Tag Archives: Toby

6 – 11

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“Ruda, incoming!”

“I see it!”

Ruda stood en garde while the boar charged her, whipping around it at the last possible second like a matador. She thrust her rapier into its side as she went, eliciting an agonized squeal. The pig staggered and lost its footing, down and thrashing all four hooves, but not dead. At least, not yet; its distraction gave her an opening for a more precise thrust, which took it straight through the heart.

Trissiny grunted as the other boar slammed into the golden corona surrounding her. The shield was holding, and likely would continue to do so. She felt no real strain from it; this was nothing like the wandfire she had taken in Sarasio. Her disadvantage was her height and her short sword. None of the cave boars stood taller than her waist, which meant that while she could stand around all day letting them bounce off her shield, fighting back meant kneeling or bending down—both positions that made it cripplingly awkward to fight.

Fortunately, she and her roommate proved a successful team, standing back-to-back. Trissiny’s shields (metal and magical) kept them protected, while Ruda’s agility, coupled with the long reach of her rapier and her shorter stature, made her an effective attacker.

If only the rest of the group were faring as well.

Level 3 had a smooth and obviously crafted stone floor, but it was littered with spires of volcanic rock, several of which steamed and emitted a sulfurous stench. Some stood alone, but quite a few were arranged conveniently to form barriers, making the chamber a kind of maze. There appeared, at least so far, to be nothing in it but igneous stone and cave boars, but even considering the relatively minor threat, the students had managed to rout themselves by the simple method of not having a strategy.

They had been charged immediately upon stepping foot into the level, and had now been broken up into smaller groups, each fending for themselves. Boars had come galloping in from around boulders and out of small canyons, rushing them from multiple directions and driving them apart. Now, though no one was yet down a crevice and isolated, several of them had gotten out of sight behind various outcroppings of rock.

Trissiny knew Gabriel’s position only because of the flashes of lightning that kept shooting out of it; he had climbed a steep slope and tucked himself into a corner from which he couldn’t be flanked, and was taking potshots at every boar that crossed his field of view. Not a brave tactic, but an effective one; more than half a dozen porcine corpses smoldered at the base of his hill. Toby stood nearby, probably the least effective of the group, protected behind a holy shield but his quarterstaff making no real impression on the four boars that circled, bashing their tusks against his barrier. She couldn’t see Fross at all, but streaks of ice lay all over the place, evidence of the pixie’s helpful efforts to deprive their foes of footing and in some cases freeze their hooves to the ground. This was causing more harm than good in the long run, though. Level 3 was too hot for the ice to hold them more than a few seconds, and the slippery patches were a hazard to the students as much as the cave boars, even as they melted. Vadrieny was out of her field of view, but the demon’s screeches were nearly constant and having their usual effect on the animals. Unfortunately, boars that ran away from her inevitably ended up running toward one of the others, and it seemed they forgot to be frightened as soon as they set their eyes upon a new target.

Ruda sidestepped around her, stabbing the boar that had bashed Trissiny’s shield while it was dazed. For a brief moment, they were not under immediate attack, and took the opportunity to size up the situation.

“What a glorious cock-up this is,” Ruda said flatly. Trissiny nodded agreement.

She half-turned to bring the rest of her classmates into her field of view. Shaeine was doing only slightly better than Toby; though she was unarmed, her skill with magical shields considerably exceeded his or Trissiny’s, and she was using them not only to protect herself but offensively, swatting boars aside and, when she could maneuver them into position, slamming them against the walls with crushing force. She had the leeway to do this because Vadrieny was hovering protectively about her, unleashing that hellish scream on any boar that looked in danger of slipping past her defenses.

Juniper was the only one of them currently on the offensive. None of the animals were attacking her; she was chasing after them. The spectacle was amusing and horrifying by turns; anyone chasing after a pig over rocks and patches of ice was fodder for pratfalls, but when she caught one, her methods were swift and brutal. She was splattered with blood and actually wielding a very fresh haunch of boar as a weapon. Trissiny thought that rather gratuitous, considering the dryad’s strength.

“We gotta get these boneheads into some kind of formation,” Ruda continued. “First one to slip and fall is gonna get gored to fucking shreds.”

Trissiny looked this way and that, thinking rapidly, then dropped to one knee as she was charged. The boar slammed head-on into her glowing shield and staggered to the side, stunned; she slapped it to the ground with her physical shield and stabbed it through the heart.

“I’ve got a plan,” she said, standing. “If I buy you time to get to Vadrieny and Shaeine, think you can persuade her to stop that screaming and actually use those claws? It’s nice that she respects Teal’s pacifism and all, but these are animals. It’s not like we can negotiate them.”

“I’ll see to it she gets the idea,” Ruda replied, grinning. “I am nothing if not silver-tongued.”

“Good. I’m going to go join Gabe and Toby; bring them to us as soon as you can.”

“Right on.” Ruda darted away, and Trissiny set off on a parallel course, first making sure the pirate wasn’t charged by cave boars before she got close enough to Shaeine and Vadrieny to fall under their protection. Only then did she head off to Gabriel’s boulder.

“Toby!” she shouted over the noise of battle around them. He glanced her way, then was immediately thrown off-balance by a boar’s charge and then turned to fend it off with his staff. Trissiny darted past him and kicked the animal hard. It squealed furiously, rounding on her, but before it could attack Trissiny hurled herself forward, coming down to one knee and slamming her shield into its face. A follow-up stab with her sword put it down for good. She stood and turned to find Toby staring at her, wide-eyed.

“Stand there,” she ordered, pointing with her sword at a spot just to the left of the slope leading to Gabriel’s hiding place. “That is your ground. You will hold it!”

“Yes, ma’am!” he said with a grin, dashing over to position himself as ordered. She followed, placing herself to the right of the ascent. She had to step carefully to avoid the multiple dead boars with burn wounds lying about the area.

“What’s happening?” Gabriel called out from above.

“Stay there!” Trissiny shouted up at him. “Keep firing as you get targets!”

His reply came in the form of a lightning bolt that ripped past her, striking down a cave boar that wheeled in their direction with Juniper on its tail. The dryad, skidded, trying to stop, then skidded even harder as her feet came into contact with one of Fross’s ice trails. Trissiny beckoned her urgently over; she rolled back to her feet and limped to the paladin’s side.

“What are we doing?” she asked, then they both had to stop and deal with a pair of charging boars before Trissiny could answer.

As they finished that little problem, by way of Juniper picking one of the creatures up and bludgeoning the other with it, Vadrieny’s screaming stopped. The air was still filled with noise, from squeals, hoofbeats, various crashes and the crackling of Gabriel’s wand, but it still seemed, blessedly, almost silent in the wake of the demon’s vocal magic.

Trissiny immediately took advantage of the quiet. “FROSS! Get over here!”

Almost immediately, the pixie darted across her face to indicate her presence, then rose to hover above Trissiny where her glow didn’t block the paladin’s vision. “I’m here! What’s going on? Please tell me you have a plan, I have no idea what I’m doing!”

“Stop that icing for the moment and disappear these corpses! I need a clear field of battle!”

“Aye-aye, General!” Fross swooped down, rushing thither and yon; everywhere she passed, dead boars shrank down to nothing and floated upward to vanish into her silver aura.

“Can she do that with live ones?” Ruda asked, dashing up to them.

“Not safely!” the pixie shouted as she zipped past.

“Shaeine!” Trissiny called out as the last two members of the party rejoined them, the demon holding one fiery wing protectively over the drow. “Bubble us!”

Immediately a silver semi-sphere snapped into place around the whole group, its shape interrupted where it intersected with outgrowths of rock.

“Thank you,” Trissiny said more quietly. Boars were dashing around the perimeter of the shield, a few butting their heads against it. “How long can you keep this up?”

“Not terribly,” the priestess replied with an audible strain in her voice. “I am unaccustomed to shielding this proactively for such a duration.”

Trissiny glanced at Juniper, thinking back to the Circles of Interaction. “Do you know the magic to convert fae energy into divine to power your shields?”

“I do not.”

“Nor I,” she said regretfully. “I’ll be correcting that the first chance I get, considering we have two basically bottomless power sources in the group that three of us could be using.”

“I’m not sure I like the sound of that,” Juniper said.

“All right… Can you make two walls to funnel them toward us?”

“Toward us?” Gabriel protested shrilly.

“If they are not actively attacking said walls…yes, I believe so.”

“All right, here’s what we’re going to do,” Trissiny said decisively. “Shaeine will set up angled walls to give the boars a single approach directly at us. Fross, I want you to ice the ground within it to make it hard for them. That means slick floor but also big chunks of ice to break up their momentum; we don’t want them sliding at us too fast to handle.”

“Can do!”

“Gabriel, your job is to shoot them as they come. Ruda, Juniper, you’re on either side on the rocks right there—go on, get into position—and if any get close enough to start climbing the slope, you deal with them in close range. Gabe, that means if a boar gets into melee range, you stop firing. Don’t risk shooting your teammates.”

“Got it,” he said, sticking his head out to nod at her.

“Toby and I will be right in front of you two, blocking access to you—the shield within a shield, so they charge right into Gabe’s field of fire and not at our melee fighters. Toby, you’re on defensive; we don’t strike at the ones coming down the center, but do what you have to to fend off any who try to flank us. I think the rocks are too steep, but be prepared.”

“Understood.”

“Vadrieny, you’re in the field; drive them toward the entrance to the trap.” She glanced around, studying the boars through the silver translucence of the shield. They had stopped pouring out of side chambers, so this was hopefully the final number. She couldn’t get a solid count with the way they were milling around, but there were easily over a dozen. “That means no screaming, that just scatters them. Try to herd them with your claws. And for the gods’ sake, don’t be afraid to actually claw one!”

Vadrieny nodded at her, making no response to the implied rebuke.

“All right,” said Trissiny, glancing quickly over her classmates. Everyone had stepped into the appropriate position as she spoke, Shaeine clambering carefully up to sit just beside Gabriel’s nook, well away from where the action would be. “Fross, get started on that ice. Everyone ready? Good. Shaeine, as soon as you switch the shields, we’re in action.”

“Changing in three…two…one!”

The bubble vanished and two silver walls appeared directly before them, angling outward and forming a trapezoidal space with its narrower end pointing at the ascent to Gabriel’s perch, surrounding the patch of ground now covered with a sheen of frost and littered haphazardly with chunks of ice as much as shoulder-high on the boars. Immediately, several went straight for the group from the side, but Vadrieny landed right in front of them, raking the pack with one clawed hand and sending the animals flying, along with a spray of blood. Her claws were simply too huge to avoid doing some damage with them.

Once in a while, things really did come together.

Once in motion, the plan went off with almost eerie perfection. Vadrieny was bigger than the boars, but also faster and more agile, and after that first rush prevented them from flanking the group again. In fact, she didn’t have to go far to herd them into the trap; they seemed maddened and determined to attack, and so long as she warded them away from the sides of the students’ formation, they charged obligingly right into Fross’s obstacle course, where their slipping and stumbling made them easy fodder for Gabriel’s wand. Trissiny only had to employ her weapon once, when one boar bounded off the corpse of its most recently felled comrade to land halfway up the incline, right beside Ruda and inside the reach of her arm.

It was over in less than half a minute. The final boar made it as far as the base of the little hill before being blasted by lightning. A couple of the larger specimens had needed to be shot twice; Gabriel had all but filled the channel between them with lightning, but had not been overwhelmed. Everyone’s hair was standing up slightly by the time they were done, and the air was heavy with the reek of ozone and charred pork. Shaeine let the glowing walls flicker out of existence, slumping back against the rock with a deep sigh, and the two paladins allowed their own shields to wink out.

“Holy shit, we won!” Ruda crowed. Around her, the group finally let themselves relax, grinning at each other in the sudden silence.

The noise that answered her, echoing around the chamber from a point of their sight, might have been called a squeal if it were about half as powerful; as it was, it was at least half roar. It was immediately followed by the rapidly growing sound of hoofbeats. Much louder ones than any they had heard thus far.

“Yup. That’s my fault,” Ruda said with a sigh.

“Levels have bosses,” Fross said grimly. “Trissiny? What do we do?”

Before Trissiny could answer, it rounded the corner ahead and skidded to a halt, glaring at them.

Cave boars were essentially just pigs—big, aggressive pigs that tended toward pale pigmentation and had larger tusks than usual. This creature was the size of a bison, and the differences between it and its lesser brethren did not stop there. In addition to long, curving tusks bigger than a ram’s horns, it actually had horns, arching upward over its head. It had a mane of what were either very large bristles or rather diminutive spikes, which looked like the difference would be academic for anyone unfortunate enough to come into contact with them. Worse, the thing was armored, with segments of glossy chitin flanking its vulnerable sides.

“I’ve got this,” Juniper said, pushing past Trissiny and sliding down the slope.

“Wait,” Trissiny began, but got no further as the boss boar let out a bellow and charged her.

The dryad stomped forward, slipping once on Fross’s ice before catching her footing, and planted herself directly in the boar’s path. Head high, she held up a hand imperiously at the charging monstrosity.

“Stop right there!”

The boar rammed into her head-on.

The dryad was actually shifted backward by the impact, stumbling slightly before regaining her balance. The boar, not quite felled, nonetheless staggered, shaking its head and huffing in protest.

“It attacked me,” Juniper said, sounding utterly shocked.

“I can’t get a clear shot!” Gabriel said, scrambling out from his perch and leaning around Trissiny. “June, get out of the way!”

“Animals aren’t supposed to attack me!” Juniper exclaimed, offended. “I’m a dryad!”

The boar squeal-roared again, loud enough to make Shaeine wince and clap her hands over her ears. It backed away from Juniper, reddish eyes fixed on her, and pawed at the ground with its front legs.

“Oh, for the—Vadrieny!” Trissiny shouted. “Get her out of there!”

“I can’t touch her,” the archdemon protested.

“You can’t what?”

“BAD PIG!” Juniper roared, stomping forward and landing an open-handed slap against the side of the boar’s head. It was lifted right off its hooves and hurled to the side by the blow.

“…or, we could all wait up here while she deals with that,” Gabriel said in a smaller voice.

The dryad lunged furiously after the boar, grabbing it by its right tusk and left horn, and wrenched it sideways. The creature, squealing in protest, was lifted again and flipped onto its other side, where she leaned down, keeping up the pressure despite its desperate attempts to scrabble free. She didn’t have very good leverage from that position; this went on for a disturbing span of seconds, with the boar’s pained outcries growing steadily more frantic, until its neck finally broke with a sickeningly loud crunch. It kicked a few more times before falling still.

“You don’t attack dryads,” Juniper said severely, standing up and dusting off her hands. Then she kicked it for good measure, flipping it back onto its other side.

“You tell ‘im, Juno!” Ruda called out.

“Or,” Toby said quietly, “we could not encourage that, maybe?”

“I’m sorry,” Trissiny said, turning to Vadrieny. “that was my fault; I wasn’t thinking clearly, apparently.”

“No harm done,” the archdemon replied with a faint smile.

“Wait, what are we talking about now?” Gabriel asked.

“Telling Vadrieny to move Juniper,” Toby explained. “Remember, when the centaurs cornered us in Horsebutt’s tomb? We went over this then; Vadrieny’s physical form is an infernal spell effect, which means touching Juniper would probably just snuff it out.”

“Probably,” Ruda grunted. “It occurs to me we’ve never actually gotten around to testing that.”

The flames dimmed and receded, followed by the claws, and then Teal was standing there, shaking her head. “Juniper’s the daughter of a goddess. However impressive Vadrieny is, I don’t think she ranks with a dryad. I mean…we could try that sometime, just to find out, but…”

“I don’t mind,” Juniper said, rejoining them. “Can we take a break first, though? That was kind of a bit…much.”

“I second that motion,” Gabriel said firmly. “And this might be kind of weird, but uh… Considering we didn’t get to finish our bacon earlier, and with the smell of all this…”

“Yup, that’s fuckin’ weird,” Ruda said, grinning.

“I don’t think it’s weird at all,” Juniper replied, tossing her head. “I’m not really hungry, but seriously—the rest of you haven’t eaten nearly enough today, and we just got a lot of concentrated exercise. There’s probably more up ahead. You should finish your meal.”

“If it’s not too much of an imposition, Fross,” said Toby, “could you please get rid of the rest of these corpses, first? Something about eating surrounded by the dead…”

“No imposition at all!” the pixie said brightly, already setting to work. She continued chattering as she swooped down on each felled boar, shrinking and storing them. “I dunno if there’s any actual treasure here, but considering the socioeconomic situation in the Crawl, a big ol’ pile of pork is a really good haul! Much better than the mushroom level. I mean, aside from the trading value of all this, we’ve basically got our food covered for the whole rest of the trip!”

“I think I’d be okay with that,” said Juniper, “but the rest of you really can’t live on just meat. You need a variety of nutrients from plants.”

“There aren’t any plants,” Gabriel pointed out. “I mean…except mushrooms.”

“Those are fungus, not plants,” the dryad said patiently. “And they’ll go part of the way, sure. Maybe we should check with the vendors back at the Grim Visage. They probably have nutritional supplements. They’re pretty much have to.”

Fross had finished clearing away the boars—even the big one—and now re-materialized their plates of pork chops and bacon from the makeshift inn on Level 2. Gabriel immediately seized a handful of meat, the others following suit more slowly.

“I’m okay with just trading the carcasses,” Ruda said firmly. “Otherwise, we’d have to do all the butchering ourselves, and…just, fuck that, is all. Do you guys remember the bison?” She grimaced. “I remember the bison. Fucking ew. Didn’t the demons up there make a standing offer for meat? It was the little guy with the wings, right?”

“We’ll clearly have to pass through Level 2 regularly, what with their portals and the waystone,” said Trissiny, after swallowing a bite of bacon. “I see no good reason to loiter there one second longer than absolutely necessary.”

“Oh, here we go again,” said Ruda, rolling her eyes.

Trissiny gave her a hard look. “What?”

“No offense, Triss,” Gabriel mumbled around a mouthful of pork, “but…aren’t you backsliding a little?”

She set down the bacon she was holding. “Excuse me?”

“Well, it’s just…” He paused to swallow. “I dunno, it seems like you’ve been opening up a bit as time goes by. Being a bit less hostile to…y’know, things outside the Imperial norm.”

“The Imperial norm,” she said, very evenly.

“Oh, I don’t think we need to make a big deal about it,” Toby said quickly.

“No, no. Please,” Trissiny said quietly. “What’s on your mind, Gabriel?”

“Hell, Boots, it’s not just him,” Ruda interjected. “First day we met you practically drew your sword on Shaeine just ‘cos she was a drow. And then there was that thing with you and Gabe, with all the clawing and stabbing. But you’ve been getting better! Or were, anyway. Then we meet the perfectly nice demons on Level 2, and it’s like you wanted to line ’em up and chop their heads off.”

“Perfectly. Nice. Demons.” Trissiny’s voice was icy.

“Yes,” Ruda said firmly. “They were perfectly nice.”

“They kind of were,” Juniper agreed. “They gave us food! Which you’re eating right now.”

“I don’t think it’s exactly fair to put Trissiny on the spot like this,” said Teal. “You can’t reasonably expect a paladin of Avei to be calm when surrounded by demons.”

“Can’t expect me to be calm,” Trissiny said softly. “How charitable.”

“Oh, come on, you know I didn’t mean it like that.”

“Well, whatever, the point is not to start an inquisition,” said Ruda, gesticulating with the half-eaten pork chop in her hand. “We’re just sayin’, Triss, if we meet any more demons, how about waiting to find out what their intentions are before going for your sword, yeah?”

Trissiny stared at her in silence for a moment, then looked around at the rest of the group. “Is this how you all feel?”

“Let me turn that question around on you,” Toby said quietly. “Why are you averse to learning someone’s motives before assuming they’re hostile?”

“The presumption of innocence is not always warranted,” Shaeine added, “but it is a cornerstone of diplomacy.”

Trissiny stood up slowly. “Do you know how many major invasions of the mortal plane there have been from Hell?”

“Oh, here we go,” Ruda groaned.

“Answer the question,” Trissiny snapped.

“Nine recorded,” Fross said. “We covered that in Professor Tellwyrn’s class!”

“Exactly,” said Trissiny. “Nine. In the span of eight thousand years, with the resources of an entire dimension to draw on, Elilial launched a large-scale armed assault exactly nine times. You don’t find that a little…underwhelming?”

“Uh…I guess?” Gabe said hesitantly. “Is this going somewhere?”

“The first two were by Elilial herself during the first millennium of her incarceration in Hell,” said Trissiny. “The rest mostly over the three thousand years following, at various times, with the aim of establishing various Black Wreath cells in different parts of the world. The most recent, coming thousands of years after those, was sixteen centuries ago, and that was started when the Sorcerer-King Atromax actually bored a massive gateway into Hell. And in none of these cases did Elilial send a large enough army to actually overwhelm the mortal world, but only to accomplish specific, smaller objectives.”

“Well, maybe she doesn’t have all that much manpower,” Ruda suggested.

“Or maybe,” Trissiny shot back, “that’s just not what they do. Will you all please think? One floor up from us is a succubus, who is near the top of the Descent because she’s apparently the second-least threatening thing it has to offer. And yet, we were just discussing the fact that finding an incubus or succubus on the loose is considered a major crisis by modern civilizations. You don’t find a little bit of a disconnect there?”

Gabriel frowned. “Well, now that you mention it…”

“It’s because succubi are not fighters,” Trissiny said. “In an enclosed space, against the eight of us? She’s little more than a pincushion waiting to happen. But up above, where she has freedom to maneuver, resources to access and people to manipulate? Frankly, I don’t think this group could take her on. Her kind have brought down entire kingdoms. Alone. They assuredly didn’t do it by force of arms.”

“Now, hold on,” said Toby.

“You do know what sshitherosz do, I hope?” she barreled on. “They find people in vulnerable positions, people who are outcast, or alone, or for whatever reason weak and needing some kind of support. They coax people into reaching for the power they offer, and lead them into becoming warlocks. That is where the majority of warlocks come from! People who are foolish and power-hungry enough to actually seek out infernal power are vanishingly rare. Those scrawny, ugly, disturbing-looking demons are masters of the art of getting on people’s good sides. You think they do it by brute force?”

She glowered at the group; they all stared back, mutely. Nobody was eating now.

“The demons don’t come for us with rampaging hordes and fire from the skies. They come with pretty faces and kind smiles, with nice words and very reasonable offers of trade. They find common ground, stay polite, act forgiving and fair-minded, and when you give them an inch, they start in with the hints about how unfair it is that they’re so ill-treated just for being what they are. One little step after another, until you’re riddled with cancer because you got suckered into channeling powers your body isn’t designed to contain, and you’ve opened all manner of portals for all their equally harmless friends to come through. All because you stopped to chat with a poor, mistreated, lonely figure who was nice you to, and fair, and reasonable. Does any of this sound extremely familiar to anyone?”

“None of us is going to—” Gabriel broke off as Trissiny carried right on, talking over him.

“Are any of you people actually arrogant enough to think that you’re the first individuals in eight thousand years to have the brilliant idea of trying diplomatic relations with demons? Seriously? It’s been tried. It’s been tried over and over and done to death, often quite literally, and it has always ended up the same. They wiggle in, the persuade, seduce, and corrupt, and when they’ve got enough power to do so, they destroy. That’s why every established nation, religion and organization of any kind immediately greets a demon with outright violence. That’s all you can do. The cults of Omnu, Izara, Themynra, and everyone else who abhors violence doesn’t raise so much as a peep of protest! But no, I guess you know better than the entire world.”

She bared her teeth at them, clenching her fists at her sides; they stared back in numb silence. “After all, it’s just Trissiny spouting off again. Who cares? Trissiny is a hothead, a racist, a stuck-up fanatic. Trissiny is needlessly hostile and always angry about nothing. Well, Trissiny will keep protecting you, no matter how much she might want to let you get tangled up with demons and learn the only way you apparently can.”

She snorted in pure, wordless disgust. “Come on, we’ve wasted enough time. There are ninety-seven more levels; I’m sure we can find something good and venomous for you guys to snuggle with. Juniper! Gabriel!”

“Yes?” he squeaked.

“Stay right behind me,” she ordered, turning on her heel in the direction of the stairs to Level 4. “Since none of you saps intend to preserve your own well-being, at least you two won’t die in one hit.”

Trissiny stalked off, leaving the group stunned behind her.

“I…I think she’s mad at us,” Fross whispered.

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6 – 9

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“Don’t advance,” Trissiny said quietly. “Any deeper into the room and we can be surrounded in an instant.”

“Excuse me, point of order,” said Ruda. “Didn’t you just launch a religious initiative to open up your cult to demonbloods?”

“Demonbloods,” Trissiny said, her voice rising slightly. “People, native to the mortal plane, with souls, like Gabriel.”

“I would love to not be involved in this, Triss…”

“These are the real thing,” the paladin went on fiercely. “Their existence is a state of perpetual war with our kind.”

“There are a good many ‘kinds’ represented here,” Shaeine observed.

“You know what I meant!”

“Do you think they know we can hear them?” Xsythri asked, turning to look up at Melaxyna.

The succubus drummed her fingernails once on the arm of her throne. “Let me tell you a story, children. Once upon a time I aggravated Arachne Tellwyrn and found myself with the choice of being stuck down here, sent back to Hell or blasted to atoms. This was the lesser evil. While I have done my utmost to thwart her intentions with regard to my fate, it is not lost upon me that if I actually managed to wipe out one of her student groups she would come down here and find extravagant new ways to ruin my day.”

“Isn’t that the whole point, though?” Ruda asked. “I mean…you’re a dungeon boss. If Tellwyrn put you here, it was with the expectation you’d try to kill us, and then we’d kill you.”

“Yes,” Melaxyna replied with a feline smile. “Hence thwarting her intentions. The Descent, my dears, is an instanced soulbound sub-dungeon. Do you understand what that means?”

“Um, no,” said Gabriel. “But I bet Fross does.”

“I sure do!” the pixie all but shouted, buzzing around in frantic circles above their heads. “It means there is a theoretically infinite number of Descents existing simultaneously, but experienced separately by each individual or adventuring party who enters!”

“Ah, but that rule applies to guests,” said Melaxyna languidly, raising one finger. “Those of us who are consigned to be fixtures of the Descent experience all of those realities. Our souls are bound to this place and we perceive all that happens in the various convergent realities, simultaneously.”

“Damn,” said Gabriel with a whistle. “What’s that like?”

“Bloody damn confusing,” Xsythri said.

“Demons don’t have souls,” Trissiny growled.

“Two kinds of people don’t know what they’re talking about,” Melaxyna said sweetly. “The ignorant, and the religious. The first group, at least, will sometimes accept correction. To continue my tale, Tellwyrn’s intention was to have me experience being killed and looted, over and over, often at the same time, while the Descent granted me a kind of twisted immortality. Had I understood the implications before being banished to the Crawl, I’d have just gone back to Hell.” Her flawless lips twisted in a sneer. “Tellwyrn isn’t as smart as she likes to believe, however. While she has a disproportionate influence on the running of things around here, that is because she has cultivated a positive relationship with the Crawl itself. The Crawl is the ultimate arbiter of all our fates, and it is amenable to making accords with other individuals, if approached the right way. I have laboriously built up such an accord, cementing my status as Boss here, and ultimately earning…an exception. Level 2 does not enjoy the sanctuary status of the Grim Visage, but it is outside the dynamic of the Descent. We all exist only once, in this place and time; all travelers through the Descent who pass this way converge in one reality and can interact. That is, until they proceed to another level. It’s a slow day, kids; you’ll usually find other adventurers coming through.”

“Wait, other adventurers?” Toby frowned. “The Crawl is supposed to be sealed except to University students.”

“At the top, yes,” the succubus replied with a shrug. “There are whole societies down here. The goblins and naga are quite organized, with other smaller groups in various nooks and crannies. Then, too, there are occasional Scyllithene drow who worm their way up from the depths, and once in a while a party of very lost gnomes. The Descent was designed to be a loot farm; it’s one of the only consistent sources of fresh resources in the Crawl. It never gets exactly crowded, but we’re rather popular. The point of all this, children, is that I am not asking for your trust. Only for you to acknowledge that I respect my own self-interest, and keep my subjects in line.”

Xsythri made a rude noise; Melaxyna ignored her. “You are safe here. Everyone is. Yes, the residents of Level 2 are all dangerous beings, to a greater or lesser degree. You may regard them as a sort of civilian militia. No one is going to do more than take your coin, and that only in exchange for fair value, but the whole population will descend on anyone who causes trouble.” She smiled again, grimly.

“That’s nearly a threat,” Trissiny said.

“Triss, come on,” Toby exclaimed.

“There’s no nearly about it,” Melaxyna replied, interlacing her fingers and resting her chin upon them. “It’s a threat. I’m hoping you turn out to be sensible enough not to provoke me to act upon it. So far, no group of Arachne’s students has done anything so pointlessly rash. You, paladin, are close to the most irritating guest we have had.”

“Remember that group with the priest and the vampire?” Xsythri asked brightly.

“I said ‘close to.’”

“And then there’s Admestus…”

“Xsythri, shut up.”

“Just so we understand one another,” Trissiny said coldly, “any attempt by your population to ‘descend’ on us will result in you needing a new population.”

“Trissiny,” Toby said firmly, “there does not need to be a fight here. Please stop picking at her.”

Melaxyna rose, snapping her wings once, and descended the steps from her throne. She stroked one of the hellhounds in passing. “There is that,” the succubus said, continuing to pace slowly forward. “A Hand of Avei is not a thing lightly dealt with. I, myself, am a schemer rather than a fighter, hence my status as second-weakest Boss of the hundred in the Descent. And then there’s that dryad; really, she’s a lot more of a game-breaker than you are. No, I don’t believe we could take you, not even close. I’m afraid the very gift that keeps Level 2 separate and coherent also makes us vulnerable. Dead, now, is dead.”

She came to within a few feet of the group, folding her arms under her impressive bosom, and stared Trissiny in the eyes. “Therefore, if it appears that you intend to destroy everything I have built up here and end the lives of the people I protect, I will simply trigger the destructive runes I have placed over every inch of the floor and collapse this entire level into the one beneath it. According to my spellcrafter, the force of that should break Level 3 as well, dropping the lot into the next one down. Any of you who survive the fall would find yourselves buried in rubble with three levels’ worth of severely irate monsters, and good luck to you. Do we understand one another?”

“Perfectly,” Trissiny snapped. “You remain true to your destructive nature.”

“Okay, so!” Gabe said brightly. “On to shopping, then? I for one can’t wait to see what’s available down here. The vendors in the Visage weren’t even up yet when we left.”

“You know what?” Melaxyna tilted her head back, still studying Trissiny’s face. “…no. I don’t believe I care for you arrogant little monkeys.” She turned and strolled away toward her chair, folding her wings tightly against her back. “Behind this throne is the door to Level 3. You may come and go freely, but that’s all. Consider yourselves banned. There will be no business or interaction for you, and I’ll thank you to leave my citizens alone.”

“Now, hold on,” Teal said soothingly. “There’s no reason we can’t reach an understanding…”

“Teal, leave it,” said Trissiny. “We’re better off.”

“Well, you heard the lady,” Xsythri said, folding her shelled arms. “Off you go.”

“Wait,” the bard insisted. “Just wait. You need the custom and frankly we need the resources. Not to mention any source of information and allies.”

“We do not—”

“Yes, we do, Trissiny,” Teal said in exasperation. “Will you please give it a rest?”

“I’m done with this conversation,” Melaxyna said, turning back to stare flatly at them. “And with you. Be gone.”

“Now, look what you did,” said Ruda, prodding Trissiny in the side with her fist. “You went and hurt her feelings.”

Teal drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly. “All right…fine.”

She took four paces forward, away from the group, and erupted in hellfire.

Vadrieny’s wings were wider in span than Melaxyna’s; fully extended, they seemed to fill the central open space, stretching so that her pinions nearly brushed the ceiling. She stalked to one side, her talons rasping against the stone floor, and angled herself to keep the succubus and the students both in view.

The effect of her appearance on the residents was instantaneous and remarkable. Melaxyna and Xsythri, with identical expressions of wide-eyed shock, immediately fell to their knees, gaping up at her. The two hellhounds went into a barking frenzy, spitting puffs of fire in her direction. All around the room, demons either knelt or fled and hid themselves behind whatever cover they could find.

“I have absolutely no patience for any more of this nonsense,” Vadrieny declared, her choral voice echoing in the long chamber. She pointed one saber claw at Melaxyna. “If you presume to be in charge here, stop acting like a brat! The children of Vanislaas are supposed to be clever, not prone to throwing tantrums when insulted. And you,” she added with obvious exasperation, swiveling to point at Trissiny, “grow up.”

“Excuse me?” the paladin snapped, reflexively resting a hand on her sword.

“Do you want to make this about force and strength?” Vadrieny shot back. “Fine. You have tried that with me exactly once, Trissiny, and got slapped across the quad for your trouble. And I’m sure I don’t need to point out how much of a chance you don’t have against me,” she added, turning her glare on Melaxyna.

“I would never,” the succubus said hoarsely. “Forgive me, lady, I had no idea you were…”

“Excuse me just a moment,” Vadrieny interrupted her. The two hellhounds were still howling and snarling at her. She took two steps toward them, her talons sinking right into the stone of the floor with a crunch, leaned forward and let out a deafening scream, baring the full complement of her fangs. Melaxyna cringed; Xsythri clapped her hands over her ears. Trissiny reflexively surrounded herself with a bubble of golden light.

When Vadrieny’s scream cut off, there was complete silence. It held for a second, then both hellhounds whimpered and scurried off to hide behind Melaxyna’s throne.

“Much better,” the archdemon said, nodding in satisfaction. “Is everyone through behaving like squabbling children? Good. We will have a nice, civil interaction from here. We will be treated just like any other group of guests, and you, Trissiny, will behave yourself and not make our presence an undue burden upon our hosts. Is that clear?”

“Perfectly,” Melaxyna said, nodding vigorously.

“Well?” Vadrieny prompted, staring at Trissiny.

The paladin drew in a breath and let it out through her nose in a huff. “Fine.”

“I suppose that will do,” the archdemon said dryly. “Honestly, I shouldn’t have to tell you this.”

Ruda cackled and slapped Trissiny on the back. “You just got your manners corrected by a demon, roomie. I bet Avei’s so proud!”

“Ruda,” Toby said firmly, “can we all just stop, please?”

Vadrieny grunted in response to that, then receded. Fire and claws withdrew, leaving Teal standing alone. She shook her head once, stepped back over to the group and prodded the shredded remains of her sandals with a bare toe. “Well…nuts.”

Shaeine strode forward, reached out and entwined her fingers with Teal’s, smiling a hair more broadly than she usually did in public. The bard smiled shyly back.

“Who are you?” Melaxyna asked in a voice barely above a whisper.

“It’s a very long story,” Teal said with a sigh. “I’d rather not get into it.”

“Um,” Xsythri said hesitantly. “How…is it you didn’t know what a hethelax is?”

“I didn’t,” Teal said. “Vadrieny corrected me as soon as I asked.”

“So…you’re…two of you in there?”

“Xsythri!” Melaxyna snapped. “Don’t interrogate the..” She trailed off, looking warily at Teal. “…her. Anyway, we have guests, as we just agreed. I believe they need a tour.”

“Me?” the hethelax whined, hunching down in place. “Now?”

“Now!”


“Well, now I regret having the strongest stomach in the group,” Ruda grumbled. “Here we get real food and I have no more room for it.”

“Yes, your life is such a burden,” Gabriel said solicitously. “Will it make you feel better to fucking stab me?”

“It did last time,” she replied, grinning.

“Are you ever gonna let go of that?” Fross asked.

He huffed and crammed a strip of bacon into his mouth. “Don’ see why I shoul’.”

Trissiny watched them sidelong, the porkchop sitting on her plate untouched.

“It’s safe,” Toby said quietly from across the table. “We would sense it if it were demonically corrupted. Look, see?” He extended a hand over her plate, shining a soft light on her food.

“Knowing it’s safe and feeling safe are two very different things,” she muttered, but picked up the bent fork provided and began sawing off a piece with its edge. This took some doing; the utensil was hardly sharp, and the meat was quite tough.

“Of course, we do a lot more commerce in other kinds of meat,” their host said cheerfully. A sshitherosz demon, he resembled a skeletally thin man about four feet tall with wings and an elongated skull, and had a habit of climbing on furniture like a monkey. “Lots of snake and lizard! Which is actually quite good, not so heavy as this. But cave boars are plentiful in the Descent, and in my experience you surface folk do well to start off with something more familiar.”

“How are boars plentiful?” Juniper asked. Despite the full breakfast she’d eaten, she had tucked into the proffered pork without reservation, apparently not sharing Ruda’s limited capacity. “There’s no sun! I mean, they could eat mushrooms… I don’t see how an ecosystem can even work down here. Not with large animals like boars.”

“Subjective physics, remember?” Fross said brightly. “The rules are different in the Crawl.”

“Hmph,” the dryad said. “Some rules are there for good reason.”

“We do grow some vegetables, using alchemy,” said the demon chef. “But, you know…species native to Hell. Lots of inherent infernal corruption; they don’t tend to agree with mortal digestive systems from this plane. I’ll tell you what, though, if you can find me crop seeds, plus sun crystals and soil, I will fork over every scrap of everything in my possession. I bet I can persuade Mel to do the same.”

“Good bloody luck with that,” Xsythri muttered. She was lounging at the end of the table while the students ate, being as ostentatiously sullen as she could.

“That wouldn’t work in the long term,” Juniper noted. “Soil needs fertilizer… And plants need pollination. You can grow them indoors, but it’s really tricky.”

The sshitherosz blinked his beady eyes. “Um… Seeds, sun crystals, soil and a book on agriculture,” he amended.

“We’ll keep our eyes peeled,” Ruda promised.

“This is really generous of you,” Teal said again, smiling at the cook. “I hope it’s not too much of an imposition.”

“Pshaw!” he waved a long, bony hand dismissively, then hopped up onto the sign (lettered in unreadable demonic script) over his grill, grinning down at her. “Not often we get such exalted company! Just so y’know, your ladyship, I really can’t afford to splurge more than once, yeah?”

“I would never ask you to,” she said firmly.

“What the hell are you staring at?” Xsythri burst out, grabbing everyone’s attention. “Never seen a hethelax before?”

“Sorry!” Gabe stammered, his cheeks coloring. “Um, yes, I have, but… I mean, not a female. That is, well, I guess I did once, but I don’t remember… Uh. My mother was a hethelax.”

She snorted. “Well, don’t look at me, kid. I’m glad to say I’ve never been that desperate.” She straightened up, at least partially; she appeared to have a habitual hunch, keeping her knees and elbows slightly flexed, as if the joints didn’t extend fully. “Are you lot about done abusing our hospitality? We’ve got other stops.”

“Damn, lady, what crawled up your butt?” Ruda asked, producing a bottle of ale from within her coat and pulling the cork free.

“Eight rude interlopers and an invisible VIP,” Xsythri said curtly.

“Okay, well, let’s be fair, here. Trissiny’s the only one who was trying to start shit up.”

Trissiny, now chewing a mouthful of stringy pork, glared at her but didn’t attempt to speak.

Xsythri shrugged; her armored plating making a soft rasp. “The boars come from Level 3. Smithic here will pay you to haul more back for us. C’mon, there’s really only one more thing worth seeing.”

“Aw, but we’re all tired from our adventures!” Ruda said merrily. “How much is it to get beds at you very charming little inn?”

“Ruda, enough,” Toby said quietly, pushing his plate back and rising. “Fross, would you be so kind as to preserve the food?”

“You got it!” The pixie darted across the table, hovering momentarily in front of each piece of meat and making them vanish.

“Hey!” Gabriel protested at the sudden loss of his bacon.

“We can finish up next time we halt for a break,” Toby said. “Our guide seems to be in a hurry. I think it’d be better not to ruffle anyone’s feathers more than we have.”

“Well, well,” Xsythri said dryly. “A polite cleric. Now I have truly seen everything.”

“Clerics are usually pretty polite, aren’t they?” Fross asked.

“Not to the likes of me, firefly. Ready? Good. C’mon.”

She strode away, not waiting for them. The students straggled to their feet and trailed after her.

In the far corner of Level 2 stood the big metal arch, linked up to a ramshackle variety of magical equipment, unmistakably a portal of some sort. Beside it stood the hulking form of a baerzurg, a bronze-scaled behemoth with no neck and a head sunken into its upper torso; at their approach, the demon turned from fussing with a rack of control runes and stood patiently watching them.

“This is our real bread and butter,” said Xsythri in a bored tone. “I’ll let Khavibosh explain it to you.”

“Welcome, guests.” The baerzurg’s voice was deep and very hoarse, with wet, raspy sounds underlying each syllable as if his mouth hadn’t been designed for speech. “This is our portal. It can be used to send travelers to any level of the Descent. Not to bring people back, however; it only operates one way.”

“Hey, sweet deal!” Ruda exclaimed. “We can skip right to the end of this horseshit and get Tellwyrn’s box!”

“No,” said Khavibosh. It was hard to read emotion in his voice, if indeed there was any.

“Nothing’s ever that simple,” Toby said fatalistically.

“You may travel only to levels you have previously cleared,” the baerzurg continued. “We exist on the Crawl’s sufferance, and it chooses to enforce certain rules. Much of the impediment of your mission is simple travel time: the Descent is a hundred stories deep, and you must fully cross each level to reach the next stairs. It is unsafe and unwise to camp in the levels, even if you believe them cleared. You will have to travel back and forth, a trip that will grow quite unmanageable as you delve deeper, to rest and resupply. Our portal will remove half that burden. The Crawl permits this simple time-saving measure, but it does not allow cheating.”

“We don’t push its buttons,” Xsythri said flatly. “If we help people cheat, things start to go wrong.”

“Torches won’t stay lit,” Khavibosh rumbled. “Leeches in our water supply. Sudden infestations of bats.”

Xsythri grinned unpleasantly. “Rocks fall, everyone dies.”

“So,” Ruda said, “I guess bribing you isn’t really a prospect, then?”

“You have nothing to offer that would make the loss of our livelihood worthwhile,” Khavibosh replied.

“And it costs what to use the portal?” she asked.

“One silver coin per person.”

Ruda grinned. “Pixies ride free?”

“One silver coin per person,” the baerzurg said inexorably.

“Hm.” Gabriel rubbed his chin. “That waystone Shamlin had is starting to look real attractive. Between that thing and this, we could cut out travel time altogether. Set it to Level 2 and just zip back and forth.”

“We could even skip going back to the Visage!” Fross said.

“We will go back to the Visage,” Trissiny said firmly. “I am not sleeping here.”

“And who’s gonna buy the waystone, hm?” Ruda asked, turning to Gabe and planting her fists on her hips. “I don’t see you coming up with ten decabloons.”

“Well,” he grinned. “Of course, we’d have to owe you. But hey, we’re here to look for treasure anyway, right?”

“Maybe we can spare you a little coin,” said a voice from behind them. The group turned to behold Melaxyna approaching, her hellhounds flanking her. The succubus wore a grin and was bouncing an object in the palm of her hand. “The thing about waystones is they require both a skilled magic user and a great familiarity with the dungeon to make. They’re rare, sure, if you’re stuck gathering up leftovers like Shamlin is. Khavibosh, however, has the skill.”

“Hey, that’s really impressive!” Fross said. “I thought baerzurgs weren’t even intelligent.”

“FROSS!” multiple voices shouted. The pixie dimmed slightly, fluttering down toward the ground.

“What? What’d I say?”

“Baerzurgs are sentient,” Melaxyna said with a grin. “Most are…well, intelligent might be overstating it. The high-caste baerzurgs, though, the magic users, are as smart as anyone, and Khavibosh is definitely one of those. Thus, we can provide you a waystone for mere pocket change. Ten silver bits and you can basically cut out all the walking.” She held up the waystone, giving them a good look.

Unlike the smooth, pale stone Shamlin had shown them, it was glossy and black, apparently carved from obsidian. Diamond-shaped, it was composed of hard edges, and had a similar spiraling rune, though this one glowed a dull red-orange and was a series of straight lines and sharp angles rather than one smooth curve.

“That’s made from infernal magic,” Trissiny snapped.

“See, you’re just leaping to conclusions, now,” Melaxyna said smugly, bouncing the waystone in her palm again. “I know this because it is completely, entirely sealed. No magic leakage of any kind, and fully safe for anyone to carry without risk of infernal corruption. Your vaunted sense evil trick wouldn’t even register this stone.”

“It’s hard to tell,” Toby said carefully. “The room’s full of demons… It’s like trying to find one leaf in a forest.”

“I’ll remind you of my previous speech about how we do business here, then. It gains me nothing to trick or trap you, kids. This stone is made with infernal magic, yes, but causes no infernal radiation. It’s completely harmless unless you crack it open. Which… Don’t do that.”

“What would happen if we opened it?” Fross asked.

“Well,” the succubus mused, “you would die. And then some other stuff would happen, which you’d be in no position to care about.”

The students exchanged a round of glances.

“It sounds like a good deal,” Teal said hesitantly.

“Let’s think on it,” said Trissiny. “Clear a few levels, get a feel for—”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, we’ll take it,” Ruda exclaimed.

“Ruda!”

“I will take it, then,” the pirate said, grinning at her. “You may all use my waystone if you wish, just because I’m so generous.”

“It’s linked to Level 2,” Melaxyna informed them. “And that is not changeable. Trace the rune with a fingertip and you, and anyone holding onto you, will be brought back here. Just link arms when you’re ready to travel and have one member of the group activate it.”

“Of course it’s linked to here,” Trissiny muttered.

“Lady, you got yourself a deal!” Ruda reached into her pocket and pulled out a handful of coins.

Melaxyna studied her thoughtfully for a moment, then turned her considering gaze on Trissiny, then Teal. “I must say… Despite your several faults, you seem to be a trustworthy group.”

“We do our best,” said Toby.

“Mm.” The succubus tossed the stone to Teal, who, taken by surprised, fumbled in catching it, just barely avoiding dropping it.

“Hey!” Ruda protested.

“We will call that…a loan,” Melaxyna said with another catlike smile. “An investment. If Arachne hasn’t changed her pattern, you have three weeks, yes? Splendid. You may pay me for the stone before leaving the Crawl… Or.” Her smile broadened into an outright grin, her tail beginning to lash behind her. “If you can tempt Rowe out of his little hidey-hole and into my clutches, that stone, and anything else within my power to grant, are yours for the taking.”

< Previous Chapter                                                                                                                          Next Chapter >

6 – 7

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“I can’t decide if we’re getting the real, authentic dungeon experience, here, or the opposite of that,” Gabriel said, standing with his fists planted on his hips, studying the square stone doorway that led to the Descent. It was innocuous enough, a simple gap in the wall on which their little ledge abutted, but beside the door a square block of clearly carved stone had been sunk into the wall. On it were glowing letters:

LEVEL 1

“Seems kinda fake,” Ruda agreed.

“It’s a little too…on the nose?” Fross said uncertainly. “I mean…lots of dungeons are organized by levels, but that’s done by the delvers for their own convenience, and the distinctions are all kind of…rough? And a little arbitrary. This doesn’t seem normal.”

“Well,” Toby said with a smile, “the longer we stand out here talking about it, the longer we can avoid going in there.”

“Ah, hell with it,” said Gabe, grinning and drawing his wand from an inner coat pocket. “Bring on the loot!”

Trissiny stared at him. “Have you been carrying that the whole time?”

“Well, sure.”

“But when we came down here…you’d just woken up. We thought we were doing a project in the library.”

“Well, yeah, I usually carry it,” he said, still grinning. “C’mon, I’ve been practicing with this every available chance since Sarasio. Did you think I just liked waving it around as some kind of phallic substitute?”

“Hm,” she grunted, then turned, drew her sword and stepped warily into the Descent.

“Oh, my gods,” Gabriel shouted behind her. “That’s actually what you thought, isn’t it!”

“Well, in her defense,” Ruda said, clapping him on the shoulder as she strode past, “she’s met you.”

The Descent’s initial approach was reminiscent of that of the Crawl itself. They trooped quietly down a staircase set in a neatly-cut tunnel, lacking lights, but this one was far shorter, ending in another square door easily within sight of the entrance. At the bottom, Trissiny led the way through, both her sword and shield out, now, then planted herself protectively in front of the group while they clustered into the chamber.

“Pretty,” Fross whispered.

The room had a flat ceiling, and flat walls stretched away to either side of the entrance, but that was the only visible sign that the space had been deliberately made. The floor was so cracked and broken that it appeared almost as natural as the bottom of a cave, sections sunken or thrust unevenly up as though in the aftermath of an earthquake. Water dripped audibly in the distance, and trickled across the stonework here and there in small streams. The walls were obscured by a dense growth of mushrooms of every possible description. Some were nearly the size of trees, with stands of smaller ones springing up like clumps of grass or creeping around the bases of the big stalks like ground cover. Footstool-sized toadstools popped up here and there, and frilly growths even hung from some of the huge caps of the biggest mushrooms like curtains of moss. It seemed at least half the fungus species present were luminescent, either biologically or magically, and lit the mushroom forest with soft glows in a variety of pale colors that left it dim, partially glimpsed and entirely mysterious. Through the soft, shadowed shapes, the walls of the chamber were completely out of sight.

“Mushrooms,” Ruda muttered. “For fuck’s sake, is every level gonna be themed? Dammit, Tellwyrn…”

“Stay together,” Trissiny said grimly. “Watch where you step—the ground looks slick. And be wary. There should be monsters of some kind in here. The fact that we can’t see them is not a good sign.”

They crept forward, following her; Gabriel brought up the rear, Fross darting here and there above them and erratically illuminating their surroundings. There was a path, of sorts, or at least a cleared section that seemed too linear to be accidental. At one point, they crossed a rough but obviously deliberately-built footbridge over a gurgling brook.

“It’s too quiet,” Teal all but whispered.

“Will you stop saying shit like that?” Ruda growled.

“Ooh!” At Gabriel’s sudden cry, they all whirled to face him, several of them jumping in surprise. “Look! Glittershrooms!” He was pointing at a tall stand of mushrooms with conical caps which sparkled in Fross’s light as if studded with chunks of crystal.

“Oh, for the love of—can you get stoned on your own time, please?” Ruda snapped.

“I wasn’t gonna eat them,” he said defensively. “It’s just… Look at the size of those. We’re supposed to be looking for treasure, right? Do you have any idea what those are worth?”

“Gabriel,” said Toby, “I’m not in the habit of ordering you around, but I think this merits an exception. I forbid you to enter the drug trade.”

“Listen,” Juniper said suddenly.

They instinctively clustered closer together at the sudden rustling that rose up all around them. Ruda drew her sword; Trissiny fell into a combat stance, raising her shield. Gabriel brandished his wand at the shadows, eyes darting wildly.

“You see what happened, don’t you,” Ruda said quietly.

“Yes,” Trissiny replied, watching their surroundings. The sounds were clearly audible, the unmistakable patter of numerous small feet and a much more unnervingly unidentifiable squeaking. “Whatever it is waited for us to get fully in, surrounded by the mushrooms, before moving. They’re intelligent, then, not animals.”

“Plenty of animals are clever enough to do that,” Juniper argued. “A lot actually—oh! Oh, I know what this is! Excuse me.” She gently pushed between Ruda and Shaeine, stepping out on her own and disregarding Trissiny’s hissed warning. “Caplings!”

As if on cue, a knee-high creature scuttled out of the shadows and right up to her. It looked like nothing so much as a mobile mushroom with spindly arms; if it had feet, they were hidden beneath the bulbous base of its stalk. Its narrow cap angled backward, with a cluster of five beady little eyes facing them just under it. In the fingerless little pads it had instead of hands it clutched a steel-tipped arrow, just the way a full-sized person would hold a spear.

“Caplings?” Trissiny said warily. “I’m not familiar with those.”

“I’m surprised to see them outside the Deep Wild,” Juniper said, bending down to pat the capling on the top of its cap. It made a delighted little trilling sound. “They lived in some of the swamps there, sort of a magical by-product of lots of life energy.”

“Cute little fucker, isn’t he?” Ruda said with a grin. “So, it’s…harmless, then?”

“Well, no,” Juniper said brightly. She picked up the capling, cradling it like a cat; it chirped ecstatically, snuggling close to her and dropping its arrow. “They hunt in packs, you see. There are dozens of them around us. A pack this size can easily take down a large prey animal. Or a human, they tend to get any of those that wander into the swamps.”

“…I’m just gonna get all kinds of sick of mushrooms on this trip, aren’t I?” Ruda asked darkly.

“He doesn’t…seem aggressive,” Gabriel said with some hesitation.

“Well, yeah,” Juniper replied, smiling at him over the capling’s head. “I’m a dryad. They’re fae creatures.”

“So you’re basically…what, their queen?” Teal asked.

“Eh…it doesn’t really work like that. But no, no fairy would attack a dryad. In fact, they’ll help us! This fellow and his pack will lead the way through this room. We’ll be out in no time!”

“Handy,” said Toby.

“Yup!” Juniper said cheerfully, holding the capling out at arm’s length and beaming at it. “They’re also really tasty, if—” She broke off abruptly, a sequence of emotions flashing across her face too quickly to be identified, then swiftly bent and placed the capling on the ground, turning her back to the rest of the group. It hopped up and down twice, chirping, then scuttled off down the path. “Come on,” she said curtly, following.

They moved off after her more slowly, keeping quiet. The rustling continued around them, but as the group proceeded, more caplings appeared, mostly clustering around Juniper up ahead. They were as varied in size and appearance as the mushrooms themselves, though none stood any higher than the dryad’s waist. The rest of the students hung back a bit, keeping Juniper and her new entourage in sight but maintaining a berth between them and the caplings, many of whom were armed with arrows and daggers—or spears and swords, as such appeared in their hands.

“Sooo,” Ruda said very softly after a couple of minutes, “we’re just gonna keep ignoring that, are we?”

“What?” asked Fross.

“I wish I had a better idea,” Toby murmured.

“She doesn’t want to talk about it,” said Gabriel, just as quietly. “I’ve asked. Weekly. It didn’t seem smart to push any harder than that.”

“I’m not sure we can afford to respect that forever,” said Trissiny, “or even much longer. Aside from the fact that she’s our friend, her emotional issues… Well, verbal outbursts can escalate into physical ones, and Juniper could cause a lot of damage.”

“Wait, what?” Fross demanded.

“Keep your voice down,” Ruda hissed at her. “And Boots, what exactly do you propose to do? It’s not like we can make her decide to open up. It’s like the old joke: Where does a dryad sleep?”

“Anywhere she wants,” Trissiny replied automatically. Abruptly, she came to a stop, letting out a startled laugh. “Oh! It’s a double meaning! Because dryads are promiscuous and too powerful to— I just got that!”

“I will never understand how someone so sheltered can be so stab-happy,” Ruda said wonderingly.

Shaeine cleared her throat. “As a point of reference, Juniper has mentioned that dryads can adjust the acuity of their senses. I would not make assumptions concerning what is and is not within her earshot.”

The group fell silent at that.

“Hey, are you guys coming?” Juniper called from up ahead. “Don’t worry, they won’t bother you! You’re with me, after all.”

“Right,” Trissiny said more loudly. “Coming.” She suited the words with action, picking up her pace a little. The others followed, staying as close together as they comfortably could on the narrow path.

The mushroom forest was disorienting. Filled entirely with soft, rounded shapes and confusing patterns of dim light, it made it difficult to maintain a sense of direction. The path didn’t help, meandering here and there around giant mushroom stalks, pools of water and crags of broken stonework. Even time seemed to condense and distort in that mysterious environment, though it couldn’t have been more than a few minutes before another wall hove into view between the shrooms.

“Isn’t there supposed to be a boss or something?” Gabriel asked as they formed up in a cleared space in front of another door. Beyond this, yet another set of steps descended into darkness.

“Oh, there’s a big capling,” Juniper said earnestly, “the alpha of this pack. He’s sleeping, though.”

“We don’t get to fight the boss because he’s sleeping?” Fross asked incredulously.

“Okay, seriously, glowbell, you’re taking this dungeon stuff way too literally,” said Ruda. “Level bosses? Come on. Real life isn’t organized like that.”

“This isn’t real life,” the pixie said petulantly. “It’s a dungeon. There are traditions.”

No sooner had she spoken than there came a flash of light, followed by a cascade of sparks, and glowing words appeared on the wall to the right of the door:

LEVEL 2

Directly below that, in a small alcove in the stone, there came another spray of sparkles and tiny, plain-looking chest appeared with a soft chiming sound.

“Goddamn it, Tellwyrn,” Ruda groaned.

“I feel like that was flashier than it needed to be,” Gabriel agreed.

“Well, might as well see what we won,” Teal said reasonably, edging closer to the chest and keeping a wary eye on the caplings. Juniper was busily shooing them away; they seemed reluctant to leave her, but did begin trickling off, back into the mushroom forest. The bard knelt, opening the chest and rummaging around in it. “Let’s see…”

“Well?” Gabriel asked eagerly.

Teal stood up, grimacing. “My friends, we have triumphantly attained one plain steel dagger, fifteen silver coins with Professor Tellwyrn’s face on them, and a pair of pants.”

“Fucking Tellwyrn,” Ruda growled.

“…good pants?” Gabe asked hopefully.

“Eh.” Teal shrugged, holding up the garment in question. “Looks like corduroy, sorta like your coat. Wouldn’t match, though…at least I don’t think so. It’s hard to tell in this light, but I’m pretty sure this is…maroon?”

“Got ’em!” Fross zoomed over, making the loot disappear as she had the leftovers of their breakfast. “Cloth pants are caster gear, so… Shaeine, how are you set for pants?”

“Quite comfortably, thank you,” the drow replied placidly.

“Ugh, forget the goddamn pants,” Ruda said, rolling her eyes. “Let’s just get on with it. Hopefully the bullshit gets less shitty from here.”

Trissiny again led the way down. This flight of stairs ended in a landing below, turning a corner and obscuring their final destination from view. The paladin paused on the landing, waiting for the others to form up, before proceeding carefully the rest of the way.

Her caution turned out to be warranted. The doorway at the bottom of the stairs opened onto a semicircular space made of metal screens, with a curtain-covered door right in the middle. Torches provided a cheerful orange light, and there was a babble of voices and noise from beyond the metal barrier that sounded like nothing so much as a town square on market day. Trissiny had increasingly tensed as she drew closer to the bottom, though, as had Toby, and upon stepping onto the flat ground, the others could immediately tell why.

A figure had stood from her perch on a stool beside the door at the sound of their approach and was watching them eagerly, if rather warily, as they all piled out of the stairwell.

“Hello, hello!” she said, regarding them with what was probably meant to be a warm smile but came out looking rather predatory. “Welcome, welcome, travelers, to Level 2!”

“Um,” Teal said hesitantly, peeking out from behind Toby’s shoulder. “What…what is that?”

The woman wore a plain and rather shabby dress that seemed to have been hastily assembled from sackcloth, but no one paid that any mind. She was human in proportion, but thick, glossy growths of some kind of carapace covered her lower arms and legs, making her limbs look rather like crab pincers, complete with blunted claws on her fingers and toes. A similar growth covered her forehead, stopping just above her featureless, pitch-black eyes like a helmet, and plates of the natural armor protected her shoulders. Her skin, where the carapace didn’t cover it, was subtly textured with a pattern rather like a snake’s scales. A short, thick tail waved behind her, and she hunched slightly at the elbows and knees, as if her armor plating prevented her from fully straightening the joints.

“That,” Trissiny said grimly, “is a hethelax demon.”

“That?” the hethelax asked wryly, tilting her head. “Well. You’re not as ill-mannered as some adventurers, though frankly that isn’t saying much. One of Tellwyrn’s bunches, aren’t you? I’ve not seen you before, you must be the new— Holy shit, is that a dryad?!”

“Well, look who’s popular,” Ruda said, jabbing Juniper with her elbow and grinning.

“Gabriel, stay at the back,” Trissiny said curtly.

“For fuck’s sake, what is it with you?” he snapped. “I’m not going to run off and join—”

“That isn’t what I was concerned about,” she shot back. A subtle golden light rose up around her, clinging close to her armor.

“Ah,” he said sheepishly, shuffling backward. Trissiny’s aura expanded as he moved out of the way.

“Whoah, whoah, cut that out,” the hethelax protested, holding up a clawed arm to shield her eyes. “Damn Arachne and her melodrama, I would think people would start telling you lot what to expect down here. Will you please keep it in your pants? Level 2 is a safe zone!”

“A safe zone that has a demon for a doorkeeper?” Toby asked warily.

“Well, it is a demon level,” she said.

“I fucking knew it,” Ruda grunted. “Themed levels. Fucking Tellwyrn.”

“Weapons aren’t going to be effective, except mine,” Trissiny said, keeping her eyes locked on the demon. “Hethelaxi are all but indestructible, but not strong. Divine magic is—”

“Stop!”

The curtain was flung open and another figure stalked through, spiny wings flaring open to fill the space and block their view of the now-cringing hethelax. The new arrival wore a short, clinging red dress that concealed little of her milky skin, and a thunderous scowl.

“What is it with you University kids?” the succubus ranted. “Were you all raised in a barn? What has to be going on in your heads that you think barging into someone’s home and assaulting the first person to greet you is acceptable behavior? You!” She pointed imperiously at Shaeine. “Drow! You’re a cleric, I can feel it from here despite this thug in front flaring up. Are you Scyllithene or Themynrite?”

“I am a priestess of Themynra,” Shaeine said slowly.

“Good! C’mere.” The demon beckoned to her with a peremptory motion, tossing her head and sending red-tinged black curls cascading.

“You don’t need to do anything, Shaeine,” Trissiny said firmly.

“With respect, Trissiny, I think you are mistaken,” Shaeine replied, easing carefully forward through the group. “I believe I know what she intends. If you would kindly diminish your light somewhat?”

“I don’t see the point in this,” Trissiny muttered, but acquiesced, not taking her wary gaze off the two demons.

“It is a simple matter of theological and magical alignment,” the priestess said quietly, moving up to stand beside her. “The light given to you by the Pantheon burns all demonkind, but to invoke Themynra’s power is to call upon her judgment, and she accounts for much more than one’s plane of origin in discerning friend from foe.” She held up one hand, and a cool silver glow emerged from it, swelling outward to wash over the succubus and the hethelax cowering behind her.

The succubus shivered, rubbing her arms as if cold. “Ugh…that feels weird.” She fixed a steely gaze upon Trissiny. “Nothing like the judgment of a vengeful goddess, however. At this range that would burn my skin right off. Are you satisfied, cleric?”

“She’s a paladin, actually,” Gabriel said helpfully.

The demon’s crystalline blue eyes darted from the device on Trissiny’s shield to the same golden eagle on her breastplate, and she curled her lip. “Ugh. And an Avenist. We are quite simply not going to have any kind of a reasonable discussion, then, are we?”

“We don’t seem to be progressing in that direction,” Trissiny snapped.

“If I may?” Shaeine said politely, bowing. “We are quite in the dark as to this situation, madame…?”

“Melaxyna,” the succubus said with a smile. “Or Mel to my friends. A title is not necessary, but I am the boss of this level.”

“Yup!” said the hethelax from behind her. “Kill her for shiny loots!”

“And this is Xsythri,” Melaxyna said calmly. Her nimble tail lashed out, wrapping around one of Xsythri’s ankles and yanking her leg out from under her, sending the hethelax tumbling to the floor with a squawk.

“Charmed,” said Shaeine. “This is—”

“Child, I truly do not care,” the succubus interrupted. “You’re here, and you’ll be wanting to continue your little adventure. That is what’s important here. Well, come with me, then.” She turned and sashayed back through the door, flicking the curtain out of her way with a contemptuous gesture.

“I do not like this,” Trissiny said darkly. “I can feel demons…everywhere.”

“Like I said,” Xsythri snipped, “it’s a demon level. Well? C’mon in if you’re coming.” She ducked through the curtain after shooting Trissiny a dirty look.

Trissiny drew in a deep breath and let it out through her teeth. “…right. I guess there’s nowhere to go but forward. Stay behind me.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, unclench for two seconds,” Ruda snorted, shoving out from behind her and swaggering forward. She ducked through the curtain. Trissiny darted after her with a guttural noise of frustration, leaving the rest to follow.

Beyond the curtain, demons were indeed everywhere.

Level 2 appeared to be a single, wide-open space, lit by an assortment of bonfires and free-standing torches that added both heat and a smoky, sour smell that seemed to suit the chamber’s inhabitants. Off to the right of the entrance were pens and cages containing a number of non-sentient demon species, as well as a constant caterwauling of their various cries; another hethelax, this one male, was trudging along between the rows, carrying a hefty broom. Running toward the opposite side of the chamber from that were what appeared to be free-standing market stalls containing a variety of wares; roughly-painted signs advertized food, alchemy supplies, weapons, poisons and other gear. Left from the door was a space clumsily walled off by scraps of wood, metal and canvas. In the far corner stood an enormous black arch, rigged up to rusted-looking modern enchanting equipment, which was clearly a portal of some kind. The hulking form of a baerzurg demon stood before this, fiddling with the machinery. As the students stared around, a pack of imps, horned ape-like creatures no bigger than the smallest of the caplings, darted past them, snickering. Other demons went about their business on all sides, most pausing to inspect the new arrivals, though none approached.

“Holy shit,” Gabriel marveled. “It’s…it’s a village.”

“It’s a little slice of hell,” Trissiny grated.

“It’s a peaceful place, at least so far,” Shaeine said firmly. “I approve of caution, but let us not initiate needless hostilities.”

“Well, do come on,” Melaxyna called from up ahead. Directly down the open center of the big chamber, a throne was set up opposite the door, almost to the far wall. It towered over them, reached by a short flight of stairs; the whole thing was roughly-carved from faceted obsidian and haphazardly draped with a length of red velvet, an effect which was at once barbaric and quite striking.

Melaxyna sat upon it, smirking down at them with her wings arched behind and above her. Xsythri stood off to one side, plated arms folded, staring at them impatiently. Two hellhounds sat upright on either side of the throne’s steps—actual hellhounds, not khankredahg demons. They were slim, sleek and might have passed for coal-black racing hounds if not for their ridged horns, flaming red eyes and the outsized talons which sprang from their paws. As the students watched, one yawned, emitting a small puff of flame.

“Come, come,” the enthroned succubus called out brightly. “Welcome to Level 2! Make yourselves at home, do some shopping, avail yourselves of any of the many amenities we offer. Only respect the peace and order of this place while you’re here…if you know what’s good for you. We have a great deal that should be of interests to a wise adventuring party. Xsythri will be only too happy to escort you around!”

The hethelax snorted so hard they could clearly hear it across the room.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Ruda muttered, folding her arms. “At some point in our oh-so-dangerous dungeon crawl are we maybe going to get to fucking fight something?”

< Previous Chapter                                                                                                                           Next Chapter >

6 – 6

< Previous Chapter                                                                                                                           Next Chapter >

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

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

“How is it?” Toby asked warily.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Everyone stared at her in silence.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Any advice?” Toby asked lightly.

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

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

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

“After you,” Trissiny said sharply.

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

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

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

“Cheerful,” Gabriel commented.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Last I checked!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ezzaniel waited on the stone island while they all regathered.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Textbook dungeon dive!” Fross proclaimed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Always!”

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6 – 4

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Is that…safe?” Trissiny asked tightly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes, that’s us,” said Teal.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Instead, there was a bronze statue of Arachne Tellwyrn.

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

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

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

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

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

“Lovely,” Toby muttered.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why would I?” he demanded challengingly.

“Are you serious?”

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

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

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

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

Trissiny sighed. “Thanks.”

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

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

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

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

< Previous Chapter                                                                                                                           Next Chapter >

6 – 3

< Previous Chapter                                                                                                                           Next Chapter >

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

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

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

Ruda groaned.

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

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

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

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

“That was Tanglish!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Right,” said Toby when nobody else replied.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Trissiny sighed loudly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Gnomes do,” Trissiny noted.

“So does the Empire,” Toby added.

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

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

“Do I look immolated to you?”

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

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

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

“And in appreciating history!” Teal chimed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Should we take the torches?” Toby asked.

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

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

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

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

“…what?”

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

“…what?”

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

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

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

“Yes! It was very informative!”

“Which edition?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh,” said Ruda. “Good.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Juno?” Gabriel called. “You okay?”

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

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

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

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

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


 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

There was a brief silence while they all digested this.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


 

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

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

“Astute as always,” Ruda muttered.

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s traditional!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Shut. The fuck. Up,” Ruda growled.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

They found themselves in a room full of monsters.

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

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

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

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6 – 2

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

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

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

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

“Good morning, gentlemen.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ah,” she said. “Dear me.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“We can help!” Fauna said eagerly.

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

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

Their faces fell. “But we can help—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Darling sighed heavily in annoyance.

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

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

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

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

“I just polished that.”


 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ah, very good,” Crystal replied.

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

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

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

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

“What happened to Grumpypants McPonytail?” Toby asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What does that mean?” Juniper asked finally.

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

They all nodded in unison.

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

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

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

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

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

“I hate you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That’s the Crawl,” Ruda said softly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


 

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

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

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

“Branwen?” he asked quietly, creeping closer.

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

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

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

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

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

“Branwen…”

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

Something rose up from within.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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Bonus #9: On Being a Man, Part 2

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A week was basically an eternity. Gabriel managed to go that long without having a complete breakdown, which maybe wasn’t so terribly impressive as he only really felt like doing that at about two in the morning when he was lying awake, staring at the ceiling. His father mostly let him be; Toby was clearly perplexed by his newly surly disposition, but after a gentle reminder that Gabe could talk to him about anything, didn’t push. Toby was always understanding that way. For once, Gabriel actually felt grateful that his entire social circle consisted of two people. While he occasionally missed the opportunities to eyeball the girls in his former class, it wasn’t as if his fellow students had ever gone out of their way to make him feel welcome, and right now he definitely didn’t want to deal with their crap.

It was a week after he walked out of the cafe, leaving Madeleine behind, that he received a note from her, delivered to his home and distinctly smelling of her perfume. Jonathan handed it to him with a faint, knowing smile—not an amused or teasing smile, just knowing, which almost made it worse. It came right at the point where his resistance was weakest, and Gabriel couldn’t help wondering if she had timed it that way precisely…and if she had, where she’d learned to do such things.

He had told Madeleine he needed to think, and he’d spent the week doing exactly that. He had nothing to show for it. Exactly what he felt toward her was impossible to sort out; one minute he thought he might be in love with her, another he felt certain he’d just been overwhelmed by a pretty face and an impressive bosom whose owner favored tight bodices. Not to mention the comforts of her lifestyle. He couldn’t make head or tail of her motivations, either. Did she truly just like him? Was she up to something? If so, what could it possibly be?

He couldn’t think of anything anyone would want him for, diabolically speaking; it was the children of spellcasting demons who made prodigy warlocks. What use was there for a half-hethelax, who had no gifts but nigh-invulnerability and an urgent need not to lose his temper? The problem was that he didn’t know, and didn’t dare to research it. Even asking those questions would be enough to raise the kind of alarms that resulted in a visit from Imperial Intelligence. Could he be rendered down for reagents? Demons were, by nature, magically reactive… Horrifying as that idea was, Gabriel couldn’t envision Madeleine’s treatment of him leading in that direction, even at his most paranoid. Someone who wanted to cut him up would just have snatched him off the street; as much as he roamed around the Wide Spot, these days often alone, it wouldn’t have been hard.

Hours of pacing the alleys and his room, going round and round this way, led him nowhere, until he finally decided he had no choice but to bite the belt and reach out.

“And that’s pretty much where I am,” he said, the day after receiving Madeleine’s letter. He’d been pacing back and forth as he recounted the last part of his story, and now came to a stop, shrugging helplessly.

Toby nodded slowly, looking earnestly up at him from his seat on one of the stone benches. Technically they were trespassing, but the owner of this building was out of the city at present, and had never been particularly uptight about the two boys sitting in his rooftop garden before; they’d always been careful not to make a mess or disturb anything. It was quiet and out of the way, and more to the point, one of the few places now where Toby could be free from both the monks of his order and journalists or other curiosity-seekers.

“Sounds…confusing,” he said.

Gabriel rolled his eyes. “Yeah, I’d say that about bloody sums it up.”

“Well…how do you feel?”

“Um…confused? Weren’t you listening?”

“I was.” Toby shook his head. “It sounds to me like you’ve been trying to think this thing through. Which, yes, is a good idea, especially given the risks. But on the other hand… Has this Madeleine ever given you a reason to think she’s up to no good? Or is that just a fear? That makes all the difference, Gabe. If you’ve seen a real warning sign, that’s cause to stay away from her, I think. But if you’re just being afraid, then you may be blowing something possibly very good for no real reason. What you feel is pretty central, then.”

“How I feel?” Groaning, Gabriel sank back down on the bench opposite him. “I feel like I’m self-aware enough to know I’m an idiot about girls. I don’t think I can trust my feelings. All they tell me is ‘smell pretty, look pretty, cuddly soft and wow those boobs.’ None of that is particularly helpful, y’know?”

Toby laughed. “Fair enough. Yeah, I know the feeling… Sometimes you just have to make the mistake.”

Gabe sighed. “I don’t…know if the risk is worth it, though.”

“Well, what is the risk? What do you think she’s going to do to you?”

“I don’t know! But just because I don’t know what she might do doesn’t mean there’s nothing!” He sprang to his feet and resumed pacing. “Toby, it’d be one thing if she wasn’t bothered by me being a half-demon. That would be awesome. But she was…she was interested. And she knew what hethelaxi are. Do you see why that might concern me?”

“Well,” Toby said, not trying very hard to repress a grin, “don’t rule out that she just has a very interesting fetish.”

Gabe stopped his pacing and glared down at him. “That’s cute. Real classy, man.”

“Sorry,” Toby said, openly laughing now, but holding up his hands in surrender. “It’s just… In seriousness, that’s not unlikely. Never underestimate the appeal of a bad boy.”

“I’m a bad boy?” Gabriel snorted.

“For someone who hasn’t grown up with you? You’re a demonblood from a poor neighborhood. That might be plenty bad enough for a sheltered rich girl, which is how she sounds to me. Gabe, I’ve actually done some reading about hethelaxi since Omnu called me. The Church has given me access to lots of material, and I thought… Well, I thought maybe I could stumble across something helpful.”

“Yeah?” Gabriel folded his arms, trying not to look interested. “Did you?”

“In this case? Maybe…” Toby shrugged. “You could say it’s good news. A hethelax isn’t a spellcasting demon, as—yes, I’m aware you know that, stop making faces at me. Warlocks who summon a hethelax are usually looking for muscle—that’s actually pretty common. Half-bloods sometimes end up doing that kind of work if they can get it. The Thieves’ Guild and the Army don’t want half-demons as a rule, but there are nobles and others who have money and no scruples. Half-hethelaxi are very useful brawn.”

“This is real fuckin’ cheerful,” Gabriel muttered.

“My point is, Gabe, that’s it,” Toby said, staring intently up at him. “Just like any other half-demon, they tend to get targeted by sshitherosz to become warlocks, but just because they’re outcast and emotionally vulnerable, not because they have more magical potential. You’re in no danger of that.”

“Yeah, I like to think I’m not quite that stupid.”

“So, no, I really don’t think Madeleine is likely to be…y’know, up to something. If anything, the fact that she knows a bit about demons is a good sign. A novice warlock might think you’d be useful to them for power; somebody who’s read up on hethelaxi would know better. It sounds like she really does just like you.”

Gabriel sighed heavily, dragging a hand through his hair. “Man… I just wish I could be sure.”

Toby nodded slowly, frowning. “Well… Hm. In the letter, what does she say she wants?”

“To talk to me,” he said, shrugging. “She wants me to meet her tomorrow. At the Falour Street market. Someplace nice and public, as she points out.”

“Okay.” Toby straightened up on the bench. “Then I think you should meet her.”

Gabriel frowned. “Just like that?”

“Well, not just like that. Like I said, I don’t think there’s probably any danger. But just in case…” He grinned. “It’s not like you have no way to protect yourself.”


 

He would have recognized her in the crowd even had he not been looking for her specifically. She was just… Madeleine. Her dress was royal blue—she favored blue—and her hair, that rich chocolatey shade just shy of black, tumbled down her back in curling waves. She wasn’t overly tall, and some might have thought her a bit on the plump side; the Avenic ideal favored a wide bust and hips, it was true, but it preferred them on a long, lean, muscular frame. For Gabriel’s money, though, she was the most perfectly beautiful woman alive.

That was why he was in such trouble.

She turned as he was approaching through the crowd. The the way her whole face lit up at seeing him made his heart stutter.

“You came,” she said quietly, reaching out to squeeze his arm when he got close enough.

He had to pause and swallow painfully before he could answer. “I… Didn’t come alone. So…yeah.”

Her expression fell slightly; the note of hurt in it made him want to kick himself right in the face for being such a heel, even as the paranoid little voice in the back of his mind wondered whether this wasn’t precisely the reaction she was trying to convey.

“Well, my dear, it’s not as if there aren’t plenty of witnesses here anyway,” she said wryly.

“Yes, that’s true,” he replied, unable to think of anything wittier. “It’s… I just… I’m really glad to see you.”

Her eyes lit again, and he began to have the strong feeling he wasn’t going to win here.

“Gabriel,” she said softly, “you haven’t told me more than bits and pieces about your life… Has it been terribly hard, having to hide? Are you constantly hounded by people trying to take advantage of you?”

“I…wouldn’t say constantly,” he said nervously, glancing around at the crowded market street. “Or…ever, really. I do have to be discreet, you know, but I don’t think anyone’s ever tried to use me.” He stopped himself barely short of adding before.

She gazed up at him, her expression serious and with that faintest tinge of reproach that made him feel like an utter ass. “Then… I’m wracking my brain trying to think what I’ve done to earn such suspicion, and… I confess I don’t understand.”

“It’s not…that you’ve done anything,” he said awkwardly. “It’s more that… No one’s ever done anything. I’ve never had a reason to…to talk about… That is, what I mean is, you’re the first person who seemed to think of it as a good thing. The only people who think positively about…well, you know, are… Well, you know.”

Madeleine raised one eyebrow, her perfect lips quirking in amusement. “Would you like to step indoors and talk? I know a charming little cafe not at all far from here.”

“I think…” He glanced around again. “I think it’d be better to stay in public. For now.”

“All right, then,” she said amiably, then raised her voice just a hair. “The thing about demonbloods—”

“Hsst!” Gabriel quickly shushed her, looking surreptitiously about. At least half a dozen people had turned to stare at Madeleine’s comment. Grabbing her by the arm, he ushered her quickly through the crowd to an open alleyway. Stacks of pallets and empty wooden crates filled it beyond a few feet in, but there was a little nook left clear near the opening. She allowed herself to be pulled along without protest. “Fine, you win,” he growled, pushing her in ahead of himself and sticking his head out to peer around.

“Gabriel, for heaven’s sake, stop looking shifty,” she said, amused. “That only draws more attention. We’re two attractive young people in a shadowed alcove; believe me, no one will question that, unless you act like you’re up to something.”

He sighed heavily, gritting his teeth. For having done the pulling himself, he had the distinct feeling of having been maneuvered.

“I understand your concerns,” she said more quietly. “Not having grown up with the pressures you have… Well, I can only imagine the things you have to worry about. But, Gabriel… It breaks my heart, seeing you so willing to give up on yourself.”

“Me?” He stared at her. “I’m not giving up on anything.”

“No? Yet after our conversation over tea, you seem to have decided I must be up to something insidious. Why?”

“You were…” He looked away, finding himself unable to meet those big blue eyes. “Madeleine, it’s not normal for someone to be happy when they find out your mother was a demon.”

“It is normal to be happy,” she said so fiercely that he turned back to stare down at her. She stepped in closer till their bodies were nearly touching, grasping him by both upper arms. “Everyone has the right to be happy! Even—no, especially you. After all you’ve been deprived of, don’t you deserve it?”

“It’s not about what I deserve,” he said doggedly. “Demons are incredibly dangerous. People are right to be worried about me.”

“Are you dangerous?”

“I… I could be.”

“Oh, Gabriel.” Her smile as achingly sad. “Your whole problem is that you couldn’t be if you had to. You’re the most harmless person I have ever met. The agonizing thing is how afraid you are of yourself. You’re not worried about me, my darling. You’re afraid of what I represent.” She lifted one hand to press her palm against his cheek. “The first person who’s ever told you it’s good to be what you are. That you deserve the same happiness, the same respect as anyone.”

“That… I don’t…that isn’t what…” He trailed off, finding no answer for her. In that lack of rebuttal came a new and deeply disturbing uncertainty.

Madeleine pulled back slightly, studying his face. “You want some assurance that I mean you no harm?”

“I…I guess… I mean, what could that be?”

“Come with me,” she ordered, smoothly stepping up next to him and sliding her hand through his arm. She led him back out into the street. “Now, where did you leave your father and Mr. Caine?”

He came to a dead stop. “I never told you who I brought with me.”

“Gabriel, dearest,” she said, smiling knowingly up through her lashes. “There are precisely two people in the world you could have brought as backup, which you say you did. It’s either them, or only one of them, or you were bluffing. I do hope it’s Mr. Caine, otherwise I’m afraid I’ve dragged you back out here for nothing.”

He sighed heavily. “It really doesn’t help that you’re smarter than me.”

“I really am not,” she said gently, pressing herself into his side in that extremely distracting way she had. “Just more accustomed to maneuvering. That’s what happens when you grow up around moneyed people. I’m sure I wouldn’t last a week in your life, either. Now, which way?”

Resignedly, he led her back up the street to where he’d left Toby and his dad lounging against the iron fence surrounding someone’s private yard. They both came alert at his approach, their attention fixing on his companion.

“Dad,” he said somewhat nervously. “Toby… This is Madeleine.”

“Glad to finally meet you,” Jonathan said calmly, offering his hand. Madeleine offered hers in such a way there was nothing he could really do except bow and kiss it. To Gabriel’s amazement, his father did so smoothly and without hesitation.

“The pleasure is all mine,” she said warmly. “Gabriel speaks glowingly of you both. And Mr. Caine, what an honor!”

“Oh, I’m nothing so special,” Toby said, smiling a little uncomfortably.

“You clearly are very modest, for being one of the most important people in the world,” Madeleine said with a smile. “Forgive me if you don’t prefer to discuss it, but I think you can perhaps help put Gabriel’s mind to rest. I believe he is worried I’m out to corrupt him or something. Tell me, isn’t it true that paladins can sense evil?”

“Um…’evil’ is a hugely subjective term,” Toby said carefully, frowning. “I can’t sense hostile intentions or differing philosophies or anything like that…which is most of what’s commonly called ‘evil’ end up being.”

“That has the ring of dogma,” Madeleine noted.

“Well, yes,” he replied with a sheepish grin. “The monks of Omnu are careful not to condemn anyone just for having different perspectives. But some things… Undead, demons, some kinds of spirits, yes. I can sense those.”

“Fascinating,” she said. “Are you certain? Have you ever encountered such a thing?”

Toby’s smile faded and he glanced around. No one was paying them any attention; his image hadn’t been widely circulated, and once he’d ducked the press, as far as anybody could tell he was just a teenager of Western descent in rather drab clothes. “After I was called… The Church keeps summoners on retainer. I was brought to a secure location and shown demons confined to spell circles, so I’d recognize the sensation. Yes, I’m sure.”

“I am glad to hear it,” she said, smiling. “And…?”

Toby smiled bad. “You seem positively lovely, miss, and about as evil as I am, I’d say.”

“Thank you, Mr. Caine,” she said smugly, smiling up at Gabriel. He had to smile back.

“So,” said Jonathan in a deceptively mild tone that Gabriel recognized with dread, “any particular reason Gabe thought you might have it in for him?”

Madeleine turned the full force of her smile on him. “I would say it is the result of a lifetime spent in hiding. He was, perhaps understandably, startled at being told that there is nothing wrong with being who and what he is. That perhaps there may even be advantages.”

Jonathan stared at her in silence for a long moment; Gabriel didn’t dare to speak. Toby glanced rapidly between the three of them. “That,” Jonathan said finally, “is a very dangerous line of thinking.”

“Dangerous doesn’t mean wrong,” Madeleine noted calmly.

“No, it doesn’t,” said Jonathan, his eyes boring into her. “It just means dangerous. No, it’s not fair, the way the world sees and treats Gabriel. It’s not right. But I’ve had a go at changing the world myself, and I know exactly how much the world doesn’t like that. I want my son to survive, and find what happiness he can. That means keeping his head down and not courting trouble.”

“It means being a second-class citizen,” she said grimly.

Jonathan transferred his gaze to Gabriel. “Yes,” he said softly, “it does. And I hate it so much that sometimes it could choke me. But I want him to live. If you stand up to the world, the world will put you back down. As hard as it can.”

“The world is changing,” Madeleine said, tightening her grip on Gabriel’s arm. “In a lot of ways. I happen to think that in the coming order, those who leverage whatever gifts they have will rise to the top. Your son is an extraordinary young man, Mr. Arquin, and it pains me how unaware of that he is. He could be destined for great things.”

“Mm.” Jonathan studied her face carefully. “How old are you?”

“Dad!” Gabriel burst out, mortified. Toby winced.

“Oh, my,” Madeleine said mildly. “How toweringly rude.”

“It’s just that I do recall, dimly, being a teenager,” Jonathan continued. “I wasn’t bad looking, if I say so myself.”

“I believe that,” Madeleine said sweetly.

He rewarded her with a ghost of a smile. “And even so, I couldn’t have dreamed of attracting the attention of a beautiful, wealthy woman in her…twenties?” She only smiled in silence, and after a moment he continued. “Between that and your…opinions concerning Gabriel’s prospects, I begin to see how he might wonder about your intentions.”

“Perhaps,” she replied, “you simply are so accustomed to worrying about his survival you haven’t had the chance to think about his prospects for having something greater than just existence. To answer your question, Mr. Arquin, I am far too young for you, and not too old for Gabriel. That is all that anyone needs to know.”

“Fair enough,” he said with a shrug. “As you said, though, I do have to think about these things. He’s a good boy, but it is somewhat odd that learning about his heritage makes you more interested and not less. You’re certain there’s nothing you’d like to tell us? Something that might explain your, shall we say, attraction to—”

“Have you lost your mind?” Gabriel burst out. “Do not talk to her like that!”

“It’s all right, darling,” Madeleine said, patting him on the arm, though she kept her eyes on Jonathan. “It’s a parent’s right and duty to be protective.”

“And there are any number of perfectly innocent explanations,” Jonathan said agreeably. “If you have a relative with a certain kind of bloodline yourself, for example…”

“Mr. Arquin, you seem to enjoy speaking bluntly, so allow me to do the same,” Madeleine said, her voice steely now. “Gabriel is, for all intents and purposes, as human as you or I, at least to look at. I have seen illustrations of full-blooded hethelaxi. Perhaps you, of all people, should think carefully before criticizing anyone else’s choice of lover.”

Everyone froze.

“Gabriel,” Jonathan said after a moment, meeting Madeleine’s gaze.

“Yes?” Gabe asked tensely.

Jonathan turned to look him in the eyes, finally, and smiled. “I like her.”


 

“But be careful around her,” he admonished as they walked.

Gabriel sighed. The sun was setting and they were finally heading home, having parted from Madeleine some time ago. He felt a great deal more at ease with and about her, but the tension between her and his father was clearly not completely in the past.

“I’m not going to bother explaining,” Jonathan continued, eyes on the street ahead, “as you clearly figured it all out. There are a few things that are…odd. Just speaking more generally, she’s clever and strong-willed, which characterizes the best women you can possibly get involved with, and also the worst.”

“As Toby pointed out,” Gabriel said, glancing over his shoulder at Toby, who was walking a few steps behind them, “it’s hard to imagine an ulterior motive for her. There’s almost no point in manipulating a part-hethelax. When they tested us at school they said I have pretty much the normal human aptitude for magic and no notable infernal gifts.”

Jonathan nodded slowly, making no reply. They continued on in silence for a while before he spoke again, his voice softer. “You’ve never asked me about your mother. I keep waiting for it, but you never have.”

Gabriel drew in a deep, slow breath and let it out just as slowly. “Is…there any chance of me meeting her?”

Jonathan shook his head. “I can’t imagine any situation where that could happen. If it looks like one is about to arise, you have my word I’ll give you as much warning as I can.”

“Do you think…I ought to know her?”

“I don’t know,” Jonathan said after a moment.

“Then, unless you change your mind, don’t worry about it,” Gabriel said firmly. “I know it’s been hard on you, Dad. Having me around, I mean. I figure talking about…her, and whatever happened between you, has to be rough. You don’t need any more stress on my part. And anyhow… I don’t really want to be any more in touch with that side of my heritage than I absolutely have to. Being Jonathan Arquin’s son is as much as I could want.”

Jonathan moved closer and threw an arm around his shoulder. “Madeleine and I agree on at least one thing, Gabe. There is nothing, not one damn thing, wrong with you. It’s the world that has the problem. You’ve gotta keep it in mind, got to be careful not to provoke trouble you’re not prepared to contend with. But don’t ever let anyone tell you you’re less than anyone else.” He stared forward as they walked, as if challenging the horizon. “Don’t you dare let them.”

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Bonus #8: On Being a Man, Part 1

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“It feels weird… I mean, it’s the least of what feels weird, but being at school would be something familiar, at least. The term’s starting and I’m not there. It’s like being adrift. A little something else about my life that’s different.”

“Man, you overthink everything,” Gabriel said, grinning and kicking an errant pebble out of the path. “My dad pulled me out of school and I am as happy as a shroomhead.”

Toby looked at him in surprise. “You? Why? Gabe, tell me you didn’t flunk out. Your grades—”

“Excuse you, I am an extremely mostly acceptable student,” Gabe said haughtily. “Nah, it’s just… Well, it’s not exactly a secret we’re friends, y’know? People would be after me to tell them all the juicy secrets about you, and Dad figured me being the center of attention was a bad idea for several reasons.”

“I suppose that’s logical.” Toby frowned. “I don’t like being the cause of upending your life.”

“Toby, seriously, you are the glummest human being alive. I am not in school!” Gabriel grinned hugely. “When Dad first said ‘tutor’ I was having visions of some hot blonde number in a tight little bodice like Mrs. Tanner used to wear—”

“What is it with you and blondes?”

“—and instead I got this beak-nosed old guy who smells like dust, I kid you not. I didn’t realize dust had a smell till I met this man. And even so, I can’t say I was disappointed, because hello, not in school!”

Toby kept his eyes on the sidewalk ahead of them as they approached the Omnist complex. He had resisted, thus far, efforts to have him moved into the main Temple of Omnu on Imperial Square, but felt it was coming whether he liked it or not. “So, uh, how is… I mean, your dad, how’s…”

“How’s he affording a tutor?” Gabriel’s smile rapidly diminished. “He just tells me not to worry about it.”

“And you left it at that?”

“Of course not. I kept asking until the answer turned into ‘don’t worry about it’ in his ‘boy I am not damn well kidding’ voice. That’s where I left it.”

Toby chuckled ruefully. “Even I wouldn’t challenge that voice.”

“What, you, the great and mighty paladin?”

“Gabriel, I’ve met Omnu, and I’ve met your dad. In my official opinion as his Hand, I can honestly say that Omnu is a safer person to have mad at you.”

The last vestige of Gabriel’s smile faded. “For you, I guess.”

Toby winced. “I didn’t mean—”

“It’s okay.” Gabe gave him a quick little smile. Then they had reached the gates of the monastery, where a small knot of monks in traditional brown homespun were trying not to look like they were waiting.

“Tobias,” said the man in the forefront, a middle-aged, hawk-nosed man whose black hair was no longer retreating and had been thoroughly routed. “Did you have a pleasant walk?”

“Yes, Brother Cavin,” Toby said dutifully.

“Very good,” the man said with a sharp nod. “Come, it is nearing time for evening prayers. Say good-bye to your friend.”

Toby gave him a polite smile, turning to Gabriel. “Well, guess I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“In fact,” Cavin said firmly, “you had better make it good-bye.”

Toby stiffened, slowly turning back toward him. “I don’t think I take your meaning, Brother.”

“This…acquaintance…has been good enough, I suppose, for a child. Indeed, it seems you have done your part to keep him out of trouble. Some trouble, from what we hear. But a time comes to put away childish things. It comes for all, but you in particular have your role in Omnu’s plans to consider.”

“You can’t be serious,” Toby said incredulously.

Cavin continued addressing him directly, not acknowledging Gabriel with so much as a look. “Tobias, we have made our views on this clear from the beginning. You must accept the reality of your changing situation, and your responsibilities. What you do and with whom you do it will reflect on all of Omnu’s people from now on. Now… Say good-bye to your acquaintance.”

Toby looked at Gabriel, who looked thunderstruck, then back at the implacable Brother Cavin. Then, slowly, his own shocked expression resettled itself into firm lines.

“Brother Cavin,” he said softly, “of what crime, precisely, are you accusing Gabriel?”

Cavin frowned. “It is not a question of what he has done, but what he is. The demonblooded—”

“That’s not the question I asked you,” Toby went on, his voice firming.

“Toby,” Gabriel warned, but Toby held up a hand to silence him.

“I am asking you, Brother Cavin, what grounds you have to stand in front of Gabriel Arquin and declare, to his face, that he is unsuitable company for a member of our faith.”

Cavin was starting to actually look unsettled. “It—Tobias, you are not just a member of the faith.”

“Am I not? Should I lord over the faithful like a Vernisite trade priest? Gabriel has been my best friend for years. He is one of the best people I know. If you are going to condemn him for an accident of blood, you’re on very dangerous ground.”

Cavin’s mouth hung open now. In the entire seventeen years of his acquaintance with Tobias Caine, the boy had never once talked back to him.

“The people of Omnu, above all else, are to show compassion,” Toby said, his voice pitched loud enough to resonate both on the street and into the courtyard of the monastery. “Care between living things is the stuff of which life is made. You taught me that; I am disappointed to see you’ve forgotten. I think you should go back inside and ponder it.”

Brother Cavin stammered in shock. “I—Toby, that—”

“Go!” Toby snapped, pointing past him at the monastery.

The monk gaped at him in silence for a long moment, before jerking in a half-hearted bow and backing away. He turned and strode off to the wooden doors of the monastery’s main building, pausing once on the threshold to glance back at Toby, then vanished within.

The other monks slowly trickled after him, though several gave Toby encouraging grins. “Don’t be out too long, Toby,” an older woman said gently, then gave Gabriel a quick smile before following the rest of the group.

Toby drew in a deep breath; it shuddered audibly on the way back out.

“Wow,” Gabriel said in awe. “That was… Damn. Are you sure… I mean, be careful, Toby. I don’t want you messing things up for yourself on my account.”

“Gabe, I’m sorry to burst your bubble, but that was only slightly about you.” Toby managed a shaky smile. “It was slightly about me getting out from under Brother Cavin’s shadow before he makes himself my personal agent or something, but mostly it was exactly what I said. Omnists are to be compassionate. We don’t make as much a thing of justice as the Avenists, but you can’t be kind without some basic grasp of fairness.” He paused, then reached out to squeeze Gabriel’s shoulder. “I’ve been your friend long enough to see the way society treats half-demons is messed up. And I can’t very well be the Hand of Omnu if I see something like that without trying to do something about it.”

Gabe squeezed his lips together, trying to fight back a grin and ultimately failing. “So… Do you actually have the authority to give them orders?”

“Eh,” Toby hedged, wincing slightly. “It’s not a doctrinal prerogative, but… Hey, if the Hand of Omnu gave you a direct order, would you say ‘no?’”

“Heh, is that a hypothetical question or am I gonna have to find out?”

“Well, if we’re talking hypotheticals… I’m not saying I can be bribed with pastry…”

Gabriel laughed aloud, a sound that was more relief than amusement. “See you tomorrow, then?”

“Yes,” Toby said firmly. “You will.”

He stayed to watch the Hand of Omnu re-enter his monastery before turning and heading back toward his own apartment, whistling softly. Not even the furtive watchers in the street spoiled his good mood. Ever since Toby had been called by his god, the both of them had drawn more attention and curiosity than either liked, and the countermeasures against it weren’t much better. People had quickly figured out to leave them both alone, due to a combination of the monks’ influence, Gabriel’s father’s firm hand in the community, and worst of all, a heavily increased Imperial presence.

Even now, he could see more soldiers patrolling the Wide Spot than it reasonably warranted, and even a woman in the ankle-length navy blue coat of Imperial Intelligence. Aside from its long cut, that coat was identical in style to those worn by the Army, but it meant so much more. Intelligence operatives didn’t gad about in uniform due to the nature of their work; the presence of an agent in formal attire as a message that whatever was happening was Imperial business and all those present had better mind their own. The pestering had thus been much less than it otherwise might have, but Gabriel wasn’t about to argue with his father’s wisdom in pulling him out of school.

On the other hand, he didn’t much care for being watched. It was a learned instinct.

“Hey, pretty lady,” he said impishly to the woman in the Intelligence longcoat as he passed her spot on the street corner. “Where do I get a coat like that?”

The look she gave him was a skillful blend of amusement and condescension. “You don’t.”

“Well, that’s okay, it was just a pretext to break the ice anyhow,” he said, stopping. “What’s the matter? Never been flirted with before?”

Her smile remained unchanged; he noted a little belatedly that it didn’t go anywhere near her eyes. She moved on hand slightly, drawing back the coat just enough to reveal the heavier-than-normal wand holstered at her belt. “Not twice.”

Gabriel coughed awkwardly and resumed walking, a little quicker than before.

Head down, he very nearly ran smack into the next woman he encountered, who was backing carefully into the sidewalk from an antiques shop. Gabriel actually (to his mortification), let out a yelp of surprise, having to dance awkwardly into the street itself to avoid plowing into her.

“Oh!” she exclaimed in startlement, whirling and dropping her shopping bags.

“Gods, I’m sorry,” he blurted. “I wasn’t watch…I just…I…”

At some point deep in the abyss of her blue eyes, he forgot what he’d been trying to say. They were exquisitely framed by dark lashes, set in a heart-shaped face that somehow combined adorably rounded cheeks with an almost elvishly pointed little chin. Her rosebud lips were strikingly deep pink against her pale skin; dark hair flowed around her visage like…like a… Gabriel found himself trying to concoct a poetic simile and shook his head as though to chase fog out of his eyes.

“Uh, here, let me help you,” he said, bending to reach for one of the fallen bags. He slowed in the process, nearly forgetting what he was doing again as he noticed the rest of her. She had the kind of figure that could have been described as “thick” or “curvaceous,” depending on how she carried it… And she carried it very, very well indeed. The sleek, tailored blue dress she wore did a lot to heighten the effect. He had never imagined a bosom like that could exist…

Well, that wasn’t true. He’d just never expected to see one in person. Not this close, at least.

“That’s…all right?” she said somewhat archly as the silence stretched out. “I guess I can manage?”

Gabriel flushed, realizing that he was half bent over, one hand outstretched toward her bags, face inappropriately close to her chest and unabashedly staring. Quickly he finished the motion, fumbling to snatch up the shopping bag and hand it to her.

The amused, knowing expression on her face made his flush heat to the point he feared combustion. Even so, he couldn’t stop looking. Those eyes… Five minutes ago he couldn’t have conceived of a pair of eyes that could draw his gaze away from such a pair of…well.

“Mm, well,” she said without reaching for the bag, perfect lips curling up in an impish smile, “if you’d like to make it up to me, you can help me carry those. My carriage is parked just around the corner.”

“Oh! Uh, sure, that’s… I’d love to! I mean, least I can do, you know. Nearly hit you and all. I mean, not hit you, but almost…”

“That’s settled, then,” she said brightly, stepping around next to him and tucking her hand into his free arm. He was instantly paralyzed; she had to tug gently to get him moving. “My name’s Madeleine.”

“Madeleine,” he breathed. “That’s…wow, that’s gorgeous.”

Her laughter was a delightful trill, like birdsong. “You’re too kind!”

“I’m serious. It’s really pretty.”

She smiled up at him through her lashes, an incredibly unfair maneuver. “And… You are…?”

“Oh! Uh, I’m, uh…”

“You’ve forgotten?” she inquired sweetly. “Take your time.”

“Um, Gabe. Arkriel. I mean, Gabwin…” He closed his eyes, gritting his teeth in mortification. “Gabriel Arquin,” he managed finally.

“You’re sure, now?” Madeleine asked, grinning openly. “You wouldn’t like to reconsider? I have time.”

“Positive,” he mumbled, flushing to his collar and probably lower. “I’m just… Sorry. Not good at… I, uh, don’t know what to say.”

“Try the truth?” she suggested.

“The truth… The truth is stupid.”

“Probably less so than you think. Try me.”

“…and embarrassing.”

“I would never judge you, Gabriel Arquin,” Madeleine promised, again doing that brutal through-the-lashes trick.

“…you are the most beautiful thing I have ever seen in my life and I cannot think with the words making right now.”

She laughed brightly. He could have listened to it forever.

“You just may be the sweetest boy I’ve ever met,” she said, eyes twinkling up at him.

“I’m quite serious,” he said, her encouragement doing wonders to repair his equilibrium. “I am extremely stupid right now and it’s all your fault. Well, mostly your fault. I was only slightly stupid before, I promise.”

“Well, that’s good to know,” she murmured. “A lady likes to be reassured that she can render a gentleman…stupid.” She hugged his arm closer, quite coincidentally pressing his elbow into the plushness of her breast.

Gabriel managed to freeze completely without losing his stride, nearly the entirety of his attention concentrated on that elbow. He felt like a hunter staring, frozen, at a grazing deer, afraid the slightest movement on his part would spook her into flight. He was young enough, yet, to think such a maneuver on her part could be accidental.

“Perhaps I should make it up to you, then,” Madeleine suggested, coming to a stop and causing him to do the same. Belatedly, he realized they were standing next to a late-model Falconer roadster. This was the first time in his life he’d been this close to such an expensive carriage, and he had almost no attention to spare for it.

“What’s that, then?” he asked dumbly.

“Would you be a love and help me with these?” she asked sweetly. He found himself obediently lifting her bags into the carriage and settling them on the passenger’s seat. It was a tiny little thing, with hardly room for two.

Madeleine climbed gracefully into the driver’s seat, producing the control rune from a pocket. “For being rendered stupid on my behalf. I feel I ought to give you a chance to show me how clever you can be. A gentleman deserves the opportunity to put on his best face in order to win a lady.”

“W-win,” he stammered, gazing up at her.

“Mm. How does tea sound?”

“…tea? Sounds…good.”

“Tomorrow?”

“Um… Tea tomorrow? I guess…”

“Splended,” she said, smiling mysteriously. “Four o’clock. Be here. Ta ta, Gabriel Arquin.”

She wiggled her fingers flirtatiously at him, and then the carriage was smoothly accelerating away with a whisper-faint arcane hum.

Gabriel stood on the corner, gazing after her. When he finally gathered himself enough to turn and head back home, he was whistling again, mostly as an exercise in self-control. What he wanted to do was sing.


“So what’s her name?”

Gabriel choked on a mouthful of stew, which luckily provided him with a priceless few seconds of coughing in which to formulate a clever reply.

He finally lifted his eyes to look at his father across the table. “…what?”

Jonathan Arquin was smiling at him, an expression just short of smugness. “Y’know, son, as much as you enjoy getting in trouble, I’d think you’d have learned to lie better after seventeen years. Come on, now, is it that you think I’m an idiot, or that you think I sprang up fully-formed and was never a teenager? It’s been two weeks. You’re constantly running off to mysterious assignations which I know aren’t with Toby. And if they are, well, that raises some questions about the dopey grin you’re always wearing.”

Gabriel dropped his eyes again at that, his expression sobering. His father didn’t know how on the nose that crack actually was. The reminder jarred him back to a semblance of control. “I don’t know if…if I’m ready to… Well. Introduce…um.” He trailed off. Well, a semblance was better than nothing.

Jonathan leaned back in his chair, the mirth slipping away from his face. He pushed aside his stew bowl and folded his arms. “Gabriel, I think it’s time we had a talk.”

“Oh, no. Oh no.” Gabe dramatically covered both his eyes with his palms. “Dad, I’m begging you, please. We have had the talk. It was every bit as hideously awkward as every joke about parenting in every story makes it sound. Let’s never, ever go there again.”

“Not that talk,” Jonathan said wryly. “No, I think we covered all the salient points that time. There’s more to all this than just…mechanics.”

“Dad, I swear by all the gods…”

“Shut up and listen.” He didn’t raise his voice or put any heat into it, but Gabriel knew his father’s tone well enough to tell when the time for slippancy was over. He lowered his hands, leaning back in his own chair and giving his full attention. Not without a dramatic sigh, of course.

Jonathan had paused, and was now gazing abstractly at the now-cold wood stove in the corner of their cramped little kitchen, gathering his thoughts. “Despite the best efforts of the Avenists,” he said finally, “women get put under a lot of pressure in our society. A lot of bullshit pressure, most of it. Wasn’t always this way. Your great-great grandfather was an actual, honest-to-gods adventurer, in a time when that meant something impressive. In the stories he used to tell, a good half the people in his field were women, and nobody dared show ’em a whit less respect than they asked for.” He shook his head. “You can pretty much tell things have changed. It’s like everyone turned a little bit Shaathist at some point without knowing how or why.”

He turned back to stare intently at his son. “You’ve spent enough time around other teenage boys by this point to have heard a lot of horsewash starting with ‘women are all.’ How they talk too much, how they manipulate men to get what they want, how they never say what they really mean and don’t make sense most of the time. The truth is… Well, there’s a lot of truth in all that.”

Gabriel cringed. “Ugh. Dad, every time I hear somebody say something like that I expect my old history teacher to pop up and smack ’em with a ruler.”

“Julin Avelea, right?” Jonathan nodded, eyes glinting approvingly. “I liked that lady. It was almost a shame you outgrew the levels she taught in. No, women really do have a tendency to do stuff like that, and the thing you need to keep in your mind is why. Fact is, women are taught from the cradle to be nice. They’re expected to be friendly, to be non-confrontational, nurturing. A woman simply can’t afford to approach problems the way a man does in this society. Unless she’s wearing Silver Legion armor, the best she could hope for is not being taken seriously. In some places—hell, a lot of places, that kind of thing could put her in real danger.

“In a way, you just might be better positioned to understand women than ninety percent of boys your age, Gabe. You’re under a lot of bullshit pressure, too. You know all about keeping quiet when it isn’t fair, when nobody else has to. Think about that when you react—no, before you react to anything a woman does. They’re nice because they have to be; they’re indirect because they can’t afford not to be. And it’s men who made up these rules. Far too many men see a girl’s smile and react like it means ‘take me, I’m yours.’ Most of the time, what it means is more ‘I’ve noticed that you exist, please don’t rape me.’ So yes, they play word games and mind games and whatnot, because what the hell else are they gonna do? Everyone has to live, and we don’t let women live fairly.

“There are two critical, very easy mistakes a man’s likely to make. The first is assuming he’s been promised something, or is entitled to something, when he’s been shown just a little bit of encouragement.” Jonathan’s eyes bored into Gabriel’s, his expression flat. “The second is trusting too easily that a woman’s manipulations are just harmless female hijinks, when there may actually be something sinister going on.”

Gabriel frowned. “…sinister?”

Jonathan drew in a deep breath and let it out as a sigh. “Gabe…you are who you are, and who you are is basically a good kid. But you’re also what you are, and… There are always going to be a lot of people looking to hurt you…and a good few people looking to take advantage of you.”

Gabriel stiffened. “Madeleine is not—”

“Easy, boy,” Jonathan said firmly. “I don’t know this lady of yours; I have no idea what she is or isn’t about. I want you to think about what you see and hear from her, understand? Getting to spend time around a girl intimately, especially for the first time… Well, if she’s anything like the girls I met at your age, you’re gonna find that huge swaths of what she says and does don’t make any damn kind of sense. That just means you’re thinkin’ about it from your perspective, not hers. Pay attention, try to understand where she’s coming from… And always think about what it means.

“A man who takes advantage of a woman and demands more than she’s willing to offer is less than a man. I’ve made my share of mistakes, but I know I’ve raised you better than that. On the other hand… Don’t be in a hurry to offer trust where trust hasn’t been earned. And don’t mistake pretty eyes and a soft body for rightly earned trust. Understand?”

Gabriel nodded, staring down at the table.

“Gabriel.” Jonathan’s voice was gentle, but firm. “I need to know if you understand what I’ve told you.”

Gabe lifted his gaze. “…yes, sir.”

Jonathan sighed again, running a hand through his graying hair. “All right. I know damn well it’s a bunch of theory and it won’t start making sense until after you’ve make a whopping big mistake or three. Just try to think back on what I said at that point, eh?” He huffed the soft shadow of a chuckle. “Well…anyway. Want the rest of your stew?”

Gabriel stared at his half-empty bowl. “I… No, thanks. I don’t think I’m very hungry.”


“I know I shouldn’t have told her off, but oh, she makes me mad! I mean, the catty little put-downs are one thing, but interfering with my dressmaker? There is a code. There are rules. For heaven’s sake, we are trying to have a society here!”

“Mm hm,” Gabriel observed.

Madeleine sighed prettily, cradling her teacup in front of her. “I know you must think me dreadfully shallow to care about these things, Gabriel dear, but… Such is the world I live in. If I don’t pay attention to it, it’ll eat me alive. Anyone’s world will do that, left unattended. You’re ever so tolerant to let me prattle on so about things that don’t concern you.”

“Mm hm,” he agreed.

She studied his face thoughtfully for a moment. “Well. I’ve decided to paint my teeth green and grow a second head. That’ll show them.”

“Good idea,” he said vaguely, gazing at a point over her left shoulder.

Madeleine remained quiet, simply looking at him with that thoughtful expression. After a protracted moment, Gabriel slowly turned his gaze back to her eyes.

“And…that last bit was a test to see if I was listening.”

“Bravo!” Her eyes twinkled with amusement, in that distinctive way they did that always made his heart flutter. No one else had eyes like hers. Not even close. “You passed. Belatedly, but still! That makes you more sensitive than most men.”

“Glad I have that going for me, then,” he said, trying at a light tone with only marginal success.

“Gabriel,” she said gently, “you have very kindly indulged my chattering all afternoon. It was probably easier, with you clearly being in another world. Would you like to share what’s on your mind?”

He dropped his gaze from hers, studying the tablecloth.

“I have never judged you,” she said quietly, “and never shall.”

He lifted his eyes again, meeting hers. There was nothing, for a brief eternity, except her blue gaze and the simple openness in it. The soft sounds of the upscale cafe around them seemed to fade into the distance. He had to forcibly jerk himself back to focus.

“I… There are things you don’t know about me.”

“We’ve known each other for…two weeks, yes?” She smiled lopsidedly, a mischievous expression he loved. “There are scads of things we both don’t know about each other. You can tell me anything you like, darling.”

He glanced around. The cafe was too perfect for intimate assignations to have been anything but designed for it. Tables were separated by thick walls which served as planters for enormously healthy philodendrons, their leafy vines crawling over decorative lattices and frosted glass partitions. The table was approachable only from the front; he could barely hear any of their neighbors, and couldn’t see them at all. It was a lovers’ place, a place for secrets.

Even so, he lowered his voice.

“I’m a half-demon.”

He had dreamed and feared saying the words for so long; now they hung in the air like a bad smell.

Madeleine just looked at him in silence, her expression not changing a bit. Gabriel met her gaze, shifting nervously in his chair.

Finally, when he was thinking seriously about getting up and fleeing, she spoke.

“What kind?”

Gabriel blinked at her. “Um… What?”

“I mean, what kind of demon,” she clarified. “There are several that are known to interbreed with humans.”

“You’re not… Surprised?”

“Oh, Gabriel.” Smiling fondly, she shook her head. “You mustn’t think I’ve been spying on you, but… Well, a lady gets curious about the gentleman with whom she keeps company. I have asked around a little bit, and people in your neighborhood are only too eager to talk about the resident demonblood.”

He stared at her. “You…you never mentioned…”

“Is there a reason it should bother me?” Her smile was vaguely feline. “I assumed you would tell me when you felt comfortable doing so. I’m very glad that day has come; I’m honored you would trust me. I am curious, though. What kind? It does make a difference, if I’m to know what to expect.”

He leaned back slowly in his chair, still staring at her eyes. “Hethelax.”

“Hmm…” Madeleine nodded slowly. “That’s good.”

“Good?!”

“Hethelaxi aren’t spellcasters,” she said, as calmly as she had discussed dresses and the tea, and more calmly than she’d related the would-be theft of her seamstress by another well-heeled young lady. “If you’d had sshitherossz blood, for example… That could be problematic. Young demonbloods who accidentally develop magical skills… Well, that kind of magic tends to land one in trouble, no? Hethelaxi, though, that blood won’t give you anything too troublesome. A bit of a temper, maybe, which I know by now you haven’t got. So… All you’ll have inherited is an allergy to divine magic, and a complete imperviousness to…well, everything else!” She smiled broadly. “A very fair trade-off, don’t you think? After all, what use it the holy light to someone who can’t be hurt?”

“You know your demonology,” he said quietly.

“I read.” Her voice had a faint edge to it now. “Demons, as I’m sure you’re aware, are quite dangerous. It seems only foolish not to know the basics.”

“You’re just so… So gorgeous,” he murmured.

“Well, it’s an abrupt change of subject,” Madeleine purred, “but I can’t find it in me to complain. Do go on.”

“So, just, perfect. Beautiful and poised and sexy and fun.”

“Excellent, just excellent. Continue, please.”

“And in addition to all of that, you’re…” He waved a hand, indicating the demurely tasteful cafe, the lace-trimmed napkins, silken tablecloth and fine china. “Riding around in that fabulous carriage of yours, eating in places I could never dream of affording… It’s been like a dream.”

“Well, not quite as complimentary,” she said dryly, “but I suppose it would be churlish to refuse even distant praise.”

“And with all of this,” he said, “it just hasn’t occurred to me to wonder what a woman like you would want with someone like me.”

“A woman. Like. Me.” Madeleine set down her teacup, interlaced her fingers and propped her chin in them, gazing at him. “If I did not know you were such a sweetheart, Gabriel, I might have to strain to think of a context in which that was a compliment.”

“You could have pretty much any man in the capital begging at your feet. And here I am, a seventeen-year-old kid from a rough neighborhood. I really am an idiot for not…wondering.”

“Oh, so now I’m too old for you?” She raised one sculpted eyebrow. “You’re backpedaling in very much the wrong direction, darling.”

“And you are deflecting,” he accused.

Madeleine shrugged. “If you must pry, I am still well on the right side of thirty. Perhaps I seem distantly sophisticated and mature to you, Gabriel, but the gap between us isn’t as great as all that. It will grow less significant with each year that passes.”

“Maybe I’m being unfair…”

“That seems to be a man’s prerogative, in my experience.”

“But,” he continued doggedly, “now that the subject is raised, I just can’t stop wondering what it is you might want with a demonblood.”

Madeleine unlaced her hands and reached across the table, wrapping her dainty fingers around his wrist. Her skin was silky, soft and cool. “A demonblood in general? I can’t imagine. But one demonblood in particular? Gabriel.” Her tone was soft, firm, coaxing. “I know it hasn’t been long. I know there’s so much for both of us yet to reveal. But please don’t think I don’t see you for who you are. There is so much to you. Such…potential.” She all but breathed the last word, gazing limpidly at him.

Slowly, very slowly, he pulled back, withdrawing his hand. “I…” Gabriel finally broke his gaze from hers. His movements suddenly awkward, he rose from the table. “I, um. Thank you for the tea, Madeleine. And the company. I’m… I’m gonna walk home. I need to think.”

“Of course, love,” she said sadly. Gabriel swallowed heavily, turned and shuffled off, shoulders hunched and hands stuck in his pockets.

Madeleine watched him go, waited until he was out the doors of the cafe and beyond sight of its plate glass windows before moving again. She delicately picked up a fork and speared a bite of frosted sponge cake.

“You think, my dear,” she murmured to herself. “So will I.”


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Bonus #5: Of Which Reason Knows Nothing

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“You can’t just say things like that!” Toby protested, looking furtively around. It was late afternoon, and plenty of people were about in the street, but none seemed to be paying them much attention.

“What?” Gabe asked, shrugging with an innocence spoiled by his grin. “It’s a compliment!”

“It’s not respectful!”

“Oh, come on, all I’m saying is she’s hot. Where’s the harm in that? She’s not even my type, I like ladies with a little something to hold on to,” he said, leering and making a squeezing motion with both hands.

Toby slapped a hand to his face. “Gabriel, would you talk like that in front of her?”

“What, you think I’m an idiot?”

He didn’t take the bait. “If you’re talking about a lady in a way you wouldn’t be willing to say to her face, then it’s not a compliment and you know it. Mrs. Tanner’s always been nice to us; you should show her respect.”

“Bah,” Gabriel said, rolling his eyes. “You’re starting to sound like Ms. Avelea.”

“Uh huh, and how many times has Ms. Avelea been wrong that you know of?”

“About what, history? How would I know? All I know about it is from her class!”

“I…I just… That’s such a golden opportunity to make a comment about all you know about anything, but there are just so many I can’t pick one.”

“You’re a jerk,” Gabe said, elbowing him without rancor. “Get down off your altar, chorus boy. I’m a thirteen-year-old man who was not raised in a monastery. This is all perfectly natural, not that you’d know.”

“What I know is the phrase ‘thirteen-year-old man’ is wrong at least twice.”

“Oh, now you’re sounding like every teacher we’ve ever had. You can’t do this to me, Toby! Don’t join the adults! It’s us against them!”

Toby didn’t bother pointing out the contradiction in this, peering around again at the street. Still, they weren’t garnering much attention, but he had learned not to relax his guard around Gabriel. The combination of his friend’s seeming inability to keep his mouth shut and the prejudices of a fair number of people in the district could be dangerous. What would be laughed off as boyish hijinks from anyone else suddenly looked a lot more sinister coming from the neighborhood half-demon.

The Lower Middle Western Ward, commonly called the Wide Spot for no known reason except that nobody could be bothered with its official name, was a poor district, but not a rough one. Rather than criminals, it attracted more harmless undesirables—not the kind who occupied Drowtown, or Lor’naris as folk were calling it these days, but gnomes, dwarves, a few elves who dressed and acted “civilized” rather than in keeping with their own culture, and miscellaneous Imperial citizens who’d managed to make themselves unwelcome elsewhere. For example, by working in the the non-Vidian theater, or being a little too fond of glittershrooms, or siring a son by a demoness.

The streets were patrolled by both military police and Thieves’ Guild enforcers, both equally likely to smile and chat with the locals. Notably, most of the locals knew who the enforcers were, this was such a Guild-friendly district. People in the Wide Spot didn’t want trouble, and could get rid of it simply by pointing at it in the presence of a soldier or enforcer. Most adopted a live-and-let-live mentality, but more than a few had pointed at Gabriel over the years. Fortunately, Jonathan Arquin had had the foresight to approach both the Army and the Guild upon moving in, explaining that being a half-demon was neither illegal nor disruptive to business. The soldiers were more accommodating toward a man who’d once worn their uniform than they otherwise might have been, and the Eserites, despite not generally being what Toby would call ethical, were some of the least judgmental people in the world. Trouble didn’t tend to stick to Gabriel long enough to get serious, but it still fell his way even more often than he deserved. Which was saying something.

The Wide Spot contained shroom farms, at least one brothel, and money changers who were not attached to the cult of Verniselle, to name a few of its more unsavory features. However, it also had an Imperial Army police station, a fairly good Imperial public school, and of course the Omnist complex, incorporating a small temple, monastery and missionary office. It was a safe enough district for two boys to roam around in, but still interesting to make it worthwhile for them to do so.

Among its amenities was the misleadingly-named Tannery, the shop they now approached, its window display filled with jars of sweets. Gabriel actually grinned and rubbed his hands together before pulling the door open and stepping inside.

“Alms for the poor?” he cried out tremulously on the threshold.

Eshani Tanner smiled wryly at him from behind the counter. “If I see any, I’ll be sure to give. Hello, Gabriel, Tobias.”

Mr. Tanner mostly worked in the back, making sweets and leaving his pretty elven wife to man the counter, a tactic that had served them well in business. Gabriel was far from alone in his assessment of her.

“But look at the poor guy!” Gabe said piteously, shoving Toby forward. “They never give him any candy at that prison!”

Toby shot him a quelling look, which of course was ignored. Growing up in a monastery devoted to the god of agriculture, he’d been reared on the freshest produce available, and learned to enjoy it. He liked a little candy now and then—who didn’t?—but didn’t have nearly the sweet tooth Gabriel did.

“Hello, Mrs. Tanner,” he said politely.

“He’s wasting away!”

“I am taller than you,” he exclaimed, nudging Gabe right back.

“Hey, hey,” Eshani admonished gently. “No roughhousing, boys. Will it be the usual this week, or are you inclined to be adventurous?”

“Pfft, Toby doesn’t know the meaning of the word,” Gabriel said cheerfully, swaggering forward and opening his meager coin purse to extract his allowance.

“I know the meaning of enough other words to get by,” Toby retorted. “And to help you with your homework.” He stepped forward as he spoke, fishing out his own money. It would be preferable to collect his lemon drops and go before…

“Hey, guys,” said Raslin, entering from the back room with a crate in his arms. He set this down beside the counter, grunting. “Here you go, Mom.”

Eshani tousled her son’s hair affectionately with one hand, measuring out scoops of little yellow candies into two brown paper bags with the other. Raslin had her blonde coloring, though aside from being on the lanky side he looked fully human. He grinned at Gabriel, giving Toby a wink; Toby cleared his throat uncomfortably, averting his eyes.

“There you go, boys,” Eshani said, then paused, smiling, and tipped another couple of lemon drops into Toby’s bag. “For your poor, deprived nutrition, Tobias. And for Gabriel, for being such a good friend,” she added, giving him an extra couple.

Gabe gave her puppy eyes in return. “Oh, come on. I’m a better friend than that.”

“Gabe!” Toby exclaimed. “Don’t be greedy!”

Eshani, though, smiled at him, and added one more lemon drop. “And another because a lady always likes to be complimented. Most prefer to be complimented with a bit more grace, but I make allowances for a man of thirteen.”

Gabriel’s smile slid from his face. “I, uh… What?”

Grinning now, Mrs. Tanner tapped the pointed tip of her left ear with one finger.

Suddenly looking sickly, Gabe swallowed so hard it was audible even to those without elven hearing. “I, uh, I… Oh, look, somebody I…that…yeah.” He turned and bolted from the shop, leaving his coin purse and bag of lemon drops on the counter. Toby sighed.

Eshani Tanner, though, laughed. Then, to Toby’s horror, she flicked a quick, sly glance from him to Raslin. “Ras, would you mind finishing up here? I need to go check on your father.”

“Sure thing, Mom,” he said casually, stepping over to the register. Toby drew in a deep breath, mentally running through his calming exercises while the elf slipped out the back way, leaving him alone in the shop with Raslin. Why did it have to be so quiet? After the last time he’d promised himself only to come here during peak shopping hours.

Raslin was a picture of calm efficiency as he counted out coins and made change.

“Thanks,” Toby said quickly, gathering up both bags and tucking Gabriel’s purse into a pocket alongside his own. “I’ll just…take these out to him.”

“Of course,” Raslin said with perfect innocence, giving him a bland smile. “Will there be anything else, sir?”

“I, um, no thanks. See you in school, I guess.” He started to turn away.

The half-elf was over the counter in a liquid bound; for all that he looked human, he had speed and agility that was well beyond even Toby’s athleticism, and Toby had been practicing the martial arts since he could walk. Good as he was at grappling, he was thrown off his game by the bags of candy, one in each hand, and quickly found himself maneuvered against the wall of shelves.

Then again, perhaps he didn’t struggle as hard as he might have.

Jars of confections rattled as they struck; Toby had just barely started a protest when Raslin’s lips pressed against his own, and he completely forgot what he was going to say. The boy was a year older and a bit taller; he was slim, but Toby wasn’t exactly burly either. Rarely did he feel so overpowered. Never did he so little mind it.

It was an embarrassingly long few seconds before he twisted his head away, finishing that protest. “Someone will see!”

“Meh,” Raslin said expressively, giving him that wicked grin that Toby knew he shouldn’t find so beguiling before diving back in.

He struggled loose in breathless, half-hearted stages. “No,” he panted, finally wriggling out of Raslin’s grip and putting some space between them. “I told you…”

“And you keep telling me,” Ras replied with a languid smile, no longer chasing after him. “Yet, here we still are. Each time, you’re in a little less of a hurry to leave.”

Toby opened his mouth to reply, but found he had nothing to say. Ducking his head, he turned and fled the shop after Gabriel, the half-elf’s laughter ringing behind him.

“There you are,” Gabe hissed from the next shop down, beckoning him over. “Gods, did you stop to chat? I was about to go back in and fetch you.”

“No, you weren’t,” Toby snapped. “It’ll be next week before you have the guts to show your face in there again, which is your own fault. I warned you about that!”

Gabe reared back in surprise. “I… Well, yeah, okay. Sorry.”

“Sorry for what?” Toby demanded in exasperation. “You didn’t do anything to me except be embarrassing. Which I’m sadly used to. Here, take your junk.”

The other boy did so, frowning. “Hey, are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Toby said tersely, digging out Gabriel’s coin purse now that he had a free hand. “And here. You have got to start keeping track of your stuff, Gabe. I’m not gonna be around to hold your hand forever.”

“Man, what is it with you today?” Gabriel asked, exasperated. “Every time I turn around you’re sounding more and more like a teacher.”

Toby unconsciously scrubbed his mouth with the back of his hand. “Yeah… Well… I guess we have to start growing up sometime.”

“I think I was just talking about that very thing a little bit ago,” Gabriel said, popping a lemon drop into his mouth.

“Gabe, making lewd comments about women you know doesn’t make you grown up. It kind of does the opposite.”

“Spoilsport.”

“That’s not sport!”

He grinned. “Spoil…sin?”

“Well, yes. I am a monk.” After a moment, he had to smile back.

“Oh, good, you’re still here!”

Toby started violently; a couple of lemon drops spilled to the pavement. He whirled to find Raslin smirking at him.

“Oh, hey, Ras,” Gabe said a little guiltily.

“Gabe,” the half-elf said with a smug smile. “So, still drawing an allowance from your old man?”

Gabriel’s expression hardened. “What’s it to you?”

Raslin shrugged casually. “Hey, I’m the last person to make fun of a guy for liking candy. I mean, I don’t really plan on going into the family business, but it’s hard to argue with candy, right? Sweet stuff is always good. But man, wouldn’t you rather be earning some real money instead of mooching like a little kid?”

This was setting off all kinds of alarms in Toby’s head, but he found himself tongue-tied. The paper bag crinkled in his grip.

Fortunately, Gabriel wasn’t as dense as he sometimes acted. “Now hold it. I know this pitch; I’ve gotten this pitch before. Whatever you’re into, you can forget it, Ras. Some of us don’t have the luxury of getting tied up with the wrong people. I make one good mistake and my head’s on a chopping block under a blessed ax.”

“Come on, now, would I do that to you?” Ras asked with such an air of wounded innocence that Gabriel burst into derisive laughter.

“Man, you don’t need to call me stupid. Which you basically just did. What about you setting up Travis Bond to get in trouble for you painting on the school blackboard? And everybody knows about you ‘helping’ Faila Mavanour climb the clock tower to ‘see the city lights’ and then not letting her down till you got a kiss.”

“Okay, that did not happen the way she said,” Raslin said piously. “Girls have to be careful of their reputations. Sometimes they’re perfectly willing and then decide after the fact that they weren’t, when they’re telling the story. You want some good advice, don’t trust Faila farther than you can throw her.”

Toby forced his hands to relax, then forced the image of Raslin and Faila out of his head. That wasn’t helping his equilibrium any.

“All right, fine,” Gabe said, audibly skeptical. “But there are a dozen other stories like that. You’re kind of a snake, Raslin. I dunno whether this is one of your practical jokes or you’re actually into something illegal, but count me out.”

“Now, you hear that?” Raslin asked Toby. “This is the thanks I get. I promise you it’s nothing illegal, Gabriel. And as for jokes, I wouldn’t do that to you. Sure, some people are just asking to be taken down a peg, but us half-bloods gotta stick together. Am I right? I just thought you’d like a chance to make some real money, is all. A man should work for his keep.”

“I do work,” Toby heard himself say. “And I don’t need any more money than the monastery gives me.”

“Yes, Toby, we all know that,” Raslin replied with an exaggeratedly patient tone that stung Toby a lot harder than it should have. “I was talking to Gabe, here. Look, if you want in, you can join us at the old DawnCo factory at midnight.”

“Are you on the shrooms?” Gabriel exclaimed. “Midnight? And you’re asking me to believe this is legitimate?”

“All right, it is Thieves’ Guild business—”

“I knew it!”

“But! Not everything the Guild does is illegal, you know. They’ve got to do a lot of legitimate commerce, too. Stealing money and valuables is one thing; they can’t steal their supplies and equipment, or the people who make that stuff would all have it out for ’em. It’s just very basic warehouse work. Moving boxes around, that’s it. The Guild is just more comfortable working after dark and in private, is all. Smaller guys like us’d be relegated to sorting and counting, stuff like that. It’s pretty good pay for the kind of work, and a chance to make contacts.”

“Those aren’t contacts you need, Gabe,” Toby warned.

“Don’t I know it,” Gabriel said darkly.

“And,” Raslin went on patiently, “I get a bonus for bringing you in, so I’d owe you a favor.”

“I don’t…know,” Gabe hedged.

Raslin shrugged again. “Hey, the offer’s there. A few hours of work, twenty in silver.”

Gabriel’s eyes popped. “Twenty silver? Twenty?”

“The Guild can afford to pay well,” Ras said smugly. “And it’s good policy for them to keep their workers happy.”

“Gabe!” Toby said sharply. Gabriel glanced back and forth between him and Raslin, indecision written plainly on his features.

Raslin grinned. “Look, you don’t have to decide right now. Think it over. You want an easy payday and the chance of more in the future, just show up. DawnCo plant, midnight. Now, onto another subject, just what kind of compliments have you been paying my mom?”

Gabriel’s ears flushed bright pink. “Oh, I, um… Hey, I gotta get home, my dad’s waiting. Um, bye.” He turned and bolted off down the sidewalk, not waiting for Toby.

Raslin laughed with a derisive edge, his gaze growing sharper as he turned it on Toby. “He’s gonna find out sooner or later,” he said quietly.

Toby might have replied, or might not. All he was really conscious of was pounding off after Gabriel, getting himself away from there as quickly as possible.


The Wide Spot was one of the relatively few districts in Tiraas where it got significantly dark. There were still fairy lamps, of course, but only on the streets themselves. The buildings didn’t glow the way much of the city did; most of their inhabitants couldn’t afford fairy lights, and a lot couldn’t afford to burn candles or oil lamps after dark, either because the things themselves were expensive or because they had work in the morning and lacked the luxury of staying up late. All this made it an attractive district for after-dark shenanigans of various kinds. Of course, the people doing them also weren’t lighting any lamps, at least not where they could be publicly seen.

So, though Toby had never snuck out before, he didn’t find it hugely challenging. A lifetime of building a good reputation with the monks among whom he lived meant he had a good bit of leeway in his personal schedule. Getting out of the monastery was fairly simple, as was navigating the streets, which he knew like the halls of his own home. A few times he passed subtly moving shadows in alleys that were clearly people, and studiously ignored him. Not his business.

Everyone knew the DawnCo factory; Toby had been too young to pay much attention when it had closed, but that had been bad news for the whole district. The Wide Spot had recovered, mostly, people finding other work, but quite a few of them had to travel farther to get to it. To date, the old factory hadn’t acquired a new owner, but the residents were optimistic. Tiraas was a city which could not expand in terms of territory, and was expanding economically at a rapid rate. A valuable piece of property like that surely couldn’t go unused for much longer.

The factory was dark, too, and boarded up. Toby had to go over a fence (not hugely challenging) and in through a window whose wooden covering had been knocked very deliberately ajar, working up a good head of steam the whole time. He knew Gabriel well enough to know that his repeated entreaties that afternoon were going in one ear and out the other. Perhaps he could intercept his friend and get him to go home… If not—Gabe could be impossibly stubborn, usually when he knew he was in the wrong—he could at least stay and keep an eye out, make sure he didn’t get into more trouble than he could cope with.

For the life of him, though, he couldn’t find this alleged Thieves’ Guild meeting. The whole place was dark and silent. More than he would have expected even if he hadn’t known of a “job” being done here tonight; there weren’t a lot of vagrants in Tiraas, but no city this size was free of them, and an abandoned space like this should have played host to no end of squatters. He passed no one, though.

Toby cut short his exploration of the disused factory floor when a small light bloomed in the clouded glass windows of an upstairs office. It was more like a little cell than a proper room, reached by a rickety old flight of stairs and positioned to loom above the floor where enchanters and drudges would have labored over DawnCo carriages. He crossed quickly and quietly to the steps, glancing around as he went. Still no thieves. Still no Gabriel.

They creaked, of course, and even shifted slightly under his weight. Toby climbed carefully, though, and the steps didn’t seem to be in danger of giving away. That would have been a humiliating end to this venture. The staircase terminated above in a small catwalk, which itself led directly to the door to the little office. That door was ajar.

He pushed it open, peering carefully inside. The place was empty, dusty. Even the furniture was gone. There was nothing but the lamp, set on the floor… And Raslin.

“Took your time,” the half-elf said with that knowing grin that always set Toby’s spine tingling.

“I…” Humiliatingly, he had to pause and gulp. “Where is everyone?”

“Well,” Raslin drawled, taking a step forward, “home safe in their little beds, I should think. I sent Gabriel a note at his place that the job was off.”

“Why is the job off?”

“Toby, Toby.” Raslin shook his head, still advancing. Toby held his ground, his hear thumping so hard he was certain it must be echoing in the rafters. “I’m sorry for jerking Gabe around like that, but really? There was never a job. Be honest, how else was I going to get you alone?”

Toby tried to swallow again; his throat was too dry. He took a step backward toward the door. When had he stepped so far into the room in the first place. “I…think…I should go.”

“You probably should,” Raslin agreed, still advancing. He was almost within arm’s reach now. “But you’re not going to.”

“I…”

“Poor little monk. You won’t reach out for what you want, no matter how badly you want it.” And then he was there, close enough to touch. Touching. His hands on Toby’s shoulders, face drifting closer. “But you’ll always be there to pull Gabriel’s demonic butt out of the fire. This is for your own good, you know. Sometimes it takes a little manipulation to bring people out of their shells.”

“I don’t…”

“You can thank me later,” Raslin murmured, drawing him close.

Time stopped working; space was flexible. There was just warmth, intoxicating sensation. The half-elf’s lean body pressed against his, his own back shoved against the window, questing lips on his own. Raslin made encouraging little sounds; Toby found himself offering up his own.

Then he heard something that wasn’t either of them.

He jerked his head up, gasping for air and peering around. In an instant, all the heat rushed out of him, leaving him cold.

Gabriel stood in the doorway, open-mouthed.

“Oh,” Raslin said languidly. “Did I send that note? I meant to. Ah, well. Like I said…sooner or later.”


Sunrise over the city was beautiful, or at least it seemed like it should have been. Toby couldn’t remember seeing the sun actually come up. He didn’t exactly remember getting out of that factory, either, at least not with any clarity. Gabe had been blocking the only exit from the office… He must’ve gone past him. Pushed past? It was a blur. Toby didn’t particularly want to remember. He didn’t particularly want to think at all. Or to exist.

He’d be missed at the monastery soon, if he hadn’t been already. That should have worried him quite a bit. He found little energy to spare for it.

“There you are.”

Toby froze. Gabriel’s head had appeared over the edge of the roof, where the ladder connected. With a grunt, he tugged himself up, carefully lifting a covered basket and setting it down on the rooftop to finish clambering over, talking as he went. “There are exactly five places you go when you want to think, and you’re just lucky you’re only in the second one I checked. If I’d had to climb up onto all five bloody roofs before I found you, I’d have been downright cranky by the time I did.” Dusting himself off, he bent to pick up his basket again.

Toby swallowed, flexing his hands into fists at his sides. “Gabe…”

“Here.” Gabe crossed the roof in quick strides, not seeming to notice when Toby shied back. He plunked himself down to sit cross-legged and pulled back the cloth covering the basket; Toby barely registered the mouth-watering scent that suddenly wafted out. “Nice thing about being up at this completely stupid hour of the morning is you get first crack at the bakeries. Here, I managed to score some of those non-frosted apple raspberry turnovers you like so much. Yes, you do, don’t try to pretend you don’t. Can’t say I agree with your tastes, but I’ve seen you inhale them.” He held up a pastry, grinning. “…okay, and I’m not gonna be shy about eating my share. Dang, these actually smell a lot better when they’re this fresh.”

It was funny, what finally penetrated the fog that had been weighing down Toby’s thoughts. “I… Those are… How’d you afford this? Gabe, please tell me you didn’t steal these.”

“Nah,” Gabriel said, shrugging. “That might’ve been fun, but the last thing I need is a trip to jail. You just know I’d be caught the first time I ever tried to steal anything; that’s my luck. No, I had a little money tucked away. It’s no big deal.”

Toby looked down into the basket. He had two dozen of those turnovers in there at least; they weren’t cheap pastries. “A…a little? Gabe, are you… This had to have been your whole savings!”

Gabriel looked up at him, meeting his eyes for a moment, then dropped them to look out at the city skyline, shrugging again. “Yeah, well. I figured you’d need a little pick-me-up, after the night you’ve had. You’re worth it.”

Toby was horrified to find his eyes moistening. “Gabriel…”

“Don’t start gushing at me,” Gabe said irritably. “Sit your butt down and eat your breakfast before you faint and fall off the roof. They’ll totally say I murdered you.” He took an unnecessarily vigorous bite out of the one in his hand and began chomping defiantly.

Toby sat down beside him, reaching into the basket.

They’d had two each of the small turnovers before he could bring himself to speak. “I guess… I don’t know what to say. That’s not…how I would’ve wanted you to…”

“I’m sorry,” Gabriel interrupted, still looking out over the city.

“…you’re sorry? For what?”

“I guess I was kind of a… I mean, that was a surprise, you know? Standing there gaping like a fish was maybe not the nicest thing to do in that situation. Heck if I know what was, though,” he added with a chuckle.

Toby stared down at his hands in his lap. The crumbs clinging to his fingers were suddenly fascinating.

“Please don’t tell anyone.”

“Of course I won’t,” Gabriel said fiercely, turning to glare at him. “It’s nobody’s business! It’s not even mine. I’m just sorry I, y’know…found out. You obviously weren’t ready to talk about it yet. Though I guess we both know whose fault that was,” he added darkly.

Toby heaved a soft sigh. “That…he… Yeah, not one of my better judgment calls. I have no idea how I’m going to talk to the monks about this. If I even can.”

“How can they possibly have a problem?” Gabriel exclaimed. “I mean, come on! You know what the Izarites are always saying. ‘All love is good!’ And Ms. Avelea had a whole rant about this that one time, remember? Heck, Avei’s got a whole army of lesbos. This is the twelfth century!”

Toby shook his head slowly. “You remember Ms. Avelea having an unexpected vacation right after that rant?”

“…was that when that was? Stuff kinda runs together. I don’t pay much attention to teachers. You may have noticed.”

“I paid attention to that,” Toby said somberly. “That was the school administration making a gentle suggestion about what is and isn’t appropriate classroom material. Whatever the Avenists may think… There’s what the Empire thinks. What society thinks.” He stared at the horizon. “What the monks will think.”

“Are they not… I don’t really know Omnist doctrine about… Y’know, this.”

“It’s not about doctrine, it’s more about tradition.” Toby sighed again. “Omnu is the god of life, and agriculture. Y’know, fertility and stuff. The whole notion of sex is… It’s all about procreation. You grow up, you marry someone who can help you raise babies, and then you make some babies with them. Anything else is seen as…frivolous. At best. It’s not prohibited… But it wouldn’t be welcome.”

“Well, screw them,” Gabriel said with sudden ferocity. “Tobias Caine, you are the best human being I know. You’ve got more compassion than any six merely decent folks; you’ve basically kept me from getting beaten to death by our wonderful classmates just for existing, and don’t think I don’t know it. If the gods have a problem with you, then…then… Well, damn the gods! We are what they made us. Be what you are.”

Toby reflexively tried to warn him against blaspheming—a particularly dangerous thing for Gabriel—but couldn’t speak around the sudden lump in his throat. In all the years they’d been friends, despite all the disadvantages Gabriel faced, he had never once heard him complain about his lot. Gabe had never before expressed any resentment of the Pantheon.

Not on his own behalf.

“Still, though,” Gabe went on in a more moderate tone, then actually grinned. “Raslin? I mean, come on, man. The guy is a jerk. Please tell me you’re not actually surprised he’d pull a stunt like this.”

Toby grimaced. “I know. Believe me, I know.”

“And yet…”

“Okay, you know how Ami Talaari is a mean, sneaky, backstabbing bully?”

“Um, yes? Speaking as one of her favorite targets, I have managed to notice that.”

“Uh huh. And you know how she’s pretty and has got the most amazing boobs of any girl in our year?”

“…well, yeah.”

“So if she offered to make out with you for hours, no strings attached… Would you turn that down?”

Gabriel blinked, twice, then his lips started to twitch with imperfectly repressed laughter. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. I would never do such a thing.”

Toby gave him a look. “Gabe.”

“Oh, come on, we both know the truth. Just let me enjoy my high horse for a minute. How many times in our lives am I gonna be the one showing more sense and discretion?”

Toby had to laugh along with him. It was like a dam breaking; it all rushed out of him, and then they were both howling and doubling over, knocking the basket of pastries on its side.

“Okay, so, you do notice boobs, though, then?”

“Well, not the way you do, but… Those boobs? How could I not?”

At that, Gabriel actually fell over on his side, laughing so hard he could barely manage to breathe. It wasn’t more than a couple of moments before Toby was in similar straits.

It was as wild as the dawn, as warm as the sun, as healing as the divine light the priests of his order bestowed. Years of fear, anxiety and stress dissolved under the sheer force of laughter. It wasn’t even that funny… They just needed to get it out.

It was a long morning, spent talking, laughing and eating pastries until the sun was nearing its zenith, and eventually they both fell asleep on the rooftop—Toby too dark-skinned to burn, Gabriel basically un-burnable.

Anyway, the sun was Omnu. He relaxed back against the baking stone, in the company of the only two people he knew would never condemn him, more at peace than he had ever hoped to be.

Whatever came in the future, there would always be this.


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