Tag Archives: Ruda

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“No, thanks,” Gabriel said with a shudder when Ruda offered him the bowl of stew. “I’ll stick to mushrooms.”

“Your loss,” she said with a shrug, dipping her spoon back into it and taking a bite.

“How is it?” Toby asked warily.

She shrugged. “Bland. Heavy on the gravy. More ‘shroom than meat. Not the worst thing I’ve eaten, though.”

“All things considered,” said Gabe, peering around the Visage’s common room and lowering his voice, “I can’t get over the fear the mystery meat in this place might include something…y’know…sentient.”

“It’s not,” Juniper mumbled around a mouthful of stew, then paused to swallow, tilting her head with a thoughtful expression. “Rat, some kind of pork, and…snake? Maybe lizard. Little things.”

“Where the hell do they get pork?” Gabriel demanded. The dryad shrugged mutely and had another bite.

“Probably cave boars,” said Fross sagely. “A fairly common upper-level dungeon inhabitant. Or, at least, they were a hundred years ago when the manuals were still being written…”

“Most of those ‘manuals’ were historical even then,” Teal said with a smile.

“Yeah, well…” Gabriel glanced at Juniper, then sighed, picking up one of the shriveled brown stalks on his own plate. “I’m still not convinced. Call me paranoid, but you grow up slightly demonic and you develop a healthy fear of doing anything…evil. Even accidentally. That sounds like some of those ingredients might have still been people.”

“I said pork,” Juniper snapped, slamming her spoon down on the table. “Pork, as in pig. I wasn’t hinting at something. It’s not human.”

Everyone stared at her in silence.

“Uh, Juno,” Gabriel said hesitantly, “I meant the other parts. Lizard? Snake? Can you be absolutely sure that’s not, say…goblin, or naga?”

“Oh.” She swallowed heavily dropping her gaze. “Um… I don’t… I mean, I’ve never tried… I dunno.” Hunching her shoulders, the dryad carefully pushed her stew bowl away and reached for a mushroom from the communal platter in the middle of the table.

“Yeah, well, I’ll cope,” said Ruda with a shrug, fishing up another spoonful of brown, lumpy stew. “I’ve had mermaid, after all.”

“You’ve what?” Trissiny exclaimed, setting down the large mushroom cap on which she’d been nibbling.

Ruda finished chewing before answering, smirking at the horrified expressions all around the table. “Let me just guess. I say ‘mermaid’ and you’re all picturing pretty girls in seaweed brassieres with fish tails, yeah? Which is as kinky as it is dumb, and proof that the bards get good an’ drunk before making up all the shit you shorebound think you know about the ocean. Mermaids are giant fucking twelve-foot-long snakes with arms and vaguely humanoid heads. We only figure they’re intelligent because they use weapons and magic. All they do is hiss and screech if you try to talk to ’em.”

“Weapons and magic are, indeed, signs of sentience,” Shaeine said. “Is food that scarce in Puna Dara? Even in the Underworld it is considered the furthest extremity of starvation when people are reduced to eating intelligent beings.”

“It’s not about that,” said Ruda, scooping up another bite of stew and regarding it thoughtfully. “Mermaids eat people. Seriously, they attack ships to try to get the delicious, chewy passengers. Their favorite tactic is to magically induce a state of doldrums around a target vessel; no wind or currents to propel it, and they pull on any oars that’re put down. Then their witches do something from underneath that makes all the food stores spoil within minutes or hours, all so they can weaken the crew enough to attack and overwhelm ’em. They deliberately ruin food in order to eat the fucking people.”

“So, what?” Trissiny demanded, frowning. “You just eat them right back?”

“Pretty much,” said Ruda with a grin, “though you’re oversimplifying it. The most reliable counter-tactic to this is to harpoon one of the fuckers, haul it up on deck and have a goddamn barbecue right where the rest can see.”

“Showing dominance,” said Juniper, nodding. “Makes perfect sense.”

“That,” Ruda agreed, pointing the dripping spoon at her, “and also it makes the point that the crew won’t run out of food unless they damn well leave. Generally, they do after you cook the first one.”

“What’s to stop them from just waiting under the boat until everyone starves?” Gabriel asked, his expression one of horrified fascination.

“Ship,” said Ruda, giving him a disparaging look. “If you’re in mermaid territory on a boat, your ass is dead to begin with and it’s to the overall benefit of the gene pool. As for why they don’t wait…impatience, mostly. They can’t seem to resist poking their heads up to check. That’s why the whole sentience thing isn’t considered absolutely certain, magic or no magic. They may be intelligent, but they’re not terribly smart.”

“Well.” Trissiny very carefully set down her mushroom cap. “Suddenly I find I have little appetite.”

“Yup,” Gabriel agreed, pushing away his plate of stalks.

Ruda cackled at them, but Fross quickly darted down to hover over the table.

“Well, don’t waste food,” the pixie said worriedly. “It’s apparently not the easiest thing to come by down here… I’m just gonna store all this, okay? I made sure to have plenty of dimensional holding space for treasure and whatnot, and it’ll keep fresh while it’s in limbo.”

“You go right ahead,” said Gabriel, watching with interest while she levitated various mushrooms into her shining aura, where they disappeared. “Anybody else?”

Ruda insisted on finishing her stew; Juniper was the only other member of the party who still wanted to eat, but she gathered up a handful of mushrooms to munch on the way. With that seen to, they all pushed back their chairs and rose.

“All done, then?” Sarriki asked brightly, pausing as she slithered past. “Big day! Heading out on your first delve, are we?”

“Any advice?” Toby asked lightly.

“Don’t,” she suggested, then moved off, chuckling sibilantly to herself.

“Oh, just ignore her,” Rowe advised, leaning on the rail of the bar’s upper level and grinning down at them. “She likes to remind everyone how impossible she is to fire. It’s not like I can put up a ‘help wanted’ sign. So! You pigeons ready to head out, then? Allow me to show you the way!” Flapping his wings once for emphasis, he turned and sashayed off toward the bar. Trissiny gave them all a very pointed look before leading the way up the stairs and after the incubus.

Rowe was waiting next to the bar, beside one of the curtained doorways. At their approach, he pulled aside the slightly ragged length of red velvet hanging over the opening and gestured them through, grinning and bowing.

“After you,” Trissiny said sharply.

The demon laughed at her. “My, my, so suspicious! Ah, well, it’s probably for the best. Good habit to be in, while you’re in the Crawl! Walk this way, my little lemon drops.”

He strolled on through, tail waving languidly. Trissiny paused, watching him with her hand straying near her sword. Gabriel sashayed past her, swinging his hips exaggeratedly with each step and prompting a chorus of laughter.

“Welcome, dear children, to the marketplace!” Rowe enthused, directing their attention around the chamber with great sweeping gestures of his whole arms. It was longer than the main bar area, but roughly as wide, and about as tall; rough-cut steps descended from the door to the floor, leaving the ceiling high above and creating a spacious feel despite the fact that it was constructed of windowless gray stone and lit only by fires and a single flickering fairy lamp. Like the rest of the Grim Visage, the marketplace looked unfinished and rough, as if a naturally occurring cave in the rocks had been expanded by extremely casual stonemasons to roughly room-like proportions. The floor sloped slightly but noticeably toward the center, making a valley running between the steps on their end and another, larger door opposite. On either side of the long space were counters constructed of scraps of stone, wood and metal; torches lined the upper walls, burning in a variety of different colors, and a thick iron barrel sat smack in the center, in which a sullen little bonfire flickered.

“Cheerful,” Gabriel commented.

“Well, it’s pretty early, according to our arbitrary system of sunless timekeeping,” said Rowe. “You can meet everyone else as opportunity permits. We’ve got a metalsmith, an alchemist and an enchanter who all do business down here. But! I made certain the one fellow you really want to talk to before setting out was awake and at work!”

Indeed, only one of the stands was occupied, the one which displayed rolls of parchment in barrels and maps tacked up to the walls behind and around it. Behind the counter sat a youngish human man in an absurd floppy hat trailing a bedraggled ostrich feather; at Rowe’s introduction, he waved up at them.

“Hello, there! So you’re the new crop of freshmen, eh? I’m Shamlin, wandering bard and dungeon cartographer extraordinaire! C’mon down, don’t be shy, let’s have a look at you… My goodness, is that a dryad?”

“Yes, it is,” Juniper said archly. “I mean, she is. I am. Yes.”

“Well, how about that.” Shamlin shook his head in bemusement as they trickled over to stand around his stall. “So, are you also a witch, then? I bet a dryad would make a simply fabulous witch.”

“Um…” Juniper frowned at him, then glanced uncertainly over at the others. “No?”

“Huh.” He picked up the mandolin that had been resting on his counter and began plucking aimlessly at the strings, still studying them. “You’re the only one who seems to have a lot of fae energy in her aura… But then again, maybe you have so much that you’re drowning the others out. You lot are clustered rather closely together, after all. Whose pixie is that, then?”

“Mine!” Fross said irritably. “I am my pixie! My name is Fross, and I’m a freshman!”

Shamlin blinked once, then stood and bowed to her. “My humblest apologies, then, dear lady. I of all people should know better than to judge what I see by my own expectations.”

“Well, I guess that’s sort of okay then,” Fross said, somewhat mollified.

“Did you say you’re a cartographer?” Teal asked.

“Dungeon cartographer!” Shamlen declared, grinning. “If you want maps of the Crawl, I’m the one to call! I buy and sell, and I’m always in the market for up-to-date information on the situation! The Crawl does so like to shift about, you see. Fresh intelligence is vital for any up-and-coming adventurer!”

“Some cartographer,” said Rowe, grinning hugely. “He’s a middleman, is what he is. Hence sitting here in safety and comfort getting absurdly rich while other people do the heavy lifting.”

“It’s a living,” Shamlin said complacently. “And you’re not one to talk.”

“Excuse me,” Gabe said, “but are you…uh, human?”

“Last I checked!”

“Then, um…what, exactly, are you doing down here?”

“Making gold hand over fist,” the bard replied with a grin. “Which brings us to the subject of business! Have any of you experience with mapmaking?”

They exchanged a round of glances; several of them shook their heads.

“Pity,” Shamlin mused. “That would’ve spared us all some effort… No matter! I have just the thing for you!” Reaching under his counter, he pulled out a long wooden scroll case, capped with rune-engraved brass and with a glass viewing panel set into its front. Within was a roll of parchment, and a quantity of loose liquid ink which sloshed about without leaving any stains, somehow. “What I have here is the latest word in modern cartography, the preferred sidearm of Imperial surveyors and gnomish questers alike! The auto-mapper need only be carried with you and it will, with no effort whatsoever on your part, render a perfectly accurate chart of your environs as far as your senses can perceive and beyond! Yours for the excessively reasonable price of twenty gold pieces, and that, my friends, includes your discounts for being students of the University. Make your own maps as you go—and if you bring me back maps of anything new or different, I’ll gladly buy them off you!”

“So,” Teal said slowly, “you want us to buy something that will possibly—maybe—give us something to sell back to you.”

“Hey, that’s a neat trick,” Ruda remarked. “A reliable way to turn everyone else’s gold into your gold.”

“You’re not wrong,” Shamlin said with a shameless grin. “But as you’re soon to learn, kids, adventuring isn’t what you’d call a reliable pastime. Oh, you’re bound to round up some treasure in the Crawl unless you’re complete idiots—in which case you’ll just wind up dead. But there will be good runs and bad runs; one day you’ll come home flush with plunder, the next you’ll be scrabbling to buy yourselves dinner. Keeping an auto-mapper in your inventory is just a way to inject a little reliability into your accounting! Bring me up-to-date maps and I’ll pay in good silver, and more if they’re notably different from the maps I’ve already got!”

“We’ll think about it,” Trissiny said firmly. “Come along, everyone.”

“Wait!” Shamlin exclaimed, rummaging below his counter again. “You want to see how you fare on your own first, I respect that. But there is one thing you absolutely must know of before you set out… Ah, here we go!” He set down an oblong, fist-sized piece of white marble, rounded as if it had lain in a riverbed and engraved with a single swirling rune which glowed blue. “A Crawl waypoint stone!”

“A what?” Gabe asked, interested in spite of himself.

“Oh! Oh!” Fross darted back and forth in excitement. “I’ve read about these! You attune it to a specific spot, and then you can invoke it to teleport back to that spot from anywhere else in the dungeon! Very handy!”

“In fact, a dungeon delver’s best friend!” Shamlin proclaimed. “Now, I understand you had a little trouble passing Imperial decabloons up above, eh? Well, as someone who does intend to head back topside one of these days, I have more use of those than most of the Crawl’s denizens. For a mere ten such coins, this little beauty is yours!”

“You’re a funny guy,” said Ruda, her voice and expression deadly calm.

“Ah, now, think about what I’m offering,” he chided gently. “Dungeon waypoint stones are only useful in genius locus dungeons like the Crawl. Each has to be created by a mage of some significant power who is intimately familiar with the dungeon, and each can only be attuned to a specific dungeon. Gnomes do good business in manufacturing them for their own delves; the Empire cranks them out for strike teams in the dungeons it controls. But the Crawl?” He shook his head, grinning. “Supply and demand, kiddies, supply and demand! Professor Tellwyrn is probably the only person alive who even can make one of these for the Crawl, and she won’t. Forcing you poor kids to rough it as roughly as possible is the whole point of her operation. The only way to get your hands on a Crawl waypoint stone is to loot it from the corpses of adventurers past, which is exactly where this baby came from. The demand, down here, is vast, the supply virtually nonexistent. I’m giving you an absolute steal of a deal, just because you’ve got honest faces and because I feel bad about that little mix-up regarding Miss Fross.”

“We,” Trissiny said downright grimly, “will think about it. Excuse us.”

“Better luck next time, buddy,” Rowe said to Shamlin, grinning hugely. “All right, my little muffins, right this way! Come along, come along, you’re just moments from adventure!” He led them down the center toward the opposite door, pushed this open and stepped through.

Beyond was another lip of stone, wide enough for the whole party to gather comfortably, with another stone walkway arching off through midair above an impossible drop. It led to a tiny stone island suspended in space, with four stone paths branching off from it.

“Ah, there you are,” said Professor Ezzaniel, straightening up from where he had been leaning against the wall. “I realize the food here is less than appetizing, but it would be wise not to get in the habit of dawdling over breakfast. Thank you, Rowe.”

“You bet!” the demon said cheerfully, throwing him a mocking salute. “Best of luck and lots of fun, cupcakes! Come back with exciting stories for us!” He blew them all a kiss before ducking back into the Visage and shutting the door firmly behind him.

“Why does he keep calling us desserts?” Fross asked.

“Because he’s a creep,” said Trissiny.

“He is what he is,” Ezzaniel said curtly. “Everyone ready to set out, I hope? Good. This way.” He turned and strode off down the narrow walkway toward the island.

“Oh, that way?” Gabriel snipped. “You don’t think we should just plunge over the sides instead?”

“If you wish to raise the collective intelligence of the party, Mr. Arquin, there are less extreme methods,” Ezzaniel replied without turning around. “You could simply keep quiet, for example.”

Ruda cackled, slugged Gabe on the shoulder, and swaggered off after Ezzaniel. The others followed them much more carefully. There was plenty of room to walk, but this path was much narrower than the stairs which had brought them to the Grim Visage from the exterior.

Ezzaniel waited on the stone island while they all regathered.

“This is really disturbing,” Toby muttered, stepping gingerly and wincing. “What’s holding this thing up?”

“Oh, don’t even talk to us about floating islands,” Ruda said dismissively. “We have to sleep on one.”

“It’s amazing what you can get used to,” Teal agreed, grinning.

Ezzaniel cleared his throat. “In any case. You are free to explore the Crawl in whatever way you wish—this is, by definition, an unstructured exercise. Some previous years have chosen to forgo the assigned objectives and pursue self-directed agendas. If, however, you decide to pursue the chest whose acquisition will guarantee you an A for the exercise, simply follow this path. Remember it: first one to the left on this island from the Grim Visage. This will lead you to the Descent.”

“We have to go up to reach the Descent,” Ruda said, studying the walkway he indicated, which quickly became a staircase rising toward the far wall of the vast, sloping chasm. “Seems appropriately ass-backward.”

“The Descent,” Ezzaniel pressed on, “is the part of the Crawl most directly influenced by Professor Tellwyrn. I am not completely certain of the details, but I would venture to say that she has shaped it into exactly the challenge she intends her students to meet. It is a series of one hundred levels, accessible only from the highest. The treasure box you are assigned to retrieve is at the bottom. Each level features hazards of a different variety, with a boss encounter every three levels and a final threat to be faced at the end of the very last, guarding the box.”

“Textbook dungeon dive!” Fross proclaimed.

“Too textbook,” Teal added. “That seems kind of…artificial.”

“It is, as I have said, Professor Tellwyrn’s contribution to the Crawl,” Ezzaniel replied, nodding. “You are not really expected to obtain the box, whether or not you choose to make the attempt. You will be judged and graded by your overall performance.”

“According to what objective standards?” Shaeine asked quietly.

“My best judgment,” he replied with a smile. “And so, I leave you to it. We will speak this evening when you return to the inn. You may of course direct your efforts as you think best, but I do advise you not to be out more than one day at a time. Good luck, students.”

He turned and strode back to the Grim Visage, the freshmen watching him go in silence.

“So,” Gabriel said at last. “I guess we have a decision to make…”

“Does anyone seriously want to wander around in this place at random?” Trissiny asked pointedly.

“Um…kinda?” Fross said hesitantly. “But…sort of only a little. In any case I think we should have a look at the Descent first. It’s the assignment, after all.”

“I agree,” said Toby. “Any objections?”

Trissiny studied the stairs Ezzaniel had indicated. “Fross…be ready with that levitation spell of yours.”

“Always!”

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6 – 4

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Professor Ezzaniel bore their nervousness with exactly four seconds’ worth of patience before loudly clearing his throat.

“If we could all continue through the door, that would be splendid.”

The students shuffled a little further in, with no great enthusiasm, clearing a path for their professor. He strode unhurriedly through the group, moving with his typical sinuous grace, like a stalking cat, and showing absolutely no concern for the various monsters present. The three drow turned their predatory grins on him, which he ignored; the naga paused in her route to give him a flirtatious smile and a wink, complete with a brief flaring of the spiny fins she had in place of hair. Ezzaniel nodded politely to her, continuing on his way. He got about halfway across the main open space before pausing to turn back to the freshmen with an expression of exasperation.

“Children, you cannot live on the threshold. Move forward, please.”

Trissiny started moving first, gripping her sword on the verge of whipping it out. One of the drow laughed, but most of the bar’s occupants ignored them entirely. The ogre didn’t even seem to notice their presence, absorbed in his barrel of whatever he was drinking. The students clustered together, Fross hovering directly above the little knot of them, and moved to rejoin Professor Ezzaniel; no sooner had they reached him than he turned and strode off again.

The room was divided into two levels, separated by a waist-high (on a human) ledge lined by a bannister. Tables and chairs filled the lower level, with a huge hearth on on end of the room, in which burned a cheerfully intense but small-for-the-space fire; the other had a window looking out on the depressing view of the sloping chasm outside. On the second level were bigger, better-padded chairs and a couple of low tables, though this area was clearly more suited to sitting and conversing than eating meals. Opposite the bannister overlooking the entrance was the bar, behind which the bartender grinned wolfishly, watching them approach.

Ezzaniel took the short staircase to the upper level in a single lanky bound; the students followed him much more sedately. It was less populated up here; two more goblins were canoodling together in a chair sized for someone much bigger than they, and a harpy hung upside-down in the far corner, gnawing at a bone and watching them beadily. Aside from that, there was nobody up here but the bartender.

He was gorgeous, with a long face whose full lips and lavish eyelashes made him almost effiminately pretty, while its sharp angles seemed downright rugged. His lean musculature was very much on display; if he was wearing anything, it was only below the waist. Despite his basically human countenance, though, his species was unmistakable. The eyes framed by those girlish lashes were a deep topaz in color and glittered like crystals; his black hair had distinctly blue highlights. Worse were the wings. As they approached, he snapped them once to both sides as though shaking dust from their batlike folds, then settled them back behind him so that only their joints poked up above his shoulders.

Trissiny had never been this close to an incubus before. She could feel the wrongness of him clawing at her subtler senses, the ones that came with Avei’s calling which never flared up unless something was badly wrong. A glance at Toby and the tension in his face said he felt the same. She did not take her hand away from her sword.

“Emilio, it’s been too long!” the incubus said with a companionable grin. “Is it freshman time already? They days run together down here. I must say I’m surprised to see you; doesn’t the loon in the tight pants usually do these groups?”

“Admestus is in the doghouse,” Professor Ezzaniel said with a wry twist of his mouth. “I’m sorry to disappoint you.”

“Well, you could make it up to me.” The demon grinned more broadly, planting an elbow on the bar and leaning toward Ezzaniel; the motion made lean muscles slide under his alabaster skin in a way that was too ostentatious not to have been deliberate. “What’ll it cost me to get you into some tight pants?”

“You can’t afford me,” Ezzaniel said in a disinterested tone, then turned to the students. “This, kids, is the Grim Visage.”

“Yeah, we read the sign,” Ruda snipped.

“I have had you in class for a semester and a half, Miss Punaji; I am no longer so blissfully naïve as to assume you have observed the obvious. This inn is at the effective crossroads of the Crawl; all of the dungeon’s various branches and wings connect directly to this spot. As such, and because it is a sanctuary, it serves as the launching point for student adventures in the dungeon. You will come back here to sleep, resupply and lay such plans as you need to. This,” he nodded at the incubus, who waggled his eyebrows at them in greeting, “is Rowe, the proprietor and your landlord for the next three weeks.”

“I am so indescribably charmed I just can’t tell you,” the demon said smoothly, making an elaborately courtly bow emphasized by a flourish of one of his wings.

“Is that…safe?” Trissiny asked tightly.

“My dear,” said Rowe, straightening up and giving her an earnestly straightforward look that made her skin crawl, “you are as safe in this inn as in the arms of your own goddess.”

“That is both vastly implausible and verges on blasphemy.”

“Oh, what’s a spot of blasphemy between friends?” he said glibly. “But you raise a valid point! As your professor has said, the Grim Visage is a sanctuary. There is no fighting here, no harm of any kind. Remember that well.”

“We are glad to abide by such a rule,” said Shaeine, “so long as we are accorded the same courtesy. What assurance is there that this shall be so?”

“Ah, I’m afraid you misunderstand,” the demon said with a knowing grin. “Sanctuary is not a rule, it’s a fact. Here, I’ll demonstrate for you. Excuse me, kids.”

He snapped his wings outward again, beat them once and sailed over the bar and then over their heads (prompting most of them to duck and Fross to dodge), coming to rest nimbly on the bannister. He was wearing a pair of pink trousers of Punaji style, loose and flowing but gathered in tightly at the ankles above his bare feet. Rowe hopped nimbly down to the lower level, the students meandering over curiously to get a better view.

“Hey, Gomblust!” the demon said cheerfully, waving.

In the nearby corner, the hulking ogre slowly turned his great rocky head toward the incubus, blinking his beady little eyes. “Huh?”

“Can you do me a favor, buddy?” Rowe folded his wings again but spread his arms wide, grinning at the ogre. “Kill me!”

Gomblust blinked at him once more, then sighed heavily, emitting an ill-smelling blast of air that disturbed several hats and blew Fross off course. “Again?”

“Oh, c’mon,” Rowe wheedled, “last time, I promise. It’ll be fun!”

“This is not heroic,” the ogre grumbled, shifting to his feet. Amazingly, he could stand up without trouble, though it had looked as if his head brushed the ceiling while he was seated. “Gomblust is supposed to be punching evils, not bartenders.”

“It totally counts! I’m evil! I’m a demon!”

“You are too silly to be evil,” said the ogre. “Fine, fine.”

For such a ponderous creature, he could move fast enough when he wanted. The ogre drew back one of his massive arms and slammed his fist down on Rowe’s head, prompting a startled shriek from Teal and a nearly-as-shrill outcry from Gabriel.

His fist stopped inches from striking the demon; the air shivered where it impacted, rippling like a disturbed pool. Gomblust drew his hand back more slowly, shaking it. “You are a very silly demon, Rowe. Last time!”

“Yup, I think the point is made,” the incubus said brightly. “Thanks, you’re a pal! Next round’s on me!”

“That is not a good favor,” Gomblust muttered, sitting back down with a muted crash. Even his muttering was loud enough to fill the room. “Gomblust is supposed to be on an adventure, not drinking in a bar. Is very good ale, though…” He picked up his barrel again.

“You see, kids,” said Rowe, strolling back up the steps to rejoin them with an almost feminine sway in his hips, “sanctuary is the rule of the house. It’s not my rule; I may call myself the innkeeper, but no matter what I claim to own, I just work here. The Crawl is the final authority, and the Crawl sets this aside as a neutral meeting place. Whatever magics or weapons you wield, whatever gods you can invoke, you will not break sanctuary. Here, the Crawl is the only god, and its rules are absolute.”

He sauntered back around behind the bar, the students staring at him in silence. “Y’see, my little duckies,” Rowe went on, selecting a dusty bottle and pouring a mug full of thick, amber liquid, “there are doors in this inn to many places. It is a place between places, but not a way between places. You follow?”

“Not in the least fucking little bit,” said Ruda.

The incubus laughed. “What I mean is, we get all sorts through here. Some are residents of the Crawl itself. Oh, there are wandering monsters—though that term is extremely relative, as you’ll learn—but there are whole societies of various kinds in the depths. Then again, some enter that door from entirely other realms, stopping in for a drink or to escape their worlds for whatever reason. You can’t get into anybody else’s world, though. Whatever continuum spat you out will suck you back in, when you go through the door. See? A place, but not a way. You can meet people from other realities in the Visage, but not visit them from here.”

“So…” Gabriel frowned. “How many of these people are from the real world?”

“Is a world less real because you don’t live there?” Rowe asked, raising an eyebrow.

Gabriel scowled. “Fine, the world the Crawl is actually in, then?”

The demon shrugged, idly flicking his wings. “The place you’re from… University at Last Rock, yes? Tiraan Empire, Pantheon, Universal Church, Elilial? All that stuff?”

“Yes, that’s us,” said Teal.

The incubus grinned broadly. “Smashing, me too. But who’s to say that’s the world this dungeon is in?”

They all stared at him in silence for a moment, then glanced around at each other.

“I’m reasonably sure it is,” Rowe confided, “but one can never be sure, eh?”

“What about him?” Ruda jerked a thumb over her shoulder, indicating Gomblust the ogre. “How the hell did he even get in here? I mean… You couldn’t even get his fist through that door.”

“You’re in the Crawl, sweet cheeks. There’s exactly as much space as there needs to be. Now then! I hate to rush you along, but if you’re to be staying here, there’s the matter of payment.” He rubbed his hands together, grinning avidly. “You goslings often stagger in here unprepared on your first outing—Arachne’s favorite little joke, as I understand it—so you can pay by the day if you’re strapped for funds. You’d best get to adventuring quickly in that case, though. There’s more than enough treasure in these halls, but only for those willing and able to get out there and bleed for it.”

The students glanced around at each other again; most of their gazes found their way to Professor Ezzaniel.

“No, the University will not be financing your expenses,” he said in a bored tone. “You will find or create such resources as you need to fulfill your quest. That is the point of the exercise.”

“Hey, Professor!” Gabriel said brightly. “As a personal favor, can we borrow—”

“No.”

“Um,” Teal said hesitantly, reaching into her coat pocket, “I don’t suppose you can accept Tiraan bank notes?”

Rowe laughed long and hard at that. “Ah, kiddo, you’re just precious,” he said finally, wiping a tear from his eye. “Seriously, though, where am I going to redeem those? I could maybe use them to start a fire…”

“Ugh, fuck it,” Ruda grumbled, reaching into her own coat pocket. She withdrew a coin and tossed it down on the bar. “If we’re going to be looting treasure, you can repay me out of our first hall. How many days will that buy us?”

“This?” Rowe picked up the coin, squinting at it skeptically. “This isn’t even breakfast, duckie.”

“What?” Ruda yelled, stomping forward and thrusting her face into his. “Are you out of your buttfucking mind? That’s an Imperial decabloon! They don’t make coins more valuable than that!”

“I think you precious little poppets are laboring under some misunderstandings about the economics of this place,” said Rowe, seemingly unfazed by her tirade. “We operate on a sort of barter system here. Sure, gold, jewels, precious metals… Stuff like that has its uses. There are, as I said, functional societies in the Crawl. There’s a whole warren of goblins, as well as several less sociable groups, all of which have an economy of some kind or other. We get drow in here regularly enough I’m pretty sure there’s an opening to the Underworld somewhere near the bottom, though the hell I’m going down there to look. And, of course, there are the odd visitors from other dimensions who are wont to engage in a spot of trade. By and large, though, coins are chiefly valuable as a conveniently carryable, roughly—and I mean very roughly—standardized measurement of gold, which can be melted down and made into other things.”

He held up the decabloon, shifting it slowly back and forth so that it glinted in the torchlight. “This thing here? This is a thin lip of gold surrounding a core of platinum, layered with enchantments to prevent wear and tear—and prevent people counterfeiting or melting it down, which is precisely what we’d need to be able to do to make it valuable. You kids are new, so I won’t take it personally, but for future reference, handing somebody in the Crawl a coin like that is tantamount to telling them where to shove it.” He rolled the coin across his knuckles once, then flicked it at Ruda; she snatched it out of the air, glaring. “You’ve got to get used to thinking in terms of the value of things. What are they good for? That, metal content aside, is like your friend’s bank notes: chiefly valuable in the presence of a large society that agrees it has value.”

Ruda snorted in disgust, stuffing the decabloon back in her coat pocket. When she withdrew her hand again, though, it was full of other coins, which she threw down disdainfully on the bar.

“Oh, now we’re talking!” Rowe said delightedly, sweeping them up. “Punaji gold! Best kind—soft enough to re-cast and verifiably the real thing. Shiny new ones, too! Who’s this guy?” he asked curiously, holding a coin up to the light so he could study the face profiled on it.

“That’d be King Rajakhan, the Blackbeard,” Ruda said dryly. “I gather you don’t see too many of those.”

“Indeed not, my lamb, and for this many you may consider yourselves paid up for the entirety of your stay!” Rowe made the coins vanish into his pants, which was impressive as they had no visible pockets, and made another grand bow at them. “And just to put it on the table, you kids probably don’t have much to trade, but if you’re of a mind to swap that sword, missy, I might just give you the whole damn place.”

“If I give you my sword,” Ruda said quietly, “it’ll be the wrong end of it in your ribs.”

“Not in this bar, you won’t,” Rowe replied with a cheeky grin. “Well, my dears, congratulations! You are officially guests of the Grim Visage.”

“Not him,” said Ruda, pointing at Professor Ezzaniel.

“Excuse me?” the professor said, looking mildly offended.

She grinned nastily at him. “My gold, my rules. You don’t wanna help us pay our way? Hope you brought enough coin for yourself, then.”

Ezzaniel rolled his eyes. “My usual room, please, Rowe. I may have to owe you for the last week or so.”

“Your word’s as good as gold in this bar, Emilio,” the demon replied graciously, then clapped his hands and rubbed them together. “All right! Meals aren’t part of the deal, I’m afraid, but you may not find that onerous. We always have food and drink available; it’s quite easy to ferment stuff, but… As far as food goes, expect variations on a theme of meat, fish and fungus. There are sometimes fruits and vegetables, but you can expect to break the bank on those.” He spread his hands in a shrug, smiling disarmingly. “We serve what there is to be served.”

“Um,” Teal said hesitantly, “what kind of meat would that be?”

“I will answer that question if you truly wish,” Rowe said solemnly, “but understand this, young seeker: knowledge does not bring happiness.”

“We will pass,” Gabriel said firmly. “Embrace the mystery, Teal.”

“If you’re gonna be spending a lot of time out there in the corridors, anyway, you’ll probably find it more cost effective to hunt up your own grub.” Rowe waggled his eyebrows again, leering. “That, by the way, is not a euphemism.”

Gabriel grimaced horribly and turned a plaintive look on Ezzaniel. “Is it too late to go back up top and just take the F?”

“Yes.”

“Let me show you to your new home away from home,” Rowe continued in his cloyingly bright tone. “Sarriki! Come watch the bar!”

The naga quickly appeared from below, carrying her now-empty tray. She appeared to have a little trouble with the stairs, using one hand to pull herself up the bannister and leaning forward in the ascent as though moving against a headwind. Her snake-like lower body was clearly not designed for such footing.

“Yessss, bosss,” she replied with sibilant deference, nodding deeply to Rowe and slithering around behind the bar.

“And stop that hissing,” he said irritably. “Honestly, every time they send down the freshmen! You may think stereotypes are funny, but that kind of crap is why the rest of us can’t hold down a job topside.”

“Aw, let me have my fun,” she pouted, then winked at the students. Her eyes were yellow and slitted like a snake’s.

“Have fun on your own time; just man the bar,” he said with a mock-scowl, then spoiled it by grinning. “All right, my little gumdrops, this way! Follow the handsome and dashing barkeep!”

A few doorways led off from the upper level of the bar, one in the corner with an actual door covering it, the others blocked only by ragged curtains. Rowe let them through the widest of these, his tail waving behind him as he went. The broad staircase beyond twisted slowly but unevenly; where a human-built stairwell would probably form a geometric path, this one seemed to have been repurposed from a natural tunnel. The width of the stairs varied widely, narrowing at one point so much they couldn’t walk two abreast, and the curve was not consistent. A single window was set into one of the walls just out of sight of the lower floor, providing another grim view of the red-tinged cavern. After a relatively short ascent, they emerged into an upper hall.

Once again, the students came to a stop just past the doorway, staring. Behind them, Ezzaniel sighed melodramatically.

“You have got to be shitting me,” said Gabriel.

The space was oddly reminiscent of the upper floor lounge they had occupied in the inn in Lor’naris: a simple square area from which doors branched, leading into bedrooms. This one had a few stone benches set into the walls rather than free-standing chairs, and no window. There was also no table set in the middle of the room.

Instead, there was a bronze statue of Arachne Tellwyrn.

“She’s kind of a big deal around here,” Rowe said cheerfully, “especially these days. I’ll let you know up front that your doors all lock, the locks are all serviceable, and I advise you to use them; management is not responsible for lost or stolen property, and the drow have a tendency to come up here and gawk at the statue. The hell if I know why they care so much.”

“Why do you?” Trissiny demanded. “I mean… Why is this here?”

Rowe shrugged extravagantly, fluttering his wings. “I have no idea. This isn’t my idea of décor; believe me, I can find better uses for this quantity of metal, I assure you. As far as I know, the Crawl put this here.”

Ruda snorted. “That bitch has the weirdest friends.”

“Corner door in the back wall is to the bathroom; I’m afraid you’ll have to share. There’s running water, from a hand-pump, and a stove to heat it. The toilets…well, let’s just say if anybody lives directly below this inn, I’ve never met them and I really hope I never do.” He grinned cheekily, tail waving like a pleased cat’s.

“Lovely,” Toby muttered.

“All hours are pretty much one in a sunless place,” the incubus went on, “but if memory serves, dear Arachne likes to roust you morsels out of your beds at an absurd hour for her little field trips, yes? I’ll just leave you to the rooms, then, if you want to grab some sleep. Don’t worry, they’ll be reserved for you until you check out, but that just means we won’t let anybody else sleep here. I suggest you not leave anything behind that you don’t want strangers pawing through while you’re gone.”

“We don’t have anything to leave behind,” Teal muttered, fingering the lapel of her coat where her Talisman was pinned. “Didn’t even get to bring a change of clothes…”

“It’s positively amazing what you can loot in the Crawl,” Rowe said brightly, already halfway back to the stairs. “Don’t fret, pumpkin, you’ll get by. When you come back down for breakfast, I’ll show you the commercial wing, where you can do some trading, get supplies and sell off whatever scratch you rustle up. For now, kiddies, ta ta!”

Wiggling his fingers flirtatiously, he vanished down the steps, leaving the students staring at each other. Ezzaniel had gone with him without a word.

“I think,” Trissiny said slowly, “we had better be careful about locking our doors, and not just when we’re out.”

“What about the sanctuary thing?” Gabriel asked. He reached out and tried to flick Ruda’s ear; his fingers didn’t connect, deflecting off midair with a tiny ripple of light. “Damn, it’s serious. Also, ow.”

“I’m gonna remember that when we’re out of here,” Ruda said, smirking at him.

“Don’t joke,” Trissiny said sharply. “This is a serious problem.”

“Oh, you and demons,” Gabriel shot back. “Sometimes I think you just don’t feel complete unless you’re condemning somebody. Just because he was born with wings and a tail doesn’t mean he wants to suck out all our blood.”

“Uh, incubi don’t do that,” Fross pointed out.

Trissiny tilted her head slightly, studying Gabriel. “I can’t figure you out, Gabe. Some days you seem full of guilt and self-loathing about being a demonblood, and others it’s like you’re ready to launch a demon rights movement.”

He shrugged irritably, stuffing his hands into his pockets. “It’s a complicated matter. I have complicated feelings about it.”

“Mm. You don’t actually know a thing about demonology, do you?”

“Why would I?” he demanded challengingly.

“Are you serious?”

“His dad was pretty firm about that,” Toby cut in, placing a hand on Gabriel’s shoulder. “Sshitherosz like to target half-demons. The less he was exposed to the whole thing…”

“I can narrate my own backstory, thanks,” Gabriel said, giving him a look.

“Incubi,” Trissiny said loudly, “are reincarnated humans. To begin with, when they died, their souls were denied entry into the divine plane and sent to Hell. That already is a very bad sign; Vidius isn’t exactly stringent. A moderate attempt to live a relatively decent life is generally enough to avoid damnation. Once in Hell, if they survive and manage to thrive despite being incorporeal and subject to enslavement and all manner of abuse by demonic magic-users, the souls eventually gain the attention of Prince Vanislaas, who gives them…” Her lips twisted contemptuously. “A second chance. New bodies, new powers, and a mission to make their way back to the mortal plane and corrupt more humans to swell the ranks of the succubi and incubi. An incubus, Gabriel, is someone who has repeatedly and vigorously proved himself evil of his own choices, demonstrated a considerable skill at being evil, and then been empowered and sent forth for the specific and express purpose of doing evil. They’re not like hethelaxi; they’re not just people who were born in the wrong dimension. The fact that he’s personable and charming makes him more dangerous, not less.”

“Let me just stick my nose in here,” said Ruda. “You know I’m generally on the side of anyone who knows how to have fun, and anyone who’s serving booze, so that’s twice over I’m inclined to think well of Rowe, without even getting into how I hate to encourage Boots when she’s being pompous.”

Trissiny sighed. “Thanks.”

Ruda grinned at her before continuing. “That said, I’ve gotta back her up on this one. Demonology isn’t a big thing in Puna Dara, but I was definitely taught to know and respect the great dangers of the world; I’m gonna lead my people one day and can’t be caught with my pants down. Incubi and succubi are bad fucking news. Like, one even being in the city is officially considered a crisis. We better watch our asses as long as we’re staying in a place where that guy’s in charge.”

A silence fell. Gabriel glanced between Ruda and Trissiny, then at Toby, and finally at the ground, a thoughtful frown covering his face.

“I’m tired,” Juniper said abruptly. They all started; she hadn’t spoken the entire time they’d been in the Grim Visage. The dryad trudged past them, around the statue of Tellwyrn and into the nearest room without bothering to close the door. Moments later there came the soft sound of her flopping down on a bed.

“Well,” said Toby, “that sounds like as good an idea as any.”

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6 – 3

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The upper levels of the Crawl were disappointingly plain. The rooms were square, unadorned, and empty, connected by simple doorways. Now and again there would be side rooms whose entrances were covered by iron gates, but Professor Ezzaniel ignored these, leading them through a sequence of chambers cut from the granite of the mountain and lit by occasional torches.

Ezzaniel himself was uncommunicative, to which the students were accustomed; even in class, though he could be quite snide with uncooperative pupils, he did not speak unless he had something in particular to say. The freshmen were mostly too groggy to make conversation anyway, and trooped after him in silence. Fortunately, he seemed to know where he was going. The dungeon thus far seemed more tedious than ominous, but the interconnecting identical square rooms with multiple doors would have been a very effective maze if one did not know the path.

“It’s clean,” said Teal after several minutes. “…too clean.”

Ruda groaned.

“I’m serious! Look, there’s no dust, no cobwebs. No mouse droppings or dead insects… See the torches? No soot marks on the walls or ceiling above them, no ash below. And who’s keeping those burning anyway? This does not look like the kind of place that’s been locked behind a heavy door and metal grate.”

“Maybe Stew cleans in here, too?” Gabriel suggested, half-heartedly smothering a yawn.

Fross chimed excitedly. “The Crawl, like most adventuring dungeons which are classified as such, is a self-regulating genius loci subject to massive magical interference with objective natural law. Among other things, it’s apparently self-cleaning!”

“Can somebody please put that in Tanglish for me?” Gabe asked.

“That was Tanglish!”

“He’s making a joke, Fross,” Teal explained. “It means—”

“I know, I’ve heard that one before. I reject the joke because I was speaking quite plainly and Gabriel is an arcane arts major who really should know all those terms!”

“First, it’s stupid o’clock in the morning and my brain is not awake yet,” said Gabriel irritably. “Second, I’m a first-year arcane arts major and haven’t been putting in nearly as much study time as you apparently have, because I do need sleep, and also a social life.”

“Porking the resident dryad whenever she isn’t too busy does not constitute a social life,” said Ruda, grinning.

“Up yours, Punaji, I have other friends.”

“Who’s porking?” Juniper demanded shrilly. “I haven’t—I would never— The only pork I eat is actual pork! I don’t know where this ‘long pig’ thing got started but I wish people would stop throwing it in my face!”

The group staggered to a stop, everyone staring at her. Ezzaniel got a few paces ahead and paused in the doorway to the next dim chamber, turning to look back at them with a raised eyebrow. Juniper folded her arms defensively around herself, her eyes darting back and forth.

“Oh, what are you all looking at?” she demanded huffily, then turned and stalked off after Ezzaniel. The others trailed after somewhat more slowly.

“Right. Well. Anyway.” Toby cleared his throat. “For those of us who aren’t arcane majors, Fross, can you put it in layman’s terms?”

“Layperson’s terms,” said Gabriel, grinning and nudging Trissiny with his elbow. “Amirite?” She gave him a disdainful look.

“All right, well, I assume you all remember Professor Yornhaldt’s class last semester?” Fross said, buzzing about their heads and casting her glow in erratic patterns around the chamber through which they were passing. “The difference between magical and non-magical physics is the difference between subjective and objective reality. Right? That was our very first lesson.”

“Right,” said Toby when nobody else replied.

“Okay, so! A genius loci is a place that has totally subjective physics! The very rules of reality themselves are completely different there!”

“That is deeply disturbing,” Trissiny muttered, glancing suspiciously around at the apparently empty room through which they were passing.

“So,” Fross nattered on, “it needs two things: an absolutely massive abundance of raw magical energy, and some kind of guiding intelligence. This results in places like the Golden Sea and the Deep Wild, where the rules are just plain different. It’s also the case in the great dungeons.”

“Wait, stop,” said Ruda. “You’re telling me this place is intelligent? Holy fuck. I’m seriously tempted to take the F and bug out.”

“What? You? Run away?” Gabriel turned to grin at her. “And me without my lightcapper.”

“Get fucked, Arquin. I’ll fight anything that lives, but being fucking digested by a giant sentient dungeon… Shit, I wanna go home.” She peered nervously around at the blank walls.

“It’s probably not that bad or Professor Tellwyrn wouldn’t have sent us here,” Fross said consolingly. “I mean, there are intelligences and then there are intelligences, y’know? Generally they don’t even think in anything like the way we do, so it’s not like we could actively communicate. People have tried. And they’re all different! Most of the dungeons are the result of things the Elder Gods did at various times. More recently, there’s Athan’Khar, which is powered by the residue of Tiraan superweapons and the dead souls of all that died there. As far as I know, nobody’s sure who or what is running the Golden Sea or how it happened, but the Deep Wild is Naiya’s domain. So…different rules in all!”

“Right,” said Teal, nodding. She seemed to have become more alert over the course of the discussion. “So the Golden Sea has several predictable rules and doesn’t get nasty unless people try to screw with it, like the centaurs do. Athan’Khar, on the other hand, pretty much wants to kill everyone who sets foot in there. I’m guessing Tellwyrn wouldn’t have sent us in here if the Crawl was quite that hostile?”

“Ex-fucking-cuse me?” Ruda snorted. “Which Tellwyrn are you talking about?”

“Well, this mountain was once the stronghold of an Elder God before another Elder God destroyed it,” Fross said cheerfully. “I don’t figure it’s too friendly. But yeah, students go in here every year and rarely die. We’ll be fine!”

Trissiny sighed loudly.

The group came up short, several of the less attentive colliding with others. Professor Ezzaniel had stopped ahead of them, studying a blank surface of stone.

“Welp,” said Gabriel after a moment. “That sure is a wall.”

“It seems to have shifted again,” Ezzaniel noted. “The upper rooms are usually fairly stable, but the Crawl does like to change things around. No matter, it’s always fairly straightforward before you descend the main stairs. Excuse me.” They made way as he moved back through the group, exiting the way they’d come and turning left in the next chamber.

Lacking anything better to do, the students trooped after him.

“Pardon me, but does this mean you don’t actually know where we’re going?” Gabriel asked.

“I have the basics of an idea,” Ezzaniel said calmly from up ahead, his voice echoing in the semi-lit chamber. “As I said, the upper Crawl is quite benign, and I’m accustomed to it. Incidentally, I will only be guiding you through this initial stretch. Once we reach the actively dangerous areas, you will be responsible for finding your own way.”

“Lovely,” Gabriel groused. “What the hell is the point of all this, anyway? I mean, this is like learning to churn butter by hand. That shit isn’t relevant anymore. Nobody goes dungeon-delving!”

“Gnomes do,” Trissiny noted.

“So does the Empire,” Toby added.

“Right, sure, fine, but that’s because they own all the dungeons! Is anybody here planning to join an Imperial strike team after graduation?” Gabriel divided a pointed look among the rest of them. “Anyone? Yeah, me either. I don’t see what the purpose is of teaching us how to be an adventuring party. This is stupid.”

“Have you shared that opinion with Professor Tellwyrn?” Ezzaniel asked mildly.

“Do I look immolated to you?”

The Professor chuckled. “Arachne, as I’m sure you’ve noticed, is rather more laid back than I in many respects. She doesn’t mind being yelled at, cursed at or even threatened—convenient, as she has a tendency to inspire those responses in people. She would be quite offended if you questioned her intelligence, however. I advise you not to learn firsthand what her offense looks like. Her methods may be confusing, but nothing Arachne Tellwyrn directs you to do is pointless.”

“What could we possibly gain from this?” Gabriel exclaimed. “Hell, five years ago I’d have thought it was the most awesome thing possible, to be on an actual dungeon dive. Okay, yeah, fine, it’s still sort of awesome. But right now I’m more concerned with the fact that I could die and it’d be for no purpose except learning how to have a successful career three hundred years ago.”

“The adventuring party enjoys a prominent place in Tiraan culture and legend, I have observed, and perhaps rightly so,” said Shaeine. “If nothing else, this will be an excellent lesson in teamwork.”

“And in appreciating history!” Teal chimed.

“Bah.” Gabriel stuffed his hands in his coat pockets and slouched sullenly. “Screw this place.”

“Okay, let’s not take it out on the place,” Ruda said nervously. She gently patted the stone frame of a doorway as she passed through it. “Good Crawl? Nice Crawl?”

“The Crawl is an excellent teacher,” Professor Ezzaniel said calmly. “Ah, here we are.”

The last square chamber they had entered had, instead of a wall opposite the door, an opening, from which a wide staircase descended. Two torches bracketed the entrance.

“Well, that’s good and ominous,” said Gabriel.

“Yes,” Ezzaniel said equably, stepping to one side. “All right, in you go. The path from here is quite straightforward. It will lead to the place from which the remainder of the expedition will be launched. You have officially moved beyond needing a guide. Go on, then.”

“Right,” said Trissiny, stepping forward into the gap. One by one, the others followed.

“Should we take the torches?” Toby asked.

“We’ve got Fross,” said Teal. “And several of our group can make light if needed.” She smiled at Shaeine.

“Two of those would harm Gabriel in doing so,” Trissiny pointed out.

“I think we’ll be fine,” Gabe said, trooping down the stairs. They descended just far enough that the topmost step was out of sight of the bottom, then terminated in a square landing and turned left, continuing down. Torches hung at the landing, too, but it grew quite dark near the middle of each flight. “Fross glows normally, Shaeine can make light that won’t hurt me. So can Vadrieny, for that matter.”

“All right,” Fross said briskly as they turned the corner onto the second stretch of steps, “we should discuss our strategy. Trissiny! Sponge or deepsauce?”

“…what?”

The pixie chimed sharply and bobbed twice in the air. “I’m talking about damage. Are you output or mitigation?”

“…what?”

“Uh, Fross,” said Teal, “have you by any chance been reading the old bardic scrolls?”

“Yes I absolutely have!” Fross said excitedly, zooming back to flutter around her. “Professor Tellwyrn likes to change up the timing so it’s a surprise, but there’s always a Crawl expedition in the second semester of the freshman year, so I’ve been studying up to be prepared for weeks now!”

“Uh huh,” Teal said with a smile. “And…you found Findlestin’s glossary of adventuring terminology, didn’t you.”

“Yes! It was very informative!”

“Which edition?”

“Well, all of them, but of course I made sure to study up on the most recent one.”

“Right. Fross, hon, the most recent edition of Findlestin was printed in 1031. It’s a hundred and forty-seven years old.”

“Well… I mean, yes, we all know adventuring parties as a formal institution are kind of outdated…”

“The thing is, if you’re talking about slang—which that stuff was—slang is by definition defined by popular use. If there isn’t any popular use, it’s not slang; it might as well be a foreign language. Nobody’s going to understand it.”

Fross drifted lower till she was fluttering along at about the level of their knees. “But…but…I memorized it. The whole thing.”

“Sorry, little glowbell,” said Ruda. “History isn’t always as useful as Tellwyrn likes to think.”

“That’s okay, though!” the pixie declared, rallying and zooming back up to her usual altitude just about their heads. “I’ll walk you all through it in layman’s—I mean, layperson’s terms, sorry, Trissiny—and we’ll all have it down in no time!”

“Oh,” said Ruda. “Good.”

“So! Trissiny! With regard to inflicting harm,” Fross continued, zipping forward to hover in front of the paladin, “would you consider yourself more of a harm-inflicter or someone who prevents the infliction of harm to herself?”

Trissiny came to a stop, staring at her. From the back of the group, Ezzaniel sighed heavily in exasperation.

“Fross,” Trissiny said after a moment, “what are you talking about? In any kind of fight you have to do both.”

“But this is how they did it! There are dedicated party roles, and—”

“Yeah, that’s really not gonna work,” said Ruda. “Do you not pay attention in Ezzaniel’s class?”

“Of course I do! But this is an adventure, and we’re a party. There’s a system.”

“It’s a hundred-year-old system that nobody uses,” Gabriel pointed out.

“That just isn’t true! Standard operating procedure for Imperial strike teams is based directly on the operating manuals written by the ancient Heroes’ Guild!”

“Imperial strike teams,” said Shaeine, “train for the purpose of operating as a single effective unit, relying on each other to act without the need for thought or communication. It is in a way a more intimate relationship than exists between family. Perhaps the adventuring parties of old operated in a similar manner, but… While I have enjoyed growing closer to each of you over the last several months, I would not consider us to be quite that tightly knit.”

“Shaeine, you have got the greatest knack for understatement I’ve ever heard,” said Ruda.

“Look, Fross,” Toby said firmly, “we appreciate your help, but this isn’t going to be functionally different from the Golden Sea, or Sarasio. We can operate as a unit, up to a point, and we’ve been getting better at it. But…it’ll have to be our way, not the way they did it in old-style adventuring parties.”

Fross let out a long sequence of soft chimes as if sighing heavily. “I’m just saying, they did it that way for a reason, is all.”

“Then be ready to consult on adventuring practices as needed,” said Trissiny, resuming her walk. “For the most part, though, Toby’s right. Better we stick to what we know.”

“So, we bicker and bitch at each other, generally fuck everything up and barely pull it out of the bag at the last minute?”

“That’s very helpful, Ruda, thank you.”

“You got it, roomie, I’m here for you.”

They descended for a good half an hour, the path remaining starkly the same. Left turns at right angles, going consistently downward. The group quickly lost any sense of how far they had gone; Ezzaniel offered no opinions, even when pressed.

“This is awful,” Juniper groaned, plodding along. She had fallen to nearly the rear of the group. “This is worse than the Golden Sea. At least there was life out there. Trees are not meant for hiking!”

“Well, you could try rolling down,” Ruda suggested somewhat snidely. “Logs roll, don’t they?”

“That’s a little insensitive,” Gabriel said with a grin. “A log is basically a tree’s corpse, right?”

“Corpses roll too,” she replied. “Downhill, at least. That is a scientific fact.”

“It’s not a bad idea, though,” the dryad mused, picking up her pace and pushing forward past the others. “Clear the way, please.”

“What’re you…” Trissiny stopped mid-step, her eyes widening. “Juniper, no!”

Disregarding her, Juniper rounded the next corner and hurled herself bodily down the steps, smashing down in a series of thumps and grunts. The others, with various outcries of alarm, rushed down the remainder of the flight they were on, regrouping at the landing to stare anxiously down.

“Juno?” Gabriel called. “You okay?”

“Wow!” At the next landing down, the dryad gathered herself and climbed to her feet, waving up at them. “That was actually fun! You guys have gotta try this! Oh, wait, no…you’d probably get hurt.”

“That’s not how you explore a dungeon,” Fross huffed quietly. “What if she springs a trap?”

“There are no traps up here,” said Professor Ezzaniel. “Still, it might be better if she didn’t—”

“Tallyho!” the dryad shouted, dashing forward and diving face-first down the next flight of stairs.

Trissiny sighed heavily, then raised her voice. “Just don’t get too far ahead!”

 

“I share your grief, Branwen,” the Archpope said, looking and sounding like he meant it sincerely. “I am grateful that you, at least, came through the night’s events uninjured. If you would like to take some time to heal…”

“Thank you, your Holiness,” she said quietly, with a faint tremor in her voice. “It would only be time to…to welter, though. I would rather be at work.”

“As you wish,” Justinian said, nodding. “Should you change your mind, you have only to say so. I’m glad you thought to go to her aid, Antonio.”

“I’m afraid everything was done by the time I got there,” Darling admitted.

“That, though, was beyond your control. It pleases me that you so quickly discerned the nature and motive of the attack and that your first action was to help your fellow Bishop.” The Archpope smiled at him, then turned to the two sitting along the other side of the opulent conference table, his expression growing more solemn. “I have heard the basics of what befell you two, as well, but would you kindly add your reports to Branwen and Antonio’s? It’s best if we are all on the same page.”

“The same pattern,” Andros said curtly. “Three warlocks, in robes. They carried, among other things, those syringes with death-drugs, though none of the three which assaulted my lodge had the opportunity to use them. I was meditating in seclusion, and was late to reach the scene of the confrontation. I was last to the battle and able to finish the remaining two warlocks. They entered my personal chambers and assaulted my wives.”

“Good gods,” Darling exclaimed, straightening up in his chair. “Are they all right?”

“They are recuperating,” Andros replied, smiling with such fierce pride that it was visible even through his heavy beard. “The healers tell me they will not bear permanent injury, though they are being given time to mend the various bruises of the battle. It is a common misconception among infidels that because Shaathist women are obedient, they are also weak. Nothing could be further from the truth.” He angled his head defiantly, as if to stare down his nose at the world. “There is neither honor nor satisfaction in dominating a dishrag.”

“I’m glad to hear that, at least,” said Darling. “Though let’s refrain from throwing the i-word around in mixed ecclesiastical company, yes?”

Andros grunted, which was likely as close to acquiescence as he was likely to get.

“Same here,” Basra said. “Three of them in standard Wreath robes. I was hosting the two Legion cadets I’m sponsoring at my residence that evening. I’m afraid they were both roughed up a bit in the action, too, but it was thanks to Elwick that things didn’t go a lot worse. The girl has a great deal of exposure to demons, and gave us warning that something was coming.”

Andros turned to her, scowling. “And just why does a Silver Legion cadet have great exposure to demons?”

“You remember events at Hamlet, I trust?” Basra said, giving him an unpleasantly cloying smile.

“Of course,” he growled. “It’s no stretch of the imagination to deduce that’s the cause of this attack.”

“Well, as you may recall, we appropriated several of the Wreath cultists’ children in the course of that. I’ve given the girl sponsorship in the Legions; she’s training with the Third right now. Elwick is actually quite promising; she’s certainly eager to put the errors of her upbringing behind her.”

“How fortuitous,” Darling murmured, wondering what Basra was up to. It was hardly like her to support the careers of others out of the goodness of her heart. Of course, there was also the question of what she was doing with two young girls at her home at four in the morning—girls whom she held in a vulnerable, subordinate position. At the intersection of both questions was a possibility; he made a mental note to find out whether she lived up to the Legionnaire stereotype with regard to her personal preferences.

“Indeed,” the Archpope intoned, looking directly at him. “Antonio, I suspect that your mind has brought you to the same conclusions at which I have arrived. I wonder if you would share with us your assessment of the Wreath’s motivations?”

“Of course, your Holiness,” Darling said, folding his hands on the tabletop and frowning thoughtfully. “To begin with… I think they won this round.”

“Won? Are you mad?” Andros snorted. “We slaughtered their entire attacking force with only one casualty, and none of their primary targets suffered harm!”

Darling was shaking his head before he finished speaking. “Think about who we’re dealing with, Andros. The Black Wreath serve the goddess of cunning; like all our cults, they take the aspect of their deity as their primary virtue. If this is in response to Hamlet, they’ve had months to study us, lay plans and make preparations. And you really think the result of all that would be a haphazard, half-hearted brute force attack? No… Killing the four of us was not the motive.”

“Whatever you think they were up to, they squandered the lives of twelve magic users to do it,” said Basra, frowning. “They either considered this hugely important or they’ve got a lot more personnel to draw upon than we realized.”

“Those are questions to which we can’t know the answers, I’m afraid,” said Darling.

“What is it you think they were after, then?”

“Think about what they did, or tried to do. Where they directed their efforts. Andros’s wives, Branwen’s servant and friend, Basra’s proteges. I have two live-in apprentices and a convalescing acquaintance at my home; I think they would have been the targets had my Butler not intercepted the Wreath at the door. And you two haven’t mentioned it, but I noted that at both my place and Branwen’s they used the front door.” He shook his head again. “This wasn’t an assassination. This was a provocation. They want us hurt, angry, and striking back.”

There was a brief silence while they all digested this.

“That, indeed, is how the matter appears to me,” Justinian agreed after a moment. “I’m glad to see I wasn’t alone in coming to that conclusion. It raises the very tricky question of what we must do now, however.”

“The obvious thing would be not to give them what they want,” Andros rumbled, “but in dealing with the Wreath, the obvious course is seldom the right one.”

“And that’s why I think they’ve got us good and proper, this time,” said Darling. He reached over to squeeze Branwen’s hand. “The Izarites aren’t interested in revenge, but the rest of our cults are another matter. The Sisters, the Guild and the Huntsmen will not take this lying down—and to be honest, we couldn’t make them even if we wanted to. It’s about to be all-out war on the Wreath.”

“In the streets of Tiraas,” Branwen murmured, visibly appalled.

“A witch hunt of the worst kind,” the Archpope agreed. “I can and will enforce moderation in the Church’s response, but you are right: the independent cults are beyond my control, and those three at least are not tolerant of such brazen affronts.”

“What could they possibly gain by calling down all that wrath on their own heads?” Basra exclaimed.

“I very much fear we’re about to find out,” said Darling. “The pertinent question is: what do we, the four of us, do? We’re in a dicey position; right at the center of this and tied to both the Church and our cults. We can’t really afford to break with either. Both we and whichever organization we sided against would lose face right when we need it most.”

“That can be mitigated by the nature of the Church’s response,” said Justinian, “which, I assure you, will be suitably nuanced. You will have my full support in this matter. As for what we are to do…” He drummed his fingers once on the tabletop, the ring of his office flashing in the light. “For the time being, we must wait and see what the Wreath is up to, along with the rest of the world. That does not mean we shall proceed blindly. In the first place, we will play along.”

“It is sometimes necessary to step into a trap,” Andros agreed, nodding. “The outcome may not be as the trapper wishes, if the prey knows it is there.”

“Just so,” said Justinian, then smiled. “And while we are allowing ourselves to be victimized by the Wreath’s plan… I believe there is a way we can use it.”

 

“Juniper,” Trissiny said, “don’t try to roll down these steps.”

“Well, obviously,” the dryad said reasonably. “I could fall!”

“Astute as always,” Ruda muttered.

It had been more than an hour of walking, and they were all sore in the legs and even more tired than when they had started out; unless the internal geography of the Crawl was truly unhinged—which was apparently not impossible—they were well below the surface of the prairie by this point. Professor Ezzaniel had refused to let them stop for a rest, insisting that the perfect place to do so was up ahead. No one had argued too strenuously, as what they wanted was breakfast, and no one had any food.

Now, they appeared to have reached their destination, or nearly so. The angular, spiraling staircase terminated into a truly vast open space, the size of a stadium in diameter and plunging down an impossible distance. Above were vaguely-glimpsed stalactites in a shadowed ceiling vastly far away; the floor of the cavern, if there was one, was too far down to be visible, but whatever was down there emitted a reddish glow that sullenly lit up the whole chamber. It wasn’t a vertical shaft, either; it plunged at a roughly forty-five degree angle. Almost as if it had been vertical before the mountain was sunk.

Directly from their feet descended another staircase, this one half as broad as the wide ones they had traveled thus far, and arching unsupported across a horrifying stretch of space. There were, of course, no guardrails. Similar stairs could be seen both above and below their level, going to and from points they could not discern. The steps before them ended in the far wall, in which a massive stone head at least four stories in height had been carved into the rock, angled so that it stood upright. The steps ran straight to its open mouth.

“All right, we should check for traps before proceeding,” Fross declared. “I have a statistical divination spell that can randomize outcomes on a scale of twenty reference points corresponding to magical threat levels. Once I code in the variables we’re checking for, it should warn us of any traps within an acceptable margin of error. This’ll just take a second.”

“Fross,” Gabriel said impatiently, “I may not be up to your study habits but even I know the Gygax Charm hasn’t been used in decades. Modern divinations are vastly more accurate.”

“It’s traditional!”

“There are no traps,” Professor Ezzaniel said wearily from behind them. “There will be no traps, nor enemies, until you have proceeded beyond what lies at the bottom of these steps. For heaven’s sake, students, get on with it. And watch where you put your feet.”

“You’re good with levitation spells, right, Fross?” Trissiny asked.

“Well, of course! That’s how I mostly interact with the world. You’d be amazed how much picking up of stuff is necessary in human society! Well, I mean, you would if you’d never actually thought about it, which I’ve noticed most of you haven’t. Uh, no offense.”

“None taken,” the paladin said gravely. “We’re all going to step carefully, but I need you to watch over the group and catch anybody if they fall.”

“Oh!” Fross zipped back and forth in excitement. “I can do that!”

“Good. All right, everyone…single file. I know it’s not that narrow, but let’s take no risks.”

She set off down the stairs, the others falling into line behind her.

The staircase was indeed broad enough that any of them could have laid down on the steps and neither their heads nor feet would have come near the edge. However, given the lack of rails and the staggering heights involved, it was still a nerve-wracking descent.

“What d’you suppose is down there?” Gabriel asked about halfway down. “Lava?”

“Can’t be,” said Toby. “The heat would whoosh up this shaft and cook us right where we stand.”

“Shut. The fuck. Up,” Ruda growled.

Trissiny stepped onto the small landing below the gloomy face’s nose with relief. In addition to being off those infernal stairs, from this vantage she didn’t have to see that huge thing scowling at them. The others clustered around her, several with soft sighs mirroring her reaction.

The face’s open mouth formed a short tunnel; set into the wall just in front of the was a wooden door with an iron latch. Next to it hung a sign, in Tanglish.

“The Grim Visage,” Teal read. “Well, it certainly is that.”

“Care to give us a hint on what lies ahead, Professor?” Toby suggested.

“Yes,” said Ezzaniel, deadpan. “If you open the door, you will find out.”

“This is gonna be one of those trips, isn’t it,” Ruda muttered.

Trissiny clenched her jaw, grasped the handle and pulled the door open. She stepped cautiously through, moving forward enough to give the others room to enter. They did so slowly, fanning out in a cluster just inside the door.

They found themselves in a room full of monsters.

An ogre sat in the far corner, his head brushing the ceiling even sitting down, clutching a barrel from which he drank like a pint glass. Near the door, three drow were clustered around a table, two women and a man; to judge by their “armor,” which was flattering but more decorative than functional, and the matching unpleasant grins they gave the students, they weren’t Narisian. A small group of gnomes were playing cards near a roaring hearth, two goblins were arm wrestling the next table over, and at the far end of the room, behind a bar, stood an improbably pretty man with pale skin and no shirt on. He grinned at the sight of the students, stretching spiny incubus wings. As they stood there staring, a naga slithered past them, carrying a tray of mugs.

The occupants of the room looked up at the new arrivals, and then mostly went right back to their drinks, games and conversations.

“Why is it,” Gabriel asked after a moment’s silence, “that wherever we go, we end up in some kind of bar?”

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6 – 2

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The lock was no more than a formality; it had never needed to be. No one skilled in the bypassing of locks would have attempted to break through this particular one. As such, the soft scratching of lock picks at work went on for a fairly short time before the tumbler gave, the latch turned and the door was pulled silently open.

It was so late it was early; well beyond midnight, the first gray lightening of dawn not yet visible, but not far off. There were lights in the street, but they were dim and far apart, the residents of this neighborhood preferring that their rest not be disturbed overmuch by the omnipresent glow of Tiraas. The three figures who entered were barely silhouetted against the gloom outside, and all but vanished in their gray robes when they pulled the door shut behind themselves. Stepping warily, tense and as silent as they could manage, they passed through the foyer and into the hall, spreading out to fill the narrow space and studying their surroundings. Moonlight streamed in through upper windows in the tall space, which rose a full two stories. The hall was cast in a faint glow, pale, but adequate for human eyes.

Behind them, the relatively narrow space separating the hall from the foyer was narrowed still further by decorative molding just above head height. It was still a considerable gap, however; Price’s legs were spread widely, one foot braced against each inch-wide ledge. She studied the intruders dispassionately as they passed beneath, then lifted herself lightly by the toes, snapped her legs together and dropped to the ground.

Between her cat-like landing and the construction of her shoes, one of the Service Society’s trade secrets, she landed in total silence, behind the oblivious trio.

“Good morning, gentlemen.”

They whirled to face her, and the two on either side immediately fell, gurgling and gasping, with throwing knives embedded in their throats. The man in the center wasted seconds staring in shock, which cost him dearly.

Price launched herself forward, and belatedly he reacted, throwing up a hand. Enormous whip-like black tendrils lashed out from within his sleeve, limned by a sickly purple glow. She changed course mid-run, kicking off the wall to the opposite side of the hall. The demonic tentacles followed, but remained always an instant behind her, tied as they were to the reflexes of the caster. They smashed against the wall just after she bounced off it, then again on the opposite side, crushing glossy wood paneling and shredding wallpaper, and then the Butler was upon the warlock.

Launching herself off the wall from mere steps away, she grabbed the collar of his robes with both hands and flipped over him, somersaulting in midair to plant both feet against his back and kick, shoving herself forward and sending him tumbling face-first to the floor, his magical weapons vanishing instantly. Price landed in a smooth roll and was immediately on her feet again, whirling to face the fallen warlock.

Much less gracefully, he scrambled over onto his back, throwing out his hand desperately in her direction.

As he tried to call up his tentacle spell again, the charm she had planted on his collar erupted. A multilayered thing, it unleashed a blast of pure divine energy, cutting off his spell and slamming him to the ground, and also laid a light fae blessing over him. Neither was powerful enough to hold on its own, at least not for long, but it was plenty adequate to put a warlock momentarily out of commission.

“Now, then,” Price said evenly, “we can discuss the matter of who sent you.”

“T-tell you nothing,” the warlock rasped, scrambling backward from her in a desperate crab-walk.

Two slim figures burst out of the side hall, skidding to a stop at Price’s peremptorily upheld hand. Ignoring Flora and Fauna, she stepped forward between the two slain warlocks, bearing down on their last companion.

“As I hope you are aware, when I have finished you will converse avidly on any subject I choose to raise,” she said calmly. “Your only input shall be into what transpires before we reach that point.”

He came up against the wall, pressing his robed hands together before him and glaring up at her. “Have your little victory, then! It doesn’t matter. A great doom is coming, whether you are ready for it or not!”

“You are not, one presumes, referring to yourself,” Price said, raising one eyebrow sardonically.

Joe came staggering in, wearing a long nightshirt but with a wand in each hand. Flora and Fauna grabbed him from either side before he could bring up his weapons.

Price paused, tilting her head to study the felled warlock as he began to convulse. In seconds, he had actually begun frothing at the mouth.

“Ah,” she said. “Dear me.”

The Butler knelt and pried the man’s hands apart, revealing a brass-bound syringe pressed into his wrist, the plunger fully depressed and its contents emptied.

“Too late?” Darling asked, striding down the stairs.

“Indeed, sir,” she said. “My apologies. This device matches the description from the Tellwyrn incident in Hamlet.”

“Hm,” he noted, coming to a stop between the three youths and the three slain warlocks. The last one’s convulsions were already trailing off. Darling wore a hastily-donned robe over his silk pajamas; his feet were bare and the condition of his hair suggested recent proximity to a pillow. He seemed fully awake and alert, however. “Drat. I liked them better when they were too chicken to carry suicide measures.”

“This sorta thing happen often?” Joe asked carefully.

“Not in the least,” said the Bishop, shaking his head. “These numbnuts just declared war on the Thieves’ Guild, coming here; that’s not a mistake anyone’s ever made twice. It’s pretty alarming. The Black Wreath hasn’t openly scrapped with the Guild in centuries. Why now?”

Price discreetly cleared her throat. “If I may, your Grace, they did not approach the Guild itself. I believe you identified yourself to a representative of theirs in Hamlet, suggesting you were on Imperial business?”

“Yes,” he said slowly, frowning. “That was months ago, though… But if they’re finally aiming to clean up that loose end, the others would also…” His eyes widened, a quick calculation taking place behind them. “Oh, gods, Branwen.”

“We can help!” Fauna said eagerly.

“Just tell us where to go,” Flora added.

“Right. Yes.” Darling whirled to face them. “Split up. One of you go to the Casino, one to the Cathedral. Let the Guild and the Church know what’s happened here. Approach carefully; if the Wreath is attacking them, too, do not engage. Come back here in that event and secure the house.”

Their faces fell. “But we can help—”

“I know you can handle yourselves,” he said, adding pointedly, “You can help by not placing yourself in a position where anyone has to see how well you can handle yourselves. Clear?”

“Yes, sir,” they chorused somewhat glumly, but both turned and strode off to their rooms to get dressed.

“Ah,” Joe said tentatively, reflexively making awkward motions at his sides as he attempted to holster his wands in sheathes that weren’t there, “anything I can do?”

“Back to bed,” Darling ordered, already moving toward the front door. “You’re still disabled.”

“I’m practically as good as new,” Joe said somewhat rebelliously.

“Kid, you’re ready for action when that mother hen of a Crow declares you are. That way, nobody gets turned into a newt. If you can’t sleep, help Price and keep an eye on the house. I’ve gotta get to Bishop Snowe’s house, and pray I’m not too late…”

“Your Grace,” Price said pointedly, “if this attack was carried out with the Wreath’s characteristic forethought, and the other Bishops were indeed targets, the strikes are likely to have been simultaneous. You are very unlikely to reach Bishop Snowe before any putative warlocks.”

“Yes,” he said impatiently, his hand on the latch. “All the more reason—”

“All the more reason,” she interrupted firmly, “to take the time to approach carefully. Beginning, perhaps, by putting on shoes.”

Darling sighed heavily in annoyance.

“I merely suggest, of course,” Price said humbly. “If your Grace wishes to do battle with the Black Wreath without pants on, that is your Grace’s prerogative. Doubtless they will find it tremendously amusing.”

“You are severely annoying when you’re right, Price,” he said curtly, turning and stomping past her toward the stairs, peevishly kicking one of the slain warlocks as he went by.

“Yes, sir,” she said calmly, folding her hands behind her back and watching him go. Joe, wisely, had retreated down the hall toward his own room in search of clothes.

Alone with the bodies, Price surveyed the hall, finally permitting herself a small frown of annoyance as she studied the shattered wall paneling.

“I just polished that.”

 

“She’s insane,” Gabriel mumbled around a yawn. “What freaking time is it, anyway?”

“Approximately one minute later than the last time you asked,” said Toby with a smile.

“But why here?” he whined, yawning again as he tugged open the heavy front doors. “Why now? And why couldn’t she have just told us to be up early? And for fuck’s sake, why does she have to wake people up that way?! I don’t care if it was an illusion, I swear I’ve got water in my shoes.”

“Gabe, I realize you’re not exactly at your best right now, but stop and consider that you’re asking why Professor Tellwyrn does what she does. Do you really expect to get anywhere with that?”

“Crazy,” Gabriel groused, stepping into the library and leaving Toby to catch the door on his own way in. “I expect to get crazy. It’ll be a nice change from sleep-deprived.”

“And I see we’re last to the party as usual,” Toby said amiably, waving at those assembled in the main entryway. “Morning, ladies.”

“It’s not morning until there’s sun, for the record,” Teal grumbled. “G’night, Toby.”

“I’ve been here all night!” Fross said brightly. “It’s a great time to get some out-of-class research done. Nobody bothers me.”

“That’s because we need sleep,” Gabriel moaned.

“Yes, I know! I have kind of an unfair advantage, which I sometimes feel a little guilty about, but it’s not like I can help it. If you want, Gabe, I can help you study any time! We’re in the same degree program, after all!”

“I’ll file that away for grah!” Catching sight of the figure that had just appeared behind the receptionist’s desk, he stumbled backward against the doors, apparently coming fully awake in a wide-eyed panic. “What the hell is that?!”

“Tellwyrn’s experimental golem,” said Ruda, who was lounging in one of the reading chairs, sipping from a bottle of bourbon.

“She has a name,” Fross said reproachfully. “Hello, Crystal!”

“Good morning, Fross,” the golem said politely. At first glance, she resembled a slim woman in elaborate armor, if the armor in question were banded in gold, embossed with arcane runes and inset with pale blue crystals. It didn’t add the bulk that armor would have, though, but outlined her own slight frame, a metal suit of skin. From the gaps at the joints, muted blue light streamed out, occasional puffs of mist emerging when she moved. Her face was an eerily lifelike but expressionless steel mask, its eyes empty holes opening onto an intense blue glow. “Good morning, students. May I help you find anything?”

“I don’t think so,” said Trissiny, who looked more alert than most of her classmates. “Professor Tellwyrn told us to meet her here.”

“Ah, very good,” Crystal replied.

“What’s she doing here?” Gabriel stage-whispered.

“She’s the head librarian now,” Fross replied. “And really, you can talk to her yourself, she’s right there. You’re being rude, Gabe.”

“Sorry,” he said with a grimace, then turned to Crystal and repeated himself. “Uh, sorry. I was just…startled.”

“It’s quite all right,” the golem replied. “I expect there will be an acclimation period. It has already extended further than I had calculated. My initial data seems to have been in error.”

“What happened to Grumpypants McPonytail?” Toby asked.

“Weaver?” Fross fluttered in a circle around his head. “He’s been gone for weeks. Seriously, how have you not noticed this before now?”

“We try to stay out of the library,” said Gabe, grimacing.

“But—but—but you’re university students! You need to use the library!”

“We need to stay away from that crankety-ass freak, is what,” Gabe replied. “Although if he’s gone, I’ll probably start spending more time here. Why does nobody ever tell me anything?”

“Combination of factors, really,” said Ruda, beginning to tick off points on her fingers. “We don’t think about you when you’re not here, you’re not all that important, nobody likes you…”

“That’s playing a little rough, Ruda,” Trissiny said, frowning.

Her roommate snorted loudly. “Oh, come on. You tried to kill him.”

“I think you lost the right to throw that at me when you stabbed him!”

“I just love my life,” Gabriel said to no one in particular.

“What did happen to Weaver?” Toby asked hastily.

“He felt the call of adventure!” Fross proclaimed.

There was a moment of silence as they all stared at her.

“What does that mean?” Juniper asked finally.

“I don’t know,” the pixie admitted. “That’s what Professor Tellwyrn said when I asked her. And then she laughed. You know that kind of mean laugh, like when somebody says something silly in class and she spends five minutes making fun of them?”

They all nodded in unison.

“Mr. Weaver is on indefinite sabbatical,” Crystal said into the silence. “And I am detecting a buildup of translocative arcane energy focused on this spot, characteristic of a scrying spell and minor dimensional fold, so I infer you are—”

They never got to hear the rest, as with a sharp pop the scenery changed.

The students dropped about half a foot to the grass—except Fross, of course—with varying degrees of grace. Ruda landed on her butt, cursing; Teal had to flail her arms for balance until Shaeine steadied her. Gabriel very nearly fell over sideways.

“Goddammit!” he shouted. “Why? Why must you do that?”

“Three reasons,” Professor Tellwyrn said brightly. “It’s the most efficient way to get around, it serves the purpose of protecting the surprise, and your suffering amuses me. Note, Arquin, that that was not a plural ‘your.’ Nobody else suffers with quite the distinctive self-pity you have. It’s inspiring, really.”

“I hate you.”

“I don’t care,” she said, still cheerfully. “Good morning, students, and welcome to your midterm test!”

“Why are we on the quad?” Toby asked, peering around.

“Because I just teleported you here. You’re not at your quickest first thing in the morning, are you, Mr. Caine?”

“I wonder what would happen if we all rushed her?” Trissiny asked grimly.

“Fuck that, I’ve had enough pain in my ass already today without getting teleported into the sun,” Ruda grumbled, discreetly rubbing her bum.

“As for why I asked you to meet up at the library,” Tellwyrn continued, “you might say it’s tradition. I like to send the kids off on their freshman delve as unprepared as possible, so as to simulate the real conditions faced by your adventuring forebears, which were often woefully spontaneous. Thus, a cheap and simple misdirection. Your goal is in there.”

She turned and pointed to the wooden gates set into the terrace wall opposite the gazebo, beside which they stood. On command, they swung outward with a hideous groan of hinges badly in need of oiling. Behind that was an iron portcullis, which slid into the ground almost as soon as it was revealed, leaving nothing between them and a broad stone staircase down into darkness.

“That’s the Crawl,” Ruda said softly.

Tellwyrn rolled her eyes. “You kids really aren’t at your best without your precious beauty sleep, are you? Yes, Miss Punaji, that is the Crawl. Any other blindingly obvious observations you’d like to share with the class?”

“In a few hours,” said Ruda, “the sun will rise, I’ll have breakfast, and at some point after that I’ll begin to care what the fuck you think. Meanwhile, you can shove it sideways.”

“All right, enough folderol,” Tellwyrn went on more briskly. “Professor Ezzaniel will be your accompanying faculty member on this excursion. Rafe usually does the freshman delve, but I try not to inflict him on a class more than once a year if I can help it. Also, after he stuck his fingers into your Golden Sea excursion, I’ve lost some faith in his objectivity. Ezzaniel, at least, I can trust to leave you all to die if that’s what you deserve.”

Professor Ezzaniel, who had been standing behind her so quietly they hadn’t even noticed him in the dimness, stepped forward, raising an eyebrow and glancing at Tellwyrn after that last remark. He was in his usual open-collared suit, with his customary saber belted at his waist and a simple knapsack flung over one shoulder. It was a plain leather affair, not the enchanted carpet bag in which he kept the practice weapons for their martial arts class.

“Your assignment,” Tellwyrn continued, “is to retrieve a treasure from below. It is a rectangular wooden chest, bound in brass and embossed with floral patterns, in which reside a matched sword and dagger set of elven make. Professor Ezzaniel will be along to observe; he will not aid you or interfere in your actions. It is upon his observations that I will determine your grade. Actually retrieving the chest is not essential; most freshman groups don’t. The last party which succeeded was nine years ago; this particular treasure has been down there for that long. If you do manage to fetch it back, though, the group gets an automatic A on the exercise, which will comprise a substantial chunk of your grade for the semester, and the individual who gets it gets to keep it.”

“A sword and dagger?” Gabriel scoffed. “Sounds like a consolation prize.”

“Those were my personal weapons for a good many years,” Tellwyrn said, giving him a long look. “They are older than the Empire and heavily enchanted. If none of that impresses you, Arquin—and based on your performance in combat class, I rather suspect it won’t—if you get your hands on those, you can quite possibly buy your way into the nobility.”

“Always did enjoy getting consolation prizes,” he said thoughtfully.

“Hang on,” Trissiny protested. “We don’t have any supplies! No food, no equipment, only Ruda and I have weapons…”

“Yes, Avelea, that’s the point,” Tellwyrn said patiently. “As I explained moments ago. You’ll find the Crawl an exemplary arbiter of fates. If you are intelligent, if you deserve to survive, it will provide more than adequately for you. If not, it’ll see to it you meet whatever end most befits you. All right! You have three weeks.”

“Three weeks?” Teal demanded, wide-eyed.

“Three weeks,” said Tellwyrn. “Good gods, you kids are like an echo today. You can come back as soon as you get the sword and dagger, but if you haven’t got them in three weeks, your Professor will call short the assignment and lead you back to the surface. All right, that’s more than adequate jibber-jabber. Begin!”

She smirked, snapped her fingers, and vanished with a quiet pop.

“I think we shoulda rushed her,” Gabriel mused.

Professor Ezzaniel cleared his throat. “Come along, then, students,” he said, and with no more ado strode into the darkness of the Crawl.

There was nothing left for them to do but follow him.

 

Naturally, he didn’t approach the house head-on. The open front door would have warned him away, if nothing else. Luckily, Branwen’s neighborhood—a wealthier one even than his own—gave him plenty of above-ground territory on which to prowl, and the elaborate houses on all sides were easily climbable. There was only one close enough to her house to be worth the trouble of ascending, but the gardens had suitably high walls separating the lots. It was from the top of this structure that he got his first glimpse into Branwen’s own sprawling garden, positioned behind her house, and determined it was safe to descend.

Darling landed deftly in a leafy bush, which would have been very uncomfortable for some, but he had long since mastered the knack. Brushing leaves from his coat, he carefully paced forward, studying the surrounding carnage. Blood spattered the walkway, with here and there pieces of bodies. They weren’t too widely distributed; he could mentally piece them together easily enough to determine that there were three of the robed figures, just as there had been at his house.

Branwen sat silently on the stone lip of a reflecting pool, a fourth body pulled half into her lap. It was of an older woman, looking almost asleep from the waist up. Her legs were crushed, mangled completely, and a veritable pond of blood surrounded the pair. Branwen gazed vacantly down at the woman, stroking her white hair with one hand.

“Branwen?” he asked quietly, creeping closer.

“Tieris has been with my family her whole life,” the Izarite said quietly. “She practically raised me. It’s so…absurd. It just seemed she would always be there.”

“Bran, I’m so sorry,” he said, carefully seating himself beside her.

“You too, then,” she murmured. “…thank you for thinking of me, Antonio. You should have gone to help the others, though.”

Darling frowned. “I—Bas and Andros? Well, they’re both surrounded by cult members. I know you were out here alone…”

“And you thought I was helpless and useless and would need rescue,” she said. There was no emotion in her voice, only a deep exhaustion.

“Branwen…”

“It wasn’t a complaint. You think what I want you to think. So does everyone else.” She reached behind her to trail her fingers through the water.

Something rose up from within.

Darling bounded to his feet and danced backward, staring. The creature that crawled, dripping, out of the pool was the size of an alligator and had a head shaped very like one, though its scaled body was more like a bulldog’s in proportion. Steam rose from its flaring nostrils.

They were mistakenly called hellhounds, by people who had never seen a real hellhound. Kankhradahg demons were favored tools of the Black Wreath: easily summoned, easily controlled, and not intelligent enough to be rebellious. Usually.

Branwen scratched the demon under its chin; it closed its red eyes, beginning to purr softly.

“Wreath summoners don’t always take good care of their charges,” she said in that same dull tone. “Their victims, really. This fellow wasn’t treated well at all. It just took a little persuasion, and just the right kind of blessing to break his former master’s control…”

“That’s…impressive,” Darling said carefully, keeping his eyes on the apparently contented demon. Gods, she had her delicate little hand just inches from those teeth…

“This is about Hamlet, isn’t it? Only reason they would do something like this, antagonize our cults and the Church this way. You should have gone to the others, Antonio. Those who came here underestimated me. Whatever they sent at the Huntsman and the Legionnaire will be intended to finish off more powerful targets.”

“Well,” he said after a moment, “I suppose you’re not wrong. Unfortunately it’s a little late now.”

“Yes,” she said softly. “What will be, will be. Looks like we won.”

Branwen gathered up the body of her servant in her arms, leaning over her, and finally began to weep.

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He couldn’t remember if he dreamed. The next thing he was conscious of was her face again, swimming into focus above him. It was a few seconds before he realized he’d actually opened his eyes.

The focusing continued, however, the haze on all sides resolving into the dim light of a room with its curtains half-drawn, and her face changed till it wasn’t her. The features shifted, the hair faded to black. Mary.

“Wh—!” Memory crashed down on Joe and he tried to sit upright. He was in a bed, drowning in pillows. “Is everyone—”

Mary planted a hand in the middle of his chest, gently preventing him from rising. “Everyone is fine,” she said soothingly, “with the possible exception of you. Be easy, Joseph, and take your time. There is no urgency. Decide how you feel and what you feel ready to do about it.”

He paused, slumping backward, and she removed her hand. “I feel…weak,” he said grudgingly after a few moments of following her advice. “And restless, but sleepy.”

“Not uncommon, after having been in bed as long as you have,” she said with a glimmer of amusement. “The weakness—”

“Joe!”

Apparently, the door had been left open; at any rate, Billie didn’t need to push through it before bounding onto a nearby chair and hurling herself bodily at Joe, arms outflung for a hug. Mary snagged her by the back of her shirt, holding the struggling gnome bodily off the ground.

“Do not assault my patient, please,” she said firmly.

“Unhand me, y’great bully!”

“Hi, Billie,” Joe said with a smile.

“Hey, you’re up!” McGraw appeared in the doorway, grinning, then stepped inside, admitting Weaver behind him. “It is damn good to see you alert again, son. You had us right worried.”

“I’m glad to see all of you, too,” said Joe, while Mary set Billie down on the floor with a murmured warning. “But what happened? Last thing I remember…” He trailed off, and swallowed heavily. “Well, it was no fun, and it left me with a good few questions. For starters, where are we?”

“You’re at my house,” said the newest arrival, poking his blond head in. Bishop Darling wore a conservative suit rather than his ecclesiastical robes, and seemed more relaxed than when Joe had previously seen him. “Which, by the way, you may consider your own until you’re back on your feet. I, uh, think you’ll find the room a lot more comfortable when it’s a lot less populated.” Indeed, it was suddenly quite cramped in the modest bedroom, but Joe didn’t spare a moment’s attention for that.

“What? We’re in Tiraas? But… You’re not supposed to move injured people by Rail. Unless…” He began trying to sit up again. “How long was I out?!”

“One day,” Mary said quietly, this time helping him up and arranging the pillows behind him for support. He needed it; it was hard to breathe, and the act of getting his torso upright wiped him out. “And we did not travel by Rail. McGraw brought us here via magic.”

“Really?” Joe turned his gaze to the old wizard. “You can do that?”

“There are exactly two places in the world to which I can teleport five people,” said McGraw, “and one is the Wizards’ Guild sanctum here in Tiraas. They’ve got a permanent portal focus on a major ley line nexus, to which all initiates are attuned.”

“You shoulda seen their faces when we all popped in,” Billie said, grinning. “Someday I wanna do that again when I don’t have a partner bleeding to death on the floor so I can properly enjoy it.”

“I really can’t tell you how relieved I am you’re comin’ through,” McGraw added solemnly. “I was right there, so busy catchin’ my breath I had no idea anything’d happened until that guy spoke. And then… Well, he was gone before I could even get a proper look, and there wasn’t a thing I could do for you. I’ve seldom felt so useless.”

“Despite our assurances that he wasn’t at fault, McGraw has seen fit to give himself a bad case of mana fatigue in getting us back here so expeditiously,” said Mary, a portrait of calm. “Portal nexus or no, that five-person teleport coming on the heels of his exertions in the crater had its price.”

“Are you okay?” Joe asked the old man worriedly.

McGraw waved a hand. “Feh, few weeks’ rest and I’ll be good as new.”

“Mana fatigue is a minor ailment,” Mary said, “provided the patient refrains from using magic until his system recuperates. Otherwise, he risks triggering a variety of permanent degenerative conditions, including anemia, hemophilia, diabetes, autoimmune dysfunction—”

“Lady, I know what the risks are,” McGraw said patiently.

She arched an eyebrow at him. “I have observed that men usually benefit from being reminded of the risks, whether they theoretically know them or not. Which brings us back to my other patient.” She gently smoothed Joe’s hair back from his forehead, an almost motherly gesture that took him aback. “Joe, you were stabbed directly in the heart. That is not a small thing. I reached you within moments; even so, I have lost patients under similar circumstances. I fear my magic might not have been sufficient if not for Billie’s aid; she administered a health potion via some kind of…device.”

“Hypodermic syringe,” Billie chimed in, beaming up at him. “Hottest shit out of Svenheim!”

“In addition to the wound itself,” Mary continued, “that knife was coated with a poison which appears to have been a carrier for raw infernal magic. You are extremely lucky that we didn’t have a priest with us. Most healing done these days uses divine magic; that would have reacted violently with the poison, causing massive internal hemorrhaging wherever it had spread and blasting a fist-sized hole at the knife wound itself.”

Joe swallowed again, heavily. “That…seems unnecessarily cruel.”

“Yes,” she said grimly. “As it is… Shamanic healing neutralizes infernal magic as a matter of course, but the damage was done; the venom spread throughout your bloodstream before I was able to purge it. The wounds are healed and I suspect you will recover fully—provided you follow my advice in the weeks to come—but for the time being, your cardiovascular system is in a state comparable to that of a sixty-year-old obese man recovering from a heart attack.”

“So,” he said wryly, “you’re saying I’m not gonna be attending any hoedowns in the next couple weeks.

Mary smiled, brushing back his hair again. “I’m saying I’ll put you back to sleep if you try. In fact, getting exercise will be vital to your recovery, but it will be gentle, supervised exercise, especially in the beginning.”

“Hey, you’re not alone in being useless,” McGraw drawled. “Without magic, I’m just an old man with questionable fashion sense. We can sit on the porch together complaining about kids on the lawn.”

“I have a finite amount of space,” Darling pointed out.

“Okay, but…what happened?” Joe demanded. “I mean, who was that guy, and why did he butt in? And what happened with Khadizroth after I—um, you know.”

There came a pause in which everyone’s expression grew grimmer.

“He is a professional assassin known as the Jackal,” Mary said finally. “Someone I neglected to kill when I last had the opportunity, for which you have my apologies. I assure you I will not repeat that error.”

“Khadizroth got away,” Weaver added. “Which was apparently the point. The Jackal got everyone to cluster around you instead of around the dragon, and spirited him off.”

“Weaver was the only one who stayed on point,” said McGraw, nodding to the bard. “He tried to apprehend Khadizroth, but…”

“But even a diminished dragon is more than I can handle on my own, it turns out,” Weaver said dryly. “I gave it a try and in two minutes was running for my life. In hindsight, it’s lucky I didn’t get a knife in my own back; I never even knew that asshole was there until I found you on the ground with the others.”

“So, you put aside your concern for me and stuck to the mission,” Joe said, grinning. “Good man.”

“I’m sure you’d have done the same for me,” Weaver replied offhandedly.

“Well, I sure will next time.” The bard actually laughed, sounding more relaxed and cheerful than Joe had ever heard him. “So, uh… How did you mean, diminished?”

“I bound him,” Mary said simply. “A dragon is a creature of shifting forms, as you know. Its larger shape is often called its true form, which is a misnomer; both are natural and intrinsic. In his full size, however, he has a larger aura to accompany his larger mass, and thus greater access to his powers in addition to muscle, armor and natural weapons. The spell I laid upon Khadizroth restricts him to his elven form, which greatly limits his options. Even so, as Weaver pointed out, he is effectively a shaman of nigh-matchless power in his current condition. So while we did not achieve our objective, it was not an unequivocal loss, despite the Jackal’s intervention. Khadizroth will be that much easier to deal with next time.”

“Yeah, well, considering we dealt with him last time with a wild-ass gambit that really should not have worked,” Weaver groused, “and in the future he’ll be on the alert for us, not to mention having a brand new assassin buddy… Forgive me, but I’m not gonna chalk this up as a win.”

“How long will your spell bind him, Mary?” Darling asked quietly.

“It has no limit on duration,” she said, shifting to face him. “I am confident that Khadizroth himself, in his current state, cannot free himself from it… But what can be done can be undone. The greatest impediment to him freeing himself at this time is that he will not be willing to appear vulnerable in front of any of the people who might help him. Nearly all of those are other dragons.”

“Okay,” he said thoughtfully, nodding. “The other thing you all should be aware of is that the Jackal, when he was last seen, was in the employ of Archpope Justinian.”

That brought another momentary silence.

“Doesn’t mean he is now,” McGraw said reasonably. “That Jackal’s a blade for hire, everyone knows that.”

“Ask yourself why he would have stuck his hired blade into that particular situation,” Mary said darkly. “Why follow us to Khadizroth? Why care? No one has an interest in this matter except Darling, the Church and the Empire.”

“And the Imps would have sent their own people,” added Darling. “They’d also have killed the dragon while they found him vulnerable, not helped him escape. No, this leaves the Archpope as the only other person who even knew what was happening out there, and the question is…why would he care? He’s not the vengeful type, and with Khadizroth’s Cobalt Dawn scheme broken up years ago, the dragon is no threat to his interests.”

“What remains,” said Mary, her face falling into a baleful stare, “is Archpope Justinian’s plan to gather powerful adventurers to his side, which you are allegedly to oversee, Antonio. Khadizroth in his current state is a very rare thing: a dragon powerful enough to be a potent force, but vulnerable enough that he may have no choice but to accept terms.”

“Hang on,” Billie objected. “I thought we were the ones working for the Archpope, here?”

“On paper, yes,” said Darling. “But when I look back on it, Justinian handing his adventurer program over to me came at a moment when he had to give me something to keep me loyal. I’ve asked him since you lot reappeared, and he claims the last he heard of the Jackal, the man was rotting away in the Sisterhood’s custody.”

“So it’s like that, is it,” Weaver said grimly. Darling nodded.

“Excuse me, it’s like what, exactly?” Joe asked.

“There are now two Church-sponsored initiatives to control adventurers,” Mary explained. “We represent one, the Jackal clearly being another. The Archpope has to know that Darling knows of his second group, but at the moment, I assume they are unwilling to confront one another.” She turned to raise an eyebrow at Darling.

“Do you really think anything good would come of that?” Darling asked dryly. “I’m in no position to take him on, and he doesn’t benefit from rocking the boat. None of this is particularly out of character for Justinian. He’s used his own agents to winnow each other down before—in fact, that’s what he was doing with the Jackal when I last crossed paths with him. I suspect he’s not shy about surrounding himself with people he knows are working against him, either. It’s a classic technique; keep your enemies closer, as the saying goes. This is a reminder that he is still in control, that he still holds all the cards.”

“Does he?” Weaver asked, staring intently at him.

Darling actually grinned. “He may hold them, but I very much doubt he understands what they do. The nature of individuals such as yourselves is chaos. That’s the specific thing adventurers are known for: succeeding when they should not. Justinian’s a planner and a manipulator; chaos is the one thing he’s least suited to handle. There’s also the fact that his other group are presumably operating under some kind of duress. They wouldn’t be adventurers in the first place if they were sympathetic to anyone in Tiraas looking to control him. No…for the time being, this game continues. Politely.”

Weaver folded his arms, his chin jutting out challengingly. “And that raises the issue of whether we want to continue playing.”

“Of course, you’ll still get paid for this expedition,” Darling said smoothly. “And Justinian has not blocked my access to his room full of oracles; I am still working on the answers I promised you.”

“Also, we’re not feckin’ idiots,” Billie added. “We’re all still in. Don’t give me that look, Weaver, you know damn well we are. None of us is gonna sit still while Justinian puts a collar ’round our necks. It’s either join him, try to ignore him, or stick with Darling and undercut him when we can, aye? Tell me none of ye are daft enough to think that’s even a choice.”

“All this can be discussed in more detail in the days and weeks to come,” Mary said firmly. “Right now, Joe needs rest.”

“I’ve had nothing but rest for the last day, apparently,” Joe complained.

“You were stabbed in the heart,” she said with a touch of asperity. “You will not be recuperated in a matter of hours. Or weeks.”

“Feh, don’t listen ta her,” Billie said cheerfully. “She’s older’n dirt’s granny. We’ll give you all the miracles of modern alchemy, have you back in shootin’ shape in no time at all!”

Mary gave the gnome an extremely level look, but offered no comment.

“Well, if we’ve got a little downtime,” Billie prattled on blithely, “sounds like a good opportunity to spend some quality time gettin’ ta know each other! And seriously, I’ve got questions. Like, Joe, how the hell did you manage that with the portals and that ridiculous shot you pulled off? And you!” She pointed accusingly at Weaver. “Just what the hell manner of beastie is it ye got sittin’ on yer shoulder, eh?”

Silence descended, in which they all peered warily around at each other.

Then Darling laughed out loud. “Well, I think this is the beginning of a beautiful partnership. All right, I have to go tend to a political situation in the city. Try not to kill each other, please. At least not in my house.”

 

“So how was brunch with the Emperor?” Gabe asked as the group descended the steps into the Rail terminal.

“’bout as boring as I anticipated,” said Ruda. “We sipped tea, nibbled delicately on frou-frou little cakes and communicated entirely in mincing doublespeak. Got the job done, though, no one’s bearing any grudges, our great nations are still friends, yadda yadda, and everybody politely avoided mentioning how your great nation could pulverize mine with a good sneeze. Gotta say, though, I like your Empress. I think that lady is constitutionally incapable of taking anybody’s shit.”

“Well, that’s kind of true,” he said with a grin. “I was half expecting you to come back beheaded.”

“I’m not an idiot, Arquin. I don’t talk to people who matter the way I do to you.”

“Oh, so you don’t stab everyone you meet?”

“You are just never gonna let go of that, are you?”

“I cannot think of a single damn reason why I should.”

“Isn’t it kinda late?” Fross asked, rising upward a few feet to get a better view around the station. “Are we gonna be able to get a caravan?”

Afternoon had passed into early evening; there was still sunlight, peering through a rare gap in the Tiraan cloud cover, but it was reddish and streaming in from the west through the large plate glass windows which illuminated the Rail station. Indeed, the place seemed nearly deserted, the Rails themselves silent and the only people still present pushing brooms along the platforms in the near distance. The Empire was large enough that the sun didn’t occupy the same place in all its skies—by now it would be fully dark in Puna Dara and still late afternoon in Onkawa—but evidently it was past the hour when people were expected to be traveling.

“I think you kids have made quite a sufficient spectacle of yourselves for one week,” said Tellwyrn, bustling along in the head of their group. “There’s a reason I left you here all day rather than hopping the first available caravan. We have a special charter taking us back to Last Rock. They don’t usually like to run this late, but someone at ImCom agreed with me that the less attention we garnered, the better.”

“Well, it all works out,” said Gabe lazily. “I got to hear Trissiny’s speech and visit my dad. Nice, easy day after the week we’ve had.”

“It’s a shame you didn’t get to have brunch with our beneficent rulers, though,” Toby said with a smile.

Ruda snorted. “Now him she would’ve beheaded. Me, I was only worried about missing the paladins getting reamed out now that Her Professorship has graciously decided to rejoin us. The suspense is killing me.”

Tellwyrn glanced over her shoulder. “You’re a sadistic ghoul, Punaji. Anyone ever tell you that?”

“Not so much since I left home. I kinda miss it. Nobody pitches a yelling fit like my mama.”

“No one’s getting reamed out,” said Tellwyrn, facing away from her again. “You lot mostly did well.”

“Seriously? They practically got the place burned down.”

“Ruda, must you?” Trissiny asked wearily.

“I don’t must, strictly speaking. It’s mostly just for my amusement. You may have noticed I’m kind of a bitch.”

“Failure wasn’t really a prospect,” said Tellwyrn, coming to a stop and turning to face them. “As I told you up front, this was a lesson, not a test. Toby and Trissiny, it seems, did the best job of learning it, perhaps because they caused the most incidental trouble. And the lesson was…?”

The two paladins exchanged a wary look.

“Pick your battles?” Trissiny said finally.

“More or less,” Tellwyrn nodded. “Minor variations for your specific cases, but yes. I could indeed make a speech about the importance of not trying to slay every monster you come across, but as I said, you seem to have gotten the point on your own. You two did exactly what I expected you to do; you soaked up the lesson better than I’d hoped, though. Well done. Arquin, Fross, you weren’t in a position to be tested very thoroughly on your own terms, but you seem to have done well in assisting your classmates while not causing collateral damage. Punaji, of course, understood this well going in and very properly refrained from getting involved where her involvement would have done no good. And, of course, Falconer and Awarrion performed much the same, though I wonder if either of you are willing to look me in the eye and claim your chosen actions were due to a careful analysis of the needs of the situation and not you taking the opportunity to hold hands and canoodle on a romantic holiday in the big city.”

Teal and Shaeine glanced at each other, then Teal lowered her eyes, blushing. Shaeine met Tellwyrn’s gaze evenly, but said nothing.

Tellwyrn grunted. “Remember, inaction is a course of action; it’s only the right one in circumstances when it specifically is the right one. Most of the time, it’s one of the worst things you can do. And you.” She turned a baleful stare on the last member of the group. “I am not impressed, Juniper. Sheltered and naïve you may be, but there are limits to how much of your denial I’m going to tolerate. You are too powerful and too important to be allowed to stagger aimlessly around the world with your head up your ass.”

Juniper, who had been subdued and glum for days, slumped her shoulders and dropped her gaze, saying nothing in reply.

Tellwyrn grimaced, peering around. “And now, where the hell is the special caravan I chartered? They’re late. I swear, the more modern conveniences get installed the less anything runs on time… Hang tight, kids, I’m going to go terrorize the station master for answers.”

“Um, Imperial Rail personnel aren’t supposed to give out schedule information…”

“Yes, Fross,” Tellwyrn said patiently. “You have never see me bored enough to terrorize someone without good and specific reason. It is goal-directed terror, I assure you. Be right back.”

She swished off in the direction of the ticket office, leaving the students staring after her.

Gabriel stepped over to Juniper and draped an arm around her shoulders. “D’you…wanna talk about it?”

“No,” she mumbled.

He nodded, drew in a breath and said very carefully, “You, uh, heard her, though. Eventually you’re gonna have to talk about it.”

“Not right now,” she said with an edge in her tone. “Okay?”

“Okay.” He rubbed her shoulder soothingly. After a moment, she leaned against him; he staggered before catching himself and bracing one leg.

“Well, look who thought they were gonna slip away without saying goodbye!”

The group started in unison, swiveling around; Flora and Fauna had appeared behind them, wearing identical grins.

“Gah!” Gabe exclaimed. “Don’t do that! In fact… How did you do that? There’s no cover in here!”

They exchanged an amused glance. “We’re Eserites.”

“We’re elves.”

“Honestly, Gabe, try to keep up.”

“It’s not that complicated.”

“I’m just so glad you decided to come visit,” he grumbled. Fauna laughed, stepping forward to ruffle his hair.

“I didn’t get a chance to ask,” said Trissiny with a smile. “How are you two? Last I saw you, it seemed like the Bishop was annoyed with you.”

“Oh, he’s always annoyed about something,” said Flora, waving dismissively.

“It’s all part of his charm.”

“He loves us, don’t you worry.”

“I think we’re actually gonna miss you, though, and not just because keeping tabs on you gave us an excuse to avoid studying.”

“I knew it,” Ruda exclaimed.

“Well, yeah,” Flora said with a grin. “You do realize we don’t always hang around seedy inns in Lor’naris, right?”

“Seriously, though, it was fun,” Fauna added, smiling with a little less mischief. “Someday we’ll have to do that without a riot brewing. I feel like we barely got—”

A thunderclap sounded right in the middle of the group; Flora and Fauna were bodily hurled across the platform, slamming into the far wall.

Tellwyrn reappeared in their midst, planting herself between the students and the two felled elves. Her body was encased in a suit of armor that seemed formed of pale blue light; she held a gold-hilted saber in each hand, both in a ready position. The crackling blue sphere of an arcane shield surrounded her; three orbs of lightning orbited her swiftly, emitting sparks and the sharp smell of ozone.

“What the hell?!” Ruda squawked.

Flora and Fauna surged to their feet, glaring at Tellwyrn with bared teeth.

“I will say this only once,” the Professor declared, her voice resonating hollowly from within her magic armor. “You are not my business. These students are. So long as you don’t move to combine those two things, I look forward to forgetting I ever saw you. Understand?”

“Do you really think you can—” Fauna broke off as Flora gripped her firmly by the shoulders from behind.

“It was good meeting all of you,” she said firmly. “Come on, Fauna.”

Fauna glared at Tellwyrn a moment longer, then sneered, whirled and stalked away toward the stairs out of the station. Flora lingered a moment, giving the students a sad look, then turned and followed her fellow apprentice, cloak billowing behind her.

Tellwyrn held her position until they were out of sight out the doors before straightening from her combat stance. Armor, shield and lightning balls faded from view, leaving behind only the telltale scent of ozone; she twirled both sabers once and then sheathed them at her waist. Or made motions as if doing so, anyway, despite the fact that she wore no scabbards; the blades vanished as if sliding into sheaths, and when she took her hands away, the hilts were gone too.

“Allow me to emphasize and elaborate on my initial question,” said Ruda. “What the fucking hell?! I liked them!”

“I don’t believe in coddling,” Tellwyrn said flatly, finally turning to face them. “You need to face the world in order to learn about it, and I’m not shy about sticking you into risky situations if it furthers your education. So on the rare occasions when I refuse to explain something, it’s because something is going on which doesn’t concern you, would fruitlessly endanger you to get involved with, and which even knowing about would necessarily involve you.” She dragged a hard stare around the group, making eye contact with each of them. “I am refusing to explain this. Understand?”

The students glanced around at each other.

“Understand?” Tellwyrn said insistently, this time getting a few muted acknowledgments.

“Wait,” said Juniper, “is this because those two are—”

“Juniper! You are not, now or at any time in the future, to discuss this with anyone unless I specifically tell you otherwise!”

“Um,” the dryad said meekly, “okay.”

“As for the rest of you,” Tellwyrn went on firmly, “If you ever encounter either of those women again, you are to immediately get as far away from them as you can, as fast as you can, and find me as quickly as possible. Is that clear?”

This time, she waited, staring them all down, until everyone had agreed.

“Good,” she said finally, turning away from them to the Rail, which had begun to glow and sparkle. “And…ah, there we are. Better late than never.”

The students stood in silence, staring at her back as she waited for the approaching caravan to come to a stop, her arms folded, tapping one foot. The doors hissed open, emitting no passengers, and Tellwyrn was the first to step through.

“I, uh, hope nobody saw that,” Fross said a little belatedly.

“The janitors are gone,” said Gabriel. “I guess that’s just good sense, with an archmage having a fit nearby.”

“Let’s just get out of here,” said Juniper, ducking into a car. One by one, the others followed her, arranging themselves inside.

Trissiny was the last to enter the caravan; she paused on the threshold, half-turning to look out at the station and the distant view of Tiraas through its huge windows, and sighed softly. Then she stepped in, pulling the door shut behind her.

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“Sir,” Wilberforce murmured, leaning close to Vandro’s ear. He already had his employer’s undivided attention, having arrived far more quickly than his usual efficient but decorous pace. Unusual behavior from Wilberforce was a cardinal sign that something had gone wrong. “We have visitors from the Thieves’ Guild in significant numbers. I have taken the liberty of activating the golems; if you move now, you may be in time to greet them at the gates.”

Vandro nodded, turning back to his erstwhile conversation partner with a rueful smile. “Terribly sorry, m’lord, but it seems I have to go put out a fire. The perils of hosting, you know how it is.”

“Indeed,” the aristocrat replied with a lofted eyebrow, looking somewhat bemused. It always came as a surprise to his type that lowly commoners found something more important than themselves on which to focus.

Thanks to Wilberforce’s warning, Vandro made it to the broad, well-lit pathway between the gates and the house that formed the party’s center of mass just before the Guild made their entrance. He wasn’t quite in time to pose front and center and be waiting languidly for their arrival, but it would have to do. Pacing and presentation mattered in these affairs.

Six entered first, fanning out to either side of the path in a reverse arrowhead formation. Though swift and coordinated, no one would have mistaken the ragged bunch for soldiers; they wore clothing in dark colors and advanced states of scruffiness, ostentatiously displayed clubs and knives, and menacing expressions. The guests drew back from them, conversation disintegrating into nervous whispered all over the gardens, followed by chilly silence as the thieves took up positions, apparently if not actually controlling the estate’s entrance.

Of course, all that was for show, as well. Most of these people dressed comfortably and casually when at their real work, and quite a few slept on silk. A good thief was someone who did not stand out in a crowd; they usually had to go out of their way to properly menace the normals, including dramatic changes in costume and demeanor.

Vandro narrowed his eyes slightly at the next wave to enter, but carefully held his neutral posture. Four more Guildmembers came forward, pushing a pair of bound prisoners before them. They stopped a few yards into the estate, ignoring the gasps of the onlookers, and forced the captives to their knees. Jeremiah Shook merely looked furious, if somewhat rumpled; Amanika had clearly been worked over. Her clothes were torn and stained with both dirt and blood, one of her eyes was swollen shut and a dried trickle of blood from the corner of her mouth still decorated her chin. She slumped to the ground, head lolling.

Finally, another pair entered with the last three armed thieves behind them. The well-dressed man, a dark-featured Onkawa local, was slim, tall and stately, wearing an intolerably self-satisfied smirk. On his arm, looking stupefied and as tense as a plucked guitar string, was Saduko.

“Forgive the overly dramatic entrance, Webs,” he said airily. “It seems someone forgot to deliver my invitation.”

“Why, that’d have been me, Toss,” Vandro replied easily. “I confess I plumb forgot to want you at my party. Things start to slip the mind, when you get to my age.”

Toss, the leader of the local Guild’s chapter, grinned at the frisson of nervous conversation that swept through Vandro’s crowd of well-heeled guests at the sound of his tag. He was known in the city.

“Ah, but how could I let this occasion pass unremarked? I confess I’ve had cause to be worried about your loyalties of late, but our dear Gimmick, here, has put my mind to rest.” He patted Saduko’s hand where it lay on his arm; she flinched. “And to think we thought she was spying on you. Instead, you have oh-so-deftly rooted out the subversive elements within our local chapter and delivered them into our hands. Along with the fugitive Thumper! Truly, this is a great night for the followers of Eserion, and we owe all this success to you, Webs. Bravo,” he said, drawing out the last word in a silky drawl.

Vandro studied Saduko idly, his mind whirling. Her, Guild? Possibly. He’d checked out her credentials, but those were so very fakeable, especially coming from overseas as they did. He had also studied how she thought and acted while his guest, and found her generally self-contained and a skilled walking poker face as long as she had time to prepare, but easy to rattle and throw off her game. Right now she looked good and rattled, and clinging to her equilibrium by a ragged fingernail.

That was one plot uncovered, then; Saduko had been sent to observe and possibly interfere with his and Amanika’s undercutting of the Guild, but she was either a far more advanced player than he believed, or her own scheme had come unraveled. There was no reason to assume the former when he knew the latter could be explained by yet another actor whose full play had yet to be revealed.

Kheshiri. What could she hope to gain by all this?

“Son of a bitch,” Shook spat, his voice soft. Vandro gave him a warning look, and was met with a venomous glare. He suppressed a sigh. Jerry was a good kid, when he used his head, but that damn temper of his reliably made him stop using it, exactly when he needed it most.

“Seems you’ve been a little rough with our friends, there,” Vandro said mildly. “I mean, if you’re gonna work someone over, sure. Dragging valuable prisoners all over the city, though, letting one apparently bleed herself half to death? Truly, the complexity of your plots is over my head.”

Amanika lifted her face a fraction, and the look she gave Vandro was fleeting, but icily calculating. Not so dazed and beleaguered as she appeared, then, and apparently not taking this turn of events at face value. Good girl; if only she’d been a trifle less homely he’d have looked for reasons to have her around more often.

“I think the time has come for a clearing of the air,” Toss proclaimed, smiling with immense self-satisfaction. “There has been too much suspicion and discord, do you not think so? Let all of Onkawa see that the Thieves’ Guild stands united. Let them see what befalls those who seek to undermine Eserion’s people.”

Vandro shrugged and took a sip of his cocktail. “Your funeral.”

Toss’s smile did not diminish in the slightest. “Why, Webs, I could very nearly take that as a threat. And on the heels of your very valuable assistance to your Guild, too! Surely you cannot have meant that the way it sounded.”

He made a swift motion with his free hand and the six thieves forming his advance guard began moving slowly forward, their gazes coldly intent upon Vandro.

Then Wilberforce glided forth out of the crowd to stand at Vandro’s shoulder. The enforcers instantly halted in their tracks, staring at the Butler. Two glanced uncertainly back at Toss; the rest were studying Wilberforce, clearly mentally calculating whether they could take him on.

They couldn’t, which was beside the point as far as Vandro was concerned. He couldn’t afford to let this come to blows. To say nothing of the risk to his guests, it was blindingly obvious that Toss wanted a confrontation. Whether or not he believed that Vandro was behind the ensnaring of Shook and Amanika (he hadn’t got that from Saduko; why would Kheshiri promote that particular notion?), he knew a rival when he saw one. If Vandro fought the Guild openly, whether he won or lost the battle would be irrelevant in the long run.

“This is why I don’t invite you to parties, Toss,” he said genially. “Nor do I intend to stand here all night bantering with you. Honestly, I don’t give you a thought when you’re not right in front of my face. No point, really; you’re not gonna be in charge long.”

Toss’s smile became a hungry grin. “Oh, I think you’ve grown a little too flushed with your recent success, Alan Vandro. You challenge me openly? In front of all these—”

He tried gamely to keep on talking, but the sheer volume of Vandro’s booming laugh made it pointless. Vandro had practiced that laugh, honed it for that very effect.

“Challenge you?” he chortled, wiping at his eyes. “You silly, sad little man. If I were to challenge you, in the best case scenario I’d end up having to do your tedious job. Nah, what could I possibly gain by going to the trouble? I mean, look around you. Look at this!” He indicated them all, the enforcers, the prisoners, with a contemptuous flick of his wrist. “This very public display of force, this airing of Guild laundry in the faces of all the finest folk in the city? This just isn’t how we do business, Toss, and it’s inconceivable to me that a chapter house head hasn’t figured that out at by this stage in his career.”

“Don’t you point at my—”

“And that’s another thing,” Vandro went on merrily. “This here thing you’re doing, this attempt to use social pressure to force me to either confront you or bend knee? Well, Toss, this is just plain clumsy. I almost hate to tell you, my boy, but you suck at this game. Challenge you? Please. Tell you what I’m gonna do. Since I’m retired and all, I’m gonna sit here in my villa, enjoying the ill-gotten fruit of my lifetime of labor, throwing ridiculous parties and hobnobbing with all my fancy friends, and generally ignore you. I don’t have to challenge you, y’moron. Hell, I don’t think I could save you if my own life depended on it. It’s a damn miracle you’ve lasted this long.”

Toss’s grin had become a decidedly less controlled baring of his teeth; his grip on Saduko’s arm was clearly hard enough to bruise, now, though, she bore it without complaint. “You are one more careless word from—”

“All systems are corrupt,” Vandro said, projecting from the diaphragm and completely overwhelming Toss’s growling delivery. Tragic, how few thieves studied public speaking; it was a priceless skill in their line of work. “We all know the catechism, Toss. You didn’t have to go so far out of your way to prove it.”

The enforcers were all watching Toss, now, their expressions a lot more thoughtful. Vandro knew most of them personally, knew there was nothing personal against him in their presence here, merely the execution of what they saw as their duty. A duty he’d just called into question by turning Toss’s attempted trap around on him.

He glanced at the prisoners; Amanika was smiling, keeping her face angled downward to mostly hide it. Shook still glared at Vandro, his expression a mask of betrayal. Hopefully he could calm the boy down long enough to explain…

In that moment, he understood Kheshiri’s plan. All this had been arranged, his plans subverted, Saduko’s deception turned against her, Toss’s ambition and cruelty manipulated, to create this scene, where Vandro was accused of betraying Shook, and couldn’t afford to deny it. Amanika could read between the lines well enough, but Shook and Toss were thugs who’d made good through hard work and judicious brutality. Shook had heard Vandro tacitly admit having set him up for a fall and the reward, and wouldn’t look beyond that. Unless he could separate Shook from Toss’s custody now, the boy’s trust in him would be completely severed. Leaving him alone in the world with the Guild and the law after him, no one he could trust…except his demon.

He also realized that his understanding had come a moment too late. Because that was the moment, and he was totally unprepared to take advantage of it.

Vandro opened his mouth to press his case, to begin working around to a demand that Shook and Amanika be released to his custody, knowing he wasn’t going to have enough time.

Sure enough, the winged form melted out of nothing right behind Toss, reached around with a large knife and slashed Saduko across the throat.

The screams and panic that followed broke what remaining order there was among the Guild enforcers. Toss stared at the woman now dangling limply from his arm, convulsing as she helplessly pressed a hand to her neck, completely failing to stifle the gushing of her blood. The three enforcers at the rear rushed forward, their swings missing the demon as she went aloft with one powerful beat of her wings. One of them actually struck Toss, sending him and Saduko crashing to the ground.

Kheshiri descended on the two men holding Shook, stomping directly on the head of one and launching herself off again, swooping about them as all four guards abandoned their charges to swipe at her. Released, Amanika turned and struggled frantically over to Saduko as best she could with her arms bound behind her, already glowing with healing light.

In the confusion, the succubus slashed through Shook’s bindings; he rolled forward, coming nimbly to his feet, and bared his teeth in a snarl at Vandro, reaching into his coat. Did he still somehow have his wands? Toss, that damned idiot…

“Jerry, my boy,” Vandro began.

“Save it!” Shook spat, bringing out his weapons. He glanced at Wilberforce and very deliberately did not point them at Vandro.

“Protocol: activate!” Vandro’s voice boomed across the garden, considerably louder than a human throat could actually have spoken. Unsurprising, as it came from Kheshiri, who was now perched atop a palm tree. “Execute program: great escape!”

They unfolded on all sides: benches, wastebins, pieces of decorative statuary, picnic tables. The various heavy stone accents decorating Vandro’s garden slid apart in pieces, revealing their interior metal frames and the blue glow of the arcane magic that made the golems run. Re-sorting themselves swiftly into more or less humanoid shapes, they took form and stepped forward, raising the wands that had been concealed within them.

Vandro sighed. His own security commands prevented them from revealing those weapons except in a case of utmost emergency. Outfitting golems with wands was extremely illegal; this was gonna cost him a fortune in bribes.

“Now, when did you find time to do that?” he asked, a note of admiration in his tone.

Kheshiri smirked down at him. “I suggest you all listen carefully,” she said, still boomingly loud, but in her own voice. Silence fell at her command, the guests and Guild enforcers staring up at her in horror. In that tense moment, the only sounds were the canned music still playing throughout the garden and Amanika’s furiously whispered prayers as she attempted to heal Saduko without the use of her hands. “The program these golems are acting on means they’ll destroy anyone who attempts to interfere with my master or myself as we make our departure. It also locks you out from issuing further commands, Alan, so don’t bother.”

“Simple, but effective,” he said, nodding. “As a professional courtesy, I hope you’ll leave me the counter-code to discover after you’re safely away.”

“Oh, there’s no counter-code,” she said sweetly. “You’ll have to shut them down the hard way. Whatever that may be.”

“Those were expensive, Shiri.”

“You can get more golems, Alan. I only have one master.”

Vandro sighed, turning his gaze to Shook. “Jerry, my boy, think this over carefully. You are being played, here.”

“How stupid do you think I am, Alan?” he snarled, convulsively raising his wands.

Wilberforce tried to step in front of Vandro; Vandro gently pushed him aside. “Watch it, boy,” he said firmly. “Right now, that question has an answer.”

“Master, run,” Kheshiri urged. “I’ll stay here and make sure nobody tries anything.”

“Just think on it, first chance you get,” Vandro said firmly, his eyes boring into Shooks, willing him to understand. Damn it, boy, think!

Shook stared back at him, and beneath the raw fury in his expression, Vandro saw the hurt. Hurt, he knew, was at the bottom of all rage. This was going to damage the boy, maybe beyond what could be fixed.

“Go, master. Please.”

Shook steeled himself, directing his eyes upward at his thrall. “Right. I’ll meet you at—”

“Don’t say it! Don’t give them any clues. Just go, be safe, hide. I can find you anywhere.”

Shook turned without another word, and set off for the gates at a run. In seconds he was out of view around the corner.

“Now then,” Kheshiri purred, turning back to grin down at Vandro. “Since we’ll be together for a while, I see no reason for the party to end here. How about you give us a little jig, Vandro.”

“You can’t be serious,” he said dryly.

“Can’t I?” She grinned with near maniacal glee. “I own your golems, Alan. I can demolish these Guild lackeys and your own security with a word. That means I own you. So…dance for me. Now.”

“You played a good game, Shiri,” Vandro said. “I respect skill. If you’d been willing to be professional, I’d have let you leave here safely. You need to learn when to quit, girl. Wilberforce, power up.”

None of the onlookers could see Wilberforce apply his thumb to the master control rune in his pocket. They only saw the entire estate explode.

Only the magical appliances therein, of course, but in a fully tricked-out modern rich man’s home like Alan Vandro’s estate, that might as well have been the whole thing. Every reserve power crystal in storage spontaneously poured its full load of energy into all the active devices; suddenly channeling several orders of magnitude more power than they were designed to contain, every apparatus on the grounds that used arcane energy burst apart in a series of booms and flashes. The whole house was lit up, windows blazing as if lightning had struck within; the gardens hosted a ferocious shower of sparks and explosions as light fixtures, music boxes, food fresheners and security golems disintegrated, flinging sparks and fragments in all directions.

The screams trailed off a few seconds after the explosions, leaving behind shocked quiet. It was darker, but not totally dark; the levitating party lights operated under their own power, and cast shifting, eerie patches of colored illumination in the absence of the estate’s main lighting. The smell of smoke and ozone hung heavily over everything. Small fires flickered in dozens of places.

The golems slumped, inert and smoking, emitting small sparks and most missing pieces.

“What say we play a different game?” Vandro suggested cheerfully. He lifted high his cocktail glass in Kheshiri’s direction as if toasting her. “Friends and neighbors, servants and gatecrashers, fellow acolytes of Eserion! For one night only, I’ll be paying the sum of one hundred decabloons to whoever brings me that demon’s corpse!”

Kheshiri took one look at the sheer number of those present who turned out to be carrying wands, and vanished.

 

Snow had begun falling, a soft counterpoint to the ominous quiet that filled the street.

The soldiers were hard-eyed, but disciplined, holding their ranks as they marched into the district. The full regiment seemed to have come; they filled the entire avenue, offering no path of escape past them.

Opposite them, residents of Tar’aris, bundled against the cold, had begun melting out of doors and alleys, staring equally hard-eyed at the approaching troops. Quite a few of them were openly carrying wands. They began to form a loose crowd blocking off the street as well.

Silver Legionnaires in their concealing winter gear stood at attention at intervals, several patrols having stopped and positioned themselves along the sidelines between the two groups. They stood firm and rigid, offering no move in either direction.

The students of the University wormed their way out of the crowd, where they had been trying to talk with various members of the community. Teal and Shaeine parted from Avrith, Bob and the small knot of citizens they had accompanied, stepping forward to meet the others in the middle. Ruda appeared out of an alley, Fross darting about above her head. Trissiny, Toby and Gabriel arrived in more of a hurry, having had a longer walk from the inn; they were accompanied by two Legionnaires and Bishop Darling. The latter was leaning close to Trissiny as they walked, whispering urgently into her ear. The paladin appeared to be listening closely, deep in thought.

A startled motion rippled through the watching crowd as Juniper arrived from a nearby rooftop, hitting the ground with a solid thud that left cracks in the pavement. She straightened up, brushing at her ill-fitting dress, and stepped up to join her classmates.

Darling peeled off and Trissiny directed the Legionnaires away with a simple hand motion. The rest of the students gathered with them, placing themselves between the soldiers and the citizens. The eight students—nine, including Vadrieny—represented enough offensive power to seriously damage that regiment, if not to smash through it entirely. Fortunately, they didn’t look like it; the soldiers didn’t see the threat, and thus didn’t react as if threatened. At least, not so far.

The man marching in the lead held up a hand. “Halt!” Behind him, the troops came to a stop in unison, their boots thundering once upon the pavement.

For a few moments, all was still. The groups stared at one another across the uncomfortably small open space in the street between them.

It was Captain Ravoud who finally spoke up.

“I see a lot of Silver Legionnaires in this district, General Avelea. May I ask what your intentions here are?”

Trissiny glanced at Darling; he nodded encouragingly at her.

“There has been serious misconduct on the part of a few of your troops, Captain,” she said firmly, her voice echoing in the silent street. Several soldiers shifted at her words. “That has given rise to a lot of rumor and ill feeling. Silver Legionnaires are known to be women of good character, also trained to understand military actions, and to see and report accurately on tactical details. I’m sure you’ll be relieved to know they are here to observe.” She paused, then added more pointedly. “Whatever transpires here, there will be no unjust accusations of misconduct against your soldiers. We’ll see to that.”

Ravoud stared at her for a long moment, then nodded slowly. “I appreciate that, General.”

She nodded back, then began stepping backward toward the sidewalk. Toby was the next to move, widening his arms and silently ushering the rest of the students along with them. Ruda snorted disdainfully, but let herself be herded. As a group, they shifted out of the way, taking position at the edge of the street and clearing a direct path between the soldiers of Barracks Four and the citizens of Lor’naris.

Ravoud squared his shoulders and took one step forward. Two figures emerged from the crowd; Bob and Avrith paced forward to come nearly within arms’ distance of him.

“Corporal Robert Hollander,” Ravoud said, his voice pitched loud enough to be clearly audible to all present. “And… Avrith, isn’t it?”

“You may call me Mrs. Hollander, Captain, if it makes you more comfortable.”

Ravoud’s lips thinned. “I thought it was the women of your kind who determined the family name.”

“As a rule, yes,” she said, her voice mild. “My family, however, do not care for me to use their name so long as I choose to bind myself to a human. Bob’s family are my family, his home my home. His country my own.”

“Be that as it may,” Ravoud said firmly, “I have received intelligence that there is an armed insurrection forming in this district. You will immediately surrender any weapons being gathered for the purpose of rebellion against His Majesty the Emperor and submit any persons responsible for this action to Imperial custody.”

“Yep,” Bob said laconically, pulling a wand out of his pocket and holding it out to Ravoud, butt first. “Here you go.”

The Captain stared at him, open-mouthed.

“This has only been going on the last day or so,” Bob went on. “Folk none of us knew, making very pointed suggestions in taverns and the like. Several of us got together and decided on a course of action: we took to meetin’ with these chumps, tried to encourage them along a bit. I wish I had better to tell you, but we got nothing out of ’em but these gifts. If I have some of my friends come forward carrying arms to turn in, Captain, will you kindly refrain from having them shot?”

Ravoud blinked twice, then visibly steeled himself. “If… As long as they approach slowly, with hands in plain view and those weapons held pointed down.”

“All right, you heard the man,” Bob said more loudly, half-turning to address those behind him. “Slow and polite. Let’s not make the lads any more nervous than they already are.

A dozen people melted out of the crowd. Drow and human, male and female, they all held wands by the hafts, hands nowhere near the clickers, tips aimed at the pavement below their feet. Ravoud watched them approach warily, then turned his head to issue an order of his own. Two soldiers stepped forward and began collecting the wands, looking somewhat bemused.

“We have examined those weapons and unfortunately found nothing that seems useful,” said Avrith. “They are mass-produced and of middling quality. Perhaps the resources of the Empire can find out more about them than we, but I fear they were meant to be untraceable.”

“Everyone you see here was personally present at a meeting with at least one of these agitators,” Bob added. “Well, I mean, those of use stepped forward, here. The rest of those folk back there are just curious about the commotion, I think. We’re all happy to recount everything we saw and heard.”

“The men in question took pains to be anonymous,” said Avrith. “I cannot prove the use of disguise charms, but it would not surprise me. They offered no names and refused to reveal any patron, or the source of those weapons. However, several of us are soldiers, of both Tiraan and Narisian extraction, and two of the witnesses are trained diplomats. We met with them with the specific intention of gathering information. It is my hope that some of our recollections will prove useful to you in tracking them down and putting a stop to this.”

Ravoud just continued to stare at her, seeming at a total loss for words.

“Tiraas is our home, Captain,” Avrith said more softly. “This city has offered us a place when our own would not. We will protect and serve it in any way we can, as fervently as any other citizen. All of us.” Bob took her gloved hand in his.

“I…” Ravoud trailed off, then swallowed, squaring his shoulders. “I…thank you for your cooperation, citizen.”

“Great,” said Bob wryly. “D’you mind if we have the rest of this discussion someplace a bit warmer? We can go to your barracks, if you’d like, or there are spots closer where we can set up and do interviews.”

“None of us have any appointments,” Avrith added. “Consider us all at your disposal.” There were agreeing nods from the rest of the individuals standing alongside her.

“I…think a local place would do fine,” Ravoud said slowly. “No need to drag this out any more than it must be.”

Trissiny cleared her throat, stepping forward. “Captain, the Third has set up a command post in an unoccupied shop nearby. You may consider that at your disposal.”

“Thank you, General,” he said, nodding respectfully to her. “In fact, that would be perfect. Your Legionnaires can continue to…observe.”

“Of course. Soldier, show him where it is.”

The nearest Legionnaire saluted her before stepping over to Ravoud. She patiently stood by while he turned and issued orders to his men; shortly, the bulk of the regiment had turned and were marching back out of the district. Quite a few looked mystified, but they kept their ranks and their discipline. A small detachment of Imperial soldiers remained with the Captain and the citizens who had stepped forward to be interviewed, and in short order they, too, were departing, led by the woman in armor toward the Legion’s command center.

Darling drew in a deep breath and blew it out dramatically as the street finally began to clear of onlookers. “All praise be to whoever the hell is watching over us and willing to take credit for that. And I mean that in my official, ecclesiastical capacity.”

“Wait, so…that’s it?” Ruda demanded. “All that work, all that skullduggery and gathering tension, and it all ends like that? Just a few words and everybody’s friends again?”

“It is a little anticlimactic,” Fross agreed.

“Yes, Ruda, that’s it,” Toby said firmly. “And I, for one, will be spending a great deal of the rest of the night giving prayers of thanks. This is the best ending to all this we could possibly have hoped for.”

“I don’t know how much credit any of us can take,” Trissiny added grimly.

“Cheer up, kid,” said Darling, patting her on the back. “You’ve just successfully refrained from igniting a civil war. It was a good day.”

“Great,” she muttered.

“And no, Princess, everyone’s not friends,” he added more seriously. “There’s a long way yet to go… But the going has begun, and will continue. The hard part was always getting us through this confrontation.”

“But…we didn’t do anything,” said Gabriel.

The Bishop grinned at him. “No, you didn’t, did you? If you remember nothing else about this mess, Mr. Arquin, remember that. Good people taking care of their own affairs are always a force to be reckoned with. Sometimes, people need saving, that’s true. Most of the time, though, a hero is just somebody who reminds everyone at large to be their own best.”

“Aw,” said Fross. “Now, that’s uplifting! How come Professor Tellwyrn never gives us lessons like that?”

“Combination of complex factors,” said Ruda. “Mostly stemming from the fact that Tellwyrn’s a rotten bitch on her best day.”

They began drifting back in the direction of their inn, letting off tension in the form of good-natured bickering as they went.

Behind them, leaning against the wall of an alley, Professor Tellwyrn stood in silence, wearing a calm smile. She simply watched until the students were nearly out of sight around the curve of the street, then straightened, brushed off her tunic, and vanished with a soft pop that barely disturbed the falling snow.

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5 – 21

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“I’d help you if I could, Mr. Caine.” Captain Ravoud folded his hands atop the lowest pile of papers on his desk, staring intently at Toby. The desk was well-covered, stacks of paperwork drifting higher toward the edges, leaving a valley through which the Captain studied his guest. “I’ve made no secret of my sympathies or my feelings about all the drow in that district, but I would much rather avoid…well, all of this. Even if matters were different, I wouldn’t brush off a request from a paladin. Something you might mention to your colleague, so next time she may be more inclined to talk to all parties in a dispute before setting up a Silver Legion blockade.” He sighed heavily, closing his eyes, and leaned back in his chair, dropping his hands into his lap. “Unfortunately, the time to ask me was several days ago, when I still had a shred of control over the situation.”

Toby frowned, shifting in his seat. “These are still your soldiers, Captain. I understand they have a lot of respect for you, personally.”

“Don’t remind me,” Ravoud groaned, finally opening his eyes again. He was a young man for his rank, nowhere near middle age yet, though he had the look of someone who had put on years in the course of days. His eyes and cheeks were hollowed, and though he hadn’t allowed stubble to accumulate on his chin, his regulation-cut hair was ruffled, and his uniform seemed to fit loosely, as though meant for a more well-fed man. He was a portrait of stress. “Anyway, it scarcely matters. My orders and encouragements to keep calm only count for so much with the bloody Guild trying to provoke them at every turn. I’ve got dozens of men to look after, half of them out on patrols at any one time, and not a one trained for this kind of psychological warfare. It’s only a matter of time till one cracks, and not much time at that. Then…” He trailed off, shaking his head.

“We’re doing what we can about that,” said Toby. “I’ve sent messages to the Church and my own cult, and Trissiny is following up with some contacts she has with the Guild. If they can be persuaded to back off…”

Ravoud was shaking his head again before Toby finished. “I’ve contacted the Church; they say they’re looking into it. No help’s coming from that quarter. They have no actual control over individual cults, and even the Archpope’s authority doesn’t go far with the Guild. I’ve contacted ImCom, who shot me down and said as long as the Guild is technically on the right side of the law, we’re not to take any action. What with the mess this barracks has caused lately, anyhow, we’re under investigation and I’m under an injunction not to issue any major orders of any kind to my troops—basically nothing but the standard, day-to-day running of the regiment. I even tried to send a plea to the Guild itself.” He sighed, his expression bitter. “I’m assuming they’re the ones who sent me a sketch of my father asleep in his reading chair. It appeared on my desk during the two minutes I was in the toilet.”

“Holy—” Toby broke off, but Ravoud gave him a look of sour agreement, nodding.

“The Guild toes the line most of the time, but they are nasty when riled up. Purely, gratuitously vicious. Given the option, I think I’d rather have the Black Wreath after me.”

“I’m sorry it’s come to this,” said Toby, “but please don’t lose hope. We are working on it, and hopefully there will be progress within a couple of hours. I realize Trissiny probably isn’t your favorite person right now, but she does have a knack for cleaving through bureaucracy. And it’s not just her, or me. One of our classmates is a member of House Awarrion; she’s doing what she can down at the Narisian embassy.”

Ravoud stared at him in silence for a long moment, swiveling slowly back and forth in his chair. The small, nervous motion seemed oddly childlike. Eventually, just before Toby was going to say something again, he drew in a deep breath and steepled his fingers. “You know why I’ve pursued a career in the Army, Mr. Caine?”

Toby shook his head, keeping his expression open and encouraging.

“My little sister, Alia, was an accountant. A Vernisite—not very devout, but you don’t get far in the financial sector without paying at least lip service to that goddess. And she was—is—pretty. That proved to be her downfall. You see, Mr. Caine, she was part of a trade mission opening channels of exchange in Tar’naris. There, she was entrapped.”

Toby frowned. “Entrapped?”

“Invited by a resident drow working at the embassy to invest in a development project. There was lots of construction going on; it was right after the Narisian Treaty, they were renovating basically the whole city, putting in all the agricultural infrastructure, and there was money flowing back and fourth like rainwater. All of that was common. Alia had the matter checked out by a local solicitor, just because it was in her nature to be careful. Everything was fully aboveboard, so she signed on, devoted a chunk of her savings. What ambitious young financial planner wouldn’t have jumped at such an opportunity? Such things were the reason she went there. A new diplomatic relationship between countries is a frontier, as surely as the edge of the Golden Sea. It attracts a different kind of adventurers, but lots of Imperials were sniffing around Tar’naris then.” He drew in a slow breath through his nose and let it out. “Not so much anymore, because of what happened to Alia, and dozens of others like her.”

“What happened?” Toby asked quietly.

“The investment was a fraud. It was a front for a criminal enterprise. Everyone involved was arrested, charged, convicted… Yeah, I’m sure all that was scrupulously legal. Those deemed responsible were all sold as slaves, which is apparently not unusual under the Narisian caste system. I spent a lot of time prying and sniffing around, and it turns out the exceptions were the ringleaders of the whole operation, the ones who’d set up the criminal activity, because they were members of a powerful House that pulled strings to get them out.” He leaned forward again, fury animating his expression. “It was a trap, Caine, the whole thing. The investments weren’t the point; the crime wasn’t, either. It was a way to snare the rarest and most expensive of luxury goods, of which the elite Tar’naris had been starved for decades: human slaves.

“And this is common. Do you understand that? It’s sufficiently common that the Empire has taken to strongly warning Tiraan citizens to avoid certain kinds of activity if they visit Tar’naris. It’s appointed a whole branch of the embassy there to try to prevent things like this from happening and retrieve entrapped humans when it does—because yes, it still does, and no, they can’t always get our people back. It’s all legal in Tar’naris.”

He gripped the edges of his desk, knuckles whitening. “My family have tried everything. Apparently, Imperial diplomatic personnel who get snared, and sometimes their families, can be pulled out citing some kind of privilege, but accountants aren’t that important. It’s not worth straining our relationship with a valuable ally to rescue our citizens from having been tricked into slavery. It took us months even to get in touch with Alia’s new owner, and they refused to see us. Not interested in doing business. Do you know what they want humans for? Of course you do, everyone does. My baby sister hopefully ended up in some drow noble’s harem, and that is the good option, because it’s at least as likely she was stuck in a brothel.”

“I’m so sorry,” Toby whispered.

“That is what they do,” Ravoud said, glaring at him. “That’s what they are like. They can’t raid us with swords anymore, because we have better weapons now. So they adapted. They are a society of predators who think of the human race as a resource. Am I happy to have a whole district of them here, in Tiraas itself? Bah. They’re so well-mannered, so civil, it’s so very easy to be taken in. I am just waiting to find out what all those drow in Lor’naris are really here for, and now… Well, now it seems I won’t.”

He slumped back into his chair, the outrage seeming to drain from him, leaving the man merely exhausted and mournful. “Something similar happened to Khalivour; it was a girl he’d been courting. It’s usually girls, though they’ll take men, too. He and I were in it for the same reasons: rise through the ranks, become somebody in the Imperial Army. Be important enough to give the order and have our loved ones fetched out of bondage in that nest of darkling depravity. Now he’s dead, and I’m almost certain to lose my command and any hope of future advancement.” A bitter little smile flickered across his features. “You know, it’s almost better this way. If all this had been forced on me by some enemy…I think it would drive me mad. But no, I failed to rein in Khalivour, even though I knew how he was. I let my officers know how I felt and why, let that influence their treatment of the darklings in Lor’naris. Some of this just happened, but I can see where I’ve been responsible. I can still say I am the captain of my own destiny. Even if it means I’ve failed utterly…there’s that.”

He reached into a desk drawer and pulled out a bottle of brandy, setting it atop a pile of papers. “A gift from my father when I made Captain. Thirty years old. Khalivour and I were going to break it out, one day, when we managed to get Alia and Tamra back. Now… Looks like I’ll be ending the week making toasts to all the lost friends I failed to save.”

He met Toby’s eyes, looking totally drained of life, of hope. “I would help you if I could, Mr. Caine. I’d help a lot of people, but I’m afraid it’s too late. I’m in no position to help anyone.”

The villa was a bees’ nest of activity, workers scurrying this way and that setting up decorations and making preparations for the evening’s entertainment. Tellwyrn, watching from a second-floor balcony, could identify preparatory enchantment work that would become light displays, hover charms for floating tables, music boxes being chained together via golem logic controllers to play the same synchronized tunes everywhere simultaneously, plus innumerable other little details, several of which were mystifying even to her. Enchantments were being invented and refined at such a rate these days that she had fallen behind.

“And the best part is, it’s all on the cheap,” Vandro enthused, gesticulating with one of his omnipresent cocktails. “So much of the point of all this rigamarole is for the rich assholes to impress each other with how much they can afford to spend. Feh. I’ll have you know I have cut corners on round surfaces, used surplus materials, pulled in favors… Well, it’s all a boring bunch of stories. Point is, tonight I get to watch the wealthiest bastards in Onkawa turn green with envy at all the gold I can throw around, when I’ve not spent a tenth as much as they did on parties that weren’t half as flashy. It’s fucking delicious.”

“Alan,” she said, “I certainly appreciate your hospitality, and I can tell this is, indeed, going to be a hell of a party.”

“Well, this is like an RSVP from my ex-wife,” Vandro said, grinning. “There’s a big but coming.”

“Fancy parties full of snobby people… Well, if you moved the venue into a church, it’d be a who’s who of everything I hate. I really am just here on business. I need to find my dragon, give him a message, and haul ass back to Tiraas, hopefully before the eight students I’ve left there manage to burn it down.”

“Oh, don’t be so hard on the kids,” he said magnanimously. “I know we like to make jokes about the young—I mean, seems like every generation gets progressively more weak-minded. Still and all, they have to be pretty good kids if they made it into your school. How bad can it be?”

“Good?” She turned to face him, raising an eyebrow. “I don’t recruit based on good. In this case, we are talking about two paladins, a drow cleric, a half-demon with permanent foot-in-mouth syndrome, a pacifist bard possessed by a demon, a neophyte pixie wizard, a dryad and the Punaji princess. Unsupervised.”

Vandro stared at her for a moment, then whistled. “My gods, woman, we’ve gotta get you back to Tiraas ASAP, while we still have an Empire. Wilberforce!”

“Yes, sir,” said the silver-haired Butler smoothly, stepping out from the shade of the sitting room behind them and bowing. “I shall see to it that Zanzayed the Blue is recognized as soon as he arrives, if he sees fit to attend, and will personally inform Professor Tellwyrn immediately.”

“Thank you,” said Tellwyrn, nodding.

“It’s such a shame, though,” Vandro said with a sigh. “You’re the most prestigious guest I’m ever likely to have… And it’s going to be a hell of a party.”

“You don’t know Zanza like I do.” Tellwyrn stared down at the preparations underway, drumming her fingers on the balustrade. “I very much fear that you have no idea.”

“Yes, that is a serious problem,” said Shaeine.

“Wait, it’s true?” Gabriel exclaimed. “I was expecting you to say Rouvad was full of it.”

“Ravoud,” Trissiny corrected tersely. “Rouvad is—”

“The High Commander, yes, I know, sorry.” He rolled his eyes. “All due respect, Triss, get used to it. I can barely manage to say the right thing when I know what I’m talking about.”

“How do you know?” Ruda asked, grinning. “When has that ever happened?”

“Can we please, for once in our lives, stop bickering and focus?!” Toby exclaimed.

Silence fell while everyone stared at him in shock.

Toby drew in a deep, steadying breath. “Sorry. Shaeine, you were saying?”

The drow shook her head. “I’m afraid I have little to add on the subject. Certain elements within Tar’naris do, indeed, use trickery to ensnare humans into legal slavery. It’s a constant strain upon our relations with the Empire, something which causes my House a great deal of extra work. The problem appears to be intractable, however. Queen Arkasia refuses to ban human slavery because doing so would merely drive the market underground, weakening her regime and removing our legal recourse to extract those Tiraan citizens we can. Even so… The politics of the city are a delicate web to navigate. We cannot antagonize the wealthiest members of each House by forcibly retrieving what they think of as luxury goods, for which they have paid a small fortune.”

“But your family doesn’t do this, right?” Trissiny demanded.

“Indeed,” said Shaeine, “my mother has prohibited the practice for all members of House Awarrion. It would be impossible for us to deal with the Empire in good faith if we partook in such abuse of the spirit of the treaty. No one in my House is to possess an enslaved human.”

“Okay,” said Trissiny, nodding.

“That said, we have two.”

“What?” the paladin shouted. Teal, sitting beside Shaeine on the couch, sighed and closed her eyes, clearly not surprised by the news.

“It is a case in point, demonstrating how complicated the issue is,” said Shaeine solemnly. “Both were gifts, the refusal of which would have been a deadly insult that we could not afford to make. Zoe and Riley are members of my family, as loved as anyone else.”

“And so you freed them?” Trissiny said sharply. “They’re allowed to leave?”

Shaeine shook her head. “Freeing them from enslavement would still leave them legally liable for the crimes which were the reason of their situation.”

“Trumped-up charges?” Toby asked quietly.

“I’m afraid so,” Shaeine admitted, “but the fact remains. Narisian justice is swift and not gentle, even when it is wrong. It is precisely because they are loved that we do not allow them to be subjected to that. Riley has three children; my niece and two nephews. They are, I repeat, family.”

“That suddenly means a whole lot less when they’re not legally allowed to say otherwise,” Ruda pointed out.

“I am aware of this,” Shaeine replied, her tone subtly cold despite her calm. “We make the best of the situations given us. Complaining is pointless.”

“Okay, uh, hold it.” Gabriel lifted his good hand, which had been draped around Juniper’s shoulder. Whatever accommodation the two had reached, Juniper had been clinging to him all morning, looking miserable no matter how he reassured her. His other arm was still in a sling. “Clearly we all have issues with this, but we can talk about it any time. I think a time when we don’t have urgent problems would be better.”

“He’s right,” said Trissiny, nodding despite her unhappy expression. “I’m sorry to report I’ve made no progress. I’ve personally delivered messages for Bishop Darling at both the Church and the Thieves’ Guild headquarters, and even his house. He wasn’t at any of them, but I’ve got three assurances he’ll be informed as soon as he returns.”

“The Guild cooperated with you?” Toby asked, raising his eyebrows.

“Not immediately,” she said flatly. “The enforcer who met me at the Imperial Casino, where they keep their offices, attempted to send me to the opposite side of the city, where she claimed Darling was holed up with a mistress.”

“How do you know he wasn’t?” Ruda asked.

“Because I know how Eserites are, especially when they are dealing with Avenists. I politely asked her to tell me the truth, she repeated her story with professions of the utmost innocence, and I punched her in the mouth.”

There was a moment’s silence.

“Oh, Trissiny,” Teal sighed.

“Um,” Fross chimed hesitantly, “how does that help persuade the Guild to back down?”

“Because,” Trissiny said testily, “as I just said, I know how they think. Eserites don’t write down their doctrines, but my education included a thorough grounding in everything known about how they operate. Everything is a game to them. ‘Mischief and misdirection,’ they say; it’s how they address virtually everyone. Yes, I probably made an enemy of one particular thief, but I had to wait for the four others present to stop laughing before we could continue talking, and then they all wanted to buy me drinks.”

“Tell me you didn’t,” said Ruda, grinning hugely.

“Of course I didn’t,” Trissiny snapped. “They’d have almost certainly been drugged, and anyway, as I keep having to remind you, I don’t drink. But after all that, I was more inclined to believe the man when he said Darling was out, but he’d pass along a message as soon as he returned. You just have to show them you’re willing to play the game.”

“And…punching them in the mouth is playing the game?” Gabriel asked.

“On a case by case basis. The woman in question was muscled like an ox and had a broken nose. I wouldn’t have struck a cutpurse or con artist; they’d consider that very poor form and probably grounds for retaliation. They respect people who beat them at their own games, though, which is why Silver Legionnaires are trained to spot enforcers when dealing with the Guild. Them we can take in a fight—usually—and it’s an established path to getting a dialogue going.”

“Religious people are insane,” Gabriel marveled.

“Here’s to that,” Ruda agreed, raising a bottle of rum in his direction. “I dunno how you get through the day, Boots, I really do not.”

“So…there’s a precedent for this?” Toby asked hesitantly. “You’re certain you didn’t just make things worse?”

“You know what, Toby?” Trissiny rounded on him. “After the week we’ve had, maybe you’re not in a position to criticize my diplomacy anymore. At least I’ve been trying.”

“Whoah, okay, that’s enough,” Teal said firmly. “This is a tense situation; let’s not start attacking each other. Okay?”

Trissiny muttered something and turned to stare out the window of the lounge. Toby just sighed, looking at her.

“So this is a waiting game, then?” said Gabriel. “We’ve got nothing else to pursue until we hear back from Darling?”

“And then,” Teal added glumly, “we have to hope he can and will get his fellow cultists to back off. But if that pans out, it’ll go a long way toward defusing this. Without the Guild putting pressure on the guard, a huge amount of tension goes out of the whole situation.”

“Yeah,” Gabe said, nodding glumly. “I’m just…scrambling to think of anything else we can do to help in the meantime. Sitting here waiting for the ax to fall is gonna drive me nuts.”

“There is one thing,” said Shaeine. “Those of us present, between us, can exercise a certain amount of political clout. I suggest we speak to the Imperial Army in support of this Captain Ravoud.”

“In…support?” Fross asked. “Are you… You heard the part where this guy hates drow, right?”

“Hate may be too strong a word,” Shaeine said evenly. “It must be said that he has a very legitimate grievance against my people. However, he has also expressed willingness to work with Toby, and the reality is that he was, according to the best information we have, not directly responsible for any of the attacks on Lor’naris, and values law and order above his own prejudices. I am deeply regretful that I failed to open a dialogue with him in the first place; I feel it might have averted a great deal of misfortune. Even so, he appears to be precisely the sort of person who can best keep things as civil as possible. In addition, he is known and trusted by the soldiers in Barracks Four; keeping him there will give them a sense of continuity that will be helpful in assuaging their own fears.”

“Okay,” Trissiny said slowly, “I see your point. I’ll pass that along to General Panissar. I doubt he’ll have time to see me or anything, but I can at least get him a message fairly quickly.”

“I was thinking more of a letter of endorsement, signed by you, myself and Toby,” said Shaeine. “We each have credibility and relevance to the situation; we have been in apparent opposition to Captain Ravoud, so our endorsement of him will have extra weight. I can compose it in minutes and submit it for your approval.”

“I think that’s a fine idea,” Toby said, nodding.

“Wanna hear some more good news?”

They all turned to stare at the staircase, at the head of which now stood a familiar pair of elves, grinning.

“Hello, Fauna, Flora,” Trissiny said wearily. “Is this good news in a sarcastic sense?”

“Not at all,” said Fauna. “This is the real deal.”

“We probably shouldn’t be telling you, but hell, we’re not officially Guild members yet, and it seems like more communication, not less, is best right now.”

“The short version is the Guild isn’t going to lean on Barracks Four much longer.”

“Darling got my message?” Trissiny perked up visibly.

The elves exchanged a glance.

“Dunno about that,” said Flora. “It’s the policy, though. As hard as they’re pushing those soldiers, the point isn’t to make them break. It’s to make it seem like it is.”

“What?!” Gabriel exclaimed.

“It’s a threat,” said Teal quietly. “People don’t often appreciate this, but threats are, themselves, acts of violence.”

“Exactly,” said Fauna, nodding approvingly. “Most of those soldiers didn’t do anything to us. They’re getting a one-day reminder of why they’d damn well better not, and then poof. Back to the shadows with us.”

“Even if one of them breaks and takes a shot, the Guild members shadowing them aren’t gonna engage,” Flora added.

“Those two who actually attacked Peepers, though…”

“Yeah, their asses are ours.”

“They’re in Imperial custody,” Toby pointed out firmly.

“Yeah?” Fauna grinned at him. “And it’s probably gonna snow tonight. That has what to do with anything?”

“It’s good news, indeed,” said Trissiny. “It makes our position a little easier.”

“Well, no,” said Flora with a wince. “That’s the other thing we came to tell you.”

“Great,” Trissiny sighed. “What now?”

“The thing you were initially worried about looks likely to happen,” said Fauna.

“What?”

“Somebody’s agitating the Lorisians,” Flora said grimly. “And those of Barracks Four who aren’t on duty. At each other, specifically.”

“What do you mean, agitating?” Teal demanded.

“It’s hard to say.” Fauna shook her head. “Some of it has to be due to the escalating tension, but… It’s too much, too fast. The Guild’s been watching both the district and that regiment closely, which is the only reason we happen to know…”

“And the only reason we happen to know is we’re very good at overhearing stuff apprentices aren’t supposed to be privy to,” Flora added.

“But there have been meetings.”

“Speeches.”

“Weapons distributed.”

“There may or may not be some kind of riot brewing…”

“…but it looks a lot like someone’s trying to arrange one.”

A heavy silence fell over the lounge, the students all staring at the two thieves.

“Who?” Toby asked at last.

Flora shrugged. “If we knew that, someone would be putting a stop to it. Maybe someone does, and is.”

“That’s quite possibly where Darling’s been all day. We haven’t seen hide nor hair of him either.”

“Well…it’s okay, right?” Gabriel said. “I mean, we’ve got the Legionnaires in the district.”

“Gabriel,” Trissiny said wearily, “the Legionnaires are warriors. We don’t train to suppress civil insurrections; the only way we train to fight is against enemies. With swords.”

“…shit.”

“I think maybe we’d better call in the Army,” said Toby.

“You do that,” said Flora, “and not only is Barracks Four good and fucked, so is Lor’naris.”

“A district full of drow that’s clean, productive and safe is one thing,” added Fauna.

“A district full of drow that’s involved in an armed insurrection… Well, that’s about nineteen different kinds of uglier. What do you think the Empire will do about that?”

“So…” Gabe looked around helplessly at the others. “What do we do?”

The silence stretched out.

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5 – 20

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“Finally,” the soldier groused, straightening and nodding a greeting to the two uniformed men walking toward him.

“Don’t start, they’re early,” his partner chided, rolling her eyes.

“Fine, fair enough,” he said, grinning. “I’m glad to see you. This isn’t the worst duty I’ve had by a long shot, but it’s not exactly exciting.”

“It’s a little exciting,” said one of the two approaching soldiers with a grin. “It’s a hospital, after all. You could catch a horrible disease!”

“Oh, good, a comedian,” grumbled the woman. “All right, we’re off. You have a great evening, lads.”

“Uh, hang on,” said the other new soldier, frowning. “You’re both leaving?”

“Um, yeah?” She glanced at her partner and then back at them.

His frown deepened. “It’s just… We’re both from the same barracks as Imadaan and Torkins, in there. Barracks is supposed to be under investigation because of what they did. It’s against regulations for us to guard them unattended.”

“Are you kidding?” his partner exclaimed. “You can’t possibly know that many regulations.”

“I read up on it, things being how they are,” he said defensively, before returning his gaze to the other two. “I know you guys are off, but can you please report this on your way out?”

“You want us to report you?” the man about to leave asked, his eyebrows shooting up.

“You want them to report us?” the new guy’s partner agreed in the same tone.

“Yes, and you should too. We’ve got the barracks under investigation, the darklings in Lor’naris stirring up trouble and Command looking for some poor bastard to scapegoat. I want everything going on to be squeaky clean, all by the book and aboveboard because I’d really like to not be the goat who gets scaped, yeah?”

“Well, you are early,” the female soldier said, “and we have to go back to our barracks anyway. Sure, we’ll find an officer and pass the word along.”

“Thanks,” he said. “Please remember to say that we asked you to make a report.”

“I will remember,” she replied solemnly, “the short one requested a report be made, and the cute one stood there rolling his eyes. Now, for the second time, have a great evening, lads.” With a final wink, she turned and strolled away with her partner.

“Well, at least I’m the cute one,” said the cute one as they went.

“I’ll settle for being the one who doesn’t get court martialed, Wesker,” his partner muttered.

“You are such an old lady, you know that?”

“I may be a short old lady, but I’ve got a career to look forward to. The last thing I need is to get caught up in someone else’s shitstorm because some idiot assigned me a duty I wasn’t supposed to have.”

“Oh, you worry too much,” Wesker said dismissively. “They gave you the assignment apparently against regulations; what are the chances any officer is even going to notice? If you hadn’t gone out of your way to get us reported, I mean. And even so, I’m not sure anything’ll come of it. Command doesn’t know where its own boots are most of the time.”

“Yeah, well, in my experience, Command may not notice the slip-ups they make, but they’ll spot and come down on any slip-ups we make like the fucking fist of Avei.”

“You’re a real ray of sunshine, Ravandi.”

“I try.”

The two soldiers broke off their discussion at the approach of a young woman carrying a folding stool. She nodded pleasantly to them, set it down directly across the hall from the door they were guarding, seated herself, and withdrew a packet of salted peanuts from a pocket. Then she began munching, staring at them.

Wesker and Ravandi exchanged a glance. “Can we help you, miss?” Ravandi asked after a moment.

“Nope, I think I have everything under control,” she said. She was strikingly dressed, her shirt and trousers in a very dark shade of blue; the pants were tucked into knee-high black leather boots, the shirt partially covered by a tight black vest. Her ears were small and round, but her blonde hair, angular features and slight build all hinted at elven blood.

“Well, you can’t sit there,” Wesker said more bluntly. “This is a room under guard.”

“Actually, I think you’ll find that I can,” she said with a grin. “According to the relevant city and Imperial laws, the hospital is a public space and the Writ of Duties grants me the right to be here if I wish. Now, interfering with soldiers in the course of their duty would be different. But I’m just sitting here.” She had another peanut, smiling mysteriously.

“Is there some reason you’re sitting here, then?” Ravandi asked, his hand straying near his sidearm. Soldiers on city guard duty did not customarily carry staves; all he had was a wand in a holster at his hip.

The woman shrugged. “I’m just inspired by how well the Army takes care of its soldiers, is all. Even the ones who’ve been injured in the course of committing crimes. With modern healing being what it is, you’d think they’d be out of there and into a proper cell by now.”

“It’s SOP for head injuries,” said Ravandi. “They were both knocked unconscious, so they stay under medical observation for at least twenty-four hours, and aren’t moved to another facility unless—”

“Don’t tell her that,” Wesker exclaimed.

“It’s not classified, Wesker,” said Ravandi, exasperated. “It’s common knowledge. I suspect she already knows it anyway. Isn’t that right, Miss…?”

“You can call me Grip,” she said, popping another peanut into her mouth.

“Grip?” Wesker frowned. “That’s an odd name.”

“Wesker!”

“What? I’m not trying to chat her up at a Sunday social. It’s a fucking weird name!”

“Well, it’s not properly a name,” Grip said lightly. “We get tags upon fully graduating from apprenticeship into Eserion’s service.”

Both soldiers immediately reached for their wands. “All right,” Ravandi said grimly, “I think you need to move along, now.”

“Mmm…nope, pretty comfortable right here,” Grip replied, crossing her legs. “Writ of Duties, remember? Of course, I’m not interfering with a soldier’s duty if they go out of line to interfere with me first. Then it’s self-defense.” She grinned wolfishly, and something in the set of her eyes was suddenly a trifle less than sane.

“I don’t give a shit what the law says,” Wesker started.

“Careful, boy, you so much as pull that wand out and it’s considered sufficient cause on my part. And you know what they say: Don’t worry about the Eserite you see, worry about the three you don’t.”

Both soldiers glanced nervously around on cue; the hall was apparently empty save for the three of them. Ravandi grudgingly pulled his hand away from his wand.

“That’s better,” Grip said approvingly. “I’ve a perfect right to be here, as do my associates watching that room’s windows from across the street. No reason we can’t all get along. Let’s get to know each other! How’s your mother doing, Private Wesker? Still trying to grow herbs in her kitchen window in the winter?”

“What the fuck—”

Ravandi grabbed his wrist before Wesker could draw his wand. “Don’t,” he said urgently. “She is trying to provoke you.”

“How does she know anything about my mom’s herbs?!”

Ravandi glanced sidelong at Grip. “Because she’s checked us out, obviously, or more of them have. She’s toeing the line, trying to make you lose your temper and give her an excuse for ‘self-defense.’ We can tolerate it for now.” He gave the woman another filthy look. “Command will deal with the Thieves’ Guild as soon as we report this.”

“Oh, I think you’ll find Command is aware of the situation,” Grip said merrily. “No one from the Guild is going to put so much as a toe over the line, I assure you. But one of you boys will, sooner or later.”

“Why are you doing this?” Ravandi demanded.

“You haven’t heard?” Her grin took on a distinctly sharklike quality. “The woman your two buddies in there tried to teach a lesson to, the one who warned the Hand of Avei about your barracks trying to firebomb Lor’naris, was a member of the Guild.”

There was a moment of silence while that sunk in.

“Oh, shit,” Wesker whispered.

“You’re not getting past us,” Ravandi said grimly.

“Past you?” Grip raised her eyebrows. “Now why in the world would I want to do a thing like that? That would be illegal. Shame on you for suggesting such a thing. Anyway, I have no need to cross an Imperial guard line to get at your pals.” She popped another peanut into her mouth and chewed contentedly, her posture utterly relaxed, face affable, but with something savage lurking in her eyes. “After all, it’s not like they can stay in there forever.”

 

The morning was gray and glum, an oppressive bank of clouds creeping over the city and suggesting rain—or, more likely, sleet. Tiraas was awake and active, but only just; people hurried about their business without stopping to chat, eager to get indoors before the weather made good on its threats.

Two people, a man and a woman, paused as they entered the square which abutted the outer ward known to its inhabitants as Lor’naris.

“What the hell,” the man muttered, but started forward again, his companion a step behind.

Seven Silver Legionnaires stood at the entrance to the district, in addition to the miscellaneous drow and ex-soldiers who formed the Lorisian neighborhood watch. Four of them, two on either side of the street, were stiffly at attention, unmistakably standing guard; the rest stood back from the square, their posture more relaxed, talking quietly with a drow woman.

The weather made them a rather intimidating sight. The Legionnaires rarely wore their helmets when on duty in the city; without them, they were individual women, recognizable and approachable. With their faces mostly covered, they became anonymous and inhuman, precisely the reason they preferred to forgo them outside of combat. Their much heavier cold-weather armor, however, removed the choice. People standing outdoors with their heads uncovered for any length of time in a Tiraan winter were at risk of losing ears or noses.

He nodded to the Legionnaires as he passed; one nodded back. So, on duty or no, they weren’t hostile. The two made it half a block before the woman nudged the man with an elbow and jerked her head significantly backward. He glanced behind, to see two of the Legionnaires not obviously standing watch following them.

Disregarding a hissed warning from his companion, then man came to a stop, turned and pulled down his scarf to speak without getting a mouthful of lint.

“Can we help you, ladies?”

“Orders,” said one of the Legionnaires, in the apologetic tone of one soldier explaining a commander’s silly notions to another. “Soldiers from your barracks aren’t to move in Lor’naris without escort.”

The man and woman exchanged a glance.

“And what makes you think we’re soldiers?” he asked.

“Now? Because if you weren’t, you’d have just said so.” She stood close enough that he could see her eyes and part of her mouth through the gaps in her helmet. The woman was clearly smiling. “Previously, we were told you’d be coming.”

“Told by whom, if I may ask?”

The Legionnaire’s smile turned into a grimace. “The kind of people we don’t ordinarily have any contact with.”

“Ah,” he said sourly.

“Fuckers,” his companion muttered.

“Not you,” he said hastily as both Legionnaires shifted posture. “We’ve been having trouble all morning with— Well, you probably know.”

“We hear rumors,” the second Legionnaire said noncommittally.

“Well, since you’re here,” said the woman, “there’s no sense in us wandering around like idiots. Could you take us to see General Avelea, please?”

The two armored women glanced at each other, then one shrugged. “Well, I don’t see why not,” she said.

 

“You’re not in any trouble, are you?” Toby asked worriedly.

“No, nothing like that,” Ruda grunted. “It’s just… Fuckin’ politics. Apparently the Princess of Puna Dara killing a Tiraan soldier on the streets of Tiraas is kind of a big deal under any circumstances. It was clear self-defense and him and his asshole buddies were obviously breaking the law, but… Politics. If anything, it makes the Empire look bad that I was placed in danger because of misbehaving Imperial troops. So I have to have brunch at the Palace.”

“Brunch doesn’t sound so bad,” said Gabriel, glancing over his shoulder at the kitchen. They were seated around one of the tables in the inn’s common room, sipping cups of tea. Tea was apparently the extent of what the kitchen here could successfully produce.

“Arquin, real people do not have brunch. Brunch is strictly the province of rich, poofy assholes who spend so much of their energy sitting around wasting time they have to invent whole new words and divisions of labor to describe it. But, I’ve gotta say it beats the alternative. I go and hobnob with His Imperialness and the little lady for a while and we don’t have to make a big diplomatic thing of it. Everybody wins.”

Toby winced. “I cannot advise strongly enough that you don’t refer to Empress Eleanora as ‘the little lady’ in any context where she might hear of it.”

“Yeah, I hear she’s kind of a hardass,” Ruda mused. “Actually looking forward to meeting her, a little.”

They all glanced up as the front door opened, and tensed slightly at the entrance of two Silver Legionnaires. Trissiny stood, stepping out from behind the table as they party approached. The Legionnaires were leading two humans, with Avrith trailing silently along behind them.

“General,” said one of the soldiers, saluting. “These two are from Barracks Four. They asked to speak with you.”

Trissiny nodded to the woman before turning her attention to the Imperial soldiers. They were out of uniform, and presently busy removing scarves, hats and gloves. “What can I do for you?”

“Ah, General Avelea, it’s good to… I mean, it’s an honor. I just wanted… I mean, that is, we were going…”

“Maybe you could start with your names?” she suggested gently.

“Right,” he said, his face coloring. “Sorry, ma’am. I’m Corporal Carter Reichart. This is Private Lina Salvaar.”

“Just Lina,” she said tersely. “We’re not on duty.”

“Good to meet you,” Trissiny said, nodding again. “So, how can I help?”

He glanced over at his companion; she nodded encouragingly, and he took a deep breath. “Permission to speak freely, General?”

“You’re not under my command, Reichart,” she replied. “I’d rather you say whatever’s on your mind. Honesty won’t do me any harm.”

Reichart chewed his lip for a moment, Salvaar watching him closely. The two Legionnaires had retreated to flank the door; Avrith drifted over to a corner, from which she observed in silence. Finally, the Corporal burst out. “Why haven’t you ever come to talk to us?”

“Excuse me?” Trissiny said, surprised.

“It’s just… We’ve had these tensions building up for days,” he went on in a rush. “I mean, there are pretty obviously two sides to the issue, but right from the beginning you’ve been here in Lor’naris. You picked a side, but you never came to ask any of us at the barracks for our take. I just… We don’t… Why?”

Silence hung in the room for a long moment.

“From the perspective I could see,” Trissiny said slowly, “soldiers were abusing citizens. It was fairly clear-cut; I’ll admit it’s not in my nature or training to dig for deeper meaning in a situation like that.”

“What, so you just assumed we were all corrupt and drunk with power?” Salvaar demanded. “Everyone in our entire regiment?”

“Now, hold on,” said Gabriel. “You’re talking to the Hand of Avei. I dunno what stories you’ve read, but they’re not exactly the people you call for when you need diplomacy done.”

Trissiny sighed. “Thanks, Gabe. And… You’re not wrong, Private. As someone reminded me not too long ago, I have a tendency to think in combative terms. I saw innocents and attackers and acted accordingly; you have my apologies if I misjudged any of you. You’re here now, and I have time; I would like to hear your side, if you’re willing to explain it.”

“Well, that’s great and all,” said Salvaar, folding her arms, “but now just might be too late.”

“Private,” Reichart warned.

“Carter, we are not on duty, and we’re sleeping together. One of those things is subject to immediate change if you try to give me any of your crap.”

Reichart flushed and Trissiny carefully clamped down on a smile. “Late as it may be, I’d still like to hear it. Would you like to sit down?”

“Oh, that’s…no, thanks,” the Corporal said. Private Salvaar, however, immediately pulled over a chair and plunked herself down in it. He squared his shoulders. “Well, General, if… If you’d told me a week ago that something like this could develop, I’d have laughed. I mean, yeah, there’s always been an element in the regiment that doesn’t really like having all these drow in the city. The captain in charge of our barracks, in fact, has a real problem with drow. I’m not sure why, exactly, but, there it is… But we’re all professionals, and we all respect the uniform. Some of the lads, the ones part of Captain Ravoud’s sort of inner circle, would maybe question the neighborhood watch around here more closely than was necessary, but it never went further than that.”

“It did at least once,” Trissiny noted when he paused for breath.

Reichart nodded. “Yeah. I never have heard the full story of what happened there, but… That kicked it all off. A patrol came back furious because there’d been some kind of altercation with the watch, and you’d ordered them off. The next thing we knew, we had a surprise inspection from Imperial Command, and lots of heavily dropped hints that Lor’naris had better be hands-off. It… Apparently it rankled with some people.”

“Hence trying to bomb the fucking place, I guess,” Ruda snorted.

“For the record, I don’t believe Captain Ravoud authorized that,” said Reichart. “It’s just not in his nature.”

“And you don’t suspect he authorized the attack on the woman who warned me, either?” Trissiny asked quietly.

Reichart nodded vigorously. “Yes, ma’am. I mean, no, ma’am. He’s all about law and order. I’ve heard some of his rants about drow, and it’s full of them being untrustworthy and deceitful; he thinks Imperial discipline and justice is what makes us a better society. He would never have ordered that, or condoned it if he’d known about it.”

“Then you think the Captain might help bring the hostilities to an end?” she asked.

Reichart winced. “That…was before, General. Last night… Well, I mentioned the Captain has kind of a boy’s club among some of his officers? You just took out about half of them. The man you killed, Khalivour, was the closest to him. They’ve served together since basic training.”

“Excuse me,” Ruda interrupted, raising one finger. “Let’s be accurate, here. I killed him.”

“I’m not gonna argue with you about that,” Reichart said diplomatically. “From what I understand he pretty much brought that on himself. As did Torkins and Imadaan. But… Um, how to put this…”

“It’s like this,” said Private Salvaar. “Captain Ravoud is all about order and discipline most of the time. But over the last week, he’s been pressed heavily from Lor’naris and ImCom, and been digging his heels in. After last night, the hammer is coming down all over the barracks; it’s looking like he’s gonna lose his command, on top of losing his best friend. The man’s gone from defending what he thinks is right to having basically his whole life dismantled.”

“What do you think he’ll do?” Trissiny asked, staring at her intently.

Salvaar shrugged, her expression grim. “Dunno. I wouldn’t have expected any of this would have gone down in the first place. The Captain… I mean, I’ve never seen him like this. I don’t know what he might do, but he’s on the very edge, now. I don’t think I’d be surprised by anything he does at this point.”

Trissiny sighed and rubbed at her forehead, squeezing her eyes shut.

“What about the rest of your regiment?” Toby asked. “You’ve said they’re not all or even mostly in agreement with Ravoud’s ideas about drow.”

“Well, again, a lot changed after yesterday,” Reichart said glumly. “A lot of us are rallying around the Captain; there’s a general feeling that we’ve been a little put-upon in all this. What I’m afraid has cinched it is that we’ve all been followed by the Thieves’ Guild since yesterday evening.”

“Followed?” Trissiny asked sharply.

“Followed,” growled Salvaar. “On duty and off. They stalk our patrols, they show up outside our homes and just sit there staring. There’s a dozen of them loitering around the barracks; when we try to chase them off, they just quote Imperial law about how they’re entitled to be there, and some of them ask prying questions about our families. Hinting they already know a lot more than they should.”

“Holy fuck, that’s creepy,” Ruda breathed.

“Yeah,” said Reichart, his shoulders slumping. “I know none of that is your fault, General. Khalivour and his cronies roughed up a member of the Guild; that’s pretty much what you get. But the timing… Coming on top of everything else, the whole barracks is about ready to go to war.”

“Maybe,” Gabriel said hesitantly, “the Guild being around isn’t such a bad thing? I mean, they might be able to prevent the soldiers from doing anything…y’know, rash.” He shifted in his seat, wincing as he accidentally jostled his left arm, which was in a sling.

“That’s not how the Thieves’ Guild operates,” Trissiny said darkly. “They’re more likely to try to provoke a confrontation so they can take the excuse to dish out vengeance. In fact, that’s exactly what they’re doing. This is an old tactic of theirs, a favorite trick for getting rid of perceived enemies without stepping outside the law.”

“Peepers must be pretty popular,” Ruda noted.

“It’s not even about that.” Trissiny shook her head. “Eserites consider it their duty to humble the haughty under any circumstances. Guards abusing their authority tend to get their attention; guards abusing a Guild member, well… All bets are off.”

“Can… Can you do anything, General?” Reichart asked, his voice tinged with desperation. “We’re soldiers; we’re not trained for this kind of pressure. It hasn’t even been a day and a lot of people are about to crack. Somebody’s gonna do something hasty, and then… And then, I don’t know what’ll happen.”

“I’m not… I can try to speak with Bishop Darling,” she said. “I have no pull with the Guild, at all. Eserites and Avenists don’t exactly compare notes most of the time.”

“Anything you can do would be appreciated,” he said fervently.

“What about those two you sent to the barracks?” Gabriel asked. “They helped you yesterday, too, right?”

“Yes, but Flora and Fauna just…show up, when they decide to. I can at least get to Darling through the Church, though I’m not sure how fast. We have no way of contacting the girls at all.”

“Excuse me, what?” Salvaar straightened up. “You sent Eserites to the barracks?”

“Ah….” Trissiny winced. “I guess you didn’t hear about the missing paperwork.”

“Paperwork?” Reichart frowned.

“Just documentation of where the incendiary materials used in the firebomb came from. I took the liberty of having them acquired.”

“There was paperwork?” he said, frowning.

“I suppose only the quartermaster would have heard about that…”

“I’m the quartermaster!” Reichart dragged a hand over his face. “But… General, I don’t know how things are in the Silver Legions, but Army paperwork… I mean, it gets done, I see to that. A form has to be filled out for pretty much everything. Because if there’s an inspection of any kind, the quartermaster’s pretty much a sitting duck, but they can’t exactly chase down everyone who might have ever needed anything. So I make sure the papers are filled out and filed, and to be honest with you, it’s less than half of them are ever seen by anybody whose job it is to know what the hell is going on. Um, pardon my elvish. They just sort of build up in the files till we run low on space, and then I have to fill out and submit another form requesting a records transfer, and then someone comes to cart it off to a place in ImCom called Central Filing, which I suspect is an incinerator.”

“So…” Ruda grinned. “You’re saying Captain Rouvad doesn’t even know we took his incriminating records?”

“Ma’am, I didn’t even know it. And the Captain isn’t one to spend time reading paperwork that isn’t brought specifically to his attention.”

“And it’s Ravoud,” Trissiny said firmly. “Commander Rouvad leads the Sisters of Avei.”

Gabriel snorted a laugh. “Well, that’s not gonna be confusing or anything…”

“What a mess,” Toby muttered. “If only people had talked to each other before it came to this… I should have been paying more attention to this situation instead of Juniper.”

“Yeah, you really should have,” Gabriel agreed.

“Gabe!” Toby looked at him in something like shock. Gabriel shrugged, his expression dour.

“Bro, I love you, but you fucked up this time. As the designated fuckup in our relationship, I’m the expert on this. In fact, this doesn’t make any of us look good. We’ve got two skilled diplomats in our group, but Toby’s been on a counterproductive self-imposed dryad watch, and Shaeine has been off making time with her girlfriend all week. We’ve pretty much left Trissiny in charge of diplomacy, which, come on. Someone should have seen this coming.”

“Thank you, Gabriel,” Trissiny said sourly.

“Come on, Boots, nobody doubts your skills,” said Ruda. “But there are areas in which you don’t have ’em. That’s true of anybody.”

“Wait, stop, hold it,” said Salvaar. “There’s a dryad?!”

“That’s classified,” said Trissiny. “Seriously. All right, I will start trying to get Bishop Darling’s attention, but I doubt he actually spends much time at the Church…and I’m not at all sure what he’ll think of the way events are playing out. It’s the best thing I can think of.”

“I’ll come down to your barracks, if I may,” said Toby, rising. “It might be too late for talking to succeed, but it’s never too late to try.”

“Excuse me, and you are?” Reichart asked.

“That’s the Hand of Omnu,” said Ruda.

The Corporal blinked. “Oh. Um. Yeah, actually, that’d help.”

“Where the hell have you been this whole time?” Salvaar demanded.

“We’ve been over that,” said Gabriel. “Spilt milk and all; let’s worry about the present. If I understand the situation, we’ve got an agitated populace in Lor’naris that thinks it’s under attack, a city guard regiment under fire from all sides and on the verge of going rogue, a very pissed-off Thieves’ Guild, and a Silver Legion standing in the middle, and we’ve got hours at best to calm this down before somebody gets an itchy trigger finger and all hell breaks loose.” He sighed heavily. “This is gonna be a long day, isn’t it.”

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“It’s amazing how you find time to walk me all over the place while you’re supposedly out earning us a living,” Sanjay griped.

“It’s amazing how you tend not to turn up at school if I don’t physically take you there,” Lakshmi shot back. “It’s not as if I have nothing better to do, you know.”

“How about we compromise and I stop going to the stupid school?” he suggested helpfully.

She heaved a long-suffering sigh. “Little brother, we have had this conversation so many times we could both recite it, so can we just not, please? Look, I know you find it boring…”

“And yet,” he prompted.

She gave him a critical sidelong look. “Your plan is still to apprentice with the Guild?”

“Yes!” Sanjay skipped a step and actually hopped up and down in place, looking up at her with shining eyes.

“Well, you know I can’t sponsor you myself, but I’m making good connections in the city. It shouldn’t be hard to get someone to—”

“Oh, gods, yes!” he crowed. “Finally! Where do I sign?!”

“Easy, squirt,” Lakshmi said, amused. “You’re not old enough.”

Sanjay deflated abruptly, his expression quickly morphing from disappointment to ire. “…you are a tease. Did you know that? This is why you don’t have a boyfriend.”

“Maybe I’m into girls, ever think about that?”

“Oh, ew!” He planted both hands over his ears. “I don’t need to hear these things! I’m a child, damn it!”

“Exactly.” She swatted one hand away from his head and nudged him forward, resuming their walk. “Too young to apprentice. But, perhaps we can reach a compromise, yeah?”

“I’m listening,” he said cautiously.

“You go to the school—without making me drag you there like a sack of flour every day. You pass your classes every year, and don’t create more trouble than you can weasel your own way out of without me having to go smooth it over. Then, when you’re fifteen, I promise I will make sure someone sponsors you for Guild membership.”

“When I’m fifteen?” he whined, a portrait of despair. “That’s three years. That’s an age and a half! I’ll be as old and wrinkly as you by that time. Can’t you just tell them I’m fifteen? I’m huge for my age, look.”

He raised one arm, flexing a scrawny bicep, which would have been a meaningless display even had the arm not been swaddled in a heavy winter coat. Instead of responding, however, she mutely placed one hand on his shoulder. Sanjay looked up at his sister, confused, then fell silent at her expression. Only then did he peer around them and see what was wrong.

They had settled in one of the poor border districts, not far from Lor’naris. Sanjay didn’t know the extent of the money they had access to thanks to Principia, and Lakshmi strictly kept it that way. Anyhow, the slums were a more appropriate residence for Eserites than a posh middle-class neighborhood, for reasons ethical, spiritual and practical. Once she formed enough connections that it became known who she was, they had nothing to fear from their neighbors. Everyone knew better than to get rough with any member of the Thieves’ Guild.

The public school Sanjay attended was, of course, in a more well-heeled area, several blocks up the hill toward the city’s center. They were passing through one of the intermediary districts, a mercantile street whose occupants were exceptionally shady and extremely practiced at minding their own business. The business in question was by nature quieter than in streets occupied by more legitimate tradesmen, with no hawking of wares and little attempt to attract attention in general, but it was still business; it still made noise.

The street had gone all but silent.

Shopkeepers were deliberately turning their backs to the street, pretending to rummage in the shelves of their stands or vanishing into the depths of their own shops. Pedestrians expeditiously removed themselves from the area; loiterers slunk away into the deeper shadows of alleys.

It was alarming, because a city was like the woods in that vermin fell silent in the presence of their natural predators. It was doubly alarming because they tended to offer solidarity, even if just in glances and little hand signals, to their fellow vermin, but everyone was studiously ignoring Lakshmi and Sanjay, just as they were the two men following them.

Lakshmi half-turned her head to casually glance behind. Those men did not belong. They walked along with their gazes fixed on herself and her brother; their clothes were unremarkable, but they strode with the stiff purpose of soldiers who had never learned to disguise themselves in public. Worse, a third man was up ahead. He leaned against a store front, arms folded and head down, seeming to ignore everything around him, but he was still there, when all the toughs who frequented the neighborhood had judiciously made themselves scarce. In moments, they would reach him, and find themselves pinned between him and those following.

“Shmi?” Sanjay said, a quaver in his voice.

She calculated quickly, keeping her pace even and taking her little brother’s hand. They could cross the street easily enough, but at the first sign they were aware of the trap, their pursuers would drop pretenses and be after them at full speed. Lakshmi did a rapid visual survey of the surroundings. There… A food cart just ahead stood just below a drainpipe that led to an overhanging sloped roof, itself an access to an exterior staircase in the next building over.

“Listen carefully,” she said quietly, keeping her expression neutral. “When I give the signal, you run—”

“I’m not leaving you,” he said fiercely.

“You will do as you are told.” She did not raise her voice, but spoke with a full authority that she never used with him. It had the desired effect; he nodded miserably. “Don’t go home. Head for Lor’naris, go right to the inn where the paladin’s staying. If you find anyone from the Guild you know, or they spot you first, get their help; if not, get Trissiny or any of the people traveling with her, bring them back here. I’ll stall these guys long as I can. Love you, little brother.”

They drew abreast of the cart, and time was up.

Lakshmi seized Sanjay under the arms and grunted, heaving him up; she didn’t have to bear his weight long, luckily. Once he got a grip on the wooden frame of the cart, he was up it and onto the roof in a flash, climbing as deftly as a squirrel.

At their sudden motion, the man ahead straightened, turning to face them, and the two behind broke into a run.

Sanjay was already darting away, quickly gaining the rooftops and putting himself out of their reach. Lakshmi, the sounds of pursuit slapping behind her, bolted across the street, moving her legs as fast as they could pump.

She didn’t waste time with prayers. The Big Guy helped those who helped themselves.

 

The Corner Garden wasn’t much of a garden, but then, the only things in Lor’naris that remotely qualified as gardens were the window boxes in which a few residents grew flowers and herbs—and at this time of year, even those were barren. It was a fairly pleasant little spot, though, originally a very tiny warehouse space sandwiched between two sturdy limestone buildings which, after having burned down, had been cleaned up by the residents and nothing rebuild there except a couple of benches lining its walls. With a worn gravel floor and provided seating, it made for a popular gathering spot in a district that didn’t have much open space.

Now, it was filled with grunts, the crunch of boots on gravel and a constant clacking of wood against wood as Trissiny and Ruda danced back and forth, sparring with practice “swords” made of bundled reeds capped with rubber balls. Several of the residents had stopped to watch, some (none drow) offering cheers and good-natured advice. Both girls ignored the onlookers, tightly focused on their duel.

They were closely matched, comparable in skill and the differences in their styles compensating each other to an extent. Trissiny was taller and had longer limbs, and thus the advantage of reach, but didn’t make as much use of it as Ruda, who darted forward aggressively and retreated just as quickly. Her rapid footwork and swift-striking style made her more mobile, but also consumed more energy; the previous two bouts had both ended in Trissiny’s favor after dragging out for long minutes, the paladin letting the pirate tire herself out until she made a mistake. This one was looking likely to trend in the same direction.

Trissiny did have a tendency to guard weakly on her left, perhaps due to habitual reliance on her shield, and had several times barely managed to parry rapid strikes at that side. Now, Ruda darted forward again, lunging at a brief faltering of her guard, just a hair slower than she had been moving.

However, when Trissiny swung her weapon to intercept, Ruda’s sword was not there. Suddenly moving at her usual snake-like speed again, she whipped the blade around Trissiny’s parry, under her sword arm and clapped her smartly across the ribs on the right side.

The paladin staggered back, hunching over to clutch at her midsection, and a chorus of “Ooos” sounded from the onlookers, followed by a smattering of applause. Ruda halted as well, grounding the tip of her practice sword and breathing heavily.

Trissiny raised her head, wearing a grin beneath the coating of sweat on her face. “Nice!”

“You walked right into that one,” Ruda replied smugly, somewhat out of breath.

“Yes, good strategy. In an actual fight you’ll only be dead twice before finishing off your opponent.”

“You wanna go for real, Boots?”

“Hah! Best three out of five?”

Ruda laughed, casually tossing aside her practice sword. “I’ll pencil you in. Seriously, though, I’m calling it for now. One of us is gonna fall over at this rate, and you know how it is. We wouldn’t both bounce as well.” Leering, she patted herself on the chest.

Trissiny rolled her eyes, not rising to the bait, but set aside her own weapon more gently, taking a seat on one of the benches. The crowd, slightly disappointed, began to drift away as Ruda flopped down beside her roommate and drew a bottle of whiskey from within her coat.”

“Want a swig?” she offered. “Just the thing to ward off the cold.”

“I don’t drink, as you know. I’m also not exempt from Tellwyrn’s rule against drinking; that’s just you. And how does it warm you if alcohol doesn’t affect you?”

“Trissiny, my poor, sweet child, a person who drinks as much as I do inevitably has all kinds of reasons why they’re perfectly justified and entitled to. Everyone of of them, without exception, are bullshit.” Grinning, she tilted her head back, taking a long gulp.

“An impressive show of skill,” said a tall man in an Army uniform, stepping forward. Both girls looked up at his approach, their expressions sobering immediately. Most of the residents had departed, but Avrith and a male drow whom Trissiny didn’t recognize were loitering casually by the entrance to the Garden.

She flicked her eyes to his insignia and back to his face. “Thank you, Colonel. Something we can help you with?”

He bowed—respectfully, but notably not the salute owed a superior officer, a subtle reminder that whatever honorary rank Trissiny held, she was not part of his chain of command. She was unsure what the actual protocol in this situation was, and made a mental note to find out. “Andrel Covrin, at your service. Actually, I’d hoped to speak for a moment with Princess Zaruda. I owe you an apology.”

“Do you, now?” Ruda asked, wiping sweat from her forehead with her sleeve. “I don’t recall us having met. What’d you do that needs to be apologized for?”

“It is a family matter, I’m afraid,” Colonel Covrin said, his expression grim. “At General Panissar’s party, I understand you had a regrettable encounter with my daughter, Jenell.”

“Jenell?” She blinked, tilting her head. “Doesn’t sound familiar.”

He sighed, squaring his shoulders as if facing down an enemy. “You may perhaps recall a young woman in a spectacularly immodest dress who approached you with a barrage of unprovoked ad completely inexcusable insults.”

“Well, that describes most of the bitches there, as I recall,” Ruda said lazily, “but yeah, now that you mention it, it’s all coming back to me.”

Covrin nodded stiffly. “Her treatment of you was unconscionable. I assure you, she is being disciplined. You have my heartfelt apologies for any embarrassment suffered.”

Ruda waved a hand dismissively, bending to pick up her sheathed rapier. “Well, you didn’t do any of that. Doesn’t seem you’re the one who ought to be apologizing.”

“Call it a matter of family honor,” he replied, a sour twist to his mouth.

“Ah.” Ruda nodded. “In that case, apology accepted. Seriously, no harm was done to me. I haven’t given her another thought, starting the second she walked away.”

“I appreciate that,” he said, nodding again. A somewhat tense silence fell, the Colonel standing stiffly at attention, seeming at a loss for words.

“Anything else?” Ruda prompted.

“There is, in fact,” he said. “I realize I am in no position at all to ask you favors, but there was another matter I’d hoped to broach with you.”

“Go on,” she said when he fell silent. Trissiny discreetly moved off to one side, picking up her own sword and shield and carefully settling them back into place on her person.

“There is an ancient tradition, practiced among the noble houses, of fostering,” said Covrin. “Young people are given education in the homes of allied and even rival families, to expand their understanding and give them perspective into the broader world. I… My wife and I come from humble roots. I’ve never thought of myself as anything more than a soldier, but Amelie has grown…very comfortable with the lifestyle afforded by my rank. As she has had the bulk of Jenell’s raising while I attended to my duties to the Empire, I fear my daughter has grown up somewhat…spoiled.”

“I’d never have guessed,” Ruda said solemnly. To the side, just out of Covrin’s range of view, Trissiny bit her lip to repress a grin.

The Colonel sighed, not missing the sarcasm. “Yes, well… Placing the blame on Amelie is disingenuous. I should have put a stop to this long since, but… No, no buts, I take responsibility. In any case, following the party, my wife has quite sharply relented in her protective attitude toward our daughter. I’m embarrassed to say she is more concerned about this ‘pregnancy scare’ than the fact that our only child chose to harass and insult visiting royalty for no discernible reason.”

“Well, you can’t fault the girl’s pluck,” Ruda said cheerfully.

Covrin sighed again. “I suppose. Anyhow, the result is still the same. I have an opportunity to inject a little much-needed discipline into Jenell’s life, and it seems both practical and poetic to…if you are at all willing…send her to Puna Dara to learn something of the ways of our closest allies.”

Ruda was already shaking her head before he finished speaking. “Colonel, I like where your head’s at, I encourage your line of thinking, but that particular idea is a terrible one. Your kid would get killed among Punaji.”

“I realize her attitude could do with some shaping. If anything, your people’s reputation for forthright—”

“I don’t think you understand,” she said wryly. “That wasn’t hyperbole. If I talked to my servants the way that girl does to her betters, one of them would draw steel on me, and my father would say I had it coming. In all literal seriousness, Colonel, if you send your daughter to Puna Dara, somebody will straight up slit her throat.”

“Ah,” he said after a moment. “Well. I suppose that’s to be avoided, then. Might upset her mother.”

“Mothers are funny like that,” Ruda said gravely. “However, if you’re serious about this, perhaps we can help you after all. I have it on excellent authority that there’s no better way for a girl to learn some discipline than a good long period spent training with the Sisters of Avei.” She turned a broad grin on Trissiny, who grinned back. “And what do you know, I just happen to have an acquaintance who can probably get her a spot.”

“Oh?” Clearing his throat, Covrin turned to the paladin as well. “If you are so inclined, General Avelea…”

“How old is your daughter, Colonel?” Trissiny asked.

“Seventeen.”

“Mm… That’s just barely too old for a slot at the Abbey barracks. However… The Third Silver Legion is presently stationed in the city, and has a regiment of cadets currently in training. The Legions don’t sign on women under duress or for any kind of punitive duty… But if you would like Jenell to go through the full course of cadet training without the expectation of Legion service thereafter, I could probably pull strings and make that happen. Who knows, she might find she actually wants to serve after all that. Basic training changes a person, as I’m sure you know.”

“I don’t think it likely, with all respect,” he said, “or I’d simply make her join the Army. But if you’re willing to do this, General, I would consider myself in your debt.”

Before she could answer, there came a rapidly approaching patter of small feet moving fast; Avrith and her companion had both turned to look up the street. A boy of about twelve with a dark Punaji complexion came pelting down the sidewalk past them. Catching sight of Trissiny, he tried to stop, skidded on a patch of ice and would have taken a tumble if the drow man hadn’t caught him.

“Trissiny,” he gasped, fighting loose. “Paladin…please…help…”

“What is it?” she demanded, striding forward. “Are you all right?”

“My sister,” he said desperately. “Lak—Peepers! You know her! They’re after her!”

“Who is?” she asked sharply.

“Fuck that, we’ll sort it out later,” Ruda snapped. “Where?”

“This way!” Breathless or no, the boy turned and set off back the way he had come at the same frantic pace, pausing only to beckon them urgently forward.

Trissiny and Ruda dashed out of the Corner Garden right on his heels, racing for the mouth of Lor’naris.

Above them, two dark shapes detached themselves from the eaves of a flanking building and kept pace, bounding across the rooftops.

 

“It was here!” he said frantically, coming to a stop in the middle of the street and trying to look around even while doubled over in near exhaustion. “Right…here…”

“Oy, you!” Ruda bellowed, stalking toward a woman who was trying to duck behind the counter of her stall. “Yeah, you know what we’re lookin’ for. Where is she?”

Fauna landed in the middle of the sidewalk with a barely perceptible thump. “This way!” she barked, pointing up the street. “Second alley ahead, we can hear them.”

Sanjay took two steps in her direction and staggered, winded; Trissiny and Ruda set off on the elf’s heels, not bothering to react to her sudden appearance. Fauna bounded as swiftly as a deer, and reached the alley first, whipping around the corner with near-impossible agility. Instantly, she dived back out, hitting the ground in a roll, and a lighting bolt blasted through the air above her.

Trissiny hopped over the huddling elf, a golden shield flaring up around her as she charged into the alley. Another wandshot sparked against her aura; she barely noticed it.

Ahead of her, three men stood around a woman huddled on the dirty floor of the alley. One was pointing a wand at her; of the other two, one held a ragged plank as a makeshift club, and the other was in the process of kicking the woman in the midsection. She was curled into a fetal ball, arms over her head, but in the glow of Trissiny’s divine light, she could unmistakeably see blood. On the floor, on their boots, on the club.

White-hot rage burst to life in her, and she was moving forward again before deciding to. Even in her fury, years of training clicked into place; she charged silently, sword and shield coming up in perfect form. At her side, Ruda clearly experienced the same reaction and handled it very differently, letting loose a wordless roar. Side by side, they pelted straight at the knot of attackers. Two more lightning bolts impacted uselessly on the shield before they arrived.

Trissiny slammed the man to one side with her shield and Ruda drove her rapier straight through his stomach, viciously ripping it out sideways and splattering the alley wall with blood and viscera.

The man with the board let out a furious howl and charged her senselessly; his makeshift weapon shattered against her upraised shield and she smashed her fist, braced around the hilt of her sword, into his teeth, sending him rebounding off the wall and slumping to the ground, stunned.

Only then did she realize her mistake. The third man, standing farthest back, now had a clear shot at the un-shielded Ruda. The pirate was lunging at him, sword first, but he had a wand out; there was no way she could reach him before he squeezed the clicker. Trissiny had over-committed to her lunge, and couldn’t change her momentum in order to get back between them in time. She didn’t have Shaeine’s skill with shields, couldn’t place a barrier of light in front of her friend.

Time slowed in that instant, and she tasted true helplessness, the despair of it cutting through her fury.

A whooshing sound like a huge gliding bird came from above; a shadow fell across them, blocking the illumination from the gap high overhead between buildings.

Flora struck the man feet-first, her cloak trailing through the air behind her. Wrapping her legs around his neck, she spun entirely around him once, throwing him off balance and leveraging her momentum such that even with her meager weight, she was able to hurl him to the ground. She sprang loose as he fell, landing lightly on her feet.

Ruda managed to slow her charge, and now stomped hard on the man’s hand, pinning the wand to the ground and almost certainly breaking a few fingers. The tip of her rapier came to rest against his windpipe.

“Give me an excuse,” she snarled. “Doesn’t have to be a good one.”

Trissiny knelt beside Peepers, laying her hands on the woman’s shoulder and channeling light as best she could, keenly aware that her gifts were not in the realm of healing. The light did as it did, however, despite her inadequacies. From this angle, she could see half the woman’s face, and watched the bruising recede from around her eye, blood stop flowing from her nose and a bad scrape across her cheek close up.

Peepers shuddered, then did so again, then twitched and uncurled somewhat. “Oh…gods. Whew. That stuff tingles.”

“Shmi!” the boy wailed, pelting into the alley; he’d have bowled Fauna over had she not deftly side-stepped him, which he didn’t notice, hurling his arms around Peepers’s neck.

“Hey, little brother,” she said somewhat hoarsely, hugging him back. “You found ’em! Good work, kid.”

“Are you all right?” Trissiny asked, as gently as she could with adrenaline and moral fury still blazing through her.

“Yeah, sure, I’m…” Peepers trailed off, then closed her eyes, shuddering. “I dunno. Not really. Nothing seems broken, though.”

Trissiny nodded, reaching out to squeeze her shoulder. “We’ll get you to a proper healer straightaway.”

In the corner of her vision, she noted movement; the man she had disabled was drawing himself up to hands and knees.

Trissiny was on him in a flash, seizing the collar of his coat in one gauntleted fist and hauling him upright, where she slammed him back against the wall. “Who are you,” she demanded icily, “and what are you doing here?”

“Fuck you,” he snarled.

“Wrong answer.” She cracked his head against the brick again.

“Just…mugging,” her prisoner choked, squeezing his eyes shut against the pain.

“Oh?” Trissiny barked. “You were mugging a member of the Thieves’ Guild? Do not insult my intelligence. One more chance.”

He opened his eyes; they were still somewhat unfocused, but he turned his gaze to the fallen woman. “She… What? No!”

“Oh, yes,” Trissiny said grimly. “Now I want to know why you were attacking her.”

“Don’t tell her—” The man on the ground broke off with a squeal as Ruda kicked him between the legs.

“Wait your turn, shit for brains,” she advised him.

“There was a lot of talk about me learning to mind my own business,” Peepers said, in the process of being helped to her feet by her brother.

“Last chance,” Trissiny warned her captive.

He sneered at her. “You’re not gonna do anything to me, paladin. You’re too noble.”

“You see these two elves?” She wrenched his head around to bring Flora and Fauna into his view. Fauna grinned nastily, toying with a large hunting knife; Flora folded her arms, draping her cloak around herself, and stared at him flatly. “They are also members of the Thieves’ Guild. So I’ll tell you what I’m going to do. You don’t start talking right now, I will drop you, walk to the mouth of this alley, turn my back and not react to anything I hear that isn’t you telling me what I want to know.”

Wide-eyed, he looked from the elves to her face, then back, then shook his head once.

Trissiny growled wordlessly and released him, stepping back.

“No!” he shouted, actually reaching out for her. “She stuck her nose in, dragging you into this! You can’t give these scum an inch—sometimes the law just isn’t enough. You have to lean on them. We had to!”

Trissiny drew in a long breath through her nose and let it out slowly, seeking calm in the familiar breathing exercise. It didn’t work.

“How can you be this way?!” she burst out. “You are soldiers! You’re supposed to protect—you took oaths! Why is it you are so willing to throw everything away, just to protect your own prerogative to be an asshole?!”

“Us!?” he shrieked back at her. “You’re supposed to protect us! You’re supposed to be on our side! We are law and order, and you’re backing drow scum and criminals against the soldiers in this city? Just whose fucking paladin are you?!”

They stared at each other, both breathing heavily.

Then Trissiny punched him again. His head banged against the wall, and he slumped to the ground.

“Ruda, would you kindly incapacitate—thank you,” she said as the pirate deftly applied the toe of her boot to the side of her own prisoner’s head, rendering him unconscious. “We’ll need to get these two to healers very quickly. Head trauma can be devastating if left untreated. Peepers, you too.”

“No argument here,” Peepers said shakily, leaning on her brother.

“This guy’s dead,” Fauna said helpfully, nudging the third man with her boot. The puddle of blood in which he lay was steaming in the cold air; in that moment, Trissiny suddenly became aware of the smell. It wasn’t just blood Ruda’s sword had spilled.

“I think I should feel worse about that than I do,” she said.

“I don’t,” Ruda snorted. “Fucker brought every bit of it on himself.”

Trissiny shook her head. “Healers first. I’ll need some guidance to the closest one.”

“It’s not far,” said Flora.

“Good, we just need to get these two stable and then transfer them to the Temple of Avei. For obvious reasons, I’m not going to trust them to the custody of the city guard.”

“No shit,” said Ruda.

“And then,” Trissiny went on, her expression growing grimmer, “…ugh. I had so hoped it would not come to this, but I don’t think they’ve left us any choice. This cannot be allowed to stand; the people need protection, and those who are supposed to provide it are their most immediate danger.” She sighed heavily. “I need to summon the Legion.”

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5 – 17

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Ruda stopped in the doorway to her room, blinking sleepily at the scene in the lounge. “….the hell is all this?”

“Breakfast,” Gabriel said helpfully.

“What… Where’d you get it? I know that spread didn’t come from the kitchen in this hole.”

Everyone else was clustered around the low table in the center of the room, plates in their laps laden with an assortment of sausages, fried potatoes and honey cakes, the serving dishes of which lay steaming on the table.

“Fross bought it for us,” said Teal, waving a fork at her. “Wasn’t that sweet?”

“Aw, it was nothing,” the pixie said modestly. “Professor Tellwyrn left me with some money in case we needed anything, and you all were still asleep and I don’t sleep, so it really seemed like the most logical division of labor for me to go and get food, though I had a little bit of trouble at the market because I guess the people in this city aren’t used to doing business with pixies, but it all worked out in the end!”

Ruda blinked again. “…okay, three questions. How did you carry all this, and where are you keeping money?”

“Simple levitation and a very basic pocket dimension spell, just like the bag-of-holding enchantments on the pockets of your coat except anchored to my aura instead of a charmed object, and that’s only two questions.”

“Third question, why the hell did Tellwyrn leave you in charge of the money?!”

Fross chimed softly in apparent confusion. “Why wouldn’t she? What’s wrong with that?”

“Fross is very responsible,” Trissiny said. “It makes perfect sense to me. Stop gaping and come get something to eat, Ruda.”

Ruda, shaking her head, stepped into the room, picked up a plate and began dishing out potatoes and sausage. “Well, whatever works, I guess.”

“Exactly!” Fross said cheerfully.

“Try one of the honey buns, Juno,” Gabriel suggested around a mouthful of one.

“No, thanks.” Juniper wrinkled her nose. “Processed sugar, bleached flour… I’m mystified at some of the things humans do to food. What is the point of all that?”

“The point is they are delicious,” said Teal, picking one up.

“If you say so,” the dryad said with a shrug, taking another bite of sausage.

“Don’t want any potatoes, either?” Toby asked with an elaborately casual air. “They’re quite good.”

“Why is everyone so concerned with what I’m eating?” she demanded. Juniper had piled a plate with sausages and nothing else. “I don’t feel like starch this morning. I like these. Protein and fat, good for energy.”

“Okay,” Toby said carefully. “Just don’t, y’know…overdo it.”

“What?” Juniper frowned at him. “You mean, like, over-eat? I don’t do that.”

“Maybe leave her alone?” Trissiny suggested.

“Okay, sorry,” Toby said peaceably. “I’m probably going on about nothing. Just wondered…”

“Wondered what?” Juniper said sharply.

“How about you all settle down?” Ruda suggested blearily. “Bitch at each other after I’m awake enough to participate.”

“It’s nothing,” said Toby.

“No, really. Clearly it is not nothing.” Juniper set her plate down on the floor beside her chair and angled her body to face him directly. “What is it that has you so concerned this time, since you’ve appointed yourself my guardian.”

“Guys,” Gabriel said nervously. “Let’s have peace in the house, yeah?”

“It’s just that you’re eating nothing but meat,” Toby said quietly, ignoring him. “I’m not certain that’s a good habit to get in, while we’re in the city.”

Teal sighed, covering her eyes with a hand.

“Toby, come on,” Gabriel protested.

“I am not a shark,” Juniper snapped. “I am not going to go into some kind of blood frenzy. What is your problem?!”

“I don’t have a…” Toby trailed off, staring at her, then glanced quickly around at the group. He sighed, picking at his own potatoes with a fork. “Okay, Juniper, I’m sorry. I just wish I could help you. You’re clearly bothered about something, and I don’t know how to help you deal with it.”

“You could try doing what I asked, and leaving me alone about it! You’re acting like I’m gonna do something horrible if you don’t watch me every minute. How do you think that makes me feel? I’m not some kind of monster!”

“Actually,” Fross chirped, “according to the Imperial Army Encounter Manual—”

“Fross!” Trissiny said sharply. “Not the time.”

“Really?” Juniper exclaimed. “Really? From you, Fross?”

“No one has intended any offense,” Shaeine said firmly. “I suggest we table this subject before someone’s feelings are hurt by a careless remark.”

“If anything, you’re the monsters!” Juniper railed, standing up and beginning to pace back and forth behind the group. “What’s a monster if not an unnatural creature that’s destructive and out of balance? Does that sound like anything you know?”

“Hey, now,” Teal protested.

“Flesh and blood is all it is,” the dryad ranted, continuing to pace like a caged wolf. The other students began shuffling back from her, some setting down their plates. “You’re animals. Why won’t you act like it? Why do you have to treat me like some kind of freak because I’m not like you?! It’s just…it’s hypocritical!”

“Hey.” Gabriel stood up, speaking gently, and stepped in front of her. Juniper came to a stop, glaring at him, fists clenched at her sides. “Juno, hon… That’s the second time I’ve heard you say something like that lately. Can I ask why you feel so strongly about it?”

“Why I— Why wouldn’t I?”

“It’s just…nature, you know?” he went on, keeping his tone quiet. “We all are what we are. Humans are just doing what they do. Believe me, I’ve had reason to give a lot of thought to this, growing up; people weren’t exactly thrilled to have me around, and all because of what nature gave me. So humans don’t act like, say…sheep.”

“Now there’s a political ow!” Ruda protested, rubbing her arm where Trissiny had jabbed her.

“Humans, elves, whatever else, we all follow our nature. Different kinds of creatures behave in different ways,” Gabriel continued, keeping his eyes on Juniper’s. “And…you seem to support that as a rule. Why is it that what humans do bothers you so much?”

She stared at him, flexing her hands. “I don’t… I can’t—”

He took a step closer. “You have nothing to feel guilty about.”

Juniper stepped back, eyes widening. “Guilty?! I don’t know what you’re talking about!”

“You just…you are what you are, too,” he said. “Naturally. It was all before you’d gotten to know any humans. And maybe before you started to find out how much humanity you have in you as well.”

“I am not human! I’m less human than you are!”

“I’m not so sure,” he said, shaking his head. “Remember what Tellwyrn said? Naiya was once human. You’re made in a basically human image. There’s more to you, but at your core—”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about!” Juniper raged, baring her teeth at him.

“Gabriel,” Toby said firmly. “I think you should leave her alone.”

“Oh, you’re one to talk,” Ruda snorted, taking a bite of potato.

“It’s called empathy,” Gabriel went on, still soft but relentless. “We recognize ourselves in each other, and we feel for each other. Maybe being around all these people is starting to—”

“Shut up!” Juniper snapped.

“—make you realize that something in you is basically—”

“Shut UP!” she shrieked, then hauled off and punched him. Her wild swing only hit him in the shoulder, but Gabriel was hurled, spinning, into the wall, where he left cracks in the wood before slumping to the floor.

There was a chorus of shouts as the other students leaped to their feet; Teal and Toby rushed to Gabriel’s side. Juniper took a step back from him, looking stricken.

Shaeine crossed the floor with swift strides that set her long robes to fluttering. Juniper turned at her approach, trying to marshal her features; it was like seeing a child attempt to control her expression, so unpracticed at it was she. “Oh, don’t bother, Shaeine, that sleep trick of yours won’t work on—”

Shaeine drew back her whole arm and slapped Juniper full across the face.

Stunned silence fell. Juniper’s head wasn’t moved by so much as an inch; given her constitution, the blow had to have hurt the drow more than the dryad, but Juniper looked utterly shocked, slowly raising a hand to her cheek.

Shaeine was glaring at her.

“Is this how you treat your friends, Juniper?” she snapped. “I thought better of you.”

Juniper stared at her, then past her shoulder at Gabriel, who was slumped against the wall, clutching his arm. Tears welled up in her eyes; emitting a choked noise, she whirled and fled around the corner to the roof access stairs.

Silence held for a moment.

“Fucking ow,” Gabriel groaned. “Why am I always the one who gets hurt?! This is getting ridiculous! I’m supposed to be invulnerable, but noooo. Everybody has to take their turn finding a loophole.”

“Yeah, it can’t be that you do stupid shit like pick fights with paladins and agitate dryads,” Ruda commented. She was the only one still seated, and hadn’t stopped eating.

“Yeah,” Gabe said, baring his teeth at her. “And then there was the time you fucking stabbed me!”

“Are you still on about that? Let it go, boy.”

Shaeine, now as calm as she normally was, had knelt beside him and placed a hand over his shoulder, glowing faintly. “You seem to have suffered no damage from the impact; hethelaxi constitution is exceedingly durable, indeed, but ‘invulnerable’ may be overstating it. Fairy magic still cancels infernal, which is why you suffer broken bones on being punched by a dryad.”

“Oh, it’s broken?” he said, wincing. “Doesn’t hurt that much…”

“You are likely resistant to pain, given your heritage. This is beyond my skill,” Shaeine said gravely. “I could heal it, but… You have crushed muscle, torn ligaments and yes, broken bone. Healing it as is would cause all this to calcify in its current position, rendering your arm permanently unusable.”

“Fuck,” he said feelingly.

“Can you stand? We must go to a more capable healer.”

“Fuck,” Gabriel repeated, looking increasingly agitated. “Healers are no good for me, they’re all about the light…”

“The clinic in Lor’naris is run by an elvish shaman and a much more experienced priestess of Themynra than I,” Shaeine said gently. “And it is unconsecrated. You will be fine. You need their attention, Gabriel.”

He allowed Teal and Toby to help him to his feet, wincing when his arm was jostled.

“Hey, um,” Trissiny said hesitantly, catching Shaeine’s eye. “Did you just…emote?”

“I am sorry you had to see that,” the drow said calmly. “Anger is an exception.”

“An…exception?”

Shaeine sighed softly. “Explaining cultural concepts in a few words is…difficult. Teal, I recall that you summarized it rather succinctly?”

“Basically,” said Teal, “the Narisian practice of emotional reserve is all about respect and keeping harmony within the group. In certain circumstances, it’s permissible to show anger. It’s a warning, a way of letting someone know unequivocally that they’ve pushed too far, so as to ward off a more serious confrontation. If a drow ever gets visibly angry, you need to stop whatever you were doing.”

“I see,” Trissiny murmured.

“Just for the record, Gabe,” Toby said, helping Gabriel limp toward the stairs, “telling someone not to feel guilty is pretty pointless. Feelings don’t work like that.”

“Fuck it, I tried,” Gabriel muttered.

“It was perceptive of you to discern the cause of Juniper’s discontent,” said Shaeine. “I confess I myself failed to interpret her actions so well.”

“Surprisingly perceptive, but clumsy in execution,” said Teal, grinning.

“Classic Arquin!” Ruda said cheerfully around a mouthful of sausage.

“Is this a bad time?”

They all stopped again, staring. Bishop Antonio Darling stood at the head of their stairs, wearing a slightly shabby suit and looking around the room with a raised eyebrow.

“Little bit,” said Gabriel. “’scuze us? Off to the sawbones.”

“Need a hand?” the Bishop offered. “I’m not much for healing but—”

“No!” Gabriel squawked.

“Thanks, your Grace,” said Teal, “but he’s a half-demon. That wouldn’t help him any.”

“Ah. Gotcha.” Darling stepped to one side. “I’ll just get out of your way, then.”

“Much obliged,” Gabriel grunted, still leaning on Toby as they hobbled past. “Fuck, this is just stupid. It’s my shoulder. Why is it hard to walk?”

“Impact from footsteps,” Toby explained. “Also, your muscles are all connected. Damaging anything in your torso will pretty much mess you up…”

“Life is unfair.”

They vanished down the steps, Teal and Toby flanking the injured half-demon with Shaeine trailing along behind them.

“Mornin’, your Graceness,” Ruda said pleasantly, waving with her fork. “Care for a bite? This is good stuff, our pixie really knows her way around a kitchen, somehow.”

“I try,” Fross offered, sounding bemused. She had been uncharacteristically silent throughout the exchange with Juniper.

“No, thanks, I’m just here on business,” said Darling, fixing his gaze on Trissiny. He had a thick folder tucked under his arm and a leather pouch in his hand. “I’ll be out of your hair pretty quickly.”

“What can we do for you, your Grace?” asked Trissiny, stepping forward.

“Well.” He kept his eyes on her, something oddly tense in his expression. “I have some deliveries for you, Ms. Avelea. Here.” He tossed her the bag, which she deftly caught. “Your coin, which my apprentices were completely out of line to have taken.”

“Thank you, but…” She opened the bag, blinking in surprise at its contents. “This is considerably more than they took. There are decabloons in here.”

“Yes,” he said grimly. “In addition to returning your property, that is their wages for the month. Yes, yes, I know you have little regard for money; drop it in a collection plate if you wish. For my purposes, what matters is not you having it but them losing it, and that’s only part of the discussion I had with them last night. The Guild does not steal from Silver Legionnaires, nor antagonize powerful people just to be snarky, nor harass the mortal representatives of major deities. They were seriously out of line, for which I apologize.”

“No harm done,” Trissiny said carefully, tucking the coin purse away in one of her belt pouches.

“Further,” Darling went on, his expression notably not lightening any as he held out the folder, “here is the paper trail you requested they retrieve. You may find it less incriminating than you hoped; the soldiers at the local barracks are not, in fact, as bumblingly incompetent as villains in a cheap novel and had the basic sense not to fully document their abuses of power. There are, at least, budget records and even receipts detailing the acquisition of scrap wood and volatile enchanting powder, as well as requisitions from the barracks stores of lamp oil.”

“They still use oil lamps?” Ruda snorted. “And here I thought the Imperial Army was all modernized.”

“Well,” Trissiny said slowly, accepting the folder, “that’s something. Less than I’d hoped, but it will help build a case. Along with other evidence already gathered, I believe we are making progress. Thank you, Bishop.”

“Oh, you’re making progress, all right,” he said darkly. “You employed a pair of highly talented but inexperienced agents to retrieve those documents, so naturally they took them instead of copying them and replacing the originals. The barracks commander will notice they are missing, and I assure you he is not stupid enough not to figure out who’s behind it, thanks to your heroics. The only good news there is that he won’t know who did the actual lifting, just that the agitating paladin was the mastermind.”

“I see,” she said, tucking the folder under her own arm. “Well, I shall be cautious. Thank you for the warning, your Grace.”

“You’re not listening,” Darling said sharply, stepping forward. “You sent two Thieves’ Guild apprentices to steal legal documents from an Imperial installation. The sheer number of ways this could go tits-up-in-the-rhubarb wrong beggars imagination. If you were anyone else, Trissiny Avelea, you would be having this conversation with six of my burliest associates in an alley.”

Trissiny stiffened. “You’ll find I don’t respond well to threats, sir.”

“There!” He pointed a finger directly in her face. “That, right there! I make a point of how you are specifically not being threatened despite your behavior richly deserving that approach, and you take it as a threat! Everything is a fight with you, Avelea! Your enemies in this situation are prejudice and pride. This will be solved with words or not at all; if these issues could be overcome through brute force, don’t you think someone in the entire scope of human history would have done it by now?!”

Trissiny actually backed away from the Eserite’s tirade, clutching the folder. “I—I didn’t—”

“Yes, you bloody did, and you need to stop doing. For your information, this matter has been kicked up to the Boss of the Thieves’ Guild; you’ll be glad to know there’s now an official Guild presence in this district. Fully trained agents are keeping watch on the situation. Their orders are to prevent any harm being done with maximum possible discretion, summon legal help if any action by the guard makes it necessary, and I quote, ‘stop that airhead paladin from burning down Lor’naris.’”

“Now, wait just a minute,” she protested.

“That is excellent advice,” Darling pressed on. “For the sake of all the gods, girl, wait. Just because no one is jumping boots first into your pet cause does not mean nobody cares! General Panissar is working on this, as is Ambassador Shariss. Now, thanks to you, so am I, and you have just made it vastly more complex. Any more ham-fisted action on your part is likely to turn a very tense situation into a completely intractable one. So please, please, I’m begging you, sit back and let us work.”

“What work?” she demanded. “I don’t see anything being done!”

“In what, two days? Of course you don’t! These problems have been building for years. This is not a demon for you to slay, Trissiny. Rushing in with your sword out will only make things worse. In fact, it already has. Now, please, take a break. There is no way this is all going to be settled in the brief time you’re in the city; accept that. The best thing you can do for the people of Lor’naris is set an example, and by that I mean you need to embody calm and restraint.”

“They don’t seem to have a problem with restraint around here,” Ruda commented.

“Like all people,” said Darling, “they follow the examples of leaders. That’s the power you lot have in this situation. Your conduct will influence what people around you do, how they react to pressure. You need to be mindful of the example you’re setting.”

“I’ve been loitering around, shopping and drinking in common rooms,” Ruda said brightly.

“Good show,” he replied, nodding approvingly.

“I’m sorry,” Trissiny said, her voice weak.

Darling looked pensively at her for a moment, pursing his lips, then his expression softened. “I know,” he said more gently. “I appreciate what you’re trying to do, Trissiny. Just…think a little more carefully before you act, all right?”

“All right,” she said, struggling for poise.

“All right,” he repeated, then sighed. “And with that, I need to go immerse myself in some of the delightful paperwork I now have. Have a good day, kids. Have a good, safe, calm, quiet day.” With a final, warning look at Trissiny, he turned and descended the steps.

There was silence for a long moment.

“Wow,” Fross said at last.

Ruda chuckled, forking another bite of sausage and potato into her mouth. “I really like that guy!”

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