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“Home, sweet home,” Gabriel groaned, carelessly heaving his suitcase through the open door of the first room he came to.

Tellwyrn had rented the entire top floor of an inn, giving the students a pretty comfortably-sized living space. In fact, there were four rooms surrounding a lounge area which contained a table and wooden chairs, as well as the stairwell to the three floors below. It was well-lit, the fairy lamps old and flickering, but the space dominated by a large bank of windows.

In fact, everything was old. The woodwork was pitted and scarred, the furniture ramshackle, the rug little more than a pancake of cobwebs with fond memories of having been dyed. One of the widows was, in fact, a board, and one of the others a pane of wavy, frosted glass that admitted light but didn’t provide much of a view.

“You’ll have to shuffle the room arrangements a bit,” Tellwyrn said brightly, standing with her back to the windows. It was still early enough—and cloudy enough—that the daylight framing her wasn’t adequate to cast her face in shadow. In fact, it was barely adequate for dramatic effect. “At least two of the privates will need to room with Juniper—”

“I bet all the privates would like to—”

“You can be vulgar on your own time, Miss Punaji. I am speaking.” Glaring at them over her glasses, she continued. “A certain amount of hanky-panky is to be expected. I don’t particularly care about that. Just be cognizant that there are people on the floors below you and try not to act like caricatures of college students. I don’t recommend advertizing your identities, but these things have a way of getting out. Some of you are rather distinctive.”

“If you don’t care about hanky-panky,” Teal asked, stifling a yawn, “why is Clarke Tower bespelled to keep boys out?”

“Kids,” said Tellwyrn solemnly, “in the course of my three-thousand-year career, I have traversed every continent, explored the Underworld as far as Scyllithar itself, spent years in the Deep Wild and ascended to the very edge of the atmosphere. I’ve fought in wars, started wars and ended them; I have met, befriended and battled gods, dragons, demons and monsters for which you know no description. I have mastered magics and fighting styles that each demand lifetimes of study, founded cities which are now only dust and memory, and in general participated in such adventures that my memoirs, should I ever get around to writing them, would effectively re-shape history itself. My very name is synonymous with chaos and belligerence. For all that, I know my limitations, and one task I am not foolhardy enough to undertake is to prevent a bunch of teenagers from going at each other like bunnies the moment my back is turned.”

“How,” Gabriel asked in awe, “can you be so talkative this early in the morning?”

“Clarke Tower is bespelled—as is the boys’ barracks, by the way—to minimize the chances of somebody ending up accidentally pregnant. Considering the political status of many of my students, that’s a scandal that could resonate across the Empire and beyond. The hope is that if you have to make plans and arrangements to play hide-the-wand, one or the other participant will remember to take some basic precautions. I do not care in the slightest if matching pairs of genitals are rubbed together in any configuration, and I’ve seen enough of you lot interacting with each other at this point that I know nobody here is going to get the wrong kind of lucky. So! Room where you like.”

“Wow,” Trissiny managed.

“Anyhow!” Tellwyrn produced a gold pocket watch and consulted it. “I have a breakfast appointment, which was the whole purpose of this excursion, so I’ll leave you to it and check back in this afternoon.”

“Wait!” Toby said as she started for the stairs. “What are we supposed to be doing? What’s our assignment for this trip?”

“You had to remind her,” Gabe muttered.

“Ah, yes. That.” The Professor smiled disarmingly. “The first part of your assignment is to figure out what your assignment is. Best of luck! As a personal favor, though, do try not to burn the place down; I like this inn. Cheerio!”

She bounded down the steps four at a time, her footfalls making barely a sound.

“I’m just a little bit in love with her,” Rook admitted after a moment.

“You, sir, are a weirdo,” Gabriel informed him.

“Gods, you have no idea,” Moriarty muttered.

“What I need,” said Ruda, “is to figure out how to tell when she’s fucking with us as part of one of her bullshit secret tests, and when she’s fucking with us just to fuck with us.”

“I believe there are elements of both in most if not all of her actions,” said Shaeine.

“Probably. Anyhow, speaking of you, I’m a bit sleep-deprived so I might’ve been hallucinating, but did anybody else notice that like half the people outside on the street were drow?”

“We’re in Lor’naris,” Gabriel explained.

“Uh huh. And what’s that mean when translated into words?”

“Actually, it’s called a lot of things,” he added, pausing to yawn. “It’s got one of those boring district designations I don’t even remember, but the main avenue is Firousi Street. Lor’naris is a newer nickname, from the last few years when all the drow who apparently don’t like living in Tar’naris moved in here. Most of the city calls it Freak Avenue.”

“Do they indeed?” Shaeine said quietly.

“Hey, I’m relaying information here,” Gabriel said, holding up his hands in a gesture of surrender. “As a long-time resident of the city. This district has always been a gathering place for people who don’t fit in elsewhere. Most of the non-humans and halfbloods and such, except the dwarves, who have their own district. I used to come here a lot when I was a kid, before my dad made me promise to stop. From what I understand, it’s actually a much nicer place since the Narisians basically took over the district.”

“Narisians are great at keeping things orderly,” Teal said, glancing at Shaeine. They exchanged a little smile and shifted their hands together, not clasping fingers, but lightly touching.

“Ugh,” Ruda groaned, “I insist that you two not be so adorable before breakfast. You’re gonna put me off my whiskey.”

“Sorry,” Teal said, grinning unrepentantly.

“Oh, don’t be so grumpy just because you’re pent-up, Ruda,” Juniper admonished.

“Allow me to hastily change the subject,” said Gabriel. “As usual, we don’t know what the hell Tellwyrn’s expecting us to do…”

“Oh!” Fross chimed, buzzing around the ceiling in a circle. “But if she put us here, there’s a good chance it’s drow-related!”

“That’s a logical conclusion,” Trissiny agreed, nodding. “So…any ideas where to start?”

“Yeah, I’ve got one.” Ruda yawned hugely. “With a fuckin’ nap.”

“I’m with her,” Gabe said firmly. “Wait, I mean… I agree with that. I’m not with her, in a bed sense. Not that you’re not pretty, Ruda! It’s just I’d rather not be stabbed again. I mean, not that—”

“Gabe.” Toby laid a hand firmly on his shoulder. “Stop talking.”

“…maybe that’d be best, yeah.”

“You can’t seriously want to sleep,” Trissiny complained. “We’ve just arrived in the capital of the Empire! And it sounds to me like we’re in one of the most interesting districts.”

“Yeah, and it’s probably not gonna burn down while we get the rest of the fucking night’s sleep Tellwyrn was in too much of a hurry to let us have,” Ruda said, turning toward another of the room doors. “Nighty-fuckin’ night, guys.”

“Perhaps some additional rest would not be amiss,” Shaeine agreed. “Especially if we are to be at our best when exploring the district.”

“Okay, here’s what we’ll do,” Juniper said decisively. “Boys in that room. You three guys can split between my room and Gabe and Toby’s, however you want. Fross, Ruda and Triss can room together, and that leaves the smallest one for Shaeine and Teal.”

“Wait, how come they get their own, oh, uh, nevermind.” Finchley trailed off, blushing. Teal blushed even harder, but Shaeine smiled slightly. There was something vaguely smug about it, unlike her usual little meaningless smiles. She’d been doing that a lot since coming back from break.

“I’ll help you unpack!” Fross declared, zooming into the room after Ruda.

“I can’t believe this,” Trissiny said aloud, standing still while the others shuffled off into their various rooms. “Nobody wants to explore? How much sleep do you all need?”

Toby cleared his throat softly. He was the last person aside from her left in the lounge. “I’m pretty well rested. If you want to go have a look around the area, I’m game.”

She gave him a long look, clenching her jaw.

“On second thought,” she said tightly, “maybe a little more rest wouldn’t hurt.” Trissiny turned and stalked into the room after Ruda and Fross, shutting the scratched old door with more force than it deserved.

As Toby stood there, staring at the door, a soft pattering sound began, and quickly swelled. In moments, sleet was peppering the windows. He stared out at the gloomy weather and heaved a sigh.

“It’s gonna be a long trip.”

 

Sleet flowed around her, deflected by the invisible shield of heated air she kept over her head. Tellwyrn had toyed with the notion of vaporizing it from the sidewalks in front of her, too, but had decided that would have been purely self-indulgent. Even the umbrella verged on too much; she had suffered much worse than cold and damp, and could have dried herself of within seconds of being back indoors, but she really didn’t feel like getting iced down this early in the morning. Walking on the slippery mess was no imposition to one blessed with elven agility, in any case.

She was the only person out and about, which might be typical for the hour, but in this case was undoubtedly due to the weather. It was a lovely neighborhood, a long double row of towering old brownstone townhouses, crammed closely together but each behind its narrow little garden. The gentle curve of the avenue, parallel to the city’s outer wall, meant the end of the street was always out of sight around a permanent bend, which was a nice trick by some city planner to ensure the fat cats who lived here wouldn’t have to see the hoi polloi in neighboring districts when looking up and down their own street. Every so often, at artfully irregular intervals, a building plot had been left, holding a small slice of park or a monument instead of a townhouse, serving to break up up the monotony.

It was actually rather peaceful. If one endured the cold and had some protection, the sound of the sleet was soothing, and trees, iron fences and eaves were taking on a surreal beauty as they were gradually encased in ice.

Thanks to discreet but clear street numbers, finding her destination was simplicity itself—luckily. There were places in this old city where one’s only hope for locating a specific home was getting very clear directions from someone in the know. Tellwyrn pushed through the unlocked gate, crossed the ice-soaked garden in three long strides and stepped into the shelter of the tiny porch.

She had barely tugged the bell rope when the door was pulled open, revealing a lean young woman in a Butler’s traditional suit.

“Good morning, Professor Tellwyrn,” she said crisply, stepping back and bowing. “Please, come in. You are expected.”

“I should hope so,” she replied, stepping inside. The Butler shut the door and cast a rapid glance over her; Tellwyrn could almost see her customary courtesies being frustrated. A guest who had just been out in an ice storm, yet wasn’t so much as damp and had no outer garment to take, must have been somewhat disconcerting. Her composure, of course, didn’t so much as flicker.

“His Grace awaits you in the dining room,” she said diffidently. “Breakfast will be served immediately. If you would follow me?”

Tellwyrn trailed after the girl, peering critically about. This place could have been lifted straight from a magazine illustration. The décor, the art, the furnishings… Its immaculate condition testified to the Butler’s touch, but nothing here evinced the slightest speck of personality. She knew a front when she saw one. Of course, given who occupied this house, that made perfect sense. The only unique thing about the Bishop’s residence was the low light. Even for this hour, it was dim; fairy lamps were present in abundance, but only one in the hallway was lit, and at a minimal level. This guy was comfortable working in the dark, then—which also made sense.

The dining room was more of the same: expensively but tastefully decorated, and as blandly impersonal as a museum display. Tellwyrn gave it scarcely a glance, fixing her attention on the man who rose from the table to greet her.

“Professor,” he said warmly, striding forward and taking her hand in both of his own. “I so appreciate you taking the time to visit me—really, it’s too generous. And in this hideous weather! I’d have taken no offense at all had you wanted to reschedule.”

“I never allow the weather to change my plans,” she said. “That just encourages it.”

He grinned with actual humor. Bishop Darling was a man to whom she’d not likely have given a second glance if she passed him on the street—which was probably the exact effect he was going for. A lean, fit man in his thirties, he was of average height, blue-eyed, his blonde hair just long enough to have been styled in a foppishly wavy coif. His suit was casual, but tailored and clearly expensive.

“Please, please, sit!” he said, ushering her to a chair and holding it gallantly for her. “Let’s get some hot tea into you. Price will have breakfast out in a jiffy.”

“Thank you,” she said evenly, watching him like a hawk as he strode around to seat himself opposite her. “Food can wait, however. I was offered a bribe for coming out here, I believe.”

“Ah, yes, of course. Price?”

The Butler stepped forward, holding out an antique-looking flat jewelry box, which she opened and extended to Tellwyrn. Within, on a cushion of black velvet, sat an incongruously cheap-looking necklace. Attached to a simple silver chain, it consisted of nothing but a few carved wooden beads, the largest of which was bound by a twist of silver wire to a lock of golden hair.

Tellwyrn very carefully lifted the charm from within the box, mindful of its great age. It wasn’t at all fragile, however; the enchantment on it was minor by modern standards, but sufficient to have protected it from the passage of time. She simply held it for long minutes, staring at it, lost in memory. The Butler stepped back, allowing her space; Darling held his peace.

Finally, she shook herself slightly, rousing from her reverie, and carefully tucked the necklace into her vest pocket, just over her heart.

“Well,” she said, turning a piercing look on the Bishop, “considering whose priest you are, I suppose there’s no need to ask how you acquired this. I would very much like to know from whom you took it, though. I’m quite curious where it’s been all these centuries.”

“I’m afraid I can’t tell you anything about its journey,” he said, spreading his hands apologetically. He seemed completely unperturbed by her stare, which was the one she used to control classrooms full of the Empire’s most dangerous teenagers. This fellow, clearly, had mastered the art of restraint, for all his apparently warm demeanor. “Except that most recently, Mary the Crow had it.”

Tellwyrn raised her eyebrows sharply. “You stole from the Crow? You surprise me, Bishop Darling. I didn’t come here expecting to be impressed.”

“Oh, wouldn’t that be a hell of a thing,” he said wistfully, as Price began laying out plates and serving scones. “They’d remember my name in the same breath as Foxpaw’s… But no, nothing so dramatic, I’m afraid. I recently asked for Mary’s input on a little problem I’m having. She demurred, pleading ignorance, but then nominated you as the leading expert on the matter. Then gave me that, said it was certain to get your attention.”

“I see. Well, this was worth the trip, to me, and entitles you to a few minutes of my time. So now we come to it. What would this ‘little problem’ be?”

He folded his hands on the table, for the moment ignoring his scone. “Khadizroth the Green.”

Tellwyrn raised an eyebrow. “And what business, exactly, do you have with Khadizroth?”

“Oh, none, I assure you. In fact I’d like nothing better than for him to simply go away and forget about me.”

“That’s wise,” she said, nodding approvingly. “I gather he has business with you, then. This should be a good story.”

“A fairly short one, though some of it might be news to you. Are you familiar with the Cobalt Dawn tribe?”

“I’m aware of them…or perhaps I should say I was. They make a convenient cautionary tale for my history class.”

“Well, it turns out a handful of them survived their attack on the Empire.”

“Oh, don’t tell me,” she groaned. “Khadizroth took them under his wing.”

Darling nodded. “What’s alarming is what he intended to do with them. He specifically rescued the children, and was having them raised with himself as their primary caregiver and role model. Once they were old enough, he intended to use the females to…produce more dragons. A lot of them. Ultimately, his plan was to have a force with which to challenge the Empire.”

Tellwyrn stared. “That’s…actually rather brilliant. Elves aren’t the most fertile race, but there are ways around that. Gods, if he could manage to produce just a dozen adolescent dragons, with him leading them… It would take multiple deities to put a stop to that. I doubt the Empire can yet field anything that could have handled it. To read between the lines, I gather this plan is not currently still viable?”

“Thankfully, no,” Darling said, grimacing and toying with his scone. “The two eldest girls were a little too old when Khadizroth took them in to buy into it fully. They smuggled the other elves away from him, hid them with other tribes, and finally fled themselves. From there they ended up in Tiraas, and then as my apprentices in the Thieves’ Guild.”

“And now, you have a green dragon who wants his property back.”

“Precisely.”

She drummed her fingers on the table. “…I gather that giving them to him isn’t an option.”

“No,” Darling said, and there was an undercurrent of steel in his voice. “It is not.”

“Good,” Tellwyrn said with some satisfaction. “Well then, you do have a problem. I’m not sure I concur with Mary that I’m an expert on Khadizroth…”

“She did say that you’d bested him. Repeatedly.”

“Not alone.” Tellwyrn shook her head. “And that, I think, is the beginning of your difficulty. Your instincts are working against you here.”

“My instincts?” He raised his eyebrows.

“You’re an Eserite,” she said. “Unless I miss my guess, you’re thinking in terms of a long con. Trying to control information, use the dragon’s cleverness against him. Playing the game, in other words. Correct?”

“In essence,” he said slowly, leaning back in his chair. “That’s what we do.”

“And that’s your problem. As things stand… You and your apprentices are mostly safe so long as you stay behind the walls of Tiraas. Without his planned army, Khadizroth won’t risk his own safety against the might of the Empire. He’ll come at you through intermediaries, and none of the individuals who do that kind of work are crazy enough to pick a fight with the Guild. Conversely, there’s really nothing you can do to him, either. Do you even know where he is?”

“No,” Darling admitted ruefully.

“Right. So here you two sit, on opposite sides of a board filled with pieces you can’t even move. I guarantee the dragon’s patience is a lot longer than yours, Bishop Darling. Eventually, someone will have to give up their advantage and take some action. That’s likely to be you, and it’s all but certain to be your downfall.”

He was frowning now, but in thought, not dismay. “I see. What, then, are you suggesting?”

“Ignore your instincts,” she said firmly. “Don’t take him on alone. Make noise, Darling. Tell people what’s going on. This dragon was trying to raise an army against the Empire? The Empire will have very strong opinions about that. He was planning to use women as captive breeding stock? Elves or no, that’s exactly the kind of thing that drives the Sisters of Avei into a rage. They have brought down dragons, too.”

“I’ve been operating on the assumption that his interest in my girls is to find out what they’ve revealed, find out who else he has to silence. Keeping him in the dark on this matter is probably all that’s staying his hand.”

“You’re probably right,” she acknowledged, “but what do you really lose by forcing his hand?”

“I go from being a possible nuisance to a definite target for revenge,” he said wryly.

“True. But Khadizroth isn’t one of the more vengeful dragons; most of the greens aren’t. Once his secret is out, you become completely irrelevant. If he’s having to run and hide from a continent full of enemies… Well, they might actually do him in, but even if not, he won’t have the time or attention to spare for you. Better to be a target for revenge than one of active tactical concern.”

“Sounds logical,” he said, now staring at the far wall in thought. “A simple solution.”

“The best ones usually are,” she said with some satisfaction and took a bite of her scone.

“Yeah,” Darling said, then chuckled and shook his head. “And like all the best solutions, it’s not really a realistic option for me. The problem, Professor, is my apprentices. They’re Cobalt Dawn by blood, and… Well, without getting into the messy details, there are other concerns. Guild stuff, elf stuff, various miscellany. The point is, I really cannot afford to bring them to the attention of the Empire. Either Imperial Intelligence or the Sisters will need credible information to act against Khadizroth, and if I provide it… I place my apprentices at considerable risk.”

“Elf stuff?” she said flatly.

He gave her a disarming smile. “I don’t pretend to understand all of it. Suffice it to say, I can’t afford for those girls to become a pin on the Empire’s maps.”

“Mm. You sure didn’t bring me an easy one.”

“Well, it’s well known that you dislike being bored.”

Tellwyrn chewed a bite of scone for a long moment before replying. “Then I guess you were right to ask me. I can offer you some insights into Khadizroth that you may be able to use.”

“You are a gentleman and a scholar!”

“First of all, my original recommendation still applies. If you can’t bring official attention down on him, there are others who’ll help you. Since you somehow have Mary the Crow in your address book, by all means tell her about this, if you haven’t already. She tends to get very aggressive with people who abuse elves on a systematic scale such as you’re talking about.”

“Is Mary a match for a dragon?” he asked, clearly fascinated.

“I have no idea,” Tellwyrn said bluntly. “I don’t know if she’s a match for me, either. I don’t know if I’m a match for Khadizroth, because as I said, when I’ve had to tangle with him in the past, I always called in help. It’s all about maneuver, not force. Yes, I’m aware of my reputation and the irony, but when you’re talking about the affairs of gods and dragons and archfae—anything that deserves a Zero Twenty designation, really—different rules apply. We do not engage one another in destructive contests of power, nor enact grand plans to seize more terrestrial power than we need. Khadizroth clearly just did that last one, and in a way that’s likely to damage the reputation of all dragons—such as it is—should the story get out. Find and tell any dragon what he was up to, and he will immediately have problems of exactly the kind he was trying to inflict on the Empire.”

“Dragons, unfortunately, I do not have in my address book,” he said with a grin, then leaned forward, staring at her intently. “I wonder—”

“No, I will not take him on for you,” she said firmly. “I’ve made my own accommodation with the new order of the world, Darling. I perch atop my mountain and train my students, and the Empire tolerates me occasionally throwing my weight around because I’ve very carefully made it plain that I only do so when I perceive a real need. I’m not an adventurer any more, and acting as one would be a betrayal of the responsibility I owe my students.”

“I see,” he said regretfully. “Well, had to ask.”

“I’ll tell you what I will do for you, though,” she went on. “I know one dragon who’ll listen to me; the others will listen to him. Once I set that in motion, it’ll just be a matter of time before Khadizroth has far more important things than you and your apprentices to worry about.”

“That would be greatly appreciated,” he said fervently. “It surprises me to hear you have a dragon for a friend—though on second thought, I really don’t know why it should.”

“More a nemesis than a friend,” she said, grinning. “A three-thousand-year pain in the ass. Zanzayed was the first individual to cause me real problems when I… Well, that’s not important. We’ve been dueling off and on basically forever now. After that kind of time… Friends come and go, Darling, but the right kind of enemy can become more important to you than a lover. I don’t know what either of us would do if something were to befall the other at this point. When my husband died, it was Zanzayed who tracked me down and talked me out of doing something extremely rash.” She shook her head. “Anyway. Of course, I’ll have to find him first; I’ve not heard from him in a few years, and he does enjoy his intrigues. It’s likely to be months before I can get that in motion. You’ll have to cope in the meantime.”

“Zanzayed the Blue?” he said, tilting his head. “He’s in Onkawa.”

Tellwyrn stared.

“Or was a few weeks ago,” Darling amended, “pursuing some woman. I only know that by happenstance, but I do have access to intelligence reports. I can find out where he went after that, if indeed he’s moved on.”

“No,” she said slowly, “a few weeks is a fresh enough trail. Apparently it’s best if you don’t have the Empire looking into this matter, remember?”

“Quite so. That being the case, thank you very much for the help.”

“Then here’s what you should know about Khadizroth,” she said, pushing aside her plate and leaning forward over the table. “He has the capacity for subtlety, but for the most part disdains it. Sneaking around offends his sense of honor, and of his own majesty. If he feels you’re manipulating him…well, don’t do that, you don’t want him to start making effective use of his resources. If you’re careful, though, if you engage him directly, you can keep his attention focused and his actions relatively aboveboard.”

“I see,” he said thoughtfully. “The fellow sounds a bit like you.”

She raised an eyebrow.

“Sorry,” he said, smiling slightly. “But there it is.”

“Okay, I suppose I’ll have to grant you that,” she said ruefully. “The other significant fact about Khadizroth is that he’s a people person.”

“….oh?”

“Most dragons tend to regard the mortal races as beneath them. Some are relatively benevolent, though, and by and large, Khadizroth is one of those. He likes to attract and keep followers, and in fact has a knack for earning very real loyalty from the people with whom he surrounds himself. It sounds like your girls scattered the bulk of his retinue, but it’s best to assume he has devoted servants ready to throw at you.”

“At least one that I know of,” Darling said, frowning.

“It’s not all bad news. He recruits based on loyalty, not skill.”

“Yeah, that fits the guy I met,” the Bishop grinned.

“Khadizroth is, in his way, loyal to his followers. It’s very much the loyalty of an autocrat toward his country; filtered through his ego, but sincere. An attack on them is an attack on him, and in fact he may take that more personally than he would a direct strike against himself. He expects enemies to attack him, you see. Going after his people is dirty pool.”

“I see,” he said, wincing. “And…hypothetically, what if I already roughed up one of his servants? Possibly the only one he has left?”

“Then,” Tellwyrn said dryly, “that revenge thing is likely to be a higher priority for him than I previously suggested.”

“…bollocks.”

“Well, now you know,” she said lightly. “You might be able to make amends. I do encourage you to open a line of communication and keep it open until you can get somebody powerful on his scaly tail. Your best case scenario is to set enemies after Khadizroth without revealing you were behind it. He may be willing to negotiate an end to hostilities with you if he finds you honorable and has bigger fish to fry.”

“That may be a slice of pie in the sky,” Darling said, “the situation being what it is. If anybody gets wind of what he was doing with the Cobalt Dawn and comes after him for it, he’s going to have to assume I was behind that.”

“True,” she said nodding, “but as long as you keep it relatively polite, again, that’s just business as usual. If you’re a declared enemy, he’ll expect you to be hostile. He may still be willing to make peace and turn his attention to more serious threats.”

“Then it sounds like I have a working plan.” He smiled, leaning toward her. “I really can’t thank you enough, Professor Tellwyrn. I know this must have been out of your way—”

“Stop.” She held up a hand. “I’ll tell you what, your Grace. After this is over, if you and your apprentices are still alive and free, look around at your situation and decide whether you still want to thank me. You’ll know where to find me if so.”

 

After the Professor had left, Darling paced in his study, working off some of the tension. She had proven a lot more personable than rumor suggested, but the facts were what they were; Tellwyrn was by far the most dangerous individual he’d ever had under his roof, including the Crow. Mary, at least, was somewhat predictable. Her motives were understood.

Still, it had been well worth it. Tellwyrn’s information was extremely useful, and her offer to help had been more than he’d dared to hope for. Of course, he was still stuck in a contest of wills with a dragon. There was nothing for him to cheer over just yet.

Price cleared her throat softly from the doorway. “Would your Grace like a brandy?”

“Y—no,” he said. “No, Fauna lectures me enough as it is. It’s not even noon, Price. Honestly, I’m surprised at you. What kind of bacchanal are you running here?”

“As you say, your Grace,” she said, perfectly neutral and yet accusing. He grinned at her.

“Price, I have just had a thought.”

“Shall I alert the fire marshal, your Grace?”

“My, aren’t you hilarious. I’ve been thinking I needed to keep this dragon issue as strictly separate from the Archpope and his schemes as possible.”

“That sounds sensible, your Grace.”

“Mm hm. However.” He turned from her and began to pace again. “Based on Tellwyrn’s recommendation, I need to find something straightforward and aggressive to point at Khadizroth until she can get some other dragons to deal with him. On the other hand, the Archpope expects me to recruit and control some of the world’s most dangerous adventurers. My biggest problem there has been finding something for them to do; these aren’t people who’ll be willing to be put on retainer and sit around in pubs until they’re called for. And what, I ask you, is more of a classic task for adventurers than slaying a dragon?”

“I confess I had rather hoped your Grace would task them with the collection of proverbial bear rumps. I have an excellent recipe.”

Darling grinned fiendishly. “Sometimes, Price, when the gods smile on us, two problems are the solutions to each other.”

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“Rise and shine!” Tellwyrn crowed, throwing the door open and slapping the light switch.

Trissiny and Ruda were both on their feet in seconds, aiming swords at her.

“Congratulations, you two are officially the most alert residents of your dorm,” the Professor said, grinning diabolically. “I think Teal’s still not out of bed. You’ve got thirty minutes to be packed and at the Rail platform. We’re going on a field trip! Plan on at least three days away. Anybody not there will be teleported into place, no matter how unpacked or naked you are. Chop chop!”

“What…” Trissiny began.

“Time’s wasting!” Tellwyrn said cheerfully, ducking back out.

The girls looked at each other, then at the window. It was still fully dark outside.

“What the fuck.”

“….yeah.”

 

“But there was no announcement! This is unscheduled! There’s supposed to be an announcement of field trips at least two weeks in advance! It’s the rules!”

“That’s a policy, not a rule,” Tellwyrn said patiently, tromping through the dew-damp grass of the mountainside with most of the inhabitants of Clarke Tower trailing along behind her in various states of wakefulness.

“But—”

“Fross, what did I tell you concerning situations like this?”

The pixie emitted a discordant chime. “The rules are whatever you say they are,” she said fatalistically.

“Damn skippy.” Tellwyrn nodded. “Anyhow, this isn’t a completely anomalous situation; it’s not what you’re used to, but that’s because you’re new. I’ve been called away to consult on an academic matter; when that happens, I customarily consider which if any of my groups of little bastards would educationally benefit from a visit to wherever I’m going, and if there’s a match, they come along. This time, it’s you. Don’t you feel lucky?”

“Hoo-fuckin’-ray,” Ruda mumbled, then stifled a yawn.

“Where’s Juniper?” Trissiny asked.

“She’ll be along presently,” said Tellwyrn. “She needed a little extra preparatory time for the trip to Tiraas.”

“What?!” Fross shot four feet straight upward, sparking in alarm. “We’re going to Tiraas? You can’t take a dryad into Tiraas! It’s illegal!”

“Many years ago,” Tellwyrn said, “there was an actual Heroes’ Guild. They were quite the institution, really; the Guild Hall was one of the world’s great cultural centers. Of course, that was before the earthquake. It’s at the bottom of a lake now, which is a shame. Besides the loss of life, I mean; it was a beautiful structure. I always particularly enjoyed the frescoes inside the main rotunda. They were of scenes from legend, and portraits of the great adventurers and villains of the age, interspersed with calligraphic adages pertaining to the adventuring way of life. Naturally, my favorite part was the one that said ‘Never tell Arachne not to do something.’ Even painted my good side; nobody ever seems to get that right.”

“If you are quite finished publicly fondling your ego,” Trissiny said acidly, “taking a dryad into a major city is a terrifyingly irresponsible act. It’s considered a crisis when a dryad wanders too close to a village. The sheer horrifying number of things that could go disastrously wrong boggles the imagination!”

“You know, Avelea, you get positively poetic when you’re being pompous. Damn it, child, I have told you not to grind your teeth. Listen up, all of you: Juniper will not be unescorted. In addition to you lot, we’re bringing along the soldier boys, whose job will be to ride herd on her at all times. This project was cleared with Imperial Intelligence, agents of which will be shadowing your group.” She glanced over her shoulder at them, grinning. “So if any of you were planning to overthrow the Empire, pick a different trip. This, like Juniper’s very presence on this campus, is an experiment. We’ll have safeguards in place, but the whole point of her being here is for her to learn how to get along with mortal society. This had to happen at some point.”

“This is still a terrible idea,” Trissiny said.

“In the catalog of good ideas, few of them looked like such the first time,” Tellwyrn said airily.

“What’re you going to consult about?” asked Teal.

“Never you mind. Ah, here they come!”

Four figures were making their way down the hill after them. The campus’s three uniformed soldiers were easily identifiable, for all that their navy blue coats tended to fade in the pre-dawn gloom. With them was a young woman in a somewhat ill-fitting dress, at whom the students had to look twice.

“Wow, Juniper,” Teal said as they caught up. “You look…different.”

“This is awful,” the dryad complained, plucking at her skirts. She wore very typical frontier attire, a dress of conservative cut with a heavy shawl draped over her shoulders. Most strikingly, she now had creamy pale skin and brown hair. “How do you people move around with all this crap hanging all over you all the time? I can’t breathe!”

“You can’t walk around Tiraas in a sundress, is what you can’t do,” said Tellwyrn. “It’s winter.”

“The cold doesn’t bother me, I’m an evergreen.”

“Yes,” the Professor said patiently, “but you are passing as a human, which will not work if you prance about in the city’s characteristically miserable weather showing off half your skin. Remember what I told you, Juniper: you can’t let anyone know you’re a dryad. There’ll be a panic.”

“Maybe I could just stay here this time?” she suggested hopefully.

Tellwyrn snorted. “What is it you think Naiya sent you here to do? This is a golden opportunity for you to immerse yourself in human culture, get a feel for how they do things. Just remember your rules and be on your best behavior.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Juniper said glumly, making futile adjustments to her bodice.

“And you three!” Tellwyrn pointed at the soldiers arrayed behind the dryad. “You are not to let her out of your sight.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Private Moriarty said crisply.

“That means you’ll be rooming together, needless to say. I’m serious; this was a condition of Lord Vex authorizing this. She is to have Imperial escort at all times.”

Ruda barked a laugh. “Something tells me they’ll find ways to pass the time.”

“I resent the implication,” Rook said haughtily. “I would never take advantage of a lady caught in an uncomfortable situation.”

“Bucko, I think what’s at issue here is the lady will take advantage of you.”

“Yes.” He nodded emphatically. “And I am perfectly okay with that.”

“Where are those two boys?” Tellwyrn demanded.

“When we left the room,” said Finchley, “Toby was still packing and I don’t think Gabe was actually awake.”

The Professor grunted and turned to resume walking. “They have a couple of minutes, yet.”

“You look very nice, Juniper,” Shaeine said.

“Really?” The dryad looked forlorn. “I don’t think this coloring agrees with me at all.”

“With respect, I don’t concur. But then, I’ve been learning to appreciate the aesthetic of humanity.”

“Yeah,” said Ruda with a huge grin, “we all know you’ve got a thing for brunettes.”

Shaeine glanced at her and actually smiled slyly. Teal flushed scarlet.

“How’d you do that, anyway?” Trissiny asked, falling into step beside Juniper. “Is it hair dye and makeup?”

“Oh, no, that wouldn’t work on me. I metabolize pretty much anything, magical or alchemical or not. It’s an enchantment.” She wiggled her left index finger, on which was an apparently plain steel ring. “Professor Tellwyrn says I’m not to take it off until we’re back on the campus. Which is… I mean, it’s a little odd-looking, but it’s not so bad. It’s the clothes that are driving me bonkers. I know humans don’t wear them all the time. I can’t wait till we’re in whatever rooms we get. I’m gonna be naked every chance I get.”

“So the gods do love us after all,” Rook said tearfully.

Trissiny shot him a look. “Private.”

“Sorry, General.” He managed a halfhearted look of contrition and she sighed, but didn’t pursue the matter.

They walked through the silent town, conversation petering out. At the Rail platform, Tellwyrn planted her hands on her hips, peering about. “Well, time’s up.”

With a soft pop, two more figures appeared alongside them. Toby was upright and alert, leaning on his staff with a knapsack dangling from one hand. Gabriel was hunched in front of an open suitcase, which appeared in midair, having apparently been resting on something in its previous location. It thunked to the ground, spilling clothes, and he tumbled over sideways.

“Goddammit! Do you have to do shit like that?!”

“Did you think I was kidding?” Tellwyrn asked dryly. “Hope you’ve got everything you need, Arquin. Our caravan will be here momentarily.”

He muttered mutinously, getting up and surreptitiously rubbing his tailbone. “Well, Toby, this’ll teach you to complain about the weather in Tiraas.”

“Yep,” said the paladin wryly. “Back we go to the land of gloom and sleet.”

“Do you, like, lose your powers if you go too long without seeing the sun?” Ruda asked, sipping from a bottle of whiskey.

Toby sighed. “I hope not. If so, I have a feeling we’ll find out.”

 

“They’re gone.”

“Are you sure?”

“…no. No, I just rolled some dice and the omens portend that Tellwyrn has left the campus.”

The other robed, hooded figure stood up, turning its cowled head to stare at the one currently standing in the doorway.

“Yes, I’m sure,” she said sharply. “I watched the caravan leave. They’re halfway to Calderaas by now.”

“All right, all right, no need to get snippy. I think my concern is understandable. This is Tellwyrn we’re talking about.”

“Hm,” his companion said noncommittally, stepping back into the chamber.

It wasn’t deep into the Crawl, but the dungeon beneath the campus was supposed to be off-limits to students except during school-approved exercises. The students at this University being who they were, it was all but traditional for them to sneak in, using the space for various illicit purposes. Most of the corridors and chambers this close to the entrance were relatively secure, long since cleared of monsters and hostile magics, but they did tend to shift about from time to time. Not so dramatically that a person setting foot within was automatically doomed to wander in darkness forever…just enough to make it pointless trying to map the area. This place was the product of the same governing power that had made the Golden Sea; many of the same rules applied.

These two students were garbed in all-concealing robes of deep blood red. Heavy hoods concealed their features, complete with shadowing charms that made their faces invisible underneath. It was the kind of over-the-top getup used only by the most dedicated of cultists, and raw amateurs diligently imitating what they thought a dedicated cultist would do.

The woman paced slowly around the edges, studying the elaborate spell circle inscribed on the floor in faintly glowing enchanting chalk. The man had knelt again, applying the finishing touches to a glyph. Finally, he got somewhat awkwardly to his feet and stepped back.

“Well…there it is. Looks like we’re done. Ready to make a wish?”

“Are you sure you copied the glyphs correctly?”

“No,” he said, deadpan. “I just drew some squiggly lines. I thought they looked pretty.”

“All right,” she muttered. “I guess I deserved that.”

“As long as you’re aware of it. Here.”

She took the sheet of paper he offered, studying its contents. “Ugh. What language is this?”

“You know damn well what language it is. Honestly, what’s with you?”

“I’m stalling,” she groused. “Trying to convince myself this was a good idea.”

“Yeah? How’s that going?”

“About halfway there.”

“Relax, it’ll be contained in the circle, and the magic inherent in the Crawl will keep it from going far if it does escape. Besides, we brought insurance!” He drew a wand from within his voluminous sleeve and waggled it. “Nothing can go wrong.”

“Oh, now, you can’t just say things like that. That’s just asking for the fates to intervene!”

Both of them yelped and staggered backward away from the circle, boggling at the figure now standing within.

“By the way,” she said, grinning, “for future reference, just inscribing a summoning circle is enough to weaken the barriers of reality enough that something can slip through, even before you start casting. As a matter of general practice, it’s smarter not to stand around chitchatting in between steps.”

She was a woman, apparently human, in a slinky red dress with a matching floppy-brimmed hat over her dark hair. A bronze complexion offset the scarlet fabric pleasingly; dark eyes glittered with intelligence above a longish nose.

“…well,” said the man after a moment. He and his companion both had wands out and aimed at her. “That sure doesn’t look like a sshitherosz.”

“Aw, aren’t you sweet,” she said, fluttering her lashes flirtatiously. “I’m the lady in red. It’s something new I’m trying out. You like?” She spread her arms wide as if putting herself on display, cocking her pelvis to one side.

“Very nice,” he said approvingly. “I’d whistle, but you know, I’m not sure what that might mean in demonic and I’d hate to accidentally let you out of that circle. Meanwhile, here we are.” He looked over at his robed companion. “Can we keep her?”

“Kindly don’t be any more idiotic than you can help,” she said caustically. “Now how the hell do we banish her back to wherever she came from?”

“Well, as to that, you don’t,” the lady in red said languidly, waving a hand. Instantly, the white chalk lines on the floor blackened as if scorched, then sizzled away, filling the room with the smell of sulfur.

“Oh, shit,” the female student hissed. She managed to squeeze off two shots with the wand; both lightning bolts slapped harmlessly into the lady’s outstretched palm. Then, suddenly, both wands were bunches of tulips.

“Now, there’s no need for that,” said the lady reprovingly. “And here after I went to all the trouble to come visit you, and prevented the thing you were trying to summon from coming through. You’re welcome, by the way, since that circle of yours would not have held it. Seriously, do you know how many grammatical errors you made in those glyphs? Demonic is a language, not a set of spell components. How daft do you have to be to try improvising commands when you don’t even speak it?”

“You improvised?” the girl shrieked.

“Oops,” he said weakly.

“You need to have a talk with your buddy, here,” the lady said. “Rule of thumb: never leave the man to work unsupervised. Am I right?”

“If it’s not too impolite to ask,” the man said, edging toward the door, “who are you?”

“And what do you want?” the girl added tersely.

“Oh, I’m just sure you’ve heard of me at some point. Everyone has. Let me see if I can jostle your memory,” said the lady, smiling mysteriously, then dissolved in smoke. The reek of sulfur overpoweringly filled the room. Both robed students immediately whirled and sprinted toward the exit; the dilapidated metal gate slammed shut just as they arrived, causing them to smash themselves against it. Despite its rusted appearance, it was more than sturdy enough to hold up to the impact, barely even shifting in its frame.

“Now, now, don’t wander off. We have things to discuss, you and I.”

Both of them turned slowly.

She towered above, all but filling the room. Its ceiling didn’t seem high enough even to fit her, but she managed, as though space itself didn’t dare to inform her she was wrong. The face with much the same—lean, angular, sharp-nosed—but her skin was a dusky crimson now, her eyes swirling pits of orange flame. Horns sprouting from her forehead swept back over her hair, and her legs terminated in cloven hooves.

“Oh…well, then. Fuck,” the boy said weakly. The girl whimpered.

“Nobody’s ever happy to see me,” Elilial complained. “It’s enough to give a girl a complex. Ah, well, I’ll manage. Let’s talk about you.” She grinned broadly, showing off fangs, and both would-be summoners pressed themselves furiously against the gate as though trying to ooze through the bars. “Here you are, precisely like every lazy fool who’s come before you, looking to take extremely hazardous shortcuts to whatever it is you want and utterly failing to comprehend the cost. Oh, stop looking at me like that, you two, I’m not going to incinerate you or anything. In fact, that is precisely the thing at issue here. I promised dear Arachne I wouldn’t harm any of her students. Despite my reputation, my word is my bond.”

The two cowled heads turned toward each other, then back to the goddess. “Whatever you say,” said the boy.

“Oh, if you only knew how right you are,” she said, smiling broadly. “Now, we don’t need to go into the details of what you wanted with a sshitherosz demon. To be perfectly frank, I’m not interested. To yourselves, you are individuals full of hopes, ambitions and mitigating flaws, the protagonists in your own little stories; to me, you’re something for Arachne to do. Something other than sticking her spectacles into my business. To that end, here’s what I’m going to do for you.”

She folded her arms, still smiling smugly. “Of all the gifts of the infernal arts, all the boons that summoners call up demons to beg or demand, there are none more potent or more dangerous than knowledge. And so, knowledge you shall have.”

“W-what knowledge?” the young woman asked, very nearly masking a quaver in her voice.

“More or less all of it,” Elilial said, her grin widening again. “Oh, there are the standard exceptions, a few little tidbits I really can’t have mortals knowing. But aside from that? The dark arts, in general. The entire library of lore and spellcraft sought by diabolists. What I am giving you, countless others have sacrificed everything up to and including their souls to obtain, and precious few succeeded in their goals.”

Both figures had straightened slightly as she talked; even from within the all-enveloping robes, their body language betrayed their interest.

“That is…alarmingly generous,” the boy said slowly. “What is it you want in exchange for this?”

“Exchange?” she repeated, feigning confusion. “Why, I wasn’t proposing to make an exchange. This is my gift, children, free of charge, free of strings or stipulation. I snap my fingers and you go from zero to grandmaster warlock. Oh, there’s a hell of a learning curve, pun intended, and you’ll have a great deal of work to gather up your power—and, even more, to manage how to handle it without corrupting your mortal shells into uninhabitable husks. But the knowing how, that will jump you vastly farther ahead. Farther than the most ambitious should dare dream.”

“No. Bullshit.” The girl shook her head emphatically. “You’re talking sheer insanity. Nobody hands out power of that magnitude without getting something in return. If you’re not going to reveal the catch, I want nothing to do with this.”

“I’m very nearly offended,” Elilial said mildly. “I’ve told you my motives already. I am in the middle of something, and a handful of stubborn interlopers, including your charming professor, are increasingly determined to do something about it. I simply cannot spare the effort or personnel to go chasing down every last little threat to my plans. Thus, you.” She raised a hand languidly, inspecting her claw-like fingernails. “Have you heard the expression ‘power corrupts?’ It’s extremely true. So what do you suppose power over corruption itself does? I’ll tell you exactly what I gain from this arrangement, kids: Red herrings. Ticking time bombs. Mad dogs with torches tied to their tails, set loose in my enemies’ fields. You want to know who hands out vast quantities of unearned, unappreciated power?” A cruel smirk tugged the side of her mouth upward. “Someone who doesn’t care one little bit about the welfare of the person receiving it, or anyone they come into contact with.”

“And how do you know we won’t just use it against you?” The girl swatted him in the midsection with the back of her hand, eliciting a grunt. “Ow! What? It’s a fair question!”

“You could try,” Elilial said with amusement. “You’d hardly be the first. I really can’t express how little I worry about the revenge of mortal warlocks. Besides, you’ll be quite busy, you see. You’ve got to get through the remainder of your education here without Arachne sniffing you out and blasting you to atoms. Then make your way out there in the wide world, avoiding the many hazards that await the powerful. The Tiraan Empire is a dangerous enough thing these days that few if any high-level casters dare challenge it. There are no shortage of other members of the elite club you will have joined, most with power as great as yours and every last one with vastly more experience. Some will regard you as competition, some as a threat to the world. A highly capable druid, priest or even a mage might be able to make friends out there, but you will be hunted and alone, effectively at war with everything which becomes aware of you. Oh, the sheer wreckage you’ll cause in your desperate flailing… It positively chills the blood.

“Or,” she went on, looking viciously self-satisfied, “you could try to counter my plans with a little honesty. Take the gamble that Tellwyrn, or the Empire, or the Pantheon, or the dragons or fairies or anyone else, will give you a fair shake. That they’ll not react to you exactly as any sensible person would to Elilial’s chosen archwarlocks. When you get tired of trying to stay alive—and oh yes, my children, you will—go right ahead and roll those dice.”

“There’s a better option,” the girl said tightly. “We can counter your plans quite effectively by not taking the deal. Count me out.”

“Deal?” the goddess said softly. “My dear, sweet little poppet… No one is offering you a deal.”

She made no gestures, spoke no magic words; there was no visible spell effect, not so much as a puff of sulfur. Elilial simply stood there, smiling thinly down at them, but when she had done speaking, both students rocked abruptly backward as if struck, bouncing against the closed gate.

They crumpled slowly, the boy slouching against the doorframe and sliding down, the girl pitching forward, both clutching at their heads, their minds assaulted by unnavigable torrents of information. Very quickly, the effects escalated and they lost what remained of their footing entirely, their whole nervous systems faltering under the strain of absorbing impossible amounts of knowledge, delivered through a mechanism the brain was never meant to accept.

Elilial watched, her faint smile fading to impassivity, as the pair devolved into kicking, twitching messes on the ground, no longer consciously aware of her—or of anything.

“In a few weeks, or years, or however long it takes for your whole life to come unraveling around you,” she said softly, “and you’re cursing my name… Just remember, you are the brain who decided demonology was a workable shortcut to what you want. Dabbling in what you were… Oh, there are so, so many ways this could have ended so much worse for you. Then again, by the time you’re thinking about it, you’ll understand that full well.”

She turned away, then paused and glanced back over her shoulder. The boy had fallen mostly still, his breath coming in labored rasps; the girl was still twitching feebly.

“Believe it or not,” she said, “I actually am sorry. You’re a means to an end…eggs in a greater omelet than you can imagine. Somebody has to suffer. Might as well be you.”

She made a casual gesture with her hand as though drawing back a curtain, and stepped through. With no visible distortion in the air, she was simply, suddenly gone, leaving behind nothing but the acrid tang of sulfur and the two felled University students, just beginning to regather their senses.

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5 – 1

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Leave it alone, Gabe.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“My point stands.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Scowling, Trissiny put her hand down.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The dryad gaped at her.

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

“How do you know that?” Teal asked.

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

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

“You are flirting with blasphemy,” Trissiny warned.

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

“In what way?” asked Shaeine.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Every night,” he said, grinning.

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

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

“Uh…trans what?”

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

“I wasn’t going to yell at him!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“A what?” Trissiny exclaimed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How, exactly, do you kill a god?”

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

“…if that helps you, sure.”

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

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

“Don’t try it,” she added firmly.

Only silence answered her.

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4 – 21

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Debris crunched under Trissiny’s boots as she approached the Rail platform. Behind, Sarasio was relatively quiet—not the menacing, deathly silence with which it had first greeted them, but still a departure from the celebratory air of the night before. It had been a complicated evening, the hours immediately after the battle spent in damage control, healing the injured and mourning the dead. Still, all the action had left the townsfolk with energy that needed to be discharged, and there had been a veritable party at the Shady Lady lasting past dawn.

Thus, not only was Professor Tellwyrn’s intention of retiring right afterward thwarted, so was her plan of embarking on the Rails bright and early. It was mid-morning now, and Trissiny, like nearly everyone else, hadn’t managed much sleep. The students were still mostly getting themselves together in preparation for their departure. The citizens of Sarasio were more quietly adjusting to everything that had changed. There were few families without someone to grieve. The elves had quietly slipped away during the evening, but Robin, at least, had seemed optimistic that those who had come to help would be less standoffish in the future, and perhaps other members of the tribe would join them in the time.

Now, Toby stood alone on the Rail platform, beneath the tattered awning, gazing out over the Golden Sea. The Rail itself was inert; Tellwyrn had said a caravan was coming today to retrieve them, but not when. Trissiny climbed the short steps to the platform and went to stand beside him.

Toby’s expression was drawn and grim, more than simple fatigue should explain. She opened her mouth to speak, found she had nothing to say, and closed it, painfully aware of the silence. He hadn’t even acknowledged her, which was unlike him. Trissiny found herself thinking back to a few moments the night before when she’d spoken shortly to him in the heat of battle. Was he angry with her?

Then, finally, he glanced over at her and managed a weary little smile. “I’m kind of redundant, it seems. All the injured are doing very well. Those shamans do good work.”

“I always thought the plural was also shaman.” She immediately wanted to slap herself in the face. Why could she never find the right thing to say?

He chuckled. “You’re probably right… I’d have to look it up to be sure. More than an Omnist, right now, I think Sarasio needs a Vidian priest. Far too many dead.”

She nodded slowly. There just wasn’t much to be said in response to that.

Toby shook his head slowly. “I guess we must have a pretty different outlook on how things turned out here.”

“How so?” she asked quietly.

“Well… We won. It was an unquestionable victory in battle. I’m trying to be glad about that… I know I should be, given what was at stake. Things will be immeasurably better here, now, thanks to us. I just… I can’t think of anything but the dead, the injured, the grieving.” He fell silent, clamping his lips together firmly.

Trissiny drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Avei’s doctrine tells us that any contest of wills is a form of war, and the art of war applies to it. There are so many ways of engaging in warfare that don’t involve violence; violence is considered the least desirable, least honorable method. We view any situation that’s allowed to degenerate into physical violence as a failure.”

He looked over at her, surprised. “Really?”

“We fail a lot, of course. There are situations that are beyond our control… Situations that went bad before we became involved, or where the possibility of preventing violence simply doesn’t exist. And yes, sometimes, we just fail because we make mistakes. Avenists train and prepare for combat because it’s part of the reality of the world, and once it breaks out, it’s far better to win than to lose. But we don’t seek it. Our energies are devoted to preventing it from occurring whenever possible. A battle averted is a battle won by the only truly honorable method.”

“I never knew that,” he said quietly, again staring the horizon. “You see the Legionnaires guarding all the temples, hear the old stories about the Hands of Avei and their exploits…”

“Have you ever heard of Laressa of Anteraas?”

“Of course.” He grinned ruefully. “The Apostate, we call her.”

“We call her the Peacemaker. The only time Avei ever called a paladin who was a follower of a different god. The Omnist Hand of Avei lived in a particularly brutal time. She fought with diplomacy and trickery as her weapons, and the Sisters certainly questioned her strategies, but nobody ever claimed she was anything but a warrior. Her stubborn avoidance of physical combat is credited with a whole social movement that brought about a century of peace. Such things move slowly; she didn’t live long enough to see it, unfortunately.”

He nodded slowly. “I’m…sorry, Trissiny. I guess I misjudged you.”

“You’re not the first,” she said bitterly. “Or the tenth.”

Toby gave her another smile, and placed a hand on her shoulder. Even through the layers of metal, leather and cloth, she felt his touch like an electric current. “Sometimes it’s not so bad to be wrong. Maybe we’re not so different.”

“I think there’s a lot we have in common,” she whispered, turning to face him. She was aware, suddenly, of how close they were standing; it was a heady sensation. She felt she should be doing something…anything. She couldn’t think what, though, except to stare at his warm brown eyes. It almost seemed they were getting bigger…

No, Trissiny realized; she was drifting closer.

Then those eyes widened in sudden comprehension, and Toby moved backward with a speed that was just barely short of abrupt. He quickly schooled his features, but not quite in time to disguise a wince.

He’d moved back. And winced.

Something in her felt as brittle as old leaves.

“Ah, look,” he said, very carefully. “I think you’re a great girl, Triss…”

Everything after that was kind of hazy.

Darling was still more than a little bleary when he slouched into his smaller, more intimate parlor, guided by the scent of hot scones and tea. It had been a long night; even after dealing with the Beater, the Crow, the Jackal and the Archpope in that order, he’d had to go pull rank at the Temple of Avei to extract his apprentices. Unsurprisingly, the Sisters had reacted to the sudden arrival of three armed, self-described criminal elves telling conflicting stories by detaining everyone while they sorted out what was going on. Darling, Eserite or no, was a Bishop of the Universal Church and his say-so counted for something; he’d straightened that out, retrieved the girls and seen to it the Jackal was comfortably ensconced in a cell.

All this meant he hadn’t had time for much sleep, certainly hadn’t had a chance to sit down and process the Archpope’s revelations, and Flora and Fauna weren’t done being peeved at him yet.

“Good day,” Mary the Crow said politely. She was sitting cross-legged in one of the chairs around the parlor table. Not his favorite chair. She probably knew that.

He blinked at her, then shambled in and flopped down in his customary seat. “Morning. By all means, come on in. Make yourself right the hell at home.”

“Morning is nearly over,” she replied calmly, wearing a faint smile.

“Mornings are evil things,” he grunted, pouring himself a cup of strong black tea. “No decent person would be caught participating in one. Scone?”

“Thank you, no.” He began spreading butter on one in silence.

Mary waited until he’d had two bites. “Perhaps we should discuss last night’s events, Darling. I feel we’ve made some progress toward building trust. Or do you disagree?”

“Lady, let me get some tea and hot food in me, and then I’ll start determining what I think about anything. There’s a process. You don’t rush the process.”

From the doorway, Price cleared her throat softly. “Your Grace, you have…” She gave Mary an unreadable look. “…another visitor. Bishop Syrinx is here to see you.”

“How interesting,” Mary said, her smile widening.

“Oh, bugger it all,” Darling groaned. “Might as well show her in, Price, she’ll probably chew down the door or something otherwise.”

“Very good, your Grace.”

He managed to stuff the rest of the scone into his face before Basra arrived.

“Are you still having breakfast?” she demanded, sparing the Crow barely a glance. “How long have you been up? You look like death’s droppings.”

“Why, how lovely to bloody well see you too, Bas. Please, have a seat. How’ve you been? How’s the weather?”

She snorted, sliding onto the loveseat and helping herself to a scone. “We need to talk, Antonio. First, though, what are you doing with this here first thing in what I gather is still the morning for you?”

“Omnu’s balls, I just came downstairs and there she was,” he exclaimed. “What do you want me to do, put up a scarecrow?”

“Hnh. Maybe she can go play with the other elves while we talk?”

“They are at the Guild, attending to their training.” He grinned at her over his teacup. “So, no, the only elven ears in the building are the ones you see before you.”

“It may interest you to know, however,” said Mary calmly, “that your home is under Imperial surveillance.”

“Oh, that’s just Lord Vex’s way of beating his chest,” Darling said dismissively, though inwardly he wanted to curse. He hadn’t known that. It was something he’d have to keep in mind. “Ignore them, they’ll get tired and go away after a few more weeks of me being my boring self.”

“Seriously, though,” Basra said, staring at Mary. “Do you mind? We need to talk Church business.”

“I was here first,” the elf said placidly.

“All right, enough,” Darling snapped. “Don’t try to swim up the waterfall, Bas. If she wants to know what’s going on, she’ll find out. Better in the long run to work with her than against her.”

“I suppose,” Basra said grudgingly, then grinned. “And after all, it’s probably better that you get used to hanging around here, what with Antonio being your new boss, and all.”

Mary raised an eyebrow.

“Oh, yes,” Basra said with relish. “He’s been placed in charge of the Archpope’s adventurer program. No more running around the city taking them down one by one. Antonio thinks he can do it smart.”

“And Justinian agreed to that?” Mary said mildly. “You must have made quite an impression.”

“I capitalized on an opportunity,” Darling said wearily, setting down his teacup. “He pretty much had to give me something. I don’t think he’d planned on revealing all that he did so early; after we found out about the Jackal and burst in on him like that, he needed to offer something to keep us loyal. Even after showing us the Chamber of Truth and announcing his plans… Well, it was a show of trust and a bribe, sure, but it was crazy enough he still needed to coax us. You could have probably gotten something, too, if you’d thought to ask.”

“Well…damn,” she said, scowling now.

“And what plans are these?” Mary asked, in the same mild tone.

“Well.” Basra gave her an unpleasant smile. “It seems his Holiness aspires to universal apotheosis. He intends to elevate all of humanity to godhood.”

There was silence for a moment while Mary contemplated this. Her face, as usual, showed no emotion. “The reasons that would not work are outnumbered only by the reasons it would be a disaster if it did.”

“Pretty much what I thought,” Basra replied, leaning back in the loveseat and crossing her legs. “And what Antonio thought, I’ll bet, which is why I’m here. He’s got Branwen wrapped around his little finger—not that that’s hard, she’s about as intellectually impressive as a bucket of shucked clams. And I strongly suspect Andros knew something about this going in; his cult is more heavily behind the Archpope than any other. You and I, though, signed off on that asshat project only as our best chance of getting out of that room alive and without a price on our head.” She stared at him piercingly, the intensity of her gaze belying her relaxed posture. “Or am I wrong?”

Darling nibbled at a scone, rapidly pondering. How much could he trust Basra? Whatever the state of her mental health, she was cunning, unscrupulous and had a cruel streak. Still, that could be an advantage. Allies of convenience were often less prone to giving each other unpleasant surprises than those bonded by deeper trust.

“You’re more or less in the right,” he said. “Whatever Justinian is doing is clearly going to go forward. I’m happier being around to keep an eye on it than sitting here wondering when the hammer will come down.”

“So the question is: was he serious?” She turned her gaze to the window, frowning as she stared into space. “I trust you of all people noticed we were being fed a line of bullshit from the start of that meeting to the end. My favorite part is how he twisted it around so that his hiring outside contractors ostensibly not to kill us was evidence that we should trust him more.”

“However did he manage to express that?” Mary asked, tilting her head. It was a distinctly birdlike gesture.

“Basically,” Darling explained, “we’ve spent so much time proving ourselves to him to be let into the inner circle; now that he’s called his own trustworthiness into question, he has to prove himself to us, which places us on more even footing.”

“I see.” She ruminated for a moment. “It does make a certain, insane kind of sense.”

“’Insane’ is a very relevant word, here,” Basra said grimly. “I’ll admit I might be indulging in wishful thinking by concluding he’s putting one over on us. Schemes, lies and betrayals are things I understand, things I know how to deal with. The Archpope concealing his true plans behind a grandiose front would make sense to me. The alternative is that one of the world’s most powerful men is irretrievably screaming bugfuck insane, and there’s basically nothing we can do about it.”

“It is not impossible that he is both,” Mary suggested. “Elevating an entire species to godhood is, in a word, unthinkable. Elevating individuals, however, has been done.”

“Not in eight thousand years,” Basra retorted, “and nobody knows how. The gods have been very particular about keeping that information quiet.”

“Shifty bastards, aren’t they?” Darling said cheerfully.

Basra winced. “I can’t help expecting thunder or something whenever somebody says something like that.”

“Meh, I’m not nearly important enough for them to pay attention to,” he said dismissively. “The question becomes, then, how serious is the Archpope?”

“And what are we going to do about it?” Basra added, taking a bite of her scone.

“This does not seem to be the time for aggressive action,” Mary said calmly. “The protections of the Church are…considerable. Even I would hesitate to strike at Justinian; whatever his plans, he enjoys the general favor of the Pantheon and the active, personal support of several gods. I believe your current strategy is the best one.”

Darling chewed slowly, not replying, not willing to give voice to the thought currently foremost in his mind. It was an absurd thought, of course, but he hadn’t succeeded this far in life by failing to cover the angles.

What if Justinian was sane, sincere…and successful?

“So how’s this Rail thing work, anyhow?” Ruda asked, climbing into the car. “Was there just no caravan scheduled this whole time we’ve been in this town, or what?”

“Sarasio isn’t a regular stop,” Professor Tellwyrn replied. “You’ll note that, like Last Rock, there is only a single Rail line; consequently, the caravans only travel in one direction. They only come to Sarasio when someone charters a caravan to this location.”

“Oh.” Ruda frowned. “Wait, the telescroll tower’s down. How’d you get a caravan out here so fast?”

Tellwyrn smiled at her in silence.

“Do you realize how fucking annoying that is?”

Tellwyrn’s smile widened.

“Yeah.” Ruda folded her arms and slouched in her seat. “I figured you did.”

The students weren’t the only ones departing Sarasio; in addition to Heywood Paxton, a number of residents were taking the opportunity to flee the beleaguered little town. Not many, luckily for the remainder. It seemed Sarasio would retain enough of its population to rebuild. The extra, however, meant different seating arrangements than on their trip out. For starters, Tellwyrn didn’t have a car to herself this time; Trissiny, Teal and now Ruda sat with her.

“So what’s all that about?” Ruda demanded, pointing at the bright hibiscus flower tucked behind the Professor’s ear. It was a very peculiar look for her, and not just because it clashed with her blonde hair.

“Apparently the Shady Lady has a small attached greenhouse,” Tellwyrn said mildly, looking out the window. “I can see the utility of an upscale bordello cultivating some exotic flowers. It was a little going-away present.”

“Uh huh.” Ruda grinned broadly. “Well, is anybody else gonna say it?” Teal and Trissiny both glanced at her momentarily before returning to their own window-gazing. “All right, guess it’s up to me, then. Lady, that boy is fifteen years old. I know you’ve got a rep to keep up, but there’s a line between doing whatever damn thing you please and just being a fucking creepy old creep. See?”

Tellwyrn turned her head to look at Ruda. She kept her expression perfectly neutral.

Ruda shifted slightly in her seat, her grin slipping. “I’m just saying.”

The professor stared.

“Oh, hey, there’s Gabe,” Ruda said, rising. “I need to ask him something.” She exited more quickly than she’d entered.

“Important life lesson, girls,” Tellwyrn said with a small smile. “There’s a time and a place for shouting and making accusations, but people who know they’re in the wrong absolutely cannot stand silence.”

The two girls glanced at her again, momentarily, before returning their stares to the glass.

“Oh, good, a seat,” said Juniper, ducking into the compartment. “Ruda apparently really wants to sit with Shaeine and the boys. I dunno why it’s important, but whatever. Fross is riding with them, I guess she’s small enough she doesn’t need her own seat.”

“Welcome aboard, Juniper,” Tellwyrn said mildly, now fishing in her pocket with one hand.

“Thanks! And don’t worry, I’m not gonna crush anyone when we go around the turns. I don’t weigh like a tree when I’m concentrating, and anyway I’m really good at bracing myself.”

“Good to know,” said the professor, finally retrieving what she was after. She handed a small square wrapped in gold foil to Teal and another to Trissiny.

“What’s this?” Teal asked, not sounding terribly interested.

“Svennish artisan chocolate,” replied the professor. “The cure for nothing and the treatment for everything.”

“None for me, thanks,” said Juniper, cheerful as ever.

“You don’t need any,” Tellwyrn said dryly.

“Boy, that’s for sure. I mean, I can metabolize just about anything, but processed sugar makes me all sluggish.”

“Thanks,” Trissiny said somewhat belatedly, leaving the chocolate resting in her hand, still wrapped. Teal had already extracted hers and was single-mindedly devouring it.

“Don’t mind them,” Juniper said earnestly, leaning toward the professor. “They both just got—”

“I forgot to mention, Juniper, you did very well during the battle,” Tellwyrn interrupted her smoothly. “Excellent use of strategy.”

At this, Trissiny finally looked up. “She got captured.”

“Exactly,” said the professor, nodding.

“Well, yeah,” said Juniper. “I mean, if I didn’t let them capture me they were gonna shoot me. I really don’t like being shot, but that was sort of beside the point. We were supposed to be saving the town, which pretty much can’t happen if it gets destroyed. My mother is, uh, not exactly precise when she’s in a mood.”

“Oh.” Trissiny turned back to the window.

“Ah, youth,” Tellwyrn murmured. Juniper blinked at her in confusion, but no one replied.

The sharp crack of arcane energy sounded and the caravan began moving. All four braced themselves in their seats, some more glad of the distraction than others, and they accelerated away, on their journey home to Last Rock.

“A moment, your Majesty?”

Sharidan indulged in a sigh. It was only Quentin Vex, whose loyalty he trusted. It wouldn’t do for the Emperor to show weakness in front of any of his courtiers, but in front of those he knew were on his side, a little annoyance now and then didn’t hurt. Eleanora still gave him a look, of course, which he ignored. They were on the way back to the harem wing from the morning’s session holding court, and he knew she was looking forward to a quiet meal without anyone pestering them as much as he.

“Something urgent, Lord Quentin?” Sharidan asked mildly.

“No, your Majesty, not urgent, but immediate. I would advise that you receive this report no later than today, but if your Majesty is busy…?” He trailed off, falling into step beside them. A Hand of the Emperor prowled ahead of the party, two more behind; at least one of those would be watching Vex like a hawk.

“Just spit it out,” the Empress said curtly, and Sharidan gave her a little smile.

Vex, as usual, bore his Empress’s sharp tongue with perfect equanimity. “The situation in Sarasio has been resolved, and the outcome is optimal. Professor Tellwyrn personally delivered her report to me this morning, along with a written report by Surveyor Paxton and two communications from the Hands of Omnu and Avei. The town is secure, the rebels under citizen’s arrest awaiting Imperial retrieval. Sarasio’s request for Imperial aid is being processed; I understand it has been fast-tracked and should result in shipments of personnel and supplies within the week. The Minister of the Interior has already appointed a Marshal, who will embark later today. General Panissar has dispatched a regiment to secure the town, and per the Hands’ requests, three ranking clerics of Omnu and a squad from the Seventh Silver Legion are already en route.”

“How in the hell,” Eleanora demanded, “did that woman personally get into your offices?”

Vex’s normally sleepy expression showed uncharacteristic annoyance, a sign of the favor he enjoyed; the Empress knew well enough that it wasn’t aimed at her. “Apparently, your Majesty, she teleported directly in. And yes, that should be impossible. We are looking into it.”

Eleanora snorted. “I do not like the idea of involving that woman in Imperial affairs. The entire purpose of that University of hers, however she tries to dress it up, is to crank out high-level adventurers. More of those are the last thing the Empire needs.”

“Yes, your Majesty,” Vex said diplomatically. “However, she will be doing that anyway, and attempting to prevent her will certainly cause more harm than good. I am quite optimistic about the long-term prospects of cultivating an amicable relationship. Tellwyrn has already proven useful in this specific situation, and as a general rule, I believe it’s better to have her working with us than against us.”

“At least the town is stable,” said the Emperor before Eleanora could start in again. “What of the neighboring elves?”

“Ah, yes, your Majesty. They assisted in reclaiming the town and putting down the rebels. It seems Tellwyrn’s students were instrumental in arranging this.”

“Excellent,” Sharidan said, nodding. “So far, I concur with your analysis. If the good Professor is willing to play nicely, that certainly beats the alternative.” Eleanora snorted expressively, but withheld comment. “Anything further on the situation?”

“That covers it, your Majesty. I will of course keep you informed as new developments arise.”

“A moment,” said Sharidan as Vex started to bow out. They had arrived at the door to the harem wing, which the Hand in the lead opened for them and slipped through, quickly surveying the interior before nodding his liege forward. “It’s nearing the end of the academic semester in the next few days, isn’t it? While we’re on the subject of Tellwyrn and her University, let’s have your semiannual analysis.”

“Yes, your Majesty,” said Vex, obediently following them in and toward the dining room. “It is quite early, yet, and the Sarasio event is the students’ first organized foray into Imperial territory, so my information is, at best, incomplete, but I have been able to gather several basic impressions. There are no surprises from the two Hands, nor from the Narisian exchange student. That last is a welcome improvement from last year’s drow. The half-demon is, of course, entirely unimportant; he’s only there because his father and Tobias Caine petitioned Tellwyrn to admit him. The pixie, likewise, is of no immediate significance and a fairly minor long-term concern.”

“How so?” the Empress asked as they stepped into the dining room, where servants held out chairs for the Imperial couple. Vex positioned himself discreetly to one side where they could both see him.

“We have ascertained that, as expected, the Pixie Queen has already forgotten the matter. Fross is an academically interesting case, but she is one individual, completely isolated from her species and of no diplomatic or political interest. It will be interesting to see whether an individual pixie can be housebroken, so to speak. If she proves this to be the case, in four years or so we may wish to look into acquiring some pixies of our own; they have potential tactical value. Fross’s current academic career is well within the margin of error for a pixie’s established attention span, however, so such action would be premature.”

He paused, and Sharidan gestured for him to continue while servants place a plate of steaming fish in front of him.

“The more important cases are, of course, the dryad, the archdemon and Princess Zaruda. In all three cases, I consider it far too early to make any significant judgments.”

“What are your gut feelings at this point?” asked the Emperor.

Vex frowned, contemplating momentarily. “If the Juniper experiment proves successful, it will change everything. So far, she appears to be obeying Tellwyrn’s rules without trouble, but it is, as I have said, early, and I am not aware that her self-control has been significantly tested against her predatory instincts. Should it prove that dryads can be integrated into mortal society… The implications are vast, not least because it will be the first sign in recorded history that Naiya is personally interested in interacting with us on a large scale. I almost hope Juniper reverts to type and Tellwyrn has to get rid of her. It will certainly cause less complication in the long run.”

Sharidan nodded, chewing, and kept his expression bland, not glancing at any of the Hands nearby. Privately, he agreed with Vex; the less the world at large understood about dryads, the better.

“The duo of Teal Falconer and Vadrieny remain stable,” Vex continued. “There is as yet no indication of progress on any front. Miss Falconer is, by any measure, a loyal and admirable citizen, but the nature of her relationship with the demon makes it impossible to predict what will happen should Vadrieny’s memories return, or she turn against the Empire for any other reason.”

“And the Punaji girl?” Eleanora asked. She had her wineglass in hand, but neither ate nor drank, her piercing stare fixed on Vex.

He shrugged eloquently. “Observation reinforces what we knew of her personally before she went to Last Rock. Princess Zaruda is as clever as her mother and as fierce as her father. All indications are that she will one day be one of the greatest Queens the Punaji nation has ever known; an education at Tellwyrn’s hands will only increase her capacities. At issue, then, is purely how she feels about the Tiraan Empire. She may become an absolutely priceless ally… But if she decides her people are better off separating themselves from Tiraan interests…” He let the thought trail off.

“Clearly, then, we must prevent that from happening,” said Sharidan, setting down his fork.

Vex nodded. “Yes, your Majesty. It is a delicate matter, however. Zaruda is likely to perceive any charity or blatant attempts to sway her as hostile acts, and she is certainly intelligent enough to see through them. Much as it pains me to say it, I don’t believe handling her is an appropriate task for my department. She should be approached with sincerity and skill by the Foreign Ministry. Specifically by whoever is best-versed in dealing with the Punaji.”

“How immediately do you think that need be addressed?” Eleanora asked.

“I don’t recommend that we involve ourselves with any of the students at Last Rock at this time,” said Vex. “Let them develop for a while. It’s too early, yet, to know exactly what action will need to be taken. I will repeat my earlier analysis, however, that this group of students on balance represents more potential for change than any of Tellwyrn’s recent crops. If anything, this underscores the importance of handling Tellwyrn herself correctly.”

“Which you wish to continue doing, I take it,” said the Empress, her mouth tightening.

“My current policy toward her appears to be an unequivocal success, your Majesty,” he said mildly.

“Very well,” said Sharidan, nodding. “Thank you for your report, Lord Quentin.”

“Your Majesties.” Vex bowed to each of them before turning and slipping out.

Eleanora sighed, finally taking a sip of her wine. “What an unmitigated headache.”

“But a headache for another day,” Sharidan replied with a grin. “Let’s focus on the ones right in front of us for now, Nora.”

They finished eating in companionable silence, enjoying the brief respite from the politics of the Palace. All too soon, it would be back into the fray for them both.

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4 – 19

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Damn,” Gabriel breathed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Then the Kid attacked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Noted,” said Shaeine.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Mamie,” he choked.

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

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

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

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

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

“Thanks, kid. Appreciate it.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Why?!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Trissiny frowned. “But…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So…yay!” said Fross. “We won!”

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

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

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4 – 18

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“The company will advance at a walk!”

Gripping weapons, they did so.

 

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

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

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

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

 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Agreed,” said the elf solemnly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

No.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thanks.”

 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Have you seen Juniper?” Teal asked.

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

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

“Indeed.”

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

“You approached on foot,” Shaeine noted.

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

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

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

“As do I,” Shaeine said quietly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I… Sorry, Shaeine, I don’t want—”

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

They reached the streets in silence.

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

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

She glided past him without response.

 

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

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

“Toby’s fine,” he replied, grinning.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I,” he choked. “But…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 

“Hostages?” Trissiny said sharply.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Shut it, bitch!”

Trissiny unconsciously raised her sword.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Gentlemen,” said the Kid. “Draw.”

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4 – 16

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Trissiny carefully leaned backward, tilting her head to peer outside with one eye without exposing her head to the street, then quickly stepped back into the tavern, tugging Gabriel along with her.

“Well,” she said, “now we know where all those thugs and galoots went.”

“Right outside?” Toby said resignedly. She nodded. “Any sign of the Riders?”

“If so, they’re not mounted or in uniform. Nobody but scruffy men with wands. About thirty-five, at a guess. Ruda, you seem to have these folks more or less in your pocket; can you get them all moving in one direction?”

“Fish in a barrel,” Ruda said cryptically, then winked. “Gimme sixty seconds.”

“You’ve got it, and don’t be in a hurry.”

“You can’t seriously be planning to send these men out there to fight,” Toby protested. “Some of them don’t even have wands. It would be a bloodbath!”

“On both sides, yes,” she said, nodding. “It’s not hard to guess the Riders put those ruffians up to this to soften us up. They don’t want a bloodbath either, not when so much of the blood’ll be theirs. They’re scared. They’re about to be more so.” She paused, watching Ruda, who was now exhorting the men again, and had everyone’s attention. Trissiny lowered her voice. “There’s about to be some noise. Help Ruda keep order in here, and don’t let them fight until the right moment. You’ll know it when you see it.”

With that, she turned and strode outside. The street to her right was clear; all the thugs were approaching from one direction. They had also arrived as a unit, rather than straggling in. Good; that meant they’d been rounded up beforehand and sent here with a purpose. A rabble might do anything at all, but if they fancied themselves an army, they’d break all the more easily when proven wrong.

Trissiny stepped down into the street and strode to its center, then turned to face them. Quite a few grinned and leered, nudging each other and making comments she could tell were suggestive, even unable to hear them. That was plenty to kindle a white-hot rage in her, though she kept it tightly controlled. Some, though, were looking at her much more warily. Quite a few had seen her performance upon the students’ arrival that first day.

She glanced to the side at the sound of footsteps, then scowled.

“Gabriel,” she hissed, “I don’t need—”

“You don’t need help,” he murmured back. “I know that damn well. I need to help. Orders?”

That brought her up short, and she sized him up quickly. He looked grim, unafraid… Well, he had his wand in hand and wasn’t in much physical danger from anyone here. Except her, of course.

“Need to break their spirits,” she said tersely. “Being trounced in melee by one girl will go a long way, but there’s a lot of them. Can you split off a few so they don’t swamp me?”

“So, scare and distract ’em?” He nodded. “Holy shit, I might actually be good for this.”

The mob began shuffling forward. No motive or driving force visible; she could plainly see the differences in their expressions, ranging from hungry to frightened. The moon was nearly full, illuminating the street fairly well—but then, her eyesight was a good deal better than the human norm, especially in the dark. Trissiny unsheathed her sword and began moving forward at a measured pace, alone toward the men.

Then Gabriel was beside her, a few feet away. He raised his wand as he walked, then, to her surprise, lifted his other hand, aiming the tip into his own palm. Glancing sidelong at her, he winked.

“A little trick I picked up from Ruda.”

The crack of the wand firing brought the front-runners up short in surprise; they stared at him, and particularly at his hand, which had just absorbed a wandshot at point-blank range. It smoked faintly, but appeared unharmed. Gabriel, however, had clenched his teeth in pain, hunching forward slightly.

His teeth looked…longer.

Twice more the wand fired; now, all the men before them were staring wide-eyed, and his panting had taken on a deep, rasping quality. Black swallowed his eyes, claws sprouted from his fingertips. Gabriel began pacing forward more quickly, growling deep in his throat.

Trissiny embraced the light. Gabe hissed and jerked to the side, but she ignored him, striding forward, rapidly closing the distance now.

The thugs had come to a complete stop. The front row showed uncertainty on the bravest (or slowest) faces, with outright panic displayed on many. They had been sent here to rough up a group of students and townspeople; now, Heaven and Hell were stalking toward them, shoulder to shoulder. Well, a good six feet apart, which was as close as Gabe could get to Trissiny’s aura without visibly smoking. This was not what these frontier rowdies had signed on for. Several of them tried to turn and push back into those behind.

A short scrum occurred, those bringing up the rear refusing to retreat—whether they were more motivated or just couldn’t clearly see what was coming at them she couldn’t guess, and didn’t care. It brought panic to the front-runners when they realized they couldn’t flee, and that was when the first wandshots came.

Two sparked against golden light a foot from her, the shield snapping into place unbidden. For millennia, armies had known not to waste arrows on those who walked in the shelter of Avei’s hand; clearly the same protection worked against wands. Then somebody shot Gabriel, bringing him to a stop—for a moment.

Black eyes bulging in fury, he parted his jagged teeth and let out a howl that chilled even Trissiny’s spine, then charged forward with the speed of a pouncing mountain lion. She flew into motion only a second behind, her speed overmatching his. Training, or elven blood? Whatever the reason, they hit the crowd simultaneously.

Gabriel almost instantly went down in a flurry of fists. Hethelaxi were nearly unstoppable and all but invulnerable, but no physically stronger than the human norm, and in a berserker fit, Gabriel didn’t seem to possess an iota of the fighting technique she and Professor Ezzaniel had laboriously beaten into him. Still, a berserker with merely human strength, unbreakable claws and a complete immunity to pain was more than their rabble of an enemy was prepared to face. Trissiny was dimly aware, in her periphery, of men falling, cursing, bleeding, but she had her own to concentrate on.

A fist glanced off her divine shield even as her metal shield bashed the first man aside. One approached her from the right, wand upraised. She took his hand off at the wrist with her sword, its ancient and visibly pitted blade sharp enough to split hairs with the light coursing in it, then ripped it through his throat on the backswing.

Trissiny hesitated, for just a moment. It was bound to happen sooner or later, probably sooner, but…she had never killed anyone before. That moment caused her to soak up another lightning bolt that would have struck her heart if not for Avei’s protection, and she flew back into motion.

To say that this wasn’t ideal was vast understatement. The only remotely workable technique for fighting a group was to maneuver them so that you could face them one at a time; she now did the opposite, wading right into their midst and laying about with sword and shield. Her goal wasn’t a clean victory, though, but terror and confusion, and she certainly achieved that. Wreathed in Avei’s light, Trissiny was physically invulnerable, but she quickly became so pressed by the crush of bodies that just staying upright demanded most of her concentration, leaving actual combat as an afterthought. By that point it hardly mattered, as her plan was succeeding admirably; these men were trying to get away, not to attack her.

Then the crowd broke and managed to scatter, fleeing back up the street whence they had come. Trissiny regained her balance, swiftly taking stock. Six men down, four dead, three from sword wounds. Gabriel lunged onto the back of the slowest straggler, bearing him to the dusty street, then fortunately lifted his head to sniff the air before he could began ripping into the man. Already his claws and lower face were stained with blood.

Unfortunately, he fixed his eyes on Trissiny. In that glare, in the subtle shift in his expression, she knew that whatever progress she had made in her relationship with Gabriel, the demon inside him remembered her all too well.

“Gabe,” she said firmly, “I don’t know whether a blast of divine light will drive back the demon or just kill you. Don’t make me put you down.”

He snarled, tensing himself to spring.

Then Toby was there, gliding past her and right at the halfblood. Gabriel shifted his focus, baring his teeth in a warning growl, but Toby strode right up to him, reached out and laid a hand on Gabriel’s shoulder.

Claws gripped his arm, then dug in, tearing Toby’s sleeve. Blood began to flow. Trissiny tightened her grip on her sword, taking a step forward, but Toby flung up his other hand to stop her, not taking his eyes off Gabriel. He didn’t draw on his own light, either to heal or protect himself; he only tightened his grip.

“It’s me,” he said quietly.

Gabriel panted, blinked his eyes. Then again. He shook his head as if to dislodge something; when he opened his eyes a third time, white showed around their edges. The transition back was slower, but he got there, finally straightening and removing his grip from Toby’s arm.

“Thanks,” he said eventually, out of breath, then looked over at Trissiny. “You, too.”

“Me?” She raised an eyebrow.

“Well. You could’ve just killed me.”

“She wouldn’t be the only one,” Toby snapped, light flaring from the puncture wounds along his forearm. Gabriel flinched and stumbled back from him. “What were you thinking? Gabe, you just killed someone! Your demon blood is not a weapon. Even if you could control it, half-demons do not get to go on violent sprees in the Tiraan Empire! Do you want to get dealt with by a Church hit squad?”

“When you can’t help being an evil thing,” Gabriel said quietly, “sometimes the only way to be a good person is to keep yourself pointed at the bad people.”

Toby looked almost pained. “Gabe…we’ve been over—”

“You two can have that out later,” Trissiny said curtly, striding past them toward the crowd of men now pouring out of the tavern. “We have more immediate concerns.”

“Damn, that was quick,” Ruda said by way of greeting as she approached, then lowered her voice, stepping forward to within whispering range. “You were supposed to leave some for us to fight. Remember? We need to let the locals drive off the Riders, bringing them together was only half the battle.”

“We’re a long way from done, yet,” Trissiny said grimly.

“That was all them out-of-towners,” one of the men said.

“Yeah,” piped up another, “where are the White Riders?”

Trissiny raised her voice. “Everywhere else.”

The hush that fell as they paused to consider her words proved her right. The sounds were faint with distance, but the crack of lightning, the cries of horses and people were now audible, and sounded from every side.

Some of those cries were unmistakeably women.

“Coming here, you left your homes undefended,” said a new voice. As a unit, they whipped around to behold an elf perched atop the wooden awning over the tavern’s sidewalk. “You aren’t the only ones looking to finish this tonight.”

 

During the idle days of his youth, before he had attained the mature age of twelve, Jasper had fantasized about being the man of the house, of saving his family from some kind of attack. Bandits, maybe, or marauding prairie cats. Centaurs, wild elves, the villains in his personal inner drama didn’t matter, so long as they served to distract him from the tedium of chores.

Nothing was ever as fun in real life as it was in his head.

“Jasper Wilcox, you get back in here right now!” He knew his mother’s no-nonsense voice, and a powerful part of him quailed at it now. Even worse was the ring of undeniable terror in her tone—fear for him, he knew, not for her. For once, though, he couldn’t obey. He was the man of the house. Pa had told him so. It had been to take the sting out of his being too young to go to the meeting, and he was well old enough to realize it, but those words meant something. Jasper would protect his home and his family. All of them.

Boomer whimpered, the hound dragging himself toward Jasper on three legs, the right hind one mangled and burned almost beyond recognition by lightning. Beyond, three mounted figures in white cloaks whooped, firing wands into the air as they rode back and forth, playing up the spectacle they made in the darkness, lit by moonlight, their own wandshots and the flickering of the fires they’d caused. Patches of dry grass smouldered, as did pieces of wooden fence they’d shot.

Jasper kept his pa’s staff leveled at them, his one-handed grip clumsy, as he stopped and knelt next to Boomer. “There you go, boy, it’s okay.” It was not okay. The dog had to be in unimaginable pain, and…he had no idea what to do now. He couldn’t carry the hound and hold his staff in any kind of ready position.

His mother screamed his name again, and this time lightning flashed past him, not close enough to singe, but painfully bright. He wasn’t holding the only staff in the house, after all. It also didn’t come dangerously near the wheeling Riders, but they chose to take offense anyway, and two returned fire, lightning bolts smashing into the farmhouse. Its fieldstone foundation would hold, but most of the house was wood. The porch had already collapsed into burning rubble, and his sisters had nearly run out of water to throw on the smoking patches elsewhere. Snarling, Jasper grasped his staff with both hands, raised it and squeezed the clicker.

It was a good shot; he wished his pa could have seen it.

Unfortunately, it was useless.

Lightning slammed directly into the lead Rider’s chest, flashing off something that rested there; the horse whinnied and tossed her head in displeasure, and for a moment, a hazy aura of static lit up the Rider in the night. Then the energy of the shot dissipated, leaving him unharmed—and now focused on Jasper.

They had deflector charms. Well, of course they did.

“Brave, boy,” the man called out. His voice was muffled by the hood, by distance and the ambient noise; Jasper wondered if he’d have recognized it, otherwise. If this was one of his neighbors. “Stupid, but brave.”

He wheeled his horse around again, not charging at Jasper directly, but the boy knew that wouldn’t matter. The man guided his horse with his knees, aiming both wands. Jasper was frozen. He wanted to fire back at least once, just so he wouldn’t be shot down like a rabbit, but his fingers wouldn’t obey. All he could do was watch his death take aim.

Then Hell plummeted from the sky.

She slammed into the ground between him and the Rider, hard enough to shake the earth. Wings of pure flame stretched from her shoulders; she spread her arms wide, flexing black claws, and screamed.

It was a sound like the cry of a great hunting cat, or like a falcon—somehow both, but also like nails down a chalkboard, and above it all, hideously musical, striking harmonies that should not have been existed. It was the most horrible, beautiful thing he’d ever heard.

Jasper hunched to the ground, clasping both hands over his ears before he even realized he’d dropped his staff; Boomer howled in protest. Behind, his mother had fallen silent. That was nothing, however; the Riders’ horses went straight into an unreasoning panic, shrieking in abject terror and bolting off in three separate directions. Two of the Riders managed to keep their saddles, but the one who’d been charging at Jasper without the benefit of hands on his reins was flung loose as his mount wheeled mid-charge and fled.

There was an audible crack when he struck the ground. He didn’t move.

The creature straightened up from the crouch in which she’d landed and turned to face him, and Jasper very nearly pissed himself. His mind didn’t want to make sense of what he was seeing.

Aside from the wings and the claws…and the fiery hair and, he now saw, burning eyes…she was a girl. No older than his sister, surely, kind of pretty, and dressed in an expensive-looking man’s suit. Then she smiled at him, showing off terrible fangs, and he felt the blood begin to rush to his head.

“A-are you a demon?” It was the only thing he could think to say.

“Yup,” she replied. Her voice… It was like listening to a choir. “Good eye, kiddo. My name’s Vadrieny, and I’m here to help.”

That made so much nonsense he didn’t even bother trying to formulate a response. The demon didn’t seem to expect one; she lifted her head and raised her voice. “We could use a healer here.”

“One is already working,” said a new voice, and suddenly there was an elf standing there, in dyed buckskins, holding a wand in one hand and one of those hatchets of theirs in the other. A tomahawk, Jasper remembered belatedly. The elf strode over to him, smiling much more reassuringly than the demon had, and knelt to sweep Boomer into his arms. The hound, who usually didn’t take to strangers, feebly licked at his hand. “We’d best get her new patient to her. Your family is safe, Mr. Wilcox; your sister was burned along one arm by lightning, but the shaman feels she is in no danger. Yours was a very brave stand. Come.” He set off toward the house. Jasper stared after him, torn, then looked back at the demon.

She winked, flexed her wings once, and then shot into the sky with a mighty push of them. He followed the orange streak she made, heading to the north and the nearby Jensen stead, where the distant snapping of lightning could still be heard. Then, with nothing else for it, he turned and jogged after the elf, pausing only to snatch up his staff.

“Your house is only mildly damaged, compared to some, and is the first we have secured,” the elf said. “With your permission, may we use it as a staging area? There will be other wounded, some who cannot be best treated in the middle of a battle.”

“I—that—I mean, of course. Anything we can do to help.” Jasper was keenly conscious that he was being addressed with the respect of one man to another. Any other time, he’d have managed to savor it. “Ah—sir, what’s happening?”

“That is still an open question,” the elf said solemnly. “A great deal of carnage and suffering. With luck and the aid of friends, we will soon be rid of the Riders and have some peace, but it is going to get worse before it gets better.”

Then they were stepping into the scorched kitchen, where another elf, a woman, sat at the table with Maribelle, binding her arm in bandages, and his mother swept him into an embrace, trying to sob and scold at once. So much for being the man of the house.

He found he minded a lot less than he’d have thought.

 

There was barely a second’s stunned silence before the shouting began.

“Listen,” Trissiny said firmly, but no one even heard. “Hey!”

It was no use. The crowd began to break up, despite her exhortations and Ruda’s curses, men heading in different directions toward their own homes.

CRACK! CRACK!

Lighning stabbed twice into the sky from the tip of Gabriel’s wand. Hadn’t he dropped that when he’d shifted? Or maybe it was another wand he’d picked up; there were several now lying in the street.

“Listen up!” he shouted, glaring around at them. “You wanna save your families? You listen when the Hand of Avei starts talking strategy.” He nodded to her, and Trissiny realized she was still glowing. She pushed a little more energy into it, not missing the way the men zeroed in on her. The visible reminder that the gods were with them might be the only thing holding this crowd together. Their fear and anger was palpable, as was the primal urge to rush off to and protect their homes and loved ones.

“Running off in different directions is exactly what the Riders want,” she said, projecting from the diaphragm without shouting. It wasn’t the first time she’d addressed a crowd of rattled would-be soldiers, though the stakes here were very different from the war games back at the Abbey. “What they fear is this, all of us standing together. You cannot let them separate you and cut you down. We will deal with them. Now. Tonight. What’s the situation?” She turned and directed this last to the elf on the rooftop, then managed not to flinch when she discovered two more of them to either side of him.

The first elf tilted his head, staring down at her quizzically. “A halfling paladin? Now I’ve seen the—”

“REPORT!” Trissiny roared.

He flinched back, but the female elf to his left answered. “Riders are terrorizing the outlying farms; they haven’t moved into the streets proper, so most of the houses are safe. They’re spread thin, using terror tactics, guerrilla hits and cheap theatrics. We are moving right now to hamper them.” She grinned savagely. “They have mounts and better weapons, but we are a lot better at this game.”

“Numbers?”

“About thirty accounted Riders, dispersed around the edge of the town. Twenty-five tribesmen have come to help, including five shaman. They are attending to wounded. Plus, we seem to have picked up a dryad, archdemon, pixie mage and drow priestess, as well as a couple of miscellaneous humans who’ve come to help. They fight well.”

“Right.” Trissiny nodded firmly, shifting her attention back to the men. “This is what we’re going to do. I want two groups; move in both directions down this avenue to the outskirts of town and past. Get outside the Riders’ range and spread out with wands up. From there we sweep back into the town, pushing them before us into the middle. You,” she added, turning back to the elf. “Can you instruct your people to form the flanks and press inward at an angle from both sides of each line? I need outriders to make sure they are pulled into the trap.”

“It will be done,” the woman said, snapping her fingers. Both the other elves took off, bounding onto rooftops and then out of sights in opposite directions.

“You’re bringin’ em into the town?” Mr. Strickland said uncertainly. “We just wanna get rid of the bastards!”

“No,” Trissiny said firmly, turning to face the crowd of men fully and planting her feet. Her sword was still in her hand, stained with blood; she lifted it to point at them. “We do not want the Riders driven out of Sarasio. Then they just become someone else’s problem later. We will pull them into the middle, surround them with our own numbers, and we will end them.”

A roar of approval went up, startling her. The patriarchs were already at work following her orders, pushing the men into two groups.

“Better have Trissiny lead one party and Ruda the other,” said Gabriel. “Each needs one person in charge who knows tactics.”

“And has a good shoutin’ voice,” Ruda agreed, grinning.

“And,” he went on with some reluctance, “I had better go with Triss.” All three of them turned to look at him in surprise, and he set his jaw grimly. “If I have an… Episode… Trissiny can put me down if it needs to be done.”

“You trust her not to if it doesn’t need to be?” Ruda said skeptically.

“Yes.”

“Gabriel… I can go with you,” Toby said. Gabriel was already shaking his head.

“We need one light-wielder per group for healing and shields as needed.”

“I… I see your logic,” Toby said reluctantly. “It’s just… I’m used to being the one to look after you, y’know?”

Gabriel stepped over to him and laid a hand on his shoulder. “I know. I love you like a brother, you know that?”

Toby clasped his hand. “I do. You know I feel the same.”

“Yeah.” He nodded. “And… That’s why you can’t do it this time. This is gonna be a battle, with people’s lives on the line; you can’t waste time talking me down.” He turned to look at Trissiny. “I’m gonna do my best to stay out of the line of fire, but… If it comes down to it, I know you won’t hesitate to do what needs doing.”

She had just finished cleaning her sword, and slid it back into its sheath. “You’re a fool, Gabriel Arquin.”

“Wow,” said Ruda. “Way to kill the mood, Shiny Boots.”

“I’ve known that since the day we met,” Trissiny went on, ignoring her. She stepped forward and reached out, squeezing Gabriel’s shoulder briefly with her gauntleted hand. “But I also thought you weren’t a good man, and I’ve rarely been so dramatically wrong about anything.”

The silence that followed verged upon awkwardness, but everyone smiled. Tentatively, in three cases. Ruda grinned widely, then opened her mouth to speak.

“Ma’am?” Strickland approached, tugging the brim of his had respectfully to Trissiny. “We’re split up and ready to move.”

“Good,” she said firmly, stepping away from Gabriel and nodding to him, then raised her voice to be heard by all those present. “Princess Zaruda will lead your group; the other will follow me. Let’s put an end to this, people. March!”

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They came to a stop in the middle of the street, hearing the crash. Trissiny and Gabriel exchanged a brief look, then turned and dashed back the way they had come, toward the barn. She smoothly drew her sword while in motion, eyes darting about in search of threats. Despite the ongoing noise from up ahead, in which they could now hear shouts and curses in addition to the continued ruckus of battle, the town itself remained eerily still. It was as if, improbable as that seemed, all the roughnecks and thugs hanging around had spontaneously gone elsewhere. For the moment, though, Trissiny was grateful enough to have only one apparent threat on which to concentrate.

Gabriel skidded as they rounded the corner, nearly overbalancing; she, being far more athletic, came to a smooth stop, taking in the scene.

Two men lay in the street, the same two who had been previously guarding the door. Another was in the process of stumbling down from the board sidewalk, limping heavily and clutching one arm. There was no sign of the Riders, and though the details weren’t exactly explicit, from their garb these were townsfolk rather than ruffians. Given the lack of apparent external threats, whatever was happening had begun inside the tavern.

That hypothesis gained weight as the front window exploded outward and a man flew through, striking the edge of the sidewalk painfully on his way to sprawling in the street.

Trissiny bounded to his side, kneeling to place a hand on his shoulder. He was bleeding from multiple cuts, thanks to the window, and though she couldn’t tell past his sturdy denim and flannel garb, it was very possible he’d broken something and inconceivable that he wasn’t heavily bruised. She drew on Avei’s light, sending a gentle wave of energy through him. Just enough to stop any bleeding, internal or otherwise, and prevent him from expiring from trauma. Too much divine magic was risky with an undiagnosed patient; healing a broken bone without setting it in the right position first could cripple a person for life.

“What happened?” she demanded as the man’s eyes swam back into focus. “Is it the Riders?”

His gaze locked on her face, and then his eyes widened as though he’d just remembered what was happening. He clutched her arm frantically.

“Gods, you’ve gotta do something! She’s insane!”

“Oh,” Trissiny growled, her expression collapsing in a scowl. “Ruda.”

One of the men in the street was already standing, the other being helped upright by Gabriel. She paused to touch the limping fellow on his apparently injured arm, giving him a soft boost of light to ease the trauma, then turned resolutely toward the saloon and marched in. This involved pushing past the broken doors, one of which was angled crazily across the doorway and somehow stuck. Luckily, kicking it down suited her mood.

The scene inside was utter chaos at a glance. The more than two dozen men present were either fighting or on the ground and injured; half of the light fixtures were knocked out, and ninety percent of the furniture had been smashed, some of that serving as makeshift cover for cowering townsfolk who’d apparently had enough. Sweeping her gaze around the room, however, Trissiny’s trained mind put the various pieces into place, and she realized that she was looking at one of the most flawlessly controlled battlefields she’d ever seen.

Heywood Paxton had retreated to a front corner, where he was clutching Ruda’s sheathed rapier in front of himself as if it would bar the brawl from reaching him. Oddly enough, it seemed to have worked; his suit wasn’t so much as rumpled and nobody had come within ten feet of the Surveyor. Toby was moving efficiently around the perimeter of the tavern, aglow with divine energy, helping men upright and healing injuries as he found them. It was the circular pattern that was impressive; the center of the room was mostly cleared, but knots of men had clumped together around the outside. Most were now lying or sitting amid the ruins of their tables, but two groups were still actively brawling.

Trissiny could see how it had been done. The original layout of the room had had Paxton, the students and the heads of the four families ensconced at the center table (now on its side with half its legs broken off), while their various sons and relatives had organized themselves by clan around the wall. Quickly identifying each of the men she’d seen sit down to parley and where they currently were—all but Wilcox now down—Trissiny could retrace the steps that had led to this. All Ruda had to do was get a fight going and then push each patriarch into the arms of a rival clan. Men would have crossed the center to get to their objectives, but the action would ultimately concentrate itself around those four men, swiftly turning the brawlers’ attention from Ruda to each other. Eventually the fighting would spill everywhere, as fighting invariably did, but that wouldn’t matter of someone were to systematically move around the edge of the room, taking advantage of the brawlers’ preoccupation with one another to beat down each group one at a time.

Grudgingly, she had to recognize the quick thinking, tactical savvy and martial skill it had taken to pull this off. Unless, of course, it was all the random outcome of a completely aimless act of aggression. Not long ago, Trissiny would have instantly made that assumption, but Gabriel’s recent question about Ruda’s intelligence made her wonder.

As she entered, the second-to last knot of struggling men was in the process of being dismantled. Ruda, armed with a table leg, circled the edge of the group, delivering methodical blows to legs that took fighters neatly out of the action, until she had whittled down their numbers and the remaining three men turned on her, finally realizing who the true threat here was. It was a bit dicier from there, but Ruda’s unique blend of deftness and savagery quickly put down the overmatched farmers. Trissiny noted, also, some of the skills she herself had drilled into the pirate during their morning practice sessions with Teal.

The last fellow actually backed away, raising his hands in surrender, and Ruda, grinning, tossed the table leg to him, then rolled her shoulders and cracked her knuckles before stalking over to the last group of fighting men, which included Mr. Wilcox. She was limping and bleeding from both the lip and forehead, but seemed no less energetic. Her target group was down to six men, Wilcox and two of his apparent relatives being backed against the wall and beset by a pair from one side and a particularly hulking fellow from another.

Ruda diverted her course toward the middle as she went, picking up the only two intact chairs within reach. One she hurled directly into the two on the left, then smashed the other across the big man’s back.

Gabriel shoved past Trissiny, coming to a stop just inside and taking in the scene as quickly as she had, though probably with less understanding of what he was seeing.

“Holy shit! Are…should we help her?”

“No.”

He gave her a sidelong look. “Is this a warrior-culture thing where you don’t interfere in somebody else’s battle, or are you just pissed at her for starting a fight?”

“Yes.”

“How do we even know she started it?”

Trissiny looked at him.

“Yeah, I know,” he muttered, sticking his hands in his pockets.

The two attackers were already down, as was one of the Wilcox boys. Ruda’s chair was reduced to two legs, with which she was hammering at the big man, using no stickfighting technique Trissiny knew, but holding her own. She feinted at his groin; like a lot of intimidatingly burly men in rural towns, he’d never bothered to learn an actual fighting style, and went for it in panic, hunching forward to protect his jewels with both thick forearms. Ruda neatly clocked him on both sides of the head with the chair legs, and he went down like a sack of flour. Trissiny winced; head trauma was always a serious matter. Fortunately, Toby was working on the last group to face the pirate’s wrath, and already looking ahead at the current fight between patients.

The Wilcox patriarch and his younger kinsman both raised their hands, backing against the wall.

“Miss,” Wilcox began, “I—”

Ruda jabbed them both viciously in the solar plexi, then dropped her improvised weapons, turned and was walking away before they had finished slumping to the floor.

“Damn,” Gabriel muttered.

“You with the hand!” Ruda barked, stomping up to a man lying on his own closer to the middle of the room than most. He was, in fact, cradling a hand to his chest; the position obscured it somewhat, but Trissiny could see a couple of fingers clearly bent the wrong way. Ruda prodded him in the shoulder with her boot, the force used just short of qualifying as a kick. He took this with a whimper.

“Bad. Fucking. Form.” Ruda growled, nudging him again. “You do not pull a wand in a bar fight, you little shit. There are rules. I see you doing anything like that again and next time I’m not gonna be so playful with you. Savvy?”

“My apologies, ma’am,” he gasped.

She grunted, then bent to pick up the wand lying a couple of feet from him, twirling it in her fingers. “Behave yourself and I’ll think about letting you have this back later.”

“Much obliged, ma’am.”

Ruda turned from him, limping over to the center of the room, where she swiveled slowly, dragging her gaze across all those present. A surprising number quailed back from her. Even as short as she was, even badly disheveled and obviously injured, her sheer presence commanded everyone’s attention.

“Listen up, fuckers!” she said, not yelling, but projecting as well as any actor on stage. Her voice boomed through the room, echoing off the stone walls. “You, the hard-working, hard-drinking, hard-fighting pride and manhood of the whole goddamn town of Sarasio, just got your collective asses kicked by a girl. There are two kinds of men among you right now: the bitterly ashamed, and utter fucking morons. There’s some overlap there. The question you need to be asking is this: Just how the hell did this happen?!”

Ruda paused, letting her words sink in. The silence was nearly total, broken only by soft scuffling and the occasional whimper, and the muted sound of Toby murmuring encouragement to the burly fellow he was in the process of healing from a head injury. Ruda slowly dragged her gaze across the assembled men again, curling her lip up in a sneer.

“What you’ve just experienced was the whole last goddamn year in miniature. Here comes an outside force, systematically moving across the room and beating each of your asses down one by one, and you fuckwits let it happen because you were too damn busy kicking the shit out of each other to do a thing about it!” Her voice began to slowly climb in volume. “Naphthene’s tits, people! One girl—one!—against two dozen, and there you all lie, looking stupid. Do you not comprehend the sheer, epic scale of your own dipshittery? Can you even wrap your heads around the scope of your failure? If anybody had told me last year I’d ever meet a whole town full of men who suck as hard as you assholes I’d have busted him in the lip for lying to me.”

“Now, hold on,” Jonas Hesse started.

Ruda, who was currently facing the other direction, flung out an arm to point at him without looking. “You get one pass because I feel sorry for you numbnuts. Next man who interrupts me, I’m gonna go over there and he can say his piece to my face.”

Silence fell again. Even the whimpering stopped.

“Well? Any takers?” She waited for a few seconds, but nobody offered comment. “Fine. This catastrophic ass-kicking is a lesson, boys. The White Riders have been doing this exact shit to you for months now, and you’ve let ’em get away with it because you let ’em turn you against each other. If just half of you witless fucksticks had quit trying to bash each other and turned on the person actually attacking you just now, I’d be the one lyin’ bleeding on the floor. If you’d put your tiny dicks back in your pants instead of waving ’em at each other and turned all this energy against the Riders back when they started being a problem, they wouldn’t fucking be one now!”

“That don’t change the facts!” Jacob Strickland piped up, leaning on a young man’s shoulder. “We got Riders and Rider sympathizers in our own ranks, ready to turn on us. How’re we supposed to fight ’em like that?”

He actually tried to back away as Ruda whirled and stomped toward him. She came to a stop two feet from him, grabbed a fistful of his long beard and yanked his head down till he was closer to her eye level.

“You wanna bitch and moan, that’s on you,” she said, her voice low but still echoing throughout the chamber. “But if you insult my intelligence again, I will stuff you head-first up your own ass and roll you from here to the Rail platform. Got it?” She released him and gave him a none-too-gentle shove in the chest, turning her back and stalking toward the center as the younger man barely managed to keep Strickland from falling. “Yeah, so you’ve got Riders in your midst. So what? So fucking goddamn what? What’re they gonna do, blow their cover the second you turn your back? Worst thing they can do is get in one good hit, and then you’d know who they are and could deal with ’em. You should be so fucking lucky as to hope they’re that fucking stupid—which, obviously, they aren’t, or we wouldn’t be having this conversation! I am sick of you dipshits and your excuses. The truth is, you just want to fight each other and you’ll grasp at any little pretext to do that instead of solving your own, actual fucking problems! Well?” She turned in a full circle, glaring furiously around the room. “Well?! Deny it!”

Silence.

“You’re prisoners in your own homes,” she bellowed. “You families are one more bad week from starving. You can’t walk your own streets, can’t live your own lives. Your town is on the edge of annihilation. Everything you have worked for has been torn down and shat on by the White Riders. Haven’t you had enough?!”

To Trissiny’s amazement, there actually came a rumble of assent this time. Expressions were growing grim and angry again, but for a wonder, they weren’t turned on each other.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Ruda said in a sneering mockery of contrition. “Here I thought I was addressing the men of Sarasio, when it turns out I’ve wandered into a rehearsal of the Tiraas Ladies’ Auxiliary Bake Sale Choir. I said: HAVE YOU HAD ENOUGH?!”

She finished on a roar that rattled the remaining windows in their frames, and this time, the men roared back, a wordless bellow of outrage and assent. Trissiny tightened her grip on her sword, keenly aware that she was in a room with a bunch of men being deliberately whipped into a frenzy.

“Are you going to let these bastards do this to you?”

“NO!” they bellowed in near unison.

“Are you going to take this any more?!”

“NO!!”

“Are you going to let your families, your whole town, just die because a bunch of assholes in bedsheets like feeling powerful?!”

This time, the roar of negation barely qualified as a word. Still, Ruda managed to raise her own voice above the noise.

“Or are you going to march out there, find those goddamn Riders, and PUT THEM IN THE GROUND?!”

Fists were shaken, faces twisted into animalistic snarls, weapons—both actual wands and hatchets and various pieces of furniture—brandished. Paxton had eased over and now placed himself behind Trissiny, ready to bolt through the door at an instant’s notice. Gabriel had also slipped backward and lurked now in the doorway, keeping an eye on the street.

“Are you victims?” Ruda thundered, wild-eyed, pumping a fist in the air, “OR ARE YOU MEN?”

The noise quite literally shook the floorboards, and this time it didn’t stop. The men kept up a continuous bellow of fury as Ruda made a circuit around the room, shouting incoherently and exchanging thumps and shoves with everyone she came close enough to touch.

Toby finally rejoined them, looking as tense and displeased at these events as Trissiny felt. She carefully eased backward, pushing Paxton and Gabriel a step closer to the door.

The men carried on shouting and gesticulating even after Ruda stopped riling them, now turning to each other, shaking hands, slapping backs, exchanging bellowed exhortations. Amazingly, they mingled without any regard for family affiliation. Even the four patriarchs had grouped themselves together, clasping arms with grim-faced determination. They seemed a bit more restrained than their kin, though, shooting glances at Ruda’s back as she strolled, grinning, over to rejoin her companions.

“Toby, my man,” she said, slugging him in the shoulder. She kept her voice at a normal conversational level, which, given the noise in the room, was as good as a whisper for ensuring their privacy. “No offense, but you don’t understand how the common man thinks.”

“There is a difference,” he said grimly, “between relating to common folk and inciting a riot.”

“Yep, there surely is,” she said easily, nodding. “But funny enough, you need the one to do the other. And cut that shit out,” she added with a scowl as he reached a glowing hand toward her. “I need those bruises for credibility. You can do your paladin thing after the big fight.”

“Ruda,” he said wearily, “I’ve been healing you the whole time. I don’t care how badass you are, one woman doesn’t take on a whole bar and walk away without help. You were stabbed twice. Remember when I grabbed your arm? That’s because it was broken.”

“What? Don’t be stupid, it was just a bruise.”

“Forearms aren’t supposed to bend in the middle!”

“Maybe yours aren’t.” She grinned insanely at him. “I’m Punaji. We don’t fuck around.”

“I don’t even know what that means,” he exclaimed.

“That’s okay, I still like you. Heywood, my sword?”

The Surveyor handed the weapon over, his eyes darting around the aggressive crowd. “Not to disparage your work, Princess, but, ah… Should you perhaps contain this? Or at least direct it? This kind of thing can go very bad, very quickly.”

“Yeah, I’m gonna.” Ruda finished buckling the rapier’s scabbard back to her belt and planted her fists on her hips, looking around the room at her handiwork. “Timing’s a factor. Don’t wanna let ’em tire themselves out or start brawling again, but I need to give the Riders in the audience a minute to slip out the back.”

“Wait, what?” Toby exclaimed. “Don’t we want to keep them pinned down where they can’t act?”

“No, she’s right,” Trissiny said grudgingly. “The whole point of this is to force the Riders to move, so we can hit them back. Now the ones in this group will know we’re coming for them with the whole town behind us. They’re pretty well forced; to take advantage of that, though, we need to give them a chance to warn their fellows.”

“See?” Ruda grinned. “She gets it.”

“That said,” Trissiny went on grimly, “we do need to control this quickly. A mob is like a rabid animal: if we can’t target them at the actual enemy, there’s no telling what they’ll destroy.”

“Yeah, about that.” Gabriel was leaning half-out the doorway, staring down the street outside. “That won’t be a problem.”

“You didn’t notice I was gone?” Darling asked, peeved in spite of himself.

“Oh, don’t get your bloomers in a twist,” Basra said. “That’s classic witchcraft. Redirecting attention, inducing emotional states… We really should’ve been on guard for that, though. Divine magic is a very good counter for it.”

“And so we must be, going forward,” said Andros firmly, scowling more than usual. “I do not like that this Crow woman is taking aggressive action against us. We had best be prepared to deal with her decisively.”

“Ah, granted I only know about her what was in Basra’s report,” Branwen said somewhat timidly, “but… I don’t think Mary the Crow is the kind of person who gets decisively dealt with.”

“She clearly has considerable sources of information to have learned what we are doing,” said Andros, turning his glower on Darling. “You are certain you told her no more than what you related to us?”

“Positive, but that may be beside the point,” he replied. “She clearly knew a lot going in. There’s no telling how much, or from what source.”

“Mm.” Basra was gazing into space, rubbing her lips absently with a thumb. “She was always one of my top suspects… Both in terms of the level of her power and her established patterns. Moving against us strongly supports that theory. From what Antonio’s told us, though, she seemed uncertain. As if she were trying to figure out who knew what, who had done what.”

“That could mean either that she’s not involved, or that she is,” Andros growled. “Either way, she’s used what amounts to mind control on a Bishop of the Church. That is an automatic death sentence.”

“Oh, come on,” Darling exclaimed, “she’s Mary the freakin’ Crow. An absurdly overpowered, self-declared enemy of the state. Her existence is an automatic death sentence; if the Empire were able to put her down it would’ve done so years ago.”

A tense, glum silence fell over the table.

They were meeting in one of the Cathedral’s smaller conference rooms, much less lavish than the one in the Archpope’s personal suite. It was late, well past midnight; most of the rest of the Church’s headquarters was asleep, like the city itself. It had taken considerable time for Darling’s messages to reach their recipients and bring them back here, Branwen having been the last to arrive by a wide margin. He wondered sourly how long it had taken her to do her hair; it had been uncomfortable sitting with Basra and Andros, both of them surly from the interrupted night’s sleep, without explaining the details of his adventure while they waited for her. They well understood his desire not to have to go over it twice, but the pair of them hardly needed a reason to be grouchy around each other to begin with.

The Archpope was secluded in prayer, according to the Holy Legion officer guarding his chambers, and could not be disturbed. They would have to settle for reporting in tomorrow. It was looking increasingly like it’d be a long night.

“Then,” Andros said finally, “the question is this: What are we going to do about the Crow?”

“The more immediate question is whether she’s responsible for the killings,” Basra shot back, rubbing irritably at her eyes with her fists. “That makes a difference in how we proceed.”

“No, it doesn’t,” Andros retorted. “She’s attacked Antonio. That makes her an enemy.”

“Whoah, whoah!” Darling held up his hands peaceably. “Not attacked! Here I am, fit as a fiddle; believe me, if I tangled with the Crow I wouldn’t have walked away. She wanted to talk. Frankly, I think we should encourage this. Fighting her is just plain not gonna be feasible.”

“You propose to let that woman walk all over us?” Andros snarled.

“I propose to investigate,” Basra chimed in, then stifled a yawn. “We need data before we act! Gods, it’s too late to have this conversation…”

“Maybe we should adjourn till tomorrow?” Branwen suggested. “Then we’ll be fresher, and we can include his Holiness in the discussion.”

“We should sleep while the Crow runs loose?” Andros’s sneer was visible even through his beard.

“Timing is, indeed, a factor,” Mary said solemnly, resting her chin on her interlaced fingers. “While you sit here talking, an opportunity is about to slip away.”

Dead silence fell, the four Bishops turning in their seats to stare at her. Mary the Crow sat at the head of the table, watching them with an aloof little smile.

“Okay,” Basra said at last. “Not gonna lie, I’m impressed.”

“Ah, ah,” Mary said firmly as Andros started to rise, reaching a hand toward his belt. “Sit, boy. There is no need for hostility.”

“You’ve been there the entire time, haven’t you,” Darling said resignedly. “Otherwise, Andros would’ve sat at the head.”

“Very good, Antonio,” she replied with a smile. “You continue to display a keen eye for details and personalities. That’s why you’re my favorite.”

“Whoopee,” he said sourly.

Branwen cleared her throat. “You mentioned an opportunity?”

“Quite so.” Mary straightened, separating her hands and resting one on the table. “There have been, to date, twenty-eight executions of high-profile priests in the city, all within the last few weeks.”

Darling managed not to react. Twenty-eight? That was off from Flora and Fauna’s count. The number should be lower. If they’d been going off on their own again…

“One of those has just been committed,” the Crow continued, “and will not be discovered, in all likelihood, until dawn. The person responsible is still in the city, and can still be confronted if you move quickly.”

“Who?” Basra demanded.

“You would know him as the Jackal.”

She grimaced, as did Darling. The Jackal was a fully non-magical foe, but several orders of magnitude more dangerous than Oz the Beater had been, by virtue of being an elf. Fast, agile, stealthy…and sadistic. So much for working gradually up the list.

“You claim he is responsible for all these murders?” Andros growled, so physically tense in his seat he seemed almost ready to erupt.

“For this most recent one, at least,” Mary replied with unflappable calm. “He is not expecting any kind of intervention; in fact, he has no reason to think he has been discovered.”

“And yet, you have?” Basra said wryly.

Mary nodded, smiling. “I rarely choose to announce my presence. Among other benefits, this often means I know a great deal more about my surroundings than anyone expects. In this case, I can tell you where the Jackal is. Apprehend him, and you may just learn how many of these assassinations are his doing.” Her smile widened. “And at whose behest.”

“Unless, of course, this is an obvious trap,” Andros snarled.

Mary held up her right hand, palm out. “By my totem spirit, may my bond with the earth be forsworn if I deceive thee, I swear that I have told you nothing but the truth, and intend to lead you toward enlightenment, and not harm.” She lowered her hand, leaning back slightly in her chair. “Of course, he is the jackal. Pursuing dangerous prey means that harm is more than possible.”

“What was that, exactly?” Basra asked, her eyes narrowed.

“An oath not lightly broken,” Andros rumbled. “…I am satisfied, at least, as to her intentions.”

“You are?” she said, visibly surprised.

“The Huntsmen are acquainted with the ways of the wild. We must deal regularly with elven witches.”

“She’s not hostile toward us,” Branwen added, watching the Crow carefully. Mary turned the smile on her, blinking her eyes languidly.

Darling sighed. “Are we in any shape to go chasing after someone like the Jackal right now?”

“As to that, I can offer you a little aid. A token of good faith.” Mary lifted her left hand from below the level of the table, opened it palm-up, then blew across it. Nothing visible flew outward from her hand, but a gentle scent like herbs and clean water flowed briefly through the room.

Darling unconsciously straightened in his chair, fatigue draining away, leaving him feeling alert and fresh as a daisy. Around the table, the others perked up visibly as well, then exchanged a round of uncertain glances.

“A little warning before you do witchcraft at us would be appreciated,” Basra said testily.

“Of course,” Mary said noncommittally. “Now, we had best move. I will guide you to your quarry, but it will be up to you to bring him down. Alive, remember, or he’s no use to us. I’ll find you outside.”

The black bird let out a hoarse caw, flapping across the room, then slipped out through the upper window which Darling was sure had not been left open when they came in.

“Well, what the hell.” Basra pushed back from the table, standing. “I’m going to swing by the Avenist shrine and arm myself. Meet you lot out front; don’t start without me.”

“Not how I expected to spend the evening,” Branwen murmured, also rising and following the others. Andros had stood and strode toward the door without further comment.

Darling trailed along in the rear, considering the situation and not liking the way it looked. More murders than his girls had committed? And now he was being sent off to confront the person responsible without having them there to watch his back—at the behest of the Crow, no less. He had thought her not guilty of any of the assassinations, knowing their source as he did, but if there were other parties getting in on the action, everything was thrown into doubt.

One thing was certain, though: Mary knew who had carried out the bulk of the killings, and knew that he had ordered them. Her say-so might not be enough to convict him, but it would certainly start the ball rolling, and she had every reason to think of him as a threat. Now, she was guiding him and the other three Bishops toward some revelation of her own design.

Whatever he was heading toward, it wasn’t likely to be good for him.

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4 – 12

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

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

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

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

Tellwyrn narrowed her eyes. “Oh? Who?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Tellwyrn snorted and stomped over toward the bar.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Just a moment, if I may.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It is a start,” said Shaeine.

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

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

“Jenny,” Joe protested.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Don’t say a word.”

She shook her head. “Too easy.”

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

“Relax,” she said in a low voice.

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

“This was your plan, you know.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Fair enough,” he said sourly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You mean, the way you actually have a pretty strategic mind, apparently, but possess all the people skills of a billy goat?”

He grimaced. “Just for a completely random example, yeah, sure. Not that you’re one to criticize anybody’s people skills.”

She shrugged.

Gabe coughed softly. “You, uh…actually think I have a strategic mind, though?”

“Really?” She rolled her eyed. “Must we go over this again? I have no intention of stroking your ego, or anything else of yours.”

“Oh, ew. I just got the cold shivers. Don’t say things like that!”

“Yeah, that was ill-advised,” she agreed, twisting her lips in disgust.

“I just… Well, coming from you, ‘strategic’ is pretty high praise. I’m not used to high praise, uh… Coming from you.”

Trissiny shrugged again. “It’s fair. I’ve said your strategy was solid. And don’t forget, I’ve played you at chess, too.”

“Where you won two out of three games.”

“Do you really imagine I didn’t see what you were doing?” Finally, she glanced over at him, but only for a second. “The first two I won quickly, using two different strategies, while you played almost entirely reactive, defensive games. The last one you stretched out, using multiple, deep feints to counter the strategies you’d seen me use, and maneuvered me into exhausting my pieces while you set up a trap. That’s grand strategy, studying an opposing general’s patterns and thinking beyond the needs of the battle at hand. So yes, to my surprise, there does appear to be a highly functional brain lurking somewhere behind that mouth.”

“Ah, well, you know how it is,” he said modestly. “The way I was raised, it’s just good manners to let the lady win.”

She glanced at him again, eyes narrowed. “You are trying to make me stab you now, aren’t you?”

“Invulnerable, remember?”

“Specifically not against a blade crafted by Avei.”

“Well, that’s not really fair, then, is it? You’ve got all kinds of advantages over me in a fight. What say we move this back to the chessboard, next time we have a chance? Best three out of five?”

To her own surprise, Trissiny found herself grinning. “You’re on.”

 

It was out of the question, of course, if he was to keep any shred of control over this situation, but more and more, Toby wanted to plant his face in his hands and groan.

Well over two dozen men crowded the barn, coalesced into small clumps keeping a wary distance between each of them. Despite the palpable tension in the room, they were thankfully leaving one another alone, all their focus on the main table in the center, at which sat the heads of the four families, along with Toby, Ruda and Mr. Paxton. The Surveyor was doing his best to remain professional, but he had wisely left most of the talking to Toby, who actually had formal training in negotiation. Not in Shaeine’s league, of course, but diplomacy called heavily upon the virtues that Omnu sought to instill in his followers: patience, compassion, understanding, respect. Ruda leaned back in her chair, balancing it on its two back legs, her boots propped on the table. She was sipping intermittently from a bottle of whiskey, her hat pulled forward so that it mostly hid her eyes, and not contributing to the conversation. All things considered, Toby decided he was glad of that.

At least there was one thing to be glad of.

“All I’m sayin’ is, we need assurances,” Jonas Hesse said stridently. “Who knows what’ll get back to the Riders, all of us meetin’ like this? Nobody here’s exempt from suspicion!”

“Nobody ‘cept your boys, is what you mean,” snarled Jacob Strickland, the oldest of the four patriarchs at the table. His beard was short, but more gray than brown, and did little to add to his dignity. If anything, he did more shouting than any of the others. He did so now, thrusting a finger at Hesse. “Well? Ain’t it?”

“We all prob’ly suspect everybody else’s boys of bein’ in with the Riders,” said Lucas Wilcox, the youngest of the four, who was leaning back in his chair much like Ruda.

“Gentlemen,” Paxton tried for the third time in the last minute, but Hesse overrode him.

“Nobody calls my sons traitors!” he snarled, jerking to his feet and planting both fists on the table to glare at Wilcox.

“Oh, but you can say what you want about ours?” Ezekiel Conner snapped, folding his arms and glaring mulishly. “Just like a Hesse.”

“Oh, that’s it. You’re gonna eat them words, Ezekiel!”

“Yeah? I don’t see you makin’ me.”

“Gentlemen,” Toby said, much more loudly than Paxton—enough to grab their attention momentarily. “I know you all have issues to work out. Having everybody here at the table is an important first step. But with all due respect, this is not the time.” He held his arms out wide, as if to embrace the whole barn and the town beyond. “Look around you. Sarasio is dying. You—and your families—will die with it if you don’t do something about the White Riders! And to do that, you are going to have to put these vendettas aside and work together.” He leaned forward, trying to hold them still with the sheer intensity of his stare. “Peace takes time and effort to build. I’m not asking you all to suddenly forgive everything and embrace each other. But, just for a little while, please. Put it aside.”

“Ain’t that I don’t appreciate what you’re tryin’ to do, kid,” said Wilcox, nodding to him. “And it ain’t even that you’re wrong. Fact is, though, you’re askin’ us to ride into what’s sure to be a firefight with the very real possibility of bein’ shot in the back.”

“The Riders know too much, we’ve seen it in the way they maneuver,” added Conner, still glaring at Hesse. “Somebody’s tippin’ ’em off. Several somebodies, ‘less I miss my guess.”

“I ain’t puttin’ my life on the line, and sure as hell not any of my family’s, until we straighten out just who the traitors are an’ deal with ’em,” Strickland declared. “An’ until these three dumbasses admit they’ve got Riders among their own families, that don’t look like it’s about to happen.”

“You shut yer foul mouth, Strickland!” Hesse roared, shooting back to his feet. “Your whole brood o’ weasels’re probably in league with the Riders! Hell, I bet you’re leadin’ the bastards yourself! You always did want more’n you deserved outta this town!”

“That does it!” squawked Strickland, also jerking upright. “I’m gonna hear an apology outta you if it’s the last thing you ever—”

Toby slapped both hands down hard on the table, startling them into momentary silence. “Please,” he implored, silently pouring more power into the calming aura he was using to keep this whole thing from exploding into violence. Already, it was a strain to keep enough concentration on that task while also trying to keep the conversation on target. He’d never been in a room with so may deep-seated resentments.

Into the brief quiet, Ruda snorted a laugh. “Listen to you guys. Everybody’s so sure that all the other families are corrupted. First step to dealing with this is you each admitting you’ve all got traitors in your midst.” She lifted her head, meeting their incredulous stares. “Every one of you.”

“Young lady,” Wilcox began.

“It’s Princess, if you wanna be formal. Me, I don’t. Formal doesn’t look good on me.” She jerked her boots off the table and let her chair thump to the ground, leaning forward to stare intently at them. “Use your goddamn heads, boys. Why would the Riders only infiltrate some of the clans populating this town? They need intel on everybody’s movements, or they’d never have been able to head off every effort you made to move against them.”

“Now, look here,” Conner began.

“Furthermore,” Ruda said doggedly, “look around you at what is happening right here, right now. You’re all about to rip each others’ fucking throats out. Is that normal? Is this what life was always like in this town? Or, if you think back carefully, do you find that stuff started getting real bad between you after the Riders started being a big problem?”

“What are you suggesting?” Hesse demanded.

“I’m suggesting the Riders in your ranks aren’t just passing information—they’re pitting you against each other. Think from their perspective: they can’t have the whole town uniting against them, which is the logical thing for a town full of sane fucking people to do when they’re basically under siege. You’ve all got the same damn problem. Now quit pointing fingers and fucking do something about it!”

“That’s all fine an’ dandy,” Strickland growled, “but it don’t change the problem. You wanna round up a posse and take on the Riders? Fine by me. Ain’t a man by the name of Strickland who’ll hang back if that’s what it’s gonna take to save our town. But the fact remains, we got bad apples in the bunch. We ride out, and our men’ll be vulnerable to fire from their own ranks!”

“She ain’t wrong, though,” Wilcox noted. “It ain’t just any one family’s problem.”

“What difference does it make?” Hesse demanded.

“It makes a difference,” Toby said firmly, “because you will all face the same peril together. Do you really believe there’s any way to do this without putting men in danger?” He shook his head. “I wouldn’t lie to you, gentlemen, even if I thought you were naïve enough not to have realized the truth on your own: ride out to battle, and men will die. Right now, you are quibbling over the ways and means in which that might happen, and avoiding the larger truth.”

“You callin’ us yellow?” Strickland growled squinting at him.

“No!” He managed, barely, not to shout. Honestly, they were like children. “I’m pointing out that Ruda is right. You’ve been manipulated, gentlemen; someone has been trying to distract you, to focus your energies against each other.”

“Well, maybe our energies belong against each other!” Hesse shot back. “I ain’t seen one bit of evidence any man in my family’s sided with the Riders, and I’m not puttin’ any of ’em in harm’s way to save a bunch o’ chickenshit varmints who can’t keep order in their own clans!”

The whole table instantly dissolved into shouted pandemonium, the voices too loud and too rapid for any single thread to be clearly heard. All four men were on their feet, pointing and gesticulating at each other and growing increasingly red in the face. Now, other voices began contributing from all corners of the room, first shouting at the general mess at the round table, and then starting in on each other. Toby slumped back in his chair, rubbing his forehead; Paxton planted his elbows on the table, putting his face in his hands.

“Okay,” said Ruda, “this is bullshit.”

She stood up, tilted up the bottle of whiskey to gulp down the last of its contents, then hurled the empty bottle at Wilcox and punched Strickland in the jaw.

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“Thou art welcome to the hospitality of our grove,” Elder Shiraki intoned. “Verily, thy visit ignites a fire of joy within the hearts of all who dwell herein. And yet, so seldom do thy kind partake of this hospitality. I sense that thou hast come to us, as have so many before thee, seeking the aid of the immortal elves.”

“Wow,” Fross breathed. “The way you speak…it’s so pretty! It’s like a poem!”

The elf smiled at her and bowed from the waist. Somehow, this didn’t disturb the golden flows of his hair, which were draped over his shoulders and trailing to the ground behind him in a way that suggested accidental placement but was just too perfect to have occurred without help.

“He’s only doing that to be difficult,” said Elder Sheyann with a sardonic half-smile. “It’s a statement that he’s far too important to bother keeping up with human trends. Languages don’t evolve that fast, and Tanglish isn’t hard to keep on top of.”

“You’re not supposed to end a sentence with a preposition,” the pixie noted.

“Fross,” Shaeine said firmly. “Please don’t correct the elders.”

“On the contrary, this is how we stay abreast of the flow of the world.” If anything, Sheyann’s smile grew.

“Let it nowhere be said that those of this grove turned away from the wisdom of the fae folk,” added Shiraki. He seemed much less amused, though it was hard to tell. The Elders had a gravitas, a stillness about them that made them difficult to read, even when they emoted deliberately.

The elves certainly did not lack hospitality, though several of those who had interacted with the visitors showed the same standoffishness as Thassli and Fraen. Nobody was outright rude, but there were a thousand subtle ways to slip into a conversation hints that they weren’t interested in getting to know humans. That attitude was far from universal, however, and of the dozens of elves crowding around the meeting area in which they were being hosted, quite a few seemed intrigued and delighted to meet Teal. Juniper was universally a celebrity; very few of them appeared willing to warm up to Shaeine. It made for a tricky social space to navigate.

The grove itself was a ring of enormous trees surrounding a wide glade. A stream, not broad but brisk and evidently deep, entered from the north and had been diverted into two channels which completely encircled the central meeting area, rejoining at the southern edge of the grove and departing back into the forest. Like everything else here, the stream gave the impression of great age; it had cut deeply into the ground through which it ran, and now mossy overhanging lips of stone protruded over the rushing waters. Bonfires built atop rough, ancient-looking stone slabs were positioned equally around the inner side of the stream, bathing the seating area in the middle in orange light, but despite that and the climate of the surrounding prairie, it wasn’t hot.

The actual homes of the elves were outward and up, woven into the branches of the trees themselves. The trees in the grove proper were absolutely massive, greater in diameter than the height of a human and rising impossible distances; the common area in the center of the glade was not small, but surrounded by those giant sentinels, it felt like a tiny island. Steps spiraled around many of the trunks, apparently grown outward from the wood itself. Some elvish residences had apparently been built into the trunks themselves, to judge by little doors appearing here and there, but the majority were constructed of wood, balancing on branches and systems of bridges. They were unpretentious in design, but beautiful, their proportions graceful and highly polished surfaces contrasting pleasingly with the rough bark and deep foliage surrounding them. The same design ethic showed in the wooden bridges which spanned the creek at intervals, and the low tables which dotted the central meeting area.

The welcome of the elves involved a meal, but a rather eclectic one, taken sitting cross-legged on the ground around low tables. Shaeine nibbled politely at the handful of fruit that had been arrayed before her; Juniper had been handed a haunch of deer. Literally, a raw leg off a deer, uncooked and apparently quite fresh. She had tucked in with enthusiasm, which resulted in a ghastly amount of blood dripping down her face and onto her chest. Though the elves were clearly acquainted with the habits of dryads, to have served her thus, even they seemed put off by the spectacle. Teal had been served baked beans and cornbread on a dented tin plate, and was trying to decide whether this was an honest effort at accommodating her or some kind of jab at humans.

“You see truly, Elder,” Shaeine said politely, setting down an oblong yellow fruit in a thick peel that she hadn’t figured out how to open. “We would not presume to trouble the peace of your grove except at need.”

“How very refreshing,” Sheyann noted, sipping her tea, “to meet an Awarrion who would not presume to trouble the peace of our grove.”

“Elder Sheyann speaks truly,” said Shiraki, his expression solemn. His long, lean face sported a small goatee, the only facial hair on any of the elves present, even among the other elders. “Thy family oft comes bearing gifts and pleasing words, seeking to curry our favor. Never have I heard one of thy breed ask aid of us. Verily, thy company pardons many a shortcoming, yet we dare not lay down our vigilance lightly.”

“I must make a clarification,” said Shaeine, “with apologies for not having done so in the first place. My friends and I are here as visitors and free agents; I do not represent my House or Tar’naris. To my knowledge, none of my people are aware of my presence here.”

“That may be fair news or ill,” Shiraki said, nodding. “Speak thy piece, child of the dark, and we shall decide.”

In their stillness was an absolute mastery of nuance. Sheyann merely sipped her tea, somehow conveying both a shrug and an eyeroll. Teal watched her in such fascination that she nearly missed Shaeine’s reply.

“We have recently come from the town of Sarasio, which as you likely know, is in a dire situation. It is our intention to help the residents as best we can, and hopefully find a resolution to their troubles. To do this without the aid of the neighboring elves would seem brash…and, in frankness, unlikely to succeed.”

A stir ran through the assembled elves, dying down as Sheyann swept a cool gaze around the clearing. “Then you have stepped into an established discussion,” the elder said, returning her calm stare to Shaeine. “We are in the process of deciding whether the matter warrants our attention.”

“It is hardly up for debate,” said Shiraki, giving her a cool look. “Did we stir ourselves from our lives each time the humans upset themselves, never would we have a moment to attend our own affairs. The suggestions of a paltry few younglings do not hint at division within the grove.”

“I do not consider any of our people ‘paltry,’ Shiraki,” Sheyann replied with weary reproof, “nor dismiss their concerns out of hand. Neither the elders nor the tribe as a whole have raised a quorum of voices proposing to intervene in Sarasio. The tribe, thus, does not move. This does not mean the views of the minority are without merit.”

“Merit they may have, but the fact is as thou hast spoken: our course does not stray. The humans must, as always, attend to their own problems, or fail in the trying.”

“But surely some of the townsfolk are friends of yours,” Teal protested. The expressions of several nearby elves hinted that she was right, while others regarded her with veiled hostility. Most held themselves carefully aloof. “Don’t you care about them at all?”

“That may be, though such attachments are concerns of individuals, not of the tribe. Yet our relationships with humans must always come at a price. Tell me, child, hast thou ever had a pet?”

“Shiraki, that is enough,” Sheyann said firmly.

“I’ve had pets, yes,” Teal said, frowning. “I don’t see what that has to do with it…”

“It’s a metaphor,” Juniper supplied, wiping blood from her chin. “Kind of an old one, actually; it pops up pretty often if you talk with the immortal races. I’ve heard it from my sisters. Basically, you can get attached to a person with a shorter lifespan, but you always know they’re going to die soon, so don’t get too attached.”

“Oh, wow,” said Fross. “That is really condescending.”

“Fross,” Shaeine warned.

“What? It is! We’ve been perfectly nice, here. There’s no reason to call us pets. It’s just rude!”

“It is pretty condescending, yeah,” Juniper agreed. “Honestly I’d have expected a lot more courtesy from an elder of a grove.”

“You are not alone in that,” Sheyann said wryly.

“I ask thy pardon if my frankness hath wrought offense,” Shiraki said in a stiff tone that belied his apology. “Look, if thou canst, through elven eyes. Condescending as our view may be, it is nonetheless ours. Year by year, we watch the generations of humankind rise and fall like the grasses of the field. Wherefore should we invest our hearts and energies into their care?”

“You will note, Shiraki,” Sheyann said, “that the validity of your perspective was not questioned, but only your manners in mentioning it. Be mindful that the tribe’s hospitality is represented here, and let us not insult guests we have invited to sup.”

“I feel like it’s sort of beside the issue, anyhow,” Teal said somewhat hastily. “So the tribe as a whole doesn’t wish to get involved, that’s quite all right, we can respect that. We know some of your people care enough to act, though. Elves have been supplying food to refugees in the bordello.”

Another soft ripple of reaction flowed through the surrounding crowd, and Teal glanced around somewhat nervously.

“We do not presume to dictate the actions of each member of the tribe, so long as those bring no danger nor harm down upon us all,” said Shiraki. “Those who choose to sprinkle water on the forest fire may do so; their time is their own to waste. We elders intercede only ere they burn themselves.”

“If I may ask,” Shaeine said respectfully, “what restrictions have been placed on the movements of tribe members within the town?”

“To date, none,” Sheyann said before Shiraki could reply. Five other elves had been introduced as elders, but they remained as silent as the rest of the tribe, watching the conversation. It was clear that the two elders who bothered to participate represented two factions of opinion…but beyond that, the politics of this group were opaque to the outsiders. “There is a somewhat delicate dance being carried out, there. Certain of our number have, as you say, rendered aid to their friends in Sarasio. As the tribe as a whole has withdrawn, they have been increasingly careful not to risk crossing any possible line. Should the elders deem it necessary to forbid their efforts…that would be that.”

“Okay…what about this,” Teal said carefully, shifting. She was unaccustomed to the position, and her legs were rapidly stiffening. “As it is, the elves helping out in town are being careful to stay safe and stay out of it. I understand you must be concerned for their welfare, but… I really think the best help they could offer doesn’t necessarily put them at risk. It would mean the world to the townsfolk to see a little solidarity. Most of them are basically trapped in their homes right now, or in small groups where there’s some safety. The White Riders can only intimidate a town that size into submission by keeping people afraid and separated; if somebody were to help rally the—”

“Thy suggestion treads upon dangerous ground,” Shiraki warned. “I tell thee true, ere any of this tribe involve themselves in the politics of that blighted human settlement I will bend my efforts to forbidding all contact. Far too often have I seen groups of mankind destroy themselves, and all in their purview. I will not watch as my people are caught up in their insanity.”

“Your whole plan is really to just sit in this grove and wait for everything to blow over?” Juniper tilted her head. She had finished eating and was busy cleaning herself off with a damp towel given to her by a nearby elf. “That’s, uh… I think that’s a survival tactic for a very different situation.”

“Little changes, in the long run,” Shiraki intoned.

“A great deal has changed, in fact,” Shaeine countered. “A century ago, could you have imagined my presence here, at this table?” There came a soft murmur from the onlookers; she allowed it for a moment, then went on before any of the elders interrupted. “The existence and the power of the Tiraan Empire completely alters the equation. Your tribe is already relevant to the situation, and the Empire will see it as such. If matters are allowed to run the course they are currently on, there is likely to be Imperial reprisal against everyone involved.”

“Thy concern gladdens my heart, child of Tar’naris,” Shiraki said dryly. “We do not worry for the retribution of mankind, however.”

“Shiraki is still adjusting to the notion that humans outnumber us,” said Sheyann wearily.

“What?” Fross emitted a discordant chime. “That tipping point happened like five centuries ago. It’s not even about that! The Empire is organized, they conquered pretty much the whole continent! They’ve got much better weapons now. If they get mad at this grove, you’re gonna have big problems!”

“Often in the past have I heard this rhetoric,” said Shiraki, his expression growing colder by the word. “Always, these threats prove impotent.”

Fross fluttered lower, her glow dimming. “I wasn’t threatening you. You guys might be in danger here, I just don’t want—”

“I thank thee for thy visit, travelers,” he said, standing abruptly. “It has been our honor to host thee. Please, enjoy the bounty of our grove until thy travels call thee elsewhere.” With a curt bow, he turned and glided away, the assembled elves parting to make a path for him. The elder’s departure was clearly a signal; may of the rest of the tribe began drifting off.

“What happened? Where’s he going?” Fross demanded.

“Leaving,” said Juniper. “I think we offended him.”

“What? Us? How?”

Shaeine sighed.

 

“Thank you for escorting us, Elder,” Shaeine said as they walked slowly through the forest.

“The pleasure is mine, child,” Sheyann replied. “I confess I rather enjoyed seeing my…beloved colleague’s feathers ruffled. I fear little will come of it, though.”

“The ruffling of feathers is seldom productive. I certainly did not set out to achieve that end.”

“Yes,” the elf said with a faint smile. “For a trained diplomat, to have attempted that meeting with the exuberant help you enjoyed must have been very like trying to weave a basket with the aid of three friendly woodland creatures.”

“Is that us?” Fross stage whispered. “Are we the woodland creatures?”

“I’ve been called worse things,” Teal replied, smiling.

“I could not say,” Shaeine said diplomatically. “I have never tried my hand at weaving.”

Sheyann’s light laugh was a pure pleasure to hear. It added to her ethereal aspect; she walked so smoothly even over the uneven ground that she seemed almost to hover.

“Wait,” Teal said suddenly. “We’re missing someone.”

“Your dryad friend backtracked to the grove, to visit Shiraki alone,” Sheyann said calmly. “You’ve tried your method of persuasion; she is trying hers.”

“What? What’s her…” Teal trailed off, then clapped a hand over her eyes. “Oh, come on, Juniper.”

“There is little use in arguing with her ways,” Sheyann said, amused. “In fact, I would advise against attempting to thwart a dryad under any circumstances. In any case, she is unlikely to shift him, but I cannot help thinking he will be much improved in mood when next I see him, for which I’ll be grateful. It’s been many a year since any of us have lain with a dryad. I’d rather hoped to mate with her myself before you leave the area, if she’s amenable.”

Teal flushed and looked down at her feet, ostentatiously picking her way with great care over the moss.

“Juniper, in my experience, is rarely anything but amenable,” Shaeine noted in perfect calm.

“Yes, she is one of the youngest. They, as with most kinds of people, are always the most eager to try new things.”

“If it is not too great a presumption to say so,” Shaeine went on, “I thought it seemed you were somewhat more sympathetic to our pleas than Elder Shiraki.”

“You really are an Awarrion,” the elder said wryly. “You needn’t worry so about ruffling my feathers, child. Yes, I don’t mind saying that I would prefer to see our tribe—and our people as a whole—take a more active role in the world. The issue of our friends in this town aside, the world is changing around us, and I foresee the day fast approaching when we’ll not have the luxury of ignoring it. Variants of this debate are happening among every elvish tribe, and unfortunately, each has its Shirakis. The satisfaction of seeing the look on his face when the Empire’s progress grinds us all underfoot will, I think, not be worth the cost.”

“The Empire isn’t quite that bad,” Teal protested.

“Now? I suppose not. It has at various points in the past been quite bitterly oppressive, and employed degrees and types of violence that would stagger your imagination. Human society is a tumultuous and changeable thing. Such days will come again…but in the future, they will come with wands and staves, and we will not be able to ride out the storm as we have always done.”

“Well, then, help us!” Fross chimed in exasperation. “This mess right here would be a great place to start! If you allied with the people of Sarasio and cleaned all this up, you’d be on good footing with the Empire, and—”

“If that were up to me alone,” Sheyann interrupted, “I would do so in a heartbeat. But we elves live in balance with our world, and with each other. The tribe moves as one, or not at all. That is our way, ancient beyond imagining.”

“Ways change,” said Shaeine. “They must change, if those who practice them are to survive in a changing world.”

“You, too, come from a society of immortals,” Sheyann replied. “I trust you have seen firsthand the pains that come from too much change, too rapidly.”

“I have indeed, and I have seen both the benefits of enduring it, and the price of failing to do so. Drow have never enjoyed the bounties you have here on the surface, elder. We are practical people—ruthlessly so, at times. We have made our accord with the Empire, and prospered mightily for it.”

Sheyann shook her head. “I applaud your intention and effort, child. Every part of it. The fact remains, though, you are trying to carry a snowball across the prairie in your cupped hands. No amount of skill or luck on your part will make this task feasible.”

They came to a stop; ahead the trees thinned markedly, and the town was just visible between them in the distance.

“Well,” Teal said with a sigh, “we really shouldn’t get separated, or let any of our number wander into town alone. I guess we’ll wait here for Juniper to…um. Finish.” She coughed, her cheeks burning anew. “Will she be able to find us okay?”

“Undoubtedly,” Sheyann replied. “But in any case she will have an escort. You will be safe here; we have taught the Riders not to enter the trees. Forgive me for leaving you, but I must return to the grove and attempt to wrest some order out of the eddies you have left in your wake.”

“I hope we have not disrupted your lives too much,” said Shaeine.

The elder smiled at her. “You came here to do specifically that. And, in all sincerity, I wish you fortune in your task.” She bowed once more, then turned and glided back into the dimness of the forest. Green shadows swallowed her up in seconds.

“Well,” said Fross after a few moments, “here we are.” She buzzed around in a lazy circle. “Hey, how come you two’ve never had sex with Juniper? I bet she’d be glad to.”

Shaeine and Teal looked at each other, then quickly away in opposite directions.

“What?” Fross darted toward one, then the other, then hovered midway between. “What’d I say?”

 

“Here they are,” Robin called, re-entering the lounge area of the bordello with the last four students on her heels.

Fross buzzed ahead, chiming excitedly, but came to a halt above Gabriel, who was sitting with his leg propped up on a chair, foot wrapped in a bloodstained bandage. “Whoah! What happened to you?”

“It’s kind of a funny story,” he said brightly. “Once upon a time, Ruda fucking stabbed me.”

“Language,” said Joe softly. Tellwyrn just rolled her eyes.

The Professor and the Kid were sitting at one of the round tables with Toby, Trissiny and Ruda, who flicked a cork at Gabriel, grinning. He was lounging a few feet away, where the space between tables gave him room to elevate his leg.

“Glad to see you’re all okay,” Toby said feelingly. “I hate to start making requests if you’ve had as exhausting a morning as we have, but Shaeine, none of us can safely heal Gabe’s foot…”

“Of course,” she said, gliding forward and kneeling beside the half demon, placing her hands on his leg. “You do seem to be experiencing the brunt of the excitement on this trip, Gabriel.”

“Oh, I dunno if I can claim that,” he replied. “Trissiny’s already killed a guy today. Ah, that’s so much better. Thanks, Shaeine, I’m sorry to keep putting you out.”

“It is never a hardship to be of service to one’s friends,” she replied with one of her polite little smiles, then lifted her gaze to Trissiny. “I gather you have an interesting story to tell?”

“It would be more accurate to say that Avei killed him,” said the paladin, “but yes, there is one less White Rider troubling the town.”

“That’s not good,” Teal said, frowning. “The rest will be out for revenge…and not on us. They’re the type to pick on people who can’t fight back.”

“I know,” Trissiny said grimly.

Ruda snorted. “So, do you give Avei credit for everybody you kill?”

“Since I’m guessing you’re not looking for a theological discussion, let me just clarify that in this specific case—”

“Oi!” Tellwyrn slapped a hand on the table, making most of them jump and Gabriel fall out of his chair as he tried to reposition himself. “Honestly, it’s been months. At this point I’m pretty sure the eight of you just squabble because you like it. I’ve had freshman classes full of bitter feuds who could put their heads together with less griping and general nonsense. Both groups, start at the beginning and tell each other plainly and sequentially what you’ve been up to.”

“We got fed and then sassed by some elves and then Juniper had some sex with one of them!” Fross declared.

“That’s it,” said Gabriel. “Next time I wanna be in Juniper’s group.”

“Oh, don’t be a grouse,” the dryad said affectionately, ruffling his hair, “you know you can just ask me anytime. Come to my room tonight and we’ll—”

“Can we please try to keep this a little more on point?” Toby pleaded, wincing.

“Yeah,” said Ruda with a grin, “those of us who aren’t into girls are being cruelly left out here. Where’s our muscly man-dryad to nibble on, huh? Am I right?” She prodded Trissiny with an elbow.

“Please don’t touch me.”

“I give up.” Tellwyrn stood and stalked over to the bar, where Lily sat, watching them and shaking with silent laughter, a hand pressed over her mouth.

Shaeine cleared her throat. “If I may? We very quickly made contact with the elves in the forest…”

Once they got started, telling the adventures of the morning went fairly quickly, most of the effort undertaken by Shaeine and Toby on behalf of their respective groups. Trissiny filled in details of her final encounter with the Riders, and then Juniper wanted to add some extra of her own last-minute efforts. The others hushed her and hurried on, over Ruda’s grinning protests.

“It seems to me,” Shaeine said finally, “that we have two variants of the same basic problem.”

“A completely intractable population,” Trissiny agreed, nodding.

“They aren’t completely intractable,” said Toby. “I mean, I can attest that there’s potential to bring together the different groups of townsfolk, and even the elves… I have to believe there’s common ground that can be built on.”

“Here’s a basic lesson in religion for the paladin,” said Ruda, pausing to take a swig of boubon. Everyone else was sipping water, Jenny having brought over a carafe and glasses while they laid out their stories. “Anything you believe because you have to is almost certainly wrong.”

“Let’s not derail this any further,” Trissiny said firmly. “As I said before, the problem isn’t that we can’t make the humans and the elves see reason, first separately and then together. I’m sure that could be done, at least in theory. The problem is that we don’t have time to do it.”

“That’s it in a nutshell,” said Gabriel, frowning into the distance. “Unless either of our diplomatic aces has a grand scheme to hustle the process along?”

“Afraid not,” said Toby with a sigh. “Though I’m hardly a diplomatic ace.”

“I could not in honesty characterize myself as such either,” said Shaeine. “And, as a rule, when the goal is to build trust and mutual understanding, schemes are seldom a good approach. I concur; the diplomatic possibilities are there, but we haven’t the luxury of the necessary time it would take to fulfill them.”

“Okay.” Still staring at nothing, Gabriel nodded. “Okay. I think I know what to do.”

“All right,” said Trissiny, rolling her eyes. “How about we do anything except that?”

He looked up at her and scowled. “You haven’t even heard my idea.”

“I’ve met you.”

“Ease up,” Toby said reprovingly. “If Gabriel has a plan, we’re off to a solid start. He makes good plans.”

Trissiny stared at him.

“Um, whoah, hold up.” Ruda pointed at Gabe. “Just for reference, we’re talking about this Gabriel. Arquin. This guy right here. The one with his foot perpetually in his tonsils whose only known act of diplomacy was screaming cusswords at the Hand of Avei.”

“It’s so nice to be appreciated,” Gabriel groused.

“I know what I’m talking about,” Toby said firmly, holding Trissiny’s gaze. “In a diplomatic situation, I would follow Shaeine’s lead. Out in the wild, I’d follow Juniper’s. If we were going into battle, I’d want you to take charge, Triss. If we’re going to execute any kind of complicated maneuver that incorporates elements of all of the above, then trust me: we want Gabriel to lay the plans.”

She frowned at him, cut her eyes to Gabriel, then back. “You’re serious.”

“You don’t know him like I do.” He grinned. “You’ve never played chess with him.”

Trissiny drew in a deep breath and let it out very slowly, then eased back in her chair, folding her arms across her breastplate. “All…right, then. Let’s hear it, Gabe.”

He stared at her with an annoyed twist to his mouth, then shook his head. “Okay, well… So the issue is we need to get all these people whipped into one unit, despite the fact that most of them hate each other and obviously would rather sit in their homes getting picked off one by one than unite. Fast. Sound accurate?”

“That pretty much sums it up,” Teal agreed.

Gabriel nodded. “Then it seems pretty simple to me. I say we don’t give them a choice.”

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