” Tellwyrn sneered. “And all I’d have to do to achieve that is make an enemy of the Empire on which my campus is built, not to mention that crusading spider Justinian.”

“Well, there’s no reason you have to tell them about it, you silly goose.”

“Mm hm. And in this…partnership…you would, of course, be telling me the total, unequivocal truth about everything you’re doing, in all detail?”

“Now you’re just being unreasonable, Arachne. I’m still me, after all. I can’t function without a few cards up my sleeve.”

“This sounds increasingly like a bargain that benefits no one but you,” Tellwyrn said shortly. “I can’t help thinking I’m better off with my current allies. None of them are invested in ending the world.”

“You know very well I have no interest in ending the world. Merely the deities lording over it. Really, I am very nearly hurt. You of all people know me better than that.”

“I do indeed, which is why I’m declining your very generous proposal.”

“Are you sure?” Elilial asked with a sly smile. “You’re not even a little bit curious to know which of your little dears are opening hellgates and fooling about with dark powers beyond their ken?”

“You could just tell me, you know. It would be exactly the kind of nice gesture that might have led me to consider your offer if you’d made a habit of making them before now.”

“Now, now, giving something for nothing is against my religion. I’m just saying, Arachne, I’m a good friend to have. In general, and in your case, very specifically.”

“So the world at large is about to have demon trouble, is it?” Tellwyrn mused, steepling her fingers. “And I’m likely to see my students imperiled as a result, yes? Well, I now know who to blame if they do suffer for it. You have my word, Elilial, that if that happens, I will be discussing the matter with you. Thoroughly, but as briefly as possible.”

The goddess’s smile collapsed entirely. “Only you could be so bullheaded as to turn this into an exchange of threats so quickly. I came here in good faith to propose a mutually beneficial partnership, Arachne.”

“You came here to use me,” Tellwyrn shot back. “I don’t particularly mind that. I don’t even much object to being lied to about it. I might actually have been amenable to the idea, except that you want to use my University and my students in the process. That will not happen, Elilial. I strongly advise you not to try.”

“Do you truly believe yourself equal to the task of opposing me?” the goddess asked coldly.

Tellwyrn clicked her tongue. “And now come those threats you didn’t come here to make…”

“If you insist on relating in those terms, I’ll oblige. You’re a blunt instrument, Arachne. Oh, you were clever enough in the distant past. Your deviousness in Scyllithar was inspiring, and I mean that sincerely. I was deeply impressed. But you have spent the entirety of the intervening three thousand years swaggering around throwing sucker punches and fireballs until you’ve forgotten how to do anything else. It’s gotten to the point that all I have to do to aim you in the direction I want you to look is scrawl a warning outside your door telling you not to. That barely even counts as manipulation, Arachne. It’s embarrassing to both of us. And you think you’re going to set yourself up against me? In the wide world, with all its subtleties and illusions waiting to serve as my props?” She snorted. “Please.”

“Well, perhaps you have a point,” Tellwyrn said placidly, shrugging. “After all, I’ve spent three millennia trying to get close to all the various gods, seeking their help. You, meanwhile, have been trying devotedly to destroy them for more than twice that time. Tell me, since you’re so much more dangerous than I…” She smiled sweetly. “How many of them have you killed?”

They locked eyes in silence, neither wavering by a hair.

Finally, Elilial let out a soft sigh through her nose. “I think you just enjoy being difficult for its own sake.”

“Well, no shit, Professor.”

“I’ll repeat my offer, Arachne,” the goddess said mildly, stepping back from the desk. “But not often, and not infinitely. You’ll have a limited time in which to come to your senses.”

“That’s fine, if you insist. But I’m not any more fond of repeating myself than you are, Lil. Really, if you want to save yourself the bother, I won’t blame you in the slightest.”

Elilial smiled slightly, coldly, and vanished without a sound. Only the faint scent of sulfur remained behind her.

Tellwyrn just sat without moving, frowning deeply in thought.


“You’re sure?”

“Yes, we’re sure,” Fauna said testily. “It’s not really ambiguous.”

“Or difficult,” Flora added. “Took us all of half an hour to sift through the records.”

“The Nemetites organizing the thing are extremely helpful. The nice lady was able to pull the public record for us and explain what all the legalese meant.”

“It’s held through a dummy company, you see, but she knew the legal and cult codes to identify the buyers. So yeah, we had the answer pretty quickly.”

Darling swiveled in his office chair, staring at the unlit fireplace. “Not the trap she was expecting,” he whispered.

“Oh, gods, now he’s muttering to himself,” Fauna groaned.

He returned his gaze to them. “All right, sasspants, since you’re so smart, interpret what you found for me.”

“Oh, come on,” Flora said.

Darling held up a hand peremptorily. “Let’s not forget who the apprentices here are. No matter what the question, whining is never the correct answer.”

Fauna sighed dramatically, but replied. “It wasn’t truly hidden. We were able to get the truth in minutes, using entirely legal means. The means provided by the library itself, even.”

“So, not a secret,” Flora said. “But… Meant to look like a secret.”

He nodded. “Go on…”

“A message, maybe?” Fauna continued, frowning as she got into the exercise. “Either a barrier only to the laziest of inquirers…”

“Or a hidden signal to someone smarter,” Flora finished. “Or possibly both.”

“Very good,” he said approvingly, nodding. “That’s the conclusion to which I came, too. Of course, your guess is literally as good as mine.”

“So you’re in the dark, then? Why was it so important to find out?”

“And no more of your shifty bullshit,” Flora said pointedly, leveling a finger at him. “Damn it, we’ve had enough of that this week. None of this ‘I’ll tell you when it’s time’ crap.”

“Yeah, you sent us to deal with something you could’ve sniffed out yourself in less than an hour; we’re entitled to know what’s going on, here, Sweet.”

“Why is this important? What does it mean that the Thieves’ Guild owns Marcio’s Bistro?”

Darling turned his eyes back to the fireplace, staring sightlessly while his mind rummaged through possibilities. He was quiet for so long that Flora, scowling, opened her mouth to repeat her demand before he finally answered.

“I don’t know.”

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