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“I have to say I am glad to be back in Last Rock,” Toby said, adjusting the collar of his coat. “Tiraas is miserable in the winter. This is practically a vacation spot.”

“Oh, it’s not that bad,” Gabriel said lightly. “It hardly ever snows in the city!”

“Snow, no,” Toby grumbled. “Just constant, chilling rain, with a weekly splatter of sleet and at least once per winter a serious ice storm, just to remind us that Ouvis still rules the skies.”

“What’s this?” Gabriel grinned broadly. “Mr. Toby the Paladin Caine is actually complaining? I never thought I would see the day! Damn, and me without my diary.”

“It’d be complaining if I were still in Tiraas,” Toby replied, grinning back. “I’m not. Here, I’m appreciating the balmy Great Plains climate. Relatively.”

“Heh… You remember the first time we walked into this building and I wondered if it ever snowed here?” Gabriel craned his neck back, studying the towering face of Helion Hall as they approached it.

“Ah, nostalgia. Were we ever that young?”

“Hey, don’t make fun. We’ve come a long way, haven’t we?”

“I dunno,” Toby said, his expression sobering. “We’ve…gotten used to things around here. And yeah, things around here are unpredictable enough to maybe help prepare us for the wide world. I can kinda see where Tellwyrn’s going with all her nonsense, sometimes… Still. This isn’t the world.”

“Man, you’ve always gotta rain on somebody’s parade,” Gabe groused. “Oh, hey, Ruda! How was your—”

Ruda’s short stature and round build were deceptive; she could strike as swiftly as a rattlesnake when she wanted to. Toby was flat on the ground before he even understood that he’d been punched.

“What the fuck?!” Gabriel screeched, wide-eyed.

Toby emitted a soft groan, pressing a hand over his eye, and looked up at Ruda, who stared down at him now with her hands planted on her hips. There was a tense moment before he sighed softly. “Right. Would you rather I’d strung her along?”

“No.” Ruda shook her head. “No, you did the right thing. Or maybe the least wrong thing available to you. But you didn’t have to watch the aftermath of that. I did. I gotta see the living incarnation of backbone reduced to a cringing mess, somebody’s getting punched. Sorry.”

She offered him a hand up, which he accepted, still grimacing. “It’s probably a waste of breath even to say it, but maybe socking people in the head isn’t the best way to work out your problems?”

“I didn’t go around doing it back home,” she said with a grin. “The great thing about the class of 1182 is everyone but me is either basically indestructible or they can heal themselves instantly.”

“Well, you always seem to find workarounds,” Gabriel snapped, “such as when you fucking stabbed me. And not to change the subject, but what the hell is even going on here?!”

“You’re an exciting new kind of clueless, aren’t you, Gabe?” she said wryly.

“I’m not— Don’t stand there smirking at me, you screaming lunatic, you just walked up and punched him!”

“It’s not that bad, Gabe,” Toby said. “Stand back for a minute.” The hand over his eye glowed gently for a moment, Gabriel stepping warily away from the burn of divine energy. “Anyhow… I’m glad you two are getting along better.”

“Hey, yeah. Maybe you should ruin somebody’s vacation more often,” she said, clapping him on the shoulder. “Seems to’ve done some good, anyway. See you boys in class!”

They stood, watching, as Ruda strolled ahead into Helion Hall, whistling.

“That girl is one hundred and eight percent out of her goddamn mind,” Gabriel said wonderingly. “…wait. Wait. By ‘she…’”

“Leave it alone, Gabe.”

“Did something happen with you and Trissiny? Oh, man, that must’ve…”

“Gabriel,” Toby said firmly. “Please. Let it go.”

Gabriel sighed, and they began to move again. “Seriously, though. She can’t just go around punching and stabbing people. I am really starting to wonder if we should be worried about our physical welfare.”

Toby shook his head. “Ruda is…rough. You heard her, though. She doesn’t treat people any worse than they can handle. We are a pretty resilient group, all told. In fact, she’s easily the most physically vulnerable member of our class. Maybe throwing her weight around is a way to compensate.”

“Yeah, that’d be a lot more reassuring if she hadn’t gone and taught me that I’m not impervious to mithril when she, as I keep having to remind people, fucking stabbed me!”

“Well, be reasonable, Gabe. You have that effect on girls.”

“Boy, just because you’re the Hand of Omnu does not mean that I’ll hesitate to kick your ass.”

“No, the fact that I’m ten times the martial artist you are is what’ll make you hesitate.”

“My point stands.”

When they entered Tellwyrn’s classroom, the rest of their class were already assembled. Juniper waved and called a hello, as did Fross, rushing over to buzz affectionately around their heads. Teal and Shaeine were whispering with their heads together. Trissiny, sitting next to Ruda, glanced up at their entrance and immediately averted her gaze, staring stonily at the lectern in front.

Tellwyrn, uncharacteristically, was already there, flipping idly through a book. She looked up as Toby and Gabriel found their seats. “Well. Look who finally decided to join us. I guess we can get started, then!”

“Oh, come on, we’re not even late,” Gabriel protested. “It’s not time for class to start yet!”

“Whether you approach it from a philosophical, scientific or any other standpoint, it is impossible to avoid the conclusion that time is relative,” Tellwyrn intoned. “If you’re the last to arrive, you are by definition late.”

“By that argument, you were late to every class last semester!”

“I’m in charge,” she said with a grin. “If I’m late, everybody is, and thus by the principle of relativity, everyone is on time. Anyhow! Welcome back, kids. Despite my belief that pampering is a counterproductive approach to education, over the last fifty years I’ve learned to accept the fact that students on their first day back from vacation are simply not going to perform at their best. As such, this will be a homework-free class, and I won’t even ask you to take notes. What we’re about to discuss will be interesting enough, if I have the measure of all of you, to hold your attention; you’ll need to keep it in mind but it’s nothing I’ll be testing you on.

“Last semester we covered, in brief, the history of the Tiraan Empire, chiefly as a series of examples of the various principles of governance and sociology in action. We will be broadening our scope this semester to look at the progress of nations and societies as a whole. The beginning of this study, because it impacts everything that comes after, is the effective beginning of recorded history: the origin of the gods. Miss Falconer, while I appreciate the restraint of young lovers who don’t paw at each other in my class, having your demon send sub-sonic messages is extremely distracting for those of us with elven ears and arcane senses.”

“Sorry,” Teal croaked, flushing with mortification. Gabriel winced sympathetically; Ruda failed at repressing a snicker.

“Some of you will take or have taken divinity electives, but those are not a requirement for graduation here, so I’m not going to assume you have an equal grounding in theological history,” Tellwyrn continued. “The origins of the Pantheon explain, from a certain point of view, almost everything about the modern world. While our gods are far, far from perfect—don’t start, Avelea—you can be assured that they beat the alternative by a vast margin. The Elder Gods were…simply monstrous. Of them, Naiya was by far the most benign, and she is simply icily amoral and completely without mercy. She is rational and consistent, though; it is possible and in fact rather simple to avoid getting on her bad side. Naiya doesn’t intervene directly to help people, but her influence on the world is not actively harmful to intelligent life. Of the rest of her generation, not one were so…genial. The Elder Gods regarded the sentient races as livestock; the only reason they didn’t capriciously wipe all of them out was that the relatively few who exercised a fair degree of forethought shepherded mortal populations in exactly the way we manage herds of sheep and cattle today, and for most of the same reasons.

“My point is, you will find me to be critical of the gods where they deserve it, but I am here to tell you: it could be a hell of a lot worse.”

She paused, pointlessly adjusting her spectacles, while the students stared at her in silence. Personally aggravating as Tellwyrn tended to be, she did know how to hold an audience’s attention.

“And so, our inquiry begins with a deceptively simple question.” The Professor spread her hands, smiling. “What is a god?”

Several of them glanced at each other speculatively; Toby carefully kept his thoughts to himself. Trissiny raised her hand.

“Avelea, are you thinking of reciting Church doctrine in my class again? And if so, what makes you think it’ll go any differently than every other time?”

Scowling, Trissiny put her hand down.

“It was a rhetorical question anyway,” Tellwyrn said. “A god is at the intersection of three things: personality, power, and concept. The first two are extremely basic. We know that gods are individuals—in fact, we know that all of the current Pantheon were once mortals, most of them human. Power is equally obvious. Less commonly understood, but of arguably greater importance, is their meaning. Izara is the goddess of love, Vesk the god of music, Verniselle the goddess of money, we all know this. But while the common worshiper is content to regard these as jobs, or hobbies, or at best a sacred calling, the truth is that these concepts are absolutely integral to what makes a god. Pound for pound, there have been demons, dragons, archmages and several other individuals who could rival a lesser god for power. The gods, however, are more than who they are and how strong they are. It is what they are that makes them so enduring and so potent. They are diffuse yet discrete incarnations of ideas, and this is what firmly roots them in existence. Fross, is that more of your customary fluttering about or do you have a question?”

“Question!” the pixie exclaimed, darting back and forth above her desk. “I’ve been dying to know this but none of the books have anything but speculation, but I’m sure you have some insights because you’ve been around practically forever and everyone knows you’ve gotten closer to more gods than basically anyone, but I didn’t want to interrupt another class with the unrelated question, so, yeah! How does this happen? What makes a god become a god?”

“That was a good question once we finally got to it,” Tellwyrn said gravely. “I’m afraid I don’t know.”

Fross came to an abrupt stop in midair, then actually began to fall before catching herself. “But…but…”

“Nobody does,” Tellwyrn said with a smile. “Well, nobody aside from the gods, and they aren’t talking. Apotheosis remains a great mystery. As I said, we know the Pantheon and its few unaligned deities of the same generation were once mortal. The two surviving Elders likewise were, so we can assume that most if not all of their generation were the same—”

“Wait!” Juniper interrupted. “Wait, what? Are you seriously claiming that Naiya was once human?”

“Juniper, have you ever given any thought to why you and your sisters look so human?”

The dryad gaped at her.

Tellwyrn shook her head. “Yes, I assure you, Naiya began life as a human, an unfathomably long time ago. As did Scyllith.”

“How do you know that?” Teal asked.

“As Fross mentioned, I’ve had contact with a lot of deities. All of them, to my knowledge. And yes, that includes closer brushes with Scyllith than I’d wish on anyone. To bring this back to my original point, exactly how this came to be is not known. The Pantheon all rose at the same time; whatever mechanism they found to achieve this, they subsequently buried and expunged from history.”

“Well, that pretty much makes sense, considering what they did with it,” Gabriel noted. “They’d have to be worried about the next generation doing to them what they did to the Elders.”

“You are flirting with blasphemy,” Trissiny warned.

“He’s quite correct, though, despite his continuing inability to raise his hand before speaking,” Tellwyrn said. “Whatever the Pantheon did when they ascended seems to have changed the rules. Previously, the Elder Gods acted with basically no constraint. Now, gods are both defined and to an extent bound by the concepts they represent. There are no gods who just exist; each is the god or goddess of something. The Elders are, individually, more powerful than any of the Pantheon, but also more limited in their actions, more diffuse. Their essence is spread more broadly, impeding their ability to exercise that power.”

“In what way?” asked Shaeine.

“Well, let’s take a modern example,” said Tellwyrn, smiling. “Who are the most powerful gods of the current generation? Yes, Mr. Caine?”

“The Trinity,” Toby said, lowering his hand. “Omnu, Avei and Vidius.”

“Correct. And why are they so much stronger than their compatriots? Arquin?”

“Based on what you were just telling us,” Gabriel said slowly, “Each of those three is tied to multiple concepts.”

“Excellent!” Tellwyrn’s smile blossomed into a grin. “Very good, you’ve just sussed out something that most priests of most faiths are reluctant to acknowledge. Yes, the majority of gods are linked to a single identifying idea, but the Trinity are another matter. Omnu, the god of life, the sun and agriculture. Vidius, god of death and duality. Avei, goddess of war, justice and women. Also significant is that each of their alignments is a broad and deep one; each of those concepts is something that inevitably pops up everywhere and impacts almost everyone. Worth noting is that Scyllith is much the same: she is goddess of light, beauty and cruelty.”

“What you suggest,” said Shaeine, “is that power, for gods, is fundamentally tied to breadth of application.”

“Precisely,” said Tellwyrn, nodding. “Let’s consider Avei as an example. She is the patron of war, justice and women. Straightforward concepts yes?”

“For the record, ‘patron’ is an explicitly sexist—”

“Trissiny, if you can’t make it through this discussion without being an obnoxious pedant, I can and will seal your lips for the duration of the class. Anyway, consider each of Avei’s areas of influence. What, exactly, is war?”

She raised an eyebrow, watching them in silence while they glanced at each other.

“The…resolution of conflict through violence on a large organized scale,” Shaeine said finally.

“Ah, but is it? Why must it be organized, or large? As our resident pacifists can tell you, even threats are by many standards considered acts of violence—but by other standards, not. The Avenists themselves hold a doctrine that war is any situation where two or more parties are in conflict. This should, in theory, expand the role of their goddess to almost everything… Yet while that extremely liberal definition would encompass all diplomacy and argument, the Sisters of Avei seem to concern themselves largely with violent conflict, leaving other forms of resolution to less martial gods.

“What about justice, then? Again, it seems straightforward on the surface, but when you begin to analyze it, justice is such a culturally dependent concept that it may mean completely different things in different societies. Even among peoples who share a basic idea of what is just, the application of those principles is so often complex that…well, lawyers exist. It takes highly educated people to sort out the mess that ensues from attempting to apply this apparently simple idea to everyday life.”

“But women?” Gabriel said. “I mean, it doesn’t get much more obvious than that.”

“Oh?” Tellwyrn tilted her head. “Have you ever given any thought to the question of what is a woman?”

“Every night,” he said, grinning.

“Gabe,” Ruda said, “just because we all know you do it doesn’t mean we wanna hear about it.”

“In fact,” Tellwyrn continued, “that’s another issue about which the cult of Avei are, themselves, divided. Trans women can become priestesses in the Sisterhood, but only biological females are permitted to join the Silver Legions.”

“Uh…trans what?”

“Nevermind, Arquin. You can learn about that later when Trissiny’s yelling at you.”

“I wasn’t going to yell at him!”

“I bet you’re never going to yell at anyone,” Tellwyrn said with a grin. “You set out to calmly and reasonably explain your point of view, and it’s always a surprise when you find yourself yelling. Sound right?”

“Why did I come back to this campus?” Trissiny muttered, hunching in her seat.

“In the case of Avei,” Tellwyrn continued, “in addition to the conflicts inherent in her fundamental concepts, there are actual workarounds. For example, if you find yourself having personally offended the goddess of war, you can very easily get her off your case through simple penitence. And I do mean sincere penitence. If you are authentically sorry for whatever you did to cheese her off, and devote yourself to making amends and living a better life, her personal pursuit of you will simply, instantly, cease. The Sisters have made significant efforts over the centuries to suppress this fact, as in fact have the Church and many of the other cults, because a lot of gods share the same quirk. This isn’t a total avoidance of consequence, mind you; the Sisters themselves can hold a grudge like you wouldn’t believe.”

Everyone turned to look at Trissiny, who shrugged after a moment. “Well, she’s not wrong.”

“The point,” said Tellwyrn, “is that such sudden and predictable forgiveness is uncharacteristic of Avei’s general personality. It reveals that when the first and third traits of a god come into conflict, concept triumphs over individuality.”

There was silence for a moment while the students contemplated this, and Tellwyrn let them.

“So—” Gabriel snapped his mouth shut and raised his hand.

“Yes, Mr. Arquin?” Tellwyrn said sweetly.

“You make it sound…mechanistic. Like the gods have, I dunno, counterspells.”

“That’s an oversimplification, but it works as a metaphor. It’s nothing so clean or convenient, but the reality is that the gods are constrained by the very thing that makes them what they are. If you’re clever, and particularly ballsy, you can use that against them. People have. Be aware, though, that trying and failing to manipulate a god is a recipe for the most apocalyptic smackdown a person can receive. Honestly, in most cases, it’s better to deal frankly with them. With the exceptions of such as Scyllith and Elilial, or sometimes Shaath and Eserion, so long as your intentions are good and your efforts consistent and sincere, they’ll give you the benefit of the doubt and probably not cause you trouble you don’t deserve.”

“So…who would you say is the most dangerous of them?” Gabriel asked, clearly quite interested.

“I do hope, Arquin, you aren’t thinking of some kind of revolt against heaven. Half-demons have tried that before. It has never gone well.”

“No, I… I was just curious. I mean, you’re kind of the expert, and it sounds like what we’ve been thinking of divine power all wrong. You basically just told us that Avei’s rage has a kill switch.”

“A what?” Trissiny exclaimed.

“It’s something modern enchanted appliances tend to have,” Teal explained. “Flip a switch, shut down the device.”

“For your information, Trissiny, half-elves have a lifespan in the centuries if not millennia, and dental reconstruction is mostly beyond even the best healers, so you really shouldn’t grind your teeth.” Tellwyrn grinned wickedly at her for a moment before continuing. “And yes, Arquin, your question is significant; the nature of gods calls into question the nature of their power. Honestly, I wouldn’t consider Avei the most dangerous enemy by a wide margin. Nor Elilial…or even Scyllith. She is stronger than the younger gods, but also more heavily bound; Scyllith is all but helpless to act except through the agency of her cultists, who are trapped in an environment where the goddess of light is at an explicit disadvantage. No, if I had to nominate one god I really wouldn’t want mad at me, I’d pick Eserion.”

“Um, which one is that?” Juniper asked.

“The god of thieves,” said Fross. “I’m not sure I understand why, though.”

“It helps to have a basic grasp of Eserite theology,” Tellwyrn explained. “Unlike nearly every other deity, the main thrust of Eserion’s teaching is self-reliance. He doesn’t so much grant power to his followers as teach them how to cultivate and maximize their own skills. As such, he appears, at face value, to be among the weakest of gods. He doesn’t go for showy displays of force. For exactly that reason, though, Eserion doesn’t have the same built-in weaknesses that many gods suffer; he’s not constrained by much, and what power he has is entirely under his own agency. You can’t play alignment tricks with him. You can’t even exploit the Circles of Interaction against his followers, who, unlike every other priestly order, won’t come at you with divine magic. That leads into the primary issue here: Eserion is heavily bound up in the lives of his cultists, mostly leaving them alone as a point of principle, but able to follow and interact with them individually on a level that other, more widely active gods seldom bother with. You irk Eserion, and you’ve made an enemy of the Thieves’ Guild. That is very, very unwise thing to do.”

“The Guild isn’t nearly as threatening as you make them sound,” Trissiny said disdainfully.

“Spoken like an Avenist,” Tellwyrn said with a grin. “What you don’t realize about your cult’s rivalry with the Eserites is that only the Sisters take it seriously; the Guild thinks it’s all a grand game. Think about it: these are people who cultivate and hone their skills as a point of divine command, who have no moral codes to speak of, whose chief doctrinal obligation is to forcibly inflict humility upon the mighty. There are thousands of them, they are everywhere, and beating them on a small scale only convinces them that you need to be brought down. Even the Black Wreath mind their manners around the Guild.”

“That…actually makes a lot of sense,” Teal said slowly. “Eserion is widely described as a trickster god. It stands to reason he’d find a way to game the system.”

“Just so,” Tellwyrn agreed, nodding. “To consider the question another way, if we are thinking in terms of how a god can be outmaneuvered or brought low, I would have to say that only Naiya and Naphthene are truly indestructible. Gods, like anything else which lives, can die… But not without being severed from the concepts which sustain them, or having those concepts themselves destroyed. If you try to attack life or the ocean…well, you’re not going to win that. If those two ever wear out and die, it’ll be long after everything else has.”

There was a momentary shifting in seats before Gabriel asked the question suddenly on everyone’s mind.

“How, exactly, do you kill a god?”

“Is that a general ‘you?’” Tellwyrn asked wryly.

“…if that helps you, sure.”

She shook her head. “It depends on the god. In all honesty, that’s a question that doesn’t have an explicit answer. The god of the orcs was destroyed because he was so connected to the land of Athan’Khar that when the land was distorted beyond recognition, he had nothing left to sustain him. A number of deities have been felled over the course of history, though the Church has managed to suppress most of the accounts. Some were like Khar, unmoored by the loss of whatever granted them permanence. In fact, most local or tribal deities are extinct at this point, and even some who were aligned to broader concepts have fallen. Sometimes by having their alignment deliberately destroyed, but the majority simply by their relatively limited philosophies simply falling out of favor, their worship drying up. Virtually all the gods active today are rooted in something that is nigh-universal in the experience of sentient life.”

Tellwyrn paused, twisting her lips to one side as though unwilling to continue, but continue she did. “And then, as you meant to ask, there are those who were personally brought down by powerful entities who set out to do exactly that. Mostly by rival gods…sometimes by comparatively lesser powers. All I can tell you about that is, again…it depends on the god. There’s not a single, reliable godslaying technique; if you are ever in a situation where you must destroy a deity in order to preserve your own being, you will either find a way to do so, or in all probability you won’t. They don’t fall easily. It takes a great deal of power, will and ingenuity to bring it about, but in the end much of it comes down to the caprice of fate.

“Don’t try it,” she added firmly.

Only silence answered her.

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Bonus #3: Hero

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There were few spectacles so glorious as the coronation of the new Emperor of Tiraas. The world’s wealthiest and most powerful nation, as was the nature of human nations in general, deemed it necessary to create as much pomp and splendor as its fathomless resources could arrange. To be fair, most of the common run of people just enjoyed having a reason to hold a party, and the three weeks of celebrations were probably the best party they would ever experience. Ashaele, though, had less sympathy for the organizers of this self-important spectacle of waste; the resources spent on food, decorations, costumes, servants and innumerable other displays would have sustained her city for years. She had very much enjoyed the fireworks, however. That was like nothing she had ever expected to see.

In its second week, now, they were nearing the halfway point of the festivities. The new Emperor, Sharidan Julios Adolphus Tirasian, had been crowned and subsequently married in what was just barely two separate ceremonies. Ashaele did her best to follow the events as they unfolded, but the need to maintain her cover prevented her from gathering as much information as she would like, and the politics of the situation were doubtless immensely complex, and mostly over her head.

This particular ceremony was an actual Tiraan tradition, rather than a shallow display of wealth as so much of the last week had been: On the day after his coronation, the Emperor held court from dawn to dusk, and could be approached and petitioned directly by anyone. A thousand years ago when Tiraas had been a single city-state, the ceremony had likely been much more significant. Now, the line of people stretching out from the Palace and into Imperial Square were entirely of individuals whose presence here had been pre-approved by Imperial functionaries weeks ago. A commendable effort had been made to include a fair mix of commoners, foreigners and representatives of all classes and walks of life, but even so the nobility were much more heavily represented here than among the general population.

Whatever else it was, it was a day-long ceremony, and it was nearing noon; everyone was already tired, bored and thoroughly sick of the whole thing, and desperately struggling not to show it. The boy Emperor had made a heroic effort since taking his seat in the Silver Throne this morning to attend every citizen who approached him with care and sincerity, but even he was visibly weary by this point. Beside him on her own smaller throne, his young wife had started the day looking aloof at best, and by this point seemed severely annoyed. The people in the line were drooping; the countless courtiers packed into the sides of the great throne chamber were mostly half-asleep on their feet, a surly, drowsy sea of finery and painful-looking fixed smiles. Only the guards and the several black-coated Hands of the Emperor in the room were still alert. Even the official who had the honor of calling forth and announcing each new petitioner was drifting. He had flubbed two names and once let a moment of awkward silence stretch out before realizing it was time to bring up the next person.

Her moment was coming soon. There wouldn’t be a better.

Ashaele had long since carefully forced her way to the front of the crowd, and now was positioned a mere few yards from the foot of the steps up to the Emperor’s dais. Feeling so exposed did her nerves no favors, but it had been a necessary preparation; had she bulled her way out of the thick of the crowd, the disturbance would have been spotted immediately and guards would have been on her before she got anywhere near the Emperor. Guards and, terrifyingly, one of those unsmiling Hands had fixed their glares on her when she first pushed to the front, but by this point they had dismissed her as another position-jockeying dignitary and gone back to scanning the crowd.

Her attire was a hodgepodge of Punaji and Onkawi styles, with elvish touches and some completely random additions that served to conceal her as much as possible. She wore a heavy greatcoat with a ceremonial hooded shawl over that, complete with silken scarf that concealed her lower face. Her eyes and hairline were exposed, but they were altered by magic. The efficacy of the disguise was in its reliance on mundane measures; the less skin she revealed, the less would have to be concealed by charms, and it was vital to keep the charm work to a minimum. Plenty of noblewomen in Tiraas used minor enchantments to tweak their appearances, but anyone walking into an Imperial audience with enough magic on them to completely alter their appearance would have been set upon by wizards immediately.

Naturally, the costume caused her all sorts of anxiety. So far her hope that the aristocrats pressing in on her from all sides would dismiss her mismatched appearance as a miscellaneous foreigner had been realized… But all it would take was one astute member of the diplomatic corps to realize the woman in the greatcoat, shawl and mask had cobbled together the most concealing features of traditional costumes that by themselves wouldn’t have hidden half so much.

Also, with her own ceremonial robes underneath, it was insufferably hot.

It would all be worth it if she were successful.

Ashaele forced herself not to peer around the room as the man kneeling just a few feet from her droned on about agricultural quotas in the frontier provinces. She held herself as still as possible, avoiding any action that would draw attention. It was enough to know that her allies were in the crowd. She had brought three friends from House An’sadarr to observe and report back to the Queen if her mission went awry. They were individuals she trusted; members of her own House would have been better for several reasons, but if it came down to it, any of them would have tried to protect her if she failed, and inevitably ended up sharing her fate. The An’sadarrs were reliable precisely because they would leave her behind. It wasn’t that her people lacked discipline or obedience, but the military House’s famous dedication to the mission at hand was, in this case, much more useful than the personal loyalty her family would have shown.

“I appreciate your concerns, Master Tethloss,” the Emperor said when the kneeling man paused to draw breath. It was very nearly an interruption, but it was becoming clear that he was not about to stop speaking any time soon. “Understand, though, that your perspective is only that: your own. I must be responsible for the economy as a whole. To intervene at one level would have repercussions well beyond what you intend. In my judgment this is not the time or the proper place for dramatic action. However, your concerns are valid, and you have my word that I will consider them and consult with my advisers. Perhaps the Throne can and should exert some influence.”

Tethloss looked far from happy, but he managed a suitably obsequious thanks, bowing as he backed away. Ashaele was less concerned with him than with Sharidan. This answer was consistent with the rest of his performance today. He was intelligent; he cared for the welfare of his people. It boded well for her plans.

The seneschal was watching Tethloss’s departure impatiently; the disgruntled petitioner was in no hurry to yield the floor, and still partially blocked the path of the next in line. Around the room, assembled nobles rustled in the lull, fanning themselves and whispering to one another. The Emperor sat back in his chair, indulging in a barely perceptible sigh. For a precious moment, everyone was distracted, everything paused.

Now. Now!

Ashaele grabbed a fistful of her mask and shawl, ripping them to the side, and shrugging out of her greatcoat in the same motion. They fell to lie puddled on the marble mosaic floor. Her illusions, having been attached to the clothes rather than herself, vanished with them. Somnolent and irritable as they were, it was a dramatic enough move that she gathered immediate attention, and screams rang out, spreading like wildfire. Nobles devolved into a pushing panic to escape the drow suddenly in their midst.

Ashaele crossed the floor in long, smooth strides, turning to face the Throne, and sank to one knee, bowing her head before the Emperor. That was as much as she managed before being seized by both arms. Guards roughly kicked her legs out from under her; a staff was thrust directly under her chin, humming with an active charge just waiting to be released. Her hair and the collar of her robes lifted in response to the static. She offered no resistance. Everywhere there was shouting, Imperial guards yelling contradictory orders and imprecations, onlookers screaming.

She permitted herself a small, fatalistic sigh. Too slow… She would be sad not to see her children again. Heral would lead House Awarrion well, however. It had been worth the effort; if she had succeeded, everything would have changed.

“HOLD.”

The acoustics of the room were carefully designed to maximize the voice of whoever sat on the Throne. Sharidan now stood in front of it; his order boomed through the massive hall, causing a sudden lull in the activity. The hands pulling at Ashaele from every direction stilled, though they did not relax their grip.

“Stand down,” the Emperor commanded. “Release her.”

The guards glanced at each other uncertainly, and at the dark elf kneeling placidly in their grip. One wearing a captain’s insignia cleared his throat. “Your Majesty—”

He broke off as Eleanora surged to her feet. The Empress stepped forward to lay a hand on her husband’s arm, staring down at them with icy fury.

“Your Emperor,” she said, her voice promising merciless death, “has spoken.”

They hesitated a fraction of a moment longer, and then Ashaele was released. She staggered inevitably, barely catching herself, but quickly resumed her position on one knee, surreptitiously smoothing down her hair and disturbed garments. The guards eased backward, but not so far that she failed to see the assortment of swords, wands and staves aimed at her, even with her eyes lowered.

“Lady, you have the apologies of the Tiraan Empire and of House Tirasian for this ill treatment,” the Emperor said. “My men are zealous in their protection of me, and your appearance was…rather startling.”

“Your soldiers’ zeal and loyalty is a credit to their master,” Ashaele replied. “It is I who should apologize, your Excellency, for intruding in this way. I regret that I failed to find a more polite way to gain an audience.”

“Then perhaps we can put these misunderstandings behind us,” said Sharidan, slowly sinking back onto the Silver Throne. His wife remained standing, though she stepped back to place herself slightly behind him, one hand on his shoulder; she stared down at Ashaele through narrowed eyes. “I gather you have come to observe Tiraan custom? Anyone may ask a boon of the Emperor today.”

“If it pleases your Excellency, yes,” she replied. “I am Ashaele nur Tamashi zae Awarrion, matriarch of House Awarrion of Tar’naris, most humbly at your service.”

The general volume of whispers echoing around the room increased slightly, then faded as Eleanora lifted her gaze from the kneeling drow to pan a glare around the chamber. Sharidan regarded her in thoughtful silence for a moment.

“I have heard,” he said at last, “that matriarchs of the drow Houses kneel to no one, even their Queen.”

“That is correct, your Excellency,” Ashaele replied. “We do not lack respect for Her Majesty, but such obeisance is not our custom.”

“Then it shall not be asked of you here,” he said firmly. “Please, stand. Be at ease; you are welcome here.”

The whispers started anew; Ashaele rose smoothly to her feet and raised her head, letting them wash over her. Hope soared in her chest. This was going better than she had dared hope. A brief manhandling by a few guards was the tiniest price to pay if this man listened to her.

“I must clarify that I do not speak for Tar’naris. I have come of my own volition, and not on the orders or permission of my Queen.”

“Then, for the time being, you shall be the guest of the Imperial Palace,” the Emperor replied, causing another stir. “Now, you have surely not come all this way for small talk. What can Tiraas do for you, Lady Ashaele?”

“Your Excellency,” she said, bowing, “I most humbly and respectfully beg, as a citizen who loves her people and her state, that the Tiraan Empire extend diplomatic contact to Tar’naris toward the goal of normalizing relations between our two great societies.”

This time there was an outcry, quickly rising to such chaos that the last part of her sentence was all but inaudible. Luckily it had ended on a fluff of diplomatic flattery; the important part of her request had been clearly heard. The noise was so pervasive that she couldn’t identify many individual threads…except for the few loudest shouts, which were almost universally imprecations. She did hope her Narisian allies were managing to remain hidden. There would be no end of trouble if somebody stumbled upon one of them right now.

“Silence.” Empress Eleanora’s voice cracked like a whip. The crowd obeyed her, though perhaps not as instantly or completely as she would have liked; they did, at least, trail off to a constant undercurrent of murmurs. She swept another baleful stare around the room before turning it on Ashaele. “It is curious, lady, that such a request comes from one who takes pains to assure us that she does not speak on behalf of her government.”

“Nations have their pride, as do their rulers,” Ashaele replied smoothly. “The exchanges over the last decades between Narisian scouts and the Imperial forces at Fort Vaspian have decisively demonstrated that Tiraas is militarily superior. For Queen Arkasia to extend a request for peace at this time would be for her to sacrifice face—a thing I do not wish to see. The Silver Throne, being in the dominant position, does not suffer this drawback. An overture from Tiraas would be an offering, not a plea.”

“This verges on flattery,” Eleanora said sharply. Sharidan glanced up at her, then returned his gaze to Ashaele, his expression neutral. He seemed content, for the moment, to let his wife speak, despite the fact that she had been mostly silent through most of the day’s ceremony. How interesting that he deferred to her now that there were hard questions to ask… Ashaele’s finely tuned political mind immediately sussed out the implications. Oh, these two were very clever. They were likely to make a most effective team. “The entire history of human relations with Tar’naris,” the Empress went on, “with any drow, has consisted of your people raiding ours. Stealing, destroying, and enslaving. Today of all days your request will be considered with all due weight, but do not think we fail to see the context. No drow has attempted to approach us until we held a decisive advantage.”

“It is not my intention to explain or excuse history,” Ashaele said calmly. “It is relevant, however, to consider history, as your Excellency has said. Nations and peoples act in a manner that they believe is justified; Tiraas has assuredly considered itself justified in its systematic conquest of this continent.” Another rumble rose around her at this, but she pressed on. “I humbly call to your Excellencies’ attention the manner of this conquest: Tiraas has enjoyed such success in part because it exercised military force only in the absence of better options, in keeping with Avei’s doctrines of war. Nations that have joined you voluntarily have historically become your most prosperous provinces.”

“You are offering submission and absorption into the Empire, then?” Eleanora asked, her tone deceptively mild, now.

“No,” Ashaele said evenly. “Even were it within my authority to offer, you shall not have that. Nor is it the only prospect suggested by history. Tiraas has very productive relationships with the Punaji and Tidestrider nations, which remain independent but tightly linked to the Empire.”

“Both play a vital role in securing our borders,” the Empress shot back. “With respect, Tar’naris is hardly positioned to offer such a service.”

“With respect,” Ashaele replied, her voice soft, “with the greatest respect, you are deeply mistaken. Tar’naris must guard its gates on two fronts. You can scarcely imagine the horrors of the true Underworld. Your forces could hold it back, now…perhaps. Thousands of years of the effort and spilled blood of my people has bought your society the luxury of developing to this point.”

Another rustle began to swell in the chamber, but it quickly died as the Emperor held up one hand for silence. He leaned forward on the throne, staring intently down at Ashaele.

“For obvious reasons, we don’t get the freshest reports from beyond Tar’naris,” he said, “but in fact I do know something of what lurks in the Deep Dark. For that reason, and the others you have raised, your request is… Interesting.”

Everyone stared at him with baited breath now, Ashaele perhaps most of all. He leaned back against the Throne, glancing up at Eleanora. She met his eyes momentarily, and a silent exchange seemed to pass between them. For having been married only a day, they seemed to share a significant bond.

“Lady Ashaele,” he said in the tone of a pronouncement, “as it seems we cannot host you as befits an ambassador, you shall, as I have said, be our personal guest for the remainder of the Coronation, during which time the Throne’s focus is and must be largely inward. After that, we shall furnish you a suitable escort back to Tar’naris.” She tensed, barely, in spite of herself; all around her, whispers swelled anew. “If you will kindly do us this service, Tiraas will thank you to escort our ambassadors to your Queen.”

The crowd truly erupted again, but was swiftly silenced by the Empress’s roared threat to have the great hall cleared.

Ashaele felt the tension drain from her for what had to be the first time in weeks. She bowed deeply. “Your Excellency, it shall be my honor.”

“Ugh, I can’t believe you’re reading that. It’s in Tanglish. Have you run out of domestic books completely?”

Shaeine lifted her head to scowl at her grinning sister. “This is an account of Mother’s first journey to Tiraas,” she said pointedly. “A little respect would be appropriate.”

“Oh, come on,” Nahil said despairingly. “How many times have you read that story? You probably know it better than she does at this point.”

“Yes, but those are the Narisian accounts,” she shot back. “This is a novelization by a Tiraan bard.”

“Really?” Heral asked, her mild tone a contrast to Nahil’s aggressive ribbing. “Do they portray her with horns and shooting fire from her eyes?”

“In fact she is treated very respectfully,” Shaeine said stiffly. “Heroically, even. There’s some fudging of the facts, of course, for drama’s sake, but I must say that if this is Tiraas’s introduction to Mother… Well, it’s a good one, that’s all.”

“Course it is,” Nahil said cheerfully. “She probably paid to have it written. She doesn’t miss a trick. Sneaky lady, like all good negotiators!”

“Respect, you hooligan!” Shaeine shouted, making as if to throw the book at her.

“All right, you two, behave,” Heral said reprovingly. “I didn’t interrupt your reading and her carousing on a whim, Shaeine. Mother’s in the grand hall with the Queen, the ambassador from Tiraas and that aggravating gold elf. She’s asked for us to attend them.”

“Attend them?” Nahil asked sharply. “Why?”

Heral grimaced. “General purposes.”

Nahil and Shaeine winced. “General purposes” meant standing there looking calm and pretty, and being ready to back Ashaele up should the need arise. “General purposes” meant the meeting was not going well.

Regretfully, Shaeine marked her place and set the book down on her bench, smoothing her hair as she rose. “Best get out there, then.”

“That aggravating gold elf has a name, you know,” Nahil pointed out as the three sisters strode down the hall.

“We know her name,” Shaeine grunted. “Everyone knows her name. I’d rather not pronounce it; I hear that summons her.”

Nahil laughed, but Heral gave her a gently remonstrative look. “You haven’t even met her, little sister.”

“I’d have been extremely content never having met her,” Shaeine muttered, then fell silent as they passed through a door which was held open and then closed behind them by armored House guards. House Awarrion’s residence, in addition to being their home, served as Tar’naris’s universal embassy and the place where negotiations between Narisian Houses were held. By crossing that threshold, they had passed into the palace’s public wing. All emotion faded from the three women’s expressions, and they glided the rest of the way in perfect, silent serenity, public faces firmly in place.

What was now the grand hall had been a series of smaller rooms originally. Upon the renovation of Tar’naris’s caverns using Tiraan enchantment, House Awarrion had knocked down both interior and exterior walls, making a long, tall chamber bordered on one side by archways which led to the House’s new outdoor gardens. Full-sized willow trees speed-grown by the most powerful witchcraft they could import shielded the hall from the glow of the cavern’s sun crystals; the hall, in addition to its beautiful view, was livened by the splashing of fountains and an artificial stream, plus the smell of flowers and greenery. It was also equipped with modern fairy lamps of the highest quality, straight from the factories of Calderaas, and lined with discreet padded benches. At one end stood a huge stone chair on a low dais, on which sat the matriarch of House Awarrion, or, when she was conducting meetings here, Queen Arkasia.

The Queen sat there now. She glanced at the three daughters of the House as they entered, but did not acknowledge them further. Their mother gave them a fleeting little smile, no more than politeness dictated. All three women stopped just inside, bowing to the Queen and then their matriarch, before gliding over to stand behind her.

A small delegation of women in House Dalmiss colors were just departing, leaving Arkasia and the Awarrions alone with two humans and a surface elf who wore gold-rimmed spectacles and a thunderous scowl. Ambassador Conover gave them a nod and a warm smile; his aide, Rashid, bowed much more politely, his expression neutral.

Shaeine rather liked Rashid. Most of the Imperial staff in residence kept to their own customs and trusted diplomatic immunity to gloss over their missteps. Rashid had actually bothered to learn why the Narisians cultivated emotional reserve, and did his best not to inflict his every little feeling on everyone. His efforts were imperfect, of course, but she gave him a great deal of credit for trying. In her opinion, he’d have made a better Ambassador than Conover.

Shaeine did not, as a rule, enjoy the company of humans. True, they were an attractive people, with their powerful physiques, adorable little ears and exotic colorations, but she found them easier to enjoy from a safe distance. They were like children, casually emoting every little feeling that flickered across their minds. It was charming for the first five minutes, then quickly became exhausting, and from there downright offensive. The worst part was that far too many of them just wouldn’t learn.

These two she knew, however, and gave more attention to the other person present. Shaeine had never left Tar’naris, and despite her family’s attempts to establish contact with the surface tribes, none of them had yet deigned to venture below. As such, this was her first sight of an elf from the sun-blasted wastelands above, and she found the sight rather disturbing. Humans were one thing; an elf with human coloring was just…unnatural. The woman had skin like the paler breed of humans, the lightest possible tan with pinkish highlights, hair the color of polished gold and green eyes. It was downright creepy…and all the worse because Arachne Tellwyrn’s reputation preceded her.

“I understand that this is not what you expected, Professor,” Queen Arkasia said calmly.

“That is one way of putting it,” Tellwyrn snapped. Shaeine barely managed not to wince. Just who did this woman think she was, speaking to the Queen in that tone? Of course, it was a silly reaction. Tellwyrn knew exactly who she was.

“I really think it will work out, though,” Lord Conover said brightly. “House Dalmiss oversees agriculture, as I’m sure you know—”

“It was mentioned once or twice,” Tellwyrn said with heavy sarcasm. “Roughly every third sentence, in fact.”

“Yes, well, that’s something they’ll have in common with a lot of Imperial citizens,” Conover pressed on, his good cheer beginning to look a little desperate. “Especially in the Great Plains region around Last Rock. Ambassadors are well and good for dealing with other ambassadors, but the whole point of this program is to begin getting the citizens of Tar’naris and the Empire acclimated to each other. Miss Natchua probably has a lot more in common with most of your students than the average drow. It’s a solid start!”

Tellwyrn tilted her head back, staring at the ceiling as if she expected to find patience there. “Conovor, do you know what kind of school I run? Exactly how many farmers do you think I have enrolled in an average year?”

“House Dalmiss has been more heavily involved with Imperial personnel than most, what with the agricultural projects here,” Rashid said more quietly. “That should give Natchua an advantage.”

“And was this Natchua involved in any way with any of those discussions?” Tellwyrn snapped.

“I’m afraid we don’t know, precisely,” Ashaele said smoothly. “But there is still time for her to meet with embassy personnel and grow acclimated—”

“Do you know who’s already acclimated to humans?” the Professor interrupted. “House Awarrion.”

Shaeine kept her calm, but inwardly she bristled. How dare this ill-mannered woman cut off her mother?

“I’m sure you gleaned the basics of the situation during the introductions,” Queen Arkasia said with total calm. “The reality is that House Dalmiss has amassed considerable favor and influence due to their position and involvement with the cavern renovations. Matriarch Ezrakhai is owed certain concessions, and her protege’s inclusion in the exchange program is her fondest wish.”

“I’m still waiting for someone to explain what that has to do with me.”

“Politics are an inescapable fact of life everywhere,” Ashaele said soothingly. “The Queen’s obligation is first and foremost to the city, and this requires certain accommodations. Surely you can find it in you to be reasonable.” That last came very near to a reprimand; it was a sign that the normally unflappable Ashaele’s patience with this woman was already considerably frayed.

“Reasonable?” Tellwyrn snorted and folded her arms, looking mulish. “I can’t think of a single reason why I should. None of this is my problem, and I don’t appreciate you trying to make it so. I agreed to participate in this program as a favor to both the Empire and your city. This is not something I have any need to do. I went along because, in part, I was promised an Awarrion.” She turned the full force of her glare on Ashaele, and Shaeine was not the only one present who stiffened imperceptibly. “Putting a trained diplomat on my campus is an entirely different matter from some random drow!”

“Natchua d’zun Dalmiss is hardly random,” Arkasia said languidly. “Her matriarch would not have nominated her were she not confident of the girl’s ability to represent her House and Tar’naris well.”

“And what does the matriarch of a House of subterranean farmers know about what makes a good citizen ambassador?” Tellwyrn shot back. “Maybe this Natchua is the perfect bloody candidate; stranger things have happened. But far more likely is she’ll react the way most people do when suddenly immersed in a completely alien culture. She could withdraw completely and piss everybody off acting like the worst caricature of a surly drow… Or she might go native and come back here in four years using Tanglish slang and acting like a dime novel cowboy. The point is, we don’t know. Anyone care to place a bet which of those outcomes would do more damage to your little exchange program?” She set her teeth, staring at the Queen. “I was invited—begged—to participate in this rigamarole because I was offered a student from House Awarrion, whom I could count on to actually promote the peace on my campus.”

“And you shall have one,” said the Queen. “Next year. For the time being, the politics of the situation are what they are. I regret your disappointment.”

“You are not alone in incurring costs,” Ashaele added. “That is the very essence of compromise. I have been grooming a young man for this post as well, and those plans will have to be put off.”

“Well, you sure picked a great time to misplace your backbone, Ashaele,” Tellwyrn said dryly. Shaeine clung to her serenity by a fingernail, unable to stop her body from going rigid with rage. That this creepy blonde lout should speak to her mother in such a manner was absolutely intolerable. “What happened to the daring hero who crept alone into Tiraas to make peace with the savage surface-dwellers?”

“I did that in the service of my Queen and my city, as I do everything,” Ashaele replied, calm as ever. “Just as I do this.”

“I hope you’re happy with your service, then,” the Professor said sardonically. “I can’t help noticing that your ‘compromise’ is nothing but costs on my part, and no benefits. The old diplomacy a little rusty, hmm?”

“Perhaps you could do better, Professor, since you are clearly an expert. There are nearly three whole rules of basic civilized behavior you have managed not to flout in the last five minutes.”

Dead silence fell. Shaeine realized only belatedly that it was she who had spoken. As everyone turned to stare at her, horror welled up in her—to have spoken out of turn like that, to have lost control, and in front of the Queen—but it did not lessen her fury. In fact, if anything, she felt a giddy sense of liberation. Well, the cat was out of the bag now, as the Imperials said. At least she hadn’t lost her serenity.

“I beg your pardon?” said Tellwyrn, her tone and expression suddenly very mild.

“You have it,” Shaeine replied, “though I confess I am puzzled as to the utility of the request. It seems I am the only person present whom you have not personally insulted.”

“Shaeine,” her mother said, very quietly, completely without expression. Oh, yes, she was in trouble now. Well… In for a penny, in for a pound. The Tiraan really did have such pithy colloquialisms.

“And this is another budding diplomat, I take it?” Tellwyrn asked, still in that soft tone.

“Quite so,” Shaeine replied, bowing to her. “It is my pleasure to offer you a remedial instruction in diplomacy: one succeeds in negotiations by showing respect toward the other party’s position while keeping one’s own goals firmly in mind. In this case, the central dilemma seems to be your determination to behave like an undisciplined child despite being in civilized company. I, for my part, would be deeply mortified if I were to go over there and kick you in the midsection. If, however, that will make you more comfortable in our home, it is a sacrifice I am willing to embrace.”

Her pulse pounded in her ears, to the point she was certain the others in the room could hear it. Terror, shame, exhilaration, rage…emotions whirled in her to such an extent that she couldn’t predict which would would shine through if she allowed her calm facade to crack. She clung to it desperately. Already she’d dug herself into an impossible hole; at least she’d go down courteously.

Everyone was staring at her, the drow with appropriate calm, Rashid wide-eyed and struggling for control; Conover gaped like a fish. Tellwyrn’s expression…was an expression, quite unlike the Narisian idea of reserve, but Shaeine couldn’t interpret it.

Tellwyrn turned to Ashaele, pointing a finger at Shaeine. “And…this is…?”

“Shaeine,” the matriarch said, the very picture of serenity. “My youngest daughter.”

“I see.” The Professor grinned slightly, and for some reason dread began to drown out the other emotions fighting for Shaeine’s attention. “Very well, your Majesty, since we were just discussing compromise, I have decided to be reasonable.”

“How lovely,” Arkasia deadpanned.

“I’ll accept your random farmgirl,” Tellwyrn went on, “with the proviso that next year…” She grinned more broadly and again pointed at Shaeine. “I want this one.”

Shaeine’s reserve very nearly faltered. No, no no, absolutely not, anything but that.

“Oh?” the Queen said laconically. “An interesting choice.”

Ashaele stepped back and sideways, placing a hand on Shaeine’s shoulder. It verged on inappropriate display, but rank enabled one to get away with some things. Such a show of overt protectiveness from a matriarch would have warned any drow that they were stepping on dangerous ground indeed. Of course, Tellwyrn probably understood the gesture just as well and didn’t care. “Shaeine is a cleric, not a diplomat by vocation. She is training to serve in the House chapel.”

“Still beats the hell out of a farmer,” the Professor said bluntly. “Don’t give me that look, Ashaele, I am not aiming to punish the girl for speaking out. Quite the opposite; I think she’s absolutely perfect. She’s got spine, spirit, loyalty…and she’s funny. I don’t think I’ve ever met a Narisian with an overt sense of humor that I wasn’t sleeping with. This is what your exchange program needs. Natchua is going to do the gods only know what; a well-trained diplomat will manage, at best, to ward off conflict. Shaeine, though, has a very good chance of making people like her. You want drow and humans to start getting used to each other? She’s the perfect place to begin.”

No, Goddess, please, I don’t want to go to Tiraas…

“That,” Lord Conover said slowly, “makes a great deal of sense. I mean no disrespect to your culture, your Majesty, but the single greatest hurdle we’ve faced in getting our people to work together is that Narisian reserve seems so cold and aloof to Tiraan sensibilities that it comes off as very nearly hostile. Diplomacy and charm may be exactly the ticket.”

“Interesting,” Arkasia mused. “What say you, Shaeine?”

Please, please no!

Shaeine bowed deeply to the Queen, her expression perfectly calm. “I am less than confident of my competence in this matter, your Majesty. As my mother has said, the main thrust of my education has been in Themynra’s worship. If, however, your Majesty deems this a wise course, I shall be honored to serve Tar’naris in whatever way I can.”

“Perhaps it’s for the best,” Conover said, looking positively cheerful now. “She’s got a full year to bone up on diplomatic procedures.” Shaeine felt a sudden, intense urge to slap him off the balcony with a divine shield.

“Matriarch Ashaele, the matter is in your hands,” said the Queen languidly. “I will not command this of you, but I do endorse it as an elegant solution to the present standoff.”

Ashaele’s hand tightened slightly on Shaeine’s shoulder. “I would discuss this matter in privacy with my daughter before making a final decision, your Majesty.”

“Very well. We shall re-convene tomorrow.”

“Some of us don’t have time to take extended vacations down here,” Tellwyrn said sharply. “If this can be settled—”

“No.” Queen Arkasia’s manner was as emotionless as ever, but there was steel beneath it now. “I am well aware that your notion of compromise is to bully everyone until you get your way, Arachne, but you have pushed my patience as far as you will for one day. You are done browbeating my people. We will resume this discussion tomorrow. That is all.”

Shaeine was barely conscious of the walk back into the private part of the palace, clinging to her serenity in an almost fugue-like state. She was dimly aware of her sisters bidding her farewell, and then she was alone with her mother in the matriarch’s chamber.

Ashaele came to a halt in the center of the room, still as a sculpture, her back to her daughter. Shaeine, feeling some of the fog of shock clearing from her mind, took two deep breaths, and then bowed deeply.

“Mother, I humbly apologize for my shameful loss of composure. Hearing that woman speak to you that way… No, that is not an excuse. I will accept whatever punishm—”

All of a sudden she was hauled upright and swept into a fierce embrace. Ashaele squeezed her close, rocking them gently; Shaeine gratefully buried her face in her mother’s shoulder, wrapping her own arms around her waist. They were silent like that for several minutes.

“That can be addressed later,” Ashaele said finally. “First we must deal with the consequences. I don’t know what designs that sun-baked lunatic has on you, but it goes without saying that I am not just handing you over to her.”

“You should, though.”

“Shaeine, I will handle you myself, as I would any member of this House who stepped out of line. Don’t be overeager to punish yourself.”

“That isn’t what I meant.” Carefully, she pulled back, enough that she could lift her chin and look her mother in the eye. “My inclusion in this program will enable it to go forward despite Professor Tellwyrn’s stubbornness. That, then, is what I should do.”

Ashaele’s brow furrowed in consternation. “Is—Shaeine, do you want to go to the University?”

“Of course I don’t want to go!” she burst out, finally letting the repressed panic escape. Tears welled up in her eyes. “I don’t like humans, and the thought of being alone, surrounded by the Empire for four years terrifies me.” Firmly, she forced her breathing back under control, brushing tears from her cheeks. “But… This needs to be done, and I need to do it.”

“Shaeine…”

“You’re my mother,” she said simply, gazing up at her. “But…you’re also my matriarch. And you’re my hero. I’ve only ever done you justice in one of those capacities. Please, Mother, don’t try to protect me from my duty. You didn’t raise a lout who puts her own desires above the needs of Tar’naris. I need to serve.”

Ashaele drew in a slow, long breath; it shuddered on the way back out. She closed her eyes for a moment before opening them again, and gently placed a hand on Shaeine’s cheek. “My dearest little one… I’ve been selfish too. After we lost your father… I was so pleased you were called by Themynra. It meant I could keep you close to me.”

“I would never want to disappoint you,” Shaeine whispered.

“I am not disappointed. Just…” Impulsively, she pulled her daughter forward again into another hug. “You grew up. At some point you went and turned into the woman I hoped you’d be. I just never thought it would hurt so to realize.”

Shaeine nuzzled at her shoulder. “I hope I am. I want to make you proud. I just…need to prove myself.”

“My lovely, you don’t need to earn anything here.”

“I don’t need to earn your love,” she said softly. “I am so grateful for that. But…I do need to earn my place. I am Narisian. I have my duty.”

They were silent for another stretch of minutes. The matter was decided; there was nothing more to say about it.

“I love you so much.”

“I love you too.”

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4 – 22

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Most of Clarke Tower was quiet as the week drew to a close. Late in the afternoon, as the last red glow of sunset was fading to darkness in the windows, Teal sat at the pianoforte in the small music lounge that occupied the tower’s topmost floor, beneath its conical roof. The mechanisms that powered the tower’s clock face hung suspended from the rafters, shifting rhythmically under a silencing charm. Though their ticking wasn’t audible, Teal had learned to keep her eyes fixed firmly on the keys, or just the motion of the gears would tend to creep into her awareness and change the rhythm at which she played.

A pen sat on the piano’s music stand, untouched for several minutes as she played through the piece completely. It was a soft, sad tune, but not a slow one; it moved with a subdued energy that hinted at anger beneath sorrow. The score sitting in front of her was so marred with corrections and notations that it was beginning to be difficult to read. Teal let the last notes echo in the chamber, frowning at it. She was fairly satisfied with her progress, but the music on the page would need to be cleanly re-scored on a fresh sheet before she could continue working. Well, it was a good stopping point, anyway.

“Beautiful.”

Teal jumped slightly, turning to stare at Shaeine in the doorway, and cleared her throat awkwardly. “Ah…thanks. I’m not exactly happy with it yet… I like the introduction and it wraps up well, but it feels like the harmonies should be deeper during most of it. Like it wants to be more complex. I’m having a little trouble sussing out what the piece needs, though. When I try to add to it, it ends up feeling, I don’t know…tacked-on and kind of busy. Not to mention a stretch for my fingers,” she added ruefully, flexing her hands.

Shaeine shook her head, gliding into the room. “Doubtless your judgment is correct. I fear my knowledge of music isn’t enough to render a useful opinion. All I can tell is that it is beautiful.”

“Well, thank you,” Teal replied, managing a tentative smile and receiving one in return.

She sat, feeling almost frozen, as the diminutive drow approached. Shaeine was watching her with one of those courteous little smiles that didn’t mean anything, though there was an inquisitive tilt to her head. She came to a stop next to the bench, hands folded before her, a picture of serenity. Close enough to touch.

“I heard you conversing with several elves last night, in Sarasio. You seem quite fluent.”

“Um, pretty much, yes,” Teal said uncertainly. “I was taught growing up, and spent some time around elves during the summers. They seemed pleased that a human was interested in learning their language rather than making them speak Tanglish. Enough to help me along, anyway.”

Shaeine nodded. “There is really only one elvish tongue. The language of immortals evolves at a glacial pace compared to Tanglish; there are regional differences, but all are mutually intelligible. The Narisian dialect has, comparatively, idiosyncratic vowel pronunciation, as well as several extra classes of pronouns that reflect the complexities of our society. It is not much beyond the base language you already know. If…you are interested… I would be glad to help you learn.”

Teal had been folding up her music and pocketing her pen, mostly to have something to do with her hands. She paused, now, staring down at the pages in her grip, a faint blush rising on her cheeks. Only with some effort did she make herself lift her gaze to meet Shaeine’s, but the small smile which followed was completely unbidden. “I would really like that, actually.”

“I am glad to hear it.” Shaeine’s smile widened just barely, though her rigid serenity remained fully in place. A momentary pause fell, during which they simply looked at each other, then the drow made a very soft noise deep in her throat, as if clearing it. The sound caught Teal by surprise; she was so unused to any expression of awkwardness from Shaeine that it was almost jarring. “Both my elder sisters have daughters of their own.”

“I…oh?” Teal dropped her gaze, folding her music with much more care than the task required, uncertain what response that comment merited.

“As such, I have a certain amount of…leeway. It will not be incumbent upon me to continue the matriarchal line, barring extremely improbable mishap.” She made that tiny throat-clearing sound again. “Though it isn’t common, there is a precedent of humans being adopted into the ranks of Narisian Houses.”

Teal had gone completely still, staring down at the pages in her hands.

Shaeine continued. “A trained bard would be considered a very prestigious addition to a noble House. And Vadrieny, even stipulating that she does not act aggressively, can be an immense tactical asset. If you are…amenable to…discussing it… I am reasonably confident I could persuade my mother that you would be a suitable consort.”

The music crackled slightly as it creased in Teal’s grip. When she finally spoke, still staring downward, it began with a low hiss. “Sssssssuitable.” She shook her head slowly. “Well. You really know how to sweep a girl off her feet.”

“I just mean that—”

Teal stood up abruptly; Shaeine took a reflexive step back, watching her wide-eyed. The bard refused to meet her gaze. “With all due respect, upon consideration, I think this needn’t be discussed any further. I’m turning in. See you tomorrow, I guess.” She turned and made for the stairs.

“Teal, wait.”

“Good night, Shaeine.”

“Please wait.”

Teal stopped short. After months of learning to read the tiny emotional cues that slipped through Shaeine’s mask of calm, hearing naked pleading in her voice was startling. Almost against her will, she turned to look back. The drow was all but wringing her hands, staring at her with arresting intensity. When she spoke, her voice was composed again, but soft. “Fross is spending the evening at the library pursuing a personal research project; I have the room to myself. May I speak with you in privacy?”

Teal hesitated, her uncertainty doubtless apparent on her face.

“Please,” Shaeine whispered again.

She swallowed the confusing mass of emotions trying to rise up, and nodded.

“All right.”

Trissiny stepped out of the bathroom, absently tugging her damp hair back into a loose braid for sleeping. She glanced around the room. Everything was stowed away properly—well, on her side, anyway. Ruda’s profusion of rugs and pillows made excellent camouflage for the discarded clothes that were tossed here and there. Trissiny’s half was neatly arranged, though; shield and sword on their hangers, armor on its stand, boots by her bed, everything else in the appropriate hamper. She had taken the extra time to oil and polish everything after coming back from her run down and up the mountain and before showering. It was something to do. Unfortunately, nothing had been in need of mending, so she had eventually run out of things with which to keep her hands busy.

“Okay, what’s with you?”

Ruda was slouched in her bed as usual; she had lowered the copy of Varsity Princess she was reading to rest on her stomach and was staring at Trissiny with a faint frown.

“Nothing,” Trissiny said shortly.

“Don’t give me that. You usually parade around like you’ve got something jammed up every orifice. You’re hunched; you look like somebody just kicked you in the gut, except it’s been going on all day.”

“I’m fine,” Trissiny snapped, straightening her posture. “Just a cramp.”

“Bullshit. Just cos we don’t cuddle each other to sleep doesn’t mean I don’t know you after four months of sharing a room. Spill.”

“Can you just mind your own business?” she exclaimed, turning her back.

“I am. Once again, yes, we’re not exactly sisters, but we’re part of a team and sharing quarters. It does concern me when you are obviously in pain.”

“Why is it you’re only interested in me when you smell weakness?” she snarled, stalking over to sit on her bed.

“Okay, are you not hearing how weird you sound right now?” Ruda threw aside the magazine, sitting up fully on the edge of her own bed. “You’re acting more like me. I’m sure you understand why that’s kinda fucking disturbing. Come on, what’s up? You were fine yesterday in the fight. Did you get shot and you’re too stubborn to ask for healing?”

“Oh, don’t be ridiculous.”

“So what the hell is it? What’d you get into between that and hitting the Rails? You were weird in the caravan, too.”

“Nothing happened!” Trissiny shouted. “It was a perfectly norm—calm day. I got up, ate, talked to Tob—” she clamped her lips shut, fixing her stare on the far wall, helplessly aware of the blush rising in her cheeks. To her horror, something welled up in her throat, too, along with the prickle of incipient tears behind her eyes. Horror turned quickly to fury. How dare her own body betray her like this?

Fury heightened into true rage when she chanced a glance at her roommate. Ruda was gazing at her with a knowing, sympathetic expression that was just begging to be smacked off her face.

“Oh,” she said. “I see.”

“Oh, what would you know about it?”

“Quite a fuckin’ lot more than you, I’m willing to bet,” she said wryly. “I may not be in Juniper’s league, but I’ve had my share of lovers. Did you ever even talk to a boy before coming to school?”

“What is your problem?!” Trissiny raged, jolting to her feet, fists clenched at her sides. “When is it ever going to be enough for you? Can you for once just stop picking every time you get—” She broke off, choking. Tears were threatening even harder, and Trissiny would be damned if she’d show that to her smug thug of a roommate. She tightened her whole body until every muscle practically vibrated, trying to force it back under control. This tidal wave of emotions was not something she was well versed in dealing with.

Ruda rose much more calmly to her feet. “Well, there’s a time-honored tradition here, roomie. Across cultures, creeds and enmities, all can band together and agree over a beer or ten that boys suck.” She stepped over to the cold box at the foot of her bed, opened it and began rummaging inside. “Of course, you don’t do the beer thing, being a professional stick-in-the-mud. Luckily for you, I’m prepared for all eventualities.” She stood, turned, and threw something.

Trissiny’s reflexes kicked in and she caught the cold object one-handed. She found herself holding a pint of frozen custard. With her other hand, she snagged the spoon that Ruda tossed somewhat more gently.

“Ruda,” she said, her outrage draining away in a sudden rush of exhaustion, “sometimes I think you go out of your way to be as much of a cliché as possible.”

“You’re goddamn right I do,” the pirate said, grinning. She sat down on the edge of her bed, prying the lid off another pint. “An’ fuck me if people don’t buy it every time.”

“Do you actually expect me to sit here crying over a boy and stuffing my face with frozen custard like some sexist caricature in some awful piece of fiction out of one of your so-called women’s magazines?”

“No, I more’n half expect you to turn up your nose at it, like you do everything else you haven’t tried before. Look, I know dick all about spirituality or whatever it is you use to compensate for your lack of worldly experience. All I know is gettin’ your heart hurt fucking sucks, and nothing but time makes it better. Stuffing your face with ice cream is a pretty damn good short-term treatment, though.”

“What is ice cream?”

“Somethin’ I’m gonna import to Tiraas and become richer than Verniselle, unless some asshole beats me to it. Eat your custard.”

“Just let me go to bed,” Trissiny groaned. The pint was beginning to make her fingers numb.

“Hey.” Ruda’s face was serious, her voice more gentle than Trissiny had ever heard it. “You threw my ass to the ground out there in the Golden Sea and made me agree to come to your little sparring practices. And y’know what? I’m better off for it. Since we’ve both pretty much established I can’t beat you compliant—yet—let’s skip that part an’ you take my word for it, all right? Consider it a return favor.”

Trissiny twisted her mouth skeptically, staring down at the cardboard pint. Condensation had started to form, making it somewhat slippery.

“If it helps, you can look at it as a cultural experience.” Ruda grinned at her over a spoon loaded with golden custard. “Pirate diplomacy. A trick you can use later in life to subdue the wild Punaji.”

Trissiny heaved a sigh and pried the lid off the pint.

“There ya go!” Ruda crowed, pumping her spoon hand in the air. “For freedom! For equality! For diplomacy!”

Trissiny scooped up a heaping spoonful of the frosty confection and stuffed it in her mouth.

“Wha’eva’.”

Teal stopped in the center of the room, folding her arms around herself and setting down her folded papers on one of the two desks. Shaeine and Fross’s room reflected both their sensibilities; it was markedly cooler than the rest of the tower, its walls hung with silken tapestries of abstract geometric patterns in such dark shades of primary colors that they seemed almost to be shades of black. In fact, they were quite beautiful; in addition to the color of the thread used, there were subtle patterns of texture that caught the dim light in different ways. Patterns upon patterns. Between them, potted plants grew, mostly of the succulent variety, each under a small, weak sun crystal. The light in the room was warm and golden, but dim, like early dusk.

Shaeine had paused at the door, fiddling with the exterior knob, before pushing it shut. She stood in silence for a moment with her back to the room. Teal had an urge to clear her throat awkwardly, but was hesitant to disturb the quiet.

“I really am the worst diplomat I’ve ever heard of,” Shaeine said finally.

“I think that’s a little harsh,” Teal said carefully. “You’re easily the best diplomat I know.”

The drow shook her head, finally turning to face her. “All members of House Awarrion receive training in the arts to which our House is dedicated, but not all of us are expected to serve directly in that capacity. I am a cleric; I have trained my whole life to serve in the House chapel, with only a basic grounding in negotiation and conflict resolution. I was a last-minute substitution for the Tiraan exchange program. I had less than a year to learn what others have spent their lives studying.”

“I didn’t know that,” Teal said quietly.

Shaeine shrugged. “It isn’t something I commonly discuss, for obvious reasons.”

“Well. Still.” In spite of herself, Teal cracked a grin. “You represent Tar’naris much better than Natchua.”

If Shaeine was reassured by the humor, she didn’t show it. She dropped her gaze. “All these months, I’ve proceeded on so many bad assumptions, taken so much for granted. I never communicated to you how my cultural framework causes me to interpret our interactions, nor taken the Tiraan perspective fully into account. I…fear to imagine how disappointed my mother would be. All I can offer as explanation is that… I feel comfortable with you. More as if I can be myself, without second-guessing everything as I do with nearly all my other interactions here. And with the best of intentions, I’ve ended up abusing that gift.”

“I don’t…feel…abused,” Teal said, well aware of how lame it sounded. She couldn’t think of anything better to contribute.

Shaeine glided across the room to her desk, where she picked up a flat wooden box, ornately carved with black-stained patterns of vines and spiderwebs. “In hindsight… I think my conduct recently has made it seem I am completely passionless, motivated only by calculations. Even in…matters of the heart.”

“That’s…maybe a little harsher than I would have put it,” Teal hedged.

The drow gave her a rueful little smile. “And that is not a denial.”

“…no, it isn’t.”

Shaeine stepped slowly toward her, holding the box in both hands. “The Narisian concepts of respect and reserve fill our social interactions with lines of demarcation. There is no such vagueness as prevails among Imperial society; we know precisely with whom we may express what, and it is explicitly clarified when an acquaintance moves from one classification to another. It is a matter of how we express sentiment, not how we experience it.”

She held out the box. Hesitantly, Teal reached up and took it from her hands; Shaeine stepped back, giving her space. After a silent moment, the drow nodded encouragingly, and Teal carefully raised the hinged lid.

Within, on a cushion of black velvet, rested a pair of shredded rubber sandals in light blue. She recognized them as the ones ripped apart by Vadrieny’s claws the night they had had to separate Trissiny and Gabriel—the pair Shaeine had collected and offered to dispose of.

Teal lifted her eyes from the box. Shaeine was staring at her, eyes wide, and there was something achingly vulnerable in her gaze despite the stillness of her expression.

“I think,” she said very softly, “I am as sentimental as anyone. Perhaps more so than some.”

“I…” Teal swallowed and tried again. “I’m just confused how… I don’t understand.”

Shaeine nodded. “And for that, I will accept blame. We are surrounded by your culture, and I have failed to explain mine. Just…know, please, that…that… If I seem standoffish, it is not an expression of how I feel about you.” She actually swallowed. That little sign of vulnerability made Teal’s heart ache in several different ways.

“Okay,” she replied, nodding.

“If…you are willing to have the conversation… May I try to explain?”

“I…would like that very much.”

“I just don’t get what I’m even supposed to do,” Trissiny said, gesticulating with her empty spoon. “And that’s the thing that gets me, I guess. I’m used to being good at things. Well, the things I care about doing, anyhow. How in the world are you supposed to learn how to deal with boys?”

“Pretty much exactly the way you learn anything else, Shiny Boots,” Ruda said, grinning. “Practice.”

“Ugh,” Trissiny groaned. “No, thank you. Whole lot of stress and, and…frustration, no real benefit.” She scooped up another dollop of custard and stuck it in her mouth. For some reason, her pint seemed to be running low. When had that happened?

“Aw, don’t quit something just because you got hurt the first time you tried,” Ruda chided. “Helll, if that was standard policy nobody would ever learn how to do anything. Back on the horse!”

“I’m serious,” she grumbled. “All this is a waste of time anyway; I shouldn’t be distracting myself with…with nonsense like this. I have a calling. Maybe this is the goddess’s way of nudging me back onto the right track.”

“Okay, I’m gonna have to shut down that line of thinking right there,” Ruda said severely, pointing a spoon at her. “You may be the doctrinal expert and whatnot, but I have read my history, and I’ve got a basic grounding in the broad strokes of theology. I know I make fun of your religion, but seriously, Avei isn’t a malicious bitch; she’s not gonna punish you for liking a boy. Hell, Hands of Avei have had all kinds of lovers. Some were married. I’m pretty sure you know this. Don’t make that your excuse to shut yourself down, kid.”

“Don’t call me kid,” Trissiny said sullenly. Ruda barked a laugh.

“Ah, yes, the refrain of everybody who knows they’re in the wrong.”

“Whatever,” she growled. “I’m still not getting back on any horse.”

“Well, not right now. Yeah, a lot of people I’d tell to go out and get laid by way of heartbreak therapy, but I think we both know by now you just aren’t wired that way.”

“I’m glad that much is apparent.”

“Wasn’t a compliment,” she said dryly. “In seriousness, though, Triss…don’t be so quick to just give up on a huge swath of life. I bet when you find the right guy, it’ll all seem worthwhile.”

Trissiny scowled, scraping her spoon through the dregs at the bottom of her pint. “…is there any more of that chocolate fudge custard you made me try?”

“Hell yes there is! I am stocked.” Ruda straightened from the cold box again, waving a cardboard package in one hand. “In fact, you’re in luck; I just got out a fresh pint.”

“May I have some?”

“Ah, ah, ah.” With an insane grin that verged on a leer, she waggled her spoon reprovingly. “How do we ask?”

“Ruda, I’m not saying that. It’s just ridiculous.”

“Oh, so now you’re mocking my culture? Dirty pool, paladin.”

“I’m not—no, I’m not getting into this. You’re just trying to make me sound foolish.”

“There is no sounding foolish at custard time! C’mon, Triss, like I taught you.”

“No!”

“You can do it! I know you can!”

“You are such a pain!”

“Well, if you don’t really want any more, I guess I can put this back…”

“Oh, for—Gimme the damn fudge!”

“There’s my girl!” Ruda crowed, tossing the carton to her.

Trissiny wrenched off the lid, stuck in her utensil and dragged out a heaping pile of fudge-speckled chocolate custard, almost too much to fit on the spoon. She sighed heavily before shoving it in her mouth.

“I’m goin’ straight t’hell…”

“So… Wait. You go from being basically strangers, to engaged, and then your mother decides if and when you can be married?”

Shaeine actually winced—faintly, but distinctly. “It seems I continue to muddle my explanations. That was an ill-considered metaphor. Engagement and marriage, as you mean the terms, are concepts that don’t exist in my culture; they are simply the closest Tiraan parallels to what I was trying to explain.”

“How does it work, then?” Teal asked. “You don’t need to water it down for me; I might have to go over it multiple times but I’d rather understand the real concepts than work with more misconceptions.”

“You’re right, of course.” Shaeine stood from where she’d been sitting on the edge of the bed and paced back and forth a few steps. Teal, seated in the desk chair, watched her silently. Finally the drow came to a stop and turned back toward her, seeming to have gathered her thoughts. “Though politically arranged unions aren’t uncommon, it isn’t quite right to say that we customarily start as strangers. It’s just that… Everyone outside immediate family belongs in the category of people to whom one does not display emotion. One does not move, ah, naturally, or organically, into the classification of an emotional intimate, as seems to be the norm among humans. If one is to be taken on as family, it is formally agreed to by all parties involved.”

“There’s…a ceremony?”

“Well, sometimes. Mostly in the case of the aforementioned political unions. What’s important is the unambiguous understanding; how much pomp and circumstance need surround the event depends on the situation and the individuals. But even keeping outside the category of acknowledged intimates, there are gradients. I have many acquaintances in Tar’naris with whom it would be shockingly inappropriate to…ah, to laugh with, or hug. That does not mean I don’t know them, or that I don’t value them, or they me. It is simply a way for us to understand where we are, and what is expected of us. Drow are no more likely to become romantically involved with strangers than humans.”

“Except for the political unions.”

“Yes, of course. But there, too, the comparison holds. That is really only done among the nobility, and doesn’t account for all or even most unions.”

“You’re right,” Teal said, nodding. “Human nobles do that, too. And pretty much no one else.”

“So I have observed.”

“So…how does it work with the, uh, not-quite-engagement, then?”

Shaeine drew in a deep breath and let it out. “The concept is a sort of…provisional adoption. If two people feel an attraction and have established basic compatibility, they can agree to elevate one another to a more intimate status that exists only between them. For the most part, one’s intimates are the business of one’s entire family, which is why we don’t rush to become that close with others. In this case, though, a pair who are courting will…lower their defenses, so to speak, but only with each other, and only in private. There’s really no other way to learn whether you are truly compatible enough with someone to form a lifelong bond.”

“Well, that’s certainly true,” Teal said ruefully. “Actually this all sounds like a very sensible system.”

“We have done our best to make it so,” Shaeine agreed, nodding. “Our cultural institutions did not develop haphazardly; they were carefully crafted to help us succeed under harsh conditions. Beyond the courtship phase, there need be no more formal acknowledgments between a couple…unless, of course, they decide to terminate their relationship, in which case it is best to establish this explicitly so as to avoid awkwardness later. If they do agree to continue on as mates, though, the next step involves adoption into one another’s families.”

“And that’s where the mothers come in.”

“Just so. The bond between two people is no one’s business but theirs, but a matriarch has the right to determine whether someone is a suitable member of her family.”

“Hm.” Teal frowned into the distance. “What…what happens if the matriarch doesn’t approve?”

“In most cases,” Shaeine said quietly, “that is the end of it. Some do defy their mothers for the sake of love, but…that is risky, and carries a heavy social stigma. We are a matriarchal culture, and place a high value on family. A person who abandons or betrays their family is…not trusted.”

“I see.”

“I really do think my mother would like you,” Shaeine said softly. “I…would not have dared raise the subject if I did not.”

Teal nodded, dropping her gaze. She could feel the blush rising in her cheeks. “It seems like there’s a lot to learn.”

“I…think…you understand the immediately relevant basics,” Shaeine said tentatively. “There is plenty of time for us to discuss more details in the future.”

Teal cleared her throat and stood, nervously rubbing her palms on her trousers. She made herself meet Shaeine’s eyes, and then found she couldn’t look away. “So, then, uh… What’s…involved? In this ‘conditional adoption,’ I mean. There’s a ceremony? Something exchanged?”

Slowly, Shaeine shook her head, keeping her gaze fixed on Teal’s. “It is somewhat like your Imperial engagement customs, from what I’ve read. It’s…nice…to add a touch of romance to such things. In the end, though, what’s important is the agreement.” She swallowed. “In…a case which has already been something of a comedy of errors, it might be…wisest…to keep it as simple as possible.”

“And… That, then, is formally courting. It’s not, like, engaged.”

“Correct.”

“But close enough to be…well, intimate.”

“Exactly.” She smiled ruefully. “I can only imagine that this must seem as strange to you as many of your customs do to me.”

“Well, I wasn’t gonna figure all this out on my own, that’s for sure,” Teal said, unable to repress a grin.

“I’m sorry, Teal,” she said quietly. “I should have been… I should have done better. Just, please believe I am not being arbitrarily weird. These matters are deeply ingrained in me. To set them aside would be to discard much of what makes me who I am.”

“I would never want you to do that.” Teal stepped toward her before realizing she was going to. “I like who you are, Shaeine. Very much. And…” She paused to swallow. “If you will too, I… Agree.”

Shaeine slumped forward suddenly as if the energy had gone out of her, clenching her hands in fistfuls of her robe.

“Shaeine?!” Teal exclaimed in alarm. “Are you—”

And then the drow flew across the space between them, wrapping her arms around Teal and squeezing her fiercely, her face buried in her shirt. Her voice was somewhat muffled, but clear, and so much more passionate than Teal had ever heard her that she couldn’t help but hang on every word.

“Teal, I’m so sorry, I made such a wreck of everything and I’ve been terrified I’d ruined it all for good, I just can’t…I don’t know how to… I’m sorry! You just make me so confused and frightened and happy and alive. I never wanted to hurt you, it was like stabbing myself in the heart when I thought… Goddess, I love you so much it aches. Please don’t—”

“Hey.” Firmly, tenderly, Teal took her face in both hands, tilting it up till they were eye to eye. Tears glistened on Shaeine’s gray skin, her garnet eyes glistening, wide, and full of feeling like she’d never seen them before. It was so beautiful she could hardly breathe. She gently traced her thumbs over Shaeine’s cheeks, wiping away tears. “It’s okay, love, we figured it out. I’m right here.” She grinned, hugely, madly happy. “You’ve got me.”

Ruda carefully took the empty custard carton from Trissiny’s hand, tossing it into the wastebasket with a soft plunk. With a corner of her sleeve, she rubbed a smear of fudge from the corner of the paladin’s mouth. Trissiny muttered and turned her head away, but didn’t wake.

She was stretched out on top of her bed, one leg hanging off; there’d be no way to tuck her in without waking her. It was the work of moments, however, for Ruda to gather up the white bearskin from her own bed and drape it over her roommate.

Ruda stood for a moment, just looking down at her quizzically. Then, with a faint smile, she shook her head and padded across the room to switch off the light.

“G’night, y’crazy bitch. Welcome to being human. It gets better, I promise.”

“Smoke.”

“Hmm?”

Shaeine pulled back slightly, gazing up adoringly. Her unguarded, joyful smile, the passion in her eyes…it was intoxicating. Teal could hardly even think, couldn’t do anything but look at her and savor the way the drow fit into her arms, as if she’d been molded to be there.

“You taste like smoke. I like it. It suits you.” She giggled. It was music.

“Ah…”

Shaeine tasted…clean. Like moonlight, like a clear spring, like a cold breath of cave air. Before Teal could sort out the words to express it, though, an insistent little hand reached behind her neck, pulling her head down, and she found a much better use for her mouth.

Sound hardly traveled in the steeply curving staircase of Clarke Tower, with its thick, echo-eating carpet. The tiny buzz of pixie wings was inaudible a mere few feet from where Fross hovered outside the door to her room, staring at the sock hanging on the knob.

“You have got to be shitting me.”

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4 – 19

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Only the faintest breath of wind broke the silence, one brief pause hanging delicately over the scene.

“What?” came the slightly muffled voice of a Rider at last. “Draw? Boy, everybody has wands out.”

“Yeah?” Joe mused. “Where are they pointed?”

Hands hanging at his sides, he flexed his fingers once, and smiled.

The Riders exchanged a round of glances, then several shifted, turning their aim to the Kid.

Joe moved so fast his hands were nearly invisible. A fraction of an instant later, his wands were out and had cut two arcs of white light around him, as though he were swinging luminous knives; a fan of slender rays lanced out in multiple directions, striking multiple targets. Unlike the percussive cracking of most wandshots, they made a hissing noise, quickly drowned out by a series of grunts and cries.

Nine men slumped or staggered, none killed, but every one struck square in the head by a beam. Wands were dropped; only one managed to keep a grip on Jenny’s arm, though with her other hand freed she immediately slugged him in the face. Already dazed, he went down, tugging her off-balance. Every Rider who had been covering a hostage was out of action.

“Damn,” Gabriel breathed.

“I could’ve taken him,” Jenny grumbled, shaking her hand.

“Everyone stand down,” Joe called into the stunned silence that followed. “Weapons away, and back up.”

“We don’t take orders from you, boy!” a Rider snarled. All of them shifted their aim, over a dozen wands now covering the Kid.

Joe grinned lopsidedly, the left corner of his mouth tugging upward. “No one’s talkin’ to you, boy.”

“Do as he says!” Strickland called hoarsely. “Back away!” Townsfolk shuffled backward, still gripping weapons; Toby eased back with them, but Ruda and Trissiny were left isolated in the street, both clutching swords in ready positions. Gabriel, standing in the shadows in the mouth of an alley, didn’t back up either, but hesitantly lowered his wand a fraction.

Several sharp commands were barked in elvish, and slender figures on the rooftops eased back, many slipping entirely out of sight.

“Men!” shouted the lead Rider. “Whatever happens, whatever you do, do not shoot the dryad!”

“Darn right,” Juniper growled, tugging along an erstwhile hostage who seemed to be in shock as she joined Gabriel. The rest had already bolted, most to the ranks of the townspeople, Jenny through the doors into the Shady Lady.

After three tense seconds had passed, the leader yelled again, exasperation audible even through the filter on his voice, “You can shoot him!”

Once again, Joe swung his arms in wide, impossibly rapid arcs, forward then back, shifting dramatically from side to side as he did so. It looked more like a sword dance than any kind of wand fighting; he didn’t even fire, though again a distinct hissing sound emerged from his weapons.

It was immediately drowned out as lightning filled the street. Every Rider present let loose at Joe, firing until some of their wands began to smoke. The staccato cracks of wandshots blended into a constant, deafening crackle; among all the onlookers, hair stood on end and fabric clung to skin, tugged by the massive amount of static unleashed. In seconds, the reek of ozone was overpowering.

Not one bolt struck its target. Lightning arced off course, zipping along tunnels of ionized air Joe had placed to either side of him, close enough to singe his sleeves but never hitting home. Sizzling bolts were redirected mostly into the hard-packed dirt street, though some ripped past and struck down Riders on the opposite side of the Kid.

“Stop!” The leader had to raise his voice to a near scream to be audible above the carnage. “Stop! CEASE FIRE! You’re killing each other, morons!”

Indeed, fully half their number were down, their white cloaks scorched by friendly fire, some actually burning. A low chorus of groans was audible from those who hadn’t been instantly slain. The remaining Riders shifted as one organism, stumbling backward from Joe, sudden panic evident in their body language despite their enveloping disguises.

Then the Kid attacked.

Angling his body and raising both arms, he aimed wands up and down the street and fired. His weapons now unleashed bolts of pure white light, straighter and more solid than the lightning of standard wands, the sharp noise they made notably higher in pitch. Fixing his gaze straight across the street and leaving only his peripheral vision to see both groups of foes, he made only minute corrections with his wrists, as if he were conducting an orchestra, and squeezing off a sharp volley of shots in each direction.

Every shot struck a White Rider. Not a one was a kill shot; he pierced arms and legs, sending wands tumbling from nerveless fingers and enemies sprawling in the street, their limbs unable to support them.

It was over in seconds. No more than half a minute had passed since he had first drawn his weapons.

Smoke and static hovered over the street, along with the sharp tang of ozone and muted sounds of pain from two dozen felled men. The onlookers had progressively shifted back, and had the sense to clear a path up and down the avenue; now the elves silently thronged the rooftops, while the residents of Sarasio lined the sidewalks, pressing themselves against buildings and as far out of the line of fire as they could get. Even Trissiny and Ruda had withdrawn during the onslaught, the paladin having dismounted and dismissed her steed. Only the Kid and the leader of the White Riders still stood in the street, both with weapons drawn.

“Holy shit.” Ruda didn’t raise her voice, but in the relative quiet she was clearly audible. “I just saw that and I don’t believe it.”

The last White Rider stood with his weapons held loosely, aiming at the ground. The Sarasio Kid still had his pointed up and down the street, their tips smoking faintly, but he was now staring straight at the Rider. Slowly, the Rider stepped over from off to the side, kicking one of his fallen men out of the way in passing, and came to stand in the center of the street.

Joe turned to face him, lowering his arms. All four wands were aimed at the dirt now, the two glaring at each other across a distance of some twelve yards.

“Forgive me for not applauding,” the Rider rasped. “Seems my hands are full.”

“I don’t find myself in a forgivin’ mood, for some reason.”

“Mm.” He nodded. “Seems a fellow of your talents could put a pretty clean end to this right now.”

“Well, that’s the difference between us.” Joe rolled his shoulders slowly. “I don’t do everything I could do.”

“Fair enough. I’ll remind you, even a housecat’ll only torment its prey for so long.”

“Depends on how bored it is. I’ve spent quite a span of weeks cooped up in there.”

The Rider’s derisive laughter was an almost painful thing to hear, the magic filter on his voice turning it into a hoarse, abrasive sound. “You didn’t have to hide away, kid. The time you’ve wasted can be measured in lives. This would’ve all been over weeks ago if you’d had the guts to come after me and end it, coward.”

Both whipped up their wands; Joe was the faster by a hair. The Rider staggered backward, struck in the chest by two bolts, his own return fire going wide and splashing against the eaves of a nearby roof. An elf fell to the ground with a strangled cry; two more dived after him and Toby came running, while the rest of the watchers on the roof skittered backward, farther from the line of fire.

The blue glow of a shielding charm pulsed around the Rider, though; he staggered, but didn’t fall. Regaining his aim, he unleashed a fierce volley at the Kid.

Joe held up both wands, lightly flicking one about as though mixing a bowl of batter, and the Rider’s shots veered away in all directions. With the other, he returned fire, blast after blast slamming into the Rider’s shield.

As a defensive strategy, Joe’s deflection proved more tenable than the Rider’s reliance on charm work. The Kid began to advance at a measured walk, still firing and and creating air tunnels to draw away lightning bolts. The Rider retreated before him, staggering as he was pushed back by the kinetic force of each bolt. The sphere of pale blue light around him was constantly ignited, now, and starting to grow hazy at the edges; the entire thing smoked faintly. Pressed as he was, his footing suffered; he began to miss, sending wild shots into storefronts, the sky and the ground.

The onlookers had already begun retreating further, vanishing deeper into the alleys and backward over the roofs. Most of the stragglers took the hint and bolted as the duel intensified and shots began to fly far afield, leaving just the brave and the exceptionally foolish lurking behind what minimal cover there was to watch. Only Vadrieny remained on the rooftop, now, observing the combat calmly with her arms folded. The rest of the students had assembled and also remained; Trissiny and Shaeine had planted themselves firmly in front of the others, protecting them behind golden and silver shields of light. The drow, in fact, had walled off the entire street and was protecting all the townsfolk beyond. Trissiny didn’t have that much range or power in her shield and had resorted to shoving Gabriel and Juniper behind her.

Then, with a flash and a puff of smoke, the Rider’s barrier went down. It shattered under a hit dead center by Joe’s wand, and the force of that plus the disorienting burst of light caused the White Rider to stumble backward. His shots ceased as he flailed his arms momentarily for balance.

Joe deftly aimed a shot straight between his legs. However he had tricked out his wands, this one also wasn’t a conventional lightning bolt: it hit the ground right behind the Rider with an explosion of dirt and fire, sending him staggering forward again, completely unbalanced now. In the next instant, Joe reversed his fall yet again with a shot to the shoulder, sending him spinning in a circle.

The Rider let out a cry of pain, dropping to one knee in the street. He lost his grip on one wand, and Joe sent it flying with a precise shot. He raised the other, however—but too slowly.

The Kid nailed his opponent’s wand dead on the tip as it fired, and the wand exploded. Only the energy of the lighting bolt currently being discharged erupted outward from the destroyed shaft; if the power crystal had gone, the blast would likely have demolished the street. As it was, it merely mangled the Rider’s hand.

“That’s for killing innocents in my town,” Joe said grimly, still stalking forward. He fired a beam of light into the ground at an angle in front of the kneeling Rider, burning a neat hole in the street. Then, with his other weapon, he discharged a burst of energy directly into the tiny shaft, and the ground directly under the Rider erupted, sending him reeling.

The Rider, amazingly, managed to regain his feet on the fly, but Joe nailed him in the other shoulder, spinning him around again. “That’s for provoking the Empire to demolish Sarasio…” A second hit to the opposite shoulder, already burned from a previous impact, spun him back the other way. “And for trying to murder an Imperial agent under my protection.”

Two simultaneous shots clipped the tops of the Rider’s shoulders on both sides, sending him tumbling backward to the street.

“That is for sending your goons after my home. And this—” Another neatly burned hole followed by an explosive bolt caused an eruption directly under the Rider’s upper body, catapulting him forward where he landed on his knees, barely catching himself with his good hand. “—is for shooting a girl who was no threat to you.”

The White Rider, after one brief cry of pain, managed to keep it in, but now his breath rasped so heavily it was audible up and down the street, sounding horrific with the spell altering his voice. Joe strode calmly toward him, his boots crunching on cinders and debris littering the ground.

“I could go on all night,” the Kid growled, coming to a stop before the kneeling, hooded figure. “But you wouldn’t last to appreciate it all, so this is for your general lack of civilized behavior.”

He drew back his foot and kicked the Rider right in the face, hard. The fallen man let out another weak cry, toppling over on his side to lie in the street.

“Honestly,” Joe said in disgust. “Wearing white after Remembrance Day? Our distance from the Imperial capital does not give you license to act like a savage.”

He turned and strode away, holstering his wands, leaving the last of the White Riders sprawling in the street. Joe navigated around fallen figures in white to stop before Trissiny, where he tipped his hat respectfully.

“Ma’am,” he said. “I surely do appreciate your help, you and all your friends. I dunno how this would’ve gone down without you, but I know we were just about out of hope ’round here before you came along. Sarasio owes you her life.”

“I think you deserve a fair share of the credit,” she said, finally letting her golden glow drop. Gabriel, who was cowering behind Juniper, let out a sigh of relief and straightened up, grimacing.

Ruda’s arrival was announced by the clomp of heavy boots and the rattle of her sword in its sheath. “May I just say,” she declared, “that was the single most amazing fucking thing I have ever seen, and before we leave town Imma tell you some stories about shit I’ve met on the open sea so you properly appreciate my perspective.”

“I told you this guy was a big deal,” Gabriel said, grinning.

“Anyhow, Shaeine, Triss, keep an ear up for calls for help,” Ruda went on, her expression sobering. “We’ve got a good number of wounded and more’n a handful of dead. The elves brought witches and they seem to have it all in hand; they’re letting Toby help, but I don’t think they want any more cooks stirrin’ the broth. Still’n all, you’ve both got the mojo, so they might need you.”

“Noted,” said Shaeine.

People were filtering back into the street, now, both elves and humans. Some milled around, seemingly at a loss, but there were more businesslike figures present who began checking the fallen Riders, separating the injured from the dead, removing hoods and checking wounds. The crowd were worn out and focused, but more than a few of the faces revealed brought outcries. It seemed the Riders were, indeed, people they knew and had trusted.

Trissiny’s blade came free of its scabbard with a silken rasp and burst alight. “Stop!” she barked, pointing it at a man who had leveled his wand at a fallen Rider, who was trying to scrabble backward away from him.

The man turned his attention to her, but didn’t back down. “Sister, you have any idea what these pieces of shit have put us through? I say we put every last goddamn one of ’em in the ground, now!”

An ugly rumble of agreement rose from many of those present. Most of the elves and more than a few human residents remained silent, frowning.

“How much carnage will be enough for you?” Trissiny demanded. “Can you really not see the pattern at work here? These men started out protecting you from those who abused you, because there was no law to do it. The brutal use of power only escalates itself; vengeance turns into more vengeance. It will just keep going until there is no one left to kill! It has to stop.”

“You’re better than this,” Toby agreed, approaching from up the street. He seemed almost to glide along in a serene counterpoint to Trissiny’s force of personality. The monk of Omnu and warrior of Avei operating in concert; even the loudest dissenters fell silent at the tableau they presented as he placed himself alongside her and turned to face them. “You must be better than this. We’ve fought because we had to, and we’ve won. Our victory isn’t complete until we end not only the Riders but what they stand for: the spirit of brutality.”

“What’ll we do with ’em, then?” someone called out.

“We give healing to those who can be healed,” Trissiny said firmly, “bind and imprison them, and then hand them over to the Empire to stand trial for what they have done.”

“And where was the Empire when our town was burning down around our ears?” someone else shouted, followed by angry cries of agreement.

“Worry about where the Empire will be, not where it was!” she shot back. “What are they going to find when they finally get here: carnage and destruction, a few survivors who know only how to keep fighting? Or a town full of loyal citizens who rose up to protect their homes and deliver their attackers to Imperial justice? The Empire isn’t a perfect thing by any means. If you lack faith in it, at least try to understand its nature. Give the Imperials something to show Sarasio is worth rebuilding and protecting.”

“This is why we need justice,” Toby added firmly, giving Trissiny a nod. “Justice comes from law, from order. It means everyone has rights and knows what to expect. Justice means you can have a place worth living in again. If you insist on having more vengeance, you need to acknowledge the price.”

“The cost of vengeance is everything,” said Trissiny.

There was quiet, townspeople exchanging uncertain glances. It wasn’t by a long shot the ardent agreement Trissiny would have hoped for, but at least the people weren’t offering them any further rebellion.

“All right, you heard the paladins,” Joe said firmly. “Let’s get these varmints rounded up, patched up and into cells. Somebody clear out whoever’s squatting in the Sheriff’s office, an’ get the smith over here to make sure the jail’s still serviceable. Anybody who needs healing or medicine, head to the Shady Lady, an’ we’ll have whatever help we can get standing by. Somebody find me Mr. Paxton, too. We’ll wanna get him back to Tiraas as quick as possible so he can spread the good word and get us some help out here.”

The townspeople may have been uncertain about Toby and Trissiny taking charge, but they sprang to follow Joe’s orders. Faces remained grim, but resistance seemed to melt away as everyone sprang into action, and in no time the movements around them took on a more focused pattern, people sorting themselves out, administering aid and rounding up fallen Riders, to be bound for imprisonment or laid out with their scorched cloaks over them.

Joe turned to the leader, who had begun to stir weakly. “All right,” he said grimly, “let’s answer the big question on everybody’s mind.” Grabbing the Rider by the clasp of his cloak, he threw back the white hood and ripped away the mask.

Then he just as suddenly let go, stumbling backward looking like he’d seen a ghost.

The leader of the White Riders was a woman. She looked to be in her fifties, with hair just beginning to go gray and a handsome, fine-boned face that had clearly been quite lovely once, despite the blackened eye, bruised forehead and bloody nose marring it now. She coughed once, then managed a weak smile.

“Mamie,” he choked.

“Hey, Joe.” She coughed again, and cleared her throat. “That was some damn fine shooting out there, boy. You did me proud.”

“…how long,” he said tersely, clenching his hands into fists at his sides.

Mamie heaved a sigh. “You wanna hear how I got roped into the Riders’ scheme and was trying to bring ’em down from the inside? Sorry, Joe. This has been my show from the beginning, from Calhoun on down. It did get a mite out of hand, I’ll grant you.”

“A mite out of hand?!” he said incredulously. “Why would you do this? You nearly destroyed the whole town!”

“Let me see that,” Toby said softly, kneeling beside her. He took her mangled hand in his own and lit up. She winced, averting her eyes, but gradually relaxed. The blood remained on her face, but the bruises faded away after a few seconds.

“Thanks, kid. Appreciate it.”

“That’s…the best I can do with this,” Toby said solemnly, still holding her hand. Two fingers were missing, the remainder twisted out of place. “Mana burns are awful things. You’re lucky the wand’s power source didn’t blow; I don’t think you would’ve survived that.”

“Wasn’t gonna happen,” she said with a hint of a grin. “My Joe’s the best damn shot I ever saw. Maybe the best ever to live. He know more ways to disable a wand than most people know ways to fire one.”

“Joseph,” Trissiny warned. The Kid, his face twisted in a furious snarl, had pulled out a wand and leveled it at Mamie.

“You—you—I should end you right here,” he choked.

She shook her head wearily. “Can’t be that way, Joe. It’s like the paladins said. This was rebellion; somebody’s gotta swing for it. When the Empire gets here, you give ’em the White Riders and especially the gang’s leader, neatly gift wrapped. Imps are very generous with folks who help ’em put down rebels, but if they don’t have somebody to pin this on, they will go out and find someone.”

“Why?!”

“You ain’t been alive long enough to’ve seen a Burning,” she replied. Mamie’s voice had a soft rasp that hadn’t cleared up under Toby’s healing; it sounded like the result of a lifelong smoking habit. “Every few decades, the forest gets a mite overgrown, so the elves just up and light the whole sucker on fire. Burns out the underbrush to give things a chance to grow again, and the ash nourishes the ground. If they didn’t, well… What a tangled mess that’d turn into. They work carefully so the trees themselves don’t catch, and in the end, the forest is cleaner and just alive as it was to begin with. More so, once it’s had a chance to heal.”

Activity around them had come to a stop, elves and townspeople alike staring and listening. Mamie panned her stare around at those assembled, then smiled wearily and shook her head. “Most of you wouldn’t see it, but this town has been dying for years. The Sheriff and the mayor took the spirit of law out of it; Hoss and his cronies made it worse. We could’ve come back from the brink any number of times, but that would’ve taken a leader stepping up and the mass of residents showing some sense. Nobody but me seemed inclined to try…” She laughed bitterly. “And the funny thing about being the old whore running the brothel is, no matter how much effort I put into taking care of this town and everyone in it, there’s not a chance y’all would’ve followed me if I’d tried to bring back order the right way. That only left me one option.

“Sometimes, the only way to clear out the damage is with an act of controlled destruction.”

She simply knelt there, looking up at them calmly while they stared.

“Lady,” Ruda said at last, “your control could use some serious fucking work.”

Mamie shrugged. “Can’t really argue with that, can I? This all went farther than I’d planned on. I really did figure Joe would’ve stepped up before it got nearly this bad.” She turned her gaze on Joe, expression unreadable. He turned his back, ramming his wand back into its holster. Mamie sighed and lowered her eyes. “Do y’all mind awfully if I stand up? Any whore my age has spent enough time on her knees, they start to protest at the treatment.”

Toby helped her gently to her feet, earning a nod of thanks. Trissiny accepted a coil of rope from a Sarasio resident who had been tying up Riders, and approached. “Hands out, please,” she said firmly. “I’m going to need to bind you.”

“You do that behind the captive, girl,” Mamie said with a grin, turning around and presenting her wrists. She turned her head to look at Trissiny sidelong over her shoulder. “Even a well-behaved prisoner might be planning something. Take it easy with the right one, if you don’t mind. All respect to your buddy’s work, but it’s a mite tender still.”

“Only one more thing to work out,” Trissiny said, lashing her wrists efficiently together. “We need to know what you did to disrupt the town and how to undo it.”

She stepped back and Mamie turned back around, frowning. “I, um…may have missed something. Here I was thinking this was all finally settled.”

“It’s been a long day,” Trissiny said sharply. “Nobody here has the patience for any more dissembling. We know you’ve dabbled in witchcraft, and we know how useful fairy magic is for manipulating emotional states. Whatever you’ve been doing to pit the citizens against each other, and all of them against the elves and vice versa. It needs to end. You are going to tell us how.”

Mame stared at her, and then, to Trissiny’s baffled annoyance, burst out laughing. “Oh,” she said, shaking with mirth, “oh, you poor kid. I haven’t done a damn thing to mess with anybody’s mind. Come on, there’s a whole forest full of elves right there. You think they wouldn’t have noticed that? Reclusive or not, they’d have sent shaman over to bust it up if I even tried.”

Trissiny frowned. “But…”

“Look around you, paladin,” Mamie said, still grinning, but there was a harsh edge to it, now. “All the suspicion, the hate, the pointless bickering for brutally high stakes? Unless they’ve really changed what paladins do in the last thirty years, this’ll be your life. The path to slaughtering people wholesale begins with trying to help them. Because that’s how you find out that they just aren’t damn well worth it. Given the choice, most folks’d rather cling to their delusions than save their own lives. Pfft, witchcraft. Humans, elves, or whatever-else-have-you, this is just what people are like. No. Damn. Good.”

She hung her head, still chuckling, while the onlookers stared in silence. Every eye rested on Mamie. It was as if the townsfolk and elves were afraid to meet each other’s gazes.

“Well handled,” said Professor Tellwyrn, stepping forward. The crowd parted silently to let her approach. “Well done indeed, I would say this redeems your lackluster performance in the Golden Sea. Everyone is in good shape to finish the semester. Now, for a little extra credit, recall the lists of classic logical fallacies you were supposed to learn by heart, and spot the ones you just heard.”

“Appeal to emotion,” said Shaeine evenly. “She seeks to impose her personal despair on everyone listening.”

“Special pleading,” added Toby. “Broad claims about the nature of all intelligent beings are almost never correct, you’d have to pretty much make your own examples to make that stick. Even this situation is more complex than she makes it sound.”

“Tenuous, but I’ll grant it,” Tellwyrn nodded. “Anyone else?”

“Fallacy of the slippery slope,” Trissiny said grimly. “Setting out to help people does not have to end this way. It doesn’t have to end any way in particular.”

“The, uh, genetic fallacy,” Gabriel chimed in. “Like Toby said. There’s no evidence to warrant that everybody just sucks.”

“That, in fact, is a more correct match for Mr. Caine’s argument,” Tellwyrn agreed.

“Pertaining to that, the black-or-white fallacy,” said Vadrieny, still perched on the roof above. “Nihilism like that grossly oversimplifies…anything.”

“So you are listening when Teal is in class,” Tellwyrn said, grinning. “I can’t always tell.”

“Oh! Oh!” Fross dived through the group, chiming in excitement. “The gambler’s fallacy, the composition/division fallacy, the anecdotal fallacy! Her whole argument is based on taking one scenario which may or may not even be hypothetical and applying it to all of life!”

“Very good, Fross.” Tellwyrn folded her hands, looking self-satisfied. Mamie was staring at her, flabbergasted. “There are any number of reasons why someone will try to bring you around to their worldview, but in the case of a vanquished opponent whose view is inherently nihilistic and has nothing concrete to gain by persuading you, it is almost always out of an emotional need for validation. In short, if they can convince you that everything is hopeless and meaningless, they can avoid facing the prospect that they have wasted their own lives on wrong ideas.

“People are as noble, as depraved or as pitiful as they choose to be. A situation is exactly as hopeless as you choose to let it be. I am pleased with your performance, students, because you didn’t just round up the bad guys and beat them down, though it was in your power. Helping this town meant reminding the people here that they can help themselves. Now, there’s every reason for us to believe they’ll be fine when we’re gone. That is the measure of a successful mission.”

She turned and strolled back toward the Shady Lady. “Good work, kids. We leave bright and early tomorrow; we’ll need to give Mr. Paxton a ride, after all.”

“So…yay!” said Fross. “We won!”

Joe looked at her, then at Mamie, who dropped her eyes from his gaze. He turned and trudged after Tellwyrn. Around them, people began moving back to their various tasks, though there was now a murmur of muted conversation from every direction.

“Yeah,” said Gabriel quietly. “We won.”

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4 – 18

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Trissiny led Arjen in a wide loop, charging directly at two mounted Riders who were approaching her column from the left flank. Two wand shots sparked off the shield of light surrounding her; when she didn’t so much as slow, both Riders peeled off and bolted for a nearby farmstead, just visible in the distance. Under the moonlight, flashes of lightning flickered among the buildings, and she spared a prayer for the residents and whatever elves were helping them. This was war, though, and strategy was strategy. She couldn’t afford to be diverted.

“I was afraid they were gonna go for the troops once they realized they weren’t making an impression on you,” Gabriel said as she trotted back to them.

“Better-trained soldiers might have,” she said, pushing down the urge to object to this disorganized chain of stragglers being called troops. “All right, men, form a line! Wands up at all times. Whatever happens, you will stay in step with the men to your left and right. You do not charge forward under any circumstances, and don’t retreat unless I call for it. Keep an ear out for orders to fire, but for the most part, I want you to fire at will! Don’t wait till you can see their eyes; we aim to herd them inward, not to cut them down here. I’ll be ranging ahead to scout and deal with problematic individuals. I am protected by Avei, but I would appreciate it if you’d try not to shoot me.”

She galloped Arjen up and down the line as she called orders, almost despairing at their slow, disorderly progress toward getting lined up, some of them chuckling nervously at her last comment. They got there, though, not as quickly as she’d hoped but faster than she’d feared, and their final line was suitably straight.

“Uh, ma’am?” called a man toward the right flank as she came abreast of him. “Does that mean you don’t want us to shoot to kill?”

“This is war,” she said grimly. “People die. The men who started the war have no right to complain. Don’t hesitate if you have a good shot, but no one is to break ranks and pursue. Is that clear?”

An uneven chorus of “Yes, ma’am!” sounded from up and down the line. Trissiny gritted her teeth, keeping her expression under control. They were not ready. This was war; people would die, and her soldiers—to use the word as loosely as possible—were terrifyingly vulnerable. No matter the situation was by no means her fault, their deaths would weigh on her.

“Goddess, grant us your favor,” she whispered, and not as a formality; if the goddess of war didn’t lend her support to this enterprise, it was not going to end well. Bringing Arjen around, she came to a stop in front of them, at the center of the line; directly ahead was the central street of Sarasio.

“The company will advance at a walk!”

Gripping weapons, they did so.

 

“All right, lads,” Ruda called out, stalking back and forth behind the line of men with her rapier in hand. She had declined the offer of a wand. “I could make a speech, but fuck it, we’ve got shit to do. You know what’s going on, and you know what’s at stake. We’re gonna stick to Trissiny’s plan, and that means you stay. In. Line. We move forward or not at all; we move together or not at all. You keep your wands up and if you get a bead on any asshole in a white cloak, you burn ’em down! This is the line of death for them; we want them to know that getting too close is a non-starter, because let’s be honest, this group is not gonna stand up to a cavalry charge. So we make sure no such charge happens! Nothing on horseback gets close enough to run us over without being a burned-out husk, is that clear?”

She exchanged a grim look with Toby while the men called out their agreement, then shouldered through the line, placing herself in front of them and looking into the town. Sounds of battle and flickers of lightning sparked at the edges of the outskirts, but at their approach, the two small groups of Riders harassing the nearest farmsteads had turned tail and run. They had a clear path into Sarasio.

Ruda looked over her shoulder at her troops, and grinned. They were staring forward, hard-faced, gripping weapons. Now this was a fine sight. These prairie folk were no Punaji, but once properly motivated, they weren’t going to take the Riders’ abuse lying down. She was born to lead men like this into battle.

“All right!” she called, brandishing her sword overhead and bringing it down in a flashing arc to point at the street. “Gentlemen: let’s fuck ’em up!”

 

The farmer averted his eyes from the discharge of lightning, grimacing, but when he raised the smoking tip of his staff, the horse was dead. It had been the only kindness they could offer the beast, which had broken two legs in the fall. Turning, he picked his way back toward the others, carefully avoiding the streaks of ice that marred the grass, one of which had brought the Rider to grief. It was plenty warm even at this late hour; the ice was steaming in the prairie air, already melting away. Good; the ground could use the water, and he limped hard enough without slipping on fairy magic in his own front yard.

Now, in addition to the talkative ball of light zipping around, there was an elf standing next to his daughter-in-law and granddaughter.

“I wouldn’t go so far as to say the situation is under control,” the elf was saying as he rejoined them, leaning on the staff. “However, the prospects are optimistic. The Hand of Avei is executing a workable strategy which, if successful, will bring an end to the Riders in Sarasio.”

“What strategy?” the old man demanded, keeping his weight on the staff and off his aching hip as much as possible.

She turned and bowed to him. “The men who attended the meeting in town are dispersed at the northern and southern edges, sweeping inward and pushing the Riders before them. My people have fanned out along the flanks to prevent them escaping that way. We will surround them in the center of Sarasio and finish them here.”

“Hnh,” he grunted, rubbing his chin. “Sounds pretty solid.”

“It is!” chimed the pixie, bobbing up and down. “Trissiny is great with plans, she knows all about war!”

“Agreed,” said the elf solemnly.

“Welp, seems to be all settled here,” the old farmer said, straightening up. “You’ll need every warm body you can get to herd ’em up proper. Which way next?”

“Oh no you don’t, Gramps,” Lucy said firmly, keeping a grip on the toddler, who was gazing raptly at Fross and trying to grab the pixie. “There’s no way you’re goin’ out there on that bum leg.”

“Girl, I been protectin’ this land since before you was a gleam in your daddy’s eye! If the men are finishing off the Riders, I ain’t about to sit this out.”

“I fear it will not be possible for anyone to sit it out,” the elvish woman said, turning her big, serious eyes on him. “The operation is aimed at controlling chaos, but chaos has a way of escaping. For exactly that reason, it makes more tactical sense for you to remain with your farm, elder. You have demonstrated your prowess with that weapon; lacking mobility, you better serve the effort holding this ground.”

He growled, searching for a flaw in her argument, but Fross chimed in before he could speak.

“All right, well, I’m still pretty mobile! I’m gonna head upward and see where they need the most help. Be careful, everybody! I’ll try to come back if you run into trouble!”

She shot skyward with a soft chime, leaving the humans and lone elf staring after her.

“Friendly little glowbug,” the old man said, then looked over at the dissolving patches of ice. “Scary, though.”

 

“Here they come,” Gabriel noted unnecessarily, raising his wand alongside the rest of the men in line. Trissiny nodded, her eyes fixed on the five mounted figures which had burst out of a gap between buildings. The townsfolk had reached the outer edge of the city, almost coming to the point where she would have to rearrange their formation to get them through the streets—a logistical mess to which she was not looking forward. Now, the Riders wheeled down the central street straight at the line.

Several of the men in their path shied backward, but at Trissiny’s roar of “FIRE!” lightning flashed forward from a dozen wands and staves, striking one down, glancing off the flank of another’s horse and causing the panicked animal to bear him to the ground, and making a third wheel and bolt back into the town.

She mentally added “poor shots” to her list of reservations about the men she was leading.

Two still came, though. Identical as they looked in their hoods and cloaks, Trissiny knew the one in the lead was one she’d met before.

“HOLD FIRE!” she shouted, and urged Arjen forward.

At her approach, glowing like the sun, the fourth Rider wheeled around and galloped back into the town. The leader, though, kept coming right at her, controlling his mount with his knees and taking aim with both wands.

The light he shot at her was more intense and more direct than most of the lightning bolts she’d seen hurled about this night. Also, he used it with a lot more technique. One wand kept up a veritable spray, hitting her shield hard in a roughly circular area around her face, nearly blinding her; Trissiny felt the impacts as if in her own limbs, that region of the glowing shield weakening and drawing more power to compensate. Then it got worse: a much more powerful single bolt smashed right into the center of the targeted region. Then another.

He had fought light-wielders before, clearly. Over time, assuming she did nothing, the technique would wear through the shield until she took one of those hits directly. Matters were different, though, with the two of them barreling at each other at top speed. Arjen whinnied and tossed his head, clearly understanding the danger; Trissiny did a quick calculation in her mind. Her shield was failing. She was seconds from getting within sword range. Was it enough time?

No.

Arjen lowered his head, and Trissiny raised her metal shield as her divine one shattered under a last bruising wandshot. Raw energy struck; the impact physically rocked her, and she felt the shield grow warm, felt a moment of real fear. That shield was ancient, not made to stand up to modern energy weapons.

Then the shield itself glowed gold. It had been forged before mass-produced wands were even dreamed of, but a shield given to the Hands of Avei had been meant to withstand curses, dragonfire and all the perils of the Age of Adventures.

She closed with the Rider, and bashed him with the shield in passing. He tried to wheel his horse around; Arjen followed with astounding agility, but he was a huge creature built for power and the Rider’s leaner mount proved more agile. Trissiny managed to bring her sword into play, but only felt the slightest snag as its tip nicked the Rider’s shoulder in passing.

Then he was vanishing back into the warren of dirt streets. She watched after him for a moment before turning Arjen back to rejoin her troops, who greeted her with cheers and brandished weapons. A few wands were even fired skyward in celebration.

“If they’re spread as thinly as the elves have suggested,” she said, “they can’t have enough manpower concentrated in one place to do that too many times. Luckily they tried it here instead of against Ruda’s line.”

Gabriel grinned up at her. “I’ll refrain from telling her you said that.”

“Thanks.”

 

Teal panted slightly as she came padding up out of the darkness on bare feet. “How’re we doing?”

“Apparently we are meeting with some success,” Shaeine replied, nodding to the elf who had arrived moments before to deliver a terse report. “Both lines have entered the city proper, and been slowed considerably by the need to navigate the streets, which presents obvious challenges. Only two Riders have slipped through the blockade; one was brought down by elven warriors, and Fross is pursuing the other as we speak.”

“The Hand of Avei just broke a Rider charge aimed at her lines,” said another elf, arriving out of the darkness. “One Rider slain, another dismounted and apprehended by our scouts. We don’t find a similar concentration of them anywhere else in the town. They have evinced no signs that they are in communication; it’s not clear yet whether the entire group realizes what is happening.”

“Good,” growled one of the humans nearby. They were a mixed group, standing at the western edge of Sarasio: a small, constantly rotating roster of about half a dozen elves kept coming and going, relaying information before darting back out to gather more. About twice their number of townsfolk had been gathered, all armed; most of Sarasio’s men having gone to the meeting and now forming the main battle lines, these were the leftovers, those rescued from beleaguered outer farms. More than half were women, the rest a mix of elderly and adolescents of both sexes, all armed.

“I suggest we press forward,” said the elven warrior who had remained alongside Shaeine throughout the night. “The battle enters a new phase as it enters the town, and it will not do to be left behind.”

“Sounds good,” a middle-aged woman with a staff slung over her shoulder said, nodding. “C’mon, everybody. You see anything in a white cloak, blast it.”

The group moved forward in a loose formation, elves fanning out to scout ahead and cover the flanks, townsfolk forming a rough line behind them. Shaeine walked in the rear, Teal falling into step behind her.

“Have you seen Juniper?” Teal asked.

The drow shook her head. “Not since we parted ways at the edge of the forest. I confess I worry more for her than any of our other compatriots; she is resilient, but we have seen her vulnerability to lightning. I can only trust that she knows how to take care of herself.”

“I guess we’d hear about it if anything happened to her,” Teal agreed, nodding. “Naiya apparently isn’t the subtle type.”

“Indeed.”

They slowed slightly, the outer buildings of the town looming ahead.

“You approached on foot,” Shaeine noted.

“Ah…yeah, I figured it’d be best not to startle the locals any more than we can help. On that note, I see you’ve been sticking by the other elves.”

“It seemed wisest,” Shaeine agreed with a faint smile. “Though after the initial shock wears off, I have been offered no hostility as yet, once I show myself to be allied with them. These people are admirably pragmatic.”

“Yeah…” Teal swallowed. “I hate that it had to come to this.”

“As do I,” Shaeine said quietly.

“I just… I know sometimes you can’t talk things out. It just seems like fighting in the streets is a failure.”

“I think you’re right on both points. Many failures have led to this disaster… But the situation is what it is. It can no longer be solved with words. Our best hope is decisive action, to prevent the crisis from dragging itself out further.”

Teal nodded. “I guess I’m fairly well invincible, but… Still. I’ve never been in a… I mean, it’s still terrifying. The though of losing… Someone I’ve come to care about.”

Shaeine looked at her and smiled gently. “I know.”

They had come to a stop, the others moving ahead at a very careful pace now. Teal swallowed, and took one of Shaeine’s hands in her own. The drow glanced down in apparent surprise, then lifted her gaze with an inquisitive look. Teal took a short but deep breath and leaned in closer.

The first naked emotion she had ever seen on Shaeine’s face descended: shock. The drow jerked backward, pulling her hand away. “I think there has been a miscommunication.”

“Oh,” Teal said weakly, going deathly pale. “Oh, I… Oh. I’m sorry, I didn’t… I don’t…”

“It’s all right,” Shaeine said evenly, turning and gliding forward with her normal serenity firmly in place. Behind her, Teal gulped, allowing her own misery to show on her features for a moment before getting it back under control.

“I… Sorry, Shaeine, I don’t want—”

“It’s past,” she replied, her tone even and very nearly curt. “We needn’t discuss it.”

They reached the streets in silence.

At the rear of the group, Teal cleared her throat. “Seems quiet here. I’m gonna find where the trouble is and help.” There was a rush of flames the sound of beating wings, and then a fiery figure soared over them, vanishing beyond the rooftops.

One of the elves glanced over at Shaeine with a wry half-grin. “Smooth.”

She glided past him without response.

 

Toby straightened, helping a young man to his feet, the glow of healing around him subsiding.

“My thanks, friend,” the lad said with a smile. “Ah… I mean, sir. Mister. Your, uh, paladin-ness.”

“Toby’s fine,” he replied, grinning.

“Nice horse!” Ruda said cheerfully as two men calmed the rearing animal. Two others were roughly hog-tying the Rider who had been knocked from the saddle by a low-hanging sign he had tried to ride under to avoid their group after seeing all the wands pointing his way. “Maybe I should keep one a’ these. Course, I’d have to learn how to ride it…”

“We’re doing well,” said a voice from above. No matter how many times it happened, the soundless appearance of an elf made most of those present jump and aim their weapons. The slim woman now perched atop the general store sign continued, ignoring this. “Your pixie friend has brought down the last Rider to evade the blockade; all those still in action are within the town, being herded toward the center. Most are now dismounted; that flying demon has been chasing them down and scaring the horses into bucking them for the last fifteen minutes. She seems oddly reluctant to fight.”

“Yeah, that’s no surprise,” Ruda said, nodding. “Teal’d never forgive her for getting blood on her claws. How’s the formation overall?”

“Uneven and prone to buckling,” the elf said with a smile, “but impressively effective. Your friend Trissiny makes good plans.”

“I was afraid of that,” Ruda said sourly. “There’ll be no living with her now.”

Another form dropped from above, earning another round of curses, jumps and pointed weapons, but she similarly ignored this, making a beeline for the young man who had recently been injured.

He saw her at the same time. “Thassli!”

The two met in the middle of the alley and embraced, while the nearby men and elves averted their eyes, embarrassed, and Ruda grinned unabashedly.

“Hi, Jason,” Thassli said finally, pulling back enough to cup his face in both hands.

“I thought I’d never see you again,” he said.

“I told you, love, you just have to be patient.” Someone coughed.

“I can’t be patient anymore.” Taking both her hands in his own, he knelt before her in the dust. Behind him, Lucas Wilcox clenched his jaw, glaring. “Thassli, will you marry me?”

“What?” She laughed lightly. “Of course not, don’t be ridiculous.”

The silence that fell was awkward to the point of being physically painful. Ruda let out a low whistle.

“I,” he choked. “But…”

“Jason,” Thassli said with gentle reproof, ruffling his hair, “we’ve had fun. You’re a sweet boy, really. But, honestly, if I wanted to tie my heart to a hairy, overly exuberant creature who’ll die just when I’ve had time to get properly attached to him… Well, I could just get a dog, couldn’t I? Now c’mon.” She tugged the unresisting lad to his feet. “The night’s not over. I’ll come find you when we win this. Try not to get killed, eh?”

She blew him a kiss, then kicked off a nearby wall, grasped the overhanging roof opposite, heaved herself lightly up and vanished.

Ruda cleared her throat. “Yeah, well, anyway. On we go, stuff to do, assholes to shoot…”

“I did tell you, boy,” Wilcox said wearily, coming up to stand next to Jason.

“Yeah.” The boy sounded numb. “I heard you, pa. Always said that elf was trouble. I just figured…”

“You figured I had a problem with you carryin’ on with an elf,” Wilcox said, draping an arm around his son’s shoulders. “You don’t listen, boy. I said that elf was trouble.”

“Hell, I told you that,” Robin added from the roof above, causing another ripple of startlement among the men.

“Dammit, will y’all stop doin’ that!” somebody shouted.

“Here.” Grinning ruefully, Ruda handed Jason a bottle of whiskey. He took it in silence, pulled out the stopper with his teeth and took a long pull. “Now c’mon, boys. We’ve still got work to do.”

“Wait,” said Robin, her expression grim. “We’ve got a problem.”

 

“Hostages?” Trissiny said sharply.

The elven scout nodded, his eyes serious. “Four groups have managed to take them. They appear to have arrived at this plan independently, but as we’ve forced them into the middle of the town, more have met up and consolidated both their forces and their strategies.”

She drew in a long breath and let it out through her teeth. “You have archers?”

“Moving into position now,” he said. “But coordination is a problem. Our strikes would need to be simultaneous, and the Riders are adeptly making use of urban cover to prevent us from getting a clear shot.”

“All right,” she said, then raised her voice, turning to look back at the men following her. They had broken into multiple groups to push forward through the streets, and not all of those she’d set out with were present; those remaining were in a cluster rather than a line now. “Everyone, continue moving forward, but slowly, and do not fire on enemy targets until you are certain they have no hostages.”

“Ma’am?” one said, worry etched on his features. “What if they do? I mean… How’ll we get our people back?”

“If all else fails, we’ll negotiate,” she said flatly. “But before it comes to that, I’ll trust in the elves to pick them off. Now, move ahead.”

They didn’t have much farther to move before joining another group of townsfolk, followed by a third emerging from another alley. The noose had tightened significantly; they were not exactly in the center of the town, more like several streets to the east, but Trissiny sensed at once that they had reached the place where the endgame would play out.

Mostly because of the Riders who were there ahead of them.

She counted eight with a quick scan. Half their number were occupied with holding two young women by the arms, including one Trissiny recognized.

“Really?” Jenny was saying aloud as they approached. “Really? The damsel in distress? Oh, if you only knew how insulting this is.”

“Quiet,” growled one of the Riders, aiming a wand at her face. Jenny shut her mouth, glaring at him. To her credit, she didn’t seem much perturbed by her predicament, unlike the other hostage, who appeared to be on the verge of fainting.

“Not another step,” said the leader of the Riders, his distinctively eerie voice echoing through the street. He pointed one wand at Trissiny, and the other in the opposite direction down the street—where, she could see from her vantage atop Arjen, a large group of townsfolk with Ruda and Toby at their head had just rounded a corner into view. They were proceeding slowly and carefully, clearly having been warned of the situation just as she was, and came to a stop at the Rider’s warning.

More Riders arrived, drifting in from all directions, but now they pressed themselves against walls, under eaves; some kept their wands on hostages, of which there were now four, two more groups having arrived with victims in tow. The rest divided their focus between the two large groups of townspeople and students and keeping weapons trained on the rooftops. Obviously, they had managed to meet and compare notes, and were aware of the intervention of the elves.

Another Rider backed into view, keeping his wand aimed into the alley from which he’d come. A moment later, Juniper emerged, glaring at him. Trissiny’s momentary surge of hope died when two more Riders came right after her, also holding wands on her.

“I really don’t think you want to do that,” the dryad warned.

“Shut it, bitch!”

Trissiny unconsciously raised her sword.

“Enough,” said the leader. Just hearing his voice was like having wet burlap dragged over her ears. “Everyone stand down. Everyone. I want all weapons dropped.”

“And if we don’t?” Ruda called from the other end of the street.

“Don’t be disingenuous,” he replied, shifting his wand to aim at Juniper’s head.

“And then what?” Trissiny called. “Right now, you have a chance of being taken properly into custody and serving jail time. Play that card, and nothing I say or do will stop these men from tearing you to shreds. I may not be inclined to try.”

“I’m sure that will make you feel much better,” he replied mockingly. “Will it bring back the dead?”

Vadrienly landed on a nearby roof with a force that shook the building, slate tiles crunching under her talons.

“There are so many things,” she said, baring fangs down at the group, “that are so much worse than death.”

“I will not warn you again!” The leader raised his voice. “Drop your weapons! NOW!”

Occupied with the tense drama unfolding, Trissiny hadn’t realized what street they were on until the door of the Shady Lady opened and Joe Jenkins stepped out. Riders swiveled to aim wands at him; ignoring this, he calmly strolled across the sidewalk, stepped down into the street and paced forward till he stood at its center.

To his sharply-tailored suit he had added a knee-length leather duster with a matching black hat; he kept his head tilted forward at an angle that hid his eyes under its brim. The duster was belted at the waist, his holstered wands hanging at his sides. His hands hovered just above them.

He finally raised his head, staring directly at the leader of the White Riders.

“Gentlemen,” said the Kid. “Draw.”

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4 – 13

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“I’m telling you, I can take us right there,” Juniper said petulantly. “Yes, Fross, I believe you about the wards. But I can smell them.”

“Exactly how sharp is your sense of smell?” Teal asked.

“Oh, whatever I need it to be,” the dryad said, waving a hand vaguely. “My senses are based on animals. Mostly I go with the norm for elves, that’s pretty sharp. You wouldn’t want to walk around smelling like a hound or seeing like an eagle all the time, you’d go nuts.”

“Dryads.” Jenny shook her head. “Little overpowered in this continuum…” She trailed off; Teal glanced at her curiously, but didn’t pry.

“The issue is not what you can do, Juniper,” Shaeine said quietly. “The elves do not appreciate unannounced visitors. No elves do; these have specifically shown us the seriousness with which they take their privacy. Bypassing their defenses would be an unequivocally hostile action.”

“And?” Juniper actually scowled.

“We are trying to talk with them,” Shaeine said gently.

“That didn’t seem to go over so great last time,” said Fross, buzzing along behind them. “It’s not so much that they’re difficult…”

“Some of them are difficult,” Juniper grumbled.

“Well, yeah, sure. But, y’know, if you pick up the clues about their culture and how they decide things… I don’t think we’re going to make any headway trying to persuade the tribe to get moving. It’d take years.”

“And that is why I don’t much care about their privacy or their defenses,” said Juniper crossly. “These guys really irritate me. Elves usually respect nature, most of them live very close to it. But this…this passiveness, that’s not natural.”

“Isn’t it?” Teal asked. “Nature is sort of…reactive, right? It adapts, it doesn’t charge in.”

“Exactly!” Juniper nodded eagerly. “It adapts. They’re not adapting! It’s not that they can’t, they just don’t want to, and it’s so…so silly!” She actually paused in walking to stomp her foot. “Elves should know better. They’re all gonna get killed from sheer stubbornness!”

“Harmony with nature is one thing,” said Shaeine. “Never underestimate an elf’s pride.”

“I’m still not clear on what we’re gonna do, anyway,” said Fross. “If they won’t be persuaded… You’re not thinking of attacking them, right?”

“What could we possibly gain by attacking them?” Jenny asked, amused.

“Well, see, that’s what I figured! But I dunno what the other options are, here.”

“We spoke with the leaders, before,” said Shaiene, calm and quiet as ever. “Perhaps they are not the only people worth talking to.”

“I suppose that’s something, at least,” said a voice from above.

The party came to a stop, looking upward. Two elves, both women, sat on a huge branch extending overhead. They were garbed in sturdy leathers patterned with camouflage and well-armed, carrying knives, tomahawks, bows and laden quivers. Clearly, these were scouts or warriors.

“It’s very reassuring that you’ve decided not to attack us,” said the second elf dryly. “I’m sure we’ll all sleep more soundly.”

“There you are,” said Juniper, planting her hands on her hips. “All right, fine, we found some elves. They can take us to the grove, and everybody will be happy.”

“Some elves found you. The distinction is important.”

“I’m not hearing a reason why we should take you anywhere.”

“Perhaps some time spent wandering around the forest will improve your disposition? You certainly don’t seem to be in a friendly frame of mind.”

“We do enjoy our peace and quiet.”

“Yeah, no, we’re not going to do that,” Juniper said firmly. “I am going to the grove. Shaeine doesn’t want me to just walk in, fine. I respect her opinion because she’s smart and she’s a friend, but she doesn’t get to tell me what to do. You don’t tell me what to do, either.” Her face drew into a scowl. “Only one person gives me orders, and I swear I am this close to complaining to her.”

The warriors exchanged an unreadable look. Then, quite suddenly, one rose to her feet and took off, bounding from one branch to another, and vanished quickly into the foliage. The other dropped to land lightly on the moss beside them, and bowed deeply to Juniper.

“We apologize for offending you, daughter of Naiya,” she said courteously. “My companion will see that a welcome is prepared in the grove. If you’ll follow me, please?”

“That’s more like it,” Juniper said with satisfaction, gesturing for the elf to go ahead.

They trooped along in her wake, quieter now that the matter was, for the moment, settled.

“Well,” Teal said softly, “I have a feeling this will be…interesting.”

Shaeine nodded. “I’m afraid so.”

“So quickly, thou hast returned to us,” Shiraki intoned. His expression was almost mournful, though it lightened somewhat when he turned and bowed to Juniper. “It gladdens my heart to see thee once again, child of Naiya.”

“I’m sure it does,” she said, winking. The old elf actually cracked a smile. Standing beside him, Sheyann rolled her eyes. Once again, most of the population of the grove seemed to be present, though they were less formally arranged now; the majority stood at a safe distance, unabashedly watching. The weight of their direct attention seemed greater, now that no one was occupied with dinner.

“Within hours, there is going to be a confrontation in Sarasio between the White Riders and the townspeople,” said Shaeine. Her voice was as calm as ever, but there was something very subtly different in her demeanor. She was businesslike, not quite brusque, but some of the gentleness of her previous address of the elves was gone. “It is too early to know the shape this will take, much less its outcome. The citizenry have a numerical advantage, but the Riders are more mobile and better positioned.”

“That,” Sheyann noted, “and the people of Sarasio are too divided and generally timid to take action.”

“Kinda like you guys,” said Jenny, folding her arms and raising an eyebrow. A faint stir swirled among the onlookers.

“That is being addressed as we speak,” Shaeine said evenly. “We have come to request the help of any elves who care enough for their human neighbors to lend it.”

“This matter has been settled,” Shiraki said, somewhat sharply. “The tribe will take no action that will bring the dangers of human barbarism into our midst.”

“Forgive me, elder, for my lack of respect, and my temerity,” Shaeine replied, bowing to him. “But I was not speaking to you.”

Dead silence fell. All around, dozens of elves watched, hawklike. The brook continued to gurgle softly on its way, making the only sound in the grove. Sheyann raised an eyebrow, her expression mildly interested. Shiraki, however, was close to scowling outright.

“We speak for the tribe,” he said firmly.

“Then the tribe need not act. Only the individuals who are willing.”

“The tribe acts as one, or not at all!” His voice climbed in volume, and very slightly in pitch. “That is our way, older than thou canst imagine.”

“Then,” Shaeine replied calmly, “it is time for your ways to change.”

Some of the onlookers drew in sharp breaths, enough to make a soft sound that filled the clearing.

“Thou reachest far, child of the underworld,” Shiraki said softly.

“Uh huh,” Juniper interjected, “and are you gonna explain why she’s wrong? Things change. The world changes. You either change with it, or you get left behind. Ten thousand years ago, this was a swamp. Would you try to live in that the way you do in a forest surrounded by prairie?”

“That is a slender and specious comparison.”

“No.” Sheyann shook her head. “It isn’t.”

“The situation is thus,” Shaine went on inexorably. “The White Riders have gone well beyond random violence and obstructionism. They are guilty of rebellion against the Tiraan Empire, and their efforts to prevent the Empire from learning of their actions were doomed from the start. Already, the duration of their success has pushed the bounds of likelihood. There will be Imperial reprisal soon, and this problem will be resolved.”

“And so should it be!” Shiraki snapped. “Let the humans solve their own problems.”

“At that time,” Shaeine continued, very nearly cutting him off, “the Empire will begin to look around at the surrounding situation. They will find a community of powerful immortals, situated in extreme proximity to a rebel group, who did nothing to inhibit this sedition. They will not ignore your involvement.”

“We are not involved!”

“To exist is to be involved. Your isolationism is a choice; it affects the course of events around you, and you will be held accountable for those effects.”

“Thy threats are as empty as they are ill-mannered,” he shot back. “We fear no human reprisal.”

“I do,” Sheyann said quietly.

“It has been more than three centuries since the Tiraan Empire directly engaged in combat with any group of forest elves,” Shaeine carried on, her stare boring into Shiraki. “This was before the use of wands and staves in battle, before zeppelin transport, tactical scrying and modern spellcaster protocols. All these methods were employed several years ago against the Cobalt Dawn tribe of plains elves, the last elven group to directly attack Imperial interests. That tribe no longer exists.” The reaction from the crowd to this was such that she had to raise her voice slightly as she continued. “The same measures sufficed for decades to decisively overmatch the armies of Tar’naris, whose military capabilities outstrip your own by a wide margin. The Cobalt Dawn were wiped out; Tar’naris allied itself with the Empire and has prospered greatly. Those are the two main possibilities before you. Ignoring the power of Tiraas will soon cease to be an option for anyone. The option will be taken from your tribe very soon.”

“That is enough,” Shiraki snarled. “Twice, thou hast abused our hospitality to threaten ruin. Thou shalt remove thyself from our grove, or be removed.”

Shaeine raised her voice further, turning from him to pan her gaze around the assembled elves. “The world is changing! Any of you who wish to continue living in it must change, too. You cannot ignore what is happening in Sarasio, any more than you could ignore a famine or tornado. Help us, for your own future is as much at stake as anyone’s!”

“I said ENOUGH!” Shiraki thundered, making a lifting gesture with his fingers stiffened into claws. Roots erupted from the ground around Shaeine’s feet, swelling to twine around her legs in seconds, entangling her robes and lifting her off the moss. She pinwheeled her arms frantically, struggling not to be toppled over.

“LET HER GO!”

Elves fled in all directions as Teal erupted in a cascade of flames and Vadrieny emerged, burning wings fully extended, her face twisted in a snarl that showed the full length of her murderous fangs.

The roots stopped growing the instant Juniper laid her hands on them; the dryad began carefully peeling them off the drow, while Vadrieny stalked toward Shiraki, her talons gouging deep rents in the moss. Jenny let out a yelp and jumped backward, barely managing to catch her balance before tumbling into the stream. She stared, open-mouthed, at Vadrieny.

All around them, elves drew weapons, aiming a variety of arrows, wands and tomahawks at the demon, but no one let fly. Vadrieny came to a stop after only three paces, staring in puzzlement at Shiraki, who did not react at all the way she had expected. The ancient elf scrambled backward so frantically that he actually tripped over his robes and fell, continuing to scuttle away awkwardly on his back. His face was a mask of horror, all the famous elven grace stripped from him.

“Invazradi!” he squealed. “No, no! You’re dead!”

“Yes, she’s dead,” Sheyann said calmly. She had produced a tomahawk from within the folds of her robe and slipped smoothly into a fighting stance, her eyes on the demon, but had not backed away an inch. Her expression was utterly cold. “That’s not her. Hello, Vadrieny.”

Vadrieny turned her eyes, narrowed to blazing slits, to the other elder. Sheyann still made no move to advance or retreat; the surrounding elves kept their weapons trained on Vadrieny, but for the moment, no one offered aggression. Juniper had quickly peeled away the roots entangling Shaeine, who was now carefully unwrapping her robes from them.

“Do I know you?” Vadrieny asked sharply.

Sheyann actually straightened up, surprise replacing her glare. “Do you know me?” she demanded. “Is this what passes for humor in Hell?”

“Vadrieny is without memory,” Shaeine said, stepping forward. She did not quite place herself between the elf and the demon, but interjected her presence. “As I keep having to repeat, a great deal has happened in the world while you’ve enjoyed the peace of your grove.”

“I see.” The two words held a great weight of hidden meaning. Sheyann didn’t lower her weapon, but slowly eased into a less aggressive posture. “…I did not even see you in the girl’s aura. You share a body with a human, now? Only discorporeal demons are capable of such.” A faint, very unpleasant smile tugged at her lips. “My, my. Something very bad has happened to you, hasn’t it?”

“How do you know me?” Vadrieny demanded, her musical voice echoing across the glade.

“How have you hidden yourself so thoroughly?” Sheyann countered. Shiraki was actually behind her now, having gotten to his feet. He wasn’t quite hiding, but very carefully kept his fellow elder between himself and the demon.

“Oh! Oh! Oh! She wasn’t hiding!” Fross buzzed around Vadrieny in a circle, seeming unperturbed by the flames wreathing her hair and feathers. “I’ve researched this! Warding spells are just about the most universal kind of magic, they function almost the same if they’re arcane or divine or whatever. You’re using fae magic, of course, but it’s still the basic ‘detect evil’ that clerics use! It didn’t ping when Vadrieny entered the glade, because she’s not evil.”

“Not evil?!” Shiraki said shrilly. “Are you utterly daft?”

Fross paused in her buzzing. “Oh, hey. You do speak modern Tanglish!”

“He does it in bed, too,” Juniper noted.

“It’d be different if you’d set it up to scan for demons, but it’s not efficient to have multiple wards for every possible kind of intruder, you’d have more wards than trees! So you’re using a fae spell that screens for aggressors,” the pixie continued, beginning to buzz in figure eights between the two groups. “Evil really isn’t a quantifiable state, but fae magic is good for emotional gradients, so you’re probably looking for malice as a magical state. That’s common to both demons and wild fae. Vadrieny doesn’t have any malice toward you, so, there you go! Didn’t ping the wards.”

“No malice?” Sheyann barked a bitter laugh. “Do you have any idea what that creature is?”

“First of all, she’s a who, not a what,” said Juniper. “And second, yes. She’s our friend.”

“I would like to hear what you know about me,” Vadrieny said sharply.

“Would you?” Sheyann’s icy smile widened, beginning to look somewhat like Tellwyrn in one of her moods. “Life is full of disappointments.”

Vadrieny drew back her lip in a sneer; Shiraki cowered behind Sheyann at the sight of the fangs thus displayed, but Sheyann herself finally lowered her weapon, straightening and effortlessly reclaiming her poise. As though this were a signal, much of the tension went out of the surrounding elves, but very few lowered their own arms, keeping the demon well covered.

“You’re going to look down your nose at me, elf?” she growled. Even that guttural tone sounded like music, joining the splash of the stream and resonating through the glade, seeming as natural as birdsong. “Let me tell you something about being swept along by the world: it’s more painful than you can imagine.”

“I can imagine more than you’d credit,” Sheyann retorted, narrowing her eyes. “I remember pain that you, apparently, do not.”

“Then you’re oddly eager to revisit it.” Vadrieny folded her wings, hunching them over her shoulders almost like a huge, luminous cloak. They were too large to fit precisely, but the effect was visually striking. “Bad enough you want to sit here and wait for reality to stomp over you—forcing the rest of your people to suffer the same fate is cruel beyond belief.”

“You would speak to me about cruelty?” Sheyann said softly.

“Feh.” Vadrieny turned her back on the elf, panning her burning gaze around the glade. Wide-eyed elves stared back; Jenny eased herself behind Juniper, while Shaeine simply folded her hands, listening. “I’m not going to bother threatening you. If I wished you harm, the easiest thing in the world would have been not to come. To let you sit on your hands and wait for the inevitable to happen. You think you can hide from the world? Please. By all means, try that. Sit here in your pretty orchard until the Tiraan or whoever else decides they want what you have, and comes to show you all the shiny new ways they’ve invented of taking it from you. Is this what all elves are like? There’ll be nothing left of your species but drow and Tellwyrn at this rate.”

“…Arachne,” Sheyann said, closing her eyes. “I should have known.”

“Yeah, you really should have.” Vadrieny turned to look over her shoulder at the elder, moving one wing gracefully aside to clear her view. “If anyone here had been paying the slightest attention to what was happening beyond the points of your ears, you’d have found her sitting right there in Sarasio. Ever wonder what else has crept up on you while you ignored it?”

She looked to the left, then the right, then sneered again. “You know what? I don’t even care. Just sit here and die, all of you. If this is how you want to live, the world will be rid of elves within the century. I hope a few of you survive to see how little difference it makes to anyone. Bah.”

Vadrieny pivoted on one clawed foot and stalked toward the edge of the clearing, right at a knot of armored elves. They raised bows and wands as she approached.

“Move!” the demon barked, not slowing.

“Let her out.” Sheyann sounded suddenly weary. The defenders parted, shying back from the burning wings as Vadrieny passed. Jenny and the other students fell into step behind her, eager to get away from the tense, armed elves surrounding them.

“Nice to see you all again!” Fross said politely before zipping off after her classmates.

“So, uh…” Jenny swallowed, keeping her eyes on Vadrieny’s back. “There’s more to you guys than meets the eye, huh?”

They walked in silence through the darkened forest. This time, the way was illuminated by Vadrieny’s orange glow in addition to Fross’s white one. The demon stalked at the head of the group, Shaeine right behind her, with Fross fluttering back and forth. Periodically she would dip close to someone and chime softly, but never got as far as speaking.

“Sorry,” Vadrieny said suddenly.

“For what?” Shaeine asked, her voice soft.

“For ruining that. I suppose that was pretty much the opposite of diplomacy.”

“It was, at that,” the drow replied slowly. “But…much as I am loath to acknowledge it…diplomacy has its limits, and I believe we had reached them. I cannot say whether your approach was the right one, but it was something. Now, what will be, will be.”

They all straggled to a halt, glancing around. There was no sign of any elf having followed them.

“You took a stand on principle,” Shaeine went on. “And you protected your friends. I cannot imagine Teal is upset with you.”

Slowly, Vadrieny shook her head. “That… A lot of that was Teal’s anger.”

Mutely, Shaeine raised her eyebrows.

“Hey, uh…we’re just gonna go on up ahead a little bit,” said Jenny, taking Juniper by the arm and gently tugging her forward. The dryad went without protest, though she paused to wink and give Shaeine a thumbs up behind Vadrieny’s back.

“Uh, is it wise to split up?”

“Come on, Fross.”

“Okay, okay! See you two in a bit, I guess…”

The pixie chimed softly in agitation as she followed the others out, leaving Shaeine and Vadrieny in a small clearing, lit by the demon’s fire.

“You ought to know.” Vadrieny’s low voice hummed through the darkened trees, harmonizing with the crickets and bullfrogs that sang in the night. “She’ll be mad at me for telling you, but… Teal’s parents have a very good friend who’s an elf. He was like an uncle, really, helped raise her. He’s the reason she speaks elvish. And he never said a word to her about sexuality.”

Shaeine tilted her head mutely to one side.

“Remember the night we went to Last Rock, and she played the guitar?”

“And you helped her sing.” The drow nodded. “Vividly, yes.”

“You mentioned that elves are normally attracted to both genders.”

“Gender isn’t exactly a polar—ah. Yes, I recall.”

Vadrieny sighed, fanning her wings once and sending a warm breeze through the nearby bushes. “It’s been weighing on her. How can he not have said anything? It was…brutal, growing up the way she is in Imperial society. She’s only managed this well because her family is too powerful to let her be abused too much, but she was still bullied. The one person who could have made a difference, who should have known better, said nothing.”

Slowly, finally, the glow faded. Wings and claws withdrew and the forest grew dark again, and only Teal stood there, one arm crossed awkwardly in front of her to grasp the opposite elbow. She stared at the ground.

“And the worst thing is, I never had to wonder for a moment why he didn’t. Elves. Balance, harmony, respect, tradition… He wouldn’t have wanted to rock the boat. I am just. So. Sick. Of elven bullshit.” She twisted her lips, clamping down on the emotion bubbling up. “…I’m sorry, Shaeine, I shouldn’t have let her dump all this on you. I know you don’t like to talk about emotions…”

She broke off with a soft gasp as Shaeine closed the gap and wrapped her arms around her. The drow was shorter by a good bit; her thick white hair effectively blocked Teal’s mouth.

“Not everything,” Shaeine said softly, “is about what I like.”

Slowly, hesitantly, Teal loosened her arms and hugged her back. Shaeine squeezed her once before pulling away.

“I am very uncomfortable with public displays of emotion,” she said. “But I am also your friend, and I greatly value your happiness. Should you wish to talk, we can do so anytime we have privacy.”

Teal let a tremulous smile flutter across her features. “I-I would like that.”

Shaeine smiled back, and more warmth illumined the expression than she usually showed in the course of a day, clear even in the shadows.

“Am I intruding?”

They both spun to face the figure slowly materializing out of the darkness. Elder Sheyann moved at a serene, unthreatening pace, hands folded before her. The tomahawk was not in evidence… But then, it hadn’t been before, either.

“What a fascinating group of young people you are,” she said, her gaze on Teal, and came to a stop a few yards from them. “You have certainly disrupted the tranquility of our existence.”

“Sorry,” Teal said curtly.

Sheyann smiled very faintly. “You owe me no apology…for that. Nothing you said was incorrect, though you were perhaps a bit pushy. I cannot say I was best pleased at having an archdemon brought into our home unannounced.”

“I prefer it if she stays unannounced, usually,” Teal said frankly, shifting her bare feet awkwardly on the moss. Her rubber sandals were no doubt back in the glade, ripped apart by the manifestation of Vadrieny’s talons.

Sheyann studied her in silence for a moment. “You certainly managed to keep a secret from me,” she said at last, “but I am rarely wrong in my assessment of a person’s character. You seem like such a… Forgive the banal description… Such a nice girl.”

“Teal Falconer is the best person I know,” Shaeine said evenly. Teal looked over at her, opening her mouth in surprise, but closed it silently after a moment.

“In that case,” Sheyann went on in a grimmer tone, “I strongly advise you to separate yourself from that creature as quickly as you possibly can, by whatever means are necessary.”

Teal shook her head. “The clerics at the Universal Church… Well, they said a lot, but one thing that stuck with me was the metaphor of applesauce.”

Sheyann raised an eyebrow.

“You can take two apples,” Teal explained, “mash them up, add spices, mix them together…y’know, make applesauce. But once you’ve done that, applesauce is all you have. Even if you could somehow strain out all the other ingredients, separate each particle into the two separate piles and put them all back exactly where they were… Both are still basically destroyed. There’s not enough left of either to make two whole apples again.”

“I see. I am sorry to hear it.” The elder sighed. “Be warned, then. Memories or no, that creature is what it is. Its nature will out, eventually.”

“What did she do to you?” Teal asked in a small voice.

The elf simply stared at her in silence for a very long stretch of moments, then shook her head again. “I must return to the grove and try to salvage some order among those of the tribe who are left.”

“Left?” Shaeine asked sharply.

Sheyann actually grinned at her, but it was a wry, almost bitter expression. “Oh, yes. Whatever your other flaws and virtues, the two of you… The three of you can put on quite a show.” She turned and glided back into the darkness, her voice echoing back to them. “Return to the town, and do what you can for it, children. You won’t be going alone.”

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4 – 12

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“I just wish you’d at least take somebody with you, ma’am. Believe me, I understand not wantin’ to be cooped up in here anymore, but that’s exactly why it ain’t safe to just take off, with the town the way it is.”

“You’re a sweet boy, Joe,” Lily said fondly, reaching out to ruffle his hair. “Much too good for the lady you’ve got your eye on. But don’t you worry about little ol’ me. If I were worried about my safety, you can bet I wouldn’t be going.”

“Seriously, she’ll be fine,” Tellwyrn said dryly. “If anything, her leaving just means we’ll miss out on the accidental hilarity of somebody trying to harm her. I’m a little perplexed, though, Lil. It’s not like you to take off in the middle of the action.”

“Oh, this is far from the middle, Arachne,” Lily said, smirking at her. “Anyway, it’s not that I’m not interested in seeing how your little field trip goes, but an old acquaintance of ours has started sniffing around. One I’d rather not have a confrontation with at this time.”

Tellwyrn narrowed her eyes. “Oh? Who?”

“Don’t you fret your pretty head about it, dear. He was always fond of you anyway.”

The Professor’s nostrils flared in irritation, but she didn’t rise to the bait. “Be that as it may, I meant that when you vanish, you usually do just that. It’s the bothering to say goodbye that’s out of character.”

“Really, Arachne. Just because you have no regard for the most basic social graces doesn’t mean nobody else does.”

Lily picked up her carpet bag and strolled toward the door with an entirely unnecessary sway to her movements that commanded everyone’s attention. To her customary scarlet dress she had added an old-fashioned traveling cloak in deep crimson, and now pulled up the hood over her dark hair as she reached the exit. Pausing at the threshold, she half-turned to look back at those assembled.

“Bit of advice, kids,” she said. “A little less enthusiasm, a little more finesse. Toodles!” Wiggling her fingers flirtatiously, she turned and departed, leaving a momentary silence behind her.

“Didn’t she say she was pregnant?” Gabriel asked finally. “Sure doesn’t look it.”

Tellwyrn snorted and stomped over toward the bar.

“I wonder just who that woman really was,” Trissiny said slowly.

“She’s either pretty badass or a fucking idiot, goin’ out there alone,” Ruda agreed. “I mean, what’s she gonna do? Just walk out into the prairie? Try to flag down a caravan? The speed those things travel, I doubt the enchanter driving could even see someone waving.”

“There’s that,” Trissiny said, still frowning at the door, “and the fact that Professor Tellwyrn allowed her to talk to her that way. That’s what throws me off.”

The students, as well as Joe and Jenny, glanced in unison over at the bar, where Tellwyrn was now nursing a whiskey and ostentatiously ignoring them.

“Well,” Toby said after a pause. “I guess there’s no use putting it off. Everything ready, Robin?”

The elf shrugged. “They all know the time and place. I can’t guarantee everyone will turn up, but it’s not like there’s much else for them to do in this town these days. Most of the families are as fortified as they can get inside their homes; even tending their kitchen gardens is risky. Of course, I asked their wives to lean on them a bit, too,” she added with a grin. “That should improve the turnout.”

“Okay,” he said, nodding. “We’d better move out, then.”

“Just a moment, if I may.”

They turned in surprise at the voice, beholding Heywood Paxton approaching from the stairs to the upper floor, where the private rooms were. He looked much better, with none of the reddened eyes and nose that indicated he’d been at the bottle again. The man had lost weight, and his suit hung on him somewhat loosely, but it looked clean and freshly pressed nonetheless, and the silver gryphon badge of his office gleamed with fresh polish.

“High time this old fool started doing his duty to his Emperor,” he said, head high. “My friends, I thank you not only for coming to the aid of this town, but also for jostling me out of my stupor. You may count on Heywood Paxton, Imperial Surveyor, to do his part.”

“I’m…not sure that’s such a great idea,” Joe said carefully. “You’re a big target, Mr. Paxton.”

“Less so that previously, my boy,” the Surveyor replied with a grin, patting his somewhat diminished paunch.

“You know what I mean,” replied the Kid, his expression growing drawn. “You’re a high priority for the Riders. They can’t have an official Imperial report getting back to Tiraas.”

“And that is precisely what I must accompany this expedition,” he replied, turning to face the students again. “Pardon me for eavesdropping, but there’s precious little else to do around here except drink, and I believe I’ve done far more than my share of that lately. As I grasp it, my friends, your plan is, in part, to provoke a response from the Riders Am I correct?”

“Yes,” Gabe said thoughtfully. “And…yes, you’re right that having you along would be even better bait…”

“I don’t like that at all,” Jenny said, eyes wide. “Heywood, no offense, but you’re no wandfighter. This is too risky. It’s crazy.”

“Ah, but I hardly expect to have to do my own wandfighting,” said Paxton with a grin. “I’ll be with a whole party of heroes! Paladins, clerics, dryads, wizards, even a bard! Safe as houses, I’m sure.”

“Having to look after a civilian does alter the equation somewhat,” said Shaeine. “I am confident that we can protect ourselves from attack, but… On this matter I defer to more tactical minds.”

“It’s doable,” Trissiny said immediately, then turned a sharp stare on Paxton. “Provided that the civilian in question strictly follows orders and stays far from the front lines when combat breaks out.”

“My word on it, Ms. Avelea,” he said, nodding firmly.

“Then it’s up to the healers; they’ll be the ones having to stretch their capacity by an extra head. Shaeine?”

“Ah, let me just cut in here,” said Gabriel. “It’d be better if he went with our group rather than Shaeine’s. An Imperial Surveyor has some official rank that may help us impress the townsfolk. The elves, on the other hand…”

“…may interpret an official Imperial presence as aggressive,” Shaeine finished. “That is a solid point.”

“I thought your whole plan for the grove was to try to agitate them out of their complacency,” said Robin. “That’d be a start.”

“I’d rather appeal to reason and higher virtues first,” said Teal. “If it does come to agitating, well, it’s probably better not to put them on the defensive the moment we walk in. They may already be annoyed with us for showing up a second day in a row. I think a lot of ’em were glad to see us leave the last time.”

“I will, of course, yield to your strategic expertise,” said Paxton, “but quite frankly I’m not sure I’d be much use in dealing with elves. Imperial citizens, now, those I know just how to motivate.”

“That’s settled, then. Right?” Teal looked around for objections. “Right. Okay, then, all we’ll have to do is try to jostle a bunch of hidebound immortals who don’t think our opinions are worth a squirrel’s fart. No problem.”

“You’ve been in this town too long,” Ruda said, grinning. “You’re picking up the vernacular.”

Teal rolled her eyes. “Robin, any guesses how many of the elves hate humans as much as your sister does? If they have a majority, this is pretty much hopeless.”

Robin barked a laugh. “If you mean how many of the elves are anti-human, it’s actually a pretty tiny minority. That’s not the problem. My sister, for your information, loves humans, in every conceivable sense of the word. She is throwing a sulk because her boyfriend’s family were rude to her—which, by the way, was entirely her own fault and has nothing to do with the Riders or anything else going on. That’s going to be the bigger part of the problem. Elves typically err on the side of caution and consistency. The current climate just exacerbates petty disagreements like that, gives leverage to the few who really don’t want to be involved in human affairs, and the whole thing is held down by our general tendency to stay put and wait for something to happen.” She shrugged expressively. “You’re not going to get all the elves behind you, no matter what you do. The trick will be getting enough to break with the group, which…isn’t something we like to do. Shake that complacency enough, though, and you just might walk out of there with some allies.”

“It is a start,” said Shaeine.

“It’ll have to do,” Teal agreed grimly.

“I’ll help,” Jenny said brightly. “I’m good at shaking things up.”

“Jenny,” Joe protested.

“Don’t you start with me, Mr. Jenkins,” she said, leveling a finger at him. “I told you I’m not one to just sit on my hands! I wasn’t about to go take on the White Riders myself, but if people are taking action, I’m in.” She turned back to the others, folding her arms. “And I know a thing or two about elves.”

“Well, we won’t turn down any help,” said Teal. “We’re not going to stop with the elves, though; the plan is to go after the Riders immediately after we finish whatever happens in the grove.” She sighed, glancing at Gabriel. “And, despite what I earnestly wish, I don’t think diplomacy is going to be in the cards, with them. You sure you’re up for that?”

Jenny cracked a lopsided grin. “I may have seen a little bit of action here and there. Don’t you worry about me.”

“Anybody else care to lend a hand?” Toby asked. “Joe? I don’t like the idea of fighting any more than Teal, here, but she’s right: it’s almost surely going to come down to that. An extra pair of wands would be helpful. Besides, you’re widely respected; you’d be a big help in getting people up off their butts.”

Joe shook his head. “My place is here.”

“He’s right,” said Gabriel. “Without him here, there’s nothing to stop the Riders from hitting the Lady as soon as we’re all gone. It’s the biggest holdout against them; burning it and scattering the people here would be their logical move if we left it undefended.” He nodded at Joe, who nodded back gravely.

“Very well, then,” said Trissiny, slinging her shield over her back with an air of finality. “Everyone knows their role. Let’s move out.”

 

Sunset made the streets of Sarasio positively spooky. It was a time when a town should ordinarily be winding down its business; subdued, but still alive, still active. In Sarasio, there was total silence. Orange light stained the pitted street and the dilapidated boards of the buildings lining it, but there was no one about, not so much as a horse or stray dog moving.

The total silence was made more ominous by what lay behind it. This was their third patrol in the streets surrounding the old barn, now converted to a tavern, in which the meeting was being held. On the first, they had been watched, carefully, from the shadows, but apparently word of Trissiny’s performance on their group’s first arrival in town had spread, and none had offered them a challenge. Now, even those dim shapes lurking in doorways and the mouths of alleys had vanished, leaving only the unnatural quiet.

And the prospect of a lightning bolt out of any window.

Gabriel froze as a clatter pierced the quiet, clutching his wand and pointing it first one way, then another, seeking the source of the disturbance. Seconds later, another soft sound followed it, this one clearly coming from a junk-filled alleyway nearby. Clutching the wand in both hands, he aimed it straight for the pile of broken furniture that clogged the narrow opening, then drew in a deep breath, steeling himself to call out a challenge.

He stumbled backward as a small heap of what looked to be barrel staves toppled, and a rabbit shot out of the alley, darting across the road and vanishing into the dried-out bushes opposite.

Gabe slowly let out the breath he’d drawn, some of the tension easing from his frame. He gave Trissiny a sour look.

“Don’t say a word.”

She shook her head. “Too easy.”

With a soft sigh on his part, they resumed their slow circuit.

“Relax,” she said in a low voice.

He gave her an irritated sidelong look. “How in the hell am I supposed to relax? We’re the worms on the end of a hook, here.”

“This was your plan, you know.”

“Yeah, well… It all sounds much less deadly from the comfort of a lavish…uh, brothel.”

“Anyway, I’m serious. You’re wasting energy by holding so much tension. You can most likely survive a wand shot, and I can shield myself.”

“Most likely,” he said sourly. “Could be better odds.”

“I should probably have said ‘almost certainly.’ Compared to what Vadrieny did to you, a bolt of lightning is nothing.”

The silence which ensued was even more strained. The pair of them walked, alone, down the center of the dusty street, eying their surroundings as much for the excuse of avoiding each other’s gaze as to keep watch for ambushers. They had managed, for the most part, not to discuss their brawl on campus and its aftermath; the subject was invariably awkward at the very least.

Turning a corner, they slowed slightly by unspoken consensus, passing the old barn. One of the few stone structures in a town mostly of wood, it, like the ruined one out behind the Shady Lady, had once been part of a farmstead before Sarasio had grown to encompass it. Lamplight blazed from its windows, now, along with the sound of voices. Specifically, the sound of arguing. Two men on either side of the broad front door, each holding staves, nodded at them. Trissiny nodded in return, Gabe saluting with his wand, and they continued along their route, gradually leaving behind the only sight ad sound of other life in the town, the oppressive silence falling around them again.

“They’ll be all right,” he said quietly, nodding at nothing. “Toby’s in there, and Mr. Paxton. If they can’t straighten those folks out, it can’t be done.”

“Ruda is also in there,” Trissiny said darkly. “She can create a fight out of thin air. I shudder to think was she can do from the middle of a whole web of petty vendettas.”

“I didn’t hear you nominating her to come on patrol with us.”

“Once again, you’re invulnerable, and I have defenses. Ruda would be felled instantly by a wandshot. She’s safer in there with the diplomats.” She grimaced, glancing around. “Though all this is for nothing if they can’t get at least most of those people working on the same page.”

“And Teal and Shaeine doing the same with the elves…” He kicked a stone out of the way, scowling after it. “And then we’re assuming the Riders will try something… And with the right timing, too… Augh, I’m an idiot. What was I thinking?”

“Don’t,” she said quietly, shaking her head. “Don’t second-guess yourself after the plan’s in motion. No strategy survives contact with the enemy. If it goes wrong, we’ll adapt.” He sighed, and they walked in silence for a while longer before she spoke again, even more quietly. “It is a good plan, Gabriel.”

He risked a glance at her; she was watching the road ahead. “You’re not just saying that?”

“Seriously? Have I ever gone out of my way to coddle your feelings? Can you imagine me doing that?”

“Fair enough,” he said sourly.

“We wouldn’t all have signed off on it if it weren’t solid. You’re not that persuasive a speaker. They Riders have to know what’s going on, and they have virtually no choice but to respond—and only one method they’re likely to use. The biggest risk is, as you said, the timing. If they strike before we can get in position… But then, most of this is getting these people to work together. An attack by an outside party is the best possible way to do that.” She nodded. “It’s a good plan.”

“What would you say,” he said thoughtfully, “if I told you Ruda’s smarter than any of us give her credit for?”

Trissiny raised her eyebrows, but still kept her attention on the street rather than on him. “I would ask what makes you think so.”

“I’m not sure I do.” He shook his head. “It’s just… A guy I met in the bordello said so.”

“Just…some guy? Someone who’s only seen us a few times, when we were mostly just squabbling?”

“Exactly. I’m not sure whether he was talking out of his ass, or if maybe his outsider opinion… That is, maybe he noticed something we’ve missed. She is royal. I mean, she has to have had training in politics and stuff.”

Trissiny shook her head. “What does it matter?”

“Just thinking out loud, I guess. The different kinds of intelligence. It’s been sort of on my mind, the last day or two, how a person can be really smart in one area and kind of an idiot in others.”

“You mean, the way you actually have a pretty strategic mind, apparently, but possess all the people skills of a billy goat?”

He grimaced. “Just for a completely random example, yeah, sure. Not that you’re one to criticize anybody’s people skills.”

She shrugged.

Gabe coughed softly. “You, uh…actually think I have a strategic mind, though?”

“Really?” She rolled her eyed. “Must we go over this again? I have no intention of stroking your ego, or anything else of yours.”

“Oh, ew. I just got the cold shivers. Don’t say things like that!”

“Yeah, that was ill-advised,” she agreed, twisting her lips in disgust.

“I just… Well, coming from you, ‘strategic’ is pretty high praise. I’m not used to high praise, uh… Coming from you.”

Trissiny shrugged again. “It’s fair. I’ve said your strategy was solid. And don’t forget, I’ve played you at chess, too.”

“Where you won two out of three games.”

“Do you really imagine I didn’t see what you were doing?” Finally, she glanced over at him, but only for a second. “The first two I won quickly, using two different strategies, while you played almost entirely reactive, defensive games. The last one you stretched out, using multiple, deep feints to counter the strategies you’d seen me use, and maneuvered me into exhausting my pieces while you set up a trap. That’s grand strategy, studying an opposing general’s patterns and thinking beyond the needs of the battle at hand. So yes, to my surprise, there does appear to be a highly functional brain lurking somewhere behind that mouth.”

“Ah, well, you know how it is,” he said modestly. “The way I was raised, it’s just good manners to let the lady win.”

She glanced at him again, eyes narrowed. “You are trying to make me stab you now, aren’t you?”

“Invulnerable, remember?”

“Specifically not against a blade crafted by Avei.”

“Well, that’s not really fair, then, is it? You’ve got all kinds of advantages over me in a fight. What say we move this back to the chessboard, next time we have a chance? Best three out of five?”

To her own surprise, Trissiny found herself grinning. “You’re on.”

 

It was out of the question, of course, if he was to keep any shred of control over this situation, but more and more, Toby wanted to plant his face in his hands and groan.

Well over two dozen men crowded the barn, coalesced into small clumps keeping a wary distance between each of them. Despite the palpable tension in the room, they were thankfully leaving one another alone, all their focus on the main table in the center, at which sat the heads of the four families, along with Toby, Ruda and Mr. Paxton. The Surveyor was doing his best to remain professional, but he had wisely left most of the talking to Toby, who actually had formal training in negotiation. Not in Shaeine’s league, of course, but diplomacy called heavily upon the virtues that Omnu sought to instill in his followers: patience, compassion, understanding, respect. Ruda leaned back in her chair, balancing it on its two back legs, her boots propped on the table. She was sipping intermittently from a bottle of whiskey, her hat pulled forward so that it mostly hid her eyes, and not contributing to the conversation. All things considered, Toby decided he was glad of that.

At least there was one thing to be glad of.

“All I’m sayin’ is, we need assurances,” Jonas Hesse said stridently. “Who knows what’ll get back to the Riders, all of us meetin’ like this? Nobody here’s exempt from suspicion!”

“Nobody ‘cept your boys, is what you mean,” snarled Jacob Strickland, the oldest of the four patriarchs at the table. His beard was short, but more gray than brown, and did little to add to his dignity. If anything, he did more shouting than any of the others. He did so now, thrusting a finger at Hesse. “Well? Ain’t it?”

“We all prob’ly suspect everybody else’s boys of bein’ in with the Riders,” said Lucas Wilcox, the youngest of the four, who was leaning back in his chair much like Ruda.

“Gentlemen,” Paxton tried for the third time in the last minute, but Hesse overrode him.

“Nobody calls my sons traitors!” he snarled, jerking to his feet and planting both fists on the table to glare at Wilcox.

“Oh, but you can say what you want about ours?” Ezekiel Conner snapped, folding his arms and glaring mulishly. “Just like a Hesse.”

“Oh, that’s it. You’re gonna eat them words, Ezekiel!”

“Yeah? I don’t see you makin’ me.”

“Gentlemen,” Toby said, much more loudly than Paxton—enough to grab their attention momentarily. “I know you all have issues to work out. Having everybody here at the table is an important first step. But with all due respect, this is not the time.” He held his arms out wide, as if to embrace the whole barn and the town beyond. “Look around you. Sarasio is dying. You—and your families—will die with it if you don’t do something about the White Riders! And to do that, you are going to have to put these vendettas aside and work together.” He leaned forward, trying to hold them still with the sheer intensity of his stare. “Peace takes time and effort to build. I’m not asking you all to suddenly forgive everything and embrace each other. But, just for a little while, please. Put it aside.”

“Ain’t that I don’t appreciate what you’re tryin’ to do, kid,” said Wilcox, nodding to him. “And it ain’t even that you’re wrong. Fact is, though, you’re askin’ us to ride into what’s sure to be a firefight with the very real possibility of bein’ shot in the back.”

“The Riders know too much, we’ve seen it in the way they maneuver,” added Conner, still glaring at Hesse. “Somebody’s tippin’ ’em off. Several somebodies, ‘less I miss my guess.”

“I ain’t puttin’ my life on the line, and sure as hell not any of my family’s, until we straighten out just who the traitors are an’ deal with ’em,” Strickland declared. “An’ until these three dumbasses admit they’ve got Riders among their own families, that don’t look like it’s about to happen.”

“You shut yer foul mouth, Strickland!” Hesse roared, shooting back to his feet. “Your whole brood o’ weasels’re probably in league with the Riders! Hell, I bet you’re leadin’ the bastards yourself! You always did want more’n you deserved outta this town!”

“That does it!” squawked Strickland, also jerking upright. “I’m gonna hear an apology outta you if it’s the last thing you ever—”

Toby slapped both hands down hard on the table, startling them into momentary silence. “Please,” he implored, silently pouring more power into the calming aura he was using to keep this whole thing from exploding into violence. Already, it was a strain to keep enough concentration on that task while also trying to keep the conversation on target. He’d never been in a room with so may deep-seated resentments.

Into the brief quiet, Ruda snorted a laugh. “Listen to you guys. Everybody’s so sure that all the other families are corrupted. First step to dealing with this is you each admitting you’ve all got traitors in your midst.” She lifted her head, meeting their incredulous stares. “Every one of you.”

“Young lady,” Wilcox began.

“It’s Princess, if you wanna be formal. Me, I don’t. Formal doesn’t look good on me.” She jerked her boots off the table and let her chair thump to the ground, leaning forward to stare intently at them. “Use your goddamn heads, boys. Why would the Riders only infiltrate some of the clans populating this town? They need intel on everybody’s movements, or they’d never have been able to head off every effort you made to move against them.”

“Now, look here,” Conner began.

“Furthermore,” Ruda said doggedly, “look around you at what is happening right here, right now. You’re all about to rip each others’ fucking throats out. Is that normal? Is this what life was always like in this town? Or, if you think back carefully, do you find that stuff started getting real bad between you after the Riders started being a big problem?”

“What are you suggesting?” Hesse demanded.

“I’m suggesting the Riders in your ranks aren’t just passing information—they’re pitting you against each other. Think from their perspective: they can’t have the whole town uniting against them, which is the logical thing for a town full of sane fucking people to do when they’re basically under siege. You’ve all got the same damn problem. Now quit pointing fingers and fucking do something about it!”

“That’s all fine an’ dandy,” Strickland growled, “but it don’t change the problem. You wanna round up a posse and take on the Riders? Fine by me. Ain’t a man by the name of Strickland who’ll hang back if that’s what it’s gonna take to save our town. But the fact remains, we got bad apples in the bunch. We ride out, and our men’ll be vulnerable to fire from their own ranks!”

“She ain’t wrong, though,” Wilcox noted. “It ain’t just any one family’s problem.”

“What difference does it make?” Hesse demanded.

“It makes a difference,” Toby said firmly, “because you will all face the same peril together. Do you really believe there’s any way to do this without putting men in danger?” He shook his head. “I wouldn’t lie to you, gentlemen, even if I thought you were naïve enough not to have realized the truth on your own: ride out to battle, and men will die. Right now, you are quibbling over the ways and means in which that might happen, and avoiding the larger truth.”

“You callin’ us yellow?” Strickland growled squinting at him.

“No!” He managed, barely, not to shout. Honestly, they were like children. “I’m pointing out that Ruda is right. You’ve been manipulated, gentlemen; someone has been trying to distract you, to focus your energies against each other.”

“Well, maybe our energies belong against each other!” Hesse shot back. “I ain’t seen one bit of evidence any man in my family’s sided with the Riders, and I’m not puttin’ any of ’em in harm’s way to save a bunch o’ chickenshit varmints who can’t keep order in their own clans!”

The whole table instantly dissolved into shouted pandemonium, the voices too loud and too rapid for any single thread to be clearly heard. All four men were on their feet, pointing and gesticulating at each other and growing increasingly red in the face. Now, other voices began contributing from all corners of the room, first shouting at the general mess at the round table, and then starting in on each other. Toby slumped back in his chair, rubbing his forehead; Paxton planted his elbows on the table, putting his face in his hands.

“Okay,” said Ruda, “this is bullshit.”

She stood up, tilted up the bottle of whiskey to gulp down the last of its contents, then hurled the empty bottle at Wilcox and punched Strickland in the jaw.

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4 – 8

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“Thou art welcome to the hospitality of our grove,” Elder Shiraki intoned. “Verily, thy visit ignites a fire of joy within the hearts of all who dwell herein. And yet, so seldom do thy kind partake of this hospitality. I sense that thou hast come to us, as have so many before thee, seeking the aid of the immortal elves.”

“Wow,” Fross breathed. “The way you speak…it’s so pretty! It’s like a poem!”

The elf smiled at her and bowed from the waist. Somehow, this didn’t disturb the golden flows of his hair, which were draped over his shoulders and trailing to the ground behind him in a way that suggested accidental placement but was just too perfect to have occurred without help.

“He’s only doing that to be difficult,” said Elder Sheyann with a sardonic half-smile. “It’s a statement that he’s far too important to bother keeping up with human trends. Languages don’t evolve that fast, and Tanglish isn’t hard to keep on top of.”

“You’re not supposed to end a sentence with a preposition,” the pixie noted.

“Fross,” Shaeine said firmly. “Please don’t correct the elders.”

“On the contrary, this is how we stay abreast of the flow of the world.” If anything, Sheyann’s smile grew.

“Let it nowhere be said that those of this grove turned away from the wisdom of the fae folk,” added Shiraki. He seemed much less amused, though it was hard to tell. The Elders had a gravitas, a stillness about them that made them difficult to read, even when they emoted deliberately.

The elves certainly did not lack hospitality, though several of those who had interacted with the visitors showed the same standoffishness as Thassli and Fraen. Nobody was outright rude, but there were a thousand subtle ways to slip into a conversation hints that they weren’t interested in getting to know humans. That attitude was far from universal, however, and of the dozens of elves crowding around the meeting area in which they were being hosted, quite a few seemed intrigued and delighted to meet Teal. Juniper was universally a celebrity; very few of them appeared willing to warm up to Shaeine. It made for a tricky social space to navigate.

The grove itself was a ring of enormous trees surrounding a wide glade. A stream, not broad but brisk and evidently deep, entered from the north and had been diverted into two channels which completely encircled the central meeting area, rejoining at the southern edge of the grove and departing back into the forest. Like everything else here, the stream gave the impression of great age; it had cut deeply into the ground through which it ran, and now mossy overhanging lips of stone protruded over the rushing waters. Bonfires built atop rough, ancient-looking stone slabs were positioned equally around the inner side of the stream, bathing the seating area in the middle in orange light, but despite that and the climate of the surrounding prairie, it wasn’t hot.

The actual homes of the elves were outward and up, woven into the branches of the trees themselves. The trees in the grove proper were absolutely massive, greater in diameter than the height of a human and rising impossible distances; the common area in the center of the glade was not small, but surrounded by those giant sentinels, it felt like a tiny island. Steps spiraled around many of the trunks, apparently grown outward from the wood itself. Some elvish residences had apparently been built into the trunks themselves, to judge by little doors appearing here and there, but the majority were constructed of wood, balancing on branches and systems of bridges. They were unpretentious in design, but beautiful, their proportions graceful and highly polished surfaces contrasting pleasingly with the rough bark and deep foliage surrounding them. The same design ethic showed in the wooden bridges which spanned the creek at intervals, and the low tables which dotted the central meeting area.

The welcome of the elves involved a meal, but a rather eclectic one, taken sitting cross-legged on the ground around low tables. Shaeine nibbled politely at the handful of fruit that had been arrayed before her; Juniper had been handed a haunch of deer. Literally, a raw leg off a deer, uncooked and apparently quite fresh. She had tucked in with enthusiasm, which resulted in a ghastly amount of blood dripping down her face and onto her chest. Though the elves were clearly acquainted with the habits of dryads, to have served her thus, even they seemed put off by the spectacle. Teal had been served baked beans and cornbread on a dented tin plate, and was trying to decide whether this was an honest effort at accommodating her or some kind of jab at humans.

“You see truly, Elder,” Shaeine said politely, setting down an oblong yellow fruit in a thick peel that she hadn’t figured out how to open. “We would not presume to trouble the peace of your grove except at need.”

“How very refreshing,” Sheyann noted, sipping her tea, “to meet an Awarrion who would not presume to trouble the peace of our grove.”

“Elder Sheyann speaks truly,” said Shiraki, his expression solemn. His long, lean face sported a small goatee, the only facial hair on any of the elves present, even among the other elders. “Thy family oft comes bearing gifts and pleasing words, seeking to curry our favor. Never have I heard one of thy breed ask aid of us. Verily, thy company pardons many a shortcoming, yet we dare not lay down our vigilance lightly.”

“I must make a clarification,” said Shaeine, “with apologies for not having done so in the first place. My friends and I are here as visitors and free agents; I do not represent my House or Tar’naris. To my knowledge, none of my people are aware of my presence here.”

“That may be fair news or ill,” Shiraki said, nodding. “Speak thy piece, child of the dark, and we shall decide.”

In their stillness was an absolute mastery of nuance. Sheyann merely sipped her tea, somehow conveying both a shrug and an eyeroll. Teal watched her in such fascination that she nearly missed Shaeine’s reply.

“We have recently come from the town of Sarasio, which as you likely know, is in a dire situation. It is our intention to help the residents as best we can, and hopefully find a resolution to their troubles. To do this without the aid of the neighboring elves would seem brash…and, in frankness, unlikely to succeed.”

A stir ran through the assembled elves, dying down as Sheyann swept a cool gaze around the clearing. “Then you have stepped into an established discussion,” the elder said, returning her calm stare to Shaeine. “We are in the process of deciding whether the matter warrants our attention.”

“It is hardly up for debate,” said Shiraki, giving her a cool look. “Did we stir ourselves from our lives each time the humans upset themselves, never would we have a moment to attend our own affairs. The suggestions of a paltry few younglings do not hint at division within the grove.”

“I do not consider any of our people ‘paltry,’ Shiraki,” Sheyann replied with weary reproof, “nor dismiss their concerns out of hand. Neither the elders nor the tribe as a whole have raised a quorum of voices proposing to intervene in Sarasio. The tribe, thus, does not move. This does not mean the views of the minority are without merit.”

“Merit they may have, but the fact is as thou hast spoken: our course does not stray. The humans must, as always, attend to their own problems, or fail in the trying.”

“But surely some of the townsfolk are friends of yours,” Teal protested. The expressions of several nearby elves hinted that she was right, while others regarded her with veiled hostility. Most held themselves carefully aloof. “Don’t you care about them at all?”

“That may be, though such attachments are concerns of individuals, not of the tribe. Yet our relationships with humans must always come at a price. Tell me, child, hast thou ever had a pet?”

“Shiraki, that is enough,” Sheyann said firmly.

“I’ve had pets, yes,” Teal said, frowning. “I don’t see what that has to do with it…”

“It’s a metaphor,” Juniper supplied, wiping blood from her chin. “Kind of an old one, actually; it pops up pretty often if you talk with the immortal races. I’ve heard it from my sisters. Basically, you can get attached to a person with a shorter lifespan, but you always know they’re going to die soon, so don’t get too attached.”

“Oh, wow,” said Fross. “That is really condescending.”

“Fross,” Shaeine warned.

“What? It is! We’ve been perfectly nice, here. There’s no reason to call us pets. It’s just rude!”

“It is pretty condescending, yeah,” Juniper agreed. “Honestly I’d have expected a lot more courtesy from an elder of a grove.”

“You are not alone in that,” Sheyann said wryly.

“I ask thy pardon if my frankness hath wrought offense,” Shiraki said in a stiff tone that belied his apology. “Look, if thou canst, through elven eyes. Condescending as our view may be, it is nonetheless ours. Year by year, we watch the generations of humankind rise and fall like the grasses of the field. Wherefore should we invest our hearts and energies into their care?”

“You will note, Shiraki,” Sheyann said, “that the validity of your perspective was not questioned, but only your manners in mentioning it. Be mindful that the tribe’s hospitality is represented here, and let us not insult guests we have invited to sup.”

“I feel like it’s sort of beside the issue, anyhow,” Teal said somewhat hastily. “So the tribe as a whole doesn’t wish to get involved, that’s quite all right, we can respect that. We know some of your people care enough to act, though. Elves have been supplying food to refugees in the bordello.”

Another soft ripple of reaction flowed through the surrounding crowd, and Teal glanced around somewhat nervously.

“We do not presume to dictate the actions of each member of the tribe, so long as those bring no danger nor harm down upon us all,” said Shiraki. “Those who choose to sprinkle water on the forest fire may do so; their time is their own to waste. We elders intercede only ere they burn themselves.”

“If I may ask,” Shaeine said respectfully, “what restrictions have been placed on the movements of tribe members within the town?”

“To date, none,” Sheyann said before Shiraki could reply. Five other elves had been introduced as elders, but they remained as silent as the rest of the tribe, watching the conversation. It was clear that the two elders who bothered to participate represented two factions of opinion…but beyond that, the politics of this group were opaque to the outsiders. “There is a somewhat delicate dance being carried out, there. Certain of our number have, as you say, rendered aid to their friends in Sarasio. As the tribe as a whole has withdrawn, they have been increasingly careful not to risk crossing any possible line. Should the elders deem it necessary to forbid their efforts…that would be that.”

“Okay…what about this,” Teal said carefully, shifting. She was unaccustomed to the position, and her legs were rapidly stiffening. “As it is, the elves helping out in town are being careful to stay safe and stay out of it. I understand you must be concerned for their welfare, but… I really think the best help they could offer doesn’t necessarily put them at risk. It would mean the world to the townsfolk to see a little solidarity. Most of them are basically trapped in their homes right now, or in small groups where there’s some safety. The White Riders can only intimidate a town that size into submission by keeping people afraid and separated; if somebody were to help rally the—”

“Thy suggestion treads upon dangerous ground,” Shiraki warned. “I tell thee true, ere any of this tribe involve themselves in the politics of that blighted human settlement I will bend my efforts to forbidding all contact. Far too often have I seen groups of mankind destroy themselves, and all in their purview. I will not watch as my people are caught up in their insanity.”

“Your whole plan is really to just sit in this grove and wait for everything to blow over?” Juniper tilted her head. She had finished eating and was busy cleaning herself off with a damp towel given to her by a nearby elf. “That’s, uh… I think that’s a survival tactic for a very different situation.”

“Little changes, in the long run,” Shiraki intoned.

“A great deal has changed, in fact,” Shaeine countered. “A century ago, could you have imagined my presence here, at this table?” There came a soft murmur from the onlookers; she allowed it for a moment, then went on before any of the elders interrupted. “The existence and the power of the Tiraan Empire completely alters the equation. Your tribe is already relevant to the situation, and the Empire will see it as such. If matters are allowed to run the course they are currently on, there is likely to be Imperial reprisal against everyone involved.”

“Thy concern gladdens my heart, child of Tar’naris,” Shiraki said dryly. “We do not worry for the retribution of mankind, however.”

“Shiraki is still adjusting to the notion that humans outnumber us,” said Sheyann wearily.

“What?” Fross emitted a discordant chime. “That tipping point happened like five centuries ago. It’s not even about that! The Empire is organized, they conquered pretty much the whole continent! They’ve got much better weapons now. If they get mad at this grove, you’re gonna have big problems!”

“Often in the past have I heard this rhetoric,” said Shiraki, his expression growing colder by the word. “Always, these threats prove impotent.”

Fross fluttered lower, her glow dimming. “I wasn’t threatening you. You guys might be in danger here, I just don’t want—”

“I thank thee for thy visit, travelers,” he said, standing abruptly. “It has been our honor to host thee. Please, enjoy the bounty of our grove until thy travels call thee elsewhere.” With a curt bow, he turned and glided away, the assembled elves parting to make a path for him. The elder’s departure was clearly a signal; may of the rest of the tribe began drifting off.

“What happened? Where’s he going?” Fross demanded.

“Leaving,” said Juniper. “I think we offended him.”

“What? Us? How?”

Shaeine sighed.

 

“Thank you for escorting us, Elder,” Shaeine said as they walked slowly through the forest.

“The pleasure is mine, child,” Sheyann replied. “I confess I rather enjoyed seeing my…beloved colleague’s feathers ruffled. I fear little will come of it, though.”

“The ruffling of feathers is seldom productive. I certainly did not set out to achieve that end.”

“Yes,” the elf said with a faint smile. “For a trained diplomat, to have attempted that meeting with the exuberant help you enjoyed must have been very like trying to weave a basket with the aid of three friendly woodland creatures.”

“Is that us?” Fross stage whispered. “Are we the woodland creatures?”

“I’ve been called worse things,” Teal replied, smiling.

“I could not say,” Shaeine said diplomatically. “I have never tried my hand at weaving.”

Sheyann’s light laugh was a pure pleasure to hear. It added to her ethereal aspect; she walked so smoothly even over the uneven ground that she seemed almost to hover.

“Wait,” Teal said suddenly. “We’re missing someone.”

“Your dryad friend backtracked to the grove, to visit Shiraki alone,” Sheyann said calmly. “You’ve tried your method of persuasion; she is trying hers.”

“What? What’s her…” Teal trailed off, then clapped a hand over her eyes. “Oh, come on, Juniper.”

“There is little use in arguing with her ways,” Sheyann said, amused. “In fact, I would advise against attempting to thwart a dryad under any circumstances. In any case, she is unlikely to shift him, but I cannot help thinking he will be much improved in mood when next I see him, for which I’ll be grateful. It’s been many a year since any of us have lain with a dryad. I’d rather hoped to mate with her myself before you leave the area, if she’s amenable.”

Teal flushed and looked down at her feet, ostentatiously picking her way with great care over the moss.

“Juniper, in my experience, is rarely anything but amenable,” Shaeine noted in perfect calm.

“Yes, she is one of the youngest. They, as with most kinds of people, are always the most eager to try new things.”

“If it is not too great a presumption to say so,” Shaeine went on, “I thought it seemed you were somewhat more sympathetic to our pleas than Elder Shiraki.”

“You really are an Awarrion,” the elder said wryly. “You needn’t worry so about ruffling my feathers, child. Yes, I don’t mind saying that I would prefer to see our tribe—and our people as a whole—take a more active role in the world. The issue of our friends in this town aside, the world is changing around us, and I foresee the day fast approaching when we’ll not have the luxury of ignoring it. Variants of this debate are happening among every elvish tribe, and unfortunately, each has its Shirakis. The satisfaction of seeing the look on his face when the Empire’s progress grinds us all underfoot will, I think, not be worth the cost.”

“The Empire isn’t quite that bad,” Teal protested.

“Now? I suppose not. It has at various points in the past been quite bitterly oppressive, and employed degrees and types of violence that would stagger your imagination. Human society is a tumultuous and changeable thing. Such days will come again…but in the future, they will come with wands and staves, and we will not be able to ride out the storm as we have always done.”

“Well, then, help us!” Fross chimed in exasperation. “This mess right here would be a great place to start! If you allied with the people of Sarasio and cleaned all this up, you’d be on good footing with the Empire, and—”

“If that were up to me alone,” Sheyann interrupted, “I would do so in a heartbeat. But we elves live in balance with our world, and with each other. The tribe moves as one, or not at all. That is our way, ancient beyond imagining.”

“Ways change,” said Shaeine. “They must change, if those who practice them are to survive in a changing world.”

“You, too, come from a society of immortals,” Sheyann replied. “I trust you have seen firsthand the pains that come from too much change, too rapidly.”

“I have indeed, and I have seen both the benefits of enduring it, and the price of failing to do so. Drow have never enjoyed the bounties you have here on the surface, elder. We are practical people—ruthlessly so, at times. We have made our accord with the Empire, and prospered mightily for it.”

Sheyann shook her head. “I applaud your intention and effort, child. Every part of it. The fact remains, though, you are trying to carry a snowball across the prairie in your cupped hands. No amount of skill or luck on your part will make this task feasible.”

They came to a stop; ahead the trees thinned markedly, and the town was just visible between them in the distance.

“Well,” Teal said with a sigh, “we really shouldn’t get separated, or let any of our number wander into town alone. I guess we’ll wait here for Juniper to…um. Finish.” She coughed, her cheeks burning anew. “Will she be able to find us okay?”

“Undoubtedly,” Sheyann replied. “But in any case she will have an escort. You will be safe here; we have taught the Riders not to enter the trees. Forgive me for leaving you, but I must return to the grove and attempt to wrest some order out of the eddies you have left in your wake.”

“I hope we have not disrupted your lives too much,” said Shaeine.

The elder smiled at her. “You came here to do specifically that. And, in all sincerity, I wish you fortune in your task.” She bowed once more, then turned and glided back into the dimness of the forest. Green shadows swallowed her up in seconds.

“Well,” said Fross after a few moments, “here we are.” She buzzed around in a lazy circle. “Hey, how come you two’ve never had sex with Juniper? I bet she’d be glad to.”

Shaeine and Teal looked at each other, then quickly away in opposite directions.

“What?” Fross darted toward one, then the other, then hovered midway between. “What’d I say?”

 

“Here they are,” Robin called, re-entering the lounge area of the bordello with the last four students on her heels.

Fross buzzed ahead, chiming excitedly, but came to a halt above Gabriel, who was sitting with his leg propped up on a chair, foot wrapped in a bloodstained bandage. “Whoah! What happened to you?”

“It’s kind of a funny story,” he said brightly. “Once upon a time, Ruda fucking stabbed me.”

“Language,” said Joe softly. Tellwyrn just rolled her eyes.

The Professor and the Kid were sitting at one of the round tables with Toby, Trissiny and Ruda, who flicked a cork at Gabriel, grinning. He was lounging a few feet away, where the space between tables gave him room to elevate his leg.

“Glad to see you’re all okay,” Toby said feelingly. “I hate to start making requests if you’ve had as exhausting a morning as we have, but Shaeine, none of us can safely heal Gabe’s foot…”

“Of course,” she said, gliding forward and kneeling beside the half demon, placing her hands on his leg. “You do seem to be experiencing the brunt of the excitement on this trip, Gabriel.”

“Oh, I dunno if I can claim that,” he replied. “Trissiny’s already killed a guy today. Ah, that’s so much better. Thanks, Shaeine, I’m sorry to keep putting you out.”

“It is never a hardship to be of service to one’s friends,” she replied with one of her polite little smiles, then lifted her gaze to Trissiny. “I gather you have an interesting story to tell?”

“It would be more accurate to say that Avei killed him,” said the paladin, “but yes, there is one less White Rider troubling the town.”

“That’s not good,” Teal said, frowning. “The rest will be out for revenge…and not on us. They’re the type to pick on people who can’t fight back.”

“I know,” Trissiny said grimly.

Ruda snorted. “So, do you give Avei credit for everybody you kill?”

“Since I’m guessing you’re not looking for a theological discussion, let me just clarify that in this specific case—”

“Oi!” Tellwyrn slapped a hand on the table, making most of them jump and Gabriel fall out of his chair as he tried to reposition himself. “Honestly, it’s been months. At this point I’m pretty sure the eight of you just squabble because you like it. I’ve had freshman classes full of bitter feuds who could put their heads together with less griping and general nonsense. Both groups, start at the beginning and tell each other plainly and sequentially what you’ve been up to.”

“We got fed and then sassed by some elves and then Juniper had some sex with one of them!” Fross declared.

“That’s it,” said Gabriel. “Next time I wanna be in Juniper’s group.”

“Oh, don’t be a grouse,” the dryad said affectionately, ruffling his hair, “you know you can just ask me anytime. Come to my room tonight and we’ll—”

“Can we please try to keep this a little more on point?” Toby pleaded, wincing.

“Yeah,” said Ruda with a grin, “those of us who aren’t into girls are being cruelly left out here. Where’s our muscly man-dryad to nibble on, huh? Am I right?” She prodded Trissiny with an elbow.

“Please don’t touch me.”

“I give up.” Tellwyrn stood and stalked over to the bar, where Lily sat, watching them and shaking with silent laughter, a hand pressed over her mouth.

Shaeine cleared her throat. “If I may? We very quickly made contact with the elves in the forest…”

Once they got started, telling the adventures of the morning went fairly quickly, most of the effort undertaken by Shaeine and Toby on behalf of their respective groups. Trissiny filled in details of her final encounter with the Riders, and then Juniper wanted to add some extra of her own last-minute efforts. The others hushed her and hurried on, over Ruda’s grinning protests.

“It seems to me,” Shaeine said finally, “that we have two variants of the same basic problem.”

“A completely intractable population,” Trissiny agreed, nodding.

“They aren’t completely intractable,” said Toby. “I mean, I can attest that there’s potential to bring together the different groups of townsfolk, and even the elves… I have to believe there’s common ground that can be built on.”

“Here’s a basic lesson in religion for the paladin,” said Ruda, pausing to take a swig of boubon. Everyone else was sipping water, Jenny having brought over a carafe and glasses while they laid out their stories. “Anything you believe because you have to is almost certainly wrong.”

“Let’s not derail this any further,” Trissiny said firmly. “As I said before, the problem isn’t that we can’t make the humans and the elves see reason, first separately and then together. I’m sure that could be done, at least in theory. The problem is that we don’t have time to do it.”

“That’s it in a nutshell,” said Gabriel, frowning into the distance. “Unless either of our diplomatic aces has a grand scheme to hustle the process along?”

“Afraid not,” said Toby with a sigh. “Though I’m hardly a diplomatic ace.”

“I could not in honesty characterize myself as such either,” said Shaeine. “And, as a rule, when the goal is to build trust and mutual understanding, schemes are seldom a good approach. I concur; the diplomatic possibilities are there, but we haven’t the luxury of the necessary time it would take to fulfill them.”

“Okay.” Still staring at nothing, Gabriel nodded. “Okay. I think I know what to do.”

“All right,” said Trissiny, rolling her eyes. “How about we do anything except that?”

He looked up at her and scowled. “You haven’t even heard my idea.”

“I’ve met you.”

“Ease up,” Toby said reprovingly. “If Gabriel has a plan, we’re off to a solid start. He makes good plans.”

Trissiny stared at him.

“Um, whoah, hold up.” Ruda pointed at Gabe. “Just for reference, we’re talking about this Gabriel. Arquin. This guy right here. The one with his foot perpetually in his tonsils whose only known act of diplomacy was screaming cusswords at the Hand of Avei.”

“It’s so nice to be appreciated,” Gabriel groused.

“I know what I’m talking about,” Toby said firmly, holding Trissiny’s gaze. “In a diplomatic situation, I would follow Shaeine’s lead. Out in the wild, I’d follow Juniper’s. If we were going into battle, I’d want you to take charge, Triss. If we’re going to execute any kind of complicated maneuver that incorporates elements of all of the above, then trust me: we want Gabriel to lay the plans.”

She frowned at him, cut her eyes to Gabriel, then back. “You’re serious.”

“You don’t know him like I do.” He grinned. “You’ve never played chess with him.”

Trissiny drew in a deep breath and let it out very slowly, then eased back in her chair, folding her arms across her breastplate. “All…right, then. Let’s hear it, Gabe.”

He stared at her with an annoyed twist to his mouth, then shook his head. “Okay, well… So the issue is we need to get all these people whipped into one unit, despite the fact that most of them hate each other and obviously would rather sit in their homes getting picked off one by one than unite. Fast. Sound accurate?”

“That pretty much sums it up,” Teal agreed.

Gabriel nodded. “Then it seems pretty simple to me. I say we don’t give them a choice.”

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4 – 6

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The forest was like another world entirely. Rather than grasses, the ground was covered with a thick, springy moss, where it wasn’t interrupted by bursts of flowers, bushes and spreads of leafy ground plants. Trees rose all around, their bark an almost reddish brown, the lowest branches several times a human’s height above. They created the illusion of a cathedral, almost, a soaring space bordered by graceful columns. Only a relatively few yards into the forest, the intervening shade of branches and obstructing stands of underbrush almost totally cut off the outside world; the flat prairie might as well have been the fading memory of a dream. Here, even the light was green, and the air filled with birdsong and the earthy smell of moss.

“I thought I knew the beauty of nature at home,” Shaeine murmured, interrupting the quiet of their walk. “In the sun caverns, and in my House’s garden, lit by sunstones. Then I came to the surface world and saw how much vaster, more vibrant plant life is under the true sun. But even the prairie seems nothing compared to this. I wonder what glories are there in the world that I’ve never thought to dream of?”

“Nature is variety,” Juniper said. Contrary to her frenetic performance in the University greenhouse, and in other places where they had encountered plant life, she seemed almost half asleep, gazing languidly about as they strolled deeper into the woods. “Not all forms of life thrive, or even survive. It’s violent…brutal. They’re all beautiful, though, in their way. Alone, and especially in connection. The web is intricate, and life is different in every place.”

“I have to say I feel a little foolish,” Teal admitted. “Here I’m supposed to be the bard, and nothing I can add beats you two for poetry. I’m kinda stuck on ‘flower pretty, tree big.’”

Shaeine smiled at her. “There’s a purity in such stark observations. Remind me to introduce you to Narisian poetry when we are back home.”

“I will.”

“How deep do we have to go to meet elves?” Fross wondered.

“Oh, there’s a guy who’s been stalking us since we passed under the trees,” Juniper said blithely. “Don’t worry about it, he’ll say hello when he wants to. You can’t rush elves.”

Teal came to a stop, glancing around warily. Shaeine stepped up next to her, calm as always but with a pointedness to her expression that hadn’t been there before.

“You didn’t have to spoil my fun,” a voice complained, and then an elf materialized out of a bush. He was dressed much as Robin had been, in shades of green and brown, though the dyed patterns on his vest and leggings were purely abstract, obviously meant as camouflage rather than decoration. They certainly worked at that, blending into the shrubbery behind him even now, though how he had hidden his pale skin and long golden hair was an open question.

“Aw, sorry,” Juniper said, grinning. “Some other time we could play a nice long game, but we actually wanted to speak with your tribe.”

“It is, of course, an honor to host you, Juniper,” he said gallantly, bowing.

“You know him?” Teal said in surprise.

“Nope!” the dryad replied brightly.

“I’ve not had the pleasure before,” the elf said, his expression much more cool as he settled his gaze on her. “But we know of all the dryads, of course. It is curious that Juniper has left the Deep Wild; Naiya keeps the younger ones close to her.”

“We’re classmates! I’m Fross! It’s nice to meet you! Wow, this place is really pretty, it must be wonderful living here!”

“Fross,” he said gravely, nodding to her. “Such an interesting group. Dryad, pixie, human, and…” He trailed off, staring flatly at Shaeine. “You.”

“I am Shaeine nur Ashaele d’zin Awarrion,” she said, bowing. “It is my honor to be a guest in your grove, cousin.” There was a subtle emphasis to the last word; the elf’s eyebrow twitched as she spoke it.

“A kudzu, I should have known,” he said. “Well, that means I shouldn’t kill you, I suppose. Is that a good thing or a bad?”

“Oh, you wouldn’t be killing her anyway,” Juniper said earnestly. “Shaeine’s my friend. I’d pretty much rip you in half if you tried. And that always feels like such a waste, y’know? There’s just no point in killing elves. They take forever to grow, there’s hardly any meat and what there is is all lean and stringy. It seems wasteful. I hate that.”

“Then it’s a good thing,” he said gravely. “I certainly would not want to distress you.”

“No, you really wouldn’t want to do that,” Juniper said breezily.

“I’m Teal Falconer,” said the bard with a slightly tense smile. “Which makes me the second to last person here to give a name.”

“Oh?” His answering smile was equally tense. “I imagine you’re accustomed to being a person of importance in other company, Miss Falconer. Be assured, your surname carries no weight here.”

“I’m, uh, actually pretty surprised you’ve even heard of my surname. We don’t sell a lot of carriages to elven groves.”

“Ooh! Maybe he has a lot of human friends!” Fross buzzed in an excited circle, apparently not noticing the way the elf’s expression hardened.

“Let me guess,” he said. “You’ll be a group of Thaulwi’s foundlings, come to try to cajole the elders?”

“What’s a Thaulwi?” Fross asked.

“It’s a songbird. Dark feathers, with a distinctive red patch on the breast.”

“Oh!” said Teal. “You mean a robin—oh. Right.”

“I thought so.” The elf took a step back, his patterned clothing beginning to fade into the green shadows behind him. “I suppose I could go ask the elders if they want to talk to you. Or perhaps you would find a few hours spent wandering in the woods instructive.”

“You’re being mean,” Juniper said, frowning.

“More to the point, he is being an ass.”

The new voice came from directly above; even as they craned their necks to look, another elf dropped from the thick branch hanging over them, landing almost soundlessly on the moss in their midst. This one hadn’t made even an attempt at camouflage; she wore a loose blouse and trousers in silvery white, the latter tucked into snug moccasins, with a tight black vest embroidered in patterns of gold and red leaves.

“I’m Thassli,” she said, bowing with a sardonic grin. “This is Fraen, and for the record, he’s just trying to show dominance by giving you a hard time. I gather he’s been chewing the wrong kind of leaves if he thinks it’s a good idea to play that game with a dryad.”

“I wasn’t actually going to turn them away,” Fraen said testily.

“Welcome to our grove, daughter of Naiya,” Thassli said, ignoring him. “It’s a rare honor; none of your sisters have been through the area in many seasons. Welcome, daughter of Ashaele. I suspect whatever you’re here for is going to make a lot of dignified people very upset, which makes you aces in my book.”

Shaeine met her grin with a polite bow. “I very much fear that I shall not disappoint, despite my best efforts.”

“As a point of curiosity, did my sister actually send you here? I gather your well-groomed friend here,” she nodded to Teal, “recognized her Tanglish moniker, but actually sending a human into the grove is a new one even for her.”

“We have met Robin, yes,” Shaeine said smoothly. “Last we saw her she was introducing some of our friends to the townsfolk. She did not attempt to stop us from entering the forest, though in my opinion she didn’t seem excited about our plans to visit.”

“Feh, she’s never excited about anything,” Thassli said dismissively.

“Wow, you’re Robin’s sister?” Fross exclaimed. “It’s a small world! And a small forest. Well, even smaller. By definition. Obviously.”

“I think some tribes address each other as ‘brother’ and ‘sister’ by custom,” Teal said. “Correct me if I’m wrong, though. I don’t know how you guys do things around here.”

“You’re not wrong,” Thassli said gravely. “Thaulwi is my sister in the sense of being a fellow member of the tribe, of our extended family. Also, by a strange coincidence, we have the same parents. It’s funny how the surly, unfriendly one is so fond of humans and tauhanwe and outsiders in general, while the upbeat, outgoing one is less sanguine about people who behave like children as a cultural imperative, except with weapons.”

“Wow,” Teal muttered. “Hint taken.”

“So, you want to see the elders?” Thassli went on, not responding to her.

“Yes, thank you,” said Shaeine.

“Then so you shall. Right this way.” Sketching a mocking bow in their direction, she took off into the shadows of the forest at a languid pace, the visitors falling into step behind her. Fraen waited till they had passed before settling in at the rear of the group.

“So,” Teal said after a quiet few minutes, as it seemed their guides weren’t about to start a conversation. “That’s the second time I’ve heard you called a kudzu. Is that, uh, some kind of racial epithet?”

“Nothing so harsh,” Shaeine replied with a faint smile. “And it refers to my family, specifically, not my race. It could be fairly described as an epithet, though I like to think there is a certain wry fondness behind it.”

“Kudzu is a crawling vine,” Thassli said from ahead. “Attractive, has a pleasing smell, and renders several alchemically useful reagents. It also grows at an absolutely phenomenal rate and is incredibly durable, all but impossible to kill off if you miss so much as a fragment of the root. If left unchecked, it can choke whole forests. I have seen abandoned human towns completely smothered under kudzu.”

“I’m…not sure I see the resemblance,” Teal said carefully.

“When my people entered into the treaty with the Empire, the Queen determined that we must undergo a fundamental change in the way we relate to all the races on the surface. My family being the diplomatic branch of Tar’naris, much of this work has fallen to House Awarrion. Making headway with the dwarves has been slow and difficult; they blame us in part for their current economic woes, and several of the dwarven kingdoms have actually declared war.”

“Wait, you’re at war with the dwarves?!”

“They have declared war,” Shaeine said, smiling. “To prosecute war, they would have to either cross many miles of Imperial territory overland, or tunnel through multiple Underworld enclaves of Scyllithene drow who would like nothing better than for someone to bore then a convenient hole into the dwarven caverns. The hostilities are effectively limited to the dwarves refusing to speak with the emissaries we send to sue for peace. They have hosted them quite generously while keeping them waiting, however. It cannot be said that the dwarves are anything less than civilized. We have had much greater success overall, however, in approaching our surface-dwelling cousins.”

Fraen snorted loudly, Thassli actually laughed. “They just won’t quit,” she said, grinning at them over her shoulder. “You no sooner chase out an Awarrion than another one comes visiting. We’ve had a party of them camp at the edge of the forest for weeks, trying to flag down passing adventurers to carry gifts into the grove. Sadly for them, humans are even more leery of drow than we are.”

“Persistence pays off,” Shaeine said serenely. “In a mere ten years we have worn down virtually all the forest tribes from attacking us on sight to permitting our emissaries to approach. They still refuse to conduct any official correspondence, but my mother is confident that with time and continued goodwill—”

“I’ve always thought kudzu was an inappropriate metaphor,” Fraen said from behind. “Some kind of invasive fungus, perhaps?”

“Oh, stick a plum in it, Fraen,” Thassli said dismissively. “If you want to be passive-aggressive, do that, but don’t be churlish in front of the diplomats. It just makes us look bad.”

“Well, forgive me for having an opinion,” he said, raising his voice slightly. “I get a little worked up when we’re leading a human and a drow right into the grove.”

“He’s very young, yes?” Shaeine said.

“Very.” Thassli glanced back at her again, smiling. “I think of him like a puppy.”

“Excuse me?” Fraen demanded.

“You lack subtlety,” Shaeine said to him. “I’m certain your tribemates were aware of our approach already; all your warning accomplished was to let me know we are within earshot.”

“Which I let you do because it doesn’t matter,” Thassli added firmly. “There is no subterfuge going on here; we’re taking visitors to see the elders. If this were some kind of sensitive operation, I wouldn’t have kept you along.”

Fraen subsided into a sulk.

“Juniper? Where are you going?” Thassli asked when the dryad peeled off to splash across a creek.

“Um, to the grove?” she said, looking back and pointing in the direction she’d been heading. “Where the elves are?”

“That’s where I’m leading you,” Thassli said patiently. “This way?”

“Um, no, they’re over here.” Juniper pointed more insistently. “Elves smell really distinctive. Even in an elven forest like this, it’s not hard at all to tell where the settlement is. Are you lost, maybe?” She tilted her head curiously. “Were you trying to get us lost? ‘Cos I’ve gotta tell you, that would be really silly.”

“Good thing there’s no subterfuge going on,” Teal muttered.

“It is a very common thing to disguise the approach to one’s home when escorting visitors of uncertain intention,” Shaeine said soothingly. “Don’t be rude, Juniper; they have a right to their security.”

“Oh…gosh, I’m sorry.” Juniper splashed back across the creek toward them. “My fault, I just didn’t think. Okay, we can walk in circles in the woods a while longer; it’s a very pretty forest. Just, not too long, please? We do need to get on with our business.”

Thassli stared at her in silence for a moment, then burst out laughing. “Well! And that is what happens when I start to think I’m clever. Perhaps I’ll actually learn the lesson this time. Ah, well, no point in it now, is there? Let’s go upstream a bit, though. There’s an easier place to cross.” She smiled a little too broadly at Teal. “I know how humans wilt when you get them wet.”

 

“Well, what a complete waste of a morning that was,” Ruda groused.

“It wasn’t wasted,” Toby said thoughtfully. He wore a slight frown of concentration. “We walked into a complex situation we didn’t understand; obviously, our first round of meetings would be spent getting a handle on things.”

“Yeah? Well, now we’ve got our fucking handle, and I think I may have spotted our problem.” Ruda savagely kicked a rock; it went sailing down the road ahead, clattering off the side of a farmhouse in need of repainting. “These bastards all hate each other.”

“Told you,” Robin said noncommittally.

“They don’t, though,” said Gabriel. He, too, was frowning in thought, mirroring Toby. “We’ve talked to seven families, that’s not everybody in town, obviously.”

“They’re the big movers and shakers,” said Robin. “Before the Riders came and all this went down, they were the closest thing the town had to political factions, below the level of the Sheriff and his cronies. Even now they’re the ones who matter. Everyone else who’ll be willing to take any action will be looking to one of those men for a lead.”

“Right.” He nodded. “And they don’t all hate each other. It’s just that several of them hate each other specifically, and most of the rest have complex relationships, and all of them have their own extended family stuff to deal with, and all this is complicated by the fact that the town is besieged, terrorized and basically starving.”

“Oh, good,” Ruda deadpanned. “That’s just fucking great. Thanks for chiming in, Gabe, before you explained all that I was afraid this was gonna be hard.”

“My point is,” Toby said patiently, “this was a preliminary. We know who we’re dealing with, now; we’ve got a general sense of what the tensions are.”

“They were a lot of tensions,” Gabriel admitted. “Uh, I don’t suppose anybody was taking notes? I’m not positive I’m gonna remember…”

“I will,” said Ruda.

“I can spell it all out for you anyway,” Robin offered. “Probably more logically than you’ll get it from any of the men themselves.”

“And once we have that,” said Toby, “we can start negotiations. Diplomacy. I really wish there was a way to be sure we could get Shaeine into this without upsetting anybody. She’s much better at it than I am, but treaty or no, I don’t expect the folks around here will react well to meeting a drow.”

“That is the problem,” said Trissiny. “We have a starting point for what’s sure to be a long, involved process. We do not have time for this. The town is falling apart now, and there’s no telling how long we’ve got till the Empire reacts to all this. In my opinion we are already pushing that deadline. These men and their petty vendettas are going to be their own death.”

“These are the issues they’ve lived with for years,” Toby said gently. “None of it seems petty to them.”

“Oh, please.” She glared ahead, setting her feet down with more force than was necessary on each step. “Did you hear the things they were upset about? This man’s son eloped with that one’s daughter a generation ago. A dispute over a border fence; a dispute over ownership of a cow. Two housewives who got in a public brawl over who stole whose mincemeat pie recipe. Those are just the ones that stuck in my mind.”

“I’m with Shiny Boots here,” said Ruda. “I am just about out of patience with these assholes. Seriously, all of this is small-town bullshit, most of it’s from years ago. And they’re all still so fucking worked up about it, half of ’em were about ready to pick up their wands and round up a posse to go lynch their neighbors.”

“And all of this,” Trissiny concluded grimly, “while their town is a war zone. How can so many people be so utterly devoid of basic common sense?!”

“But that’s exactly it,” said Toby. “The situation has kept everyone tense, armed and afraid, prevented them from talking to each other. It’s not talking things out that causes little offenses to escalate to deep tensions, and then to violence.”

“I dunno,” Gabriel mused. “They did seem like rather petty grievances. But… Usually, if you give people a common enemy, you’ve got a ready-made way to bind them together. Did you hear the way those guys all talked? They were all for standing up to the Riders, but they know they don’t have the strength to do it alone, and they balked at siding with other families they have a feud with. It…smells wrong.”

“I still say it makes sense,” said Toby. “I mean, what common enemy do they have? The Riders are guerrilla fighters; their identities are kept secret, their meeting places are secret, they might as well be wraiths. They rule through fear. When fear is the enemy, reason is the first victim.”

“Very pithy,” said Robin, grinning. “I’ll have to remember that one.”

“What I meant is,” Gabriel went on, “maybe the Riders are doing something, or did something, to play on these tensions? It’d be a tidy way of preventing any resistance from organizing. That, and working up hatred against the elves.”

“That’s true,” said Ruda with a frown. “And since nobody knows who they are…they’re probably folks who can move around the town openly with their hoods off. Fuck, why did I think of that sooner?”

“I’ve thought of it,” said Robin. “As have others. It makes little difference, though, how all this came to be. As Trissiny pointed out, we no longer have the luxury of time to engage in this maneuvering. This knot must be cut through, soon. Somehow.”

“Horses,” Gabriel said suddenly, frowning. “The Riders actually ride horses, right? It’s not just a euphemism?”

“They ride, yes,” Robin replied.

“Okay, well…how many horses can there be in a town this size? Hasn’t anybody figured out who was on whose horse? Even if the men are masked, surely somebody must’ve recognized one of the animals.”

“No luck,” she said, shaking her head. “In the beginning they only struck at night and didn’t let anybody get a good look. They’ve gotten bolder, but by this point they’re using mounts stolen from the rich families that were the first ones killed. Probably stabling them at one of the old properties, too.”

“Shit.”

“It was a good thought, though,” said Trissiny.

“Hm, what if we tracked them to this stable?”

“Then we’re right back where we started, Ruda,” Trissiny said wearily. “Yes, if we can get these Riders to face off with us, we can almost certainly take them…but that is beside the point. What we need to do is unite the town against them. And as for that… The more I see of these people, the more I think it’s not possible. Honestly, I’m starting to question whether they even deserve the help.”

“That’s not like you,” Toby said quietly.

“It’s pretty much like me,” she replied, not meeting his eyes. “I find it hard to have patience for people who bury their heads in foolishness when their whole world is coming apart around them. But…it’s not a thought worthy of the Hand of Avei.” She heaved a deep sigh.

“We’ve just gotta change the situation, then,” said Gabriel. “We’ve got the ready-made enemy to hold up as a target. We just need to…engineer a scenario where they’re not all scared of the boogeymen and are inspired to fight back.”

“Hmf. Yeah, maybe that’d do it,” Ruda said. “Any ideas?”

“Um.”

“Yeah. Me either.”

Abruptly, Robin stiffened. “Only three. Stand your ground.” As swiftly as a fleeing squirrel, she shot across the road, vaulted over a dilapidated picket fence and vanished into a tiny patch of scraggly bushes that seemed hardly big enough to conceal her.

The four of them had another few seconds to be confused before they could hear the hoofbeats.

They were on one of the outer roads of the town, lined on one side by intermittent structures that were mostly abandoned, and on the other by the backs of houses. All four drew together as the first White Riders they had seen wheeled around the corner ahead and galloped toward them. The outfits were definitely impressive, white cloaks with the hoods up and masks covering the lowers parts of their faces, over loose white robes. They were windblown and dusty, however, and doubtless got that way minutes after being put on in this prairie town. Compared to Imperial or Avenist soldiers, the three men were not much to look at. Bearing down on them on horseback, though, they made a solid impression.

Light flared up around Toby and Trissiny; Gabriel hissed in pain and stumbled backward away from them. Ruda unsheathed her sword but didn’t take a step, leaving the two paladins in the forefront of the group.

The Riders came to a stop far closer than was safe, horses prancing restlessly.

“Leave,” said the one in the middle. The voice was terribly wrong, echoing cavernously and with a hissing resonance like the wind through the tallgrass. However cheap their theatrics, a little enchantment could go a long way if one knew how to use it properly. Nobody would ever place that voice as belonging to a human being, much less one they knew.

“Perhaps we can talk—”

“Leave,” the lead Rider repeated, cutting Toby off. “This town doesn’t need your help. It’s no place for you. Go back where you came from.”

“No.” Trissiny said flatly.

All three Riders raised their wands.

“Oh, fuck this,” Ruda snorted, and stabbed Gabriel in the foot with her rapier.

He let out a shriek of pure surprise and pain, his face twisting—then twisting further, hardening into defensive ridges of bone protecting his eyes, which suddenly went coal black and faintly reflective.

The horses screamed in panic, wheeling about despite the imprecations of their riders; the one in the lead reared, nearly unseating its master and almost falling over before it managed to get turned and moving. All three dashed away back where they had come, one nearly falling out of his saddle, all of them flailing without success to get their mounts back under control.

“Stay here,” Trissiny said curtly, running two steps past them and vaulting into Arjen’s saddle.

“What the f—where the fuck did that thing come from?!” Ruda squawked, stumbling backward and incidentally yanking the sword out of Gabriel’s foot, prompting another yowl from him. “Where did she—did she have that fucking horse on the Rail?!”

“You stabbed me!” Gabriel shouted. He was clutching at his head with both hands, hopping about on one foot.

“Oh, you’re fine, y’big baby. We’ll have Shaeine heal you up when she gets back and you’ll be good as new.”

“Why the fuck did you stab me!” he roared directly in her face. Ruda didn’t back away, but gripped her sword tighter. His eyes were still bottomless pits of darkness.

“Gabriel.” Toby turned from watching Trissiny, who had already galloped out of sight. “You’re getting angry. Nobody likes you when you’re angry.”

Gabriel glanced at him, breathing heavily through clenched teeth. Slowly, with visible effort, he forced himself to relax. He closed his eyes, taking deeper, slower breaths while the armor plates on his cheeks and forehead melted back into the skin; when he opened them again, they looked fully human.

“All right,” he said more calmly. “Let me rephrase that. Ruda, dear classmate and colleague, why the fuck did you fucking stab me?”

“Well, it’s something,” Toby muttered.

“I’m sorry,” she said, sounding sincere but in no way remorseful. “Tactics, though. This house behind us is smoking from the chimney; there are people in there. If shooting started, there’d be bystanders hit. Had to scare ’em off and they didn’t look too impressed by Trissiny’s sword.”

“And that leads by what circuitous logic to you fucking stabbing me?!”

“Animals don’t like demons,” she explained, grinning. “And horses are jumpy beasts at the best of times. I figured, we show them a bit of your inner monster, and they’d take the decision out of the Riders’ hands. Went off perfectly, by the way. Don’t everybody thank me at once.”

“That really hurts,” he complained, still holding his injured foot off the ground. “How the fuck did that even break the skin?! Did you have your sword blessed?”

“If it was blessed, you’d be burning,” said Toby. “Mithril is a natural magic-blocker. That’s why it’s so valuable; that sword could cut through a dragon’s scales, too.”

“Stab,” Ruda clarified. “It’d stab through a dragon’s hide. Rapier’s not a slashing weapon.”

“Okay, well, forgive me, but I’m still kind of hung up on the part where you fucking stabbed me!”

“So I noticed,” she said dryly. “Look, I am sorry, but I needed to upset you spontaneously. I figured that was more reliable than going off on a spiel about how your mother’s a whore.”

“My mother is a hethelax demon, you lunatic!”

“Oh. Really? I’d always assumed… Well, my mistake.” She grinned broadly. “A spiel about how your father’s a whore.”

“Ruda,” Toby said firmly. “Enough.”

“Man, you ruined my shoe,” Gabriel said petulantly. “I like these shoes.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, I will buy you new shoes, just for being a good sport.”

“I am not a good sport! I’m whining and bitching and carrying on and I intend to keep doing it!”

Toby turned his back on them, staring in the direction Trissiny had gone, his face creased with worry.

 

Arjen was a draft horse, not built for speed; but then, he wasn’t just a horse. Despite the lead the Riders had, and the extra time they’d had to sort themselves out and turn their mounts’ panic into a controlled retreat, Trissiny was gaining on them. At least until, a few minutes after they had left the town behind, Arjen suddenly skidded to a stop.

“What?” she demanded. “What are you doing?! After them!”

He twisted his head around and gave her a look.

Up ahead, the three Riders also stopped, wheeling their mounts around to prance back and forth—not the behavior of fugitives fleeing a dangerous enemy. Trissiny glanced around, quickly taking in the scene.

Between her and them, the path narrowed into a small pass between two little hillocks, each crowned with a small thicket of trees. Plenty of space to hide armed men in each, and a good spot to rig a trap. It was still too open for a proper ambush, but with modern weapons, they wouldn’t need to enclose her fully.

“I see it too,” she said softly. “Thank you, Arjen. Good work.” She patted his neck and he whickered softly, lowering his head to stare at their foes and pawing at the ground with one massive hoof.

A golden sphere of light sparked around them as it was struck by a lightning bolt, then a second. It was reflexive, now. In hindsight, Trissiny understood how she had used so much divine magic against the centaurs without burning herself out; elves could carry and channel huge amounts of energy. She probably couldn’t match a full elf, but her capacity was clearly high enough to make a significant difference. Blocking the wandshots barely even registered.

“What’s wrong, paladin?” called the lead rider in his eerie, magically enhanced voice. “Lost your nerve?”

Goddess, they weren’t even being subtle about it. How had these amateurs managed to suborn the entire town so completely?

Trissiny considered her options. She could probably withstand whatever they had waiting, to judge by the way their wands were making no impression on her shield, but charging into a trap of unknown nature was deeply foolhardy. She could easily go around the hillocks; the forest was too thick on one side but there was plenty of open prairie on the other. That would take precious moments, however, and they’d flee as soon as she started. She’d lose them for sure; they knew this land, and she didn’t.

She could, of course, retreat, and it seemed to be the logical option anyway. This wasn’t the time or the place for a confrontation. But there was more to war than tactics and strategies; symbolic victories counted, and Trissiny now realized she had been maneuvered into this place for exactly that reason. If the Hand of Avei backed down from them, the White Riders would gain untold credibility and tighten their grip on the town without shedding a drop of blood.

The leader sat his horse patiently, watching her, but the other two wheeled their mounts back and forth, whooping and hollering. Daring her.

Trissiny nudged Arjen forward, taking him around in a wide arc to approach the gap from an angle. The Riders’ shouting rose in pitch and they mirrored her approach, wands up and aiming.

She drew back her arm and, with all her strength, hurled her sword at them.

The blade arced through the air, spinning end over end, and struck the earth equidistant between them, sticking upright out of the soil directly between the two little hills. Trissiny continued her wide arc, wheeling around again to regard the Riders from a greater distance.

Yipping and hollering in triumph, one of them galloped forward straight at the sword, leaning far to the right out of his saddle. It was an impressive display of horsemanship; held in place only by one foot in a stirrup and a hand on his saddle horn, he swept his other arm out, low enough he could have dragged his fingers along the ground.

The leader shouted a warning in his creepy voice, but too late.

The Rider closed his fingers around the hilt of Trissiny’s sword.

The world dissolved in light.

It wasn’t a bolt so much as a tower of lightning, a single shaft of blinding energy like a bar of solid moonlight, burning with the intensity of a furnace. For one fiery instant it connected the sword with the sky above.

The horse, now riderless and screaming in panic, went galloping away across the prairie, leaving behind the blackened and still smoking corpse of a White Rider, lying beside the sword stuck upright in the ground.

Both the remaining Riders spun their mounts and took off as fast as they could move.

Trissiny sat in her saddle and watched them go. When she finally nudged Arjen forward, leaning down to retrieve her sword, there came not a peep from either hillock, and she didn’t bother investigating them. Sheathing her weapon, she turned her steed and headed back for the town.

Behind her, the fallen Rider continued to smoke.

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“Thanks, Horace,” Robin said, nodding to him as she squeezed past.

“My pleasure, ma’am,” the slim bartender replied. His tremendous mustache all but hid his smile, but he had the kind of eyes the conveyed it very well on their own. He stood aside, gallantly holding the door to the pantry open for the students.

“I don’t think we’re all gonna fit in there,” Gabriel noted.

“Won’t all be in here…” Robin’s voice from deep within the pantry trailed off, followed by a thunk and then the scrape of something heavy being moved. Then, slowly, the line of students began to shuffle forward.

It was a narrow space and not very deep, lined by shelves which were sadly rather bare at the moment. A few jars of preserved vegetables, two hanging hams, bags of dried beans and rice and several other odds and ends remained—clearly not enough to support the Shady Lady’s population for long. Nobody commented as they filed past, and stepped one by one into the hole at the far end of the pantry, where one of the floor stones had been lifted to reveal a makeshift ladder of rusted steel bars driven into bedrock.

This descended about ten feet into a tunnel, which ironically was more spacious than the pantry had been. There were no torches, but in the relatively small space, Fross’s white glow provided them ample light to see, not that there was much to look at. Once they were all down, Robin darted back up the ladder and pulled shut the hidden door, sealing them into the gloom.

“Right,” she said, descending again and sliding through them to the head of the group. They were in a dead end; she began leading them down the only remaining path. “This way.”

“Oh, really? That way?” Ruda snipped. “You sure you don’t want us to tunnel through the wall?”

“You can try that if you really want. At least you’d be kept busy.” Robin was already vanishing into the darkness ahead, and didn’t turn to look at them when she spoke. They hastened to catch up, especially after Fross fluttered on to keep right behind the elf.

“Joe is more aware of the situation in the elven grove than most of Sarasio’s residents,” she said as they walked. “He didn’t go into it because there is really not much to tell. Elves and humans alike are broadly divided into two camps: those who feel favorably toward the other race, and those who feel otherwise. There is a constant push and pull between them, with the bulk of the population falling somewhere in the middle…some apathetic, some prone simply to changing their minds. The only great difference is that while human political movements tend to be volatile by nature, elves… Well, we take the longer view. Most of the grove’s current population has seen entire human generations rise and fall. Dozens of such, in some cases. What seems like an apocalypse to the residents of Sarasio appears more like just another round of tomfoolery to us.”

“Do you agree with that?” Toby asked.

Robin shook her head without turning around. “I do not. That’s why I and a few others have been making use of this tunnel, and several like it. We bring food and supplies to the few secured spots in Sarasio.”

“How many secure spots are there?” Trissiny asked.

“In terms of permanent locations? Just the two, the Shady Lady and the other tavern. Joe is inclined to be modest: I assure you, the men guarding the Lady’s doors are not a deterrent to the White Riders. Even they don’t want to cross wands with the Sarasio Kid, however; most of them have seen him in action. The other meeting spot is likely to be full of armed, drunken townsmen at any time, and while the Riders could perhaps vanquish them if they struck in force, it would be a massacre. They are either reluctant to risk their numbers in a pitched battle or still holding to some code that disallows them to slaughter civilians in bulk.”

“Maybe both?” Toby suggested.

“Maybe.” She shrugged. “I can’t really say how they think. Any other safe spots are mobile and highly temporary. Some of us make an effort to keep an eye on things, look after the humans who deserve protection and won’t, for whatever reason, huddle up with the others. That’s very hard to do, however; as you saw above, my kind are not exactly welcome in Sarasio these days.”

“I bet,” Gabriel said slowly, “that has an effect on how the elves feel about the town.”

“That’s our problem in a nutshell,” she said, nodding. The tunnel began bending slowly to the right and climbing very slightly. “As yet, there are not enough elders in the grove who disapprove of having congress with humans that they can prohibit us. Their camp, however, has gained a great deal of favor in the last year. Even immortals who can remember many generations of human friends will tend to get their backs up when faced with a barrage of threats and insults. We sometimes have more pride than sense.”

“That’s pretty much true of all intelligent races everywhere,” said Ruda.

“So I have noticed. Here we are.” She came to a stop where the tunnel broadened into a roughly circular chamber, lined with dusty old wooden benches. A ladder was propped against one wall, leading up to a trapdoor in the ceiling. Robin darted up this like a squirrel, not causing the rickety thing to so much as shift, and paused with her head just below the portal. “Quiet, please, I need to be sure the other side is clear.”

They stood there somewhat awkwardly, tense and uncomfortable. Even in the relatively broader chamber, there was scarcely room for everybody once they all made it in from the tunnel. Fross began to drift in slow circles around the perimeter of the room, casting shifting shadows across the walls.

“Can you turn down that light?” Robin hissed. “I’m trying to listen.”

The pixie came to a dead stop. “Uh. Why does that—”

“Shh!”

Fross chimed once in alarm and whizzed over behind Juniper to hide under her hair, plunging the chamber into blackness.

This was alleviated seconds later when Robin pushed open the trapdoor and peeked out. “All clear,” she said, hoisting herself up. Ruda was the first to follow.

One by one they emerged in the ruins of a barn whose roof had half-collapsed along the back. Once everybody was up, Robin carefully gathered up some of the moldy old straw that lay drifted against the walls and spread it over the trapdoor. Through the numerous gaps in the walls, they could get a general idea of their position: on the farthest outskirts of Sarasio, and not much more distant from the edge of the forest.

“All right,” said Robin finally. “We’d best make this fairly quick; people don’t do much moving around these days, but we can’t be found here. You were seen going to the Lady, and the tunnel will be compromised if anyone puts this together. Arachne said you’re to have free reign, so…what’s your plan?”

They glanced at each other uncertainly.

“We must speak with all factions resistant to the White Riders,” said Shaeine. “Ultimately they will need to be knitted into a single unit.”

“You’ll find that a tall order,” Robin noted.

“Very likely, yeah,” said Toby, nodding. “But she’s right: that’s exactly what we’ll need to do. More beating up bad guys isn’t going to save this town: we need the people here to start being neighbors again.”

“Nothing unites people like a common foe,” Trissiny added. “The Riders may have caused all this trouble, but they are also part of a solution.”

“So you’ll want to talk to the elves and the townspeople?” Robin shook her head. “That’s going to take more time than I think you realize.”

“We can split up, then,” Juniper suggested. She glanced around at the uncertain expressions this brought. “What? It’s a good idea!”

“It’s… Actually, I think you’re probably right,” Trissiny agreed after a moment. “We don’t know what kind of timetable there is for the final dissolution of Sarasio, but people are actively suffering for every hour we waste. I don’t feel good about it, though. As a unit, we’re a match for the Riders and whoever else. I hate to leave people vulnerable.”

“No more than two groups, then,” said Gabe, stroking his chin and frowning into the distance. “Any four of us should be plenty to handle themselves against whatever. In fact…yeah, that’s perfect. Me, Toby, Ruda and Trissiny can talk to the locals, the rest deal with the elves. Remember, these are simple frontier folk, and about half this group will either scare them or piss them off on sight, whereas Triss and Toby, at least, are Hands and have real authority. Ruda’s a pirate and a princess, so she’s awesome twice. I’ll just keep my mouth shut and that’ll be a good group to deal with them.”

“You want to send a drow into an elven grove?” Robin raised her eyebrows. “Either she poisoned your dog or you Imperials do not play gently with your practical jokes.”

“Shaeine’s actually a trained diplomat,” Teal pointed out.

“Trained and accredited,” Shaeine added calmly. “I have credentials and official standing. And my family have managed to have civil, if not terribly productive, conversations with the elders of this particular grove in the last few years. I do not anticipate a problematic reaction to my presence.”

“You’re a kudzu?” Robin asked in surprise. “Well…then yeah, I suppose that’d work.”

“What’s a kudzu?” Ruda demanded.

“A story for another time,” Shaeine said smoothly.

“Not to be a complainer,” said Teal, “but how come you didn’t stick me in the human group?”

“You speak elvish, right?” Gabe said, then winced. “And, uh…remember what I said about scaring or pissing people off?”

“I’m not gonna flare up at them,” she said, exasperated. “I usually don’t. How many times have you even seen Vadrieny?”

“It’s not that,” said Ruda with a broad grin. “Teal, you’re just about the nicest person there is, but a girl with short hair in boy’s clothes says ‘queer as an obsidian doubloon.’ Let’s not give the yokels a reason to get their backs up on sight, yeah?”

Teal narrowed her mouth into a thin, unhappy line, but declined to comment further.

“Having one obvious human in the group to approach the elders is a good idea,” said Robin. “Particularly if you seek to bring them into contact with more humans. Fross and especially Juniper will lend you credibility, as well. I will accompany those of you going into the town, then.”

“Wait, what?” Trissiny frowned. “You’re not going to introduce the rest of them to the elves?”

“Ironic as it may seem,” Robin said dryly, “my help will be more needed in town. The locals know me. Not only will you not find the right people without some guidance, you will never get them to talk to you unless introductions are made by a friendly face. Or, at least, a familiar one. The grove is another matter; they will not throw out visitors, particularly an exotic bunch such as you.”

“Especially if we mention your name?” Juniper said.

Robin shrugged. “That might or might not help. I’m not an important person in the tribe, but to my knowledge I have no enemies. If you appear to be in danger of being expelled, though, unlikely as that is, mention that you are Arachne’s students. Not unless it’s necessary, mind. That will ensure you are treated with a modicum of politeness, but it will not make you any friends.”

“Holy shit,” Ruda said, shaking her head. “Even the other elves are scared of her.”

“It’s more complicated than that, and not something we should get into now. Those of you coming into the town, come along.”

“Wait!” said Fross. “How will we even find the elves?”

Heading out the door of the old barn, Robin paused and grinned back at them over her shoulder. “You won’t. Just head into the trees. You will be found.”

 

“Your guests have departed, your Grace,” Price intoned, re-entering the dining room.

“Oh, thank all the fucking gods in alphabetical order,” Darling groaned without looking up. He was resting his head in his hands, elbows on the table. It had only taken Price a few minutes to get everybody set up with their coats and politely escorted out. She had not approved of the host’s absence from this little ritual, but Darling’s patience had taken all the punishment it could stand, and he’d sat here, ripping through the file compiled by the Avenists on Principia. He would go over it in more detail later, of course. For now, all he knew for certain was that his active headaches had just multiplied exponentially. “Girls,” he said more calmly. “Kindly rejoin us.”

It took a minute; they’d been upstairs. The elves, of course, didn’t make a sound as they re-entered the room, but Price cleared her throat at their arrival.

Finally, Darling lifted his head and leaned back in his chair. “See what I mean?”

“Yup,” said Flora.

He nodded. “Right. Did you do as I asked?”

“Once again,” Fauna said a little testily, “if any of them had been candidates, we’d have spotted them on our first pass.”

“I remember,” he replied, scowling. “And I asked you to check them out specifically anyway. Did you or did you not?”

“Of course we did,” she said. “And no, they don’t need killing. I wouldn’t describe any of those three as nice people. And frankly, I think we should kill Basra anyway on general principles.”

“For the record!” Flora held up a finger. “I disagree.”

Fauna rolled her eyes. “Right, well, anyhow…no, none of them meet the criteria you set. No shady business that can be linked to either Church or Wreath in any respect. Honestly, no shady business at all. The two women are career politicians, very careful to keep their own fingers clean, and Varanus…” She shook her head. “He’s actually a decent enough fellow, in his ass-backward way.”

“Hmm.” Darling rubbed his chin. “Mind going into a little detail on that?”

“Well, there are some interesting facts,” said Flora. “You said you wanted anything remotely pertinent, right?”

“Yes. Do go on.”

“Okay, so… You know how the Guild sent you to the Bishopric because they wanted a loyal agent close to the Archpope? Well, the Avenists and the Izarites sent Basra and Branwen to get rid of them. Those two are not well liked in their own cults. They just aren’t very devout or much interested in the principles of their goddesses, but they’re good at what they do. Too good to be discarded, and too careful to do anything that deserves punishment. Neither faith takes the Church very seriously, so this is basically latrine-digging duty.”

“Hm. And Andros?”

“Andros…” Fauna twisted her lips in distaste. “Andros is a devout family man. His wives wear collars, call him ‘Sir’ and have to kneel to greet him, but…they’re there voluntarily. The younger one wasn’t even a member of the faith before she fell in love with him. He’s not into anything corrupt because he’s just not a corrupt person. He’s a true believer, like you. His religion is just fucking creepy, is all.”

“And,” Flora added more grimly, “he is a Bishop because the Huntsmen are firmly behind the Archpope and he’s the best they could spare for Justinian’s work.”

Darling frowned deeply. “Now that is fascinating. How certain are you of this intel? Where’d you get it?”

“As certain as we are of anything,” said Fauna.

“A combination of divinations and good old-fashioned listening at keyholes and rifling through people’s mail,” Flora added.

“Excellent work. Fauna, I’m interested in this antipathy you have toward Basra.”

The elf’s face drew into a taut expression of loathing. “She’s heartless.”

“Well, yeah, she’s known to have a mean streak, but…”

“No. No.” She shook her head emphatically. “I wasn’t just being descriptive… Anth’auwa. The word translates as ‘heartless.’ A person without compassion, remorse, without any connection to others. People are just…just objects to her. She plays the game well, but she cares about nothing.”

Darling leaned forward, staring at her intently. “That’s a serious accusation, Fauna. Very serious.”

“You know what I’m talking about, then?”

“With regard to Basra in particular? Not as such. I’m familiar with the personality type, though; the Guild tends to attract them. Our whole credo is to live free.”

“What does the Guild do with them?” Flora asked warily.

“It’s one of the few matters for which we trouble the Big Guy,” he admitted. “Generally he wants us to solve our own damn problems, but… For something like this, the absolute certainty of a divine being’s perspective is necessary. Because if we know we’re dealing with one of those, they get a quiet knife across the throat. There’s just not much else you can do with them.”

“Yes. Agreed.” Fauna nodded emphatically. “And that is why we need to kill Basra Syrinx. She cares about no one and has too much self-control to reveal herself. That is a bad combination.”

“Again,” said Flora, frowning at her sister (Darling still thought of them thus for the sake of convenience, though he was fairly sure they weren’t), “I don’t agree. We do not have enough information to diagnose the woman. She’s deceitful and has a mean streak, yes, but…”

“Divinations,” Fauna said stubbornly. “They don’t always show exactly what we ask for. They showed us Basra as a child. Torturing a cat with a knife.” She clamped her lips shut and swallowed heavily. “Children who do such things… It’s a warning sign.”

“Flora’s right,” he said. “That’s not conclusive. But!” He held up a hand as she opened her mouth to argue. “I do respect your insight, Fauna. In addition to the solid information you’ve given me, this about Basra is very much worth knowing, whether or not she proves to be completely broken in the head. Even if she’s just a rotten bitch, it’s worthwhile to know how deep that rot goes. All right… How’re you doing on your list?”

“We are running out of names,” Flora said. “The good news is the spirits are… Well, glutted. It does accumulate, we’ve tested; after all this slaughter they’re likely to be quiet for a year or more.”

“That,” he said feelingly, “is very good to hear.”

“Do you want us to start scouting for new names?” Fauna asked.

“Hmm…” He stared accusingly at the sideboard for a long moment, eyes narrowed in thought. “How thorough were you the first time around?”

“As much as we could be,” said Flora. “If you want to expand the list… We’re either going to have to broaden our criteria or start looking outside Tiraas.”

“It’s doubly hard because we made it so obvious what the point was,” Fauna added. “The city is all but emptied of crooked clerics who’ve antagonized the Black Wreath. The ones we didn’t do for have seen which way the wind blows and gone to ground.”

“Then no,” he said decisively, “don’t go fishing for new names, and especially don’t relax your standards. What matters is we’ve sent the message we meant to. If the killings stop as suddenly as they start, that’ll make it plain that the killers are still in control, operating on their own terms. It suggests they might come back at any time. Fading out, scraping for applicable targets…that just looks desperate. Weak.”

The elves nodded in unison.

“I’m gonna have other problems in the immediate future.” He picked up his still-clipped sheaf of papers with Basra’s list of the Empire’s most dangerous and heavily-armed loners. “Starting with these jokers. Once again, Justinian has us out beating the bushes to scare out the boars, and I still haven’t decided whether the point of this is to get us killed off, or because we’re actually the people he trusts to get the job done. The answer to that question will tell me a lot about what to do next, which is part of why I was so interested in some intelligence on my fellow Bishops. Basra and Andros, sure, I can see that. The Huntsman and the Legionnaire, they’re both good people to have in a fight. Me, even; thieves are known to be sly, and I’m known to be a good thief. It’s Branwen’s inclusion in the group that keep throwing me off. I am obviously missing something there.”

“The redhead is an utterly useless piece of fluff,” Fauna said dismissively. “You should bone her, though, and have done with it. She’s into you, and not good for much else.”

“While she does look like a cuddly armful,” Flora said with a grin, “I’m not sure I agree about her usefulness. She doesn’t have the same general kinds of talents as the rest of you, which does make all this harder to tease out. But she’s far from useless.”

“Oh?” Darling raised an eyebrow.

“Izarites are good at reading people,” Flora went on. “From there, as I understand it, what they’re supposed to do is help people find whatever answers they need to improve their own lives.”

“I’ve never understood what that has to do with screwing everyone,” Fauna snorted.

“They don’t screw everyone,” Darling said, smiling faintly. “You walk into a Temple of Izara and you’ll be given whatever it is your heart needs. Lots of people, maybe even most, end up getting laid, because the goddess of love seems to think everybody needs to.”

“I think that’d be good for a lot of people,” Flora said, glancing at Price, who didn’t react.

“Thin ice,” Fauna warned.

“I was talking about Style.”

“Sure you were.”

“I’ve known a lot of people who have gone to an Izarite temple and not gotten what they wanted,” Darling went on, “but I have never talked to a single person who walked out disappointed with whatever it was they got. Izarites are good therapists, too, and just good people to talk to. I went to one when I was fifteen, looking to lose my virginity. A beautiful girl gave me a fantastic meal, two hours of good conversation and the best hug I’ve ever had, and I left happier than I could ever remember being.”

“Aww,” they said in unison, beaming.

Darling cleared his throat and straightened in his seat, wiping the reminiscent smile from his face. “Somehow, we’ve wandered off the subject of Branwen.”

“Right, Branwen,” said Flora. “Branwen is good at getting people to do things. Her record suggests she does it for people’s own good, nudging and manipulating people in the direction of their own best interests, but…it makes the other Izarites nervous. They’re not into being that proactive with other people’s lives. Also, she’s kinda vain, which I understand is a pretty big sin over there.”

“I’ve noticed the makeup,” said Fauna. “It’s subtle, but she’s the only Izarite I’ve ever seen who wears any.”

“And that hair. Must take her an hour every morning.”

“I bet she’s not even a redhead.”

“Oh, now, she’d never get away with that. Can you imagine how many, heh, worshipers have been in a position to check?”

“Pff, she shaves. You can tell; she’s the type.”

“While this is some of the most entertaining of ignorant gossip I’ve ever been privileged to hear,” Darling said dryly, “it’s not helping us any.”

“Right. Sorry.” For a wonder, Fauna actually looked somewhat contrite. “Anything you do need us to do?”

He slid the list across the table to them. “Ladies, you belong on this list. The only reason you’re not on it is nobody knows you exist, and priority number one is keeping it that way. If anybody finds out I’m keeping headhunters in my house, all our asses are grass.”

“Buuuut?” Flora prompted, grinning.

“But.” He nodded. “My buddies and I are about to go poking these bears with inadequately long sticks, and there’s a distinct possibility that all this is set up for the express purpose of getting us killed. If that’s so, we’ll need to find a way to turn it around on the Archpope. If it’s not, we need to play along until the real game is revealed. Unfortunately, making the right choice here requires us to know what’s what…which we won’t know, in all likelihood, until we’ve made a choice, one way or the other.”

“Tricky,” Fauna murmured.

“Boy, is that putting it lightly. I need you two to be the aces up my sleeve, girls. Someone I can count on to meet these assholes on their own level if need be. The tricky part is going to be finding them, and having you in the vicinity without setting off alarm bells in anybody’s mind about how my maids are always following me around whenever something violent goes down.”

“That’s not a concern,” Flora said dismissively. “If we don’t want our presence to be known, it won’t be.”

“When dealing with the average run of clerics and Imperials, sure,” he agreed. “But against these guys? Can you play these games with, say, a dragon?”

They glanced at each other, then at the floor. Their silence was answer enough.

“Exactly,” he said. “So, first of all, we’ll want to do some gentler test runs, which will mean starting on any of these who are currently in the city. The group will be doing that anyway, so there’s nothing suspicious about it. Thing is…” He chuckled ruefully. “I have no idea how to begin going about that.”

“Oh, that’s easy,” said Fauna. “Mary the Crow is in Tiraas.”

“Yeah,” Flora said brightly. “She hangs around our favorite pastry stand!”

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