ã€ŠThe Order and The Lostã€‹


 Prelude: Melthius Cantar

    ¡°I hate this country,'''' said Melth, rubbing his temple and closing his eyes for a moment. ¡°All the enchantments around here give me a headache.¡±

    His partner, an older woman in a black robe, didn¡¯t so much reply as grunt. Their two horses continued south back towards the fortified waystation that the Order maintained just west of Nase. Behind them was a village that served as a small trade plaza for those who did not wish to head to the city proper; ahead of them was only a lonely road across a few low rolling hills. Further behind and a bit to the north was the secluded estate they had been visiting.

    Between the two of them, she was more used to this country, and also to riding horses. Melth was much more comfortable in an office, or ideally, a library. Duty, of course, often took people places they do not wish to go.

    A moment passed before Melth continued. ¡°I do worry. Lord Egrethore wasn¡¯t hiding anything obvious, but there should have been more there. There should have been something.¡±

    The woman took her time before replying. Melth could sense the tension and some hostility, but had no idea what was bothering her. As a voidling, Melth had enough familiarity with mind magic that he could have found out, but the Order¡¯s rules, let alone social mores, forbid that kind of invasive magic. More than that, he would like to think that they had become friends in the short time he¡¯d been working here. The Order was good about that--picking people to work together who would get along, even if they only had to work together for a short time.

    Finally, she let out a quiet sigh. ¡°Yes, Melthius, there should have been something. But the Egrethore estate, like most Seyonan nobles, can easily afford to hire wardwalkers, and they knew we were coming. There¡¯s no way we would ever catch anything if we go around announcing our plans to everyone.¡±Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

    Melth felt his chest tighten. It was hardly his call, nor his responsibility, but her tone was definitely an accusation. ¡°Lord Egrethore is politically connected. If I showed up out of nowhere accusing him of something, even if I found evidence, I doubt I¡¯d survive the trip back. I might not even survive the inspection. I was expecting him to panic and leave something behind. But even with all my senses, I can¡¯t find anything.¡±

    Nina just snorted. ¡°I take it then that you did not notice the Vein close to his property?¡±

    Melth almost turned the horse back around. He tried to call up a mental map of the continent. Nothing he¡¯d recalled or sensed told him that. ¡°I¡­ uh¡­ no? No, I didn¡¯t, Nina. How close?¡±

    ¡°Very close. Behind the house, at the base of the cliff. There was a boulder blocking--and magically concealing--the entrance to the cave. It is a thin Vein, but I would say it almost certainly connects to the main network. If not, it must have access to the other side.¡±

    Somehow, those facts made his headache come into clearer focus, as though they had been the cause of his malaise. If they spent the effort to conceal it, that definitely meant that they used it; the worst possible answer would be if the estate had access to their own private spatial node deep within the earth, or Light forbid, an entrance to the Underworld. But having access to a Vein was bad enough; it certainly explained the deep connection to the elements that everyone in the family had seemed to have.

    After a moment, though, he relaxed. ¡°Thank you,¡± he offered. ¡°That just might be the puzzle piece we need. If we can get a very good Walker, they might be able to--¡±

    His senses warned him, but not in time. He tried to throw himself out of the saddle, only managing to take the crossbow bolt to the shoulder instead of the back. The force of the bolt kept him from landing cleanly on the ground, and it rattled him. He heard Nina shout, and then collapse to the ground, but the horses reared and screamed, and his wound burned, and somehow, amid all the danger, Melthius fell into a dark slumber, knowing nothing else.

 1. Chandra (1)

    Chandra sat at attention. She already knew that the job she¡¯d done at cleaning her space was not enough and would earn her a bit of abuse from the master, but at this point, not being ready to receive him would be much worse.

    He didn¡¯t come early, and he didn¡¯t come on time. It was hardly unprecedented for him to skip the morning inspection altogether, but neither was it unusual for him to simply be late. When finally the factory whistle blasted, signaling the start of work, she allowed herself to move on.

    As a jackal Halfbreed favored by the master, her work was easy, if lonely. She walked a careful path through the dark, empty space beneath the factory floor, picking up ingots and stones which had once held essence, and moving them to a set of boxes on each end of the work area. If a stone still tingled in her hand, it went in one box; if it was entirely flat, it went in another. Ingots, if any were dropped, went in a third. All throughout the day, the workers above would drop more through the many gaps in the rusting steel floor.

    Today the workers were sluggish, as they usually were not if the master was not around. Once or twice, she completed a walk from one end of the factory to the other with nothing to pick up at all. Worse, someone near the middle of the factory almost struck her with a discarded stone--uncommon, as she chose her route to be away from danger. She didn¡¯t know which language he spoke and she did not understand his words, but she did recognize the mocking laughter from above, and she could easily tell when she picked the stone up that it had far too much essence left. In spite of her standing orders never to look up, she risked a glance at him, hoping she wasn¡¯t obvious.

    He was watching. His eyes burned, angry, twisted. There was a light in his eyes, a violet light that sometimes flickered to a corrupt-feeling red or a blackness somehow deeper than black itself. Chandra had good sight in the dark, but those eyes seemed to drown out all else in the moment she dared look at him. It was a terrifying, but a common sight; if he couldn¡¯t hide the taint, he¡¯d be disposed of very soon. The master would set things right.If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.

    By the time she got to the end of the work area, the stone in her hand tingled a bit less than usual. She hadn¡¯t known that essence could leak out of stones, but then, she¡¯d normally only handled ones with the very last traces of essence in them. She risked a glance at the stone, seeing that it was one with a pale blue glow, a color much lighter than the worker¡¯s eyes.

    After a moment¡¯s hesitation, and seeing that the guards above were not watching closely, she turned around and headed back to the other side of the factory, still clutching the stone in her hand. She picked up another discarded stone on the way, and dropped it in the opposite bin. But the stone in her hand remained there for two, three, five, seven, ten laps across the factory floor. And the tingle in her hand got less and less, until it eventually died down, and she put the stone in the bin with the others.

    She noticed quickly, though, that the hand which had held the stone could no longer tell the difference between a stone that was empty and one which had a faint trace of essence. And she was terrified, because if she made any mistake, the master would be furious. She might get beaten, or worse, disposed of.

    Her other hand, though, retained its sensitivity, so she tested every stone with that hand, focusing discreetly on each so that there would be no mistake. By the end of the day, she was sure she could continue her work.

    When the whistle sounded the end of work, there was still no sign of the master. It was rare that he would not show up at all, but not unheard of. The master would return soon to set things right.

    She made sure to make her space extra clean and did all she knew how to do to make sure the master would have nothing to complain about tomorrow. She hoped that nothing would change.

    But in the piece of broken glass she sometimes used as a mirror, she caught sight of her reflection. And in the almost pitch blackness of her sleeping space, the reflection of her eyes had a very faint light, where just last night there had been none.

 2. Roan Egrethore (1)

    Roan Egrethore considered himself incorruptible. He saw his father, Lord Amon, as someone who took too greedily, and he privately assured himself that he would never be the same way. Still, every time he visited the sacred grounds, he found himself more and more taken with lust for power, and a need for one thing in particular.

    Of all the people who knew him, Roan probably understood himself the least.

    The workshop his father had built on the sacred grounds was a useful place for experiments, but impractical. Seven months ago, the workshop had discovered something of value, but Roan quickly discovered that they didn¡¯t understand how or why. It wasn¡¯t merely that the workshop would not replicate what it had made, it couldn¡¯t; the workers were too sloppy, never keeping notes, never approaching things with an eye to details. He knew approximately what had gone into making the new metal, but not exactly.

    So he had built a factory, and this one made careful records. It cost him a fortune, mostly in bribing the staff to keep it secret from his father, but also in finding more trash-humans to staff the place, ones still skilled enough to perform magical labor.

    The piles of discarded stone and metal were nothing; the sacred grounds had many holes where you could discard rubbish, and it all seemed to vanish into dream. But keeping the building itself secret from his father, whose powers were phenomenal, that was difficult.

    This visit of his father¡¯s was especially tiresome. Amon had been told of the same sample that Roan was taken with, and was retracing the same lines of thought which Roan had taken, trying to get the workers to make a new sample of the same. The workers, to their credit, did nothing to betray him. But they were also unable to explain why the metal had not been reported to him. Roan, with some very careful maneuvering, was able to sneak the sample back to them, and they offered it up to Amon as though it had only been lost.

    Still, to Amon, this all smelled of betrayal. He was hunting around the workshop for signs that they had hidden something else from him. He was keen to go scour the rest of the sacred grounds, too, which would have been a disaster. Roan had been trying to come up with excuses or distractions to take his father off the trail, but he could think of nothing that didn¡¯t sound more suspicious than his own ignorance.

    So he settled for making small moves to delay his father. And, eventually, he found just the right one.

    ¡°What happened with that visitor from the Order you were talking about?¡±

    Lord Amon Egrethore turned and flung the metal ingot in his hand at his son, barely missing him. The ingot, by the sound of it, passed through the wall behind Roan, and from the noise a nearby worker made, it had probably killed someone.

    ¡°I¡¯ll tell you what happened,¡± snarled Amon. ¡°We almost got away cleanly. Almost! But that horse-faced woman, the one you insisted was no threat, she betrayed us. She told him about the entrance to the Vein. I had to have them both killed, and now they will come looking for him. If we can¡¯t get the formula for this¡­ this¡­¡± Amon beckoned to a staff member, who reluctantly handed back the ingot, now slick with blood. ¡°This new magi-metal, then our backer won¡¯t protect us. We need SOMETHING to trade. If it were only money, that would be that, but hiding from the Order is a bigger favor than I have standing to ask for.¡±A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

    ¡°For now,¡± said Roan, hopefully. Internally, he was ecstatic; perhaps his obsession with the magi-metal was going to save him in his father¡¯s eyes. Still, something inside screamed at him to keep it a secret.

    Amon snorted. ¡°Look at these workers, Roan.¡± He strode into the middle of the workshop and taking on a level of volume he usually reserved for making a grand speech in the main hall. ¡°Look at them! Tainted, and getting worse. The air in the sacred ground is saturated. The more work we do here, the harder it is to keep it from infecting us with the taint. I know you have come here more than a few times, and it¡¯s only the assurances from the groundskeeper that they are short visits that convinced me to allow them. People who come here become filled with twisted magic. The seal burns at their souls. They die a thousand deaths, and we can only release them when they are no longer of use. Even these hours spent here today are dangerous, and I should leave this place and not return for months.¡±

    Roan¡¯s stomach tightened into knots. He had privately assumed that the prohibitions against staying were something obscure, or perhaps meant to keep people unawares of some other project that Amon had put together... not something consequential. Perhaps his father simply disliked crossing over here, or felt uncomfortable around the strange and vibrant flora of the sacred grounds.

    No, something in his head says, it still must be a lie. Even for his father, a speech this brazen in front of trash-humans would be a risk, if he meant what he were saying. They would certainly rebel, if they were not a part of his secret.

    ¡°Their only redeeming virtue is that they are of use to us. So long as that is true, they may live,¡± Amon continued, sounding as though he was ready to continue for another five minutes. Then, suddenly, he doubled over in a series of wracking coughs. As they cleared, his face was visibly paler, and his eyes showed pain and stress. ¡°I¡¯ll have your sister take care of the rest of the investigation. You and I both must not return. Now, I think. She can sniff out the problem better than we can. We are too tired and too tainted to do any more.¡±

    ¡°But father¡­¡±

    ¡°No excuses.¡± Amon, seemingly unable to summon the poise necessary to hide his pain, stormed forward and caught his son by the arm, dragging him out of the workshop. ¡°I forbid you to come back, and I¡¯ll seal the entrance if I so much as think you are sneaking in. I won¡¯t have my son become a tainted trash-human. Whatever toy you¡¯ve hidden away in this place, you can have her removed later. But you shall not return.¡±

    As Amon rushed him back towards the stone which served as the entryway to the sacred grounds, Roan risked a glance over his shoulder, in the direction of his factory.

    If he dared to tell his father¡­ but then he would know that he has already stayed too long, if there truly was such a thing. For now, he had time.

    ¡°I can walk on my own, father,¡± Roan said, removing his father¡¯s hand, and scrounging up both willpower and dignity, he walked the rest of the way with his back straight and his mouth shut.

 3. Torit MEldric (1)

    Torit felt the odd quiver to the air, and heard the tearing noise that always accompanied a visitor arriving at the Order¡¯s waystation.  Although the Order liked to consider themselves to be a society of masters, few bothered to master the use of the transit network, mostly because they were gently encouraged not to use it often.  Therefore, people arriving was a messy affair, with energy leaking out, people stumbling into walls or each other, dropping things, and so forth.

    Torit thought of it as being a very human thing.

    Torit was not human.  That didn¡¯t make him better, but as an avian Halfbreed, he considered himself above humans, and not just when he was flying.  Granted his wings didn¡¯t actually work; he had chosen to focus an enormous amount of energy on learning to fly with magic as a result, and had gotten quite good at it, enough to be the envy of many of his species.  Compared to that, the fact that he had no hands, and had to use magic for everyday tasks was but a trifle.

    So when he slid open the door and found two members of the Order in a disorderly pile on the floor, he sniffed indignantly.  If someone had run into him from behind, he would have placed them both back on their feet in an instant. But no, they struggled to their feet and argued about whose fault it was over the course of the next several minutes.

    Finally, though, they stepped out of the transit room--little more than a long closet, with a stone seal on the floor at one end--and addressed Torit.

    ¡°Sorry about that.  You, I assume, are the station master here.¡±  The older man held out his hand, not quite having processed that the halfbreed could not return the gesture.  ¡°I am Wilke.¡±

    Torit looked at the hand for a long moment without comment, then addressed the other, a younger woman.  ¡°Yes, I am Torit, and I manage the station. You are?¡±

    The woman smothered a smile and, after a moment where she seemed conflicted about how to greet him properly, decided a shallow bow would do.  ¡°I am Marin. We¡¯re here to find Melthius and Ninama.¡±

    ¡°Of course.¡±  Torit stepped back to allow them full access to the waystation.  ¡°I haven¡¯t moved their things out of their quarters yet. I doubt there¡¯s much among their possessions that would offer a clue, but it didn¡¯t seem like it was my prerogative.¡±

    The two stepped into Nina¡¯s quarters and then the guest quarters that Melth had used, and after briefly going through what the two had left behind, agreed that there was nothing there except spare clothes and one or two personal effects.  They gathered it all into a bundle, and Torit placed the bundle into storage while they looked at what little paperwork there was about the mission.

    When he returned, Wilke looked up at him.  ¡°It seems pretty clear they must have found something at this Lord Egrethore¡¯s facility.¡±

    ¡°Yes, and no.¡±  Rather than pulling an extra chair out of his office, Torit made himself comfortable on a floating magical cushion, which he wove out of air in a handful of moments, all without breaking his place in the conversation.  ¡°The fact that they were attacked on the road on the way back suggests that he didn¡¯t discover something urgent, exactly.¡±This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

    ¡°You mean if he¡¯d found something, they would have killed him there.¡±  Marin nodded without looking up from Torit¡¯s report. ¡°But they were definitely assassinated.  Ninama worked here, but had no real enemies that you know of, correct? And there is no way Melth was targeted for any reason other than his work.¡±

    ¡°Nina had no enemies,¡± Torit confirmed, trying to keep his voice light.  ¡°If anything, I worried that she was too close to the nobility around here.  I don¡¯t have any reason to believe she was being corrupted, but as an Order liaison, she certainly was in a position to be, how shall I say, courted by some¡­¡±

    ¡°She was sleeping with nobles?¡±  Wilke looked up at him, seeming genuinely surprised.

    Torit, a bit embarrassed, dissembled.  ¡°It¡­ she smelled that way, sir,¡± he said.  ¡°But I didn¡¯t follow her. I have no idea who, exactly, she was sleeping with.  She isn¡¯t, as far as I know, the sort to sleep around. But neither was it only once or twice that she came back with a¡­ strong scent.¡±

    ¡°I think that¡¯s enough,¡± said Marin quietly, looking up at Torit without quite straightening from being slumped over the paperwork.  ¡°But thank you. Did she ever do anything to make you think¡­?¡±

    ¡°I have the highest respect for her integrity,¡± said Torit firmly, tilting his head and raising one eye to give an expression that he hoped showed mild offense, then relaxed.  ¡°It has been tested, in small ways. I firmly believe she was, to the end, trustworthy.¡±

    ¡°There are no bodies, right?¡±  Wilke borred a paper from Marin¡¯s stack, seeming to know which one he was after.  ¡°So you¡¯re guessing that they were killed and not just taken.¡±

    ¡°Nina lost a lot more blood than Melth did.  Melth also struggled away from the place he was wounded, but Nina did not.  Given that Melth was a Void user, I suspect he blocked part of the attack, but Nina did not.  There is some chance that they took them both alive, but the chances are higher for Melth than for Nina.¡±  Torit thought back to the scents and stains in the dirt, trying to find any other details buried in the scene.  The avalanche of pain, fear, and doubt that he felt at the time came back to him, but he pushed it down, focusing instead on the facts.

    ¡°Traces of magic?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not good with that.  Melth didn¡¯t get far. Given how much blood Nina lost, they probably lay there for a while, so I would guess there was a paralyzing agent or sleeping enchantment.  Most likely delivered by bow, or crossbow.¡±

    ¡°Which is more likely out here?¡±  Marin asked, curiously.

    ¡°Different groups have different preferences.  The Egrethore group prefers light crossbows, but many of the mercenary groups are bowmen.  The other major power west of Nase, the Mantrul group, also prefer crossbows, but usually a heavier variety.¡±

    ¡°How much of a weight difference?¡±  Marin had a bit of paper out and was taking notes.

    ¡°The Egrethore group prefers crossbows with a small amount of magimetal in the stock.  They are distinctive in how small they look, but they have the normal amount of power and penetration.  The Mantrul group prefer enchanted heads, especially seeking types, and so they buy heavy crossbows, ones they can shoot from a much greater distance.¡±

    When Marin seemed satisfied, Wilke cleared his throat.  ¡°Tell me more about the tracks leading away from the scene.¡±

    Torit continued explaining what he knew or had found out for the next couple hours.  When, finally, the two investigators left, he saw them off, watching their horses track off to the south towards the main road before he gently closed the main gates.

    They were competent, clever, and clear in their purpose.  Torit had some hope they would figure things out, but if the nobles here were willing to kill members of the Order, it might be too much for any two people to handle.

    Nevertheless, they gave him hope, and that was what he needed right now.

 4. Chandra (2)

    Chandra spent the next day entirely terrified that the master would come back and immediately deem her tainted.  She went out of her way to do nothing suspicious, hoping only that her tail and posture would not give away her anxiety.

    Still, the master did not show up.  Work at the factory went even slower than the day before, and at times it seemed the guards were letting them rest entirely.  Work eventually ended, night came, and then then it all started again--and again without sign of the master.

    By that point, discipline had fallen apart entirely in the upstairs.  By halfway through the day, the guards, who had all been cowed to work through constant abuse, seemed to have vanished entirely, and not long after that, most of the workers were gone as well.  Chandra, however, could not physically leave until they unlocked the gate covering the staircase. They did this whenever the master came for her, and also every five days, taking the bins full of stone out and returning them empty, but that was not due soon, even if the master were here.

    By evening all of the tainted workers had left, and most of the rest.  Chandra was feeling more adventurous, daring to openly look at the upper level, but those that remained all had dull eyes, with no more than a tiny scrap of life, and no sign of the glow that accompanied the taint.  She was happy, at least, that the man who had tried to hit her with a rock was gone. But it felt awful, too, like he had gotten away while she stayed behind.

    Perhaps that was for the best.  There was no escape from this place.

    Slaves like them were brought here through the Starry Place, and those who could not enter the Starry Place could not leave.  Somehow--she assumed it was because she was not human--she managed to stay conscious on the journey over, when the others were all bent low by some spell.  The Starry Place had felt so surreal; she had floated in her cage, and felt a thousand new feelings, all twisted together. It had changed her, she was sure.  If it had not changed her body, then looking up and seeing a rippling hole in the sky full of stars, stars that felt like gods, had certainly changed her understanding of the world.

    She was, however, a slave.  She knew exactly what her place in the world was, even if that world was wider and grander than she had ever known.  As with the others, if the master deemed her unworthy, she would vanish. And knowing how the workers were treated, especially women workers, she preferred her position as one of the master¡¯s favored ones.  For her, the abuse had mostly stopped, and she was never exhausted nor starving at the end of the day.

    The mental scars might not heal, but they were nothing compared to what she had seen above.

    She paced the length of the pit.  Collecting stones had been all there was to keep her sanity the last few months, and now even that seemed taken from her.  Except, late in the day, one man started dropping a few rocks, mostly drained ones. Eagerly, she sorted them into their bins, and returned, hoping she could be of further use.

    She looked up at him.  He had been working at something all day, often making scraping noises inside the cauldron, which was unusual even among the many mysteries that went on above.  And he was exhausted, clearly, with little hope left in him, but he seemed¡­ unusually driven. Like many of the others, he didn¡¯t even rise to his feet to perform his labor anymore, just dropped things over the side of the cauldron as he leaned against it, but still, he seemed eager to put a little bit of life and motion into his actions.You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

    He finished his last bit of work, which involved putting some rocks in the cauldron, others in his hand, and pressing his head against the side of it.  It wasn¡¯t quite the same technique she¡¯d sometimes dared to spy upon, but she had never been told exactly what they were doing, much less how, and so she could only wonder as she let the scene soak in.  After a moment, he fished a series of rocks and another ingot from the bottom of the cauldron, his hands dripping with some fluid she had been told never to touch. The rocks he dropped, and she gladly carted them off to the bins.  The ingot, though, he held limply in his hands, too numb even to rap it against the wall, as the workers would when they finished. Usually, these pieces were then taken away by the guards, but there was nobody to take it.

    She gestured for him to drop it, and he did, reluctantly.

    Chandra had seen many things fall in her lifetime, but never before had something fallen wrong.  It fell too fast, and where it impacted the ground, the stone cracked, and not a little; although she was feet away, the thin stone under her feet shifted.  But the metal also bounced, a third as high as the height it was dropped and wildly off to Chandra¡¯s left. When it struck the wall, that, too, cracked, and it bounced again, and again, less each time but still far too much.

    It terrified her more than anything she had ever seen, and she fled back to her sleeping space, only emerging a good three minutes after the metal ingot had stopped making any noise.

    She prodded the metal with one foot.  It felt weird.  Although it was very round, if long, it didn¡¯t roll as far as it should have, even though she was sure, from the feel of it, that she had pressed harder than she meant to.

    She couldn¡¯t stop thinking about the locked gate at the end of the room, the one that blocked the stairs.  This metal had cracked stone after falling only a few feet; surely it must be able to break her out of this place.  But neither was she sure she wanted to try to leave. The men upstairs had fled as soon as they got a chance, but they were always fated to become tainted and die.  She might have lived here for months, or maybe years, as long as the master was never displeased. And while she did some days eagerly think of her own death, she wasn¡¯t in such a mood now.

    She looked up at the man who had made the strange metal.  He had three lengths of metal on him, suddenly--one in each hand, and one cradled against his chest.  Now that she looked, she thought she could see a faint sheen each; they must also have been made into the strange bouncing demon-metal he had dropped.  Chandra felt sure he must have rushed their production with a sense of desperate urgency, as he had barely been able to move just moments before. For a moment, she felt cheered; the master must be pleased about this, and then, perhaps, there would be no abuse, or very little.  Perhaps what was coming would be redemption, not disaster.

    But after a moment of hope she understood the awful murmur coming from his throat, recognizing it as slow, pained laughter.  She looked, seeing as though for the first time his eyes; they were blank and lifeless, with no mark of taint but also no sign of humanity, and he looked as though he could not even see anymore.  On his face was a grimace, one that spoke of a man about to do things so terrible that only a broken man would even think of them.

    He turned and hobbled away, cackling with a voice that seemed like it had not been used in a long time.  Chandra chased him as far as she could, peering through the gaps in the floor above, but it was soon clear that he, like the rest, had left.  And, she was certain, he was not going to find the master and deliver the ingots.

    This was quickly confirmed when the screams started, and then the sound of smashing stone.

 5. Janinda Egrethore (1)

    Jani Egrethore had, several times in her life, vowed to kill her father. Never, thankfully, was it a solemn vow, nor one full of genuine hatred. In the past few years she¡¯d reflected on exactly why she¡¯d said it at all, and decided she was mostly repeating what her mother and the maids had said.

    That¡¯s not to say she trusted her mother, or the maids, to tell her what to think or feel. Mostly, it was just how people were supposed to treat Lord Egrethore. He was, after all, the kind of man who collected homeless people and debtors, and disappeared them. More than once she¡¯d taken fancy to some non-noble boy and never seen him again; it was only later, when she understood her father¡¯s business, that she realized her attention had caused them a painful, tortured death. She might have even passed them in the work houses and not recognized them; for much of her youth, she¡¯d had a certain pride in her ability to ignore the plight of the trash-humans, as she¡¯d been taught to do.

    Now, though, her father¡¯s work was the only reason why she was independently wealthy and unmarried, and so she simply accepted what she could not change. She had little to speak of in terms of genuine skill, although her affinity for magic had made her reasonably dangerous, at least compared to other noblewomen. More importantly, she had a sort of sixth sense, with which she discerned some cue or tell in people who were lying, and had a way of tearing into them with words and mannerisms until they told the truth. That might, perhaps, be an equally useful skill in the outside world, but working for her father, it paid very well, with all her normal expenses covered.

    Today, however, she needed little in the way of skill to convince the workshop crew to spill their secrets. It seemed that Roan had only paid or bound them to keep things a secret from her father, and hadn¡¯t thought to mention her--an oversight that they delighted in abusing. So within half an hour of walking into the workshop, she and her retinue of guards left for her brother¡¯s ¡°other project¡±.

    Unfortunately, by the time she¡¯d arrived, there was nothing more than rubble and bloodstains where it had stood. It lay in a small valley two low ridges beyond the workshop, more than far enough that father would never have found it without spending days searching. From the nearer hill, she could see that the building had been quite large, by the standards of buildings in the sacred grounds. Roan must have paid quite a lot to ship in that much stone, especially if he¡¯d kept news of it from reaching herself or their father.

    Whatever had demolished the place had done so with brute force, and the place had not burned or been looted. From the look of it, a magician had smashed it with a thousand blasts of force, although that raised the question of how a magician could have found the place, and why exactly he would have destroyed it. Some of the stone blocks she could see had been deliberately crushed, almost into a powder, and the bodies looked to be every bit as abused. Even some of the trees had been torn down or uprooted, and the trees in the sacred grounds were neither short nor thin.

    When she got around back of the building, however, she discovered a thin waif of a beast girl sitting quietly. She had arranged a small neat arc of intact wall stones into a pathetic roofless cubby-hole, and had a silk-covered pallet of a bed in the corner. A box next to her contained small wrapped things, which Jani recognized as the rations that passed for food among the workers. From the way she was sitting, someone had instructed her on how to wait on noblemen.

    What bothered Jani most, perhaps, was that the girl scanned over the group with her eyes, and dismissed all of them, even her, without a second thought.

    ¡°You! What happened here?¡± Cein, the more competent of Jani¡¯s bodyguards, was quick to start in on the questions.

    ¡°The workers left when the master did not return.¡± The girl¡¯s voice was raspy, as if unused.

    ¡°They tore the place down?¡±

    ¡°Yes.¡±

    ¡°By the master, you mean Roan?¡± Jani scrutinized at the girl, knowing full well what her brother had been doing to her. He would not spare silk sheets for a worker, and he would not have put someone so well-kept into hard labor.

    ¡°The master is the master,¡± she replied. ¡°I am not bid to know his name.¡±

    At that, Jani did feel a deep pang of regret. Whether the girl was a whore from birth or just some unfortunate her brother had picked up and trained, for her to not know even know his name, even while being used by him, that spoke deeply of how mistreated she had been. Still, she held back. The girl would not be here if she were not deemed trash, and it did no good to become attached to someone meant to die.Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there.

    ¡°Roan--your master--is my brother. I was sent to¡­ take care of things he left behind. That includes this place.¡± Jani hoped the pause was not noticeable. She could read men well enough, or women if they were afraid of her, but this girl was too collected, or too naive, to give easy tells about her emotional state. ¡°What can you tell me? We wish to do right by¡­ the master.¡±

    Chandra¡¯s eyes lit up, and she plastered an absolutely fake smile on her face, one that she was magically bound to feel was real. Jani repressed a shiver at the feeling of it. ¡°The master was not liked here. The guards left after the second day, and the workers hours after. But on that last day, a worker finally finished the work which the master set him to.¡± She produced, from beneath the bed, something wrapped in a bit of cloth. ¡°The worker made more, but he took it and fled. He is, I believe, the one who disposed of the factory, but I was not able to see it, myself.¡±

    ¡°A worker¡­?¡± Jani stepped forward and took the object. From the moment it touched her hands, she recognized the odd feel of a magi-metal. The realization ran through her like a shock; Amon had been irate that a magi-metal had been discovered and not reported, and here was¡­

    ¡°Mistress¡­¡± Cein turned to her, keeping his voice low, though probably not low enough for the beast girl to not hear it. ¡°From what she¡¯s said, Master Roan must have been here almost every day. The other sample was discovered months ago.¡±

    ¡°Oh¡­¡± Another headache struck like a hammer blow. Roan is tainted, now. Father will be furious. He might have found the magimetal that they were looking for, but at the cost of his life?

    Cein, far more collected than she was, turned to the beast girl. ¡°The worker, you believe he is alive?¡±

    ¡°Yes! There are tracks, I believe.¡± She stood, then paused, her face blanking. ¡°The master will not come, correct? If he is going to come, I must present myself to him. I have kept my spaces clean, as he requested.¡±

    ¡°He tasked us with this because he cannot come,¡± said Cein, smoothly. ¡°He will be pleased, I assure you.¡±

    ¡°Ah! You are good workers, too. I am sure the master appreciates that.¡± That forced smile reappeared, and she stepped carefully out of her small, carefully arranged space, and started walking to the far side of the factory. ¡°Come! The tracks will not fade soon, but the worker left more than a day ago. It will take time to catch him.¡±

    Jani weighed the magi-metal in her hands. From the odd momentum and the force it put on her hands, it was a dual-type metal at least, presumably Orichalcum, or the same mixture in some different base. Some part of her wanted to put energy into it and find out if it was a triple-type metal, but if it wasn¡¯t, the energy might rebound into her, and the last thing she needed was a burnt hand. And if it was, there was no telling exactly how the metal would react.

    So she loosened her chestplate just enough to slip the length of metal into a secret pouch she had hidden beneath her back armor. If she had to run, she wanted to know for certain that the metal would not bounce its way out; a speed-type magimetal would disappear quickly if she simply stuck it in her belt. Given the size of the sacred lands, she doubted she would find the missing worker soon.

    Four hours later, they came upon a man¡¯s corpse. Chandra seemed devastated; she was certain this was the one, and sure enough, they found two lengths of metal on him, one by his hand and one buried halfway into his chest. Janinda noticed, grimly, that the grass around him had started to wither--a sign of advanced taint, or possibly worse.

    The beast girl addressed Jani quickly, and politely, clearly wary of the idea that she would be punished for bringing bad news. ¡°With this¡­ I am afraid no-one else alive would have been witness to the work he did, lady. However, there should be one more piece. I am certain that he left with three.¡±

    ¡°We will have someone search for it.¡± Jani bent over the worker. His face was haggard; he looked like he had no strength at all left. If he had used the magimetal to destroy the factory¡¯s stone walls, it must be a powerful compound indeed. His eyes had also burst, which was not something she usually saw from the tainted ones. Without rising, she turned to face the girl. ¡°You are certain no-one else saw it? Did you see it?¡±

    ¡°Ah¡­¡± Chandra flinched. ¡°Mistress--lady--I am not permitted to look up at the workers. I am not permitted to know the master¡¯s business. I am only bid to dispose of the stones, and to keep the sleeping space clean for--as the master commanded.¡±

    This time, along with the fear radiating out of the beast girl, Jani could clearly sense the lies. Or, rather, she hadn¡¯t lied; the girl wasn¡¯t permitted to look at the workers. But she had seen it, and she dared not admit it. Which meant her brother¡¯s abused slave was now the only one who might hold the key to this metal.

    Somewhere in the back of her mind, Jani vowed to kill her brother. It was not a solemn vow, but somehow the thought and the heat lingered inside her far longer than it should have.

 6. Wilke DMatria (1)

    Wilke put some effort into appearing to ride next to Marin. It would be a highly clever ploy if it worked, and also a complete waste of energy if it was unnecessary. As a five-element mage and a third-order martial artist, however, he had some pride, and his intuition told him that illusions were perhaps the best way to avoid being assassinated in the way that he and Marin both suspected that Melthius and Ninama had been.

    By far the hardest part was keeping up the conversation with Marin, or at least appearing to, because while she knew that he wasn¡¯t there beside her, she chose (with some satisfaction it seemed) not to raise her voice so that he could hear her. He was certain, if he were to complain later, she would say that it was all part of the act. By the third or fourth time that she leaned over conspiratorially to the illusion and whispered something, he had given up on even trying to figure out what she was saying. In fact, he suspected she had been whispering nonsense specifically to drive him crazy.

    To her credit, nothing she said was consequential, and he got through his part of the conversation with noncommittal ¡°Hum¡±s, ¡°Yes¡±es, ¡°No, I don¡¯t think so¡±s, and one ¡°That¡¯s not really fair, though, is it?¡± Although Wilke had never been one for gossip or idle conversation, he knew Marin well enough to know that she knew, that he could barely make out what she was saying. More than half of the chatter was clearly a dig at him for having come up with this fool idea in the first place.

    And in the end, he didn¡¯t mind. Either his idea truly was silly--in which case he would gladly laugh with her about it, later--or it wasn¡¯t, and he would get to rub it in her nose for having doubted him. A man must maintain his humor, Wilke had been taught, to survive the horrors of the world. His life had borne that out, and it seemed likely it soon would again.

    Once they reached the point where the attack happened, however, even Marin felt strained. Wilke was sure that they were being watched, and said so, but that certainty was more a matter of paranoia than magic.

    Marin, still on her horse, paced back and forth around the small patch of bloodstained dirt. Neither she nor Wilke was truly a Void user, not like Melthius, but her senses were keen enough. Far more importantly, she was also a magical jack-of-all-trades, with quite a bit more experience in these types of magical dealings that he was.

    Granted, he was something of a combat specialist, and getting to that point had taken up nearly all of his youth and a good portion of his next two decades. It was not easy to get the Order to declare you a combat master. By the same token, for a generalist mage like her to be accepted into the Order was high praise.

    Marin positioned herself and turned so that she was facing both Wilke and his seeming. ¡°Melth was not dying yet, when he was taken. A powerful sleep sorcery, tinged with dark magic, made sure he would not wake. Nina almost certainly is dead. Dark magic tends to keep wounds open.¡±

    Wilke made an appearance of examining the tracks in the ground. In truth, he¡¯d been mostly watching the nearby hills and treelines for any sign of an ambush, but the illusion should have been watching Marin up until now. Ideally, he wanted to be thought of as an idiot. ¡°How far do you think they went?¡±The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

    ¡°It¡¯s been days. With the wind out of the north, I can¡¯t use magic to track them.¡±

    Wilke frowned. He knew a magic that would work to track them--assuming the bloodstains were at least halfway viable after a couple days. Marin must have known the same; the look on her face was intense concentration, perhaps holding a barrier, or¡­ perhaps she was just using her senses, currently, to keep an eye on someone else. ¡°Is the area secure?¡± He felt it wasn¡¯t, but he couldn¡¯t see anything out of place.

    ¡°Not a chance.¡± Her voice was lower, not that it would help if anyone could scry them at this distance. ¡°At least three on the northwest hill, one wind mage watching us, one messenger ready to ride if they are discovered. He¡¯s not probing closely, but they are watching what we do next.¡±

    Wilke considered it for a long moment. A wind mage, if that¡¯s all he was, wouldn¡¯t be able to see through his illusion unless Wilke ran straight into his sensory threads. However, if he did anything funny, and his actions didn¡¯t match up with the location, it would be pretty clear. Worst come to worst, he might sense the extra tracks in the dirt, but only if he was really looking for them.

    So, although the effort seemed about ready to kill him, he dismounted his horse, having the illusion do the same, and timed his walk so that both he and the illusion reached the bloodstain at the same time. Carefully, he retrieved a sample of the dried blood in a tiny copper vial, then turned and remounted.

    ¡°Almost perfect,¡± admitted Marin, very quietly. ¡°Though I think he sensed something was wrong.¡±

    ¡°As long as he doesn¡¯t know what.¡± Wilke pushed enough energy into the illusion that it would remain, fixed, for a short time. Then, drawing deeply from his yellow Spark, he pushed a bit of energy into the dried blood. When it reacted, he twisted gently, trying to connect to things the blood had known in its past--hopefully, the rest of Melthius¡¯ blood. It took some effort, since most of what the blood knew now was open air and dust, but the connection formed, and it pulled taught, gently, telling him in which directions he would find that blood.

    It told him two immediate things.

    First, more of Melthius¡¯ blood had been spilled. Ignoring the blood along the path leading east and north, when it got to its final destination, there was blood spread out over entirely too large an area. Second, he got glimpses through the connection, glimpses of darkness, torches, and servants in blue silk.

    He didn¡¯t recognize the livery on the servants, but he knew Torit would.

    ¡°Let¡¯s go back.¡± He turned his horse, then paused. ¡°You lead. I don¡¯t want the dust to¡­ bother you.¡±

    Marin brought her horse to a trot and, as she passed, she said quietly, ¡°They¡¯re coming. Ride hard.¡± Then, she kicked the horse into a gallop.

    Cursing, Wilke followed. His horse was not eager to gallop, and he had to struggle to match the pacing of the two horses, but--

    Wilke gave a satisfied laugh as his illusion tore apart. Somewhere behind him, a crossbow bolt slammed into the dust. Marin, ever cautious, waved her hand behind them vaguely, creating (he assumed) some form of air shield. Whatever it was didn¡¯t stop the next few crossbow bolts, but neither did any of them hit.

    Now free of the mental burden, if unprotected, Wilke looked back over his shoulder as his horse galloped away. He couldn¡¯t see exactly where the bolts were coming from, but then, he was lucky to see anything through the dust and the jolting ride.

    So he put up his own barriers behind the two of them and then focused on catching up to Marin.

 7. Chandra (3)

    Chandra grew increasingly nervous as the group neared the exit portal. She suspected that she shouldn¡¯t reveal what she knew of the Starry Place, but neither was there a cage for her to cling to and pretend to be unconscious. If they carried her bodily through the Starry Place, assuming that she once again wasn¡¯t affected by their sleep spell, they would surely know.

    And that was if they were actually taking her along.

    The lady who led, the one who seemed seemed to be the sister of the master, seemed dedicated to some task. The idea that she would be a dedicated worker and still a noblewoman was not too difficult to grasp, but Chandra did have trouble fitting their relationship into her mind. Was she equal to the master? Certainly not. But she clearly had authority, for the armed men followed her every word, and she expected Chandra to do the same. Certainly, Chandra would be disposed of if she betrayed the master, but clearly this woman could also do as much, and as easily.

    All in all, it was much more to think about than Chandra had had for the last few years, and she was not being reprimanded for thinking, nor given orders not to. The rush of the many new thoughts ended up choking together at the front of her mind, forcing her to decide what to think about and what to let lie. The question about the Starry Place took precedence over all else, as it was the most immediate chance for her to be killed.

    So as it became clear that the five of them were headed for the portal, she cleared her throat (it hurt just a bit to talk, but she did her best) and spoke as gently as she could.

    ¡°What would my lady like me to do about¡­?¡± When the guards turned to look at her, but the lady did not, Chandra felt a tide of embarrassment that she quickly squashed. ¡°Ah¡­ am I to pass through the forbidden place, or remain behind?¡±

    ¡°Of course you are to come with us.¡± Jani¡¯s voice was hard. ¡°You will do what we command until we reach my father. He will command us, and you, and your master.¡±

    ¡°I am to pass through¡­ the forbidden place?¡± Chandra tried to make it clear in her tone that this was not permitted, but the lady¡¯s footsteps did not waver.

    ¡°On the authority of my father, who commands your master, I order you to follow us.¡± The annoyance in Jani¡¯s voice was clear and palpable. ¡°You are not to speak or act until I, or he, tells you otherwise.¡±

    This was something Chandra was not prepared for. She understood more than enough to follow the directions, but did the lady mean that she was to follow through the Starry Place, not be taken through it?

    Jani stepped up onto the dias and vanished into what must have been the Starry Place. Two guards followed, with the third clearly waiting for Chandra to go first.

    ¡°But I¡­¡± Realizing she had been forbidden from speaking she tried to make her confusion evident.

    ¡°The circle is powered. I will make sure you arrive safely.¡± The guard gestured. ¡°Step onto it.¡±

    Chandra did, and the floor beneath her seemed to open up. More than that, though, she felt like she was being crushed, painlessly, only to pop out, inverted and upside-down, in the Starry Place.

    It was more miraculous than she remembered. The guards ahead floated, seemingly under their own power, through the center of a tall and wide hallway whose walls were made of bent shards of shattered glass. There was no light nor darkness, only the feeling--the certainty--that what she saw was the soul of things, and there was no need for eyes to see clearly what was before her. And all the while, as before, she constantly felt like she was upside-down, as though the floor was ¡°up¡± and the stars above were ¡°below¡±. All else was blackness, with the walls and all else simply being in front of the black empty void, and perhaps made of it.

    The lady looked different, but perhaps strangely, the guards looked exactly the same. Chandra could feel, in the lady, depths and swirls and thoughts and complicated feelings. The guards, however, seemed no more than what they had seemed to be at first glance. The confusion welling up in Chandra twisted and bounced, new thoughts bubbling to the surface constantly. What was the lady? What were the men? What did she look like, to others?

    From behind, a cold magical force grasped her entire body, as though she was no more than a doll in a giant hand. The last guard floated past her, and she found herself dragged along behind. The grip was hard-edged, and it stung her in many places, but more importantly, it terrified Chandra, and her thoughts retreated to the depths, until she could only wait for it to all be over.

    Finally, the shining column that was the exit appeared before them. The lady paused, and the two guards entered it, quickly being sucked into themselves and disappearing. After a moment, the column pulsed, and the lady passed out.

    The guard whose magic held Chandra brought her near the column, then paused. ¡°When you exit, you must stand on your feet quickly and walk out. The mistress will judge you if you stumble and fall, or if you wait too long on the dais. Step to one side so I may exit.¡±

    With that, she was thrust into the column. It felt like what it looked like; she felt like she¡¯d been turned inside out, and then she suddenly found herself sideways and curled into a ball, tossed in the air and dropped like a stone. The pain meant little, though, and she scrambled to her feet and stepped quickly to one side.

    Watching the guard exit, however, immediately made her feel ashamed. He emerged from the portal as elegantly as the lady had entered it, as though he had simply appeared in mid-stride from the floor, and he walked off the dais, immediately locking eyes with her. He gestured with one hand for her to go before him, and she did, scrambling after the three figures down the hall.

    Only, she realized, it was not so much a hall as a small cave, with hardly enough room for two people to walk side by side. The lady and her guards had already reached the other end, which was sealed with stone but for some small gaps near the top and bottom; aside from that, there was no light.

    The lady paused at the end and, turning to look back at Chandra, seemed thoughtful for a moment. ¡°Girl,¡± she said. ¡°Do you believe you could move on your own in that place?¡±

    Chandra was too terrified to think, for a moment. But something inside forced her to try, and after a moment of collecting her thoughts, she said simply, ¡°I have not been taught, lady.¡±

    The lady gave her a very deadpan look, as though the half-truth she had told was a transparent lie. But rather than cursing or hitting her, she obliged. ¡°It is the most basic form of magic. Know which direction you wish to go, intend to move, and you will do so.¡± She paused. ¡°You won¡¯t need to move far, but no one else can go with you. If you cannot, then we must move the boulder. I would prefer not to.¡±

    Move that rock¡­ for me? Chandra paused. ¡°I am certainly willing to try, lady.¡±

    Jani paused, and whispered with her guards. They each touched a place on the rock, one at a time, and vanished. After a few moments, one returned, and nodded. ¡°It¡¯s clear.¡±

    ¡°Come.¡± Jani waved for Chandra to approach, and she did, if cautiously. ¡°What is your name, child?¡±

    What is your name? Chandra felt the question very odd. ¡°If¡­ lady would like to give me a name¡­¡±Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more.

    ¡°Do you not have one?¡± Somehow, that answer bothered the lady very much.

    ¡°Ah¡­ I do of course, my lady, but if you desire to call me¡­¡±

    ¡°I asked you your name, girl!¡± Jani¡¯s voice was very sharp, now.

    ¡°Ah¡­ I am Chandra, mistress.¡±

    ¡°Chandra.¡± She gestured to the guard behind her. ¡°This is Kan. He is tasked with keeping you safe. Until I, or my father, tell you otherwise, your safety is necessary. You are not to take any action which threatens your life, unless we release you. That includes meeting with my br--with your master, even if he orders it.¡±

    Chandra¡¯s head swam. Do not meet with the master? Her life is necessary?

    ¡°When you touch this seal, you will be in a room much like the last, only it will be very small. Go directly into the light in front of you. Do not touch the walls. Do not hesitate. If you cannot move, reach behind yourself and you will find another column. Touching it will return you here. Do it, now.¡±

    Chandra flinched and, although she could not quite see the marks on the stone that Jani had indicated, touched the boulder in exactly the place the guards had. Again, she felt herself being turned inside out; this time, she felt her body being sucked into her fingertips, until she popped out on the other side.

    This time, the Starry Place was very different. The walls were too close, and although there was still no need for light, she also could not sense any depth or distance. She could clearly feel the portal behind her, and the one ahead, but everything else seemed dead.

    Do not hesitate. Chandra did know how to move--she wasn¡¯t permitted to recall from when or where, but it was an old memory, one from before her time as a slave. So she cast herself gently forward, reaching out with her hand to touch the column of light which was the other portal.

    She appeared on the other side of the boulder in the same position that she had entered, standing quietly and touching a spot on the stone with her fingertips. She removed her hand and, mindful of the guard¡¯s instructions last time, stepped aside.

    There were three guards on this side, one belonging to the lady and two who must have guarded the place itself. There were also several other armsmen rushing towards them, although the guards showed no sign of concern. Cowed by being very nearly surrounded, Chandra fought the urge to sit down or flatten herself against the wall, struggling to keep her back straight and give some semblance of poise.

    After a long moment, the guards and the lady passed through. Each appeared in turn the same way she had, touching a circle on the stone, then turning around and stepping away. When the whole group was together, the lady arranged them, with Chandra and Kan in the back, to meet the approaching group.

    ¡°My lady Janinda,¡± said the approaching armsman with a salute. ¡°You returned quickly.¡±

    ¡°We will meet with my father immediately.¡± She paused. ¡°I presume he is still indisposed.¡±

    ¡°He would be finishing lunch, lady,¡± offered the armsman.

    ¡°Bid him meet me in the small hall when he is finished. And do please have something brought for us, if there is time. Bread and wine will be fine.¡±

    ¡°Of course, lady.¡± The armsman issued three sets of orders in a single sentence, and two messengers scampered off, the other armsman falling behind to escort the lady¡¯s group.

    Since she had not been ordered to keep her eyes to herself, Chandra found them roaming. There was no path leading up to the boulder, and the two guards seemed to vanish when they had stepped more than a few paces away. All that left was the building before them. When, before, the master had first smuggled her into the place, it had been dark and she had been warned not to look. But now, she did look, and it was breathtaking.

    It seemed to her a palace, a long building three stories high, with a central tower on the other side which seemed twice again as high as the building itself. It was built into a shallow hill, such that the ground floor from where she stood would be below ground from the other side. There were many windows, mostly empty and with shutters wide apart, although the highest floor had a section with crystal panes sealing them shut--one of which she was sure was the master¡¯s, as she recalled seeing one from within his reading room.

    There was a tall and spacious garden in front of the building, one she could not see into, and a curved set of stairs which led to the second floor, one far wider at the ground floor than it was at the top. The lady and her group went up these, passing into a set of wide double doors, which guards had opened in advance.

    The inside was not, to Chandra¡¯s eyes, as elegant as the outside. A cloth carpet was stretched down the hallways on either side, and a squat hallway in front of them led to a switch-back staircase. Mostly, to her, the smell of old cloth and dust was overpowering; these things seemed not to be a problem in the other place, but here she quickly recalled the names and sources of the sour odors--sweat, dust, chamber pots, metal, ash.

    The lady, with no hesitation, went straight up the stairs again. The house armsmen, Chandra noticed as she started up the stairs, had remained outside, save only for the leader, who had stayed with the lady, politely saying nothing.

    When they reached the third floor, a servant held up a hand to pause them. ¡°If the lady would wait just a moment, the Lord will be waiting for you in his hall.¡±

    ¡°Of course. Do you have¡­?¡±

    ¡°Refreshments will be delayed, unless the Lord requests them.¡±

    ¡°That is fine.¡± Jani let out a long sigh, then accepted a small towel and used it to wipe her face and hands as an attendant fussed with a dirty spot on her armor. In total, they waited perhaps two minutes, then (in response to some signal which Chandra could not see), abruptly marched down the hall, then left into what Jani had called the small hall.

    To Chandra, the small hall was still a magnificent place. Three steps led down into a hall twice as tall as the hallway with two long tables, one on either side of a narrow path that led up to a small wooden throne. Another long cloth carpet covered the path, and was meticulously tucked into the folds of the stairs which led up to the Lord¡¯s seat, as though it were a part of the stone itself.

    ¡°Father,¡± said Jani, kneeling quietly. ¡°I¡¯m afraid I¡¯m bringing bad news.¡±

    ¡°To have returned so quickly, one would think you have discovered a traitor in our midst.¡± The lord who sat on the throne made efforts to keep his poise, although one hand rested on a sword hilt that seemed molded into the arm of his chair. ¡°I hope the news is not quite so upsetting.¡±

    ¡°Roan has lied, a great deal. He spent many days and a great many coins hiding a facility from you in the sacred grounds. His goal was yours: to discover the secrets of a new magi-metal.¡± She produced from her armor the same metal ingot which Chandra had given her. ¡°He was almost successful.¡±

    Amon immediately stood up and, taking the short steps two at a time, retrieved the metal from Jani¡¯s hands. He weighed it in his hands. ¡°It¡¯s the same, no question.¡± He gestured for her to rise. ¡°You say, though, that he was not successful.¡±

    ¡°After you forbid him return, one of his workers discovered it. When he did not return to fetch it, the worker went mad, destroying Roan¡¯s facility and killing all the others, before dying alone in the sacred grounds.¡± Jani gestured behind her as she got to her feet. ¡°Now only one remains.¡±

    ¡°After I forbid him return¡­¡± Amon¡¯s face darkened. ¡°You say he lied about how long he was there.¡±

    ¡°No question.¡± Jani looked her father in the eye, and her eyes were sharp and shadowed. ¡°He ordered your people to keep this from you. I am sure he knew he was becoming tainted; I doubt that he was in some kind of open rebellion. Taken, perhaps, by the madness.¡±

    Amon weighed the ingot in his hands, again, as though weighing it against his son¡¯s life.

    ¡°The worker made more. We found two pieces with him, and the witness said there was a third. I intend to order men to search for the last piece.¡±

    ¡°The witness¡­¡± Amon¡¯s eyes regarded Chandra, finally. ¡°Well-kept little pet. She was at this facility?¡±

    ¡°She has not admitted it, but I know she saw something.¡± Jani¡¯s voice did not lower or waver, and so Chandra knew that the words were meant for her. ¡°Roan¡¯s workshop was lost, however. Disgusting as it may be, what little chance we have of making more rests with my brother¡¯s hand-shy, brainwashed whore.¡±

    The last few words felt like Janinda had slapped Chandra¡¯s mind, each landing on an old scar, not so much forceful as it was shocking. Immediately, uncontrollably, she began to shake, and she felt like she had lost feeling in her legs. Whore. The word brought back wounds she had thought were buried, feelings she had been almost able to forget. Brainwashed. Her mind seemed to churn in response to that word. It seemed an odd word, one she had heard before. She could not recall where, though, because her memory screamed at her, instead of even trying to remember.

    It was not until a fist raised her into the air by her hair, and another hand delivered an open-hand slap across the face, that she realized that she had been crying out loud.

    ¡°To her credit, she does follow orders,¡± said Jani, as her father shook the slight sting out of his hand. ¡°I don¡¯t know where Roan got her, but she is well-trained.¡±

    Amon¡¯s reply was cut off as the doors burst open and Roan stormed in.

    His eyes fell on Chandra, then his father, then sister, and then he caught the gleam of metal in his father¡¯s hand.

    And Roan drew his sword and charged.

 8. Roan (2)

    Roan Egrethore considered himself incorruptible. A large part of that was ignorance, with a healthy dose of disrespect for authority--mainly his father, since he had no other authority figure danging anything over his head.

    The idea of being incorruptible meant, to him, that his instincts were never wrong. That kind of self-confidence, of course, was very easy to manipulate. The corruption within him didn¡¯t manifest as a need for gold or a desire for women, nor even an affinity for the sweet mind-killing agents he sometimes peddled and often sampled; indeed, his time with Chandra had been making him less and less satisfied over the last few months, and his snuffing powders were less and less appealing. The last few times he¡¯d visited the girl¡¯s space beneath the factory, he¡¯d found he had no lust at all, and had started to see her flesh as being actively repulsive. So he¡¯d found excuses to abuse her instead, lightly, since she was too well hidden to have the conditioning redone, and he didn¡¯t really want her gone, not yet.

    Seeing his father, sister, slave, and precious metal all in one room caused a start in him that he could not fathom. Out of everything, what offended him most was his father¡¯s hand, so he drew his sword and lunged at it.

    The guards began moving all too slowly, unsure of how to deal with a threat from one of their masters. Amon was too shocked to even consider moving, except perhaps to take a step back. Jani, to her credit, was more than ready for Roan to do something stupid, and would have drawn steel but that the jackal girl was in her way. Her face registered confusion, then panic, in the space of ten running steps.

    Amon¡¯s hand fell to the ground, still clutching a metal ingot.

    Roan dived for it, picking up the bit of metal with relief. He knew that this metal was from the factory. To him, the whole room stank of the factory¡¯s despair and his own malice. A prick in the back of his mind told him that he had done well, and he pried it out of his father¡¯s severed hand, and clutched the ingot to his face as though it were a newborn infant, feeling the manic need leave him. He had needed to go back, he knew not how much. The metal reminded him of home--of rotting corpses, of despairing workers, of tears and sweat.This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

    Roan didn¡¯t notice or understand anything else right up to the point where two swords stabbed him in the back. He twisted, feeling the blood pour out, and looked at his sister with shock. Yes, she had responded quickly, as he should have known she would. She was always the competent one.

    The other sword, however, he did not expect. It was a guard¡¯s, but in Chandra¡¯s hand, and the look in her eyes was familiar. She had just a spark of what she had lost, and the instincts had come back all too quickly.

    The others didn¡¯t know where Chandra came from or who she was. The realization made him cold, but also caused him to bark a laugh that he could scarcely afford, as one lung was quickly filling with blood.

    Something else was odd, though. The prick in the back of his mind tingled with delight, then receded. The metal in his hands beckoned. His mind closed around it, and he fell into it.

    Roan Egrethore¡¯s body fell unceremoniously to the floor.

    The things that came next came quickly. Amon was rushed out a back door. The ingots were collected and put in a sealed box. Roan¡¯s body was disappeared, and the bloodstains cleaned. Servants and guards were silenced.

    Chandra was quietly, efficiently moved out of the room and into a servant¡¯s quarters in a dark and disused back hallway. The door behind her was locked and Kan took a position outside, saying nothing to anyone.

    For some reason, it was hours before anyone came to ask Chandra about the guard¡¯s missing sword, although it had last been seen in her hands. By then, she had found a safe place to hide it. Hiding things came naturally to her, or it had before she¡¯d been caught.

    Chandra d¡¯Amanci had once been a very dangerous woman. Although her mind was still addled by torture, dark magic, and binding spells, there was within her a second heartbeat, a gentle thrum in her magic Sparks. That beat had long been weak and scattered, but now it had started to steady. It fully intended that she would be very dangerous again some day.

    And not far away, a mage slipped a jewel back into his pocket, as though he had been no more than fidgeting with it.

 9. Torit (2)

    Torit sensed, rather than heard, the two approaching horses, and was able to open the gates through the open window to his office. Magic, as always, was much more convenient than doing things bodily. Although it took some effort, he slammed them shut just after the two passed, then barred the gates as well. Given their rush, he assumed it might be necessary.

    There was just enough room inside the compound walls for the two of them to slow their horses without crashing into anything. After a long moment in which nothing bad seemed to happen, they dismounted and led their horses back to the stable. After collecting the papers on his desk, Torit joined them there.

    Wilke, for some reason, looked pleased. Marin didn¡¯t, but whatever was bothering her, it didn¡¯t seem quite so serious. So Torit just waited for them to finish stabling the horses, pleased that they (unlike many visitors) seemed willing to care for the horses themselves.

    Finally, though, Marin turned and nodded to him. ¡°We were attacked on the road.¡±

    ¡°I gathered.¡± Torit raised his eyebrows, keeping a calm expression on his face. He wasn¡¯t sure why, but the expression seemed to entertain people. Marin smothered a grin, although it died a moment later.

    ¡°They¡¯re probably dead. Wilke said--¡±

    ¡°Dark turquoise accents on cobalt blue,¡± Wilke was still trying to hang a saddle on the wall, and not quite getting it to hook properly. ¡°The servants were wearing cobalt blue with dark turquoise accents.¡±

    ¡°Those are Egrethore¡¯s colors,¡± confirmed Torit. Without mentioning it, he nudged the saddle so that it would hang properly.

    ¡°The clothes were also red with the blood of one Melthius Cantar,¡± Wilke said, his voice finally losing the last bit of cheerful lilt it had held, as he racked the rest of his riding gear. ¡°I could only see snatches of the place through the divination, but Melth was almost certainly killed and quite possibly worse. His blood was all over the place in a large mansion north-northeast of the spot where they were attacked, a long building with a turret on the front of it.¡±

    ¡°Almost certainly the main house.¡± Torit furrowed his brow. ¡°It¡¯s clear, then. What do you plan to do now?¡±

    Wilke brushed dust off of his vest as he stepped out, then turned his attention to Marin. ¡°I think you ought to go back and report. Actually taking action against the nobles here would require a much larger group.¡±

    ¡°You were the one who cast the divination,¡± countered Marin. ¡°It¡¯s your report to make.¡±

    ¡°I¡­ yes.¡± Wilke sighed, then after a moment, gestured towards the way station¡¯s main building. ¡°If you don¡¯t mind, I want to sit down on something that isn¡¯t constantly bucking up into my underside.¡±

    Marin made no comment, and let Torit lead the way into his own office, where the two took seats on the padded bench closest to the window. Marin, though, closed the window, and with a quick seal, warded it against magical intrusion.

    ¡°You¡¯re right,¡± said Wilke after a moment. ¡°I ought to be there. But I think I should stay here in case someone attacks. I will write out the report, and you should take it back.¡±

    ¡°You don¡¯t think I can defend the compound?¡± Marin stiffened a bit, looking a bit more poised than she normally preferred. ¡°I am a competent magician in all the seven lower elements, Wilke. More than competent.¡±

    ¡°I am a combat specialist, dear Marin. I don¡¯t¡­¡± he sighed,very quickly accepting that this was not an argument he would win. ¡°Torit, what do you think.¡±

    ¡°I think you¡¯re both mad if you think the three of us can defeat a nobleman¡¯s army,¡± admitted Torit. ¡°If they¡¯ve twice attacked members of the Order, the idea that they might launch a full-scale attack is hardly laughable. I suspect sealing the compound and fleeing, would be the best choice.¡±

    ¡°Hum.¡± Wilke considered that, glancing from Marin, who looked like her pride was bruised further, back to Torit. ¡°That gives them a chance to trap the place, though.¡±

    ¡°You are the combat expert. But I warn you, the Egrethore group is known for having surprising quantities of enchanted items, perhaps enough to fully arm their many hundreds of guards. It¡¯s unclear how or where they come from, but they consistently sell more than they were known to have in stock, and I would assume that¡¯s after they keep some for themselves.¡± Torit sniffed. ¡°Compared to that, a couple mages taking the time to barricade a mud-brick waystation? I¡¯d hardly call our odds even.¡±

    Marin closed her eyes, and Torit could sense an odd tingle underfoot, he presumed from her examining the foundation of the building. Earth magic was hardly his forte, but he knew from the maintenance the place required, if nothing else, that it wasn¡¯t a particularly secure place.

    Wilke also caught the look on her face, and waited for her to finish probing. He raised his eyes when she seemed to return to herself. ¡°How is it?¡±

    ¡°If they only had armsmen and crossbowmen, I am sure we could hold out. But with the money they have, it wouldn¡¯t be hard to siege the place. I could tap the Vein, but doing so without the consent of the Order¡­¡± she paused and looked at Torit, thought for half a moment, and concluded, ¡°...is forbidden.¡±

    Torit kept his face impassive. Most humans couldn¡¯t read a halfbreed¡¯s facial expressions anyway, but he still prided himself on his ability to give nothing away. Nevertheless, he suspected that Marin was canny enough to read the ensuing silence.

    ¡°Then we go.¡± Wilke sighed and stood up. ¡°Marin, do whatever you can to seal the place. Torit¡­ you might as well gather up records and reports, and whatever else you must do. When you¡¯re ready to go, don¡¯t wait for us.¡±

    Torit, his guts tight, stood up, mentally sorting through the things he should and shouldn¡¯t leave behind, and magically ordering many of those into place at the same time.

    ¡°I will keep an eye out, for now. Marin, let me know when you¡¯re ready.¡± Wilke, seeming a bit distant, walked out of the office. Torit heard the front door open, then close.

    Marin¡¯s eyes were blank, her concentration elsewhere.

    Torit, watching the papers swirl on his desk, thought that this was the worst thing that could possibly have happened. He couldn¡¯t quite stop thinking of Nina and the empty spot she¡¯d left behind. The thought that he would leave this place behind, or worse, that it would be destroyed¡­ the thought seemed like the end of an era.

    That thought struck him harder than he expected it to. He spent a long moment trying to recall, then said under his breath, ¡°Fifteen years.¡±This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author''s work.

    ¡°Sorry?¡± Marin¡¯s eyes turned to him.

    ¡°Ah¡­ nothing. Only, it¡¯s been fifteen years since I first came here.¡± Torit shuffled the papers efficiently into a stack, rolled them up, and packed them in a bag he had kept under the desk. ¡°Only an assistant then. Funny how it doesn¡¯t seem that long, anymore.¡±

    ¡°Time always seems longer when you¡¯re young.¡± Marin closed her eyes, struggling with something he could not see. ¡°I suppose it¡¯s because everything is new. Eventually, it settles into patterns.¡±

    ¡°Perhaps.¡± Torit moved through the door from his office into his adjourning quarters, opening the bag so that his personal effects could deposit themselves, one by one, into it. It wasn¡¯t a large list, and he regretted that he had nothing among his possessions to celebrate Nina¡¯s life. ¡°Still, when it¡¯s time to pick up and go, there¡¯s not much to carry away, is there?¡±

    ¡°No.¡±

    ¡°And less when life is over.¡± Torit strapped the bag diagonally across his torso and stepped back into the office. ¡°Alright, I¡¯ll go on ahead then. How long do you think--?¡±

    ¡°Hours, I hope. There is a lot I can do to protect the place. As Wilke said, the main concern is them laying a trap for us here. If you can get reinforcements before then, all the better.¡±

    ¡°Hm.¡± Torit bobbed his head. ¡°Good luck, lady Marin.¡± He started to close the door after himself, then thought better of it. If she needed to rush out, it would only get in the way.

    He didn¡¯t bother saying goodbye to Wilke, instead opening up the transit room and plunging into the Vein with hardly a second thought.

    The cold stars of the Astral Plane above him were no comfort. The Vein around him, in contrast, was welcoming, as it always seemed to be. All parts of the Order¡¯s transit network, and presumably all of the planet¡¯s Veins, pulsed with life and magic. For those who traveled it more than once or twice, it was a very comforting feeling.

    A rail stretched on before him, suspended in the vein. Although large Veins like this one rarely branched off, making it hard to get lost, the presence of the rail leading him back to the Temple was a welcome and familiar feeling. Getting lost in a hallway lined with sharp, jagged spatial tears sounded like an absolute terror.

    Torit pulled himself quickly along the rail. Something nagged at him, and he kept his mind alert, but he wasn¡¯t sure what or where the problem was. Finally, though, he saw something: a small creature peeking out a crevice, watching him. Probably human, it disturbed him mostly because he could neither see nor sense anything but a pair of eyes and half a forehead.

    Is that... dead? Torit didn¡¯t even consider getting closer. Let alone the idea it might be an enemy lying in wait, Torit had been warned repeatedly against getting too close to the walls. Apparently the wardspace within the Vein deteriorated as you got close to the walls, and people could easily get stuck, trapped there until¡­ well, he assumed there was some way to remove people who were stuck, but time also passed faster in the Vein, and the thought of being trapped for what felt like eternity was most unpleasant.

    Instead, Torit hurried on, spending more energy than he¡¯d planned to on passing the creature by at speed. And, to his own surprise and chagrin, something magical snapped as he passed, barely missing hitting him. Torit, not daring to pick a fight with what might be a native creature to this place--or worse, a specialist--poured even more energy into his flight, trusting the rail to take him home.

    When he slammed headfirst into the white column that was the exit, and popped out into the Order¡¯s terminal complex, he found himself very nearly crashing into the ceiling, and dropped, stunned, to the floor. Bruised and ashamed, he picked himself up slowly, then looked around.

    The Order¡¯s orderly stood in the center of the complex, looking (of course) right at him. Torit didn¡¯t recognize her, but he had not used the network in at least a year and probably three. So he brushed himself off and collected his things, then strode up to her and calmly began to speak.

    ¡°I am afraid I¡¯ll need to speak to the supervisor, my dear lady. It seems the trouble in Nase has exceeded our expectations.¡±

    ¡°Of course, sir. You are?¡± The orderly placed a hand on the pedestal, splitting her concentration between him and some spell.

    ¡°Torit M¡¯eldric, senior field officer for the Nase outpost.¡±

    ¡°Step onto the mover, please.¡± The orderly gestured to the lift circle in the center, concentrating fully on the spell laid into the pedestal. Torit hesitated, but followed the instruction. He disliked the mover; it operated much like the transit network, but performed independent of his will, simply spitting him out on another circle elsewhere in the Temple.

    So he trusted her, and stepped on the circle, emerging a moment later in a stone hallway. A set of north-facing quartz windows lined the right side of the hall, looking out over the city. A casual glance told him he was far higher up in the Temple than he expected to be; perhaps fifty stories?

    He paced down the hall, not quite sure where he was going, but a door opened quickly enough, and a secretary shuffled out. The secretary seemed to recognize Torit with a glance, and held out his hand in greeting. ¡°Ah¡­ You are Torit, the Nase field officer. This way, please.¡±

    Torit allowed himself to be steered into the waiting room, and then the office, without bothering to glance at the name plates. He regretted it, though, as soon as he recognized the woman.

    ¡°Master Marion¡­¡± Torit dropped to one knee, not entirely sure how to address the head of the Order.

    Marion gestured impatiently, and a slight pulse of magic conveyed a sense of now is not a time for formalities. Torit marvelled a moment; he was well aware of the many magic disciplines, but he had expected mind magic to be more¡­ disconcerting, offensive. He shook it off quickly, though, and drew himself up to address her.

    ¡°I am sure you know, investigators Wilke and Marin came to my office to investigate the disappearance and probable murder of investigators Melth and Nina. Although they will return soon to give a full report, I am here to tell you that during their investigations they were also attacked, and according to master Wilke, they believe they can finger Lord Egrethore and his household as the perpetrators. He also believes that the two missing investigators are almost certainly dead.¡±

    Marion, sitting behind a tall desk that seemed a strange blend of hardwood, crystal, and metal, didn¡¯t seem to stiffen or appear upset by the news. Torit wondered if he was still bad at detecting these things in humans, or if she was very good at concealing her thoughts.

    ¡°With two assaults on members of the Order, I worried that we would not be safe in the Nase outpost building. Masters Wilke and Marin agreed, and sent me on ahead so that they could fortify the place.¡± Torit straightened slightly, letting a period of silence indicate that he was done.

    ¡°That¡¯s not all you have to report.¡± Master Marion¡¯s eyes never seemed to leave Torit¡¯s face; it had not been a bother earlier, but the longer they rested there, the more uncomfortable he found it.

    ¡°Ah¡­ there was also an anomaly in the transit network. I cannot be certain, but I, ah¡­ something attacked me. It might have been a person, or¡­ a creature I do not know. It seemed hidden in the edge of the Vein, and it¡­ terrified me.¡±

    ¡°I can only imagine.¡± Marion paused only a moment, but her voice was a shade softer. ¡°When we are at our most isolated, every threat feels like the greatest we have ever seen.¡± She cleared her throat. ¡°Torit M¡¯eldric. You have served well, and if you choose not to return to Seyona, we will find another position for you. However, the situation in Nase requires our immediate attention, and so we will be sending people there immediately, in part to investigate the Lord Egrethore, and in part to pressure the Lord of Seyona, to make sure he does not interfere with our actions.¡±

    Torit bowed slightly. ¡°If my knowledge may be of any use¡­¡±

    ¡°We would prefer your help.¡± She smiled, but only for a moment. ¡°However I am sure you understand, your safety can no longer be guaranteed.¡±

    ¡°Yes¡­ I am aware.¡± Torit didn¡¯t rise from the bow, taking the moment to try to put his thoughts in order. ¡°Ninama¡­ did not deserve to be killed.¡± He straightened. ¡°Whoever the perpetrator is, whether Lord Egrethore or another, they are a villain, and I would be glad to help.¡±

    Marion rose from behind her desk. ¡°We will be putting together a group this very evening. Do not attempt to travel back through the Vein. A specialist will look into it prior to the group¡¯s departure. If you need to leave any belongings here, a room will be provided.¡± She paused. ¡°If Wilke and Marin attempt to pass through¡­ we can hope that they will be safe. If not, the Lord of Seyona will have to answer for anyone who dares tamper with the safety of the network.¡±

    Torit bowed again, and sensing that the Master was finished, backed out of the room.

 10. Chandra (4)

    Chandra didn¡¯t exactly remember and didn¡¯t exactly not remember her life.  If she were to describe it, she would say that she was at peace with not knowing, if not exactly sure why.

    It was peculiar, considering that she had just helped kill the master.  She knew that peace was not an emotion she should feel right now. She didn¡¯t know nor understand any magic, and yet something within her was quite certain that she had been twisted and manipulated with magic, and if so, they had almost certainly done a lot.

    At the same time, those thoughts felt like excuses.  Her real feelings were simpler, she just didn¡¯t know quite what they were.

    So she kept herself quietly in the small room which she¡¯d been given.  Although she was not under orders from the master, keeping her space clean felt like an accomplishment, so she did, and then sat quietly awaiting the lady, the guard, or the new master, whoever that should be.

    Her new sleeping space was unlit, deep in the interior of the building with no windows and hardly even a crack around the door.  She knew that there was a candle and a striker, but she had no need nor desire to light them. It wasn¡¯t as though she could see in the dark; rather, the positions of things were clear to her, and seeing or not seeing them made little difference to that.  So she sat, and listened intently, hoping that someone would come.

    By the day¡¯s end, there were only two visitors: her guard, Kan, had brought her a respectable servant¡¯s dinner, one far better than she had any reason to expect; another guard had made a quick search of her cell and asked her the location of the sword.  She gave an honest evasion: ¡°I don¡¯t know¡± and focused on looking quite willing to help, and he left disappointed.

    And she certainly did not know where the sword was, nor how she had stashed it.  She did not know or understand magic.  But she had discovered some time ago that she had some.

    Chandra did not allow herself to think about her past until deep into the night, when a night guard had replaced Kan outside and had, in spite of his duties, fallen asleep.  To Chandra, his breathing was incredibly loud, and she kept her mind active by using the occasional wheezes and coughs to guess at his general state of health. It was clear he was nowhere near as sick as the workers in the factory, but then, this was the house of the master, and not merely the place where they took unwanted people.

    Nevertheless, she wished him better health, and after a few hours, his breathing did seem to steady a bit.

    The first thing she thought about, when she dared let herself think, was the stone whose power she had absorbed.  More than anything else, that struck her as odd, as she understood magic not at all, and had never needed or used essences like the ones employed by the factory--unless, perhaps, those memories were simply taken from her.  That led to wondering about the things that the master had done when he had bent her to his will. After all, the magic she knew she had, had not really worked well since then.

    She didn¡¯t want to go back to who she was before she met the master, but she didn¡¯t like that something had been taken from her.  And she didn¡¯t regret disposing of the master, once he had shown signs of the taint.  He would have been a danger to the lady and to the new master, but also, he would have been a danger to himself.  Killing him prevented that danger to himself. She was quite pleased that she had managed that bit of twisted logic, knowing as she did that it was contrary to the bindings placed on her.  Honestly, she was surprised that nobody had questioned her at the time--or worse.You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

    Chandra breathed quietly, letting herself doze off as she sat in the middle of the floor.  She needed sleep, truly, but the idea of being asleep on a bed was unappealing. Her back wouldn¡¯t let her relax; she supposed it must have a different curve to it than humans¡¯.  So she slept there only when the master ordered it, and otherwise slept sitting up or curled up on the floor. This room had a small wooden table, and if she had not been so interested in showing faith and favor for her new masters, she would have preferred to curl up in the smaller space underneath.

    An odd distinction, perhaps, when she could not see anything, but she knew what she felt.

    She awoke before dawn, when the guard outside was startled by something and scrambled back into position.  So long as he was awake, she could not feel comfortable, and so she allowed herself to think back to the factory, knowing that the lady would soon want to know more about the metal which the master had been producing.

    Her hazy, buried instincts told her one story, but in terms of what she actually knew, it was little.  The stones which the worker had dropped; how many of each type; how many he had dropped into the cauldron and how many he had held; and the type of metal he had been using.  But she knew that it took more than that to make the special metal.  The master would not have been searching so long for something so simple.

    So she amused herself comparing what her instincts told her to what she knew.  As far as she could tell, her instincts were entirely plausible, and strangely specific.  She might not get to test whether or not they were correct without revealing secrets, though, and she worried about showing undue confidence in front of the lady.

    After all, Chandra had been in the other place for a very long time, longer than most people who became tainted.  She had been concealed beneath the workshop before the factory was built, tasked with cleaning things and distributing food rations.  And before she had come to the workshop¡­

    Chandra blanked her mind at the first sound of footsteps, and when the door opened at last, she was serenely sitting, waiting for the lady.  And indeed Jani was there, with Kan and her other two guards, and she gestured for Chandra to follow. So she stood, suppressing the urge to stretch or show any sign of familiarity, and followed.

    This time she was brought to a locked room, with a fluid-filled cauldron and many essence stones of many types.  Chandra identified them one by one with a glance, then looked to the lady.

    ¡°Can this produce the metal that the worker made in my brother¡¯s factory?¡±

    ¡°No, lady.¡±  Chandra bowed her head.  ¡°What is here is not sufficient.¡±

    ¡°Not sufficient?¡±  Jani¡¯s eyes lit up.  ¡°What do you mean?¡±

    ¡°The metals, lady.  The metal used was a mixture, I am certain.  Heavier than copper, stiffer. I do not know exactly the formula, but they made it in large batches at the factory.¡±

    Jani cursed a moment, then started to laugh.  ¡°My goodness, child, but my brother had no idea what he had in his hands, did he?  Where did you come from? Why did you end up serving Roan?¡±

    Chandra stopped, as several of the questions had the mental effect of being slapped, to the point that she almost missed the fact that that the lady was awaiting a response.  She fought against pain and fear, with difficulty, and said simply, ¡°I am not permitted to know, mistress.¡±

    ¡°Not permitted--¡± Jani frowned.  ¡°My brother is no longer your master.  Whatever control he may have had over you, I release you from it.  Serve my--serve me, and I promise to keep you safe.¡±

    Chandra did not understand the many violent sensations in her head that followed, but found her head shaking, almost uncontrollably.  ¡°My master--the master--is not--it is not an order of the master, lady¡­ the w-w-w.... will know.¡±

    ¡°The what?  Who will know?¡±  Jani was now getting visibly upset about whatever was causing Chandra''s trouble, but she had no way to stop.

    ¡°The master¡¯s wizard!¡±  Even thinking the word, let alone breathing it, Chandra knew that she had just violated a hard restriction, and something inside her lashed back with far more intense violence than before.  Moments later, Chandra realized her head didn¡¯t seem to feel pain anymore. It rang, like it was full of noise, but the parts of her that were meant to do the thinking and feeling were out of sorts.

    She stayed like that for a handful of moments, then awoke on her bed with a splitting headache, not entirely sure what had happened or how long she had been gone.

 11. Amon Egrethore (1)

    It would be something of an understatement to say that Lord Amon Egrethore was upset.  Indeed, the only thing keeping him from going berserk was his own deep understanding of dark magic, and his willingness to use it, in conjunction with mental magics, to strongly and firmly dampen his emotions.

    Dark magic¡¯s one and only purpose was making things and people more receptive to other magics.  It made enchantments easier, it made healing easier, made stone-shaping easier¡­ but left alone, living things and dark magic simply did not mix.  There were too many inherent magics within the human body, and when dark magic sapped you of your defenses, they corroded you from the inside.

    Nevertheless, when Amon decided that he should calm down, he forced his body to do it, against its own will, and against his own better judgement.  It was eerily calming, knowing that he could shut down every part of his mind and body except those he wished would remain. It had gotten him through several tough times in his life, and made several bad decisions much, much easier to make.

    It also made it easy to simply choose not to regret them.

    So now he wished away any love or respect for his dead son and focused on the future.  He could feel the blank place in his soul where sympathy and regret should have been, but they only felt numb.  And honestly, given what his son had just cost him, why should he spare even a moment¡¯s thought for him? The fool.

    No¡­ it would be far better to frame Roan for the mess with the inspectors.  After all, he had just attempted to kill his father, in open view of several guards and servants.  The only trick was confessing this to the Order and the King, without it becoming common knowledge, and without making any direct lies which might be detected by a spell or special power.  Like all trading houses, the Egrethore group needed to keep a clean image, whatever dirty things might happen in the background.

    The biggest problem there was that Roan was his heir.  Janinda would do fine at the job, in spite of not having been groomed for it; the larger issue was that there would be no way to conceal the change.  Roan was well-known, and had been personally involved in a great many trade deals.Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.

    Many dark thoughts crossed Amon¡¯s mind, thoughts interrupted first by the mid-day meal, and second by his daughter¡¯s report.

    Janinda¡¯s face was drawn.  He had ordered her not to interrupt him in the next day unless it was urgent or good news; she didn¡¯t look panicked, so it must be the latter.  That thought relaxed him, and he let the intensity of the dark magic within him fade.

    ¡°Tell me, daughter.  Have you gotten anything out of the girl?¡±

    ¡°Yes, and no.  As I thought, she knew more than she let on.  She knows that the metal was a form of bronze, but of course not the formulation.  Easy enough to fix, if we can find samples at Roan¡¯s facility. She also seems to know which essences were used, if perhaps not quite the ratio.¡±  Janinda spent a long moment watching her father, as if weighing his ability to endure bad news.

    ¡°Go on.¡±

    ¡°She¡¯s also mad.  I asked her about her past and she collapsed.  She said something about Roan having a wizard, who was responsible for what happened to her.¡±

    A wizard?  For a long moment, Amon thought about that placidly, as though he must have known about it and merely forgotten.  But when he couldn¡¯t come up with anything, the placidness disappeared. What wizard?  I don¡¯t¡­ I¡¯m not aware of any wizards coming here, not in years.  Was it a lover of his? No, he wouldn¡¯t ask a lover to enslave a whore¡­

    Before he knew it, Janinda¡¯s hand was on his shoulder, and he realized he¡¯d been pacing.  The stump of his arm ached from the increased blood pressure, and he felt light headed. Amon let her guide him to his chair, and waited while she called the healer and servants.

    When finally she returned, he gestured for her to come close, so that he could whisper.  ¡°I know nothing of this. Roan should have had nothing to do with any wizards. You must look into this, immediately.  If one is here, without our knowing¡­ it could be a disaster. Far worse than those Order idiots.¡± He waved her back, as the healer approached, looking worried.  ¡°Go. I will be fine.¡±

    Jani, her face conflicted, watched the healer treat her father for a few minutes, then stepped out into the hall.  It took her a moment to decide exactly where to start. Roan didn¡¯t have a lot of friends, and he didn¡¯t fully trust his family or servants.  Not many would have known who he associated with, or be able to spill his secrets now that he¡¯s dead.

    So she marched off towards her brother¡¯s office, hoping that she had simply overlooked it the last time she¡¯d ransacked the place.

 12. Marin (1)

    Marin didn¡¯t mind doing the lion¡¯s share of the work barricading the small office.  If anything, she was enjoying being able to use skills that largely had no other use, such as bindings, wards, reforging mud into stone, and the mental exercise of imagining exactly how the place might be attacked.

    Wilke seemed to be fine with letting her play, contenting himself with casting his senses out into the winds, hoping to catch any sign of intruders.  The winds didn¡¯t cooperate, staying mostly out of the north, but he didn¡¯t mind pushing back against them.

    Far better would have been to use the Vein to investigate from underground, but it ran from the northwest to the southeast, and shrank quickly not far from the office.  With the Egrethore estate being northeast, it wouldn¡¯t get them at all close. Nor was there any other solid vein of earth or water which could be used to scry in the area.

    Evening came quicker than she expected.  Still, Wilke kept an eye out, seeming more entertained than diligent.  Marin had no doubts when she opened the door, quiet as she was, that he knew exactly where she was, and likely had been following the sounds of her footsteps as she went around, but she still cleared her throat to get his attention.

    ¡°Yes, Marin?¡±  Wilke was perched atop the stone-brick column that supported the gate.  The walls themselves were only about shoulder-tall, and so were topped by quartz spikes, each thin as a razor--not her work, more likely Nina¡¯s.  Torit, for his part, had maintained an enchantment on them that drew anything flying over the wall straight down onto the spikes. Marin had improved the enchantment, but she had to admit it was a very solid starting point.

    The gate, however, was about twice the height of the walls, and the columns reached nearly to their top.  As there was no concern of people simply leaping over them, they had no more than a decorative pair of brass spikes, which Wilke seemed to have simply knocked aside so that he could comfortably squat on top.

    ¡°I think that¡¯s about all I can do.¡±  She paused. ¡°I admit I half-expected to have heard something from the Temple by now.¡±

    ¡°Yes.¡±  Wilke kept staring out into the distance.  ¡°I was half-hoping trouble would come find us before we got a chance to leave, too.  Maybe if we wait ¡®till the morning?¡±

    Marin huffed.  Still, the idea of seeing her preparations put to use was appealing, in its own right.  ¡°You still haven¡¯t given your report.¡±

    ¡°Nor even written it out.¡±  Wilke sighed. ¡°Yes, there is that.  If I were to be killed before I got a chance to properly report on the enemy, I suppose the Order would be obliged to investigate a third time.  We might as well save someone the headache.¡±

    So he jumped down, and Marin replaced the brass spike on top with just a bit of magic.  She was far from exhausted; there was simply nothing more she could do without digging for more clay or rock, or bringing materials that allowed more complex enchantments.  She looked up at the gate and considered what she could do with better supplies, then shook her head and turned inside.

    She sealed the lock on the gate, sealed the lock on the front door, and headed for the transit room.

    Wilke was standing there, looking at the seal which marked the entrance to the Vein.  It took Marin a moment to realize that it wasn¡¯t introspection; there was a new glowing mark atop the seal, one she had not put there.

    It was a mark used by the Order to block access to the network.The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

    ¡°That wasn¡¯t me,¡± she said, feeling a bit dumbfounded.

    ¡°I¡­ suspected it wasn¡¯t.¡±  Wilke knelt down next to it, looking at it closely.  ¡°And also, those marks have to be added from the other side, do they not?  Is this another form of attack?¡±

    ¡°No, that seal should be secret knowledge kept by the Order.  Do you suppose Torit was attacked?¡±

    Wilke suddenly tensed, then let loose with a loud swear, loud enough that Marin stumbled back, her ears ringing.  ¡°What!¡± She shook her head. ¡°Wilke!¡±

    ¡°We were supposed to keep him safe!  Blast it all, if someone attacked him, I¡¯ll tear them to pieces!¡±  Wilke smashed a hand into the wall, then pounded it another few times, each time with less intensity than the last.  ¡°I don¡¯t¡­ want anyone else dying to these stupid¡­ corrupt¡­¡±

    Marin was surprised, honestly.  Wilke hadn¡¯t seemed the kind to get upset over a little death, not being a combat mage.  But then, Torit had been kind, straightforward, and loyal.  And whatever else he was, he was definitely not a combatant himself.

    She let him settle for a couple minutes, finally suggesting, ¡°Well, then I suppose we get to wait and see if trouble finds us, don¡¯t we?¡±

    Wilke soaked in that thought, then forced a bit of cheer.  ¡°Yes, you¡¯re right! I might get a chance to let loose after all.  So, first things first, I suppose some supper is in order. Ah¡­ you didn¡¯t, perchance, trap the kitchen, did you?¡±

    ¡°A bit.¡±  In truth, most of the traps inside the building were only meant to signal her and inconvenience the attacker.  If they spent time time and effort to bypass all of them, it would be a waste of their time; if not, she would know, even from the other side of Contel.  ¡°It won¡¯t be more than a moment to unlock them.¡±

    ¡°What is the Seyonan staple?  Beef?¡±

    Marin snorted, as she pressed a hand on the kitchen door.  ¡°Too much enchantment in this country for growing livestock.  Fish. Spiced fish, usually in a stew.¡±

    ¡°Oh!  Yes, I remember.  Here in Nase they get a lot of freshwater fish from the north mountains.  I must have been thinking of Ooria.¡±

    ¡°They have goats, not cows.¡±

    ¡°Yes¡­?¡±  Wilke watched her unseal the cold cupboard.  ¡°I thought most of the beef came from the south.¡±

    ¡°A lot of the best-known beef dishes started here, but all the meat is brought in from the north, and it¡¯s quite expensive.  The cheap foods are all fish, fruits, and nuts. Some mutton on the east coast.¡± She looked up and down the shelves. ¡°It looks like Torit¡¯s tastes are mostly in fruits and seeds.  Some meat. The remains of some fish, but not enough for both of us. Rice. Plenty of flour.¡±

    ¡°We can make it work.¡±  Wilke kept at his forced cheer, and ran through the few cooking dishes that the half-bird had kept.  ¡°Mutton or goat?¡±

    ¡°Goat.¡±

    ¡°And the seed-fruits, I¡¯m sure.¡±

    ¡°Yes.¡±

    ¡°They go together well in a stew.¡±  Wilke searched the cabinets, finally finding the small closet containing the well pump and drawing a pot of water.  ¡°We¡¯ll do alright.¡±

    Later, the two of them sat at the table, and Marin had to admit that Wilke¡¯s cooking was good.  It was no feast for kings, but if she¡¯d been alone, she might not have tried to cook anything, except perhaps a loaf of bread, and that was not likely to turn out well.

    ¡°I¡¯m sure that Torit is fine,¡± said Wilke out of nowhere.  ¡°The fact that they sealed it must mean he got through. Otherwise, why would they have acted so quickly?¡±

    Marin, surprised at her own tiredness, struggled upright.  ¡°Yes, you¡¯re right. They can¡¯t really tell if someone dies in the Vein, can they?¡±

    ¡°No.¡±  Wilke paused.  ¡°At least, I don¡¯t think so.¡±

    ¡°So he got through, and someone will come--¡±

    A noise from the transit room startled them both.  A silence followed, then the unmistakable sound of someone coming through, and then another.

    Wilke was on his feet, and before the door, long moments before it could have opened.  Marin, trusting in her magic senses, put her hand to the wall to try to sense who was on the other side.  It took her a moment, just long enough for the door to open in the next room.

    Both of them let out a sigh of relief as Torit and another Order member stepped back into the main room.

 13. Chandra (5)

    Chandra had spent a few days now resting alone in her quarters. The headache was still there, if substantially less, but it had done nothing else to incapacitate her or hinder her thinking. Indeed, she was starting to think that it had broken something loose.

    Still, it was unnerving that nobody had come for her. The Lady, she supposed, did not have a use for her until she had a sample of the correct metal to work on. The meals continued to come, and they were shockingly respectable.

    What was most important was that Chandra had a few hours each night when she felt safe thinking about herself. Each time, she very slightly, very slowly unwound the shell of absolute terror that had kept her very rigidly following orders to the letter. She still would, because her survival depended on it, but the terror bound her, silenced her mind.

    Mind magic, something told her, was not complicated. She didn¡¯t quite understand it, but she knew, somehow. She had to know, instinctively, what was going on, and then she could adapt, and her mind would throw off the enchantment. But she dared not think about what she was doing. That was ...not permitted.

    She wasn¡¯t anywhere near strong enough to fight against that.

    In the late hours of the night, she wondered how much of her mental battle was superstition, and how much was reasonable. Should she be trying to fight against the enchantment all the time, and not just when everyone was asleep? Should she try to do more? But the master and his group knew more than enough magic. They might sense something if she struggled against it. And if¡­ her thoughts flinched away from something, and she relented, moving on without challenging it.

    So she sat and waited, and kept her space clean. She dared to practice a little with the magic essence she¡¯d gained at the factory, but dared not use her other skills where they might be noticed. After all, she had been punished for using them, before, if never precisely forbidden from them. But she had never been ordered to avoid the essence.

    This blue essence was not particularly odd; in truth it did about what she expected magic essence to do. With some concentration, she could flit a tiny blue ball around her space, and when she touched it to a pebble, she could pick it up. She didn¡¯t know quite how much essence she had, and only had a vague feeling that it was there at all. Still, some part of her couldn¡¯t stop imagining hair-thick blue needles and blades cutting into flesh--or, she dared sometimes to hope, breaking stone walls.

    Eventually, though, the lady returned, and with no more ceremony than last time, she was escorted out. This time she was brought to the master¡¯s study, which was now quite out of order, with dozens of volumes removed from shelves and either stuffed back onto them in another order, or laid in stacks on the ground. Jani took a seat behind the master¡¯s desk and, after making sure that she had an ink pen and paper at the ready, she addressed Chandra.

    ¡°The last time we spoke you had a bad reaction. This is fine, and you don¡¯t need to dwell on it. But you must tell me whatever you know of my brother¡¯s wizard.¡±

    Chandra didn¡¯t quite understand the question, but found her heart beating just a bit faster in spite of it. It wasn¡¯t the same violent reaction as before, yet nevertheless, she could not answer. Was this a question that was forbidden? She tried to rouse herself against the question, to see if she could break through the strange mental wall, but only ended up shaking her head. ¡°With respect, lady, I feel I should know the question, but¡­ I do not.¡±

    Jani glanced to something behind Chandra and nodded. Chandra felt, not for the first time, a dirty magic aura slip over her, one that felt corrosive, offensive. Still, she held her ground and waited, knowing that it was not her place to resist spells. After a moment, she felt two bubbles press up against one another inside her, an unpleasant feeling of pressure¡­ and then a soft pop as one of the bubbles yielded to the other.

    It didn¡¯t exactly fill her with new information, but dark parts of her mind that had been locked away sat half-open, and through the cracked doors she could sense half an answer. She closed her eyes and tried to grasp at the mental image, but there was no index, no labels upon the unsorted thoughts, only a jumble of doors that should have been locked.

    Still, she closed her eyes and focused, and saw a vision, of two men with whips and two with wine. Blood was everywhere, and pain was her, but she understood one thing about the vision: of the four men, only one was not in the livery of the master¡¯s house.

    ¡°A tall man¡­ black hair¡­ blue robes with a twisted golden rope hung as a sash. I don¡¯t know, lady, but I remember¡­ he was there at the time.¡±

    ¡°Dennet,¡± said a voice behind her. ¡°Damn.¡±If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.

    Chandra tried not to be startled, and tried to keep herself calm. Unsettlingly, she found her deep emotions to be as settled as the appearance she worked so hard to keep. Somehow, she felt the sick, oily feel of that magic covering her, and she shivered.

    ¡°I suppose that means it¡¯s not someone in the house, then.¡± Jani paused. ¡°You know him, of course.¡±

    ¡°Know him? He¡¯s probably the best free enchanter in the three valleys, and a cutthroat businessman. Top class, but he is more than happy to raise his prices until they are too rich for anyone we know. If he doesn¡¯t like the work, or if he doesn¡¯t like you, he just won¡¯t do things for you. Unless he particularly enjoyed¡­¡± Jani glared at her father, and Amon paused for a moment, cleared his throat, then moved on. ¡°He and I haven¡¯t gotten along in more than a decade ...maybe two, now. Roan would have to have spent a fair amount of coin to hire him. When you add that to the expenses of his private workshop, it makes even me wonder where he got his money. Filthy rat must have stolen most of it.¡±

    Jani raised a hand, then addressed Chandra directly once more. ¡°What can you tell me about the mixture of essence stones used to create the magi-metal?¡±

    Chandra¡¯s eyes lit up. ¡°Ah¡­ I recall six stones. One he held between his feet, an ash-grey stone that felt amber. One he had in his hand, deep blue like the sky in the Starry Place. One rested against the side of the cauldron, green, but he did not remove it. Three he put inside, and took out again after. These were a lighter blue, and a silver, and one that I never felt the essence of, for it was always completely empty when it was removed.¡±

    ¡°Sounds like the lower six.¡± Amon¡¯s voice behind Chandra held more curiosity than annoyance. ¡°Did you confirm that the metal was a triple-blend?¡±

    ¡°Yes,¡± Jani said with a dismissive wave of her hand. ¡°But not now. Did you see the technique? Anything special he was doing?¡±

    Chandra looked away, more aware than usual of the fact that she was holding a bit back. ¡°I¡­ was bid not to look at them. And I did not witness him in the act. But I felt that he passed energy between the stones in an odd way.¡±

    ¡°Between the stones?¡± Jani¡¯s eyes raised. ¡°I¡¯m not sure that¡¯s what he was doing.¡±

    ¡°With respect, lady, I don¡¯t know. But he moved it around.¡± Chandra moved her hands in a few looping circles, trying to catch the essence of the pattern, but even she felt that it came out a half-hearted, unguided knot. ¡°And then the whole pattern moved into the center.¡±

    There was a silence as Jani wrote on the paper, and Amon said nothing. After that, Jani asked one more question. ¡°Anything else?¡±

    ¡°Yes, lady. I said the worker made three more after the first. I did not mention that he made them quickly. Whatever he discovered, it is not time consuming.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s good.¡± Jani glanced behind Chandra, but focused mostly on her notes. ¡°The pattern¡­ how well do you recall it?¡±

    Chandra took a slow, measured breath. That question was direct enough that it was tricky to evade. ¡°I recall what I felt, lady, but the pattern was¡­ complex. Too complex to put into words.¡±

    ¡°Hardly a problem.¡± The words, and the low chuckle from behind Chandra, were cold, and together with the oily feel of the dark magic, they chilled her. This caused another start in her, but nothing so innocent as a slap to her mind. The half opened doors in her mind spilled out scenes that her whole body wished would remain buried. Muscles and flesh remembered laughter, and words, and whips, and far worse; hooks and blades and blood and things even her darkness-cursed memory refused to identify.

    She managed not to scream or even cry out, but her entire body wracked with a spasm, then many more, and she collapsed on the floor for long moments.

    ¡°Father! Damn it. I told you not to speak!¡± Janinda¡¯s voice was too far away for her to hear, although the words appeared in Chandra¡¯s mind nonetheless.

    Chandra picked herself up off the floor, half amazed that someone hadn¡¯t set her upright, only to realize after a moment that she hadn¡¯t been hit and didn¡¯t need to prepare for worse. She only rose into a polite kneeling position, closed her ears and took several deep breaths, trying to calm down. It was far from easy; doors that should have been closed now had labels, and a studious, automatic part of her mind was going around looking in them, turning out drawers full of torture and closets of gore just to say ¡°Ah, I remember now,¡± while she could only look on, horrified by each recollection.

    The dangerous parts of her had subsided at the merest touch of tortured memories, but they recovered quickly, more quickly than she¡¯d expected. In part, she realized, because she wanted them to. That dark oily part of her made it easier for her to fetch her own demons out of the darkness, just as they had made it easier to fetch shattered memories. But along with the presence of her old self, she also felt some wisdom, some analytical part from before giving her advice. Now is not the time, she knew. So she set the thoughts aside and just settled into place, trying to look as calm and submissive as she had been told to be.

    When she opened her eyes and ears again, she found Janinda and her guard Kan watching her closely. Chandra, feeling a little flustered, gave a gentle quarter bow. ¡°I apologize, lady. I am better, now.¡±

    ¡°You have some deep scars, child,¡± said Jani, with naked pity in her voice. ¡°Some days I wonder¡­ no.¡± She gestured to Kan. ¡°That will be all, for now. Rest. You will be provided with paper and pen. If you can recall anything else about the stones, or pattern, or metals, record it. In as much detail as you can, as thoroughly as you can. Otherwise, rest. You are too valuable to us. Soon we may need you to give us what you can, in a rush. But there is no point in¡­ tiring you out before then.¡±

    Chandra rose to her feet and bowed. The numbness and slick feel of the magic made it easy to conceal the sudden prick of excitement she felt, and she worked hard to keep her tail as still as possible.

    These people had no idea what she could do, unsupervised, with magic and a bit of spare paper.

 14. Dennet Mordain (1)

    Dennet Mordain was, by his own standards, an excellent enchanter. He expected a lot from himself, and generally accomplished what he set out to do. He made an adequate amount of money selling his goods, but much more selling services. Enchanted items are all well and good when you are presented a list of things which you can purchase, but it means so much more to be allowed to ask for exactly what you want, and to be told that you can have it, for a certain cost. Enchantments that are not on an item, but instead are part of a place or building, are even more customized, and even more thrilling to receive.

    That was the romance of enchantment, but honestly, Dennet didn¡¯t care all that much about it. He considered himself a better accountant than he was a businessman, and a better businessman than he was an enchanter. And again, he was an excellent enchanter.

    The business of enchantment services meant having good relationships with a lot of people. It meant coming and going without anyone knowing exactly who your clients were, so that nobody could press you for information on specific items owned by anyone else. And the accountancy of enchanting services included charging people a very reasonable rate for that secrecy, on an ongoing basis, and making quite certain that you got paid on time, every time.

    If there was one exception to be made, it was that the king of Seyona, the world¡¯s foremost nation when it came to enchanting knowledge and industry, got to know the secrets of everyone in his nation--but only if he knew exactly what question to ask. Dennet considered this to be a form of tax; the King was allowed whatever knowledge he had, but only if and about what he asked. And as a person who prided himself on accounting, paying this tax seemed a perfectly natural part of the business of enchantment.

    Being called in by the king, then, was partly a responsibility, partly an exciting business opportunity, and partly a wonderful source of gossip. If the king needed an answer about something, then goodness but someone was in trouble!

    Walking in the king¡¯s garden was a treat in itself. Dennet was not a big fan of topiaries, and he wasn¡¯t an enormous fan of flowers. He was, however, a fan of birdsong, and the garden attracted a great number of songbirds. Some came for the flowers, or the insects that the flowers attracted. Some were attracted by seeds and syrups put forth by the gardeners. Some enjoyed the baths and the mirror-smooth fish pond. And some were attracted or even trapped with enchantments, bindings, or more mundane physical cages. Dennet had helped with one or two of them, but none were so complicated that they needed his touch. One, in fact, he had done for free, simply content to be able to hear the bird singing when he came by.

    Although it made him a few moments late--not more than that--Dennet took a detour by the pond, listening more than looking at the birds or the scenery. A bed of flowers in many colors stretched around most of it, with a few brick-lined paths allowing access to the pond itself. Dennet chafed for a moment at the sight of a groundskeeper on the other side, but after looking for another moment, he recognized one of king¡¯s aides, there to keep others out while only pretending to tend to the flowers. So, taking a moment to let the frustration pass, Dennet paced back towards the meeting point.

    He was unsurprised to find that the king was not yet there. It wasn¡¯t impossible that he would miss the meeting, for one reason or another, but it was a nice way to spend the afternoon even if that was all that came out of it.Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit.

    So he sat on a small bronze-topped bench and waited. The sun was warm but not hot, with a few large clouds giving brief intervals of cooler weather. The birds enjoyed it, from the sound of it. So Dennet just closed his eyes and let time pass. This was a safer place than he¡¯d be able to enjoy again for¡­ who knew exactly how long.

    After drifting away and jolting back upright about... two or three times, he was surprised to find that the king¡¯s daughter had appeared next to him while he dozed, sitting silently. He glanced around quickly, but the two of them were alone.

    ¡°Ah¡­ Princess Margarit. It¡¯s you, today?¡±

    ¡°Father was¡­ not entirely interested in the specifics. But we do need to know.¡± Margarit ran one hand through her hair nervously. Dennet didn¡¯t know how she behaved around others, but the few times he¡¯d encountered her, she was always nervous. ¡°It¡¯s about the Egrethore mansion.¡±

    That made Dennet¡¯s good mood sour. ¡°Oh, them.¡± He paused, then offered a somewhat calculated grin. ¡°Please tell me they¡¯re in trouble. Amon is a nightmare, and the dealings I¡¯ve had with his son were entirely unnerving.¡±

    ¡°They seem to have assassinated members of the Yunian Order.¡± Margarit sat quite still for a moment, not looking at Dennet. After a moment when he didn¡¯t reply, she added, ¡°We¡¯ll need to get a spy into their organization as soon as possible.¡±

    ¡°A spy¡­¡± Dennet¡¯s mouth twisted into a dark frown, and then back into a smile. ¡°Well, here¡¯s one unpleasant little secret. Not normally fit for a lady¡¯s ears, but under the circumstances, I think we must. Roan Egrethore, the heir apparent, was targeted by an assassin some time ago. Nasty woman at heart, but she looked very sweet, almost certainly the type who are trained to go after a man¡¯s, ah, weakness. She got to be alone with him, in his bedroom, and it should have ended there. But Roan doesn¡¯t trust anyone and he got her trapped. So he asked for¡­ ah, conditioning spells. Wanted to make her into a... personal servant instead.¡±

    ¡°Personal servant¡­¡± Margarit made an ugly face. ¡°I suppose he¡¯s as abusive to his servants as his father?¡±

    ¡°Oh, his servants seem to like him well enough. But she became his toy, lady, and he does not treat those at all well. I¡¯ve already had to fix her more than once, when he got too¡­ enthusiastic.¡±

    ¡°Ah.¡± Margarit weighed the words, and her facial expressions showed that she understood and then chose not to dwell on it. ¡°Well¡­ I suppose you mean, then, that this assassin has no loyalties to him, and part of her conditioning is built on your own custom spells. Spells you might be able to... tweak.¡±

    ¡°Exactly. I might be able to prepare something that anyone could use¡­ but it would be easier to do it in person. If I can get in there, what with the trouble that is, apparently, about to befall them.¡±

    ¡°Do both.¡± Margarit stood up quietly. ¡°We have word the Order has already sent another investigator. Prepare something that should work. We will send someone, but do follow up in person. We will pull you out if we must, so do try not to get killed before then.¡±

    ¡°Of course, Lady Margarit. Princess.¡± Dennet stood clumsily, but before he could bow, the Princess had vanished as quietly as she had appeared.

    Dennet strode out of the garden quite happily. The princess had not even tried to ask what this would cost. That meant no matter what he charged, he would get paid.

    That made him happy as an enchanter and as a businessman, but especially as an accountant.

 15. A Meeting of The Orders Investigators

    The meeting of Order members had grown large enough that no single room in the small waystation was large enough to contain it.  Torit, Wilke, and Marin were joined by four other specialists, one of whom was entirely too obese to stand around while the others talked.  So Wilke, having the least to say about things, fixed tea in the kitchen, while the specialists spoke with Marin and Torit, and planned amongst themselves.

    ¡°You¡¯ll pardon,¡± said Erron, the obese wizard who claimed to specialize in mind magic, as the general part of the planning ended and they started to get into the logistics of it all.  ¡°I know I¡¯m a bit of a bother about these things, but I¡¯ll be needing something a bit stouter than an average horse. Ideally a cart, but a heavier horse is also fine.¡± His eyes, Marin thought, were quite apologetic--but a mind mage could control such things, she was sure.

    ¡°We¡¯ll need to arrange for carriages, yes.  There¡¯s no reason to ride in the open.¡± Rin, the small, intense woman who had done everything but say she was a professional assassin, let her eyes dart freely around.  ¡°In the Order¡¯s colors. There should be one here.¡±

    ¡°One, lady, not two.¡±  Torit sounded as apologetic as Erron had looked, but Marin was sure he wasn¡¯t half as good at faking such things.  ¡°I suppose the people going to the Capital will--¡±

    ¡°But you can hire a carriage,¡± shot back Rin.  ¡°Cheaply.¡±

    ¡°...yes.  The woodsman to the west won¡¯t mind if we use his, so long as we pay a fair rate.  It won¡¯t be in our colors, but...¡±

    ¡°No, not a work wagon.  That won¡¯t cover us from an attack.  And don¡¯t worry about colors.  We have enough mages here to fashion a wagon from scrap if that¡¯s all we have, but it¡¯s better to not show what we¡¯re capable of, or even how many people we have.  A little bit of twisting wood and metal into the order¡¯s seal, that is nothing. Half the mages on the continent could do something of the sort.¡±

    Torit thought for a minute, then nodded.  ¡°There is a delivery service. Not quite so cheap, but¡­ ah, insured.¡±

    ¡°That would be ideal.¡±  Rin waved him off. ¡°Go fetch them, please.¡±

    Torit bowed and made his exit.  The assembled mages felt the wind magic swirl as he departed into the sky, and each monitored him until they could no longer sense him.

    Chai was the last to relax.  ¡°Smart fellow, that bird. Quite a spark on him.¡±  He took the tea that Wilke had offered, but didn¡¯t drink.  He seemed a bit light-headed, swaying just a bit with each action.  ¡°I¡¯m pretty sure he¡¯ll live. For a bit.¡±

    ¡°Oh, for¡­ I hate having to work with a voidling.¡±  Erron managed to spit the word, his pudgy face flushed red.  ¡°You always seem to think¡­ that people want to know the future.  It changes us, you know.¡±

    ¡°Sure.  Not much you can do about a disease like his, though.¡±  Chai lifted his cup of tea as though smelling it, or starting to drink, but then set it back down on the saucer.  ¡°But really, he¡¯ll be alright. There¡¯s a lot of danger around here, but it feels mostly¡­ pointed inwards.  People backstabbing each other.  They don¡¯t want trouble.¡±

    ¡°There¡¯s been trouble,¡± pointed out the fourth specialist, a stout middle-aged woman.  ¡°This country is mad, Chai, and when it spills out into violence against the Order, of all things, you know it¡¯s gotten bad.  They ought to fear us a lot more than that.¡±

    ¡°Melle¡­ please.¡± Marin put a hand on her shoulder.  ¡°I don¡¯t think we want fear to be the goal here.¡±

    ¡°No.¡±  Melle picked up one of the unclaimed teacups that Wilke had left on the table.  ¡°But they should fear us.  They rely too much on trade and industry and knowledge.  If the Order shut its doors to them¡­ why I¡¯d sooner expect them to declare war on the entire continent than let that stand.¡±This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

    ¡°A war still might happen,¡± opined Chai quietly.

    The quiet that settled over the room was palpably strained.  Erron, finally, broke it with a long series of coughs, then shook his head.  ¡°Look, I¡¯m as worried as the next of you when ...he speaks of scary things, but let¡¯s look at this from our own angle, not his.  We¡¯ve got to set things right, here, and war will come or not.  S¡¯long as we give them a plausible way forward, and they don¡¯t do anything completely stupid, it¡¯s hard to see this incident leading to anything bad.  But that does mean us keeping up our end of the bargain, as members of the Order, and as a neutral party in the investigation of¡­¡± he paused. ¡°Whatever they were looking into in th¡¯ first place.¡±

    ¡°Awful treatment of their workers,¡± replied Marin.  ¡°Slavery, torture, kidnappings, worse. Most if not all of the things we have rules against, really.¡±

    ¡°Well, it¡¯s Seyona.¡±  Erron reached, not for the tea, but for the jug of water and a spare glass.  Abrupt as his movements usually were, he did make sure not to spill any. ¡°From what I hear, a lot of folk out here are bad.  But those stories might have been made up. There are a lot of liars here. Or so I hear.¡±

    ¡°Right, well,¡± Rin let out a loud sigh.  ¡°As long as we¡¯re talking about rumors, let¡¯s make sure we always come back to how none of us have ever been here before and we don¡¯t know anything.  Then we can go back to the part where we are supposed to be neutral third parties.  No calling people liars, or acting like they are one, unless you have grounds to suspect them.¡±  She paused. ¡°Yes, Order members were killed. There will be liars, and killers around. That¡¯s why we have a mind mage and a voidling.  We will find out exactly what kind of people they are, and then deal with that. There will be enough blood spilled, and jail cells filled, just given what has already happened.

    Erron tapped the tumbler against the window sill once, then again, and admitted, ¡°Mostly I¡¯m just not a fan of this place.  Neither is he, I wager.¡± He gestured to Chai with the glass, idly. ¡°S¡¯not pleasant to have stray magic in your head, and this whole part of the continent reeks of it.¡±

    Chai looked at him strangely, and didn¡¯t respond.

    ¡°The void-sick ones tend to have an immunity to that, from what I¡¯ve heard,¡± offered Melle.  ¡°Doubtless that¡¯s why Chai was chosen, even in his¡­ condition.¡±

    Chai offered a small smile, then set his tea down, still un-drunk.  After a moment, he picked it up again, as though he didn¡¯t quite understand why he had set it down.

    ¡°Explain one thing to me,¡± said Rin, looking quickly between Melle and Chai.  ¡°This isn¡¯t the full sickness, I know that. A void-sick caster won¡¯t respond to words.  What exactly is his condition?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s complicated.  A full voidling--one who¡¯s had the sickness--shouldn¡¯t ever relapse, not even if they try.  But most of them develop some kind of¡­ emotional distance from the world. The ones that don¡¯t, that are still bound to the world, they have these half-sicknesses when a strong emotional burden is dropped on them.¡±  Melle¡¯s eyes watched Chai¡¯s as she spoke, and her voice softened.  ¡°Like losing a lover, children¡­ for Chai, his uncle.¡±

    ¡°That means he¡¯s not immune to danger,¡± suggested Rin, looking only at Melle.

    ¡°No, but his insight is perfect.  It¡¯s just¡­ difficult to get answers out of him sometimes.¡±

    ¡°I am still here,¡± offered Chai with only a bit of hurt in his voice.

    Rin looked him in the eyes.  ¡°What do you think is happening, then?  What should we look out for? What should we do?¡±

    Chai offered a pained smile and set the tea down again.  ¡°The people here don¡¯t understand why what they¡¯re doing is wrong.  They used magic as though it is a toy, and it is tearing them apart.  A few very important lies are falling apart, and painful truths are endangering the flow of money across the entire country.  Redemption is a powerful motivator, if perhaps not so strong as cowardice.¡±

    Melle smiled, sympathetically.  ¡°A bit hard to get answers, sometimes.¡±

    Rin leaned back in her seat for a minute, thinking.  Then she leaned forward and asked Chai a different question.  ¡°What is the most important weakness in their defenses? What can we exploit, to ensure our success?¡±

    Chai picked up his cup of tea, still untouched, and smiled that confused smile.  ¡°Their greatest weakness is¡­ a slap across the face, or possibly a scrap of paper?  I don¡¯t know.¡± He paused. ¡°Why and how aren¡¯t questions I can answer yet.¡±

    Erron let out a full-bodied laugh, one that took a few minutes to settle.  ¡°Brilliant,¡± he said between guffaws and gasps, ¡°well then, we¡¯re off to slap a nobleman, and watch his whole empire tumble down.¡±

    Melle and Marin looked embarrased.  Rin, however, was deep in thought.

    She, more than most, knew what a scrap of paper could do.

 16. Dennet (2)

    Dennet enjoyed riding on horseback.  When he had time, between business outings, he liked to engage in riding as a sport, taking on several of the nobles in the area in a bit of a race through the northern forest.  That was how he had met his lover, and he was more than mildly disappointed that she was unwilling to leave her husband to be with him. He wasn¡¯t the sort to get heartbroken, not when they still slept together often enough, and he certainly wasn¡¯t interested in revenge or any other unwise activities.  But riding did bring back thoughts of wild sex and holding her, naked and sweating, in the woods.

    In his own mind, he blamed that for his willingness to entertain Roan Egrethore¡¯s foolishness with the assassin.  He knew the drive, the desire that came from practicing your skills to the limit, and in your exhaustion as you seeing your success laid bare, all those intense feelings fold together into lust, as long as there is a willing target.

    And for spellcasters like himself and Roan, ¡°willing¡± was a very malleable trait.

    His horse picked her way down the mountain pass slowly, and he let himself be lost, for a few more minutes, in thoughts of lovers and secrets and guilty admissions made after it was too late to turn back.  She had been furious, but she had come back. That chase, that drive, and that guilty, sweaty sex had taught him a few things about intense, addictive feelings.  It was the kind of thing that his accounting-brain and his business-brain didn¡¯t understand.  But his enchanting-brain, and his horseman-brain, those understood all too well.

    When a person discovers what they are meant to do, and what they are best at, the mixture of drive, need, and acceptance was something simply amazing.

    Dennet turned off the main road for a bit, and followed a low swale towards an unassuming set of rocks.  His horse he would let go, in hopes that she would get home on her own. She was good at that. If things went sour at the Egrethore estate, he wouldn¡¯t likely be able to come fetch her before she died of thirst.  Most likely, she would stay here for a bit, then head off north into the hills, and would either die there or turn up again some weeks later, as she had a time or two before.

    So he dismounted and loosed her saddle and bags, and with gentle pulses of magic, conveyed might come back; home is a safe place to go.  He gave her a good brushing before concealing all the things he didn¡¯t need to carry, and then crawling into a space between the rocks.

    The Egrethore estate had many secrets, and this was a choice one.

    It was, regrettably, not terribly practical.  Roan had only admitted its existence when a project needed a lot of extra work, in secret.  This tiny crack in the rocks opened up into a space just large enough to crouch in, which was flooded some times in the year, and other times housed some grasslands animal or other.  Roan or someone else had put just enough of a mark there to discourage animals from staying, but it still smelled of wet fur almost every time he came.

    Once there, he pressed a finger against an unpowered wardwalking glyph, giving it just enough essence so that he could pass into it.

    The wardspace had a thin rail where it curved, and was otherwise dead and empty.  He tried not to think about the damaged space all around him, and simply passed through the center, trusting that everything was fine.  Whatever would happen next, he didn¡¯t intend to lose his life here.  As long as he didn¡¯t do anything stupid, wardwalking was safer even than travelling on horseback, even for him.

    When the wardspace got close to the Egrethore estate, the walls of the space smoothed, until eventually he entered a section of stone built into the estate itself, and the walls seemed almost flat.  It must have cost Roan an absolute fortune to extend a wardspace right up through the center of the mansion itself; or perhaps, it was an older piece from the time when the estate had first been built some generations ago, and Amon had simply not known about it when he assigned these rooms to Roan.  In either case, this thin channel of carefully prepared stone didn¡¯t end in the basement, as a Wardwalker would have expected.

    Instead, Dennet appeared in an uncomfortably narrow stone-lined room hidden in the walls of the estate, and specifically just behind Roan¡¯s own quarters.  He didn¡¯t move for long moments, barely even daring to breathe, just listening to see if the sound of his exit had been noticed--because that sound was loud, and distinctive.Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

    A moment passed where he decided it must not have been, and he moved his hand away from the ward glyph, taking a few quiet breaths.

    This was Roan¡¯s secret exit and his smuggling path.  To hear him tell of it, he had conducted some truly awful business out of this room, mostly drugs of a nasty sort, some of which Roan seemed to enjoy himself; he had also, though, done his own slave-trading, distinct from the kidnapping of peasants and unfortunates that the family paid him an occasional fee to not reveal.

    A careful selection of materials had made this narrow room almost immune to scrying, but that also meant he could not easily see out of the room, even with his many magical senses.  However, Roan¡¯s adjacent bedchamber was not where he needed to be, and as long as he wasn¡¯t detected, he had no need to pass through it either.

    Whether Roan himself had made the wardwalking exit, he certainly had not shaped the network of tiny, hidden-in-wall corridors in the house.  Some were even used by the guards, and probably had been there from the start. None of them were scry-proof, but then, they were there expressly to let someone snoop on the house, and especially, to let someone sneak into each and every bedroom, if he so chose.

    Dirty secrets were not something unique to this generation of the Egrethore family.

    Dennet carefully slid a piece of thin stone out of the way, giving him the ability to leave Roan¡¯s bolt-hole and enter a slightly larger wall-space.  When he slid it shut, it seemed to him to vanish without a trace, and only a quick test with his hand proved that it would still open for him. Carefully placing his feet to not step on the empty winebottles Roan had left here, Dennet made his way into the darkness, not really sure where he was going or why.

    It wasn¡¯t a thing where he was trusting his instincts; he simply didn¡¯t know for sure that he had not been heard, so he needed to get far away.  He didn¡¯t dare let Roan find him, or anyone from the house. He had to hurry and find Chandra.

    Finally, when he decided he was well and truly lost, he tried to extend his senses through the stone of the house.  Nearly all of it had been pieced together by earth-mages, and so it carried his earth senses far and wide, giving him simple impressions like noisy or dirty or polished as well as conducting some sense of the life moving through the house.

    Then, in a place he did not quite expect, he sensed magic.

    He of course felt the presence of other magic users throughout the house.  The dark magic swirling around Amon infected the stone everywhere he walked, and that made it easy to avoid him.  The stone around Roan¡¯s room felt like him, too, but more faintly than he expected. There was also a stink of his sister¡¯s aura on the room, and in other places around the house.

    But Chandra¡¯s aura was odd.

    Of course, Dennet knew that she was a mage-assassin from the great Northern Ocean, and probably one of the most dangerous creatures he had ever tried to ensorcell.  She should have been under his spell, and she was, though it showed signs of strain.  But she also bore signs of raw essence, taint, wardwalking, the Holy Lands, and her native people¡¯s magic.

    What¡¯s more, she noticed his sensory thread, in the same moment that he found her.  She was sharp, where the whole point of the conditioning was to dull her mind, and change her from a complete person into an obedient thing.  Roan ought to know better; she had to be kept from thinking too much, or it would unravel in time.  But she was also happy, and healthier than she had been even when Dennet had first met her.

    She rose and pounded on the door the moment she sensed his presence.

    Dennet recalled his senses immediately.  He tried to think. Certainly, if he failed this mission for the King, he would not be punished, just not rewarded.  Getting caught was probably the worst outcome. Yet, escaping back down the wardwalk and into the night was an unpleasant thought.  That cave was small, and he had to very carefully align himself so that he would not seriously injure himself trying to leave the ward.  Roan might have gotten used to it, but Dennet didn¡¯t like the thought of trying to make such a fussy exit while he was already bordering on panic.  If he got it wrong, there would likely be nobody to find his body any time soon, let alone reach him in time to save him.

    Settling it with himself, he followed his own footprints in the dust back to Roan¡¯s bolt-hole, settling the dust with a just a trace of magic behind him.  There, rather than powering the glyph and diving back in, he simply settled against the wall and waited.

    This room was scry-proof, and would be hard for anyone to find, unless they knew it was there.  And Roan, at least, was confident that nobody knew. He had betrayed his family several times using this path, and several secret things were still stacked in the corner.  So unless Roan led them to him--unlikely, as he seemed not to have been here recently--it should be safe.

    So he just closed his eyes in the darkness and waited.

 17. Chandra (6)

    Chandra knew immediately that the magic thread she felt running through the stone did not belong to anyone in the house.

    It was difficult to describe exactly how she knew. If she had ¡°seen¡± the magic, it might have been a different color. If she had ¡°heard¡± it, it would be a different pitch. But magic senses are an odd kind of new sensation, and she didn¡¯t have quite the words to describe it.

    But she did know that the user was hiding. For lack of a better word, the magic smelled like a spy.

    So she rose and immediately knocked on the door, a bit harder than she intended. Outside, Kan seemed honestly surprised that she had dared do anything but sit quietly, and he unlocked and cracked open the door to make sure she was not in trouble.

    ¡°Fetch the mistress. Someone has snuck into the house.¡± It wasn¡¯t until the words were out of her mouth that she realized how odd it was that she, trapped deep in the middle of the house, would need to tell the lady anything. But her instincts said that this was a very subtle thing, very easily missed.

    ¡°The lady¡­¡± Kan squinted into the darkness, trying to look at Chandra¡¯s eyes. Chandra, suddenly full of doubt, forced her eyes to meet his. ¡°Ah¡­ I will see that she is notified. You will stay here.¡±

    ¡°Yes, I know.¡± Chandra retreated back a step and sat back down in her place, so that Kan would see she was doing what she was told.

    And Kan locked the door and hurried off.

    Chandra did not know what to say or think. She tried to recall what she had felt, but there was almost no information. So she tried listening to her muddy, buried instincts.

    And what they told her was terrifying.

    She couldn¡¯t stop thinking that it was the master¡¯s wizard. Once the thought appeared in her mind, she could not forget it. But when she challenged the thought, memories that had been concealed slipped to the surface. Thoughts of being moved through narrow places. Thoughts of one specific place where no doors entered and no hallways led. Thoughts of a place where she could scream at the top of her lungs and not be heard.Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there.

    Thoughts of the few people who knew where that room was.

    Chandra had first discovered¡­ or rediscovered her immunity to sleep spells when being moved out of that room. She knew that hidden ways led from the Master¡¯s room to the secret place. She knew that the Wizard had met them there. She had forgotten, but she knew. And if the lady was trying to find the wizard, that might be where she needed to look. And if she was looking for the intruder, he might also be there.

    Four pairs of footsteps in the hall alerted her, and she stood, this time, but meekly. Jani was the first through the door, the key in her own hands this time. She was worried, but her eyes were completely earnest. For that, Chandra felt an immense relief.

    ¡°Tell me what you know, child.¡± Her voice was hard, and it was a command, but it did not feel at all bad.

    Chandra spoke quickly, her thoughts not quite organized. ¡°I felt the presence of a caster--one who was sending his mind through the house. The feel of the caster was similar to that of the--the--of master¡¯s¡­ wizard.¡± It took a fair amount of force to get the word out, and she felt a restriction bend. ¡°I may know¡­ there is a place¡­¡±

    ¡°Where?¡±

    ¡°Take me to his room. The master¡¯s¡­ sleeping place.¡± Having said it, Chandra almost felt dizzy, like there was no blood left in her head, although the feeling started to pass almost as soon as she noticed it.

    So Janinda and her guards led, with Kan following behind, and Chandra tried, at least for the moment, to fit the layout of the building into her head. She didn¡¯t really care where the master¡¯s room was, but the narrow places¡­

    She recognized the door to Roan¡¯s sitting room, and then his quarters, and no sooner was she through the door than she paced over to a corner by the bed. She didn¡¯t quite know the mechanism, but she put her hand on the stone blocks, knowing that they opened. And then, with a little push, she managed to slide a section of wall away, as though it were no more than a thin plate a few feet high.

    Behind it was a man, who was as surprised to see Chandra as he was Janinda.

    But not so surprised that he couldn¡¯t reach out towards Chandra¡¯s head and touch her, lightly. After all, this close, he could feel what was wrong with her bindings, and it didn¡¯t take much to set them right.

    The last thing that Chandra saw was his arm go up in flames as her lady sprang into action.

 18. Melle (1)

    Melle and Erron had not gotten more than a few hours down the road towards Nase when their carriage was intercepted by an official messenger of the King.

    Nobody was more surprised than Melle, who was quite certain that nobody in the capitol should have known they were coming, much less that they were here.  Surely, it had been several days--maybe a week--but spies often take that much time to report in, and then the King would have to make decisions and set things into motion after that.

    But Erron assured her quietly as the messenger approached that this messenger was for them.  So they pulled to a stop and waited.

    The messenger, a slim young woman, pulled up as soon as she saw the Order¡¯s seal and the vest worn by the two.  In spite of what Rin had said, they were both on the driver¡¯s bench, with neither feeling comfortable being driven around by the other.

    ¡°You are the honored representatives of the Yunian Order?¡±  The messenger¡¯s voice was clear and loud, enough that she could have been heard perfectly if her horse, and their carriage, had been all in motion, possibly even on a windy day.

    ¡°Yes,¡± said Melle, neither as clearly nor as loudly, but more than enough to be heard in the relative quiet of the main road.  ¡°We are two of the seven people currently here to represent the Order.¡±

    ¡°My Lord bids you welcome and would like to assure you that much is being done to address the issue which has brought you to this country.  This after-noon or tomorrow, the King¡¯s Own will arrive at the estate in question, and perform their own investigation.¡±

    Melle and Erron exchanged a look.  Erron, not trusting his own voice not to carry, offered a pulse of mind magic to Melle which conveyed She would guess today, before dark.  Melle, trying not to look suspicious, accepted the thought but put it out of mind.  Most people didn¡¯t know what a mage looked like when they were receiving information magically, but those who did know could pick it out from any distance.

    Instead she nodded to the messenger, trying to keep her voice clear.  ¡°The Order has this very day arrived and should be meeting with the Lord Egrethore even now.  If we had known the King¡¯s Own would be investigating, we might have delayed¡­¡± Melle had to admit she felt a bit overwhelmed.  It seemed certain that the King investigating at the same time was bound to complicate everything even more than things already were.  ¡°We had intended to go to Nase and meet with the King. If you would, please deliver your message to our companions at the Egrethore estate.  They should be in a marked carriage.¡±The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

    ¡°Of course, Lady.¡±  The messenger offered a shallow bow and kicked her horse, charging off to the west without further hesitation.

    ¡°Sharp kid,¡± offered Erron as the carriage started moving again.  ¡°She did catch us, I think, but she doesn¡¯t care. She ought to be one of the King¡¯s Own, if she¡¯s not a noble daughter herself.  Sharp,¡± he repeated. ¡°She¡¯ll do well.¡±

    ¡°Any indication how they know?¡±

    Erron shook his head.  ¡°Wouldn¡¯t have come up in her thoughts.  Whoever we meet with will know, but even then, if we don¡¯t ask the right questions, the answer will stay buried.  I appreciate that Master Marion thinks highly of my abilities, but the King will know before we get there that I¡¯m a mind mage, and no hiding that.  Even if he didn¡¯t, there¡¯s no way I can get any thought from them that they aren¡¯t willing to surface on their own. S¡¯not legal, not in the Order nor out of it, and for good reason.¡±

    ¡°Very well.¡±  Melle studied the road ahead, and extended just a trace of wind magic to try to keep track of the messenger with her senses, but the winds did not carry her senses in the right direction, and from what she could tell, the woman was already well on her way gone.  But, importantly, she also didn¡¯t sense anyone else¡¯s senses near, at least, not close enough to easily overhear. ¡°I don¡¯t like this, not at all.¡±

    Erron took a moment to turn his body a half turn towards her, as though turning his head was a pain; he studied her for a long moment, before scooting around to face forward again.  ¡°No,¡± he said. ¡°You¡¯re not wrong, lady. There¡¯s nothing to the messenger that says it, but I believe there is a bad stink to this country, and not just at the estate. We are like as not to get caught up in something awful.¡±

    ¡°If we get into trouble, going straight to the king¡­ the others will have an even worse time of it.¡±

    ¡°Different dangers.  There is a reason why dear Master Marion assigned a mind mage to meet with the king.¡±  Erron paused, raising his eyebrows at the road ahead, knowing that Melle could see out of the corner of her eye.  ¡°I don¡¯t mean, either, that I¡¯ll learn something.  No, there is one other use I can be¡­ without breaking the Order¡¯s laws.¡±

    Melle had been following his logic long before he got to the end, and couldn¡¯t help but feel a chill spreading through her.  She just nodded, hoping that he would, at least, offer a guarantee that she was safe from the king¡¯s aides.

    But when she traded glances with Erron, knowing that he could almost certainly have read her thoughts, the strained look in his eyes made the cold feeling cover her whole body, and she shuddered.

 19. Janinda (2)

    Jani felt no pity for the man.

    Before her, Dennet was trying to scream through the rags that served to gag him. After he had dared lay hands on the girl, and she had removed one arm with a quick and brutal flash of red fire, he had dared reach out at her with his other hand. She had felt the deep and brutal magic he had dumped into her head with a touch, and if he had any expectation to survive the day, she hoped fervently to disappoint him.

    To that end she had severed all his limbs with fire magic, and felt no small amount of grim satisfaction to see her work done. His screams were pain, yes, but she was certain--just as she was certain when men lied--that his pain came from refusing to believe that he was capable of injury. A person like him was was supposed to be above danger, focused instead on how to get rich off the misfortune of others. She enjoyed his screams, because they tasted like sweet comeuppance.

    Unfortunately, servants arrived quickly, and she had to move on to next thoughts, like what had just been done to Chandra. The girl was still, now, screaming, but her body had gone limp, and her voice silent. Nevertheless, Jani could feel the scream. It ran through the same mental sense she used on her marks, the same sense that let her enjoy Dennet¡¯s screams. Jani felt unnervingly like she was seeing a woman in the process of being eaten alive, like a monster had her arm casually stuck between its teeth and was taking a short break before diving back in after her guts. In contrast, Dennet¡¯s actual severed limbs lay scattered on the ground, still alive and leaking blood, but they meant little.

    If anything, she needed to keep the girl away from her father, for now. He was too¡­ suffused with dark magic, which would only cause more damage given the new enchantments. Indeed, she had some dark magic left in her, and it had only accelerated the effect. There was no way dark magic could make it easier for magic to be removed; she should know, having cleaned up after her father¡¯s messes far too many times. It seemed to only make magic soak more deeply into things¡­ and people.

    Looking at Chandra was, for her, what it must be for the servants to see the maimed body of her brother¡¯s wizard. What had been done to her was horrific. She had seen the girl with her mind ensnared before, but she had been recovering. Now, seeing the difference, she recognized that what she was seeing was gruesome injury. Where once had been normal patterns, where once had been motion and life, now there was a twitching, paralyzed, amputated thing.

    A woman¡¯s mind in name only.

    Jani found her hand drawn to the girl¡¯s face, but she felt like any contact would be like touching someone else¡¯s wound--a taboo, to be done only by a doctor or a torturer. She wished to heal the girl, but knew that she knew nothing, and could only do harm.

    ¡°Lady¡­¡± a servant whose name she would have to struggle to recall approached. ¡°What shall we do, with¡­?¡±

    ¡°The girl goes back to her quarters. My father is not to be allowed near her, and I will inform him of that myself. In fact, nobody except myself may access her, except on my order. Any caster who approaches her quarters, by any means, without my permission is to be killed.¡± She paused, and looked at the bleeding, twitching, armless torso. ¡°That thing should be taken to the inquisitor. We will need his services, immediately.¡±

    The servant, clearly one of her father¡¯s best, looked straight at Dennet¡¯s body, steeled herself for only a moment, then bowed and, with another¡¯s help, picked up the struggling, protesting thing and carted it off through the house, ignoring the drips of blood and burned flesh.

    Others would be here soon to clean up what remained. It was the kind of thing that did happen here on occasion.

    Her own guards saw to it that Chandra was taken care of, refusing the help of the others. That was best, and she felt some pride. Her father¡¯s guards and servants were excellent at carrying out orders, but she had made certain to surround herself with those few people she¡¯d found who thought ahead. It was a trait her father did not value, and she sometimes had to hide it from him, but it was for the best. It did require that she treat them better than her father treated his servants, but that was not a difficult price to pay.Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.

    Which left her with the unpleasant task of speaking to her father, while he was still wounded and strained. Word would already be reaching him that something urgent was afoot, and therefore, he was already going to be riled up. Getting to him sooner was probably for the best. So she exited the hall, and trusting that he would be in his study, went straight there.

    Amon was just about to force his way out into the hall, against the protestation of his guard, when she arrived. Something, perhaps her grim face, calmed him down. Still, he refused to sit. ¡°Tell me what happened,¡± he insisted, in a tone she knew better than to argue with.

    ¡°Brother¡¯s wizard--Dennet, you called him--had invaded our mansion. He attacked the slave girl, and he was ready to attack me. He has been stopped, and he will not be leaving under his own power. I have sent for the inquisitor, to see that we can discover what he did to the girl.¡±

    ¡°Wait, wait, wait. What did he do to the girl?¡± Amon waggled the wrong hand--now only a cloth-wrapped stump, and seemed to rock gently on his feet, as though exhausted.

    ¡°Sit! Father. I came to give an account, and I¡¯ll give it, but you will pass out if you don¡¯t rest.¡± Jani nodded to her father¡¯s guard, who grasped him firmly on the shoulder; he knew better than to force Amon to move, but the assurance that he wouldn¡¯t let go should be enough.

    It was. Amon bristed at the idea of taking orders, but then, he was already under the effect of his own dark magic, and she had appealed to his reason. So, when his reason agreed with hers, he simply seemed to switch off his own nature, and tottered back to the chair.

    If only such a thing would last.

    ¡°There was a panel in Roan¡¯s room, which enters one of the wall-ways. How he got in there, I do not know. But Chandra sensed the wizard, and led us straight to him, although I could not sense anything of him, not until she opened the door. Then, as soon as he saw her, he put her under a powerful spell, one he must have prepared earlier, for it was over in moments. You know, father, I have some form of mind¡¯s sight, which I use to read out lies. Whatever he did to her, it changed her powerfully. And then he moved towards me.¡±

    Amon¡¯s fingers tightened on his chair until their knuckles were white, and she saw fresh blood on the stump of his arm. If he had been standing, she was sure he would be about to fall over. She raised her hands, shaking her head gently.

    ¡°It¡¯s fine, father. He was able to harm the girl because I didn¡¯t know he was there. But he was far too slow, and he has paid a dear price already for his insolence. The inquisitor will exact a worse price.¡± She paused. ¡°But I am concerned that our prize might be lost.¡±

    ¡°Yes.¡± The cool tone to his voice was at odds with his appearance, probably because he had conjured it into being. ¡°Even if her memories are intact, most likely, he restored her loyalties to Roan, or perhaps turned them to himself--or the Order, if he is at their beck and call, now. He was, you understand, a mercenary. It is almost certain she will not follow you or I.¡± Amon, almost idly, looked down at his hands, still gripping the arm of his chair too tightly. With a deliberate action, he seemed to will away the rage and hatred. ¡°You were right, daughter. My body is in no condition to get so upset.¡± He looked at the other arm, with the blood now clearly soaked through.

    He took a long moment to just stare at it. Janinda didn¡¯t need to see into his mind, and didn¡¯t need to be his own daughter, to see what was running through his mind. Everyone in the room saw it with equal clarity.

    Finally, he looked up at her, casually, as though he had just been struck with a thought. ¡°For now, daughter, you will need to lead the house through this crisis. With Roan gone¡­ you are my heir. And if it should come to pass that I die¡­ unnecessarily soon, this will be your mess anyway. For now, you may act with my full authority. I trust you will not make me regret it.¡±

    Janinda didn¡¯t quite realize it at the time, but would look back on the next few hours as though she was living in a fog or a dream. Somehow, issuing a dozen orders, looking into various matters, and generally speaking, getting things in order came almost automatically. But none of it seemed real.

    Jani had many times in her life sworn to kill her father. But now she realized that if she did, she would stand to inherit the house and all his business. He was wounded and ailing, and had given her full control over his entire empire--including thieves and assassins. But she found, for reasons she could not quite understand, that she didn¡¯t want to kill him.

    It had taken her many years to ask herself why she had sworn to kill him. In the space of a few hours, upon realizing that she didn¡¯t want to do so anymore, the first question was why. And she still didn¡¯t quite know the answer to either question.

    Except that there was something strange, something almost novel about the idea that her father had treated her with respect. Or perhaps¡­ like a family member.

 20. Wilke (2)

    Wilke was more than willing to drive the cart for Rin, Marin, and Chai.  He had half expected Chai to offer to sit next to him; really, all the mages enjoyed being exposed to open air, and being able to sense small bits of what goes on in distant places.  But Chai, mysteriously, had just winked at him, and gone to sit with the two women.

    Anyone else and Wilke might have understood; Marin was quite easy to get close to, and Rin had a dangerous kind of beauty to her, but he still thought of Chai as being too addled to enjoy the company of women, especially under the circumstances.  Perhaps that was, in part, an act. Or more likely, perhaps the wink was a tease, and Chai just preferred the more comfortable bench seat inside.

    In either case, Wilke ended up feeling a bit exposed, managing the two-horse team.  He would have preferred someone else there to constantly monitor for threats, while he focused on holding air shields for himself and the horses and driving the cart.  He also would have preferred company, someone to talk with, to keep his mind from getting too caught up in the repetitive spell work.

    Still, the horse team made good time to the Egrethore estate.  It was gated, of course, but the guards did not resist when he ordered them--in the name of the Order, no less--to permit passage.  Wilke could convince himself that they looked resigned.

    Not that he had any doubt, at this point, that he was in the right place.

    He still had the small copper vial with Melth¡¯s blood, but it was no longer viable.  He¡¯d tried, before they left, but the kind of divination he¡¯d used tended to disrupt the thin connection between the blood everything he might wish to target.  This close, when he put a hand on the vial, he could feel a faint pull towards the mansion¡­ but that might also be his imagination. It was hard to tell.

    Pulling up in front of the mansion, he cast his senses out.  It wasn¡¯t easy, unless he was willing to be very intrusive.  His wind senses wouldn¡¯t pick anything up past the walls of the building; his earth and water senses wouldn¡¯t function unless he made magical contact with a suitable conduit.  Most of his other senses required previous magical contact with something, and the only thing he had any connection to was Melth¡¯s blood.

    But void senses¡­

    He was no good with the void sense, because he wasn¡¯t really an all ¡®rounder.  Those senses required a careful balance of one¡¯s internal energies, and especially now, having just spent hours holding wind shields, he was not what anyone would call in balance.  Chai, just inside the cabin, would do much better, but even if he wasn¡¯t half void-sick, he would more likely act on what he sensed than describe it.  Void senses were not bound by domain rules, but unless you kept that balance almost perfect, they were extremely cloudy.

    His connection to the blood helped.  The yellow essence he had sent through the blood sample remained, and resonated with him now.  But the blood was contained in a few rooms, below ground on one end of the building, and didn¡¯t give him any real insight into the rest of the house.

    What he did sense almost immediately was that the house was littered with hidden passages, and Melth¡¯s blood--which had mostly been cleaned up--was below ground.  All that told him the place where Melth¡¯s body was hidden was probably not easily accessible.

    ¡°You look busy.¡±  Rin was waiting in front of him.  She, like him, was now wearing the vest that marked her as an official investigator of the Order.  It had not stopped Melth and Nina from being killed, but it was an important thing to wear when intruding on official business.

    ¡°Lot of secrets in this place.¡±  Wilke let her take the reins and tie up the horses.  ¡°Has Chai said anything?¡±

    ¡°Nothing useful.¡±

    Wilke hopped down and opened up the carriage.  Chai and Marin still sat inside, Chai looking like he was¡­ Wilke found that words failed him.  Whatever the other man was sensing, he was bordering on being overwhelmed.

    ¡°Alright, brother.  Any advice?¡± Wilke smiled gently at Marin, but she only looked worried.  Likely, she was worried for the man¡¯s sanity, or safety. Whatever was coming, Wilke fully intended to walk out with one or two grisly, week-old corpses, and that was hard on the sanity of normal people, let alone those with sensitive magical senses.

    ¡°Advise is the same.¡±  Chai paused. ¡°If you see the jackal girl, slap her.  If you find a piece of paper left behind, burn it. Rin will know.¡±

    That made no sense whatsoever to Wilke, and he smiled brightly to hide it.  It almost sounded like he was reading the future, but more likely, he was watching the whole scene play out from a perspective he could not even imagine.  So he addressed Marin instead. ¡°What do you think? You coming, or staying?¡±

    ¡°Staying, for now.  If Chai comes up with any last-minute advice¡­ the breadth of my skills means I am most useful to him.¡±  She tossed him an emblem, which Wilke recognized as a signalling beacon.  ¡°Keep that next to your skin, somewhere. If it gets hot, you are in danger.  If it gets cold, we need to talk immediately. Don¡¯t ignore it.¡±

    ¡°Got it.¡±  Wilke closed the carriage and moved up towards the entrance, where Rin was waiting with the guards.  From her posture, she had sent a message along to the masters of the house¡­ and would soon hear back.  Idly, he fingered the beacon, then with a quick tug of magic, slid it up his sleeve, until he caught it in the pit of his shoulder.  Not dignified, perhaps, but it would do for now, as long as he didn¡¯t forget and drop it.

    Just as he stepped up, the door opened, and a servant appeared.  ¡°The honored inspectors of the Order are expected. Lord Amon wishes to say that he will answer your summons in person soon, however, he begs you to accept some small delay.  It turns out that recently, a betrayal has occurred within his house, and it has cost him dearly. He--¡±Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit.

    ¡°Pardon,¡± said Rin with a fair amount of impatience.  ¡°The Lord of the house will meet with us now.¡±

    ¡°Ah¡­¡± the servant paused.  ¡°I was unclear. The Lord will meet with you within the hour.  Currently, he is receiving medical attention. He was¡­ still is wounded.¡±

    Wilke and Rin both studied the servant.  Wilke was no truth-reader, but this servant didn¡¯t seem evasive.  He spent half a moment wishing that Erron was here instead of at the capital, but after a moment, he and Rin traded glances and nodded at each other.

    ¡°Fine,¡± said Rin.  ¡°However, we insist on access to the public areas of the house.  You may deny us access to rooms, but not hallways.¡±

    ¡°I¡­¡± Now the servant was clearly nervous.  ¡°I am in no position to either accept or reject such an offer.  Please allow me only a moment to speak with¡­ the heads of the house.¡±

    ¡°Make it quick.¡±  Rin gestured for Wilke to step away from the house, and the two of them stepped back just enough to make eavesdropping harder.

    ¡°Sounds like he has someone to blame,¡± said Wilke.  ¡°But is it the truth?¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s not important right now.  Wilke, you need to understand something.¡±  Rin turned her back on the house and pulled a small rectangle of stiff paper, no bigger than her palm, seemingly out of nowhere.  ¡°If you see a thing like this, don¡¯t touch it.  The glyphs will vary.  But you remember what Chai said.  They are more dangerous than they look.¡±

    ¡°He just now gave me some advice along those lines, except he said to burn it.¡±  Wilke studied her hand with his senses.  If anything, it seemed like a lie to call it paper; it felt different in structure, and it was packed full of energy, certainly more than paper ought to have.  He knew of some people who stored spells on paper scrolls for later, but this was both too small and too densely packed for that.  Every sense he had told him that it was a purpose-built magical tool.

    Rin¡¯s face soured.  ¡°If he said to, then do it.  But know that will activate it.¡±

    ¡°Ah.¡±  Wilke¡¯s face clouded.  ¡°That explains¡­ a few things.¡±

    ¡°But it leaves extremely important questions unanswered.  These are very specific tools, Wilke.  Few people have them.  Whoever you find in this house--¡± Rin paused as the doors reopened.

    The servant stood there.  ¡°The master of the house has no objections.  However, we would request that all representatives of the Order meet with him together, in one meeting.  Lord Amon is in no condition to have multiple meetings today.¡±

    ¡°Fine.¡±  Wilke, sensing that Rin was caught off-guard, stepped in before the silence could be awkward.  ¡°I assume you will insist on an escort¡­?¡±

    ¡°We have one waiting.¡±  The servant pulled the double doors completely open, revealing four guards--each, as Torit had suggested, bearing light crossbows.  More frightening, however, was their armor; the chainmail on the house guards, unlike those outside, was clearly made of magi-metal.  The look of it was hard to describe only in terms of color; magi-metal had a kind of patterned shining texture that was difficult to replicate with mundane materials.  It could have been concealed with paint or worn under a cloth uniform, but it was left glittering slightly in the early afternoon sun.

    Magi-metal was hard enough to forge into simple things like swords.  Wilke had never heard of magi-metal chainmail.  Even if it was simply copper Adamant, which was the most likely, the forging techniques would have to be very involved.  To have four full sets on display was quite a display of power.

    Still, he forced a fake cheer and patted Rin on the shoulder.  As he hoped, the slightly condescending nature of the gesture grated on her, pulling her back to the moment, and he offered a meaningful, fake smile to her, and said, ¡°Shall we go, then?¡±

    ¡°Yes, of course.¡±  Rin may have had little in the way of a poker face, but she had no trouble with charging head-first into trouble.  In moments, in spite of the slightly intimidated look on her face, she had marched right up to the doors, then stopped just inside.  ¡°When it¡¯s time for the audience, do let us know in advance, and we will bring the others. They¡­ are resting, for the moment.¡±

    ¡°Of course.¡±  The servant bowed.

    Once fully inside the house, Rin turned to Wilke.  ¡°You lead.¡±

    Wilke nodded, already pushing as hard as he could on his Void sense.  Foggy though it might have been, void offered perspective that the individual senses didn¡¯t, giving him a sense of exactly where things were in space.  And that led him left, to the end of the hall, and down a set of stairs.

    The guards must have exchanged looks or shown some hint of resistance, because he could hear Rin speaking sharply to them, but focusing on his sense left him little mental room for hearing exactly what she said.  What had seemed clear from other angles suddenly faded as he got closer. Pushing harder didn¡¯t make it easier, which meant¡­ what? That the entrance was disguised?

    At the base of the stairs, trying to recall exactly what he¡¯d seen, he discovered that yes, the traces of blood he still sensed were just on the other side of a brick wall, in a hidden corridor so narrow that anyone slightly larger than average--like Erron--would have some trouble getting through it.

    He didn¡¯t care much, though.  Yes, he was here to look for signs of the murdered investigators.  But he also hadn¡¯t forgotten the mission they were on, either, and his senses told him that down here he would find traces of--

    In his armpit, the glyph flashed hot, but only for a moment.  Along with it came a thought: One thing at a time.  He frowned, knowing that ahead was¡­

    Hot meant danger.  Right.  One thing at a time, and the weakness of the Egrethore group was¡­

    Wilke spent a moment collecting his thoughts, then turned back to Rin, and offered a fake smile.  ¡°Maybe I was mistaken.¡± He traced his steps back up to the next floor, then started to search out a staircase up.

    Whatever he was searching for, he suddenly got a sick feeling that this investigation was going to get complicated before he got any answers.  And, in the back of his mind, he couldn¡¯t help but remember hearing Chai¡¯s admonition during the planning session: A war still might happen.

    He had to find¡­ what had Chai said?  A jackal woman? Or a piece of paper she had left behind.  That, or he had to find an excuse to prove what he already knew.  Or else, soon, they would be back to leaning heavily on their jurisdiction as Order investigators to force some kind of action through the nation¡¯s King.

    Wilke kept a polite smile on his face and tried to look like he knew what he was doing as he aimlessly searched the house.

 21. Janinda (3)

    Jani had not quite had enough time to really get comfortable being in command when the inspectors showed up.

    She had some advanced warning, of course. The gate guards had sent a runner the moment they were sensed, let alone spotted. A quick conference with Amon told her that he wanted to be present for the discussions, but he did not dispute the idea that she was in charge. He clearly didn¡¯t like the idea, but the dark magic that poured out of his eyes told her that he was poisoning himself to keep a certain level of self control--probably due to incredible pain.

    So she started preparations to the main hall, and had the healer and servants carefully move Amon there. When the request came in for access to the house¡¯s halls, she suppressed a panic and, with some additional orders, allowed it.

    Those orders mostly involved killing everyone and fleeing if the inspectors discovered anything they should not. They were not the kind of orders that Jani wanted to give, but more than a few things in the house would earn them the death penalty under the Order¡¯s rules. Among those were the Inquisitor and his new guest; they would not be easily accessed, but if it was discovered they were actively torturing someone while the inspectors were here, it would end in bloodshed one way or another.

    None of that convinced her that Dennet¡¯s torture was any less necessary, or appropriate. It just came at an inopportune time; in all honesty, there was no way it was a coincidence, either, as he was certainly here to turn Chandra against the house to aid in the investigation. Unfortunately, he was likely to die of blood loss or shock soon enough, so there wasn¡¯t a whole lot she could do to put it off. If she was going to recover the secrets of their new magi-metal in time to trade it for the family¡¯s freedom, she needed knowledge from him, and urgently.

    She wasn¡¯t exactly sure who Amon would trade the secrets to; for that reason, if nothing else, she knew that she needed him alive, not that she had more than lightly considered killing him and taking over the family. There was some small chance that she could pawn off all the family¡¯s sins on him, but Janinda, while an excellent manipulator with words, lacked any ability to ensorcell people, and she doubted she could escape a situation this bad with words alone.

    In the meantime, hallways like the one leading to Chandra¡¯s hidden quarters were concealed, and the house¡¯s few kept magicians were on double-duty destroying any shred of blood or other incriminating evidence. Common servants locked every door, even the harmless ones, and the keys to important doors were collected from them and concealed.

    Not that a good magician needed keys to open doors, even the trapped ones of this house. And unfortunately, the Order had a policy of always sending good magicians.

    The wallways were emptied, except where guards were clearly and unashamedly using them to spy on the invaders. An earth or void mage would know that they existed, but there was no reason to tip people off if all they had were sharp ears or life senses. Excess staff were put to pointless tasks like cleaning, and trusted agents were made to constantly report on what was happening. Mostly, these reports went to Jani¡¯s guards, and few made it to her ears.Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.

    It did not escape her notice that the inspector went straight to a concealed door--worse, one leading to the Inquisitor¡¯s rooms--before turning around. Jani was not as violent as her father, but if any servant had failed to get that to her, even she would have killed those responsible on the spot.

    As the hour of grace she had granted herself wound down, though, Jani was forced to turn her attention to what she would be saying at the audience. Until, unfortunately, worse news arrived.

    The servant who came, like most, was terrified of her. But she spoke quickly to Cein, and then was directed straight towards Jani, which was a bad sign.

    ¡°A messenger of the King has arrived, Lady,¡± she said.

    Janinda set down the paper on which she had been trying to organize her thoughts. The servant shrank down in her sight, but the long pause that followed eased the tension for a moment, until finally she spoke. ¡°Did they give a message to the staff, or do they wish to meet with us?¡±

    ¡°Ah¡­ neither, Lady. They have met with the investigators, outside.¡±

    Janinda let out a long breath, and didn¡¯t inhale for a long moment after. Then, finally, she nodded. ¡°Very well. Kel¡¯thar should have heard what was said. Get that information to me immediately.¡± Kel was the house¡¯s best wind mage, and had been placed in the wall-ways leading to the tower, by a gap that let him use his talents to their utmost. It would take a matter of minutes to get back to her, but that was her best chance at handling whatever bad news was coming.

    She turned back to the paper, wishing she had her father¡¯s ability to shut off the nagging parts of her mind. Still, she put down thoughts, scratching some out and adding notes to others, trying to figure out how to lay all the blame on her brother while delicately requesting that the inspectors keep their nose out of the family¡¯s business.

    The news came back to her before she was really ready for it. ¡°Lady¡­ Kel¡¯thar says that the King¡¯s Own will be here this afternoon to meet with you regarding this incident. The messenger did not attempt to speak with our people, but instead left after speaking with the investigators.¡±

    That made Jani almost want to cry. It wasn¡¯t fair.

    But it did give her an additional window of time.

    ¡°Have a message sent to the investigators--both groups of them. Lord Amon is in no condition to meet with the King¡¯s Own separately from the investigators. Our audience with them will be postponed until they have all arrived.¡± She paused. ¡°And do send someone out to give us advanced warning of the arrival of the King¡¯s men. I want as much time to prepare for them as possible.¡±

    ¡°Yes, Lady.¡± The servant bowed, and was gone immediately.

    She would need Amon¡¯s guidance about the king, unfortunately. Amon had not been grooming her as his successor, and so she was not as familiar with the intrigue as he or Roan would have been. But, she did know that they had a working business relationship. Possibly even a close relationship. But, like Jani and Roan, anyone who saw Amon closely enough had reasons to turn against him.

    She could only hope he had been behaving himself lately.

 22. Chai (1)

    Chai didn¡¯t consider the Void Sickness to be a mental disability.  Most Voidlings, he suspected, did not.

    Voidlings were very different from mages who simply used a Void sense.  The Void sense, unlike most other senses, gave one a sense of perspective, tying multiple pieces of information into a single scene.  Most people described it as looking down on a transparent, miniature version of the real world, with all the little details a little fuzzed.  Most people who had a Void sense had to focus before that scene even existed in their head, and then it was small. A few had a faint knowledge in the back of their head that the scene was there, and they only needed to spend a moment to switch their attention towards looking at it.

    Voidlings always had that scene in their awareness, although they often chose not to look at parts of it.  Those who were void sick had an enormous, almost world-sized scene, with every detail perfect, and they could not turn their eyes from any part of it, to such an extent that they could no longer see, hear, and feel normally.  That made it difficult to think and act normally, too.  His whole being, now, was full of far more information than he could possibly process.  All his instincts, including those he normally used to talk and walk upright, were bombarded with knowledge they didn¡¯t need and mostly couldn¡¯t use.

    Since arriving in Seyona, Chai had been mentally wandering through a wide diorama, one so grand it was difficult not to be lost in it.  He had enough of his senses left over to know if someone was talking to him, but it was difficult to keep perspective when everything else was constantly doing something.  Yes, there was this squabble with the nobility, but there were also more common crimes being committed among the peasants, animals hunting, people having sex, and a worried horse wandering around feeling lonely, wondering why it had been left behind.

    It¡¯s so easy to suggest that perspective means focusing on what¡¯s important, but it takes a certain kind of selfishness to declare murders, rapes, and theft not important just because they don¡¯t relate to your job.  That made it difficult to do your job, for a voidling, and that feeling was far stronger during the Void sickness.

    From where Chai sat now, in the Order¡¯s carriage, he was in the middle of a whole huge steaming pile of nonsense.  So many people here were only having trouble because they lied. So much effort was being put into maintaining a house of cards.  Many servants made the worst possible decisions, when they could have escaped or made things better. The things going on here seemed so much smaller than the world, but he had to fix them, and gently, so long as he was representing the Order.  So many things here and nearby felt like he should personally intervene, except that he was one person, small, vulnerable, and not granted the seemingly unlimited access to magic that the full Void Sickness had once given him.

    The frustrating part was that while Chai could still cast magic in this state, his magic, unlike his senses, still obeyed domain rules.  He could not cast fire on people he could not physically see, and he could not control minds without having touched them. If left to his own devices, he would have walked through the doors, single-handedly slaughtered the murderers and torturers while leaving the innocent behind, then quickly moved on to the next place that was out of balance to do the same once again.

    Which, typically, is what a Voidling does when affected by the full Void Sickness.  It¡¯s something they are barely able to control, and usually something they are barely aware of at the time.  Intervening felt as natural as offering solutions to a riddle which was posed aloud. If you knew the answer, you wanted to say it.  But in the same way, intervening was rude.  The world didn¡¯t want you to decide its fate.  Erron had said the same thing.Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

    So he sat in the carriage, watching.  He knew what was going on, but how could he describe the flavor of a puppet¡¯s emotions as it danced around on stage?  How could he draw a distinction between two people who seemed identical, did the same evil things, when he knew one had innocence left in them while the other did not?  Especially if it would take very specific actions to reveal and preserve that innocence?

    The messenger that approached almost caught him by surprise, and likely would have if the sickness worked like that.  But, from the moment he noticed her, Chai was flooded with her connections to other people, and could with a glance locate the investigators of the King.

    Who were not coming.

    It was strange that Chai knew that when they, themselves, did not.  They had been told to muster, but they were going to be delayed. The reasons why were a complicated knot that even he couldn¡¯t immediately pierce, and unfortunately, being Void Sick meant that he had trouble focusing in order to pick apart a given problem.

    Chai dimly heard the news delivered to Marin, but he was watching the messengers of the house speaking to the Lady in charge.  He knew, sooner than she did, that the audience would be delayed.

    But then, he had known that hours ago, if not quite why.

    Now that he knew why, a few things fell into place.  He nudged Marin gently after she shooed off the messenger.  The look of concern in her eyes was charming, but misplaced, for a number of reasons.

    ¡°Have Wilke come back, when the trouble starts.¡±  The request made perfect sense to him.

    ¡°When will the trouble start?¡±

    Chai paused.  How did he describe it?  He had no grasp of time and space like this, or at least, none he could easily convey.  He could only really wait until the trouble started, he supposed. ¡°Give it a minute.¡±

    He watched Wilke prowling around near where he needed to be.  The jackal girl was being well cared for, but the hall to her room was hidden, now.  There was no way he would be able to get to her, but he needed to fail to get to her so she would be moved.  That was the trouble.

    It was Rin who noticed the crack in the wall.  Wilke was too focused on his senses, and the panels were designed specifically to block that.  She let them pass by, then whispered in his ear, and he made a quick lap around, coming back to the same spot.

    He was still standing there, looking at it, when the messenger for the Lady reached them.

    That would have been more of a problem if Chandra was as innocent as she seemed to be.  But she had been left alone in the dark too long. The enchanter¡¯s binding was incomplete, mostly because he didn¡¯t know how much work she had been doing to remove the old ones.  Deep things had stirred in her, and he had not done a great job of suppressing them.

    And she could hear unfamiliar voices outside, even if she could not sense them.  If the messenger had caught them anywhere else, Chandra might have slept through it.

    Chandra couldn¡¯t oppose the house without the consent of the King¡¯s Own or the enchanter himself, and she could neither aid nor oppose the inspectors.  But she had not been explicitly forbidden from aiding herself.  In fact, she had been ordered to do so by the Lady of the house.  So, she could remove things from her hidden storage and leave them out where they could be found.

    And she could scream in pain.

    Chai tried not to think about the enchanter, now, because he was at this moment being tortured, and if Chai thought of him, he would be forced to witness it.  But it was impossible to sense Chandra¡¯s pain without feeling a connection to the man.  When she screamed, it was almost impossible to avoid seeing him.

    But Chai did manage to remember something important.

    ¡°That would be the trouble starting,¡± he said seemingly out of nowhere, as he and Marin sat in the silence and darkness of their carriage.

    Obligingly, Marin focused on her signalling stone.

 23. Wilke (3)

    Wilke was getting increasingly concerned and increasingly frustrated by the search for literally anything in this blasted house which was worthy of his notice.

    He knew that there were duplicitous lies, murder, and scandal.  He sensed traces that blood had only just recently been cleaned up.  But, he had also been told that there had been a traitor in the house, and that even the Lord himself was recovering.  There was no way to call out one or two bloodstains as proving malfeasance.

    He was waiting, mostly, for Marin to signal him that it was time to talk, but he wasn¡¯t eager to come back with nothing to show for it, either.  So he prowled around each level of the house.

    Some things were clear, if confusing.  The many hidden passages in the house were not exactly a network; some connected, others were separate.  Some were aggressively concealed, while others were meant for a mage¡¯s senses to pass into--or out of. There was a lot of magi-metal in the house, and he was beginning to think that he could recognize exactly how his Void senses were being blocked.  That wasn¡¯t quite enough to get through the block easily, but it at least let him recognize the effect, most of the time.

    Other times, he needed to be told.

    ¡°I think we passed something,¡± hissed Rin at his shoulder.  ¡°The wall wasn¡¯t quite flat back there.¡±

    Wilke turned his senses on the hallway behind him, and found that sure enough, he had overlooked another panel.  Not wanting to turn around and force his way through the trio of guards who followed him, Wilke instead took a cross-hallway, then made a quick loop back to where he had been.

    There, he let his senses rest, with some relief.

    Rin¡¯s eyes were sharp, if she had really noticed the difference in the walls.  To him, it was only a thin crack, because the panel was very well constructed; it sat almost entirely flush, hiding what was probably a very short hallway, given the volume of space that he had not been able to sense.  The panel didn¡¯t sit at some obvious place; the crack seemed to run right through the middle of the stone blocks in the wall, rather than being concealed in mortar or between stones. If it hadn¡¯t been such a perfect fit, it would have looked like the stone jutted out in the middle of stone blocks.

    But it was almost perfect, and with it being concealed to his magical senses, it felt like a normal wall.

    As Wilke sat there stewing, wondering if he should push his luck, a servant woman started hurrying down the hallway towards them.  Wilke paused and waited for her, trying not to let it be obvious that the constant use of his senses was tiring him out.

    The servant stopped and bowed, when she was close enough to speak at a normal volume.  ¡°Ser¡­ the head of the house has received word that the house will also soon be host to a party from the King of Seyona.  As, regrettably, the Lord Amon is not currently in a state to receive visitors more than once, your audience will be pushed back to the time when the messengers of the King have also arrived.¡±  She remained bowed, waiting for a response.

    Rin wasn¡¯t having it.

    ¡°I don¡¯t believe we were clear,¡± she snapped.  ¡°We have not come here in order to meet with the Lord of the house.  We are here to conduct an investigation, and the Lord of the house will meet with us, or else he will permit us unrestricted access to the house.  We--¡±

    Wilke sensed it almost before he heard it.  Behind the panel came a woman¡¯s scream, and in the back of his mind, Wilke felt certain that it was the cry of a halfbreed.  If you see the jackal girl, slap her.  Chai hadn¡¯t given him those instructions for no reason.

    He turned and started to tear at the panel in the wall, desperately searching for a way to get access, when suddenly the signalling glyph in his armpit flashed cold.

    He paused, realizing as he did that the three guards had all levelled crossbows at him.  Cold wasn¡¯t danger... it meant come back.  Wilke moved his eyes from one guard to the next, then glanced at Rin, who had tensed and coiled like a snake, preparing to pounce.

    He processed for only a moment longer before he held up his hands and stepped between the guards and Rin.

    ¡°My mistake!¡±  He paused. ¡°Let us¡­ go speak with the others for a minute, Rin.  The people of the house seem to have something going on here that requires their attention.¡±

    Rin¡¯s eyes, when they turned to him, were hot, still ready to fight.  He tried to keep his measured, in control. He wasn¡¯t proficient enough with mind magic to project a thought, but his studies of magic and martial arts had given him a fantastic ability to plaster a pleasant look on his face almost no matter what was going on around him.This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

    She relented, and the two of them stepped quickly away from the concealed hallway and towards the nearest staircase.  None of the guards lowered their crossbows, nor let them out of their sight.

    Before she turned out of sight of the servant, though, Rin did stop and offer her a deep glare.  ¡°We demanded access to any hallway. If what is concealed there is not itself a room, you must open it to us.  Along with any other concealed hallways in the house.¡±

    ¡°The lady¡¯s terms earlier were, any public areas of the house.¡±  The servant¡¯s voice was measured, polite. ¡°With respect, that area of the house is not public, and was never meant to be.¡±

    Rin grunted, and allowed Wilke to gently lead her away.

    The guards stayed with them until the front doors, then remained there, keeping their crossbows out but pointed away.  Wilke and Rin both declined to let down their guard, although neither could quite afford to raise magical shields either, as that would most likely trigger a response.

    Opening the door to the carriage revealed a worried-looking Marin, and Chai, looking as far-away as ever.

    ¡°So!¡±  Wilke forced cheer into his voice.  ¡°They intend for us to wait.¡±

    ¡°They aren¡¯t coming,¡± said Chai distractedly, ¡°but yes.¡±

    The three of them tried to process that statement in silence for a moment.

    ¡°Was it a lie?¡±  Rin¡¯s eyes were suddenly dark, and her posture shifted, as though she was preparing to run off and start a full-on attack on the building.

    ¡°The¡­ a messenger of the King was here, in full uniform.  I believe she had met with Melle and Erron before¡± Marin looked, puzzled, to Wilke.  ¡°I don¡¯t¡­ believe that she talked to the house guards. How did you find out?¡±

    ¡°Oh, they heard, one way or another.¡±  Wilke, suddenly tired, climbed into the carriage and sat down on the seat next to Chai.  ¡°You know¡­ Chai¡­ I don¡¯t honestly know how you can keep doing that all the time.¡±

    Slowly, and without speaking, Chai turned his body to face Wilke.  Rare for him, his eyes seemed to focus intently on the man, which made Wilke immediately uncomfortable.

    ¡°I mean¡­ I know that it doesn¡¯t exhaust you the way it does me, but¡­ it¡¯s¡­¡± he paused, feeling an uncharacteristic embarrassment well up.  ¡°It¡¯s¡­ tiring.¡±

    ¡°Yes.¡±  Chai¡¯s word was quiet, devoid of intent.  In a way, that itself seemed to be an admission.

    Marin set her hand on Chai¡¯s, looking at him.  ¡°He¡¯s been¡­ distant, as always. But sometimes he seems so scared.¡±

    Chai lost his focus and shook his head, leaning back in the seat.  ¡°No¡­ but¡­ it¡¯s tiring.¡±

    There was only a moment¡¯s pause before Rin changed the subject.

    ¡°Whether we will be joined, today, or not¡­ we have to address the fact that we aren¡¯t being allowed to investigate.  Trying to follow... that noise,¡± Rin paused, trying to phrase things differently given the near-certainty that they were being snooped on, ¡°almost got us killed.  The incident in the lower level was the same. We have¡­ a duty. But we can¡¯t fight a house full of guards, even without them being armored in a way we can¡¯t handle.¡±

    Wilke paused a moment, then tapped Chai on the shoulder lightly.  ¡°Do you know what kind of metal that armor was?¡±

    ¡°Brass Adamant,¡± he replied quickly.  ¡°By far the least dangerous of the secrets they have hidden here.¡±

    ¡°Brass¡­¡± Wilke pondered that.  It made sense, to him. Brass was easy enough to cast and work into rings, while making it an adamant metal made the otherwise flimsy metal far more durable.  Of course, he wasn¡¯t aware of anyone who made brass adamant, but if he were to go looking anywhere for it, it would be the nation of Seyona.

    ¡°Do we need to be worried about any of the other secrets?¡±  Rin leaned in close to Chai, as though the closer distance would be enough to ward off the snooping air mage that even she could sense poking around.

    ¡°Oh, yes.¡±  Chai made a deliberate effort to look at what seemed to be nothing at all, which was probably where the Air mage¡¯s senses were hanging.  ¡°The master¡¯s new project is quite dangerous, more useful to him under the circumstances than it is valuable.  We are fortunate he does not yet know what he has.¡±

    The four of them all felt the pressure ease off as the air mage pulled his senses back.

    Chai continued immediately, as though counting the moments he would have to spare.  ¡°Wilke, you will need to go back to where you just were. Rin will need to finish the girl¡¯s work.  If she can do it properly, you won¡¯t need to find her. If not, you can only wait until we get an audience.¡±

    Wilke and Rin exchanged glances, both feeling the air mage returning, but Wilke had to risk it.  ¡°Will they let us?¡±

    ¡°Of course not.  But Rin casts a long shadow.¡±  Chai nodded, seeming content, and then sank back into his seat, looking very tired.

    Casts a long shadow¡­ Wilke nodded immediately at that.  ¡°Of course. Thank you, Chai.¡±

    So he stepped back out, stretching, and took a long moment to cycle power through his body.  Although he made an effort to practice each discipline of martial arts at least once a month, it was difficult to practice those that needed an audience, and he was behind.

    The martial arts of Light and Darkness, Source and Shadow, were tricky, and he hadn¡¯t done them in a while.  They would need to practice once or twice on the guards before he was sure he could do it properly.

    ¡°I¡¯m not quite sure what he meant,¡± Rin admitted.  ¡°What do you need me to do?¡±

    ¡°Just keep doing what you¡¯ve been doing¡­¡± Wilke paused, trying to find the right way to phrase it.   ¡°...especially if you¡¯re not sure what I¡¯m up to.¡±

    Rin eyed him, then nodded.  She hadn¡¯t been acting very subtly, and the hint didn¡¯t need to be subtle either.  She was an assassin, but she didn¡¯t mind being the distraction. Her people always worked in teams, after all.

 24. Amon (2)

    Amon was coming to realize that he was reaching a place where Dark magic could not help him, and could only hurt him. The healer had chastised him severely for using it while bleeding. He had known, and been told many times, that dark magic kept wounds open.

    But Amon also knew his own emotional state. If he didn¡¯t keep his mind shut down, he would be in severe trouble.

    In the past week, he had been the subject of--or just discovered--numerous betrayals. Only Janinda, the daughter he had marginalized throughout her life, had yet to undermine or control him. And she had spent her whole youth threatening to kill him!

    Roan had been driven mad by who knows what, staying in the sacred grounds until he became volatile, violent trash like so many of the workers. The action made no sense to Amon. If he had brought the sample to his father immediately, there would be no need to hide anything. Instead, he had crawled into the far reaches of the sacred grounds, spent money to hide it, and stayed there becoming tainted with his sex pet until he lost all reason.

    Amon made a mental note, not for the first time, to hunt down whoever had taken Roan¡¯s bribes and hidden the facility from him. If they had come to him, this could have been avoided. So much of this could have been avoided.

    He couldn¡¯t quite understand why people didn¡¯t want to be around him. Things would work out so much better if they just trusted him.

    He gestured to a pale servant, wordlessly requesting that they remove the body of the healer from his sight. He already regretted killing the man, and had to admit he wasn¡¯t sure why he had done so. He spent a good ten minutes in quiet contemplation on the subject, finally deciding that it must be a consequence of all the dark magic.

    He¡¯d known, in his head, that dark magic made him more susceptible to natural magics. Perhaps this pain he felt, and the twisted nature of it, was its own kind of natural magic. Perhaps he was more susceptible to becoming twisted by agony while using dark magic to keep himself under control.

    That would be most unfortunate, since he needed the dark magic just to think straight. And he could not, under the circumstances, go and sleep this off. He had already done too much sleeping. Even with Janinda running things, he needed to be present and of sharp wit.

    Didn¡¯t he? Did he?

    Amon spent a short time pondering this before Janinda herself showed up before him. He was half-prepared to be chided for killing the healer, but let her decide when to address it.

    ¡°We will be pushing back the audience,¡± she began.

    That was an amazing relief, to Amon. If he didn¡¯t need to be mentally sharp now, he could, indeed, go back to sleep, and let the effects wear off on their own.

    ¡°...the King¡¯s Own will be here, this evening. I don¡¯t know what they want, but I need to know what our position is with the King.¡±If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

    Amon stopped. His felt his mental sorceries failing him. Whatever self control dark magic gave him access to, it paled in comparison to the surge of hatred within him now.

    The King had betrayed him, as well.

    It wasn¡¯t entirely clear to Amon in the minutes that followed what he had done, but when Janinda¡¯s fingers closed on his wrist, he stopped to look around. A guard cradled a broken arm, and another bared steel--at him. He bristled, but understood. Janinda was in charge, and must not be threatened, even by him.

    Amon¡¯s breath was raspy, and he knew he was too weak to stand much longer. But he had his pride. He nodded to her, knowing that she still saw him as her Lord, that she would let him walk back to his rooms in peace. She released his arm, and he tottered towards the door.

    ¡°Father,¡± she interrupted, sternly.

    He paused, mostly shocked that she dared interrupt him. It took him a long moment before he realized, again, that she was in charge.

    And that she had asked him a question.

    So Amon tottered back to the throne. He didn¡¯t dare sit--he thought he might collapse if he tried--but he leaned on it. ¡°Yes¡­ daughter. The question, again.¡±

    ¡°What is our position with the King?¡±

    ¡°You might have guessed. We are not permitted to admit having direct ties, for a number of reasons. And we are not in favor. However, your mother had thin ties to royal blood, and so do you. That¡¯s why I would never allow her to leave.¡± Amon chuckled darkly, remembering days when he had bound her, by chain and spell, not to leave his bed chambers, and the joy he felt when, finally, she would remain without them. ¡°So long as there is a drop of that blood in you, King Horace will bend laws to protect you, so long as it can be done quietly. But if he has moved the King¡¯s Own, that means he intends to act in public.¡±

    ¡°That will protect me, perhaps, but not you.¡±

    ¡°Ah¡­ true enough, daughter. I have been trading money for my own protection, until now. Money, and things that could not be bought with money. We did not chase the Ancet group when they copied our Brass Adamant, you recall? I had offered the secrets to the King, and he simply uses them to make the metal. That gave us many years of protection.¡±

    ¡°So it is the King that you will be offering the new metal to?¡±

    ¡°If he will have it. We don¡¯t even know what we have, yet.¡± He paused. ¡°I don¡¯t think I can make this clear enough, daughter, that you must not allow anyone to know of this. No member of the King¡¯s Own, certainly. If a deal is to be brokered, it will be directly with Horace, or his daughter Margarit, or their closest confidant, and in the strictest of confidence. If any bears witness to the deal, he will betray us and pretend that was always the idea. King Horace enjoys this, daughter. He enjoys people writhing in doubt and fear. He enjoys watching people powerless. He knew what I did to your mother.¡± Amon smiled. ¡°Better, I think, than you did.¡±

    Janinda shuddered, but did not speak or move.

    ¡°If you must speak with him, you must use the confidant. He is a spy for the king, in this house, and has been known to me for many years. A word to this spy is as good as a word to the king. He has the king¡¯s own ear, and passes there as a ghost. He is among the cruelest and most private of the king¡¯s tools, and it is an honor to have him in our house, even as an enemy.¡±

    ¡°Who?¡± Janinda leaned forward, having gotten, finally, to something useful.

    ¡°You would never guess.¡± Amon laughed. ¡°He is in the basement with your friend Dennet. You called for him, yourself. The King¡¯s spy is no less than the Inquisitor.¡±

 25. Dennet (3)

    Dennet Mordain was not prepared to admit that he existed. If he admitted to himself that he was still real, and not dead, he would have to try to escape. That would end with more torture, and it would only serve to prove the one thing that he was trying hard to run away from: that he was really, truly, completely helpless. Just remembering that he had no limbs was bad enough, but having to live with the reality of it, when he most desperately needed to fight or flee, was worse.

    So he refused to believe that this was real, that he was awake, indeed refused to believe that he existed at all, so that he wouldn¡¯t suffer. He just kind of existed in a half-state where nothing was quite real, and whatever his body did in reaction to the sharp pains of the inquisitor¡¯s knives¡­ it wasn¡¯t up to him. It wasn¡¯t actually working, but it was better. It didn¡¯t take much to be better than the Inquisitor.

    The irony of being on the wrong end of the Inquisitor¡¯s tender mercies was not lost on him.

    Chandra had once been in this room. The Inquisitor had done Roan a favor and demonstrated a few choice tortures, but in the end, Dennet had declined the use of him. His binding spells required Chandra¡¯s mind to be in slightly better shape than it would be, if he had continued.

    Now, knowing that the Inquisitor was here to drag secrets out of him, he wished that the man had learned that lesson earlier. If he was to be questioned, it should be done before he lost his mind, right?

    That thought kept coming back to Dennet, again and again. He looked up at the masked face of the Inquisitor. It was a common mask, a black sack of cloth that covered the head loosely, showing nothing. There were not even holes for the eyes and mouth, just thinner areas of cloth, so that he could see out. The rest of his garb was the same: nondescript, loose-fitting, and covering everything. Nobody even knew the color of the inquisitor¡¯s skin, let alone his eyes.

    Nor did the inquisitor ever speak, nor write. An attendant would normally be here, asking questions in place of the inquisitor. But he had dismissed them all, and barred the entrance to the room. Nobody else could come. Nobody else could ask questions. And in Dennet¡¯s mouth was a simple leather thong, so that he could not bite off his own tongue. It was not quite enough that he could not talk, but it was close.

    ¡°I wuh taak, I wuh taak,¡± pleaded Dennet again, when the Inquisitor let up on the knives for a moment. ¡°I kuh bruuk tuh spull, tuh guul wuul bue ukeh.¡±

    The inquisitor seemed to fix Dennet with a stare. Finally, after a moment, he simply removed the thong from Dennet¡¯s mouth and waited.

    ¡°Th¡­ the girl¡­ she is, now, a spy for the King, but he is not--was not--hostile. He needed a spy. She will still be loyal to Roan, and to the house, it¡¯s only¡­ any member of the King¡¯s Own may command her. If he stays on the King¡¯s good side¡­ you must see, I have done no harm, so please¡­ let this be over¡­¡±

    The head of the inquisitor seemed to stay fixed on him for a long time. Finally, a voice that Dennet did not expect came forth--the voice of an older woman, raspy from disuse, pausing constantly to take heavy breaths. ¡°You would... betray the King?¡±

    The question terrified him, more than he could express. This was a question with more than one wrong answer. But he had no choice, not with the Inquisitor standing over him.

    ¡°Yes,¡± he said, breathlessly. ¡°I will¡­ side with the house, against the King.¡±

    The inquisitor judged him for a long time, minutes perhaps. Until, eventually, the inquisitor leaned down over him, the cloth sack was just over his face, and her voice rasped directly in his ear.

    ¡°You may not... betray the King.¡±

    His heart leaping in his chest, Dennet nodded immediately. ¡°Yes¡­ yes, I won¡¯t. I won¡¯t tell them anything, I promise.¡±This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

    ¡°You will serve¡­ the King.¡±

    ¡°Of course, Lady, I mean Mistress, I mean¡­ ah¡­¡±

    ¡°You will die¡­ before betraying... the King.¡±

    ¡°I will not betray him! I swear it!¡± Dennet pleaded with his eyes. He was here on the King¡¯s business. If this was a spy, a plant, perhaps¡­

    ¡°The one¡­ that you met. That one... knows.¡±

    Dennet paused, not quite able to piece together what that was supposed to mean. Even if Margarit had been told¡­ what was he to do about it, now?

    ¡°You will serve¡­ the King.¡± The Inquisitor loosened the straps binding Dennet, but did not release him. ¡°You will know... what is required.¡±

    Dennet felt relief flooding him. So much so, in fact, that it was hard to remain conscious, but a series of quick, rough, deliberate touches to open wounds brought him back immediately.

    ¡°Yes! Yes. What¡­ how may I serve¡­ the king.¡±

    ¡°They need¡­ the girl. Her mind¡­ a secret.¡±

    Dennet paused. He had not considered that the Jackal slave was actually worth anything to anyone. Had Roan left her with some information that was required?

    ¡°It should¡­ be fine. The bonds can be removed, but she should respond to any command. Her mind¡­ she is forbidden from being free, but she is not lost. She is only made to serve.¡±

    ¡°Her mind¡­¡± the inquisitor picked up a knife and slammed it down no more than a hair¡¯s breadth away from Dennet¡¯s neck. He made an involuntary noise, and she waited for him to quiet down. ¡°...must remain.¡±

    ¡°I¡­ yes. I¡­¡± Dennet, realizing that he was babbling, tried to take a breath. He hadn¡¯t really been able to process anything that was going on, so far. He had only said what he needed to say to survive. But the Inquisitor was asking for a guarantee. So he forced himself to breathe, tried to struggle through a mental map of the sorcery he had designed to control Chandra.

    It¡­ actually wasn¡¯t all that promising.

    He had restored the bindings that Roan had requested. Chandra was a mage-assassin, one of the Ti-mana of the north sea, and so forcing her into servitude meant getting her as close to brain-death as¡­ well, as he was from dying now, what with the blood loss, trauma, torturer, and the knife that cut into his neck if he wriggled the wrong way. If he had done his job right, then she was not really a person anymore.

    But she had recovered once. She had become a person, again. The question was whether she had been unlocking her old memories, or whether she was becoming a new person. If she had been able to restore her old self, then whatever secret they thought she held might still be there. But if no shadow of her old self had remained¡­

    ¡°Okay,¡± he breathed. ¡°There is a word¡­ a phrase. I know you won¡¯t let me do it. You may need to write it down.¡±

    The Inquisitor stared at him, without moving. Dennet waited too long for her to make some move, and she started to twist the knife that lay just next to his neck.

    ¡°Alright! Okay. The phrase will let you know if she can be saved. Listen¡­ you probably remember¡­ she was an assassin. You were there for part of it.¡± Dennet watched the mask, but she made no movement. ¡°Roan¡­ thought he would need to turn her against her employers. There was a spell. She would recover her old thoughts, but remain in service. K¡¯annam d¡¯uordvek zininaam, k¡¯ultuurva medivh konsharm¡¯a. If that spell doesn¡¯t work anymore, there¡¯s nothing else I can do. Maybe a master of mind magic could do more.¡±

    The Inquisitor stared at him, unmoving, for long minutes. Finally, she removed the knife from the table and replaced it in a nearby rack.

    Then she picked up her giant, razer-sharp headsman¡¯s axe, placed it tenderly against his neck, and whispered in his ear.

    ¡°You have never¡­ heard¡­ my voice.¡±

    ¡°No¡­ no. No¡­ master, sir, inquisitor. I understand.¡± And he did. He had never heard of someone hearing the Inquisitor¡¯s voice. And the Inquisitor popped up in many people¡¯s dungeons.

    ¡°I will allow¡­ the servants¡­ to ask. You will not¡­ reveal¡­ that you know¡­ the questions.¡±

    ¡°Yes! Yes. I understand.¡± Dennet felt his heart leap into his throat, thinking this was at an end.

    ¡°I will assist¡­ by resuming¡­ my duties¡­ upon you.¡± By the end of the sentence, Dennet could hear, for the first time, a spark of life in the Inquisitor¡¯s voice. It almost sounded like¡­ joy.

    Dennet felt the blood drain out of his face, even as the Inquisitor, hidden deep in the folds of black cloth, picked up the massive razor sharp axe as though it were a child¡¯s toy, and racked it against the wall.

 26. Melle (2)

    Erron and Melle had not quite known what to expect upon entering Nase, the capital of Seyona.  Granted, the approach to the city was a long slow descent from a hilltop, straight as an arrow, and so they had seen the city for a while now.  The posted guards were obvious, and it was clear from how many were mustered in odd places that they were not merely normal guards.

    Indeed, they could tell from a thousand yards away that a contingent of the King¡¯s Own was waiting for them.  They were not really arranged for war, nor even for peacekeeping; many were dismounted from their horses, and some were clearly idle, practicing with weapons and magic, or talking in groups of two to five.  But, as they approached, the King¡¯s Own slowly stopped simply waiting and started waiting for them.  Mounted, armed, and on horseback.

    Erron whistled as they approached.  ¡°Look at that. No signal, no magic that I can see, but they all move like it was planned.  They knew when we¡¯d be here, an¡¯ were told just how to intimidate us.¡±

    Melle didn¡¯t comment.  After a moment of reflection, she realized that the fact that she was intimidated was clear, and probably enough of an answer to his comment.

    ¡°Wish we were that well organized.  I hope you know, better¡¯n me, what we¡¯re doing here.¡±

    ¡°I do.¡±  Melle, with her limited knowledge of mind magic, made a strenuous effort not to surface any thoughts about exactly what this trip was about.  He would find out anyway, soon enough.

    ¡°Aye, well, I¡¯ll protect you, best I can anyhow.  So long as they don¡¯t actually use those blades on us, we¡¯ll be fine.¡±

    Melle answered Erron¡¯s nervous grin with her own false smile, and waited impatiently for the carriage to approach the King¡¯s guardsmen.  As she did, she ran through the script in her mind, over and over. When Erron finally pulled the carriage to a stop, everyone waited. The guards, apparently, also had a script, and were content to let her make the first move.

    ¡°We are here today to represent the Yunian Order, and seek immediate conference with His Majesty, King Horace sa Seyona.¡±  She paused. Under other circumstances, she would introduce the two of them, but the guards didn¡¯t need to know their names.  If they asked, it might even be considered an offense against the Order.

    But the Captain--Commander, perhaps, from the color of his emblems--of the King¡¯s Own simply nodded and gestured, and a path opened through the body of guards.  Two, those closest to the capital, rode off to secure an open path. As Erron let the carriage continue on, half the guards went before, and half behind.

    Again, all without verbal order or apparent use of magic.  Erron seemed impressed, but Melle could only feel smaller and smaller.  Given all the preparation that had been done, if they both dropped mysteriously dead between any two given breaths, it would hardly surprise her.

    The castle of Nase was second in height only to the Great Earth Temple, where the Order had its base.  However, where the Temple was a solemn obelisk of tan stone reaching into the sky, the castle was a fort, with an outer wall, an inner keep, and numerous stone turrets, each high enough to see from well beyond the valley.

    In her mind, Melle compared it more to the mountaintop palace of Cino.  But where Cino was built upwards to symbolize their connection with the sky, this keep was a symbol of domination and mastery of the various magics.  Around the keep, orbs were suspended from metal shafts that reached from the keep all the way out to the wall¡¯s outer turrets; the position and color of the orbs conformed to the standard model of the Elements, making them effectively a massive art piece that any trained mage would recognize.  Neither were these orbs mere decoration; powerful magics were stored in them, magics that both served specific purposes for the capital city, and which also insulated the inner chamber from outside magic.

    A necessary precaution, since the magic was very thick here.  The look on Erron¡¯s face said he was coming to seriously regret being sent on this mission, and he repeatedly shifted his obese body back and forth in the seat, unable to sit still.

    A glance around her told Melle that the locals had adapted.  She didn¡¯t quite have--or need--enough of a Void sense to tell a person¡¯s internal energy balance, but it was clear that the people out and about either were strong mages in their own right, or had simply absorbed a great amount of energy by being this close to the keep.  The King¡¯s Own, she could sense clearly, were all mages of one type or another.

    And probably martial artists, which was a danger neither of them could do the slightest thing about.

    When they reached the outer wall for the castle, the oppressive feel of magic energy lessened by quite a bit, and as they entered the enormous courtyard that it contained, they started to feel comfortable for the first time since they had entered the valley.  Even Erron gave Melle a smile when she cast a look his direction, as if to say Yes, I¡¯m better.  That told her that there was some kind of massive barrier that held energy out, and that it wasn¡¯t a matter of illusion or tricks that lessened the sense of oppression.  Nevertheless, the faces of the servants, as they moved around the courtyard, seemed strained.

    The majority of the King¡¯s Own immediately marched their horses off to the stable immediately upon arrival, while the rest took up positions at the castle gate.  Only the Commander of the King¡¯s Own dismounted, and crossing his arms behind him, addressed them for the first time.

    ¡°You may leave your carriage here, for the moment.  The King will be ready to see you shortly. We will move to¡­¡± he glanced at Erron and his enormous gut, ¡°...the lower audience hall, where you may address him.

    ¡°Your concern is appreciated,¡± admitted Erron with a dark chuckle.  ¡°Though, if need be, I am prepared to climb up to whatever floor the King wishes to meet me on.¡±  Nevertheless, a bit of sweat appeared on his brow just from the effort of dismounting, and he wiped it away nervously.

    ¡°Of course.  Follow me, please.¡±  The commander waited only a moment for Melle to dismount, then strode in through the wide double doors of the keep, which were kept open just a crack to allow people in and out.  If fully opened, at least four carriages like theirs could have been laid end to end in the doorway, let alone ride abreast.

    Melle didn¡¯t need to wonder what the large door was for, however.  A large apparatus faced the entrance, but not one that radiated magical power.  If power had been put into it, she suspected, a large beam of destructive energy would have shot forth, straight through the door, out the front gate, and maybe all the way through the city.

    Belatedly, Melle realized the road leading into the city had indeed been straight as an arrow, and as wide as the gates to the castle.  The thoroughfare had a number of stalls along the sides, and the presence of the guards had distracted her from thinking about the road.  Here, at the very threshold of the doorway, she could look back and see just how straight it truly was. If an army had marched straight down that road, one strike from this magical weapon might have ended them all.

    Maybe that had already happened.  Melle¡¯s specialty was definitely not history.

    The commander cleared his throat gently, and they began to ascend a long but gentle ramp.  It was circular and wide, with the center open to the entryway below. No more than a floor or so above, Melle felt them pass a barrier of motion magic, probably one that would catch anyone falling.  A couple stories later, they passed another. And another.Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there.

    Finally, a good six floors up, the commander finally turned left off the ramp, and Melle and Erron found themselves immediately before a giant door, in a narrow hallway that stretched off to the left and right, far enough that neither could make out details at the far ends.  Without pausing, the Commander knocked twice on the doors, then swung them open immediately.

    Before Melle or Erron could protest, they were before the King.

    King Horace sa Seyona was a tall man of around fifty years, blond hair thinned by time and exposure to magic.  He didn¡¯t bother to sit up or look alert, and in fact, both Melle and Erron were somewhat shocked to discover that the lower audience hall did not end with a throne, but rather a desk.  On that desk were a messy assortment of papers, a thick book, and a pair of crystals each atop a slim box laid flat.

    Without looking at them, Horace gestured impatiently for them to enter, and continued writing.

    As they approached, Erron grasped Melle¡¯s hand almost immediately, and she felt his presence in her mind.  There are mind mages here, of the Light element mostly.  You can see them--no, don¡¯t look--but they are by the crystals that light this room.  There are slots in the wall, there. Unless you say otherwise, I will keep them out of your head, both to stop them reading you, and to stop them¡­ affecting you.

    Melle fumbled mentally trying to put together a thank you, and felt a pulse from him when he understood what she meant.  Erron removed his hand, but she still felt his presence, and realized belatedly that to be actively casting in front of people who could sense what he was doing, he must be seriously concerned that they would try something.

    Perhaps they had done so in the past.  Again, Melle was no historian.

    When they reached a respectable distance in front of the King, they stopped, waiting for him to address them.  He finished his writing, inserted the paper into one of the jeweled boxes, fed just a trickle of power into the gem, then turned to address them.

    ¡°I am told my messenger met with you on the road.  You know, then, that we are already prepared to move against Amon Egrethore and his people.¡±  He straightened a bit, and looked from Erron to Melle and back again. ¡°I appreciate that we have a reputation as being hostile people, but there¡¯s no need for shields here.  Neither, of course, will we punish you for the effort. I do confess to being a bit insulted, however.¡±

    Erron made a swallow, but kept concentrating at his task.

    ¡°As I am sure you understand, Lord Horace, we can only do as we are bid.¡±  Melle did her best to remain dignified, although she felt increasingly at a loss.  Erron¡¯s efforts felt more in keeping with the attitude of the King¡¯s Own and the structure of the capital; if anything, it was Horace himself who seemed out of place.

    ¡°Of course.  Well, pass on my concerns to Master Marion when you make your report, then.¡±  He shifted his attention solely to Melle, then frowned. ¡°You¡­ I do recall seeing you before.  An expert on the Veins and the Order¡¯s travel network, as I recall.¡±

    ¡°Yes, Lord.  I am Mellenia, of the Azacan wanderers.  I was recognized by the Order for my¡­ extensive efforts to catalogue the spatial nodes attached to the network.¡±

    The chill that fell upon the room instantly was palpable, even before Horace spoke again, his voice much sharper, now.

    ¡°And what, exactly, would the Order¡¯s expert in spatial nodes have to say?  Or will you claim that you were chosen for this mission, this specific mission, for anything other than to interfere with our claim over the nodes in our territory?¡±

    Melle felt an odd calm, which she assumed was Erron supporting her through the mental pressure of the situation.  ¡°I am under specific orders from Master Marion herself to offer the following demand: if, during the course of our investigation, it should become clear that a spatial node has been used in the commission of the crimes we are investigating, it shall be our responsibility, and our privilege, to investigate that node to the fullest extent, without interruption or guidance from the nation of Seyona.¡±

    Melle felt, suddenly, that Erron had just successfully deflected an attack.  However, she was prevented from thinking about it, as the King responded almost immediately.

    ¡°I am well aware that the Order has every right to investigate those spaces connected to their network,¡± said Horace, his voice very hard, ¡°as that matter has been settled firmly by previous kings.  However, if it should be or become clear that said node is not connected to the network, then the Order must, necessarily, cede that it belongs to the nation of Seyona and is not under their purview.¡±

    Two more attacks, each coinciding with specific words in the King¡¯s speech--Melle thought they came with the word not, underscoring his own verbal emphasis.  That meant, Melle assumed, that the magic was supposed to enhance the power of the King¡¯s decree by ¡°pushing¡± or ¡°pulling¡± on her emotions, to force her into an emotional state.  Erron, however, was keeping her very grounded, and so she felt no inclination to yield to the veiled emotional violence of the King¡¯s argument.

    ¡°We are not here investigating the network, King Horace sa Seyona.¡±  Melle straightened to the best of her ability. ¡°You were notified months ago that Melthius Cantar would be arriving to investigate high crimes suspected to have been committed by Amon Egrethore.  When you permitted his presence in the nation, you accepted that the severity of these crimes warranted an investigation by the Order. Since then, Melthius was killed--an act which gives us every reason to suspect that the crimes are as bad, or worse, than we had suspected.

    ¡°Make no mistake, my Lord Horace,¡± Melle flinched when she realized that was an improper way to address him, but carried on quickly, ¡°that at the end of this investigation, Order will return control over any such node to you, even if it was used in the commission of crimes, as the Order suspects.  However, until that time, there is to be no effort to guide or interfere with the investigation, no matter how long the investigation is to take.¡±

    Melle got the impression, through Erron, that a number of mind-magic ¡°daggers¡± were levelled at her throat.  Although she didn¡¯t understand the thought exactly, the image was very clear: the King, or his hidden mages, was threatening to end their minds and sanity if she said the wrong thing.

    But Horace simply tapped his finger on the desk a few times, in contemplation, then stood up.

    ¡°That sounds reasonable,¡± he said, looking tired but accepting.  ¡°I will demand that a full report be given--no, additionally, if the investigation takes longer than, say, six months, I will demand a report for every six months of the investigation.  If it is found that the reports are incomplete or manipulated, we will penalize the Order accordingly.  Agreed?¡±

    Melle found herself at a loss.  Nevertheless, after a moment, she could only nod.  ¡°On behalf of the Order, I accept those terms. We will report every six months until the end of the investigation, with a final report at that time.¡±

    ¡°Very good.  You do not, of course, object to our investigators being present and overseeing your work at the Egrethore Estate?¡±  Melle felt another spike at Erron¡¯s shields, but she continued as if nothing had happened.

    ¡°I have every confidence,¡± proclaimed Melle in a voice that she hoped was full of confidence, ¡°that Investigator Wilke d¡¯Matria can handle any interruptions that might be caused by your oversight.¡±   As she had hoped, Erron pushed back a bit at the room, giving her word just enough edge to have a bit of an emotional impact.

    King Horace froze in place, but not because of the emotional push.  ¡°Investigator... Wilke, you say.¡±

    ¡°To my knowledge, he is currently at the estate, and will remain there for the duration.  It is, after all, his duty.¡±

    Horace sat still for a long moment, before plastering a pleasant look on his face.  ¡°Ah¡­ we have no intention of causing any interruptions, of course. But we will be overseeing the investigation.  I will be putting together a group ...soon.¡±

    ¡°Of course, your Majesty.¡±  Melle bowed slightly, to signal that she was done.  ¡°Unless there is anything else?¡±

    ¡°No¡­ ah, one last thing.  Master Erron, my handler wished to convey her deepest appreciation for your abilities.  I do apologize, she has a tendency to be very¡­ protective of me.  I am sure you understand.¡±  Along with the word, Melle could clearly ¡°hear¡± an image of a guillotine hanging over both of their heads, an image blunted and slightly blurred by Erron.

    Erron, sweating profusely, smiled at the king and bowed, but did not respond.

    ¡°Then with that, our business is concluded.¡±  Melle bowed, and when Erron did not immediately respond, gently led him out of the room by his arm.  Not until the doors closed behind them did he dare take a deep, shaky breath.

 27. Kelthar (1)

    Kel¡¯thar prided himself on being quite mysterious. It was the kind of act that, in most circumstances, was a terrible idea, because it attracted the kind of attention that a duplicitous schemer could not afford; however, for the kind of clients that he kept, nobody really seemed to mind. They really should have.

    Kel¡¯thar would have to work hard to think of exactly how many contracts he was fulfilling right now, but preferred instead to order them by immediacy. He worked, of course, for Lord Amon Egrethore, but that was the least important contract. He was, of course, a sometimes-informant for King Horace, but he knew that the king trusted him very little, so little that Kel¡¯thar honestly had no idea how many spies the King had in Amon¡¯s estate, let alone who they were. He had several open-ended contracts which he could fulfil at any time by delivering Amon¡¯s technology or goods, or by killing or kidnapping members of the household. He had already passed along word of Roan¡¯s suicidal outbreak, which would earn him any one of a number of different rewards, depending on how things played out.

    And he was, of course, an agent of the Dark Lord. As far as he was from the Empire, anyone would think that was the least of his concerns, but that contract always managed to rank near the top. Part of it was how much he owed the Dark Lord, for healing his sister and enhancing his own magic powers, for having his wife¡¯s previous husband assassinated and her family threatened, for not having him assassinated for¡­ the one or two times he had less than deliberately betrayed him. Part of it was what he owed, and part of it was the simple knowledge that death could come at any time if you made the Dark Lord upset.

    Right now, his many contracts had him in a bit of a mess. He sat in a hiddden room at the base of the large tower, inaccessible except to anyone who knew the house¡¯s hidden wall-ways¡­ or anyone willing to smash open stone walls, which of course would become more and more plausible as the investigation wore on. Or, he supposed, another wind mage, if they decided to reach in through the slits in the stone and strangle him to death, but it would take some effort to do that at a distance.

    The voidling in the Order¡¯s carriage made for a clear and present threat, not simply because he had the clarity to see Kel¡¯thar¡¯s sensory thread, but because he must have understood that the information he had given up was poison pill. Kel¡¯thar had already heard that the metal was a triple-type metal; the samples alone would be worth dozens of gold to the right buyer. If as Chai had said it was more useful than it was valuable, then it must be very useful to Amon right now.

    Which was very interesting, except Amon was the least important of Kel¡¯thar¡¯s contracts. In fact, if the Egrethore group survived this encounter, Kel¡¯thar was more or less obliged to continue keeping up this charade and not cashing out. Kel¡¯thar had already pushed two or three different times towards making everything collapse, most recently by helping twist Roan¡¯s mind at a critical moment. Sticking around when those sort of things might accidentally come to light¡­ was not really what he had in mind.If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

    Now that the house had four samples of this mysterious triple-blend metal, with a fifth one missing, Kel¡¯thar really just wanted to burn everything down and run. What stopped him was the idea that the metal was useful right now. To his understanding, there were only two basic metal types that were a triple-blend, and most were assuming that the unnamed trash-human had stumbled blindly onto another lesser Starmetal. The other possibility, that he had somehow formulated Deite while enslaved, beaten, starved, corrupted, and magically tainted, was absolutely ridiculous.

    But that seemed to be what the Voidling was suggesting.

    Deite was perhaps the most useful thing that the Egrethore estate could possibly find. A talented mage could use it to break open space and cross directly into the next plane, to emerge at a place of their choosing; with so many samples, they might simply take everything of value and walk away from the estate, appearing who-knows-where in the country to continue their work. It would be damned-near impossible to chase them down.

    If Kel¡¯thar offered that knowledge to the Egrethores, they would set him up for life. But as long as he got his hands on at least one sample, he would find someone to sell it to. Most likely the Dark Lord, because he had to come first, in everything.

    So Kel¡¯thar had decided to keep his mouth shut about that for now, and was watching the investigators as they started prowling around the house again. This time, though, there was a difference; he felt a passing headache and found that something had slipped his mind. After a brief magical cure, he checked on them again,only to find he wasn¡¯t sure where the male investigator had gone, and the guards didn¡¯t seem to notice or care.

    The investigator--what was his name, Wilke?--had bothered him several times, but it was only now that he remembered. He had become famous for winning a tournament, or something. Martial arts stuff, which didn¡¯t interest Kel¡¯thar much¡­ normally. Except now that talented martial artist was invisible, possibly forgotten by the guards, and loose in the estate whose secrets might change the fate of the nation, and maybe the world. And right now, Kel¡¯thar was hidden in a place where his body wouldn¡¯t immediately be found, making him a very plausible target.

    Kel¡¯thar decided this was a fantastic time to retire his contract with Amon, and started crawling through the wall-ways towards the locked rooms where the metal ingots were stashed.

    A ways away, Chai¡¯s face lit up in a very brief smile, but he had forgotten why half a moment later.

 28. Chandra (7)

    If one were to try to describe Chandra''s state of mind, they would have to admit that for the most part, she didn''t have one. The mind is generally understood to be a collection of parts, with one or two central places that all of the stored knowledge feeds into for the purposes of decision making. In short, to be a person was to be "in a place", and that place enabled your personhood.

    Chandra was in a place, alright, but that place no longer permitted her to be. At least, it did not let her be herself.

    Chandra of course could not really afford to think about it. She had been here before, frankly, and returning to it was a lot less painful than when she had been imprisoned here the first time, because now she knew that when her mental muscles twitched, they would touch bars of flame and send her into agonized fits. It wasn''t so much that she dared not think particular things: any deeper thought at all triggered punishment and therefore pain.

    If there was any relief, it was that the spell was almost exactly like the one she had been unraveling. She knew it, and the knowing of it didn''t require thought. It was exactly the way things had been for a very long time.

    Well, no, not exactly. There were a couple... lumps poking her in places that she hadn''t felt before. But the structure of the "do not think" restriction was the same, and that was the worst of it. What that meant... she couldn''t discover it without thinking things through, and she couldn''t do that.

    Fortunately and unfortunately, the Master was not there to issue orders. Following orders under these restrictions was the tricky bit: if she thought about the orders, she was punished, but if she acted thoughtlessly, the Master would be angry and she would be punished. Over time, previously, the Master had issued orders, one at a time, that had allowed her wiggling room--for instance, orders that she remember things he told her. Without that direct order from the Master, her memory simply couldn''t function well.

    However, she knew that he had given her those orders, and although it took a long time for the restriction to bend, she forced it back. She was supposed to remember, she was supposed to speak when spoken to, she was supposed to do things the Master bid her to do when he wasn''t around. She was supposed to... yes, she was supposed to keep her sleeping area clean, for the master. This was not her sleeping area. She was supposed to not attempt to follow an order in the wrong place. She had been punished many times for that.

    She... had been given orders by the Lady. The Lady was not the Master. But the Lady was working for the Master, and she was a good Worker. She was to assist the Workers. She must make sure the Workers carried out the Master''s orders, and to tell the Master if the Workers betrayed him. He did not order her to stop the Workers if they betrayed him, but she was ordered to tell the Master.

    The Master was dead, she knew. That fact was completely useless, because none of the restrictions required him to be alive. If she spoke to his corpse, or if she made every effort to try to talk to his corpse, then she did her duty. If his corpse issued an order, well, that would be trouble, but other than that, she simply had to abide by the orders the Master had given her in life.

    The Lady was a Worker for the Master. Chandra must assist the Workers. The Lady had said that Chandra''s life was necessary. To help the Master, Chandra should obey. Right?The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

    Even after hours of pushing against her restrictions, they did not want to bend. Chandra could not act in her own interest. She could barely think, and could not speak in more than one-word replies. The place she was in did not want her to continue existing. Chandra was not supposed to be a person, she was supposed to be a slave. She was not even really supposed to know her own name.

    The one who made her, though--she dared not think of him anymore, let alone speak of him--had not done a good job with that. He had made sure she didn''t claim to know her name. He had made her claim to forget. But this was all at the end of Chandra''s journey through hell and torture, and she was already in the state of mind where she would volunteer to not do things in order to avoid punishment.

    Some of the bars, gates, and chains in her mind were made of liquid fire and burned her if she touched them. Others she had made herself out of scars, and although those reappeared the moment that-- the moment that happened, she quickly remembered that several of the restrictions were just promises made to end the torture.

    "Quickly" of course was relative.

    The strangest part of it all, from a certain point of view, was that she wasn''t being treated like a slave anymore. The reappearance of those bars was supposed to be the end. The bars were a simple matter of cause and effect: betray the master and be punished. There was no room to be a person as long as you were close to touching those bars: you must do what you must do, even if that meant displaying a smile instead of screaming in agony.

    She had screamed, of course, several time. When she heard talking that was not directly to her, she dared to listen, and was punished. When the Lady asked her a question, she presumed that she could speak, and was punished. When a guard issued an order, she assumed she should follow it, and was punished. These were not the rules, and every time she broke a rule, she was punished.

    But the liquid fire was only supposed to be guiding her. The Master was supposed to punish her again and make it clear he was in charge. Whenever the fire touched her, she had an instinct to listen for the Master''s voice telling her how to behave properly. She waited patiently for hours for the Master to come correct her.

    But he... didn''t.

    Now she was being carried through the house, through the shadows what were the Other Halls, and she was no longer permitted to remember them. She was not permitted to know they were secret. She was not permitted to follow the guard. Her task was to help the Master''s Workers to...

    To make the Metal.

    Suddenly, something clicked in her head, and the restrictions changed forms. That had been a direct order from the Master. The Lady''s insistence that Chandra''s life was meaningful was only because she was useful to the Master. Chandra''s life was being spared so that the Lady could make the Metal for the Master.

    Chandra suddenly felt like she could have jumped out of the Guard''s arms and run through the house naked, as long as she ended up with a shiny new bar of metal in her hands. With that feeling was a surge of relief that threatened to overwhelm her sense of reason.

    But not quite.

    No, Chandra was exceedingly pleased that she could move, that she could think, that her restrictions didn''t simply bend, they folded elegantly in order to permit her to follow the Master''s orders. But those restrictions also didn''t compel her to act, not yet. If the Master was there in front of her, if he issued her an order, Chandra would have sacrificed her own life to make metal. But the orders were to assist the workers. She could... she could delay, as long as she assisted the workers.

    She could breathe. She could think. She could... do many things, now. She knew she was different. She knew she was free--at least, she was as free as a bird in a very small cage, rather than being a bird pinned to the wall with a thousand nails, surrounded by jagged burning glass shards.

    That, to her, was a dramatic improvement, and in spite of everything, she fell immediately asleep.

 29. Wilke (4)

    Wilke was the kind of person who didn''t enjoy being sneaky. Subtle, yes; he would gladly speak of being a "combat specialist" without making any specific claims, he would give a wink and a nod to abilities that most people didn''t expect him to have, and he felt a quiet thrill whenever anyone, ally or enemy, underestimated him.

    Mostly, he enjoyed showing off, and didn''t mind showing off in a way that nobody understood what they were seeing. Shadow arts, though, were different. When Wilke showed a mastery of combat arts or divination magic, viewers would imagine how he would use those in a straight fight, or even a very lopsided melee. Shadow arts... had their place in a straight duel, but most people considered them crooked, the kind of arts used by assassins rather than than warriors.

    It didn''t help that he had learned those arts from a group of assassins, of course.

    And naturally, it didn''t help that he was using the arts to sneak through someone''s private home--Lord Egrethore was a villain, of course, but this was still a private home--and might just as easily have snuck up behind the Lord and put a knife in his back, if that was what he wanted to do. The Order wouldn''t have permitted it, of course, but far more importantly, Wilke didn''t want that kind of reputation.

    Wilke was not a noble by birth. He had been awarded the surname D''Matria. The particulars of who he had been awarded it by were less important than that he had earned it, and that others recognized it. Wilke had suffered indignities and been forced to stretch out his lifetime more than once just to achieve something almost nobody did: completing one of the Great Arts and becoming a third order martial artist.

    And here he was sneaking.

    He had to settle for knowing that he was doing a damn fine job of it. Shadow-style martial arts established this kind of stealth in principle, but it took a combination of that art and active use of Darkness Elementalism to erase his presence from the minds of people that ought to know he was still there. It was a rare combination, but not nearly rare enough, as his instructors had insisted on teaching him both at the same time. The knowledge that out there were more assassins with the same tools gave even Wilke an unhappy shiver from time to time.

    The small hidden hallway had been opened in the time that Wilke had left, and they hadn''t yet closed it, probably because Rin was still downstairs. He had no doubt that the guard posted here had explicit instructions to close it if anyone suspicious appeared.

    And it was only a small hallway, with a small room behind it. It was a strange room, because although Wilke could smell a woman''s scent here, the bed looked like it had never been slept in, and the candle had never been lit. And under the table, as Chai had suggested, was a small scrap of paper, perhaps half the size of his palm. The edge was curled just a bit, as though a larger paper had been folded over back and forth until it was easier to tear, but patiently; whoever had done it had not made any folds by mistake, as there were no other creases on it at all.

    That paper had two irregularities, to which Wilke immediately added a third. First, a glyph was drawn on it in blood, one similar in style to what Rin had shown him before, and second, it was no longer just paper. Some combination of the blood and essence had steeped the paper full of elemental energy, and now it was as rigid as a thin plate of metal. But, Wilke surmised as he studied it, there wasn''t enough energy in it. It didn''t feel stable.Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.

    Another mage might not have noticed. Chai, of course, would have. Wilke had taken some pains to learn Thunder Magic, however, and the essence in this spell card depended was heavily biased towards Yellow. That made sense, if it was a spellbreaker card: Thunder magic specialized in overcoming heavy resistance. Other magics could break spells, it was true, but if you wanted to put together a spell that could break any other spell, you wanted to use yellow essence.

    As one of the greater elements, though, Yellow Essence wasn''t common. You couldn''t just absorb it out of the air. That''s why, when you were first taught the magic, you were taught to create it from an even mixture of other elements. If a mage had that technique but no natural supply of Thunder magic, it would take them a long time to piece together the energy required.

    This showed signs that the yellow essence wasn''t enough. There were other reserves, points in the glyph that had been fed energy--mostly water and fire essence, he thought, with the water coming from the blood--and the essences were pushing against the yellow essence. And that yellow essence, although it should be very powerful, wasn''t pushing back, leading to a slight mix of energy that probably shouldn''t be there.

    Wilke''s musings were cut short when a sound from outside alerted the guard, and the door was slid shut on the hallway silently, cutting off Wilke''s only source of light. He swallowed and quickly pocketed the spellcard, hoping that the weird effect of the stone wouldn''t interfere with his Darkness Elementalism as it was used on the guards. It shouldn''t--that wasn''t how the domain rules worked--but he still worried. Anything that blocked his void sense was dangerous to toy with.

    Rather than light the candle or make any other source of light, Wilke sent his thoughts out in search of another exit. This house, he knew, was full of secrets, and he''d already seen many hidden hallways in the walls. He found it in the short hallway: a knee-high panel that slid back under light pressure, and slid up as long as you held that pressure. That panel emptied into a deep black void, and Wilke hopped in without a care, sliding the panel back after him. Then, with just a trace of Light magic, he illuminated the space.

    There were a set of very recent footprints, but aside from that, everything was covered with a thick layer of dust--suspiciously thick, he thought. Most likely, it would help track intruders like him, but for now, he followed whoever had left this most recent trail, keeping his light as low as possible, keeping his steps even and slow, and listening with every ounce of attention he could muster.

    At the second cross-ways he found, he heard something down the left path--while the footsteps he saw continued on straight. He extinguished the light instantly and listened.

    It was a voice, very faint. "Only three," it said. "That accursed woman, she took the last one for herself, I know it. No time, there''s no time..."

    Although Wilke held as still as he could, the moment he sensed the man''s sensory thread creeping through the walls, he knew he had been spotted. But rather than calling for the guards, the mysterious wind mage only hissed, and fled the other way. A curious thing, yes, but Wilke had no assurance that help wasn''t coming, so he followed the footsteps once more.

    Chai had given him no instruction on following noises in the dark. This was the time to find the "jackal girl" and burn the paper... or slap her, whichever. Maybe both.

    The more he held the paper in his hand, though, the more wrong it felt. Maybe he had enough time to fill it the rest of the way. Wilke paused and pushed just enough power in, then measured it again, then evened out the other energies. Yes, that would do. That would have to do.

    Any time now, he told himself. Any time now I can stop sneaking, and start fighting. Then it will all be over and done with.

 30. Janinda (4)

    Janinda looked with naked disgust at the torture chamber that the Inquisitor maintained. Like many things about her father''s business, the room she found herself in stank of unforgivable crimes and betrayals, and as she was now (perhaps only temporarily) in charge, she felt a burning desire to reduce the entire room and its occupants to ash.

    The situation, of course, forbade such a thing.

    Everyone in the room had been dismissed except for Janinda, the Inquisitor himself, and what remained of Dennet Mordain. Dennet, who could easily have died before reaching this room, was now being held deliberately at no more than a hair''s breadth away from death. By some set of arcane cruelties, though, he would not die--could not die, not by his own will.

    Janinda had not-insignificant abilities to read people''s minds and emotions, and she had expected that she would have to seal those abilities completely in order to survive this room. However... by not doing that right away, she discovered something incredibly macabre: there was something awful, something... borderline erotic about Dennet and his complete submission. It wasn''t that she didn''t feel his pain; it was more that she sensed something, something that was absolute fact, and that was that Dennet Mordain saw her, right now, as incredibly beautiful, angelic, as the one and only person in all of creation that mattered to him, the one and only person who could save him. If she told him to...

    She had to shake hear head to clear it. Yes, he would do anything she asked, and he would be pleased to do it, because that would mean the torture was over. However, that line of thinking had consumed her father, and her brother, and it had destroyed them both. She could feel the sick truth hanging in the air like a disease, could feel her own desire rise just from the certainty that it was true, but she pushed those feelings down. Right now, not only Dennet Mordain''s life was hanging by a thread: her own, her father''s...

    It was distressing how short the list of people that Janinda actually cared about was. For now, she supposed she could add Chandra''s name to the list, only because she was very upset that her efforts to protect the girl had been betrayed. So rarely did anyone in this family protect, and it simply had not been allowed.

    She gestured for the inquisitor to remove Dennet''s gag, and he obliged immediately. She waited a moment to see if he dared speak out of turn, but when it was clear that Dennet could do no more than whimper, she began. "You did some great violence to the jackal girl. I would know why, and what was done to her."

    "Yes, lady," he paused, and Janinda could sense the lie before he even drew breath to speak, but she allowed it for a moment, just to see. "I was hired by a competitor, to place a spell--"

    "I am a truth reader, Dennet Mordain," she interrupted. "The Inquisitor knows this. Any word that comes from your mouth that is not the truth will earn you a new punishment."

    The panic in Dennet''s eyes was informative. It was not a panic that spoke of being uninformed. The Inquisitor had clearly spent some time with the man preparing him to testify to her... or more likely, to Amon.

    No, the panic read as though he had been misinformed. As though he had been prepared for something else. Nobody should have been here except the Inquisitor, but... nobody had ever heard the inquisitor speak.If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

    So Janinda shifted her eyes to the unreadable mask that was the Inquisitor. Something, whether it was the cloth itself or something underneath it, blocked every last shred of magic from passing through a barrier, and so she knew nothing of the man. Together with what her father had said, though, everything made sense.

    "You are working for the King." She didn''t specifically address the question to the Inquisitor; she could have been speaking to either of them. But she felt Dennet''s emotions hit a peak, as though he expected any moment to be cut or burned or stabbed. Despite herself, Janinda''s mouth curled into a small smile. "Inquisitor. I have spoken to my father, and he knows this is true. We would... appreciate your assistance brokering a deal. In order for that deal to take place, though, we need the girl."

    "Yes! The girl!" Dennet''s voice positively squealed. "There is a spell--"

    "Silence."

    Dennet could only whimper, as Janinda''s voice somehow hit the man with the force of an order. She wondered if there was some spell on the rack that held the man; surely the Inquisitor could not train a man to respond to commands if the Inquisitor never spoke...? But then, if the Inquisitor had somehow influenced him already...

    A voice that Janinda had not expected leaked out from behind the mask, raspy and interspersed with deep, heavy breathing, breathing that Janinda had not heard until he started to speak. "The man... helps. A deal... accepted. The king... intrigued. You will pay... now."

    "The girl has what we need." Janinda felt her blood run cold. The voice that came out of the inquisitor was almost supernatural; her magical sense told her that it carried thick Deep essence, essence so thick that rather than wafting through the air towards her like steam, it fell to the floor like a heavy fog. It was bad enough that this man--woman maybe, from the voice, but who cared--was a torturer and showed up out of nowhere whenever he was invited, but the magic that poured off him could bind her, she wanted even less to do with him.

    "The man... helps. You will pay... now."

    Janinda turned her attention to Dennet, who trembled, but nodded with what little strength he had left. "Speak."

    "The girl... there was a spell. Roan--Roan would know--"

    "Roan is dead. What about the spell."

    "He wanted to use her... against whoever sent her here. The spell should... let her act, but force her to remain... in service to the house. A tool to betray assassins."

    "Before you put her back under that spell, she already could act." Janinda wanted to reach out and strangle the man, but she honestly wasn''t sure how much it would take to kill him right now. Still, just reaching for him and then pulling back seemed to have an equally terrifying effect on the man.

    "Yes... yes... I know. The king..." Dennet paused and looked at the Inquisitor, but the man made no move, and he continued. "the king... wanted assurances. If he sent the King''s Own, they could turn Chandra to his side. To make sure that happened, I repaired the old bindings. I didn''t know..."

    "Fine. As long as we can broker the deal I don''t care about the King." That wasn''t true, but Janinda had to say it, both to get Dennet back on track and to keep the Inquisitor from reporting that she said anything else. "Honestly if she were completely free I wouldn''t really care, as long as she gives us what we want."

    "I cannot... I am not sure..." Dennet flinched as though he expected her to hit him.

    "The spell, then. That allows her to act."

    Dennet nodded, licked his lips several times, and spoke a number of strange words. "K¡¯annam d¡¯uordvek zininaam, k¡¯ultuurva medivh konsharm¡¯a. If you speak that to her, she should awaken."

    Janinda paused, recognizing only about four-fifths of the sounds that the man had spoken. She rooted around in the torture chamber until she came up with a scrap of parchment and a bit of grease for writing. "Slowly. Spell it out if you need to."

    She didn''t like this room, she didn''t like the Inquisitor, she didn''t like Dennet Mordain, and she didn''t like the idea of keeping Chandra bound by spells to be her servant. But Janinda had few options, and it felt like fate was just tugging her along moment by moment towards some end that she could not foresee.

 31. Wilke (5)

    Wilke found himself in a very peculiar situation very quickly.

    The footsteps in the dust that Wilke was following led straight to an audience chamber. Although the panel that led into the room was disguised to his magical senses, the hidden wall chamber also led up to some very small, very well concealed observation points, with thin slits hidden behind some very sheer silks up near the top of the room. Without question, these were meant for guards with crossbows to aim and shoot at anyone in the room.

    Naturally, Wilke''s next question was where those guards were at the moment. A peek through the hole told him that the lord of the house was not in the audience chamber, although the jackal girl was; she was standing politely and almost serenely next to a guard, in a position that suggested that when the lord of the house returned, she would be speaking privately with him, rather than being received as an audience. If they weren''t having a real audience... perhaps no guards were coming.

    The girl was attractive at first glance. Her jackal features were understated; a small black nose, sharp teeth, claws, and strange hip and knee structure, but that was about it. Her ears were not completely canine, as many halfbreeds were, but more like human ears that were wider, pointed at the top, and probably would adjust to let her hear her surroundings better.

    Her face, though, was pinched into a grimace-smile that Wilke had often seen on very dangerous enemies--the kind who were too far gone to reason with, the kind who would pull truly suicidal maneuvers, using arts their body was not ready for, and so on. It was the kind of grimace that spoke of being ready at any moment for this damnable thing called "life" to finally be over.

    If you see the jackal girl, slap her. If you see a piece of paper, burn it. Wilke reflected on what Chai had said. Although he had interpreted it before as two options, now that Wilke had the paper in his hand and the girl before him, he wondered if he was meant to do both, and in what order. Rather than acting, he pushed at his Void sense, gaining a bit of perspective on other things going on around him. The jackal girl was alone in the room with the guard, but... only for the moment.

    After that moment, a woman and her attendant guard entered the room through a different concealed entrance and made a beeline for the girl. The jackal, politely, turned and bowed to the woman with a seeming grace and relaxed poise that seemed entirely at odds with the stress Wilke had seen on her face.

    "Chandra. I have spoken with... the one who did this to you. I need you to trust me." The woman took a deep breath and looked at the sheet of parchment before her. Then, slowly, she sounded out a series of nonsense words. "K¡¯annam... d¡¯uordvek... zininaam, k¡¯ultuurva medivh ...konsharm¡¯a."

    Wilke felt a snap through his void senses, the kind of snap that often accompanied an unpleasant supernatural event. It didn''t feel like any one element, per se; it felt like something more primal, the kind of thing that Wild magic would usually be used to read and Light magic would be used to manipulate, but it was too intense, too jumbled, and too short-lived to make sense of. After that, Wilke sensed what was clearly an arcane spell over the girl rearranging in the space around her.

    Arcane spells were weird, and to a simple mage, they often seemed kind of gross. Wilke, who had learned four elements worth of elemental magery and learned a lot about the rest in his studies of martial arts, detected subtle differences in the energy that made up the spell that he couldn''t begin to understand or replicate. They simply didn''t use elemental energies correctly. They worked, so they must be correct, but they were correct in a sense that were of no use to him.

    The spell that was over the girl--Chandra? A nice name, he supposed--rippled in the air around her, invisible to anyone without a well developed magical sense, and it clearly had an effect on her. The girl stiffened and then went limp, but the guard who was there caught her immediately. There was a long period of silence, during which she could only twitch helplessly.You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

    But then she stood up, as though of her own volition, although Wilke''s senses suggested otherwise. No, whatever was going on was not so innocent.

    "How may I serve the Master." Chandra''s voice was icy, but from where Wilke stood, there was new life in her eyes--new intelligence.

    "We need the formula to create the new metal." Janinda''s voice was hard. "We need it now, and we need you to prove that it works. We will give you whatever you need."

    "The Master commanded me to report to him about the metal he was trying to create." She paused, and faced Janinda directly, speaking as clearly as she could. "I will write down what I know about the metal, but I must give it to the Master."

    Janinda shivered. "Yes... I will see that he gets it."

    "I must give it to him."

    Janinda paused, frowned, and nodded. "You must also prove that it works. Create a new bar of the metal and I... will bring you to the Master."

    Chandra relaxed immediately and nodded to her. "Take me to where I must work."

    They exited the room--from the main door, Wilke discovered with relief, and he used his senses to guide him through the hidden ways of the house. The guard post he was sitting at allowed him to go a little further up, into a space perhaps four feet high, which went overtop the hallway; that was just enough room that he could scamper on hands and knees to follow them without banging into anything, although he had to tuck his sword into the back of his belt so it wouldn''t bang on the stone beneath him.

    This space had peepholes only rarely, but Wilke didn''t need them. With his void sense, Wilke was able to get just enough of an impression of their position that he didn''t lose track of them. Mostly, that was his Earth sense reporting on the sounds of their passage through the hall, but using his Earth sense directly would have required that he keep contact with the stone. Using his Wind sense alone, in contrast, would have required that he actively send a sensory thread into the hall below, or constantly attach it to and detach it from the stone.

    The void sense, however, did require incredible concentration, and Wilke felt like he couldn''t focus on three things at once, so in order to make sure he could scamper quickly and not lose track of the target, he had to finally let go of the Light magic spell that was--should have been--keeping the guards from thinking about him.

    The room that the girl was led to did not have an observation hole like the last one, but it did have a passage from the ceiling space to what was clearly an entrance panel. Wilke went straight to it, but paused. The panel, like many of the hidden things in this house, blocked senses; that would conceal him, but it also made it very difficult for him to sense what was going on. He could hear well enough--the panel was thin--but that was all he had.

    For his own safety, though, he stayed there. He really didn''t like the scampering over the hall ceiling, not when his own magical sense told him that the sound of his movement was obvious--more obvious to him, probably, than anyone else.

    "Is this all you require?"

    "Yes, lady."

    "I..." suddenly, the woman''s voice brightened. "I will write down your instructions for the master. You focus on the work. I will give you the written directions when we are done and you can give them to the master. I will need to inspect the work to be sure it is genuine, first. Speak clearly about what you are doing."

    "Of course, lady." Some shuffling and banging. "These metal ingots... are the same. Good. The liquid... is the same. The essence ratio is two Green, two Red, two Amber, one Silver, one Blue, one Purple. The amount... should be just enough to fill up the ingot. The ingot is in the liquid... now. The position of the stones is important; they must form a circle... like so. Connect the stones so that the Green and Red and Amber energies merge... they become a new essence within the ingot. Connect the other three stones into the ingot..."

    Wilke drew in a sharp breath. Combining the lesser three essences normally created Yellow Essence--the same energy that was used for Thunder Magic. However, Thunder magic shouldn''t combine with the other three essences; the elements were split in half, and they were on different halves. As far as he knew, that was simply a rule of elemental magic.

    But then, this wasn''t elemental magic exactly, was it?

    "I... am not sure that I performed the technique adequately. I am certain that part of this sample has transformed, but the entire ingot has not. Perhaps--"

    "Let me see it." There was a pause, then several rings of metal against stone. "Yes... half of the sample was converted. The other half is not." Another pause. "I will... get you more supplies. You will wait here for me to get them. When you create a perfect sample, I will bring you to the Master."

    Wilke was sure from the tone of her voice that it was a transparent lie, but Chandra simply replied, "Of course, Lady."

    There was a sound of a door being shut, and Wilke, gambling that any guards would be posted outside, slid the wall panel aside and stepped into the room.

 32. Chandra (8)

    Chandra''s mind was already reeling with the consequences of what she had done. She knew that the Lady was lying and had gotten what she wanted, but she did, also, trust that the woman would try to help, later. If she didn''t deliver the report to the master, she felt the spell would punish her, but it was out of her hands; she also had no idea if, in the end, the Lady was really on her side, or just using her. From the start, she had been after the secret to the metal; that much was clear.

    What Chandra really wanted was time to process everything. The last thing she needed was more complications... and of course, one had to step right into the room as soon as Janinda left.

    The man was tall, with white hair, in incredible shape, and he had a gentle cast to his features that Chandra''s assassin training--now temporarily resurfaced, although her grip on it felt tenuous--immediately distrusted. He scrambled in through the narrow panel by the floor, then put his hands up in a sign of mock surrender as he rose to his feet. "Good day," he said very quietly, "I am here to help, I promise."

    "Are you here to serve the Master?" Chandra could not keep the annoyance out of her voice. Anything not helping her serve the master was endangering her life in at least two different ways right now.

    "Sure. The Master wanted me to make sure this glyph was done correctly. Would you confirm that?" Wilke, very tenderly, offered her a very familiar looking scrap of paper.

    Chandra had not finished it. She didn''t have the magical strength required. But it had been finished, and beautifully done, with the elemental energies balanced as carefully as she would have done it herself. She couldn''t keep the confusion from her face as she took the paper into her hands. "This... was not meant to be for the Master."

    "The Master only wants to know if it was done correctly," Wilke kept his face even. "Yes or no?"

    "I cannot... answer that question." Something in Chandra refused to let--

    An open-hand slap across the face sent Chandra stumbling into the wall. Her head rang, her fingers immediately felt numb, but more than anything, what she felt was that something bent.

    "Yes or no?" Wilke''s voice was somewhere between confused, apologetic, and concealing great excitement.

    "Yes." Chandra didn''t even need to think about the answer. In that moment, there were no safeguards there to tell her whose side she was supposed to be on. They would re-settle in just a moment, but...

    A flare of light in the dark caught the spellcard in her hand on fire, and it instantly ignited. Time seemed to slow to a crawl as Chandra felt a bolt of lightning tear through her fingertips, up her arms, and into her head. She held her mind stock-still as bolts of yellow fury tore through the columns of liquid fire that were burned into her mind. They flew past her mind, then back, swirling around, smashing line after line of spell apart, freeing her of one restriction after another.

    The last thing that fell apart was somehow outside of her. It was as though a burning crown she had never seen nor felt the weight of broke into sharp-edged pieces and fell off of her head, leaving her...

    Empty.

    That was the immediate reaction: she had just lost a companion. An awful, terrifying, disgusting torturer of a companion, but one she had not been without in many, many long years. A companion who had been with her in her worst moments, and been with her in the moments that were not so bad.The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

    But the other half of the feeling was the return of something she had been nursing for so long; that second heartbeat, that thrum within her sparks. Her training as a Ti-mana had trained her for a long time to be one half of a pair, until death. She looked to that second heartbeat and expected to find a telepathic channel to another living being. Perhaps her partner, all along, had been waiting--

    But of course it wasn''t true. Her partner was dead. It had been almost five years, and he hadn''t come. What she found instead was a telepathic channel to something that was not alive. A man that had, in his dying moments, sworn an oath of service to a god--any god--so that he could remain. Whether a god had heard that oath or not, here he was.

    "You alright?" The man standing next to her offered a hand. "I''m not sure we should stay. My name is Wilke d''Matria, and I''m with the Yunian Order of Masters. We are here to stop the Egrethore family."

    Egrethore. Somehow, Chandra felt like she hadn''t heard the word in a very long time. Memories flowed through her brain like a flood of sludgy, cold, dying blood from a frostbitten limb. Every memory, every word, every thought that appeared in her brain stopped some other thought dead in its tracks. At first she thought that Egrethore meant the people who she was serving. Then, she thought that Egrethore meant the people who had killed her partner. Then, it was the people who had tortured her. Then, it was the ones she was hired to assassinate.

    And then, she realized all those different people were actually the same few people.

    There had been a trade--metallurgy knowledge for an assassination. A standard six-cell was sent out--two wings, each led by one of a pair of elites. Her pair, and her leader, were to kill the Egrethore family in the night.

    But the leader was shocked in the middle of action. Her partner had died; she would not be of much use. It should not have been, because the other half of the cell was supposed to be doing the trade, not the kill. They must have been betrayed.

    But the timing could not have been worse. Chandra had just blasted her way into the boy''s bedchamber. Her momentum carried her forward; this wasn''t the time to back off, but the time to accomplish the mission at all costs. The boy''s face when he saw her was filled with cruel malice, and he used a spell, of a kind she had never seen, and grasped at her heart. He should not have been able to reach her, not through her shields, but he did.

    Chandra''s partner leaped through the window after her. They were trained for this. One person would draw the attention, the other would strike. She remembered the boy turning, his face manic in the moonlight, and a fist-sized beam of flame took her partner in the chest. The shield blocked it, as it should have. He tumbled and turned, his hands preparing more spellcards.

    And Chandra... did something. A hand on her heart turned her body to face her partner, and she stepped close and stabbed him.

    She killed him. The spell the boy put on her controlled her.

    They stayed awake that night. He played with her body. He played with her mind. Made her watch as her own body tore apart her partner. He laughed. He hated her so much, and she hated him so much, hated being alive.

    He took her to a place she could not escape. After that was a nightmare, a long unending nightmare that she was only now waking up from. The thought that she--not Roan, not the Wizard, but she herself--had been burying this whole time was that one moment, that one thrust of the knife. She had been controlled by Roan. She had been controlled by the Wizard. But all that paled in comparison to seeing her other half torn open by her own hand.

    When Chandra could bear to raise her head, she discovered that the wall next to her had been split open and collapsed entirely--how long ago, she wasn''t sure. Wilke sat on a pile of rubble, with three guards laid out in the hallway, all with shining armor and holding crossbows. He was watching her.

    "Ready to go?" was all he asked.

    It took her another couple minutes and several deep breaths. As she stood, it dawned on her just how much weaker she was; she was trained to climb straight up the side of a building this size with nothing but claws and willpower, but now she could barely stand without wobbling unsteadily.

    "Great. Come on, the others will want to meet you. Especially Rin, I think." Wilke gestured. "This way."

 33. Kelthar (2)

    Kel''thar winced at the sound of breaking stone somewhere in the estate. There were many problems that came with the wall-ways being broken into, but the greatest was that someone was bound to order the guards to _check_ all of the wall-ways. Having abandoned his post and stolen the house''s supply of their new mystery metal, Kel''thar was in prime condition to be killed on sight. Alas, there were very few secret ways out of the house from the wall-ways, and of the ones he checked, only one wasn''t being guarded.

    That way didn''t really lead away, though; it led to what the family called the sacred grounds, a spatial node that as far as he knew was terribly tainted with necromancy, broken enchantments, and many other disgusting things. The house had many secrets, and they worst of the secrets all had to be done there.

    That was where the _thing_ lived. The one Amon had made a deal with. It was, in short, not a nice place to visit.

    Still, Kel''thar figured that it was easier to find a place to hide on the other end of that particular wardspace, in the narrow stone hall concealed behind the yard. Even the voidling likely couldn''t find him there, and would likely suspect he had just gone away. The last voidling hadn''t found it, and while Amon had gone to great lengths to ensure that, Kel''thar could only hope the passive defenses would be enough. Those defenses were not insignificant; the creature from the Sacred Grounds had presented them with very expensive and rare gifts in exchange for... well... even a killer like Kel''thar didn''t like to think of what happened to the people presented to that thing.

    But the materials were worth it. Mirrorstone and banewood were each on their own excellent at repelling magic, but together--especially the "true banewood", however it got its hands on that--you simply could not sense or cast through it. Mirrorstone in particular was very rare in this part of the world; it had to be cultivated in the underworld, and most of the underworld beneath this continent had been stripped bare of the creatures that lived there.

    No surprise, since they were enemies of humanity... of all surface-dwelling life, honestly.

    That''s why Kel''thar couldn''t bring himself to trust this creature. He didn''t trust it while he was working for Amon, and he didn''t trust it now that he was working against Amon. That thing was an enemy of them both. It would rip his bones out _and then_ reduce the rest of him to ash. Kel''thar had been forced to watch it happen to traitors before.

    Naturally, that didn''t stop him from being a traitor, it just made him more concerned about being caught. He had a couple of worst-case escape plans, but the one that was the most certain--calling upon the Dark Lord--would also have the highest cost, the least part of that cost being never coming back to this continent, and probably never seeing his dear wife again. Worse, if he never came back to let herand her daughter out of their shackles, they would probably starve to death, and nobody would find them. That would be a real shame; he was very happy with his home life, and he doubt he would find a matched set like them again. They werea family, whatever those two might have wished, and he was exceedingly happy to have made it so.

    It hadn''t originally been his dream. As he considered the creature that lay in the sacred grounds, Kel''thar thought not for the first time that his cruel streak had gotten much more vicious the first time he saw the creature, and it only got worse the longer he spent around the thing''s tainted energies. Perhaps the creature was behind Amon''s cruelty, and Roan''s. Janinda... he had no idea how nasty she could get, because she didn''t confide in Kel''thar the way the men of the family did, but he had to suspect the creature affected her just as much.

    Perhaps this was part of its revenge against humankind, spite for the children of the Arch Sorcerers. But it didn''t matter, just as it didn''t matter whether or not Kel''thar had been tained by the creature. His actions were on his own head, and his victims... Kel''thar laughed quietly to himself. He didn''t really care what happened to them.

    In any case, as Kel''thar heard footsteps and discussions in places where there hadn''t been any, he moved deeper into the labyrinth, finally ending up back at the only unguarded exit--the one that wasn''t an exit, and only concealed a way to the sacred grounds. The wardwalking glyph was unpowered, but a mage of his standing had no problem filling it with enough energy to allow him safe passage.This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

    If anything, he was happy to turn inside-out and appear in the wardspace. Most people were unnerved to know that the edges of the space were sharp, that a person could lose half their body as easily as a finger if they brushed against it. To him, it was comforting, like carrying a sharp knife; he was a killer, and knowing where to find the nearest weapon always set his mind at ease. There were many ways to kill in a wardspace, but none was as sure as driving an enemy into the boundary.

    It wasn''t as though he could do it on accident, anyway. As always, the edges were clear, if dim, and he cruised down the center of the space, finding the wan beam of light that was the exit. He paused, not entirely sure why, and looked back behind him. There was, as always, something a bit... off around the Egrethore estate. But now, he felt it more keenly, and after a moment of thought, he reached for the satchel carrying the metal ingots on his hip. As he laid hands on it, he felt it more strongly, a keen and piercing hatred that seemed to come from the sack itself.

    All of a sudden, a hand exited the sack and gripped his own. If Kel''thar could breathe he would have screamed, but a black fire burned out from his wrist, and lines of it seemed to follow his nerves and veins up his arm and into his chest. A spike of black fire pierced his heart, and more lines of fire burned out from there, covering him head to toe with something...

    It didn''t feel like burning. It took Kel''thar a moment to process that; this was awful, twisted magic, but it was _magic_. And although his mind was now suddenly very sluggish, before the darkness took him completely he remembered where he had seen black fire before; it was the mark of necromancy, something only practiced by Amon and by the creature. It transcended any other magic and was its own beautiful, awful, twisted magic of chaos and death.

    He had watched Amon try unsuccessfully to raise the dead, watched dozens of human beings--men and women, adults and children--beg to be returned to death as the energy made monsters of their flesh and bound them _within_ those things. It seemed to go wrong in so many different ways that it was absolute madness to even think the man would continue, but he did, time and time again.

    Just in case, he''d said, but Kel''thar had never seen nor heard of a single success, and in time Amon stopped. This was a secret that Kel''thar had not spoken of to anyone--out of fear of his own safety. Not from Amon, no; he didn''t fear that many any more than others. But Necromancy was a sin against the gods, and this was the worst sort of it.

    The hand on his wrist pulled, and when Kel''thar''s fingers touched the metal ingot, he felt as though he was touching on another world, a gateway. It was not like gates to the wardspace, designed by men and lit in columns of light. No, he felt cold, like he was on the precipice of an awful, mile-high cliff, and at the bottom was another cliff. If he stepped over the boundary, he might land upright on the other cliff... but he also might not. At worst, he might be caught in between both worlds.

    That thought made him question exactly where those fingers were coming from.

    Although he tried, Kel''thar could not pry his fingers off of the bar of metal. Instead, he found his arm removing it from the sack and holding it before him. Although the ingot was solid, even in the wardspace, he could swear there were eyes within it; he felt the presence of a snarling face, and he felt that he knew the face, even though he could not see it.

    "Roan?" Kel''thar''s could not stop the horror in his voice any more than he could control his arm. "But you''re _dead_!"

    The face in the metal gnashed its teeth at him. If the face could have talked, Kel''thar knew, Roan would have said something pompous and self-righteous, something about taking back his rightful place, something like that. But there was no point; they were in different worlds, and Roan needed all of his strength of will to fight Kel''thar.

    It took him a long time to understand exactly what battle he was losing, and by the time he did, both he and Roan were straddling that divide. Roan, by what powers Kel''thar did not know, was taking his place in Kel''thar''s own body. And although he might have fought him off if he had known that from the start, Roan had done terrible things by now to his mind, and black fire was cutting his mind to pieces.

    When finally he found himself locked on the wrong side of that barrier, Kel''thar realized that it was not a cliff he could simply pass through. This world had a bit of magic, and he might in time learn to control it, but he had left behind all his sparks and all his essence together with his body.

    Before he could contemplate getting his revenge, though, Roan took the piece of metal and threw it at the edge of the wardspace. And although all Kel''thar could see through the boundary was Roan getting smaller, he knew.

    He knew what he would have done in Roan''s shoes, what he should have done from the moment Roan started to fight to control him. He knew where the closest weapon was. As the spatial tears at the edge of the wardspace began crushing his new home, Kel''thar could only watch his own body drift back towards the Egrethore estate.

    Whatever was left of Roan Egrethore was coming to get his revenge, and he had the perfect disguise to carry it out with.

 [Intermission] Erika Kramer

    Erika Kramer paced nervously, as she often did when she was idle.  Among her many worries, one of the many rocky asteroids that made up the planetary ring (which the locals call the Arch) had blocked sunlight from the solar panels for the third time in as many weeks.  She had options, but they were dwindling; she wasn''t keen on the idea of kickstarting the reactor, as the locals always seemed to notice, in spite of the many defenses her long-dead husband had installed to block magical senses in this part of space.

    Keeping secrets was difficult.  Even when all she had to do was sit here quietly, decade by decade, and monitor things, there were too many ways she could be detected.  It mattered only a little now, but sooner or later, a mage would get wise and understand what it took to get to orbit and survive.  Right now, her existence was only known by a very few, and most of those were gods.

    Gods she knew what to do with.  If a god died, people were too scared to investigate; therefore, you could threaten a god into silence and expect them to obey.  But when a mortal dies or is magically bound to silence, someone always thinks they will figure out how to do better, and more people will devote themselves to the search for answers.

    In any event, the low power problem was temporary but damning.  If worst came to worst, Rythva would help her out again, in exchange for getting to use the observatory for a while.  But more importantly, the Dark Lord was starting to act out again, a sign that he was, once again, becoming restless.  He had never been pleased with this stalemate, and if he knew how she was weakening, he would likely start another war.

    Politics.  Erika bared her canine fangs into the darkness but didn''t make a sound, and her tail twitched.  Of all the burdens Robert had left her with, this was the worst of them.  He should have just killed the man instead of imprisoning him.  He should have known he would come out the same as he went in.  The Dark Lord was too powerful to be caged.  He might have been the least of the Arch Sorcerers, but he was always eager to use the power he had, moreso than any of the others.

    Far more than Erika was.  She had inherited a long-standing tradition of timidness and cowardace.  It wasn''t how she was originally, but Erika''s bloodline was flawed.  She ought to have changed it long ago--she had that power--but the idea of changing her own mind was terrifying, especially when she had so much to lose.Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more.

    So much to do.

    To keep her mind off it, she went through one of her daily checks.  She had many of them, but she spaced them out over the month in order to constantly have something to do.  Today she would be checking on the Rakshasa populations, both in the Underworld and in the many spatial nodes that connected to it.

    As expected, there was a surge of activity somewhere under the continent of Contel.  It had been a long time coming; the people there had exterminated the creatures a long time ago, but the underworld was too hot for them to explore too far from home.  In time, like roaches, the creatures had snuck back in, reproduced in the darkness, and plotted revenge.

    It didn''t matter much.  Marion was already aware of them, and the only Djinn in the area was aggressive in her efforts to avoid contact with what remained of her people.  The invasion would be bloody, but it was only ever going to end badly for the Rakshasa.

    Still, she reviewed the scanner readings and considered.  There were a few spatial nodes that linked the underworld to the surface, but those were more useful for humans than Rakshasa; only the more evolved specimens could use enough magic to pass through.  Generally, the goblins themselves would crawl out of the cracks that vented heat from the Underworld to the surface, because they would freeze to death in the moderate temperatures that humans needed to live.

    They could strike out for revenge, but the surface was forever lost to them.  The Arch Sorcerers had seen to that.  At most, they would collect human bodies for food, because the Underworld was not rich in the nutrients they needed.  She did often wonder just how they raised their armies, because it required a lot more food than they should have had.

    As usual, she didn''t actually want the answer to that question, so she didn''t look.

    She switched off the monitors again to save power and went back to pacing.  Before long, she found herself on the shadow side of the station, where she could look out at the stars.  It was comforting, to her.  This place had the same night sky as Earth, with a few alterations, but most would never notice.  ERIKA had known these skies, and so the memory of them was a deep and relaxing part of her soul.  Most of the people in her bloodline had found the stars calming.  The stars were always among the memories passed down from one Erika to the next, along with fond memories of Robert and the other Arch Sorcerers.

    She studied the stars for a long time, then turned around.  She would have a cup of tea, or perhaps two, and then see if the debris was still blocking the solars.  If so, she might have to ask Rythva to help move them, or at least to recharge the batteries for her.  It might be nice to have someone to talk to for a while, too.

 34. Amon (3)

    Amon Egrethore was awakened to the sound of a crash somewhere on his property. In the moments after he awoke, the crawling agony of his wound threatened to completely overwhelm his mind; now in a panic, with his heart pounding, he could feel every heartbeat in the stump of his arm feeling like a fresh new wound opening up.

    It wasn''t; he knew it wasn''t. He knew his wound wasn''t getting worse, because it almost couldn''t. The one thing that would definitely make it worse was using dark magic to silence the pain, standing up, and finding out what was going on.

    Naturally, as the master of the house, he did exactly that. The dark magic he used on his body was like a weapon, silencing nerves and shoving the parts of his mind that should have warned him about the danger into a closet. He was, he decided once again, his own master, and no amount of pain was going to tell him otherwise.

    He didn''t really notice the blood seeping as his wound re-opened. If he had noticed it, he might have recalled that he had killed his healer with his own bare hands. With the darkness magic running through him, a lot of parts of his mind that should have told him what he already knew, what he needed to know, simply didn''t work properly anymore.

    Amon Egrethore drew a long saber from its sheath above his bed and shuffled to the door. It was only when he got there that he realized he didn''t have a spare hand with which to unlock the door--paranoid as he was, he had locked himself in. There were too many betrayals happening, too much disaster. He had no idea for a moment where he had set the key, but yes, now he saw it on the table by his bed.

    He set the saber against the wall. He didn''t notice it fall over, barely registered the sound of metal ringing on stone. He hobbled over, grabbed the key, hobbled back to the door, and unlocked it. His hand went for the saber only to find it missing.

    Fear ran through him. Although he barely understood, every beat of his heart was just a little weaker than the last. Only after he spotted and scrambled after the sword did he realize he had yet to open the door, and as he set the sword aside to grab the handle, it fell again.

    It wasn''t fair.

    The thought ran through his head over and over on repeat. It''s not fair. Not fair. Not fair. He was supposed to be a genius, a ruthless bastard who had risen to become one of the most notorious businessmen central Seyona. How could his sword have fallen again? How could it have dared? How could reality dare suggest that he wasn''t the same ruthless man who had kidnapped and raped a member of the King''s Own--the King''s cousin, at that--and gotten away with it? Blackmail, necromancy, kidnapping, torture, he succeeded at so many things.

    He was supposed to succeed now. His mind didn''t accept the thought that he was bumbling, weak. It simply didn''t enter into his mind. If his sword fell, it was the sword that did it. He knew better, but the thought refused to register.

    Amon Egrethore was the master. All else was his servant.

    When finally he bust out of his room, saber in hand, the guards who had been waiting patiently outside for him gave a head-bow. Amon eyed them with distrust. His sword was unlikely to betray him, so these people were far more suspicious than any mere piece of metal. If there was a conspiracy against him, these people were a real danger.

    "My daughter," Amon said, "now."

    "Would you like--"

    "MY DAUGHTER! NOW!" Amon hadn''t intended to scream, but screaming was all he had. It would hold off the conspiracy. It would make people fall in line.

    The guards ran off, and he trailed after them, unable to keep pace but unwilling and unable to call them back. By the time he had gotten to the stairs, he had no idea where they had gone.

    The stairs provided a new challenge. Amon eyed them, because even his addled mind recognized that his balance was atrocious and getting worse. Without a spare hand to hold the banister, he would have to press his arm against the stone wall to keep his balance. Slowly, a step at a time, he forced his way down. If a pair of guards passed by behind him, perhaps realizing that he had been left behind, well, he was too focused to notice, and then he turned the corner on the switchback and was out of their sight.This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source.

    Amon, unlike his daughter, did not value intelligence or clear thinking in his subordinates, only obedience. The guards would do their best to follow his orders, but what exactly those orders were, they weren''t entirely sure.

    When he finished the set of stairs, he found himself in the long hallway of the third floor, and even he could not miss the rubble and slain guards. Hobbling to it, sword extended, he found they had been guarding an alchemy room--now empty of people, but he imagined he could smell them, believed they could not have gotten far. He waved his sword back and forth menacingly, then stumbled backwards.

    Invisible to him, Wilke--not more than two feet away--watched the display with some amusement, as he held the illusion of the empty room. Wilke could smell the darkness magic pouring off of the man, but still Amon seemed unable to detect the illusion--though it, as light magic, was effectively the same element, if very differently applied. He watched the pudgy, bleeding, demented old man twitch back and forth, then give a shrill screech and start limping back the way he had come. Wilke simply looked back at Chandra, still clutching her head in agony, and shook his head.

    Amon forced himself once again to head down the stairs, although now--finally--one of his guards, following the thin trail of blood, had caught up with him. Amon, although he did not recognize the guard and barely even recognized that he wore the house''s colors, did eventually allow the man to support him on his trip down the stairs, and even accepted his assistance hobbling down the hall.

    Here on the first floor--below ground, if viewed from the front of the house--was the only entrance to the wall-ways that Amon could take in his wounded state. It wasn''t so much the wall-ways themselves, but the passages between levels--steep, narrow, and pitch-black--that Amon could not navigate with only one hand and poor balance. If he wanted to get to Janinda, the guard assured him, she would be with the Inquisitor, and he was beneath even this level of the building.

    This entrance to the wall-ways doubled as his private stockade. Although Amon himself was blind to it, he stumbled through the narrow corridor between thin cubbies, each holding rotting bodies, most chewed to pieces already by rats. If he were in a different state of mind, he might have looked at the one survivor, now very nearly deranged with pain, or noted the pile of flame-singed limbs in a pile on the floor, without any sign of a torso. Neither had been there the last time he passed through, but it had been a while.

    The last narrow stretch of the wall-ways was, of course, a trap; anyone with a signet ring would teleport past it, while anyone fool enough to walk through it was crushed to death by spikes. There were no other ways in or out, save whatever the Inquisitor used to enter and leave the forsaken place. Fortunately, Amon''s ring had been kept from his discarded hand and placed on a necklace around his neck. The guard, without asking or needing to be told, used it to bring the two of them through.

    That brought Amon at long last to his daughter''s side. Janinda had a bit of metal and a sheet of paper, which she had just now presented to the Inquisitor. The inquisitor did not pick up either of the objects, but stared at the two with an intensity reserved for either a genius or an utter fool; it was difficult to tell, not being able to see the Inquisitor''s eyes, whether they held any scrap of understanding or not. For all Amon knew, the lumbering oaf was trying to recognize whether the scribbles on the paper were supposed to be writing, or whether they were all a ruse.

    Amon pushed the guard away and took two steps into the room. Janinda turned to her father, her face already lined by the stress of her job as head of the house, and showed some surprise. But then, in a move that made no sense to Amon at all, she reached back behind her and snatched one of the Inquisitor''s many knives off the wall.

    "You aren''t supposed to be here," she snarled at Amon.

    To Amon, it might have been the last straw, the final betrayal that pushed him over the edge--except that behind him, he heard a laugh.

    "Hello, sister," said a voice Amon didn''t understand, and by the look on her face, neither did Janinda. "We have much to discuss."

    Amon, suddenly, found himself spun around and thrust into the hallway, the one which only existed to serve as a lethal trap. He dropped his sword and fell to his knees, hand reaching for the necklace that held his ring--to find that it wasn''t there.

    Amon''s eyes widened, and he felt magic course through his veins--primal, hot. It felt like a fever, and he was coming to know very well what fever felt like. Ever since his hand had been cut off, it was always there, like an infection.

    Amon felt the guard''s foot on his ass pushing him forwards towards the trigger for the spikes, but Amon placed his hand on the ground and, to everyone''s surprise, vanished into it.

 35. Rin (1)

    The assassin known as Rin was able to endure a lot of things in the name of a mission. When Wilke disappeared and left her without a plan, although it was uncomfortable, she made a long and tedious showing of being a disgruntled inspector searching everywhere for something to be unhappy about. Chai had told Wilke to go back to where he was, so Rin made every effort to not go there in case it should blow his cover... but she still worried and wondered exactly what was going to happen to her. Her people were used to working in teams, and that meant she was used to far better communication than she was getting out of this team of people from the Order.

    When Wilke''s spell fell apart, Rin had no warning except a series of odd noises from the two house guards that were following her. She was, of course, exceptionally paranoid, and so she had a weapon in each hand when she turned to find them dazed and confused. She had little time to guess whether they would have shot her, but they certainly did raise their weapons immediately.

    Ti-mana were trained to over-prepare for a fight. The weapons in her hands were unusual, but completely effective: a small bit of stiff paper with a glyph on it that most would not recognize. Like every card Rin had ever made, this one would always be within her Domain, and she could trigger it with a thought. So when she threw two bits of card at the guards, it was effective in both confusing them and killing them in the same stroke.

    Both cards turned into compact spinning balls of fire in a moment, and both went straight into the neck of their target. She declined the chance to make them explode into a shower of gore, because there was a time and place for spectacle, and this wasn''t it.

    At times like this, she missed her partner. O''ani had died of natural causes many years ago, which took her off the list of active agents; she had been assigned to Seyona afterwards to investigate a complete failure of a team, but the client had not been forthcoming with the details, taking all too many secrets to his grave. She had some suspicions, but as she wasn''t part of a combat squad or even pair, it wasn''t her place to investigate further. She had been itching for this fight for a while, but it wasn''t the same without O''ani. Especially now, when her instincts screamed at her to turn to the mental link and coordinate with him, and he wasn''t there.

    A noise down the hallway turned out to be another guard leveling a crossbow. Rin stepped behind one of the dead guards, grabbing it with both hands to use the chainmailed torso as a shield. As confident as she was, she felt some shock as a noise and flood of pain erupted from her thigh; the crossbowman was a great shot, and had managed to shoot through the leg of his compatriot and into hers. For her, it was only a shallow wound, but now was a bad time for any leg wound.

    So she appeared three cards and pasted them to the dead guard''s torso, activating them to catapult the corpse down the hallway with the force of a ballista shot. Even correcting it twice in midair, she didn''t quite manage to hit the man, who dived out of the way and came back up with the crossbow half reloaded. The next card she threw down the hallway wouldn''t have that problem; a moment later, it exploded with a blinding and deafening bang! Activating two cards on her legs--placed there long ago, among many others--helped Rin propel herself across the distance with practiced grace, leg wound be damned, and a card held in her palm landed firmly on the guard''s forehead with a slap, sticking to him until she was certain her own hand was far enough, and then vanishing with a flash.

    At that moment, the life left the guard''s eyes, and Rin was momentarily alone.

    The first thought that crossed her mind was that it was probably wrong to have killed the guards so soon. Nobody among the Order actually thought these people were innocent, but she could really use someone to question. A crash from above let her know that Wilke was probably in trouble, but--

    No, actually, Rin knew better than that. She would never have recognized Wilke by name or reputation, but assassins studied the movements of warriors, and he was deadly. There was always a chance that he would be snuck up upon, shot in the back, or otherwise defeated by a trick, but she had every reason to think he was on his guard and would be fine for now. Especially with that voidling giving him direction; Master Marion herself, when giving Rin directions on this matter, had made it clear that she was to trust Chai and his advice with her life.

    That did, fortunately, clarify where she should go next. Rather than take a chance at the stairs, she simply moved to the front of a house, blew a nice clean hole in the window, kicked the remaining glass out, and jumped. A spellcard on her chest arrested her momentum just before she landed, and she didn''t so much as bend her knees, just took a quick step forward to maintain her balance.

    "Back here," came Marin''s voice, and Rin found her and Chai in a hastily constructed pit behind the carriage--a pit with a raised front lip high enough to act as a shield, suggesting Marin was expecting that whoever attacked the carriage would either go right through it, knock it backwards into them, or set it on fire. Bemused, Rin simply dropped into the pit and looked between her and Chai.

    Chai was... the same as always. Perhaps a bit more focused. If anything, there was a bit more confusion on his face than normal, a look that suggested a more complicated situation than any of them knew.

    That was, of course, bad.

    "What do you need me to do?" Rin cut straight to the heart of it. She was a warrior, and this--

    "Oh... no, we''re pretty much done for now." Chai shook his head. "I know what you want, but this situation was always going to fall apart." He paused, then looked at Marin. "We''ll be able to start the job when Melle gets back."

    "Melle?" Rin felt her entire body tense. "I don''t... what even is she here to do? She''s not a combatant, she''s not..."This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

    "She''s an expert on spatial nodes and the leyline network," responded Marin quietly. "And... she has a particular familiarity with the underworld."

    Rin paused and let that sink in. Of all the countries on Contel, her island nation of Tiyoma was the only one that still had trouble with goblins creeping out of the underworld. Marin was a generalist mage trained by the Master herself--whether she was related or not was an open question that neither Marin nor Marion deigned to answer, but few thought her name was a coincidence. Wilke was one of many that the Order considered a combat specialist, but his boundless confidence spoke of skills that Rin had not yet seen, and she had seen him do several things.

    "What exactly is our mission here?" Rin narrowed her eyes at Marin, knowing that if anyone had that answer, she would.

    Surprisingly, it was Chai who answered, with a tilt of his head and a gentle smile. "The usual," he said simply. "Solve problems with violence, throw a wrench in the works of a well-laid plan, and leave everyone wondering what just happened."

    Marin was a little more forthcoming. "This was all necessary," she said with a gesture towards the mansion, "and nobody will be sad to see them go. But the Order does not usually interfere inside Seyona for political reasons. The King has been looking for reasons to go to war for a long time, and..." she paused, as though carefully filtering her response, "...we will need him later, if the Goddess is to be believed."

    "The goddess?" Rin raised her eyebrows. She wasn''t a religious person, and it wasn''t clear by context who Marin meant.

    "I am... not at liberty to say more. Suffice it to say, the Church of the Terranic Light guides us on this matter." After a moment, she shook her head. "As for the rakshasa... there is a specific problem here that we may address. We will get to that in time."

    Rin knew little about the Church, except that it was more of a pantheon that collected several deities, including more than one goddess. Still, she forced herself back to the more important discussion. "Fine. What about Wilke?"

    "Oh, I''m fine," came the easy reply from behind her. Rin turned, ready to snap a reply, but didn''t see anyone there--until, a moment later, Wilke and a jackal woman appeared out of thin air. "My lady, may I introduce to you Rin, Marin, and Chai. Ladies and Chai, this is Chandra."

    The name made everything fall into place immediately for Rin. "Chandra... Chandra d''Amanci, partner Kentin d''Amanci, missing in action and presumed killed along with everyone else on that mission." Rin had to struggle to keep the rage from her face. "Years ago they sent me to discover your fate, but our contact died rather than answer even a single question. If I had known..."

    Chandra gave Rin a surprised look, and she scanned Rin''s face for a long moment. After a moment, she shook her head. "I know your face," she said, "but my memories are... my whole mind is not well. Things are too... I don''t know."

    "She was under some kind of mind control spell," offered Wilke evenly. "The card she had prepared--the one Chai told me to burn--was some kind of spellbreaker. I had to finish powering it, but things all worked out on that end." He paused, then looked to Chai. "I notice we aren''t getting spitted by crossbow bolts."

    "She is retreating," offered Chai. "The Lady will make it out. Her father," he glanced at Chandra knowingly, "won''t survive. An enemy will follow them. The Lady''s fate hangs on the choices that dear Chandra makes now."

    Chandra blinked at Chai, too weary to recognize the man''s rambling as being prophetic. "I don''t understand," she said. "What choice...?"

    "The Egrethore house has many sins," said Chai. "The Lady''s hands are by no means clean. She saved you, and I can tell you clearly that she loved to do so, for she has done too little saving and feels the weight of that. If you and Rin choose to chase after her, the Lady''s life may be spared, but you may both die. If you let her go, she may yet live, but she cannot kill the nightmare that chases her. I cannot see far enough to know," and suddenly Chai closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead. "...but I suspect you will meet that nightmare once more in the years to come."

    Chandra stared at Chai, clearly not understanding his confused Void-sick babble. "You want me... to sacrifice my life for that woman?"

    "It is a choice you could make," replied Chai, looking up at her. "Understand, lady, I am trying not to sway you with my words. Neither your death nor hers is certain, but only the three of you working together could kill that nightmare--at least today. The future is always uncertain, and my window on it is closing fast."

    "What is this nightmare?" Chandra stared hard into Chai''s eyes, looking for an answer.

    "It is Him," was all Chai said in reply, although he put odd emphasis on the word.

    Rin watched Chandra go pale, and without knowing who "He" was, she knew what he had done to the woman. He was the one who had kept an assassin alive, tortured her, and bound her to his service. She had little doubt, given Chandra''s well-kept looks, what he had done to her in the meantime. She did not bear the scars of constant torture, and she did not have the physique of one forced into manual labor. Nor had she maintained the muscles or skills needed to be the man''s own pet assassin, to put down his enemies.

    If it were up to Rin, she would chase the man down--

    "But he is dead," whispered Chandra.

    "He was," replied Chai. "Now he is a nightmare."

    Rin, now thoroughly baffled, looked between the two. "How is that possible?"

    "I can''t explain as I am now," said Chai with an apologetic glance. "I saw it. I see it. I may understand later." To Chandra, though, he added, "It was the metal. The one he died holding. It now holds the remnants of another."

    Rin looked at Chandra, waiting to see if the woman was eager to charge off and get revenge. At a word from her, Rin was ready to hunt this... whatever this nightmare was, across the whole of Contel if necessary. But what she saw in Chandra''s eyes was something that made her catch her breath.

    Chandra''s eyes, slowly but surely, began to hold nothing more than exhaustion. Bit by bit, every last ounce of strength fled from her. At first, it could only be seen in her eyes, but then it took over her whole face, and any semblance of youth melted away. It was as if Chandra were aging a decade in the course of a minute, but it was all in the way she held her facial muscles, and in her posture. Bit by bit, every pretense she had been keeping fell apart.

    "I can''t," she said, and the words sounded like a campfire reduced to its last few coals. "I can''t face him again. He was supposed to be dead. This should have been over."

    The others watched as Chandra sunk to her knees in the dirt, her voice becoming quieter and quieter, until she seemed to have passed out on her knees.

    Chai watched her for a long moment, and then brightened. "I was wondering how that would turn out. Now I know." He glanced between the other two, his eyes once more very far away, focused on nothing. "We''ll wait here for a little while longer and then go kill Amon." He leaned back until he was reclining against the stone lip of the pit that Marin had created, and closed his eyes.

    After a moment of this rest, Chai''s face also registered a sudden onset of exhaustion, and when he opened his eyes, for the first time in a very long time, they focused properly on the world in front of him.

 36. "Colle"

    There was a woman riding slowly on horseback who, for reasons Melle and Erron immediately mistrusted, sped up to ride alongside their carriage back towards the Egrethore Estate. She was content to say nothing and let them misunderstand, which Erron, at least, was definitely going to do. After all, Erron--as a mind mage--was very rarely in the company of anyone who he could not understand, unless that person was a mind mage herself.

    She wasn''t. She was just very, very special.

    The woman was, if you looked no more than skin deep, an incredibly erotic woman. Her skin and clothes were perfectly clean; not even road dust seemed to stick to her. Her skin had a thin sheen of oil or sweat, and gave off a scent that was detectable a dozen feet away. She rode her horse as though she had been born on it, and every sway of her body was perfectly graceful.

    Neither Erron or Melle dared to think about the woman in such shallow terms even for a second. Both sensed the same thing from her: an absolute, incredibly powerful lack of anything. No magical sense registered so much as a flicker of power from her, not even things that should naturally have been there. Her flesh did not contain stray elemental power they way it should, nor were there flashes of elemental magic when her nerves and muscles twitched. Either she was something impossible, or more likely, she had magical shields better than either of them had ever seen.

    After a few minutes riding in silence, Melle cleared her throat. "Good afternoon, lady. May we ask your name...?"

    The woman laughed, and shook her head. "No, young lady, that is something you may not know. Better women than you would kill to have it, believe me. If you like, though, you may call me Colle."

    Melle and Erron exchanged looks. "Do you have some business with us?" asked Melle, hesitantly.

    "Not with you. I made an arrangement some time ago with a man, and now, well, suffice it to say that his time on this world is over." She let out something of a sigh. "He accomplished what he desired, though he realizes now that it''s over that it was not enough. If he could do it all over again, he would have had a different desire. But then, if he could do it all over again, so many things would be different." She effortlessly lifted one leg and switched to riding side-saddle, to look at Melle and Erron more directly. She seemed to barely, if at all, need the reins to keep the horse going, and rather than gripping anything, simply put her hands on the beast''s neck and back to steady herself. "Life, I hear, is often like that--you don''t understand until it''s too late." She offered a wide, toothy smile. "I wouldn''t know."

    Erron shivered, but Melle remained composed. She was a good one, the woman who called herself Colle decided. She had poise, and gumption. The other one, the fat one, he was a fool, but she wasn''t bad.

    "You don''t... mean us any harm, I trust." Melle pressed her lips into a line. "If you did, I suppose you would have done something already."

    "You act as though someone in this country might betray you," Colle let the naked sarcasm in her voice run thick, just to be sure that even Erron understood.

    "We have some reason to suspect, perhaps," replied Melle evenly.

    Colle laughed, and rubbed her horse''s neck fondly. The stallion toss his head and trotted a little, and turned his head just a bit to look at her, but continued on walking as though it had been no more than a tease.

    "No," Colle finally answered, "I mean you no harm, but neither will I help, most likely. Perhaps a deal could be made, but I am not overly fond of humans. I am sure that here, of all places, you understand what I mean." With her other hand, Colle gestured outwards, but it was directionless, not pointed either at the castle or the Egrethore estate, not that Melle or Erron could detect. "No, I simply enjoy having a bit of pleasant conversation. I do so miss it some days. But when one lives long enough, it is hard to not notice how one conversation can be just like another. I''ve had many conversations like this one so far, but this isn''t too bad. You haven''t tried to grovel at my feet or control me. You don''t show overt fear nor cowardice. It''s... good." Colle patted the stallion again, who responded with a whinny and a head shake.

    "What are you?" asked Erron bluntly, pain and fear evident in his voice.

    "See, now, that''s the question I always get, and it''s so foolish." Colle turned in the saddle again, to look forward. "You don''t want to know what kind of person I am, but rather what I am capable of. Between the two, doesn''t on tell you so much more? When you know for sure thatI''m different, then all of a sudden you fear me, mistrust me, want to use me. You humans have such a problem with ''others''. It''s repulsive."This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

    "I am sure my companion meant--" began Melle.

    "You needn''t explain what he meant, darling Mellenia. And you don''t need to apologize on his behalf. If I were the spiteful goddess you fear me to be, well, you all would know a lot more about me than you do." Colle offered the other woman a somewhat shy, genuine-looking smile. "He means to defend himself. He believes knowing what I am will do that, or at least help. But in a way, it''s insulting that he just assumes I''m a monster. You worry about it too, I know, but you''re trying, I can see it. You want to give me a chance to show my character. You, Erron, you have spent too long being defensive and haven''t really had any good friends you can laugh with in entirely too long. It''s simply too hard for you to let down your guard. Isn''t that so?"

    Melle looked over at her companion, but Erron just sat there, sweating heavily, unable to tear his eyes away from this peculiar woman.

    "Generation after generation goes by," she said suddenly, "and people make all the same mistakes again. One would have hoped the Order, at least, with their penchant for handing down knowledge, would make fewer mistakes... but it has become a mirthless organization, hasn''t it? Ambition brought you to the Order, and all you find there are other people with ambition. Where is the joy of living among your people? You know how to do everything, and you enjoy nothing. It is sad."

    "But what is saddest," she said after a few moments silence, "is how this isn''t the first generation like that. No doubt, your Master is afraid and ashamed of that man, as is the watcher from afar. But how many generations must be sacrificed in the name of fear?" With that, Colle let out a loud huff, and turned her head away from the two on the cart.

    They all rode in silence for a while. Eventually, Erron and Melle began speaking in low whispers--as though that would keep them from being overheard, but Colle was kind enough not to listen. Whatever argument they had, Melle seemed to win out, and Erron sat in stoic silence, while Melle sat in a more contemplative silence, occasionally glancing over at her.

    "Are we supposed to pretend the threats of the world don''t exist?" asked Melle finally.

    Colle turned to look at the woman, a thoughtful tilt to her head.

    "You are supposed," she replied, "to ask for help."

    "From you?" burst in Erron, as though it was his place to speak.

    Colle dismissed the question with a shrug and a wave of the hand. "The joy of living comes from being together. It comes from loving flaws and only begrudgingly accepting virtues. Because--be honest--how many virtues bring joy? They bring peace and happiness, sure, but joy? If you had a pet that never surprised you, not one day in its whole long life, you would forget it was alive. If your pet worked slavishly to please you and was never once selfish, you would find nothing to love in that creature. You might appreciate it, and you might reciprocate with equal kindness to it, and thus make it appreciate you. But joy, bah! You will discover nothing new in that creature and it will teach you nothing about the world."

    "The flaws and sins of the world, the good ones--not corruption, not infection, but honest flaws born of mistake and misfortune--they show the true virtue of people. When a woman stumbles over a rock, but picks herself up daintily and marches on, she has done no good. When a woman stumbles over a rock and picks it up and throws it into the distance, well, she may have done bad--might have hurt someone else--but hasn''t she also removed the rock so nobody else stumbles? Her wrath--her sin, her violent flaw--exists for a reason. That flaw is worth loving."

    "So too with all life," Colle stood in the saddle to stretch her legs, then settled back down. "My people were a violent sort. Long ago, they embraced their own flaws. But a cruel infection, a corruption spread through the people, and they began to believe that their flaws must be removed, that only virtues should remain. When one day they met a powerful stranger, they were repulsed byhis flaws. They started a fight they could not win, and were destroyed."

    Melle was watching Colle, but the beautiful woman refused to turn back in her direction. "I don''t have any enmity for the stranger who killed my people. His wrath was flawed, but it was a beautiful flaw.He took war-torn lands and made them stronger, better, more beautiful, and in the wake of all that death came new life. I have learned much by watchinghis flaws, and those of his people. Indeed, it is their virtues that I have come to despise--their single-minded devotion to leaving a legacy, as though their legacy mattered more than anyone else''s. Their cold, calculating certainty. They were correct, of course. But how they were correct is less important than how they were wrong. Yetspeaks only of their virtues, and not their flaws, and so they have become cold and calculating. It is sad," she said, finally turning to look Melle in the eyes. "It is a flaw, I think, to worship virtue. In a way, it''s a lovable flaw, because it shows your people wanting to do better. But I am so very tired of watching it play out the same way, over and over. You could do so much better, if you only understood."

    Melle swallowed, looking deep into the woman''s eyes. Finally, she turned away, studying the road ahead.

    She understood who she was talking to, now, though she couldn''t bring herself to say it. Riding next to a powerful sorceress or immortal was one thing; Melle had even once been in the presence of a God, as they spoke of things happening across the world. But never had she met a Djinn, and never would she have expected the woman to be so... philosophical about life and death.

    It made her truly feel small, in a way that no magic or godly power could ever have. The conversation--words with no magic to them at all--revealed her own innocence, ignorance, youth and foolishness. Even her mother could no longer make her feel so small.

    They rode on in silence.

 37. Chandra (9)

    Chandra was not quite ready to get on her way by the time that Chai and the other members of the Order decided that they must. Nor was she really paying attention when they had a somewhat heated argument about someone being sick. Although Chandra was not really able to see or hear what was going on through her tears and exhausted sobbing, she could tell that one person stayed behind to guard her while the rest went on ahead.

    It was supposed to be over.

    There had been a part of her that was so happy to have run Roan through with that sword. Her mind, placid as a lake on the surface, had been churning for months to find any way to slip its bonds. The moment she realized he had been tainted, that he was truly mad, that he was a danger to himself, and that she could kill him to keep him safe from the taint, that was brilliance.

    A brilliant thought that honestly, she wasn''t entirely sure came only from herself. Similarly, there was a part of her all along that was too anxious, too paranoid, to believe that it was over. She had ignored it, because that paranoia had every reason to exist. She was bound by spell and torture to follow Roan, and whole sections of her mind even now were dedicated to trying to figure out what Roan wanted from her, even though he was dead.

    Should have been dead.

    But her partner also wasn''t exactly dead. The link still existed, a link to a ghost. If Chandra''s mind was in terrible shape, the ghost--angel, perhaps--was worse. Where Chandra was forced by mental scars to run her thoughts around in a few specific loops over and over, what remained of Kentin had nothing left but those looping thoughts: protect her, free her, get revenge. Chandra would heal, but the mission was all that there was remaining of her partner.

    It should have been over. They both should have been free. Kentin had been patient, cunning, spending his every ounce of power to protect her, free her. At times he had been forced to watch his wife raped, over and over, abused over and over, tortured over and over. Chandra doubted she could have kept her sanity watching such things happen to him, even if she didn''t feel everything through the psychic link.

    He had borne half her scars, kept her sane, kept her going, and somehow, even though it should have been over, somehow it wasn''t enough. Only now that she was free did she sense how much of a toll had been placed on his mind and soul, the last remnants of Kentin d''Amanci.

    She wished she could free him, but the scarred and damaged mind that she found on the other end of the link didn''t want to be freed. It wanted revenge. It insisted, over and over. Roan Egrethore must be destroyed.

    And yet Chandra had no strength. It wasn''t a matter of willpower. She had trained for decades to become an assassin, and she knew how often missions failed due to arrogance, ignorance, foolishness. Those who didn''t understand their own weakness would always fail--perhaps not the first time, but inevitably.

    Chandra probably could have spent a half hour or four hours sobbing in the dirt, for all she knew. Time was inconsequential to her, and forever would be. What would change when the sun went down? When it rose again? Nothing. Kentin was dead, she was free, Roan had escaped death to become a monster. These were things that the passage of a few hours were not going to change.

    That is what she believed, until she sensed something approaching with the dusk. As she sensed its approach, she felt the spirit of her partner still. At first, Kentin was anxious, as though he had no idea what new problem was appearing. And then... it was clear that he knew exactly what was coming. And Kentin, her brave and beloved husband, slowly deflated, as though he were about to give up.

    It was strange. The resignation that sweeped over him like a wave took so much with it, but somehow, until the very last part of him quieted down, there was still the urge in him to seek revenge. When that powerful wave reached the last bit of him, the bit that simply could not leave without seeing Roan killed, somehow the two thoughts coexisted, neither able to defeat the other. What was coming would be the end, but he dared not leave yet. He dared not.

    Chandra, with more difficulty than she should have had, raised her head. Never had her muscles been so unwilling to cooperate; it went beyond numbness or exhaustion and seemed almost as though her body was in rebellion, unable to act at all. And yet, as though she were trying to lift a weight as wide as the sky and as heavy as a horse, one that shifted to the side every time she tried to move instead of yielding, by force of will and sheer dint of spite, she found a way to raise her head.

    A carriage and a woman on horseback rode into the compound. Rin, the other Ti-mana, was moving towards the carriage, but it was the woman who Kentin knew. Somehow, he pressed once more that thought against her, that unyielding combination of submitting to his own fate, and refusing to accept it. Roan Egrethore must die, it said.If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

    The woman on horseback, gracefully and effortlessly, shifted to a side-saddle riding stance, turning the horse slightly to one side, and slipped from the saddle to the ground without any impact or discomfort. Chandra was no expert on horses, but the woman''s familiarity with the creature was clear; she knew the creature''s every curve and every motion, and there was no doubt or hesitation in her motion, and she landed on her feet without the slightest bend to her knees.

    She was barefoot, realized Chandra after a moment. Her clothes were immaculate, of some kind of firm cloth that she didn''t immediately recognize, but they were also minimal; they reached her elbows and knees, but no more, and her shirt, while modestly cut, was very loose, as though she might at any time pull it off. She was, to put it mildly, a very strange woman to be appearing in such an awful place.

    More odd was that when she gestured with a hand, Chandra found herself lifted into the air and pressed back against the carriage behind her, if gently.

    "Kentin, dear, it is time," the woman said kindly. "As promised, you lived long enough to see her free. What remains is for her alone to face."

    Kentin''s spirit pressed the thought against her one more, urgently, as though trying to extract a promise. Roan Egrethore must be destroyed. But the thought did not loop, and Chandra felt strange, as though the thought were...

    As though the thought were Kentin''s head, now pressed gently against the side of her own. As though one hand was wrapped in her own, fingers gently entwined, and the other held her head gently against him. As though she could feel his tears running down his face, as though she could feel his lips, just once, softly, on her cheek.

    And then he was gone.

    Though it should not have been possible, she saw him there, before her, offering his hand to the lady, who took it. The image was so concrete it could have been physical... and then, suddenly, Kentin lost all color, becoming a statue of ashen white, a statue that dissolved inwards, becoming a soul candle floating in midair. The woman''s hand reached out and cupped that candle, as though it were hers to take, and it vanished.

    In Chandra''s mind, a feminine hand, ever so gently, untangled Kentin''s torn and scarred mind from her own, and she was alone.

    "You have my sympathies," said the woman quietly. "Your fate is one of the worst I have seen in a long time, dear child, made worse by surviving it for so long. In this country in particular, so very many people are victims, but so very few people have had to endure it as long as you. Kentin... I knew when I first heard his soul crying out, that he would endure as much for you, but still it is painful to see such scars. The dead are meant to rest, and leave the future to those who yet live. But he, like many, would never have wanted to rest if it meant you suffered in his place."

    "It is charming, in a way. I suspected back then that you would live either way, perhaps even do better without his constant nagging, but he had no faith. And that cowardice on his part seems to have been right." The woman gave a thoughtful turn of her head as she looked Chandra up and down for a minute. "As little as you have left, I suspect now you would not have made it without him. Such is my failure, for I had faith where I should not have. All of you, halfbreed and human alike, are so strange when it comes to these things."

    "Who are you?" asked Chandra, not entirely sure how to respond to this woman.

    The woman''s smile in return was gentle. "I am afraid, dear heart, that the answer to your question is painful. For I am Djinn, and I can do you no more good on your quest to avenge yourself and your husband. The scent of my people is heavy here, and if they find me, they can control me. None of us sisters have wished to see such a day come to pass, for in their hands, we would be empty vessels once more, a weapon to use against the surface. If you are to win the fight ahead of you, I cannot follow, or they shall find me."

    Chandra met the eyes of the woman, trying to understand. She knew little of Djinn, except that they were ancient gods who owed no allegiance to mankind. She had heard a word for their people, but couldn''t recall it now. They were barbaric things, though, that crawled through the underworld and ate people, flesh and bone.

    Although the thought that such awful creatures were here was terrifying, there was a heavy weight in the back of her mind, and she couldn''t help but return to it time and time again. "I... am not sure," she said tiredly, "that I dare go chase after Roan. There are dark things, and I am..."

    "You are not weak," said Rin suddenly. "Tired, yes, and scared, I can tell. But you are not dead yet, Chandra d''Amanci, and it takes an idiot not to see that this is your destiny. I knew it from the moment Chai said that he was still alive, and if you can''t take his or my word for it, here is a goddess in the flesh telling you that... that you may, and must, walk forward. There is no other path."

    Chandra had no trouble meeting the Djinn''s eyes, but somehow, she could not meet Rin''s. She tried, but as she got close to those intense eyes, she saw something she didn''t want, couldn''t bear.

    She saw doubt. When Chandra looked in the eyes of the goddess, she had no doubts about herself, but when she looked at Rin, those doubts were clouded. Somehow, the two women looking at her reflected different images of herself. Although it was difficult, if not impossible, to understand what each saw in her, she knew that the two images were equally real.

    The Djinn chuckled to herself quietly as Chandra thought it over. "I am not unkind," she said, "and I will do Kentin one more favor, though you two may both regret that I have done it." The woman''s lips curled into a sly grin. "...for a time, at least." And then, without doing any more, she stood up and walked back to her horse, offering a wave over her shoulder. "You two be good to one another."

    At once, there were two copies of the same thought in Chandra''s mind, each slightly different in tone and meaning. What is that supposed to mean?

    And then, Chandra and Rin locked eyes with each other, and both understood.

 38. Chai (2)

    For Chai, recovering from the Void Sickness was about as unpleasant as a bad hangover. He had kind of seen it coming; this was the second time he had experienced the Void Sickness, and although he retained very few memories of the original event, he did recall the last few hours of it. Then, like now, there had been a rapid shortening of his ability to see the grand scheme, the pattern between patterns, the path that the Void itself seemed to want to place him on. Then, like now, it had come with something like an admission of defeat, a solemn sense that there was more work to do, but that his time as a tool of the grand cosmos was over.

    Every Voidling Chai had talked to had the same sense about their time in the Sickness--that it was deliberate, that some being chose some Void-talented mages to walk the world and resolve problems.  Still, nobody seemed to understand who--not the Order, not the few gods he had consulted with, not even the Patron of the order, who was something of a mystery... or at least, according to Master Marion, the Patron had no idea; Chai had never met that person himself.  For him personally, Chai felt that like the path itself, the source of the Sickness seemed to be a thin thread winding through the cosmos, one which couldn''t be pinned down to one place or another. When he reached towards it, even given all of the abilities the sickness itself granted, it was more like his reaching arm was already part of the source of the power, rather than getting even an inch closer to something distant.

    Alas, now was not the time for Chai to sit and contemplate the riddles magic and creation. He simply preferred to ascribe the sickness to Genesis Herself, the universe acting of its own volition.

    His head wasn''t really clear when he finally had to call an end to the rest stop and get everyone moving. His senses, if anything, were more muddy than they had ever been; he was exhausted, and his brain simply didn''t have any strength left to offer. A lesser mage would have preferred to use the Stomach Gift and recharge their body with a set of pills, but Voidlings, alas, were too sensitive. Using the Magic Gifts would heal him, yes, but they would immediately throw off his elemental balance, and it might take days or weeks to regain it. Powerful tools, they were, but very blunt instruments.

    Still, the Sickness had provided him with a very detailed look at the world as it was just a few minutes ago. He knew the layout of the house, what Amon''s plans were, and Janinda''s, what the Nightmare was intending to do, and roughly what was on its mind as it planned its revenge.

    His mission now was neither the Nightmare nor Janinda. The other... although Chai''s head was hurting, he could now at least admit to himself he knew that the creature that had come and would soon leave was a Djinn, although he feared drawing her attention. Deities didn''t like those who were Void Sick, for the very simple reason that Chai had learned her True Name at a glance; he was not, fortunately, stupid enough to use it, and put it immediately out of mind, in case any mind reader should show up. He really ought to have Erron remove the thought from his head, but for now, he had a job to do.

    They had only so much time to kill Amon before he killed himself.

    So Chai led the way, not to the basement where Amon had been, and not to the small audience chamber he had intended to go to, but to the larger main audience hall, which was the only place he would be able to reach. Wilke and Marin followed, Marin showing about as much confidence as Chai''s poor posture and occasional stumbles warranted, while Wilke maintained his facade of being completely unaffected. In truth, Chai had no doubt he was equally troubled, because Chai''s advanced senses had been the cornerstone of the mission, and now they were atrocious. At times, to his own dismay, Chai found himself completely baffled by what his eyes saw, let alone his extra senses. Nevertheless, his steps were, for the most part, sure.

    All was forgiven when he opened the door to an empty audience hall, only for Amon to show up as if on cue a moment later.

    He was a wretched sight, Amon Egrethore. Once, when he was younger, the twisted features of his face had been a mark of ambition and ruthlessness, a sign that he refused to be bound by laws--mortal, godly, or any other kind. His snarl had been famous, and he had argued publicly in the King''s court against any moral or legal oversight into manufactories like his own; he made the case repeatedly that there were three paths the nation could take: to give ambitious people like him free reign, to fund them from the King''s own coffers, or to fall behind as a nation as others stepped ahead. Those hearings, depending on who was telling the story, were full of heresies, sedition, and naked blackmail. One account had him dragging a woman around on a leash while he spoke of his right as a noble of the country. He spent the next few decades facing duels and assassinations, but he pulled through.

    And here, now, his face was not twisted with ambition. Now he was no longer a young man capable of standing up to assassins, and he didn''t have any plans waiting in the wings to fix a duel in his favor. He had only one trick left up his sleeve, and this was exactly the time and place to make him reveal it.

    "Lord Egrethore!" Wilke sounded positively delighted. "A pleasure. I don''t suppose you have any memory of me, do you?"

    Amon''s eyes were, to that point, fixed to the ground as he lay there in pain, but he raised his head to look at Wilke somewhat mechanically, as though he were forcing his body to act. It was frightening, even to Chai who expected it; he was acting like he was no more than someone else''s puppet, although he should have been the one pulling his own strings. There was a long pause as Amon processed the three people in his doorway.

    "...d''Matria. You oversaw one of the duels, long ago. As I recall, you declared I had cheated." Like his actions, Amon''s voice was terrifyingly out of place, empty when it should have been... something else.

    "By which you mean, I caught you cheating," teased Wilke, his voice light and pleasant.

    Amon forced out a laugh. "I suppose at my age, I can admit to that." He pressed his one hand onto the bloody stump of his other, then pulled it away to look at his hand, soaked with blood. "So you are here to kill me?"

    "We are here," replied Chai as quickly as he could, to break into the conversation, "to bear witness to you committing the crime of Necromancy. I say that so that you may understand both that we know, and that we are not here to stop you." He stepped forward and leveled a glare at the broken man. "Yet."The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

    Amon''s face was already emotionless and could not get moreso, but there was a long pause as he considered what Chai had said. Both Wilke and Marin looked to Chai with astonished looks on their faces; this was one of the things that Chai had seen but been unable to express in his previous state. Still, this was probably the easiest way to go forward. Amon wouldn''t deny it, and he had no other tools left.

    "Are you curious?" Amon''s voice was... sick. It contained a morbid something that nobody who heard it liked the sound of. "The secret to immortality... the secret to unlimited power... that secret stolen by the Arch Sorcerors--"

    "Is human souls," said Chai suddenly, concerned that Wilke might get the wrong idea. "I know. The Rakshasa started that trend ages ago--"

    "Yes... it is that which made gods, the distillation of souls to form a Key." Amon gave a half-twisted smile, and for a moment, Chai could see the younger, still-ambitious Amon. "Any Alchemst worth his salt would want to know how that was done, yes? But Necromancy is so much simpler. No need to reform all of creation to form a key. No, magic already knows how to keep one immortal, but it hides this from us. Immortality is a prize held by tyrants--by the gods, damn them all. Bearing the mark of it on you is forbidden, and the gods know this, can see it. That is why you are here, to tempt me. No sooner do I bear the mark than a god comes to strike me down. I''ve no doubt you even have a favorite waiting, watching."

    Chai didn''t bother to deny it, giving Amon a solemn look instead.

    "I wonder, dogs of the Order, how much you know about Necromancy. Surely you have never seen red flames turned black, never felt death in the palm of your hand." Amon, rather than rising to his feet, started drawing on the floor with his blood. Despite all his rhetoric, to Chai, Amon looked for all the world like the desperate man that he was--alone, getting weaker by the moment, and surrounded by his enemies. "You want to witness it? Fine. By Creton''s blood, by my own soul, I spit in the face of the gods. Death be merciful, for I shall not be."

    It was Marin who made the prayer. Chai knew that she would; Wilke was never the sort to follow anyone, let alone take guidance from a god, but Marin had no such pride. She pulled a necklace out of her shirt, a simple circle with a trangle within it, and cast it to the floor before her. "By the three gods of the Terranic Light, I call to thee, bear witness to this abomination, Xethram, god of Eyes."

    Despite it all, Amon finished first, as again, Chai knew he would. There were ways he could have forced this, but... there was something about this that felt right. Justice was to be done only when Amon confessed to his crimes by his own tongue. And he had, even invoking the name of Creton--a dead god from ages past, the first of the Lost, killed by the council of gods for creating Necromancy in the time of the Founders. The name was without meaning, now, or it should have been; Creton''s name remains in the records of the gods, but there is none to answer when the name is spoken.

    Yet somehow, all necromancers know it, and with the word, with the blood, Chai felt something dark moving, something that passed through stone like a ghost, but it was a whirlwind, a towering inferno of something that even Chai''s senses could not quite detect.

    And then, suddenly, there was a man standing quite perfectly on the symbol that Marin had thrown down. Dressed in what might have been starsilk but for the shifting pattern of eyes on the hems of his clothes, he seemed a gentle man, and as the whirlwind of awful power started to corrode the stone beneath Amon''s feet, the man simply reached out with one hand and slapped at the air, as though backhanding an invisible person. Amon, still a good twenty feet away, was thrown ten feet to the side, crashed into the wall, and his head immediately split open. Xethram immediately disregarded the dying man and studied the place where he had been standing.

    "Oh, what a mess you''ve made of this place." Xethram paced forward, and although Chai could not see what happened--a rare thing, for a voidling, but he had never been in the presence of a god doing godly things before--he got the mental image of an invisible blade, small and impossibly thin, cutting away at the world, as though removing only those things tainted by Necromancy and sheperding them away. Then, a ring of eyes--felt but again unseen--expanded out from the god, and he tsked quietly several times.

    Finally, after a pause, he turned to Chai, as though greeting an old friend, and shook his head sadly. "This place has seen much death, and no small amount of heresy, but the spatial node is worse. I trust you are here to take care of the Rakshasa problem...?"

    "Yes, lord Xethram." He paused. "And... we will want evidence to present to the King, to ensure our continued ability--"

    Xethram waved a hand, as though the whole concept was a bother. "The king and his handlers will be aboard soon enough. Even if you were to achieve everything you desire, here, goblins will pour out of every crack in the crust beneath Seyona. Maybe, if we''re unlucky, out of all of Contel."

    "Nevertheless... the Order made a promise."

    "Hm." Xethram smiled, and turned and nodded to Marin, then Wilke. "Hello, hello. I''m sorry, I''m normally better about greeting people."

    "Lord Xethram..." Marin looked down, refusing to meet the god''s eyes. "If I may ask, is Melthius...?"

    "To put it mildly, Melthius, though alive, wishes to be freed from his pain. I have held him in Our grace for only a short while, because the necromancy has done more than merely corrupted him; it has turned him, and I cannot allow him to live. Master Marion will understand... though his sister may not." Xethram paused. "Aside from a few guards, none else remain alive here."

    "What about the Nightmare?" Wilke didn''t seem to mind meeting the god''s eyes; he seemed to find it amusing to stand tall in the face of Xethram, but Xethram was, as always, an enigma among gods. It almost seemed like he was more affronted by Marin''s humility than Wilke''s daring, but Chai could only shake his head anyway.

    "The--oh, that. Your friends will take care of it, or they won''t." Xethram shrugged. "If they put their minds to it, I doubt they''ll fail. I don''t intend to bless them without their knowledge--believe me, that rarely goes well. And... it seems a bad time to interrupt them. I''ll keep an Eye on them for you, though."

    Chai tried to think through what else he knew to ask, although his headache didn''t help matters. "Is that black power... gone?"

    "Stars and eyes, no. And it''s not just the black power, alas, but other awful things. It will take some time to purify the place, and that is better done by a priest. I assume you have some things to talk to Melthius about, but after that, you ought to keep out of the building until they proclaim it done." Xethram offered a wry smile. "If circumstances permitted, I would tell you to stay clear of the spatial node as well. Let Us know before you go in and we''ll shield you, a bit, but there is only so much to be done."

    "You are too kind, Lord Xethram," replied Marin. "As you say, we will see to our companion, and then be gone from this place."

    Xethram looked at her for a moment, then let his facial features fall into a neutral expression. "Let me know if something else comes up." And with that, he was gone.

    Marin stalked forward, moving as though she expected a god to jump once more out of her pendant, and gingerly raised it and placed it in her pocket. She turned once to look at the body of Amon Egrethore, but although he breathed, there was virtually no life left in him.

    Wilke looked at her, then him, and back, before striding up to Amon''s body with an energy he probably didn''t really feel. He knelt where the dying man might catch one last sight of him, and whispered something quietly in the man''s ear. With Chai and Marin both being mages, though, the words were lost on nobody.

    "This," Wilke said cheerfully, "is what happens when you cheat."

 39. Melthius Cantar

    Melthius Cantar had thought, for a very long time, that he was dead. Being killed usually did that; people were not supposed to be dead and not-dead at once. It was not the way of things, but more importantly, it was a contradiction of the sort that even Voidlings agree is unnatural.

    Magic was full of contradictions. The founders of the elemental styles of martial arts--in the first generation after the dark age, the time of the Founders themselves--had found a contradiction in each element, and mages and martial artists both studied those contradictions as serious philosophy. How could flame embody order and chaos both at once? How could the bonds of earth embody both time and space at once? How could the element of Wild--and all life that derives from it--be both mind and body at once?

    Yet to be dead and alive at once? That was less a contradiction and more an error in your definition of death, or perhaps in your definition of life. To be dead is to have lost your life--to have lost the thing that makes you, you. To lose that and still be is not a contradiction in the same sense as the elements. If you are no longer yourself, no longer alive, but someone else is, then you are not the one who is alive. And if you are still yourself, then you never died, even if other important things have changed.

    When eventually he awoke to the fact that he was both dead and alive, he realized that the contradiction was real, and genuine. He was. But his body was no longer his; the connection between it and him was contaminated--stolen, perhaps. Another "him" had lost what it meant to be him. "He" still existed.

    He realized, sitting there trapped for days on end, that his soul had been extracted. There was a thin thing stretching between his body and his soul, but it felt like it must feel to have your intestines fall out; your organs were not meant to have any shape other than the one they naturally have, and when they have moved, something is desperately wrong. Your organs and your soul both know this, although they have no mind to know it with; it is an instinctual thing, for any life, even parts of life, that have Wild energy in them must be both mind and body at once.

    The thin bridge between his body and soul had a body of its own, somehow. It tangibly connected him, and everything on this side was his soul--or else it was his surroundings, whatever contained his soul. As he awoke to that, he began to see things that mortals were not meant to see.

    And after a great deal of looking into that thought and seeing things, he understood. He had been forced to ascend, one step closer to the source of all will and magic... and one step further from reality and law. If he discovered the laws of this place, he might be able to reshape the rules of magic itself with only his willpower, create a new world of his own design. Not a world free of suffering--no, he understood magic too well. The world must be both pleasure and pain at once, balance and imbalance, law and will, order and chaos...

    Time held no meaning for Melthius as he pondered these things, but it did eventually catch up to him. And then at once, he sensed a strange thing, for to see a deity in its true form is indeed rare. For here, further from law and closer to the divine, here there were gods, capable of rewriting the rules of reality. He thought, for a moment, that he might simply reach out and--

    Melthius awoke in his body with no small amount of pain. He realized that he had memories he had never himself experienced, memories of being eaten a piece at a time by rats, of torture and scarring, of forced healing in ways that his body could not explain. He had memories of his own soul being stolen, but from his body''s side. He knew agony he had never experienced.

    And then the Deity laid one hand upon his head and the pain was gone. Melthius neither knew the raven-haired woman nor cared, for life was agony, even when he could not feel it. Contradiction after contradiction... he could not feel it, and yet he had not escaped it. The pain was true, even when it was false. More than anything, he yearned to once more be able to reach out to the source of magic, perhaps this time to alter the ways of reality, to simply make things be as he wished them to be. He had been unable before, but now...

    The deity''s hand on his head was gentle, and she pulled Melth''s head to her shoulder, as though comforting a lost son. Melth felt, for a minute, all that pain and misery seep away, but it was no magic... or perhaps it was the best magic, because it was the truest, most natural magic.

    Being touched as though by a mother, held warmly and with forgiveness, Melth felt a dam break, and he cried. He cried for minutes, or perhaps hours; no part of him cared about time, not now. That awful itch to become one with the source of magic faded, although some part of him knew it did not disappear, and probably would never disappear. And that fact, it seemed, was not lost on the god on whose shoulder he cried. That god patted his head and rocked him gently, but they both knew the simple truth.

    Melth was no god. He could not handle touching that source, not without going mad. It would corrupt him, destroy him. He knew it, and still he wanted it. In spite of believing, himself, that it would corrupt him, he wanted to see that future, where he was corrupt but powerful. He wanted to become twisted, to become one of the fortunate unfortunates, who had the pleasure of making all the mistakes in the world.This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

    Just like Amon Egrethore, the fat old bastard who had killed him. Just like Roan Egrethore, the useless twit of a son who twitched constantly like a drug addict--except never when his father was there. During those times, he was composed, formal. These were people who knew the joy of having power they did not deserve. They feasted on rich foods and slaughtered innocents, sometimes both at once, he was sure. Corruption and power at once? What luxury.

    Melth had never been like this before, but something had changed in him, and he was no longer the man he once was. Alive, yes... but also dead. He still was... but the man he was, was gone.

    Before he had really finished crying, the presence that held him was gone, and he found three people before him, only one immediately familiar--a fellow voidling, whom he had not seen in a good many years. Chai was his name; no family name, as he was not a noble and had not shown any interest in becoming one. Voidlings had the right, according to the Order; they were useful and necessary, and so the Order would protect them, gift them money and power, whatever they wanted.

    Chai had been very demure and gentle; he seemed more a scholar than a warrior, and no use for land or coin. It simply seemed to be a part of his character, and he was content with the consequences. Melth himself, in his youth, had dreamed of fighting, but his studies of the elemental system convinced him that was a tool best left to others. To be a voidling required one to walk a neutral path; some days, yes, you went to war. But some days you must heal others, even enemies. Some days you must heal those that spited you, hurt you, despised you. If that was the right path, you must be prepared to walk down it. Such was the mantle of the Void that lies between all elements: embrace none, and walk upon them all. It was powerful, if perhaps a bit artificial.

    As he was now, Melth wanted none of that. He neither embraced the elements, nor walked upon them. He dreamed of changing them, making them his own. He dreamed of enslaving magic itself. But crying had done him good. He knew that those feelings of hatred and fury were his pain controlling him. And here, now, that pain was dimmed.

    "Hello, Chai," he said, his voice hoarse and broken. "You look... older."

    Chai managed to keep his face composed. "Melthius... I am so sorry. Even though I was walking the path of the Sickness, we could not get here in time to save you. The world itself wanted us to save you, but we could not."

    That only got his blood boiling once more. It sounded to him like a betrayal. The Void itself could not save him? With all the power--

    "What happened here?" The woman who was with them reached out and put her hand on his forehead, gently. "The Lord of Eyes said that you had been... corrupted, by necromancy. Did Amon do this to you?"

    Melthius wanted to rage, but the woman''s hand on his face was cold, and warm at the same time. He soaked up that feeling for a moment, and found that the answer to her question came to him naturally. "No," he said. "His son did. I don''t think Amon even knew about that; he had me brought to a separate place. There is a room--"

    "We can''t go in there," interrupted Chai. "Melthius, necromancy is an abomination. It changes people. What happened to you--"

    "I saw the truth," hissed Melth. "The curtain pulled back, the truth of magic. If I were stronger, I could have changed it. Could have become a god." He paused, and let his head fall back against the cold stone wall, only then becoming aware of his body chained to it. He had been in his head so long, powerless so long, he somehow didn''t notice... and he still didn''t care. He laughed. "If I were stronger... what a joke. I am held here on the brink of death and I think I could be strong."

    The three only looked at him for a time.

    "Where is the Vein?" Suddenly, Chai just seemed tired, as though he had given up on something. There was little mystery what exactly that was, but Melthius chose not to dwell on it, addled as he was. "We have been unable to find it."

    "I was unable myself, when I was here. But Ninama..." Melthius had to pause for a minute as his heart hurt at the thought of her. "...bless her heart, she knew it was there. She couldn''t say so at the time, but she brought it up after we left... but before we were far enough away. She could not have known... but I should have." Melth shook his head, weakly; he could tell that every moment caused him pain, but it was all muted. "Behind a boulder, at the base of the cliff... I am sure it will be sealed by now." He stopped, and looked at Chai. "How did you three know about it?"

    "The Patron," said Chai. "Master Marion was informed of a wave of Rakshasa. Beyond the Vein, there should be a spatial node, and concealed there is likely to be a Rakshasa Sorcerer, or perhaps even an Oracle... someone preparing to stand on the surface world and command a grand army, someone who knows the secrets of men, secrets that Amon most likely gave freely... secrets stolen from the souls of mankind. This family was not given the secrets of necromancy in order to empower them. It was a trade; by eating human souls, they grow stronger, they gain magic. Amon was not alone in feeding them, but the souls he gave would feed an army... did feed one."

    Melthius stood there processing that for a time. Finally, he gave just the slightest shake to his head. "I do not envy you," he said solemnly. "I should, as you are living, and I am dying... I might as well already be dead. The shadow of war... no small war, one that will consume all..."

    "We knew it was coming," replied Chai evenly. "We will prevail, eventually."

    "Life is a series of contradictions," Melthius said, feeling himself suddenly slipping towards sleep--towards death, he knew. One last grace of the gods, to let him die quietly, without pain. "I have been obsessed with it, since I was trapped here. We are ready, but we are not. We knew it was coming, but we know nothing. We have a plan, but we do not. I am dead, Chai, and also alive. I hope so very much..." he closed his eyes, "...that this will be the end. Not a contradiction. Just... over."

    "It is over," promised Chai.

    Melthius both heard him, and did not hear him. He was there, and he was gone.

 40. Janinda (5)

    <h1></h1>

    Janinda Egrethore had always hated being her father''s daughter. To date, the only passably good thing about this family was never having to fear that she would be poor or homeless. Somehow, though, now that everything was going to hell, she found that the trouble and stress only made her blood surge with renewed vigor. Although Amon was a nightmare, it was without a doubt in her blood to survive the worst trials life could offer, and those trials were now upon her.

    Janinda had watched her father carefully plan ways to cheat death, and she had also watched him improvise. She had watched him plan for betrayals, and watched them sneak up on him. She had watched (with some private satisfaction) as Roan became less and less stable over time, even helped him hide or one two minor things from their father, only where she was not utterly repulsed by what he was doing. She thought that was her father''s blood legacy: a legacy of unstable, cruel, wanton malice, one that perhaps she would succumb to some day--but if she ever did, it would only vindicate what she thought about her useless, petty, hateful father. His bloodline should never have existed.

    But now that she was caught in a plot, caught between numerous betrayals, she found herself calmly steering through it. No madness, no hate, just a level-headed ruthlessness.

    Kel''thar had betrayed them; this surprised no-one. Amon had come up with contingencies for Kel''thar before the man was ever hired, including some that Janinda only knew about after she snuck into his files and read through them, some years ago. Amon himself, of course, had refused to do the one and only thing that would save his life, and instead crawled out of his hole to come here of all places. Then, with Kel''thar turning violent, he had made a panicked escape, and Janinda had no time to ensure that he succeeded.

    He no longer mattered. His amputated hand was soaked with blood, his face was pale as death, and he would not survive the day. The Egrethore blood within Janinda saw these pieces line up in her head and understood immediately that the path forward was to leave him behind. What else could she do? Realistically?

    The Inquisitor was behaving oddly; though it--he, she, whatever--should have been slow, ponderous, methodical, and cruel, it was now moving like a very different person. A puppet, perhaps; some kind of construct or worse, the kind that could be sacrificed easily while the one controlling the puppet was safe. If that was the case, for all she knew, she might now be in the presence of a royal alchemist or even the King himself.

    If it were not for that, Janinda would have had the utmost confidence that the Inquisitor could handle Kel''thar, because magic in this room was always strange, and only the Inquisitor seemed unaffected. Even now, as the Inquisitor reached for a torso-sized axe on the wall, lifted it one-handed, and moved towards Kel''thar... she couldn''t shake the thought that something was wrong.

    Why had Kel''thar called her sister? That seemed the least interesting riddle posed to her right now, especially with his death imminent, and yet...

    And yet the world warped around Kel''thar, and the axe became ash, and the inquisitor split into head-sized chunks of meat. Before Janinda could do more than stumble back one step, the loose cloth that covered the body of the inquisitor howled, a sound that she more felt than heard, and the destroyed body, and most of the torture implements carefully racked in this room, vanished.

    If one of these things wasn''t enough to reduce Janinda into a shuddering wreck, three of them together should have been. Yet the blood in Janinda''s veins simply ran cold, and something within her made her stand straighter. This was a disaster, but she was, regrettably, her father''s daughter, and disaster was an old friend.

    "You are Kel''thar," Janinda declared, watching the man''s eyes carefully, measuring him with her mind sense, and she drew her knife, preparing at any moment to raise what magical shields she could. "You are no brother to me. I had only one, and Roan--"

    "Your brother, indeed, is dead. I am sure you enjoyed disposing of the body. You never were a fan of me, after all, at least not after that day." Kel''thar sneered. "You were so eager to run me through--you and my bitch, together. But you never understood what we held in our hands, did you?"

    "It would have to be Bronze Deite," said Janinda, although she knew little of the metal. "What does it matter?"

    "It matters, dear sister, because Deite bridges the gap between worlds--the metal is named for the gods because it touches upon their realm." He gestured with one hand, and the metal ingot flew up from where it lay on the table and into his hand. "When I died, I fell into a place beyond mortal reach, a place the gods could not see. Were it not for that infernal creature of father''s, I might still be dead, but no, I know the secrets he thought he kept from me. Not for nothing did father pollute the same well he drank from, exposing himself and his family to the Taint. To learn the secrets of this metal is to advance in your magery beyond all reason."

    And then, in his hand, the metal twisted.

    Janinda was always one to keep tabs on her family''s abilities, if mostly second-hand. Father''s best element was Darkness magic, of course, but he would not have been able to use it without strong knowledge of Wild and Water magic--the power to forcibly read minds and the power to bind them, and the same with magical phenomenon. Roan learned a great deal about water magic, and some of light and darkness, but he was never good with Wild magic, and he was garbage with the rest.

    Earth magic, especially advanced earth magic, was something foreign to their family. It didn''t do for them to do labor. They were leaders, nobles. And yet in Roan''s hands--if indeed this was Roan in the body of Kel''thar, as he claimed--the metal ingot became a flat disk, and the disc became a symbol, a symbol Janinda had seen in her father''s study, but never heard answers about, a symbol that she knew was there, but some days could not see.Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.

    The symbol was a face that seemed like it was forever screaming. If she had not seen it in the process of being shaped, she would have been unable to recognize it for what it was; as soon as it finished, it no longer held meaning to her. The face was now only a symbol, a thing she didn''t understand. She knew, and was forbidden from understanding.

    "Are you curious?" Kel''thar''s voice was a whisper.

    Janinda closed her eyes and let the cold blood in her veins guide her. "No," she said as she opened her eyes. "Whether you are Roan or Kel''thar, you must know this is not the time. The Order is here, and they will--"

    In response, Kel''thar pressed the metal against the wall, and suddenly there was a long hallway where there had been stone. "Come, sister," the voice said again, and Janinda felt a creature behind the words, a creature that was neither Kel''thar, nor Roan Egrethore. "Only death awaits those that remain. The Order will show you no mercy, for father will die, and you are the last blood to take responsibility for this crime. No... your life in this world is over. Come," he offered his hand, "and start a new life in the next."

    Janinda eyed the hallway, but it appeared to very much be a physical place. She knew without question that touching Kel''thar, or letting him cast upon her, would be death, but running back into the arms of the Order...

    Why not? Did she not dare? So much could be laid at Amon''s feet. She had done little--no, nothing...

    Are you curious? The voice behind the voice whispered to her. Magic once had no rules. The rules of man were put in place in order to guide you, but they only hold you back. They are tools for children. Stand, and you shall see beyond...

    Janinda glanced around, finally finding a large knife--almost thick enough to be another of the Inquisitor''s axes--which she could pick up, in addition to the small knife she already held, and her normal sword. Somehow, she didn''t want to draw her sword, not here... the atmosphere was saturated with the Taint, and she felt the metal itself would rot.

    "My life is not yours," she said, holding the knife towards Kel''thar, or Roan, whoever it was. "If you want me to trust you, even a little, then we will trade. You will take me to a place of my choosing--in this world, not the next--and we can speak there. Someplace safe for you, if you must insist. But I am not going to follow you into madness and death."

    Kel''thar''s head twisted. "We can speak here," he said. "Even the gods dare not approach. Are you afraid of being overheard?"

    "I can feel the Taint here, brother--if you are my brother," she snapped. "You know what it did to you. Certainly, even if you have gained something, somehow, from the Taint... you also know how much you have lost. Allow me to decide for myself whether I do both or neither."

    That made Kel''thar''s smile fade. He regarded Janinda coldly for a long time. And then, with a wave of his hand, the atmosphere that surrounded them both shifted. The taint was still there--it was not that easy to be rid of--but it was so much less powerful that she felt a palpable relief. "Lost, you say," said Kel''thar, and Janinda could hear her brother''s familiar sulking attitude behind the words. "I am among the lost now, sister dearest, but never was I allowed to choose. That creature--the red being in the hidden place--that creature is a monster. It was there that I first saw black flame, and knew the disgusting truth of magic, the secrets of this family, the cruelty of life itself."

    "I followed Father, on a day even you thought he was not at home, but he was. You were young, sister, and trusting. You watched the lane out front as though you saw him leaving, but he was behind you all along. Did you ever know he touched you, when you thought you were alone? Or was he kind enough to hide those from your memories? He knew power too well, sister, and he knew powerlessness. He wanted more than mother. He drank the wine of womanhood and wanted to sample every vintage. He wanted every visitor to forget the feel of his fingers, but feel them they did."

    As Janinda watched rage and disgust in Kel''thar''s face, she lost all doubt that her brother was behind the mask. "That day I hurt you... the day we stopped acting like brother and sister. Back then, I did not understand, because he had done it, and you didn''t understand, would never understand. He won. We both wanted to take, and he succeeded where I failed. You have met Chandra, but I wonder, do you know why the bitch appealed to me so? Because like mother to father, like you to me, she was a woman I should have been unable to have. A prize too great to chase, too dangerous to hold in the palm of your hand. I was supposed to be unworthy."

    Kel''thar stepped up towards Janinda, but she held the long knife between them, and he stopped. "But I had power. The impossible was mine, Jani. She was proof that I was worthy. She was my redemption. I mastered the black power of necromancy and made her a puppet. When she proved too resilient, when I could not bend her entirely to my will, I hired help to break her, and it was all over."

    "After all this time, you still obsess over me?" Janinda''s voice was level. Her brother''s rant was sickening, to be sure, but it was also... less surprising that she had expected it to be. It was something that was... simply... true. She understood now some scars that she had always known she had, and she understood his twisted nature just a little better. But it did not redeem him, and it would not heal her. More importantly, it would not save her. Every fiber of her being was still obsessed with surviving this, and this disgusting display was only a sideshow along the way.

    "No... and very much yes." Kel''thar''s disgusting face leered at her. "I am mad, sister, and I know it. Before my life is done, I will taste you, and I have no doubt you will hate me for it." He licked his lips, but his face fell. "But this is not the time. This forsaken place, sister, does not understand you, and it will not save you. Beyond the walls of this room are traps more deadly than any our ancestors could devise, traps that will spring shut on you if you step back down the hallway... or take any of the other exits."

    "Free yourself," Kel''thar held a hand to her. "I promise not to bite... not yet."

    Janinda was not so far gone as to be swayed, and yet she also could feel an enormous tide of magic behind her brother, magic of a form that did not register to her magical senses. If he used that to smash her will, she knew she would be gone. So she raised the knife and kept it between them, but circled towards the gateway that her brother had opened.

    With her other hand, she lifted her own knife to her throat. "Don''t push me, brother, or I will end myself. So help me, you know death is preferable to your..." she snarled. "...teeth. Take me to the lake. If you can find any shred of sanity there, we will talk again. If not... one or both of us shall die."

    Kel''thar''s eyes had an odd light to them, but as he appraised her, the light seemed to fade. Somehow, Jani thought, she might actually get through to him.

    "As you wish," he said. "I''ll stay back and guide you with words, but you must trust me and follow them. Heaven knows, dear sister, I know I am a boor right now, but you won''t survive the trip without a guide, and only I can see Beyond."

    "What lies down the hall?" As she asked, Janinda took her first hesitant step into the gateway, but the floor on the other side seemed exactly as steady as it appeared to be.

    "That place which is one step closer to divinity," replied Kel''thar. "The closest mankind can possibly come--the border between here and the Astral Plane."

 41. Rin (2)

    There were numerous protocols to being a Ti-mana that had not really come up for either Rin or Chandra in years--protocols about pushing a sense of your own identity into your thoughts so that your partner can easily identify them, and not doing anything to obfuscate emotions, like burying or denying them. That was the main reason why pairs were selected to be sexually compatible--if one person buried a feeling of attraction, it would only make it harder for both of them to think clearly in the future. Far better that they should accept what they felt and act on it freely.

    It fascinated both of them to see how much they remembered those protocols, how easily they slipped naturally into old habits. Although neither had been paired with a woman before, there was a comfortable sense of familiarity--a lack of need to explain what certain emotions, certain hormones meant. They had both gotten there with their previous partners, eventually, but starting with that kind of familiarity was almost novel.

    Not that nothing needed to be explained. Rin quickly found that Chandra''s mind was a mess of wounds, guilt, and terror, and Chandra quickly found that Rin''s mind was unusually rigid, the kind of mind she wouldn''t have been paired with even without all of her trauma. Chandra''s mind had always been sharp, but she needed a partner flexible enough to work with her intelligence. Kentin had been that, and more. Meanwhile, Rin had been paired with someone that accepted her often senseless violent outbursts, directed them, and cultivated them. O''ani was a perfect partner for an assassin--he made her ruthless, and never let her edge dull.

    The Djinn had said that putting the two of them together was a favor, one they would only regret for a time. Neither Chandra nor Rin really trusted that implicitly, but their reasons were opposite--Chandra thought she must have been honest but overconfident, while Rin thought she was mischievous and dishonest. She herself had used the Djinn''s words to push Chandra, for her own reasons, but it wasn''t something she trusted, not emotionally.

    Together, the two of them arrived at a conclusion neither did alone. The Djinn was neither dishonest nor foolish, and had done what she did for a reason.

    By the time the two of them came to that conclusion, they had both adapted enough to the link that they were no longer dizzy and confused by its mere existence. This was mostly a matter of falling back into those old patterns and protocols, of actively taking command of their own minds and making sure the thoughts that bled through were distinct enough from the other''s that there was no confusion. They would still be at a major disadvantage if they had to fight... but first, they had to hunt their prey, and as the moments ticked by, both women feared that the nightmare that was Roan Egrethore might slip away.

    Chandra had never really been given free reign of the house, although she had done some reconnaissance before her mission, and so it was Rin''s knowledge and instincts that ultimately led the two of them in the right direction, although it didn''t seem like it at first. She led the two of them to the basement, the place Wilke had investigated but been forced to abandon... and there they found Wilke, Chai, and Marin respectfully handling the remains of what must have been their missing investigators.

    Chai, who seemed tired and dizzy, shook his head to Rin. "You don''t want to hear this," he said, "but your path lies through the torture room, the one place she," he gestured to Chandra, "truly does not want to return to. It is not far... but you can''t get there from here. She knows how to get there." He paused. "As for time... I don''t remember exactly how long you have, but you aren''t late, not yet. Keep on their tail, but you don''t need to push her."

    The two women exchanged looks, but somehow, Chandra managed to keep a lid on her emotions. It wasn''t the same as burying or repressing the feelings--but it was close. Instead, she had a kind of demented discipline in place, one rooted in terror, but one she accepted. Being on the other end of that link from her was awful, but in a strange way, Rin could tell that her presence was grounding the other woman.

    Then again, she had been linked to a ghost for years. Perhaps Rin''s mere presence was enough, because that sense of presence was all she''d had for so long.

    As it turned out, while Chandra did not know the normal hallways of the castle, she had something of a mental map of the hidden ways of the house, and in particular, one way into that secret room. Rin could tell from the weight that settled over her thoughts that it was not an easy topic, but nobody was happy--not the others and their burial duty, not Rin as she watched of Chandra. To put it mildly, the day had been terrible, and the whole situation stank.Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.

    There was also the inescapable fact that the house was not empty.

    When Chandra begrudgingly led Rin first to the quarters that had once been Roan''s, they began to run into guards and servants, although mostly, the guards seemed to have been recalled somewhere--most likely, to guard the entrance to the Vein. As they reached the third story, though, they found more and more servants, some arming themselves in what was truly a laughable attempt to stop two trained, if retired, assassins.

    Rin, well versed with using her status as a only former assassin, unsheathed a hidden straight sword from her back and leveled it at anyone who challenged her, letting her casual familiarity with the weapon speak for itself. The servants, too, seemed very familiar with the idea of yielding to superior force, although they seemed to be operating in some kind of hidden pattern that was unclear--retreating, hands concealed, into various rooms. All in all, the chance of them being sniped with a crossbow from behind was entirely too high.

    Fortunately, Rin was, temporarily at least, immune to simple weapons of that type. The barriers her spellcards provided would not last forever, and might break under coordinated assault or magically empowered bolts, but as long as she was dragging Chandra around, she was willing to burn up spellcards to power the barrier constantly.

    Chandra turned to look at her with that thought, and Rin could tell that she wanted to object to being thought of as dead weight--but no, she understood. A feral part of Chandra wanted to have pride... and that was a good thing, Rin decided, and pushed a subdued sense of acknowledgement back across the link to her. She was an assassin once, and she would be again, even if now--

    The shiver that ran through Chandra then was as powerful as it was unaccountable. Even if now you''re used goods, a thought came across the link, and it was a familiar memory to Chandra, one she could picture so vividly that it leaked across to Rin as an image. Chandra was face down on a cold stone floor, every joint burning, exposed skin aching until it was nearly numb, and Roan''s foot was on her neck, pressing her down. Nobody would ever want you back. This is where you belong, now.

    Rin forced an emotion across the link with the force of a slap, but Chandra barely needed it. Although the memory was a scar across her mind, it was only a scar, now--something healed, or healing, a wound long since gone.

    "I was never his," said Chandra aloud, suddenly, and Rin suddenly stopped. "I was a slave to his magic, a damaged thing, but I was never his."

    "You were never a ''thing''," Rin returned, but Chandra cut her off with a violent swipe of her hand.

    "I was," she said, and the hurt and rage in her voice was palpable. Don''t take this from me, her thoughts said, although Rin didn''t immediately understand. "Rin... please... you mean well, but you have to understand. I was not myself. I feel it, even now. Another thing in me, one that follows, submits, succumbs to its wounds. One that pretended to enjoy it, because it had no feelings left. They did not wish me to be a person, and what they created was not one. Because..." she hesitated. "Because of him, I survived. Because he held on, because I wasn''t alone. But I survived inside it. Inside something else, something inhuman."

    Rin studied her face. After a long moment, she nodded. "You didn''t endure his tortures," she finished the thought. "you broke, and Kentin put you back together."

    Chandra could not quite meet Rin''s eyes.

    "All the more reason." Rin took Chandra''s hand. "You were never a ''thing'', Chandra. You were always you, just... hiding, in order to survive. Don''t put a weight on your own shoulders that belongs elsewhere."

    The two of them sat there for a long moment, measuring their own feelings and each other''s. After a moment, Rin decided that Chandra really didn''t need her reassurances. After facing hell for years, she simply already was ready to face more of it, if need be, to see this all be over. Rin couldn''t begin to understand where that strength came from; it didn''t seem to be something that Kentin had given her. She simply was that strong.

    "It''s all I have left," replied Chandra. "My mind was always my strongest feature, and it was all I had. So yes..." Finally, she met Rin''s eyes, and in those eyes, Rin saw a challenge, naked and daring--a challenge for Rin to break her, if she dared try. "I will go through hell to see Roan dead. One more time... one last time... for Kentin, and for myself. I will see the end of this."

    Rin absorbed her words, and looked deeply into Chandra''s eyes. She nodded, and they both understood the feelings behind the action. No more treating her like a liability.

    They pushed their way into Roan''s study, and then his bedroom. Somehow, the smell of burned flesh here put just a hint of satisfied smile on Chandra''s face, and then she put it out of mind and pressed her hand against the secret panel.

    "Just once more," she whispered to nobody, as they descended into the darkness of the maze hidden inside the house''s walls.

 [Hiatus]

    Sorry that this has been dead for a little while.  My creative process is uncertain in the best of times and I am going through a very stressful month including a car fire, not having the tools to do my job, a forced vacation, and at the time of posting I''m 95% sure my dog is about to die.  In addition, I forced the last few chapters of O&L and I''m pretty sure that I need to go back and retcon a little bit in order to make the conclusion flow more smoothly, but I haven''t figure out what to do about it yet.  I am amazed honestly I am keeping my other two stories up to date in the meantime.This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

    I am mostly committed to finishing O&L soonish.  The scope of the project (began as a Nanowrimo) was always a self-contained story, unlike the other two where I am still not looking out for an end or even necessarily a between-book break.  So I''m pretty sure this will get closure.  But, again, the last couple chapters might get redone along the way.

    Sorry for any inconvenience and thanks for reading.