Tag Archives: Professor Rafe

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“This was a good idea,” Gabriel murmured, looking around the square.

“Course it was!” Professor Rafe replied breezily. “It was Matriarch Ashaele’s—good ideas are the only kind that lady has! Reassure the townies, mend some fences or bridges or what-have-you that needs mending, give everybody some very much needed opportunity to unwind. You don’t get to be literally the most senior diplomat on the planet without picking up a trick or two!”

The event set up on the square next to the Rail platform had arisen quickly enough to pass for impromptu, but it had been organized with flawless efficiency that suggested considerable planning. Striped awnings had been erected around the periphery of the space along two sides, with tables and chairs borrowed from the A&W in front of the tavern itself; people were congregating quietly at the tables, partaking of food laid out on stands under the shade. There were tin plates, cups, and utensils, and in fact all the necessary details had been thought of, even those that would seem counter-intuitive to subterranean dwellers, such as pest-repelling charms. Everything was free for all, and had been purchased from local businesses, right down to the farrier’s son playing the guitar over by the telescroll office.

As parties went, it was rather subdued, the space being at least half occupied by drow, who were naturally quieter in their manners than Last Rock was used to. After Ashaele’s initial arrival, which bodyguards and priestesses, a second caravan had arrived with civilian personnel from House Awarrion, who had done the lion’s share of the organizing for this event. Though the townspeople in attendance largely seemed somewhat wary of their new guests, it was a polite wariness, escalating to downright friendliness in many cases. Most of the conversations taking place around the square were between Narisians and Imperials. Nonetheless, the Sheriff and Ox were both visibly present, holding themselves aloof and keeping a careful watch. As were several stony-faced armored drow bearing sabers.

“Looking for trouble?” Gabriel asked, still in a low tone and giving Toby an inquisitive look. His fellow paladin had, for the second time in as many minutes, panned his gaze around the square, wearing a faint frown.

“Trouble, no,” Toby replied. “Szith said Iris came down here earlier. Before the picnic was set up, even… I’m a little worried, about her and Maureen. Those two are pretty sensitive, and their dorm’s been hit especially hard by all this…stuff.”

“Look at you, everybody’s dad,” Gabe said with a grin, patting him on the shoulder.

Toby sighed. “Yeah, yeah, I’m sure it’s nothing. There are other things to do in town, and not everybody likes crowds.”

“I’m a little surprised not to see Szith here, now you mention it,” Juniper added.

“Szith has responsibilities,” Professor Yornhaldt rumbled. “And, being the exceedingly conscientious young lady she is, feels responsible for far more than she actually is. The presence of so many Narisians might be a factor.”

“Poor kid,” Juniper said, frowning.

“Your concern speaks well of you, Juniper,” Yornhaldt said with a smile. “I’m sure she would appreciate a kind word when you see her next.”

He and Rafe were watching the event as closely as the Sheriff and the Awarrion House guards, though their mandate was limited to making sure none of the students in attendance partook of the free beer available—despite the fact that both professors had mugs of it in hand. The three sophomores had gravitated toward them on one edge of the square after a few minutes of aimless circulation, and now the small group simply stood aside, watching, while Juniper sipped from a cup of punch and Gabriel intermittently gnawed a drumstick.

“Okay, so,” Gabriel said after a pause, in an even softer tone than before. “This may be an inappropriate thing to say, considering the circumstances…”

“Have you considered not doing so, for once?” Ariel suggested.

He slapped her hilt lightly. “I gotta be me. Really, though. Did you guys notice that Shaeine’s mom is impossibly gorgeous? Even for an elf.”

Toby sighed again. “Gabriel.”

“Oh, yeah,” Juniper agreed, nodding. “You’re very correct. About both parts. Not really the time, Gabe.”

“The dryad is criticizing your sense of social propriety. You have officially reached peak Arquin.”

“Shut up, Ariel,” he said sullenly. “It’s not like I was talking loudly.”

“Gabriel, my man, I’m a little disappointed that I need to point this out,” Rafe said archly. “Drow. Elves. The ears. Nothing you say out loud is gonna go unnoticed on the other side of the square.”

Gabriel’s cheeks darkened slightly and he ducked his head for a second, before catching himself and straightening up defiantly. “Yeah…well… Narisians. They’re very respectful of private conversations. You’ve heard Shaeine talk about it.”

“Mm hm,” Yornhaldt grunted. “Now if only everyone would be respectful of their feelings.”

“No offense was taken, I assure you.”

All five looked up in surprise at being addressed. A drow woman with short hair had approached them, wearing a simple lizard-scale breastplate over a dark red tunic, rather than the full armor of the guards; she carried a long knife at her belt instead of a saber. She stopped a respectful conversational distance away and bowed courteously.

“I am Vengnat eyr Vrainess n’dur Awarrion, subcommander in the lower House guard, off-duty for this excursion. It is an honor and a distinct pleasure.”

She bowed again, though less deeply, at each of their introductions, the whole time wearing a polite little smile such as Shaeine often did.

“I wonder, Mr. Arquin,” she said when everyone was introduced, “if you are familiar with the particulars of the House system of Tar’naris?”

“I…am aware that it exists,” he said hesitantly. “Sorry, but to be honest, I have my hands full understanding Imperial politics most of the time. Despite Shaeine’s noble efforts, the details of Narisian government are mostly over my head.”

Vengnat’s smile widened fractionally. “Please don’t feel bad—we are not all diplomats, after all. Well, to put it simply, we are drow. We have our Houses and our intrigues, our jockeying for advantage; it is, in many ways, intrinsic to our kind. However, the governance of Tar’naris is far more civilized than that of our deeper-dwelling Scyllithene cousins. Queen Arkasia devised the current House system to end infighting.”

“Oh, yeah! That much I know,” he said, nodding. “Every House has a particular role in the running of the city, so attacking another House damages the city itself. Any infighting would be outright treason, so it doesn’t happen.”

“It very rarely happens,” she corrected, still smiling. “Very rarely indeed, and that largely because we have found other outlets for our competitive impulses, which is as valuable in heading off conflict as punishing transgressors. Specifically, rather than for power, advantage, or wealth, the Houses of Tar’naris compete vigorously for prestige.”

“How so?” Juniper asked.

“Mr. Arquin’s observation was a perfect example,” Vengnat explained. “Matriarch Ashaele is widely acknowledged as one of the most beautiful women in Tar’naris. It is a trait with virtually no practical application, contributes nothing to the running of the House…but it’s a point of pride. That is the kind of thing around which our little intrigues are built in this era. So, while we are accustomed to hearing our Matriarch praised in somewhat more gracious terms, the observation itself supports a minor point of honor for us. And after all, those of us present were made aware that plain speech is a trait of the plains dwellers in which they take pride.” She bowed to Gabriel, her smile widening another hair. “On behalf of House Awarrion, I accept and thank you for the compliment in the spirit in which it was intended.”

A few yards away, one of the gray-robed priestesses looked in Gabriel’s direction and deliberately smiled.

“Oh,” he said awkwardly. “I, uh, that’s… Well, you know. Um.”

“Perhaps you should take the opportunity to learn about diplomacy from these drow, Gabriel. Though it is very fortunate that you have a career already established.”

“Ah, yes,” he said sourly, “I forgot to introduce Ariel, whose constant commentary on my social skills is a never ending source of irony.”

“What an intriguing weapon,” Vengnat said, studying the sword. “The design is clearly elvish, though it is surprising that elves would conduct the kind of rituals which are necessary to create a talking sword.”

“Drow would,” Ariel replied. “Hands off.”

“Hey!” Gabriel snapped. “I put up with your sass, but do not insult visiting diplomats!”

“Oh, not to worry,” Vengnat assured him. “I am, as I said, not on duty for this trip. Any conversations I have are strictly personal and I am not properly a diplomat in any case. Besides, I do know a bit about weapons such as Ariel, here; certain allowances must be made for their conduct.”

“You’re off duty for the whole trip?” Toby asked curiously. “Forgive me, but…”

“What am I doing here?” If anything, Vengnat seemed even more amused. “The Matriarch’s second daughter requested off-duty personnel from a variety of specializations to attend in a strictly social capacity, to circulate politely with the residents.” She nodded toward Nahil, who was holding court in the opposite corner of the square, having surrounded herself with most of Last Rock’s more well-to-do women. “I am a House guard by profession, but we are all expected to develop some skill in diplomacy, and I was particularly interested in the opportunity to mingle with Tiraan in their own environment. It’s a chance I rarely have at home.”

“I dunno if this qualifies as the average Tiraan environment,” Rafe mused. “Still and all, we’re damn glad to have you!”

“I’m impressed,” Toby added with a smile. “For someone who’s not even a diplomat by focus, your Tanglish is amazingly fluent. You barely have an accent!”

“Not to mention a better vocabulary than some of our classmates,” Juniper added.

“I appreciate that very much,” Vengnat said, bowing to each of them. “The language is rather counter-intuitive for me; it’s gratifying that my efforts have paid off. And I am, of course, honored to serve my House in the capacity in which I was trained, but I aspire to a more varied life than a simple soldier’s.”

“Hey, I’m glad some good came of all this,” Gabriel added, smiling at her. “Always good to make new friends! Maybe we could show you around while you’re here.”

She turned a much more direct look on him, and took one step closer. “I’m very glad you suggested that, Gabriel. Nothing would please me more.”

“Oh, yeah,” Rafe snorted. “Be sure to get a good look at the saloon, and the Rail platform, and the scrolltower before you leave the town. Whoop, there we go! Tour over.”

Yornhaldt heaved a sigh. “Admestus.”

“What? It’s a nice little town, but let’s face it. Everything interesting’s up on the campus.”

“I would not dream of disturbing Professor Tellwyrn’s school,” Vengnat said smoothly, her eyes still on Gabriel’s. “And you may find Last Rock provincial, but to me, everything is new and endlessly fascinating. For instance, I have at some personal expense secured a private room in that establishment just yonder—considering the number of my colleagues present, it required calling in a few favors, but it was a worthwhile investment. Everything is made of wood. I can’t tell you how much that fascinates me, we so rarely see it in Tar’naris.”

“Huh,” Gabriel said, grinning. “It’s funny, how you don’t think of things like that until confronted with them. The simplest stuff is radically different in other places.”

“Precisely,” Vengnat said with a smile which was downright warm. “Wood furniture, cotton fabrics. The bed alone is a work of art, to my eyes. Why don’t you let me show it to you? At length,” she added, her voice dropping to a subtly huskier register, “and in detail. I have the whole evening free.”

Gabriel gaped at her; his chicken leg fell from suddenly limp fingers. Juniper grinned, seemingly on the verge of bursting into laughter, while Rafe and Yornhaldt exchanged a long look. Toby sighed softly through his nose, though his expression was amused. Vengnat kept her crimson eyes fixed on Gabriel’s, one graceful white eyebrow slightly arched in invitation.

“Um,” Gabriel said carefully after a long pause. “I, uh, am…let’s just say, not the most perceptive person. You know, socially. Forgive me if I misunderstand, but…”

“All is forgiven,” Vengnat said smoothly, smiling up at him again. “Forgive me, but concessions to local culture aside, there are certain things I’m simply not accustomed to saying any more…explicitly.”

“Ah. Yes. Well, then. I would be honored to…show you around. Not to mention delighted, of course.” He bowed politely to her, then turned to the others. “Well! Sorry to abandon you, guys, but I can hardly neglect a guest in our lands. If you’ll excuse me…”

“No extra credit for stuff that just falls into your lap,” Professor Rafe said severely, then extended his arm, hand clenched. “I am, however, obligated to offer you a manly fist bump.”

“That was real classy, Professor,” Toby said a few moments later, as they all watched Gabriel and the drow stroll toward the tavern, arm in arm. “Maybe I’m being paranoid, but that was kinda…sudden. Is there maybe another agenda at play, here?”

“Pff, nothing paranoid about it,” Rafe said glibly. “Drow culture being what it is, her ulterior motive’s pretty obvious. So long as Gabe has the sense to swallow the contraceptive I just slipped him, nothing’ll come of it. Really, though,” he added with a sudden frown. “This is verging on ridiculous. How does that kid keep stumbling ass-backward into the most exquisite piece of ass on display wherever he happens to be?”

“Why, thank you, Professor!” Juniper beamed.

“I’m serious! The chase is meant to be just that—you’ve gotta have a challenge to appreciate the conquest properly! He’s gonna come away with some pretty messed up ideas about women if this keeps up, ‘specially with Trissiny not here to kick his butt for him.”

Yornhaldt grunted into his beer. “Hmph. Hard to imagine where he’s learning it from, Admestus.”

“I kinda do wish Trissiny was here,” Juniper said with a sudden frown.

Toby sighed. “Yeah. Not that I think she cares how Gabe spends his time, but with this Sleeper thing going on…”

“That’s more what I mean, Triss is the one who knows about military strategy. I bet she’d understand what that means immediately.”

“What?” He straightened up, following her pointing finger.

“All the Narisian guards just suddenly moved while we were talking,” said Juniper. “See, three are covering Shaeine’s sister, over there, and the rest went up the street. Isn’t the Matriarch up at the town hall, with Teal and the mayor?”

Yornhaldt frowned deeply, turning to set his half-empty pint on a nearby table. “Well spotted, Juniper. Adventuring rule of thumb, students: if anything is happening, the elves will hear it first. I suggest we keep alert and prepare ourselves. Something…interesting…may be coming.”


“Y’know, you don’t have to settle all this right now,” Iris suggested gently. “Today, even. I’m not trying to rush you, Maureen, don’t worry. But maybe come back at this when you’re not so upset?”

“I…actually don’t feel upset, really, anymore,” Maureen said, kicking her legs in the empty space between them and the ground, and gazing at the horizon. “I really appreciate ye stayin’ with me, Iris. You were right, it helps a lot to have somebody listen. Anyhow,” she added with a sigh, “I reckon I have decided. Lettin’ fear make me choices, leavin’ me friends behind in danger… That’d make me not just a bad gnome, but a bad person. I’m not goin’.”

Iris nodded, and squeezed her shoulder. “Okay. I’m glad to hear it.”

“…d’ye mind if I stick around ‘ere for a while, though?”

“Of course not. Whatever you need.”

“I don’t really feel up to much company,” Maureen said, giving her a quick little smile, then jerked her head at the platform and square across the Rail some yards behind them. “But it sounds like they’ve got a full-on picnic goin’, up there. If you wanna go, I won’t be upset. You’ve helped me a lot just by stickin’ around this long.”

“Oh, well.” Iris shrugged, kicking her own legs—which, being much longer, resulted in her shoes scraping through the dirt. “I’m…not much for parties, generally. I pretty much get my fill of crowds in class and in the cafeteria.”

“Aye, I get that.” A sly glint appeared in the gnome’s eye, and she winked. “But you know… Gabriel might be there. I bet he’s the sort who loves gatherings.”

Iris heaved a deep sigh. “Ugh. I’m starting to think I should just forget the whole thing, stay away from him. If I can’t muster the guts to just…” She shrugged helplessly. “I don’t even know what.”

“Well, it can’t hurt ta hang around with ‘im a bit more! These things ‘ave a way of comin’ up on their own, if ye give ’em an opportunity.”

“Oh, come on, what would I do? Just walk up and proposition him?” Iris snorted. “He’d never go for that. Probably think I was some kind of a…a hussy.”

Maureen tilted her head, giving the human a long, thoughtful look. “…y’don’t actually know all that much about boys, do ye?”

“Oh, what would you—”

Turning toward her, Iris broke off abruptly, going rigid and grabbing Maureen by the shoulder.

“What? What’s the…” The gnome turned to follow her gaze, and gasped, scrambling up onto the bench.

“Easy!” Iris hissed. “Be calm, don’t do anything sudden.”

“What is that?!”

The creature was proportioned like a monkey and the size of a large goat, with a wedge-shaped head and jagged spines running down its back. Its eyes were sunken pits, the sides of its lips seeming to form its teeth—in fact, the thing looked like its whole hide was made of bone, rigid and the color of old ivory. It had an ugly, wasp-like stinger protruding from its bony rump, and enormous claws on each fingertip. As they watched, it snuffled around the base of the footbridge nearby, butting its head against the ground as if trying to bury itself.

“That’s a rozzk’shnid,” Iris said very quietly.

“Th’feck…” Maureen gulped audibly. “Seein’ as that’s a word made o’ sneezes an’ phonetic insanity, I assume it’s a demon?”

“Yes. Don’t worry—they’re stone deaf, and practically blind in sunlight. I don’t know what kind of idiot warlock would summon such a thing onto the prairie in the afternoon, but it’s easily dealt with.” Moving slowly and carefully, she stood and took a step to the side, positioning herself with a clear line of sight at the demon.

“Wait!” Maureen hopped off the bench after her, rushing over to grasp Iris’s leg. “Wait. Yer a witch—didja sense anything bein’ summoned?”

Iris had raised her hands, preparing to cast something, and now lowered them slightly, frowning. “No. Not a thing.”

“Aye. An’ I don’t ‘ear an outcry, from any o’ the students or drow priestesses right up there on the platform, so it was summoned subtle-like. That’s a good warlock, not one who’d pluck the wrong demon fer the wrong job.”

“The Sleeper,” Iris growled.

“Likely, aye,” Maureen said, still watching the rozzk’shnid, which seemed more interested in finding a patch of shade for its eyes than anything going on around it. “The Sleeper lays traps. He knows us. We can’t afford t’do the obvious thing—which’d be to attack that critter. It’s a trick somehow, I know it.”

“Well, what do you suggest?” Iris hissed.

Maureen swallowed. “Back away fer now.”

“I don’t run from demons!”

“There’s a difference between runnin’ away and retreat! Take it from somebody who was about t’do the bad one a wee bit ago. One’s an act o’ cowardice; the other’s a strategy. Look, we’re a gnome an’ a witch; we’re safer’n anybody out on the prairie. Heck, if we get to the Golden Sea, we’re home free. Somethin’ tells me the town’s about to get real interesting.”

“We can’t just go,” Iris insisted. “We have to warn everyone, at the very least!”

“Iris, that square’s full o’ drow,” Maureen said with a grim little smile. “I know the range of elvish hearing, trust me. Lemme just reiterate fer clarity that there’s a feckin’ demon sniffin’ around the square, an’ likely others, almost certainly summoned by an arsehole warlock who loves ‘is schemes an’ everybody needs ta deal with this as careful an’ quiet as they can. Nobody go off alone, or lash out rashly. There, everybody’s warned.”

Iris’s fingers actually twitched, as if desperate to begin hurling magic. “Maureen…”

“This is personal for you, isn’t it?” Maureen whispered. “Not just the Sleeper, but…demons. Warlocks.”

The human bared her teeth. “They live only to destroy. It should be personal for everyone. You need to listen to Trissiny on this subject, when she comes back.”

“Well, talkin’ o’ Trissiny, she’s a strategist. She’d never endorse lungin’ into a trap or doin’ the reckless thing. We’re not gonna let him win, Iris, an’ that means not doin’ what he wants. Come on. Step back, an’ we’ll come at this from another angle. One ‘e won’t expect.”

Iris hissed in pure frustration, but allowed the gnome to tug her gently away from the shelter and deeper into the tallgrass, leaving behind the demon at the edge of a crowded square, on which the drow were already quietly surging into motion.

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“All right, we trust ye an’ all,” Maureen said nervously as they followed Vadrieny out of the shed, “but a little warnin’ as to what in specific we oughtta—”

A roar interrupted her and she yelped, darting behind Iris’s skirts. A silver shield flashed into place around them, interrupting Szith’s attempt to place herself in front of the group.

Only Vadrieny was left outside the bubble to face the thing which approached. It charged from the main path on burly, gorilla-like front legs, then skidded to a halt three yards away, snapping its long, fang-lined jaws. Incredibly, the creature whined, dancing from side to side as if nervous, before finally emitting another roar of frustration and lunging forward, jaws open.

Vadrieny caught it by its nose, picked the creature up, and hurled it. The poor demon gouged a long divot in the ground as it skidded to a halt against a low stone wall, which collapsed upon it under the impact.

“That was a khankredahg,” Iris said shakily. “On campus.”

“And it attacked Vadrieny,” Shaeine added in a grave tone. “Which no demon of less than sapient intellect would do…unless compelled by a warlock.”

“Does that answer your question?” Szith asked, turning to Maureen.

“Aye,” the gnome muttered. “An’ we can stop talkin’ as if we don’t know exactly who is up to these shenanigans. Bugger it all, I don’ wanna get sleeped…”

“We should head for the Well,” Vadrieny stated, panning her gaze around the scene. Dusk had fallen and the fairy lamps were lit, but aside from the fallen chunk of garden wall, under which the khankredahg’s corpse was already smoking as it dissolved to charcoal, the campus looked quite normal. “Student dormitories have extra protections.”

“Rather specific ones,” Szith pointed out. “If the Sleeper happens to be male, that will protect us, but…”

“I don’t know the specifics, but she is right,” said Shaeine. “There are additional layers of protection on dorms beyond that one. We would be safest locating Professor Tellwyrn, but that will take time, and the Well is near. She may come in search of us soon, anyway.”

“All right,” Szith said, stepping out from the radius of Shaeine’s shield as she let it fall. “The fastest way—”

Iris suddenly shouted and gesticulated skyward, causing the drow to draw her saber and plant herself in a defensive stance, following the witch’s arm. A moment later, a petrified katzil plunged to the ground, where its already-decaying corpse broke into fragments, disturbing the flowers and leaves which had begun to blossom from it.

“That is a very nice trick,” Vadrieny said approvingly.

“Thanks,” Iris replied, a quaver in her voice. “Takes a lot of power, though, and I’ve only got so much. I don’t know how many times I can do that tonight…”

“Conserve yourself, then,” Shaeine advised, placing a hand on her shoulder. “Vadrieny and Szith are more than capable of dealing with lesser demons such as we have seen thus far. We will need magic if the Sleeper shows herself, or brings out something more dangerous.”

“Hm.” Holding up a hand to halt them, Szith swept her gaze back and forth. “Stand still a moment.”

She abruptly hopped forward, planting herself a yard and a half closer to the main path than Vadrieny stood, then immediately leaped back to her starting point. No sooner had she moved than another katzil plunged from the sky at them, seemingly out of nowhere. Hissing as it came, it spewed a gout of green fire, which splashed across the silver shield Shaeine threw back up.

And over Vadrieny, who was totally unaffected. She slashed the beast out of the air with her claws, almost contemptuously.

“Well spotted, Szith,” the archdemon said tersely. “We’re being herded away from the path.”

“We can take the longer route,” Maureen suggested, pointing to their right. “I go that way a lot, it’s shady an’ small, and…”

“And altogether a good place for an ambush,” Szith finished. “I know the path. Narrow and mostly hidden. We are being pushed that way for a reason.”

“Very well,” Shaeine said firmly. “If we can neither plow into our enemy’s traps nor go the way she desires, we require a third path.”

She pointed at the tall structure directly ahead of them. The others followed her gaze, then turned back to her with matching frowns.

“The music building?” Vadrieny said. “I know it very well. There’s no exit on the other side; the only other entrance would take us right back out onto the main path, where the Sleeper will be waiting in ambush.”

“At least we’d be closer to the Well?” Iris offered.

“Close enough, perhaps, to ambush the Sleeper,” Szith added.

“I think that won’t work,” said Shaeine. “The Sleeper is adept at stealth and evasion, and Vadrieny at least is a nearly unstoppable physical force. She won’t seek direct confrontation. In any case, I don’t propose to use the other door—the idea is to outmaneuver our foe, which demands an action she does not anticipate. And that being the case, the lack of another exit means the Sleeper will not expect us to make our own.”


It was almost sad, how little there was for him to do.

“To you left!” Ingvar barked, aiming an arrow at the shadow which was approaching Aspen from that direction. She glanced over at it, unconcerned, and went back to chasing the katzil spiraling above her head, reminding him incongruously of a child leaping at butterflies.

The shadow changed course, though, coming right for Ingvar, and he let fly. The arrow ripped straight through it, having to effect.

“Aspen!”

She glanced up again, and seeing his danger got her attention. By happenstance or design, that was the point when she caught her own prey. In the next moment, gripping the hissing demon by its tailfin, she swung it like a bizarre flail.

Upon impact, both shadow and katzil burst. Aspen grimaced, brushing charcoal off her palms.

“Ugh. Again with this stuff. Why do they make such a mess when they die?”

“Be grateful that’s the only mess they make,” Ingvar said, stepping forward and frowning up the path ahead, searching with his eyes. “Demon bodily fluids would leak infernal residue over everything, killing or tainting the very grass. Fortunately, once dead, they don’t have the life force necessary to hold themselves together and the infernal—there.”

“The infernal where?”

He pointed. “Other side of that gazebo. They didn’t all come from that direction exactly, but from the general area, and that’s the only spot on that lawn not in our field of view.”

“Ah, well spotted,” she said in a satisfied tone, already stomping forward. “Have I mentioned lately how nice it is to hang around with such a good hunter?”

“The same goes,” he replied, and they exchanged a quick smile as they approached.

None too soon; another serpentine shape was winding its way up from a summoning circle charred into the grass, hidden in the lee of the gazebo. Ingvar put an arrow through it, and the half-formed katzil dissolved into ash.

“This exceeds my expertise,” he admitted. “All I know about demons and warlocks is how to kill them; canceling an in-progress summon—Aspen, wait!”

Too late; she simply stomped forward and slammed her foot down on one edge of the circle.

Instantly, the angry orange glow of it winked out, leaving a vaguely circular patch of charred ground smoking. Aspen sniffed, then gave him a look which, to his surprise, was actually apologetic.

“Sorry. I know you give good advice and you’re usually right to be cautious, Ingvar, but this is another matter. It was infernal magic, and I’m a dryad. It’s called the Circles of Interaction, Juniper explained it to me. Works like a charm!”

“Indeed,” he acknowledged. “There’s a time for bold action, after all. Well done. So now,” he added, turning to frown around at the darkened campus, “what else is going on? This doesn’t feel to me like the whole plan. The Sleeper we faced last night would do something more grandiose, and more…well thought out.”

“I dunno about that second one,” she muttered. “This Sleeper jerk makes a good plan up front, but then he loses his temper and flaps around like a dumbass.”

Both spun to face the new vortex of shadows which formed before them, crackling with miniature lightning bolts; Ingvar nocked another arrow and took aim, while Aspen crouched in preparation for a lunge.

The instant a shape formed from the darkness, he loosed, and an instant later, cringed.

Fortunately, she caught it, which gave him pause. He’d have expected the arrow to bounce off an arcane shield, but Tellwyrn just gave it a critical look and tossed it back to him. “Quick reflexes there, Ingvar.”

“Professor!” he blurted. “I’m sorry—”

She waved him off. “No time, it was a wise reaction, and I know exactly how that thing looks. I’m sorry, but there’s a mess on my mountain that’s designed to interfere with scrying and teleportation. I can work around it, but it’s not pretty. Anyway. You two are all right?”

“We’re just dandy,” Aspen reported. “How’s everybody else? Those katzils only just started coming at us.”

“Is this happening everywhere? Are others being attacked?” Even as he asked, Ingvar pondered her last trick. Any elf would be fast enough to catch an arrow, but no elf should have the physical strength. A shaft fired from a longbow at that range would be moving with tremendous force.

“I’ve got Alaric and some helpers working to push through the haze and get accurate scrying,” Tellwyrn said, scowling, “but for now, my own senses suffice to take me to where active summons are going on. There aren’t enough of those to cover the whole campus or even most of the student body; Fedora thinks the Sleeper is targeting everybody who stood up to him yesterday. I diverted here to grab some more personnel before heading to Rafe, because I’m confident he can defend himself.”

“Ah, good idea,” Aspen said. “If he’s out for revenge, clustering us together’ll bring him. I don’t think the actual Sleeper was, like, here. This way we don’t have to chase his ass all over the mountain, hopefully.”

“Smart girl,” Tellwyrn said thoughtfully. “Which represents great personal growth since the last time you were here.”

“Well, you don’t have to be a jerk about it.”

“How can we help?” Ingvar asked.

“Hold tight,” Tellwyrn replied, raising a hand. “This feels about as icky as it looks.”

That wasn’t a word he would have chosen, but it sufficed, Ingvar decided as shadows swirled around them. A moment later, though, they receded, leaving the three of them standing in a room he did not recognize. It was a mess, splattered with various fluids, the walls marred by scorch marks and the splinters of wrecked furniture. Most surfaces practically sparkled with shattered glass.

“Admestus!” Tellwyrn exclaimed. “Are you all right?”

“Ah, Arachne,” Rafe said in an uncharacteristically mournful tone, turning to nod distractedly at her without lifting his gaze from the bottle he held. “I’m afraid I have to report total failure. The Sleeper’s little projection shadow avatar thingy wrecked the whole day’s work. All Fedora’s samples, pfft!” He paused, pursing his lips thoughtfully. “Actually, in hindsight, it was more of a fwoosh.”

“Okay, that’s bad,” Tellwyrn said impatiently. “But if you’re still standing, it clearly wasn’t a total failure. And my question stands. Are you all right?”

“How can you ask me that?” he practically wailed. “Rafe is undone! Thwarted! Foiled! My staggering intellect brought to naught by a few fireballs and shadowbolts and a really nifty cloud of something corrosive that I wish I’d managed to get a sample of! Woe, Arachne, woe unto—”

“Oh, stop it,” she said in disgust. “It’s a shame about the evidence, but I had my doubts about that whole enterprise to begin with. Everything in here but you was replaceable.”

“That’s true,” he acknowledged. “Ain’t nothin’ like Rafe but Rafe, baby.”

“Was the Sleeper himself here?” Aspen demanded.

“Hm? Oh, no, it was one of those shadow projections. Oh, which reminds me!” Suddenly grinning, Rafe held up the bottle to show them. The gaseous substance inside was purplish-black and glowed faintly; Ingvar had the strangest feeling it was glaring at him, which became somewhat less strange at Rafe’s next words. “I captured it! Think Fedora can do something with this?”


“I hear no sounds of approach,” Szith said tersely, “but if the Sleeper is paying the slightest attention to either of the escape routes she wished us to take, she will notice that. Sooner than later.”

“Aye, specially with us suddenly disappearin’,” Maureen added. “Not hard t’figure we went into the building…”

“You’re right,” Shaeine replied, turning to Teal. “I think a diversion is necessary.”

“I know somebody who’s great at drawing attention,” Teal replied, grinning and holding up a hand, her fingers curled to pantomime claws. “Iris, how you holding up?”

“Fine,” the witch grunted. “Almost there…”

She was leaning partially over the low wall lining the roof of the music building, Szith holding the back of her dress with one hand even as she constantly scanned the sky and nearby grounds for threats. Below, a trio of vines, thick as tree trunks, were steadily crawling their way up the rear of the building, screened somewhat from view from the paths by trees, but still easily noticeable. They sprouted leafy branches every few feet as they came, designed to provide easy hand- and foot-holds for climbing, as several of them were specifically not used to that. Their upper fronds had reached the third floor windows, not far below the roof now. Iris was breathing in low rasps, scowling in concentration.

Still no sign of demon pursuit. Another khankredahg had attempted to follow them into the building and was swiftly dispatched by Vadrieny, but the Sleeper apparently knew the music building as well as they. With the exits covered, he seemed content for the moment to wait them out.

“I assume that demon is still watching the side entrance,” Shaeine said calmly. “I haven’t heard it leave. Szith?”

“Nor I.”

“Good. Teal, don’t transform up here; let us not draw our foe’s attention to the roof, in case she has not yet noticed us. Go down to the second floor and attack from the window; make a show of attempting to clear out demons from the area. The more opposition you face, the better.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Teal said with a grin. “See you soon, love.”

“Count on it,” Shaeine replied with the hint of real warmth her public smiles held only for Teal. Szith turned her head, so ostentatiously expressionless her discomfort was practically palpable.

Teal swiftly lowered herself back through the trapdoor into the third floor below.

“I will be the last to descend,” Shaeine said, turning to the others. “My magic is best used defensively. Maureen, may I assume you are as skillful a climber as most gnomes?”

“Well, I dunno how many gnomes ye—uh, that is, yes. I can get up an down that shrubbery easy as me own dorm staircase.”

“Good,” Shaeine said crisply, nodding. “You go first, then, followed by Iris. Szith is undoubtedly our best physical combatant, but the Sleeper’s methods will need to be countered by magic. Between her witchcraft and my shields, we should be able to fend off a warlock at least long enough to make the Well, provided we secure a head start. That means stealth is still our first line of defense.”

At that moment, a streak of orange fire roared out from the side face of the building, emitting a furious scream, followed by a hoarse bark from the khankredahg as she landed on it.

“Katzils,” Szith reported, bending her knees to lower her profile. “Two, I think…not making for us. Good, they’ve taken the bait.”

“Then we are doing well,” said Shaeine. “Vadrieny has nothing to fear from any demon. Iris?”

“Almost…there…”

The priestess nodded, drawing in a breath and letting it out slowly. “Goddess grant this continues as smoothly. We are nearly free.”


“Never fails!” Ruda said cheerfully. “Looking for Toby? Follow the sunrise where there shouldn’t be one!”

“Hey, guys,” Juniper said, waving at them. “You okay? You got hit, too?”

“In the library!” Fross chimed in outrage. “This Sleeper has no respect for knowledge! Infernal or other destructive magic being flung around would be seriously damaging to the books!”

“I guess that explains you being along, Crystal,” said Toby, nodding to the golem. “I’m glad you’re all okay. Have you checked on any of the others yet?”

“You’re the first we’ve found,” said Gabriel. “That light show you just put on was impossible to miss.”

“Yeah,” Toby said, grimacing. “Sorry about that, Juniper. I hope it didn’t…”

“Not pleasant,” the dryad grumbled. “I like it better when Omnu does it, he makes it so the light doesn’t weaken me. Still, you fried the demons. Seems like it was worthwhile.”

“How bad did you get hit?” Ruda asked.

“Just katzils,” Toby said, shaking his head. “Small fry. There were four of them, enough to be a threat to most people, but I was really only concerned because they spit fire and June’s vulnerable to that.”

“We are heading for Helion Hall,” Crystal interjected, “to find Professor Tellwyrn.”

“That is an excellent idea,” Toby said firmly. “If anybody can straighten this out, she can.”

“Mm. Yeah, walk and talk,” Ruda agreed, setting out up the path toward the next terrace up, but frowning pensively as she went. “Shit’s pretty wiggy, though. The Sleeper’s careful—I still dunno what to make of him pulling this shit while Tellwyrn’s right here on campus. At the very least, he’s gotta have some kind of plan for dealing with her.”

“I don’t think Tellwyrn is the kind of thing you deal with,” Gabriel said with a grin.

“There’s something wrong with arcane magic over the campus,” Fross reported. “I can barely detect it; I think it’s designed to operate on a level pretty well beyond mine. That’s probably aimed at Tellwyrn.”

“I would be quite surprised if any student spellcaster, whatever the source of their powers, could challenge Professor Tellwyrn’s mastery of the arcane,” said Crystal.

“Oh, yeah, totally, she’s got that down,” Fross agreed, bobbing affirmatively in the air in front of them. “The Sleeper’s not a match for Tellwyrn, there’s just no way, or he wouldn’t’ve been so much more aggressive in her absence. By the same token, he won’t challenge her head-on; it’d make more sense to try to trip her up and slow her down. Because you can bet she’s already working on this, and we clearly haven’t seen her yet. That’s probably what this is.”

“That’s a good point,” Gabriel said, nodding. “Several good points. I’ve got the girls fanning out to find the others, but no luck yet. Apparently no Vanislaads were summoned, so there’s not a lot they can do besides scout. Sometimes they can interrupt a summoning ritual if they catch it at the right moment, but nothing on that so far.”

All of them halted mid-stride, turning to stare at the familiar sound of Vadrieny’s aggressive cry. It was distant, far enough away that even the archdemon’s glow wasn’t visible through the intervening buildings and trees.

“Okaaay,” Ruda said. “New plan? Head for that?”

“She can take care of herself,” Fross said uncertainly. “Tellwyrn’s the one who can fix this… Oh, but I don’t wanna leave a friend in trouble…”

“I do not see a dilemma,” Crystal stated, executing a sharp right face and stepping off the path. “Professor Tellwyrn is undoubtedly already at work. It would be unconscionable to leave a student in danger. I, at least, must go render assistance.”

“Good,” Toby said with a grin, following her, as did they all. “I’ll feel better if we get the whole group back together for this, anyway. Odds are good Shaeine’s with her.”

They skirted the edge of Stew’s maintenance barn, seeing no sign of the groundskeeper in evidence, and emerged onto another path on the other side, overlooking a drop to the terrace below.

“Damn, she picks now to go quiet,” Gabriel muttered. “Did anybody happen to get a fix on—”

A pillar of fire erupted from the ground right in front of them, causing everyone to leap backward, several yelling in surprise. It passed quickly, though, and in its wake there stood a figure.

It resembled the shadow-armored form the Sleeper had taken the previous night—but smaller, leaner, as if this armor were more carefully and compactly designed. It also glowed a sullen red-orange, rather than deep purple.

The Sleeper shifted, planting his feet in a familiar combat stance, and made a beckoning gesture at them.

“I can’t imagine what you think you’re going to gain from this,” Toby said flatly, stepping forward to the head of the group, “but it’s gone far enough. This is the last time I am going to offer. Surrender, and—”

A bolt of lightning roared past from over his head, striking the Sleeper in the chest and sending him staggering backward, followed by a shrill bellow from Fross.

“SUCK PIXIE DUST, ASSHOLE!”


“All right, ye got it!” Maureen stage-whispered reassuringly up. “Almost there!”

Iris finally made it to the bottom, pausing to catch her breath. “I…whew. I’m gonna need a long nap and some food. That much magic and then climbing…”

“We are not out of danger yet,” Szith said, actually leaping from the vines to land beside them rather than clambering down the last few yards. “We will not be out of danger until the Sleeper is apprehended, but in the short term, at least not until we’ve made the Well. Vadrieny is still dispatching katzils. Shaeine, are you almost down?”

They all turned to look up the vines. No one at all was climbing them.

Iris frowned. “Shaeine? Do you see her?”

“Shaeine!” Szith hissed, staring upward, alarm leaking through her reserve. “…you two make for the Well. I’m going back up.”

“Wait!” Iris said, grabbing her shoulder. Above them, Vadrieny’s glowing form arced through the air to land on the roof. “Whatever happened, she can handle it. You’ll just be putting yourself in danger.”

“I—” Szith swallowed, clearly agonizing over the decision. “She is a lady of House Awarrion, I can’t just leave if she may be…”

“All respect, the archdemon’s a better bodyguard than y’ever could be,” said Maureen. “We’re in more trouble down ‘ere. Whatever we’re doin’, we do together, ladies. What’s it to be? Stay an’ check this out, or trust they’ve got it an’ head fer safety?”

“I…” Iris started to speak, then broke off, swaying. Szith reflexively caught her by the arm. “I’m sorry… Guys, I can’t. I’m so tired…”

“We move,” Szith said quietly, shooting a final, pained look upward. “I will have to trust—”

She broke off suddenly at the sound from the rooftop.


Fross’s next attack splashed harmlessly off the cube of translucent blue light which snapped into place out of nowhere around the Sleeper.

“That. Will. Do.”

“Professor,” Crystal said in obvious relief, stepping aside to allow Tellwyrn’s approach. The elf didn’t even glance at her, glaring at the imprisoned form across the path.

She stalked right up to the edge of the cage, staring at the Sleeper over her spectacles. “Well? Anything to say on your behalf that might mitigate what’s about to happen?”

The fire-armored figure turned to her, and executed a courtly bow.

Then it exploded.

Several of them shied back, though the only effect the eruption had was to turn the cube momentarily orange. Moments later, though, the fiery glow vanished, leaving the magical prison still standing there, now empty.

“Uhh…” Gabriel swallowed. “Did he…just…suicide?”

“Highly doubtful,” Tellwyrn said acidly. “We should be so lucky. That’s hardly in this fool’s nature, though, that much is well established.”

“Professor, don’t take this the wrong way,” said Ruda, “but is it possible he could’ve shadow-jumped or something outta your little box?”

“No,” Tellwyrn snapped. “No, this was another of those damned projections. The kid really is remarkably good with them; those are extremely hard to make using infernal magic. I am quite impressed, and on a certain level I regret how much I’m going to kill the little shit. For now, are you all—”

She broke off suddenly, cringing, and clutched her ears with both hands.

“Professor?” Toby said in alarm. “What’s…?

In the next moment, Juniper grimaced in discomfort, raising her fingertips to her own right ear. “Oh, no…”

“What?” Ruda demanded. “What the fuck is…”

At that point, though, the sound finally climbed down from its piercing origins into the register of human hearing. It was another moment before they could make sense of it, but by then it was too familiar not to recognize: Vadrieny’s voice, raised in a long wail of anguish.

“No, no, no,” Fross said frantically, shooting off in the direction of the sound. The rest followed at varying speeds, Tellwyrn fastest of all by teleporting.

Even she was too late.

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12 – 39

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“They look so happy,” Iris murmured. The two drow glanced at her, Shaeine with a small smile, before everyone’s attention was recaptured by a sharp crackle of discharged energy and yelps from Teal and Maureen, who hopped backward from their contraption.

“It’s fine, I’m okay,” Teal said, grimacing and shaking her singed hand. Shaeine had surged to her feet, but stopped at the reassurance. “And this is why we let the one with the invincible archdemon handle the exposed power grid.”

“Aye, because usin’ proper safety equipment is just crazy talk,” Maureen said in exasperation. “I told ye we ‘ad a loose connector in there!”

“To be fair, you said a loose something…”

“Somethin’ bein’ loose was the only reasonable explanation fer the weird power spikes in th’motive matrix, an’ an excellent reason not t’go stickin’ your appendages into th’wires!”

“Is that what was causing you to keep ramming the front door?” Iris asked. “Because I’m not sure how much more abuse this shed can take.”

“Hey, I’m all for safety measures,” Teal said reasonably. “But why take the time to set up a grounding charm when we have someone indestructible who can just reach in there?”

“She is correct, Teal,” Shaeine said in a tone which cut through the growing argument despite her soft voice. “Safety precautions are a habit with inherent value, no matter how confident you are in your durability. We ought not discourage them in others.”

“All right, you’re right,” Teal agreed a little bashfully. “Sorry, Maureen. Next time, full charms. It’s not like we’re running on a schedule, after all.”

“Wow, she’s well-trained,” Maureen said, shooting a grin in Shaeine’s direction. “’ow come I can’t get that kind o’ agreement?”

“I have my methods,” Shaeine replied with a placid little smile. “Though I fear you and I would have a problem if you were to employ them.”

Teal and Maureen both flushed and busied themselves picking charms and replacement components from the nearby tool rack, while Iris barked a coarse laugh. Szith, not for the first time that evening, managed to look uncomfortable without altering her expression or posture by a hair.

It was a little close in the shed, with all five of them plus the vehicle, even with three clustered on a bench against the back wall, merely spectating. They weren’t the only group on campus who felt the need to congregate together lately, though. Szith had fallen without comment into an attendant role, as she tended to do in the presence of either Ravana or Shaeine, standing impassively off to one side with her hands clasped behind her, as if awaiting orders. Iris and Shaeine had both brought books and writing implements, but little schoolwork had been accomplished. Even aside from the entertainment provided by Teal and Maureen’s back and forth, the work was rather interesting to watch.

Their machine seemed to be nearing completion. It resembled an enormous copper beetle wearing a saddle, its tail currently propped up on a sawhorse; the levitation charms that normally held it up were inactive while the enchantments were being worked on. In addition to the now-affixed saddle, it had handlebars with runic controls worked right into the grips—Maureen’s invention—and fairy lamps attached to the front of its central shell, rather like eyes. Arrays of copper pipes sprang out from below the handlebars, positioned to shield the rider’s legs; when the thing was running, they also produced a fierce arcane glow, though the two enchanters had replied to questions about their purpose only with fiendish grins. Right now, it rested inert on its sawhorse and over-broad rubber wheel, all charms deactivated and with a panel on its side open, exposing its magical innards.

Suddenly, Teal jerked upright, dropping a power crystal and spinning toward the door.

Everyone else in the room tensed, zeroing in on her; Szith stepped forward, grasping the hilt of her saber.

“Trouble?” the drow asked tersely.

Fiery light flooded the small space; there simply wasn’t room for Vadrieny’s wings to spread, but even kept folded tightly against her back, their glow and that of her hair was almost overpowering in these confines.

“Trouble,” the archdemon replied. “Everyone stay together. We need to get out of here.”


“Ugh, we should’ve just stayed with Shaeine and Teal,” Gabriel groaned, rubbing the heels of his hands into his eyes. “Omnu’s balls, I’d be getting a better grasp of these principles watching somebody build something than trying to cram all this theory into my brain…”

“Teal and Shaeine need some alone time, and also aren’t trying to build a time portal,” Fross chided gently, drifting over so that she illuminated the open book in front of him. “Theory is all there is, Gabe, unless you want to get a visit from the Scions of Vemnesthis, which you don’t. C’mon, you’ll get it! It’s just the physics that are confusing at first, but once it clicks you’ll have no trouble!”

“Not everybody gets to spend an extra eight hours a day studying, glitterbug,” Ruda said with a grin. “We’re not quite on your level.”

“Says the person just sitting there,” Gabriel said sourly.

She shrugged. Ruda was leaning back in her chair, balancing on its rear two legs, with her boots propped up on the table before them. “If you think it’s fun for me to be loafing around uselessly ‘cos it’s no longer safe to be alone on this fucking campus—”

“Guys,” Fross protested. “Settle, please. This is still a library.”

They both halted, glancing around guiltily. This particular area of the library was empty save for themselves, but it was the principle of the thing. Nobody liked making Crystal come and remind them of the rules; unlike Weaver, who had at least been entertaining to annoy, she was a much more sympathetic figure, and everyone (except Chase) felt bad for inconveniencing her.

“Okay, let’s back up a step,” Fross continued softly, hovering closer to the book. “All this theory is necessary background for teleportation, Gabe, because of the intertwined nature of space and time. Some arcanists think they’re actually the same thing; at any rate, you have to calculate temporal factors to avoid accidentally time-traveling when teleporting over large distances. You like practical stuff, right?”

He sighed. “Knowing how to teleport would be nice, but come on. These large distances are, like, from here to the moon. And that’s barely large enough to qualify. There’s nowhere you could actually teleport to where these equations would be a factor.”

“The theory is still important! It’s all about accounting for the effects of gravity, which does make a difference for long-range practical teleportation. Gravity is caused by the indentations caused by mass in the fabric of the universe, and that’s important to calculate. Fixing your ‘port to the world’s gravity well is essential for all but the shortest jumps, otherwise you can accidentally shoot yourself off it. The planet is both rotating and orbiting, so if you simply move in absolute units of space instead of with it as a reference point—”

Suddenly her glow dimmed and she dropped almost to the table.

“…guys, we have a problem.”

Ruda smoothly swung her legs to the ground and straightened up. “What kind of problem?”

“Okay, so, you remember how I was piggy-backing an arcane signal on the dryads’ fae magic field so I could detect infernal magic used in its radius? I needed to do that to boost the range over the whole mountain, but for a much smaller effect I can just use my own energy, which I have been for basic security, and we’re being snuck up on right now by something invisible and powered by a lot of infernal magic.”

Both of them came to their feet, drawing blades, and in Gabriel’s case, also a wand.

“Where?” Ruda asked tersely.

“Coming up the main stairs from the lobby,” Fross answered. “Slowly. Like a prowling cat. Don’t think he knows we know yet.”

“Then he’s not listening…” Gabriel muttered. “…yeah. Vestrel sees it now, too; it’s half-concealed from the valkyries, as well, but knowing what to look for and where she says there’s a distortion. And also she thanks you, Fross.”

“You’re welcome, Vestrel! Uh, oh, I think he’s noticed—”

The distortion would have been hard to observe even in the well-lit library had it not come shooting directly at them. Something about it encouraged the eyes to slide way, no doubt deliberately.

It hesitated as a sphere of blue light rose around the three and their table. It was a lopsided sphere, though, flickering and sparking where it intersected with a chair.

“Oh, crap I need to practice this more!” Fross said shrilly.

“Ruda, you’re on defense,” Gabriel said, taking aim with his wand.

Before he could fire, the shadow hurtled forward, impacting Fross’s shield and causing it to collapse in a shower of sparks; the pixie chimed in pain and dropped to the tabletop. It then darted backward as both Ariel and a mithril rapier were slashed through the space where it had been.

Suddenly, a silver blur hurtled out of the stack. Crystal skidded on the carpet, coming to a stop between the shadow and the students with her arms outstretched to shield them. The glow of arcane light which shone from between her joints was so intense it could be seen even through the severe dress she had taken to wearing.

“Crystal, get back!” Gabriel shouted. “We can deal with this guy!”

“I’m familiar with your methods, Gabriel,” the golem replied. “Not in the library, please.”

The shadow darted to the side, clearly angling to get around her, but before it got two yards, the whole region lit up with a fierce blue glow, causing the students’ hair to stand up from static.

Crystal turned to face the shadow, her arms still flung outward. For some reason, it was plainly visible now within the arcane field she had raised, as if the energy blunted its attention-deflecting ability. It was also still struggling to reach the students, but moving sluggishly and erratically, as if trying to push against a powerful wind.

“Oh, crud, my head,” Fross groaned, lifting back into the air. “…wait a sec, what’s going on? Is she doing that?”

“Crystal?” Ruda said in alarm. “Are you okay?”

The golem’s face showed no expression, of course, being a silver mask with glowing eye holes and a slit for a mouth. She didn’t answer, seemingly focused on whatever she was doing.

The distortion shimmered once, then fired a shadowbolt at Gabriel. The purplish burst of energy barely made it a yard before arcing away to slam into Crystal instead as if she were somehow sucking it in. The golem rocked from the impact, but kept on her feet, and did not relent in her efforts.

“Okay, that does it,” Gabriel snapped, taking a step forward, his wand extending to a full-length scythe.

He was halted by Ruda grabbing his shoulder. “Whoah, hang on. I think you’d better not go charging into that, Gabe.”

The shadow rippled back and forth now, as if struggling against whatever held it, but was being drawn toward Crystal as inexorably as the shadowbolt had been. The students could only watch in alarmed fascination as it crept closer, until it finally got within her physical reach.

Like a mousetrap springing, Crystal abruptly wrapped her arms around the vague shape, pressing it close to herself.

A pulse of brilliant light rippled through the library as her arcane field collapsed. The golem was hurled backward to impact the wall, where she slid down to sit crumpled at its base. The light streaming from her eyes flickered out, then came back, now cycling rapidly between colors: blue, purple, orange, pure white, and then back to arcane blue.

“Crystal!” Gabriel shrugged Ruda off and dashed to her side, kneeling. “Are you okay? Say something!”

Crystal’s eyes flashed once more, settling on a pale purple glow, then she did begin speaking, albeit in a language none of them knew.

“Uhh…” Ruda looked helplessly at Fross. “Does that sound at all familiar to you?”

“Familiar, yes; intelligible, no.” The pixie drifted closer to the fallen golem. “I think it shares some root words with Tanglish, but no, I don’t even know what language that is.”

“Um, say something in Tanglish?” Gabriel clarified with a worried expression.

Crystal’s whole body twitched once.

“Contact—recog—English,” she sputtered. “Failure—rebooting. Unrecognized hardware, unrecognized tran…transcen—scen—scen—” Again she twitched, more feebly this time. “I can’t—Professor, the kids—”

She thrashed violently, her head impacting the wall hard enough to leave a dent, then slumped, eyes going dark.

“Crystal!” Fross cried.

Suddenly the glow returned to the golem’s eyes, this time their normal, steady arcane blue. She lifted her head to regard Gabriel, who knelt by her side.

“Ouch,” Crystal said. “That was altogether unpleasant. Are you all right, students? What happened?”

“Us?” Ruda exclaimed.

“We’re fine,” Gabriel assured her. “More worried about you. That was pretty scary, Crystal. Are you okay? How do you feel?”

“As if…I just woke up from a long sleep,” she said slowly, then began getting to her feet. “Or so I imagine this would feel, based on descriptions. I’ve never slept. I think I’d rather not do that again.”

“Uh, yeah,” said Ruda. “You ate the Sleeper. That’s gotta give you some wicked fuckin’ indigestion.”

“That was some kind of projection,” Fross disagreed. “You can’t just absorb a living person like that, though it’s fairly easy to do with most kinds of magic if you’re powerful enough. I didn’t know you could do that, Crystal!”

“Nor did I,” the golem replied, experimentally flexing her arms. “I think I’m all right.”

“I think you’d better see Professor Tellwyrn,” Gabriel said firmly.

“…perhaps that’s a good idea. Thank you, Mr. Arquin.”

“In fact, we’d better go find her, too,” he said, turning to the others. “After last night, we know for a fact the three of us wouldn’t be able to handle the actual Sleeper that easily. He probably wouldn’t try, though, with Tellwyrn back on campus. If that was just a projection, I bet we weren’t the only ones who just got visited.”

“Then hadn’t we better find the others?” Fross exclaimed.

“No, he’s right,” Ruda said, sheathing her sword. “Tellwyrn needs to know. And she’s the lady who can scry the ley lines over this campus and teleport. We get to her, we can get to the rest. C’mon, guys, better not dawdle. Fuck knows what else is happening right now.”


Rafe hummed softly to himself as he dismantled the apparatus which had been in use all day, separating out bits and pieces of Fedora’s “evidence.” Already, he had set aside several carefully labeled sample vials, the results of that day’s long efforts. It was dim in his lab; as was often the case when he immersed himself in an interesting project, he’d never quite gotten around to such mundane considerations as turning on the lamps when night fell outside, and now only the small work light next to his experimental station served as illumination for the whole room.

Facing away from the door, he did not observe the tendrils of liquid shadow streaming in through the crack at the bottom. The darkness gradually built upon itself, rising to a nearly person-sized form. It made no sound and cast no shadow in the gloom. After a full minute, though, it stood fully upright, entirely within the room, and its form rippled once as if organizing itself.

Rafe rather abruptly set down the beaker he’d been holding, slumping forward to brace himself against the counter.

The shadow rippled again.

It stopped when the alchemist began to laugh.

“Somebody doesn’t think things all the way through,” he chuckled, turning. The half-elf showed no surprise or alarm at the sight of the sentient darkness blocking his access to the door. “I am not a presumptuous freshman dabbling in alchemy she doesn’t understand. You presume to sleep the Rafe himself?!” He interlaced his fingers and stretched his arms before himself, cracking his knuckles and grinning insanely. “Well, sonny Jim, you know what we’re all here for. Come forth and get your ass educated!”

The shadow emitted an audible hiss. Its shape rippled again, but Rafe had already dipped one hand into one of his belt pouches and produced a vial of potion, which he hurled past it at the wall. The vial shattered, splattering a sticky black substance over the wall next to the door, which clung there as if making a puddle on the ground.

A purple-black shadowbolt ripped outward from the dim shape, aimed initially at Rafe, but it immediately spun wildly off course, arcing widely around to slam into the puddle on the wall. The black smear pulsed with light, briefly, before falling inert again.

Next it tried a fireball; this impacted another vial hurled by Rafe in midair. The vial didn’t even shatter, but dissolved, leaving behind a waist-high dust devil of whirling air, which was lit briefly with flame as it siphoned the fireball into itself. Fire arced all the way to the point at which it danced upon the floor, then flickered out.

“HAH!” Rafe held up both hands, fingers splayed, with eight vials of different colors braced between them. “If that’s the way you want it, then step right up and BEHOLD!”


Professor Yornhaldt was rather enjoying the familiar old routine of grading papers after his sabbatical; even during this stressful time on the campus, it added a measure of comfort to his day. Especially during this time, in fact.

When a swirling vortex of darkness appeared in the middle of his office, he was thus even more annoyed than he might otherwise have been.

Rising quickly but smoothly, he carefully closed the heavy folder into which he’d sorted his paperwork and tucked it away in his top desk drawer for safekeeping. Whatever was about to transpire, he would rather the students’ work not be destroyed in the process. It would be quite unfair to them to make them re-do it.

Yornhaldt stepped around from behind his desk, a blue shield snapping into place around himself, and held up one hand, a fireball forming above his palm and glowing blue-white with intensity.

A crackle sounded through the office, tiny arcs of lightning flashing from the vortex to scorch the carpet. A moment later, they snapped sharply, releasing a burst of white light, and then whole thing vanished, leaving Professor Tellwyrn standing there, looking even more annoyed than usual.

He lowered his hand slightly, not releasing the conjured fireball. “Arachne?”

“Alaric, good,” she said briskly. “I was afraid you might have detected what was going on and attempted to intervene.”

“I confess the first thing I detected was your arrival just now,” he said. “What was that? Is something wrong with your usual means of transportation?”

“In a word, yes. There’s an infernal field suddenly in place over my mountain, not ordinarily detectable, which is designed to infiltrate arcane spells used within its radius and corrupt them. Do not attempt to teleport until I have straightened this nonsense out; the result is what you just saw. With all respect to your skills, Alaric, I have abilities in that regard that you simply don’t.”

“Arachne, I wouldn’t still be working for you if I took it personally to be occasionally overshadowed,” he replied with a grim smile, finally letting his shield and fireball vanish. “What’s going on, and what’s the plan?”

“I’m assuming this is that idiot Sleeper kid,” she snorted, “rapidly getting far too big for his britches. As for the plan, to begin with, I need you in place helping to coordinate this response, and most particularly to keep an eye on the other individuals doing so. You, unlike them, I trust. Hold on, this may be uncomfortable.”

It was uncomfortable, especially to someone accustomed to the seamless transition of arcane teleportation. It felt rather like being dragged through a pool of slimy muck which crackled with static electricity. A moment later, though, it was over, and another dark vortex spat them back out in her office.

Yornhaldt grimaced, needlessly adjusting the lapels of his coat and taking stock; he knew better than to bother complaining at Tellwyrn’s brusque treatment. Only three others were present, two standing over her scrying table: Inspector Fedora and the warlock Bradshaw. He immediately understood her concern about trust. Ashley lounged against the bookcase, giving him a smile and a wave upon his arrival.

“That was quick,” Fedora commented, his eyes on the image displayed in the crystal globe around which the table was built. “Good. We’ve got at least a dozen of these things popping up, going after various people.”

“I’m compensating for the infernal interference as best I can,” Bradshaw added, “but without a dedicated mage working on this—ah, Professor Yornhaldt, perfect.”

“As he was about to say,” Fedora added, “we haven’t got a reliable fix on everyone and every place being targeted.”

“I’m on it,” Yornhaldt said, stepping forward to place his hands on the scrying table, flanking the crystal.

“Good,” said Tellwyrn. “Help them coordinate; I’ll be back for updates as frequently as I can. For now, though, I need something to start with. What’s the most urgent priority?”

“It’ll take me a moment, Arachne. I need to make certain I’m properly warded before wading into this, or I risk blowing up your scrying equipment and possibly myself.”

“I understand that, Alaric, I was asking the Inspector. You’ve been fairly reliable at guessing the Sleeper’s movements, Fedora. Thoughts?”

“These tactics are clearly designed to counter the overwhelming force you represent on campus,” Fedora said immediately. “Hell, just what he faced last night was more force than he wanted to. Most of these will be diversions.”

“I can figure out that much myself, not being an utter buffoon,” she snapped. “Have you anything useful to suggest?”

“Ingvar insulted and provoked him last night,” the Inspector replied. “Rafe’s current project is an immediate and severe threat to him. The sophomores and myself are both; I think Ingvar is the least likely target, assuming that dryad stuck with him like we asked her to.” He winked at Ashley. “They’re not the most reliable of critters.”

“She did,” Ashley said, not rising to the bait. “Aspen is extremely fond of him anyway.”

“Right, then he’s probably a lower priority. Likewise me, for the same reasons exactly.”

“Good,” Tellwyrn said briskly. “Then Rafe’s the first stop; at least I know where his lab damn well is without needing to scry it. Try to have something more for me when I return, people. Find the sophomore class. Tonight, we put a stop to this nonsense.”

With another whirl of dark energy and flicker of lightning, she was gone.

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12 – 11

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It had already been a long day, and the afternoon had barely begun. Eleanora had managed to arrange a short break for herself, Sharidan being trapped in a working lunch with ambassadors from the Five Kingdoms pursuant to the ongoing negotiations; she was very much looking forward to a light meal of fruit in the privacy of her room. And to having Isolde rub her shoulders. The woman’s fingers were positively magical, and nothing else was going to suffice to nix the gathering tension headache she felt coming on.

Stepping into her chamber, she paused for a moment.

Arachne Tellwyrn was sitting on her bed. The frontier adventure novel Eleanora had hidden under her mattress was open in the elf’s hands; the box of Svennish chocolates she kept in her nightstand sat on the sheets, open and now half-empty, surrounded by crumpled wrappers. A bottle of Glassian red wine she had been saving now sat on the nightstand, also half-empty.

“There you are,” Tellwyrn exclaimed. “I thought you’d never come back.”

The pause had been as much of a rise as she was going to get—Eleanora was far too self-contained to reveal any more of her feelings to this interloper. She cycled rapidly through all the obvious questions and dismissed them as things Tellwyrn would either refuse to answer or probably intended to anyway, and continued briskly into her room. Calling for the guards would be antagonistic and likely pointless; it was doubtful even a Hand of the Emperor could deal with the archmage. And after yesterday…

“What have you done with my chambermaid?” she demanded.

“Assuming you’re referring to that bosomy blonde number with the legs up to her neck, she is secured in the bathroom, completely unharmed, albeit rather miffed.” Tellwyrn smirked. “Does your consort know you call her a chambermaid? I have a hard time imagining she’d appreciate that. She seems…scrappy. By the way, your chocolates are poisoned.”

To Eleanora’s supreme annoyance, that made her pause again.

“Forgive me, that might have been a little overdramatic,” Tellwyrn mused, holding up a half-eaten chocolate and peering at it critically. “A better word might be ‘tainted.’ What’s in these won’t harm anybody who doesn’t have an extremely unlikely allergy, and honestly, you’d probably have to be an elf to detect the flavor. It’s distinctive, though. Especially in the presence of sugar, sylphreed makes this bitter, citrusy aftertaste…”

“Sylphreed,” Eleanora said with long-suffering patience, “does not exist.” Mentally, she was already counting down the elf’s allotment of seconds before she gave up on humoring her and summoned the Imperial Guard.

“Yes, yes,” Tellwyrn said, waving airily with the piece of candy. “The plant was a foolproof contraceptive and a reliable treatment for several common venereal diseases, so naturally humanity harvested it into extinction. Equally naturally, the elven groves which still cultivate it don’t let it be known that they do. I’m not kidding about the flavor; wood elves use it as a seasoning.”

“You use contraceptives for flavor?”

“They,” Tellwyrn said with a hint of annoyance for which Eleanora felt zero sympathy, “not we. I don’t move in those circles. And yes, elves are not prone to accidental pregnancy and even less in a hurry to have one. The stuff is easy enough to avoid when somebody wants a child. All of which is neither here nor there; his Majesty has yet to produce an heir, hmm? Now there’s this, and I don’t believe in coincidence. Someone, it seems, is resourceful enough to penetrate your security, connected enough to have access to elven secrets, and clueless enough to feed you contraceptives. That’s a truly horrifying combination.”

“And causes one name to spring immediately to mind,” the Empress said acidly.

Tellwyrn snorted and popped the rest of the piece into her mouth, speaking around it. “I wouldn’t know where to begin finding sylphreed; any place I might try would probably just lead to a fight with the local Elders. I certainly don’t mean your government any harm, and honestly, would I tell you about this if I were behind it?”

“That’s a common enough ploy…”

“To establish trust,” the elf said with a mirthless grin. “When performed by people who give a rat’s ass whether you trust them, yes.”

“That’s a fair enough point, I suppose. If you’ve only just discovered this, it’s not the thing which prompted this intrusion, I gather.”

“Indeed.” Tellwyrn set the book down on the bed and straightened to a more upright posture, shifting to face Eleanora directly with a serious expression. “There is a Hand of the Emperor at Last Rock who appears to be coming unglued.”

Having had the whole conversation thus far to steel herself, Eleanora did not betray even a hint of the sudden unease she felt, merely affecting a disdainful lift of her eyebrow. “Quite an accusation. Or it would be, were it less vague. Can you offer useful details, or have you come specifically to waste my time?”

Tellwyrn made no response to her open asperity. “How much do you know about the situation right now?”

“The situation at Last Rock? The broad strokes. Sleeping curses, your general inability to control your students, a likely connection to last year’s hellgate crisis—and by the way, thank you for that—and the aid of Imperial Intelligence in hunting down your perpetrator, which you should have sought immediately after the resolution of the last disaster when you failed to apprehend the guilty party.”

“All those years of charm school were a wise investment, I see,” Tellwyrn said dryly. “The Hand originally came to feel me out of his own volition, and I decided if the Throne was going to fart around on my lawn anyway it could make itself useful. That is why I’m only now accepting government help, not because I came begging for it, but I am about ready to change my mind.”

“Yes, yes,” Eleanora said impatiently. “What specifically is he doing that has you in such a tizzy?”

The Professor raised an eyebrow of her own, but answered. “Today his behavior suddenly altered. Dramatically. He was rude, pushy, aggressive, and deliberately provocative.”

“Is that really all?” the Empress said disdainfully.

“I have dealt with Hands of the Emperor since they were of the Empress, Eleanora. The moment I came back to society and found Theasia had begun screwing around with dryads, I made damn well sure to understand what to expect from them. Their conduct has never been anything but uniform. They are icily calm, collected, even laudably diplomatic. Now? Even that diabolical thing from Intelligence agrees his behavior was unprecedented and alarming. No, I don’t panic every time a government official acts out of character. Hands of the Emperor are another matter. Something is wrong. And aside from the host of issues this raises for you, it’s going wrong on my campus. If this guy loses it like he seemed close to doing today and I have to deal with that, legally I’ll have assaulted the Emperor. So here’s me, making an overture before that point arrives. I want it understood that I have dealt with the Throne’s representative in good faith and anything which follows will only be whatever is necessary to protect my students.”

Eleanora was still mulling points from earlier in that speech when it came to an end. Dryads? She now embraced a conclusion she’d begun considering yesterday: despite Sharidan’s explanations about her plausible deniability and his mother’s secrets, he was going to explain some things about those Hands of his.

“Diabolical thing from Intelligence?” she said aloud. “They sent Fedora out there? Well, I suppose that makes sense. He’d better have at least one of his handlers on site, too.”

“You seem to have latched onto the least relevant part of that,” Tellwyrn said irritably.

“You and I have very different standards of relevance, Arachne, and no, I didn’t miss anything you said. Mood swings—”

“And shadow-jumping.”

That brought her up short. “…you saw this?”

“He appeared out of nowhere and vanished the same way, and it wasn’t arcane teleportation. If it was mere illusion or stealth, it was enough to fool both my own senses and these,” she tapped the rim of her golden spectacles, “which is not a small thing. More to the point, it’s something the Hands have never had before. Have you been altering them?”

“Surely it goes without saying that I am not going to discuss business of that nature with you.”

“Well, if you have, the side effects include emotional instability, which, if you’ll excuse me for telling you your own business, is a bad trait in extremely powerful people who are always hovering around the Emperor.”

“Your concern is appreciated,” Eleanora said tonelessly.

“All right, fine.” Tellwyrn set the box of chocolates aside and rose, dusting off her hands. “I’ve brought you into the loop, that’s my moral responsibility taken care of. I haven’t made any secret of my self-interest, here, but this also is a matter of concern to the Throne. But if your personal antipathy is more important—”

“Don’t you dare,” Eleanora hissed, assuming a mask of icy rage. The emotion was quite genuine, but she was fully in control, now; her emotions were possessions which served her needs, not wild things which controlled her. She stalked toward the bed, backing the elf up against it. “You have intruded here by force, assaulted someone important to me and made a show of disrespecting my possessions—my personal ones, not the expensive trappings of my rank. You will not stand in my home and act like the aggrieved party trying to be reasonable. This was all the same ploy you always use with everyone: making a show of how unpredictable and dangerous you are, to cow the audience into giving you your way. I know your power, Arachne, but I do not bend my neck to bullies. I didn’t before I sat on a throne. If you plan to push me one inch farther, you’d better just kill me. Otherwise, you are going to learn just how different this Silver Throne is from the one you brought down in the Enchanter Wars.”

Tellwyrn met her furious stare with her eyebrows upraised in surprise. After a long moment, she nodded slowly and sidled away, extricating herself from between the Empress and the bed. “Well…all right. That’s pretty fair, the whole thing. Excuse me, then.”

She made it halfway to the door before pausing and half-turning.

“I’m sorry, by the way, for running out on you like that. No, this is not an attempt to curry favor, or regain any moral high ground. I actually just wanted to apologize; it’s overdue. I left so suddenly because of a call for help. In fact, I lost a good friend that night, which I’m afraid drove everything else right out of my mind. And then you were getting deeper and deeper into politics, and it seemed like a good idea to leave you alone, especially after you tied yourself to the Throne. But…there it is. If I hurt you, I didn’t mean to.”

Eleanora folded her arms, her face once again stonily impassive. “And is that finally all?”

“Yeah, I guess so,” Tellwyrn said with a wry twist of her lips, turning back toward the door. “Look after yourself. I mean that very sincerely. Unless I’m badly overreacting to this Hand thing, you could be in real danger, Eleanora.”

She strolled out into the hall as casually as if she owned the place. Eleanora didn’t watch her leave; she suddenly had much more important matters to consider. First, though, she made a beeline for the bathroom. If Isolde had so much as a bruise or scraped knee, she was going to have a fortress built at Last Rock, and a battalion stationed there. With strike teams.


“I’m not arguing the moral point, Moriarty,” Finchley said wearily. “Just the practical one. What, exactly, do you think we could’ve done to protect the students from being attacked by an apparently invisible, un-trackable enemy who in all probability is one of them?”

“Hell, I’ll argue the moral point,” Rook said with a grin. “The Sleeper’s gotta be one of the little bastards, and they can all demonstrably take care of themselves better than we can. We don’t get sent into the Golden Sea and the Crawl every year just to see what happens, and thank the flippin’ gods for that, because what would happen would be us getting our asses killed. And that’d be a damn shame after we were within groping distance of Elilial and walked away, even if we can’t tell the story. Just anticlimactic, is all. Nah. There’s ‘not our fucking job,’ and then there’s this.”

“You are both missing the point,” Moriarty grated, “practically and morally, and you’ll note the total lack of surprise in my expression. It doesn’t matter what we do or don’t have the physical power to do. I hate that we’re sitting here, safe and comfortable, while civilians are being attacked. We’re soldiers! We are supposed to protect the people of this Empire!”

“Y’know, a good chunk of the student body aren’t even Imperial,” Rook said reasonably.

Moriarty clapped a hand over his eyes. “It’s like talking to a wall. A slovenly, lazy, undisciplined, insubordinate—

“Ease up,” Finchley said with a grin. “It’s not likely we’ll find ourselves in a position to help, but come on. All three of us would step in if we had the opportunity and the means. Surely we’ve proved that much to each other by now.”

Moriarty let out an irritated huff, turning to glare at the windows, which showed the prairie far below, stained orange with the beginnings of sunset. “I might feel better if the Sleeper targeted us next.”

“That is because you’re a fuckin’ idiot,” Rook grunted.

“Or a masochist,” said Finchley.

“Which,” Rook replied, “is a sub-species of fuckin’ idiot.”

“Me,” Moriarty said woodenly, “to appease my conscience, and you two because you deserve it!”

“Indefinite enforced bed rest?” Rook said, grinning insanely. “I haven’t been nearly good enough to deserve that! But hell, I’ll take it.”

“Attention.”

They managed, with some scrambling; Moriarty whipped around and snapped to attention immediately, Finchley a second later, Rook only after falling off the bed and leaping to his feet.

The resident Hand of the Emperor stood in the dorm they shared with Gabriel and Toby, studying them coldly. None of them had heard the door open. He paced slowly down the short rank they formed, then back, turning his head to keep his flat stare on them. Finally he stopped and grunted.

“At least one of you gets credit for good intentions—which, needless to say, are worth nothing. You men will pack your gear and be ready to move out upon my order. You have wasted quite enough time loafing about here; it’s time for you to act like soldiers, assuming you can remember how. But first.” He paused, then nodded. His expression was not a smile, but something in it hinted at satisfaction, and even a small degree of pleasure. “First, you are going, finally, to be useful to your Emperor.”


She opened and closed the door when passing through it, loud enough that from any other elf it might have been pointed. In Tellwyrn’s case, though, it probably meant nothing. She wasn’t prone to subtlety in any of her actions.

“Hey, Arachne,” Rafe said with a grin, turning from organizing his tools. “You missed dinner. Want a bit to nosh? I always keep some snacks on hand.”

“No, thanks, I filled up on candy and contraceptives,” she said, surveying the room with a raised eyebrow. “And I’m not just saying that because you offered me food while cleaning your alchemy lab.”

“Excuse you, my lab is a shining beacon of spotless perfection as always, and anyway I’m almost done.” He set the two beakers he’d been holding on their shelf, shut the cabinet and latched it, then turned and held his arms wide, grinning. “See? Done. It’s rather late in the day, Arachne, classes are long over with. What’ve you been out doing all afternoon?”

“State visits,” she said cryptically. “Admestus, I was just prompted today to take a closer look at something which is obvious in hindsight, but sailed right under my nose at the time.”

“Damn, and it’s not even Tuesday,” he said lightly. “Something I can help with, I gather? If you just wanted to think out loud, you usually roust Alaric for that.”

“Mm.” She was studying him closely over the rims of her spectacles, her eyebrows creased in a faint frown. “Kaisa overreacted.”

“Hsst!” He dropped to a crouch, looking rapidly back and forth in alarm. “Don’t speak ill of the creature! She can probably hear you!”

“From Sifan?” Tellwyrn said dryly.

“I am not going to rule that out! Other things I’m not going to rule out include her not actually being gone, because I do not understand why Ekoi Kaisa does anything and I don’t wanna get turned into a frog. She actually has done that, Arachne. Took great pleasure in telling me the story. It ended with soup.”

“She did overreact, though,” Tellwyrn mused, wandering idly into the lab and picking up a sealed jar of tiny eyeballs. She examined this abstractly, not seeming to really see it. “Played the perfect ‘volatile kitsune’ angle. She is prickly about being shown proper respect; most of her sisters are. Kaisa, though, likes to play that angle, and I can’t believe I let her make me forget it. I’ve seen her do it before, act offended and crazy in order to get the reaction she wants, or just to deflect attention. That business, though…that was more affront than your little prank warranted. Also, while I have known her to storm off in a huff, it was never over somebody playing a joke on her. That should have brought retaliation.”

He groaned. “Well, isn’t that just peachy.”

“And then there’s you.” Tellwyrn set down the eyeballs, turning to stare very flatly at him. “You do the same thing. I’m not the kids, Admestus, don’t even try to pull the wool over my eyes. I’ve no issue with your methods of deflecting, except when you take it too far—and I don’t even mind, all that much, cleaning up when you do. This, though.”

“This is all beginning to sound rather accusatory,” he said, folding his arms. “Also, it’s not like you to beat around the bush this way, Arachne. What’s on your mind?”

“Yes, all sorts of people are acting out of character lately,” she said. “Kaisa, flipping out and storming off over a little joke which, honestly, she would have thought was funny, and then got you back. Twice over. You, a person evincing a very healthy fear of irate kitsune—and by the way, take nothing I say here as discouragement of that, because you should fear them if you ever meet another one—who for some reason decided to play a highly aggressive prank on one. How many years has it been, Admestus? I do know you. I know the kind of jokes you like, the kind of targets you prefer and exactly what you get out of tweaking their noses.”

“Am I so transparent?” he asked mournfully.

“To me? Yes. I’m betting to several of your colleagues, as well. Alaric pretends to find you so annoying because he knows you enjoy it. This, though. I was so distracted by Kaisa’s antics and then this Sleeper crap I never paused to consider how very out of character it would be for you to deliberately provoke her that way.”

“Hah!” He struck a pose, planting his fists on his hips. “For the sake of my art, I will endure any travail!”

Tellwyrn folded her arms and stared at him over the rims of her glasses.

It was only a moment longer before Rafe visibly deflated. “Oh, all right, fine. I didn’t slip Kaisa an anti-magic potion—honestly, how would that even work? I’m pretty sure she’s got entire senses for people playing pranks. Drugging a kitsune probably isn’t even possible. She asked me to play along, Arachne. Which I did, for the two very excellent reasons that she scares the hell out of me, and I didn’t see any harm in it. If she was going to mess with the kids or with you, I’d have come to you. I thought she was just bored with teaching and wanted an excuse to quit, and it cost me nothing to make myself useful. I mean, Alaric was back and all…”

“No.” Tellwyrn shook her head, turning to frown at a rack of bottled reagents. “Kaisa does not get bored with teaching. I asked her to come teach because it’s what she does. Her one great joy in life. If she decided to walk out in the middle of her contract, she’s got good and specific reasons.”

“Hey…” His expression sobered. “Do you think this has anything to do with the Sleeper? I’m not an idiot, it did occur to me… But I couldn’t see her doing something like that. I mean, I can’t say I know her well, but she always seemed to care about the kids, in her way. And if nothing else, she respects you.”

“I think you’re right about that,” Tellwyrn mused. “I don’t believe in coincidence. This started up right when she left—but the connection there is obvious enough without weaving conspiracies out of cobwebs. What we’re dealing with is almost certainly a very powerful diabolist, but no diabolist is anything more than prey for a kitsune. However… Now I have to wonder what angle Kaisa is playing. I don’t have it in me to believe she was blind to the results of her departure. I’ve never known her to act without full knowledge of every repercussion her actions would have.”

“Hey, uh, look,” he said awkwardly, scratching behind one of his ears, “you know I wouldn’t…”

“Relax, Admestus,” Tellwyrn said, giving him a fondly exasperated look. “You’re not in trouble. You were right about both your points: defying Kaisa if she asked for your help wouldn’t have been wise, and helping her wasn’t any kind of betrayal of me. I do trust her, and you, and I don’t suspect either of meaning harm to the campus.”

“D’aww.” He beamed. “I’m all warm and fuzzy!”

“Yeah, well, you enjoy that luxury.” Tellwyrn turned back toward the door. “I now have to go and do something about this.”


“Sorry for being late,” Toby said, sliding onto the bench in the little reading alcove. “You were right, I think I may have over-committed myself a bit this semester. I’m gonna give it another week to hit a rhythm before I start paring anything down, so don’t worry, I’m still up for studying.”

Raolo didn’t raise his eyes from the spellbook open in his lap. Toby gave him a long look, then sighed.

“Oh, the silent treatment again? That’s not as entertaining as you think it is, Rao. I’m not that late. And who was it who decided to set up in the back corner over here instead of our usual table? You’re lucky Crystal saw you heading this way or I’d still be looking.”

He grinned and nudged the elf in the shoulder with his fist.

Raolo immediately slumped bonelessly in the other direction, the book sliding from his lap. Toby’s reflexes snapped into action; he grabbed the freshman before he could fall far.

“Raolo?” Gold light flashed into being around them; somewhat awkwardly, given their side-by-side position on the wall bench, Toby wrestled the elf around to face him, tilting his head back. The younger boy didn’t respond in the slightest to the manipulation, even when Toby had to grip his hair to hold his head up, and thumbed his eyelid open. He was breathing; his pulse was steady. He wasn’t an accomplished diagnostician by any means, but between his classes and some of Omnu’s innate gifts, he could sense enough to know Raolo was, more or less, healthy.

Just asleep.

“Oh, no.”

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12 – 5

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Dawn had just graced the mountain when they returned.

“Enter,” Tellwyrn said in response to the sharp knock on her office door.

It swung open and Professors Rafe and Ezzaniel stepped inside, the martial arts instructor pausing to shut the door behind them.

“All right, gentlemen,” Tellwyrn said, watching them expressionlessly. “How bad is it?”

Rafe blinked at her, then scowled. “Okay, come on now, really. Just how sharp are those ears? You could tell we have bad news just from listening to our footsteps outside?”

“I can tell you have bad news because I can see your face,” she said in exasperation. “You look like someone just drowned your puppy in a pond. Both of you.”

He grimaced. “I sort of wish you’d expressed that differently…”

“I’m not getting my hellhound breath, am I?” Tellwyrn asked, her eyebrows lowering into a scowl.

“No,” Ezzaniel replied, folding his arms behind his back. “The hellhounds are gone.”

A moment of silence followed, in which Rafe sighed irritably. The office was lit only by the windows, leaving it pleasantly dim, but bright enough for them to clearly see the University president’s expression. Unfortunately.

“Gone?” Tellwyrn asked softly. “Can you be more specific, please?”

“I’m afraid not,” Ezzaniel replied. “It is quite the mystery. Khavibosh, who is now in charge on Level 2, has been stomping about in a fury about it for the last week. Apparently, both hellhounds just up and…vanished.”

“I’m sure I need not explain to you two how very impossible that is,” she said.

“No indeed,” Rafe agreed. “Level 2 is supposed to be instanced and sealed, and Melaxyna’s jiggery-pokery to overcome its multiple-version effect should make it even harder to extract things from it. In fact, rather than just come straight back here empty-handed, we looked around in the Crawl for some answers. Hence this trip taking all damn night.”

“Unfortunately,” Ezzaniel continued, “there is a dearth of persons to ask. Our ideas ran dry after Melaxyna, as she is the only denizen of the Crawl we know of who has been placed in Level 2 and yet escaped.”

“She didn’t escape,” Tellwyrn said curtly. “The Crawl let her out, at my request. I prefer to have a Vanislaad or something similarly manipulative watching over the Grim Visage. A more brutal kind of demon can keep order on Level 2 just as easily, but Sarriki does not need to be slithering about without a significant check on her movements. What did she say?”

“She affected to be incensed at the news,” Ezzaniel said with a shrug. “Frankly, the only definitive result we can claim from the encounter is evidence that she does not have the hellhounds in the Visage itself. Beyond that… I am not going to take anything a succubus tells me at face value.”

“She brought Xsythri to the Visage with her, too,” Rafe added. “That hethelax who follows her around. Did you authorize that?”

Tellwyrn’s eyes narrowed. “…not explicitly. But in retrospect, I can see how she might have arranged that loophole.”

“So,” Ezzaniel said in satisfaction, “she could be behind their disappearance.”

“Maybe,” said Rafe. “Xsythri was heartbroken at the news her puppies had vanished. Emilio’s right, a child of Vanislaas is more likely to lie than breathe, but I don’t think Xsythri has the imagination to be deceitful. It’s not the first time I’ve had that thought.”

“Whatever happened to the hellhounds,” Ezzaniel said, “we are not going to get information, much less their breath, without conducting some serious investigations. And that involves a dungeon delve of the old school. Not one of our comparatively tame class trips with the Crawl itself watching out for the students; we’ll be down there looking for answers, facing the native dangers, and probably not with the cooperation of the dungeon itself.”

“Don’t rush to conclusions,” Tellwyrn warned. “Before it comes to that, I’ll see what I can get from the Crawl myself. We get along well.”

“Regardless,” he replied, “if it does come down to an investigation of the type I referred to, it will mean several members of the faculty will be occupied doing that for a significant amount of time. Right at a moment when we need every one of us on campus and alert.”

“Yeeaah,” Rafe drawled. “We were pretty much running with the conclusion that none of this is a coincidence. It’s a virtual certainty that whoever’s casting this sleeping curse is a student, and probably one who’s been here at least two years. They all know about the hellhounds on Level 2. And a student is more likely than most to be able to get the Crawl to cooperate with them in mussing things up down there. More likely than anybody who lives in it, anyway.”

“And now you’re speculating,” said Tellwyrn. “Don’t do that. We need information, not baseless theories.”

“Well, pertaining to that,” said Ezzaniel, “dare I hope you have made some progress up here while we were occupied?”

“Of a sort,” she replied with a sigh. “To the extent of ruling out possibilities. Alaric and I have been at the scrying arrays and studying Natchua, and we seem to have established that whatever this curse is, it’s simply not detectable by magic.”

“I thought we already knew that,” said Rafe.

“Not exactly. Both the incidents were recent enough that Alaric could scry them through the ley line network. We had perfectly clear views of Chase and then Natchua just drifting off to sleep, apropos of apparently nothing. In her case, while she was walking between buildings. Something about the curse, or something done by the person who casts it, corrects the sight when viewed through a scrying apparatus.”

“Perhaps that is literally what happened,” Ezzaniel suggested. “We know nothing about how this curse is transmitted.”

“Perhaps,” she said. “Then again, Chase recalled someone approaching him from behind just before he was struck.”

Rafe groaned. “When Chase is our most reliable source of information, we’re pretty well boned.”

“We also spent some more time studying Natchua,” Tellwyrn continued, giving him a sour glance. “None of our tests have yielded any direct evidence of magic at work. By all appearances, her body is simply maintaining and infinitely rejuvenating itself at the cellular level for no reason at all, which of course is impossible. It’s made somewhat more difficult by the fact that she is an elf; her body doesn’t decay nearly as quickly as a human, but even drow aren’t meant to lie still for more than hours at a time. The unfortunate fact is that to get more data, we will have to hope she remains that way for a long period, or that other students of more short-lived races are struck. Obviously, I can’t bring myself to hope for either outcome.”

“Well,” Ezzaniel mused, “there is some precedent for things being invisible to magic. Or antithetical to it.”

“I am still certain this isn’t the Wreath’s doing,” Tellwyrn replied, “and I don’t see how mithril could be a factor here, thought it does block scrying. For it to be doing this, it would pretty much have to be ground to a fine powder and introduced directly to the subject’s bloodstream. Leaving aside the horrendous expense of obtaining a sufficient quantity of the stuff, it’s physically impossible to reduce that way. Also, elves require magic on a basic biological level. If that were possible, doing it to a drow would simply kill her.”

“Chaos disrupts magic,” Rafe said quietly.

“Chaos does not behave itself when used,” Tellwyrn said, shaking her head. “I did think of that, but no. Wielding chaos involves grand, dramatic spells, which don’t work in any consistent fashion at the best of times. This is extremely precise. No…we’re still in the dark.”

“Fuck a duck,” Rafe grumbled.

Tellwyrn sighed. “Well, anyway. Thank you both for making the effort. I’ve already posted notices that your morning classes are canceled; go get some rest.”

“Nonsense!” Rafe proclaimed, puffing out his chest and planting his fists on his hips, while Ezzaniel gave him a long, sardonic look. “I’ll just throw back a vial of one of my many sources of bottled vitality and be rarin’ to go!”

“Admestus,” she said more gently, “no. Keep those for later—I have a feeling we may need them. You and I both know, and even you have to acknowledge, that no shortcuts or replacements for natural sleep are as good as the real thing. I’m going to need both of you—and everyone else—in their best shape. No more students have been struck down yet, but I’m not enough of an optimist to assume this thing has run its course.”

“Nor I,” Ezzaniel agreed. “I rather suspect it’s only beginning. Very well, I’ll grab a few winks and be back to class after noon. What’s your plan for the time being, Arachne?”

“For now,” she said, pushing back her chair and standing, “I’ve let the faculty know to keep their eyes open; any students found inexplicably and unwakeably asleep are to be brought straight to Taowi. I’ve first period today free, and I need to go deal with yet another perplexing new thing that’s come up.”

“Anything bad?” Rafe asked, raising an eyebrow.

She grimaced. “I really, really hope not.”


The Saloon kept evening hours exclusively and the town’s sole inn did not serve food, which left but one place where people could congregate in public over breakfast. The Ale & Wenches seemed marginally less ridiculous in the morning, occupied only by a few townsfolk and with the windows open to admit the sunlight, than it did in the more raucous evening shift, when University students and passing would-be adventurers were the main clientele.

He had been here nearly twenty-four hours, not long enough yet that he needed to start thinking about food or sleep. It wasn’t his plan to stay in Last Rock enough time to make those a necessity. Nothing he was doing here was terribly urgent. It had been a well-spent day, though; wandering invisibly about, he had observed much and heard some extremely enlightening conversations. Vex’s intelligence reports generally agreed with what he had now seen, but he did not like to rely overmuch on secondhand information. Considering what might be at stake, it was well worth it to take a day and see for himself.

Now, another such interesting conversation was occurring at the next table over.

“Just don’t feel right, Hiram,” Ox Whipporwill rumbled, folding his arms across his chest. “I know, it’s all in good fun, but after the events a’ the last year…”

“Omnu’s breath, Ox, you’re getting downright stodgy in your old age,” huffed the banker, who was easily fifteen years the deputy’s senior. “You’re right, it is just a bit of fun. As Sam is so fond of reminding us, if the pool ever did pay out, we’d be in too much of a cataclysm for anybody to collect.”

“That’s what I mean,” Ox replied. “I like the kids, Hiram, you know I do. Even the ones I don’t like; as a group, I got no quarrel with ’em. An’ if you ain’t heard, Loretta’s girl will be enrolling next semester—seems Tellwyrn was serious about havin’ Last Rock’s kids sign up if they’re interested.”

“Should be a grand opportunity for young May,” Hiram Taft agreed.

“But,” Ox continued, pointing a finger across the table at him, “last time we had the freshman pool was before the hellgate, an’ then that near riot. I just don’t think it’s the same.”

“It’s very easy to say that now,” Taft replied petulantly.

“I said it then,” Ox shot back. “That hellgate was pretty fresh in everyone’s minds when you were organizin’ it first thing last semester. Matters ain’t a lot better now, despite Tellwyrn’s promise…”

“Ox, old boy, I’m going to have to disagree with you there,” said Taft. “Things are better. I rather wish the good Professor had done this years ago, if for no other reason than that it has improved the general feeling toward the University here in town. But aside from that, the fact that there’s lingering tension makes it all the more important, in my view, that we not walk on eggshells. Having our little annual joke as usual sends the message that nothing has changed. We’re still the same town, it’s still the same school, and we’re no more afraid or resentful of them than in any year before.”

“I s’pose I see the reason in that,” Ox said grudgingly. “Still makes me a mite nervous, though.”

Suddenly, the A&W’s door burst open with far more force than it required, and Arachne Tellwyrn strode in.

She made a beeline for his table, passing the startled locals without a glance, stopped right in front of him, folded her arms and stared down her nose, over the rims of her spectacles.

“Hi there, and welcome to Last Rock. Might I have a word with you in private?”

Gasps and murmurs rose all around; the tavern wasn’t busy at this hour, but half a dozen people were scattered about, all now staring at him. The serving girl went pale and actually knelt.

The Hand of the Emperor sighed softly and rose from his seat. His magic did not provide true invisibility, but it served to deflect all notice from his presence when he so chose. That technique had its weaknesses, however. Such as when someone on whom it did not work deliberately called attention to him in a way that no one could ignore.

“Good morning, Professor,” he said, nodding to her, then turned his head to nod again at the room at large. “Please, everyone, go about your business. Rise,” he added gently to the waitress, who jibbered something incoherent and actually scuttled backward a few feet without getting off her knees. Well, at least even in this backwater they knew how a Hand of the Emperor was to be treated. “Is this going to be a friendly conversation?” he added pointedly to Tellwyrn.

“As far as I know, it is,” she replied. “I have absolutely no quarrel with the Empire and my interactions with it have mostly been quite satisfactory.”

“Yes,” he said dryly, “I understand the Treasury quite enjoys receiving your taxes every year.”

Tellwyrn grinned unrepentantly. “What concerns me is the question of why a Hand of the Emperor would feel the need to skulk around here without announcing himself.”

“Perhaps my presence has nothing to do with you.”

She made a face. “Do we have to fence and banter in front of the citizenry? Nobody here needs the awkwardness of being in that crossfire.”

“There will be no crossfire,” he said firmly as the whispers started up again. “The Empire has only the highest opinion of your University, Professor. In any case, yes, I believe we should speak, now that we already are. Would you care to provide teleportation to a suitable spot? I’m sure you know the town better than I.”

She actually raised her eyebrows in visible surprise. “Don’t mind if I do, then.”

He knew her teleportation was smoother than that of any mage in the Empire’s employ, but knowing wasn’t the same as experiencing it. The world changed around him so suddenly and without fanfare that it was quite disorienting.

They now stood in a long, wide hallway, one wall consisting of glass windows overlooking the Golden Sea from atop the mountain; the rest of it was thronged with potted plants of various kinds. One lifted a blossom to face him. It had an eyeball in its center.

“Of all the highly secured, soundproof labs on my campus,” Tellwyrn said, pacing over to the windows to gaze out, “this one has the best view. Keep well back from the plants. There’s a reason these species are kept in a secure lab.”

“Duly noted,” he said, following her. “So, Professor, what can the Empire do for you?”

She turned to give him a look. “What does the Empire want from me?”

“Certainty,” he said promptly.

She actually grinned. “Something tells me I can’t help you there.”

“I quite meant what I said in front of the townsfolk,” he went on. “His Majesty’s government bears you no ill will, and in fact, Lord Vex speaks highly of your cooperation over the last two years. Regardless, there are…uncertainties. Your relationship with the entire Tirasian Dynasty has been somewhat tumultuous. And it must be said that the Throne bears half the responsibility.”

Tellwyrn blinked in apparent surprise. “You really think I harbor animosity toward the Throne?”

“It has hardly been forgotten,” he said, “that the Tirasian Dynasty exists in part because you ended the previous one.”

She shrugged. “Emperor Arvusham was incompetent, corrupt, weak, and had instigated a civil war at the same time the Universal Church was undergoing its own coup literally across the street from his house. If I hadn’t taken him off the Silver Throne, someone would.”

“Yes, but the fact remains, someone didn’t. You did. When we consider the nature of your relationship to the government, that is exceedingly relevant. The Throne appreciates your recent aid, but it also recalls that unfortunate business with the Ministry of Mysteries, not to mention Emperor Sarsamon’s attempted abduction of you just before you vanished. And, Professor, just because we cannot prove where that vodka elemental came from does not mean we don’t know.”

She grinned again. “Oh, come on. That was funny, admit it.”

“I believe his Majesty agrees with you,” the Hand replied, calmly folding his arms. “I may speak with his voice, in the eyes of the law, but I necessarily cannot share his relaxed attitude toward…practical jokes.”

Tellwyrn’s expression sobered and she turned again to gaze out over the prairie. “You’re really concerned that I’ve been eyeing the Throne since Sarsamon?”

“The facts as they are recorded are that you attempted to penetrate the Palace’s defenses with a very high-level scrying spell, and the Emperor dispatched agents to collect and question you—to no avail.”

“That’s it?”

“Is there more?”

Tellwyrn smiled, this time reminiscently. “I guess he never did leave behind a clear record…well, that doesn’t surprise me. That kerfuffle was the only way we could get in touch with each other one last time without letting on that we were doing so.”

Very slowly, the Hand raised an eyebrow. “I’m not sure I understand.”

“Sarsamon Tirasian was my friend.” She shifted to look at him sidelong. “I saved his life a dozen times during the Enchanter Wars. He’d have done the same, but I was the archmage and he the nobleman; our power differential didn’t really work out that way. We once got liquored up to the point of combustibility and spent a whole night bawling about our respective dead lovers. I was about to leave, and… Well, I wanted to say goodbye.”

“Go on,” he said after a silent moment.

“It’s all ancient history now,” she whispered, again staring out the window. “And anyway, you’re the living embodiment of sufficient clearance. The Emperor and I couldn’t let on that we were acquainted for the good of the Empire. You see, House Tirasian was an insignificant little merchant House from southern Calderaas before Sultana Shiranza, Duke Rashond and Archpope Vyara cooked up between them the idea to take advantage of the Empire’s fractured state to install a puppet on the Silver Throne. With the combined influence of House Aldarasi, House Madouri and the Universal Church, they were able to bring enough other nobles and cults on board to make it happen. Once they put Sarsamon in place… We decided the Empire deserved a true leader to help it heal. So some of us put together a conspiracy of our own.” Tellwyrn turned to stare him fully in the eye. “It revolved around another acquaintance of ours. A Stalweiss warlord named Heshenaad. We set him up as a threat, someone we could rally the Empire against and elevate the Emperor above the machinations of his original supporters.”

“…I see,” the Hand said slowly. “And you couldn’t find someone not called Horsebutt? It’s an ongoing humiliation that that has to be written in the history books as someone who seriously threatened the Empire.”

She grinned in open amusement. “There’s a certain savage poetry to the Stalweiss and their honor names. It’s funny, but I originally heard the name translated as Horse’s Ass; the modern version is the improved one, believe me. Really, it’s not so bad. Everyone who’s worked with horses understands the reference. Heshenaad was a man you absolutely did not want to sneak up on from behind.” She shrugged. “So, no. Not only do I not resent the Tirasian Dynasty, I am the lion’s share of the reason it’s a thing at all. I haven’t exactly been active in politics, and I’ve never made the effort to get to know Sarsamon’s descendants, but that’s probably for the best.”

“With regard to that,” he said, “the Silver Throne does owe you an apology for the Ministry of Mysteries affair. It may interest you to know that the Ministry’s dissolution was not directly due to your efforts, but to Empress Theasia’s outrage that it had presumed to pressure you in her name without her consent.”

“She always seemed like a good one,” Tellwyrn mused. “I missed the bulk of her reign, though. That was not how I preferred to be welcomed back to the world. Well, as I said… Certainty I cannot give you. When one has seen governments come and go as often as I have, one learns not to become attached. In point of fact I happen to think the Empire in its present form is a very good thing, and Sharidan seems the best leader this continent has seen in the last century. To you he may be the center of the universe, but to me, he’s one more in a long line, and others will come after him. Someday the Empire will fall; empires always do. Someday long before then it will be afflicted with a government which is neither as competent or as benign as Sharidan’s. It will not find me in a position where I am tied to it excessively closely.” She tilted her head back, again looking down her nose at him. “For now, though, at this moment? I heartily approve of the boy and his work. You need fear no interference or hostility from me, and in fact I’m glad to help out here and there as it is necessary and appropriate.”

The Hand of the Emperor regarded her in thoughtful silence for a moment, then took one step back and sketched a shallow bow.

“The Silver Throne acknowledges and appreciates your sentiment, Professor. And returns it in virtually perfect symmetry.”

That earned another amused smile. “So, then. What specific thing brings you out here sniffing around? And kindly don’t waste my time by dissembling. Vex wouldn’t do this, and I’m well aware that you Hands lack initiative. Sharidan isn’t likely to suddenly be making gestures like this un-prompted, so either he or you are reacting to something.”

The Hand permitted himself the luxury of a soft sigh. “The Empire is…beset.”

“What else is new?”

He shook his head. “The Black Wreath is more aggressive than it has been since the Enchanter Wars, the Archpope has begun making highly disruptive moves, there is unrest simmering in multiple provinces… Both the Punaji and Tidestrider nations test the terms of our treaties, Narisians are suddenly interacting with elven groves on an unprecedented scale, and Sifan has begun making noises to the effect that the Silver Throne should offer formal reparations to the orcish clans for the cataclysm of Athan’Khar. Now, the dwarven kingdoms are suddenly acting with great aggression in Tiraan territory.”

“The dwarves?” She raised her eyebrows in surprise. “That makes no sense. The Empire could roll over in its sleep and pulverize them, and they have to know it.”

“That is precisely the issue,” he said. “A competent, comparable rival will conduct himself in a fairly predictable manner, at least insofar as refraining from rocking the boat too much. Someone cornered and desperate, however, might do absolutely anything at all. The dire condition of the Five Kingdoms is exactly what makes their overtures worrisome, and exactly what makes the Throne’s response uncertain. We can do as we have always done: send our armies, leverage our economic and political might, make the world bow before the power of Tiraas. But…the world is not as it was a hundred years ago. Economically, politically, socially, we are tied to more people and in more ways than ever before. Great shows of force are increasingly inappropriate ways to accomplish the Throne’s aims. It is his Majesty’s considered opinion that they are likely to backfire.”

“Wait a moment,” she said. “Am I on that list? You’re here because you worry I’m going to add to your troubles?”

“As I already assured you, no,” he said firmly. “On the contrary. I am tentatively studying you as a possible…solution.”

Tellwyrn folded her arms. “I’m not sure I like the sound of that.”

“No more do I, but this is the world we live in. Better that we make our accommodations, with it and with each other. Do you not think so?”

She narrowed her eyes suspiciously. “What, exactly, are you proposing?”

“Exactly?” He shrugged. “Nothing. But the Throne is interested in fostering…amity. With you, and wherever else it may be possible. The more friendly faces we can see in the world, the better positioned we are to gently counter the hostile ones.”

“That is remarkably forward-thinking,” she said thoughtfully. “Of course, it raises an ugly question.”

“Oh?”

“I find myself quite suddenly beset by problems I am having trouble solving. And here you come, looking to build some kind of…partnership. I have to wonder what role the Throne may have played in arranging for me to need help.”

“None,” he said immediately. “Bothering to say so may be an empty gesture if you are determined to be suspicious, but I assure you the Throne does not want you riled up. If it helps you at all, I did not come here to propose an alliance. I was simply watching and listening in Last Rock to see how you and your school are perceived by the populace. My purpose was to gather information and form opinions, not offer a helping hand.”

“But,” she prompted.

He smiled faintly. “But, if we can offer such a hand… It would seem to be in both our interests, would it not?”

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12 – 4

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Tellwyrn came in through the door. She had been spoken to about teleporting in and out of the infirmary, and while she adamantly maintained her authority over the campus in general, her policy was to accept Miss Sunrunner’s dictates with regard to the management of her little domain. That practice had served them both well, as it had the student body (and their various frequently injured student bodies), so it stood unchallenged. Thus, despite the urgency with which she had been summoned, she now came striding through the infirmary’s entrance.

“All right, what have we got?” she barked.

Miss Sunrunner gave her a flat look. “Lower your voice, Arachne. I have told you not to shout in here; recuperating patients require a calm atmosphere.”

“Taowi, there is no one else here, except the patient who won’t wake up.”

“It’s the principle of—”

“We can rehash this argument yet again at a less urgent time,” Tellwyrn snapped. “Now what is going on?”

She turned an expressive look on Professor Yornhaldt, who stood to one side of Chase’s bed, watching. He nodded to her in greeting, then pointedly directed his attention to the campus healer, yielding the floor.

“You already know the salient points,” Miss Sunrunner said, folding her hands and gliding back over to join Yornhaldt at the bedside. Chase was stretched out, uncovered, and looking actually rather peaceful. “We cannot awaken him. He is uninjured, and there is no trace of either alchemical or mundane poison in his system. Undetectable agents can’t be ruled out, obviously, but as you know we’re equipped to detect things most hospitals are not. Altogether, Chase is in the same generally good health as always. He simply will not wake up. The sleep itself appears quite natural, aside from the fact that we cannot bring him out of it.”

“Mm,” Tellwyrn said noncommittally, studying Chase through her spectacles. “I gather you’re here to expand the battery of tests being run, Alaric.”

“Indeed, I can check for a few things Taowi can’t,” Yornhaldt replied, nodding apologetically at Miss Sunrunner. “And based on the examinations I have done, I’m reasonably sure he has been cursed.”

Tellwyrn shot the healer a look. “That’s what you call generally good health?”

“In point of fact,” Sunrunner said with muted asperity, “that is exactly the issue. What we have detected is that Chase’s body is in a state of suspension. It is far too early to have observed the effects naturally, which is why I asked Alaric to come and examine him magically, but we have determined that he has the standard protections. He will not require food or water while in this state, nor experience any muscular or skeletal atrophy from lack of exercise. He is in generally good health, in short, and will remain that way until we work out how to awaken him.”

“This is where it begins to worry me,” Yornhaldt said seriously. “You know very well that suspended animation is a standard feature of sleeping curses and has been…well, longer than you’ve been alive, even. The troubling thing is that this is the only indication we have of what has befallen him. I can detect no curse at all. No trace of one. Arachne, the state of his body shows that magic has to be acting upon it in a powerful way, but I cannot find any magic.”

“We had hoped,” Miss Sunrunner said in a softer tone, “that you would be able to discern something we have missed. Failing that, I can also have Admestus do some tests, but…alchemical procedures are necessarily more invasive than scrying, and in any case, Arachne, I trust your judgment substantially more.”

Tellwyrn looked at her, then at Yornhaldt, then sighed softly and turned her gaze back to the patient, peering through the lenses of her glasses. After a moment, she reached up to hold one side of the golden frame between her thumb and forefinger, narrowing her eyes.

“…you’re right,” she murmured at last. “Nothing. Not a thing. He could just be asleep. There’s no magic there.”

Miss Sunrunner tilted her head to one side. “Can those detect the suspended animation?”

“No, they see magic. I assume you were scrying for specific cellular activities, Alaric?”

“Exactly,” he said, nodding. “But I see no harm in you double-checking…”

Tellwyrn waved a hand impatiently, shaking her head. “In all the years I’ve known you, I’ve observed two things: you don’t make pronouncements unless you’re sure, and you’re never sure unless you’re right. I’m quite comfortable taking your word for it, Alaric. So that leaves…this exciting dilemma.”

Yornhaldt drew in a deep breath, his blocky frame swelling till it seemed to strain his tweed jacket. “Well, I shall point out the oliphaunt in the room if no one else will. We all know that magic concealed from detection is Black Wreath craft.”

Still frowning down at Chase, Tellwyrn shook her head slowly. “The Wreath didn’t do this.”

“How can you be sure?”

“For one thing,” she said, “I know how their evasion tricks work. I’m sure they have some I don’t know, but I’m familiar enough with the others to spot the patterns. Not that I can reliably catch them in the wild if I’m not paying attention, but with a comatose subject and the luxury of time to study him? No, if the Wreath had cursed him with Elilial’s gift, I’d be able to see that. And magic aside, Embras Mogul is too intelligent and self-interested to make himself my personal chew toy by attacking one of my students. Moreover, Elilial specifically promised me, in person, that she would not harm the kids.”

“You trust a promise from the demon-wrangling goddess of cunning?” Sunrunner said skeptically.

“I do,” Tellwyrn said softly, nodding. “Elilial is sneaky; she isn’t a liar. The really, really good deceivers often aren’t. And she doesn’t want me for a devoted enemy, either. Even if I were wrong about that, this is not her pattern. She’s more careful about bystanders than some of the Pantheon gods; I’ve never actually known her to target innocents in order to provoke someone.”

“Magic aside, then,” Yornhaldt said gravely. “The reason my mind sprang directly to the Wreath, aside from the obvious, was that there is one person on this campus whom they wish to annoy possibly even less than yourself, Arachne. Or there was, until yesterday. Literally as soon as Kaisa departed, this happened. It’s a coincidence I cannot make myself credit.”

Tellwyrn heaved a slow sigh, finally lifting her eyes to his. “Yes, I thought of that, too. But my points stand; Elilial has no reason to provoke me this way, and her cult has far too much to lose and nothing at all to gain by it. Plus, as I said, I think I could detect it if this were their handiwork—but that is due to my specific familiarity with their handiwork. It’s easier for me to believe that someone else out there found a way to conceal magic from me than that it’s them.”

“The prospects become more horrifying the longer I dwell on them,” Yornhaldt muttered. “Who in the world can work spellcraft that sophisticated? The Empire, the Church, the College of Salyrene, the Wizard’s Guild? No one I can imagine would wish to antagonize you this way…”

“Unless I misremember,” Sunrunner said archly, “one entity on that short list has already deliberately antagonized her, for no discernible reason beyond curiosity as to what would happen.”

“This is pointless,” Tellwyrn said curtly. “We do not have enough data to begin pointing fingers; we will collect evidence before forming theories, not the other way round. Taowi, is it possible he did this to himself?”

“I did think of that,” the healer said. “It’s Chase, after all. Maureen said they found him sitting against a wall, in a stable position; while it’s not impossible to fall into that pose, it more suggests someone put him there. If he did it to himself, I would assume it to have been an accident, as not even Chase Masterson would have any reason to do something as utterly daft as deliberately curse himself to sleep. He can’t enjoy any of the things he lives for in this condition. Anyhow, if he were to do such a thing, why on a random path in the middle of campus? Anything might have happened to him. Many of his classmates owe him a few pranks.”

“Not to mention,” Yornhaldt said with a sigh, “the boy barely has the magical aptitude to get through my classes. He’s not one I’d expect to pull out a brand-new sleeping curse from beyond the cutting edge.”

“So,” Tellwyrn mused, “the only one who knows what happened to Chase is Chase. We shall simply have to ask him.”

“Arachne, I have no idea how long it will take to fix this,” Yornhaldt said seriously. “For all our investigations thus far, I cannot even claim to have truly begun. We can’t even detect the curse; removing it could potentially be a major undertaking.”

“If you go about it the scientific way, yes,” she said flatly, folding her arms and giving him a challenging look. “Alaric, what do I usually do when something intractably complex stands in my way?”


The tiny, jewel-like bottle looked out of place affixed to the rest of the contraption; little larger than a bean, it was cut in facets like a diamond, seemingly empty. Professor Rafe screwed its stoppered end into the apparatus attached to Chase’s face with the utmost care. Aside from the nozzle holding the bottle in place, and the gadgetry contained within that which would remove the stopper without breaking the airtight seal, it was just a contoured suction cup that fit over the patient’s mouth, leaving his nose free.

“I’m impressed, Admestus,” Yornhaldt commented. “I’ve never actually seen a bottle of anything that size, and yet you had a device right on hand which fit its mouth perfectly.”

“Oh, this actually wasn’t designed for this bottle,” Rafe said cheerily. “I just slapped this thing together out of bits and bobs I had lying about. Really, though, it’s a simple enough gadget; every bit of what it does is all part and parcel of working with gaseous reagents. The nozzle there was meant to be attached to rubber tubing—actually, I’ve wedged a ring of the stuff in the opening to tighten its grip on the bottle. Be a pal and check my seals? I’ve already done it myself, but I don’t want to pop the cork until you’ve triple-verified we don’t have any leaks. There is a very tiny amount of hellhound breath in that bottle and pretty much no earthly way of getting more.”

“Agreed,” Yornhaldt rumbled, gesticulating with one of his thick fingers. A cerulean spell circle flared into being directly below Chase’s head, then slowly drifted up through it, flickering out once it passed above the little bottle of hellhound breath. “Clear. No air or other gases escaping from the device.”

“You had a spell on hand to do that?” Sunrunner asked, impressed. “I expected a more elaborate casting, like you had to do previously.”

“It isn’t every day I have to scry for activity on the cellular level,” Yornhaldt explained. “Checking anomalous air currents is a common enough need in several forms of spellcasting. The wrong breath of wind can mess up…well, that’s not important right now,” he added, glancing at Tellwyrn’s expression.

“Are we ready, then?” she demanded, frowning at Rafe.

“Yeah,” he said, straightening up and turning to her with an uncharacteristically even look. “Good to go on your command. Before we do that, though, let me just point out that if what happened to Chase is as mysterious as you all say, there’s nothing to suggest it won’t happen again. This could be a one-off event, or we may soon have other students coming in under undetectable sleeping curses. Are you sure you want to do this now? Or maybe reserve this, the only sample of foolproof anti-sleep gas which is worth more than the land this campus is built on and can’t be replaced, for a future victim who’s generally less of a butthole?”

“Admestus,” Tellwyrn stated, staring at him over the rims of her glasses, “you are already on my short list right now.”

Rafe shrugged, turning back to the patient. “Yes, fine. I’m not saying anything everyone in the room wasn’t thinking. I just wanted it out in the air so you all know you’re not the only ones thinking it, and the idea isn’t without merit. But, you’re the boss.”

So saying, he took a careful grip on the apparatus sealed to Chase’s mouth and twisted the screw attached to its nozzle.

There was no hissing or any other sound; there just wasn’t enough gas involved to make one. Rafe removed his hands, and they all stared down at the still-sleeping patient.

“Oh, dear,” Yornhaldt murmured, squeezing his hands together. “It’s possible there just wasn’t enough—”

Chase shot upright with a protracted gasp, his eyes snapping open. He quickly began coughing and retching, the sound muffled until he succeeded in wrenching the suction cup off his face with a wet pop.

“Oh—ack. Ew. What the fuck? Why do I taste like I’ve been snogging Scorn?”

“How do you feel?” Miss Sunrunner asked gently, leaning forward to place a hand on his shoulder.

Chase blinked twice, turning to her. “Uh… Well, what most springs to mind is the snogging Scorn thing. Seriously, it’s like a mouthful of sulfur.”

“You were under some kind of sleeping spell, boyo,” Rafe said brightly. “We had to pump you full of hellhound breath.”

Chase blinked again, then his eyes widened. “Whoah, what—wait a second, now. I did not authorize that! I refuse to be held financially liable for— I mean, holy shit, man, why would you waste that stuff on me? Really, this ever happens again you’ve got my permission to just chuck my ass in a ditch, much more cost effective. Need me to sign something?”

“Chase.” Tellwyrn’s voice was not raised, but her tone was firm enough to immediately command his attention. “What happened?”

He licked his lips, staring at her, then grimaced. “Okay, uh…look, it was just a figure of speech. I assume Scorn would taste like brimstone. I’ve never actually snogged her. Not that I wouldn’t give my left nut to try that at least once, but I’m pretty sure she’d literally eat my face. I have it on good authority that most other women do not go for a half-eaten face.”

Tellwyrn blew out her breath in a sigh that was half-growl. “Young man, my patience today is even less generous than usual. We need to know what you remember most recently. You were found propped against a wall below the quad. How did you get cursed? Did someone attack you?”

Chase blinked twice more, then suddenly leaned forward with an animated expression. “Oh—oh, yeah! Man, there were dozens of them, I think they were demons. I gave ’em hell, you better believe that, but one of the cowardly bastards snuck behind me—”

“Chase.” Tellwyrn leaned forward, staring balefully at him from barely a foot away. “This. Is not. The time.”

He met her gaze for a long moment, looking suddenly a little alarmed, then dropped his eyes. “I…sorry, Professor. I don’t know. I, uh, actually was sitting down by the wall, I remember going there myself. I like to be alone with my thoughts—” He glanced up at her and broke off, managing a weak half-grin. “Okay, fine, it’s a great spot to hide and jump out at people. I was that bored, yes. Anyway, I remember sitting there…” He stared at the far wall, frowning in concentration. “…I don’t remember falling asleep. I think someone…walked up to me? Yeah, someone did. A shadow fell across me from behind, and I was annoyed cos they came from the wrong angle for me to surprise ’em. That’s…” He shook his head. “Man, I’ve got nothing past that. I wouldn’t swear it’s the last thing that happened. It’s kinda like falling asleep naturally, y’know? I don’t remember it specifically happening. That’s just the last distinct impression I had of anything.”

Tellwyrn straightened up, letting out a much softer sigh, and exchanged a worried glance with Yornhaldt and Sunrunner.

“So,” said Rafe, “correct me if I’m wrong, but isn’t this pretty much the worst case scenario? He knows nothing, we’ve blown our only stock of the one damn thing that can cure this, and with it cured now we don’t even have anything to examine.”

“Uh, what’s the big deal?” Chase asked, looking around at them. “So some joker zapped me with a sleeping charm. We learned to do those in your class, Professor Yornhaldt.”

“Alaric, you didn’t,” Tellwyrn said in exasperation.

Yornhaldt gave her a long-suffering look. “You know I like to show them a few fun spells every semester. It’s the lion’s share of what keeps the non-magic majors interested, Arachne. Those of us who don’t terrify our students have to think of these things. Anyway, no, I just show them the standard, extremely basic sleep charm. As you well know, it’s easily detectable, blockable, breakable, and even if one hasn’t the opportunity to do any of that doesn’t last but ten minutes.”

“Uhhh.” Again, Chase panned an inquisitive stare around at them. “What’s going on? Is there something I should be worried about?”

“Are we keeping it from him?” Rafe asked, scratching his head. “Cos, y’know, the boy pretty much knows something’s up. I mean, I can bash him over the noggin with a bedpan, see if that erases his memories—”

“Admestus,” Sunrunner said very evenly, “what have I told you concerning what is and is not appropriate joking matter in my infirmary?”

“I really couldn’t say, Taowi my dear,” Rafe simpered. “I just get so distracted gazing into your pretty eyes—”

“Shut up, Admestus,” Tellwyrn snapped. “No, I don’t see any benefit in keeping secrets. We don’t know what happened to you, Chase; it was some kind of sleeping curse, and it baffled even the collected expertise you see standing before you. So yes, this is potentially serious.”

Chase stared at her uncomprehendingly for a moment, then frowned. “Huh. That’s interesting. Who the hell would wanna do something like that? I mean, I don’t think I’ve pissed off anyone important…”

“He’s got a point,” Rafe agreed. “Trissiny’s off-campus this semester, and anyway, I’m like eighty percent sure she was just letting off steam. I can’t see her actually beheading him.”

“Just for the record, she did try to do that to someone her first week,” Chase said helpfully, “but anyhow I should clarify: I don’t think I’ve pissed off anyone important who could do that kind of advanced magic. Also, holy shit, anybody doing that on this campus is pretty much asking to get transmogrified into a grease stain, right?”

Tellwyrn sighed. “Sounds like you’re up to speed. For now, Chase—”

She broke off abruptly, turning to face the door. Sunrunner did the same; both elves frowned in apparent consternation.

“Yeeesss?” Chase prompted after a moment. “For now, Chase, what? You can forget about homework for the week? We’re taking you out back and putting you down? I’m on tenterhooks, here.”

The infirmary door burst open, and a senior arcane studies major named Laria backed inside. Once into the room, she stepped aside and turned, revealing both her worried expression and the prone body of the classmate she was levitating along behind her.

Natchua lay face-up in midair, her arms hanging limply, as were her legs below the knee. Her green-dyed mohawk sagged in that position like the fronds of a thirsty plant. As soon as she cleared the doorway, Hildred squeezed in behind her, looking nearly distraught.

“Miss Sunrunner!” the dwarf cried. “Please—we can’t figure out what’s wrong. She won’t wake up!”


Calming and getting rid of Laria, Hildred, and Chase had taken a few minutes, during which Miss Sunrunner swiftly examined Natchua. By the time they had again cleared the infirmary of students, she was able to report, grim-faced, that the drow’s case appeared identical to Chase’s.

“I realize you’re gonna hex me for saying I told you so,” Rafe informed Tellwyrn, “so let me just take a moment to emphasize that I don’t care, because I damn well did and now look.”

“This is extremely rapid,” Yornhaldt rumbled. “Two in the space of one afternoon. If it continues at this pace, we’ll be out of students in a matter of weeks.”

“I do not want to hear that kind of talk again,” Tellwyrn said firmly. “No accusations, no doomsaying, no whining. What we’re going to have is action. Taowi, Alaric, and I will examine Natchua as intensively as we can while we’re waiting for the more reliable cure to be replenished. In fact, I’m going to bring this to the attention of the rest of the faculty; I want anyone who has even a glimmer of an idea to have a go at this. They can’t possibly make it worse, and anyone might find something we missed.”

“Um.” Rafe held up a hand. “Waiting for the reliable cure to be replenished? Arachne, the reliable cure is hellhound breath. You cannot get that stuff on this plane of existence.”

“You can, it’s just prohibitively hard,” she said patiently, “and less hard for those of us standing here than probably anyone else on the planet. Un-panic yourself and think, Admestus, you know the answer, here. There are two hellhounds on Level 2 in the Crawl. I want you to gather up whatever equipment you need, then haul ass down there and harvest as much of the stuff as you can get.”

Yornhaldt cleared his throat. “You have specifically forbidden that as a condition of allowing Melaxyna to keep them, Arachne…”

“Because,” Tellwyrn snapped, “hellhound breath is illegal and dangerous, and sufficiently rare that if it gets out we have any, even my reputation won’t stop necromancers and other undesirables from coming here after it. For that reason, this needs to be done as discreetly as possible. Admestus, take Emilio down there with you for backup, and as much as possible, prevent it getting out what’s going on.”

“You know that won’t work for long, Arachne,” Rafe said seriously. “Not with the student body we have.”

“Yes, I know it all too well,” she said with a sigh, glancing over at Natchua. “But the need is too great right now to pass up the opportunity.”

“Arachne.” At Yornhaldt’s tone, they all turned to look at him. “On the subject of secrets… You have to know what’s going on here. You said we have students to whom Elilial gave untold demonic knowledge. We have never figured out who opened the hellgate. This started virtually the instant our predatory arch-fairy departed the campus. It’s too perfect.”

“It could be any of the students,” Sunrunner whispered.

Tellwyrn shook her head. “The current freshmen weren’t here then. The current sophomores are not suspects. That group is too close-knit, half of them are light-wielders, none of them are the particular kind of daft that would be trying to summon demons in the Crawl, and they stayed to throw themselves at the hellgate in defiance of all orders. No…it could be any of the upper half of the student body.”

“Gotta say, that is less of a comfort than it probably sounded like in your head,” Rafe informed her. “That’s a good fifty young’uns with generally more personality than sense.”

“I did not intend it to be comforting,” Tellwyrn shot back. “We cannot afford to be comfortable or complacent right now. It’s not going to be long before it becomes known what’s happening, and it won’t be long after that before suspicion starts making people crazy. We are under an unforgiving timetable, here, people. I will not have a witchhunt on my campus.”

“A witchhunt is not something you can end by declaring it so,” Yornhaldt said.

“Precisely,” she agreed, “which is exactly why we need to get in front of this and head it off now.” Tellwyrn paused, chewing her lower lip for a moment. “And this time, I’m afraid we’re going to need help.”

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12 – 2

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“Why am I just now hearing about this?” General Panissar demanded.

“I would surmise,” Lord Vex replied, “for the same reason I didn’t learn about the existence of these disruptors until the Army lost them. We cannot all keep one another informed of every little thing our respective departments do. Experimental weapons are the Army’s affair; knockoffs of the Army’s experimental weapons popping up on the black market is the province of Intelligence. And as I said, General, this was two days ago. We had this meeting scheduled anyway. I have hardly been keeping it from you.”

Panissar subsided with a grunt, looking not particularly mollified.

“Both the letter and spirit of interdepartmental protocol has been observed,” said the Hand of the Emperor, planting his elbows on the table and steepling his fingers before his mouth. “Let us not waste time in recrimination. What is our course of action now?”

“I’ve been attempting to trace the path these weapons took,” said Vex, turning to face him. “Sergeant Locke refused to hand them over, and referred me to the High Commander. I did not think it best to press the issue at that time; my primary muscle on the scene was her cousin, and I’m sure you gentlemen recall how it went the last time I had both of them in a room.”

“Can she do that?” Panissar asked, frowning. “Legally?”

“Her defense,” said Vex, “was that the weapons on site were made by herself and property of the Sisterhood, which appears to have been the truth. So…yes. The Empire’s prerogative to seize property does not extend to the Sisters of Avei except in extraordinary circumstances.”

“Sounds like those were,” Bishop Darling noted.

“Indeed,” Vex agreed sourly, “but not in the right way. In any case, when I questioned Rouvad about this, she likewise declined to cooperate except to the extent of saying the weapons were seized by her troops in a raid on an illegal arms meet, where they were in the process of being sold to the dwarves in question by the Thieves’ Guild, or at least, by representatives thereof. I have asked the Bishop to follow up on that. Has there been any word?”

“It was quick and easy enough to get,” said Darling. “Boss Tricks declined to reveal exactly where the things came from, but he did acknowledge the affair in question was a setup, his ploy to put the weapons into the hands of the Sisterhood and bring those dwarves to their attention at the same time. By your description, Quentin, it sounds like half of it worked.”

“The originals were Imperial property, and clearly of a sensitive nature,” said the Hand, his eyes hard. Harder than usual, even. “Withholding information of that kind is potentially treasonous.”

“I know the law, thank you,” Darling said equably. “I mentioned this to the Boss, just to cover all the salient points, which yielded nothing. Well, there was a bit about Quentin’s father and some goats, but I didn’t consider it germane to the situation. Given time, I may be able to get more information using my personal connections, but I am frankly reluctant to do so. Considering the subject matter and my known affiliations, it’ll be a dead giveaway that I’m rooting around for dirt on Guild members to give the government. That’s the kind of thing that can damage my laboriously-built reputation and web of contacts. Unless this is crashingly urgent…”

“I really can’t see that it is,” Vex said when Darling trailed off and gave him a questioning look. “It’s far too late for containment to be a possibility, and that’s the only thing that could still have made it worth clamping down on.”

“We have all but two of the originals back,” added Panissar, scowling. “Weapons we can seize; what’s going around now is the knowledge of how to build them, and that’s another thing entirely.”

Vex nodded. “Narrowing it down to just the parties we know, those things passed through the hands of that now-extinct chaos cult, the Black Wreath, Tellwyrn’s sophomore class, Duchess Dufresne, the Thieves’ Guild and the Sisterhood of Avei, with Svenheim’s Exploratory Office being made aware of and very interested in them in the process. Far too many of those are completely inscrutable to us, for various reasons. I have directed polite and careful inquiries to both the Duchess and the Professor, but I doubt either will yield results. No, the cat is well and truly out of the bag.”

“Then,” said the Hand, “I believe that attempting to pressure the Guild or the Sisterhood is counterproductive. At this point, it may better serve our interests to mollify them. The Avenists, at least, might have taken it amiss that the Army is developing weapons that might as well have been specifically targeted at them.”

He shot a long look at Panissar, who sighed.

“In point of fact, those were only the first stage in a much longer research project,” said the General. “Neutralizing divine energy is just about the least useful Circle of Interaction trick we could play, but it’s the one my enchanters cracked first. The plan was to crate those and use the insights gained from their creation to move on to more strategic types of disruptors. We would love nothing more than a way to shut down infernal magic with the squeeze of a trigger.”

“How is that proceeding?” the Hand inquired.

Panissar shrugged irritably. “Obviously, the whole project was brought to a near halt by the nonsense in Veilgrad. Virtually all the records were destroyed in the attack on the research facility. The Army enchanters have been working on reconstructing the project since then; we’re not yet back on track. The whole business was far too complex for them to have it all in their heads. At least we didn’t lose anybody, and they still have the prototypes to reverse-enchant. Among other people,” he added bitterly.

“Your thoughts on that, your Grace?” asked the Hand.

“Anti-infernal weapons would be a godsend, if you’ll excuse the pun,” said Darling. “With regard to the Sisterhood, I am of course not an insider but in my interactions with Commander Rouvad, I have had the impression she is too pragmatic to bear a grudge.”

“She took clear satisfaction in obstructing me,” Vex noted, “but considering the circumstances…”

“I can raise the issue with his Holiness, if you’d like?” Darling offered.

“Best not,” said the Hand with a sigh. “If the High Commander has issue with the Throne, she won’t go through the Church anyway. We’ll address that directly. On matters about which you doubtless are in the know, can we expect further action from the Guild?”

“I think the Guild has made its point,” Darling said with a thoughtful frown. “Developing sketchy weapons in secret isn’t so awful; considering the state of the world, nothing about it looks especially tyrannical. They’ll definitely react if leaned on further, but for now, I don’t believe the Guild is a further consideration in the matter.”

“Good,” said the Hand briskly. “That leaves us with the rather thornier issue of these dwarves.”

“Several things about that concern me,” said Vex. “For starters, the lead operative was able to mobilize dwarven civilians who clearly had no training and just as clearly did not want to be there. I’m still investigating those we identified, but I rather suspect they had no direct tie to their government beyond the taxes they pay. This is without precedent, which suggests it is more than just cultural. We should look into conscription laws passed in Svenheim in recent history.”

“Good,” said the Hand, nodding. “We shall direct the Foreign Service to do so, but it won’t hurt for you to add your own efforts, Lord Vex.”

“I already am,” Vex said with his characteristic sleepy smile. “There is also the matter of their extremely determined interest in acquiring Imperial experimental weapons. By itself, that would be merely troubling, but there has been a pattern of interest in weapons in general from the Five Kingdoms, and especially Svenheim, over the last five years. They have allocated more research funds than their economic state would suggest is wise to these pursuits. Particularly in the realm of explosives.”

“A suspicious person could draw the conclusion they were planning something,” said Panissar.

“Preparing seems more likely,” said Darling. “The dwarves have to know there’s no possible victory for them if they were to attack the Empire, and by this point we all know their declared war on Tar’naris is an empty gesture of pique. But when you live next to a huge, monolithic political entity that can accidentally collapse your economy and not show much concern over it, a certain amount of defensive thinking is just basic preparedness.”

“That makes sense to me, in fact,” Panissar agreed. “A key strategic factor here is the dwarven ability to call on divine light without a deity’s support. For thousands of years, that gave their armies and unquestionable defensive advantage. Our modern shielding charms pretty suddenly negated that advantage, and these devices have the potential to completely reverse it. They can hardly be blamed for feeling threatened.”

“That complicates matters,” Vex mused. “I have any number of ways to educate King Gjarten on the inadvisability of letting his spies run amok in Tiraas, but any such measure takes on an entirely different tone if he already suspects hostile intention from us. And yet, we cannot allow aggression of this kind to go unanswered.”

“The ongoing trade negotiations do not exist in a vacuum,” said the Hand. “While the virtually free mineral wealth we receive from Tar’naris is a boon, it has also made the Tiraan economy terribly dependent upon the Narisians, and we still don’t know if their increasing activity among the groves is pointed toward something or just general peacemaking. His Majesty has directed resources toward our native mining industries, which have been in severe decline since the treaty, and trying to reinvigorate trade with the Five Kingdoms is another measure. It is wiser, in general, to be on good terms with one’s neighbors, anyway. The more so if the Kingdoms suspect us of having designs upon them.”

“We are on good enough terms with Rodvenheim that I can be fairly certain they harbor no such fears,” said Vex. “We have all possible assurances short of an actual promise from Queen Jadhra that Rodvenheim’s support of the war on Tar’naris was nothing but a means to mollify her neighbors.”

“Which is the same as no assurance,” Panissar grunted. “Politicians will say anything, and Jadhra is cleverer than most. That brings up a thorny matter that has to have been a factor, here: our treaty with Tar’naris heavily emphasizes mutual defense, hence our military presence on their Scyllithene frontier and them sending a detachment to that recent mess on the Athan’Khar border. Technically, the standing state of war by the Kingdoms should require us to declare war in kind. Bless Queen Arkasia for seeing the whole picture and joining everyone else in politely ignoring this, but this is the situation, here. All it would take is one instance of the dwarves actually assaulting the drow, or the Narisians deciding to insist upon that clause in the treaty… The situation is already too volatile for Svenheim to take risks like these unless they already regard conflict as inevitable.”

“Hmm,” the Hand murmured, transferring his piercing gaze to Panissar. “How, roughly, do you think such a conflict would proceed, General?”

“Immediate stalemate,” Panissar replied without hesitation. “Our forces would crush anything they can field, but our military superiority does not negate the fact that pressing dwarves in their own caverns is a fantastically bad idea.”

“Didn’t the orcs invade them once?” asked Darling.

“Three times,” the General replied. “Only one was ever a threat to them, because of a plague in Stavulheim that left most of the population too weak to mobilize, and in that case two Hands of Avei held the gates until Svennish reinforcements could arrive. The other two, Svenheim actually let them get inside. Deliberately. Not one orc made it back out either time, and the second was the last time they ever tried to raid farther north than Viridill.”

“It seems clear that war doesn’t serve anyone, then,” Darling said, shrugging.

“War often doesn’t,” Panissar agreed. “Wars are declared for countless reasons, very few because they were in any way necessary. What concerns me is all this weapons development you’re talking about, Vex. Weapons, once built, very rarely go unused. You’re all familiar with the run-up to the Enchanter Wars.”

“The dwarves are working with explosives, yes,” said Vex, “but they seem to be specifically favoring non-magical weapons. They are hardly cooking up another Enchanter’s Bane.”

“The principle remains,” Panissar shot back. “You don’t build a weapon unless you’re planning to use it on somebody.”

The Hand of the Emperor cleared his throat, regaining their attention. “The commentary is useful, but please keep it focused. We, here, have no power to set policy, but these discussions make a significant impact on what ideas we bring to the Emperor. And pertaining to that…what ideas have we?”

“We appear to be between the rock and the hard place, diplomatically,” said Vex. “Some reprisal for Svenheim’s extremely aggressive behavior seems necessary, but given their already-raised hackles, any such could be a further provocation.”

“A couple of points on that, and correct me if I’m mistaken about anything here,” said Darling, holding up a finger. “The dwarves, I was told, were very careful to maintain deniability for their government, yes?”

“To the greatest extent that such can be done,” Vex replied, nodding. “No immediate traces to the King are apparent, but I can doubtless turn them up with some digging. I’m working on that, as I said, but just for the sake of thoroughness. It seems rather academic at this point.”

“Just so,” said Darling, nodding back. “And additionally, I’m not sure how necessary it is to retaliate against Svenheim, when we know and they know who the power on this continent is. Were there some disagreement, there, letting them do this could be taken as weakness. If anything, don’t we reaffirm our position by gently chiding the dwarves and refraining from coming down on them about this?”

“Is that how you Eserites enforcers keep order among the riffraff?” Panissar asked skeptically.

“Well, I was never an enforcer,” Darling said modestly, spreading his hands in a half-shrug, “but the principles scale up, don’t they?”

“In fact, there’s some validity to that,” Vex mused. “I don’t think this should be ignored, but there are many ways of quietly making a point that don’t involve threats of force.”

“It is one of the inevitable downsides of empire,” the Hand said, still regarding them over his folded hands. “The temptation to wield force increases concurrently with the repercussions of doing so. In our many problems, gentlemen—the Wreath, the dwarves, the elves, the last adventurers, the Punaji, even some of the cults—we are left wondering what to do, and specifically, how to avoid making it worse. Exercising the powers at our command does have a tendency to create disruptive ripple effects.”

“You speak as though you have an idea,” Darling observed.

The Hand smiled thinly. “You said something last year, your Grace, which has stuck with me. Sometimes, two problems are the solutions to each other. I think it suits us in this interconnected modern age to act without throwing our weight around, as much as possible, and what better way than by leveraging some of our…fringe allies? Lord Vex.” He shifted his gaze directly to the spymaster. “I understand you have enjoyed some success in working with Professor Tellwyrn.”

“Yes,” Vex said slowly, “largely because I am extremely careful to limit my interactions with her, and especially the situations into which I thrust her student groups. That is a very particular box of tools, which it will not do to upend upon the wrong project.”

“We agree,” said the Hand, nodding. “But it’s not as if Tellwyrn takes orders, anyway; I was hardly proposing to try and enlist her. However, the University’s graduates do represent a pool of significant talent which we have long allowed to go largely untapped.”

“What are you suggesting, exactly?” Panissar demanded, scowling. “That woman is a bad enough influence as is; the last thing we need on top of our troubles is for her to get snippy about the Throne trying to push her around.”

“Indeed, I am familiar with her profile. Consequently, I don’t propose to push.” The Hand smiled thinly. “After all, weren’t we discussing how interconnected entities can influence each other? And she does have problems of her own.”


Toby ordinarily cultivated awareness of his surroundings as a point of personal discipline, but that afternoon, Gabriel had to call his name twice before he jerked his head up and noticed his friend approaching.

“Gabe! Hi!” Toby waved back, a grin breaking across his features. “You’re back!”

“Yeah, I see that makes two of us,” Gabriel said wryly.

“Three of us.”

“Has it occurred to you,” he said to his sword, “that maybe people would talk to you more if you weren’t such an ass to them?”

“It has. I consider it an irrelevant point of data,” Ariel replied primly.

He patted her hilt. “Hush. Seriously, though, what’s on your mind, Toby? It’s been years since I saw you that distracted in public, and that’s back when you were first called by Omnu.”

“Oh, well, nothing that serious,” Toby said. At Gabriel’s encouraging expression, he glanced around. They had met on one of the lower terraces, just below the gazebo; Gabe was coming back from the main stairs down the mountain, and Toby hadn’t been going anywhere in particular. “I’ll…tell you later. Actually, I kind of do want to talk to you about it, Gabe, but it’s a conversation for, uh, someplace less public.”

Gabriel raised his eyebrows, but nodded. “Okay, then. Is everything all right?”

“That’s a thorny question,” Toby replied with a wry grin. “It’s no more or less all right than when you left the campus, let’s leave it at that for now. Enough about my maundering, though! How was it? Your first real Vidian holiday! I bet you were a hit in the capital!”

“Uh, actually, they kept me back from the public,” Gabriel said, frowning. By unspoken agreement they fell into step, setting off on a meandering path through the terraces. “Lady Gwenfaer held a private service, pretty much entirely for my benefit though some of the cult’s other muckety-mucks were there, and arranged for me to watch the main public ceremonies from concealment.”

“Oh.” Now Toby frowned. “Well, that’s… I’m sorry. I guess they’ll come around…”

“No, no, no!” Gabe said hastily. “That was my idea. Nobody fought me on it, or anything, it’s just… I was in no way ready to be held up as a pillar of the cult. Man, the more I learn about the faith, the less I can really think of myself as a Vidian. And the more I interact with Vidius himself, the more I get the impression that is exactly the point of this. He’s concerned about…um, corruption in the ranks. I think he has an idea of me as some kind of enforcer. An outside perspective, there to whip people back into shape.”

“…huh,” Toby said after a long pause. “I… I really wish I had something more helpful to say, there, Gabe. That’s just…so very outside the realm of my experience…”

“Yeah, I don’t think Trissiny could help me much with this, either,” Gabriel said with a sigh. “Both your cults think the sun shines out of your respective butts. I appreciate you listening, nonetheless. I’m unprecedented in a lot of ways. Anyhow, it was a good experience, all in all. I’ve never really paid much attention to Doom’s Day before; it’s not like I had anybody to mourn. Dad’s folks were gone by the time I was born, and…” He made a wry expression that tried to be a grin but never quite made it past a grimace. “Yeah, I don’t even know if my mother is alive, but if not, somehow I suspect praying to Vidius for the peace of her soul would end badly for all three of us.”

“Have you ever…wondered?”

“Course I have,” Gabriel said, his eyes straight ahead. He had never talked about his mother; in all the time they’d known each other, it had never come up. “But, um, not enough that I really wanted to know. She isn’t part of my…anything. Someday, I guess I’d like to know what my dad saw in her. You know, what happened. But his perspective is really the only part that I’m curious about. I do not need more demon shit in my life.”

“There has always been a surprising core of wisdom beneath your habitual inanity, Gabriel. It is gratifying to see you making more use of it.”

“Thank you, faithful sidekick,” he said sardonically.

“Did you have a chance to see your dad while you were in the capital?”

“He’s not there, remember? The Church found him a place in Mathenon out of the public eye.”

“Oh!” Toby slapped a hand to his forehead. “For heaven’s sake, I knew that. I’m so sorry—”

“I’m just gonna cut you off there,” Gabriel said, peremptorily holding up a finger. “You are allowed to be distracted and think about your own stuff, man. I know you like to be everybody’s big brother, but sometimes you gotta focus on yourself.”

“Yes, yes, I know,” Toby said with a sigh. “I’m sort of tired of focusing on myself right at this moment, though. Got any recent foolishness you want to get off your chest? Y’know, for old time’s sake.”

“Excuse me,” Gabriel said haughtily, “but I am deep amidst a program of personal self-development, and no longer go in for such diversions. I’m a new man, Toby. No more foot-in-mouth half-demon designated comic relief, thank you.”

“You’re not going to mention that you very nearly bedded the High Priestess of your cult?”

Toby came to a halt, turning to stare at him. Gabriel did likewise, rolling his eyes so hard he tilted his head back to bring more sky into their range of view.

“Thank you, Ariel.”

“My pleasure.”

“Gaaaabe,” Toby said warningly.

“Okay, first of all, no part of that was my fault!” Gabriel said defensively, holding up his hands and taking a step backward. “She came on to me. Um…quite aggressively. Honestly, until we were alone in that room I had actually not even made especial note of the fact that the woman is searingly hot.”

“And approximately twice your age.”

“Yeah, true,” Gabriel agreed, a slightly dreamy smile drifting across his face. “But damn, does she wear it well…”

Toby cleared his throat. “And yet…?”

“Yeah, and yet.” Gabe’s expression cleared and he focused again on Toby’s face. “It’s just that… Okay, this may sound odd, but I don’t think Gwenfaer was really seeing me there. I might be reading too much into things, but I am pretty sure she was not remotely interested in Gabriel Arquin, fascinating enchanter-in-training and the hero of many adventures—”

“To give yourself a tremendous amount of credit.”

“But,” Gabriel continued doggedly, “she seemed rather aroused by the thought of the unprecedented paladin of her god, and maybe a bit by the twin taboos of a demonblood who is, as someone made a point of mentioning, about half her age.”

“Really, you picked up on all that?” Toby whistled. “I’m impressed. Not long ago you weren’t at all perceptive about…people.”

“You were going to say ‘women,’ weren’t you,” Gabriel accused.

Toby grinned. “Well, as Trissiny would emphatically remind us, women are people.”

“I think,” Gabriel said more thoughtfully, turning and beginning to walk again, “it’s more that even if I had noticed it, not long ago I wouldn’t have thought of any greater consideration than the possibility to going to bed with a gorgeous woman who was into me. It’s hard to say exactly what’s changed…”

“It is called ‘maturity,’ and it’s bound to be uncomfortable for you at first, all things considered.”

“Could you stop helping, please?” he said in exasperation.

“No,” Ariel replied. “I can’t stop helping and I can’t stop expressing myself without regard for people’s feelings. You are a naturally occurring sapient and can evolve and modify your behavior. I am a constructed intelligence. My personality is rigidly defined.”

He grimaced. “I…yeah, sorry. I guess that’s kind of unfair of me.”

“Yes, it is. My feelings are not particularly hurt; given your general pattern of thoughtlessness you treat me with a surprising degree of consideration overall. However, I am still bound to point it out when you’re being foolish. For your own good, you see.”

“With friends like these,” Gabriel said to Toby, “who needs the ravening hordes of Hell?”

Toby’s answering laugh was interrupted by the rapid arrival of Chase Masterson.

“Whoah, guys!” he said, skidding to a halt after having pelted down the path toward them. “You may wanna clear the vicinity, it is about to get dangerous out here. Oh, hey, Gabe, you’re back!”

“What did you do?” Gabriel demanded.

Chase planted a hand on his chest and looked shocked and wounded. “I? What did I do? Gabriel. After all these years, after all we’ve meant to each other! Why do you say these things just to hurt me?”

“Because,” Gabriel said bitingly, “you came up grinning. I’ve only ever seen you grin when someone else’s day was about to be ruined.”

“Are you gonna let him talk to me like that?” Chase demanded of Toby, who shrugged.

“Well, he could stand to be a little politer, but he isn’t really wrong.”

“Now, that is just unfair,” Chase complained. “This is scurrilous character assassination and you both know it. I also grin when people’s days are in the process of being ruined, or when I happen to reflect upon a particularly impressive ruination which has already transpired. Honestly, I thought you guys knew me a little better than that. This is just hurtful, is what it is.”

“My gods,” Gabriel marveled, “he’s still talking.”

“Just for that,” Chase continued, again grinning, “I’m not gonna warn you about—oop, too late anyway.”

Both turned to look the way he had come, and their eyes widened in alarm.

Even without knowing the full situation, what they could glean from the spectacle of a visibly incensed Professor Ekoi chasing a gleefully cackling Professor Rafe up the path told a frightening story.

“Ohh, this is not gonna be good,” Toby whispered.

“Good is such a relative concept,” Chase replied, his grin now stretching so far it looked downright painful.

“Guys! Kids! Students!” Rafe skidded to a halt much as Chase had done moments before. “I don’t suppose any of you speak Sifanese?”

Ekoi came to a stop right after him, ears flat back, fangs bared and tail bristling; Rafe immediately spun around Toby and cowered behind him.

“What the hell did you do?” Gabriel exclaimed. “Professor Ekoi? Are you all right?”

Ekoi transferred her livid green stare to him, prompting him to take a step back, then hissed a few syllables in her lilting native tongue.

“Um, Professor,” Toby said hesitantly. “There’s not a doubt in my mind he fully deserves whatever you’re planning to do, but…can you please wait until I’m not in the way?”

“Don’t move,” Chase cautioned. “Don’t even twitch. Moving might prompt her to strike.”

“Urusai!” Ekoi snarled at him.

Chase immediately buckled to the ground, prostrating himself before her. She actually appeared to calm slightly, at least enough to look quizzical at this display.

Then, with a characteristic soft pop, help arrived.

“One afternoon,” Tellwyrn said incredulously. “That’s all. I leave you alone for one afternoon. Should I be disappointed, or gratified no one’s blown up the damn mountain? In hindsight it’s all so murky.”

Ekoi rounded on her and began chattering rapidly in Sifanese. Tellwyrn focused on her, narrowing her eyes, and occasionally replying shortly in the same language.

“Uh, what happened?” Gabriel asked hesitantly when a lull finally fell in the tirade. “I’ve never seen her this mad. It’s like she’s forgotten Tanglish.”

Tellwyrn sighed heavily, turning to give Rafe one of her foulest glares. “Kaisa does not sully her graceful tongue with our barbarous gutterspeech. Universal translation is one of the effects of her inherent magic. Consequently, when some stampeding fuckwit slips her an anti-magic potion, she finds herself disadvantaged in several rather important respects.”

“Whoah, whoah, wait, stop,” Chase said, straightening and gazing up at Rafe in awe. “You…you started a prank war with a kitsune?”

“Seriously, Professor,” Toby said over his shoulder, “even by your standards, that is needlessly suicidal.”

“Why are you kids still here?” Tellwyrn barked.

“Because he’s got a grip on me,” Toby replied.

“And I’m not abandoning my oldest friend to this madness,” Gabriel added.

Grinning insanely, Chase spread his arms wide. “Need you ask?”

“You know, there really is a very good explanation for all this,” Rafe said, poking his head out from behind Toby’s. “I’m awesome, she’s hot, and we are both deeply annoying people. Something like this was practically predestined. It’s just math.”

He and Toby both shied back as Ekoi thrust her face forward at them, baring all her fangs. She spat a few syllables, then whirled on her heel and stalked back the way she had come.

“I suppose I should be grateful,” Tellwyrn said with a heavy sigh. “Admestus, you are going to make this right. You do not provoke a kitsune that way, especially not on my campus; this goes above and beyond your general run of imbecilic behavior into a realm I can’t afford to tolerate.”

“Fear not!” Rafe proclaimed, bounding out from behind Toby (now that the danger had passed) and striking a pose. “If there is one man in all the realm who can calm the affronted feelings of yon lady, tis I, the glorious Professor Rafe! Gaze upon my manly ingenuity and bask, mere puny mortals!”

“She took your pants,” Gabriel noted.

“Nonsense, her magic’s—son of a bitch.” Rafe stared down at his legs. “Even with her magic dampened. Hot damn, that is impressive! I do believe I’m going to marry that woman.”

“She, um…appears to hate your guts, Professor,” Toby pointed out.

Rafe barked a laugh. “All the great romances start that way! Ask Teal.”

“Admestus,” Tellwyrn said very evenly, “if you can swear to me that those don’t belong to a student, I promise to now and in the future withhold all comment on your choice of ladies’ bloomers as an undergarment.”

Rafe again bent forward to thoughtfully study his bare legs and the lacy scrap of clothing stretched far too tightly across his groin.

“…what kinds of comments would these be?”

Tellwyrn clapped a hand over her eyes, glasses and all, repeated the short phrase which had been Ekoi’s parting comment, and teleported out.

“’Bakka inoo,’” Chase enunciated carefully. “I gotta remember that one, it sounds nasty. I don’t suppose any of you have a clue what it means?”

“Library’s that way!” Rafe proclaimed, pointing. “And now, if you boys will excuse me, I must away to plot the mollification and subsequent seduction of my exquisite bride-to-be!”

“Excuse me,” Toby said sharply, “but do those belong to a student?”

“Hell if I know,” Rafe replied with a broad grin, “Ekoi put them there. I tell you, she’s the perfect woman! Ohh, this is gonna be a courtship for the ages! ONWARD TO GLORY!”

He took off down the path at a run, trailing maniacal laughter behind him.

“How old is he?” Gabriel asked. “I mean, I know he’s a half-elf and they have a longer lifespan. Do they age more slowly?”

“Really?” Toby exclaimed. “That’s what you’re most curious about?”

“I think I follow his line of thought,” Chase said solemnly. “The question is: why the hell has nobody killed him yet?”

“Yes.” Gabriel pointed at him. “That.”

“Excuse me.”

While they were speaking, Ravana had arrived, carrying a few books and now glancing back up the path in the direction Rafe had gone.

“Could one of you gentlemen kindly explain to me why Professor Rafe is dashing pell-mell through the campus, wearing my underthings?”

Gabriel heaved a sigh. “Man, it’s good to be home.”

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