Tag Archives: Blackbeard

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“So, we’ve got that hangin’ over us all fuckin’ summer,” Ruda groused. “Come back for our sophomore year and immediately get put to work scrubbing mulch and basting doors and whatever the hell housekeeping tasks Stew thinks up until Tellwyrn gets tired of our suffering. Hoo-fucking-ray.”

“Scrubbing mulch?” Gabriel said, his eyebrows shooting upward. “Have you ever cleaned anything in your life, Princess?”

“Arquin, you will never be demonic enough or divine enough that I will refrain from kicking your ass. Bring the skeevy dude in the hat down here and I’ll kick his ass, too.”

“Sorry to interrupt your blasphemy,” Trissiny said, raising an eyebrow, “but I won’t be joining in your mulch-scrubbing this fall. I’m staying on campus over the summer.”

“Yup!” Fross chimed, bobbing around them. “Professor Tellwyrn is letting us do our punishment duty over the summer and get it out of the way. It’s pretty accommodating of her! We broke a lot of campus rules.”

“Considering she’s still punishing us for obeying a direct command from the gods, I’m not gonna get too worked up about her generosity,” Gabriel muttered.

“To be technical,” said Fross, “she’s punishing Trissiny and Toby for obeying a direct command from the gods, which is actually not at all out of character given her history. The rest of us don’t really have an excuse. I mean, if she’s not gonna accept a divine mandate as a good reason, citing friendship probably isn’t gonna help. Anyhow, I’ve gotta go finish cleaning up the spell lab I was using. Nobody leave campus before I can say goodbye! Oh, Ruda, looks like your dad is here. See ya later!”

The pixie zipped off toward the magical arts building in a silver streak, leaving the others staring after her.

“What?” Ruda demanded. “My—what? Oh, shit.”

It was a characteristically sunny day, with a brisk wind across the mountain cutting the prairie heat. The campus of the University was teeming with people, despite the fact that many of the students were already gone. Parents, friends and family members were everywhere, picking up their kids and being shown around on one of the few occasions when non-initiates of the University were welcomed there. A few curiosity-seekers had also snuck in, though they seldom lasted long before Tellwyrn found and disposed of them. Professor Rafe had already been informed that if he didn’t remove the betting board set up in the cafeteria speculating on where various journalists and pilgrims had been teleported to, he himself would be walking home from Shaathvar.

Now, a sizable party of men and women in feathered hats, heavy boots and greatcoats were making their way up the avenue to the main lawn, on which the six freshmen had just come to a stop. Toby and Juniper had both departed that morning, leaving the rest to make more leisurely goodbyes as they still had time.

Trissiny touched Ruda’s shoulder lightly from behind. “Are you okay? Do you need—”

“No,” she said quietly. “I have to face this. Guys, if I don’t get to talk to you again, enjoy your summer.” Squaring her shoulders, she stepped forward, striding up to the group of oncoming Punaji.

They stopped at their princess’s approach, parting to let the towering figure in the middle come forth. King Rajakhan was a looming wall of a man, a bulky mass of muscle who would have looked squat due to his build if the proximity of more normally-sized people didn’t reveal that he was also hugely tall. The bushy black beard which was the source of his nickname did not conceal a tremendous scowl. He stepped up, folding brawny arms across his massive chest, and stared down at his daughter.

Ruda, uncharacteristically subdued, removed her hat respectfully and stopped a mere yard from him. The onlooking pirates watched, impassive and silent; the remaining freshmen edged closer.

“The news I hear has impelled me to spend from our people’s treasury to have portal mages bring me here,” he rumbled. “I am pleased to see you whole, daughter. Less pleased by the report I have from Professor Tellwyrn. I understand that you were given an order to evacuate, and you disobeyed it. Through magical subterfuge. This is true?”

“My friends—my crew—had to stay, by orders of the gods,” she said quietly. “I wasn’t raised to leave people behind in danger.”

“I hear your justifications, but not the answer I asked for,” Blackbeard growled.

Ruda stiffened her shoulders slightly. “This is true, sir.”

He snorted. “I further understand that you slew three shadowlord demons and uncounted buzzers yourself, placing your own life in danger.”

“Yes, sir,” she said woodenly. “Alongside eight of the best people I know.”

“I further understand that you were stopped only because you somehow ingested the poison blood of your enemy.”

“Yes, sir. We grappled too closely for swords. I bit its throat.” Her lips twisted in remembered disgust. “They have very tough hides.”

He slowly began drawing in a very deep breath, his huge chest swelling even further, then let it out in one explosive sigh that made his beard momentarily flap like a banner. Somehow, it occurred to nobody to laugh at what would otherwise be a comical sight.

“In all the nations on land or sea,” the Pirate King said with a faint tremor in his voice, reaching out to place one enormous hairy hand on Ruda’s shoulder, “there has never been a prouder father.”

“Papa!” Ruda squealed, launching herself into his arms. Rajakhan’s laughter boomed across the quad as he spun her around in circles, the pirates around him adding their cheers to the noise (and half of them brandishing weapons).

“As I live and breathe,” Gabriel said in wonder.

“I feel I have just gained a better understanding of Ruda’s upbringing,” Shaeine said softly, “and some of what has occurred thereafter.”

“Hey, Teal,” Tanq said, approaching the group but watching the loud pirates curiously. “Does your family own a zeppelin?”

Teal abruptly whirled toward him, growing pale. “…why do you ask?”

“I just wondered. There’s a little one moored at the Rail platform down in town; I saw it when I was sending a scroll… It’s got the Falconer Industries crest on the balloon. I just wondered if it was a company craft or if FI was making them now. Pretty sweet little rig, if I’m any judge.”

“Oh no,” Teal groaned, clapping a hand over her eyes. “Oh, no. I told them… Augh!”

She took off down the path at a near run.

Tanq blinked, staring after her, then turned to the rest of the group. “What’d I say?”

“Teal laboriously made plans regarding our travel arrangements from the campus,” Shaeine replied. “I gather they have just been abruptly modified. Excuse me, please? If I don’t see you again, my friends, I wish you the best over the coming months and look forward to our reunion.” She bowed to them, then favored them with one of her rare, sincere smiles, before turning and gliding off after Teal.


She was about to unleash Vadrieny and swoop upward for a better view when a fortuitous gap between buildings happened to give her a view down onto Last Rock, including a familiar silver shape perched at its edges, with an even more familiar sigil emblazoned on its side.

“Why!?” she groaned. “Why would they do that? I had everything arranged!”

They care about you, and this campus was recently the site of a major crisis. Which we jumped into the middle of. Makes perfect sense to me.

“Oh, whose side are you on?” she snapped. Vadrieny’s silent laugh bubbled through her.

It’ll be all right, Teal. They’ll understand.

“I know how to deal with them. I was gonna have time to explain things on the magic mirror, and then they’d have had the carriage ride to get used to it… Oh, gods, this is gonna be so awkward. Damn it, why don’t they ever listen?”

So they may not understand as quickly, or as easily. They will, though.

“Teal!”

She whirled at hearing her name, beholding two well-known figures striding quickly toward her from the direction of the upper terrace.

“Speak of the demon,” she said fatalistically.

“Well, that’s a nice way to greet your parents,” Marguerite Falconer said, trying without success to look annoyed. Beside her, Geoffrey grinned in delight, not even making the effort.

“This place is somehow smaller than I was imagining it,” he said. “But so…gothic. With all this grandiose architecture and these overgrown paths, I almost can’t believe it’s only fifty years old. We actually managed to get lost, if you can believe that!”

“I can believe it,” Teal said in exasperation. “What are you doing here with that airship? I made plans! Everything was arranged!”

“Well, excuse us for jumping the wand,” Marguerite replied, raising her eyebrows and pushing her spectacles back up her nose. “What with our only child, who has already suffered far more than her fair share of disasters, being stuck in the middle of a hellgate, we were just a little anxious to see you again.”

“C’mere,” Geoffrey ordered, stepping up and sweeping Teal into a hug. She hugged him back, despite her annoyance, relaxing into the embrace as her mother joined it from behind.

“It’s not that I’m not happy to see you,” she mumbled into her father’s cardigan. “I just wanted to… I mean, I had a plan. There was some stuff I wanted to, uh, get you ready for before it, y’know…”

“Oh, Teal,” Marguerite said reproachfully, finally stepping back. Geoffrey released her, too, ruffling her hair. “Dear, it’s all right. It’s not as if this is some great secret. You know we’re fine with it.”

“I mean, for heaven’s sakes, our best friend is an elf,” Geoffrey added with a grin. “You said you were bringing someone special home for the summer holiday. We can manage to put two and two together.”

“I’m sure we’ll love her. Our daughter can only have good taste!”

Teal sighed heavily, staring hopelessly at them. At a glance, nobody would take the Falconers for two of the richest people in the Empire. They were a matched set, both with mouse-brown hair cut short, which looked almost boyish on Marguerite and rather shaggy on Geoffrey. He had a round, florid face decorated by a beard in need of trimming, while her pointed features had been described as “elfin,” but they shared a preference for comfortable, casual clothes in a masculine style. Even their glasses were identical.

“Well, I did try,” she said finally. “Give me credit for that much, at least, when this is all falling out.”

“Oh, Teal, I’ve missed you,” Marguerite said fondly. “Dramatic streak and all.” Geoffrey snorted a laugh.

“Teal? Is everything all right?”

Teal heaved a short, shallow sigh, then half-turned to smile at Shaeine as the priestess glided up to them. “Well, that remains to be seen. Mom, Dad, may I present Shaeine nur Ashaele d’zin Awarrion. Shaeine, these are my parents, Marguerite and Geoffrey Falconer.”

“It is an honor and a pleasure,” Shaeine said, bowing deeply to the Falconers. “Your daughter is a great credit to your lineage.”

“My, isn’t she well-mannered,” Marguerite said with a broad smile. “Teal, I can only hope the rest of your friends are such a good influence.”

“I gather you have not introduced them to Ruda yet,” Shaeine said calmly. Teal snorted a laugh.

“Ruda Punaji?” Geoffrey said with a grin. “I’m curious to meet that one, after your letters. But maybe in a more, you know, controlled environment.”

“Oh, stop it,” Marguerite chided, swatting him playfully. “It’s lovely to meet you, Sheen. Don’t mind my husband, he belongs in a workshop, not among civilized people.”

“That was an excellent try,” the drow replied with a smile. “It’s actually Sha-ayne.”

“It’s all one vowel,” Teal added. “Just changes pronunciation partway.”

“Really?” Geoffrey marveled. “I fancy I speak a smidge of elvish. Not as well as Teal, of course, but that’s a new one.”

“Don’t be an ass, Geoff, she’s Narisian. Of course they have a different dialect. Shaeine, yes? How did I do?”

“Perfect,” Shaeine replied, smiling more broadly. “You have an agile tongue, Mrs. Falconer.”

“I’ll say she—”

“Don’t you dare!” Marguerite shrieked, smacking her husband across the back of his head. He caught his flying glasses, laughing uproariously. Teal covered her eyes with a hand.

“Anyway,” Marguerite said with more dignity as Geoffrey readjusted his glasses, still chuckling, “I’m sure we’ll be glad to meet all your classmates, honey, but we should see about getting your luggage together.”

“We saw that crazy tower you’re apparently living in,” Geoffrey added, “but I guess it’s not open to visitors. Inconvenient, but a fine policy in my opinion! I remember my own college days. Barely. It’s also a fine policy that this is a dry campus.”

“Will your girlfriend be meeting us there?” Marguerite asked. “I’m just about beside myself with curiosity! Don’t look at me like that, it’s a mother’s prerogative.”

Teal closed her eyes, inhaled deeply through her teeth, and let the breath out through her nose, trying to ignore the hysterical mirth echoing in her mind from her demon counterpart. Shaeine half-turned to look at her, raising an eyebrow.

The silence stretched out.

Suddenly Marguerite’s face paled in comprehension, and she settled a wide-eyed stare on Shaeine. “Oh.”

Geoffrey looked at his wife, then his daughter, then shrugged, still smiling innocently. “What?”


“So, is this the new thing?” Trissiny asked, pointing at the sword hanging from Gabriel’s belt opposite his new wand, which rested in a holster. “You’re a swordsman now?”

“Oh…well.” He shrugged uncomfortably, placing a hand on Ariel’s hilt. “I just… I don’t know, I find it kind of comforting, having it there. Is that weird?”

“Taking comfort in the weight of a sword is certainly not weird to me,” she said with a smile. “I’m a little surprised you would enjoy it, though.”

“Yeah, I kind of am, too,” he said ruefully. “It’s just… The whole world just got turned upside-down on me, you know? I’ve only had Ariel here for a couple months, but it’s still something familiar. Something I can literally hang onto.”

“I do, know,” she said quietly. “I remember the feeling all too well. It was a very different circumstance, of course… I couldn’t begin to guess whether that would make it more or less shocking to experience.”

He laughed. “Less. Much less. Modesty aside, Triss, you’re pretty much a model Avenist. Me, I’m not even Vidian. I never even thought about whether I’d want to be. It’s not as if I ever prayed, after that one time. Burned my goddamn tongue, and I mean that as literally as possible.”

Trissiny nodded. “There’s… I guess there is just no precedent for what you’re having to deal with. I’ll help if I can at all, though. Anything you need to talk about, just ask. And not just me, of course. Do you know how soon Toby is coming back to campus?”

“Just a couple of weeks, actually. He needs to spend some time with the Omnists and the Universal Church over the summer, but apparently shepherding my clumsy ass is also a significant priority.”

“I have the same duties,” she said solemnly. “But I’m not making my trips to Tiraas and Viridill until later in the summer. I guess I just drew the first Gabriel shift.”

“Har har.” He stopped walking, and she paused beside him. They were in a relatively shady intersection of paths, with the bridge to Clarke Tower just up ahead. Towering elms, swaying and whispering softly in the gentle wind, shielded them from the direct sun. “Triss, I am scared out of my fucking mind.”

“I know.” She squeezed his shoulder. “I know. Look, Gabriel, it’s… It’s just a hell of a thing, okay? But…and I mean this sincerely…you will be all right. I truly do believe you can do this. I would never have predicted it in a million years, but in hindsight, it makes a great deal of sense. This will work. You’ll be fine.”

“That…” He swallowed painfully. “Hah. That means a lot, Trissiny. Especially from you. More than from anyone else, maybe.”

“Well, there’s that, too,” she said, smiling. “Whatever else happens, Gabe, you can always count on me to let you know when you screw up.”

“Well, sure. It hardly even needs to be said, does it?”

She laughed softly. “Well…anyhow. I’ve got to head inside here for a minute. You’re going to be in the cafeteria for dinner?”

“Along with the other losers who are staying over the summer, yup.” He stuck his hands in his coat pockets. “I do need to visit the Vidians at some point, but they’re coming here. So’s my dad. Apparently there’s kind of a controversy around me at the moment. Can’t imagine why.”

“Probably best not to have you in circulation just yet,” she said with a grin. “Well… I guess I’ll see you around campus, then?”

“Yeah,” he said, smiling back. “See you around.”

Gabriel watched her go, until she passed through the gate onto the bridge itself, then shook his head, still smiling, and resumed his slow way along the path.

“That girl has a powerful need for your approval.”

“What?” He laughed aloud. “That is the craziest thing I’ve ever heard in my life. And considering what recently—”

He stopped, frowning and staring around. There was no one nearby.

“Granted, I only know what I’ve heard from conversations around you, but didn’t she try to murder you once? That would weigh on the conscience of anybody who has one. The more she gets to know you as a real person, rather than the imaginary monster she was reacting to at the time, the uglier that whole business must look to her. Of course, a properly spiritual person could recognize all this and deal with it, but… Let’s be honest, Avei doesn’t go out of her way to pick deep thinkers.”

He had spun this way and that, growing increasingly agitated as the voice droned on, finally resting his hand on the sword’s hilt. Through it, he could feel something. Not quite energy, but the potential for it; the same feeling he was used to experiencing when working with raw magic.

“You… You’re the sword!”

“’The sword.’ That’s lovely, Gabriel, really charming. It’s not as if you don’t know my name. Look, I suggest you find a relatively private place to sit for a while. We’ve got a lot to talk about.”


Tellwyrn was grumbling to herself, mostly about journalists, as she kicked the door shut behind her and strode toward her desk. She hadn’t gotten three steps into the office before her chair spun around, revealing a grinning figure in a red dress perched therein.

“Arachne! Darling!”

“Out of my seat, Lil,” she said curtly.

“Ooh, have I told you how much I love this new schoolmarm thing you have going on?” Elilial trilled, giggling coquettishly. “So stern! So upright! It’s very convincing, dear. A person would never guess how much fun you are in bed.”

The chair jerked sideways and tipped, roughly depositing its occupant on the carpet.

“Oof,” the goddess of cunning said reproachfully, getting back to her feet and rubbing her bum. “Well, if you’re going to be that way…”

“What do you want?” Tellwyrn demanded, stepping around the desk and plopping down in her recently vacated chair. “It’s not as if I ever see you unless you’ve just done something terrible or are about to. You’re just as bad as the others in that regard. Though in this case I guess there’s rather a large elephant in the room, isn’t there?”

“All right, yes, that’s true,” Elilial allowed, strolling casually around to the front of the desk. “I do owe you an apology. Believe me, Arachne, boring new hellgates onto your property is most definitely not on my agenda. It seems one of my gnagrethycts took it upon himself to assist in that idiotic enterprise, which I consider a breach of my promise not to bring harm on you or yours. I am humbly sorry for my negligence.”

“Mm,” the Professor said noncommittally. “I heard you were down to seven of them.”

“Six, now,” the goddess said with grim satisfaction. “Demons get agitated if you lean on them too hard; I do try to let them have some leeway. But there are some things I simply will not put up with.”

“A gnagrethyct, or anything else—even you—couldn’t rip open a dimensional portal without having someone on the other side to work with,” Tellwyrn said, leaning back in the chair and staring at the goddess over the tops of her spectacles. “And nobody on this campus could have pulled off such a thing without tripping my wards…unless they were an initiate of my University. Any thoughts on that?”

“I may have a few ideas, yes,” Elilial purred. “What’s it worth to you?”

“You are having a deleterious effect on my already-strained patience.”

“Oh, Arachne, this is your whole problem; you’ve totally forgotten how to enjoy life. Yes, fine, I may have given a helping hand to some of your dear students.”

“You promised to leave them alone, Lil.”

“I promised to bring them no harm.” Elilial held up a finger. “In fact, I went one better and did the opposite. You know I caught a couple of those little scamps trying to summon a greater djinn? I cannot imagine what possessed them to think they could control such a thing. Pun intended. Really, you should keep a closer eye on your kids; I can’t be saving their lives all the time.”

“You haven’t spent much time around college students if you believe they think before doing shit,” Tellwyrn growled. “Did they at least try to hide in the Crawl first? If any of those little morons did that in one of my spell labs I swear I’ll visit them all at home in alphabetical order and slap their heads backwards.”

“Yes, yes, you’re very fearsome,” she said condescendingly. “But enough about that, why don’t we discuss the future?”

“Oh, you’re already going to tell me what you actually want?” Tellwyrn said dryly. “That has to be a record. Are you in a hurry for some reason?”

“Don’t trouble yourself about my problems, dear, though I do appreciate the concern. But yes, I am interested in, shall we say, tightening our relationship. We’ve worked so well together in the past, don’t you think?”

“I remember us working well together once.”

“And what a time that was!” Elilial said with a reminiscent smile.

“You called me a presumptuous mealworm and I goosed you.”

“A whole city left in flames and shambles, panicked drow fleeing everywhere, Scyllith’s entire day just ruined. Ah, I’ve rarely enjoyed myself so thoroughly. Don’t you miss it?”

“I have things to do,” Tellwyrn said pointedly. “Teaching my students. Looking after their safety. Getting tangled up with you is hardly a step in pursuit of that goal.”

“I think you’re wrong there, darling,” the goddess said firmly, the mirth fading from her expression. “This weeks little mess was but a taste. No, before you get all indignant, I am not threatening you. I am cautioning you, strictly because I like you, that the world is going to become increasingly dangerous in the coming days, and the wisest thing a person can do is develop a capacity to contend with demons. And lucky you, here you have an old friend who is the best ally a person could have in such matters!”

“Oh, sure,” Tellwyrn sneered. “And all I’d have to do to achieve that is make an enemy of the Empire on which my campus is built, not to mention that crusading spider Justinian.”

“Well, there’s no reason you have to tell them about it, you silly goose.”

“Mm hm. And in this…partnership…you would, of course, be telling me the total, unequivocal truth about everything you’re doing, in all detail?”

“Now you’re just being unreasonable, Arachne. I’m still me, after all. I can’t function without a few cards up my sleeve.”

“This sounds increasingly like a bargain that benefits no one but you,” Tellwyrn said shortly. “I can’t help thinking I’m better off with my current allies. None of them are invested in ending the world.”

“You know very well I have no interest in ending the world. Merely the deities lording over it. Really, I am very nearly hurt. You of all people know me better than that.”

“I do indeed, which is why I’m declining your very generous proposal.”

“Are you sure?” Elilial asked with a sly smile. “You’re not even a little bit curious to know which of your little dears are opening hellgates and fooling about with dark powers beyond their ken?”

“You could just tell me, you know. It would be exactly the kind of nice gesture that might have led me to consider your offer if you’d made a habit of making them before now.”

“Now, now, giving something for nothing is against my religion. I’m just saying, Arachne, I’m a good friend to have. In general, and in your case, very specifically.”

“So the world at large is about to have demon trouble, is it?” Tellwyrn mused, steepling her fingers. “And I’m likely to see my students imperiled as a result, yes? Well, I now know who to blame if they do suffer for it. You have my word, Elilial, that if that happens, I will be discussing the matter with you. Thoroughly, but as briefly as possible.”

The goddess’s smile collapsed entirely. “Only you could be so bullheaded as to turn this into an exchange of threats so quickly. I came here in good faith to propose a mutually beneficial partnership, Arachne.”

“You came here to use me,” Tellwyrn shot back. “I don’t particularly mind that. I don’t even much object to being lied to about it. I might actually have been amenable to the idea, except that you want to use my University and my students in the process. That will not happen, Elilial. I strongly advise you not to try.”

“Do you truly believe yourself equal to the task of opposing me?” the goddess asked coldly.

Tellwyrn clicked her tongue. “And now come those threats you didn’t come here to make…”

“If you insist on relating in those terms, I’ll oblige. You’re a blunt instrument, Arachne. Oh, you were clever enough in the distant past. Your deviousness in Scyllithar was inspiring, and I mean that sincerely. I was deeply impressed. But you have spent the entirety of the intervening three thousand years swaggering around throwing sucker punches and fireballs until you’ve forgotten how to do anything else. It’s gotten to the point that all I have to do to aim you in the direction I want you to look is scrawl a warning outside your door telling you not to. That barely even counts as manipulation, Arachne. It’s embarrassing to both of us. And you think you’re going to set yourself up against me? In the wide world, with all its subtleties and illusions waiting to serve as my props?” She snorted. “Please.”

“Well, perhaps you have a point,” Tellwyrn said placidly, shrugging. “After all, I’ve spent three millennia trying to get close to all the various gods, seeking their help. You, meanwhile, have been trying devotedly to destroy them for more than twice that time. Tell me, since you’re so much more dangerous than I…” She smiled sweetly. “How many of them have you killed?”

They locked eyes in silence, neither wavering by a hair.

Finally, Elilial let out a soft sigh through her nose. “I think you just enjoy being difficult for its own sake.”

“Well, no shit, Professor.”

“I’ll repeat my offer, Arachne,” the goddess said mildly, stepping back from the desk. “But not often, and not infinitely. You’ll have a limited time in which to come to your senses.”

“That’s fine, if you insist. But I’m not any more fond of repeating myself than you are, Lil. Really, if you want to save yourself the bother, I won’t blame you in the slightest.”

Elilial smiled slightly, coldly, and vanished without a sound. Only the faint scent of sulfur remained behind her.

Tellwyrn just sat without moving, frowning deeply in thought.


“You’re sure?”

“Yes, we’re sure,” Fauna said testily. “It’s not really ambiguous.”

“Or difficult,” Flora added. “Took us all of half an hour to sift through the records.”

“The Nemetites organizing the thing are extremely helpful. The nice lady was able to pull the public record for us and explain what all the legalese meant.”

“It’s held through a dummy company, you see, but she knew the legal and cult codes to identify the buyers. So yeah, we had the answer pretty quickly.”

Darling swiveled in his office chair, staring at the unlit fireplace. “Not the trap she was expecting,” he whispered.

“Oh, gods, now he’s muttering to himself,” Fauna groaned.

He returned his gaze to them. “All right, sasspants, since you’re so smart, interpret what you found for me.”

“Oh, come on,” Flora said.

Darling held up a hand peremptorily. “Let’s not forget who the apprentices here are. No matter what the question, whining is never the correct answer.”

Fauna sighed dramatically, but replied. “It wasn’t truly hidden. We were able to get the truth in minutes, using entirely legal means. The means provided by the library itself, even.”

“So, not a secret,” Flora said. “But… Meant to look like a secret.”

He nodded. “Go on…”

“A message, maybe?” Fauna continued, frowning as she got into the exercise. “Either a barrier only to the laziest of inquirers…”

“Or a hidden signal to someone smarter,” Flora finished. “Or possibly both.”

“Very good,” he said approvingly, nodding. “That’s the conclusion to which I came, too. Of course, your guess is literally as good as mine.”

“So you’re in the dark, then? Why was it so important to find out?”

“And no more of your shifty bullshit,” Flora said pointedly, leveling a finger at him. “Damn it, we’ve had enough of that this week. None of this ‘I’ll tell you when it’s time’ crap.”

“Yeah, you sent us to deal with something you could’ve sniffed out yourself in less than an hour; we’re entitled to know what’s going on, here, Sweet.”

“Why is this important? What does it mean that the Thieves’ Guild owns Marcio’s Bistro?”

Darling turned his eyes back to the fireplace, staring sightlessly while his mind rummaged through possibilities. He was quiet for so long that Flora, scowling, opened her mouth to repeat her demand before he finally answered.

“I don’t know.”

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Bonus #1: Captain’s Orders

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Rajakhan stood with his hands folded behind his broad back, staring at the preserved skeleton of the smilodon which stood in his trophy hall. It almost didn’t look feline, being nothing but bones held together by wire; so much of what made a cat was in the way they moved.

Outsiders rarely understood about Punaji and cats. Everyone assumed the pirate kingdom should put something nautical on their flag, but there was nothing on or under the sea that so perfectly captured the Punaji spirit. Cats offered respect and obedience to none, rejected all rules and pursued their own ends… But in their own, freewheeling way, they were loyal and devoted, fierce in the protection of those they loved. It remained one of the odd quirks visiting merchants and scholars shook their heads over. Punaji, like cats, didn’t feel a need to explain themselves.

This was his thinking pose, and the place where he most often came to do his thinking; the servants left him alone. They, at least, knew him well enough not to be intimidated by his imposing namesake beard, massive frame and tendency to scowl as a resting expression. He’d had to develop other signals to indicate when he didn’t wish to be disturbed. Maneuver, impression, appearance… Politics. It never ceased to gall him, having to care about such trifling things. A king’s lot was just not meant to be easy.

But there were worse things.

He drew in a deep breath and blew it out in a huff, glaring at the skeleton as if he could blame it for his worries. The weight of his nation’s troubles was a familiar one to him. What weighed on him now was far more personal, and harder on his equanimity.

Hearing her footsteps before she appeared, he turned to face the archway to the outer hall. Anjal entered with the force of someone slamming a door—impressive, given that there wasn’t one. She was a diminutive woman, lean and no taller than his collarbone, but her muscular frame and aggressive stride made an imposing sight even when she wasn’t glaring and clenching both fists at her sides.

“Well?” the pirate king asked after a moment in which she simply stood there, staring daggers at him.

“Nothing.” Anjal bit off her words, fairly quivering with fury. “She just sits. This is not normal. Children are supposed to be resilient—it has been three days! The windshaman is worried she will starve herself; it’s all we can do to make her drink water.”

Rajakhan heaved another sigh, stroking his beard with one hand, while Anjal glared at him accusingly. They had come a long way since their earliest meeting, as captains of opposing ships tearing into each other—he the prince of the Punaji nation, she the commander of the Punaji nation’s first organized rebellion against the crown. Anjal the Sea Devil met every situation with fire and steel, in her spirit if not in her hands.

That was what made him worry, now. She drew in a deep, shuddering breath, and the sudden crack in her voice made his heart ache. “I can’t fight this, Raja!”

He was across the room in two long strides, wrapping his arms around her, and for a wonder, she let herself be held, regardless that they were more or less in public. Anjal buried her face in his shoulder, leaning both clenched fists into his chest.

“Some things cannot be fought, my heart,” he said quietly, resting his chin atop her head.

“I don’t know what to do!” Her whole body was clenched tight with the effort of not breaking down. She would never forgive herself for showing such weakness. “Naphthene send me enemies, problems that can be killed. Our own daughter is withering away from within and…and what can we do? I can stand there and watch.”

She broke off, trembling, and he just held her in silence. In the privacy of their chambers, he would murmur soothingly, stroke her hair… In privacy, she would let herself weep. Rajakhan knew her well enough not to show her tenderness when she was trying to harden herself; it would only spoil her efforts.

Gradually, she relaxed, her furious tension easing into the more normal stiffness with which she faced the world. Anjal was no more to be taken for granted than the sea; after years of marriage, he was attuned enough to her to sense, even without seeing her face, when she had composed herself enough to carry on.

“I will go speak to her,” he rumbled.

She pulled back, staring up at him. Tears glistened in her eyes, but didn’t fall. “What can you say that we haven’t tried?”

“Duty,” he said firmly. “It is time to stop this indulgence.”

Anjal’s expression hardened all over again. “The child is in pain, Rajakhan. Yelling at her will do only more harm.”

“A captain need only raise his voice to be heard over the wind and rain,” he replied. “We have raised our daughter well, Anjal. She has a brave heart, and knows her duty. If soft words will not shake her out of this, a reminder of her obligations will. I have that much faith in her.” He softened his voice and expression when the skepticism on her face did not diminish. “What else is there to try, love?”

Anjal closed her eyes, drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly. She gently pulled herself back and impatiently scrubbed tears from her eyes before opening them again. “Go, then. If this does not work…”

“It will have to,” he said, taking one of her slim, callused hands and lifting it to his lips. “Only her own strength will lead her through this, my pretty devil. She just needs a reminder.”

His wife allowed this intimacy for a moment, a hint of a smile flickering across her eyes, before composing herself and pulling away. “Try it then, husband. Why are you still here?”

In spite of himself, in spite of everything, Rajakhan rumbled a low laugh, stepping back from her with a respectful bow. He turned and strode out.

The pirate king’s bulky frame made him look squat, belying his height and the long reach of his legs; he set a sharp pace, passing through the castle at a clip that made servants and courtiers scramble to keep up. It was to the better, for several reasons, that none accompanied him today. Those he passed were glimpsed only in the distance where halls crossed or doors opened into rooms. Sensing the mood and knowing some of what caused it, the domestic staff were taking pains not to be near him or Anjal. It suited him just fine.

Despite his set expression and rapid stride, he was dreading this. All too soon, he reached his destination, a door in the hallway just down from his own chambers. Rajakhan “Blackbeard” Punaji, King of Pirates, had to pause and steel himself before rapping on the door. That done, though, he pulled it open and stepped in without waiting for a response.

It was as bad as he had feared; at the first glimpse of his daughter, a crack formed in his heart.

Zaruda was a blocky, square-faced child. So had been his sister and cousins at that age, though, and they had grown into their frames; the women in his family were famed for being curvaceous and vivacious. She was likely to become a great beauty, which concerned him and her mother not at all. The sort of leadership strategies which used looks to influence people would not serve a leader among the Punaji. The young Princess had given her parents plenty of cause for pride, however; she was clever, rambunctious, aggressive, and fiercely affectionate.

Now, she sat on her bed, knees pulled up to her chest. Dark circles of sleeplessness ringed her eyes, a horrible sight on so young a face. Zaruda’s expression was hollow, empty, her shoulders slumped. Only seven years old, and she looked completely broken. She had for three days. The sight was almost enough to unman him completely; Rajakhan barely retained his composure in the face of it.

“Hello, Zari,” he said gently. Her eyes flickered to him, but she made no other acknowledgment. He glanced quickly about the room, taking stock. Zaruda wasn’t alone; her two cats both sat on the bed with her. Shashi, an expensive purebred Sifanese, was draped over her feet, while Fancy Hat, an orange tabby with a ragged ear whom Zaruda had insisted on rescuing from an alley, sat upright beside her, leaning firmly against her. In the last three days they had left her side only to eat and use the box. The sound of their purring was plainly audible even from across the room. And outsiders still tried to tell him cats were disloyal…

Aside from her rumpled bedclothes, the rest of the room was depressingly in order, a very bad sign. Zaruda was a walking mess, usually; things were clean in her presence only when she was asleep. His eye did settle on one thing out of place, however. A worn stuffed bear lay against the wall, face-down.

“What’s this?” he rumbled, bending to pick it up. The bear had been hastily but thoroughly laundered, yet its head was still marred by a large discolored patch. They had gotten all the blood out, but the well-loved toy could only submit to so much washing without falling apart completely. “And why is Commodore Bear on the floor? Is this how you treat a war hero?”

Zaruda glanced at him again, then cleared her throat. “’s just a stupid toy,” she said hoarsely. Her voice was raspy with thirst, with lack of sleep… But not from crying. That was the truly worrying thing. She had been watched closely enough that he knew she had not cried. Not once.

Rajakhan stepped into the room, pulling the door shut behind him. He crossed to her and sat down very carefully beside her on the bed, setting Commodore Bear on his other side and stroking Fancy Hat’s head. No matter the care with which he moved, the child-sized bed creaked and shifted under his weight.

He let the silence stretch out. For all his talk to Anjal, now that the moment was here, he found it embarrassingly hard to put his plan into action. His little girl was suffering, and all he wanted was to hold her and fight away her fears. But they had tried that, and she’d only retreated further into herself.

“You think I’m weak,” Zaruda said softly.

“What?” Rajakhan frowned at her. “Who told you this?”

“Nobody.” She shook her head. “I know, though. The windshaman thinks so. Mama thinks so.”

“You are wrong,” he said firmly. “You are not weak, and only a fool would believe you are.”

“I feel weak,” she whispered.

Rajakhan drew in a deep breath and let it out. Finally, he laid his large hand against her back, stroking her gently. “Tell me what’s on your mind, little Zari.”

It was long minutes before she answered. He didn’t repeat his command or push her; she wasn’t ignoring him. It took time for her to gather her thoughts.

“That man,” she said softly. “He had a mama and a papa too. Maybe brothers and sisters. Maybe a wife. Somebody loved him.”

“Likely so,” Rajakhan replied. “Most people are connected to somebody.”

“And they’re hurt now because he’s gone,” she whispered.

He nodded slowly. “Yes.”

“I didn’t mean to kill him.” Her voice was achingly hollow, echoing with pain she was too tired to feel except distantly.

“I know, Zari,” he rumbled. “But you were in the right. He broke into your room; he meant harm to your family, possibly to you. When someone attacks you, it’s right to defend yourself.”

“I know.” She closed her eyes. “Everyone’s said that to me.”

He let the silence hang for a moment before prompting her. “But?”

“I don’t feel right. I feel… Wrong. A man is dead and nothing will ever bring him back.” Finally she opened her eyes again, and the emptiness in them was haunting. “And that’s why I’m weak.”

“Why is that?” he asked softly.

“You’ve killed people. Mama has. Everyone… All those stories, of battles and wars and raids… The Punjai fight to live, we kill our enemies.” She slumped, sinking into herself. “I can’t call myself Punaji.”

“Now you hear this,” Rajakhan said firmly. “I will never hear those words out of your mouth again. Is that clear?”

He stared down at her, leaving no room for ambiguity in his tone. She finally looked up, meeting his eyes, and nodded.

“Yes, sir.”

“My little Zari,” he said with a sigh, stroking her hair. “You are not weak. You have just learned a very hard lesson, and don’t yet have the perspective to see it all in context. Do you know how rare it is for a child your age to think things out as clearly as you have? To feel them as deeply?”

She shook her head, dropping her eyes.

“It is rare,” he said. “Many grown men and women don’t have the brain or the heart to do either. Weak? Pah. This is how I know you will be a great Queen someday. You think things through, farther than most do. You have a heart big enough to hold the whole world, and that’s why you feel the pain of all those you may have hurt.”

“I don’t want to,” she whispered.

“Don’t wish for that.”

“I can’t be a queen,” she said, squeezing her eyes shut. Finally, tears brimmed between her lashes. “I just sit here and… I can’t think of anything but that man’s death.”

Rajakhan heaved a deep sigh. “You can, Zaruda. You just have not yet learned how. Now listen up: I have orders for you.”

He waited for her to open her eyes and look up at him before continuing.

“Tonight, you will cry. I know you’re trying to be strong and fight back the pain, but this is the wrong way to do it. It must hurt, little minnow. Pain is a poison; you must get it out of you. If you hold it in, it will just rot you out from the inside. You know how your mama and I, and all the Punaji heroes in the stories, have lived as long and fought as hard as we have?” He draped his huge arm around her hunched shoulders. “We make time to mourn, when it is time to. Do you understand?”

She nodded slowly. “…yes, sir.”

“Good. I am not done. Tomorrow, you will wake up, wash yourself, eat breakfast, and then we will hold a feast. All the captains will be invited, and they will all be told the story about Princess Zaruda, the fiercest scion of the Punaji bloodline, who killed her first enemy when she was seven. And at this feast, you will boast, and laugh, and show them how ferocious you are. You will be proud, and revel in your first kill.”

She had stared up at him with consternation growing on her face the longer he talked. Finally, she burst out, “Papa! I can’t!”

“Can’t?” He did not raise his voice, but poured every ounce of command into it. “You can’t? You were not asked a question. This is what you will do. I expect my orders to be followed.”

Zaruda swallowed heavily, then again. Her expression was of panic and pure misery.

“Do you understand,” he said more gently, “why I am ordering you to do this?”

She opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out; all she could do was shake her head, the tears beginning to run down her cheeks at last.

“Because this is the craft of our family,” Rajakhan explained. “Our trade. You know that professions are passed down from parent to child. We have soldiers, fishermen, craftspeople of all kinds, scholars, windshaman. All of them are necessary for our nation to function. What do we make, Zaruda? What does this family provide that people need?” He held her gaze for a moment; she stared up at him without replying. “We rule. We provide leadership to our nation. The time has come for you to begin training in this trade. That means, among other things you will learn, that sometimes you have to push aside what you feel and show your people what they need to see. The Punaji need to know that our bloodline is strong, that the future is secured. They need to know that their Princess, their future Queen, is powerful, clever, and fierce. They will not see you hiding in your room, wallowing in your pain. They will see you standing before them, reveling in your victory.”

“That’s not—” She broke off. Punaji children learned at a very young age not to protest that anything was unfair. They were a nation of sailors; their lives were dedicated to the tempestuous ocean and its fickle goddess. Nothing was fair. Asking for it to be was asking to be punished.

“It is fair, though,” the king said firmly. “Who do you think has paid for every meal you have ever eaten? Your clothes? Your teaching, your toys? You are royalty, Zaruda; you live on the taxes levied on your people. That is what it means to rule. The Punaji have paid you to do a job from the moment you were born. Will you cheat them of their honest trade? Would you show the world such dishonor?”

“No, sir.” She shook her head. Her expression was still pained, but now thoughtful as well.

“It’s a hard thing, little one,” he said, stroking her back. “You have a lot to learn, and this is only the beginning. I promise you, though, it will get easier as you grow to understand more about the world.”

“Why can’t you just tell them what you said to me?” she asked plaintively. “If feeling the pain of others makes me a good Queen…”

Rajakhan sighed heavily. “Because, little minnow, that is wisdom, and it’s hard-won. Not everyone understands that. Most people will not understand it. They will see your true strength as weakness, and see strength in killing and boasting about it. Never forget that those people are fools.”

“If they’re fools, why do we care what they think?” she demanded sullenly.

He rumbled a low laugh. “Because there are a lot of them, and because the stupider a person is, the louder they are. Fools make enough noise that even people who ought to know better listen to them. This is part of the craft you are going to learn, Zari: managing fools, just as you must manage all sorts of people. It’s a delicate line to walk, at times, but it is what we must do.”

She nodded, dropping her gaze. Finally, though, she uncurled herself, extending her legs to dangle them over the side of the bed. Shashi, disturbed from her place, muttered a soft complaint, but climbed back into Zaruda’s lap. Rajakhan watched the life and spirit visibly returning to her with a degree of relief he had never imagined he could feel. They weren’t there yet, but it was a start.

“Part of the careful balance is knowing when and how to hurt,” he said. “In the eyes of the world, you must be the bravest, the strongest, the loudest. Your allies and enemies alike must see you as dangerous, or they will never respect you. But as I have said, you cannot shove all your pain down inside yourself. It must come out. Just…never in front of the world.” He rubbed her gently. “You understand?”

She nodded. “Be strong for others, and suffer alone. It… It sounds hard, Papa.”

“It is hard,” he agreed solemnly. “But you have missed an important part. You needn’t suffer alone; that is no way to do it. Sharing your weakness with others is a vital part of being human, Zari. You can’t live if you wear the mask every minute. Only family can be trusted. When you cry tonight, you will have me and mama here, plus Shashi and Fancy Hat. And Commodore Bear,” he added, smiling.

“You won’t live forever,” she said quietly, not looking at him, and another pang struck his heart. She was far too young to have thought so much about death.

“That’s true,” he acknowledged. “No one does. But that doesn’t mean you will ever be alone. Blood is an accident, Zaruda; it just happens. Family are the people you would give your life for. You keep that big heart open, and you will always have family. I guarantee it.”

She nodded, then leaned against him. Between them, Fancy Hat purred furiously, seeming not to mind being the meat in a Punaji sandwich. Rajakhan breathed deeply for what seemed the first time in days, feeling the terrible tension in his chest ease. His daughter was going to be all right.

“I’m hungry,” she said after a few minutes.

“Then I’ll have some food brought to you.”

“Thank you, Papa.”

“And now,” he rumbled, picking up the stuffed bear and holding it in front of her, “I think you owe someone an apology.”

“I’m sorry, Commodore Bear,” she said dutifully, taking the toy from him. Then she wrapped her arms around it, pressing a kiss to the Commodore’s head, right atop the scrubbed-out bloodstain.

Rajakhan squeezed her once more before standing up. “Remember your orders, sailor.”

“Yes, sir.” She managed a smile at him, and he let himself believe everything would work out.

“I’ll be back in a little while. Mama too.”

“Okay.”

As he slipped out and made his way back through the castle to find his wife, the pirate king felt weak, drained in a way he rarely had; wrung-out, both physically and emotionally. Of course, he kept his scowling mask firmly in place, kept his stride steady and strong. His advice to Zaruda had been from lessons he himself had learned, no less painfully than she.

What a terrible, wonderful thing it was to be a parent—very much like being a king, but so much more intimately. He could only do his best, knowing all the while that he was fumbling his way in the dark, trying to provide answers he didn’t truly have.

And though he had never been so proud of her, it seemed that nothing would ever hurt so much as the day his daughter started to grow up.

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