Tag Archives: Toby

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They let Juniper take the lead, without comment. The students had scattered outside the magic building, spreading out to form a net that would hopefully encircle the Sleeper. Ingvar shared Aspen’s doubts about their facility as hunters, but at least they knew the campus. He ran with the two dryads, following Juniper, for the same reason. Indeed, she certainly seemed to know where she was going.

All the while, there came a faint but perceptible buzzing from the folded and inked paper talisman he now held in a belt pouch. So long as it was anywhere on his person, Fross had insisted, he would be able to hear her directives. It seemed to be working.

“Slow up, Scorn,” the pixie chimed as if directly in his ear, despite being back at the spell lab. “You’ve got longer legs than the rest, remember not to get there too early! You’ve all gotta arrive together and leave ‘im no gaps to escape through. Toby, hang a left at the next path, you’re about to collide with Ruda. I need you two to emerge from both sides of the arts pavilion to cover it. Juniper’s group, relax your pace! You don’t have as far to go and you’re pulling ahead of everybody. Uh, Gabe, conversely, can you move a little faster? I don’t wanna push but—there ya go, much better!”

“I can’t believe I’m taking orders from one of Jacaranda’s little thingumajigs,” Aspen muttered, but she did ease up her speed, as did Juniper.

“Fross is a person,” Juniper replied, quietly but firmly. “Not a thingumajig. She’s really sweet and the smartest person I know. Be nice to her, please.”

“All right, all right,” Aspen said peaceably.

Ingvar kept his mouth shut, observing. Aspen’s acerbic streak was noticeably curbed when speaking to her sister, though it didn’t seem to be a dominance thing; he knew Aspen to be the older simply from their conversations. Juniper was difficult to read, even allowing for being a fairy. She had the somewhat childlike quality about her that Aspen did—in fact, she struck Ingvar as a bit daft—but it was tempered with something he couldn’t quite place. She seemed more thoughtful, or perhaps more sad, in the moments when she wasn’t excitedly talking with the other dryad.

His musings were interrupted by a woman’s scream.

Ingvar redoubled his pace before realizing it, the dryads doing likewise and actually pulling several yards ahead. Aspen hadn’t been kidding about their sprinting ability. They hadn’t come far, all things considered, just past a couple of buildings…

“I don’t know what just happened, but everybody stay focused!” Fross chimed frantically. “You’ve gotta encircle the position before revealing yourselves or the Sleeper will get away!”

“Someone’s in trouble!” Juniper protested, to no avail. The pixie was too far away to hear; her instructions continued.

“Slow up sharply, dryads and Ingvar, you’re approaching the open space where—”

The next few words were washed out by another shriek of unmistakable pain.

“—it up, Gabe, you’re gonna be the last one there! Everybody else, move slow and don’t come around corners, you should be able to see the site if you do but the Sleeper can see you, too. I know you’ve all taken your potions but we don’t know this guy’s capabilities. Okay, Gabriel’s in place. Everybody, step forward. Quick but smooth, go!”

Juniper practically lunged around the corner of the stone building they had come up alongside, Ingvar right beside her. As they moved, another scream rang out. Plan or no plan, hunt or no hunt, a woman was clearly in pain. He might be playing into this Sleeper’s hands, but he did not have it in him to stand back while this went on.

They emerged into a small open space where one stone walkway terminated into another; as in most such places, there was a widened patio area there, with two park benches and several decorative plants surrounding it. Ingvar and the dryads spread out to block the path on their side, while the other students began to emerge from the spaces around the stone-columned pavilion opposite, itself surrounded by taller stone structures and filled with sculptures. The crossing path ended in a set of stairs descending to the next terrace down on Ingvar’s right, and off around the building beside them in the other direction.

“Scorn, stop!” Fross shrilled in his ears, fruitlessly.

In the center of the intersection, a diminutive blond girl was just in the process of collapsing to the ground. All around her was a distortion, a strange contraction in the light cast by the standing fairy lamps, like a bruise on reality itself. Her long hair fluttered as it fell, but also seemed to be trying to stick out as if affected by static.

The hulking demon Scorn charged straight into the intersection from up the path. Aspen cursed, but followed the others as they hastily lunged out to encircle their prey. The other students had to do likewise, hurrying around corners, vaulting over bushes, and in Gabriel’s case, tripping on the top stair, in order to get themselves in position so the Sleeper had nowhere to run. The plan had been to position themselves more carefully, relying on Fedora’s potions to keep them unnoticed until they were ready; that was now shot.

The distortion contracted as the blonde girl fell, condensing in both size and intensity till it seemed nothing more than a shadow standing upright. That was still plenty disorienting, but it suggested at least that whatever magic it had been doing was over.

“Ravana!” Toby called from across the path. “Are you okay?”

The shadow shifted subtly; Ingvar had the impression it was slowly turning, taking in the scene. The University students paced forward, tightening the noose and drawing weapons. Toby and Shaeine flared alight; Gabriel extended his scythe, while Ariel in his other hand blazed with arcane runes. Ingvar drew back his bow, aiming at the center of the shadow he took for the Sleeper. He had a clear shot between Toby and Ruda if he missed—or if the thing were as insubstantial as it looked—but the closer they drew, the riskier that became.

“Scorn, stop!” Ruda snapped, finally halting the demon two steps farther than the rest of their formation. Her towering form practically vibrated with rage, clawed hands flexing. Ingvar surmised that the fallen girl—Ravana?—must be a friend of hers.

He said a brief prayer inside his own head. In fact, after what he’d learned in the last months, he had often debated the ethics and efficacy of prayer with himself, but when it came down to a tense situation, he still did it.

“Conventional wisdom is you’re a student here, asshole,” Ruda commented, aiming her gleaming rapier at the shadow. “That means you know who we are, and that means you know goddamn well how this ends. Wanna make it easier on everybody, or do I get to work off some fucking anger here?”

“Tellwyrn will be back soon,” Toby said, his tone quieter, but his expression no less resolute. “If we can tell her you surrendered willingly, we can still work it out so no one is punished any more than necessary. You know what’ll happen if you make this a conflict.”

“What do you want it alive for?” Aspen asked disdainfully. “This character sounds like a complete piece of trash. Kill it, do the world a favor.”

“He can tell us how to revive the others,” Juniper murmured.

“Oh, he’s gonna tell us everything,” Ruda said grimly, taking a step forward. “Time’s up, buttercup.”

The shadow hunched in on itself momentarily, and then dark smoke began to ripple out from around it on the ground.

“Bad move!” Scorn roared, lunging.

She missed, barely, as the Sleeper shot straight upward.

An instant later it was hurled back to the ground, accompanied by an earsplitting and strangely resonant shriek, as Vadrieny swooped in from overhead and impacted it in midair.

Ingvar, deciding this had now progressed beyond negotiations, took the opportunity to put an arrow in the Sleeper. The shaft, blessed both by a shaman of the Huntsmen, actually exploded in a brief flash of flame an instant before it would have struck home.

In the next moment, a dome of silver light slammed into place around the shadow, holding it to the ground.

Ingvar glanced around, taking stock while this was apparently under control. All the students were present… Where was that demon from Intelligence? He began to have a bad feeling.

“Scorn, please desist,” Shaeine said in a strained voice, and the disgruntled Rhaazke stepped back, having been raking her claws along the surface of the bubble and snarling menacingly at the obscured figure within.

“How is she?” Ruda asked of Toby, who had knelt beside Ravana.

“Asleep,” the paladin said tersely. “Just like the others. I can’t find any other evidence of harm…it’s strange, though.”

“She was screaming,” Gabriel said. “Nobody else did that.”

Slowly, Ruda bent down to pick up an object that had fallen near the Sleeper’s latest victim. “Her lightcapper. You don’t suppose…”

“Ravana would not place herself in danger without a plan,” Scorn insisted, her expression almost anguished. “She doesn’t do anything without a plan.”

“Here…” Gabriel gently took the lightcapper from Ruda, examining it. “Yeah, this thing’s been activated since it was loaded… And this isn’t picture film. We’d best get this to Tellwyrn ASAP. Good girl, Ravana!”

“Our circle seems to have collapsed,” Ingvar commented with an edge to his voice, his attention still on the bubble. The Sleeper was an incongruous dark blot within its glow. The drow priestess looked intent, but he knew maintaining a shield of that kind took effort. If that was the only thing holding this warlock down…

“Relax, we’ve got him,” Gabriel said with a grin.

“Arquin, shut your damn face,” Ruda snapped. “He’s right, this isn’t over till we’ve got this fucker permanently subdued. And thank you, Ingvar, for exhibiting the basic damn common sense I thought I could expect from my friends. Everybody circle up on that thing. Toby, what can you do to un-shadowfy him? We get a look at his face, we can finish this even if he gets away.”

“Countering his magic through technique is probably beyond me,” Toby said, staring at the center of the bubble. “There’s always the brute force approach, though. Shaeine, how are you holding up?”

“I can do this for some time,” the priestess reported, “so long as the shield is not interfered with, but I cannot move her this way. And this being an apparently powerful infernal caster, I am surprised that she is submitting to this extent. A barrage of pure infernal magic will wear down a divine shield fairly quickly if there is a near parity of power involved. Any student here knows the Circles.”

“Huh,” Aspen grunted. “So what’s he doing in there?”

“Oh, shit,” Ruda hissed. “Toby, flare up! All of it! Now!”

Either his spells were readied at that moment or, more likely, the Sleeper took her order as the cue to unleash whatever he had.

Circles of sullen orange light ignited on the ground all around them, and four horizontally on the walls of nearby buildings. From each poured forth carnage—gouts of fire in various colors, billows of sulfur-smelling smoke, in one case a powerful blast of heated air. In one, a large figure began to slowly materialize. The character of the air itself changed, heated, and Ingvar felt something twisting in his gut. He had never been close to simple, uncontained infernal magic, but had heard the sensation described. He would need to seek a thorough cleansing after all this.

Then golden light washed across the whole scene, centered on Toby. The nova blazed across them all, suppressing the spell circles and outright annihilating several. Between the chaotic infernal radiation, Toby’s holy light and the blessing of Shaath over the whole mountain, the air was thick with magic; through the haze, Ingvar could actually see several dark figures, winged and carrying scythes. Two descended on the summoning circle trying to draw forth some kind of demon, sinking their weapons into it. Half-formed between dimensions, it was actually struck, and twisted as if pained. A third valkyrie raked her scythe across the boundaries of the circle itself, causing it to flicker.

Unsurprisingly, in the chaos, the silver dome winked out.

Immediately, blasts of purple-black light flashed out in all directions from the Sleeper, cutting dark swaths through the divine nova. None made it far with that much loose divine magic in play, and all put off trails of sparks uncharacteristic of shadowbolts as the holy energy grated on them, but they held together well enough to be a menace at short range, which was plenty.

Ingvar avoided being struck because he had instinctively begun moving when the shield collapsed; still the shadowbolt that had been aimed for him passed close enough to make his hackles rise from the sheer wrongness of it. All of the other students were hit, most to minimal effect. The bolt aimed at Toby fizzled before reaching him, unable to bore through that concentration of divine power. Juniper and Aspen surged forward at the warlock, seeming not even to notice the attacks which impacted them. Gabriel and Scorn were momentarily halted by the onslaught, Ruda knocked fully over backward with a cry of pain. Shaeine got a shield re-formed around herself in time to absorb it; the silver barrier rippled at the impact, but held.

Immediately a second spray of smaller shadowbolts flashed indiscriminately about, these much less targeted, and peppered the whole region. At the same moment, the very ground under Toby’s feet heaved upward as some kind of explosive spell ignited beneath the pavement. The paladin kept his balance, but his focus faltered and with it the divine light he was putting out.

The Sleeper took advantage of his distraction to double down; more circles appeared around them, and more shadowbolts shot at them. Then he had to break off his own attack to evade the students who were not much impressed by his onslaught.

Scorn and Gabriel he barely kept at bay with directed attacks. The Rhaazke soaked up the hits and simply kept coming, while a golden shield around Gabriel held up under the assault without interfering with his weapons. The two dryads were totally unaffected by infernal magic, though, and the Sleeper had no recourse but to flee and dodge. He had to dodge again as Gabriel leveled his scythe like a battlestaff and unleashed a blast of black light.

Ingvar had always been told that infernal magic had no direct defensive application, but somehow the Sleeper had found one. An orange spell circle formed in midair in front of him, absorbing the blast.

“He’s getting away!” Gabriel protested, shooting again. Another spell shield intercepted the shot, while more explosions under the ground threw Scorn and the dryads off their footing.

Vadrieny slammed into the shadowed figure from above, impacting on one of those midair circles with a screech. The circle flashed, putting off a pulse of kinetic force that hurled her up and back. And with that, the Sleeper had positioned himself on the path outside the encircling students, with a clear shot back into the campus.

Ingvar watched all of this from a crouch at the edge of the nearest building. It was no cowardice not to throw himself physically into a brawl between magical heavyweights; positioned here, he could await his own opportunity. And now he had it.

The shaft nocked to his bow was the only one like it he had left; Huntsmen on quests carried at least one, more if they knew they would be hunting demons. He raised, drew, sighted along the inscribed arrow, and whispered, “Shaath, guide my arm.”

His arrow ripped straight into the Sleeper’s form, bursting into flame as it drew too close, but lasted long enough to strike home.

The shadowed figure reeled sideways. Aspen, Juniper, and Scorn had now recovered their footing and came forward in a wedge formation with the demon at the center—probably unintentional. Toby and Gabriel dashed after them. Above, Vadrieny soared past to land and pivot on the path ahead, blocking the Sleeper’s escape.

Still, Ingvar couldn’t shake the feeling the shadow was glaring directly at him.

Vadrieny simply wasn’t large enough to completely block the path, and she had planted herself too far away; there were gaps between building on both sides their foe could slip into. Ingvar could see at a glance that they had effectively lost this. In the next moment, the Sleeper would vanish.

The Sleeper, though, apparently had a different plan.

The light turned briefly orange as though they stood next to a furnace, and a shockwave of heated air ripped out in all directions, bowling all but Scorn and the dryads physically down, flattening bushes and tipping over one of the park benches. Vadrieny had her wings spread, and was physically picked up and hurled a dozen yards into the air. In that moment, the Sleeper could easily have slipped away. Instead, the shadow solidified.

A circle of deep, red light appeared on the ground around him, marked with jagged runes unlike any Ingvar had seen before. For a moment, amid them stood a human-sized figure of pure black, like a silhouette cut into the face of the world itself. Then, a scream rent the air—not the kind of scream made by a throat, but a sound like metal plates being scraped together. The circle blazed and a whole column of red flashed upward from the ground.

When it receded, the Sleeper stood before them, fully eight feet tall, a figure sculpted of overlapping chitinous plates, gleaming sullenly in the light. Its eyes were two pits of orange flame.

While the students bounced back to their feet, it turned to point at Ingvar, then made a beckoning gesture.

Ingvar fired an arrow directly at its face.

The Sleeper caught the shaft, which then burst aflame, dissolving into ash.

“Now,” Scorn snarled, “you are playing my song!”

She charged forward, ignoring a shouted warning from Toby, and struck the Sleeper head-on. For a moment, the two hulking figures grappled, the slightly smaller Rhaazke pushing him backward, then the Sleeper got a grip on her forearms, physically picked her up, and whirled, hurling her into the stone face of the nearby arts building.

Its next gesture sent a blast of black lightning straight at Gabriel; the paladin got a divine shield up, which pulsed at the impact and shattered. He stumbled backward, but before the Sleeper could attack again, Vadrieny landed on him from behind and both dryads piled into his legs.

The confused tangle which ensued ended moments later with the archdemon again hurled away, but the Sleeper seemed to be having more trouble with the dryads.

“You gotta grip him,” Ruda wheezed, limping forward. “Get your claws in and hold on!”

“He’s physically slippery and my claws can’t breach that armor,” Vadrieny retorted, pumping her wings to shoot back to her feet from the heap into which she’d fallen.

A burst of pure flame sent both dryads reeling back with shrieks of pain. Ingvar, baring his teeth in fury, fired another shot. This one struck the Sleeper right on the neck, which had absolutely no effect.

The huge figure turned to look at him again, then started forward.

Toby planted himself in its path, glowing behind a divine shield; the Sleeper launched three consecutive blasts of shadow-lightning, busting the shield and then sending him hurling away.

Ingvar set aside his longbow, drew his hatchet and belt knife, and stood, watching the armored warlock come.

“Quit rushing him!” Ruda exclaimed. “Guys, we got this, just form up and—”

A silver shield barely intercepted the blast of dark lightning that came at her. The Sleeper stomped one huge foot, making a crater in the pavement, and another enormous rush of sheer force ripped out from him, knocking most of them down, even Scorn and Aspen. This time, it hit hard enough to shatter windows and nearby fairy lamps.

Suddenly the color of the light shifted again, this time to silver. They all stared upward in surprise, even the Sleeper; above, between them and the whirling clouds of Shaath’s blessing, an enormous silver snowflake had formed in the air, glowing and slowly rotating.

“I WILL END YOU RIGHT IN THE FACE!”

At the shrill bellow from above, the snowflake suddenly dissolved and rushed at them. A solid blanket of snow slammed down on the whole scene, two feet thick on the ground, burying most of them. A tiny silver light zipped down from above, laying into the Sleeper with blasts of lightning, spear-like icicles, bolts of pure arcane destruction, even sprays of water which instantly hardened into a thick coating of ice.

The Sleeper staggered under the onslaught, firing blasts of lightning, fire, and more conventional shadowbolts, but seemingly unable to hit the pixie. Then he tripped and tumbled over backward; Juniper was the first to extricate herself from the snow, and tackled his legs from behind.

Snow and blasts of destructive magic were being hurled in all directions. Ingvar took the opportunity to dart past the brawl to where it had started. It took a little bit of aimless digging, but he found the prone form of Ravana, and lifted her out of the snow, then quickly carried her up the path to where the ground was clear.

Not a moment too soon; stomping feet sounded behind him, only slightly muffled by the snow. Ingvar set Ravana down and whirled, tomahawk upraised, but the Sleeper dashed past him, heading for the stairs downward to the lower terrace. A silver wall of light appeared in front of him, then was broken by a furious barrage of black lightning bolts. No sooner had the warlock made it past the barrier, though, than a pumpkin-sized ball of pure arcane power ripped into him from behind, trailing a swirling vortex of snow.

At the impact, the Sleeper’s hulking form physically exploded.

For a moment, there was finally silence.

“I…did I kill him?” Fross asked uncertainly.

“No,” Gabriel grunted, brushing snow out of his eyes. “Just that…shell he was wearing. Vestrel says the original shadow-guy is still going, heading for the gates.”

“Come on!” Scorn bellowed, taking off down the stairs at a run. The rest followed.

“You’re not coming?” Aspen demanded of Ingvar, who had knelt next to Ravana and was rubbing warmth back into her chilled hands.

“This is more urgent,” he said tersely. “Besides, it’s over. He’s gone.”

Still unable to shadow-jump, the dark shape skimmed across the pavement, making a beeline for the campus’s gates. It slid to a stop mere yards short, though, when a figure standing in the gate itself suddenly popped into visibility.

“Good show!” Fedora said, slowly clapping his hands. “Really, top-notch example of throwing your weight around like a wild boar. You’ve given me just all kinds of evidence to work from. I’ll have your ass on a silver platter by the end of the week. And then you’ll be facing Tellwyrn’s tender mercies, which would be a shame, because you know what she’ll do. I’ve got a better idea.”

Grinning, he turned back the lapel of his coat, revealing his silver gryphon badge.

“You’ve got potential, kid. You’ve got power, and there’s some kind of rudimentary smarts in there. Undeveloped, but still; there’s a hint of real strategy under your nonsense. You waste so much time on this bullshit, though. The way you’re going, you’re just gonna eventually piss off the wrong person and get pulped. What if I offered you something better?” He grinned, folding his coat back to conceal the badge. “My…department…is interested in talented people. Talented, dangerous, destructive people. Oh, there are restrictions, not gonna lie. It’s annoying as hell, is what it is; I really hate working under other people’s rules. But on balance, take it from me, it’s a lot less annoying than trying to survive alone in a world which is wholly devoted to destroying you. I could arrange—”

A small circle of orange light formed on the nearby gate post, from which shot a chain which wrapped itself around the Inspector’s neck.

“Ah, yes,” he said with a sigh, tugging experimentally at it. “Warlock, demon, we all know how that goes. Before you go and do something too reckless, maybe you oughtta stop and think about why I was willing to confront you like this?”

The chain retracted, pulling rapidly into the tiny spell circle, and yanked him away to slam his back against the gate post.

“Right,” Fedora grunted in a strangled voice, “not really the stop-and-think type. Ashley, honey, do ya mind?”

She stepped out from behind the gate, a young woman in a dark suit, shaking her head.

“Honestly, Troy, I told you this was the wrong way to do it. He’s in full fight-or-flight mode right now; you’re just not gonna get him to settle down and listen.”

“Well, it’s not as if I can invite him over for tea,” the incubus grunted.

“Whoah, there!” Ashley said, holding up a hand at the Sleeper as his shadowed form surged forward for the open gate. “We’re not done talking to you. Now, settle down and—”

He shot her point-blank with a shadowbolt. It fizzled out harmlessly upon impact.

“Seriously?” she said wryly, then reached up to touch the spell circle behind Fedora’s neck. Instantly it flickered out, chain and all, dropping the Inspector. “Look, it’s been a trying night for you, I get that. You run along now, and think about what Inspector Fedora said. You’ve got options, if you quit being such a goober. I bet you can figure out how to get in touch with us.”

Pounding feet sounded from the campus beyond. The Sleeper’s indistinct shape wavered, then zipped sideways, following the campus wall to the east.

Moments later, Scorn burst onto the scene, skidding to a halt and glaring at Fedora, who was still rubbing at his neck.

“Oh, don’t tell me,” the demon spat. “You have lost him.”

“Excuse me, but we lost him,” Fedora replied archly. “As in, all of us, collectively, because yes, he is gone. Fortunately one of us had the foresight to hang back and observe rather than go in swingin’. Hey, kids, welcome to the party. As I was just telling your tall friend, here, our boy has slipped away. But we’ve made some real progress tonight. I wanna look over the scenes carefully; bet you anything I can hone in on him pretty quickly from here.”

Juniper pushed forward past the other students, staring in disbelief. “Ash?!”

Ashley sighed, and waved. “Hey there, li’l sister. I guess we’ve got some stuff to talk about, huh?”

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12 – 29

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“I think I’ve found a flaw in your plan,” Aspen declared.

“Oh, really.” Ruda looked at her sidelong, not shifting from her position leaning against the spell lab’s wall except to take a long drink from her bottle of beer. “If I asked reeeeeaal nicely, wouldja share it with me?”

“Sure,” Aspen said immediately, folding her arms and looking smug. “You don’t actually know when this Sleeper guy will attack, or even if he will. And you’ve got everybody locked in here to wait for it, which… You guys don’t hunt much, do you?”

At that last pointed question, she half-turned to look around the room. Toby and Shaeine were both sitting against a wall in lotus postures with their eyes closed; Teal lounged next to the drow, apparently asleep. Scorn was pacing furiously back and forth, muttering to herself, while Juniper paced in a much less energetic fashion, wandering aimlessly all over the room at a slow amble. Inspector Fedora sat on the floor against the huge window, almost swallowed by his trench coat, which was rumpled up around him by his position. He was reading, of all things, an Avenist libram, and seemed quite absorbed in it. Only Fross and Gabriel were engaged in apparently goal-directed behavior, having claimed a space a few feet distant from Fross’s model of the mountaintop to work on some enchanting project, surrounded by loose sheets of his spell parchment. Their quiet discussion was the predominant sound in the room.

Ingvar, as usual, stood near Aspen, currently watching her conversation with Ruda. The whole evening, as hours had stretched on, he had simply stood, in apparently perfect calm.

“See, like Ingvar,” Aspen said approvingly, pointing at him. “Hunting requires patience. You gotta be able to just wait for a long time without going stir-crazy. I don’t think most of this group has the knack. Specially that one.” She shifted her finger to point at Scorn.

The Rhaazke ground to a stop with a muted screech of her claws upon the stone floor, turning on her and clenching her fists, tail beginning to lash. “Listen here—”

“Scorn,” Teal said without opening her eyes. “Please don’t. Starting a fight with dryads is pointless.”

“I am not the one starting!” Scorn snapped.

“You wouldn’t be the one to finish it, either,” Fedora commented, turning a page in his libram and not lifting his eyes from it. “That’s not a reflection on your personal power, gorgeous, trust me. Our sort would be well-advised not to fuck around with high-level fairies.”

“We do not share a sort,” she said disdainfully.

“Sure,” he agreed. “You have more magic and muscle in your abs than I’ve got in my entire body, while I, contrariwise, have some basic goddamn social skills. And that dryad would puree either of us if we pissed her off, so let’s refrain, yeah?”

“And this is what I mean,” Aspen said with unmistakable satisfaction. “Everybody’s gonna go nuts cooped up in here like this. Especially if the Sleeper never shows.”

“He will,” Fedora stated, still reading. “The cat’s away. The mouse will play.”

“I don’t know what that guy’s talking about half the time,” Aspen complained to Ingvar.

“You are not missing out,” he replied.

“Have you considered,” Ruda said with deceptive mildness, “that you picking at this is, if anything, going to make it worse?”

The dryad scowled. “It’s not my fault!”

“More academically, then, have you ever considered anything in your life before you just hauled off and did it?”

Scorn laughed, far too loudly for the enclosed space.

“Now you listen,” Aspen began, but Ingvar swiftly interrupted.

“Aspen, stop. She has a point.”

The look the dryad turned on him was almost hurt. “I—but—she’s being rude about it!”

“Yes,” he said calmly, “which is her business, not yours. You’re not responsible for what anyone else does, only what you do.”

“Oh, again with the philosophy,” she huffed.

“I don’t have a lot of interest in philosophy,” he said, “unless it has an immediate practical use. Turning the other cheek for moral reasons is Omnist practice, and no concern of mine. What concerns me is that when you react to other people, you let them control you. A man—a person, in order to exercise any power, must be self-contained and controlled.”

“Huh,” she grunted with poor grace.

“Rudeness aside, she is right,” Ingvar went on. “You are also right. This is a tense environment, and pointing it out will only make it more so. Better to set an example. You’re a hunter of no small skill, Aspen; you could teach these students a great deal about patience.”

“That’s true,” Juniper agreed, coming over to loop an arm through one of Aspen’s. “I always thought so, back home in the Deep Wild. You’re a lot more collected than most of our sisters.”

“That is the more collected one?” Scorn said skeptically.

“Scorn,” Teal pleaded with a sigh.

“You.” Ruda lifted the hand holding her bottle by its neck, extending one finger to point at Ingvar. “I like you.”

“That’s good to know,” he said noncommittally. She laughed almost as loudly as Scorn, earning a frown from Aspen.

“Yeah!” Gabriel shouted suddenly, jumping upright. He grinned at everyone as they all turned to look at him. “We got it working!”

“Hey, that’s pretty great,” Ruda said. “You got what the fuck working?”

“We’ve solved our communication problem!” Fross reported, whizzing about in an excited circle above them. “Fortunately I had a book in my aura storage with the proper charms described, but we’ve had to adapt it to use the materials on hand, since the proper ones are sorta expensive and there’ll be all manner of trouble if we get into the classroom stocks, so it was real tricky to make it work with just folded spell paper and enchanting ink, and the final product won’t last for very long, but since we only need them to work for tonight it should be fine!”

“I think Ruda’s question stands,” Shaeine said, finally opening her eyes.

“Communication charms!” Gabriel enthused, holding up a square formed of paper folded over multiple times, inked with elaborate patterns which glowed in shifting blue and green. “You just hold it and you can hear the voice of whoever talks to you through it!”

“That solves a lot of problems,” Fedora said, finally looking genuinely interested. “If we can coordinate in the field it’ll overcome our main handicap here.”

“Oh, well, don’t get too excited,” Fross cautioned, suiting the advice herself by slowing to a stationary hover. “Actual two-way communication is orders of magnitude more complex and really can’t be done with these simple materials. I can project through it, cos I’m extremely magical, but you won’t be able to talk back. So I figure, since I’ve gotta run the map model and the fae-arcane field, I can stay here and give directions and you guys can surround the Sleeper!”

“Please understand that I don’t mean to disparage,” Ingvar said carefully, “but organizing a hunt is not as simple a matter as it may appear to one who has never done so. Are you sure you can do this, Fross?”

“Fross is extremely intelligent,” Toby observed quietly. “More to the point… Our group’s actual military strategist is taking a semester off—”

“Which is a goddamn shame,” Ruda interjected, grinning fiendishly, “because I’m really curious what she’d make of Ingvar, here.”

Toby ignored her. “…but Fross has never, in the time I’ve known her, misjudged her capabilities. The safe assumption is that if she says she can do a thing, she can do it.”

“Agreed,” Shaeine added.

“Yeah, that’s pretty well unanimous around here,” Juniper said, grinning. “You can count on Fross.”

“Aww!” Fross chimed bashfully. “I would blush if I had the necessary physiology! But you guys couldn’t see it anyway so I guess that’s maybe kinda pointless.”

“All right, then!” Gabriel said more briskly, sitting back down and tearing another sheet of enchanting paper out of his book, “let’s get to work, Fross ol’ pal. Hopefully we can make enough of these to equip everybody before the Sleeper arrives.”

“Yes! On it!”

“Well, that’s good then,” Aspen muttered. “I guess we’ll just…continue to stand around.”

“Antonio!” Justinian came to meet him at the door when he entered the Archpope’s office, moving as smoothly as always but more quickly than usual. “Splendid. I greatly appreciate you coming on such short notice, and especially at this late hour. Please, stand.”

“Not at all, your Holiness,” Darling said, rising from the kneel he had assumed upon the Archpope’s approach. “I’m always available for necessity—and I figured this must be urgent for you to call at midnight. How can I help?”

“I need to call upon you in your capacity as liaison between the Church and the Imperial government,” Justinian said seriously. He wore a faint frown—very faint, but still more concern by far than he usually displayed in public. “The late hour is specifically relevant—I am counting on your ability to enter the Palace in the middle of the night and find someone of high office willing to speak with you.”

“How high, if I may ask?”

“Ideally, the Emperor himself…though that might be hoping for too much.” The Archpope turned to face the window of his office, concealing his expression for the moment. “What matters most is that we reach out to the Throne as quickly as possible. Something…rather untoward has happened, I’m afraid. There is a risk of hostilities emerging if the matter is left to fester.”

“Your Holiness, what’s going on?” Darling asked tersely, beginning to absorb some of the uncharacteristic tension in Justinian’s shoulders. He had to admire the man’s ability to do that; usually he was far too in charge of himself to be manipulated even so subtly.

“This is difficult.” Justinian shifted again, placing himself in profile from Darling’s view; his frown had deepened. “I trust you will not be offended if I state that there are secrets of the Church which I cannot reveal to you—even now, when I must call upon you for help related to them.”

“Not in the least,” the Bishop said immediately, “I’ve always assumed that was a given. What can you tell me, your Holiness? My ability to access the Palace won’t extend to barging in there in the middle of the night with a vague story.”

“Among my efforts,” the Archpope said slowly, clearly choosing his words with caution, “has been a subtle campaign against an elusive foe, undertaken by specifically skilled and trusted individuals on behalf of the Church, using, among other things, artifacts left behind by the Elder Gods.”

“Dangerous business,” Darling said quietly.

“Indeed so.” Justinian turned to him and nodded. “And to be taken only with the utmost caution and restraint, with every possible safeguard in place, and besides all that, only at what seemed the most urgent need. There has been…an enemy on the move. A most elusive one. My specialists have been conducting a remote campaign to attempt to identify and monitor this being, using the aforementioned artifacts.”

“An enemy?” Darling frowned. “If you don’t know who, your Holiness, what makes you think them an enemy?”

“Understand that I do not, under ordinary circumstances, meddle with the works of the Elders,” Justinian said seriously. “The Church has many such relics in its possession, which my predecessors have collected and contained largely because they universally prove all but impossible to destroy. It is, as you yourself know very well, sound general policy to leave the toys of the Elders strictly alone. So long as they are buried in vaults beneath the Cathedral, under the eyes of the Pantheon themselves, those tools are relatively safe, and contained such that they pose no threat. At least, that had been my assumption until quite recently, when one became unexpectedly active.”

“And…your response to this was to have a specialist…poke at it?” Darling cleared his throat. “Forgive me, but…”

“No, no, you are right,” Justinian said wearily. “I do my best, Antonio, but a man who must handle as many delicate threads as I inevitably outsmarts himself once in a while. I suspect you know a thing or two about that, yourself.”

“Well.” Darling couldn’t help but smile. “Maybe one or two.”

“Yes, the safe thing to do would undoubtedly have been to bury it deeper and invoke the Pantheon’s auspices to ensure it took, this time. I have never been one to brush dangers under the rug, however. That which is out of sight and out of mind is more menacing, not less, because one grants it the element of surprise by not engaging. I sought to learn what was happening, what it meant, and who was responsible. It did become clear, at least, that the device’s sudden activity was due to some manner of…sympathetic principle. Someone, somewhere, had a counterpart to it, and was doing this deliberately. Having learned that, I could hardly afford to ignore it. That is the kind of threat which could come to endanger countless uninvolved innocents, if not the world itself.”

“Clearly, yes,” Darling agreed, nodding emphatically.

“Tonight,” Justinian continued gravely, “and quite recently, in fact, after a pattern of several days of exchanges between my agent and this mysterious figure, the device abruptly destroyed itself. The violence of it was…extreme. My people barely escaped with their lives.”

“And…you wish to warn the Throne?”

“Oh, it is more urgent than that, or it could wait till morning. In the moments before it erupted, the artifact projected an image of the silver gryphon.”

There was a moment of silence.

“In other words,” Darling said slowly, “this whole time, you were playing a very dangerous game of chess with what turned out to be agents of the Empire.”

“Even that would be blessedly simple compared to the reality,” Justinian said seriously. “Such a misunderstanding could be explained. In hindsight, this revelation makes sense of much about the exchanges which had baffled my agents. The enemy’s moves frequently made no sense, and we had ascribed them to the idea that he was as awkward and uncertain in his use of the Elders’ crafts as we. Looking back now, though, it becomes apparent that we were dealing with more than one party, themselves at cross purposes. The original aggressor, and more recently, also the Empire. I suppose it should not surprise me that the Throne has similar treasures hoarded away. It only makes sense that if someone had begun to activate them remotely, it would affect more than the one in my own possession.”

Darling’s eyes widened. “Your Holiness… Do you have any idea how many of these things still exist?”

“None,” Justinian said grimly, “and you have hit upon one of my concerns.”

As always, Darling kept his racing thoughts firmly away from his face. The Emperor, the Hands…the timing. This was a moment to tread with extreme care.

“Coordinating with the Throne would obviously be important in that case, yes,” he mused aloud. “But…with all respect, are you certain this entire thing wasn’t the Empire’s doing?”

“Quite.” Justinian nodded. “I have been wrong about people, of course; individuals are endlessly surprising. Those who possess and managed to maintain great power are often much less so. I understand Sharidan quite well. I know his ambitions, both their shape and their extent, and the reckless menace posed by this agent’s initial activities was not in his character.”

“What activities?” Darling asked, frowning again.

“Before the thing began to obstruct scrying efforts,” Justinian replied, “we found a trail leading to Puna Dara.”

“Surely the Punaji wouldn’t…”

“Agreed. It is also not in their nature to poke the bear, as it were; some past leaders of the Punaji might have been so ambitious, but Rajakhan is not the sort to meddle with dangerous powers to begin with, and definitely would not begin to rouse the kind of trouble in his own territory that our early divinations perceived.”

“What sort of trouble?”

“This is what we must discuss with the Throne,” Justinian said seriously. “To begin with, aside from the need to merge our information, there is also the matter that the Throne might consider the Church responsible for these problems if they are not informed otherwise, and I don’t have to tell you all the risks that could pose.”

“Indeed not.”

“But additionally, Puna Dara is beyond the direct control of Tiraas—and largely outside the influence of the Church. Between their association with Naphthene and a native spiritual practice which focuses on their windshaman, the Punaji generally have little use for gods. If someone intended to probe at both the Church and Empire, or even set them against one another, they could hardly pick a more perfect place from which to strike…and it becomes more ominous still in light of rumors I have begun to hear from Punaji territory. In this matter, Antonio, I hope you may have information to add that I do not.”

“I might have to disappoint you there, your Holiness,” Darling admitted. “The Guild’s presence among the Punaji is pretty slender, as well. Their culture makes Eserites sort of…redundant. Rajakhan is possibly the only world leader who discourages the Guild’s activities in a way that doesn’t provoke the Boss to double down on them. Only the Five Kingdoms do a more thorough job of keeping us out.”

“I am aware of this,” Justiniain said, nodding. “Nonetheless, you may still have information I do not—and of course, I cannot begin to guess what Imperial Intelligence may know. Tell me, Antonio, in any of the whispers you may have heard from Puna Dara, has there been anything about the Rust?”

Even under the circumstances, Ravana enjoyed the atmosphere of the campus after dark. Its peace was rather like that of her private gardens at home in Madouris, one of the few outdoor spaces where she could be free of the pestering attentions of the countless people who demanded a slice of her time. Professor Tellwyrn’s emphatic discouragement of interlopers had finally quelled the upsurge of interest which had begun with Gabriel Arquin’s calling last year, and relatively few of her classmates were knocking about at this hour. For the most part, she had the path to herself.

Especially these days, for obvious reasons. She tightened her grip on her lightcapper for a moment before forcing herself to relax it again. And, then, to relax herself overall. The wind in the trees, the sound of crickets and night birds, even the pleasant warm glow of the fairy lamps; all the details of her surroundings conspired deliberately to be comfortable, even if she generally found the faux-gothic stylings of Tellwyrn’s taste in architecture rather gauche.

The oppressive drowsiness hit suddenly, as she had expected. Immediately following came the stab of blinding agony in her temples—also expected, but she had not been able to test the potion before taking it (obviously), and Ravana was not accustomed to physical pain. She was unable to repress a shriek, barely catching herself before taking a tumble which would have damaged her personal dignity—or worse, her lightcapper.

A moment later, though, it faded, and she straightened, a predatory smile stretching across her features.

Mages were so obsessed with magic, they always tried to counter it with more magic. A noblewoman knew to play to her own strengths, to find mundane solutions to the threats posed by even the most capable wizards and warlocks. Even if, in this case, the solution had been provided through the auspices of expensive (and extremely illegal) alchemy, it was still a basically mundane one: a person simply could not fall asleep while in severe pain.

“Predictable,” Ravana said aloud, raising her lightcapper and turning to face the Sleeper.

“Contact!” Fross shouted, shooting toward the ceiling and chiming loudly. “We’ve got him! South lawn, the path outside the music building roughly equidistant between the gazebo and the Wells!”

Ingvar had already thrown open the door of the spell lab and strode out, Aspen right on his heels. There came a disorganized rush as the sophomores, Scorn, and Fedora followed, but the Huntsman moved with swift purpose and total calm. In seconds he had strode the length of the hall and out the side door, raising his longbow as soon as he had a view of the sky.

The arrow he nocked wasn’t exactly identical to the one which he had made with his own shaman in Tiraas; he had had to improvise, lacking the shaman’s expertise and rank in Shaath’s faith. Thanks to the help of the fairies, though, its blessings and charms should be correct. Ingvar angled his bow to aim straight skyward, drew, and released.

The arrow burst into light as it soared aloft. For a moment he experienced uncertainty; would it work? But it continued, shooting straight skyward, as it was meant to. The shaft climbed far higher than the power of his draw could have propelled it, till even with its glow it had vanished from visibility with sheer distance.

Only for seconds, though. When it erupted, it was with a surge of clouds that spread out over the mountaintop as rapidly as a cup of ink poured into a bucket of water. With it came the low howl of wind, swirls of snow, and the sharp cold of the upper Stalrange, unheard of on the prairie.

The very light shifted, taking on a pale bluish tinge. The blessing of Shaath lay over Last Rock, and across the very dimensions, blocking all shadow-jumping.

“That is a bit more ostentatious than I was expecting,” Gabriel remarked from behind him. “People might notice this, guys.”

“It works, though,” said Juniper, turning to him. “Right?”

He hesitated, listening, then nodded. “Yes! Vestrel confirms. We’ve got the Sleeper pinned down!”

“Magically, at least,” said Ingvar. “The easy part. Now…we hunt.”

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12 – 18

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“Sorry I’m late!”

Teal tossed something to Ruda as she entered the spell lab before crossing to join Shaeine by the wall. The two shared a reserved smile, shifting their hands to briefly touch the backs against each other, while Juniper looked on with a sappy smile.

“You’re not even the last one here, and holy hell, did you drive?” Ruda was examining the object Teal had thrown her: a set of control runes for an enchanted carriage, their engraved sigils putting off a fierce blue glow, attached to a small bronze fob.

“Nah, that’s my tardy note,” Teal said, grinning. “I was helping Maureen with our project; we got hung up applying the control enchantment, and kept at it because if you leave that half done, you pretty much have to start over. Jokes on us, cos we flubbed it somehow and have to start over anyway. Those are the runes we were trying to use.”

“Oooh, yeah, they’re not supposed to glow like that,” Fross commented, fluttering closer. “Huh, that’s really peculiar. What went wrong?”

“I actually don’t know,” Teal confessed. “Neither does Maureen. But when it comes to enchanting, I pretty much just know theory and she was following along from the book…”

“Are they gonna blow up?” Ruda asked, showing no alarm at the prospect of holding a potentially explosive spell misfire.

“Nah, there’s not enough juice in those to make a good firecracker,” said Teal. “They’ll probably just glow until they burn through their stored power. Don’t toss ’em in a spell circle or anything, though. Mis-enchanted gadgets can be unpredictable if you add them to half-finished spells.”

“Hell, I wouldn’t be going near something like that anyway,” Ruda said, carefully tucking the fob into one of the buttonholes on her coat, where the glowing runes hung to just above her belt. “Thanks, T! Cheap, tacky and potentially dangerous. Best jewelry I’ve ever gotten!”

“I figured you’d like it,” Teal said, winking. “Speaking of which, Fross, d’you think you could give us a hand alter when we try to apply control enchantments again? I think it’ll go better with an actual enchanter on hand.”

“I would be glad to help, however!” Fross darted back and forth in midair as she often did to punctuate a point. “I would suggest you ask Gabe first. He’s a specialized enchanter while I’m a more general arcanist, and also he really likes being included and having his skills acknowledged, which, y’know, everybody does, but personally I don’t feel I need the validation and Gabe’s still working through some stuff.”

“That is very perceptive, Fross,” Shaeine said with a warm little smile, “and very kind.”

“Thank you! I try to be both of those things!”

“It’s a good idea,” Teal agreed, again brushing Shaeine’s hand with hers. “Thank you, Fross, I’ll mention it to him.”

“After the meeting, if you please,” Ruda said. “We’re already running a bit behind, and I prefer to get this business out of the way as soon as possible. That is, if the rest of our—well, it’s about fucking time.”

The lab door opened again, and Gabriel himself entered, followed closely by Toby. Gabe paused in the doorway, his gaze zeroing in on the glowing control runes hanging just over Ruda’s belt buckle. After a moment, he grinned broadly.

“Yarr! It’s drivin’ me nuts!”

“Arquin, so fucking help me—”

“Whuh?” Juniper blinked. “I don’t get it.”

“Old joke,” Gabriel explained. “So a pirate walks into a bar, and there’s a ship’s wheel hanging from his belt buckle—”

He broke off and ducked, Ruda having yanked a bottle of beer from within her coat and hurled it at his head. The bottle came to a stop midair before reaching him, however.

“Hey, don’t make a mess in the spell lab,” Fross said reproachfully, levitating the bottle gently to the floor. “We’ll have to clean it up before we leave.”

“Silly as always, I see,” Scorn grumbled, stepping in after Toby and as usual having to duck to get her horns under the door frame.

“Oh…hi, Scorn,” Ruda said, frowning up at her. “Wasn’t expecting you to come.”

“I invited her,” Toby said firmly. “Considering what you wanted to discuss, I think she could contribute very well. And besides, we could stand to make more of an effort to spend time with her.”

“You know what they say,” Gabriel agreed, nudging Scorn with an elbow, which barely reached up to the base of her ribs. “You bust it out of a psycho holy sex dungeon, you buy it!”

The Rhaazke looked down her nose at him, nostrils flaring once in a silent snort of irritation. “Are you lot going to be like this the whole time, again? Always jokes and prodding each other when you should be focusing?”

“Hey, don’t knock it,” Ruda said easily. “Bickering helps us concentrate.”

“It’s a bonding exercise!” Fross proclaimed. “I was uncertain at first too but as long as everybody knows each other and trusts there’s no malice it’s actually pretty fun! You should feel free to join in!”

“Except don’t pick on Shaeine,” Gabriel said solemnly. “She’s classy. Everybody else is fair game.”

Scorn grunted. “If you say so. Fine, then. You are short and not good with women.”

“Ehhh…” Gabriel made a waffling motion with his hand. “A decent effort. Ruda, care to critique?”

“Points for being on the nose,” Ruda said seriously. “That was a good hit; Arquin’s manly ego makes a splendid target. It’s all about context, though. You’re meant to fire one off at the appropriate moment in the conversation, not just out of the blue like that.”

“Sounds unnecessarily complicated,” Scorn huffed.

“Nah, you’ll get there,” Ruda said, grinning. “Stick with us, we’ll have you bantering like a pro in no time.”

“I’m even less sure I want to stick with you now,” Scorn grunted.

“And there you go!” Gabriel crowed. “She comes back with a splendid riposte!” The Rhaazke just looked at him in confusion.

Shaeine cleared her throat loudly.

“Yes, right, we’re actually here for a reason, for once,” Ruda said in a much less jocular tone. “I’m sure you lot were wondering why I wanted to talk in one of the spell labs. The reason is this is probably the most secured and private place on campus available to us aside from our dorms, and we can’t have the whole group in either of those, unless we slip Gabe and Toby sex change potions first.”

“That’s actually a lot more complex than a simple potion! There’s a whole course of alchemical treatment involved, which takes days if not weeks, and it should really only be undertaken with the supervision of an expert alchemist and a healer, preferably a fae practitioner—”

“Fross.”

“…aaaand I’m being pedantic and going off on a tangent. Sorry.” The pixie drifted a few feet lower, her glow dimming bashfully. Ruda gave her a grin before continuing.

“Tellwyrn, in her dubious wisdom, has asked us to keep an eye on the campus while she fucks off to Sifan, and ideally nab this Sleeper asshole. We need to talk strategy.”

“Wait, Tellwyrn what?” Scorn exclaimed.

“It’s actually really unexpected,” Juniper said, nodding. “I’m still surprised. And intimidated, and kind of honored.”

“We may jabber and fool around, but we get stuff done,” Gabriel said to Scorn. “That, or we get chased by centaurs or tricked by the Black Wreath. Y’know, six of one…”

“And this raises another point,” Ruda said, fixing her gaze on the Rhaazke. “Scorn, on reflection I think Toby has a good point: you’ve earned our trust, you’re smart and powerful, and I think you’re an asset here. So, you know, welcome to the gang. With that said, this is the kind of thing which should not leave this room, hence us talking in a magically sealed space that can’t be eavesdropped on.”

“Easily,” Shaeine corrected in a quiet tone. “Most of our fellow students could not penetrate the defenses on one of Tellwyrn’s spell labs. It would be a mistake to make assumptions about what the Sleeper can or cannot do.”

“Point,” Ruda agreed, nodding at her.

“I’m glad you’re doing well at making friends,” Toby added to Scorn, “but with something like this, Ravana Madouri in particular…”

“There is good sense in that,” Scorn grunted. “Ravana is very clever. Very clever. But she is the kind of clever that tricks itself as often as others. I think she would agree, anyway. I have noticed her best trait is she does not lie about what she is, even to herself.”

“And this is no time for people to be playing politics, which is what Ravana would fucking do even if she decided to help, and we all know it,” Ruda said firmly. “So, glad we’re all on the same page, there. Now, Fross and June and I have been talking and we’ve got an idea.”

“Yes!” Fross chimed, shooting straight up to the ceiling in excitement. “Okay, so, remember when we were chasing spectral demons and I set up a hybrid arcane/divine detection grid over the town?”

“I remember that not turning out so well,” Scorn commented.

“Yes, true, but not really germane to the point; the grid worked perfectly, and in fact accidentally enabled me to dig up some more detail on something it found than I expected. So I’ve been refining that and I think I’ve improved on it in a way we can use to catch the Sleeper!”

“A detection grid over the campus?” Gabriel asked, his interest clearly raised. “No offense, Fross, but what do you think you can do that Tellwyrn hasn’t? She’s got the ley lines rigged so she can temporally scry, and there’s a very powerful fairy geas active…”

“But we have something Tellwyrn doesn’t!” Fross chimed excitedly.

“An excessively high opinion of ourselves?” Gabriel asked, grinning.

“A tendency to wreck things?” Toby added wryly.

“Really great hair!” Ruda chortled.

“Tellwyrn has all that,” Scorn pointed out.

“We have a dryad,” Juniper said smugly.

“Uh, point of order?” Teal raised a hand. “Tellwyrn also has a dryad. The same one. I mean, wouldn’t she have already asked you to help, Juno?”

“She did,” Ruda pointed out.

“I mean, specifically, if there was a way she in particular could.”

“That Tellwyrn didn’t think of a way does not mean one does not exist,” Shaeine observed. “Your idea, Juniper?”

Juniper sighed. “The thing is…the last time she let me help, I made a mess of it. I think that’s probably made her a little wand-shy. Besides, Tellwyrn is a mage; she doesn’t think in terms of mixing schools, or using different ones. Fross and I have worked something out that should let us… Well, Fross is better at explaining it.”

“Okay, so!” the pixie resumed. “First of all, we’re reasonably sure the Sleeper is a warlock.”

“Why?” Scorn demanded.

“Sure might be overstating it, but there’s evidence,” said Ruda, beginning to tick points off on her fingers. “First, some asshole inexplicably opens a hellgate—a major infernal accomplishment. Then, Tellwyrn hires a kitsune, pretty much the most dangerous and powerful kind of fairy there is, to teach at the campus. Then, nothing at all happens; not a peep from any hypothetical warlock. Then, the kitsune storms off in a huff, and immediately this Sleeper bullshit starts up. So, no, we can’t prove anything, but the sequence of events strongly suggests this is a warlock, and the same one who pried that hellgate open.”

“Hmm.” Scorn narrowed her eyes, but nodded after a moment. “Logical. Okay, go on, pixie.”

“Right, so detection networks,” Fross continued. “Do you guys know anything about dryad attunements?”

A round of blank glances was exchanged around the room.

“It’s hard to put into words,” Juniper said, frowning thoughtfully, “because the whole experience is beyond words; I think that’s a large part of the point of it. But it’s something we can do, a way of sensing our surroundings, and especially magic and other fairies. I’m connected to it at all times, but not always actively; it takes focus to consciously sense what’s happening around me. I don’t usually do it, because my range covers pretty much the whole mountain, and other fairies kind of find it disruptive.”

“It’s, uh, sort of like suddenly having an extra sense,” Fross added, “and immediately using it to detect some massive, powerful creature standing right next to you. A little disconcerting.”

“Sorry,” Juniper said, wincing. “But…massive? Really?”

“I mean, uh, your magical profile! Not physically.”

“Massive, no,” Scorn said, suddenly grinning. “They are pretty hefty, but let’s be reasonable.”

Gabriel and Ruda dissolved in laughter; Teal covered her eyes with a hand. Juniper just shook her head.

“Anyway,” Toby said loudly.

“Right, yes,” Fross went on. “Since, as you know, it turns out I myself am basically a small fragment of a dryad’s consciousness given independent agency, I can connect to this attunement with Juniper’s help. What’s more important, I am an anomaly. Fairies are simply not supposed to be able to use arcane magic. I know Jacaranda wouldn’t have deliberately made me that way, and frankly if she’d wanted to, there’s no way she would know how. Even Tellwyrn doesn’t fully understand how it works; I sure don’t.”

“Which means,” Juniper said with a satisfied smile, “it’s an effect that can’t be predicted or countered.”

“How does that help us?” asked Shaeine.

“What I’m gonna do,” Fross said eagerly, “is work on a spell with Juniper that’ll let me broadcast a very small but steady amount of arcane magic through the fairy attunement!”

“Now, I’m not in the magic studies program,” said Toby, “but I do know my Circles. That sounds like a great way to blast everything off the top of the mountain.”

“We’ve tested this on a smaller scale before bringing it up with you guys,” said Juniper. “It works. Fross intuitively blends the arcane and fae; she can extend the effect. And even if that didn’t work, it’s a very small amount of arcane power. If the came into conflict, the fae would just snuff it out. The attunement is powerful.”

“To what end, though?” Gabriel asked.

“We know the Sleeper and his curse are effectively undetectable,” said Ruda. “We also know that the Sleeper was willing to tangle aggressively with November, but fled from Tellwyrn. That’s the profile of someone who relies on stealth, but can be overpowered if caught. And we, my fellow magnificent bastards, have the juice to beat the hell out of just about anybody we can manage to pin down.”

“I’m not talking about blazing with random arcane energy,” Fross added. “Since we can’t detect the Sleeper directly, I’m gonna make a way to catch him. The spell I mean to use will be a tiny, trace amount of arcane magic spread across the whole mountain, small enough nobody should be able to perceive it except me, since I’m the source. More importantly, I will have it rigged to be immediately consumed by any infernal magic it encounters, as per the Circles of Interaction. Even that way, it’s so small the infernal caster in question shouldn’t be able to sense it; it won’t be enough power to actually do anything.”

“So,” Gabriel said, comprehension dawning on his face, “if anybody uses infernal magic anywhere on the mountaintop…”

“It will burn a hole in Fross’s field,” Scorn interrupted eagerly, “where she can know it but he cannot.”

“And so,” Juniper said with smug satisfaction, “it won’t matter how invisible the Sleeper is. We’ll know he’s there, and we’ll land on him.”

“Ingenious,” Teal marveled.

“I see only one downside,” Shaeine said quietly. “This plan hinges on someone else being a victim of the Sleeper’s attack.”

“Not necessarily,” Toby mused. “Wherever he or she is getting this power, the Sleeper’s a very potent warlock—and as a student, someone quite young. I bet you anything they’ll be experimenting; that’s probably the whole point of this sleeping curse, or at least part of it. There’s no reason they wouldn’t be, if they can hide it completely, even from Tellwyrn.”

“Exactly,” Ruda said, nodding. “The pattern of events suggests they were afraid of Ekoi; their activities were probably suspended while she was here. They’ll be branching out now, trying stuff to see what they can pull off.”

“And even if she does curse someone else,” Scorn said with an unpleasant grin, “then we will have her. And then she will tell us how to fix them. Or if not us, she will very much tell Tellwyrn when she is back.”

“Solid points, all,” Shaeine agreed, nodding. “Very well. I think this is a good plan.”

“And the rest is boilerplate,” Roda said briskly. “Fross and June will have to handle the magic; what we need to put together is a plan of attack. We’ll have to be on site from wherever we are pretty much immediately once Fross sounds the alarm.”

“Hm…that presents a logistical muddle,” Teal mused, rubbing her chin. “Also, we’ll need to be very careful it’s the actual Sleeper we’re jumping on. None of the other students are openly warlocks, but several in the magic program use small amounts of infernal energy for various experiments…”

“If I may?”

They all pushed back against the walls with a series of surprised shouts, Ruda and Gabriel both drawing weapons. Inspector Fedora grinned unrepentantly at them, seemingly not in the least perturbed by the show of force. He had just appeared there, standing against one wall, without the door having opened.

“Really, kids, settle down. And future reference? If you’re gonna be up to this kind of duggering of skulls, you need to get in the habit of thoroughly sweeping your meeting places. Before you get to the actual meeting.”

“What are you doing in here?” Scorn snarled, balling her fists.

“Easy now!” Fedora held up a hand, palm out. “I was eavesdropping, obviously. That’s a good plan, I think it’s got every chance of working. And I believe I can help you with that last bit.”

“Why the hell would we trust you?” Ruda demanded, still holding her rapier pointed at him.

“I really can’t advise strongly enough that you don’t do that,” Fedora replied, grinning. “Trust is earned, kids; I haven’t had time to earn it, and full disclosure? Not planning to. But you can work with people you don’t trust. Hell, if anything, trust is a handicap. You’re much better off dealing with people on the basis of clearheaded knowledge of what they want and how they think, rather than some emotional attachment to the idea of them being on your side.”

“How did you just appear there?” Teal snapped.

“He was invisible, obviously,” said Ariel, her runes flickering. Gabriel held her also pointed at the Inspector.

“It’s a neat trick,” Toby said.

“It’s an entirely standard part of their repertory, in fact,” the sword said; Fedora watched her with an evidently delighted grin, offering no interruption as she continued. “The Imperial government may of course employ whoever it wishes. The same goes for Professor Tellwyrn, though quite frankly I am disappointed that she would allow this foolishness to continue. The rest of you, however, should think long and carefully before agreeing to cooperate with an incubus.”

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12 – 12

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“Ladies,” Gabriel said in greeting as the two groups met at the stairs to Helion Hall’s second floor. “Wow, this makes everybody. You also got a summons from her Majesty, then?”

“Yeah,” said Teal. “And I have to admit the thing that bothers me most is how little it bothers me to have imperious notes spontaneously appear in the room where I sleep. After all the times Tellwyrn’s surprise-teleported us places, it just doesn’t seem as invasive anymore.”

“We’re being fuckin’ trained,” Ruda said fatalistically, leading the way up the steps. “Which, granted, is the point of a college education, but my papa isn’t paying to have me turned into a goddamn show pony.”

“Toby, are you all right?” Shaeine asked gently. Gabriel’s eyes cut back to his friend, full of concern.

Toby sighed softly, his dour expression not lightening. “Just got back from taking Raolo to the infirmary,” he said tersely.

“Oh, no!” Juniper said, eyes widening. “Is he okay? What happened?”

“Like the others,” Toby answered, eyes ahead as they topped the stairs and entered the hallway. “He seems fine. Just asleep.”

“Fuck,” Ruda spat, turning to give him a look of commiseration.

“This is getting out of hand!” Fross chimed. Patterns of white light shifted along the walls as she zipped spastically back and forth above their heads. “People are getting really worried, and frankly I think they’re right to! How much longer can this possibly go on?!”

“Hey,” Teal said gently, squeezing Toby’s shoulder. “If you need—”

“Thanks,” he said sharply, then immediately sighed again and gave her an apologetic look, which she answered with a smile. “Thanks…but this isn’t suddenly worse because it’s affected a personal friend of mine. If anything, the lesson here is how I should’ve been more concerned with it from the beginning.”

“Caine, enough,” Ruda said flatly. “It is suddenly worse because it affects someone you know. Sounds harsh, but that’s just how people think. Paladin or no, you’re a person.”

“I’m a person called to serve others,” he retorted. “A paladin is expected to do better. And this is not about me!”

“What happened to Raolo isn’t about you,” she said. “The whole Sleeper bullshit isn’t about you. But this, how you feel? That is. You’re allowed to have feelings and flaws—what the hell would gods need paladins for if they didn’t want a human perspective? Let your friends care about you, dumbass.”

Gabriel patted him on the back. “As usual, she’s not wrong and it’s annoying as hell. Look, man, despite what we all know Tellwyrn will think, maybe it’s time we look into doing something ourselves.”

“Such as?” Teal said wryly.

Juniper cleared her throat. “Uh, assuming Tellwyrn’s in her office, which seems likely since she told us all to go there, we’re probably within her earshot here.”

“Yeah, well, Tellwyrn’s also smart enough to see this coming,” Gabriel replied.

They turned at the sound of feet on the stairs, beholding the craggy-face balding man in the long black coat leading the campus’s three resident soldiers up to the hall.

“Move,” the Hand spat, shouldering roughly past Ruda.

“Excuse you?” she said incredulously.

“Sorry,” Rook muttered in passing. Finchley gave her a look of desperate apology; Moriarty seemed occupied with worrisome thoughts of his own.

“The hell’s that about?” Gabriel asked aloud, watching the group fast-march down the hall toward Tellwyrn’s office.

“Dunno,” Ruda said shortly, “but let’s go have a look-see.”

Ahead, the Hand simply opened Tellwyrn’s office door without knocking and barged right in, prompting winces from all three of his followers and several of the pursuing students. They picked up their own pace to join him around the now-open door, but did not attempt to enter themselves. They weren’t the only ones.

“Get in here!” the man said in clear exasperation to the three soldiers, who were hanging back outside the doorway.

“Why, how lovely to see you again,” Tellwyrn said from inside. She was seated behind her desk, regarding him with a sardonic expression. “Still hanging around, are we? Please, won’t you come in. Make yourself right at home.”

“I have observed,” he said curtly, “that you are keeping Imperial personnel in a state of useless idleness on your campus.”

“What, these three?” Tellwyrn said incredulously, glancing past him at the troops, who had entered the office as ordered, but clustered nervously right inside the door. She could also see the sophomores gathered outside, but didn’t acknowledge them yet. “Are you seriously going to get on my case about that? They were stationed on my campus by order from Imperial Command, quartered at my expense, without my permission. Honestly, they don’t eat much and the scruffy one in the middle there is actually mildly amusing. I’ve even known them to be occasionally useful, to the extent of reaching tall shelves, opening stuck jars, that sort of thing. The fact that I don’t find this intrusion by your regime to be onerous is hardly evidence that all this is some sort of plot on my part.”

“I am reassigning them,” he said bluntly. “I’m dissatisfied with the progress you are making on our mutual problem, Tellwyrn, and particularly with your attitude when pressed about it.”

“My heart weeps for your dissatisfaction,” she replied, deadpan.

“You know what your problem is?”

“Yes. But do go on, I’m curious what you think it is.”

“You are of the opinion that you are an unmatched power in this world,” he said, scowling at her. “That rules do not apply to you. That no one can impose consequences upon you. About this, you are mistaken, and since you choose not to apply yourself to the protection of your students, it is high time this was made inescapably clear to you.”

“Literally every single thing you just said is incorrect.”

“At the end of the week,” he stated, ignoring her, “I’m having these three reassigned to Tiraas, and that will be the last you ever hear of them. Unless, perhaps, I see a dramatic improvement in your conduct, and some manner of concrete result. Am I understood?”

Very slowly, she tilted her head to one side. “In all seriousness… Are you feeling all right?”

“I’ve made myself clear,” he snapped. “That is all.”

Suddenly, he just wasn’t there anymore. Gabriel bit back a curse.

“Okay, what the fuck,” Ruda exclaimed. “Was that guy a Hand of the Emperor? What the hell’s he doing here?”

“Kids, get in here,” Tellwyrn said irritably, taking off her spectacles and setting them on the desk.

“Um?” Rook tremulously raised a hand. “Was that ‘last you ever hear of them’ line as pants-shittingly terrifying as it sounded to me?”

“Kinda, yeah,” Gabriel agreed.

“Seriously,” Ruda said, marching up to the desk. “Could you hear what happened out there? The fucker practically shoved me out of his way!”

“I don’t think that’s the most important thing happening here, Ruda,” Teal said.

“You might be wrong about that,” Ruda retorted, turning to scowl at her. “Legally, a Hand of the Emperor speaks on his behalf. I don’t give a shit about people being rude to me, personally, but for a Tiraan representative of the highest possible rank to treat the princess of Puna Dara like a misbehaving chambermaid, there would be consequences.”

“Whoah, now,” Gabriel soothed. “Maybe this isn’t the time to be prideful…”

“Don’t fucking talk to me about pride, Arquin,” she snapped. “Remind me, which of us picked a screaming fight with a volatile paladin on week one, here?”

He scowled. “For the record, I deserved a smack on the head for that, not having a sword drawn on me. And she, at least, didn’t succeed in fucking stabbing me.”

“That’s not the point, either!” Ruda barked. “This isn’t personal. The pride of nations is a very real and important thing. The Punaji can stomach living in the shadow of the Empire because the Silver Throne has always treated us with respect. Nobody has any illusions about who’s the greater power, but we’re allies, not slaves. If that changes…”

“Zaruda,” Tellwyrn said firmly, “while you’re correct in everything you just said, I’m going to ask you to please hold your peace about this for the time being. Don’t make it more of an incident than it already is, and don’t assume anything that particular Hand says is representative of his government, legality or no. Something is wrong with that guy.”

“Uh, yeah,” Finchley piped up. “I mean… He was threatening you with taking us away. Seriously, how can he possibly think that’s even a threat? I can’t imagine anyone thinking we’re that important, especially someone as savvy as he ought to be. It makes no sense.”

“I’m a little bothered by how readily I have to accept your reasoning,” Moriarty muttered.

“It makes a little bit of sense,” Tellwyrn said, grimacing. “It’s a personal attack. You three aren’t exactly a strategic asset, no, but you’ve become a fixture on the campus. You’re liked around here. Still, you’re right. He seemed to think he was holding a much more significant loss than this is over me, which underscores my point. I’ve been dealing with that man for a few days now, and for most of it, he was exactly as professional as every Hand I’ve seen in the past. Suddenly, he’s been absurdly aggressive, and between this scheme and nearly causing a diplomatic incident just now, he’s clearly operating with badly impaired judgment.”

“But…he’s a Hand,” Rook said, aghast. “Of the Emperor. He can’t get impaired!”

“The magic powering the Hands is something way above and beyond what’s widely known to the world,” Tellwyrn said seriously. “I don’t grasp the ins and outs of it myself, but just from the basics I do know, I can assure you it’s without precedent—and risky. Frankly, I find myself surprised it’s taken this long for something to go wrong with one of them. Boys, whatever else you do, I strongly advise you not to seal yourselves in a Rail caravan or any other enclosed space with that guy.”

“He’s a Hand of the Emperor!” Finchley said shrilly. “If he gives us an order—”

“Whoah.” Tellwyrn held up a hand of her own. “I sympathize more than you might think. Even I can’t afford to deny him right to his face—or do you believe I let most unhinged assholes talk to me like that? If I were you, I would start considering my options, and if there aren’t any good ones available, look into creating new ones. In fact, that’s what I plan to do, anyway. You just may face more urgency about it, is all.”

“Fuckin’ lovely,” Rook muttered.

“For now,” she said in a gentler tone, “move along, if you would. I need to have a word with the kids, in private.”

Moriarty saluted; the others just turned and shuffled toward the door in glum silence, the students shifting out of their way.

“And boys,” Tellwyrn said softly, prompting them to pause and look back. “However you end up leaving the campus, be sure to say goodbye before you do. I can’t afford to challenge the Throne openly, like I said. But if you can arrange for it not to be an act of open treason on my part, you’ll have a home here, should you need one.”

“I can’t even begin to imagine how the hell we could arrange that,” Finchley said bitterly.

“You can’t,” she replied with a faint smile. “Totally beyond your power. However, you numbskulls, think carefully about where you are, and who you know. What I said about creating new options? There’s no shame in asking for help. I am not the only person on this mountaintop who can make things happen.”

They paused, glancing at one another speculatively, and then Finchley nodded.

“Thanks, Professor.”

“Yep,” she said, nodding back. “Now go on. Scoot.”

She waited until they were gone and the door shut behind them before speaking again.

“Well, here we are. Thanks for coming relatively promptly, by what passes for your standards.”

“Thanks for not just grabbing and porting us all here in our underwear, for once,” Ruda said bluntly. “Also, are we really done talking about that? There’s a crazy Hand of the Emperor hanging around campus. That’s not a small fuckin’ problem.”

“No,” Tellwyrn said evenly, “and it’s an even less small problem if he’s not the only one. I spent a good chunk of my day in Tiraas making sure the Throne itself is aware of this. That, unfortunately, is the most I can do about it at the moment. Anything I do to that character directly constitutes assault against the Imperial person, which would stir up more trouble than even I can stomp down.”

“Wait, by the Throne itself, you mean…” Gabriel blinked in realization. “Holy shit, you went to see the Emperor? What’s he like?”

Tellwyrn rubbed at her eyes. “Arquin, please shut up.”

“Oh, hey, speaking of that guy and me not doing what you say, Vestrel’s insisting you hear about this,” he said, suddenly frowning. “That wasn’t shadow-jumping or teleporting he just did.”

“What?” Tellwryn straightened, frowning at him. “What do you mean?”

“Apparently,” he said, glancing at an empty spot in the room, “he moved through the place where valkyries are. She says Hands aren’t supposed to be able to do that. Hardly anybody is.”

“Hm,” she grunted, her frown deepening. “Hmmmm. Actually…it makes more sense than shadow-jumping. There are a variety of ways into chaos space, but the most reliable is through powerful fae magic. In fact, I know a certain annoying shaman who is inordinately fond of that trick.”

“Fae magic?” Juniper folded her arms. “I thought that guy smelled familiar!”

“Which is neither here nor there,” Tellwyrn said, suddenly brisk. “Thank you for telling me, Gabriel. And Vestrel. That may be significant. For now, though, I asked you here for a reason, and he wasn’t it.” She sighed. “I just heard about Raolo. Taowi had a note for me waiting, but I only got back to my office a short time ago.”

“Professor?” Fross chimed tentatively. “Is this… Um, what I mean is, is it as bad as it seems like it could be?”

“Well, that’s as good a lead-in as any,” Tellwyrn said with a sigh. “The first half of what I wanted to tell you is a warning. According to that character from Imperial Intelligence who’s helping with this—the Inspector, not the Hand—the Sleeper is exhibiting an escalating pattern. He started with Chase, who has no significant magical or martial abilities, and was probably a test case. Then came Natchua and Addiwyn, and ambushing elves is hard, even for other elves. The attack on November failed, but she’s a caster of not-insignificant strength—specifically a divine caster, which seems to be a relevant counter to the Sleeper’s magic. Raolo, now, is not only an elf, but an arcanist, an unusual and very potent combination.”

“She is selecting increasingly challenging targets,” Shaeine said suddenly. “Testing herself.”

Tellwyrn nodded. “That’s Fedora’s theory, and it seems to make sense to me.”

“Wait, she?” Gabriel blinked, looking back and forth between them. “Uh, who? Are we talking about November?”

“About the Sleeper,” said Shaeine.

Teal cleared her throat. “It’s called ‘common gender,’ Gabe. It’s a linguistic convention in languages that lack genderless pronouns, like Tanglish and elvish. Which gender is the assumed default basically depends on the culture; in the Empire, that’s male, in Tar’naris, it’s female.”

“Yes, forgive me,” Shaeine added. “I did not mean to cause confusion.”

Tellwyrn cleared her throat pointedly. “Fascinating as this is, I’m not making idle conversation. The Sleeper is running through the list of interesting but relatively soft targets, and running out of them. Fedora specifically mentioned, as the next likely victims, the faculty, and you kids.”

“What?” Juniper exclaimed. “Us?! Why?”

“Think about it,” Toby said wearily. “How many people now have told us what a bunch of powerhouses we are? Paladins, demigods, archdemons…”

“That’s part of it,” Tellwyrn agreed. “The other part is that you kids are much more close-knit than other classes. In part because there are so few of you, I suspect, but you also seem to be simply…compatible. I admit I was rather pessimistic after your first week on campus last year, but your group has formed into more of a cohesive unit than basically any class I’ve ever had. Use that. From now on, I want you watching each other’s backs at all times. Fross, Juniper and Vadrieny may be impervious to the Sleeper’s curse; we cannot be absolutely sure yet that infernal magic is the vector for its transmission, but the evidence points very strongly toward that. Which means Gabriel, Toby and Shaeine also have potent defenses against it.”

“Y’know what, just insert a long string of curses here,” Ruda said sourly. “You’ve all heard me, you know what to imagine. I’m suddenly feeling too pissed off and depressed even to bother.”

“Self-pity does not become you, Zaruda,” Tellwyrn said sternly. “Despite lacking a lot of the magical advantages of your classmates, in a year and a half you’ve never once showed a problem keeping up with them, and that is damn well incredible. However, in this particular case, it does mean you are uniquely vulnerable, and you can’t afford to ignore that. I’m sorry to invade your personal life like this, but I have to put my foot down. I want you moved out of your room in Clarke Tower; until further notice, you’re to stay with Juniper and Fross. At no point are you to be off on your own.”

“Figures,” she said with a wry grin. “No sooner do I finally get my own room…”

“We’ve got plenty of space!” Fross chimed, zipping around her head. “I’m very small and I don’t even use my bed! It’ll be fun!”

“It’s not supposed to be fun.” At Tellwyrn’s soft, weary tone, they all stilled, turning to look at her again. “As I said, kids, that was half the reason I asked you here. The other…” She sighed heavily, leaning back in her chair, and again rubbed at her eyes with both hands. “What I’m about to say is totally without precedent in the history of this University. As bad as things are right now, I need to leave the campus for a little while.”

“Where are you going?” Toby asked quietly.

Tellwyrn grimaced. “Sifan.”

“You think Professor Ekoi can stop this,” Teal said.

“I think her sudden absence is what’s caused this,” the Professor said bitterly. “And furthermore, she had to have known that. In case you kids haven’t put it together yourselves, this Sleeper is almost certainly the same asshole who opened that hellgate last year, and if he’s a warlock, there’s excellent reason he stayed quiet while there was a kitsune on the campus. So yes, I am going to go find Kaisa, get an explanation for her actions, and try to convince her to come back. And that, kids, places me well outside my realm of expertise. Navigating the Twilight Forest is a potentially nightmarish prospect, even for the likes of me. I may be a match, power for power, for one kitsune, but I absolutely don’t want to find out. Going to where all the kitsune are, in their own home, it is going to take time just to get around, and that’s before I ever start to work persuading Kaisa to come back and help. Obviously, I’m going to hurry as much as I can, but…this is not a small prospect. There’s no way I’d leave the University in these straits if I didn’t think this was the best and only option to straighten all this out.”

“Well…okay,” Ruda said, shrugging. “Why’s that so unprecedented, and what’s it got to do with us?”

“What’s unprecedented,” said Tellwyrn, “is me involving students the way I’m about to. Kids… I want you to look after the place.”

“I’m…not sure I understand,” Juniper admitted, frowning.

“As we’ve been over,” Tellwyrn said evenly, “you’re an individually very powerful bunch, and you function extremely well as a unit. Honestly, assembled in this room is both more firepower and more coordination than the rest of the faculty. And, several false starts aside…you’re good. You all care about other people, and matters beyond yourselves. You’re driven by principle. And you exhibit the one trait I learned to associate with the very best of adventurers during my own long career, the one which exemplified the few I came to call heroes: you have a knack for succeeding in situations where, quite frankly, you should not. So… Please protect my campus. I do not want you hunting the Sleeper; don’t do anything that’ll spark a witch hunt, you know very well from my class how horrific those can be, especially in an enclosed social environment like this one. Fedora’s still around and working, and while that guy is his own bag of horrors, he seems competent; let him do the job. But please be ready. There’s a very good chance you will be targeted, yourselves. In that event…” She paused to clamp her lips into a tight, unhappy line. “In that event, fellow student or not, know that the Sleeper has by now completely worn out his or her right to my protection. If you get the chance, put them down. As finally as is feasible and necessary.”

A silence fell over the room, and hovered while the students stared at her in wide-eyed uncertainty. It was Shaeine who finally broke it.

“Understood,” she said, bowing to the Professor. “We shall do our utmost not to disappoint.”

“Professor Tellwyrn?” Fross said hesitantly. “I know I already asked, but… This is, um… It’s really bad, isn’t it? I mean… The Sleeper, the Hand, everything.”

“Stay away from that Hand,” Tellwyrn ordered. “It’s not practical to expel him from the campus; just keep your distance, and if he tries to mess with you, disengage. But yes, Fross. This is bad. You all know the kind of dangers this University uses for training exercises; the campus has seen significant threats beyond even those in the past. But the Sleeper…between this rash of cursing and the hellgate, this is as bad as it has ever been. This person is an enemy, plain and simple, not a misguided student in need of correction. Add to that the Hand, the Wreath still sniffing around, and who knows what else… Yes. Be aware how serious this matter is.”

She leaned forward, folding her arms on the desk, and gazed at them with uncharacteristic earnestness.

“And I wouldn’t ask this of you, or even discuss it with you, if I didn’t have faith in you. Whether you kids can solve this in my absence I wouldn’t say. Frankly, I’d find that rather surprising. But you’re a good group. You’re competent, and you’re good people. You can at least help. Please do.”

“We will,” Toby assured her quietly.

“Thank you.” Tellwyrn blew out a heavy sigh, slumping in her chair. “All right… Classes aren’t canceled, you’ll have a substitute, but I intend to be gone by tomorrow morning. Hopefully this won’t take more than a few days—if it’s going to be more than that, I’ll give up and come right back. In the best case scenario, I’ll be back sooner, and with help. Whatever else happens, hold the line. For now, go get some rest. You’re probably gonna need it soon.

They remained silent and tensely contemplative all the way back outside, none of them speaking up until they were in the hall and the office door shut behind them.

Fross’s sigh was a descending arpeggio of tiny bells.

“I wish Trissiny was here.”

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12 – 11

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It had already been a long day, and the afternoon had barely begun. Eleanora had managed to arrange a short break for herself, Sharidan being trapped in a working lunch with ambassadors from the Five Kingdoms pursuant to the ongoing negotiations; she was very much looking forward to a light meal of fruit in the privacy of her room. And to having Isolde rub her shoulders. The woman’s fingers were positively magical, and nothing else was going to suffice to nix the gathering tension headache she felt coming on.

Stepping into her chamber, she paused for a moment.

Arachne Tellwyrn was sitting on her bed. The frontier adventure novel Eleanora had hidden under her mattress was open in the elf’s hands; the box of Svennish chocolates she kept in her nightstand sat on the sheets, open and now half-empty, surrounded by crumpled wrappers. A bottle of Glassian red wine she had been saving now sat on the nightstand, also half-empty.

“There you are,” Tellwyrn exclaimed. “I thought you’d never come back.”

The pause had been as much of a rise as she was going to get—Eleanora was far too self-contained to reveal any more of her feelings to this interloper. She cycled rapidly through all the obvious questions and dismissed them as things Tellwyrn would either refuse to answer or probably intended to anyway, and continued briskly into her room. Calling for the guards would be antagonistic and likely pointless; it was doubtful even a Hand of the Emperor could deal with the archmage. And after yesterday…

“What have you done with my chambermaid?” she demanded.

“Assuming you’re referring to that bosomy blonde number with the legs up to her neck, she is secured in the bathroom, completely unharmed, albeit rather miffed.” Tellwyrn smirked. “Does your consort know you call her a chambermaid? I have a hard time imagining she’d appreciate that. She seems…scrappy. By the way, your chocolates are poisoned.”

To Eleanora’s supreme annoyance, that made her pause again.

“Forgive me, that might have been a little overdramatic,” Tellwyrn mused, holding up a half-eaten chocolate and peering at it critically. “A better word might be ‘tainted.’ What’s in these won’t harm anybody who doesn’t have an extremely unlikely allergy, and honestly, you’d probably have to be an elf to detect the flavor. It’s distinctive, though. Especially in the presence of sugar, sylphreed makes this bitter, citrusy aftertaste…”

“Sylphreed,” Eleanora said with long-suffering patience, “does not exist.” Mentally, she was already counting down the elf’s allotment of seconds before she gave up on humoring her and summoned the Imperial Guard.

“Yes, yes,” Tellwyrn said, waving airily with the piece of candy. “The plant was a foolproof contraceptive and a reliable treatment for several common venereal diseases, so naturally humanity harvested it into extinction. Equally naturally, the elven groves which still cultivate it don’t let it be known that they do. I’m not kidding about the flavor; wood elves use it as a seasoning.”

“You use contraceptives for flavor?”

“They,” Tellwyrn said with a hint of annoyance for which Eleanora felt zero sympathy, “not we. I don’t move in those circles. And yes, elves are not prone to accidental pregnancy and even less in a hurry to have one. The stuff is easy enough to avoid when somebody wants a child. All of which is neither here nor there; his Majesty has yet to produce an heir, hmm? Now there’s this, and I don’t believe in coincidence. Someone, it seems, is resourceful enough to penetrate your security, connected enough to have access to elven secrets, and clueless enough to feed you contraceptives. That’s a truly horrifying combination.”

“And causes one name to spring immediately to mind,” the Empress said acidly.

Tellwyrn snorted and popped the rest of the piece into her mouth, speaking around it. “I wouldn’t know where to begin finding sylphreed; any place I might try would probably just lead to a fight with the local Elders. I certainly don’t mean your government any harm, and honestly, would I tell you about this if I were behind it?”

“That’s a common enough ploy…”

“To establish trust,” the elf said with a mirthless grin. “When performed by people who give a rat’s ass whether you trust them, yes.”

“That’s a fair enough point, I suppose. If you’ve only just discovered this, it’s not the thing which prompted this intrusion, I gather.”

“Indeed.” Tellwyrn set the book down on the bed and straightened to a more upright posture, shifting to face Eleanora directly with a serious expression. “There is a Hand of the Emperor at Last Rock who appears to be coming unglued.”

Having had the whole conversation thus far to steel herself, Eleanora did not betray even a hint of the sudden unease she felt, merely affecting a disdainful lift of her eyebrow. “Quite an accusation. Or it would be, were it less vague. Can you offer useful details, or have you come specifically to waste my time?”

Tellwyrn made no response to her open asperity. “How much do you know about the situation right now?”

“The situation at Last Rock? The broad strokes. Sleeping curses, your general inability to control your students, a likely connection to last year’s hellgate crisis—and by the way, thank you for that—and the aid of Imperial Intelligence in hunting down your perpetrator, which you should have sought immediately after the resolution of the last disaster when you failed to apprehend the guilty party.”

“All those years of charm school were a wise investment, I see,” Tellwyrn said dryly. “The Hand originally came to feel me out of his own volition, and I decided if the Throne was going to fart around on my lawn anyway it could make itself useful. That is why I’m only now accepting government help, not because I came begging for it, but I am about ready to change my mind.”

“Yes, yes,” Eleanora said impatiently. “What specifically is he doing that has you in such a tizzy?”

The Professor raised an eyebrow of her own, but answered. “Today his behavior suddenly altered. Dramatically. He was rude, pushy, aggressive, and deliberately provocative.”

“Is that really all?” the Empress said disdainfully.

“I have dealt with Hands of the Emperor since they were of the Empress, Eleanora. The moment I came back to society and found Theasia had begun screwing around with dryads, I made damn well sure to understand what to expect from them. Their conduct has never been anything but uniform. They are icily calm, collected, even laudably diplomatic. Now? Even that diabolical thing from Intelligence agrees his behavior was unprecedented and alarming. No, I don’t panic every time a government official acts out of character. Hands of the Emperor are another matter. Something is wrong. And aside from the host of issues this raises for you, it’s going wrong on my campus. If this guy loses it like he seemed close to doing today and I have to deal with that, legally I’ll have assaulted the Emperor. So here’s me, making an overture before that point arrives. I want it understood that I have dealt with the Throne’s representative in good faith and anything which follows will only be whatever is necessary to protect my students.”

Eleanora was still mulling points from earlier in that speech when it came to an end. Dryads? She now embraced a conclusion she’d begun considering yesterday: despite Sharidan’s explanations about her plausible deniability and his mother’s secrets, he was going to explain some things about those Hands of his.

“Diabolical thing from Intelligence?” she said aloud. “They sent Fedora out there? Well, I suppose that makes sense. He’d better have at least one of his handlers on site, too.”

“You seem to have latched onto the least relevant part of that,” Tellwyrn said irritably.

“You and I have very different standards of relevance, Arachne, and no, I didn’t miss anything you said. Mood swings—”

“And shadow-jumping.”

That brought her up short. “…you saw this?”

“He appeared out of nowhere and vanished the same way, and it wasn’t arcane teleportation. If it was mere illusion or stealth, it was enough to fool both my own senses and these,” she tapped the rim of her golden spectacles, “which is not a small thing. More to the point, it’s something the Hands have never had before. Have you been altering them?”

“Surely it goes without saying that I am not going to discuss business of that nature with you.”

“Well, if you have, the side effects include emotional instability, which, if you’ll excuse me for telling you your own business, is a bad trait in extremely powerful people who are always hovering around the Emperor.”

“Your concern is appreciated,” Eleanora said tonelessly.

“All right, fine.” Tellwyrn set the box of chocolates aside and rose, dusting off her hands. “I’ve brought you into the loop, that’s my moral responsibility taken care of. I haven’t made any secret of my self-interest, here, but this also is a matter of concern to the Throne. But if your personal antipathy is more important—”

“Don’t you dare,” Eleanora hissed, assuming a mask of icy rage. The emotion was quite genuine, but she was fully in control, now; her emotions were possessions which served her needs, not wild things which controlled her. She stalked toward the bed, backing the elf up against it. “You have intruded here by force, assaulted someone important to me and made a show of disrespecting my possessions—my personal ones, not the expensive trappings of my rank. You will not stand in my home and act like the aggrieved party trying to be reasonable. This was all the same ploy you always use with everyone: making a show of how unpredictable and dangerous you are, to cow the audience into giving you your way. I know your power, Arachne, but I do not bend my neck to bullies. I didn’t before I sat on a throne. If you plan to push me one inch farther, you’d better just kill me. Otherwise, you are going to learn just how different this Silver Throne is from the one you brought down in the Enchanter Wars.”

Tellwyrn met her furious stare with her eyebrows upraised in surprise. After a long moment, she nodded slowly and sidled away, extricating herself from between the Empress and the bed. “Well…all right. That’s pretty fair, the whole thing. Excuse me, then.”

She made it halfway to the door before pausing and half-turning.

“I’m sorry, by the way, for running out on you like that. No, this is not an attempt to curry favor, or regain any moral high ground. I actually just wanted to apologize; it’s overdue. I left so suddenly because of a call for help. In fact, I lost a good friend that night, which I’m afraid drove everything else right out of my mind. And then you were getting deeper and deeper into politics, and it seemed like a good idea to leave you alone, especially after you tied yourself to the Throne. But…there it is. If I hurt you, I didn’t mean to.”

Eleanora folded her arms, her face once again stonily impassive. “And is that finally all?”

“Yeah, I guess so,” Tellwyrn said with a wry twist of her lips, turning back toward the door. “Look after yourself. I mean that very sincerely. Unless I’m badly overreacting to this Hand thing, you could be in real danger, Eleanora.”

She strolled out into the hall as casually as if she owned the place. Eleanora didn’t watch her leave; she suddenly had much more important matters to consider. First, though, she made a beeline for the bathroom. If Isolde had so much as a bruise or scraped knee, she was going to have a fortress built at Last Rock, and a battalion stationed there. With strike teams.

“I’m not arguing the moral point, Moriarty,” Finchley said wearily. “Just the practical one. What, exactly, do you think we could’ve done to protect the students from being attacked by an apparently invisible, un-trackable enemy who in all probability is one of them?”

“Hell, I’ll argue the moral point,” Rook said with a grin. “The Sleeper’s gotta be one of the little bastards, and they can all demonstrably take care of themselves better than we can. We don’t get sent into the Golden Sea and the Crawl every year just to see what happens, and thank the flippin’ gods for that, because what would happen would be us getting our asses killed. And that’d be a damn shame after we were within groping distance of Elilial and walked away, even if we can’t tell the story. Just anticlimactic, is all. Nah. There’s ‘not our fucking job,’ and then there’s this.”

“You are both missing the point,” Moriarty grated, “practically and morally, and you’ll note the total lack of surprise in my expression. It doesn’t matter what we do or don’t have the physical power to do. I hate that we’re sitting here, safe and comfortable, while civilians are being attacked. We’re soldiers! We are supposed to protect the people of this Empire!”

“Y’know, a good chunk of the student body aren’t even Imperial,” Rook said reasonably.

Moriarty clapped a hand over his eyes. “It’s like talking to a wall. A slovenly, lazy, undisciplined, insubordinate—”

“Ease up,” Finchley said with a grin. “It’s not likely we’ll find ourselves in a position to help, but come on. All three of us would step in if we had the opportunity and the means. Surely we’ve proved that much to each other by now.”

Moriarty let out an irritated huff, turning to glare at the windows, which showed the prairie far below, stained orange with the beginnings of sunset. “I might feel better if the Sleeper targeted us next.”

“That is because you’re a fuckin’ idiot,” Rook grunted.

“Or a masochist,” said Finchley.

“Which,” Rook replied, “is a sub-species of fuckin’ idiot.”

“Me,” Moriarty said woodenly, “to appease my conscience, and you two because you deserve it!”

“Indefinite enforced bed rest?” Rook said, grinning insanely. “I haven’t been nearly good enough to deserve that! But hell, I’ll take it.”

“Attention.”

They managed, with some scrambling; Moriarty whipped around and snapped to attention immediately, Finchley a second later, Rook only after falling off the bed and leaping to his feet.

The resident Hand of the Emperor stood in the dorm they shared with Gabriel and Toby, studying them coldly. None of them had heard the door open. He paced slowly down the short rank they formed, then back, turning his head to keep his flat stare on them. Finally he stopped and grunted.

“At least one of you gets credit for good intentions—which, needless to say, are worth nothing. You men will pack your gear and be ready to move out upon my order. You have wasted quite enough time loafing about here; it’s time for you to act like soldiers, assuming you can remember how. But first.” He paused, then nodded. His expression was not a smile, but something in it hinted at satisfaction, and even a small degree of pleasure. “First, you are going, finally, to be useful to your Emperor.”

She opened and closed the door when passing through it, loud enough that from any other elf it might have been pointed. In Tellwyrn’s case, though, it probably meant nothing. She wasn’t prone to subtlety in any of her actions.

“Hey, Arachne,” Rafe said with a grin, turning from organizing his tools. “You missed dinner. Want a bit to nosh? I always keep some snacks on hand.”

“No, thanks, I filled up on candy and contraceptives,” she said, surveying the room with a raised eyebrow. “And I’m not just saying that because you offered me food while cleaning your alchemy lab.”

“Excuse you, my lab is a shining beacon of spotless perfection as always, and anyway I’m almost done.” He set the two beakers he’d been holding on their shelf, shut the cabinet and latched it, then turned and held his arms wide, grinning. “See? Done. It’s rather late in the day, Arachne, classes are long over with. What’ve you been out doing all afternoon?”

“State visits,” she said cryptically. “Admestus, I was just prompted today to take a closer look at something which is obvious in hindsight, but sailed right under my nose at the time.”

“Damn, and it’s not even Tuesday,” he said lightly. “Something I can help with, I gather? If you just wanted to think out loud, you usually roust Alaric for that.”

“Mm.” She was studying him closely over the rims of her spectacles, her eyebrows creased in a faint frown. “Kaisa overreacted.”

“Hsst!” He dropped to a crouch, looking rapidly back and forth in alarm. “Don’t speak ill of the creature! She can probably hear you!”

“From Sifan?” Tellwyrn said dryly.

“I am not going to rule that out! Other things I’m not going to rule out include her not actually being gone, because I do not understand why Ekoi Kaisa does anything and I don’t wanna get turned into a frog. She actually has done that, Arachne. Took great pleasure in telling me the story. It ended with soup.”

“She did overreact, though,” Tellwyrn mused, wandering idly into the lab and picking up a sealed jar of tiny eyeballs. She examined this abstractly, not seeming to really see it. “Played the perfect ‘volatile kitsune’ angle. She is prickly about being shown proper respect; most of her sisters are. Kaisa, though, likes to play that angle, and I can’t believe I let her make me forget it. I’ve seen her do it before, act offended and crazy in order to get the reaction she wants, or just to deflect attention. That business, though…that was more affront than your little prank warranted. Also, while I have known her to storm off in a huff, it was never over somebody playing a joke on her. That should have brought retaliation.”

He groaned. “Well, isn’t that just peachy.”

“And then there’s you.” Tellwyrn set down the eyeballs, turning to stare very flatly at him. “You do the same thing. I’m not the kids, Admestus, don’t even try to pull the wool over my eyes. I’ve no issue with your methods of deflecting, except when you take it too far—and I don’t even mind, all that much, cleaning up when you do. This, though.”

“This is all beginning to sound rather accusatory,” he said, folding his arms. “Also, it’s not like you to beat around the bush this way, Arachne. What’s on your mind?”

“Yes, all sorts of people are acting out of character lately,” she said. “Kaisa, flipping out and storming off over a little joke which, honestly, she would have thought was funny, and then got you back. Twice over. You, a person evincing a very healthy fear of irate kitsune—and by the way, take nothing I say here as discouragement of that, because you should fear them if you ever meet another one—who for some reason decided to play a highly aggressive prank on one. How many years has it been, Admestus? I do know you. I know the kind of jokes you like, the kind of targets you prefer and exactly what you get out of tweaking their noses.”

“Am I so transparent?” he asked mournfully.

“To me? Yes. I’m betting to several of your colleagues, as well. Alaric pretends to find you so annoying because he knows you enjoy it. This, though. I was so distracted by Kaisa’s antics and then this Sleeper crap I never paused to consider how very out of character it would be for you to deliberately provoke her that way.”

“Hah!” He struck a pose, planting his fists on his hips. “For the sake of my art, I will endure any travail!”

Tellwyrn folded her arms and stared at him over the rims of her glasses.

It was only a moment longer before Rafe visibly deflated. “Oh, all right, fine. I didn’t slip Kaisa an anti-magic potion—honestly, how would that even work? I’m pretty sure she’s got entire senses for people playing pranks. Drugging a kitsune probably isn’t even possible. She asked me to play along, Arachne. Which I did, for the two very excellent reasons that she scares the hell out of me, and I didn’t see any harm in it. If she was going to mess with the kids or with you, I’d have come to you. I thought she was just bored with teaching and wanted an excuse to quit, and it cost me nothing to make myself useful. I mean, Alaric was back and all…”

“No.” Tellwyrn shook her head, turning to frown at a rack of bottled reagents. “Kaisa does not get bored with teaching. I asked her to come teach because it’s what she does. Her one great joy in life. If she decided to walk out in the middle of her contract, she’s got good and specific reasons.”

“Hey…” His expression sobered. “Do you think this has anything to do with the Sleeper? I’m not an idiot, it did occur to me… But I couldn’t see her doing something like that. I mean, I can’t say I know her well, but she always seemed to care about the kids, in her way. And if nothing else, she respects you.”

“I think you’re right about that,” Tellwyrn mused. “I don’t believe in coincidence. This started up right when she left—but the connection there is obvious enough without weaving conspiracies out of cobwebs. What we’re dealing with is almost certainly a very powerful diabolist, but no diabolist is anything more than prey for a kitsune. However… Now I have to wonder what angle Kaisa is playing. I don’t have it in me to believe she was blind to the results of her departure. I’ve never known her to act without full knowledge of every repercussion her actions would have.”

“Hey, uh, look,” he said awkwardly, scratching behind one of his ears, “you know I wouldn’t…”

“Relax, Admestus,” Tellwyrn said, giving him a fondly exasperated look. “You’re not in trouble. You were right about both your points: defying Kaisa if she asked for your help wouldn’t have been wise, and helping her wasn’t any kind of betrayal of me. I do trust her, and you, and I don’t suspect either of meaning harm to the campus.”

“D’aww.” He beamed. “I’m all warm and fuzzy!”

“Yeah, well, you enjoy that luxury.” Tellwyrn turned back toward the door. “I now have to go and do something about this.”

“Sorry for being late,” Toby said, sliding onto the bench in the little reading alcove. “You were right, I think I may have over-committed myself a bit this semester. I’m gonna give it another week to hit a rhythm before I start paring anything down, so don’t worry, I’m still up for studying.”

Raolo didn’t raise his eyes from the spellbook open in his lap. Toby gave him a long look, then sighed.

“Oh, the silent treatment again? That’s not as entertaining as you think it is, Rao. I’m not that late. And who was it who decided to set up in the back corner over here instead of our usual table? You’re lucky Crystal saw you heading this way or I’d still be looking.”

He grinned and nudged the elf in the shoulder with his fist.

Raolo immediately slumped bonelessly in the other direction, the book sliding from his lap. Toby’s reflexes snapped into action; he grabbed the freshman before he could fall far.

“Raolo?” Gold light flashed into being around them; somewhat awkwardly, given their side-by-side position on the wall bench, Toby wrestled the elf around to face him, tilting his head back. The younger boy didn’t respond in the slightest to the manipulation, even when Toby had to grip his hair to hold his head up, and thumbed his eyelid open. He was breathing; his pulse was steady. He wasn’t an accomplished diagnostician by any means, but between his classes and some of Omnu’s innate gifts, he could sense enough to know Raolo was, more or less, healthy.

Just asleep.

“Oh, no.”

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“I hadn’t thought about it since my first bardic elective last year when it was brought up,” Teal said animatedly as the group strolled through the campus toward the cafeteria, “but Fross talking about Sifanese the other day brought it to mind, which was why I mentioned it in class. Actually, Sifanese is the exception; most languages are cyclical, like Tanglish.”

“Wait, just Sifanese?” Gabriel asked. “I mean, isn’t elvish kind of always the same, too?”

“Not exactly!” Teal replied, clearly enjoying the topic. “Sifanese is unique because it doesn’t evolve; the oldest known manuscripts…actually, Fross, I’m fuzzy on that. How old are they?”

“Writings in Sifanese dating back five thousand years are still archived in Kiyosan!” the pixie reported. “And you’re correct, the language has remained exactly that time for the entire duration, and presumably even earlier.”

“Exactly!” Teal nodded. “And the reason for that is the language, and in fact the culture, are shepherded by powerful immortals. People in Sifan have to deal regularly with the kitsune, and they are very particular about how they’re addressed.”

“Yeah, I damn well know,” Gabriel said sourly. Ruda chortled and slugged his shoulder.

“Elvish, though,” Teal continued, “is an evolving language like the others—in fact, it’s similar to both Sifanese and mortal languages. There is turnover and attrition in elvish populations, which is what drives linguistic evolution. It’s really only the wood elves who tend to live for thousands of years, you see. Elves don’t die of age, but among the plains tribes and drow, where they lead more dangerous lives, they rarely live longer than a few centuries. So the language does shift over time, but at a glacial pace compared to human languages. Human languages, though, evolve cyclically, like I mentioned in class.”

“All of ’em?” Ruda asked. “Cos I gotta tell you, Teal, I had a pretty okay education before coming here, and I never heard about this before.”

“It’s the kind of thing that’s really only interesting to bards, Nemitites, and other linguistics buffs,” Teal admitted. “But yeah. For example, the oldest known writings from the Tira Valley civilizations are the…aw, dang, I always forget that name.”

“The Ocklund Texts!” Fross supplied.

“Yes! Ocklund, right!” Teal grinned up at her. “They’re a collection that have been in a Nemitite temple for thirteen centuries; before that, they were in a dragon’s hoard. And when they were first discovered, they were considered gibberish. Modern scrying has dated them to six thousand years ago, and most experts think they’re actually gnomish in origin. But anyway, they’ve gradually become more comprehensible over time, until they’re completely legible now, because they are in perfect modern Tanglish.”

“Well, slightly archaic Tanglish, now,” Fross corrected. “It was extremely correct a hundred years ago, though!”

“You’re making that up,” Juniper accused.

“I’m dead serious!” Teal assured them. “You can look it up!”

“She’s right,” Fross agreed. “And you can. The Ocklund Texts are the best example in Tanglish, but there are also some really good examples of the same principle in Glassian and Sheng. And the Vastreyovich Manuscript, which is four thousand years old, and is broadly incorrect but generally legible for readers of modern Syrrinski.”

“And so most linguists assume it’s a universal phenomenon,” Teal said. “Languages naturally evolve over time, but for whatever reason, over the space of four to six thousand years, they come back full circle to a point where they’re functionally the same as they were before.”

“Actually, that’s just one interpretation,” Fross disagreed. “Tanglish and Glassian are exceptions because they keep popping up in the same general region, but some languages appear to re-develop spontaneously in entirely new countries. And even those examples may not be completely right; there are indications that some form of Tanglish existed thousands of years ago in what’s now Arkhross. Not definitive indications, but compelling. So it may not be that they come full circle so much as they get periodically reborn.”

“That seems to strain credibility,” Toby observed.

“Yeah, no shit,” Ruda snorted. “You ask me, that’s Vesk playing pranks. There’s no way that could just happen by accident.”

“That’s the consensus, yeah,” Teal agreed, nodding. “Nobody’s believed it’s a coincidence in centuries. There are different theories, but most scholars think it’s either due to the gods in some way, or to the influence of the elves. Elvish does contain the root words for a lot of other languages. And they’re mostly pretty reclusive, but elves do interact with humans in various ways, all over the world. Not constantly, but pretty regularly.”

“Hm,” Gabriel grunted. “Y’know, elvish words are kinda trendy. Recently, I mean, what with modern presses and telescrolls.”

“Yeah, they’ve always had a subtle influence on human culture,” Teal agreed. “It’ll be very interesting to see how that develops with modern communications.”

“Interesting for some people,” Ruda said, grinning.

Juniper came to a sudden halt, going completely rigid. Her classmates straggled to a stop in a loose cluster around, her, turning to frown in unison.

“Juniper?” Shaeine prompted. “What’s wrong?”

“I don’t believe—” The dryad broke off abruptly and took off at a dead run down the path.

“I think we’d better follow,” Toby said, already moving forward.

“Uh, guys?” Fross darted back and forth above their heads. “Full disclosure, I’m a little rusty at fairy stuff in general and this does feel slightly different from what I recall but I think there’s a dryad coming up the mountain.”

“Oh, crap,” Gabriel muttered, setting off after Juniper at a dash. The others came right behind, accompanied by the rhythmic slapping of Teal’s sandals.

“Whoah, where’s the fire?” Chase called as they tore past him on the lawn.

“Hi, Chase,” Gabriel puffed. “Bye, Chase.”

“That’s right, little sophlings, flee! Flee for your paltry lives!” he howled after them, waving his arms. “Fear the Sleeper!”

“Can’t be a coincidence he was the first one hexed,” Ruda commented. Despite her short stature and stout build, she wasn’t even slightly out of breath.

“I didn’t wanna say it cos it seemed mean but honestly I thought it was kind of a shame the only dose of the cure they had got used on him,” Fross chimed, fluttering along above them. Nobody could spare the breath while running to laugh, but Gabriel tried.

They trailed to a halt near the front gates of the campus; Juniper had gone right through, but she had stopped just beyond, staring at the two figures coming up the mountain.

A shaggy-haired man in travel-stained clothing that ran heavily to leather was on the right, carrying a longbow and with a tomahawk, hunting knife, and quiver all hanging from his belt. His shirt was open at the neck and he wore no ceremonial pelt, which would have been insane in the prairie climate, but the bronze wolf’s head pinned to his shoulder identified him as a Huntsman of Shaath. Beside him walked a slender woman with pale green hair and an almost golden complexion, wearing a simple bleached leather dress in the elven style. Both slowed to a stop, staring at Juniper.

“…hi,” the other dryad said after a moment of awkward silence. “I, uh… Well, this is—”

She broke off as Juniper lunged down the slope at them, backing away reflexively, but Juniper hurled herself into her sister’s arms, squeezing her tight and burying her face in her hair.

The Huntsman smiled fondly at the two, discreetly circling around to give them a moment, and approached the gates as the sophomores also trickled forward.

“Persons with no business on the campus are subject to removal at the administration’s discretion,” he read, peering at the sign which had been hung beside the gate at the start of the semester. “The diagram really sells it. Is the little person being kicked off the mountain, or just kicked in general?”

“See, I said that sign was vague,” said Gabriel. “But if Tellwyrn made it big enough to be clear, it’d be all tacky.”

“Mm, I see your point,” the visitor said solemnly. “It’s extremely tasteful as is.” His voice, though deep, was distinctly feminine.

Ruda snorted a laugh. “So, this is a surprise. I don’t think we’ve ever had a Huntsman visit here before. Least, not in the time I’ve been here.”

“Which, in fairness, was a year and a half, not counting class excursions and breaks,” Fross chimed. “Hardly definitive!”

“Probably correct, though,” the Huntsman said, and bowed to them. “I doubt any of my brother Huntsmen have ever found business here, before. I am Brother Ingvar, a friend and traveling companion of Aspen. And of course, you must be friends of Juniper.”

“There’s quite a story behind this, isn’t there?” Teal asked, watching the two dryads.

Shaeine cleared her throat softly. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Brother Ingvar. I am Shaeine nur Ashaele d’zin Awarrion.”

“Oh!” Teal flushed. “Teal Falconer. Likewise.”

They introduced themselves quickly; Ingvar looked more interested with each name, but not overawed by any of them. By the time that was done, Juniper and Aspen had separated and now approached the group, holding hands. Aspen looked a great deal more relaxed.

“Aspen,” Ingvar said pointedly, “this is Gabriel.”

“Yeah,” Gabe said, casually laying one hand on Ariel’s pommel. “We’ve met.”

Ingvar cleared his throat. Aspen sighed softly, squeezed Juniper’s hand once, then released it to step forward. “Hi, Gabriel. It’s been a while.”

“Yup,” he said noncommittally.

“I just wanted to say,” the dryad continued in an earnest tone, “I’m sorry. Y’know, for grabbing you by the neck and threatening to kill you. That was wrong of me. I apologize.”

He blinked. “Wait. Really?”

“Well, yeah,” she said, nodding. “I know it’s a little counterintuitive, but I’ve thought about this and talked it over with Ingvar, and it actually was wrong. Even if you did have your horrible invisible friends scare me, which was just mean.”

Gabriel stared at her for a moment, then turned to Ingvar, ignoring Ruda collapsing against the gatepost in laughter right behind him. “This…is progress, isn’t it.”

“It doesn’t happen all at once,” the Huntsman said with a faint smile.

“Um, excuse me?” Aspen said, frowning in annoyance. “You were talking to me. There’s no need to be rude.”

“Right. Well, then.” Gabriel actually bowed to her. “Apology accepted, Aspen. Water under the bridge. We can put all that behind us.”

“Great!” She beamed with almost childlike satisfaction.

Ingvar cleared his throat. “In light of the sign, I feel I should be certain before stepping onto the campus proper. Is it a problem if we enter uninvited?”

“The sign’s mostly to discourage the wrong kind of visitors,” Ruda said, still grinning. “Ever since Arquin got himself paladinized we’ve had an occasional reporter problem. Various other curiosity-seekers have wandered in from time to time. There’s an argument to be made that this University may not be safe for non-initiates, but frankly, Tellwyrn just doesn’t like dealing with nuisances. But nah, guests come up from the town, too, and students’ family members, and nobody says boo to ’em. Long as you act like a civilized person and don’t interfere with anybody…and, now that I think about it, don’t hang around too long without having a good reason to be here… You’ll probably be fine.”

“Civilized person?” Aspen cleared her throat. “Well, I guess that tears it. That was a good thought, Ingvar, but—”

“Aspen,” he said flatly.

She dropped her eyes, muttering sullenly to herself, and kicked at the grass with one bare foot. Juniper gave her a quizzical look.

“In fact,” Ingvar continued, “we both wished to speak with Professor Tellwyrn herself, for different reasons. But there is no rush. Aspen would doubtless like a chance to catch up with her sister.”

“Aw, you guys can stick around as long as you want!” Juniper said brightly. “Honestly, if you’ve gotta talk with Tellwyrn, it’s probably better to do that first, so we have time to chat afterward.”

“Hey, yeah, I like that,” Aspen said, nodding. “Get it out of the way early. I’m sold.”

“Great! I’ll show you where her office is. The campus isn’t big, but you can get lost if you don’t know the way around. C’mon, this way! We can get some lunch after, the food’s surprisingly good!”

“It was a pleasure to meet all of you,” Ingvar said politely, bowing to them. “Perhaps we shall speak again before we depart.” He had to trot a few steps to catch up with the dryads; Juniper’s good mood showed in her exuberant pace.

“So,” Gabriel said, frowning after the little group as they retreated uphill into the campus, “was that…a man, or a woman?”

Ruda snorted. “Arquin, in any situation where someone else’s gonads are any of your fucking business, believe me, you’ll know in advance.”

“Sure you wouldn’t rather talk in your office?”

“I am pacing,” Tellwyrn said testily. “My office has inadequate pacing room. Since you insist on depriving me of the chance to be alone with my thoughts, I see no reason to accommodate you.”

“Isn’t it easier to think in a comfy chair in your office, though? Nice and private.”

“Walking is good for thinking, and this isn’t improving my patience. You’d better have something worthwhile to report, if you’re being this pushy about it.”

“Not really,” Fedora said with a shrug. “But you insisted on me checking in with you regularly, so here I am, checking. Or shall I suspend this policy?”

“Just spit it out,” she grunted.

“Well, as I said, not much to report.” The Inspector jammed his hands in the pockets of his trench coat and slouched along beside her, seeming to have no trouble matching her rapid pace. The upper hallways of Helion Hall were marble-floored, but graced with a strip of carpet down the middle; Tellwyrn kept veering closer, forcing him off it, which he ignored. “For the most part, I’m still stuck analyzing motive and the psychology of our perp, which is the most unreliable and inconclusive of all investigative methods. However, with regard to that, I’ve at least decided my initial theory was incorrect. This character isn’t a serial killer.”

“So you’ve noticed no one’s been killed, have you,” she snorted.

“Serial attackers exhibit an oddly consistent psychology even if they don’t kill,” he said cheerfully. “Lots of rapists, arsonists, kidnappers… Actually, the kidnap almost always leads to torture. Point is, that is a fairly consistent profile. The suave murderer who haunts the chapbooks is pretty much entirely fiction. These types tend to be on the low-functioning end of insanity. Poor social skills and hygiene, as a rule. Also a marked predilection for pyromania and, for some reason, bedwetting. Regardless, you don’t really have anybody on campus who fits the profile. Besides, serial offenders are usually acting out of some sort of compulsion, whereas this Sleeper’s attacks have a cerebral element.”

“Cerebral,” she repeated, narrowing her eyes.

“Mm. It’s a little too early to establish any patterns conclusively, but… Considering who was attacked and which ones worked, I do notice something. This character managed to sneak up on two elves—no mean feat. Masterson, of course, is a soft target, but he was the first one. A trial run, I think, possibly selected on the basis that people wouldn’t be too upset with his being victimized. Where it gets interesting is that Stark fought him off—or more specifically, she was rescued by the intervention of a paladin’s horse when said paladin is nowhere in the vicinity, and let’s face it, that is not a commonly known phenomenon. I certainly never heard of it happening. No, the Sleeper’s a student, one who knows his classmates and is tailoring his attacks to bring each of them down. Stark threw up something he couldn’t plan for. Between that and the highly ambitious but ultimately pointless hellgate thing last year, I believe this kid is…stretching his wings.”

“Wings.”

“Makes a twisted kind of sense,” he said, grinning. “This is what college is for, right? Growing skills in a somewhat safe environment which cushions you from the worst effects of your screwups. You’ve got a student with a lot of power he doesn’t know how to use, teaching himself. The other students at this school make for an impressive set of challenges. Our perp’s a strategist, someone who plans his attacks carefully. If I’m right, it won’t be long before he needs to escalate to tougher prey. Which means your faculty and your sophomores will be in the next set of targets, whenever he feels ready to move on to that.”

“Or she,” Tellwyrn said softly.

“Sure, goes without saying,” Fedora shrugged. “Aside from that… I’ve tried to do more concrete investigating, but your kids have done an impressive job of fucking up my crime scenes. It’s to be expected this character doesn’t leave magical traces, or he wouldn’t be able to block your scrying, but people who rely on magic as heavily as he does always overlook the mundane. So far I haven’t got so much as a footprint or a hair sample, but if this continues, I will. That’s one actually important thing I wanted to bring up with you. I know you’ll be making some kind of announcement to the student body before long; do me a solid and tell ’em to keep their grubby hands off the attack sites. I have to collect evidence, and that means they need to not trample it underfoot.”

“What makes you think I’ll be making announcements?”

“Oh, let’s not play this game,” he said dismissively. “So far the biggest source of student upset seems to be the creepy guy hanging around asking intrusive questions, but they are cooped up on a mountaintop with somebody going around hexing people from the shadows. This kind of situation makes people crazy, and stupid. I’m kind of surprised you haven’t already gotten out in front of it.”

“Professor!”

She stopped and turned slowly to face the new arrivals, folding her arms.

“Well, well, well,” Tellwyrn drawled. “Just look who it is.”

Fedora discreetly moved aside, watching with undisguised interest as two dryads and a Huntsman of Shaath approached.

“There you are!” Juniper said brightly. “You weren’t in your office—lucky I heard you, or we might have had to wander all over the campus! You remember Aspen, right?”

“She’s not one I’m likely to forget any time soon,” Tellwyrn replied. “Hello, Aspen, and welcome back. Believe it or not, it is actually good to see you in one piece. And your old self. I like the dress.”

“Uh, thanks,” Aspen said nervously. She glanced at her companions, both of whom nodded encouragingly.

“You, though, are new,” Tellwyrn added. “Let’s see… Would I be right in guessing you’re Ingvar?”

“Well, that’s a little disconcerting,” he said with a thin smile. “Yes, I am. What else has Kuriwa told you?”

“Just enough to pique my curiosity, as usual.”

“I suppose I’m gratified she treats her equals that way, too.”

That brought an answering smile from Tellwyrn. “Kuriwa has no equals, or so she firmly believes. What brings you two here?”

Aspen drew in a deep breath and squared her shoulders. “Arachne, I wanted to thank you for all the help you gave me. I know you went to a lot of trouble, and even though it was because you wanted information and my whole problem was your fault in the first place, it was still a really complicated and difficult thing you did on my behalf, and I appreciate it. Also, I wanted to apologize for causing trouble on your campus. I was just worried about Juniper. So…that’s it. Thanks, and sorry.”

“I can tell you’re new at this,” Tellwyrn said dryly. “Just for future reference, Aspen, sincerity is good, but like all positive traits, too much becomes a flaw.”

“See, I told him that!” she said, looking accusingly at Ingvar, who just shook his head.

“The truth is, Professor,” he said, “I wished to speak with you myself, if it’s not an imposition.”

“Oh?” She raised an eyebrow. “Well, you’re suitably polite, which beats the hell out of the last dozen nosy jerks who wandered in here. Very well, I don’t see why not. Is this a private matter?” she added sardonically as he gave Fedora a pointed look.

“Private,” Ingvar agreed, “and in fact rather sensitive. I apologize for being a bother, and of course will gladly wait until you have a convenient—”

He broke off, shifting back and reflexively grasping his tomahawk, his gaze on a point behind the Professor now.

“Whoah!” Juniper said, blinking. “Where’d you come from?”

Tellwyrn turned around again, tilting her head inquisitively. “That’s actually a really good question. Have you been picking up new tricks in the last few days?”

“And what do you think this is?” the Hand of the Emperor demanded, glaring at Aspen. “Dryads are not permitted to wander about in Imperial territory, especially this close to civilians!”

“Hey!” Juniper said, frowning.

“You have an arranged exemption,” he snapped. “This one will have to go.”

“Hey!” Aspen exclaimed.

“There is exactly one person here who gets to decide who stays and who goes on my campus,” Tellwyrn said softly. “Care to guess who it is? I’ll give you a hint: it’s not you.”

“I will remind you, Professor, that your precious University is built on Imperial territory and both staffed and attended predominantly by Imperial citizens,” he replied, actually clenching his fists and glaring at her. “You have been extended a great deal of undeserved leeway. It’s time you started appreciating it.”

“Are you feeling all right?” she asked mildly.

“Do not change the subject,” the Hand snapped. “Your students are in grave danger, and now I find you not only wasting time up here, but fraternizing with a threat level eight monster! The Empire will not tolerate this wild irresponsibility! You have the children of nobles on this campus!”

“Whoah, wait a sec,” Aspen said, scowling. “Did this guy just call me a monster?”

Ingvar and Fedora were both frowning at the Hand with oddly identical expressions.

“This is being handled,” Tellwyrn said, still regarding him quizzically. “In fact, you’ve been heavily involved in it. Your help has been much appreciated.”

“Then think about this,” the Hand said, stepping closer to her and staring stonily into her eyes. “The Silver Throne is not a charity organization. There will be recompense for the resources being spent to clean up your mess. And if I don’t see immediate and significant progress in ensuring the safety of these students, your failure to protect them will have consequences. No one’s invincible, Tellwyrn. Perhaps you’re overdue for a reminder of that fact.”

Fedora cleared his throat. “Perhaps—”

“Do you remember when I said I thought very well of the Emperor and his government, and had no intention of harming or interfering with it at all?” Tellwyrn said quietly, matching the Hand’s gaze. “Stop trying to change my mind.”

“There’s a line, Arachne,” he whispered. “You just put a toe across it. Back. Away.”

“Excuse me,” Inspector Fedora said pointedly, “but if I may be so bold—”

“You may not.” The Hand rounded on him, pointing. “You will produce results, or find yourself sent right back where you came from—or stuck in a bottle for the rest of eternity. The Empire chooses to tolerate things like you so long as you are useful, and cause no trouble. I don’t see you being useful right now.”

Fedora blinked languidly, simply staring at him without expression.

The Hand snorted loudly, sweeping his gaze around the small crowd. “Get rid of the dryad and make some progress. Both of you. Quickly. That is not a request.”

Suddenly, he just wasn’t there anymore.

“Um,” Ingvar said hesitantly after a moment’s stunned silence. “Was that a Hand of the Emperor?”

“He smelled…familiar,” Juniper said, frowning.

“You’ve dealt with him before, yes?” Tellwyrn asked, turning to Fedora.

“Him, and others,” the Inspector replied, nodding. “They’re theoretically interchangeable. That’s the point of them, or part of it.”

“Hm. Did he seem to be acting…”

“Dramatically out of character? Yes. Yes, he did. Also, they can’t teleport, or shadow-jump, or whatever that was.” He grinned unpleasantly. “I’ve made very certain to know.”

“Out…of…character,” Tellwyrn whispered, staring into space. “…I’m blind.”

“Oh, how I wish any of the responses to that were safe to say,” Fedora said to no one in particular.

Tellwyrn suddenly turned back to Ingvar. “Anyway, sorry about that. Do you plan on being around long, Ingvar?”

“My schedule is entirely open,” he said, glancing at Aspen. “We do have a sort of mission, but it has no time frame. Why do you ask?”

“I would indeed like to talk with you,” she said, “but if it’s not too much trouble, I’ll have to ask that you wait for a bit. It turns out I need to pay a couple of urgent visits.”

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12 – 7

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“So, yeah, maybe asking Melaxyna for a perspective wasn’t the wisest thing I’ve ever done,” Toby admitted. “It’s just that… My whole life, the perspectives around me have been kind of uniform. Even here, for all that this place is crazy and full of differing opinions. Some things people just consider universal. So when I’m questioning a universal truth…” He trailed off, shrugged, and took another bite of his pastry.

They were munching as they meandered back to their dorm from the cafeteria. Mrs. Oak did not generally take (or appreciate) special requests, but she had by happenstance reproduced quite closely the apple-raspberry tarts Toby and Gabriel remembered from the neighborhood bakery of their youth, and they’d made a point of stopping by for seconds after meals whenever those were on offer. Once in a while, as today, fresh ones found their way to their plates at dinner, when the cafeteria happened not to be too busy. Despite the cook’s taciturn and standoffish nature, it seemed Juniper was right to insist she wasn’t a bad sort at heart.

“I dunno, man,” Gabriel mused after swallowing the last bite of his. “I definitely follow your logic; she sounds like a great source of outside opinion. Just, you know, don’t take anything she says too closely to heart. Remember what Trissiny warned us about children of Vanislaas.”

“Yeah,” Toby agreed, nodding. “Actually… I made time to research some demonology after her big rant in the Crawl, and she was pretty much spot on. You have to be extremely careful with Vanislaads. Them and djinn—they use words to sow chaos, twist people’s minds. Melaxyna is the only one I’d even consider approaching, with her being stuck in the Grim Visage and out of touch with everything.”

“Funny thing,” Gabriel said with a grin. “Demons, feminism, or whatever else, I notice Trissiny’s rants are usually correct. Y’know, factually. If she ever figures out that ranting at people does not make them want to listen to her, she’ll be very persuasive.”

Toby had to laugh at that.

“I actually kinda miss her,” Gabriel said more soberly. “Well, personally, too, I actually really like Triss once she got the stick out. But right now, more importantly, I feel like we could use another paladin perspective.”

“Yeah,” Toby agreed, sighing heavily. “Though… I’m not sure how much I could lean on her for this. I don’t think Trissiny’s ever had the slightest problem with anything Avei said or did. Me having questions about my god would probably leave her… I dunno. Nonplussed, in the best-case scenario.”

He finished off his pastry while they strolled along in silence. At last, Toby glanced over at Gabriel.

“What?”

Gabe looked back at him, blinking. “What, what?”

“You’re making that face,” Toby accused. “The one where you’re debating whether to say what you’re thinking.”

“Excuse you,” Gabriel said haughtily, “but I never question saying what I think. It’s my whole thing. I have a thought, out it comes.”

“For nearly the entirety of your life, yes, but in the last year you’ve been working hard to correct that, and it shows. Which is why I recognize that look; I’ve noticed it, and you’re not yet contained enough to hide your facial expressions.”

“Duly noted,” Gabriel said, grimacing deeply. “…also a case in point, huh.”

“So what’s on your mind?”

He sighed. “Well…don’t take this the wrong way.”

“Gabe, when have I ever?” Toby asked in some exasperation, earning a weak grin in response.

“All right, fine. It’s just… I can’t find it in me to have an inherent problem with you questioning Omnu. Have you ever considered that maybe the gods need to be questioned?”

“Well,” Toby said after a pause. “That’s a big question, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, pretty much.”

“I don’t mean in the cosmic sense, though it is that, too. I mean from you, Gabe. You spent basically your whole life being despised for what you are, not for anything you did, and all because of the Pantheon’s rules. But I almost never heard you complain about it, or about them… Until you started getting directly mixed up with a god and being pretty firmly on his side.”

A silence ensued, in which they continued aimlessly strolling and Gabriel kept his frowning gaze fixed on empty space ahead.

“Anything you want to get off your chest?” Toby finally prompted. “In case I’m not the only one having paladin issues? And if you don’t, that’s completely fine. But you can. You know that, right?”

“The thing is,” Gabriel said slowly, “Vidius has been hinting at this from the very start. Pretty much the first things he said to me were all about how the gods might have made a mistake in dismissing demonbloods. And it’s been…more of the same. His phrasing is always very careful. Often so much so that I don’t notice the implication until I’m thinking about the conversation long afterward. But I keep getting these hints. My first authorized paladin-specific action was basically terrorizing the Vidians in Last Rock into behaving. He approved of that, strongly. Approved of me having valkyries spy on a priestess of his cult. Toby… I think Vidius believes the gods need to be questioned…maybe even challenged. I am pretty sure that’s a big part of the reason he called me.”

“So,” Toby said after another pause. “An even bigger question than I thought.”

“Yeah.”

“…man, suddenly I really miss having Trissiny to talk to.”

“Yeah.”

“Do, uh, you have any ideas? I mean, what to do about all this?”

“For either or both of us?” Gabriel shrugged. “I don’t think this is the point for having ideas, as such. I mean, if you think about it, we’re noticing odd trends and having questions. This seems like a time to be paying close attention and thinking carefully. Going off and doing anything drastic at this juncture seems pretty damn premature. I suspect any plan we came up with would be half-baked at best.”

“Well, you really do have a good head for planning, when you use it.” Toby grinned and jostled him with a shoulder. “I think you’re right, though. This is kind of a reversal for us, Gabe, but I’m gonna be watching you for cues on this. Wondering what my god is up to and whether I should approve is pretty new for me. I’m way out of my element.”

“Right, so, no pressure at all,” Gabriel said airily. “You know, if we’re going to end up chatting about all this while walking through the campus anyway, you could’ve just brought it up when I asked in the first place.”

“Yeah, well, I think we were just discussing how I’m apparently not the planner, here,” Toby retorted. “Anyway, that wouldn’t have gone anywhere. The very next thing that happened was the Rafe/Ekoi showdown.”

Gabriel’s expression grew somewhat morose. “Yeah. And after that… Chase is up and about again, but whatever they gave him, they don’t seem to have more of. Natchua is still out. And have you heard about that freshman girl?”

“Addiwyn.” Toby nodded soberly. “Raolo told me. I don’t know if Tellwyrn knows yet, she apparently went to Tiraas for something this afternoon. But that’s three people who’ve been hit, and it seems after the first one, Miss Sunrunner can’t cure it anymore. This is…” He trailed off, shaking his head wordlessly.

“It feels asinine to say this campus was supposed to be safe,” Gabriel murmured. “Half of Tellwyrn’s educational plans seem to involve dropping us in shit that should kills us and seeing what happens.”

“No, I get what you mean,” Toby agreed. “The thing is, she doesn’t do the same stuff to everybody. We’re all paladins and demigods and archdemons in our class, and just from comparing notes with others I know we always end up in more dangerous situations than most. That’s the difference. She’s in control, or at least she makes an effort to be. Now…”

Gabriel sighed. “Well, I mean, hell. We’re the paladins here, right? Guess it’s time we step up.”

“Yeah. How?”

He had no answer.

Despite the protests of her professors, roommates, and everyone else, November was accustomed to burning the candle at both ends. It wasn’t that she was a night owl, particularly, she just liked quiet and privacy. The campus had rooms designed to meet those needs, and she could certainly have used them, but she also liked the outdoors. That combination had led to her discovery of her favorite study spot, and her tendency to lurk there well past dark, even on nights when she had early classes the following morning.

In the shadow of the natural sciences building, a small ledge extended from the mountain at an odd angle near its peak, covered with soft grasses. When the campus had been built, it had ended up close to the spot where a path terminated against the exterior wall, and for whatever reason Tellwyrn had chosen to have a door open onto a short bridge leading to it. The ledge had been augmented with a park bench and an overhanging fairy lamp which kept it brightly lit even in the middle of the night, plus a shoulder-high wrought iron fence to prevent people from tumbling off the edge. It wasn’t a friendly place for anyone with a fear of heights, but then, that could be said of most of the campus. It also hadn’t come into favor as a make-out spot, between the omnipresent light and the fact that it was in open and in full view of both Clarke Tower and the open colonnade skirting the side of Helion Hall. Clearly, it had been meant for exactly the purpose to which November put it: studying, enjoying the view over the vast prairie, and just being alone.

Of course, she had twice caught pairs of her classmates being generally shameless there. Despite being a college student herself, she had developed a rather low opinion of them.

Tonight, though, she gave up on studying only an hour or so after dark. With a heavy sigh, November wedged the sheet of paper on which she was taking notes into her book, finished off the last of the bottle of tea she had brought, and stood. She just wasn’t feeling the concentration. Well, it wasn’t as if she had an upcoming test this early in the semester, anyway, just her general habit of staying as up to speed as possible in all her classes. Turning to trudge back to the door, she tried her best not to cast a glance at Clarke Tower. Just in case someone in it happened to be looking out a window.

For far from the first time, she roundly cursed her own stupidity. Trissiny wasn’t even there this time. Wasn’t here, on campus, at all. Maybe that would afford November enough time to quit being the bloody idiot about it she knew she was.

Slouching moodily along the path back toward her dorm, lost in her thoughts, she suddenly missed a step. The most profound feeling of lethargy swept over her; before she knew it, she was stumbling forward toward the ground, her eyes already drifting shut…

Purely by reflex, she seized the well of energy always just out of sight within her. November staggered and caught herself, her aura bursting alight. An instant later, a hard golden sphere slammed into place around her.

Wild-eyed with alarm, she turned rapidly, peering this way and that. No one was nearby… Only belatedly did she realize how peculiar that was. It was before midnight, and most of the population of this mountaintop were college students. This was one of the upper terraces of the campus, highly trafficked at most hours of the day. Someone aside from herself ought to be up and about.

“Hello?” she asked, scowling.

No answer.

Even unusually quiet, the familiar paths were well-lit as always; she couldn’t quite find it spooky. She turned slowly back in the other direction, still seeing no one.

After a long moment, she let the shield drop, but still kept her mental grip on the power coursing through her. Golden light radiated outward, brightening the cooler glow cast by the fairy lamps in the immediate vicinity. November bent to pick up the book and bottle she had dropped, mind churning.

Chase and Natchua… That sudden sleepiness had not been natural, she was sure of it. What would have happened if she hadn’t had divine light to call upon?

Even as she straightened, she felt her connection to the light ripple, as if something was interfering with it. Another surge of weariness washed through her.

It faded immediately when she snapped her shield back into place.

“I know you’re there!” November barked, glaring into the darkness and clutching her book to her chest. As far as her eyes could tell, she was still alone. Slowly, she edged down the path toward her dorm, one step at a time, still peering warily about.

Silence. Where was everyone?

She started moving again, this time at barely short of a run.

No sooner had she rounded the next corner than she skidded to a halt, gasping. There was a shadow on the path ahead.

There just wasn’t any other way to describe it. The thing had no substance or depth; it was not a physical object. Just a patch where the light was obstructed, exactly like a person’s shadow on the ground. This one, though, was not on the ground, but standing upright. Its two-dimensional shape was cast in a fleshed-out, person-sized space. Looking at it made both her eyes and her head hurt.

November poured another torrent of energy in her shield and lashed out with her free hand—she didn’t even know when she’d dropped the bottle again—emitting a blaze of unfocused divine energy right at the shadow.

It flickered and vanished.

She stood, glaring at the spot where it had been and panting in near panic.

A moment later, the disruption flashed through her aura again. This time her shield flickered and fizzled; only a sudden act of concentration kept it from collapsing. She could feel it burning as some counter-force weighed down on it.

November spun, hurling another wash of light behind her, and the pressure immediately abated.

This time, she flew into an outright run.

When the disruption came again, both her aura and shield wavered, enough to let some of the attack through. Exhaustion suddenly fell heavily on her; she staggered to a halt, barely keeping her knees from buckling, and focused on maintaining the energy. It was like trying to lift a chair over her head while someone kept trying to sit in it. If not for Professor Harklund’s class, she would have buckled in the first instant; as it was, she could barely keep up under the pressure.

The shadow drifted back into her field of view, just silently watching her struggle.

November let out a roar and forced herself into a run again—right at it.

It vanished at her charge, as did the attack on her shield. It hardened up, the divine light coursed uninhibited through her aura again, and the unnatural sleep fled from her consciousness. She came to a stop after a few more steps, spinning in a complete circle.

No sign of the shadow. No sign of anyone. She was a whole terrace away from her dorm. Was anyplace safer closer? Ronald Hall was nearby, but it was kept locked at night due to people’s tendency to filch alchemical reagents otherwise. She could reach the quad just past an ornamental hedge in the other direction. Maybe there’d be people there? She couldn’t hear anyone… Apparently no one was close enough to hear her, that or they didn’t think her wordless shout had been anything out of the ordinary. On this campus, that wasn’t impossible.

The attack came again, but milder this time, causing her shield to flicker but not penetrating enough to affect her directly. November bolted in the direction she happened to be facing at that moment, right toward the quad.

A few dashed steps later, she apparently got herself out of range of the enemy, emerging onto the lawn near the gazebo and finding it totally deserted. It only occurred to her belatedly that she had just let herself be deftly herded.

Sure enough, no sooner was she past the hedge than the pressure slammed down again. Her shield faltered entirely once, just for a split second, but it was enough for the attacker to get a grip. Gritting her teeth against the fatigue clawing at the backs of her eyes, November kept herself upright by force of will, pouring her concentration into her aura and fighting against the burning sensation. It was as if the air around her was combusting against her own glow.

Again, she saw the shadow, off to her right. November forced herself toward it, too tired to yell again or run, but managing a weak flash of light in its direction as she approached.

It vanished. Instantly it appeared to the left of her across the lawn, but that tiny moment of its distraction had been enough for its own concentration to waver; her shield firmed up and the sleepiness retreated, driven back by her own renewed surge of energy.

Baring her teeth, November turned toward it again and charged forward, a leaf-bladed sword of golden light appearing in her hand.

The shadow stood its ground until she drew close enough for her aura to encroach on it physically, then vanished again. As before, she had a split-second’s breather in which to regain her equilibrium before the attack resumed.

This time, though, it hit the hardest yet. Also, she realized, it had coaxed her into charging even further from the relative safety of her dorm. She stumbled, and under the renewed assault, her divine shield suddenly shattered entirely.

November fell, barely catching herself on one knee and wrenching her body around to face the shadow, which was now behind her. She poured every ounce of focus she could manage into the glow of her aura, but without the shield, it was like trying to blow out an approaching torch as opposed to having a wall between her and it. Exhaustion clawed at her, whatever magic caused it forcing her down even as the shadow drifted closer.

“You’re going to pay for this,” she snarled, even as she listed to the side, barely catching herself on one hand. “Tellwyrn will finish you. Trissiny will make you pay!”

Moving languidly, as if it hadn’t a care in the world, the shadow drifted toward her. Darkness crept up on her vision from the sides. She was so tired…

“She’ll…make…”

A thunderous equine bellow split the night, and suddenly a huge, white shape blocked her view. Instantly the attack ceased.

He reared and slammed his enormous hooves down on the lawn, neighing another challenge, even as November straightened up, the exhaustion again vanishing from her. It was a true reprieve, giving her space to restore her concentration; her aura blazed back to full strength, and the shield flashed into being within it.

Almost immediately the now-familiar assault resumed, and she spun to behold the shadow across the quad in yet another direction.

Once again, the great white horse bellowed and surged around her, his hooves thundering as he placed himself between her and the attacker. As if his mere presence were a better shield than her own, the pressure faded the moment he did.

It resumed seconds later from another side, and this time Arjen galloped past her, charging bodily at the enemy.

November, by that point, had a sense of how this thing fought, and immediately spun to direct a wash of golden light in the opposite direction behind her. The shadow struck from the flank, however, hitting harder still, so hard her knees buckled and her shield flickered even as she and Arjen both turned to face it.

“NO. YOU. DON’T.”

A cube of translucent blue panels materialized around the shadow—somehow, it looked even more painfully impossible when suspended inside a cage of light. The cage didn’t hold it, however. The shadow vanished, and this time, it stayed gone.

Professor Tellwyrn, teeth bared in a savage growl, stalked forward, planting herself on November’s right, while Arjen approached from the left, tossing his mane and pawing the ground angrily.

November only belatedly realized she was still on the ground, on her knees, panting in fear and weariness. Tellwyrn’s expression shifted to one of concern as she turned to her, and the elf knelt to offer her a hand.

“November, are you all right?”

“I…I…” She swallowed heavily. “Not very. I’m not hurt, though.”

Tellwyrn nodded; clasping her student’s proffered hand, she gently pulled her upright, showing surprising physical strength for someone so seemingly delicate. The professor’s personality sometimes made it easy to forget she was as slender and physically unimposing as any elf.

Something nudged her from the other side, and November turned, regarding the horse with awe. Arjen whickered and bumped her with his nose again. With a trembling hand, she reached up to pat him there, just below the face plate of his silver armor. His nose was impossibly soft.

“I…I don’t understand,” she whispered. “Does this mean…I mean, am I…”

“No, you are not the new Hand of Avei,” Tellwyrn said, her tone now amused, though she still hovered protectively close, keeping a hand on November’s shoulder. “Believe me, if that were the case, you wouldn’t be wondering. Avei doesn’t do subtlety. You’re still very blessed, though. I have seen this before, but very rarely. For Arjen to come to your aid like this, you must have shown both loyalty to his current partner and the kind of valor she would admire.”

Unable to speak around the lump suddenly in her throat, November leaned forward, wrapping her arms around the horse’s enormous neck and pressing her face against his warm hide. He snorted softly, tucking his chin over her shoulder in an equine hug.

Tellwyrn patted her back, and he snorted again, this time much less softly.

“For heaven’s sake, Arjen, she’s been gone for a century, and the whole argument was overblown in the first place,” the elf said in annoyance. “Let it go.”

November raised her head, releasing her grip on the horse; he was regarding Tellwyrn with his ears laid flat back.

“Please,” she whispered, stroking his nose again.

He let out a sigh, his breath hot on her palm, then shook his mane again and turned his head away from Tellwyrn.

“Are you sure you’re okay, November?” the Professor asked again, frowning at her.

November nodded. “Yeah. I’m not… It didn’t hurt me, it was using some kind of magic to erode my shield. I could feel it trying to put me to sleep.” She drew a shaky breath. “I’m not… Um, I was terrified.”

Tellwyrn nodded. “That is an appropriate reaction. But you kept moving even despite it, which is exactly what courage is. I would like nothing more than to let you rest right now, November, but you are the first person to have seen this thing and remained awake and with your memories intact. We’re going to get some hot chocolate in you before attempting anything else, but I’m afraid I need you to tell me everything you remember before I can let you turn in.”

Arjen snorted disapprovingly at her, which she ignored.

“Professor,” November said quietly, “this thing… Is this what attacked Chase and Natchua?”

Tellwyrn’s expression lengthened further, impossible as that seemed. “And, as I discovered upon my return tonight, Addiwyn. This is officially a crisis, and you’re the only lead I’ve got.”

November straightened up and squared her shoulders. This she understood: this was war, and she wasn’t about to start retreating now. “All right. Let’s go, then.”

She had kept up her pacing non-stop since resuming it the last time. Now, however many hours or days later it was, she paused again, turning to face the transparent panel as the indicators appeared.

Frowning, she watched in silence. The tampering with the facility’s systems had continued for over an hour last time, mainly of a harmless, surface-level variety. Lights and climate controls, mostly. It had clearly been too much to hope that the fumbling interloper would stumble across the door to her cell. That hadn’t happened, nor had much of anything else. In the interim, no one had come through, either; the Emperor and his Hands did not choose to spend time down here unless they were on specific business.

She was still debating with herself whether she was going to tell them about the tampering next time they came through. Now, though, it looked like that might not even be necessary.

According to the indicators in the screen, someone was probing at deeper systems this time, more central functions. For a moment, the screen itself flickered, its user-friendly display altering to show lines of code before it restored itself.

Still no door. Of course, it was a cell door; it wasn’t designed to open if someone just screwed around with it. Its default position was closed. Only very specific commands would make the aperture appear. The wrong fumbling could very easily deprive her of air, however. She didn’t actually know whether that would do her any harm, but it certainly wouldn’t be comfortable. She had not enjoyed some of the more extreme swings of temperature it had caused previously.

Now, according to the readout, it had moved beyond her cell to another system. The vast majority of the facility was dormant, so it made sense that someone scanning active systems would find one of the only other ones currently running.

Indeed, a dialog opened, showing the running processes that sustained the chamber down the hall, where the dryads were kept.

“Ohhh, no,” she said aloud. “You do not want to mess around with that.”

Obviously, no one was listening. Odds were that if anyone had been, they would not have cared.

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12 – 3

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Out of nowhere, beneath the clear dawn sky, a circular patch of tallgrass vanished from existence, taking with it the top layer of soil and leaving behind a round patch of dirt and exposed roots which might as well have been carved off with a razor. It only stayed smooth for moments, however, before two figures materialized upon it with a similar lack of fanfare.

The vegetation made for problems when it came to teleportation; a person who materialized with their body phased through dozens of large stalks of grass had an excruciating death to look forward to. These preparatory measures were necessary, though they raised problems of their own.

Both men turned in half-circles facing the opposite directions, looking around. The prairie was empty and quiet, lit golden red by the rising sun, and stretching featurelessly away in all directions but one. To the west, the thin line of the Rail marked the horizon, and in the near distance due northwest of their position rose the mountain, with the town of Last Rock huddling against its base.

The man in the Army uniform with the Azure Corps insignia turned to his companion and bowed. “Will you require us to remain alert for extraction, sir?”

“No,” mused the Hand of the Emperor, studying Last Rock. He was middle-aged in appearance, balding and with sharp dark eyes set deep in his craggy features. The Hands were, in theory, all one voice, that of the Emperor, but in practice they did tend to specialize. This man habitually sat on the security council, but they would have to accustom themselves to his replacement for a while. “No, don’t focus any scrying on the area. She’s very likely to detect it, and I don’t wish to introduce myself until I am ready.”

“Yes, sir,” the battlemage replied, saluting. “Will you require any further aid in case she detected the teleportation?”

“I’m employing my own countermeasures against that. In any case, no. Tellwyrn is not classified as hostile, and I can deal with her.”

“Understood, sir. By your leave, then.”

The Hand gave him a nod, then strode off toward the town without another word. He walked only far enough to be out of the cleared circle, pushing his way into the surviving tallgrass, then turned to face the mage.

At that signal, a shrill buzzing rose from the air around them, accompanied a second later by a cerulean shimmering in the air, and then the battlemage vanished with a sharp pop of displaced atmosphere.

The Hand waited attentively for nearly another minute until the buzzing returned, and seconds later the displaced tallgrass reappeared.

It started to fall immediately, of course, but as if drifting down through syrup, its velocity slowed to roughly one hundredth of normal. Instantly, the Hand gestured with both arms, and it slowed further. Earth congealed together, roots re-attached, a few stalks which had been shorn off above ground level merged back into place, with the exceptions of a few which were too displaced by the time the healing took effect, and continued to tumble downward.

The slowing effect decayed rapidly, and had vanished in less than another minute. The replaced tallgrass listed drunkenly this way and that, most of it again attached but still feeling the effects of the trauma it had just undergone. The Hand studied this thoughtfully, then closed his eyes in concentration.

Stalks shifted, righted, regained some of their vitality. It wasn’t a huge difference, but when he was done, most of them stood more or less upright.

Opening his eyes, the Hand surveyed his work critically. Obviously, it was plain something strange had happened here—and to anyone who knew what to look for, a close inspection would reveal exactly what. This should be enough, though. Given how the students (and occasionally townspeople) ranged, a mirror-smooth patch of dirt in the middle of the prairie ran the serious risk of attracting attention; this would have to be noticed before anyone inspected it closely, and in its present state was unlikely to be. Most of those who vanished into the tallgrass from the town or University did so in pairs, and were more interested in privacy than botany. The next rain would set it more or less right, and by then it wouldn’t matter.

Of course, it still might be noted, but the risk was minor, as was the cost if he were exposed. He did not intend to conceal his presence long, anyway. This was standard procedure, though, and it was a procedure which existed for excellent reason. He approved of thoroughness. The Emperor approved of thoroughness.

Nodding once in satisfaction, the Hand of the Emperor straightened his black coat, turned, and strode away through the tallgrass toward the town.

“Something’s amiss.” Gabriel squinted suspiciously, peering around the classroom. “Something…is different. I can’t quite put my finger on it…but maybe if I study closely…”

“Arquin, quit bein’ a dickhead,” Ruda ordered, plopping down in her seat and taking a jug of moonshine from inside her coat.

“Aw, c’mon,” he said, grinning, “if I did that, how would you know it was me?”

“Cos out of the only two present who dress in men’s casual, Teal actually dresses in it, as opposed to accidentally falling most of the way into whatever was lying on the floor in the morning. And she combs her hair.”

“Nice to have my efforts acknowledged,” Teal said with a smile.

The classroom was devoid of the decorations which had appeared at the beginning of the last semester—no silk screens, no potted plants, no blossoming cherry tree. Every sign of Professor Ekoi’s unique presence had abruptly vanished. Though this left the room in more or less the state to which they had become accustomed over their first year, it suddenly looked empty.

“It’s actually kinda sad,” Juniper whispered, gazing around with wide eyes. “The walls look lonely, now. Do you think Professor Ekoi’s okay?”

“Based on what I’ve been reading about kitsune,” Fross chimed, “I would be absolutely astonished if anything was able to actually harm her.”

“Really?” Gabriel looked up at her. “I tried to read up on kitsune after it became clear I was gonna be her favorite punching bag, and I couldn’t find much in the library.”

“Well, there’s not much in Tanglish,” Fross explained. “I had to order some things from a Nemitite temple, and before I could read them I had to learn to read Sifanese. That slowed down my research by a good six weeks, but that was still quicker than having to look up every single thing with a bilingual dictionary and grammar codex as I went.”

Teal dropped her book; fortunately she was already at her desk. Staring at Fross, she didn’t seem to notice that it had fallen. “You taught yourself Sifanese in six weeks? When?!”

“Well, I had some spare time. I don’t sleep; it gives me an extra few hours a day to pursue personal research projects. And I don’t need a lamp, which is very handy for reading at night!”

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Gabriel said grandly, “I give you our future overlord, Fross the pixie.”

“That’s a damn difficult language,” Ruda added. “Seriously impressive shit, glitterbug.”

“Arigatou gozaimashita,” Fross said modestly.

“What I wonder,” said Toby with a frown, “is if this has something to do with what happened yesterday.”

“Yeah, it’s pretty suggestive,” Gabriel agreed in a more serious tone. “I mean, just the timing alone.”

“The way you described it,” said Ruda, “she was just pissed off, not hurt.”

“Wait, what happened?” Juniper demanded. “I didn’t hear about this.”

“Well,” Gabriel said with a sigh, “apparently, yesterday Rafe slipped Professor Ekoi one of his anti-magic potions.”

“He did WHAT?” Fross shot upward until she bounced off the ceiling, chiming in agitation. “Professor Ekoi is a fairy! She’s made of magic! That’s like making someone drink poison, or strong acid!”

“She’s made of a lot of magic,” Toby said soothingly. “Ruda’s right, she didn’t seem hurt. Just angry, and…um, interfered with.”

“Yeah,” Gabriel added, “apparently she doesn’t actually speak Tanglish and was using her magic to translate. We couldn’t puzzle out a word until Tellwyrn showed up. And she actually walked away instead of doing that melodramatic non-teleport thing she loves so much.”

“That’s still a nasty prank!” Fross exclaimed, now buzzing about in figure eights above their heads. “I am extremely disappointed in Professor Rafe!”

“Why?” Ruda asked lazily. “You’ve met the fucker, haven’t you?”

“Questions of Professor Ekoi’s welfare aside,” Shaeine said quietly, “kitsune are rather notorious pranksters, and she is somewhat unpredictable herself. I have greatly enjoyed her class, but I fear if Professor Rafe has instigated some kind of practical joke war, the collateral damage is likely to be considerable.”

“Oh, dear gods in fancy hats,” Ruda groaned, tugging her own hat down over her eyes.

“Good morning, students!”

The classroom’s lower door had opened, and they all turned to regard Professor Yornhaldt, who strolled in wearing a smile.

“Take your seats, please, it is time for class to begin. Ah, I confess this is rather satisfying,” he said, stepping up behind the lectern and beaming at them. “I have quite missed teaching. And all of you, of course! Now, then! Fortunately this has befallen us no more than a week into the semester, so we should be able to proceed with only minimal disruption to the curriculum. First of all, I must announce, as you have undoubtedly intuited already, that Professor Ekoi has rather suddenly departed the campus. Until further notice, I am resuming duties as your primary magic teacher for the remainder of the semester.”

“Is she…okay?” Juniper asked somewhat tremulously.

The dwarf sighed. “Well. To the best of my knowledge, yes, she is well. Beyond that, anything I could say as to the reasons for this would be mere speculation. Or rather, it would be gossip, which is a most inappropriate use of my classroom time.”

“What about your office hours?” Ruda asked, grinning.

Yornhaldt gave her a wry look. “Miss Punaji, have you ever known me to gossip? Professor Ekoi’s personal business is just that. And I should perhaps take a further moment to mention,” he added more severely, “that Professor Tellwyrn shares my feelings on the subject of discussing faculty business with nosy students. And, in addition to being her usual charming self, she is already rather piqued about this entire affair. Anyone considering asking her for more details should be forewarned. And, ideally, refrain.”

“Well, there ya go,” Ruda said cheerfully. “We have now known you to gossip!”

“I find,” Yornhaldt said with a sigh, “that warning my students against terrible errors in judgment is usually worth the relaxation of certain other standards. Not that they necessarily listen, but the effort is still worthwhile. Now, then! I shall have to ask you, students, what you have already covered in the last week. I’m afraid my predecessor was not one for leaving detailed notes.”

“Okay,” Iris said, nodding earnestly and clutching her books to her chest. “Okay. It’s gonna be this semester, girls. I’m gonna do it.”

“That leaves you a great deal of time,” Szith noted.

Iris nodded again, her eyes fixed with determination on the path ahead of them, but not seeing anything. “Yes. Right. Exactly. I have time to psych myself up. I can do this.”

“I meant rather the opposite,” the drow said gently. “The whole semester gives you plenty of time to back away and find excuses. Perhaps setting yourself a shorter timetable would be wiser.”

Iris’s eyes widened in near panic. “I…I… Shorter? I don’t know if…”

“Aye, that right there’s the look of a lass just rarin’ to charge off after ‘er ‘eart’s desire,” Maureen said cheerfully.

Iris gave her a sour look. “Don’t make fun of me.”

“Iris, hon, y’know I love ye, right?” The gnome stepped closer to affectionately jostle Iris’s leg as they walked. “That’s why I make fun. I mean, wantin’ the boy by itself ain’t doin’ you any good in the ‘get out there an’ get ‘im’ department. I figure, maybe a little friendly joshin’ from yer roomies’ll help? Cos between you, me, an’ the tree, you’re bein’ ridiculous.”

“It’s not ridiculous,” Iris said sullenly.

“Wanting him is not ridiculous,” Szith replied in her usual placid tone. “All this melodrama about it, however…”

“It’s just not that easy,” Iris whined.

“Perhaps my own cultural background sabotages my sympathy,” Szith mused. “In Tar’naris, the only obstacle in your way would be his rank. He is lowborn, however, which mitigates that; those of granted rank have little prerogative to look down their noses at being approached by others beneath their station. He is, after all, a man. It’s your right and obligation to reach out a seize him, if you desire him.”

“Szith,” Iris said in exasperation, “for the last time, that’s not how we do things here!”

“Indeed,” the drow said solemnly. “Bad enough you have to suffer under such a backward system without perpetuating it yourself.”

“And I don’t want to seize anyone,” Iris added, scowling now. “I want Gabriel to like me! I just…I don’t know how to make him. Ravana’s really helpful to me in learning social skills, but…um…”

“Aye, now ye bring it up, it’s a mite hard to imagine Ravana gettin’ a boy to chase after ‘er,” Maureen mused. “I bet she’d reckon any lad she couldn’t just order to report to ‘er chambers an’ perform was beneath ‘er. An’ not in th’fun sense.”

“Now that is the proper attitude for a noblewoman to have,” Szith said approvingly.

“Is there such a thing as a Hand o’ Izara?” Maureen asked. “Cos this campus could sure as flip use one. I mean, we’ve got all the other paladins, aye?”

“You two are a tremendous help,” Iris growled.

“Iris,” Szith said with one of her rare smiles. “Friend. You only hurt yourself, doing this. Just ask the boy. It does not have to be perfect, and it does not have to be impressive. We do not live in a bard’s tale, and quite frankly, the male upon whom you’ve set your sights is the local champion of well-meaning awkwardness, himself. Just ask him, honestly. I quite think the results will go in your favor.”

Iris closed her eyes. “But what if he says no?” she whispered.

“Then,” Szith replied, “you will know, and can stop torturing yourself. But honestly, why would he?”

“He likes th’ladies, that one,” Maureen said cheerfully. “Ask me, you’d do him a world o’ good in addition to gettin’ over yer own hurdle, here. That’s a lad who needs a lass to settle ‘im down.”

“Even more than most,” Szith agreed.

Maureen suddenly stopped, turning to her right, and the other two halted as well. They had just passed a low retaining wall atop which was a raised flower bed; suddenly revealed sitting in the shadow of it was one of their classmates.

“All right, there, Chase?” Maureen asked, frowning.

He was slumped against the brickwork, arms hanging limply at his side, eyes closed and mouth open. At Maureen’s prompting, he made no reply.

“Oh, my gods,” Iris said, her eyes widening. “He’s not dead, is he?!”

“He breathes,” Szith reported, “and his heart beats. Both at about the speed that is normal for a sleeping human, if you and Ravana are average examples.”

“’ere, now, this ain’t the best place to take a nap,” Maureen said severely. “C’mon, just cos you’re the leadin’ source o’ tomfoolery on the campus don’t make all yer classmates harmless. Chase? Oi, I’m talkin’ to—”

She reached out to jostle his shoulder, then broke off, going pale, as he slumped over on his side.

“Okay, very funny, Chase,” Iris said nervously. “That’s kind of cheap by your standards, isn’t it?”

Chase lay there, inert.

“Chase?” Maureen whispered, looking up at the others. “Um…”

Szith stepped over and knelt by his head. “Chase!” she said sharply, shaking his shoulder, to no effect. She pried open one eyelid, lightly slapped his cheeks, then as a last resort plucked a hair from his eyebrow.

“What’s wrong with him?” Iris demanded shrilly. “Are you sure he’s breathing?”

“Yes,” Szith said tersely. “He is asleep. This close, I could tell if he were faking; neither his breath nor heart rate change in response to pain. Do you sense any magic on him?”

“Nothing like that,” Iris said, shaking her head rapidly, “but I’d only be able to pick up on fae magic, anyway…”

“Keep an eye on ‘im,” Maureen ordered. “I’ll fetch Miss Sunrunner.”

She often paced, as much as the space in the cell allowed. For days, even weeks on end, she kept moving, back and forth and in circles, long enough that in any normal cell her feet would have worn grooves in the floor. Not this cell, of course. She had naturally tried her strength over every inch of it, which yielded nothing. Its floor, ceiling, and three walls were all one piece without joints, made of the pale alloy known in this era as mithril. Its fourth wall was transparent, but not glass; the material dampened her inherent magic just as well, and was just as impervious to her physical strength. She’d never bothered to learn what they called the stuff, back in the old days. It had just been…there.

Not that she’d ever had much in the way of physical strength, which just added to the irony. In this cell, of all places, physical strength was the only kind that mattered—and was even more irrelevant, as in addition to its magic-dampening properties, mithril was hard enough once cast to survive passage through the corona of the sun.

That was neither exaggeration nor a random example. She had had the good fortune to observe that particular test. Or at least its aftermath.

The “glass” wall would surely be the weak point, anyway. Mithril just had to be impervious; that wall had features. It was in it that the doorway formed when the command phrase was spoken, though she had not seen that done since the Hands of the Emperor had first put her in here. That panel emitted the light, illuminating both her cell and the corridor outside—a neat trick, since it did not seem like a light source when looked at directly. It was also in that transparent wall that the signs and sigils appeared, little notations in a language which had not been used on this planet in millenia. They came and went rarely; there was very seldom anything for them to report. The facility itself ran silently along, only rarely registering any data on significant events, which were never anything but minor seismic activity. Occasionally there would be a solar flare, which was of no import to this facility, but she had instructed it to report on anything its sensors could detect.

No, the only significant data registered on the transparent panel was the arrival of visitors. It very obligingly informed her when the facility was accessed. Not that it did her much practical good to know when the Emperor or one of his Hands was about to pass through, but there was a small satisfaction in knowing. Especially since they did not know that she knew, much less how.

They didn’t know how any of this worked. They’d just found it down here, deep below the city. She was mildly curious whether it had been located by accident, or some of the original passages had survived and the Imperial Palace been built deliberately above them for that reason. They certainly did not know how the panels worked. That it wouldn’t acknowledge the command to open if spoken from inside was none of their doing, that was just how the Order had programmed their holding cells. After all these years, she knew how the local humans thought and what they thought of her. They didn’t know she could get information from the panel; they’d have instructed it to deny her if they knew that, and if they knew how. She had never even heard them speak in the language to which the Order’s systems defaulted. Of course, the sub-OS recognized even their bastard English, so why would they need to?

They knew nothing. Silly children playing with the tools of a true civilization which they mistook for toys, distracted by their glossy surfaces and blinking lights. Such a pity nothing down here was likely to harm them if mishandled.

Well, except herself, of course. If she ever got out. She had to acknowledge that in this cell she was basically helpless; the stripped-down state of the facility worked against her, there. Had there been an Avatar running, by this point she could surely have manipulated it into giving her some concessions, if not actually releasing her.

At the moment, she was not pacing. Sometimes she didn’t; such little changes in her routine were the only distractions she could arrange for herself. The panels certainly were not programmed to provide any entertainment. Being cooped up in here would have long since driven her mad, had that ship not well and truly sailed long before she had been imprisoned. So she sat, idly, in the corner, just staring out through the panel at the empty cell across the corridor.

They could at least imprison someone else down here. She couldn’t possibly have been the only anomalous being to be caught in a vulnerable position. They were increasingly clever, these Tiraan, and becoming rather sophisticated for primitives. And they were certainly fascinated by Naiya’s experiments, to judge by the presence of those dryads down the hall. Eventually they would surely poke at something with which they couldn’t contend; she’d just have to hope they managed to stick it in one of these cells, first. Hopefully something that could help her get out. But no, there she sat, alone, as always. For now.

Indicators appeared.

She stood, not moving like a creature made of bone and muscle, but simply straightening upright as if lifted by a string attached to the top of her head, staring at the text which now flashed in the upper corner of the transparent panel.

System activation.

Interesting.

“System,” she said in Esperanto, “status of aperture?”

The facility doors were sealed, no sapients in range. So the humans were not visiting.

“Identify current user.”

The panel calmly informed her that she did not have clearance to access that data.

“Display user activity.”

Still no clearance.

Then the light level shifted, dimming slightly before resuming its customary brightness. A moment later, it changed, becoming magenta, then blue, then returning to normal.

After that the temperature altered. It grew several degrees warmer, then plunged to near freezing, then normalized again.

Condensation appeared on the panel as the humidity was tampered with. Seconds later it was gone.

“Report system damage.”

No damage, everything was functioning normally.

So someone was doing this. Someone who knew how to activate an Infinite Order sub-OS.

Someone, she reflected as the lights flickered again, who could activate the computers but didn’t know what they did. They were apparently poking at the system blindly, trying to puzzle out their functions. Someone who either had physical access to the Imperial Palace in Tiraas, or had managed to patch the transcension field linking the Order’s facilities and was operating from another one.

She smiled.

“Well, well, well. And who might you be?”

No one answered, of course. They might be able to tell she was in here, if they figured out how to access the internal sensors. Whether they would care was another question; what they might do about it, another still.

Still smiling, she began once more to pace.

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12 – 2

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“Why am I just now hearing about this?” General Panissar demanded.

“I would surmise,” Lord Vex replied, “for the same reason I didn’t learn about the existence of these disruptors until the Army lost them. We cannot all keep one another informed of every little thing our respective departments do. Experimental weapons are the Army’s affair; knockoffs of the Army’s experimental weapons popping up on the black market is the province of Intelligence. And as I said, General, this was two days ago. We had this meeting scheduled anyway. I have hardly been keeping it from you.”

Panissar subsided with a grunt, looking not particularly mollified.

“Both the letter and spirit of interdepartmental protocol has been observed,” said the Hand of the Emperor, planting his elbows on the table and steepling his fingers before his mouth. “Let us not waste time in recrimination. What is our course of action now?”

“I’ve been attempting to trace the path these weapons took,” said Vex, turning to face him. “Sergeant Locke refused to hand them over, and referred me to the High Commander. I did not think it best to press the issue at that time; my primary muscle on the scene was her cousin, and I’m sure you gentlemen recall how it went the last time I had both of them in a room.”

“Can she do that?” Panissar asked, frowning. “Legally?”

“Her defense,” said Vex, “was that the weapons on site were made by herself and property of the Sisterhood, which appears to have been the truth. So…yes. The Empire’s prerogative to seize property does not extend to the Sisters of Avei except in extraordinary circumstances.”

“Sounds like those were,” Bishop Darling noted.

“Indeed,” Vex agreed sourly, “but not in the right way. In any case, when I questioned Rouvad about this, she likewise declined to cooperate except to the extent of saying the weapons were seized by her troops in a raid on an illegal arms meet, where they were in the process of being sold to the dwarves in question by the Thieves’ Guild, or at least, by representatives thereof. I have asked the Bishop to follow up on that. Has there been any word?”

“It was quick and easy enough to get,” said Darling. “Boss Tricks declined to reveal exactly where the things came from, but he did acknowledge the affair in question was a setup, his ploy to put the weapons into the hands of the Sisterhood and bring those dwarves to their attention at the same time. By your description, Quentin, it sounds like half of it worked.”

“The originals were Imperial property, and clearly of a sensitive nature,” said the Hand, his eyes hard. Harder than usual, even. “Withholding information of that kind is potentially treasonous.”

“I know the law, thank you,” Darling said equably. “I mentioned this to the Boss, just to cover all the salient points, which yielded nothing. Well, there was a bit about Quentin’s father and some goats, but I didn’t consider it germane to the situation. Given time, I may be able to get more information using my personal connections, but I am frankly reluctant to do so. Considering the subject matter and my known affiliations, it’ll be a dead giveaway that I’m rooting around for dirt on Guild members to give the government. That’s the kind of thing that can damage my laboriously-built reputation and web of contacts. Unless this is crashingly urgent…”

“I really can’t see that it is,” Vex said when Darling trailed off and gave him a questioning look. “It’s far too late for containment to be a possibility, and that’s the only thing that could still have made it worth clamping down on.”

“We have all but two of the originals back,” added Panissar, scowling. “Weapons we can seize; what’s going around now is the knowledge of how to build them, and that’s another thing entirely.”

Vex nodded. “Narrowing it down to just the parties we know, those things passed through the hands of that now-extinct chaos cult, the Black Wreath, Tellwyrn’s sophomore class, Duchess Dufresne, the Thieves’ Guild and the Sisterhood of Avei, with Svenheim’s Exploratory Office being made aware of and very interested in them in the process. Far too many of those are completely inscrutable to us, for various reasons. I have directed polite and careful inquiries to both the Duchess and the Professor, but I doubt either will yield results. No, the cat is well and truly out of the bag.”

“Then,” said the Hand, “I believe that attempting to pressure the Guild or the Sisterhood is counterproductive. At this point, it may better serve our interests to mollify them. The Avenists, at least, might have taken it amiss that the Army is developing weapons that might as well have been specifically targeted at them.”

He shot a long look at Panissar, who sighed.

“In point of fact, those were only the first stage in a much longer research project,” said the General. “Neutralizing divine energy is just about the least useful Circle of Interaction trick we could play, but it’s the one my enchanters cracked first. The plan was to crate those and use the insights gained from their creation to move on to more strategic types of disruptors. We would love nothing more than a way to shut down infernal magic with the squeeze of a trigger.”

“How is that proceeding?” the Hand inquired.

Panissar shrugged irritably. “Obviously, the whole project was brought to a near halt by the nonsense in Veilgrad. Virtually all the records were destroyed in the attack on the research facility. The Army enchanters have been working on reconstructing the project since then; we’re not yet back on track. The whole business was far too complex for them to have it all in their heads. At least we didn’t lose anybody, and they still have the prototypes to reverse-enchant. Among other people,” he added bitterly.

“Your thoughts on that, your Grace?” asked the Hand.

“Anti-infernal weapons would be a godsend, if you’ll excuse the pun,” said Darling. “With regard to the Sisterhood, I am of course not an insider but in my interactions with Commander Rouvad, I have had the impression she is too pragmatic to bear a grudge.”

“She took clear satisfaction in obstructing me,” Vex noted, “but considering the circumstances…”

“I can raise the issue with his Holiness, if you’d like?” Darling offered.

“Best not,” said the Hand with a sigh. “If the High Commander has issue with the Throne, she won’t go through the Church anyway. We’ll address that directly. On matters about which you doubtless are in the know, can we expect further action from the Guild?”

“I think the Guild has made its point,” Darling said with a thoughtful frown. “Developing sketchy weapons in secret isn’t so awful; considering the state of the world, nothing about it looks especially tyrannical. They’ll definitely react if leaned on further, but for now, I don’t believe the Guild is a further consideration in the matter.”

“Good,” said the Hand briskly. “That leaves us with the rather thornier issue of these dwarves.”

“Several things about that concern me,” said Vex. “For starters, the lead operative was able to mobilize dwarven civilians who clearly had no training and just as clearly did not want to be there. I’m still investigating those we identified, but I rather suspect they had no direct tie to their government beyond the taxes they pay. This is without precedent, which suggests it is more than just cultural. We should look into conscription laws passed in Svenheim in recent history.”

“Good,” said the Hand, nodding. “We shall direct the Foreign Service to do so, but it won’t hurt for you to add your own efforts, Lord Vex.”

“I already am,” Vex said with his characteristic sleepy smile. “There is also the matter of their extremely determined interest in acquiring Imperial experimental weapons. By itself, that would be merely troubling, but there has been a pattern of interest in weapons in general from the Five Kingdoms, and especially Svenheim, over the last five years. They have allocated more research funds than their economic state would suggest is wise to these pursuits. Particularly in the realm of explosives.”

“A suspicious person could draw the conclusion they were planning something,” said Panissar.

“Preparing seems more likely,” said Darling. “The dwarves have to know there’s no possible victory for them if they were to attack the Empire, and by this point we all know their declared war on Tar’naris is an empty gesture of pique. But when you live next to a huge, monolithic political entity that can accidentally collapse your economy and not show much concern over it, a certain amount of defensive thinking is just basic preparedness.”

“That makes sense to me, in fact,” Panissar agreed. “A key strategic factor here is the dwarven ability to call on divine light without a deity’s support. For thousands of years, that gave their armies and unquestionable defensive advantage. Our modern shielding charms pretty suddenly negated that advantage, and these devices have the potential to completely reverse it. They can hardly be blamed for feeling threatened.”

“That complicates matters,” Vex mused. “I have any number of ways to educate King Gjarten on the inadvisability of letting his spies run amok in Tiraas, but any such measure takes on an entirely different tone if he already suspects hostile intention from us. And yet, we cannot allow aggression of this kind to go unanswered.”

“The ongoing trade negotiations do not exist in a vacuum,” said the Hand. “While the virtually free mineral wealth we receive from Tar’naris is a boon, it has also made the Tiraan economy terribly dependent upon the Narisians, and we still don’t know if their increasing activity among the groves is pointed toward something or just general peacemaking. His Majesty has directed resources toward our native mining industries, which have been in severe decline since the treaty, and trying to reinvigorate trade with the Five Kingdoms is another measure. It is wiser, in general, to be on good terms with one’s neighbors, anyway. The more so if the Kingdoms suspect us of having designs upon them.”

“We are on good enough terms with Rodvenheim that I can be fairly certain they harbor no such fears,” said Vex. “We have all possible assurances short of an actual promise from Queen Jadhra that Rodvenheim’s support of the war on Tar’naris was nothing but a means to mollify her neighbors.”

“Which is the same as no assurance,” Panissar grunted. “Politicians will say anything, and Jadhra is cleverer than most. That brings up a thorny matter that has to have been a factor, here: our treaty with Tar’naris heavily emphasizes mutual defense, hence our military presence on their Scyllithene frontier and them sending a detachment to that recent mess on the Athan’Khar border. Technically, the standing state of war by the Kingdoms should require us to declare war in kind. Bless Queen Arkasia for seeing the whole picture and joining everyone else in politely ignoring this, but this is the situation, here. All it would take is one instance of the dwarves actually assaulting the drow, or the Narisians deciding to insist upon that clause in the treaty… The situation is already too volatile for Svenheim to take risks like these unless they already regard conflict as inevitable.”

“Hmm,” the Hand murmured, transferring his piercing gaze to Panissar. “How, roughly, do you think such a conflict would proceed, General?”

“Immediate stalemate,” Panissar replied without hesitation. “Our forces would crush anything they can field, but our military superiority does not negate the fact that pressing dwarves in their own caverns is a fantastically bad idea.”

“Didn’t the orcs invade them once?” asked Darling.

“Three times,” the General replied. “Only one was ever a threat to them, because of a plague in Stavulheim that left most of the population too weak to mobilize, and in that case two Hands of Avei held the gates until Svennish reinforcements could arrive. The other two, Svenheim actually let them get inside. Deliberately. Not one orc made it back out either time, and the second was the last time they ever tried to raid farther north than Viridill.”

“It seems clear that war doesn’t serve anyone, then,” Darling said, shrugging.

“War often doesn’t,” Panissar agreed. “Wars are declared for countless reasons, very few because they were in any way necessary. What concerns me is all this weapons development you’re talking about, Vex. Weapons, once built, very rarely go unused. You’re all familiar with the run-up to the Enchanter Wars.”

“The dwarves are working with explosives, yes,” said Vex, “but they seem to be specifically favoring non-magical weapons. They are hardly cooking up another Enchanter’s Bane.”

“The principle remains,” Panissar shot back. “You don’t build a weapon unless you’re planning to use it on somebody.”

The Hand of the Emperor cleared his throat, regaining their attention. “The commentary is useful, but please keep it focused. We, here, have no power to set policy, but these discussions make a significant impact on what ideas we bring to the Emperor. And pertaining to that…what ideas have we?”

“We appear to be between the rock and the hard place, diplomatically,” said Vex. “Some reprisal for Svenheim’s extremely aggressive behavior seems necessary, but given their already-raised hackles, any such could be a further provocation.”

“A couple of points on that, and correct me if I’m mistaken about anything here,” said Darling, holding up a finger. “The dwarves, I was told, were very careful to maintain deniability for their government, yes?”

“To the greatest extent that such can be done,” Vex replied, nodding. “No immediate traces to the King are apparent, but I can doubtless turn them up with some digging. I’m working on that, as I said, but just for the sake of thoroughness. It seems rather academic at this point.”

“Just so,” said Darling, nodding back. “And additionally, I’m not sure how necessary it is to retaliate against Svenheim, when we know and they know who the power on this continent is. Were there some disagreement, there, letting them do this could be taken as weakness. If anything, don’t we reaffirm our position by gently chiding the dwarves and refraining from coming down on them about this?”

“Is that how you Eserites enforcers keep order among the riffraff?” Panissar asked skeptically.

“Well, I was never an enforcer,” Darling said modestly, spreading his hands in a half-shrug, “but the principles scale up, don’t they?”

“In fact, there’s some validity to that,” Vex mused. “I don’t think this should be ignored, but there are many ways of quietly making a point that don’t involve threats of force.”

“It is one of the inevitable downsides of empire,” the Hand said, still regarding them over his folded hands. “The temptation to wield force increases concurrently with the repercussions of doing so. In our many problems, gentlemen—the Wreath, the dwarves, the elves, the last adventurers, the Punaji, even some of the cults—we are left wondering what to do, and specifically, how to avoid making it worse. Exercising the powers at our command does have a tendency to create disruptive ripple effects.”

“You speak as though you have an idea,” Darling observed.

The Hand smiled thinly. “You said something last year, your Grace, which has stuck with me. Sometimes, two problems are the solutions to each other. I think it suits us in this interconnected modern age to act without throwing our weight around, as much as possible, and what better way than by leveraging some of our…fringe allies? Lord Vex.” He shifted his gaze directly to the spymaster. “I understand you have enjoyed some success in working with Professor Tellwyrn.”

“Yes,” Vex said slowly, “largely because I am extremely careful to limit my interactions with her, and especially the situations into which I thrust her student groups. That is a very particular box of tools, which it will not do to upend upon the wrong project.”

“We agree,” said the Hand, nodding. “But it’s not as if Tellwyrn takes orders, anyway; I was hardly proposing to try and enlist her. However, the University’s graduates do represent a pool of significant talent which we have long allowed to go largely untapped.”

“What are you suggesting, exactly?” Panissar demanded, scowling. “That woman is a bad enough influence as is; the last thing we need on top of our troubles is for her to get snippy about the Throne trying to push her around.”

“Indeed, I am familiar with her profile. Consequently, I don’t propose to push.” The Hand smiled thinly. “After all, weren’t we discussing how interconnected entities can influence each other? And she does have problems of her own.”

Toby ordinarily cultivated awareness of his surroundings as a point of personal discipline, but that afternoon, Gabriel had to call his name twice before he jerked his head up and noticed his friend approaching.

“Gabe! Hi!” Toby waved back, a grin breaking across his features. “You’re back!”

“Yeah, I see that makes two of us,” Gabriel said wryly.

“Three of us.”

“Has it occurred to you,” he said to his sword, “that maybe people would talk to you more if you weren’t such an ass to them?”

“It has. I consider it an irrelevant point of data,” Ariel replied primly.

He patted her hilt. “Hush. Seriously, though, what’s on your mind, Toby? It’s been years since I saw you that distracted in public, and that’s back when you were first called by Omnu.”

“Oh, well, nothing that serious,” Toby said. At Gabriel’s encouraging expression, he glanced around. They had met on one of the lower terraces, just below the gazebo; Gabe was coming back from the main stairs down the mountain, and Toby hadn’t been going anywhere in particular. “I’ll…tell you later. Actually, I kind of do want to talk to you about it, Gabe, but it’s a conversation for, uh, someplace less public.”

Gabriel raised his eyebrows, but nodded. “Okay, then. Is everything all right?”

“That’s a thorny question,” Toby replied with a wry grin. “It’s no more or less all right than when you left the campus, let’s leave it at that for now. Enough about my maundering, though! How was it? Your first real Vidian holiday! I bet you were a hit in the capital!”

“Uh, actually, they kept me back from the public,” Gabriel said, frowning. By unspoken agreement they fell into step, setting off on a meandering path through the terraces. “Lady Gwenfaer held a private service, pretty much entirely for my benefit though some of the cult’s other muckety-mucks were there, and arranged for me to watch the main public ceremonies from concealment.”

“Oh.” Now Toby frowned. “Well, that’s… I’m sorry. I guess they’ll come around…”

“No, no, no!” Gabe said hastily. “That was my idea. Nobody fought me on it, or anything, it’s just… I was in no way ready to be held up as a pillar of the cult. Man, the more I learn about the faith, the less I can really think of myself as a Vidian. And the more I interact with Vidius himself, the more I get the impression that is exactly the point of this. He’s concerned about…um, corruption in the ranks. I think he has an idea of me as some kind of enforcer. An outside perspective, there to whip people back into shape.”

“…huh,” Toby said after a long pause. “I… I really wish I had something more helpful to say, there, Gabe. That’s just…so very outside the realm of my experience…”

“Yeah, I don’t think Trissiny could help me much with this, either,” Gabriel said with a sigh. “Both your cults think the sun shines out of your respective butts. I appreciate you listening, nonetheless. I’m unprecedented in a lot of ways. Anyhow, it was a good experience, all in all. I’ve never really paid much attention to Doom’s Day before; it’s not like I had anybody to mourn. Dad’s folks were gone by the time I was born, and…” He made a wry expression that tried to be a grin but never quite made it past a grimace. “Yeah, I don’t even know if my mother is alive, but if not, somehow I suspect praying to Vidius for the peace of her soul would end badly for all three of us.”

“Have you ever…wondered?”

“Course I have,” Gabriel said, his eyes straight ahead. He had never talked about his mother; in all the time they’d known each other, it had never come up. “But, um, not enough that I really wanted to know. She isn’t part of my…anything. Someday, I guess I’d like to know what my dad saw in her. You know, what happened. But his perspective is really the only part that I’m curious about. I do not need more demon shit in my life.”

“There has always been a surprising core of wisdom beneath your habitual inanity, Gabriel. It is gratifying to see you making more use of it.”

“Thank you, faithful sidekick,” he said sardonically.

“Did you have a chance to see your dad while you were in the capital?”

“He’s not there, remember? The Church found him a place in Mathenon out of the public eye.”

“Oh!” Toby slapped a hand to his forehead. “For heaven’s sake, I knew that. I’m so sorry—”

“I’m just gonna cut you off there,” Gabriel said, peremptorily holding up a finger. “You are allowed to be distracted and think about your own stuff, man. I know you like to be everybody’s big brother, but sometimes you gotta focus on yourself.”

“Yes, yes, I know,” Toby said with a sigh. “I’m sort of tired of focusing on myself right at this moment, though. Got any recent foolishness you want to get off your chest? Y’know, for old time’s sake.”

“Excuse me,” Gabriel said haughtily, “but I am deep amidst a program of personal self-development, and no longer go in for such diversions. I’m a new man, Toby. No more foot-in-mouth half-demon designated comic relief, thank you.”

“You’re not going to mention that you very nearly bedded the High Priestess of your cult?”

Toby came to a halt, turning to stare at him. Gabriel did likewise, rolling his eyes so hard he tilted his head back to bring more sky into their range of view.

“Thank you, Ariel.”

“My pleasure.”

“Gaaaabe,” Toby said warningly.

“Okay, first of all, no part of that was my fault!” Gabriel said defensively, holding up his hands and taking a step backward. “She came on to me. Um…quite aggressively. Honestly, until we were alone in that room I had actually not even made especial note of the fact that the woman is searingly hot.”

“And approximately twice your age.”

“Yeah, true,” Gabriel agreed, a slightly dreamy smile drifting across his face. “But damn, does she wear it well…”

Toby cleared his throat. “And yet…?”

“Yeah, and yet.” Gabe’s expression cleared and he focused again on Toby’s face. “It’s just that… Okay, this may sound odd, but I don’t think Gwenfaer was really seeing me there. I might be reading too much into things, but I am pretty sure she was not remotely interested in Gabriel Arquin, fascinating enchanter-in-training and the hero of many adventures—”

“To give yourself a tremendous amount of credit.”

“But,” Gabriel continued doggedly, “she seemed rather aroused by the thought of the unprecedented paladin of her god, and maybe a bit by the twin taboos of a demonblood who is, as someone made a point of mentioning, about half her age.”

“Really, you picked up on all that?” Toby whistled. “I’m impressed. Not long ago you weren’t at all perceptive about…people.”

“You were going to say ‘women,’ weren’t you,” Gabriel accused.

Toby grinned. “Well, as Trissiny would emphatically remind us, women are people.”

“I think,” Gabriel said more thoughtfully, turning and beginning to walk again, “it’s more that even if I had noticed it, not long ago I wouldn’t have thought of any greater consideration than the possibility to going to bed with a gorgeous woman who was into me. It’s hard to say exactly what’s changed…”

“It is called ‘maturity,’ and it’s bound to be uncomfortable for you at first, all things considered.”

“Could you stop helping, please?” he said in exasperation.

“No,” Ariel replied. “I can’t stop helping and I can’t stop expressing myself without regard for people’s feelings. You are a naturally occurring sapient and can evolve and modify your behavior. I am a constructed intelligence. My personality is rigidly defined.”

He grimaced. “I…yeah, sorry. I guess that’s kind of unfair of me.”

“Yes, it is. My feelings are not particularly hurt; given your general pattern of thoughtlessness you treat me with a surprising degree of consideration overall. However, I am still bound to point it out when you’re being foolish. For your own good, you see.”

“With friends like these,” Gabriel said to Toby, “who needs the ravening hordes of Hell?”

Toby’s answering laugh was interrupted by the rapid arrival of Chase Masterson.

“Whoah, guys!” he said, skidding to a halt after having pelted down the path toward them. “You may wanna clear the vicinity, it is about to get dangerous out here. Oh, hey, Gabe, you’re back!”

“What did you do?” Gabriel demanded.

Chase planted a hand on his chest and looked shocked and wounded. “I? What did I do? Gabriel. After all these years, after all we’ve meant to each other! Why do you say these things just to hurt me?”

“Because,” Gabriel said bitingly, “you came up grinning. I’ve only ever seen you grin when someone else’s day was about to be ruined.”

“Are you gonna let him talk to me like that?” Chase demanded of Toby, who shrugged.

“Well, he could stand to be a little politer, but he isn’t really wrong.”

“Now, that is just unfair,” Chase complained. “This is scurrilous character assassination and you both know it. I also grin when people’s days are in the process of being ruined, or when I happen to reflect upon a particularly impressive ruination which has already transpired. Honestly, I thought you guys knew me a little better than that. This is just hurtful, is what it is.”

“My gods,” Gabriel marveled, “he’s still talking.”

“Just for that,” Chase continued, again grinning, “I’m not gonna warn you about—oop, too late anyway.”

Both turned to look the way he had come, and their eyes widened in alarm.

Even without knowing the full situation, what they could glean from the spectacle of a visibly incensed Professor Ekoi chasing a gleefully cackling Professor Rafe up the path told a frightening story.

“Ohh, this is not gonna be good,” Toby whispered.

“Good is such a relative concept,” Chase replied, his grin now stretching so far it looked downright painful.

“Guys! Kids! Students!” Rafe skidded to a halt much as Chase had done moments before. “I don’t suppose any of you speak Sifanese?”

Ekoi came to a stop right after him, ears flat back, fangs bared and tail bristling; Rafe immediately spun around Toby and cowered behind him.

“What the hell did you do?” Gabriel exclaimed. “Professor Ekoi? Are you all right?”

Ekoi transferred her livid green stare to him, prompting him to take a step back, then hissed a few syllables in her lilting native tongue.

“Um, Professor,” Toby said hesitantly. “There’s not a doubt in my mind he fully deserves whatever you’re planning to do, but…can you please wait until I’m not in the way?”

“Don’t move,” Chase cautioned. “Don’t even twitch. Moving might prompt her to strike.”

“Urusai!” Ekoi snarled at him.

Chase immediately buckled to the ground, prostrating himself before her. She actually appeared to calm slightly, at least enough to look quizzical at this display.

Then, with a characteristic soft pop, help arrived.

“One afternoon,” Tellwyrn said incredulously. “That’s all. I leave you alone for one afternoon. Should I be disappointed, or gratified no one’s blown up the damn mountain? In hindsight it’s all so murky.”

Ekoi rounded on her and began chattering rapidly in Sifanese. Tellwyrn focused on her, narrowing her eyes, and occasionally replying shortly in the same language.

“Uh, what happened?” Gabriel asked hesitantly when a lull finally fell in the tirade. “I’ve never seen her this mad. It’s like she’s forgotten Tanglish.”

Tellwyrn sighed heavily, turning to give Rafe one of her foulest glares. “Kaisa does not sully her graceful tongue with our barbarous gutterspeech. Universal translation is one of the effects of her inherent magic. Consequently, when some stampeding fuckwit slips her an anti-magic potion, she finds herself disadvantaged in several rather important respects.”

“Whoah, whoah, wait, stop,” Chase said, straightening and gazing up at Rafe in awe. “You…you started a prank war with a kitsune?”

“Seriously, Professor,” Toby said over his shoulder, “even by your standards, that is needlessly suicidal.”

“Why are you kids still here?” Tellwyrn barked.

“Because he’s got a grip on me,” Toby replied.

“And I’m not abandoning my oldest friend to this madness,” Gabriel added.

Grinning insanely, Chase spread his arms wide. “Need you ask?”

“You know, there really is a very good explanation for all this,” Rafe said, poking his head out from behind Toby’s. “I’m awesome, she’s hot, and we are both deeply annoying people. Something like this was practically predestined. It’s just math.”

He and Toby both shied back as Ekoi thrust her face forward at them, baring all her fangs. She spat a few syllables, then whirled on her heel and stalked back the way she had come.

“I suppose I should be grateful,” Tellwyrn said with a heavy sigh. “Admestus, you are going to make this right. You do not provoke a kitsune that way, especially not on my campus; this goes above and beyond your general run of imbecilic behavior into a realm I can’t afford to tolerate.”

“Fear not!” Rafe proclaimed, bounding out from behind Toby (now that the danger had passed) and striking a pose. “If there is one man in all the realm who can calm the affronted feelings of yon lady, tis I, the glorious Professor Rafe! Gaze upon my manly ingenuity and bask, mere puny mortals!”

“She took your pants,” Gabriel noted.

“Nonsense, her magic’s—son of a bitch.” Rafe stared down at his legs. “Even with her magic dampened. Hot damn, that is impressive! I do believe I’m going to marry that woman.”

“She, um…appears to hate your guts, Professor,” Toby pointed out.

Rafe barked a laugh. “All the great romances start that way! Ask Teal.”

“Admestus,” Tellwyrn said very evenly, “if you can swear to me that those don’t belong to a student, I promise to now and in the future withhold all comment on your choice of ladies’ bloomers as an undergarment.”

Rafe again bent forward to thoughtfully study his bare legs and the lacy scrap of clothing stretched far too tightly across his groin.

“…what kinds of comments would these be?”

Tellwyrn clapped a hand over her eyes, glasses and all, repeated the short phrase which had been Ekoi’s parting comment, and teleported out.

“’Bakka inoo,’” Chase enunciated carefully. “I gotta remember that one, it sounds nasty. I don’t suppose any of you have a clue what it means?”

“Library’s that way!” Rafe proclaimed, pointing. “And now, if you boys will excuse me, I must away to plot the mollification and subsequent seduction of my exquisite bride-to-be!”

“Excuse me,” Toby said sharply, “but do those belong to a student?”

“Hell if I know,” Rafe replied with a broad grin, “Ekoi put them there. I tell you, she’s the perfect woman! Ohh, this is gonna be a courtship for the ages! ONWARD TO GLORY!”

He took off down the path at a run, trailing maniacal laughter behind him.

“How old is he?” Gabriel asked. “I mean, I know he’s a half-elf and they have a longer lifespan. Do they age more slowly?”

“Really?” Toby exclaimed. “That’s what you’re most curious about?”

“I think I follow his line of thought,” Chase said solemnly. “The question is: why the hell has nobody killed him yet?”

“Yes.” Gabriel pointed at him. “That.”

“Excuse me.”

While they were speaking, Ravana had arrived, carrying a few books and now glancing back up the path in the direction Rafe had gone.

“Could one of you gentlemen kindly explain to me why Professor Rafe is dashing pell-mell through the campus, wearing my underthings?”

Gabriel heaved a sigh. “Man, it’s good to be home.”

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12 – 1

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“Don’t worry about it.”

Toby heaved a deep sigh, allowing his usual mask of calm and the posture crafted by years of martial arts to finally relax, now that he was surrounded by nobody whose opinion he needed to care about. This might be the only place where that was true, and so he let himself slump over the bar, absently toying with his “cup” of “tea,” which was a large snail shell with a flattish bottom, full of hot water steeped, somehow, in mushrooms. He didn’t know how in the world one made tea out of mushrooms, but after his last visit here, the flavor was unmistakable.

Poise and bearing were disciplines cultivated for their own sake, not affectations he kept up for appearances, but considering how many rules he was already breaking just by being here alone, it somehow felt right to let loose. It was oddly liberating.

“It was just a question,” the bartender hummed, idly running a threadbare rag over the bar’s stone surface, which didn’t need it. “All part of the gig, you know. You slouch at my bar, gazing morosely into your non-alcoholic beverage, I pretend to be interested in your problems. Bartenders and losers have been doing this dance since time immemorial. It’s bigger than both of us, sweetheart.”

Toby gave her an annoyed look; Melaxyna grinned right back, ostentatiously unrepentant. After a moment, though, he had to smile a little in response. It was slightly funny, anyway. That didn’t mean he could afford not to be careful. Sanctuary or no, a succubus was a dangerous thing. All the more so when she tried to appear otherwise.

“I was answering the question,” he said, “not telling you to drop it. That was what I got from my god. After traveling to Tiraas, requesting use of the central temple—and that’s not a small thing, paladin or no, it puts a lot of people out to clear off from the main center of Omnist worship—and did the ritual to call him down. All that, and that’s what I got. ‘Don’t worry about it.’”

“He said that?” Her grin widened, if anything. “That’s cold.”

“Good thing one can always count on a bartender for a sympathetic ear.”

“Well, let’s not forget you’re talking to a demon, here,” Melaxyna said, still grinning. “You can’t bring me this kind of validation and expect me to be all glum. No, I am not shocked to learn of a god of the Pantheon being heartless and dismissive to his allegedly most valued servant. Tough break, kid, but that’s pretty much how the bastards are.”

“It wasn’t like that,” he said, again pushing the shell cup back and forth between his hands. After one sip, the prospect of actually drinking it didn’t appeal.

Behind him, the sounds of other patrons in the Grim Visage formed a low hum. It was a different clientele than under Rowe; according to Sarriki, since the dismantling of his attempted dimensional gates, they hadn’t seen any visiting drow or gnomes, much less travelers from other worlds. Tonight it was mostly goblins, two naga and a small party of caplings clustered in one corner. He hadn’t realized caplings were sapient enough to patronize bars, and indeed, these appeared to be trying to eat their table. Sarriki still slithered about with her crafty smile, carrying trays of mushroom beer hither and yon. Now, Melaxyna’s surly hench-hethelax, Xsythri, was perched on the rail between the bar’s two levels, keeping a grim eye on everyone.

“Omnu isn’t much of a talker, as such,” Toby said slowly, frowning at his drink. “I’ve found that myself, and it’s been born out by what I’ve read of the writings of other Hands of Omnu. Trissiny and Gabe apparently have conversations with their gods, when they talk at all, but for me… Communing with Omnu is more like…what Teal describes of her relationship with Vadrieny.” He glanced up at the succubus, but she was just watching him attentively, now, and made no reaction to the archdemon’s name. “This time, it was a sense of peace. I mean…you could make the case that Omnu’s very presence is a sense of peace, but this was more specific. It was a message. Be a ease, don’t worry, all will be well.”

She shrugged, again fruitlessly wiping the bar. “Well, I’m not one to give the gods credit, but that sounds like good advice. Unless, of course, you went to him with a problem that was seriously bothering you and has far-reaching implications that you need to understand if he expects you to do your fucking job.”

“Well, this is one reason I’m down here,” Toby said wryly. “I’ve heard plenty of encouragement and platitudes from people who didn’t seem to register that getting encouragement and platitudes was what was bothering me in the first place. It’s tricky, finding someone willing to offer a critical view of the gods. Especially if they know you’re a paladin.”

“In their defense, that’s because paladins are usually the ones doing the rounding up and slaughtering when people do horrible, deviant things like think for themselves,” she said sweetly. “Not you, of course, but to the average shmoe who just wants to live his life, the difference between Hands of Omnu and Avei are fairly academic.”

“Yes, your unbiased perspective is a breath of fresh air,” he replied, quirking an eyebrow, and she laughed. He had to remind himself how deftly manipulative her kind were; even that laugh seemed friendly, approachable, effortlessly fostering camaraderie. At least she hadn’t tried to flirt with him, but then, she could probably tell as easily as Juniper that there was no point. “I confess I’d thought you might have some personal view on this. We’re talking about what is, for all intents and purposes, a weapon. A massively destructive weapon, one which incinerates demons. Like you.”

“The holy nova?” Melaxyna lifted an eyebrow of her own. “I’m sorry to tell you this, kiddo, but you didn’t invent it.”

“I’m aware—”

“Yes, using it as glibly as you describe and walking away is something new and interesting. Assigning more dangerous powers to their followers is actually a reversal for the Pantheon, considering Salryene hasn’t called a Hand since her last one scoured Athan’Khar off the map. And here I thought they might have actually learned a lesson, there. That’ll show me.”

“Magnan didn’t actually do that—”

“You’re Arachne’s student; I know you know your history better than that. If you build a horrible weapon and bend your energies to campaigning for it to be used, you don’t get to dodge responsibility just because someone else’s finger was on the switch. More to the point, you’re deflecting.” She cocked her head to the side, smiling smugly. “That’s what’s bugging you, isn’t it? Escalation.”

“Escalation,” he said, again frowning at his tea, “and…change. Change of what should be fundamental, immutable. Omnu is a god of peace. Why…why a weapon?”

“Putting aside the fact that the holy nova is just as useful for cleansing and healing as fighting demons,” she said, “you’re being tripped up by a willful misconception, there. Omnism is a religion of peace. Omnu is a god of life, and of the sun. Ask your friend the dryad how peaceable life is, and hell… The sun burns. Maybe you’re just turned around by all this because you’re expecting your god to act like you want him to act. Like the pleasant father figure your upbringing created an image of, instead of a nigh-omnipotent creature with as much of an ego and an agenda as anyone else.”

Toby’s frown deepened. Her own agenda lay thick over her suggestions, but beneath it was some logic. Enough to be worth mulling over, if he could separate the kernels of truth from the manipulations woven through them. They had to be there; Trissiny had made the point repeatedly, in their discussions about the Vanislaad, Eserites, Black Wreath, and others, that all good manipulations required a core of truth. Simple lies were far too easily debunked. Re-framing truth made a smokescreen that could be nearly impossible to penetrate.

He lifted his gaze to study her curiously; she just stared back, wearing a faintly knowing little smile.

“Well,” he said, shifting back from the bar, “thanks for the tea and conversation. I should probably go find out whether I’ve actually gotten away with this. I know students sneak down here all the time, but—”

“Why did you really come?” she asked mildly. “This is not your scene, Toby. Not just because it’s full of demons and monsters and located deep in an otherworldly pit of violence. Bars are not your scene. Besides, I clearly recall you and your little posse were rather close-knit. There are much more immediate people you could go to with your problems. Safer people.”

“Like I said—”

“Oh, all right, you want me to narrate? I can narrate.” She winked. “I’ve been around long enough to have seen this before, after all. Your whole problem is that you’re questioning your god. You know what a Child of Vanislaas is, and where we come from. Being that you’re a young man with a mind of your own and a conscience, not yet too blinded by dogma to have forsworn the use of both, you’d naturally seek out the perspective of someone who, like you, started out a mortal human, and yet ended up violently opposed to your Pantheon.”

“I don’t know if it’s all that mysterious,” he demurred. “I daresay I’ve met some people myself who I wouldn’t be at all surprised to see becoming incubi or succubi.”

Melaxyna’s smile faded. She had been leaning forward over the bar in a way which showed off her cleavage, possibly just out of habit, but now straightened up and folded her arms in a manner which, for once, was not suggestive. Toby shrugged and resumed getting up from his stool.

“I was a priestess of Izara.”

Slowly, he sat back down.

“I died in the Third Hellwar,” she continued, tilting her chin up. The gesture was prideful, but not condescending; she could do wonderfully expressive things with the tiniest touches of body language. “To make a very long story relatively short… My village was pressed by demons. I wasn’t a healer, specifically, but I damn well did my best. The light does heal, even if the one wielding it lacks much skill. It wasn’t enough, of course. And worse, all I could do was heal.” She bared her teeth in a contemptuous sneer. “My light wouldn’t burn the demons. Oh, once or twice, when I helped the defenders close to the gates, I’d actually singe one in passing. But if I tried? If I wanted to protect my home and family, and use the power I had to drive back the monsters that were trying to slaughter us? Well, Izara cut me off. Can’t have that. The goddess of love just couldn’t bear the thought of any of her precious followers surviving to carry on her will, not when they had the option of making some kind of obscure point of principle by being helplessly butchered. If I seem to lack sympathy for you because Omnu’s willing to let you kill in his name, well, now you understand my bias.”

She snorted and lashed her tail once, wings flaring briefly before settling back around her shoulders. “Oh, but we were almost saved! An actual, honest-to-gods Hand of Avei came to the village. Had two Silver Huntresses with her—do you know what those were?”

“I’m not familiar with them…”

“Well, look it up sometime, they were interesting. Anyhow, there the Avenists were, here to save the day! Huzzah, rejoicing! Except that no, they couldn’t be bothered.” Her fingers stiffened into claws, digging into her own arms. “One little flyspeck village wasn’t important. They were there to get supplies and reinforcements and continue on to the real battlefront. And by get, I mean take, as they made abundantly clear when some tried to bar them from our rations and limited weapons. The option they gave us was to let any too young, weak, or infirm to fight just…stay there and die, when all the food, weapons, and able-bodied fighters had been taken from the village, or come along and almost certainly meet the same fate on the road, because there could be no question of slowing their pace enough to protect them.

“So,” she drawled, “I took some initiative. Managed to catch one of the Huntresses unarmed, got a knife to her throat, and demanded that the Hand call on Avei. I figured there was just no way the actual goddess of justice would be party to that kind of barbarism if she could see it being done in her name.”

She met his eyes challengingly, ancient fury smoldering behind her own. “The demons didn’t kill me. Even the Hand of Avei didn’t. Avei did. Personally. She couldn’t be arsed to protect my people, or even to leave us with what we needed to protect ourselves, but somehow the goddess of justice found time to strike down a loyal cleric of the Pantheon for the unpardonable crime of standing up and demanding that she do the one thing which was her entire reason to exist.”

“I guess,” he said slowly when she stopped talking, “threatening a servant of a god and blackmailing a paladin gets an automatic damnation…”

“Oh, no,” she said, sneering again. “Oh, no no no. Vidius was a rather more reasonable chap, as I recall when I came before him for judgment. He’s really not too stringent; he said I’d done remarkably well in a terrible situation and thought I deserved reward beyond the average. Even kept at me on it when I refused; I had to cuss him out at some considerable length before he was willing to send me to Hell.”

“Did you…” Toby’s voice caught, embarrassingly, and he had to swallow before continuing. “You were already planning to seek out Prince Vanislaas?”

“Oh, Toby,” she said, shaking her head. “That was a different time. I was a backcountry yokel; for most people in my situation, one village was the universe and the horizon as unreachable as the sky. There were no telescrolls, no newspapers even; books were rare and precious, and we seldom saw a bard. There certainly weren’t any Rails or zeppelins. Shitty roads in most places, for that matter. I could read and do my sums, which made me as close as the village had to a scholar. No, I had no idea what a succubus even was, much less how they were made. All I knew, standing before the seat of divine judgment, was that at the thought of spending eternity with the fucking gods, I’d rather take my chances with the demons and the damned. At least I already knew what to expect from them.”

Toby did not voice the most immediate thought that came to mind: good deceptions had to contain a kernel of truth—except, perhaps, if they were about things which had happened thousands of years ago and left no records. Instead, he asked a question.

“Have you ever regretted it?”

“Regretted what?” she asked sweetly. “The years of wandering in Hell, pursued and abused by demons? Millennia of sneaking in shadows, matching wits with the gods’ followers, sowing chaos among their works wherever I could? The loneliness, the hardship, the privation, the constant enmity of an entire plane of existence, all just so I could make the point to the Pantheon that at least one soul was not going to stand for their bullshit?”

She opened her wings slightly, arching them menacingly above her head, and bared her teeth in a savage grin.

“Not once.”

Tellwyrn was frowning deeply and far away in thought as she climbed out of the sunken grotto, emerging through the gap between massive tree roots into the fading afternoon light beneath the forest canopy. So lost in her own reflections, in fact, that despite the acuity of her senses she did not realize she was no longer alone until she was forced to stop, her way forward blocked by another elf.

“And what,” Linsheh demanded icily, “do you think you’re doing? Who gave you permission to go in there?”

The mage stared at the shaman in silence for a moment.

“I honestly can’t recall the last time anyone gave me permission to do anything,” she answered finally.

Linsheh’s eyes narrowed to furious slits. “The time for you to seek knowledge here was before you spent so much time and effort burning those bridges, Arachne. You are not welcome in this grove.”

Another elf came bounding out of the forest, coming to a stop off to one side. “Elder,” he said worriedly, “please. She’s already been and come back, this won’t do—”

“Be silent, Adimel,” Linsheh ordered curtly.

“I was actually going to apologize to you,” Tellwyrn said in a soft tone. “Well… Maybe going is a little strong, but I was thinking about it very seriously. It’s been enough years now; with the benefit of some distance, thinking back on our various altercations, it’s seemed to me that I was unnecessarily rude. At any rate, Kuriwa seemed to think so, and much as she rubs me the wrong way I think the worst thing about her is how seldom she’s wrong.”

“Kuriwa,” Linsheh growled. “I might have known I’d find her at the back of this.”

“But that was before,” Tellwyrn continued, still deadly quiet. “It’s no secret to you, I’m sure, how the knowledge of what you’re hoarding down there would change the world. But you know, and I know you know, what it meant to me, personally. What it would have meant if I’d learned of it long before now. All the absolute hell I could have spared myself. And now, suddenly, I find myself thinking I wasn’t hard enough on you.” She tilted her head down, staring coldly over the rims of her glasses. “And furthermore, that it isn’t too late to correct that oversight.”

“Arachne,” Adimel exclaimed, “please. This is pointless.”

“I should hardly have to state that you do not frighten me,” Linsheh said, curling her lip.

“Isn’t that precious,” Tellwyrn replied, flexing her fingers. “I wonder how frightened you’ll be if I burn this grove to the ground.”

The shaman took one step toward her, snatching up the tomahawk hanging at her belt. “You were better off in the days when you didn’t dare challenge me openly, Arachne. All I need is the excuse of one fireball and my tribe will put a stop to your insanity, finally, for good.”

“That’s enough!” Adimel exclaimed, interposing himself bodily between them. “You are both behaving like—”

Both women pointed fingers at him.

A blast of wind pushed him one way while a burst of pure concussive force shoved the other; Adimel spun in a full circle, losing his grip on his staff, and staggered away to land on his rear in a fern, blinking in confusion.

“You really want to drag your tribe into this?” Tellwyrn asked, baring her teeth. “You know very well the lot of them don’t have the collective power to stop me doing any damn thing I please, Linsheh.”

“That’s right, Arachne,” Linsheh retorted. “Keep pushing. I always did hope I would be there on the day you learned how oversized your estimation of yourself is.”

“Ah, if I may?”

Both turned to glare at the speaker.

A drow man approached, wearing sweeping robes in deep shades of red and green. Having seized their attention, he bowed deeply.

“It is a tremendous honor to meet you, Professor Tellwyrn. I most humbly apologize for interrupting your discussion, but may I request with the utmost respect that you both refrain from destroying the grove while my delegation is present?” He put on a disarming little smile. “Reporting on the demise of multiple family members results in the most tedious interviews with my head of House.”

They stared at him as the silence stretched out, and then Tellwyrn let out a soft huff of amusement through her nose.

“Well, this I was not expecting. Asron, isn’t it?”

“Asron tyl Rinshae n’dar Awarrion,” he replied, bowing again. “Indeed, I was not expecting the great pleasure of making your acquaintance during this mission, Professor. It is honor enough to learn that you are aware of me. I am particularly grateful, however, that fortune has brought you here.” Turning to Linsheh, he bowed deeply to her as well. “Elder, I would not presume to involve myself in your personal affairs, nor those of your tribe. But, as we have established a precedent of laying aside old grudges to speak openly with one another, I must humbly suggest that this most fortuitous circumstance presents a golden opportunity for more of the same. Professor Tellwyrn, if she would graciously consent to join our discussions, has a unique and imminently relevant perspective on the matter under consideration.”

“So polite, these Awarrions,” Tellwyrn mused.

“Yes,” Linsheh replied with a sigh. “So much so that I can’t even bring myself to fault this one for his florid manner of speech.”

“You’re a fine peacemaker, Asron,” Tellwyrn said, finally stepping away from Linsheh and down the tree roots to the bank of the stream below. Behind her, Adimel had resumed his feet, and now folded his arms, directing a reproachful frown at his Elder. “It’s not that I don’t appreciate what you’re trying to do. Hell, I think it’s a fine idea, and my only complaint is that nobody tried it thousands of years ago. Better late than never, and hopefully not too late still. But no, involving me in this isn’t a good idea at all.”

“Your modesty is admirable,” Asron said, not responding to Linsheh’s bark of scornful laughter. “But if anything, Professor, you are an expert at what we are seeking to accomplish. Blending together different cultures the way you personally have learned—”

“Young man,” she said pointedly, “you need diplomats. You literally just walked in on me expressing my pissy mood by threatening to burn down the forest. Tell me you can see the disconnect, here.”

The drow smiled again, this time with a hint of true amusement. “Well, with respect, I was not proposing to put you in charge of the discussion. But if, now or at any point in the future, you would kindly agree to join our conversations, I do believe quite sincerely that your perspective would be of tremendous value, even if you were willing to merely answer a few questions. You did, after all, express esteem for the spirit of the endeavor.”

She sighed and shook her head. “I will think about it. I have no shortage of my own business to attend to. Speaking of which.” Tellwyrn turned to aim a finger at Linsheh. “This conversation is not over.”

“You have nothing else to say that is of interest to me,” the shaman said disdainfully.

Tellwyrn grinned up at her. “I bet I can surprise you.”

She vanished without warning, leaving behind only a tiny puff of displaced air.

Linsheh rolled her eyes. “Ugh. Asron, I appreciate you coming to check on me, but as you see I am quite well. If you’d kindly return to the circle, I shall be back presently.”

“By your leave then, Elder,” he said diffidently, bowing to her, and then turning to glide back into the trees.

“Are you all right?” Linsheh asked Adimel.

He folded his arms and looked down his nose at her. “How humbling it is that you express concern for my well-being at this juncture, most esteemed Elder.”

“Well, if you’re all right enough to do that, you’re all right,” she said archly, then turned and paced off after the drow.

The blast of wind which struck her in the back failed even to ruffle her hair. Linsheh paused, turned, and said dryly, “Do you feel better now, Adimel?”

A pine cone plummeted from above, striking the top of her head.

Linsheh blinked, grimaced, and looked upward. She was standing beneath a redwood tree. There were no pines closer than the Wyrnrange.

“Much, thank you,” Adimel said with more cheer, gathering up his staff and striding off toward the village.

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