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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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Once again, she landed in chaos.

Trissiny’s mental picture of a frontier town admittedly came from comics and cheap novels (what few had slipped past the Abbey’s defenses); she should hardly have been surprised to find that Last Rock was not a single dusty street lined with wooden buildings. Cobblestone streets fanned out from the Rail platform, framing solid and quite elegant structures of well-dressed stone that wouldn’t have looked out of place in a medieval village. Really, that only made sense, positioned as the town was at the base of a mountain with no trees in sight.

She barely had a chance to appreciate the town, however, as a roar of pandemonium went up as soon as she stepped off the caravan. The streets and the edges of the platform were thronged with townsfolk apparently in their churchday best, cheering and applauding as though greeting victorious soldiers just back from the trenches. Somewhere nearby, barely visible through gaps in the crowd, an enthusiastic but clearly unpracticed brass band struck up a sprightly tune. Colorful streamers and buntings were draped everywhere, wreaths hung from darkened streetlamps, and strung across the main avenue directly ahead of her was a huge banner reading:

WELCOME, FRESHMEN!

And below that, a slightly larger one:

WELCOME BACK, ASSHOLES!

That was…troubling.

Before she’d decided how to react to all this, a door was flung open two cars behind her and a boy came staggering out. Trissiny gathered only an impression of dark, tousled hair and a long black coat before he stumbled to his knees and was loudly, violently sick. At this, the cheering on all sides intensified and a few catcalls rang out.

She scowled, letting go of her trunk and turning toward the poor boy. Riding the Rails the first time without the benefit of a lot of physical training must have been a nightmarish experience; even she would have come out of the Belt bruised at the least if not for Mr. Paxton’s warnings. And it was not right for people to treat someone’s misfortunes as entertainment.

A second young man, casually dressed and with a very dark complexion, had emerged from the same car and now knelt by his fallen companion, ignoring the crowd. Trissiny hesitated; if it were herself, she’d rather people gave her space and didn’t acknowledge her discomfort so publicly, but that was just her. Besides, Avei expected her to render aid wherever it was needed, and though she wasn’t a healer by calling, just channeling raw holy power at someone would soothe a lot of ailments.

“You there! You, girl, in the armor!”

Warily, she twisted back the other way, in time to see an old woman in a black gown nearly a century out of fashion swat a grinning boy of about twelve out of the way with one of the two canes on which she dragged herself along.

“You’re that paladin, right?” The old woman grinned broadly, and Trissiny forced herself not to flinch; her teeth, those that remained, were as brown as old wood. “Paladin of Avei. Finally the gods are sending us a message again, yeah? Finally the paladins are coming back, and they’re both coming here! That’s you, right?”

“I am a Hand of Avei,” Trissiny said carefully, having to pitch her voice a little louder than she liked to be audible over the crowd. Several of the closest bystanders immediately cheered even more loudly at her; nobody offered up any of the rude commentary they’d thrown at the boy who’d lost his lunch. She glanced over at him; he was standing, weakly, with his friend’s arm about his shoulders, and the pair were being pressed in upon by several of the locals carrying small trays. More detail than that she didn’t manage to catch before the old woman in front of her let out a loud crow like a cockerel.

“I knew it!” she chortled, thumping one of her canes against the stone platform. “It’s about time, is all! Yes, time for the gods to send someone to straighten out that nest of iniquity and vice up there on the hill. Elves and wizards and perverts, the lot of ’em! You’ll fix ’em good, won’t ya, paladin? Eh?”

“Ah…” Trissiny glanced around again. Over a dozen pairs of eager eyes were upon her; she was surrounded by grins. By all the Pantheon, did these people think this was street theater?

“Oh, Mabel, give the poor girl a moment to get her boots on the ground before you start preaching,” said a new voice in a throaty purr that really seemed too soft to carry as well as it did over the noise. Trissiny spun again and found herself almost nose-to-nose with a strikingly pretty black-haired woman. Only as an afterthought did she realize it was an elf.

Dark hair was supposed to be rare among the elvish tribes, so she’d heard. Trissiny had rarely met elves and never been this close to one; the differences from humans weren’t so glaring. This woman was of slender build, but not abnormally so; her eyes were on the large side and her features rather pointed, but not enough to seem out of place on a human face. Trissiny herself had some of those traits. Only the long, tapered ears poking up through her hair marked the elf for certain.

“Hussy!” screeched the old woman, clobbering the elf with a cane, to no effect. Apparently there wasn’t much strength in those bony arms. “Freak! Harlot! Painted trollop! I know what you get up to, over in the taverns! Sub-human thing from Elilial’s bosom! You get away from that girl. She’s a good girl, she is! And you!” Trissiny jerked back as a cane was pointed directly into her face. “You smite this heathen slattern! She’s of the Black Lady’s own stock, she is! Do yer duty, girl!”

“I see you’ve met my fan club,” said the elf airily, ignoring repeated blows from the cane. “It’s such a pleasure to meet you at last, Trissiny. Welcome to Last Rock. I have something here I think you’ll like.” Smiling disarmingly, she produced a small, flattish wooden box from within her coat and opened it; a golden pendant formed in the eagle symbol of Avei rested upon black velvet within.

“Do I know you?” Trissiny asked loudly, resisting the urge to grip her sword. Symbol of her faith or no, something about this woman set her on edge; she smiled the way that oily man who sold the Abbey produce did. Mother Narny had to supervise him very closely.

“I know you, my dear, which will do for a start. Everyone knows about the new paladins joining the student body this year. I’m just a simple enchanter and purveyor of magical trinkets, and purely honored to make your acquaintance. I’d like you to have this as a gift, from me, at no charge.” Smiling broadly, she pressed the box forward again, then had to jerk it back as the crone tried to swat it out of her hands.

CRACK!

Even the band faltered. Townspeople who’d been pressing ever closer to her scuttled back, revealing a man in denim and flannel, with a wand pointed skyward and a silver gryphon pinned to his shirt. In the confusion she hadn’t even seen the lightning bolt, but the tip of his wand still smoked faintly.

“Okay, folks, that’ll do. Show’s over. Let’s all take a step back before I have to feel disappointed in somebody.”

“Sheriff,” Trissiny said desperately, cocking a head at her two admirers. Tugging the broad brim of his hat to her, he ambled over.

“Omnu’s breath, you two, were you raised in a barn? Do we have to go through this every year?”

“I was raised in a tree,” said the elf with a grin. “And unless it’s suddenly illegal to talk to paladins, nobody’s doing anything wrong here. Ms. Avelea, here. Please take this.”

“Don’t you pull that attitude on me, master Samuel Sanders!” squawked the old woman, brandishing a cane. “Just because you’ve got a big fancy badge now doesn’t mean you don’t have to respect your elders! And taking a god’s name in vain, for shame! I know your poor mother, Omnu rest her soul, raised you better than that.”

“Well, you’ve caught me dead to rights, Miz Cratchley,” the sheriff said easily. “It’d serve me right if you went and wrote a letter to the editor about my deplorable behavior right this minute.”

“You see if I don’t, you young hellion!” She waved the cane at him once more, then began the complicated process of turning around and ambling off, still shrilly complaining. “Young people these days. No respect. None! In my day, we knew how to pay respect to the gods, yes sir. And to our elders!”

“Welp, that takes care of the one I’d feel bad about shootin’.” He raised an eyebrow at the elf, who fluttered her eyelashes at him.

“All right, all right, keep it in your pants, Sam. Trissiny, if you’d just—”

“No, thank you,” she said firmly. “I don’t need jewelry. Of any kind.”

“Oh, but I know what a young adventurer needs! Trust me, I deal only in the most magical of—”

“That will do, Sippy,” said the Sheriff, all humor gone from his voice. “She’ll be here all year. You can bide your time and make a pest of yourself when the poor girl’s had a chance to settle in. Move along.”

The elf closed her box with a loud snap. For just a moment she glared daggers at Sanders, then turned an amiable grin on Trissiny. “Well, the man’s not wrong. It’s wonderful to have you in town, Trissiny. I look forward to seeing you again.” Bowing, she backed away into the crowd.

“Thank you,” she said with feeling. The sheriff smiled at her.

“Not at all, ma’am, that’s why they pay me the big bucks. Can I offer you an escort past the town?”

“I appreciate your help,” she said a little stiffly, “but I don’t require any man’s protection.”

“I am well aware that you don’t, miss, but there’s more to life than what a body requires. I thought you might like a little protection anyway. See that?” He cocked a finger at the crowd where the two boys had been moments ago. There was no sign of them now; apparently they’d managed to escape. In their place stood half a dozen well-dressed people carrying trays of snacks, toys and baubles, all eying her hungrily. “My beloved constituency. Good folks, as a rule, but you should know up front that they view you and the rest of the students as walking coin purses. They’ll leave you alone if you’re with me, but if you’d rather not…” He shrugged. “You can always beat ’em back with your sword, I guess, but the we’ll have to have an entirely different kind of conversation.”

Abruptly, the fine hairs along Trissiny’s arms stood on end; her scalp tingled distractingly. Then, with an earsplitting crack of arcane energy, the caravan behind her began moving. Its acceleration was a frightening thing to behold; it was over the horizon in seconds. How had she survived riding that wretched thing? How did anyone?

“When you put it that way,” she said carefully, bending to grasp the handle of her trunk, “I think I would appreciate an escort.”

“I live to serve. Shall we?”

He was as good as his word. The cheering had begun to fade as soon as the caravan departed, people drifting away to tend to their own business; though she remained the center of attention, nobody else pressed forward or tried to intercept her with the Sheriff by her side. He led her at an easy pace away from the Rail platform and down what appeared to be the main avenue of the tiny town.

“Is it like this every year?” she asked cautiously. Stands and stalls, most looking rather cobbled-together, occupied the edges of the street, displaying a wide variety of goods and obstructing the actual storefronts. Bright banners, pennants and bunting were hung everywhere, including several with text welcoming the students to Last Rock. None after the big one across the road referred to them as assholes, which was a positive sign.

“We’re a college town,” he said with an amiable grin. “Last Rock is probably the most cosmopolitan village of its size in the whole Empire. We’ve got entertainment and specialty goods such as you’d expect to see in the capital itself, including more taverns than we need. Students bring money from all over the place, and the population has mostly adjusted to suit their needs. Pretty open-minded folks, as a rule, at least compared to most frontier stock, despite a few holdouts like Miz Cratchley. Of course, the downside of being so dependent on the University is the summers around here are a dry season, and I don’t just mean the weather. So yeah, the kids coming back is a pretty big deal.”

“I don’t have much in the way of spending money,” she said carefully. “Or want any. My needs are few.”

He nodded. “I can spread that around, if you’d like. Might spare you a certain amount of harassment next time you visit.”

“Is there much trouble between townspeople and students?”

“Oh, rarely. You can’t have those two groups in one spot without some butting of heads, but Professor Tellwyrn’s a good neighbor. You cause trouble in my town and I’ll have to wait for her to finish scraping and smoking your hide for embarrassing her University before I even get to toss you in a cell. Not exactly a boon to my manhood, but I can’t argue with the results.”

“I have no intention of causing any trouble,” she said frostily.

“My apologies, ma’am, didn’t mean to imply that. It was a general ‘you.’ I end up having to have this talk with most of the kids at one point or another; force of habit. And to speak the plan truth, it’s not you I’m worried about. It was a right breath of fresh air to learn we’d be getting two paladins this year. Actually…if I’m not mistaken, Principia was actually trying to give you something, which is downright weird; usually when she’s around it’s wise to keep a hand on your wallet. I guess everybody loves a paladin.”

“Hm.” She didn’t know what to say to that. Trissiny hadn’t been offered much detail on the other students, but she had been told there was a Hand of Omnu her own age who’d be starting school alongside her. Hopefully they could compare notes. But it was hard to know what was expected of her, here. The citizens of Last Rock clearly saw her as a person of action, much as she wanted to see herself, but Avei seemed to have different plans. Why else would she be here and not someplace like Sarasio, where a sword of the Goddess would actually be useful?

“And this is as far as my authority extends,” he announced, coming to a halt. Indeed, they had reached the edge of the town; directly ahead, even with the walls of the last buildings, the cobbled street abruptly became stairs of white marble, which marched the entire way up the mountain. Above, the University loomed, offering her only a vague impression of towers and walls from this angle. She could also see two dark figures who had to be those boys from her caravan, climbing the stone stairs.

It was an awe-inspiring sight, especially compared to the gray stone of the town and the rusty gold plains that stretched in every direction. The grass climbing the slope was lushly green, and the marble steps almost blinding under the bright sun. She saw, now, that in addition to the stairs marching directly upward, a broad, flatter path zigzagged back and forth all the way to the University, probably for wheeled conveyances that couldn’t navigate the stairs. It had a much gentler slope, obviously, and would be easier in terms of pulling her trunk…but it’d also take about ten times as long. This was going to be quite the hike, whichever path she chose.

“Thank you, Sheriff, for everything.”

“My pleasure, Ms. Avelea. And please, it’s Sam, so long as you’re on my good side.” He winked. “Welcome to Last Rock. I truly hope you enjoy your stay.” With one more tip of his hat, he turned and strolled back into his town, leaving her to face the rest of her journey alone.

Trissiny drew a deep breath, tightened her grip on her trunk, and started up the steps. The sturdy wheels were big enough to climb each step without too much banging, but the repeated bumps quickly began to jar her arm even worse than sword practice. Well, back home, she started her day with a run up and down the steep hills of Viridill, in full armor, on ancient stone steps far more treacherous than these. Granted, the sun at home was never quite this oppressively hot, but Trissiny wasn’t about to admit defeat this early in her journey.

She glanced back. About…twenty feet up. Gritting her teeth, she focused on her breathing, on the mechanical motions of her legs. One step at a time.

Fifteen minutes later, Trissiny had developed a theory that between the Rail rides and this infernal staircase, Professor Tellwyrn was attempting to weed out the weak and unworthy from even approaching her precious University. She was in excellent physical shape and bore the strain of the climb without complaint, though her arm was already aching something fierce. She considered switching the trunk to her other side, but instinct compelled her to keep her sword arm limber and free. The heat was worse than the exercise, really. Those poor boys…she was pretty sure one had been in a long black coat. There was no sign of them ahead now.

A thin, reedy sound of music had begun to grow as she’d climbed, becoming more and more distinct with each step. The tune was a cheerful one she didn’t recognize; it helped, a bit, in distracting her from the rigors of the climb. Now, as she finally approached the gates of the University itself, she discovered the source.

Though the dark stone walls weren’t battlemented, she was impressed by their height. This was clearly a defensible structure. There was only one gate, positioned in the center of the slope and with the broad marble steps leading directly to it; a small plaza had been carved from the mountain and paved in matching white marble to accommodate the two huge, iron-bound wooden gates, which presently stood open. An arch of decorative wrought metal spanned the gap between them, and upon this perched what she assumed was a student, playing an ocarina.

He had thick, black hair tied back in a long tail, and the mahogany complexion common in the western provinces. All he wore were loose canvas trousers and an open-fronted leather vest decorated with bits of bones and tusks. At Trissiny’s approach, he broke off his playing and grinned down at her.

“Frosh?”

“Excuse me?”

“Freshman,” he clarified.

“Um…” She’d seen that word on the banners below. Apparently it was the opposite of asshole?

“You’re a first-year student?” the young man clarified further, his grin broadening. It was a friendly expression, though; she didn’t feel mocked or belittled.

“Oh! Yes. Yes, I am.”

“Welcome to the University!” He had a deep voice, and sounded like he was laughing even when he merely spoke. “You’ll like it here. Probably. At the very least you won’t be bored. This year’s freshman girls are living in Clarke Tower. Just follow the blue flags along the path, and you’ll head right there. And don’t worry, it hardly ever falls.”

With that and a final grin, he lifted the ocarina back to his lips and resumed playing.

“Oh. Uh, thank you,” she said weakly. He didn’t stop, but blew a high trill, wiggling his fingers at her, and winked. Trissiny ducked her head and strode forward, passing under him and into the University itself.

Three paths branched off from the gates; a wide one that seemed to continue directly on from the stairs, and one meandering away to each side. The path on her left was marked with a small blue pennant. Drawing closer, she noted that the slim pole to which it was tied was not stuck in the ground; it floated, immobile, about a foot off the grass. Opposite that, a red one hovered by the other side. She drew another deep breath and set off down the marked path.

Here, the slope of the mountain had been re-shaped into terraces, and Trissiny’s route, marked with more floating blue flags every few feet, took her along a meandering course down broad thoroughfares, through narrow alleys and across a few patches of open lawn. There was an amazing variety of scenery, and Trissiny quickly came to the conclusion that the path she was directed to take was designed to show off the campus rather than get her anywhere efficiently. Not that it wasn’t pretty, or that she wouldn’t appreciate knowing where things were, but after her hike up the mountain she didn’t enjoy it as much as she otherwise might.

The University made the best possible use of the space available to it. Many of the walled terraces had doors leading into subterranean chambers, and the stepped architecture meant there was shade everywhere. There were plants in every available space; shrubs, flowers, vines climbing stone walls and even several trees, where room existed for them to grow. Three levels up from the gates she passed along the edge of a broad, flat area carpeted with lush grass, with a gazebo near the front, perched on the edge of the terrace.

She passed few other people, all of them clearly students. Some nodded or called out greetings, which she returned politely, and all gave her long considering looks; nobody offered to engage her in conversation, for which Trissiny was actually grateful. She wanted to get settled in before having to deal with any more people, especially if they were all going to be as weird as those she’d already met in the town. Humans predominated the student body, what little she saw of it, but there were a handful of elves as well, and she actually spotted two dwarves, both women. On the flat lawn by the gazebo, a lizardfolk person in a nice suit fenced with a human girl, the clash of blades intermingling with cheerful taunts and laughter in a way that made her homesick for the Abbey and her sisters-in-training.

Eventually her path brought her to the very edge of the mountain, and a nasty surprise.

A wall surrounded the perimeter of the University, where buildings weren’t perched right on the edge, to keep people from accidentally wandering off the cliff. The blue flags led Trissiny directly to a gate in this wall, which opened onto a stone footbridge bordered by tall iron railings; a plaque right by the gate proclaimed this the way to Clarke Tower. She had to stop at the foot of the bridge and stare in horror.

The bridge was gently arched and about thirty feet long, and terminated at the top of a colossal stalactite at least four stories tall. It tapered to a jagged point aiming downward, and had a flat top upon which was built a thick round tower with a conical roof that had a huge clock face inset. And the whole island just…floated in midair, above a nauseating drop to the prairie far below.

Hesitantly, she crept across the bridge. It certainly felt solid. In her rational mind, Trissiny knew this all had to be perfectly fine. This was a University run by the most famous former adventurer still living, a woman who was a formidable wizard in her own right. Magic was ancient and well-understood. Furthermore, they wouldn’t have built a building on this and housed students in it if it weren’t entirely safe.

But all that was merely cognitive. She was stepping on a thin bridge to an island in the sky on which they apparently expected her to sleep. In her heart of hearts, Trissiny knew she was about to plunge to her horrible death.

Only by keeping her eyes firmly fixed on the door to Clarke Tower did she make it across the bridge, and that despite the strong breeze that seemed to perpetually flow across it. The door was actually quite lovely, made of old iron-bound wood with stained glass panels inset. Coming to a stop before it, she had to pause and take a few deep breaths. This was good; nothing in her vision but the door and stonework. She could almost forget she was standing on ground that was floating on nothing.

Trissiny decided she was beginning to hate this place.

She raised her hand to knock, then shook her head. If they expected her to live here, she wasn’t going to mince around. Grasping the handle, she pulled the door open and dragged her trunk inside.

“Oh! Hi there!”

Blinking, she surveyed her new surroundings. It was a comfortably furnished living room lined with overstuffed chairs surrounding a coffee table, with a battered couch along one wall; a grandfather clock ticked away in one corner. There were no windows, Avei be praised.

Upon her entrance, a woman rose quickly from one of the chairs and bustled toward her, beaming. She was a head shorter than Trissiny and at least twice as broad, her plump frame squeezed into a very fancy corseted gown of black and purple silk that displayed a dizzying expanse of cleavage. She wore a heavy layer of makeup that made her lips and eyes seem almost to pop off her rouged face; Trissiny was aware of cosmetics in theory but had seldom seen them used, and couldn’t help staring. Waves of glossy ebon hair were wound around her head in an elaborate bun, decorated with sprays of purple feathers.

“And you must be Trissiny!” the woman gushed. “Oh, it’s so good to meet you at last! Imagine, a paladin staying under my roof. Arach—that is, Professor Tellwyrn’s told me all about you. You’re one of the first to arrive, dear.”

“Uh. Thank you?”

“I’m Janis Van Richter, the house mother. Please, just call me Jan! I’m here to look after the place and you girls, make sure everyone’s comfy and right at home. Any problems you have, just come to me and we’ll get it all sorted, okay? Oooh, this is going to be such a good year! C’mon, I’ve put you in the upper room, so let’s not waste any time getting you settled in.”

Janis seized Trissiny’s free hand in both of her own—they were plump and bedecked with far too many rings—and beamed up at her.

“Welcome to the University, Trissiny. Welcome to Clarke Tower. Welcome home!”

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