Tag Archives: Toby

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Midmorning was a fairly busy time in Last Rock, so there were enough onlookers in the square to form a decent-sized crowd when the Rail caravan eased to a halt next to the platform. The town wasn’t a scheduled stop, so any Rail traffic was specially chartered—which meant the arrival of a caravan always heralded something interesting about to happen. It was fortunate that no one had had any forewarning, or most of the town would have shown up to gawk.

The caravan’s doors hissed open in unison, and showing no sign of the disorientation Rail travelers usually did, armed drow streamed out onto the platform. There were a few muted outcries from the bystanders, and a couple even reached for wands, but luckily everyone present had the sense not to act in rash haste.

The soldiers wore silk tunics under armor of scaled lizard-hide and plates that seemed formed of some kind of chitin, all of it close-fitting and dyed shades of red and green so dark that only under the prairie sun did they show any color to speak of; at night they would have simply looked black to human eyes. Each soldier carried a saber sheathed at the waist, and wore a wide-brimmed hat to shield their eyes from the sunlight. They took up positions clearly delineating a space adjacent to the parked caravan and stood at attention, putting their hands nowhere near their weapons and not acknowledging the townspeople.

A second wave disembarked, this consisting of four women in robes of the same red and green, these adorned with light gray sashes from the right shoulder to left hip, affixed by silver pins in the shape of Themynra’s balance scale emblem. Their robes had attached hoods to shield their eyes rather than hats. Showing no more sign of discomfiture from the ride than the troops had, the priestesses arranged themselves in an inner ring, with somewhat more casual postures, focusing their attention on the caravan rather than the growing crowd of locals.

Finally, two women emerged from the last compartment.

One wore robes with embroidery in House Awarrion colors, with a saber hanging at her waist—not a Narisian model, but one with a gold crosshilt and ivory handle—and a Punaji-style hat protecting her face, complete with colorful feathers. She stepped forward, glanced quickly around the square, then turned and bowed to the last person to disembark.

Matriarch Ashaele was dressed simply, in a plain robe of green with red trim. She had no head covering at all, leaving her snowy hair practically luminous in the sun. Even her eyes were not narrowed against the glare of the light.

It had been a swift and efficient discharge of personnel, but by the time it was over, an official response had already manifested—having been nearby anyway, as luck would have it. Sheriff Sanders approached slowly, glancing about with a faint frown but taking his cue from the Narisian troops to the extent of keeping his hand well away from his holstered wand.

“Excuse me,” he began.

The woman with the hat intercepted him, bowing politely. “Good morning—you are the Sheriff, I presume?”

“Sam Sanders, at your service,” he replied, seemingly relieved to have somebody to talk to, and doffed his hat respectfully.

“It is a pleasure. I am Nahil nur Ashaele d’zin Awarrion. We apologize for descending upon your town so abruptly, and will of course do our utmost to minimize the impact of our presence. My mother has business with the University, but while she attends to that, perhaps you could help me arrange facilities for our stay?”

Nahil deftly took him by the arm, turning and steering him back toward the town. At her movement, one of the priestesses followed, and four soldiers slipped out of formation to arrange themselves around her and the Sheriff in a clear honor guard, the rest of the squad neatly rearranging themselves surrounding their matriarch.

“Uh, sure, I’d be glad to help,” Sanders said a little uncertainly as he was skillfully handled, turning to glance back over his shoulder at the Rail platform. “Um, exactly how long are you gonna be in town? There ain’t a whole lot o’ room…”

“For the time being, we must…what is that expression? Play it by ear. I am very eager to speak with more plains dwellers, Sheriff; my Tanglish is decent, I believe, but there is such poetry in the prairie dialect! Tell me, what exactly is a ‘pig in a poke?’”

The rest of the drow started forward, moving in perfect sync with Ashaele as she made a beeline for the mountain—a path which would inevitably take them right through the center of the town.

In the shadows of the porch in front of the Ale & Wenches, one man started to step out into the sunlight, and was suddenly halted by a huge hand upon his shoulder.

“Wilson,” Ox rumbled, “don’t you even damn well think about it.”

“I wasn’t thinkin’ about nothin’!” Wilson protested with an air of wounded innocence.

“That’s pretty much the whole problem with your entire life. You stay the hell away from exotic guests ’till we figure out if they’re bringin’ commerce or trouble, an’ maybe even then. Clear?”

“You’re not the boss o’ me, Ox Whipporwill!”

“That’s the plain truth, an’ a point for which I’m downright grateful.” Ox’s bushy mustache shifted, the only sign on his face of a smile which did not touch his eyes. “How’s about we make sure it stays that way? By you not doin’ anything that’ll get your ass thrown in a cell for once.”

The two men were well within the range of elven hearing, but none of the Narisians acknowledged them, or any of the other conversations taking place nearby. At that moment, anyway, they had a more immediate distraction which demanded a response.

The drow reacted swiftly to the appearance of Professor Tellwyrn in the middle of their formation, right in front of the matriarch, by whirling toward her and bringing up weapons. They froze mid-swing at a slight movement of Ashaele’s hand. Tellwyrn, for her part, gave no sign that she had even noticed them.

“Matriarch,” she said gravely. “I suppose we can dispense with some of the pleasantries. I will of course take you to her. At the very least, I can bring you directly—”

“Thank you, Professor, but I prefer to walk,” said Ashaele, suiting the words with action. She resumed her even pace forward, forcing Tellwyrn to either step aside or be collided with. The soldiers re-formed their ring about them, those closest to the Professor now keeping eyes on her and hands on hilts.

“I of all people respect the value of pride,” said Tellwyrn, falling into step beside Ashaele, “but also of reason. I know you are unaccustomed to climbing mountains in this heat, Ashaele. Let me help; it’s the least I can do.”

“Well, this is already going better than our last conversation,” Ashaele said calmly. “Perhaps you should abysmally fail to safeguard your charges more often, Arachne, if that is what it takes to squeeze a drop of respect from you.”

Tellwyrn simply looked at her, sidelong, wearing a lack of expression that would have done a Narisian proud. By the time they passed from the square into Last Rock’s main thoroughfare, she had returned her gaze forward. They continued on in a chilly silence which belied the prairie sunshine.


“These are—”

“I recognize everyone,” Ashaele said smoothly, interrupting Tellwyrn’s introduction as they drew to a halt outside the chapel. At some signal from her, too subtle to be noticed by anyone not looking for it, the priestesses and honor guard had shifted formation to proceed behind her, so that none stood between her and the chapel, and those now clustered outside it. “Most I’ve not met, but Shaeine greatly values her friendships, and has spoken at length of each of you.”

Toby and Gabriel bowed to her; Ruda swept off her hat, simply nodding respectfully. Scorn and Juniper glanced uncertainly at them, while Fross just hovered, showing none of her usual frenetic movement.

Teal stood slightly apart from the others, face impassive. She was pale, and her eyes visibly reddened within dark pits that told of sleeplessness, but at this moment at least, she carried a reserve that would have done any Narisian proud.

“They’re a good group, all things considered,” said Tellwyrn, folding her arms. “Actually, this is the first time I’ve found any of them skipping classes. Under the circumstances, I’m inclined to let it slide.”

Ashaele simply looked at her, a hair too long for it to qualify as a glance, and then proceeded forward toward the doors. The students shifted out of her way, Juniper after a moment’s awkward hesitation.

“I would like to see my daughter in privacy,” she said calmly.

“Of course,” Tellwyrn replied. “The chapel’s wards ensure that even for elvish ears. Back away, children, this is not a show.”

“I, uh…ma’am…” Gabriel trailed off, swallowing painfully. Ashaele paused on the chapel steps, then reached out and touched his shoulder for a bare instant. He gulped again and shuffled back, giving her another bow.

“Teal,” said the matriarch, “accompany me.”

“Teal,” said Tellwyrn quickly, “you don’t have to do anything you don’t feel is necessary.”

“I realize, Professor, that diplomacy is far from your strongest skill,” Ashaele said quietly, standing on the top step and staring at the closed doors, “so I shall assume that was not deliberate. To give you the benefit of my own expertise, insinuating that I might harm one of your students is an insult.” Slowly, she turned to fix an impassive gaze on Tellwyrn. “One which a person in your position would be well advised to avoid.”

“It’s all right, Professor,” Teal said softly.

Tellwyrn glanced between her and Ashaele, nose twitching once, then shook her head. “As you will. I’ll be right out here, Teal.”

Ashaele turned her back.

Teal slipped forward and unlatched the door, giving it a push, then stepped back to bow the matriarch through. Ashaele slipped into the dimness of the chapel without another word, and Teal followed, pausing only to close the door behind them.


The campus chapel was laid out like a standard prairie church, though built of stone rather than the planks which were more common, and devoid of Universal Church iconography. Even the gods were represented only as figures in the stained glass windows, with none of their sigils displayed. There was no choir loft and only a low dais with no pulpit; no preaching was done here, the space being used only by students for individual prayers and meditations. It was kept dim as a rule, the fairy lamps left dark to allow the colored illumination of sunlight through the stained windows, contributing to its peaceful atmosphere.

At the moment, the pews had been moved and rearranged, pairs positioned face-to-face and with deep cushions added to form impromptu beds, on which lay the students suffering the Sleeper’s curse. Each had been carefully tucked in with thick handmade quilts donated by the citizens of Last Rock.

Ashaele paced quietly down the center aisle. She gave a bare glance to the profusion of flowers and trinkets piled around Ravana, and paused only momentarily to look down on Natchua, remaining otherwise focused on her destination. In only seconds, she stood beside the bed of pews on which Shaeine lay.

The matriarch stood, her back to the entrance, beside which Teal stood like a guardian. She bent slightly to lay her fingertips against Shaeine’s cheek. The curse was thorough and the sleep profound; only to an elf was the victims’ breath audible.

For a long moment, there was silence.

“Please explain how you allowed this to happen.”

Teal’s flinch was only the barest twitch of her left eye, which Ashaele could not see, with her back to the door. Vadrieny’s outrage howled within her, though. It quickly subsided at Teal’s silent plea.

“The campus was under widespread attack,” she answered quietly, her voice slightly raspy from fatigue and long hours of crying. “The Sleeper targeted multiple groups of students, including Shaeine and I. We were with three others, including Szith. Demons attempted to herd us into a trap, but Shaeine formed a plan to outmaneuver them. We entered the music building, which to the Sleeper should have been a dead end, but she led us to the roof and had Iris—a classmate who’s a witch—form a ladder of vines to escape down the back, and directed Vadrieny and I to counter-attack the demons and prevent them from observing her ploy. It…nearly worked. Shaeine insisted on being the last one down. The others escaped as she planned. We…Vadrieny and I…returned to help, and found her asleep on the rooftop. Unresponsive.” She paused to swallow heavily against the lump forming in her throat. “Just like the others. The Sleeper outmaneuvered us.”

Ashaele gazed down at her daughter in silence. After a pause, Teal opened her mouth to speak again, but the matriarch’s soft voice cut her off.

“When Shaeine brought you to visit us, Teal, I was favorably impressed. As an applicant to join House Awarrion, you presented yourself quite well.”

“For a human,” Teal finished softly, too tired even to sound resentful.

“For anyone.” A faint edge appeared in Ashaele’s tone—borderline inappropriate for any Narisian, but a matriarch could get away with a lot. She straightened and turned her head to put her face in profile from the door, regarding Teal sidelong. “I would not diminish the strength or prestige of my House by holding any prospective member to a relaxed standard. For House Awarrion, in the current political climate, a human as my daughter’s consort would be a curiosity, but a prestigious one. A Tiraan-trained bard, too, would bring us great prestige. Vadrieny also represents a tremendous asset—even if, as you insist, she does not fight aggressively. Nor do we, as diplomats, but I’m sure the utility of an ambassador who is functionally impervious to harm or imprisonment is plain. Your own status and education make you an asset, as well. Such a union between my House and Falconer Industries would be potentially bumpy, there being no precedent for such a thing, but in most possible outcomes, greatly advantageous for both. Even in your ignorance of our culture and customs, I see favorable potential. You showed me a greater willingness to learn than even most Imperial diplomats, and your unfamiliarity represents a useful…malleability. Potential that I could shape in a direction of my choosing. And…” She shifted again, to resume gazing down at Shaeine. “My duty as matriarch supersedes my duty as a mother, but the fact that my daughter adores you is hardly insignificant. If for no other reason than that Shaeine, from her earliest years, has always been a gifted judge of character.”

She turned fully around, folding her hands and gazing at Teal.

“For all that, only one concern has led me to reserve judgment. One which weighs more heavily on me as a mother than a matriarch, but is not without importance to both. There is you: first and sole daughter of a greatly powerful family, famous and wealthy beyond the imagining of most Narisian nobility, coupled with a nigh-unstoppable power in the form of your demon counterpart. And there is Shaeine: a third daughter, in practical terms a spare. Heral and Nahil both have daughters of their own, securing the matriarchal line against my own death, and are both groomed for the necessary administrative positions in the House. Shaeine, before it was decided that she should come here, was to be a House priestess—a minor position for one of her hereditary rank. Were your family another House of Tar’naris, Teal, in the union between you, it would be she who went to live with your family, answerable to your mother. Subordinate to you.”

“The comparison…isn’t exact,” Teal said after a moment.

“I am well aware. But politics aside, there remains the fact that the force you represent overshadows her. As a mother, I do not wish to see my child trailing passively in anyone’s footsteps. As matriarch, with responsibility both to the health of House Awarrion and the diplomatic interests of Tar’naris, I must be wary of setting a precedent in drow/human relations which will not serve our interests. All this has made me leery of this union. But this.” She shifted her head infinitesimally, its faint tilt to the right indicating curiosity. “What you tell me now…strongly implies that between the two of you—between the three of you, in fact—Shaeine is the dominant personality.”

Teal stared at her, blinking twice, gathering her thoughts before replying. “Matriarch… I’m a bard. And Vadrieny…in her own words, is more weapon than warrior. Something of a blunt instrument. Shaeine and I don’t think or relate in terms of dominance. But in most regards… She is the one with the political education, with the experience. And, I have to say, a personality with more innate wisdom. Vadrieny and I have both become comfortable following her lead. The dynamic between us feels natural. And it’s served us very well.” She hesitated, then swallowed again. “Until…very recently.”

Teal drew in a deep breath and lowered her eyes, her fists bunching slowly at her sides despite her efforts to cling to what she could manage of Narisian reserve. Vadrieny’s barely-contained rage and agony pulsed within her, fury feeding on fury in a cycle that grew ever harder to control.

“The Sleeper is a student here. They have to be. It’s a small campus and a small community; this is someone who knows us. Someone who’s observed us and has a grasp of how Shaeine and I relate. This wasn’t an accident or an attack of opportunity, this was very carefully planned. You asked how this happened: it was done by someone who understands our relationship, and used it to get to Shaeine.” She drew in a long breath through her teeth, which elongated subtly as she did so. Her hands un-clenched, lengthening into ebon claws, and sparks of fire danced behind her eyes. “The Sleeper is not going to get away with this much longer. Tellwyrn is closing in on them. Others are getting involved, including the Empire. No warlock can escape this kind of pursuit for long. And when we know who has done this, I am going to personally tear them into small pieces and make them eat each one.”

She broke off, squeezing her eyes shut. Despite Vadrieny’s presence flickering through, the words had been entirely her own. The archdemon’s consciousness flowed around her, clutching her for comfort against the pain, even as their anger resonated.

Caught in her inner battle, Teal hadn’t heard Ashaele move, and when the matriarch’s arms slipped around her, the shock brought her inner battle to a standstill, even Vadrieny freezing in confusion. Claws and fangs vanished, leaving Teal physically herself again.

Ashaele held her close, pressing Teal’s face gently into her shoulder with the hand cradling the back of her head.

“As matriarch, I recognize this union. You are consort to my own blood, welcomed by House Awarrion as its own. We embrace you, daughter.”

She gave Teal a final, gentle squeeze, then pulled back to hold her by the shoulders and study her face. In the interim, it was as if Ashaele’s own expression had come alive, showing finally her own weariness, her worry, and despite that, a warm smile.

“How are you, Teal?” she asked gently, with open care and concern.

Teal could only stare up at her for a moment. “Um. Aside from the obvious?” She glanced past Ashaele’s shoulder, at Shaeine’s bed of pews, then back to her face. “…confused.”

The drow’s expression shifted toward wryness. “I see. Shaeine has been coaching you in our customs, or so she told me. I trust you do understand the significance of formal adoption into the House? This is the closest parallel we have to your custom of marriage.”

“Ah, yes, that we discussed. In fact, it was one of the first things she taught me,” Teal added, a faint flush rising in her cheeks. “But it takes more than a year to absorb an entire culture.”

“Quite.” Ashaele nodded and stepped back, gently taking one of Teal’s hands and leading her up the aisle, toward Shaeine’s sleeping form. “I presume she has taught you things as she thought of them, or as they came up—it’s understandable that this one might not have occurred to her yet. It isn’t commonly invoked, but it is traditional for courting couples to have their adoption expedited in the case of a sudden…bereavement. Death, illness, injury, even imprisonment. Provided the matriarch in question had no specific objection to the union, in most such cases she would acknowledge the loved one immediately. It is a way to help build and strengthen bonds throughout our society, as well as serving the individual adopted by providing the comfort of family—and the protection of House—at a time when such is most necessary.”

“I…see,” Teal said slowly. Ashaele squeezed her hand once, then pulled her closer and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. After a moment of stiffness, she relaxed against the taller woman. A moment longer, and even Vadrieny calmed in the embrace. “I will do my utmost not to disappoint you.”

“I have little worry about that, Teal,” she said without hesitation. “I was quite frank with you; from our first meeting, I judged you a suitable mate for Shaeine, if a surprising choice. Now that I understand your situation a bit better, my last lingering concern is assuaged. This is the right thing for us all, and I’ve no doubt you will be an asset to our House. But with that established, regarding your threat toward the Sleeper.” She squeezed Teal gently, rubbing her shoulder. “You will do no such thing. In this matter I am speaking to you as both mother and matriarch, and I expect to be obeyed.”

Teal froze. “I—but…”

“You are part of a drow House, now. You know very well we are not savages, Teal. Vindictive we are indeed—but in the proper way. This is about more than you and Shaeine and the Sleeper, more than her other victims and Tellwyrn. This is a clash between civilization and barbarism. I have studied Tellwyrn’s explanation of these events closely, and this Sleeper’s motivations are obvious to me. She is a young fool with unearned power, blindly asserting it. The Sleeper represents an idea: that the strong dominate the weak simply by virtue of their strength. That she is allowed to do what she will to others simply because she is able to. This is the opposite of the purpose of all civilization, Teal. If you catch and kill her, you eliminate one threat, but you grant her the moral victory.”

“I…forgive me, mat—mother. I can’t find it in me to be concerned with moral victories right now.”

Ashaele pulled her even closer, leaning her own head against Teal’s. “Be concerned with them, daughter. They are what define you. Aren’t you the girl who tamed an archdemon through the power of love? Don’t rush to an action that will plague your dreams forever, Teal. Besides, there are greater things at stake than our feelings. We must not simply strike down the Sleeper. We will apprehend, try, convict, and duly punish her. She will be dragged before the gaze and the full force of civilization, and made to acknowledge her own impotence and insignificance against it, before being crushed beneath its heel. That is justice, distinct from retaliation. These are the principles to which Shaeine has dedicated her life. We will give her no cause to be ashamed of us when she wakes.”

She moved her arm, taking Teal’s hand and into the improvised bed, laying it atop Shaeine’s own hands, which were folded at her breast. Both of them gently twined their fingers about the sleeping girl’s.

“And I,” Ashaele finished in deadly quiet, “will settle for no lesser revenge.”

After a silent moment, Teal leaned into her again, and once again, Ashaele rested her temple against the crown of her head.

“Yes, mother.”

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12 – 41

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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 – 34

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“What kind of evidence, exactly?”

“Several kinds,” Fedora replied with a nonchalant shrug. “Nothing I would call conclusive just yet, Professor. I wish that pixie had mentioned she was planning to dump a thousand gallons of frozen water on my crime scene so I could’ve told her to goddamn well not. Got no footprints from the actual fight location, and most of the samples were pretty thoroughly washed into the soil as it melted off. Still, you’ve got nice paved paths and a lot of the action happened on one, so I was able to lift a few.”

“A few?” Tellwyrn raised an eyebrow. “Samples? Of what?”

“I don’t have the right equipment with me to pick up skin flakes or anything so tiny,” the Inspector admitted. “Just hairs, mostly. A few miscellaneous near-microscopic bits and bobs that I think are fabric—I’m not pinning any hope on them. The hair’s what’ll prove most useful, I think. Rafe is still running the tests that’ll sort out what was dropped during the right time frame, then all I gotta do is gather samples from the people who we knew were there, and whatever’s left over is from our perp. Gotta admit, Prof, this is a guarantee of nothing. We won’t know how useful the evidence is until the analysis is done.”

“You were able to collect hair samples from the pavement in the aftermath of that…absolute debacle?” Ingvar regarded Fedora closely. “That is…very impressive.”

“Yeah, I call bullshit,” Aspen said more bluntly, folding her arms. “There is just no way.”

“Oh, ways he has,” Ashley said with a mysterious little smile.

“It’s all a matter of the right custom-worked enchantments and alchemicals,” Fedora said with ostentatiously false modesty, flipping the lapels of his trench coat up and then smoothing them down again. “Despite the fact that our ranking member of the Imperial government on site completely flipped his shit and then…well, whatever you did with him, lady. Despite that, this is still an operation sanctioned by Intelligence, and I’ve got tools with me that no municipal or provincial police force has access to.”

“Tools nobody but you has access to,” Ashley said, winking.

“Not for want of trying,” Fedora grumbled. “Omnu’s balls, what do I have to suck to get those cobble-pounders to try techniques beyond ‘chase perps around and beat them with clubs?’”

“Yes, your life must be very frustrating indeed, but my points of inquiry here are specific and few,” Tellwyrn said sharply.

“Yes, of course, right.” Fedora nodded. “I got much more reliable samples from right by the gates, where we saw the Sleeper stand still for a little bit, and there was no brawling and no snow. I have a lot more faith in those; Rafe’s working ’em over, too. Honestly, I can’t get enough of watching him work; it’s like listening to a damn symphony. Man’s a genius with alchemy. A batshit insane genius, which is the best kind!”

“I am acquainted with Admestus Rafe,” Tellwyrn snapped. “My questions, here, concern you, your investigative methods, and what happens next if the outcome of his lab work provides you with an unidentified sample. How, precisely, do you propose to find out to whom it belongs? Because if you are about to suggest rummaging through the personal effects of the entire rest of the student body, the ensuing discussion is likely to become impolite.”

“With regard to that—uh, no thanks, Fluffy, I’m good.”

Fedora held up a hand to decline the tray of teacups Maru hoisted at him. The tanuki lowered it, stepped back, bowed over his proffered samples so that his whiskers dipped into ones of the cups and trundled over toward Ingvar. He and the dryads had arranged themselves in front of the wall of bookcases, while Fedora stood before the desk behind which Tellwyrn sat; until a moment ago, Maru had busied himself with her arcane cooking plate in the corner of the office, which was a long process frequently interrupted by his requests, in Sifanese, for instruction on how to operate it. Tellwyrn had been served tea, finally, and now he was making the rounds toward the others.

Before he reached Ingvar, however, Maru tripped on the hem of his robe and went sprawling face-down into his tray, sending tea and broken crockery spraying across the carpet.

“Gomen nasai!” he wailed, rolling to his feet, and actually ran three complete laps around the mess. “Gomen gomen gomen—”

“For the love of—just clean it up!” Tellwyrn barked. Maru froze, trembling violently and gazing up at her with limpid eyes. She sighed, rubbed at her forehead with one hand, then repeated herself more softly in his language.

“Riiight,” Fedora drawled, watching the tanuki scurry across the office toward the closet door at which she pointed. “Anyway. Before we get into that, Professor, there’s the matter of this.” He pulled a small object from the pocket of his coat and stepped forward to lay it on her desk; it resembled an enchanted power crystal. “This was in Ravana Madouri’s lightcapper. Rafe and I didn’t have the means to get data from it and I didn’t wanna go wake Yornhaldt up, so I held onto it for you. But if I’m right about what that is—which I’m pretty sure I am, because Intelligence uses these and this is the first time I’ve seen one in civilian hands—that thing snapped a full record of the magical spectrum in use when it was activated. Ingenious, how they can make that work with an enchantment meant to take pictures. Assuming it fired correctly that’ll give you the full and precise composition of energy being used—all four schools, all known types of shadow magic, electromagnetic spectrum, visible light—”

“I get it, thank you,” she said, reaching out to take the crystal and peering at it thoughtfully. “Fascinating… I had no idea modern enchanters could do this. If it works, it would make it all but impossible for any magic user to hide or disguise themselves. Each would have an energy signature as unique as a fingerprint.”

“More so,” Fedora said cheerfully, “but nah, that’ll only last until more people like you become aware of the technique. Then there’ll be ways found to fool it, no question. Regardless, I’m assuming you of all people can figure out how to get data off that thing without breaking it? If not, I can get a manual from Tiraas, though not without leaving a paper trail. And, of course, once Intelligence knows you can—”

“I’m not going to assume they don’t know everything you do anyway,” she said brusquely, tucking the crystal into her own pocket. “Regardless, thanks for the offer, but if I need more help I’ve my own sources. Now, with regard to my question?”

“Yes, quite,” he said seriously. “Look, Professor, by far the most useful insight I gained from last night’s dust-up was into the Sleeper’s psychology. I’ve got more of an idea, now, why he’s doing what he did, based on his reactions. Most especially the way he went after Ingvar.” He jerked a thumb over his shoulder at the Huntsman, who just continued to watch him calmly. “Obviously the least physical threat to him—and yet, he’s the one who got in a lucky shot, which made the Sleeper fixate on him.”

“So, you’re saying he’s a dickhead,” Aspen huffed. “We knew that.” Juniper sighed, but draped an arm around her shoulders.

“Not all dickheads are created equal, doll,” Fedora said, winking at her. “Specifically, this one is driven by ego. It also answers the question I’ve been mulling over since this started: why sleeping curses? So, so much easier to just kill your targets. I’d been thinking he didn’t want to provoke Tellwyrn to that extreme, but that didn’t quite hold up. This, though, makes sense of it.”

“Uh, how?” Juniper asked, blinking quizzically.

“No one has been able to break the curse,” Ingvar said softly. “He has challenged the greatest mage alive to a contest of magical skill, and so far, he is winning. Ego.”

“Exactly,” Fedora said smugly.

“Interesting, even useful,” Tellwyrn said, watching sidelong as Maru clattered about loudly in the closet, causing a broom to tumble out. “But still not what I asked you.”

“Now, keep your shirt on, I’m working up to it,” Fedora said soothingly. “The point is, yes, you’re right, to get anything useful off those samples, I need something to compare ’em to. That means I need to get active samples from all the students to match. And the reason I paused to talk about the Sleeper’s mindset is because I’ve been pondering his next move, and how we can influence him to make the move we want. Specifically, that move will cause him to attack again—much harder than he has before. I’m talkin’ all stops pulled out. He knows once we uncover his identity, it’s all over. And just because he has chosen not to kill thus far does not mean he lacks the capacity—if anything, he’s one of very few warlocks who are good for anything else. If we antagonize him that way, some of your kids are going to be in extreme peril. Or…all of them.”

“Nothing is more dangerous than a cornered predator,” Ingvar agreed, nodding.

“So, if I do this, I’ll have to do it subtle,” Fedora continued. “It’ll be tricky.”

“I have not agreed to allow this,” Tellwyrn said flatly.

“How can you not?” Aspen burst out. “This is literally the solution to the whole problem!”

“No, she’s right,” Juniper said, now studying Fedora. “This Sleeper thing is important, but it’s not the only thing going on at this University.”

“Exactly,” said Tellwyrn. “I have aristocrats here, Inspector. Royalty. Paladins. All manner of fascinating people, linked to many of the great powers on this continent and beyond. And you propose I should allow a child of Vanislaas, one who works for Imperial Intelligence, no less, to rummage through their personal effects?”

“I can see how that would ruffle some feathers if it got out,” Fedora agreed, grinning. “But since we’ve already covered that I need to do it subtle-like anyway…”

“Do I strike you as someone who cares whose feathers are ruffled?” Tellwyrn sneered. “I am thinking about what you will do with that kind of access.”

He shrugged, spreading his arms. “Well, I dunno what to tell ya, lady. You’re not wrong, it’s a fair concern. But the situation is what it is. This is what I need to do to wrap this up.”

“Mm.” Tellwyrn stared at him in silence for a long moment, which he bore without any sign of discomfort. “I will think about this. We can discuss it again when you get results from Rafe’s lab work—if it turns out that there’s anything to discuss. In the meantime, with regard to this newfound psychological understanding you claim… What, in your opinion, is the Sleeper’s next likely move?”

“Retaliation,” Fedora said immediately. “Given the way he got away from the fight last night… He could’ve done that at any time during it, but instead he broke his pattern to make shows of force that weren’t necessary or useful. He didn’t cut and run until it became completely clear that he was overmatched, after failing to inflict a single casualty in an all-out contest of power. What with the way he thinks, this can’t stand. He’s gotta even the score.”

“Who is his most likely target?” she demanded.

“Well,” Fedora said, grinning, “Ingvar and I are both tempting prospects! Neither of us has much physical defense against a warlock of that caliber, and we both managed to personally insult the bastard last night. But each of us has a dryad companion, and bruised ego or no, the Sleeper’s shown a pattern of avoiding people who are a real threat to him. I can’t see him risking a head-to-head with Aspen or Ash.”

“He handled us all pretty well last night,” Juniper muttered.

“He took advantage of chaos by exacerbating it,” Ingvar disagreed. “All we need to do is equip you three with fireproofing charms, and there won’t be a thing a warlock can do to you. Or, in all probability, near you.”

“So,” Fedora continued, “he’ll be going after the sophomores next. It fits his overall pattern, too. They’re about what he’s escalated to the level of, and they slapped him down.”

Tellwyrn narrowed her eyes. “How soon?”

Fedora shrugged in exasperation. “I’m a detective, not a freakin’ oracle! I can form a good framework of how this clown thinks; that doesn’t mean I can read his mind.”

“But you spoke of using that insight to manipulate him,” she said slowly, leaning back in her desk chair.

“Yeah, I did say that,” the Inspector replied, now studying her warily. “You’ve got the cadence of somebody having an idea, there.”

“This time, he was prompted to attack in part by my absence from the campus,” Tellwyrn said softly. “If we wished to set a trap, then, perhaps we could determine at least the timing of his next attack by me leaving again.”

There was a momentary silence.

“I think,” Fedora said at last, “if you wanna play that card, you’d better have a damn good idea what you’re doing.”


“Well, you guys look about as well-rested as I am,” Ruda said, pausing to swig from a bottle of rum. “So, let me pose the obvious question: what the fuck was that last night?”

“We lost,” Fross said glumly, hovering over the middle of the table. The whole class hadn’t assembled; Tellwyrn had given them the morning off classes, and several were probably still asleep. The two paladins had wandered into the cafeteria to find Ruda and Fross present, though, and they had taken sandwiches to one of the outdoor tables for lunch, being in no mood for the company of their fellow students.

“I’m not really sure what went wrong,” Gabriel said, yawning. “I thought we had a good plan.”

“We did have a good plan,” Ruda snorted. “Somehow, at the first sign of confusion, that plan gave way to ‘obligingly come at the bastard single-file.’ C’mon, we’ve been over this in Ezzaniel’s class. That is how you take on a group, you make ’em deal with you one at a time, neutralize the advantage of numbers. We fuckin’ handed it to the asshole.”

“No battle plan survives contact with the enemy, as Trissiny likes to say,” Toby remarked quietly.

Gabriel sighed. “I miss Trissiny…”

“Well, Trissiny isn’t here,” Ruda snapped, slamming her bottle down on the table. “And while it would be nice if we had our pet strategist on hand to solve our fucking problems for us, that is also a recipe for long-term failure. We three at least are gonna be planning and fighting a lot of battles over the course of our lives, and after the next two years we’re gonna be doing most if not all of that without fucking Trissiny!”

“It would probably be best if you guys did most things without fucking Trissiny,” Fross observed. “She’s kinda straight-laced.”

Dead silence fell. The pixie’s glow dimmed slightly under their combined dumbfounded stares. “Um. Sorry. Inappropriate?”

“Sorry, Fross,” Gabriel said, finally grinning. “We’re just not used to you slipping in a really good one like that.”

“Yeah, har de har har, laugh it up,” Ruda growled. “Meanwhile—”

“Ruda, enough,” Toby said firmly. “You’re right. We flubbed that. We will have to do better. But recrimination isn’t helpful; what we need is to go over what went wrong, make a better plan, and learn to adapt better. And we should do that when the rest of the group is here.”

“Yeah, yeah,” she grunted, taking a swig of rum. “I know, I know. It’s just… Fuck. This whole fucking thing…”

“You’re taking this kinda personally,” Gabriel said, frowning quizzically at her. “Are you okay?”

“Am I okay?” she exclaimed. “Did you seriously just fucking ask me that?”

“I mean, aside from the obvious,” he said hastily.

Ruda growled wordlessly and took another long drink. “It’s—”

“Hey, guys!”

“Oh, what the fuck is this now?” she grumbled, as Chase came dashing up to their table, grinning insanely. Jerome Conover was stomping along in his wake, wearing a thunderous scowl on his face and a sling on his arm.

“You are just not gonna believe this one,” Chase said gleefully.

“Well, you’re happy, so I assume it has to do with him getting hurt,” Gabriel observed.

Jerome halted by the table and glared at each of them in turn. “Which of you is good with a bow and arrow?”

“A bow?” Gabriel raised his eyebrows. “I honestly don’t think I’ve ever even held one. I asked about it in class once, and Ezzaniel made a wiseass comment about me pinning my own feet to the ground.”

“I’ve practiced the basics, but it’s been years,” Toby said, tilting his head. “Why?”

“Somebody shot him!” Chase cackled. “In the arm! With an arrow! This morning!”

“Somebody shot you with an arrow?” Ruda exclaimed, turning to Jerome.

“Oh, aren’t you quick on the uptake,” he said scathingly.

“When did this happen?” Toby demanded.

“First damned thing this morning!” Jerome snapped. “I stepped outside our dorm and wham!”

“I’d’ve thought it’d be more of a twang,” Ruda observed.

“I think he was referring to the sound of his ass hitting the ground,” Chase snickered.

“Honestly, I expect this bullshit from him,” Jerome snorted. “I should think this merits a little more concern from those of us who allegedly have more on their minds than aimless trouble-making!”

“That’d have more weight coming from someone who isn’t usually helping him make the trouble,” Gabriel pointed out.

“Someone is shooting people on this campus with arrows!” Jerome shouted. “First this Sleeper insanity, and now this!”

“Okay, but, let’s be fair,” said Fross. “The Sleeper is a whole thing. He’s going after people in general. Somebody shot you, Jerome. Unless more victims start turning up, it might make more sense to assume it was personal.”

“Oh, now you’re just being silly!” Chase said cheerfully. “If anybody on this mountaintop was gonna be personally attacked, it’d be me. Need I remind you who had the honor of being the first victim of the Sleeper?” He cocked both his thumbs to point at his chest. “That’s right, this guy right here, an’ don’t you forget it, plebeians.”

“Chase, shut the hell up,” Jerome snapped. “Everything is not about you.”

“Hey, uh, Jerome,” Gabriel commented, “Miss Sunrunner can fix an arrow wound in five minutes unless it hit a vital organ. What’s with the sling?”

Jerome’s face turned two shades redder; Chase practically fell over laughing.

“That’s right, you idiots sit here cracking jokes,” Jerome snarled. “Look at what’s happening here! Sleeping curses, Professors vanishing, magic snowstorms, and now snipers! This school is going straight to Hell without even the aid of a handbasket. You’ll have plenty to laugh about while the whole goddamned thing is burning down around your ears!”

He actually spat on their table, then turned and stalked away.

“Wait!” Chase called, scampering after. “Wait for me! You can’t go off and lose your temper at more people without letting me watch!”

“Fuck off, Chase!”

“Aw, baby, don’t be like that, I can change!”

“There was a valid point buried in all that,” Toby said quietly, watching them go. “What with one thing and another… I’m beginning to seriously worry about this place.”

“Hey,” Ruda said, peering critically at her bottle of rum. “Is my curse wearin’ off, or did we just get yelled at by a giant, anthropomorphic penis?”


By the time Tellwyrn ended the meeting in exasperation, Maru’s efforts to clean the tea stain had resulted in most of the cleaning supplies being strewn across the floor around the closet, a whole row of books being swept off their shelf by an errant swing of a broomstick, a nonplussed Juniper being jabbed in the thigh with a mop, and Maru getting his tail pinned under one leg of the Vernis Vault after lifting it to retrieve a bottle of carpet cleaning solution which had rolled beneath. All the while, the tea had sat there, soaking into the carpet with no progress made toward its removal. The Professor had finally shooed everyone out so she could supervise the process directly rather than continually interrupting herself to give increasingly irritated directions in Sifanese to the increasingly frantic tanuki.

Once everyone had left the office, though, everything changed.

Maru set about silently and efficiently packing the cleaning supplies back away into their closet home, while Tellwyrn, with a couple of gestures, put the books back where they went, re-constructed the broken teacups, and lifted all the liquid from the carpet to hover in the air in an amorphous ball. She opened the window with her hands, if only because it was conveniently within arms reach of her chair, and flung it out to plummet toward the prairie far below.

“Such a shame,” Maru clucked, shutting the closet door. “That is rather good tea, you know.”

“Mm hm,” she said, taking a sip from her own cup. “So. It seems, among the likely outcomes of last night’s work, I may be forced to let that…demon…rustle about among the students’ living quarters and possessions in order to retrieve evidence.”

“I am touched by the trust you display in your associates, sensei,” he said with the highest level of formality his language offered.

Tellwyrn raised an eyebrow. “Our acquaintance began with you impugning my intelligence, Maru. I’d have thought you were at least clever enough to learn something from that experience.”

“In fairness, sensei, you were my first elf.”

“I advise you not to judge any other elves you meet by my example,” she said wryly.

“Yes, Kyomi-sama warned me of that as well, but I appreciate it nonetheless.”

“I thought you performed quite well, all things considered,” she continued. “Carry on that way, and by the time it becomes relevant, Fedora will hopefully dismiss you from consideration as a factor.”

“Unless I am carrying tea near his feet?” Maru grinned, displaying a snout full of needle-like teeth. “He is suspicious of everyone, by dint of both his kind and his profession. I think he has found no reason to be suspicious of me in particular, however.”

“Good. If it comes down to letting him snoop around in secret… I will want someone snooping around after him under the same terms. If you don’t think yourself a match for an incubus, Maru, this is the time to say so. There’s no shame in it, and I won’t hold you in violation of our contract. Those creatures are dangerous, and all the more so because they make themselves so easy to underestimate.”

If anything, Maru’s grin widened.

“Don’t fret,” he said in perfect Tanglish. “He’ll never see me coming. Where I come from, things like him are nothing but prey.”

Tellwyrn smiled coldly. “I’m glad to hear that. You recall what I told you about students being sacrosanct?

“Of course. Explicitly.”

“For purposes of that subject, the Sleeper, once identified, will not be considered a student.”

Maru’s ears perked up, his tail quivering in barely-repressed eagerness. “And to think, I was afraid I wouldn’t have any fun here.”

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12 – 32

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Dawn was just beginning to lighten the infirmary’s tall windows, barely noticed by the exhausted students within. Several of the group had split off after everyone had been treated for infernal exposure, but most of the sophomores were still nearby, standing or sitting on the beds (in Ruda’s case, stretched out and seemingly asleep), keeping quiet but maintaining a kind of vigil.

Ravana’s roommates, having arrived only minutes before, kept a closer one.

“You idiot,” Iris whispered. Maureen, Szith, and Scorn all looked over at her, the rest of the students being clustered a few beds away. “You smug, arrogant… Why would you do something like this? Dammit, what’s wrong with you!”

“Iris, stop,” Szith said firmly, placing a hand on her shoulder. By the end of her tirade, she had raised her voice to a shout, prompting Miss Sunrunner to head in their direction, scowling. The healer paused, though, at a frantic gesture from Maureen.

“You know she did it on purpose,” Iris said, scrubbing tears from her face. “Thought she could do better than everyone, so she just…”

“Yes.” Szith sighed, and squeezed her shoulder gently. “Yes, and I should have been watching her for something like this.”

“It’s not your fault,” Iris snorted, glaring down at Ravana, who appeared to be sleeping quite peacefully. “Nobody did this to herself but her!”

“An’ the Sleeper,” Maureen said quietly. “Don’t forget him.”

“The Sleeper will pay for all of this,” Scorn growled.

“My mother served for many years as a personal bodyguard to a noble of House An’sadarr,” Szith said. “They have a certain…psychology. I don’t believe Ravana meant any harm, but this…belief…she has, that she is both smarter than everyone, and responsible and entitled to do what she thinks no one else can do properly, which is everything…” She sighed, shook her head. “Drow, human, apparently some things are the same everywhere. My mother has always told me that watching over a noble means protecting them from themselves as much as from their enemies.”

“You smug idiot,” Iris growled at Ravana. She lunged forward at the sleeping girl, prompting the others to try to grab her, but Iris simply folded her arms on the bed beside Ravana and buried her face in them.

“Well.” Maureen hopped down from the bed and went over to Scorn, who was only a few feet distant, but that still made a bit of a walk for her. Smiling, she patted the demon on the knee. “I’m sorry you’re stuck on this plane an’ all, Scorn, but truth be told, it’s at times like this I’m glad t’have you here with us.”

Scorn sighed softly, then smiled briefly at the gnome before her expression stilled again. “I can go home any time,” she said.

Szith looked over at her in surprise, and Iris lifted her head. “But I thought…”

“Me getting here, that is what was impossible in the first place. But I’ve studied this world, and thought about the situation… The hellgates, they are all under Imperial control, yes? But that means just that it is known where they all are. And the Empire, I think they will not be sad to see me leave.” She shrugged. “I bet, if they wanted to be difficult, Professor Tellwyrn could get them to let me through a gate. Then… In Hell, most things either honor the Rhaazke or do not challenge us, and I can avoid everything else. Eventually I could find other Rhaazke, or at least forces who follow the Dark Lady who can bring me to Rhaazke. They could bring me to a portal to the Grey Planes. Then… Getting back to my home would be a matter just of walking. It would be an adventure, but more a long one than a dangerous one, at least for me. I can go.”

Scorn very gently placed a hand on Ravana’s forehead, brushing back her blonde hair. The demon’s hand seemed large enough to crush the girl’s skull, its short claws and mottled skin a stark contrast with the young aristocrat’s porcelain complexion.

“But here… I am learning things. Getting education which will make me a more worthy successor when my mother needs one. And… I have friends, here. Someday I will have to leave friends behind, and that will be a sad day. But I don’t want to, yet. And right now, I can’t.” She stroked Ravana’s hair again. “Not while friends need my help. Especially since I need to wait for one to wake up so I can yell at her.”

Iris emitted a faint huff of breath, a noise that might have become a laugh if given time to grow. “It’s a date. We’ll have to form a line.”

The infirmary door swung open, prompting everyone to look in that direction. Immediately, several of the sophomores straightened up, Ruda lifting her head, and then swinging her legs over the side of her bed to sit upright with a grunt. It was Toby who stepped forward, bringing himself nearly even with Ravana’s bed, to address her.

“We failed, Professor.”

Tellwyrn nodded briefly at him, before returning her attention to the infirmary’s newest permanent resident. “I’ve heard an accounting already. Fedora and Rafe are in the latter’s lab, processing evidence.”

“Evidence?” Teal asked. “What evidence did they find?”

“Apparently that’s still somewhat up in the air,” the Professor said, sounding as weary as they felt. “Hopefully something useful. Ingvar and the dryads—all three dryads, the gods help us—are loitering outside the lab, catching up. I got more answers out of Ingvar than everyone else combined, thus far. She’s just like the others, Taowi?”

“Not quite,” Miss Sunrunner said, her lips pinched in an expression of disapproval. “You’re in good time, Arachne; I just finished applying the alchemical purgative before these girls arrived. Ravana had been dosed with Nightmare’s Dream. As she is trapped in a state of sleep, I made especially sure to expunge all alchemical agents from her bloodstream.”

“Wait, she what?” Maureen asked. “Whassat, then?”

“Madouri, you insufferable little…” Tellwyrn trailed off, closing her eyes, and drew a deep breath. “Nightmare’s Dream is a potion. An illegal one, as it is used chiefly as an instrument of torture. It causes the imbiber to experience excruciating pain if they fall asleep.”

“Holy shit,” Gabriel whispered, staring aghast at Ravana from across the room.

“We are fairly sure the Sleeper didn’t apply it,” Miss Sunrunner said sourly, “but that Miss Madouri herself did. How she acquired such a thing, I’ve no idea. Admestus denies having supplied either the potion or any of the necessary ingredients.”

“It would surprise me if she had not inherited that and worse from her father,” Szith noted. “She has supplied Rafe with hellhound breath, let us not forget. There is no telling what else lies in House Madouri’s vaults.”

“Oh, quite,” Tellwyrn agreed, glaring down at Ravana. “It wasn’t a bad idea, strategically speaking. It is very hard to knock someone out magically while they’re in pain; you need drugs for that. Clever, reckless, and utterly typical of this particular ingenious little fool.”

“And I thought the Sleeper was bad,” Ruda breathed. “What kind of goat-fucking lunatic…”

“It seems to have worked, at least at first,” said Shaeine. “We heard her screaming in obvious pain before we arrived on the scene.”

“Bloody hell,” Maureen choked.

“Uh, Professor?” Gabriel said hesitantly. “I don’t know how many bushy-tailed people there are in Sifan, but I think you brought back the wrong one…”

Everyone shifted their focus to the figure trying to hide behind Tellwyrn. This was a lost cause; despite being considerably shorter than she, he was at least twice as broad.

The elf grimaced, turned and spoke a few rapid words in Sifanese. The fluffy banded tail sticking out from behind the level of her knees quivered once, and then what appeared to be an overweight, gnome-sized raccoon wearing a monk’s robes stepped out, bowed to the room, and chattered several soft sentences in the same language.

“This is Maru,” Tellwyrn said dourly. “He is pleased to meet you all and looks forward to working with you. Since assigning Crystal to the library I’ve been feeling the lack of a secretary, anyway, so…here we are.”

“Arachne,” Miss Sunrunner said, staring at the new arrival, “would I be correct in inferring that your new secretary does not speak Tanglish?”

Tellwyrn sighed. “Yeah, well, he owes me a favor. And when I find myself satisfied with its repayment, he’s got worse coming to him back home, so Maru’s incentive here is not toward competence, anyway. That aside, tanuki tend to be puckish even by fairy standards. I have a great deal of mislaid correspondence to look forward to, I suspect.”

“About your mission…?” Teal prompted.

“Kaisa is not coming back,” Tellwyrn said shortly. “You kids…did the best you could. Even if you didn’t capture the Sleeper, the effort wasn’t wasted. It seems you’ve learned quite a bit; Fedora was eager as a kid at Wildfeast to tell me all he’s discovered, but I figured it could wait till he and Admestus have finished playing with their alchemy set. I’ll hear reports from you lot, as well, but…after you’ve had some sleep. The lot of you resemble the leftovers too mangled for Death to bother to take.”

“Vestrel would like you to know she resents that,” said Gabriel, then paused. “…and I’m supposed to repeat something in elvish which I can barely pronounce and refuse to try because I’m pretty sure it’s—”

“Shut up, Arquin.”

“Gladly, thank you.”

“Taowi,” Tellwyrn said, turning to the healer, “there is nothing you can do for these kids until we get some answers about this curse. As soon as Stew and Harland finish cleansing and fixing up the area this lot demolished last night, I’m going to set them to work on the campus chapel.”

“You’re moving the victims there?” Sunrunner asked quietly.

Tellwyrn nodded. “It doesn’t see a lot of use anyway. Stew can re-purpose the pews as comfortable beds, and nobody alive can match Harland Harklund’s skill at divine wards. At bare minimum it’ll keep them safe from more infernomancy; I’m hoping, now we know for certain this is a warlock, just keeping them there may erode the curse over time.”

“Very well,” she agreed, nodding. “Let me know when they’re ready to be—”

“I trust even you can appreciate the seriousness of this.”

Several of them jumped, Ruda cursing, and Maru actually yelped and bounded onto an unoccupied bed. The black-coated Hand of the Emperor now stood next to Iris, who skittered away from him. He lifted his stare from Ravana’s prone form to glare at Tellwyrn.

“This is the sitting governor of Tiraan Province itself, now lying cursed because you were off gallivanting in Sifan rather than protecting your students. This is more than I can overlook, Tellwyrn.”

“I bet if you tried real hard you could manage not to stick yourself into this and make it worse,” she said. Several of the students exchanged nervous glances; there was a dull weariness in Tellwyrn’s voice now, quite unlike her usual acidic demeanor, and under the circumstances it was more than a little alarming.

“I will be sending back to the capital for more assistance,” the Hand said, with just enough vindictive relish to be clear in his tone. “A thorough review of your educational practices is now necessary, Tellwyrn. I suggest you clean house quickly, if you intend to. There will not be much more time.”

“You can review whatever the hell you like, nothing around here is going to change in response to your orders,” she said flatly.

He bristled. “Must I remind you that I speak for the Emperor himself?”

“Glad we understand each other.”

The infirmary door opened again, and a student stuck her head in. “Miss Sunrunner, did you see—oh, thank flip, Professor Tellwyrn! I’ve been looking all over for you.”

“It’s not even dawn,” Tellwyrn complained. “Why am I already surrounded by whining and demands? Miss Darke, I am busy.” She jerked her head at the Hand, who simply folded his arms and looked supercilious.

“Okay, I’ll let you decide if this is worth it,” Marjorie Darke said, edging carefully into the room. “You’ve got a visitor. Um, another one.”

“At this hour?” Miss Sunrunner said disapprovingly.

The door swung the rest of the way open, revealing the guest, and immediately the remaining sophomores and Scorn leaped to their feet.

“I do apologize for the hour,” Embras Mogul said, tipping his hat politely, “but it seems you’ve been gone from the campus until just now, and I am in rather a hurry to have this done with.”

“What the hell do you want?” Gabriel snarled.

“Nothing to do with you, my young friend,” Mogul said kindly. “Take a seat, son, you look half-dead.”

“He, uh, claims to be the leader of the Black Wreath,” Marjorie said helpfully.

“He is,” Tellwyrn snapped. “Iris, don’t even think about it. I can still hear you thinking about it; desist. And you.” She whipped a golden saber out of nowhere and pointed it at Mogul. “Answer the paladin’s question, and pray you answer it well enough to satisfy me.”

“My apologies for interrupting what seems a very interesting conversation,” Mogul said, pulling his left hand from behind his back; it was holding a large bag which appeared to be made from lizard skin, and was squirming faintly. “Truthfully I want nothing here at all, but I was directed to deliver this to Schkhurrankh, here. I want you to know, Professor, I thought very seriously about just chucking it into a hellgate, rather than pluck your strings any further, to say nothing of being reduced my own self to the status of delivery boy. But getting mail from across two dimensional bridges is a thing entirely without precedent. It seemed to me there’d be more trouble than any of us needs if it failed to arrive.”

He tossed the packaged in Scorn’s direction, prompting both Iris and Maureen to dive out of the way, and Szith to draw her sword. Scorn caught it, though, staring.

“What is this?” she demanded.

He shrugged. “I didn’t open it. Unless I was deceived, it’s apparently from your mother.”

“What?” several people chorused incredulously.

Scorn was already ripping open the top of the package, and in the next moment further conversation was stifled by her squeal. None of them had ever heard her squeal before; the sound was distinctly terrifying. She thrust one hand into the bag and pulled out a charred wedge of some black, sticky substance which smoked faintly. “Cookies! My favorite!” As they all stared in horror, the “cookie” sprouted three misshapen insectile legs, which waved languidly. She thrust it at Iris, who clapped a hand over her mouth, not quite stifling a retch. “Here, try!”

“We simply could not,” Szith said quickly. “Those are a gift from a mother to a daughter far from home. It would be very wrong for anyone else to partake.”

“So very, very wrong,” Gabriel agreed.

“You.” Tellwyrn pointed at Mogul, who had started to turn back toward the door. “You can get things from the Rhaazke dimension. Can you get me some hellhound breath?”

He coughed. “Uh, Professor… That is expressly forbidden by the Lady. Also, consider how many months it took for this to get through after we sent word to Scorn’s mother in the first place—and it seems she is quite highly placed down there. She’d have to be, to make this happen. Not to mention, or mention again as I said it in the first place, that nothing like this has ever happened before. No, I am genuinely sorry to have to say it, but I cannot get you hellhound breath.”

Scorn was already munching her second treat, and avidly reading from the next object she’d taken from the bag: a scroll of pale leather, covered with cramped, spidery script in blue ink.

“And on top of everything else,” the Hand whispered, “open traffic with the Black Wreath. I’m afraid you leave me no choice, Tellwyrn. As of this moment, this University and all its holdings are—”

“Boy, you picked the wrong day,” the archmage announced, pointing a finger at him.

The pop which resounded was louder than her usual teleportation, and accompanied this time by a visible blue sparkle of arcane magic. The Hand vanished.

“What did you do?” Gabriel screeched. “That was a Hand of the Emperor! Where is he?!”

“Suffering,” Tellwyrn stated, turning back to Mogul. “You made me an offer some time ago, Mogul. Is it still good?”

Slowly, the warlock nodded. “I didn’t place a time limit on it, as I’m sure you recall. Something I can do for you, Professor?”

“Maybe. It remains to be seen.” She stepped aside, gesturing at the still form of Ravana. “You’re here…have a look. Tell me whatever you can about this.”


Kapa’a set down his fishing pole at the first hum of magic over the stone dais which stood on the shore. This was why he always came here to fish, though it wasn’t the best fishing spot by far; he so loved being there to greet the new arrivals when they came.

Blue magic flashed along the grooves carved into the dais, and with a soft retort of displaced air, a man appeared. He was of average height and middle age, balding and with craggy features, dressed all in black completely with a long coat. That would have to go, or he’d never survive in this climate. Like they all did immediately upon arriving, he spun, gaping this way and that in shock.

Kapa’a stood upon his rock, threw his arms wide, and bellowed the traditional greeting.

“Welcome, hapless traveler! Welcome, to the Dread Kingdom of Suffering!”

The new arrival stared at him in silence for a long moment, taking in his bare chest, broad grin, and fishing pole, then turned more slowly, studying his new surroundings in detail.

They were on the seashore, serenaded by the sound of waves and the calling of gulls. It was mid-morning, delightfully warm but not yet hot. White sands stretched away to either side, and the ocean to all horizons to the east and south; half a mile out to sea, the towering sentinel rocks stood, carved with massive runes whose blue glow was barely visible in the cloudless sunlight. Northwest, the land steadily climbed to the green-clad mountain, growing ever steeper until its very peak. Greenery rose all the way to the top, now; it had been a good number of years since the volcano had so much as grumbled.

The very air smelled of flowers.

“Where?” the new arrival demanded finally.

“The Dread Kingdom of Suffering!” Kapa’a boomed, feeling his delighted grin widen. “Land of despair and torment, ruled over by its most terrible and malignant queen, her Despicable Majesty Arachne Tellwyrn!” He finally lowered his arms, and laughed aloud. “Didn’t know she was the monarch of a sovereign nation, didja? It’s a surprise to everybody.”

The man gaped at him.

“Yeah, it’ll take some getting used to, friend, but don’t worry! You’re in good hands.” He hopped down from his rock, wading easily through the surf back toward the shoreline. “C’mon down from there—head for the steps on that side, if you don’t wanna get your clothes wet. And you really might want to lose the coat. Take your time, friend, there’s no rush! I’ll show you ’round!”


“The sea provides fish,” Kapa’a explained some time later, leading his flummoxed new neighbor slowly up the winding path through the village. They had already been effusively greeted by the other inhabitants; the man in black now wore several necklaces of flowers draped around his shoulders and chest, placed there by smiling girls, but after the initial excitement they had withdrawn to let the newcomer adjust in peace; they were accustomed to the routine by now. He seemed to be less disconcerted than many upon their first arrival. “On the island itself, there are deer, wild pigs, and fowl, plenty of each for everybody! Lots of fruit trees, too. Plus, we have gardens for whatever doesn’t grow wild.” He stooped without pausing and scooped up a handful of dirt from the side of the path, letting it trail through his fingers. “Volcanic soil. There’s basically nothing we can’t grow. There are two seasons in Suffering: pleasantly warm and dry, and pleasantly warm and rainy. We have no wars, no native diseases and very skilled healers to deal with whatever the guests bring. Not everybody even needs a job, the land provides so well. My friend, you have arrived in paradise itself!”

“You picked an odd name for it,” said the man, who had yet to offer his own name.

Kapa’a didn’t prompt him, simply answering with a grin. “Ah, and there you come to it. For the longest time, the only problem we faced, here, was people who wanted to come take this place from us. Oh, and the mountain exploding; that happened from time to time. The Lady takes care of all that, now. The name was her idea; the Dread Kingdom of Suffering is protected behind the sentinel stones, which keep us…apart from the world. Only one ship ever comes here, with her blessing, piloted by the Ferryman of Eternal Night, Karen.”

The man in black stopped, frowning at him. “Did you say Charon?”

“Karen,” Kapa’a enunciated. “Sweet girl, you’ll like her. She’s a weird sort of critter, though; some kind of fairy. I think she used to be a dryad. Oh, we have one of those, too! Coconut lives up there on the mountain. We pretend to think she’s a goddess and send her offerings; when she gets bored, she’ll come down to one of the villages and pretend to answer prayers, and they hold a feast in her honor. It’s all in good fun.”

“You said there’s a ship?” the man in black said impatiently.

“Yes, Karen’s ferry,” Kapa’a nodded, setting off again. The new arrival followed after a moment. “The only vessel which can travel between the worlds. Or…across the shield, or however it works, I dunno from magic. And the only coin Karen takes is memory. I’m afraid that means all your memories of your time in the Dread Kingdom are lost when you return…except its name. You must go back with only the knowledge that you spent time in the Kingdom of Suffering. There ferry’s due in a few weeks! In the meantime, hunt, fish, play around with the neighbors! Tonight, we’ll hold a feast in your honor! Well, honestly, we would probably have held a feast anyway; we do most nights. But it’s so much better when there’s a reason, don’t you think?”

“Weeks?” the man said plaintively. “I am a Hand of the Emperor—I must return home immediately!”

Kapa’a raised his eyebrows. “Friend, the ferry comes twice a year. If you’re in a hurry, you’re in great luck. A few weeks is nothing. And who knows? You may decide not to go back at all! Quite a few don’t.”

The Hand snarled savagely and kicked at an inoffensive clump of grass, which Kapa’a watched without judgment. He had observed far worse tantrums from new arrivals. “This is intolerable! I’ll see that horrible witch strangled, so help me!”

“You can always leave her a strongly worded note,” Kapa’a suggested, pointing. The Hand followed his arm, which directed his gaze up the hill to a half-collapsed ruin of a house, choked by weeds and surrounded by orange trees. “That’s her place over there.”

The newcomer stared. “…you’re joking.”

“Truthfully we’d like to tidy up a bit,” Kapa’a explained, “but the Lady hates it when people mess with her things. So…there it is. I really would leave it alone if I were you, though. The last fellow who went in there ended up with a broken leg.”

“Booby-trapped her own home.” The Hand sneered disdainfully. “Typical.”

“Oh, nothing like that,” Kapa’a said lightly. “The floor’s rotten. He fell right through.”

“What does she get from all this?” the Hand demanded. “The magic you’re describing, keeping a whole island nation physically isolated from the world… It’s not unprecedented, but the scale and the complexity are staggering! Does she do all this just to have a private vacation spot?”

“Nah,” Kapa’a said cheerfully, waving away the thought. “She just likes having a handy place where she can send people and be sure she won’t have to deal with ’em again for up to six months.”

The Hand stared at him.

“Are you telling me,” he said slowly, “that woman worked one of the largest and most elaborate enchantments known to man, upended the history and culture of an entire nation—”

“Did us a huge favor, really, especially the part where she hardly ever shows up. We don’t need any kings or lords in Suffering; the chiefs take care of what needs taking care of. And not much of that. Mostly, everybody minds their own business.”

“And all this,” the Hand said shrilly, “just so she could inconvenience people who annoy her?!”

Solemnly, Kapa’a reached out to lay a hand on his shoulder. “Friend…clearly, you met the lady. Tell me, which part of that surprises you?”

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12 – 30

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They let Juniper take the lead, without comment. The students had scattered outside the magic building, spreading out to form a net that would hopefully encircle the Sleeper. Ingvar shared Aspen’s doubts about their facility as hunters, but at least they knew the campus. He ran with the two dryads, following Juniper, for the same reason. Indeed, she certainly seemed to know where she was going.

All the while, there came a faint but perceptible buzzing from the folded and inked paper talisman he now held in a belt pouch. So long as it was anywhere on his person, Fross had insisted, he would be able to hear her directives. It seemed to be working.

“Slow up, Scorn,” the pixie chimed as if directly in his ear, despite being back at the spell lab. “You’ve got longer legs than the rest, remember not to get there too early! You’ve all gotta arrive together and leave ‘im no gaps to escape through. Toby, hang a left at the next path, you’re about to collide with Ruda. I need you two to emerge from both sides of the arts pavilion to cover it. Juniper’s group, relax your pace! You don’t have as far to go and you’re pulling ahead of everybody. Uh, Gabe, conversely, can you move a little faster? I don’t wanna push but—there ya go, much better!”

“I can’t believe I’m taking orders from one of Jacaranda’s little thingumajigs,” Aspen muttered, but she did ease up her speed, as did Juniper.

“Fross is a person,” Juniper replied, quietly but firmly. “Not a thingumajig. She’s really sweet and the smartest person I know. Be nice to her, please.”

“All right, all right,” Aspen said peaceably.

Ingvar kept his mouth shut, observing. Aspen’s acerbic streak was noticeably curbed when speaking to her sister, though it didn’t seem to be a dominance thing; he knew Aspen to be the older simply from their conversations. Juniper was difficult to read, even allowing for being a fairy. She had the somewhat childlike quality about her that Aspen did—in fact, she struck Ingvar as a bit daft—but it was tempered with something he couldn’t quite place. She seemed more thoughtful, or perhaps more sad, in the moments when she wasn’t excitedly talking with the other dryad.

His musings were interrupted by a woman’s scream.

Ingvar redoubled his pace before realizing it, the dryads doing likewise and actually pulling several yards ahead. Aspen hadn’t been kidding about their sprinting ability. They hadn’t come far, all things considered, just past a couple of buildings…

“I don’t know what just happened, but everybody stay focused!” Fross chimed frantically. “You’ve gotta encircle the position before revealing yourselves or the Sleeper will get away!”

“Someone’s in trouble!” Juniper protested, to no avail. The pixie was too far away to hear; her instructions continued.

“Slow up sharply, dryads and Ingvar, you’re approaching the open space where—”

The next few words were washed out by another shriek of unmistakable pain.

“—it up, Gabe, you’re gonna be the last one there! Everybody else, move slow and don’t come around corners, you should be able to see the site if you do but the Sleeper can see you, too. I know you’ve all taken your potions but we don’t know this guy’s capabilities. Okay, Gabriel’s in place. Everybody, step forward. Quick but smooth, go!”

Juniper practically lunged around the corner of the stone building they had come up alongside, Ingvar right beside her. As they moved, another scream rang out. Plan or no plan, hunt or no hunt, a woman was clearly in pain. He might be playing into this Sleeper’s hands, but he did not have it in him to stand back while this went on.

They emerged into a small open space where one stone walkway terminated into another; as in most such places, there was a widened patio area there, with two park benches and several decorative plants surrounding it. Ingvar and the dryads spread out to block the path on their side, while the other students began to emerge from the spaces around the stone-columned pavilion opposite, itself surrounded by taller stone structures and filled with sculptures. The crossing path ended in a set of stairs descending to the next terrace down on Ingvar’s right, and off around the building beside them in the other direction.

“Scorn, stop!” Fross shrilled in his ears, fruitlessly.

In the center of the intersection, a diminutive blond girl was just in the process of collapsing to the ground. All around her was a distortion, a strange contraction in the light cast by the standing fairy lamps, like a bruise on reality itself. Her long hair fluttered as it fell, but also seemed to be trying to stick out as if affected by static.

The hulking demon Scorn charged straight into the intersection from up the path. Aspen cursed, but followed the others as they hastily lunged out to encircle their prey. The other students had to do likewise, hurrying around corners, vaulting over bushes, and in Gabriel’s case, tripping on the top stair, in order to get themselves in position so the Sleeper had nowhere to run. The plan had been to position themselves more carefully, relying on Fedora’s potions to keep them unnoticed until they were ready; that was now shot.

The distortion contracted as the blonde girl fell, condensing in both size and intensity till it seemed nothing more than a shadow standing upright. That was still plenty disorienting, but it suggested at least that whatever magic it had been doing was over.

“Ravana!” Toby called from across the path. “Are you okay?”

The shadow shifted subtly; Ingvar had the impression it was slowly turning, taking in the scene. The University students paced forward, tightening the noose and drawing weapons. Toby and Shaeine flared alight; Gabriel extended his scythe, while Ariel in his other hand blazed with arcane runes. Ingvar drew back his bow, aiming at the center of the shadow he took for the Sleeper. He had a clear shot between Toby and Ruda if he missed—or if the thing were as insubstantial as it looked—but the closer they drew, the riskier that became.

“Scorn, stop!” Ruda snapped, finally halting the demon two steps farther than the rest of their formation. Her towering form practically vibrated with rage, clawed hands flexing. Ingvar surmised that the fallen girl—Ravana?—must be a friend of hers.

He said a brief prayer inside his own head. In fact, after what he’d learned in the last months, he had often debated the ethics and efficacy of prayer with himself, but when it came down to a tense situation, he still did it.

“Conventional wisdom is you’re a student here, asshole,” Ruda commented, aiming her gleaming rapier at the shadow. “That means you know who we are, and that means you know goddamn well how this ends. Wanna make it easier on everybody, or do I get to work off some fucking anger here?”

“Tellwyrn will be back soon,” Toby said, his tone quieter, but his expression no less resolute. “If we can tell her you surrendered willingly, we can still work it out so no one is punished any more than necessary. You know what’ll happen if you make this a conflict.”

“What do you want it alive for?” Aspen asked disdainfully. “This character sounds like a complete piece of trash. Kill it, do the world a favor.”

“He can tell us how to revive the others,” Juniper murmured.

“Oh, he’s gonna tell us everything,” Ruda said grimly, taking a step forward. “Time’s up, buttercup.”

The shadow hunched in on itself momentarily, and then dark smoke began to ripple out from around it on the ground.

“Bad move!” Scorn roared, lunging.

She missed, barely, as the Sleeper shot straight upward.

An instant later it was hurled back to the ground, accompanied by an earsplitting and strangely resonant shriek, as Vadrieny swooped in from overhead and impacted it in midair.

Ingvar, deciding this had now progressed beyond negotiations, took the opportunity to put an arrow in the Sleeper. The shaft, blessed both by a shaman of the Huntsmen, actually exploded in a brief flash of flame an instant before it would have struck home.

In the next moment, a dome of silver light slammed into place around the shadow, holding it to the ground.

Ingvar glanced around, taking stock while this was apparently under control. All the students were present… Where was that demon from Intelligence? He began to have a bad feeling.

“Scorn, please desist,” Shaeine said in a strained voice, and the disgruntled Rhaazke stepped back, having been raking her claws along the surface of the bubble and snarling menacingly at the obscured figure within.

“How is she?” Ruda asked of Toby, who had knelt beside Ravana.

“Asleep,” the paladin said tersely. “Just like the others. I can’t find any other evidence of harm…it’s strange, though.”

“She was screaming,” Gabriel said. “Nobody else did that.”

Slowly, Ruda bent down to pick up an object that had fallen near the Sleeper’s latest victim. “Her lightcapper. You don’t suppose…”

“Ravana would not place herself in danger without a plan,” Scorn insisted, her expression almost anguished. “She doesn’t do anything without a plan.”

“Here…” Gabriel gently took the lightcapper from Ruda, examining it. “Yeah, this thing’s been activated since it was loaded… And this isn’t picture film. We’d best get this to Tellwyrn ASAP. Good girl, Ravana!”

“Our circle seems to have collapsed,” Ingvar commented with an edge to his voice, his attention still on the bubble. The Sleeper was an incongruous dark blot within its glow. The drow priestess looked intent, but he knew maintaining a shield of that kind took effort. If that was the only thing holding this warlock down…

“Relax, we’ve got him,” Gabriel said with a grin.

“Arquin, shut your damn face,” Ruda snapped. “He’s right, this isn’t over till we’ve got this fucker permanently subdued. And thank you, Ingvar, for exhibiting the basic damn common sense I thought I could expect from my friends. Everybody circle up on that thing. Toby, what can you do to un-shadowfy him? We get a look at his face, we can finish this even if he gets away.”

“Countering his magic through technique is probably beyond me,” Toby said, staring at the center of the bubble. “There’s always the brute force approach, though. Shaeine, how are you holding up?”

“I can do this for some time,” the priestess reported, “so long as the shield is not interfered with, but I cannot move her this way. And this being an apparently powerful infernal caster, I am surprised that she is submitting to this extent. A barrage of pure infernal magic will wear down a divine shield fairly quickly if there is a near parity of power involved. Any student here knows the Circles.”

“Huh,” Aspen grunted. “So what’s he doing in there?”

“Oh, shit,” Ruda hissed. “Toby, flare up! All of it! Now!”

Either his spells were readied at that moment or, more likely, the Sleeper took her order as the cue to unleash whatever he had.

Circles of sullen orange light ignited on the ground all around them, and four horizontally on the walls of nearby buildings. From each poured forth carnage—gouts of fire in various colors, billows of sulfur-smelling smoke, in one case a powerful blast of heated air. In one, a large figure began to slowly materialize. The character of the air itself changed, heated, and Ingvar felt something twisting in his gut. He had never been close to simple, uncontained infernal magic, but had heard the sensation described. He would need to seek a thorough cleansing after all this.

Then golden light washed across the whole scene, centered on Toby. The nova blazed across them all, suppressing the spell circles and outright annihilating several. Between the chaotic infernal radiation, Toby’s holy light and the blessing of Shaath over the whole mountain, the air was thick with magic; through the haze, Ingvar could actually see several dark figures, winged and carrying scythes. Two descended on the summoning circle trying to draw forth some kind of demon, sinking their weapons into it. Half-formed between dimensions, it was actually struck, and twisted as if pained. A third valkyrie raked her scythe across the boundaries of the circle itself, causing it to flicker.

Unsurprisingly, in the chaos, the silver dome winked out.

Immediately, blasts of purple-black light flashed out in all directions from the Sleeper, cutting dark swaths through the divine nova. None made it far with that much loose divine magic in play, and all put off trails of sparks uncharacteristic of shadowbolts as the holy energy grated on them, but they held together well enough to be a menace at short range, which was plenty.

Ingvar avoided being struck because he had instinctively begun moving when the shield collapsed; still the shadowbolt that had been aimed for him passed close enough to make his hackles rise from the sheer wrongness of it. All of the other students were hit, most to minimal effect. The bolt aimed at Toby fizzled before reaching him, unable to bore through that concentration of divine power. Juniper and Aspen surged forward at the warlock, seeming not even to notice the attacks which impacted them. Gabriel and Scorn were momentarily halted by the onslaught, Ruda knocked fully over backward with a cry of pain. Shaeine got a shield re-formed around herself in time to absorb it; the silver barrier rippled at the impact, but held.

Immediately a second spray of smaller shadowbolts flashed indiscriminately about, these much less targeted, and peppered the whole region. At the same moment, the very ground under Toby’s feet heaved upward as some kind of explosive spell ignited beneath the pavement. The paladin kept his balance, but his focus faltered and with it the divine light he was putting out.

The Sleeper took advantage of his distraction to double down; more circles appeared around them, and more shadowbolts shot at them. Then he had to break off his own attack to evade the students who were not much impressed by his onslaught.

Scorn and Gabriel he barely kept at bay with directed attacks. The Rhaazke soaked up the hits and simply kept coming, while a golden shield around Gabriel held up under the assault without interfering with his weapons. The two dryads were totally unaffected by infernal magic, though, and the Sleeper had no recourse but to flee and dodge. He had to dodge again as Gabriel leveled his scythe like a battlestaff and unleashed a blast of black light.

Ingvar had always been told that infernal magic had no direct defensive application, but somehow the Sleeper had found one. An orange spell circle formed in midair in front of him, absorbing the blast.

“He’s getting away!” Gabriel protested, shooting again. Another spell shield intercepted the shot, while more explosions under the ground threw Scorn and the dryads off their footing.

Vadrieny slammed into the shadowed figure from above, impacting on one of those midair circles with a screech. The circle flashed, putting off a pulse of kinetic force that hurled her up and back. And with that, the Sleeper had positioned himself on the path outside the encircling students, with a clear shot back into the campus.

Ingvar watched all of this from a crouch at the edge of the nearest building. It was no cowardice not to throw himself physically into a brawl between magical heavyweights; positioned here, he could await his own opportunity. And now he had it.

The shaft nocked to his bow was the only one like it he had left; Huntsmen on quests carried at least one, more if they knew they would be hunting demons. He raised, drew, sighted along the inscribed arrow, and whispered, “Shaath, guide my arm.”

His arrow ripped straight into the Sleeper’s form, bursting into flame as it drew too close, but lasted long enough to strike home.

The shadowed figure reeled sideways. Aspen, Juniper, and Scorn had now recovered their footing and came forward in a wedge formation with the demon at the center—probably unintentional. Toby and Gabriel dashed after them. Above, Vadrieny soared past to land and pivot on the path ahead, blocking the Sleeper’s escape.

Still, Ingvar couldn’t shake the feeling the shadow was glaring directly at him.

Vadrieny simply wasn’t large enough to completely block the path, and she had planted herself too far away; there were gaps between building on both sides their foe could slip into. Ingvar could see at a glance that they had effectively lost this. In the next moment, the Sleeper would vanish.

The Sleeper, though, apparently had a different plan.

The light turned briefly orange as though they stood next to a furnace, and a shockwave of heated air ripped out in all directions, bowling all but Scorn and the dryads physically down, flattening bushes and tipping over one of the park benches. Vadrieny had her wings spread, and was physically picked up and hurled a dozen yards into the air. In that moment, the Sleeper could easily have slipped away. Instead, the shadow solidified.

A circle of deep, red light appeared on the ground around him, marked with jagged runes unlike any Ingvar had seen before. For a moment, amid them stood a human-sized figure of pure black, like a silhouette cut into the face of the world itself. Then, a scream rent the air—not the kind of scream made by a throat, but a sound like metal plates being scraped together. The circle blazed and a whole column of red flashed upward from the ground.

When it receded, the Sleeper stood before them, fully eight feet tall, a figure sculpted of overlapping chitinous plates, gleaming sullenly in the light. Its eyes were two pits of orange flame.

While the students bounced back to their feet, it turned to point at Ingvar, then made a beckoning gesture.

Ingvar fired an arrow directly at its face.

The Sleeper caught the shaft, which then burst aflame, dissolving into ash.

“Now,” Scorn snarled, “you are playing my song!”

She charged forward, ignoring a shouted warning from Toby, and struck the Sleeper head-on. For a moment, the two hulking figures grappled, the slightly smaller Rhaazke pushing him backward, then the Sleeper got a grip on her forearms, physically picked her up, and whirled, hurling her into the stone face of the nearby arts building.

Its next gesture sent a blast of black lightning straight at Gabriel; the paladin got a divine shield up, which pulsed at the impact and shattered. He stumbled backward, but before the Sleeper could attack again, Vadrieny landed on him from behind and both dryads piled into his legs.

The confused tangle which ensued ended moments later with the archdemon again hurled away, but the Sleeper seemed to be having more trouble with the dryads.

“You gotta grip him,” Ruda wheezed, limping forward. “Get your claws in and hold on!”

“He’s physically slippery and my claws can’t breach that armor,” Vadrieny retorted, pumping her wings to shoot back to her feet from the heap into which she’d fallen.

A burst of pure flame sent both dryads reeling back with shrieks of pain. Ingvar, baring his teeth in fury, fired another shot. This one struck the Sleeper right on the neck, which had absolutely no effect.

The huge figure turned to look at him again, then started forward.

Toby planted himself in its path, glowing behind a divine shield; the Sleeper launched three consecutive blasts of shadow-lightning, busting the shield and then sending him hurling away.

Ingvar set aside his longbow, drew his hatchet and belt knife, and stood, watching the armored warlock come.

“Quit rushing him!” Ruda exclaimed. “Guys, we got this, just form up and—”

A silver shield barely intercepted the blast of dark lightning that came at her. The Sleeper stomped one huge foot, making a crater in the pavement, and another enormous rush of sheer force ripped out from him, knocking most of them down, even Scorn and Aspen. This time, it hit hard enough to shatter windows and nearby fairy lamps.

Suddenly the color of the light shifted again, this time to silver. They all stared upward in surprise, even the Sleeper; above, between them and the whirling clouds of Shaath’s blessing, an enormous silver snowflake had formed in the air, glowing and slowly rotating.

“I WILL END YOU RIGHT IN THE FACE!”

At the shrill bellow from above, the snowflake suddenly dissolved and rushed at them. A solid blanket of snow slammed down on the whole scene, two feet thick on the ground, burying most of them. A tiny silver light zipped down from above, laying into the Sleeper with blasts of lightning, spear-like icicles, bolts of pure arcane destruction, even sprays of water which instantly hardened into a thick coating of ice.

The Sleeper staggered under the onslaught, firing blasts of lightning, fire, and more conventional shadowbolts, but seemingly unable to hit the pixie. Then he tripped and tumbled over backward; Juniper was the first to extricate herself from the snow, and tackled his legs from behind.

Snow and blasts of destructive magic were being hurled in all directions. Ingvar took the opportunity to dart past the brawl to where it had started. It took a little bit of aimless digging, but he found the prone form of Ravana, and lifted her out of the snow, then quickly carried her up the path to where the ground was clear.

Not a moment too soon; stomping feet sounded behind him, only slightly muffled by the snow. Ingvar set Ravana down and whirled, tomahawk upraised, but the Sleeper dashed past him, heading for the stairs downward to the lower terrace. A silver wall of light appeared in front of him, then was broken by a furious barrage of black lightning bolts. No sooner had the warlock made it past the barrier, though, than a pumpkin-sized ball of pure arcane power ripped into him from behind, trailing a swirling vortex of snow.

At the impact, the Sleeper’s hulking form physically exploded.

For a moment, there was finally silence.

“I…did I kill him?” Fross asked uncertainly.

“No,” Gabriel grunted, brushing snow out of his eyes. “Just that…shell he was wearing. Vestrel says the original shadow-guy is still going, heading for the gates.”

“Come on!” Scorn bellowed, taking off down the stairs at a run. The rest followed.

“You’re not coming?” Aspen demanded of Ingvar, who had knelt next to Ravana and was rubbing warmth back into her chilled hands.

“This is more urgent,” he said tersely. “Besides, it’s over. He’s gone.”


Still unable to shadow-jump, the dark shape skimmed across the pavement, making a beeline for the campus’s gates. It slid to a stop mere yards short, though, when a figure standing in the gate itself suddenly popped into visibility.

“Good show!” Fedora said, slowly clapping his hands. “Really, top-notch example of throwing your weight around like a wild boar. You’ve given me just all kinds of evidence to work from. I’ll have your ass on a silver platter by the end of the week. And then you’ll be facing Tellwyrn’s tender mercies, which would be a shame, because you know what she’ll do. I’ve got a better idea.”

Grinning, he turned back the lapel of his coat, revealing his silver gryphon badge.

“You’ve got potential, kid. You’ve got power, and there’s some kind of rudimentary smarts in there. Undeveloped, but still; there’s a hint of real strategy under your nonsense. You waste so much time on this bullshit, though. The way you’re going, you’re just gonna eventually piss off the wrong person and get pulped. What if I offered you something better?” He grinned, folding his coat back to conceal the badge. “My…department…is interested in talented people. Talented, dangerous, destructive people. Oh, there are restrictions, not gonna lie. It’s annoying as hell, is what it is; I really hate working under other people’s rules. But on balance, take it from me, it’s a lot less annoying than trying to survive alone in a world which is wholly devoted to destroying you. I could arrange—”

A small circle of orange light formed on the nearby gate post, from which shot a chain which wrapped itself around the Inspector’s neck.

“Ah, yes,” he said with a sigh, tugging experimentally at it. “Warlock, demon, we all know how that goes. Before you go and do something too reckless, maybe you oughtta stop and think about why I was willing to confront you like this?”

The chain retracted, pulling rapidly into the tiny spell circle, and yanked him away to slam his back against the gate post.

“Right,” Fedora grunted in a strangled voice, “not really the stop-and-think type. Ashley, honey, do ya mind?”

She stepped out from behind the gate, a young woman in a dark suit, shaking her head.

“Honestly, Troy, I told you this was the wrong way to do it. He’s in full fight-or-flight mode right now; you’re just not gonna get him to settle down and listen.”

“Well, it’s not as if I can invite him over for tea,” the incubus grunted.

“Whoah, there!” Ashley said, holding up a hand at the Sleeper as his shadowed form surged forward for the open gate. “We’re not done talking to you. Now, settle down and—”

He shot her point-blank with a shadowbolt. It fizzled out harmlessly upon impact.

“Seriously?” she said wryly, then reached up to touch the spell circle behind Fedora’s neck. Instantly it flickered out, chain and all, dropping the Inspector. “Look, it’s been a trying night for you, I get that. You run along now, and think about what Inspector Fedora said. You’ve got options, if you quit being such a goober. I bet you can figure out how to get in touch with us.”

Pounding feet sounded from the campus beyond. The Sleeper’s indistinct shape wavered, then zipped sideways, following the campus wall to the east.

Moments later, Scorn burst onto the scene, skidding to a halt and glaring at Fedora, who was still rubbing at his neck.

“Oh, don’t tell me,” the demon spat. “You have lost him.”

“Excuse me, but we lost him,” Fedora replied archly. “As in, all of us, collectively, because yes, he is gone. Fortunately one of us had the foresight to hang back and observe rather than go in swingin’. Hey, kids, welcome to the party. As I was just telling your tall friend, here, our boy has slipped away. But we’ve made some real progress tonight. I wanna look over the scenes carefully; bet you anything I can hone in on him pretty quickly from here.”

Juniper pushed forward past the other students, staring in disbelief. “Ash?!”

Ashley sighed, and waved. “Hey there, li’l sister. I guess we’ve got some stuff to talk about, huh?”

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12 – 29

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“I think I’ve found a flaw in your plan,” Aspen declared.

“Oh, really.” Ruda looked at her sidelong, not shifting from her position leaning against the spell lab’s wall except to take a long drink from her bottle of beer. “If I asked reeeeeaal nicely, wouldja share it with me?”

“Sure,” Aspen said immediately, folding her arms and looking smug. “You don’t actually know when this Sleeper guy will attack, or even if he will. And you’ve got everybody locked in here to wait for it, which… You guys don’t hunt much, do you?”

At that last pointed question, she half-turned to look around the room. Toby and Shaeine were both sitting against a wall in lotus postures with their eyes closed; Teal lounged next to the drow, apparently asleep. Scorn was pacing furiously back and forth, muttering to herself, while Juniper paced in a much less energetic fashion, wandering aimlessly all over the room at a slow amble. Inspector Fedora sat on the floor against the huge window, almost swallowed by his trench coat, which was rumpled up around him by his position. He was reading, of all things, an Avenist libram, and seemed quite absorbed in it. Only Fross and Gabriel were engaged in apparently goal-directed behavior, having claimed a space a few feet distant from Fross’s model of the mountaintop to work on some enchanting project, surrounded by loose sheets of his spell parchment. Their quiet discussion was the predominant sound in the room.

Ingvar, as usual, stood near Aspen, currently watching her conversation with Ruda. The whole evening, as hours had stretched on, he had simply stood, in apparently perfect calm.

“See, like Ingvar,” Aspen said approvingly, pointing at him. “Hunting requires patience. You gotta be able to just wait for a long time without going stir-crazy. I don’t think most of this group has the knack. Specially that one.” She shifted her finger to point at Scorn.

The Rhaazke ground to a stop with a muted screech of her claws upon the stone floor, turning on her and clenching her fists, tail beginning to lash. “Listen here—”

“Scorn,” Teal said without opening her eyes. “Please don’t. Starting a fight with dryads is pointless.”

“I am not the one starting!” Scorn snapped.

“You wouldn’t be the one to finish it, either,” Fedora commented, turning a page in his libram and not lifting his eyes from it. “That’s not a reflection on your personal power, gorgeous, trust me. Our sort would be well-advised not to fuck around with high-level fairies.”

“We do not share a sort,” she said disdainfully.

“Sure,” he agreed. “You have more magic and muscle in your abs than I’ve got in my entire body, while I, contrariwise, have some basic goddamn social skills. And that dryad would puree either of us if we pissed her off, so let’s refrain, yeah?”

“And this is what I mean,” Aspen said with unmistakable satisfaction. “Everybody’s gonna go nuts cooped up in here like this. Especially if the Sleeper never shows.”

“He will,” Fedora stated, still reading. “The cat’s away. The mouse will play.”

“I don’t know what that guy’s talking about half the time,” Aspen complained to Ingvar.

“You are not missing out,” he replied.

“Have you considered,” Ruda said with deceptive mildness, “that you picking at this is, if anything, going to make it worse?”

The dryad scowled. “It’s not my fault!”

“More academically, then, have you ever considered anything in your life before you just hauled off and did it?”

Scorn laughed, far too loudly for the enclosed space.

“Now you listen,” Aspen began, but Ingvar swiftly interrupted.

“Aspen, stop. She has a point.”

The look the dryad turned on him was almost hurt. “I—but—she’s being rude about it!”

“Yes,” he said calmly, “which is her business, not yours. You’re not responsible for what anyone else does, only what you do.”

“Oh, again with the philosophy,” she huffed.

“I don’t have a lot of interest in philosophy,” he said, “unless it has an immediate practical use. Turning the other cheek for moral reasons is Omnist practice, and no concern of mine. What concerns me is that when you react to other people, you let them control you. A man—a person, in order to exercise any power, must be self-contained and controlled.”

“Huh,” she grunted with poor grace.

“Rudeness aside, she is right,” Ingvar went on. “You are also right. This is a tense environment, and pointing it out will only make it more so. Better to set an example. You’re a hunter of no small skill, Aspen; you could teach these students a great deal about patience.”

“That’s true,” Juniper agreed, coming over to loop an arm through one of Aspen’s. “I always thought so, back home in the Deep Wild. You’re a lot more collected than most of our sisters.”

“That is the more collected one?” Scorn said skeptically.

“Scorn,” Teal pleaded with a sigh.

“You.” Ruda lifted the hand holding her bottle by its neck, extending one finger to point at Ingvar. “I like you.”

“That’s good to know,” he said noncommittally. She laughed almost as loudly as Scorn, earning a frown from Aspen.

“Yeah!” Gabriel shouted suddenly, jumping upright. He grinned at everyone as they all turned to look at him. “We got it working!”

“Hey, that’s pretty great,” Ruda said. “You got what the fuck working?”

“We’ve solved our communication problem!” Fross reported, whizzing about in an excited circle above them. “Fortunately I had a book in my aura storage with the proper charms described, but we’ve had to adapt it to use the materials on hand, since the proper ones are sorta expensive and there’ll be all manner of trouble if we get into the classroom stocks, so it was real tricky to make it work with just folded spell paper and enchanting ink, and the final product won’t last for very long, but since we only need them to work for tonight it should be fine!”

“I think Ruda’s question stands,” Shaeine said, finally opening her eyes.

“Communication charms!” Gabriel enthused, holding up a square formed of paper folded over multiple times, inked with elaborate patterns which glowed in shifting blue and green. “You just hold it and you can hear the voice of whoever talks to you through it!”

“That solves a lot of problems,” Fedora said, finally looking genuinely interested. “If we can coordinate in the field it’ll overcome our main handicap here.”

“Oh, well, don’t get too excited,” Fross cautioned, suiting the advice herself by slowing to a stationary hover. “Actual two-way communication is orders of magnitude more complex and really can’t be done with these simple materials. I can project through it, cos I’m extremely magical, but you won’t be able to talk back. So I figure, since I’ve gotta run the map model and the fae-arcane field, I can stay here and give directions and you guys can surround the Sleeper!”

“Please understand that I don’t mean to disparage,” Ingvar said carefully, “but organizing a hunt is not as simple a matter as it may appear to one who has never done so. Are you sure you can do this, Fross?”

“Fross is extremely intelligent,” Toby observed quietly. “More to the point… Our group’s actual military strategist is taking a semester off—”

“Which is a goddamn shame,” Ruda interjected, grinning fiendishly, “because I’m really curious what she’d make of Ingvar, here.”

Toby ignored her. “…but Fross has never, in the time I’ve known her, misjudged her capabilities. The safe assumption is that if she says she can do a thing, she can do it.”

“Agreed,” Shaeine added.

“Yeah, that’s pretty well unanimous around here,” Juniper said, grinning. “You can count on Fross.”

“Aww!” Fross chimed bashfully. “I would blush if I had the necessary physiology! But you guys couldn’t see it anyway so I guess that’s maybe kinda pointless.”

“All right, then!” Gabriel said more briskly, sitting back down and tearing another sheet of enchanting paper out of his book, “let’s get to work, Fross ol’ pal. Hopefully we can make enough of these to equip everybody before the Sleeper arrives.”

“Yes! On it!”

“Well, that’s good then,” Aspen muttered. “I guess we’ll just…continue to stand around.”


“Antonio!” Justinian came to meet him at the door when he entered the Archpope’s office, moving as smoothly as always but more quickly than usual. “Splendid. I greatly appreciate you coming on such short notice, and especially at this late hour. Please, stand.”

“Not at all, your Holiness,” Darling said, rising from the kneel he had assumed upon the Archpope’s approach. “I’m always available for necessity—and I figured this must be urgent for you to call at midnight. How can I help?”

“I need to call upon you in your capacity as liaison between the Church and the Imperial government,” Justinian said seriously. He wore a faint frown—very faint, but still more concern by far than he usually displayed in public. “The late hour is specifically relevant—I am counting on your ability to enter the Palace in the middle of the night and find someone of high office willing to speak with you.”

“How high, if I may ask?”

“Ideally, the Emperor himself…though that might be hoping for too much.” The Archpope turned to face the window of his office, concealing his expression for the moment. “What matters most is that we reach out to the Throne as quickly as possible. Something…rather untoward has happened, I’m afraid. There is a risk of hostilities emerging if the matter is left to fester.”

“Your Holiness, what’s going on?” Darling asked tersely, beginning to absorb some of the uncharacteristic tension in Justinian’s shoulders. He had to admire the man’s ability to do that; usually he was far too in charge of himself to be manipulated even so subtly.

“This is difficult.” Justinian shifted again, placing himself in profile from Darling’s view; his frown had deepened. “I trust you will not be offended if I state that there are secrets of the Church which I cannot reveal to you—even now, when I must call upon you for help related to them.”

“Not in the least,” the Bishop said immediately, “I’ve always assumed that was a given. What can you tell me, your Holiness? My ability to access the Palace won’t extend to barging in there in the middle of the night with a vague story.”

“Among my efforts,” the Archpope said slowly, clearly choosing his words with caution, “has been a subtle campaign against an elusive foe, undertaken by specifically skilled and trusted individuals on behalf of the Church, using, among other things, artifacts left behind by the Elder Gods.”

“Dangerous business,” Darling said quietly.

“Indeed so.” Justinian turned to him and nodded. “And to be taken only with the utmost caution and restraint, with every possible safeguard in place, and besides all that, only at what seemed the most urgent need. There has been…an enemy on the move. A most elusive one. My specialists have been conducting a remote campaign to attempt to identify and monitor this being, using the aforementioned artifacts.”

“An enemy?” Darling frowned. “If you don’t know who, your Holiness, what makes you think them an enemy?”

“Understand that I do not, under ordinary circumstances, meddle with the works of the Elders,” Justinian said seriously. “The Church has many such relics in its possession, which my predecessors have collected and contained largely because they universally prove all but impossible to destroy. It is, as you yourself know very well, sound general policy to leave the toys of the Elders strictly alone. So long as they are buried in vaults beneath the Cathedral, under the eyes of the Pantheon themselves, those tools are relatively safe, and contained such that they pose no threat. At least, that had been my assumption until quite recently, when one became unexpectedly active.”

“And…your response to this was to have a specialist…poke at it?” Darling cleared his throat. “Forgive me, but…”

“No, no, you are right,” Justinian said wearily. “I do my best, Antonio, but a man who must handle as many delicate threads as I inevitably outsmarts himself once in a while. I suspect you know a thing or two about that, yourself.”

“Well.” Darling couldn’t help but smile. “Maybe one or two.”

“Yes, the safe thing to do would undoubtedly have been to bury it deeper and invoke the Pantheon’s auspices to ensure it took, this time. I have never been one to brush dangers under the rug, however. That which is out of sight and out of mind is more menacing, not less, because one grants it the element of surprise by not engaging. I sought to learn what was happening, what it meant, and who was responsible. It did become clear, at least, that the device’s sudden activity was due to some manner of…sympathetic principle. Someone, somewhere, had a counterpart to it, and was doing this deliberately. Having learned that, I could hardly afford to ignore it. That is the kind of threat which could come to endanger countless uninvolved innocents, if not the world itself.”

“Clearly, yes,” Darling agreed, nodding emphatically.

“Tonight,” Justinian continued gravely, “and quite recently, in fact, after a pattern of several days of exchanges between my agent and this mysterious figure, the device abruptly destroyed itself. The violence of it was…extreme. My people barely escaped with their lives.”

“And…you wish to warn the Throne?”

“Oh, it is more urgent than that, or it could wait till morning. In the moments before it erupted, the artifact projected an image of the silver gryphon.”

There was a moment of silence.

“In other words,” Darling said slowly, “this whole time, you were playing a very dangerous game of chess with what turned out to be agents of the Empire.”

“Even that would be blessedly simple compared to the reality,” Justinian said seriously. “Such a misunderstanding could be explained. In hindsight, this revelation makes sense of much about the exchanges which had baffled my agents. The enemy’s moves frequently made no sense, and we had ascribed them to the idea that he was as awkward and uncertain in his use of the Elders’ crafts as we. Looking back now, though, it becomes apparent that we were dealing with more than one party, themselves at cross purposes. The original aggressor, and more recently, also the Empire. I suppose it should not surprise me that the Throne has similar treasures hoarded away. It only makes sense that if someone had begun to activate them remotely, it would affect more than the one in my own possession.”

Darling’s eyes widened. “Your Holiness… Do you have any idea how many of these things still exist?”

“None,” Justinian said grimly, “and you have hit upon one of my concerns.”

As always, Darling kept his racing thoughts firmly away from his face. The Emperor, the Hands…the timing. This was a moment to tread with extreme care.

“Coordinating with the Throne would obviously be important in that case, yes,” he mused aloud. “But…with all respect, are you certain this entire thing wasn’t the Empire’s doing?”

“Quite.” Justinian nodded. “I have been wrong about people, of course; individuals are endlessly surprising. Those who possess and managed to maintain great power are often much less so. I understand Sharidan quite well. I know his ambitions, both their shape and their extent, and the reckless menace posed by this agent’s initial activities was not in his character.”

“What activities?” Darling asked, frowning again.

“Before the thing began to obstruct scrying efforts,” Justinian replied, “we found a trail leading to Puna Dara.”

“Surely the Punaji wouldn’t…”

“Agreed. It is also not in their nature to poke the bear, as it were; some past leaders of the Punaji might have been so ambitious, but Rajakhan is not the sort to meddle with dangerous powers to begin with, and definitely would not begin to rouse the kind of trouble in his own territory that our early divinations perceived.”

“What sort of trouble?”

“This is what we must discuss with the Throne,” Justinian said seriously. “To begin with, aside from the need to merge our information, there is also the matter that the Throne might consider the Church responsible for these problems if they are not informed otherwise, and I don’t have to tell you all the risks that could pose.”

“Indeed not.”

“But additionally, Puna Dara is beyond the direct control of Tiraas—and largely outside the influence of the Church. Between their association with Naphthene and a native spiritual practice which focuses on their windshaman, the Punaji generally have little use for gods. If someone intended to probe at both the Church and Empire, or even set them against one another, they could hardly pick a more perfect place from which to strike…and it becomes more ominous still in light of rumors I have begun to hear from Punaji territory. In this matter, Antonio, I hope you may have information to add that I do not.”

“I might have to disappoint you there, your Holiness,” Darling admitted. “The Guild’s presence among the Punaji is pretty slender, as well. Their culture makes Eserites sort of…redundant. Rajakhan is possibly the only world leader who discourages the Guild’s activities in a way that doesn’t provoke the Boss to double down on them. Only the Five Kingdoms do a more thorough job of keeping us out.”

“I am aware of this,” Justiniain said, nodding. “Nonetheless, you may still have information I do not—and of course, I cannot begin to guess what Imperial Intelligence may know. Tell me, Antonio, in any of the whispers you may have heard from Puna Dara, has there been anything about the Rust?”


Even under the circumstances, Ravana enjoyed the atmosphere of the campus after dark. Its peace was rather like that of her private gardens at home in Madouris, one of the few outdoor spaces where she could be free of the pestering attentions of the countless people who demanded a slice of her time. Professor Tellwyrn’s emphatic discouragement of interlopers had finally quelled the upsurge of interest which had begun with Gabriel Arquin’s calling last year, and relatively few of her classmates were knocking about at this hour. For the most part, she had the path to herself.

Especially these days, for obvious reasons. She tightened her grip on her lightcapper for a moment before forcing herself to relax it again. And, then, to relax herself overall. The wind in the trees, the sound of crickets and night birds, even the pleasant warm glow of the fairy lamps; all the details of her surroundings conspired deliberately to be comfortable, even if she generally found the faux-gothic stylings of Tellwyrn’s taste in architecture rather gauche.

The oppressive drowsiness hit suddenly, as she had expected. Immediately following came the stab of blinding agony in her temples—also expected, but she had not been able to test the potion before taking it (obviously), and Ravana was not accustomed to physical pain. She was unable to repress a shriek, barely catching herself before taking a tumble which would have damaged her personal dignity—or worse, her lightcapper.

A moment later, though, it faded, and she straightened, a predatory smile stretching across her features.

Mages were so obsessed with magic, they always tried to counter it with more magic. A noblewoman knew to play to her own strengths, to find mundane solutions to the threats posed by even the most capable wizards and warlocks. Even if, in this case, the solution had been provided through the auspices of expensive (and extremely illegal) alchemy, it was still a basically mundane one: a person simply could not fall asleep while in severe pain.

“Predictable,” Ravana said aloud, raising her lightcapper and turning to face the Sleeper.


“Contact!” Fross shouted, shooting toward the ceiling and chiming loudly. “We’ve got him! South lawn, the path outside the music building roughly equidistant between the gazebo and the Wells!”

Ingvar had already thrown open the door of the spell lab and strode out, Aspen right on his heels. There came a disorganized rush as the sophomores, Scorn, and Fedora followed, but the Huntsman moved with swift purpose and total calm. In seconds he had strode the length of the hall and out the side door, raising his longbow as soon as he had a view of the sky.

The arrow he nocked wasn’t exactly identical to the one which he had made with his own shaman in Tiraas; he had had to improvise, lacking the shaman’s expertise and rank in Shaath’s faith. Thanks to the help of the fairies, though, its blessings and charms should be correct. Ingvar angled his bow to aim straight skyward, drew, and released.

The arrow burst into light as it soared aloft. For a moment he experienced uncertainty; would it work? But it continued, shooting straight skyward, as it was meant to. The shaft climbed far higher than the power of his draw could have propelled it, till even with its glow it had vanished from visibility with sheer distance.

Only for seconds, though. When it erupted, it was with a surge of clouds that spread out over the mountaintop as rapidly as a cup of ink poured into a bucket of water. With it came the low howl of wind, swirls of snow, and the sharp cold of the upper Stalrange, unheard of on the prairie.

The very light shifted, taking on a pale bluish tinge. The blessing of Shaath lay over Last Rock, and across the very dimensions, blocking all shadow-jumping.

“That is a bit more ostentatious than I was expecting,” Gabriel remarked from behind him. “People might notice this, guys.”

“It works, though,” said Juniper, turning to him. “Right?”

He hesitated, listening, then nodded. “Yes! Vestrel confirms. We’ve got the Sleeper pinned down!”

“Magically, at least,” said Ingvar. “The easy part. Now…we hunt.”

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12 – 18

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“Sorry I’m late!”

Teal tossed something to Ruda as she entered the spell lab before crossing to join Shaeine by the wall. The two shared a reserved smile, shifting their hands to briefly touch the backs against each other, while Juniper looked on with a sappy smile.

“You’re not even the last one here, and holy hell, did you drive?” Ruda was examining the object Teal had thrown her: a set of control runes for an enchanted carriage, their engraved sigils putting off a fierce blue glow, attached to a small bronze fob.

“Nah, that’s my tardy note,” Teal said, grinning. “I was helping Maureen with our project; we got hung up applying the control enchantment, and kept at it because if you leave that half done, you pretty much have to start over. Jokes on us, cos we flubbed it somehow and have to start over anyway. Those are the runes we were trying to use.”

“Oooh, yeah, they’re not supposed to glow like that,” Fross commented, fluttering closer. “Huh, that’s really peculiar. What went wrong?”

“I actually don’t know,” Teal confessed. “Neither does Maureen. But when it comes to enchanting, I pretty much just know theory and she was following along from the book…”

“Are they gonna blow up?” Ruda asked, showing no alarm at the prospect of holding a potentially explosive spell misfire.

“Nah, there’s not enough juice in those to make a good firecracker,” said Teal. “They’ll probably just glow until they burn through their stored power. Don’t toss ’em in a spell circle or anything, though. Mis-enchanted gadgets can be unpredictable if you add them to half-finished spells.”

“Hell, I wouldn’t be going near something like that anyway,” Ruda said, carefully tucking the fob into one of the buttonholes on her coat, where the glowing runes hung to just above her belt. “Thanks, T! Cheap, tacky and potentially dangerous. Best jewelry I’ve ever gotten!”

“I figured you’d like it,” Teal said, winking. “Speaking of which, Fross, d’you think you could give us a hand alter when we try to apply control enchantments again? I think it’ll go better with an actual enchanter on hand.”

“I would be glad to help, however!” Fross darted back and forth in midair as she often did to punctuate a point. “I would suggest you ask Gabe first. He’s a specialized enchanter while I’m a more general arcanist, and also he really likes being included and having his skills acknowledged, which, y’know, everybody does, but personally I don’t feel I need the validation and Gabe’s still working through some stuff.”

“That is very perceptive, Fross,” Shaeine said with a warm little smile, “and very kind.”

“Thank you! I try to be both of those things!”

“It’s a good idea,” Teal agreed, again brushing Shaeine’s hand with hers. “Thank you, Fross, I’ll mention it to him.”

“After the meeting, if you please,” Ruda said. “We’re already running a bit behind, and I prefer to get this business out of the way as soon as possible. That is, if the rest of our—well, it’s about fucking time.”

The lab door opened again, and Gabriel himself entered, followed closely by Toby. Gabe paused in the doorway, his gaze zeroing in on the glowing control runes hanging just over Ruda’s belt buckle. After a moment, he grinned broadly.

“Yarr! It’s drivin’ me nuts!”

“Arquin, so fucking help me—”

“Whuh?” Juniper blinked. “I don’t get it.”

“Old joke,” Gabriel explained. “So a pirate walks into a bar, and there’s a ship’s wheel hanging from his belt buckle—”

He broke off and ducked, Ruda having yanked a bottle of beer from within her coat and hurled it at his head. The bottle came to a stop midair before reaching him, however.

“Hey, don’t make a mess in the spell lab,” Fross said reproachfully, levitating the bottle gently to the floor. “We’ll have to clean it up before we leave.”

“Silly as always, I see,” Scorn grumbled, stepping in after Toby and as usual having to duck to get her horns under the door frame.

“Oh…hi, Scorn,” Ruda said, frowning up at her. “Wasn’t expecting you to come.”

“I invited her,” Toby said firmly. “Considering what you wanted to discuss, I think she could contribute very well. And besides, we could stand to make more of an effort to spend time with her.”

“You know what they say,” Gabriel agreed, nudging Scorn with an elbow, which barely reached up to the base of her ribs. “You bust it out of a psycho holy sex dungeon, you buy it!”

The Rhaazke looked down her nose at him, nostrils flaring once in a silent snort of irritation. “Are you lot going to be like this the whole time, again? Always jokes and prodding each other when you should be focusing?”

“Hey, don’t knock it,” Ruda said easily. “Bickering helps us concentrate.”

“It’s a bonding exercise!” Fross proclaimed. “I was uncertain at first too but as long as everybody knows each other and trusts there’s no malice it’s actually pretty fun! You should feel free to join in!”

“Except don’t pick on Shaeine,” Gabriel said solemnly. “She’s classy. Everybody else is fair game.”

Scorn grunted. “If you say so. Fine, then. You are short and not good with women.”

“Ehhh…” Gabriel made a waffling motion with his hand. “A decent effort. Ruda, care to critique?”

“Points for being on the nose,” Ruda said seriously. “That was a good hit; Arquin’s manly ego makes a splendid target. It’s all about context, though. You’re meant to fire one off at the appropriate moment in the conversation, not just out of the blue like that.”

“Sounds unnecessarily complicated,” Scorn huffed.

“Nah, you’ll get there,” Ruda said, grinning. “Stick with us, we’ll have you bantering like a pro in no time.”

“I’m even less sure I want to stick with you now,” Scorn grunted.

“And there you go!” Gabriel crowed. “She comes back with a splendid riposte!” The Rhaazke just looked at him in confusion.

Shaeine cleared her throat loudly.

“Yes, right, we’re actually here for a reason, for once,” Ruda said in a much less jocular tone. “I’m sure you lot were wondering why I wanted to talk in one of the spell labs. The reason is this is probably the most secured and private place on campus available to us aside from our dorms, and we can’t have the whole group in either of those, unless we slip Gabe and Toby sex change potions first.”

“That’s actually a lot more complex than a simple potion! There’s a whole course of alchemical treatment involved, which takes days if not weeks, and it should really only be undertaken with the supervision of an expert alchemist and a healer, preferably a fae practitioner—”

“Fross.”

“…aaaand I’m being pedantic and going off on a tangent. Sorry.” The pixie drifted a few feet lower, her glow dimming bashfully. Ruda gave her a grin before continuing.

“Tellwyrn, in her dubious wisdom, has asked us to keep an eye on the campus while she fucks off to Sifan, and ideally nab this Sleeper asshole. We need to talk strategy.”

“Wait, Tellwyrn what?” Scorn exclaimed.

“It’s actually really unexpected,” Juniper said, nodding. “I’m still surprised. And intimidated, and kind of honored.”

“We may jabber and fool around, but we get stuff done,” Gabriel said to Scorn. “That, or we get chased by centaurs or tricked by the Black Wreath. Y’know, six of one…”

“And this raises another point,” Ruda said, fixing her gaze on the Rhaazke. “Scorn, on reflection I think Toby has a good point: you’ve earned our trust, you’re smart and powerful, and I think you’re an asset here. So, you know, welcome to the gang. With that said, this is the kind of thing which should not leave this room, hence us talking in a magically sealed space that can’t be eavesdropped on.”

“Easily,” Shaeine corrected in a quiet tone. “Most of our fellow students could not penetrate the defenses on one of Tellwyrn’s spell labs. It would be a mistake to make assumptions about what the Sleeper can or cannot do.”

“Point,” Ruda agreed, nodding at her.

“I’m glad you’re doing well at making friends,” Toby added to Scorn, “but with something like this, Ravana Madouri in particular…”

“There is good sense in that,” Scorn grunted. “Ravana is very clever. Very clever. But she is the kind of clever that tricks itself as often as others. I think she would agree, anyway. I have noticed her best trait is she does not lie about what she is, even to herself.”

“And this is no time for people to be playing politics, which is what Ravana would fucking do even if she decided to help, and we all know it,” Ruda said firmly. “So, glad we’re all on the same page, there. Now, Fross and June and I have been talking and we’ve got an idea.”

“Yes!” Fross chimed, shooting straight up to the ceiling in excitement. “Okay, so, remember when we were chasing spectral demons and I set up a hybrid arcane/divine detection grid over the town?”

“I remember that not turning out so well,” Scorn commented.

“Yes, true, but not really germane to the point; the grid worked perfectly, and in fact accidentally enabled me to dig up some more detail on something it found than I expected. So I’ve been refining that and I think I’ve improved on it in a way we can use to catch the Sleeper!”

“A detection grid over the campus?” Gabriel asked, his interest clearly raised. “No offense, Fross, but what do you think you can do that Tellwyrn hasn’t? She’s got the ley lines rigged so she can temporally scry, and there’s a very powerful fairy geas active…”

“But we have something Tellwyrn doesn’t!” Fross chimed excitedly.

“An excessively high opinion of ourselves?” Gabriel asked, grinning.

“A tendency to wreck things?” Toby added wryly.

“Really great hair!” Ruda chortled.

“Tellwyrn has all that,” Scorn pointed out.

“We have a dryad,” Juniper said smugly.

“Uh, point of order?” Teal raised a hand. “Tellwyrn also has a dryad. The same one. I mean, wouldn’t she have already asked you to help, Juno?”

“She did,” Ruda pointed out.

“I mean, specifically, if there was a way she in particular could.”

“That Tellwyrn didn’t think of a way does not mean one does not exist,” Shaeine observed. “Your idea, Juniper?”

Juniper sighed. “The thing is…the last time she let me help, I made a mess of it. I think that’s probably made her a little wand-shy. Besides, Tellwyrn is a mage; she doesn’t think in terms of mixing schools, or using different ones. Fross and I have worked something out that should let us… Well, Fross is better at explaining it.”

“Okay, so!” the pixie resumed. “First of all, we’re reasonably sure the Sleeper is a warlock.”

“Why?” Scorn demanded.

“Sure might be overstating it, but there’s evidence,” said Ruda, beginning to tick points off on her fingers. “First, some asshole inexplicably opens a hellgate—a major infernal accomplishment. Then, Tellwyrn hires a kitsune, pretty much the most dangerous and powerful kind of fairy there is, to teach at the campus. Then, nothing at all happens; not a peep from any hypothetical warlock. Then, the kitsune storms off in a huff, and immediately this Sleeper bullshit starts up. So, no, we can’t prove anything, but the sequence of events strongly suggests this is a warlock, and the same one who pried that hellgate open.”

“Hmm.” Scorn narrowed her eyes, but nodded after a moment. “Logical. Okay, go on, pixie.”

“Right, so detection networks,” Fross continued. “Do you guys know anything about dryad attunements?”

A round of blank glances was exchanged around the room.

“It’s hard to put into words,” Juniper said, frowning thoughtfully, “because the whole experience is beyond words; I think that’s a large part of the point of it. But it’s something we can do, a way of sensing our surroundings, and especially magic and other fairies. I’m connected to it at all times, but not always actively; it takes focus to consciously sense what’s happening around me. I don’t usually do it, because my range covers pretty much the whole mountain, and other fairies kind of find it disruptive.”

“It’s, uh, sort of like suddenly having an extra sense,” Fross added, “and immediately using it to detect some massive, powerful creature standing right next to you. A little disconcerting.”

“Sorry,” Juniper said, wincing. “But…massive? Really?”

“I mean, uh, your magical profile! Not physically.”

“Massive, no,” Scorn said, suddenly grinning. “They are pretty hefty, but let’s be reasonable.”

Gabriel and Ruda dissolved in laughter; Teal covered her eyes with a hand. Juniper just shook her head.

“Anyway,” Toby said loudly.

“Right, yes,” Fross went on. “Since, as you know, it turns out I myself am basically a small fragment of a dryad’s consciousness given independent agency, I can connect to this attunement with Juniper’s help. What’s more important, I am an anomaly. Fairies are simply not supposed to be able to use arcane magic. I know Jacaranda wouldn’t have deliberately made me that way, and frankly if she’d wanted to, there’s no way she would know how. Even Tellwyrn doesn’t fully understand how it works; I sure don’t.”

“Which means,” Juniper said with a satisfied smile, “it’s an effect that can’t be predicted or countered.”

“How does that help us?” asked Shaeine.

“What I’m gonna do,” Fross said eagerly, “is work on a spell with Juniper that’ll let me broadcast a very small but steady amount of arcane magic through the fairy attunement!”

“Now, I’m not in the magic studies program,” said Toby, “but I do know my Circles. That sounds like a great way to blast everything off the top of the mountain.”

“We’ve tested this on a smaller scale before bringing it up with you guys,” said Juniper. “It works. Fross intuitively blends the arcane and fae; she can extend the effect. And even if that didn’t work, it’s a very small amount of arcane power. If the came into conflict, the fae would just snuff it out. The attunement is powerful.”

“To what end, though?” Gabriel asked.

“We know the Sleeper and his curse are effectively undetectable,” said Ruda. “We also know that the Sleeper was willing to tangle aggressively with November, but fled from Tellwyrn. That’s the profile of someone who relies on stealth, but can be overpowered if caught. And we, my fellow magnificent bastards, have the juice to beat the hell out of just about anybody we can manage to pin down.”

“I’m not talking about blazing with random arcane energy,” Fross added. “Since we can’t detect the Sleeper directly, I’m gonna make a way to catch him. The spell I mean to use will be a tiny, trace amount of arcane magic spread across the whole mountain, small enough nobody should be able to perceive it except me, since I’m the source. More importantly, I will have it rigged to be immediately consumed by any infernal magic it encounters, as per the Circles of Interaction. Even that way, it’s so small the infernal caster in question shouldn’t be able to sense it; it won’t be enough power to actually do anything.”

“So,” Gabriel said, comprehension dawning on his face, “if anybody uses infernal magic anywhere on the mountaintop…”

“It will burn a hole in Fross’s field,” Scorn interrupted eagerly, “where she can know it but he cannot.”

“And so,” Juniper said with smug satisfaction, “it won’t matter how invisible the Sleeper is. We’ll know he’s there, and we’ll land on him.”

“Ingenious,” Teal marveled.

“I see only one downside,” Shaeine said quietly. “This plan hinges on someone else being a victim of the Sleeper’s attack.”

“Not necessarily,” Toby mused. “Wherever he or she is getting this power, the Sleeper’s a very potent warlock—and as a student, someone quite young. I bet you anything they’ll be experimenting; that’s probably the whole point of this sleeping curse, or at least part of it. There’s no reason they wouldn’t be, if they can hide it completely, even from Tellwyrn.”

“Exactly,” Ruda said, nodding. “The pattern of events suggests they were afraid of Ekoi; their activities were probably suspended while she was here. They’ll be branching out now, trying stuff to see what they can pull off.”

“And even if she does curse someone else,” Scorn said with an unpleasant grin, “then we will have her. And then she will tell us how to fix them. Or if not us, she will very much tell Tellwyrn when she is back.”

“Solid points, all,” Shaeine agreed, nodding. “Very well. I think this is a good plan.”

“And the rest is boilerplate,” Roda said briskly. “Fross and June will have to handle the magic; what we need to put together is a plan of attack. We’ll have to be on site from wherever we are pretty much immediately once Fross sounds the alarm.”

“Hm…that presents a logistical muddle,” Teal mused, rubbing her chin. “Also, we’ll need to be very careful it’s the actual Sleeper we’re jumping on. None of the other students are openly warlocks, but several in the magic program use small amounts of infernal energy for various experiments…”

“If I may?”

They all pushed back against the walls with a series of surprised shouts, Ruda and Gabriel both drawing weapons. Inspector Fedora grinned unrepentantly at them, seemingly not in the least perturbed by the show of force. He had just appeared there, standing against one wall, without the door having opened.

“Really, kids, settle down. And future reference? If you’re gonna be up to this kind of duggering of skulls, you need to get in the habit of thoroughly sweeping your meeting places. Before you get to the actual meeting.”

“What are you doing in here?” Scorn snarled, balling her fists.

“Easy now!” Fedora held up a hand, palm out. “I was eavesdropping, obviously. That’s a good plan, I think it’s got every chance of working. And I believe I can help you with that last bit.”

“Why the hell would we trust you?” Ruda demanded, still holding her rapier pointed at him.

“I really can’t advise strongly enough that you don’t do that,” Fedora replied, grinning. “Trust is earned, kids; I haven’t had time to earn it, and full disclosure? Not planning to. But you can work with people you don’t trust. Hell, if anything, trust is a handicap. You’re much better off dealing with people on the basis of clearheaded knowledge of what they want and how they think, rather than some emotional attachment to the idea of them being on your side.”

“How did you just appear there?” Teal snapped.

“He was invisible, obviously,” said Ariel, her runes flickering. Gabriel held her also pointed at the Inspector.

“It’s a neat trick,” Toby said.

“It’s an entirely standard part of their repertory, in fact,” the sword said; Fedora watched her with an evidently delighted grin, offering no interruption as she continued. “The Imperial government may of course employ whoever it wishes. The same goes for Professor Tellwyrn, though quite frankly I am disappointed that she would allow this foolishness to continue. The rest of you, however, should think long and carefully before agreeing to cooperate with an incubus.”

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