The Whole Damn Thing (first half)

*The walls of the Fast have no gate*, that's what he was always told, but he doubted this. He slithered through tall grass and the occasional straggling sunflower at the foot of a five meter tall solid black iron slab, ears full of barking hounds, nose full of dirt and blood, head full of screams. His eyes wouldn't keep still, begged him to close them, *lay down, take a nap*--he blinked and shook his shaggy head, looking back to the east and finding rays of the rising sun stabbing fields of sunflowers and date palms beyond the city behind him.

*of course you're going to die alone*

He kept moving until his boot made a splash. *creek creek follow the creek* He knew there had been a creek. How could he forget the creek? t*he Exhaustion is about to hit  just delay it get sun into your eyes use the creek to shock yourself you can't let yourself get killed yet* He scooped up its cold water and threw it into his face. He still wasn't going to throw off a dog crossing a small creek. This wall would still be the most logical place for him to be near. The enemy wasn't stupid.

*where is the damn gate or a grate or anything for crying out loud*

The creek ran into the wall.

*running into the wall into the wall how is it not pooling at the wall and running around it*

He threw himself flat into the water. Weeds swayed around his body as it closed over his head, the current slamming him against the cold iron. He kicked his feet into the air and dived down, further down, feeling the barrier for any gap. His veins lit on fire for lack of air and down he still dived.

*a drain to an underground cistern no the current still goes into the wall*

Then his hand broke the surface and felt a cold breeze. *bullshit I dived at least ten meters how the fuck is this a thing* He grasped at weeds still swishing about him. His breath escaped as his head followed his hand. He crawled out of the creek on his belly, sputtering and gasping, a little less ready to sleep for the next minute or two. And then--

*"FLAT ON THE GROUND. HANDS BEHIND YOUR HEAD. DO NOT LOOK UP."*

Something pointy and cold grazed the skin behind his right ear. By the feel of it, a boot pressed down between his shoulder blades. He obeyed the order. Several voices shouted from a direction he could only describe as "not down" just before a string of nine small explosions. A woman's voice boomed out with impossible volume, "THERE WILL BE A COUNT DOWN FROM TEN, AT WHICH TIME HELIOPOLITANS WILL SUFFER CASUALTIES IF THEY ARE NOT RETREATING THE WAY THEY CAME. TEN...NINE...EIGHT...SEVEN..." Three more explosions, almost at the same time. "THAT WAS ALSO YOUR LAST WARNING. THE NEXT TIME WE. WILL. NOT. MISS."

*that voice that can't be her*

He could barely breathe past the mud and grass in his face. Someone patted him down one side and then the other, stopping to remove a clip from his belt. The same man's voice said, "He's armed." They then removed something else from his coat. Then his boot. And the other one. Then his coat collar. Then his three rings. Then his belt itself. The sound of its contents made small *thunks* on the soft ground. He heard the step of boots, of loafers, *thong sandals?* approaching him. The scent of niter stung his nostrils by the time anyone addressed him again. This was after the pointy thing quit touching his neck and the boot came off his back. "Stand him up," another woman ordered.

"Hands will remain behind the prisoner's head with fingers interlaced," said the man's voice. "The prisoner will attempt to stand. If the prisoner resists, he will face unpleasant physical consequences. Is this clear? Please reply yes or no."

"Yes," he replied.

Someone helped him up with their small hands under his armpits. "Steady now--oh!" A different woman's voice. "I think he's harmless."

"Heliopolis just chased him here using a full security squad. Illegally. I doubt he's harmless."

Someone wiped his eyes and mouth with their gentle fingers. "There, the mud's off. You can look at us."

"I wish you would let me give the orders, ma'am."

"And this is why *you* call *me* 'ma'am' within these walls."

"May I open my eyes or not?" the prisoner asked quietly.

"Open those pretty peepers! Wow! He's not human."

She had no hair and one eye square in the middle of a burnished-copper forehead in addition to the standard two in the normal spots. "I could almost say the same about you. Ma'am."

She laughed. "Silly elf, we're all human here, except for you." She wore matching yellow silk choli and skirt, embroidered with little purple nightshade flowers among oval, dark green leaves along the hem of the skirt and the neck of her choli.

The other woman stepped in front of him and pushed her stringy blonde chin-length straight hair out of her dark eyes. Her lips stretched tightly over her teeth. "Unseelie?"

"Faerie."

"Where's your tribe? What's its tree or grove?"

"I don't have one anymore." He looked about for a second. Except for a young man in black leather with a really scary looking polearm that resembled the world's most homicidal can opener and the less-than-pleased woman in ivory leather with a sheathed sword which he instantly hated, everyone else he could see wore the same sort of business attire, suits and power dresses, that people in a bustling city might wear conducting office work early in the day.

"Banyan refugee?" the woman with three eyes asked. He nodded.

"Eyes on me," said the woman in ivory leather. "Why were they chasing you?"

He shrugged as well as he could with his hands behind his head. "Maybe because I'm not human?"

"They saw you as an existential threat." She stepped closer, touching the hilt of her sword. He flinched, and this surprised him. At first he thought he just had to urinate, but the hot rising dread didn't remain in his bladder. It bubbled up through his chest and gripped his throat. "What's going on? Are you going to *kill* me?"

"Are you nervous?"

"I am *very* nervous!"

"There's the existential threat." She drew her sword. He shrieked at the way it snarled at him. The young man in black grabbed the back of his collar. "He's a wyr. Hold him still, I'll make it quick."

The bald woman stepped very calmly between him and the woman in ivory leather. "He's not a wyr." She looked to a man wearing a bowler hat and spectacles over a hooked nose on a face the elf could only describe as *not-old,* standing near her side. In his hands he had an open book and a blue wooden pen. "Varolus, tell her."

"It's impossible for him to be a wyr," Varolus said.

"They don't always know they've been infected--"

"Only humans, Kith, and Kindred can be infected," Varolus insisted.

"Are you positive? He's really freaking out now."

"Please don't kill me!" The elf dropped to his knees, sobbing.

"No one is going to kill you here," said the bald woman. "Sedna, what's the one defining physical trait of a wyr?"

Sedna scoffed. "This is *no*t the time for a Nerd lesson--"

*"~What."* She held up her finger. It sparkled slightly. "Is the one defining physical trait, other than having significant human ancestry, that all wyr share after infection?"

"Fine, I'll play with you. They all become uncontrollably violent carnivores as the moon changes phase."

"You could say that their bodies undergo rather dramatic *po-ly-morph-ing,*" she enunciated this with a pointed glance toward the elf, "couldn't you?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Please back away a few steps. Faerie."

The elf choked out, "Yes, ma'am?"

"Did you understand a damn thing I just said?"

"Yes, ma'am!"

"Demonstrate why a wyr-biting weapon would activate near your person."

He hung his head. "Please don't make me--"

"He's all yours Sedna."

As Sedna stepped forward with her naked sword t*hat is screaming for my blood* he raised his face. Sedna stopped cold. The people hanging around, including the man holding his collar, voiced in wonder as the man kneeling and begging for his life no longer appeared to be a ragged elf. A human man with amber skin and dark brown ringlets around his face sobbed in the mud with his hands behind his head and his clothes fitting much too tightly.

*\*this is a problem\*fifty-five fifty-five fifty-five\*he's dangerous\*fifty-five fifty-five fifty-five fifty-five\*just like his dad\*fifty-five fifty-five fifty-five fifty-fifty-five fifty-five\*he needs to vanish\*fifty-five fifty-five fifty-five fifty-five fifty-five\*I can't do it in front of everyone\*fifty-five fifty-five fifty-five fifty-five fifty-five fifty-five fifty-\**

"And there you have it. A little interrogation goes a long way toward saving an, uh, innocent life?" The bald woman pulled an exaggerated grimace and turned away. "Looks like your secret boyfriend of the past seven months, doesn't he? Return to the skin you were born with, Faerie. Everyone else, get going, this is under control now."

He quickly obeyed her before the man holding his collar hoisted him back to his feet.

Sedna blinked twice, then backed off and put her sword away. A second young man in black tossed her a sack which sounded to the Faerie a lot like all of his weapons and rings together in a sack. She caught it easily. "I would look at the dagger, Dame." After a nod, she reached into the sack, pulled out a black leather-sheathed dagger with a dark blue wooden handle like Varolus' pen. With her eye fixed on the Faerie, she said, "We're going to talk about this after you're cleaned up. Take him to the baths and don't let him out of your sight. I want two uniforms on him at all times."

"Yes, Dame."

The first young man guided the prisoner's arms down behind the small of his back and bound them with steel handcuffs. The bald woman sidled next to him for a moment and whispered in his ear. The prisoner could hear, "He's probably all that's left of the Great Banyan tribe, so be gentle; but find out what you can." He nodded and turned to his new charge. "Let's go."

"So, a bath!" the elf sniffled as he was led to the pavement. "I should get captured by the Fast more often."

The young man chuckled. "After you disrobe, I'm going to cuff your good hand to the pipes, and then hose you down. You will put soap where soap is needed, scrub until you shine, and then I will hose you down again to remove the grime and soap. You will dress in the linens provided. Do you understand these instructions as I have provided them, yes or no?"

The elf sighed as he stepped along. "Yes. So I take it no small talk."

"I didn't say that. But if you annoy me I will ensure the water is ice cold."

"So the amity of my treatment here depends upon how acceptably I behave."

"You're a smart one, moon--sorry. Faerie. The baths are about two more minutes' walk. It would please me not to be your enemy by then."

"You were about to call me a *moon child."*

"I regret that I entertained using that phrase in the first place." Robbert took a deep breath while turning his face toward the sun, eyes wide open. "I strive to remember that it is beneath my station to use such disrespectful language."

"How long ago did you leave Heliopolis?"

The other young man laughed. "He nailed you to the wall, Robbert!"

*isn't that cute let's just laugh at least his home still exists*

"But he gets me, he really gets me." Robbert laughed back. "Yeah, Faerie, I like smart people so I'm starting to like you. Just keep showing me how smart you are by not trying to escape or vex me. You can vex Keem all you like."

"Let him escape. See how long it takes for him to find the gate." Keem snorted.

"That's just mean, and we'd get reprimanded. But it *would* be funny."

"What's so funny about it?" the Faerie asked.

The two guards looked at each other, and then said in unison, "There is no gate."

"I've heard that before, but that's got to be an urban myth, right? Is it warded from vision or something?"

"When the prisoner does not accept this soldier's truthful answer, vexation begins to form in this soldier," Robbert replied with a new, sharp edge to his voice.

"Message received." *sigh* He took in as much of the view as Keem and Robbert would allow. Single-story, reinforced structures with white plastered exterior walls and blue wooden siding dominated the architecture. All buildings were arranged in a neat and tidy grid aligned with the cardinal directions. They all sported numbers on their northwestern and southeastern corners and a black chimney on their eastern walls, like certain fingers raised at the city in that direction. Frogs sang to the sunrise from thermal pools on the rooftops where younger folks pulled white canvases to tent over the pools against the heat of the sun. "This place is what my boring hair color would look like if it were a community plan."

"We are through discussing the details of the Fast. Let's talk about you."

"I'm about as interesting as a sack full of bronze spoons. You could use my life story to cure insomnia."

"I know you're lying and that's fine. But I'm sure you heard what the Seer told me to do."

"Why, what did she tell you?"

"Those long ears and yet the prisoner didn't hear a word this soldier said out loud to him about vexing me."

"She told you to find out about me. And you are. I'm a tremendous pain in the ass. And boring."

"Somehow, you stumbled right through impregnable walls only these here Polymaths can transcend without help. I would not call that boring; though you may be on to something about the pain in the posterior. Turn east here."

"I've no idea how I did that--"

"I'm not asking you. That's for the Polymaths to figure out. I'm just here to get to know you a little and help you get cleaned up before they start on that."

The morning sun peeked just above the wall and stabbed the elf in his eyes as he turned. The light cleared his head enough to keep his eyes from trying to wiggle from Exhaustion again.

"Stop here. Open the door, Keem."

Keem did as ordered, and entered a low-slung, brightly lit, and very steamy brick hut placed directly beneath the water tower. "Sorry ladies, I hate to interrupt your hygiene, but as you may have heard we have a prisoner who requires some cleaning. Keep your curtains closed." Several female voices groaned with annoyance. Keem then added, "Oh, and he's an elf."

"Wait, what?" several female voices then arose, with much less annoyance.

"Seriously?" Robbert frowned at Keem, who shrugged.

"They needed to know the risks involved," he answered.

"Let's test your big ears again, Faerie. Do not address the ladies. Keep your cute little fox eyes on the floor. Follow our orders and the water just might remain comfortable. Is that clear?"

"Yes." He followed Robbert's orders without wavering.

The women chose not to follow Keem's, according to their excited whispers. "Careful," Keem sang out, "if you distract him, he might disobey and get the cold hose. You know what t*hat* causes."

*"Shrinkage!"* they all called out in unison before laughing. The elf counted six voices.

With his eyes still on the floor, he asked, "Is this really necessary?"

"Yeeessss," said two of the women.

"For the record I'm asking you, Keem."

Keem replied, "Yeeessss."

"Here's where we stop, Faerie." Robbert unfastened the cuffs. After he cleared his throat, he continued, "The prisoner will now disrobe. Any move to escape will be met with unpleasant physical consequences. Does the prisoner understand?"

"Yeeessss."

Women laughed.

"Seriously, ladies," Robbert called out, "he isn't here to entertain you. Start disrobing, Faerie. We're on the clock here. You let me worry about your audience."

"Robbert, that's a little insulting," said one of the women. "I'm not interested in fucking him. I'm just curious about him. We haven't had any elfkind around since Castille--"

The sound of that name thrust a spear through the prisoner's heart. He took a deep breath, glad that his face was at least partially obscured.

"Same here," said another. She sounded older. "Maybe we can help get him ready."

"No, and I mean that. East Of Here thinks he's dangerous, and we don't know his motives yet."

"When you put it *that* way." Their bare feet retreated across the white tiles. "See you later, elf man."

The prisoner peeled off his clothing, his eyes still on the floor, until he had on nothing left but a ragged sleeve of mismatched cloth dressings around his right forearm held in place with a leather thong. He kept his eyes on the floor but moved them slightly to the left. On his own left breast he saw three glowing concentric circles. *no one's asking guess they can't see it fine with me*

"That too," Robbert said, pointing at the elf's covered right forearm.

The elf looked at Robbert. "Please," was all he said.

"The prisoner will remove all clothing."

The elf didn't look at his cobbled vambrace while he doffed it. White scars slashed all over the pale skin beneath it. The same anatomy on the left was relatively pristine. After a nearly inaudible gasp from one of the men, Robbert cuffed the elf's left hand to vertical metal pipes that led to a small system of overhead hoses. *hot damn he picked up on that* He heard Robbert pull one hose down and adjust its valve. The elf braced himself against the cold, but the water hitting him was warm. He watched it vanish into a steel-grated drain by his feet. Keem handed him a bar of soap and a soft boar bristle brush. The soap smelled like lavender.

"Thank you," he said.

"No, thank *you*," Robbert replied. "You've told me a lot about yourself already."

"Have I?" He used the slippery soap to pull twigs and grass out of his tangled taupe hair. "And what have I told you, other than that I'm a very boring pain in the ass?"

"That you don't want anyone to know you."

He paused for half a second before running the brush over the soap and using it to scrub between his toes. "Maybe it's better that way."

"You're way older than I am. Maybe you're wiser. Maybe you're right."

The elf glanced at Robbert. "*You* don't want anyone to know how deviously clever you are."

"Inaccurate. I just don't feel the need to crow about it. You crow your desire all the time. But you're cooperating. Tells me you don't want to be alone, but you feel like you have to be alone, like you're protecting us from a disease you carry. You aren't the first person in the Pit of Melancholy that I've met." Robbert chuckled. "No one can catch that from you, don't worry."

Keem chuckled as well.

"I feel heard," was all the elf replied to that. Everything inside him sang one note during that moment.

"I'm going to tell the Seer all about this conversation and I really don't care how you feel about that. Now hurry up and polish your pretty dancing skin so we can let Sedna talk with you. She is going to want to get to know you a *whole* lot."

\* \* \*

Varolus stood outside the bath house when Robbert and Keem emerged with a very clean elf dressed in an ill-fitting, nondescript whitish linen shirt and trousers and handcuffs. His feet remained bare.

"Sedna talked with Commancer Fedraxx," Robbert guessed.

"Because of course she did. Conference Room 5."

"Got it. Thanks!"

"I'm coming with."

"Because of course you are. Let's go. This is a three minute walk, Faerie. You remember the drill?"

"I do."

"Sedna wants me to record some information on the way," Varolus said as they began to move. Out of what looked like a sewing bag with brightly embroidered sunflowers from white to deepest maroon, he pulled his book and blue wooden pen. "You're not a Mentat, are you?"

"Why would--no, I'm not a Mentat."

"Noted. So, since you can lie, would you be so kind as to respond without lying?"

The elf nodded. "The name is Stanley Traqueljax."

"Wait--you said you're Faerie."

"I am."

"That's not entirely a Faerie name."

"You are correct. My surname is Unseelie, and my chosen Outer Name is in *Yrqhash*. However, I can assure you I was corded to the Great Banyan, when it stood."

"He's got an Unseelie parent," Robbert added. "Probably his father, since I saw that he does have a tribal mark, but it's under his heel."

"So how come--" Varolus began.

"Is it part of the questionnaire?" Stanley snapped in reply.

Varolus scoffed. "All right, *Stanley*, place of birth?"

"A vagina, I will guess."

Varolus mumbled while writing, "*Subject claims to be a mammal.* Do you also claim citizenship within Regula?"

Stanley stopped in his tracks and raised his right foot behind himself. On the bottom of his heel he had a black tattoo of a tree with several vertical trunks descending from its canopy. "As Robbert mentioned, I'm corded to the Great Banyan."

""The Great Banyan hasn't existed for fifty-five years. *Subject is a survivor of the Great Banyan genocide."*

"I'm legally Yrqhatha, Faerie, and Unseelie."

Varolus rolled his eyes. "Because of course you are. Do you have any family members you wish to contact?"

"I have a family member."

"And they are?"

"My father. An Unseelie in Arena."

"Oh. *Him?"*

"Yes."

"You do know we can verify this very easily. Winter and he share a Mirror."

"I'm not surprised."

*"Subject does not share residence with family.* Were you sent to Heliopolis on official government business?"

"No."

"Unofficial government business?"

"That's tricky to answer if I'm not supposed to lie."

*"Subject's mission was of a clandestine nature.* Did anyone else accompany you?"

After five steps of silence, the elf dipped his shaggy head. "No one living." *focus on now breathe look at the rocks in the pavement don't fall in the well right now ooh is that amazonite*

*"Subject's companion or companions were slain during the mission."*

"Oh that's rough, Stanley," Robbert said softly. "I'm sorry."

"I think that's enough," Varolus said before shutting his book with a loud snap and putting it and the pen away into the sewing bag. "Sedna can conjure her own damned answers from there."

\* \* \*

Building 17 held Conference Room 5. It seemed all the rooms in Building 17, except for the privy, were conference rooms, six in total. The privy did not have a blue wooden door like the conference rooms. Stanley asked to use it.

"That's fine, but I'm going to be in there with you," Robbert told him.

"I need to shit."

"And I won't deny you the opportunity to do so in that privy. However, I was ordered to keep eyes on you at *all* times. This is a time. However, it's your lucky day. Wasn't the bluewood privy seat one of your dad's inventions?" In response to Stanley's silence, he continued, "I don't think I've seen a white face like yours turn so pink so fast. Keem, tell them the prisoner needs to make a bowel movement first."

Keem nodded and went to relay the information to the occupants of Conference Room 5.

"Thank you for the humiliation."

"You're welcome. I wish we could watch it unfold on Sedna's face. I won't tell anyone how silly an elf's face looks while pooping."

Stanley managed a small grin when they entered the private chamber.

"Just for your edification," Robbert continued after Stanley assumed the position, "I mean, I don't know the extent of your skin trick, but if you decided to turn into a little bitty creature and fall down the drain to escape, that's a very toxic environment down there and you'll die. In a septic tank full of everyone's poop. I doubt that's the sort of dignified exit you wish to make from this world. But I suppose were you capable of such a trick, you wouldn't be here in this privy, right now, using your father's amazing invention. I can't even hear what's going on under your rear end. Your dad...what a clever son of a bastard. I can see where you get it from. First time I used one of these, I was like, I could never have had a cleaner anus if I scrubbed with bleach."

"Does it work if I put my ears in there?"

"Sorry. To answer your question from before, I defected a year ago. Today, in fact. I'm still not quite used to it. Done? Let's go."

Robbert marched Stanley into Conference Room 5, a five meter long room paneled in bluewood with a raised dais on one end; Sedna sat on the sofa there with an older man who looked like her except he wore a suit that looked very much like Varolus'. Everyone else sat at a square table in the center. Stanley and Robbert didn't have a seat. Keem shut the door and stood in the hallway. Everyone else included the Seer, Varolus, a middle-aged pale ginger human man with filthy fingernails, and an old woman with ropy arms and salt-and-pepper hair pulled back into a tight bun. The latter two both wore denim overalls, black boots with rubber soles, and undyed leather aprons; the rest in business attire as before. The old woman's eyes widened when she saw the prisoner. He glanced at her, and then to those seated on the dais.

*~is~ that~ who~ I~ think~ it~ is~*

*I  can't believe it's her no wait she that doesn't sound* Whatever the grammar, a spark began to glow hotly in the center of himself.

"Thank you for joining us, Stanley. I am Winter Fedraxx, Commancer of the Fast, and I run this place especially when my daughter is here."

Sedna took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

"That is, if you really are Doctor Traqueljax's son. You may have been informed that I consult with Lorinni by way of Mirror."

"He consults quite a few in your profession." He glanced at the old woman while she was looking away at Winter. The spark turned into a gleaming point.

"So you won't have any problem with me," Winter picked up a case at his feet and opened it, extracting a mirror with a bluewood frame draped in black silk, "contacting him right now."

"You might want to wait an hour," Stanley said, his attention distracted from the white-hot thread reaching out from the innermost caverns of his mind toward the old woman.

"Are you really his son?"

Stanley raised his brows and pursed his lips. "Mirror him and find out."

Robbert's elbow gently met Stanley's ribs. Stanley replied with a tiny nod. The Seer watched this exchange with rapt attention. Winter unveiled his Mirror, then drew his fingers over its surface, tapped it three times, and said, "Lorinni? It's Winter, are you awa--"

The sound of ecstatic moaning filled the room. "Hold on, I heard something." "But I'm almost finished." "It could be official--whoops!" Something glass broke. Winter, his face fully flushed, slowly turned his Mirror away from his face and toward everyone else but his daughter.

An elf's fair face, not at all unlike Stanley's, grinned sideways from the glass, sandwiched above by a human man's and below by a human woman's head. A spray of hair escaped from his braids and splayed over his face, shimmering like an undulating rainbow, plastered by a scattering of sweat.

"My son!" cried the other elf. "Wait, I thought I heard Winter--"

"You make immortality a curse, dad."

"I love you too, my boy. Meet Brenya and Bram, darling couple. Wait, is there *another* national emergency?"

"Hi Stanley!" Brenya called out with a little hand wave.

Stanley smiled kindly and cocked his head side to side as his hands were still restrained behind him. "Hi Brenya. Yes Dad, you heard Winter just now."

"Awkward! Turn us around, Winter!"

"No, Lorinni, that's fine, I can hear you just great."

The old lady clapped her hands and let out a hearty laugh. The Seer leaned cockwise across her side of the table, cheek to the heel of her hand, all three eyes fixed at a space slightly above Robbert's head. The ginger man covered his face with his hands, shaking his head *no* slowly. Varolus had his pen and book out, transcribing everything. Sedna stared at the white stucco ceiling, jaw clenched. Robbert stoically chewed on both his lips at once.

"Are you all right, beloved? You look like you're in prisoner garb."

"I *am* in prisoner garb, dad."

"What did you do *this* time?"

"Got caught running away from Heliopolis."

"It's a good place to run from. Can't see why *that's* a crime."

"I think they had to shoot boomsticks at the people chasing me, and they might be cross about that."

The old woman waved her hand dismissively. "Field tests are never unwelcome." She smiled warmly at Stanley. He wanted so much to smile back. She looked as if she knew this.

"Oh hey there Fjalle. You're still as beautiful as the day we--"

"Hi Lorinni," she interrupted, with a big smile directed at the Mirror, lashes fluttering.

"Are you *really* all right, Son?"

*"All right* is a little subjective at the moment, dad. I would say I need *very desperately* to sleep but I'm not sure now that's *ever* going to happen with this memory branded indelibly into my brain." Stanley smiled broadly, exaggerating blinking his eyes.

"You know I like to wake up with some vigorous--Bram! My son is right there!"

"I'm pretty sure Varolus wrote down that I tried to warn Winter."

"I *sure* did," Varolus said without looking up or stopping his pen.

Stanley looked at Winter. "Are you satisfied?"

"Not yet," Bram breathlessly answered.

"I wasn't talking to--"

"Gotta go, son, good luck!" The Mirror went silent and reflected Stanley's own image back at him.

*~don't~ leave~ her~ again~*

After full three minutes of perfect, excruciating silence, Sedna wordlessly stood up, walked to the door, opened it, and exited Conference Room 5.

As soon as the door closed, Stanley's eyes rolled back into his head and his legs buckled under him.

Chapter 2

*quiet I need to hear the pins snap in place*

*stay back this may be a trap*

*go go go*

*avoid that starboard bulwark*

*that means don't hug the right wall Simon*

*Jude and Castille understood*

*seriously does he have to piss on all of the things*

*no of course he's a good boy*

*remember I'm coming in from behind after you engage*

*hold his attention he can't see me coming*

*here they go*

*Leviathan guide my hand please I don't want to die with dad watching*

*steady*

*here we g--*

*what is this what is he*

*no*

*STAB--*

*don't*

*quit looking at me with that sound*

*STAB--*

*get out of my head getoutofmyhead*

*why can't I scream*

*help*

*you don't know me*

*why are you telling me I don't belong here*

*that's not what I*

*how do you know my moth--*

*why aren't they moving*

*someone hit him someone stop this please he's killing me*

*I can't even breathe*

*that's my blood oh moon that's my own blood*

*I can't scream who is screaming I can't scream*

*who was that*

*no now YOU hold still*

*STAB STAB STAB STAB STAB STAB STAB STAB STAB STAB*

*@#$%^&\*(\*&^%$#@@#$%^&^@#$%^&^%$#@@#$%^&\*!*

*STAB STAB*

*STAB STAB STAB STAB STAB STAB STAB STAB STAB STAB*

*...%^&^%$#@@#$%^&\*...*

*STAB*

*...*

*is he dead*

*didn't he mess with your heads too*

*what the sixth hell is going on*

*where is that fucking blue box*

*is this what fancy floors taste like*

"How many hours do elves sleep anyway, geez."

\* \* \*

Stanley did not remember how he ended up in the brig. The Seer's face showed through a little window in the door of the small cell Stanley awoke in. He found himself on a not entirely disagreeable pallet with a wool blanket that now twisted tightly around his legs. What small amount of breeze blew through cooled off the sheen of sweat on his skin.

"Are you awake?" the Seer asked.

"Should I be?" Stanley asked back.

"Yes, you should," she replied.

"Fine, I'm awake. What do you want?"

"I want you to put your sexy leather pants back on and talk to me."

"You're a pervy elf fancier."

"Everyone is. And you're filthy rich from *reading minds*. Do you want out or what?"

"Pretty sure either Winter or Sedna--or BOTH--would rather bury me far, far from the sky by now."

"They'll get over it if they want *me* to stay in this moonforsaken outpost. Robbert, hand me--"

Her face disappeared from the window, replaced with Robbert's. "The prisoner will dress in the clothing provided. If the prisoner does not comply, he will be met with unpleasant social consequences. Does the prisoner understand these instructions?"

"Describe 'social consequences' please."

"The prisoner will continue to look amazingly stupid instead of just his standard stupid look."

The Best Pants In The Whole World slid through the food slot on the floor. As he picked them up, he paused. "Does this mean I'm free?"

"No," the Seer answered. "We still don't know what brought you here. You haven't lied in significant ways to us but you're not telling us the whole truth. Winter never ever doubts my senses or Varolus' calculations. Right now both agree you're not a direct threat to the Fast, but my prediction tools have been indicating a threat is imminent."

His damp linen trousers already began to chafe. He peeled them off right there, dropping them on the concrete floor, in favor of the smooth satin lining of his leathers.

"So you are going to be in my custody under the Seer's orders so that the Seer and Varolus can question you in a secure facility," Robbert finished.

"And by the way, that's Robbert's custody specifically, not anyone else's, and especially not Sedna's ," the Seer added. "Here's your shirt. No coat."

"What if I get a chill?" *shut up would be nice not to wear this wet linen* He quickly doffed his sweat-soggy prisoner's tunic in anticipation of his familiar, nice, dry, button-down cotton shirt. The Seer's eyes flickered over his bare torso, eyebrow twitching once but otherwise impassive. *did she just see it or is she just perving*

"The prisoner seems to forget their conversation with this soldier about vexation. The prisoner did not sleep the entire five remaining weeks of August just now."

"Keem would have handed you the coat," the Seer said.

"Too trusting," Robbert agreed before shoving a dark blue shirt through the window. "I removed the hidden secondary garrote in the placket. Hope you don't mind."

"But there's a lace for my pants also known as a garrote-in-a-pinch--"

"He wants to stay here. Let's go, ma'am--"

"I'm not afraid of you, Stanley," the Seer stated. "I can't figure out why you're terrified of me. I'm just a bookish little woman and if I'm right about you, you're already a superhero."

"You don't know anything."

"I have documents your friend gathered."

"Burn them."

"Didn't the Dead King do things like that?"

Stanley's eyes fell to his bare feet.

"Let's go."

Keys jangled before Robbert disengaged the lock in the cell door and opened it. "I still have to cuff and blind you for the walk."

\* \* \*

He had been unconscious while being taken to the brig, so he had no clue where in the Fast that he was. He could taste steam on the breeze and heard faint thunder. The almost uncomfortably warm pavement made his feet wet. Ahead of him a pair of thong sandals flapped and behind him, Robbert's uniform boots with hard rubber soles.

"I can see your gears moving," Robbert said not unkindly. "Care to share what they're grinding?"

"I slept twelve hours? And a half."

"Uh, yeah I think so. That was a good guess!"

"Thanks."

The Seer said, "He wasn't guessing. The pavement is hot enough to raise steam that anyone can smell when the storm passed which means it's some time after noon but not yet sunset. Storms normally roll through late in the afternoon when the breeze picks up from the west. You inadvertently swallowed enough creek water during your swim you didn't wake of thirst, but you also relieved yourself shortly before you collapsed of Exhaustion, so you didn't have to wake up to shit or piss either. But you probably have to soon. Yes there's a privy where we're going and yes, it is firmly fitted with your dad's toilet seat. What the hell did you eat yesterday? Your pipes could wake the dead."

"I think she reads minds," Robbert said.

"Mentats can't read minds like that. It's simple deduction."

*curse you woman you stole my thunder*

"That's just what Mentats want us to think," Robbert said, dropping his voice like it was a conspiracy. "And if he were back east at this time of year, he probably had potatoes and the last winter cheese."

"I didn't eat when I was there--"

"Winter cheese? No wonder." She led them around a corner of a building to the southwestern side. "Hey there sexy," the Seer cooed. Stanley heard a familiar pair of leather-soled loafers approach.

"I'll hold the prisoner while you flip it," Varolus said, taking Stanley's upper arm in his hand. Stanley pulled away for a moment until Varolus' grip tightened painfully. "Quit moving."

Robbert let Stanley go. After a few seconds, he heard the specific777777777 *ting* of a copper disc hitting the pavement and shivering. "Tails," they all called out. Varolus said, "That's me--" before the other two shushed him vigorously. He let go of Stanley and took a few steps away, heard something scrape softly, then, "Bring him in."

Robbert tugged at Stanley's arm. "There are stairs. Watch your head, the entrance is a little low." Stanley bowed his head but the lintel still raked against his hair. A door closed behind them. "Unblind him and seat him here," the Seer said.

"What are the prisoner's orders?" Robbert asked.

"He is not to make for escape while you re-cuff him so he can use his hands to hold a drink. He may speak frankly and remain seated. He will respect my uranium glass tumblers which I got all the way out in Qvirusz or he will be wearing their shards as sandals on the walk back to his cell."

"That's unnecessarily cruel."

"To my tumblers, yes. The prisoner will physically behave like the refined elf that he is. Verbally, I couldn't give a fuck." After a pause, "Yeah that's it."

"The prisoner is not to esc--"

"Yes, I understand and plan to comply, inasmuch and soforth. And once again, may I open my eyes, ma'am?"

Gentle fingers lifted the cloth strap from his eyes and off his head completely. "Go ahead."

The light came from glass candles all about, some in wall sconces and some on small decorative shelves and curio tables. One burned on the low table in front of a sofa, sitting on the brow of a longhorn bull's skull. Robbert re-cuffed Stanley and then stood in front of the door with his evil can opener on a stick. Stanley looked about, blinking. Bluewood paneled the walls and made up the low table with the bull skull candle. The sofa was abundantly upholstered. "I'm going to look around until you tell me to stop."

The Seer didn't respond to that. "Do you know where it all is?" she said to Varolus as he hung up his hat and suit jacket.

"I didn't think I was going to be accessing it so soon, but yes. It may take a few minutes to collate it though."

She turned to Stanley. "What do you drink? I have access to wine, beer, whiskey--oh, you like whiskey? Would not have pegged you as a whiskey man."

His face felt hot all of a sudden and hornets buzzed in his ears. *"The fuck are you reading my mind?!"*

"I told you we can't read minds like that." She stood up and walked around what seemed like a counter behind the sofa, into a spot he couldn't see her. Glass clinked softly. "And watch that temper or you'll drink out of Robbert's boot."

"No, he won't," Robbert corrected.

"Here's the thing," she said when she sat back down on the sofa and arranged a quartet of yellow-green clear glass tumblers on the low table next to a bottle with a gilded paper label that read, simply, *Golden Plains*. "No one can breach the Fast's walls without a conscious act by any of the magical personnel here."

"I can't even do it," Robbert added.

"You achieved the impossible this morning, and everyone--except Varolus and I--are freaking out. They have no idea how you did that."

*Varolus and me* "I've no idea--" Stanley began.

The Seer waved her hand. "I know this. We'll go over that in a moment. However, as soon as we saw you, we knew. There was only one Polymath who didn't have to do anything to get past the walls."

Stanley sighed. "Yeah I get it. My dad--"

"Nope, not him. He's never even stepped foot here. Shut up and listen to me before I tie this blindfold around your mouth." She shook the black satin strap in her fist in front of his face before looping it around one of the bull's horns and grabbing the bottle of *Golden Plains.* "I hope you like the expensive stuff, I'm a snob." She poured two fingers into all four tumblers and handed one to Stanley and one to Robbert. "Please be sociable Robbert, and at least pretend to drink with us. Sit down. I keep telling you he has no intent."

Robbert leaned his polearm pointy side down against the door before lowering himself into the overstuffed chair beside the door. He took the tumbler with a quiet, "Thank you."

She took a big sip while waving the back of her hand at Stanley's tumbler. He obediently took a big sip too. The whiskey warmed his mouth and throat in an acceptable manner and went down smooth as satin.

"You might be aware," she began, "that eighty-two years ago, on the Dawn of the Phoenix, Treveque the Zero-th ascended to the throne when King Trevonne was assassinated."

"By Treveque," Stanley finished the silent part out loud.

"Probably. Highly likely. Yeah, he did. But there wasn't any evidence--"

*"Actionable* evidence," Varolus corrected from the room he'd gone to which Stanley had problems even thinking about.

"Treveque was already in the process of becoming the Dead King. And then he had the Duke of Arena executed for treason. Trumped-up charges, of course."

"I Awakened long before this, ma'am, and no they weren't," Stanley said. "Unjust, but not false.Technically, the Duke was committing seditious treason, but--"

"You're also old enough to remember the Kingslayers."

"Old enough to know that no one knows who they are."

"I do. One of them founded the Fast and Varolus is going to show you why."

Stanley felt the blood leave his face. He put the tumbler down gently. "I need to use the privy."

"Robbert."

"I know, I know." He stood. "The prisoner will stand up and walk to me."

"It's probably your feeling of inescapable dread again," she called out as Robbert steered Stanley to an oak door in the far corner of the salon. "Unfortunately, two people can't fit in there so the door will have to stay open. But Robbert'll stand in the doorway so no one sees your ugly shit-making face."

"I have to see it because Sedna told me to keep eyes on him at all times."

"You'll have to show me his face."

"I already swore a solemn vow to the prisoner not to."

"You deviously clever man."

Robbert's teeth gleamed proudly at Stanley.

"I can't tell if that was inescapable dread or Heliopolitan winter cheese, damn your father's lethal intellect."

"Bit of both by the look of him."

Varolus' shoes announced his return from...wherever he went. Stanley could not hear his own thunder from down under, but he could hear the scribe drop a considerable amount of papers and binders on the low table. "No, really dear, I'm fine to sit on the floor."

Finishing his relief brought Stanley little of it. He didn't look at Robbert when he exited and closed the privy. Something still squatted in his guts like a toad made of frozen lead and it was going to take a lot of *Golden Plains* to dissolve the nauseating little fucker.

"Suit yourself. What have we got here? Are these all of them?"

Varolus fiddled with one particular flyer. "I think so."

The Seer refilled her own tumbler and plunked the bottle on the table. After throwing back another two fingers of whiskey, she raised her black brow at him and fluttered her lashes. "Speak out loud. Robbert and Varolus can't hear your leaky head like I can."

"You said you can't read minds."

"I can't."

Stanley snarled his mouth and grunted at the pile of papers, cardstock folders, frayed envelopes. "What is this?"

Varolus pushed the particular flyer toward Stanley. "It's standard ink, you should be able to read it."

The elf picked it up and scanned it. *no no no* "No no no."

The Seer plucked the paper from Stanley's fingers. "Yes, yes, *oh yes*. 'One male human in steel armor with shield and partisan. One female pixie in martial leather armor with a crossbow and a large dog.' Did she really saddle that pooch? 'One elf of indeterminate sex'--why, that's *racist!*--'unarmored but armed with several knives. One male Kindred, unarmored but armed with two swords. One female Kindred, no armor or weapon, suspected armed with Ignition magic. All. Wearing. Masks.'" The Seer cocked her head. "Sound familiar? 'A reward has been set aside for these heroes.' And for the last fifty-seven years exactly, no one. Ever. Claimed it."

Stanley's breaths quickened. "This is all about...us?" *breathe breathebreathebreathe*

"Oddly enough," the Seer said, "the first one of your *squad?* that we knew, before we knew--she was actually the founder of the Fast, along with her wife, Fjalle." That name felt like a punch in the gut. *I came back--*

Varolus added, "She needed a secure place for these particular documents. She couldn't unmake these records, but she was determined to keep them even more secure than the secret Writ of the Sun in Heliopolis."

"I keep telling you, that's a myth--"

"No, it's not," Robbert said quietly.

"Where is she?" Stanley asked. "I haven't seen her--" *please sun and moon I know I felt one of us leave last year, just like when Tinkÿ--*

The Seer and Varolus shared a dark glance. Robbert bowed his head and said softly, "Her family took her remains back to Delta to feed to the sky."

Stanley's eyes stung and all the air left him. *moon and stars Castille* The Seer gently touched his arm. He closed his eyes and breathed in deeply. *I was supposed to come back*

"We understand the world owes you a great debt. We won't hurt you unless you try to hurt us and I already know that's the last thing on your mind despite you thinking about Robbert's boot knife every other second. For the last time, I'm not reading your mind. This room is more secure than the Fast itself. Literally only Varolus and I can open that door because Castille only trusted us, and didn't want to put her kids' mother in danger. Not even Commancer Winter can barge in here (he wants to). Talk to us."

*I can get to Robbert's boot knife before he can* Stanley took a very deep breath, let it out, and inhaled again. "There weren't supposed to be records. We were supposed to disappear." Saying this felt like shedding a heavy, wet coat. *don't get used to that sense of relief*

"If it's anything, she didn't tell us about any of you. Or herself. But when Sedna was installed as Crown's Own Justicar, she learned about this from the memoirs written by Sir Simon, her predecessor. He was a witness to your battle. Even Commancer Winter didn't know, and Sedna believed he had a right to, after Castille's murder."

Stanley choked once, then once more gulped down the contents of his tumbler, grabbed the whiskey bottle, splashed another shot into the cup, and downed that one too. *don't slip down the well just get to Arena your Ghoul Drool is waiting to fly up your nose and make you forget* "What's the rest of all this, then?" Stanley waved at the rest of the pile.

"Eyewitness accounts!" Varolus said. "Forensic studies! No one was allowed into Arena's Mansus Regal after you destroyed the Dead King--except for the Jandarmerie. Your footprints were analyzed. I think someone has a shard from the armored guy's shield. Burn marks from Castille's Ignitions were copied down. You, specifically, left almost no evidence--"

"--not even my sex--"

"But people wanted to know," the Seer continued from Varolus. "It was history. Don't you get that? And the only reason we're not publishing all of this is because Castille insisted it be kept secret, and her reason went to her grave. If you know her reason, tell us. Because...we're sitting on the biggest story of the entire century here, and without a reason to keep sitting on it..."

"...we will publish it," Varolus finished.

"You can't do that!" Stanley shrieked.

"Tell us why." The Seer's voice did not raise.

Stanley stood up and paced in a circle about the salon. He could see Robbert's left hand reach for his boot knife. The Seer shook her head and he sat back. "Do you know about that pixie commune out west that just blew up one day? No survivors? Forty-three years ago?" Stanley stopped. "Forty-three years ago, today..."

"A little bit before our time--" the Seer began, but Varolus interrupted.

"That was *your* pixie comrade's commune, wasn't it?"

Stanley started openly sobbing. "Everyone said, 'Oh, it's pixies, was bound to happen.' And I couldn't tell anyone out here that the Waggles commune had no explosives. They bred big dogs. And made big dog toys. And tools for dogs. And saddles for dogs. So yeah, she rode that mutt like a knight on a charger." Stanley stopped to take a few breaths. "Tinkÿ Waggles was our archer. And I never saw her after we split up because shit, a pixie astride a war dog is a bit of an attention-grabber, you know? So I 'bought' her dog and she went home with my entire savings so her family wouldn't be suspicious." He threw back what was left in his tumbler. "He was a very good boy, but I had to speak in Pïxipie to command him." t*hink of the good dog he liked scritches on his belly he was the best boy he was your tree breathe breathe*

"But that explosion happened fourteen years after what you did..." Varolus' voice trailed off, before he added, "Today is the anniversary of the Blessed Regicide."

"I know." Stanley sniffled. Varolus handed him the kerchief from his breast pocket. Stanley accepted it and blew. "I know. They waited for that precise day to erase her."

"That's a bit overkill, don't you think?" the Seer scoffed. "I mean, the whole commune?"

"Yes. That's exactly what they would do. Erase your entire existence. Including your family, friends, everyone you know, and take anything they wanted from the ruin!" Stanley's eyes were shut tight while he quietly moaned through his teeth. "They found Castille and killed her here too."

"Sweetie, Castille wasn't killed by a 'them.' She was killed by a fellow Polymath. We put him on trial, he was found guilty by the Judicium Princeps, he was executed according to law. Sedna herself acted as their bailiff. You can ask her, and I'm pretty sure she isn't a 'them,' right?"

Stanley sniffled hard. "No, she's not." He noticed Robbert biting his own index finger knuckle.

"So you admit you were the elf Kingslayer. The stabby knife one."

t*he world didn't end when I unloaded this*

*hope I live to regret it*

"I haven't been stabby knifing since. Not in Regula, at least. Well, not in Arena. Most of Arena. Not on the living. Usually."

The Seer shut her eyes and waved her hand side to side. "No, don't you understand?"

Stanley shook his head.

A bell over the door rang. The Seer and Varolus both stared at each other before standing up and heading to the door. "This will have to wait. Bring him--reshackle him first with hands in the back."

\* \* \*

They moved rapidly in silence out of the dungeon and into late twilight. An anvil cloud towered to the southwest and another one almost directly to the north, the two storms flashing at each other in a code only they could decipher. No one bothered to put Stanley's blindfold back on. Varolus led them along the side of a thick brick building which, Stanley could see during a flash, bore the number 17.

"You've got to be kidding me--" Stanley began before the Seer turned with a finger in his face.

"This is not the time to be all Traqueljax. Maybe shush."

Stanley cocked his head. "It's just that I'm hearing a bunch of people--"

"Yeah we're all going into Building 17--"

"No. They're by the western wall."

"Who let them in? It's too late for a shipment," Robbert said, frowning at the western wall, as they mounted the low stone steps to Building 17's front entrance. Keem still had on his uniform and an unhappy look while standing by the door with his own can opener of doom. Sedna apparently had already changed into her evening pyjamas but kept a long sword--not her wyr-biter--slung on her hip. She appeared to be scanning faces until she saw Stanley's, then bellowed, "Inside, all of you, now!"

He recognized Fjalle in the knot of people forming in the broad hallway between conference rooms, but the man with filthy fingernails, which Stanley guessed was garden dirt, wasn't present. He could hear everyone asking each other what this was all about. In the hours since he last saw her, she had changed her hair to a pair of silver clouds perched on top of her head.

*except those clouds were black back then*

*stop it*

*that was a human's lifetime ago*

After a few minutes Sedna closed the entryway door behind her, leaving Keem outside. "I need quiet for a moment, everyone. Those of you with the Council of Information, please form in Conference Room 5."

"That's us," Varolus said. "You too, Traqueljax. You're signed out into Robbert's custody but he's under the Seer's direct orders at the moment." They moved back through the open door of Conference Room 5 while Sedna called out, "Council of Defense, Room 1."

"What's this about?" Fjalle called out. "Fine time, interrupting supper like this. Where's Winter?"

"I'll brief both groups separately. Father is finishing his supper, he can't skip meals remember?"

"He needs to shovel it in faster like the rest of us have to." Fjalle's eyes caught Stanley's before she backed into Conference Room 1, mouthing, *meet me*. Robbert closed the door. "Get comfortable," he said.

The Seer walked to the table she'd been sitting at with Varolus that morning and plunked down a new bottle of *Golden Plains* from wherever she'd been hiding it, and popped a pair of shot glasses out of the bosom of her choli.

"I didn't say 'get drunk.'"

"Too late." Down the hatch went one shot. "Cards said there was going to be a storm tonight, didn't realize it was going to be *this* bad. Might be a tornado. Anyone want food from the mess hall? If I can See it I can Fetch it like I did with this whiskey. Might as well chow down now."

Varolus asked, "What's going on? We've had tornadoes before--"

"What's your favorite food, Faerie?" she asked Stanley. "Good for you, bad for you? Really? Just that?"

"I could smell it and I'm so hungry, I don't care."

Beside the whiskey bottle appeared a gallon cast iron pot with the lid slightly displaced and a ladle still in it. So was the gumbo.

"Oh and you're gonna need all this:" She reached under the table and pulled out all of Stanley's clothes, which hadn't been there when they entered Conference Room 5. "And this." From under her chair, she produced a familar sack that made a very familiar noise when she tossed it toward Stanley. Then she plucked three rings off her own fingers that he hadn't even noticed her wearing, and placed them in his palm. "In fact, there are only six walls in the Fast that a Kingslayer can't just walk through, and we are on top of all of them. Go ahead, try to pull out of those cuffs--you always could if you knew. Take your stuff back. In fact, just save yourself if you can. Everyone is going to die soon. We all may as well enjoy it."

*didn't I say wait for the world to end well here it comes hope blabbing was worth it*

Chapter 3

Sedna opened the door to Conference Room 5 and shut it behind her. Her eyes were rimmed red. She sat down wearily, despite the relatively early hour. When she saw Stanley remove his handcuffs and start taking back his gear, she laughed bitterly. "So you were right, ma'am. Welcome, Kingslayer, on the fifty-seventh anniversary of the Blessed Regicide. You must have been the 'elf of indeterminate sex.'"

Stanley slipped his rubber-soled boots on and speed-laced them. He took a deep breath. "I am happy to have been one of the people to create your governmental position." *pity you filled it*

"I need to make this quick, because he hasn't much time. Two matters of import: First, it looks like Doctor Starlight's Comet has returned. I can't make heads or tails of the rest of the report or why it's even relevant, it's in Nerdish." She handed a packet of papers to Varolus, who pushed his spectacles up to the bridge of his nose and began to study them, chuckling. *all right that was a cute joke*

"What's so funny?"

Varolus looked up at her. "I thought you were making a pun."

Sedna cocked her head.

*are you even kidding me*

"Heads or tails? Because comets have--Never mind, Nerd humor, carry on."

"Second: Simon Mertny is here--my mentor and predecessor. He's close to the end. He wanted to be in the Fast when he died, so..."

"I'm going to see him," Stanley said.  "And since you now know for sure about Castille...He's 'one male human in steel armor with shield and partisan.' And none of you are stopping me."

"Are you kidding? I'm obligated to--" Her face fell toward her chest and she sniffled.

"So am I," said Robbert. "I'm still under orders--"

"Fuck your orders for now!" Sedna stopped and took a breath after seeing Robbert wince half an inch. "I'm sorry, you are the last person I should have blown up at." She eyed Stanley. "Yes, join us. We could use the security. Bring Keem. Is that gumbo any good? I'm starving."

Stanley quickly inhaled a ladle-full and handed the ladle to Sedna. "The Seer says we should eat now and then die."

"Nerds." She took an enterprising sip before gulping her ladle-full down as well.

"One more ladle and then go get in your leathers," the Seer slurred before taking the ladle herself. "Bring every weapon you have."

"You're serious."

Varolus looked up from the report. "I've never seen her more grave."

Sedna stood up. "I still need to advise Defense--"

"Better hurry, clock's tickin'."

Sedna was out of the room in three steps. "All right maggots here's the drill..." before the door to Conference Room 1 shut.

"We should probably go back downstairs," Varolus said, gently prying a full shot glass from the Seer's fingers, and then gulping it himself. "Ma'am, bring the gumbo if you can walk straight."

"Yup still can. We'll see you in the Super Hideout in about thirty minutes."

"I'll try to be on time," Stanley replied.

"No, that's when you will be banging on the door for your life."

"Take the liquor, please," Varolus begged Stanley.

"I can just Fetch more..."

"Castille never should have shown you that spell."

"It's exactly a year ago Coshebas murdered her. I must honor her memory any way I can on this multipolly auspisses day."

Stanley took the bottle and the last shot glass and stuffed them into his coat pockets before handing Robbert his old handcuffs and walking out. He met Sedna also walking out of the room. While the door was open, he mouthed to Fjalle, *Simon.*

"Shit," Fjalle said. "I'm coming too!"

Sedna groaned but did not stop her. As she exited Building 17 she clipped, "Keem, fall in."

Keem did not fall in. Keem was nowhere to be found in order to fall in. Stanley could still hear the knot of personnel just inside the western wall, could barely discern a vague cloud of their collective night color upon them.

"I don't like this," she growled. "All right, here's our order. As Crown's Own, I will be saying my farewell to Simon first. I will try to be brief. I will meet you at your dungeon as soon as I go gear up afterward. The rest of you can divvy up the rest of Simon's time left among you as you see fit."

"Fine with me," Fjalle said. She walked alongside Stanley and quickly squeezed his hand. He squeezed back. *sweet sunshine what do I say*

"You still got that steel baton I made you?"

"Sometimes in dimensional manifolds only you could find." He gently nudged her rib with his elbow.

She chuckled like it was a dirty joke, then, "I have two shortsticks and my boomstick under my apron," she whispered, "and a ton of ammunition in my purse."

"You were always prepared," Stanley whispered back before letting go of her hand.

"Damn right I was."

The knot of the night color by the western wall resolved itself into a dark-dressed security detail of five men in black uniform leather with swords. *that can't be right I heard more than six people* Four stood at each corner of a wagon bedecked in black, one stood beside the heavily muscled horse hitched to it. They didn't look very pleased with the mud on their boots. As they came closer, Stanley could see a man sitting in the wagon, propped up by gold-colored satin pillows. When the storms flashed, he could make out a scar on that man's face, extending from his left brow to just below his right ear, exactly where the Dead King had left it. Sedna smiled and greeted the old man, who extended his withered hands to her face in a tender caress.

"Is it really him? I can't see in the dark like you can," Fjalle said.

"Yeah, it's him. They must've been tight."

"Eh, it'll pass soon."

"You never liked him."

"Nope. And I don't understand why the rest of you did."

"The Oath--"

"That only covered official nastiness. I'm talking about the man under that armor. He did things. I know that look on women."

Sedna sniffled, her eyes full of tears as she returned to Stanley, Fjalle, and Robbert. "He doesn't have much time..." She trailed off, pausing her step. "I'll see you soon."

"I'm next," Fjalle said. She handed Stanley her purse, which matched her leather apron. "No peeking." She strode to the wagon, beckoning Stanley and Robbert to follow. "I have nothing to hide. Especially from this son of a bitch."

Simon barely had his eyes open. His breath was shallow and his hands shook. He wore golden-colored satin pyjamas. Beside him was *The* partisan and *The* damaged shield he wore on *That* night. *oh look he's revealing himself at the proper time think that might be a sign you should have stayed quiet* Stanley doubted he could lift them anymore. "Kingslayer," he managed weakly.

"I'll accept that," Fjalle said, "and I won't spit in your face. I know you and men like you. But soon you'll be dead and I'm still stepping, so I win." She turned around without another word and poked her chin toward Stanley and Robbert. "Who's next? I think he has about five minutes in him. Give me my purse."

Robbert nodded at Stanley. The Faerie approached the side of the wagon. Mud caked the wheels and the hooves of the horse. "Sorry about Fjalle."

"Don't worry about her...I'm happy to see you!...You never visited." Simon's voice lacked the baritone Stanley remembered, instead pulling itself out of Simon's mouth like a steel fibril.

"I spent all my time hunting it down--I got very close yesterday. Trying to save the world. Again." Stanley chuckled gently. He could barely see his old comrade through the age that chiseled his face. He lay his hand upon Simon's angular shoulder and felt none of the muscle that used to pad it fifty-seven years ago.

"It kept you alive...that's what matters. Who else is left...but you and Fjalle?"

"No one's heard from Jude in  the past year--I was afraid I'd felt him leave but you know, it was Castille. Corky and Hanaa...and my dad of course. Don't think we're getting rid of him any time soon." Stanley chuckled.

"No families?"

"Between Jude and my dad? I'm surprised to tell you no. Especially after the Waggles."

Simon lay his hand upon Stanley's and squeezed.

"Stanley move!" Robbert shouted. Hell's Own Can Opener bobbed beside Stanley as Robbert grabbed the elf around his waist and pulled him out of Simon's grip.

"You sick son of a bitch," Fjalle said, her boomstick out and pointed at Simon.

The old man began to laugh, and laugh, and cough, and wheeze, and then stopped. His eyes stared up at the storm edging over the wall as his mouth went slack. Fjalle gasped, and then laughed. A tiny noise Stanley had forgotten had run through his mind for the last fifty-seven years went quiet. *just like with Tinky and Castille*

"I found what's left of Keem," Robbert said in Stanley's ear. "We have to get somewhere safe."

Stanley noticed the night color of the retinue was gone.

"Behind you Robbert!"

The two men threw themselves onto the pavement just as Fjalle's boomstick fired off. A dapper man in a suit fell to the ground, his head a meaty ruin. *wait that blood is spurting backward*

"Not one of ours anymore. Get up, I still got two loaded short sticks. Let's move."

"Where are the rest of them?" Stanley asked.

"They lit off as soon as your eyes went all goofy on the dead fucker. Keep moving!" She looked around. "Where'd that piece of shit go, did he put his head back together that fast? And where the hell is Simon?"

Stanley could see Sedna's shade of the night color running across the pavement toward Building 17's lower door, her sword naked. He saw a satchel slung over her broad back. Stanley pointed her out to Fjalle. "You keep running to her, fast as you can, shoot what gets in your way. Robbert and I will track the folks who came in with him. Right Robbert?"

Robbert nodded, patting a black quiver on his thigh that clinked bronzely. Stanley fished in a pocket and pulled out his sling, added a bullet, and began spinning it with his left hand.

Dapper Son of a Bitch, back within vision, pointed at Stanley and Robbert with both hands. Simon's retinue resolved themselves with night color. Stanley could hear women screaming in the distance, and recalled seeing no women among the bodies knotted at the western end earlier. The sound made his insides knot up in ways no sailor could untie. *"Kindà lunë oxciderè pothes. No ist vem quÿro."* With that, he turned around, and Stanley swore he grew half a meter in his legs, towering over everyone.

"He gave them permission to kill you," Robbert said.

"His first two words were, 'moon child'." Stanley let loose his sling, and one of the night color shapes fell, gripping his knee. "I'll stay out of your way."

Robbert pulled a wickedly barbed dart from his thigh quiver and threw it. Dapper Son of a Bitch fell down again. "I can deal with two of these idiots." He launched himself toward the men advancing.

Stanley quickly circled to the side, stuffing his sling back in his pocket while one of the attackers watched for an opening to attack Robbert as he engaged with the other two. The elf silently drew up behind that man and slipped one elbow below the man's chin, the other hand behind the human's head, and allowed him to struggle until his waking oxygen ran out and he sagged upon his now-rubbery knees.

After disarming his adversary with a twist of his halberd, Robbert shouted, "Don't let Coshebas touch you!" He poked the business end of his weapon toward the now-unarmed man and nodded toward the east. He ran.

"You let him run? What the hell--"

"Treaty of the Sun, we're required to give them a chance to retreat."

"They can't get out of the walls!"

"Not our problem." Robbert stopped to pant, still wary of the last man, who seemed to be paying more attention to Stanley.

Stanley shook his head. The man took a swipe. Stanley easily tilted away enough for him to miss, then pointed at the man's weapon. "Your sword is still clean."

*"Noli punyarè cam kindà lunë, modo him oxidè!"* Coshebas yelled, his night color back on its long-legged feet again, his eyes tracking Stanley.

"Can you find it in yourself *not* to refer to me as a moon child?" Stanley snapped at him before returning his attention to the man trying to slice him. "All these people to kill and you didn't get a chance to, huh?" Stanley slipped a steel cylinder out from among the lead bullets in one of his coat pockets.  "Your buddies won't cut you in if you don't cut me in." His adversary thrust his weapon at where Stanley just twirled away from a tenth of a second before. "Teenage office jockeys too tough for you?" He circled around with his back toward Coshebas.

"Maybe I'll put your head on *Trunca Diablo, kindà lunë."*

Stanley's mind instantly burst into flames. *oh no he did not call my Banyan the Devil's Stump to my actual face* He flicked his right hand and the steel cylinder obediently telescoped into a tapered baton with a click. His left hand pulled his bluewood knife from its sheath. "I think *I'll* walk on *your* bones instead," he said an octave lower, taking a slow step, his lips stretched across his exposed teeth.

"I piss on your tree and skullfuck your mother."

"Are you trying to get killed?" Stanley screamed while dodging and parrying with his baton. "Oh wait, you must be new at this, you're swords are still pristine--" His pristine swords drove Stanley back. *all right not bad* "See, it's not a good idea to piss a Faerie off--" Stanley caught the swords together with both of his weapons, holding them point down.

The mercenary certainly did look youngish, from three inches away, no silver threads in his cropped black hair. He spat in Stanley's face. "Your *siccarë azulë*  tells me you're a fucking liar anyway--*Unseelie."*

The rain quickly washed away the spittle, which was good since Stanley suddenly felt a little rise in his gag. "You don't know shit, *muurkh*." *wish he'd just hold still and let me--*

Stanley watched breathlessly while the man stopped moving. *what the fuck even the rain*

It was gone almost as soon as Stanley realized it was there. But then after his own split second of wonder, the man knotted up his brow and just pointed his right sword at Stanley as an extension of a gesture. "That's not any form of Regulese. What did you fucking say?"

i*s this shit-head for real* "I fucking called you a 'shit-head' in Faeroë, shit-head. Would you like to learn a few more personal obscenities regarding your vacant scrotum in Faeroë?" *shit I'm not sure I actually remember that one*

And then the mercenary's eyes flicked just a hair left of Stanley's left ear. *damn those snitchy little involuntary eye move--*Stanley dropped to a crouch and stabbed the air behind himself on the left side--*ments*

The silvery blade bit deep into someone, who hollered. Just as he did that, the mercenary pulled his shoulders back to shrug his swords over his head, ready to hack into Stanley's skull. The elf's right hand swept the baton in an overhead arc to catch his adversary's ribs, and the tiny percussion of a snap made itself felt during the connection. Robbert ran up behind the mercenary and whacked him with the butt of his spear, knocking all the wind out of him. He dropped to his knees. Robbert quickly reversed the spear, touching the man behind his ear. "The prisoner will ungrip his swords."

Stanley looked behind him. His dagger had punched through Coshebas's left shin. Blood poured out when the blade left his flesh.

Robbert kicked both swords away and then picked up the mercenary by his collar. "Get out of these walls before I kill you."

The blood reversed course.

"But there's no gate"--*labored breath*--"my ribs are--"

Coshebas smiled and waved before melting into a flood of undulating viscera just as the rain went from falling to pouring. A puddle of Coshebas cascaded away. Even the blood on Stanley's knife trailed its master.

"Not my problem," Robbert snarled back.

The mercenary fell on his unarmed hands and knees, each breath bringing a moan while he scrabbled away into the torrent so thick even the rain took his night color.

"These men," Robbert said, "they've been delaying us--"

"Did you see what he did?" Stanley shrieked.

"Did you see what you did?"

"I didn't do anything!"

"You were the only one moving when the thing happened. Now I'm going to go to the southern end," Robbert replied, tugging on Stanley's arm. "Bring anyone you find alive on the north end to the salon. Coshebas can't get in there."

Stanley saw Fjalle put away a shortstick and Sedna wave at them to run under the little awning over the salon's doorway. He ran off toward where he heard a scream, but had no idea what was where. All the sun-warmed buildings' night color shapes looked identical in the dark between lightning flashes. He ran along the walkway toward a tall, ceramic cone rising at least ten meters above a small pond, turning his head side to side, trying to pinpoint the direction of any commotion, but the growing torrent filled his ears with its own savage roar. He heard one boomstick crack through the night, high on the walls where they'd cracked that morning, then the bloodcurdling vocals of a human man in agony and fear.

*no no no no nononono*

It seemed whatever direction he turned, voices exploded in terror and pain, followed by the worst silence ever. *these are Kith Scouts and they outnumber me how can I even* Stanley circled around the inside of the entire seamless wall, his knife and baton and every tightly singing nerve ready for an ambush, the human silence growing before he could reach anyone. *they don't care if I'm looking for them they're ten steps ahead of me* Doors flapped carelessly in the flailing breeze, and through the openings he saw nothing but fresh night color carpeting the floors and spattered up the walls inside every building he reached.

*you were too late for the Banyan*

*you were too late for Tinkÿ*

*you were too late for Castille*

*you were too late for Sabrine*

*you're going to be too late for Fjalle*

Stanley turned around in the downpour, his hair plastered to his face, water sloshing around the socks in his boots as he stepped. He grabbed his head, raised his eyes to the storm--not even knowing if he was crying yet or not--

*~just~hold~still~*

An electric hiss sliced through the haze. He lifted his eyes and watched glowing threads zigzag upwards, impossibly lazily, from thermal chimneys atop several of the giant blocks of brick and bluewood and building numbers and into the shapeless sky. A likewise luminous leader meandered, drunkenly, downward out of the gunmetal expanse above in a series of steps to violently kiss the thread that won this insanely languid race. It knocked the elf down with its own orgasm of air and water, sound and electricity, blowing away the webs his flailing mind was trying to garrote him with.

*you can't get anything done can you*

*just like with the fucking blue box*

*go ahead and run*

With spots on his eyes he turned about one more time, then loped back to where he was sure sat Building 17.

He found it among the anonymous structures by the sound of Robbert pounding the dungeon's door with the butt of his halberd. A tiny movement drew Stanley's eye up above the door to a small, articulated brass and glass mechanism with a shiny lens that oriented itself toward the two men's faces. The door opened within three seconds. Both entered as quickly as they could before Varolus slammed it shut. He and the Seer both made gestures; the door's bluewood came alive with a welcoming glow. Fjalle wasted no time pulling out her reloading kit from her purse. Stanley had no idea how that ramrod fit in there.

The Seer heavily sat back down on the sofa and looked into her tumbler. "That son of a fucker. How the fuck he live?"

"No, Simon's dead," Stanley said back.

"Not Simon," the Seer, Fjalle, and Robbert all said at once.

"Are you sure it was him?" Varolus asked.

"Positive, before I blew his skull to bits. Again. Not like it seems to matter--then *and* now."

"What's he doing with Simon?" Robbert asked.

"Probably who kept that fucker alive long enough to get here."

"Who?" Sedna asked.

"Coshebas," the Seer, Fjalle, and Robbert all said at once.

"That's impossible," she replied. "He was executed and we even buried him away from the sky."

"Yeah. Outside the walls," said Varolus. "Carnal Vicissitude is a school so rare there's no reliable record of anyone using it as well as he seems to have done."

"That's what Dad says about my skin dancing, that it's Carnal Vicissitude."

"Compared to what I saw, your skin trick is a lawn dart and his is a long-range ballista. He was supposed to use it for medicine."

"Wait." Stanley put his finger up, frowning. "Is he the one who killed Castille?"

Fjalle sniffled loudly as she cleaned and reloaded her long boomstick. "Motherfucker twisted her head clean off. No blood. Like she was made of clay." She yelled wordlessly as she threw the kit, ramrod and all, into her purse. "We have to end him."

"I told you guys to burn him," the Seer said quietly.

"They must have been staking this place out for the half-hour we spent in conference," Robbert said. "We only stopped the four that were with Simon. Except for Vadim and Keem, they didn't start killing people until after Simon passed. They even took out the whole boomstick brigade."

Fjalle's hands went over her face while her mouth pulled into a grimace. Stanley reached for her shoulder but she shrugged his hand away. She wailed openly for five seconds, then wiped her face and brandished a shortstick.

Sedna made for the door but Robbert stood in her way, his spear blocking her. "You'll die too. We're safer in here."

"Not even a Kingslayer can magic into this dungeon," Fjalle mentioned. "Castille's orders. She didn't like Simon either."

"So we're trapped in here," Sedna said bitterly.

"Stop," said the Seer, sniffling. "Do you feel that?" She set her tumbler down and pointed to the whiskey. Small ripples suddenly arose and died.

"They got to the boomdust," Fjalle said grimly. "Feels like they just blew up the brig."

A tiny amount of Stanley cheered.

"Was that all of it?" Robbert asked.

"Not by a long shot." Another faint tremor, closer. "I had enough to go to war with No Man's Land. That was the mess hall. Wait, did you bring gumbo?" Fjalle stepped to the little nook behind the couch where Stanley now could see a small sink and a counter. She gulped down a ladle of the gumbo herself.

"Under the sink, buckets," said the Seer. "Start filling them, I See them doing something with the water tow--"

"There will be enough water in the pipes," Robbert said as he obeyed the Seer. "Probably for a day or two."

"No, we have to get out as soon as possible," said Sedna. "I have to alert the Diet of Justicars and be present for a Convocation."

"What about all the other people?" Varolus asked.

The Seer answered, her voice shaking, "There are no other people. Except--" She looked in her glass again. "--the Commancer."

*damn it you forgot to look for Winter are you even worth anything*

Sedna snarled, "Father was alone eating supper in his study. Coshebas knew he has the honeypiss and he knows our schedules. He knew we'd been trying to recruit anyone with an Ignition talent. If we'd had Burners--"

"He also figured there wouldn't be any elf-kind here once he killed Castille. He specifically told them to kill me. As Kindred, Castille was elf enough to see the night color." Stanley looked at Robbert, who looked at the rest of the people there and nodded his assent.

A knock sounded at the door. "I forgave you the first time, Fjalle," a man's voice, which matched the scream when Stanley stabbed his shin,, called out from outside. "Second time blowing my head off is just rude."

"Not talking to you," she called out.

"You hurt my father, I will bring the Diet of Justicars down on you!" Sedna yelled.

"And then what?" he replied.

Sedna looked at the floor, tears streaming from her eyes and snot from her reddened nose.

"You can't kill me," he said. "Really, you can't hold me anywhere. But I'm not here to hurt sweet old Winter. I have what I came here for. Isn't that right, Robbert?"

All eyes turned on the young man. Robbert laughed quietly, then: "Hey I had nothing to do with this, what are you--"

"You little piece of shit!" Sedna shouted, waving her hand at everyone else. *those two rehearsed this*

The Seer nodded, before crying out, "I can't believe I trusted you!" She picked up a cylindrical instrument off one of the shelves and held it to her eye.

"Hold him still, I have his cuffs," Stanley added loudly.

Fjalle threw something to the ground that let off a small explosion. "Too much?" she whispered. The Seer beckoned with her hand as she looked into the little brass thing.

Robbert screamed in fake agony. "My foot!"

"I'll put this on your permanent record, punk!" Varolus added.

Everyone looked at Varolus, who shrugged.

"Keep going," the Seer hissed.

"Give me that shortstick," Sedna yelled, pointing at Fjalle again. Fjalle threw down another blasting packet. Robbert howled.

"Okay they're leaving."

Fjalle threw another one down, laughing silently. "That's all."

The Seer went back to her tumbler. "Shit shit."

"What?"

"They took our horses. And they're burning every building that can burn. Including the one above us."

"How the shit are they burning--oh, they're gutting them."

"With the bodies inside."

"So we're stuck with what we have."

"Are they leaving though?"

"Yeah, and with Winter. He opened the east wall, they're taking our horses."

Fjalle put away her explosives. "The big boom is loaded, I have two little booms if you think you can handle one, old man."

Stanley waved at the shortstick. "Thanks, but too much for me to handle."

The Seer looked into her brass instrument again. "Can't go out the front door. But we have to go NOW. They have a cracked ten kilogram barrel of boom powder in front of the door with a candle on its side. We open the door, it jiggles the flame, boom! If we don't, still boom! and the door gets jammed shut and we're cut off from the world basically forever."

"Not forever, but reshaping this box might take me some time," Fjalle corrected.

"How do we leave?"

Varolus swept all the papers and the bull's skull off the low table. "We make a Gate." He opened his bag and pulled out a piece of green, glowing chalk. "Stanley and Robbert, you take the legs off, they screw. Fjalle, get a full kilo of boom powder ready. The Seer, you scout the furthest possible location west."

"We can only Gate a few tens of meters at best with what we have."

"That's all we need. We just have to get out of this dungeon."

"Isn't it sealed against Gating?"

"Gating in. Not out," Fjalle corrected again. "I made this box, remember?"

"You never told us you had," Varolus said.

"Who's going to hold it open?" Stanley watched her pull a brick packet out of her purse. must be a manifold in there

"You make your boom powder with bluewood leaf ash niter," Varolus explained. "It's magic enough, so if you spread a thick layer, no one will have to stay behind."

"What about my father?" Sedna asked.

"We can all get out of the walls," Varolus snapped. "We'll pick him up on the way out. I have about a minute to draw this spell so keep quiet please."

Stanley and Robbert stepped back from the disassembled table top. Varolus flipped it back over and lay it on the floor before putting chalk to wood, drawing door panels and a knob before writing words all along the "frame" in letters Stanley never learned. not for lack of dad trying "Ready, ladies?"

Fjalle sprinkled acrid black powder thickly but evenly over the wood. The Seer closed her eyes and touched the wood. "I have a location." Varolus took a candle stub from a wall shelf and dropped it on the door. The powder lit but instead of exploding like expected, the flame immediately softened and turned blue. "Go go go!" He pushed Sedna into the flames, where she suddenly slid from view. Varolus grabbed the Seer and jumped in. Robbert followed them. Fjalle grabbed Stanley's hand and pulled him through the flames. He shut his eyes and braced for impact.

They rolled onto the wet pavement in the middle of the Fast right as a blue explosion erupted beside Building 17 behind them, as if it had to tell them to run. Flames hissed as they rose along vines growing on the exterior. The more southern storm covered most of the sky by now. "Keep moving!" Fjalle said, tugging on Stanley's hand. Another spear of lightning split the sky, blinding Stanley for a moment. He followed the pull of his fellow Kingslayer's hand. "Daddy!" he heard Sedna yell. When his vision returned, he saw blazing fires all around him, consuming the fortress from the inside, spitting angrily at the rain, and concealing any night colors of the assassins.

"Daddy!" Sedna cried again. Stanley saw her turn around in the open square, until she ran in the rain to the eastern wall. He and Fjalle followed. He could not hear or see the other two Polymaths or Robbert yet.

Winter sat in a heap against the wall. "Daddy, you're going to be all right now," Sedna said gently.

"I can't..." he sobbed. "He said he was going to burn you."

"You should have let me burn!" She scoffed and pulled Winter into her arms. "Silly old shit."

Fjalle crouched next to them. "It's over now," she said softly.

Winter's hand dashed under her apron and pulled out one of her shortsticks. "Yes, it is." Before anyone could react, he put the muzzle in his mouth and pulled the trigger. Sedna screamed over the thunder, trying to pick up her father's slackened body.

Wet sandals splashed in the water. "What the f--oh shit!"

"Idiot!" Fjalle snarled as she took her shortstick back. "Check him for money or anything we can sell."

"Don't you touch him!" Sedna yelled back.

"Where is my Crown's Own Justicar?" Fjalle snapped. "Get on your feet, girl, and take the others to the western wall and get Varolus to magic you out. Us Kingslayers can manage ourselves out."

Sedna sobbed, nodded, and bent down to kiss what was left of her father's face before pulling herself up to stand and taking Robbert's hand. Fjalle followed them with her eyes for a moment. "Seriously, strip him of goods. He has plenty. I'll meet you outside the western wall." She stood up and shook her head. "Sun-addled asshole."

Stanley nodded, and set to probing Winter's fingers and clothing for anything fenceable.

\* \* \*

Stanley found the others camped under an abandoned wagon by a boulder in the middle of the wide steppe after an hour and a half of creeping west, ears open and eyes scanning for more attackers. Their collective night color led his eyes to them. The rain had died down to a sprinkle trailing the storm as it marched past Heliopolis and into the rain forest where the Faerie made their home.

I could just leave them and move on

I have all his crappy jewelry Dorcas will buy it

I don't owe them anything

Sedna fucking tried to kill me

is she going to keep trying

I can find Spot and ride out of here

Dorcas won't ask questions

the twins will be happy to see you so soon

how will I explain Sabrine's death though

Fjalle will be there too

I already left her once

how will she forgive me for doing it again

will she forgive me for the first time

I can't face myself if I don't even try to find out

He quietly approached the wagon, circling wide to scope the scene. As he got within five meters, he saw that Sedna had begun to snooze with her head on the Seer's lap. Everyone's faces were swollen. No one looked as if they were in any shape to harm anything bigger than a beetle.

Robbert's head popped up, eyes wide, looking back and forth slowly, his hand patting the wet dirt beside his leg between stalks of tall, fallow grass. Stanley stood up, his hands in the air. "It's just me, I'm alone," he called out.

Robbert quit patting about for his spear and beckoned the elf to join the cluster.

"I see you found my old wheels," he managed to joke before flopping down on the ground. "And my clothes are wet again."

Robbert managed a "heh."

"I have her dad's things." Stanley turned out his coat's pockets, dribbling gold onto the grass. "Seven gold rings, two brooches, a fascinating fob watch, and one amazingly unfashionable cloisonned gold medallion on a chain. No cash."

Fjalle picked up one of the rings and examined it with her fingers as much as with her eyes. "This was his Polymathesis signet."

The Seer squinted. "I don't think I've seen jewelry that ugly," she commented hoarsely, pointing at the medallion.

"If this is your wagon, we found your stash," Robbert said sadly, revealing a very sprouted sack of potatoes, now unappetizingly green. "Where's the horse?"

"Her name is Spot, she is a very smart mule, and she's probably wandered to the Wonky Donkey by now." Stanley scanned the wide grassy plain in vain. please don't go too far girl I can't live without you

"Sky is clear in the west," Fjalle grunted. "If we huddle, we should be warm enough to sleep."

"I'll keep watch," Robbert said, finally finding his halberd. he still has that damn can opener

"You'll do no such thing. The bastards did what they set out to do, whatever that was. They don't give a fuck about us. At least, not until we make them give a fuck."

"She's right," the Seer mumbled. "They rode east. Probably in Hellapopalips by now, toasting success with tepid water."

Varolus snored momentarily.

Fjalle scooted next to Stanley. "Come on. Let's look at the sky for a bit. Like we used to, before..." She waited for him to lie back and then nestled herself on his shoulder, flopping a leg over his. Stanley curled his arm around her. are we... She looked at the rings on his hand. "Too bad it's too wet to start a fire, these would come in handy." She turned a ring of his on its finger, a steel band covered in score marks. "You haven't gotten past Master of Tongues?" she asked when she examined the larger titanium signet on his middle finger.

"The only language I'm missing for my Doctorate is Unseelax, and I'd have to go west for that."

"You've had fifty-five years." She sighed when he didn't argue. "Isn't that a comet?" She pointed to a fuzzy greenish blob to the west.

"I heard it's Doctor Starlight's Comet," Stanley replied. "Ask Varolus about it tomorrow."

"Maybe the kooks are right and comets are bad omens."

"Is that why bad omens are green?"

"I'm going to make a polymath out of you yet, old man."

"You're mistaking me for dad again."

"You know," Fjalle began, and then paused. After a moment, she continued. "I know the Seer told you, I would have. I'm sorry you had to hear about Castille this way. We kept it a secret because...you know."

"Tell me exactly what happened."

Fjalle shifted. "Coshebas was our biological expert. We all knew he practiced Carnal Vicissitude, but all he showed us was his ability to mold flesh. He was great, no one ever had a serious injury he couldn't fix in a minute. Or animal. And he was always caught fixing little animals that the cat quit playing with, if they were still alive. Except no one knew at the time that the cat didn't almost-kill those little animals--he did. Stanley, I was fooled too. Even the Seer thought he was harmless. That's how come she's bald now."

"And that eye? On her head?"

"That's a tattoo."

"No, no. I see it looking at me all the time."

"It's a magic tattoo, and you're an elf. It just looks like ink to me."

The Seer's actual eyes popped open for a moment, locked on Stanley, before easing shut again.

Stanley absently touched his own left breast, which tingled for a second. "So he made her bald?"

"I asked him to," the Seer mumbled sleepily. "Hair got in the way."

"Everyone trusted him," Fjalle continued. "And then a few of the support staff left suddenly, with just a note behind in their quarters. All women. Their stuff packed and gone. Winter questioned everyone but no one would 'fess up to magicking the wall open for any of them. Seer could not suss a single thing--and you saw her in action tonight, remote viewing in a glass of whiskey!"

"'N'wun day all seer ugly shittin' face," the Seer slurred.

"Then one day I couldn't find Castille." Fjalle sniffled.

"You two were--" Stanley began.

"My children are Jude's, but Castille stayed with me to raise them. So I was out of my mind when I woke up without her. The Seer had every instrument of hers out, nothing. Would you believe how we found them? A rat. It got out of his secret hole. No one knew he'd made this little dungeon under his office. The rat had three heads and was dragging its extra legs. The Seer traced the poor little thing's path right to a hidden door under the rug in Coshebas's surgical room. He was sloppy with his security that day and the little fucker made a run for it."

"And you found all the missing women."

"We're pretty sure it was them...but their parts were mixed up. One of them was still alive. We think he'd been keeping her alive specifically. He was in the middle of pulling out Castille's brain intact and it looked like he was going to put it in the girl's mixed-up body. She was awake, and crying--no sound, he unmade her larynx. He'd unmade her hair too, and had already drawn incision markings. I couldn't stand it, so I showed her my shortstick and she specifically mouthed, 'Please do it.' I wasn't going to wait for official permission. I'll tell you what though. I wasn't sorry when the Judicium gave me permission for him later. And I didn't use no shortstick. We all figured if his brains were ruined, he'd be too dead to come back."

The Seer snorted. "Shudda burnd'm like I tole you."

"Wasn't my call."

"I know."

"Zzzzzz."

Fjalle chuckled. "I'll have what she's having..." She trailed off, her fingers absently tangled in Stanley's hair.

He allowed himself to enjoy the quiet while watching a shining pale blue tendril peek out from behind the storms that had moved far to the east. As they retreated, more tendrils came out of hiding until a golden oval revealed itself like an elongated egg, nested in blue and pink winding ribbons of distant stars, dominating the eastern sky.

Stanley watched until the looming spiral galaxy climbed directly overhead.

\* \* \*

she wen talk me all kine story inna dead a night witha Maelstrom o'r-hed

bou' whatchou folks wen do, yessir

I ain'g tole no one else she wen make me swear on stars

theys all wen blow up, kingslayer oh moon

I play dead 'til the humans leave

her and my kin all gone oh stars

I ain'g got no one butchou

they wen gonna talk to it

wen go tell me, go grine some egg powder down by the crick for make one sacred cirque so it no can do nuffin wile we talk story

I'm grine'in so proud, I'm part a one big thing SUPER BIG I feel so growed up

then everthin in town jus GO BLOW UP

I see my kin's bits flyin see dog bits flyin

oh moon an stars

I lay down an hole my breff

they look, figger they think shock wave wen go take me

bird sing right over me but they not notice

that fuckin bird want kill me I swear I kill it affa the humans gone

she wen say you stay Arena so I go Arena

please proteck me kingslayer

Then a soft velvet fist blew stinky air into his face. He heard the Seer shriek nearby.

Chapter 4

"She's beautiful!" the Seer squealed. "What breed is this? Is she your horse?"

"That's a mule, ma'am," said Varolus. "And she's shod, that's someone's mule. I think it's an Unseelie's mule."

Stanley cranked open one eye. "This is Spot; and as I told you before, she is the best damn mule ever." He turned over. "Disobedient as hell though. I thought I told you to go to the Wonky Donkey, you fly-bit nag."

Spot farted before snagging a mouthful of grass. She had a coat of snow with jasper pebbles scattered across it; she was splattered with mud up her legs and along her left flank and buttock.

"Don't talk to her like that!" the Seer said. "She is a sensitive and intelligent being."

"I have so, so many questions," Sedna said. "However, we need civilized shelter first. The Wonky Donkey has a secure suite. That's what, thirty-ish kilometers? I'm sure we can all fit into this wagon but can Spot pull it? There's so much mud and soft ground off the road."

"She could easily pull this wagon to the road if it were empty," Varolus answered. He approached her from the side and patted her shoulder gently while her ear followed his every move. "Question is, where is her harness?"

Stanley pointed to the back of the wagon, which sported a fair-sized wooden box with an ancient iron padlock.

"And the key?"

"Oh I lost that years ago." Stanley wrenched the lock and it popped open.

"Not very secure."

"Most thieves look at a lock and say 'fuck that,' because they just want to grab and go. And I mean, come on--no one lifts an old cart harness!" Stanley lifted the lid of the box and let Varolus pull out the leather-and-steel contraption. "I take it you know how to harness?"

"Parents ran a livery stable in Regula's Crown." Varolus and Stanley set to attaching Spot to the wagon. "They were so disappointed when it turned out I could understand magic." He paused. "My older sister, however, could not contain her joy."

"She wanted the stable."

"Old ways die hard. Technically I still own it, but she runs it, keeps the profits, and when I volunteered for the Fast, I made sure that my will states it's all hers."

"He's bonkers," the Seer said, watching them work. "I mean, who volunteers for the Fast?"

"No one, now."

Everyone paused and looked at the ground for a few seconds. Sedna openly started sobbing. Fjalle pulled her into an embrace. "You'll be all right. Let's avoid talking about that until we get to safety, sounds good?" Fjalle's face was wet, too.

Sedna nodded. "Let's get going."

"Shouldn't we honor them in the field they fell upon?" Robbert asked. "I saw you do it when you sent Castille's remains off. We also do that in--back east."

"I still have that whiskey," Stanley said. He pulled the bottle out of his coat, along with the shot glass he took. The shot glass had a chip out of the rim. He handed them back to the Seer.

"Let's do this by a sunflower," Robbert said before tromping toward one of the stray giants nodding in the breeze a few meters away.

Everyone agreed, following him, until they gathered in a circle around its massive stalk and aging yellow petals. The Seer dribbled some into the glass, then took a swig from the bottle and handed it to Varolus. He also took a swig from the bottle, and handed it to Robbert. This continued to Sedna, to Fjalle, and finally back to Stanley. The Seer dropped the glass to the ground by the root of the sunflower and they all held hands in a circle, chanting together, "May Necran's light guide you to the next life. May Nostalgia preserve your experience. May Celebran sing your song." Stanley heard Robbert say "Phoenix" instead of the other names but no one else seemed to care. "May Heresy foretell your new birth. May Moment bring you back through Necran's Door. May Cerebran return to you your words. May Leviathan protect you."

\* \* \*

Spot wasted no time pulling the empty wagon through chest-high grass and hidden mud traps between sunflowers whose seeds somehow escaped voracious wildlife in the steppe. The six survivors of the sacking walked more-or-less in silence along with her, with mixed success. The Seer lost a sandal to the steppe and had to ride on Robbert's back until they reached pavement. Robbert lost his hair tie so his wavy black mane flapped very unprofessionally about into the Seer's face and his own in the morning breeze. Somehow, Varolus managed to keep his hat, his spectacles, and his sewing bag with him through it all; but as he stepped Stanley could see his face wince. When he caught the elf looking, he pointed to his own nearly-ruined loafers. "Not exactly tromping boots like yours." Fjalle's face was impassive. Sedna trudged along like a trooper, occasionally sniffling. Stanley had hold of Spot's reins but only loosely; Spot knew where to put her hooves.

When they reached the road, Spot stopped, facing east. "No, baby," Stanley said as he led her to face west. "We can't go there right now. We have to go to the Wonky Donkey." Spot sighed, farted, and settled to an occidental orientation. Her ears stayed up, but she also gave Stanley a very visible side-eye. Then she planted her rear hooves onto the ruddy pavement.

"I know that look," Varolus said. "She doesn't want to go west."

"We're from the west!"

"Hey, what's that?" Robbert asked, pointing at something on the concrete between Spot's front hooves. Stanley looked down, then crouched to look better. "It's a Phoenix coin from Heliopolis," he said. "Someone's going to fence their coin with Dorcas."

"Damn, Robbert. You just turned white as Sedna's hair," Fjalle remarked.

The young man indeed had blanched considerably, his cheeks ashen, as he backed away. "I don't want to see anything from...that place...ever again." He paused. "Except winter cheese."

"Don't touch it!" the Seer shouted, clambering out of the wagon. "Ouch, ouch...Let me See it first." Stanley stood and backed away to allow her by. She crouched down and put her face on the ground, examining the golden coin from inches away at several angles. She pinched it in her fingers, then stood up with the coin. "It hasn't been touched by living skin in at least," she shrugged, "two weeks? But it hasn't been here but for a day or two at the most."

"Maybe when Coshebas was sneaking along with Simon," Robbert suggested. "Maybe he turned on Regula."

"Maybe...or maybe Dorcas sent for a shipment of Heliopolitan cheese. But she doesn't wear gloves, and the Donkey is just half a day away."

"You people don't make your own cheese?"

"Heliopolitan cheese is boring. We put herbs in ours and age it in bluewood. Your people won't eat it and she does serve your people's food there."

"So you've also been ordering my home's cheese for me all year? Now I'm confli----"

"Hey, what's that?" Sedna asked, pointing at something staining the sky in the distance to the west. Stanley looked, then squinted to look better. "It's a plume of smoke," he said. "Someone's burning tar."

"Damn, the Seer. Now you  just turned white as Sedna's hair," Fjalle remarked.

The Seer indeed had blanched considerably, her new-penny cheeks ashen, as she climbed back onto the wagon. "That's where the Wonky Donkey is. When has there ever been a tar burning pit by there?"

With the coin gone from the road, Spot agreed to pull the wagon westward, facing rippling fields of green giants with golden heads.

\* \* \*

Sedna walked with her fingers absently combing Spot's mane while the mule stepped steadily next to her. Stanley sat on the bench of the wagon behind them and could not see Sedna's face, but he lost count of the times her head dipped and shoulders shuddered. Each time, Spot tapped the woman's ribs with her snout.

"At least one of us brought good shoes," Fjalle commented, chin on Stanley's shoulder.

"I've a question: is that crap I pulled off Winter going to cover the time they need to recover? I mean, assuming that smoke is a trifling matter."

"Oh you don't know, do you? All frontier inns are required to have one secure suite for the Diet of Justicars and their ranking agents, like me. In return, they're exempt from taxation. But you only need to know that if you're an important government official like I am. And no, you don't fit the bill."

"Dorcas already knows my face. Oh in fact, do me a favor," Stanley said.

"What's that?"

"Can you braid my hair again?"

"I thought you hated fancy hair."

"Yeah, but when I first came through this way, I kind of let Dorcas think I was Unseelie--"

Fjalle groaned.

"--and asked her to loan me a hair tie. Miraculously, I still have it." He pulled it out of another coat pocket and handed it to Fjalle.

"Well I hope there's a Dorcas left to keep telling the truth to! Can't someone magic this mule faster?" Stanley felt Fjalle divide his hair. "I hope you can live with a single plait. I'm in no mood."

"If you want a faster mule, that's Carnal Vicissitude," Varolus answered, "and Stanley's capabilities in that school are rather limited."

"You really do use Carnal Vicissitude? When the six hells that happen?"

"Uh, about two years after we last saw each other."

"Well how about that? You know how amazingly rare that is? It's basically a magical bloodline, but I only hear of Unseelie having it."

"You know dad has a touch of it."

"How's that?" Fjalle tied off Stanley's braid.

"The color-changing rainbow hair. That's why he asked me to step in for him in the five."

"Ohh, he told me that was an accident."

"The one where he was high after sniffing three lines of Ghoul Drool at a wild party, and then tried to wash his hair with Glamour as a dare?"

"It was more entertaining when he told it, but yeah."

"Yeah, obfuscation seems to run in our bloodline too. He forgot to mention that the hair thing was a coincidence."

Fjalle grumbled. She turned around and lowered her voice. "Winter's dead, and I've been with the Fast since the beginning. You know what that means, right?"

Stanley heard the other three voicing assent.

"Now quit looking at the smoke," she continued. "That's my first order as your new Commancer of the Fast. No one here can magic the mule faster and we don't have anything shiny and big enough for you to do your remote viewing. Let's use this time productively, like Sedna is."

"How's that?" came the Seer's voice.

"She's working through her grief. That's one thing we all need to do. We all lost friends and we all lost our home. We can't be efficient if we are stuck in the crying jag stage. So come here, all four of us, in the middle. We are now going to power cuddle, and don't be ashamed if there's eyeball juice coming out of you. Get it all over with, theeerrrre we go."

For the next twenty kilometers, Stanley heard sobbing behind him from four voices, sometimes all at once, sometimes pausing all at once. Sedna glanced back but otherwise said nothing, continuing to keep her hand on Spot. Stanley took a shuddering breath, closed his eyes, and let Spot lead them all toward the Wonky Donkey.

\* \* \*

"What else could go wrong?" Dorcas wailed as Spot stopped the wagon in front of a low-slung stoneclad affair. Three gigantic, ancient pecans soared over the inn itself, a few of their branches singed black where they met over the central fire chimney. People clambered on the roof, removing scorched linen panels from the sun shades over rooftop heat ponds and replacing them with what looked like repurposed bed sheets. Once she saw the Seer waving at her like a maniac, her demeanor instantly reversed course. "Howdy Miss Witch! Now there's a bright spot!"

The Seer sniffled and wiped her eyes dry and launched herself at the stout woman with hair like the smoke curling lazily from a stone chimney atop what Stanley remembered to be the kitchen area. "We saw the smoke--"

"Just a creosote fire! Goodness, look at you." She hugged the Seer back, then did a double-take when she saw Stanley. "Oh, I didn't realize you hired this Unseelie, Stanley is it?"

"Oh we d--" The Seer looked over her shoulder at Stanley like she had just met him, before she winked and turned back to the innkeeper. "He helped us out of a sticky situation, what with his wagon and mule."

"He wasn't involved in--exactly what went on back east last night?"

"I'm right here," he said a little shortly.

"Wasn't trying to offend you."

He nodded curtly and followed Robbert past the tile posted with the title The Wonky Donkey next to the door. The Seer cleared her throat. "Stanley. Why don't you get your wagon into the barn over there, and wash your mule?"

"I'm afraid it's going to be a 'yesterday's bread and cold salume' dinner," Dorcas called out. "No ovens or any fires until the damned sweep gets here from The Colossi. Miss Witch, will you be so kind as to bring our order to their guild when you leave?"

"Of course I will! But we could use hot baths, as you can see. Surely--"

"No fires, not even a candle. That's my final word, or you can move on. All the other lodgers did, I'm surprised you're staying."

Stanley took off two of his rings, the scored steel one and a silver one with a raised black mineral stripe along its equator, and stuffed them into his coat. The Master of Tongues signet remained firmly on his right middle finger.

"You're still the best, Dorcas."

Stanley took Spot's reins. He heard Dorcas ask "Fjalle! How are the grandkids?" as he and Spot walked down the lane. grandkids...

"Hey elf!"

Stanley groaned before stopping and turning to look down the lane at the Wonky Donkey's village, which squatted just off the highway, next to that damned creek, here almost a little river. A little person stood on the red pavement, barefoot, shaped like a leggy weed in oversized clothing, waving madly at Stanley and running toward him.

"Hello larva."

"I told you last time, my name's Tarique."

"Hello larva named Tarique."

Tarique slapped Stanley's outstretched hand, then crossed his arms and frowned. "What happened last night? Where's your friend?"

"Whatever are you talking about?"

"You didn't forget her, did you?"

"I told you last time, I'm incapable of forgetting anything or anyone. But we all need to talk. Get your sister. Same place as last time." Stanley patted Tarique's back as the boy turned to leave with a nod. The afternoon breeze lifted his curly brown hair to reveal a tapered amber ear.

\* \* \*

takes a kid to come up with leaning a fucking door against a tree and calling it a fort Stanley arrived at the Super Secret Meeting Spot, which was an old door with peeling black paint nailed to a pecan tree in the sunflower field just to the west of the Wonky Donkey.

"I don't remember these larvae being siblings of yours," Stanley told Tarique upon finding several human children at their meeting site.

"They wanna see it," a girl with tapered ears like Tarique's answered. Both Kindred children had vertical pupils, but their eyes were grey and green. "We told 'em you said you're a Kingslayer. Show it to 'em."

"Why should I?"

"Because you promised, Kingslayer."

"I'm a horrible scoundrel," he replied, trying not to grin.

"On the contrary," said the largest of the human children, "Dad says the Kingslayers freed everyone from the tyranny of monarchy so we could form a Republic. So that means you're a hero, and yesterday was--"

All the children started chirping out, "Kingslayer Day!" and cheering.

"Actually, it's called the Blessed Regicide..." she mumbled.

"You're a...boy? Right?"

"My name is Jasmine, pretty sure I'm a girl," she said, chuckling.

Stanley scoffed. "When did you know you were a girl?"

Jasmine scoffed right back. "All my life, silly."

"Silly? I was forty-two years old when I finally realized I'm a boy. Still amazed at the intelligence of humans, knowing your sex so early!"

"I'm not a baby, I'm almost twelve!"

"And me and Firouzée are Kindred," Tarique replied.

"Firouzée and I," Stanley corrected, with a wink directed at Jasmine.

They all laughed. Stanley counted nine larvae, including Tarique and Firouzée. "I'm going to assume that these naughty twins broke our agreement, since you are all here."

Most of the children laughed again. Other than the two Kindred children, there were another four girls and three boys, all seven of them human that little boy has a touch of Kith though gonna be stronk one

"That reminds me, where is your elf parent? I haven't seen them."

Firouzée spoke up. "Moni had to go to her tree for adult stuff." She rolled her eyes. "Dorcas watches us while she's gone."

"Adult stuff, right. Isn't that once per moon?"

"Yeah."

"What's her grove?"

"Longleaf Pine at the Oxbow."

"How come she didn't take you? Aren't you corded?"

"Yes, and she says once we're twenty we can go."

"And how old are you now?"

"Ten."

"Soooo..." Stanley counted in the air in front of him, "you have a minute to get ready."

"You said we could hold her this time," Firouzée reminded him.

"All right, fine. But let's all sit down. You're not allowed to run around with her. It's not safe for non-Kingslayers. Do you understand?"

Nine little heads nodded, then they took their seats in the grass and weeds allowed to grow under the shade of the pecan. A shimmering wall of sunflower leaves fluttering in the afternoon breeze sheltered them all from casual eyes. Stanley sat among them, then pulled out his bluewood dagger. Nine little voices ooohed.

"Don't touch her edge--she is very sharp. But when you hand her to the next person, hold her by the flat of the blade, like this," Stanley gripped the blade with his finger and thumb, "and hand her to them hilt-first. If you're scared of the edge, hold her on your palm flat with the hilt toward the next person. Can you do that?"

"Yes, Mister Traqueljax," they all said. Stanley followed his own instructions and handed the dagger, blue hilt first, to Firouzée. Her jaw dropped. She whispered, "You really killed the Dead King with this?"

"I did, with my friends. Fjalle was one of those friends."

"How come no one knows about all this?" Jasmine asked.

"Well," Stanley sat back, leaning on his hand behind him, "we weren't sure if the Dead King's friends were going to be mad and try to kill us back, and we all wanted to go back to living like normal people. Unfortunately, his friends aren't done doing bad things to people. They did kill the Pixie lady. Her name was Tinky Waggles."

The children giggled. "That can't be her name!" said the littlest boy.

"Oh, it really is! Waggles was the name of her commune, because they had lots of dogs. But see," Stanley looked off toward the west and bit a nail, "the bad people even killed the dogs and drowned their puppies. Pretty sure they'd kill larvae too if they got the chance."

All of the children cringed at the puppy bit.

"Why did they kill her?" asked the third boy, somewhat larger than the tiny one.

"Because her commune had the Bad Blue Box that belonged to the Dead King. And this is why I want to talk to you today. I've proven who I am, right?"

Nine little voices said, "Yes Mister Traqueljax."

"And I'm telling you all this now because you are in danger. That danger might be coming here. Tonight." Stanley watched while his dagger got handed around among the children like a bear cub with its mother watching, until they realized what he was saying and gasped. "I'm telling you all this because I want you to run away tonight. Get your parents to run away too. I think the bad people might be coming to hurt everyone here tonight."

"Did they hurt the people at the Fast?" Jasmine asked quietly. "I saw a lot of smoke to the east before the chimney fire."

Stanley dropped his head. "They're all dead, except for the people who came with me. Even I couldn't stop them."

Little Almost Kith Boy started to cry. Jasmine held him and stroked his black hair. "Where do we go?"

"Anywhere--the Colossi, or Longleaf Pine at the Oxbow. No one is going to be needed to manage the Wonky Donkey for a few days anyway. We're going to rest here a bit if we can, and then go away as fast as we can so maybe the bad people will follow us instead of hurting your village."

"You gotta rest," Tarique said, placing his hand on Stanley's shoulder, "or you'll get Exhausted. That's why moni has to take naps."

Stanley nodded at him. "Now here's the scariest part of what I'm asking of you larvae." Stanley held his hand out to receive his dagger back, now that all of the children had examined it. Jasmine correctly placed its handle in his palm, and he nodded at her smartly. "If your parents don't leave, you should run away anyway. I'm dead serious. Run south. The Faeries won't hurt you. I promise. I'm really one of them."

"Oh yeah?" Tarique said, looking at Stanley sideways, pointing at his braid.

"My dad is Unseelie, but I was born and corded under the Banyan's dripline." Stanley removed his boot and showed them the tribal tattoo under his heel.

"Oh...I'm sorry," said Jasmine.

"It's all right. I've had fifty-five years to move past that." not that I've done well in doing so Stanley smiled at her, then put away his dagger and held out his arms. "I know you're all super brave even though you're scared." The children all piled on him in a big hug. "I'm positive I'll see all of you again after this night, all right? That's how clever and strong I know you all are." After planting a kiss on every little brow, he disentangled from the children and stood up.

"Don't forget: no matter if your parents don't believe you, run away tonight."

"Yes Mister Traqueljax!"

"Now come help me wash my mule and you'll get to pet her."

"Yes Mister Traqueljax!"

As they all tromped back, over the nodding heads of the giant flowers Stanley caught the sight of Fjalle watching him from the road. She turned and left before they reached her.

\* \* \*

All Stanley had to do was call Spot and she trotted over to him as they passed the road where she was munching some grass on the margin. The children accompanying him like a cloud of bugs squealed with delight. Jasmine sent the smallest girl to the barn to fetch a scrub brush and a grooming brush. Behind the barn was a water tower with a noria wheel beside it. The wheel dipped water out of a little canal dug away from the creek--the same creek that fed the Fast as well--and each bucket on the wheel tipped over at the top to drop its load into a cistern that fed the tower. They led Spot downstream from there and started scooping water on her muddy hide.

The little girl came back from the barn. "Aunty Fjalle told me to tell you she needs to tell you something," she said as she slapped the brushes into Tarique's open palm. "She's in the barn."

"Behave," Stanley told Spot before he left.

"What about us?" Tarique asked.

Stanley scoffed, rolled his eyes, shook his head, then turned to tromp toward the barn, waving dismissively at the children. They laughed. He looked around at them as he walked away, frowning deeply and holding his arms out, palms up. They laughed harder.

As he entered the barn, he saw Fjalle fiddling with something in the back of the cart. Stanley caught her eye with his own smile, and she smiled back, putting her finger to her lips.

She approached him without speaking and stopped right in front of him. Then she dashed her hand out and just snatched his dagger clipped to his belt, right out of the sheath. Its blue wooden handle glowed for a moment as she cut open her own thumb. After sucking it for a moment, she dropped to a crouch and began to unlace and remove his boots. Stanley was about to say something but she looked up with a tiny frown and shook her head.

After removing his boots and socks, she kissed his feet. "I seal your feet with blood and a kiss. Let them trip if you jump ship."

Stanley's brain staggered and fell on its ass. she is saying the oath again The rest of him stood stock still. Most of the rest of him.

Her finger hooked over his belt buckle before deftly unbuckling it, pulling his belt away, coiling it, and carefully placing it with his boots and socks. She unlaced his pants and pulled them down, carefully guiding his feet out of the legs. She gently hung the pants over a stall door, then knelt before Stanley, took another suck from the cut on her thumb, and kissed his knees.

"I seal your knees with blood and a kiss. Let them never bend us before those who would end us." Although the caress of her lips turned them straight to jelly, his knees managed to continue enabling him to remain standing.

She unbuttoned his shirt, removed it, and placed it with his pants before kneeling in front of Stanley again. "I seal your cock with blood and a kiss. Let it droop if you're the dupe." After another drop of blood from her thumb, she placed her lips gently on his tip before briefly taking him into her mouth. He hissed in through his teeth. Every other sensation in his body felt muted except for the warm caress of her tongue and the mischeivous but soft rake of teeth. After a moment she stood up with an impish grin and took another drop of blood from her thumb.

"I seal your heart with blood and a kiss. Let it fail if you curtail." Fjalle softly kissed the center of Stanley's chest while her thumbs danced over his completely erect nipples. By now his entire skin burned and froze at the same time and air came into him like poured syrup.

After a fifth drop from her thumb, Fjalle put a hand on each of Stanley's cheeks. " I seal your tongue with blood and a kiss. Let it snag before you wag." She pulled his face down, finding Stanley's lips with her own, opening his mouth to hers. She kept daylight between their two bodies, however. Even so, when his now-erect penis brushed against her navel, he began to recall the last time her legs were wrapped around his waist and his cock was buried within her. why couldn't you let me stay When she withdrew from the kiss, she handed the dagger back to Stanley.

Stanley crouched before Fjalle, removing her boots and socks before slicing open his own thumb and sucking the wound. "I seal your feet with blood and a kiss. Let them trip if you jump ship." He planted ten tiny kisses on each of her toes, including the now-missing one.

He unbuttoned the straps of her overalls and let them fall into a pile around her ankles. After sucking his thumb again, he kneeled before her. "I seal your knees with blood and a kiss. Let them never bend us before those who would end us." After planting his lips upon each of her knees and resisting the urge to blaze a trail up your thighs instead he guided her feet out of the collapsed denim garment. He folded it over the stall door as well before kneeling in front of Fjalle and taking another drop of blood from his thumb.

"I seal your cunt with blood and a kiss. Let it bite if you must fight." His mouth closed on the frontal fold of her exquisitely manicured silver vulva, his tongue darting farther to more silken flesh. He heard her draw her breath in sharply. It took a minute for her hand to find his chin and gently guide it and the rest of his face and head away. He caught her eye. She quirked her brow at him. As Stanley stood up he could see goosebumps puckering the striated skin over her belly. He backed away a step to make enough room for him to unbutton her shirt with his shaking hands. He lifted it from her arms, folded it, and put it to the side very cursorily before burying my face in her tits taking a drop of blood. "I seal your heart with blood and a kiss. Let it curtail if I fail. Wait." Fjalle failed to suppress a chuckle. He finished by putting his lips on her sternum between familiar breasts, a few inches lower and dappled now with freckles that numbered the years since I last saw your entire body Her breath began to shudder--his had been doing that since she kissed his cock.

He stood up fully before Fjalle, not quite a head taller than she. He took his own fifth drop of blood from his thumb. "I seal your tongue with blood and a...fuck it." Stanley scooped her face into his hands and began devouring her lips like a starving man. He felt her arms fling around his neck, her knee slide up his outer thigh, and her ankle hook behind the small of his back just like the last time. Her lips met his ear while his journeyed along her neck muscles. "I want you to make me sing," she said before biting his earlobe.

He hitched his hand below her cocked thigh and reached for the other to hoist her up while she held on by her arms around his neck and by her legs around his waist. He moved the both of them to the back of the wagon, where he realized she'd been making a nest of horse blankets. "I'll give you an opera."

She laughed. "You're the one with the baton!" Her legs flexed, pulling his groin aganst hers, putting punctuation to her request. His blood thundered under his skin while he clumsily fumbled about his own anatomy, nervously giving himself to her body.

Chapter 5

"I missed you," he whispered when he was able to breathe again.

She looked down at their conjoined groins. "No, looks like you got a couple nice hits in there."

He laughed before he pulled her face down to his. "I've wanted this the whole time I was gone. I wanted to become your children's father like you asked, I can do that now, let me stay with you, I'm positive--"

"No, old man. You can't."

Tears stung his eyes. "You wanted me to stay--"

"That was fifty-five years ago," she reminded him softly. "I can't make your children anymore. I haven't been able to for over twenty years now."

moon and stars "Do you want me to stay?"

"Of course. But my children have already been made, and they have children. Do you want to stay?"

"I don't want to leave you."

you knew I would want this

~do~you~want~me~to~make~you~leave~I~have~backup~plans~

kill me first

She cocked her head and cupped his cheeks in her hands. "Then don't." She disengaged from him, then met the ground with her bare feet and peeked out the back door of the barn. "I suspect we might have had an audience."

"What makes you say that?" Stanley looked at his dirty leather pants.

"Spot is tied up to the hitching post."

"Sun above, yeah they saw us."

"They gotta learn about it some time. Come on, at least let's wash our junk before we...ugh...I don't want to put those damp, muddy clothes back on."

"We have horse blankets."

"Then everyone's going to know--"

"They know already," he laughed, "especially the Seer. She says not but I'm sure she can read minds--"

"No, that's impossible," Fjalle replied casually. "No one can read minds."

says you

"You know what," she continued, looping a blanket around Stanley with a peck on his mouth, "Dorcas keeps a box of clothes that people leave behind. I'm pretty sure I saw a lacy red negligee you'd look stunning in."

"Those things itch," he protested.

"The sacrifices we make for a good shag. Also, I need you at the meeting I'm holding after we get dressed."

"I'd rather get a bit of extra sleep."

"It's just a couple of hours, and I need them to know what you know."

He kissed her. "The sacrifices we make for a good shag."

\* \* \*

"As you may have figured out," Fjalle began, two hours later, clothed in a cute yellow frock she found in Dorcas' "Left Behind" box which she made Stanley drag to the Bouncing Buck suite of the Wonky Donkey, "I am now the Commancer of the Fast by right of seniority. And I have officially called for a very special debriefing amongst my cohort, Crown's Own Justicar Dame Sedna Fedraxx," she flourished her hand toward Sedna, "and my very esteemed subordinate staff," she flourished her hand toward the three polymaths and Robbert, "and my fellow Kingslayer, Stanley somethingorotherFaeriebutt." She dismissively waved at him.

"Traqueljax," he said.

She stood before Sedna, Robbert, Varolus, and the Seer, who were all arranged on overstuffed chairs and a sofa in the parlor of the suite. The Seer and Sedna sat next to each other, eyes still a bit red, holding hands in solidarity. Behind Fjalle sat an inert hearth. Beneath her feet, an expertly knotted rug. Stanley sat off to the side at a desk against the wall of the small parlor, not with the clique of government officers.

"I would like to point out the Fast is lost," Sedna pointed out, pointing her finger in the air as she did so.

"The Fast is mine!" Fjalle replied, eyes literally blazing, holding up a clenched fist. damn it if Glamour isn't the hottest shit on her oh stars above not right now Stanley quickly crossed his legs. "Castille and Lorinni enchanted the walls but I pulled them out of the ground and I shaped them. I know this does not jibe with the official story, but the three of us figured people might put two and two together and come up with 'Kingslayer' since we were all made out as these epic heroes or something. You thought there were only five. Today, you embark on a learning experience. There were eleven of us. Nine of us participated in a Blood and Body Oath after our primary benefactrix, the Dowager Duchess, brought us together as a capable strike force against the highly unstable Dead King.

"You also know that the Dead King had deliberately gone through the process to become an undead creature known as a lich. Stanley will go over that part later. Five of us directly confronted the Dead King, four managed recon, intel, and post-battle processes, and the Dowager Duchess and the Dark Tyrant were our benefactors for material and logistic support."

~you~know~what~happens~when~you~fuck~up~

Stanley's left breast stung for a moment. He clenched his jaw, not out of the pain.

"Wait--Dark Tyrant?" Varolus asked, almost laughing.

Fjalle and Stanley both laughed together about that. After she recovered, Fjalle replied, "I swear to the sun he called himself 'Dark Tyrant'....Never actually saw him, but he knew where to send--well, that's later. He's a Mentat of some sort, and we all know they're amazingly well-balanced and completely normal. That sketchy and relatively young elf over there is one of the Five, of which only two are left alive." The quartet turned to Stanley, who waved shyly. "I, your new Commancer, was one of the Four, all still standing."

Everyone but Fjalle and Stanley audibly gasped. "That's why she took poison," Sedna murmured. The Seer suddenly looked back at Stanley with a fierce frown over two of her eyes, pointing at the third one. Stanley frowned back, shaking his head, and shrugged.

"Since I was there for the creation of the Fast, I know how it was constructed. Allow me to elucidate. A fragment of the ancient skystone what created the Crater Sea lay beneath the steppe between Regula and Heliopolis, and I pulled the stone--mostly made of iron, actually--out, refined it, and shaped it. You're sun-damned welcome. My late wife, Castille Satorey, and our other fellow support Kingslayer, Lorinni Traqueljax--also the father of the stabby stab guy--were commissioned by the Diet of Justicars to create a magically-supported fortress should the newly formed exile settlement at the time, now called Heliopolis, get frisky. And for the last fifty-five years, they have not been particularly frisky. Now if you know kids," she shook a finger accusingly in the air, "when they're quiet is when they're making trouble. And you all know that I know kids." Fjalle glanced at Stanley pointedly before continuing.

"Our secondary and quite frankly very secret mission was to make a safe haven for us Oathbound Kingslayers. This is why Stanley was able to breach the walls. They were already ready to welcome him. This is also why Simon made it through. And I will tell you right now how Coshebas did it too.

"See, Simon was one of the Five. Personally, I thought he was a piece of shit but he was unmatched at shield and partisan and we needed that. I knew he was a piece of shit because I've seen a look on the faces of his women servants and that look said, 'used.'"

Sedna dug her fingers into the arm of the sofa. She kept her face impassive but tears have their own way of making themselves known.

"As you know, he went on to become Crown's Own Justicar, the public voice of the Diet of Justicars, which replaced the incredibly stupid and sexist monarchy that died with the Dead King. Simon was also sexist which made him half stupid, but he kept to the law when the law was made better and that is literally the very last praise I will ever utter about that asshole.  He was a little older than me, and now he's dead. And he chose to die within the walls of the Fast, the one place on all of this planet where he could be safe.

"But how did Coshebas and his cohort enter the Fast with Simon? The answer lies within a flaw in the armor, one we put there for mercy. We figured that our cohorts would go start families, like Castille and I eventually did, by the time our enemies sussed out who we were. Let's say...Stanley here found a Faerie wife and made a Faerie baby, and then the bad guys found out who he was and who they were to him. He could have just held his wife's hand while one of the two of them held the child, and all three of them would have come through the wall."

"Faeries don't marry," Stanley remarked quietly. Fjalle shot him a look that wasn't warm.

"You also know that my late wife and parent of my children was brutally murdered a year and a day ago by a polymath we all held in high regard and respect at the time, Coshebas Patrubon. He was a master of Carnal Vicissitude. Somehow he survived execution by way of me blowing his skull apart. He is back. I saw him with my eyes." Fjalle turned her back to everyone and put her head down for a few moments before turning back to her people. "And I blew his head off again, not that it ever seemed to matter. He and his mercenary cohort must have been touching Simon as the Wall let him through. We all know what happened next.

no the mercenaries were the four dweebs that stuck next to Puddles von Evil distracting us from Kith Scouts

she'll bite my head off if I correct her

"Y'all heard Coshebas taunting us when we were stuck in the dungeon. But what I'm about to tell you will amaze and shock you: Coshebas wasn't after us. He's not going to bother us for a bit. If he were, he'd've done so already when we were in an open field. They could have picked us all off, one by one, like ticks from a dog. We meant nothing to him.

"I am positive Coshebas got exactly what he set out to do and that was to disrupt two things." Fjalle held up two fingers. "Our line of defense, and our surveillance capabilities in the Eastern Quadrant, where the only hostiles are...you know. But he was never, ever privy to the two tertiary missions of the Fast, one of which was to protect highly sensitive documents pertaining to national security. That protection transcends us Kingslayers, since I made that document dungeon under Building 17 Kingslayer-proof."

"Question," Sedna asked, leaning forward. After Fjalle nodded at her, she continued. "Why put these documents on the frontier right next to a hostile settlement?"

"Fantastic question indeed!" Fjalle answered, slicing a finger of knowledge through the air in front of herself. "Because I wasn't about to drag several hundred tons of iron-rich ore what fell from the Great Dark Sea a billion years ago across a hundred-something kilometers to stuff into the Diet of Justicars's basement all the way in Regula's Crown. No matter where that box is, it's safe from the bad guys, no matter who those bad guys are. And no," she pointed at the Seer and Varolus for some reason Stanley couldn't see, "you two never will be bad guys, I swear y'all scraping a nerve of mine. I'd trust you two with my grandbabies. Moving on.

"The second tertiary mission is one that none of you know about, not even you old man, but it's time that you did."

"The Ph--" Stanley began.

"Do you ever want seconds on that honeypot? This is my speech."

The Seer's face split into an extremely shit-eating grin. Robbert covered his face. Varolus rolled his eyes and said, "He is his father's son." Sedna folded her arms, shook her head, and sighed. Stanley shrank in his seat and bit his lip. Suddenly, he could uncross his legs.

"Now I've been bugging...the previous commander of the Fast," Fjalle bowed her head toward Sedna, "for years to get a pair of eyes physically into Heliopolis and he just didn't want to. 'Why?' you may ask, as well you may. Because we lost something, and the best intelligence said it moved east. Our previous Commancer felt that it was too risky an undertaking and I fully get why, but I also have my older mission, the one from fifty-seven years ago."

"Why isn't the Diet of Justicars aware of this?" Sedna asked. "How do you get funding for this mission?"

"You will find it listed under 'discretionary expenses' in the official budget. Which is also kept in the dungeon. Don't worry, we won't pad the bill too much. And the only reason you are even finding out right now is because you got pulled into it. It was completely need-to-know, although pretty soon everyone is going to need to know. I will now yield the floor to the Seer, who will share with you what she shared with me the night before the Fast was sacked, which is why we all, not just in the Republic of Regula, but every being that we can reach on this planet, needs to know."

\* \* \*

"Are you sure, Fjalle?" the Seer asked. Fjalle nodded. The Seer stood up, Fjalle sat down in the warmth of her spot on the sofa.

"Introduce yourself and then give the briefing," Fjalle said.

"All right. I have no name, by choice, but I am the disciple of the Third Eye and a Mentat, and I currently and have been holding the position of Director of Surveillance in the Fast for around ten? years? Is it ten already?"

"Sure is," Fjalle replied. "Go on."

"Now, the past few days I had been tracking this very...the only way I can describe it is NONSTOP MIND. I could not shut it out! Y'all know Mentats can't just yank your thoughts out of your head; anything you seal up in your skull is private. We can't access it without stupid amounts of effort and then it'll probably kill one or both of the people involved." The Seer rolled her eyes this way and that with a Glamour-exaggerated idiot's grin. "But some Mentats can broadcast. Something like this Mentat is completely wild, untrained, like a broken lighthouse just slinging their thoughts around for any sensitive Mentat to catch. Mentat Mentat Mentat I say that a lot don't I?" She looked to the side absently while whispering, "Mentat." She cleared her throat. "Out of my system now.

"This fella, and I know it was a fella, he was barely brainable around the Colossi, moving east. He intrigued me since Mentats really are extremely rare; like, it's a miracle he and I met by, um, chance...and when one is spotted they usually get scooped up by governments or big unions or whatever big wig wants a superbrain. Most of the time they start their career while they're still children, as I was. This is also why we're often a bit weird, some gurus--not naming any names--don't let their students socialize outside their training. As you know I'm not weird at all." The Seer chuckled at her own joke with everyone else, then Fetched her tankard into her hand and took a deep swig.

"So I'm watching this guy tootling on eastward," the Seer did some finger walking in the air with tapered ears on one hand, "and eventually I sense he's got a buddy and it's a girl and Oh Dear Me This Is An Elf Man and He's Feeling Randy!"

Stanley spoke up. "We're almost always randy, it's our biology."

"Don't I know it!" Fjalle said before slapping her knee and busting out laughing. Everyone joined in.

"You're talking about me, aren't you?" fuck fuckitty fuck not good not good not fucking good at all that must be how she found us

The Seer put her hand up to her imaginary pearls. "Whyever would I do that? Spoilers: yes, the sketchy stabby horny elf here is correct and ruined my adorable narrative. Except I'm not done. Please refrain from doing that again, thank you." She cocked her head and broke out into the most dazzling smile Stanley had ever seen. One of her teeth twinkled for effect. It would have been charming if her smile hadn't so many teeth in it.

"One of my duties is to periodically take the Heretical Communion." The tips of Stanley's ears perked up. The Seer pointed and grinned at him. "How did I know you'd like that? I'm supposed to record what the Heresy mushroom shows me, and it gives accurate visions to trained Mentats only. Everyone else just gets trippy and high. I hold this Communion only once a week because it's pretty intense, let me tell you. Whoo!" The Seer fanned herself with her hand and giggled. Then her face dropped.

"The night before the sacking, that was my regular Communion night. I do this at night because the vibe is calmer, there's less noise, less distraction; and you cannot be distracted if you're doing this for national security. And now that I had an unshakable thread on that man I could use it to focus the scope of the Communion. Now guess what I saw?"

"I'm not sure Sedna could take it if I guessed," Fjalle said.

"Good thing you're taking it then," Sedna replied.

"Hold on to your hats, because I saw--ta-da!" The Seer gave the air in front of her a wicked uppercut. "The End Of The World!" She turned around, arms outstretched above her head, waving little multicolored fireworks sparkles from her wiggling fingers, mimicking the exact sound of a large audience in applause from her mouth before continuing, "Everyone dead!" She punched the air, and beneath her feet appeared a carpet of corpses. "Whole forests blown to the ground!" Punch-punch, behind her trees bent unnaturally against a gust so profound some of them snapped and blew away. "Rivers boiling from their channels!" Glamour water beneath her was touched by the wind that destroyed the Glamour trees, and flash-boiled into vapor in seconds. "IT'S A CATASTROPHE!" Behind her, thin lines of fire marched across the globe of the entire planet like a newly lit incense brick.

Stanley could hear Varolus whisper to Sedna, "She's not weird at all." Stanley saw Sedna nod back.

"I'm not weird, I'm stressed! I have five days to find a ripe Heresy mushroom and I don't even know where they grow!"

"In the basements of Heretic churches," Stanley offered.

"Is that how long before your vision comes to pass?" Sedna asked very seriously.

"No fucking clue. That's just when I do my Heretical Communion again. Can't let something as trifling as the utter sacking of the place I called home for a whole decade and the brutal murder of nearly all of my friends and colleagues--" No Glamour accentuated her angry finger this time as she sliced it up and down to the tempo of her speech "--stop me from performing my regular duties to the Republic." The Seer pointed at Fjalle with another little sparkle burst, who stood up again. The Seer returned to her seat after a little hand-slap with the older woman.

Fjalle turned to face the Fast, rubbing her palms together. "Can't say that wasn't entertaining! Let's move on."

\* \* \*

Fjalle cleared her throat loudly before continuing with her presentation. "Varolus doesn't know it yet, but this next mission of the Fast needs him more than anybody with a sword, or a spear, or a boomstick. If any of y'all didn't know, he's all into the Great Dark Sea and knows how to sling a telescope. Varolus, come up here and teach us all about comets."

"I get the afterglow, I see," he grumbled as he stood, straightened the left-behind suit with too-short arms and legs. "My name is Varolus Stavlos, I'm an avid skywatcher and Librarian of the Crown and as such, I command things that are written. I am very...very unused to making publicly spoken reports, so please bear with me."

"Teach us some basic astronomy. Star system first. I do love the sky."

"I hope my Glamour can hold up, the Seer set quite a precedent. All right. How many of you know where the sun is?"

Everyone put their hands up. Varolus chose Sedna.

"It's in the sky."

"Well yes, beyond that. I'm talking kilometers."

Everyone looked at each other for an answer without finding one.

"It's almost one hundred fifty-MILLION kilometers away."

"Shut your mouth!" said the Seer.

"How can we even see it from that far?" asked Sedna, openly incredulous.

Robbert actually looked smug and not surprised.

"Because it is HUGE! It's over a MILLION kilometers in diameter!"

"That's bigger than the world!"

"It sure is. If you're amazed now, your education has been absolutely dismal up to this date. The sun has to be that far away because it is, and none of you will be surprised one bit, a ginormous ball of the hottest fire you can imagine TIMES ELEVENTY ZILLION." Varolus nodded, and then pointed to a region of air where a large fiery yellow-green ball manifested. "This is our sun. Do you know what it really is, though? Because to be honest, there are so many of these in the sky I'm sure even Stanley can't live long enough to count them."

"Hold it, are you saying the sun is a star?" Robbert asked, this time with his eyes wide open.

"I am! Bet your minds are as exploded as Coshebas's was when Fjalle--"

"Keep going, Varolus," Fjalle said.

"Right. Sorry. Yes. The sun is one of a multitude of stars of all shapes and colors. Our star has worlds running in circles around it." Varolus' star shrank and around it he put tiny little dots with trails behind them, serenely orbiting. "These worlds--planets--aren't the only things to orbit a star. Dwarves at the Az Thanis Observatory have discovered all sorts of rocks that float in the Great Dark Sea."

"What keeps them in place?" Robbert asked.

"The same thing that keeps us--and our beautiful blue moon--bound to the world: gravity. Every object in the universe has gravity and here's how it wo--"

Fjalle cleared her throat.

"Other things that orbit a star are comets. They are not demons or spirits, they are just something--we're not sure what exactly but probably a type of rock--that also orbits the star not in rings like the planets, but like this." A narrowly outlined ellipse manifested with the star in a narrow end, almost looking like the eye of a fattish needle, its point touching the back wall of the parlor. " We can only see them when they are fairly close to the sun. That's probably be--"

"We're not ready for that yet," Fjalle said.

Varolus nodded. "Now if you will all join me, the sky is dark now, wonder of wonders there is no evening storm tonight, and I can show you a sight in the sky manifesting right now." Varolus made for a door in the back of the parlor, the one which did not have a privy behind it, and held it open for the other five. Varolus brought his Glamour orrery with him.

what I could do if I could use Glamour oh well not a polymath never a polymath

Behind that door, a flight of stairs led to the roof and its pond. The six of them emerged on a landing next to the roof pond, with a table and cloth folding chairs. Lily pads floated in it, and frogs sang their crepuscular song from atop those. A thermal chimney rose from the center--Stanley hadn't noticed its vent in the ceiling below but it was dark in there, after all. This pond's white canvas cover escaped the fire and had been pulled back. Stanley watched a faint haze of the night color above the water as it gave up its heat to the night sky. With no burning lanterns at all in the compound, that sky was finally free to display its glory with no competition. The entire sunset had already gone, leaving more distant stars to leave their ancient light upon the world.

"So every one of these stars could maybe have worlds and people on those worlds?" Sedna asked, turning about with her new paradigm of the universe.

"Yes, maybe. We can see the moon's atmosphere, it has oceans and clouds and its land turns green and brown with seasons, so we know that a world with the conditions of life can exist beyond our own. But nothing except light and gravity can traverse the Great Dark Sea, so we can only admire and hope."

"There it is," Stanley said, pointing east to the green smudge he saw the night before. Everyone else looked.

"Yes," Varolus continued, "that is the Starlight comet. The great astronomer Doctor Starlight herself catalogued this as Comet Number One. It was what drove her to study the sky for over a thousand years."

"That's a fucking long time," said the Seer. "Is she an elf?"

"Yes," Varolus answered. "She came from the Unseelie Court, but this was before the Faer Schism. All elves were Unseelie then."

"This was amazingly informative," Sedna said, "but I don't see how this connects to anything resembling being related to the end of the world."

Varolus held up a packet of papers he pulled from an inside jacket pocket. "This is the document you handed me, Sedna, right before the sacking. You said it was in Nerdish. It's actually in Az Khalud."

Sedna stared for a second, then blinked and shrugged.

"It's from Dwarf astronomers, they call their langu--forget it. It's about that comet you see right there."

"It looks pretty close," Stanley remarked.

"It is pretty close. Right now maybe...halfway from here to the orbit of Rhod, the next world away from the sun. In the Great Dark Sea, as you have just recently learned, that is practically nipping at your heels. Now the Dwarves of Az Thanis and Doctor Starlight both worked together, as the Thanid Range pokes up through the cloud deck. They built great telescopes with lenses based on her designs and got even better views of the sky."

"And this is salient because...?" Fjalle said, rolling her hand.

"Because this report you gave me, Sedna. Dwarves have seen that whatever is the core of that comet, it's going through cleavage."

All the women looked at their own chests. "Not my cleavage," the Seer said. Fjalle and Sedna assented.

Varolus scoffed. "That means it's busting into pieces. This is the comet that makes the star shower we see at the Celebration--we travel through its trail of rubbish."

"Star showers aren't the end of the world," the Seer said. "They're pretty!"

"That's because comet rubbish is tiny. It's little pebbles burning in the air, that's what a star shower is. Very few of them make it to the ground, but they'll be at least the size of your thumb after that if they had enough matter in them to survive atmospheric ablation. The comet...according to Starlight's calculations, has the mass of a small mountain. It has to have size, since it's been seen beginning to split. And since it's splitting, there will be larger pieces in the rubbish trail. There could conceivably be pieces...big enough to build another Fast."

"Wait, Fjalle said something earlier. That the Fast is made from a Great Dark Sea rock made of iron that was flung from the collision that created the Crater Sea. The basin of that sea is..." The Seer flung her arms wide.

"Fjalle was correct: it was about a billion years ago. And that is a good thing--there were no animals and plants on the land at the time. When that rock fell, it incinerated all of the land under the sky in the world in a way that's very close to the description the Seer gave us of her vision."

Cicadas sang from the trees, nearly drowning out Varolus' voice.

"The good news, the mass of the comet is less than the estimated mass of the entire rock that created that basin. And the Moon will also sweep some of the debris or knock it away. So it's not quite a done deal, but the margin of safety is...dismally small. The report states that the best case scenario brings us a second Starless Night. So...the collapse of the entirety of the entire world's food chain, possibly for years." Varolus paused. "Coastal communities might be able to survive on seaweed and ocean fish for a while if they prepare now."

"Worst case?" Fjalle asked.

"The entire surface burns, minus anything more than a few inches underground. All the fresh water on the surface will vaporize and the surface of the oceans will boil. Just like a billion years ago."

"This is her comet," Fjalle said, "so does Doctor Starlight have anything to say about this? Didn't the Dwarves consult her?"

"They don't mention her at all, but she also went silent about two hundred years ago."

"All right then. Back inside, folks. Next, Stanley gets to tell us about the lich he destroyed."

As they filed down the stairs, Stanley put his hand on Varolus' shoulder. "I thought it was a joke too," he said.

Varolus frowned. "What do you mean?"

"Before the sacking, you thought Sedna had made a comet joke."

Varolus looked down and to the side for a moment. "I'd almost forgotten that. Thank you."

\* \* \*

Once back in the parlor of the Bouncing Buck suite of the Wonky Donkey (pitch black now except for the Seer's Glamour lights, which looked like little flashing fireflies), everyone sat exactly in the spot they had been before they went outside except Varolus, who sat at the desk Stanley wasn't sitting at anymore. Stanley stood in front of the hearth and cleared his throat nervously. The Seer's Glamour flies collected around his face, lighting it dimly in more-or-less synchronous flashes. Stanley could see all of the people in front of him clearly, in various hues and saturations of the night color.

"This next bit may be a bit intense. Very few of us ever meet up with the undead...but that's because the undead are usually hungry revenants which have to be put down quickly. So because of that," Stanley stretched out his arm and wiggled his fingers, frowned at them, wiggled them again, scoffed, and let his arm drop, "no Glamour. Sorry." not like Dad didn't try though

"Is this the lich bit?" the Seer asked, brows hitched up, knees to her chest, one hand over her third eye tattoo, the other one over her real eyes. The fireflies remained.

Sedna laughed. "You're an undead expert or something?"

"I've done a little tiny bit of work involving them. Usually involving hunting them down and cutting them to pieces and burning the remains, as I do with most of my other victims." He shrugged. "I'm sure you've tracked and hacked ghouls infesting graveyards, stalked a vampire stalking a Justicar..." The Seer peeked up at Stanley with wide-eyed surprise when he said that. "...or dismantled the last of a five-hundred-plus-year-old royal dynasty who, one fine day, decided 'fuck it, I'll go through a twenty-five year process and become a lich.' and called that a typical Monday." Stanley looked vaguely upward, scuffed the rug with his bare heel, and stuffed his hands into the pockets of the black cotton trousers he'd found in the same box with Fjalle's new dress. "I was a little busy the past fifty-five years."

"A lot of us were," Fjalle noted.

Stanley nodded, then continued. "All right, about liches. I've really only encountered the one, but I studied him for a year before we ended it. We'd all heard of liches, usually in horror novels. I mean, no one had even been near one in centuries, so I was stuck with oldy-moldy books from private libraries managed by some seriously crazy people. Crazier than my dad crazy." crazier than me maybe "One of them insisted I make his wife a baby." He shook his head. "Before you ask--no. I think they soon divorced, she wasn't very happy about her h--"

"Get on with it."

Stanley bowed his head to Fjalle. She didn't bow back. After a deep inhale through his nostrils, he went on. "You can divide undead into three categories: spirits with unresolved issues, infected bodies, and liches. I have no experience with spirits since that requires magic and rituals--definitely not me. There are two sorts of infected bodies, vampires and ghouls. Ghouls eat the freshly dead and become who they ate, including some of what their victims knew. Vampires of course drink straight up blood, and transfer blood back into the exsanguinated victim they wish to make progeny from."

"I thought it was just a bite," Robbert said.

"If that were the case, the entire planet would be peopled by them. So don't drink anything one of them offers you."

"How will I know they're a vampire?"

"You won't. Now, liches are different because they actually choose this, and they have to survive long enough to go through the process because, as I mentioned, it seems to take a really long time to complete the transformation. And there's another way liches are different from other undead: the body of the lich? isn't even really the lich. If you're able to do the impossible and dismantle one, you've only postponed what they're going to do next by a century, tops. If you really, really want to end the lich once and for all, you have to find its phylactery."

"Oh! I know phylacteries!" Robbert exclaimed with a big, proud smile.

"Good! I'd rather you explain what you know about them." Stanley flourished his hand to Robbert.

"The phylacteries we had...back there. They're a box, with a long strip of parchment with poems and verses that personally moved us from the Sacred Writ of the Phoenix or the Book of the Sun. We had to write one when we turned thirteen, and the church would give us the box to put it in, and then we'd wear it strapped to our arms to mass every sunset from then on. It was very personal, but it was like having a little of me in that box. And I'm a little sad I left mine behind." Robbert looked about with his smile, and the polymaths all nodded back at him, except the Seer. She clapped lightly and mouthed you did great!

"You did do great, Robbert," Stanley told him with a sincere smile. "Lich phylacteries are extremely similar. They involve a special container with a written record in them, and they're both bound to their owners."

"Is the written record...Nah." Robbert waved his hand dismissively, with a blush.

"No, say it, Robbert," Stanley replied.

"It's kind of dumb."

"It's dumber not to ask. Greatmother Zeko said asking is an act of bravery."

"Oh that's good, Stanley!" Fjalle exclaimed without mirth. "I'm gonna remember that one. Go ahead Robbert, I wanna hear your question too."

"All right. Is the written record in a lich phylactery kind of like the instructions to make another lich?"

Stanley cocked his head to the side. "We did call you deviously clever, right? Robbert is indeed correct. And just like with your phylactery, each one is intensely personal, because the lich really is in there. And you have to bust that container and feed its contents to a nest full of hypertermites in the bluewood forests of the Unseelie Court to end a lich once and for all. And then set the termite nest on fire."

"Did you do that with the Dead King?"

Stanley's smile never wavered. "I still have all of my body parts, so no. That was the last duty of the four."

"Your dad and I searched that castle up, down, side-ways, and in dimensions even you can't sneak into," Fjalle said. "Never found the Dead King's phylactery."

Stanley said, "You aren't a Waggles, that's why."

The Seer sat forward and said, "Is this where you apologize for lying to me about the lone survivor of the Waggles Holocaust?"

Stanley looked at her for three seconds before answering, "I'm sorry for lying to you about the lone survivor of the Waggles Holocaust."

The Seer sat back and put on airs. "I will accept that."

\* \* \*

Fjalle looked at Stanley, arms crossed, eyebrows hitched, eyes half-lidded, mouth a straight line. "How the hell did the Phylactery get to their Commune?"

"I was told--by the survivor--that the Duchess told her to snag it before anyone else could. He never told me why. She was a cousin of his and the two were really close."

"And you told none of us about this."

"I never saw you after fifty-five years ago!" Stanley started counting on his fingers. "Jude never held still because he's--"

"Shut your brain, Jude Satorey too? Jude the Dude? A Kingslayer too?" the Seer asked, breathily. She blushed all the way down to her bosom before she started fanning herself. "I have all of his songs memorized," she admitted breathlessly

"I find out now you were married and had kids after I left. Simon was...Simon. Very unreachable. Corky and Hanaa just need to be left the fuck alone., He was the Mansus Regal's Chief of Staff and she was the Director of Labor and they still carried out for us despite knowing their careers were going to evaporate. They weren't in position to do anything about this. And Dad--"

"Yeah? And Dad...?" She wheeled her hand around on her wrist. "He was still my Instructor for another year after you left. You weren't even there to see me attain Polymathesis. Guess who was? Castille."

"Are you trying to make an elf jealous? You know that always fails, right?"

"What did it matter to you?"

"I had to go find the Phylactery! You remember what we swore the Oath upon. You know for damn sure I'm utterly incapable of forgetting."

"I was looking too, as you may have just heard. You could have looked with me. You could have stayed just a little longer until I was done with my degree. You could have come with me to Az Thanis. You're the one who taught me Az Khalud, I thought you were coming with--"

"Every fucking day I was away I dreamed of getting back to you. I just had to find that fucking blue box--"

"Because you cared more about that fucking blue box than you did about me!"

Awkward silence ruled the parlor. Stanley stared, jaw-dropped, at Fjalle, who didn't even blink at him. this is when you just walk away.

"This is all I have to teach at the moment. You will find me with Spot for the rest of the night." He clipped his knife, in its sheath, to his waistband and, after glancing at Fjalle, turned and exited the Bouncing Buck Suite.

As he crossed the red pavement road to the barn, the hue of a human man approached him. "Hey, elf!" he called out.

Stanley stopped and let the man close the distance. "Can I help you?"

"I think you've done enough," he answered. "What kind of garbage are you filling my little boy's head with? He came home crying that we had to run away from the Dead King. He's only six. You terrified him."

"Oh, I'm sorry. No, the Dead King is gone but--"

"But now you're claiming to be a Kingslayer and scaring the children?"

"I--"

"And you let him handle a dangerous weapon. What if he'd been cut?"

"He wasn't lying. There are people coming--"

"Then where are they?" The man spread his arms and turned around under the rising light of the Maelstrom. "I don't see anyone. You're the one who can see in the dark, do you see them?"

"No--"

"Besides...I heard this morning the Templars were looking for some elf criminal."

"That's not what happened--wait who told you that--" seriously how would he have known

"You were there, you're the only elf I see." He swallowed, then took a menacing step toward Stanley, his fists tight on the ends of his arms, which were still down at his sides. "Stay the six hells away from the children. Quit telling them lies and scaring them. You don't belong here. Might want to stick close to those Polymath friends of yours and move along with them." He took a few steps backward, not turning his back on Stanley.

Stanley held his hands up, palms forward in front of his shoulders. "Fine. I'm leaving with them. It's the middle of the night. Go home and--"

"Don't tell us what to do!" He still wasn't turning his back as he walked away. Stanley shook his head and continued to the barn, glancing at the human as he took his night color back to the warm knot of houses that squatted along the cool creek.

who would have known about yesterday morning before we got here except...someone who was there

Chapter 6

Stanley hadn't even reached a dream when he felt Spot pawing at his foot with her hoof. At first he nudged her away, but when she did it again he sat up quickly and looked around. When he stood he put his finger to his lips. Spot farted. Stanley silently scoffed and crept toward the door of the barn, passing his still-damp and therefore creaky boots.

He pushed the door open by two centimeters and put his eye to the gap. Clouds had rolled in, but a slowly narrowing strip of the eastern sky was still clear. Beneath that distant edge of the deck, a blue and white bulge nudged up at the horizon. Stanley paused for a few seconds, recalling that it had been over a week since he'd stopped to watched the moon rise. He touched his dagger's hilt absently before he moved his eyes toward the inn.

Then he heard a horse grunt.

Stanley stole to the back of the barn and slipped out the rear door by the water tower. He remained at the base of the tower, opening his mouth and lifting his soft palate to quiet his own breath. The sound of the noria rotating and splashing water nearby prevented him from hearing anything else. A copse of bamboo kept him from seeing around the bend of the road to the east, where he thought he heard the horse. He dashed with small steps across soft, short grass toward the bamboo, then stole to a point where the giant stalks ended, allowing him to see up the road around the bend.

Four horses stood quietly on the road, bathed in clouds of the night color.

Stanley scanned over his shoulder for any other signs of the color and saw one for a moment before the rising moon became too bright to see that night color anymore. He estimated the clouds scudding to the east would take at least another half hour to blanket her away for the night. The smudge of night color had been standing in the road between the barn and the inn. Stanley ran silently, using short paces, hoping its back was to him to give him a few more meters of surprise.

Five meters away and the person in the road resolved into the Seer, who turned and smiled. "There yo--"

the hells she's doing out here at this time

Stanley covered her mouth with his left hand. Her eyes widened, but then she continued to smile. Up close, he could see her night color clearly.

my brain's so loud huh do you sense this

She nodded. He took his hand off her mouth.

show me three fingers if you sense my loud-ass brain

She raised her right hand and held up three fingers.

there are at least four people around here somewhere and they don't want us to know it go to the barn and stick close to Spot use the back door by the water tower

She grabbed her skirts and dashed off, her feet slapping softly on the pavement. Stanley watched her until her night color faded into the increasingly cloudy night, then he ran off toward the Wonky Donkey's back door near the Bouncing Buck suite. Like all the other doors to the exterior, Dorcas had placed a rock to keep it open so the creosote stench would leave the building.

He looked inside. He counted four masses of night color in the hallway, one bunched down by the doorknob to the Bouncing Buck. He saw a sword-shaped dark void of the night color in one hand.

"Hey!" Stanley yelled at the top of his lungs. He watched four heads turn. He himself turned tail and lit off, running outside on the gravel between the inn and the pavement toward the front door of the Wonky Donkey. He made big steps to be as loud as possible. The stench of burned creosote was strongest here and he saw that Dorcas had also left the windows open to air out the reception and dining room. He entered the building and sprinted toward the hallway that contained the door to the Bouncing Buck, yelling as loudly as he could, "WAKE UP--HOSTILES--WAKE UP!"

He heard doors opening but could not pinpoint where they were with their sounds bouncing off the stone walls. When he reached the hallway containing the door to the Bouncing Buck suite, he saw a night color bundle slip inside. The door stood nine meters away. He sprinted to the doorway just as a shortstick explosion sounded ahead, in a spot not far from where he himself had been standing and speaking not even two hours prior. He did not hear anyone scream, so he pulled his dagger out of its sheath, doubled back, and ran toward the dining area again.

One mass of night color ran right into him. Stanley did not recognize its hue. He lifted his eyes to those of the human whose wide-eyed face hovered an inch from his. Then the human's mouth opened and made loud words: "HIC IST KINDÁ LUNЁ!" He then shoved Stanley, snarling, "Go back west. You don't belong in our world." The elf's left fist pulsed where his knife's handle flashed a bright teal, matching the flash of rage surging in his mind at those specific words.

why are you telling me I don't belong here

The elf faced the Dead King again. He looked down at his right arm, expecting to see it drenched in his own blood. Today, it was not. He smiled at Treveque. "No. Now YOU hold still."

His adversary froze in place. A white-hot coal in Stanley's soul, sparked by something in those words Treveque said to him, informed him where his left hand should move. It said to move it a lot. His rage at this monster, this revenant who took the last fifty-seven years of his life away, was perfectly silent. The man stood in place, silent, stock-still, while the elf's knife stabbed and carved his flesh with absolute abandon, without thought, with black tunnel walls forming around each hole he put into a human's skin.

~look~at~you~enjoying~ending~a~real~life~I'm~impressed~

@#$%^&\*(\*&^%$#@@#$%^&^@#$%^&^%$#@@#$%^&\*!

It may have been an hour, it may have been a year, it may have been ten seconds, but the human pile of bleeding wicked meat finally sank to the floor where it belongs Stanley wasted no time contemplating anything--he yanked his blade free from Treveque's unmoving body in front of him and sprinted toward the open door to the outside of the Mansus Regal wait it's a hell of a lot smaller half hoping for an encore, half happy he wasn't prone and bleeding and broken like last time. He could redo the terrible aftermath. He could find that fucking blue box and then live with Fjalle and Castille and Jude and give them all the children they wanted didn't she say she wanted ten hope I can manage JUST FIND THAT FUCKING BLUE BOX your family needs you

Under the sparkling sky he turned his head this way and that, catching sight of two people running back toward the horses. He saw Fjalle's night color shape trot out the back door and then be washed out by the bright color and overwhelming percussion of two shortsticks firing. It left a spot in his vision but he walked with lethal purpose toward the area the two strangers' shapes had been.

"Don't kill them, old man!" he heard Fjalle shout. Fjalle is going to be my children's mother I enjoy obeying her He stopped, breathing hard through his bared teeth, fiddling with his knife impatiently in his left hand, looking about for more Dead Kings to ruin. maybe one of them has that fucking blue box

Another pair of feet ran up behind him. He turned and saw only a white mess of short hair almost two meters off the ground this isn't a lich go with her  They moved together toward the strangers, who had turned on their backs, arms up, keening in agony. As he got closer, the night color showed brighter where each of the men had previously kept a knee. Fjalle approached with her hand held out. Both men shrieked. He heard a soft thunk, then she examined her hand. "I'm gonna have to reforge that one, damn it." She put a foot on one man's knee, making him gasp and scream. "You will live if you tell me who sent you. Sedna, go find the Seer--Dear sun above old man! What the hells happen to you?"

He blinked, then looked at himself as if he'd just met himself. "I don't..." ~yes~you~do~would~you~like~me~to~make~you~recall~it~ "Sun and stars, no--"

"Holy shit, Stanley--are you all right?" This voice sounded like Dorcas.

"He's fine, I think?" Fjalle said to her friend while eyeing the elf from the side of her face with a little frown, then turned back to the men on the ground. "Tell me who sent you or you can bleed out. Your choice."

someone hit him dad stop this please he's killing me

I can't even breathe

that's my blood oh moon that's my own blood

One of the men on the ground sputtered, "Please...I don't want the world to end. Give back the Phylactery and we'll leave you alone--we will save you..."

Robbert and the Seer caught up, the latter circling around the elf by three meters, mouth agape and not taking her eyes off him. Stanley saw Robbert do a double-take. The man who spoke did too.

"Robbert," he gasped between his teeth, "tell them."

Robbert dropped his spear. Sedna immediately took his arm. He looked stunned.

"We trusted you," she snarled.

no this doesn't sound familiar at all

"We don't have any phylactery," Fjalle said to the supine man who spoke.

He began weeping. "We're lost, then..."

The other man just stared at the sky, gasping and crying. Stanley knelt by him, took his hand, and whispered, "We won't let you bleed out." The man gripped back tightly, his eyes widening when he saw the elf's knife. Stanley watched the blood drip off his knife hand, still in a fist around the bluewood handle.

~I'll~bet~he's~thinking~it~

I killed a living person in cold blood and he just stood there letting me do it

~yeah~how'd~you~do~that~

~again~

"Where is Varolus?" Fjalle asked.

"I'm here," Varolus called out. "Is the fighting ove--Drop me in the Maw! but first tell me what the fuck did you do, Traqueljax?"

"Tell me about it, not sure he can." Fjalle waved her hand at the men lying on the gravel. "Help us get them in and bind that blood. If they're good boys, they'll sing us a song." She paused. "Maybe we can use that knife and that scary bloody elf to our advantage."

"I have some other things to say to the scary bloody elf," Sedna grumbled before beckoning him to follow her.

\* \* \*

"What the sixth hell is this, Traqueljax?" Sedna pointed at the bloodstained heap of leather, flesh, and bone in the hall illuminated by a glowing rock in Sedna's hand that the Seer had put Glamour on. "Not a scratch on you. That's all his blood. You didn't have to liquefy him, even if you did have to kill him to protect people."

The blood went from the ceiling, clotted drips frozen in small maroon stalactites, into the woolen carpet, which squished when stepped upon. Stanley's foot left impressions where the liquid began to congeal.

"I saw you fighting in the Fast. You had restraint. This is the opposite of restraint. Where did you go to?"

no "Why were they looking for the Phylactery?" Stanley asked quietly. "I left the damn thing in Heliopolis as soon as that Mentat had Sabrine run through. I saw it but never touched it."

"Someone must have taken it after you left."

"How come no one knows that?"

"Right now I don't care. I'm terrified of you right now. I'm not even sure the lot of us could stop you if you wacked out like that on us."

~if~you~tell~her~ "I listened to Fjalle. I was still right here. And...um..." He drew his hands down his face as if to wipe away the vision, but instead just smeared more gore all over his skin. Sedna winced. "I was also killing the Dead King." ~why~did~you~have~to~do~that~

The acrid stench of boom dust reached his nostrils. Sedna's eyes darted to his right and then back to his eyes, but he saw it.

"That was fifty-seven years ago."

Stanley shut his eyes tightly. let it be the long one I'm so sorry here's your kill Sedna

Fjalle's voice spoke up from behind him. "Not to his brain, it ain't. He loves to admit he's always been a Mentat as much as he loves to admit he's always been Unseelie."

woman why do you always have to be the perfect lover

"We know, he seems to be a crazy beacon of Mittence--"

"I'm talking about the Touch of Nostalgia."

"What's that?"

Fjalle circled around him, shortstick in her hand but not pointing it at him. "Use your words, old man," she said in a low, quiet voice, her hand placed softly on his shoulder.

Stanley took a breath before opening his mouth. Nothing came out. He hung his head, then just said it. "I am truly, profoundly incapable of forgetting anything that happened in my life." there's that wet coat again

"And..."

"And sometimes, I get lost there." button the coat back up

Sedna shifted on her feet and cocked her head, brows drawn up but the rest of her face relaxing. "Is this all the time? Is it normal?"

so you can use it against me I'm so unstable I could be a threat

"It shouldn't be normal, but since no one can read minds, gurus won't sense any Mentat with this gift. By the time he was old enough to understand it, he was way too old. Gurus won't take on a student if they've reached puberty." In a lower voice added, "His father is a Mentat and didn't sense it--so the Mittence had to have come after he...left."

"I don't like being made to recall, so I've spent most of my time alone," he added, looking at his bare, bloody toes. what were you doing while you were alone are you gonna tell her that too He didn't want to look further up his body than that.

"Wasn't killing the Dead King the best thing ever though? I'd want to be able to recall that perfectly, forever."

Fjalle's eyes widened and she drew her head back an inch. "I didn't mention that his father and I were right outside the chamber the fight took place in. We watched it. Lorinni and I were there to scoop up the Phylactery before the staff woke up--Hanaa drugged their dinner. We only had an hour to get this done--the kill and the search."

"We were all very tired, to be honest," Stanley added.

"No, old man. Everyone else was profoundly winded, bruised, and relieved everything was over. You were bleeding, in shock, got beat the fuck up inside your skull and nothing was over for you. When Treveque realized shit was going down, he looked straight at this guy here coming up from behind, and then the rest of the Five weren't moving. Like time stopped for them."

"He was in my head. I can't say anything about the others."

"Your dad and I saw it all. I don't think Treveque knew we were there."

"He did--"

"What did Treveque do to you?" Sedna asked.

"He..." Stanley's hands pressed on his head, as he did before the unnaturally slow lightning strike--except this time, there wouldn't be any thunder to break the spiral. I belong here I belong here Ibelonghere oh stars I'll fall into the well if you make me  "Don't, please!" He leaned against the wall and slid down. "I can't, I can't, don't make me--"

"Oooh," Fjalle said, putting her shortstick on the ground and folding him into her arms. After a few moments, "Basically, Treveque almost got him to kill himself in front of us. Lorinni started screaming--I think that broke the spell. I'll fill you in on the details where he can't hear us, unless you want him to freak out again. But then this magnificent little man," she loosened her embrace and stared at him with a sparkling smile, "somehow told him to fuck right the hells off, and then it was like Treveque's hold on the others turned in on himself--"

"I told him to h--"

"--and then everyone else was free to whale on him--Stanley, quit trying to correct me or you'll fall in the well again! Sedna, you don't forget your first dead body. This guy here? Stanley only did this one time other than this, right? You haven't wacked out like this?"

Stanley shook his head. "Vampires and ghouls aren't the Dead King."

"Except this poor asshole wasn't a super-powered undead abomination. Stanley somehow got stuck in that memory just now, the very worst in his entire life." She stopped to watch Sedna's eyes widen, then turned her face back to Stanley, who could only cry against her shoulder. "You don't have any Ghoul Drool on you, do you?"

Stanley sobbed, "no." oh stars why did I not bring

"Drug abuse too? Am I going to have to summon--"

"Don't make me pull a 'the Seer' on you and have you recite a lesson."

"The trade of undead body parts is illegal for a very good reason!"

"You made me do it. ~Why is Ghoul Drool illegal?"

Sedna looked upward slightly, her eyes going from left to right as if reading words written in the air. "You know I'm no good with Nerdish."

"It's in the first section of the law making it illegal."

"Thank you. Yes. All right, it...where the hell is Varolus' Library Book?"

"It suppresses the moral..."

"...suppresses the moral pattern built upon a person's memo--oh sun and moon."

Stanley kept sobbing. "I left all of mine in Arena--I thought I'd be all right--I didn't expe--"

"Sh. Sh, sh. You don't need it. Sedna, he's not some sort of secret weapon or monster. He's had a terrifying, painful old wound re-opened, only it's in his head so you can't see it like a cut or a bruise." She used her hand to turn Stanley's chin and make him look at her. "I'm sorry. I really did forget that you've been trying your best despite...all that." She pulled Stanley's head down to kiss his brow, not caring that she came away with a bloody face. "You absolutely should not have killed him quite as dead as he is. I mean, I'm not sure even Coshebas could still save this but...But I don't think it was you."

~don't~you~dare~say~

Stanley lied quietly, "Yes it was."

~good~boy~

"I refuse to believe that. Are you going to kill the surviving men we caught?"

"No of cour--"

"So go rinse yourself off and then protect them. Show them you're not a--what they call you, show them a little empathy even if you have to fake it--like you did when you held that man's hand out there. We need to talk to them before we send them home."

that wasn't faking I don't want to kill living people

~yeeeaaahhhh~you~do~

no you do

Stanley winced at a prickle that scratched the skin over the three invisible circles on his left breast, disengaged from Fjalle's embrace, and wordlessly turned toward the dining room of the Wonky Donkey, where he had seen a water basin.

"You stay right there, Traqueljax," Sedna barked. He stopped. "How do I know he won't filet those men? Sending home four dead bodies will strain the Treaty more than it is already. The Seer says he's really a Banyan refugee, somehow, and you know what happened to the Banyan and most of the Faeries corded to it. If he's going to lose it this bad, he might end up starting a war between the Faerie Forest and Heliopolis."

"Despite what he thinks, I'm positive there's something else going on. Right now he's so terrified he could hurt someone else, he's going to behave the absolute best, now that he's calmed down. Plus, I mean, he hasn't even had the rest he needs--he's damn near Exhaustion again--"

"Precisely why I don't want him with those men."

"Good thing I'm the Commancer then. Stick to diplomacy, I'll handle security. He's officially part of my staff now."

"Oh?" Sedna got her arms all akimbo while she jutted her chin at Fjalle. "What position?"

"After knowing what he and I did this afternoon, you did not just ask me 'what position!'"

After two seconds of the purest silence pierced only by her deep brown eyes staring in shock, Sedna sputtered and clapped Fjalle's shoulder. Fjalle's face split open too, with a jolly wheeze. "You are absolutely the worst! All right, compromise. Keep a loaded shortstick just in case he..."

"I should hope she always does." After a glance at Fjalle, with a tiny smile, he turned and stalked out of the hallway.

"Hey," Sedna called out. "Disobey Fjalle. Don't wash up."

\* \* \*

The Seer and Varolus tore sheets from an unused bed to stanch the prisoners' bleeding. One of them could not make his foot move anymore. "You'll be all right, though," Fjalle said, patting the bound wound gently with a specific smile that always had stricken real fear into Stanley's heart. "If I'm right, your boss'll fix what's broken so well you never would know I shot you."

In the weak light of the Seer's Glamour fireflies, the prisoners looked at each other quickly from the chairs they were bound to by other strips of sheets.

"M-hm, what I thought. I know him, very personally. He used to be a highly respected healer at the Fast, until last year, and I know what he can do. He might be able to save your more inert friends if you talk before they start to rot. It's mid-August, so that won't take long."

One man had shoulder-length, curly black hair like Robbert. He looked about the same age as Robbert as well. The other kept his hair short and had begun growing a beard recently. Both had swollen eyes from weeping through their pain. The Seer carefully gave them water to sip. Sedna paced around the room, her hand pinching her chin.

"Do you know who I am?" she asked them. They shook their heads. "Aren't you lucky then? I'm THE Crown's Own Justicar, and legally bound to keep you alive and return you to your home. The lady who shot you saved your lives, because that uh, Faerie over there? He's a Banyan Tribe survivor. Pretty sure you can see exactly how bloody his vengeance gets." Her eyes flicked at Stanley, but a tiny muscle in her jaw fluttered.

you are unbelievably cruel to your victims The men glanced at Stanley. might as well play with it  He casually walked over between their chairs and gently put a hand on each of their shoulders before lightly squeezing, and then set to rhythmically tapping his fingers on them. "I don't think your friend suffered at all. I used the same weapon I used to dismantle the Dead King."

"Malphasian," the bearded man whispered. "He tell you he's Faerie? Not a Faerie's siccarë."

"You're not wrong." Stanley offered the man no other answer.

"Interesting," said Sedna. "Are we correct then to assume that a middle-aged human man who can shape flesh like clay is in your chain of command? You did give each other a look when the Commancer mentioned him."

"He is," said the bearded prisoner, after a long sigh.

"Do you know which sort of phylactery you were sent to retrieve?"

"What do you mean, which sort?"

"Not the kind you wear to sunset mass."

"What other kind is there?"

Stanley watched Sedna blink twice in a row. "Not important. What do you know about this end of the world?"

The bearded prisoner looked upward, as if to find answers etched in the ceiling. Tears spilled from the corners of his eyes. "There's a comet--if we don't get the Phylactery back before the end of the Celebration. You don't--you can't understand. We're on a sacred mission to save everyone, even you moon chil--"

Stanley sharply slapped the back of the man's head. "Don't ever let me hear you say that ever again."

"Don't hit the prisoners, Traqueljax," Sedna said sharply, her hand on her sword, glancing at Fjalle, who didn't even move. "It's just a word."

"IT'S JUST A WORD? Are you fucking kidding me? Do you even remember what they did to my tree? How am I supposed to act, like it's my birthday?"

"I'm highly aware of your life cycle with trees." Sedna stared at Stanley coldly before dropping her gaze back to the prisoner. "We know about this problem. That comet in the sky is a giant rock and it just split into pieces which scholars say will fall and possibly cause a lot of damage to the entire world. I don't see how a box of beautiful poems is going to help with that."

Stanley scoffed at the "beautiful" bit.

"I don't know any more, I swear," the prisoner whispered through his tears. "We're soldiers. I have a wife and children. I just want them to live." He collapsed into sobs.

"Robbert?"

"He is not lying," Robbert said, without emotion, without lifting his head. "His wife's name is Maree." The Heliopolitan agent nodded.

Sedna crouched in front of the prisoner, gently held his chin with her ivory-gloved hand, and looked into his eyes. "We want your people to live too. But we're not willing to employ a lich to do it."

Fjalle scoffed. "Yes, just tell them what we know."

Sedna ignored her. "I think we're done here. But you, Robbert." She stood up and turned toward the young man in the corner. "We trusted you. I was even going to recommend you be trained for the Diet of Justicars. And now we find out you were a hostile agent."

"My life to the east is behind me, forever. I speak this in front of these men." He lifted his face and looked at the prisoners. "Tell the Templum I quit a year and a day ago. I'm Regulan now. I won't be a slave of liches. I would kill any one of you to prove it."

Robbert would like to thank the Arse Academia for this great award

"We are going to speak in private," Sedna told him. "You are going to help us get them back to Heliopolis."

"I won't go there. You'll have to kill me."

Stanley very silently rolled his eyes.

"You won't have to. You're going to load them all on Traqueljax's wagon after the Crown purchases it from him."

"How much?" Stanley asked. "And you don't get Spot. She is never for sale."

"Five golden Bucks. Shake on it." She held out her hand. Stanley stepped to her, spat in his own palm, and grabbed her hand. "Varolus, make a scrip right now. We're going to put one of their horses in front of it and send them all home."

"These horses don't know how to--" the bearded prisoner began before a sharp look from Sedna silenced him.

"That's not my problem," she replied. "And this gives us a saddle for Spot. Can she use a horse saddle?"

~don't~let~Fjalle~get~away~

"No, but thank you. We can go a day bareback with breaks." Fjalle snorted at that. He continued, "I take it I will cash in the scrip in the Colossi?"

"We'll leave the saddle with Dorcas for her troubles."

Dorcas yelled out from the hallway, "Do you know what it takes to get blood out of wool carpeting?"

"Dye it black. Fjalle and the Seer are light, they can double up. I don't know what we're going to do with you yet, Robbert, but you're not going to be on a horse."

the larvae "I need to go--"

"You are staying right where you are, Traqueljax, and I will slice you down myself if you move right now."

He chewed on his nail, looking off toward the family huts along the creek. "I can go in the hall, right?"

"Fine, in the hall. Where I can see you."

Stanley nodded. He approached Dorcas in the hall, where she had a bucket and a crestfallen expression. When she saw him, she stepped back once. He held up his hands.

"I'm not here to hurt you," he said quietly. "I was told you watch the Kindred children when their mother has business with her tribe."

She nodded slowly. "What's it to you?"

"I--don't know how to put this--"

"I heard about what you did with those kids. They've been begging me to run away tonight. Stub's dad was pissed at you. I think you've done enough."

"Dorcas--we're the only survivors of the Fast, and it wasn't a quartet of fresh dipshit Templar boys that killed everyone. Robbert and I were dancing circles around them while they were distracting us from the slaughter."

Her eyes pierced through him. "And?"

"They didn't know who I was at the time. I really am a Kingslayer. I'm trying to--"

"Then why haven't you said so the past fifty-seven years?"

"Because of fuckers like the people we just escaped from. I know they're coming here. I know they're going to kill everyone, even the children, if you all don't leave now. Run south, run west, just go--"

"I can't," she hissed. "Sedna gave me a task."

"What task?"

"You don't have a need to know," she replied.

"I'm terrified you'll all be dead in the morning."

"I'm sure we'll manage."

"Why are you talking to her?" Sedna sounded cross.

"We have to get these people out of here--" Stanley began.

"Robbert is going to--" Sedna began.

"How many people are dead at the Fast?"

"Whose fault is that? You riled them up--"

"You said you're terrified of me, Sedna. Twenty people even scarier than me took down the Fast and I'm the 'scary stabby crazy' Kingslayer. We didn't stop a single one of them. They weren't from Heliopolis. They were Kith Scouts."

"How would you know?"

It felt satisfying to hold aloft his titanium signet, perched solidly on the middle finger of his right hand, in front of Sedna's eyes. "I earned my Master of Tongues degree at Kazu-Mazu, so I basically grew up around orcs and their Kith and yes, legally I'm Yrqhatha and yes, Sedna, they keep records, my Yrqhash name is 'Fancy Pup' if you think I'm lying. I had forty years to learn about Scouts. I'm scared shitless of Scouts."

The Seer coughed loudly in the dining room behind him.

Dorcas sniffed. "What if I host a slumber party? I'm pretty sure they can convince their parents to let them do that. I think you're full of shit, but I don't mind the kids with me just to shut you up already."

"There's going to be--"

"I can handle it, I said." Her eyes went hard as she squinted them.

Stanley nodded, not entirely convinced. "I can accept that offer, thank you."

"You're welcome. Now get out of here and stay out of my way."

Without another word he turned on his heel and returned to the dining room.

\* \* \*

The two living Heliopolitan men sat on the bench of the wagon, their ruined legs heavily bandaged. Their "inert" comrades lay wrapped tightly in sheets in the wagon behind them, a small protection against insect-borne decay. a little hope goes a long way  Sedna approached them, Robbert in tow. "Tell them the rules, Robbert."

"You will travel east," he said, his voice without inflection. "Not north, not south, and especially not west. Stay on this road. Failure to comply will result in the loss of your life. Do you understand these orders as this--as I have presented them? Please answer yes or no."

"Yes," both the men said together.

"You tell your people we don't have the phylactery and never did," Sedna added. "If we do find it, we will notify your government in an official message. It will not be returned. We don't need an active lich running around either of our lands, do we?"

The men said nothing, but the bearded one nodded. They sat in silence as Varolus completed hitching the horse to Stanley's old wagon. Fjalle had had to reshape the harness' bit to fit into the horse's wider mouth. As Varolus stood back, he regarded them with open disdain. "I would suggest you move now," he said with narrowed eyes magnified by his spectacles.

The man with long hair flicked the harness. The bearded man looked at Stanley as the horse hesitantly pulled away. Stanley held his eyes in return, until the man turned his attention to the road. Once they were around the corner, Sedna put her hands on her hips. "Inside, Robbert. Now."

The young man turned and trudged into the front entrance of the Wonky Donkey. Stanley turned to follow. The Seer looked at him cockwise, tilting her head slightly.

Varolus took a piece of paper out of his sewing bag, and a bluewood pen, and began scratching something on it.

"Since he won't go back, you get a new barn boy," Sedna told Dorcas. "I can't trust him anymore, but maybe he'll work out for you."

you lie like a rug

"I understand," Dorcas said. Her voice shivered slightly, and then she audibly swallowed.

and there's the rug

Varolus pressed the paper into Dorcas' hand with a crisp crinkle. "This scrip should cover everything." He followed Stanley and the Seer outside. who are they protecting her from The Seer handed him the sack she'd hauled outside, which he carefully secured behind the saddle of the tall black gelding. He then swung into said saddle as if he belonged there. Stanley used a strip of the shredded sheets to tie his burlap sack to his own body before lightly climbing onto Spot's naked back.

"Here we are," Sedna said as she exited. "Let's go."

"Hold your horses," Fjalle grouched as she let Sedna help her up behind the Seer on a sturdy chestnut mare.

Spot nervously stamped. Stanley patted her neck. "I'm sure I'll be fine, girl." Sedna mounted the remaining chestnut gelding, and they all rode west.

"We should make it to the Colossi by sunrise," Sedna announced. "I know this is very rough, but I promise we'll have time to rest very comfortably once we get there."

"So that's where your boyfriend is," said the Seer.

Sedna blinked twice, then cleared her throat. "Let's ride in silence."

Stanley yawned and felt his eyes dart once, and then once again.

she's trying to kill me I swear

Chapter 7

"Someone get a wagon and take these horses to Hamid's."

Stanley stirred, not quite awake and not quite asleep, on Spot's back. She had stopped moving. He did not recognize the voices around him.

"Get these people down, the elf's Exhausted. Follow Dame Sedna's orders."

Her voice rose. "Just take us to the Caruba Union."

"Is this Unseelie with you?"

I'm a Faerie, he wanted to say, but his mouth just said, "Muh."

"He is, for now."

Strong hands guided him off Spot. Someone cut the strip holding the burlap sack to his back and took it away. "Don't worry, chum. It's going with you," someone said. His legs would not hold himself up and he slumped into a seated position on the ground, chin on his chest.

"I got you, buddy. Let's get him on a wagon, he's about had it." Someone scooped him into their arms and deposited him gently on something made of board. Small hands smoothed his hair.

"He wants you all to know he's a Faerie," said the Seer.

"You're going to be all right, Stanley," Sedna said from ten kilometers away. "I'm sorry I had to do this to you."

no you're not but you gotta put on a face ain't that right

"What's wrong with him anyway?" Another human man's voice, twelve kilometers.

"He didn't get his sleep. He's been riding with us all night. You know how elves are."

"I thought they were all just lazy."

"That mule goes with the horses to Hamid's, do you hear?" Twenty kilometers.

"Aye, Dame Sedna..."

\* \* \*

The next thing Stanley knew, he lay on a soft bed, the kind of soft that the wealthy could afford, the kind of soft that you could sink into, but somehow didn't. Light bled past his eyelids, but they were still too heavy for him to lift.

"I'm here, old man. Let's get you some more water."

more

wait

when

The cold cup Fjalle held to his mouth felt like tin. He realized his mouth had gone bone dry and he could not taste anything.

I have no memory of the last water

is this what delight feels like

I don't remember

"Now, don't gulp it. Little sips."

He took a little sip, then, "Where." It was almost too much effort.

"We're in the Colossi, we're safe in the walls. Sleep all you want after nine more sips. You need another half liter of water. Second time you hit Exhaustion in three days. Physician says you can't do that again, not even once, for the rest of the year. Or you might never wake up."

she's doing that she's trying to kill me and if I tell you you won't believe me

A door opened and closed. The scent of that same lavender soap reached his nostrils and the tromp of uniform boots rang in his ears.

"How's he doing?" Sedna asked.

were you listening at the door

"He'll be fine, but he needs about twenty more hours and a lot more water or he'll be utterly useless. This is known as Tandem Ex--"

"I know what it is."

I'll bet you do

you know exactly what you're doing

you're going to go for the kill once I can talk

claim it's for national security reasons or something

something something Phylactery something Kingslayer something

He took another sip that Fjalle offered. He wanted to hold that damn cup himself but infuriating, invisible ropes of gravity held his arms down. Fjalle sat beside him on his mattress, propped his head up on her lap.

"Can he hear us?"

"His brain is awake right now, until I get this half liter of water in him. He can hear us, but his liver's still trying to metabolize away all the--"

"I do not speak Nerd."

I was interested in that explanation you're even trying to kill my curiosity

"He can't really speak or move, except that finger twitching right there. I think he's waving at you."

"With that finger? He's flipping me off again."

damn right

"He's definitely awake." Fjalle chuckled as she tipped the cup to his lips again. This time he took a small swallow. The effort was almost unbearable. He gasped, and felt her nod back. "When's Robbert supposed to catch up?"

"I told him not to hang around there more than three days. I signaled the Justicars for a Diet but it'll take a week for all of them to arrive at Regula's Crown."

"What do you want us to do until then?"

Sedna blew out air through her nose. "Really? Relax for a bit. Enjoy the sights. Soak in the mineral baths in those caves. Have him fence the gold I know he took off my dad. But I want that ugly medallion, do you hear?" She spoke the last bit to Stanley. He managed a "nrgh." He heard her sniffle.

the "fuck you" was silent

Fjalle tipped more water into his mouth. "Halfway done, then you can get back to sleep."

"I want to bounce a few ideas off your Nerd brain though," Sedna said, settling into a chair.

"Go right ahead."

"You said they would pick us off in the steppe if they were really after us. Then they came after us. What does that tell you?"

"They thought this dumbass stole the phylactery. The capital-PH Phylactery."

not for lack of trying

"But they didn't even bother to send anyone out until yesterday. Those were fast horses."

Fjalle sat back a little. "They found out after Coshebas got to the city and went looking for it. Maybe it's kept in a secure facility. Next sip, old man."

not that secure

"If he didn't steal it, who did?"

my question too

"Got to be someone on the inside."

Sedna paused. "New thread. Varolus wrote Dorcas very explicit instructions, on my orders. She's to let Robbert copy anything he wants from the ledger. Her real one, in the hidden office under the water tower. Anyone from Heliopolis would have to get their money changed with her."

Stanley felt Fjalle tip her head left and right while she said, "But that's illegal." Then she chuckled.

"She's also a good informant. The Judicium Princeps agreed to be selectively blind about that little thing if she brings us good intel."

"Do you think Robbert'd rejoin them?" Fjalle refilled the cup from a carafe on the floor. "You're getting good at this!" She directed her praise at Stanley. He did his best to move his thumb.

"Not on your life. You saw him after he got a good look at what Coshebas did to your wife. His testimony to the Judicium did that son of a bastard in. Not that it matters anymore, as you've said."

"Yes, but--" Fjalle shifted a bit for comfort, then cradled Stanley's head on the crook of her arm. "How safe do you think he really is? They're going to go after that ledger too."

"They're both safe, and her staff is all home. The inn is completely empty and the fake ledger is in the inn. You're not the only one who can set up a honeypot."

They both laughed. "Next drink," Fjalle prompted Stanley. "This is what, seven?"

"Ghghgh," he replied.

"No, pretty sure that was seven, darling. You need to finish this before I'll let you snooze again, hear? Speaking of this shifty elf, do you think his worry had merit? He was about to crawl out of his skin."

"Why didn't they move on us when we disabled the distraction? Like at the Fast? Maybe they weren't targeting us this time?"

"Those four boys sure didn't get that memorandum. No, I'm thinking they're after someone who they think has the Phylactery, and now they're positive this elf didn't take it."

"That makes sense, don't want to get their city's property claim revoked from us by killing the Crown's Own Justicar."

"Hmph. Those dumb boys tried to kill me--but I don't think Heliopolis knows I'm the Commancer now. All right, I have another thought to bring up. You scared the shit out of that one boy with talk about a lich. Don't you think that's tipping our hand too much?"

"Not at all. Normal folks raise their kids to be good people, and it's no different in Heliopolis."

Fjalle scoffed.

"I'm serious," Sedna continued. "Those kids we fucked up aren't bad people; just like with Robbert, they're being used by bad people. You saw that one crying when he thought mission failure doomed the world, right?"

you really have a place to talk from

"Or because he got caught."

"No. You may not have heard this, since you were in shock and fresh mourning: Robbert told us that 'tears are a woman's weapon' when we first started interrogating him, asking why he was unmoved by the murder."

"I do not remember that."

"Make no mistake, he was very shaken; but his upbringing forbade him to communicate this." oh that's actually nice grammar "He told us every boy is taught this. So I'm not even doubting that other boy's tears were real. He had no idea there are liches involved. Robbert didn't even know about it and he was also part of their operation. Don't you see? They're compartmentalizing information to their force teams. If he thinks his government is dallying with the forces of ultimate evil, do you think he's going to stay quiet? He's at least going to tell his wife. Robbert assured me he would."

"Drink number eight," Fjalle said. "So you're playing the long game of subversion."

"We have only two full seasons and a part until the end of the world. I'm not about to let their plans run smoothly, not until I know what they are and if it will work. In the meantime, the Diet has to light a fire under themselves to come up with a doable plan to save as many and as much as we can before Comet Day."

"Here's something burning my brains up and has for fifty-seven years: where's that thing been this whole time, before it ended up in Heliopolis? I think if we figure that out, we'll figure out what Coshebas's got planned. Nine, old man. Quit dribbling or I'll keep you awake for a whole liter."

"I'm with you. I sure would like to talk with that Pixie. He's in Arena, how many Pixies could be there?"

"When was the last time you went to Arena? They got a commune there now."

"Oh, hell's bells."

"Last sip, you can do it. There." Fjalle put his head back on the pillow. yay torture is over and I can die now wait no Sedna would like that  "Did you bring the book I wanted to read?"

"Lost and Wandering, right?"

Stanley heard no more of their conversation.

\* \* \*

do you have a plan if we're separated

yes I'll just write you a note

that's not a plan

why not I plan on writing you a note

how will you get it to me

I will leave it in front of you, dumbass

that's not a plan

of course it's not that's me trusting in the Moment She will take care of the rest

you are very trusting

you are very not and that's sad

\* \* \*

Stanley woke up to thunder and lightning. Someone had propped the shutter up a few centimeters to let the cool air in. With effort, he even hitched an eye open. The light from under the shutter looked a little dim but too bright to see the night color.

"How many hours do Faeries sleep anyway, geez." He could hear the grin in the Seer's voice. "You get the joke--"

Stanley chuckled. "Yes, that's the first thing I heard coming out of your mouth after the first time I hit Exhaustion, which was in the brig of the Fast just before sunset two days before the last time I was conscious. You handed me my pants. I really love those pants. And you said, 'elves' not 'Faeries' last time."

"Well, that was oddly specific."

"Where are they?" He found he could sit up, so he did, while hitching open the other eye.

"The pants?"

He nodded.

"I knew that, just wanted to let you think you were answering verbally. They're being cleaned. Again."

"I really can do that myself, you know."

"Not right now you can't. Wait, did you hide secret invisible hidden weapons in your pants?"

"No."

"So, while you're still weak as a kitten and can't run away, I'm going to take advantage of you right now in this bed. By getting you to look at this Phoenix. I can't make heads or tails of it." She laughed at her own joke.

Stanley shook his head, then reached for the coin that the Seer held up in front of his face. "Varolus thought Sedna was joking when she said the same thing, about the comet," he said, not unkindly. "Right, well the first thing that comes to mind is that if you just drop a gold coin you either dropped it and are so rich you didn't notice--but you wouldn't, because if you're so rich you can lose money, you can afford to secure your money so it doesn't drip onto the ground--or you placed it there on purpose to be found." He turned the coin over his fingers. "Can you move the lamp on the nightstand? I could use a bit of angling--Oh."

The Seer cocked her head. "I don't understand a thing you just thought. Explain it out loud to me, but as if I'm an idiot."

Stanley held up the coin to her, edge-on. "What do you see there?"

"It's gold, it has a bunch of little lines, and there's a silvery looking layer in the middle. Like the coin is a sandwich."

"Heliopolis is known for using solid gold in their large coins--"

"What do they use for smaller change?"

"Oh they use Regulan coins for that. But see, their own mint only uses gold so that's why they're illegal to trade here--you can just melt them down and sell the gold, which is technically theft since it leaves Heliopolis with less money, and despite the fact that they're a city of assholes, it's not fair to them to rob everyone there blind. And look, the lines on this side," he showed her a different part of the edge, "they're called milling by the way. And these are nice, regular lines here. But over the part with the lie exposed?"

The Seer squinted and took the coin. "They're close to even, but not quite. And they're shallower."

"Exactly. Now if I showed this to Dorcas? She would discount the worth of this coin by at least half because someone not only shaved the edge, but it's filled with not-gold. The gold has to be separated from the rest of it and that costs money. Unless you're Fjalle, and there's only one Fjalle."

"Why would someone shave the edge?"

"You get enough gold dust, you can trade it for basically free money without someone noticing for a while. I've done it in a pinch with that steel ring. That's why the milling is uneven there--someone cut those by hand, although they did a fairly good job. The gold on the edge was enough to cover the blank inside for a shaving, but when they started engraving the shaven edge they saw the blank. Let me see what year this one is--oh, it's barely a year old. That's the year it was milled, those little numbers."

"All right, so they found what, a fake coin?"

"No. This is a real Phoenix, minted in Heliopolis. If it hadn't been mutilated, no one would know the difference. It's even the right weight."

"Your fingers can tell you that?"

"My fingers can tell you many things. But yes, not enough was shaved off for me to notice any difference. I think they dropped it because they're trying to tell people something. Maybe this coin was a coincidence, found by chance and left by a whistleblower of some sort."

"But what does it mean?"

"It means that Heliopolis secretly devalued their money. They needed more cash, in a hurry. Maybe their leaders bought something that required they drain the treasury in a significant way."

"Something like twenty Kith Scouts?"

Stanley met her eyes. "Yeah. Something like that exactly." He turned the coin over in his hand, then sat bolt upward. "How the fuck did she survive?" He held up the obverse to the Seer's face. "Do you see that engraving? It's hand-carved, very shallow."

"You're certainly excitable all of a sudden. Yeah," she said after squinting. "Looks like an S."

"I have to go," he said, flinging his feet over the side of the bed. "I need clothes. I need to get out and find her."

"The young lady you went into Heliopolis with?"

"Yes. I'll be thrice double-damned and thrown in the Maelstrom. She got out with the Phylactery."

Stanley tried to stand up and fell right over as his legs buckled beneath his weight. The Seer tried to catch him and fell over too. He rose back up on all fours and began crawling to the open doorway.

"Not on your life!" she yelled, grabbing a chunk of Stanley's hair. "Fjalle, he's trying to get away!"

"Let me go!"

Fjalle's voice rang down the hallway. "What's he going to do, crawl out of here?"

"I now understand how he got away from you fifty-five years ago!"

Feet tramped up the wooden hall until she filled the doorway and tsk'd, shaking her head at Stanley. "Yep. He's crawling out of here."

"I'm right here," he panted, collapsing in sweat.

"Have you ever hit Exhaustion twice in a week before now?"

By now Stanley could not keep his head off the floor. "No."

"You're an elf. Your body is slightly different from humans', alchemically. You elves can do some physically amazing things, but your body builds up fatigue substances faster and you need that daily sleep for your liver to wash it all out. That's why your piss is gonna be purple for a couple days."

"My nose is still on the floor."

"And it's gonna stay there until I'm done talking to you. You just pushed yourself to the brink of dying. You won't be walking until tomorrow, at the least. Now if you let us, we can carry you to the privy again. No shame in needing someone."

"Again?" sweet oblivion

"Are you going to try to escape anymore or will I have to pull some thread out of my hem and tie you down with it? What's so damned important you gotta try to kill yourself--"

"The Phylactery is here."

Fjalle looked at the Seer. She replied, "He thinks his friend's alive and signalled him."

"What do you think?"

The Seer put her hand on Stanley's shoulder as he lay prone in front of them. "I didn't feel any living touch on the coin other than ours."

"I know that's her note. In fact, if Robbert survived the attack on the Wonky Donkey--"

"We don't know that happened--"

"--when Robbert gets here, you'll find that two women stayed overnight at the Wonky Donkey the night the Fast was sacked, and changed their Heliopolitan coin with Dorcas. They may have signed in as sisters, they resemble each other a bit. One of them wears gloves."

"Explain your logic."

"Show her the coin, ma'am. Please. Fjalle, ignore any external markings. Use your Metallurgy. Please, humor me. What do they make their coinage out of there?"

Fjalle took the coin the Seer proffered. "Everyone knows they use pure gold. That's why it's illegal to bring h--" She stopped speaking, leaving her mouth open and eyes ready to pop out. "Shit on a shingle, there's a tungsten blank in there." She looked up and into the distance, her face still frozen in wonder.

"Couldn't it have been a counterfeit mint?" the Seer asked.

Fjalle's brows shot up when her gaze fell on the Seer. "No. Not by a long shot. Let's get this dumbass on the bed and settle down for Commancer Fjalle Satorey's Mandatory Metallurgy Nerd Story Time."

The women grunted as they heaved Stanley back to "where you are supposed to be recovering!" Fjalle clipped at him. She leaned backward afterward, allowing her ass to guide her body into the overstuffed chair next to the bed and a small table with a lamp. The Seer's glance trailed down toward his left breast what's she looking at while she sat herself at the end of his mattress. They flickered back up with a frown and then her eyes rolled straight up. He shrugged again no she can't be--

"Quit thinking at each other, Mentats; Fjalle's Metallurgy Nerd Story Time starts now," Fjalle began, smiling at the coin between her fingers. "So nice to have something other than ferrous alloys to tickle. First, a little bit of ancient Metallurgy history: There's a perfect storm of reasons why gold was the first money metal. It's easy to spot when you know what it looks like, it is amazingly dense, it doesn't make any alchemical bonds, doesn't dissolve in any acid, and it's unbelievably easy to smelt. Copper is just as easy to smelt, it's a little harder than gold, not half as heavy, and it's way more abundant, so that became the first tool metal. Are you following me?"

Stanley shrugged. "I'm half Nerd on my father's side."

The Seer laughed. "Point to the half that's Nerd."

"Tungsten is very dense too, but ain't nearly as easy to smelt. The first furnaces to isolate it were actually made by pixies, about a century ago--you can't really tell with written pixie history, they view time as triangular. But that's about the time they started trying to sell the schemata for a furnace capable of melting things at the heat that tungsten requires."

"It wasn't Thanidine dwarves?" the Seer asked.

Fjalle shook her head. "Did you do any sort of training in any Vicissitude? Atmospherics?"

"A little Ignition, but if I were any good at it we'd have been kicked out of the Wonky Donkey. Afraid my Doctorate was in Temporation and  sub-Doctorate was in Fluxion. Glamour, specifically, I do vibes as a Mentat so it was a good fit."

"Don't feel bad, I can't light a fire without an accelerant, and my Doctorate was in Vicissitude. Doctorate itself requires basic theoretical study of all of them, since there's always overlap. In Metallurgy, we have to sub-Doctor in Geology, Ignition, and Alchemy on top of that."

"Sun and moon!"

"But back to your question! Gold and copper both melt at a little under 1100 therms."

The Seer nodded, but Stanley winced.

"You think that's hot? People who use literal rocks to make crucibles could smelt those, since rocks don't melt until around 1700 therms! You can technically melt pure iron in a pot of glass adulterated with a small amount of calx natriï as long as you keep an eye on the heat. Told you there's Alchemy in it. But that's nothing. Tungsten? Over twice as hot as iron. You can't do that in Az Thanis. You need a lot of oxygen for a furnace that hot, and they're too high in the mountains even in their deepest tunnels. However, pixies hate the cold, makes them torpid. They're always going to be found near sea level. And since they're curious little fuckers, they wouldn't think twice about getting dwarven smelting furnace schemata and then 'improving on it' as they'd tell you."

"You keep wondering why I'm not a Polymath," Stanley said, "but then you tell me these amazing and yet realistic academic horror stories." He kept avoiding the Seer's gaze.

Fjalle hmphed. "You're still understanding this? Good. Now the ores of tungsten are found inside the Thanid Range mountains themselves in easy enough quantity. But the Thanid Range is a couple kilometers in altitude at the lowest point other than the coastline. It can be done magically but that takes me days to smelt a few grams without a furnace. It would take a pixie's refinery a few hours per kilogram. So dwarves sell the ores of these metals on the cheap, but the refinery required to isolate them only operates below half a kilometer above sea level, and coastal dwarves are too busy farming and fishing to fool with fancy furnaces."

"That almost sounded oddly lyrical," the Seer murmured.

"One of the things that followed me back from Az Thanis, dwarfish poetry," she sighed with softened eyes. "Praise the Sky is why I love astronomy. Anyway," now with a diamond-focused twinkle, "these refineries ain't cheap to build. They require an industrial alchemy laboratory, some exotic ceramic cruicibles and steam-powered bellows. Maybe Sedna's boyfriend, Jovan Caruba himself, could afford one with the Municipium of the Colossi subsidizing part of it. You might make it cheaper by hiring..." Her voice trailed off.

"Are you all right, Commancer?"

Fjalle looked at the coin, breathing quickly. "This coin just explained almost everything to me."

"Almost?" Stanley asked.

"Yeah," she said as she stood, "it still doesn't show me why you're being delusional about your dead friend. I need to go find Sedna before you can recover and get away to find your buddy like the dumbass you are." She limped stiffly out of the room.

"Sabrine's not dead, she wrote me the note she promised," he called out before settling back into his pillows, until he realized the Seer wasn't going to leave. In fact, she was scowling at him.

"How long?" She pointed at his left breast.

son of a bitch she really can see it did you plan on this

"Fifty-five years. You?" He pointed at her forehead.

where's your answer come on can't even zap me for sass

"About a year after you murdered my parents."

"I--"

Chapter 8

"--I took you to the Momentary Convent. You wished me luck killing your brother. Creepy little larva. Weren't you four years old?"

"Did you?"

"Did I what?"

"Kill him?"

"'Of course I didn't. It was a vampire, it was dead already. I dismantled it. Do you know what it was doing?"

"Stalking the Justicar of Arena. You told me at the briefing. Just for a second, but I caught it."

"So you know why I had to kill your parents."

She nodded. "You told me, 'The undead are not our friends, and their enablers are not our friends.' And I was nine."

"I didn't want to kill them, but they were so wound up around the vampire--"

"Quit trying to justify it to yourself. I'll do it for you: The Him already let the little monster feed from me twice, and Mom didn't even argue." She put her hands on either side of his face. "You gave me one of the most satisfying nights of my life watching you punching one perfectly correct hole in each of those fuckers. It was like watching a snake grab a rat. Little girl me wished that you'd taken me with you after that and made me the actual real little girl sidekick of an actual real Kingslayer."

"I wasn't going to endan--"

"Shut up. Me Now knows that, dumbass. Besides, I would make up stories every day about how The Elf Kingslayer would wake me up at midnight and together we would go hunt down ghouls and liches--because vampires were so boring--and the nuns and their kids all loved those stories so much. And then a year later I stopped, because The Kingslayer's Secret Invisible Friend found me."

oh stars no

"So since we both have the same guru--"

"--not my guru--"

"What are you talking about? You have the Third Eye's--"

"It's not the Third Eye--"

"If you see this," she let go his face to slap her own animated tattoo, "and I can see this," she pulled the collar of his shirt out and pointed at one of the glowing lines she just exposed while her tattoo eye spun about like a marble, "then we are marked by the same--"

"You'll notice mine is not near my brain, and it's not made of ink. I've never been its student."

well what do you have to say about that are you even there anymore

She stopped cold for a few seconds before her hand flew to her mouth. "Excuse me, I think I'm going to go be violently ill somewhere that isn't your room."

"No, you're not," Sedna said as she entered the room.

The Seer stood and cocked her head. "Sedna, he's--"

"At this moment I'm Crown's Own Justicar Sedna Fedraxx. Traqueljax, tell me how you knew."

"I saw the silvery line--"

"I mean about the Wonky Donkey."

"Oh sun and stars..." Stanley covered his face with his hands. not the larvae

"We've just taken custody of two women who claim to have stayed there the night the Fast was sacked. You described them perfectly to Fjalle. Have you been in contact with them?"

yay not the larvae

"Crown's Own," said Fjalle's voice, "let's put a pause on these questions. He's just recovered--"

"Restrain them all in steel cuffs--yes, even the elf. Especially the elf."

"Surely--" the Seer began, standing up from the mattress.

"Enough. We're talking to sketchy elf, his little supposedly dead friend, and the Mentat who killed her."

"I told you she wasn--" Stanley began.

"How did you find them so quickly?" the Seer asked.

Sedna looked straight at Stanley and laughed mirthlessly. "They came right here. Mercedes is the Mentat of Heliopolis. She's a known slinker, with your little slinker."

"Let me see Sabrine--"

She directed two guards with her hand. "Once you've secured his hands, carry him down to the conference roo--"

"No!" the Seer cried. "I don't have any Golden Plains left!"

Stanley replied, "If you have any Ghoul Drool, I'll share it with you."

"Quiet, Traqueljax. Do not let him out of your sight. You're not getting gagged like the other two only because--"

"Because I know you'll behave if I ask you and say 'please.' And you will, if you know what's good for you." Her lips were bunched up in the middle, and she shook her head slowly.

After nodding once at Fjalle, he lifted his face to look at Sedna's. "I suppose you could have killed me a little more quickly morning before last. You had the sword for it, after all."

"There goes good behavior down the--"

"You didn't even ask me--"

"No, I maybe deserve that," Sedna cut in, peering at Stanley curiously, with one lip about to curl back slightly. "But not another word, elf. Not one."

now she knows I know

Stanley redirected his gaze directly ahead of himself, looking at no one and nothing, biting both lips at once, wishing his blood weren't presently so sluggish that he could properly flush with rage. do you see she's actively trying to kill me now she's trying to be clever and blame Exhaustion and no one will believe me if I say it out loud because she's Crown's Own

The Seer kept up with the state security carrying Stanley over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. She tapped his head, then her own.

so you brained that yes I completely understand Sedna can't even trust a Kingslayer after Simon you have the information to know why I'm angry and why I just want to disappear from you all and I know you can't do a thing about her killing me

After a few seconds, she nodded. Then she touched her index finger to her tattoo before touching it to the same spot on his head.

"If you keep secretly communicating with him," Sedna warned behind her--the Seer jumped a little, "it could be cause for suspicion of espionage among three of a particular demographic."

The Seer stopped stepping and watched Sedna step around her instead, the Mentat's jaw sagging and eyes blazing. Stanley lost sight of her within two seconds; he could not hold his head up any longer to see her.

\* \* \*

"Are you actually saying that this is the best that Jovan Caruba himself can offer his girlfriend, actual or not, let alone a real Justicar?" Whiskey, cognac, pipe tobacco, and a hint of long-dried semen made their presence known in the aroma. "Sedna, you can do so much better than this."

"Where's the gag?" Sedna groaned, then squinted. "Oh but wait, elf has a point."

The Seer examined the surroundings with gleeful light glitter. "Oh! this is the rowdy party room!" Varolus waved his hand and all of the flammable light sources lit, candles in various stages of use, stuck under yellow-stained hurricanes. "Mood lighting," Sedna chuckled. Under the candles squatted credenzas topped with crystal tumblers.

The upper walls contained trophies of fish re-creating various poses from the struggle to dominate them. Entwined in the disused chandelier, a taxidermised anaconda surveyed all below with masterfully crafted amber glass eyes. Two human women sat cross-legged on an artfully rough-hewn wooden table, the lower halves of their faces hidden behind leather gags. The slab itself sat on blocky wooden legs of the same general design. It dominated the center of the dark-paneled hall which terminated in a walk-in hearth. Matching chairs lined it; they had some sort of teal-colored roughly woven woolen upholstery on their backs, seats, and the upper arms, most of it tinged with a similar patina as what warmed the hurricanes' glow. A shellacked-over fresco of bluewood trees adorned the pecan-wood wall opposite the hearth.

"I could only forgive this if this room's where you two first shagged," Fjalle said, sniffing, "if this weren't official government business." She looked at the women. "This is barbaric." She pulled their gags off, under Sedna's cold gaze.

The security guard carrying Stanley eased his rear end onto the table and helped him sit upright. "Can you sit up on your own yet?"

"Prop him up against me," said the first voice he wanted to hear and the last voice he expected to. "'Sup, Sparkle Dawg?"

"Sabrine!" His shackled arms ached to fling themselves around him and his lips ached to kiss the top of her head and every inch of her face. I will accept the Trek just to hold you one more time

The guard looked at Sedna. She looked at Stanley. "Am I going to regret allowing it?"

"Grant the condemned his last meal," he answered, grinning stupidly at Sabrine, who grinned just as stupidly right back.

Sedna winced. "Hmph. You can't stand up at all so you're not a flight risk. She is, however. But you're cuffed in the front where I can see you so no popping her shackles and now I regret using that vocabulary."

"Oh," said Sabrine from beneath a cascade of coffee curls held to her head with a steel circlet, "that's not us. Not ever."

Stanley frowned and shook his head, exaggerating his pronunciation of "no" and dragging the vowel out.

"You mean to tell me that you're in prolonged contact alone and you're only friends?"

"There's no 'only' about friendship," she replied, shaking her curls back and forth to emphasize her words. "You should try it sometime." The Seer and Varolus shared a quick nod and smile.

"You tell her!" Stanley added while slowly slouching down until he was no longer sitting. "Little Exhausted. Probably will die tonight."

He noticed her skin's dark bronze luster dulled with an ashy translucence. His eyes met hers. Her whites were too white. "Little dead already. Life's a lich anyway, right?"

His lips parted slightly as tears welled up while one of the security guards propped him back up against Sabrine. "You have it," he whispered. Three circles burned into the skin of his left breast.

~just~wait~

She crumpled her chin and shook her head. "She has me."

~don't~make~me~burn~you~

"Enough," Sedna said after drawing her sword. "I will punish Jovan later for this. The interview begins now."

The Seer squeaked, then dropped to a crouch and opened one of the sliding panels of a credenza. "Oh you need to forgive him, he has Golden Plains stocked here."

\* \* \*

Sedna, decked in the cleanest ivory leather Justicar's uniform Stanley had ever seen, her unenchanted sword naked in her hand, walked around the long table upon which sat Stanley, Sabrine, and Mercedes, all three shackled by their wrists. Stanley was indeed propped up against Sabrine's back. At the head of the table sat Fjalle, with the Seer to one side and Varolus on the other on the corners. His book lay open before him as he held his bluewood pen, ready to begin transcribing.

"We have all agreed to let you three speak as long as you all agree to remain still during this meeting. Do you three agree to this? Please answer yes or no."

Sabrine, Mercedes, and Stanley all said, "yes." Stanley added, "As if I have a choice," while staring at Sedna.

She nodded, well you're at least admitting you own your intent to murder me, then turned to the shackled Mentat. "Welcome to the Colossi and the Republic of Regula, Mercedes...?"

"I keep no surname...by choice." Her eyes flickered in the Seer's direction, though not directly at her. she tried tried so hard she really did well Stanley looked at the Seer, who didn't even blink. she did even better Sedna tapped the bottom of his foot lightly with the flat of her sword, commanding his eyes back to her. For once, her face seemed amused and relaxed, like the face of a rich gambler looking at a newly dealt hand.

"Then welcome, Mercedes the Mendicant Mentat, regardless that your entry into Regula was dubious at best. As a government official," Sedna pointed her gloved finger up and down accusingly, with a wink, "you are supposed to announce your entry into undisputed Regulan territory, and that  boundary begins one kilometer east of the eastern wall of the Fast."

"I am not subject to your worldly laws," Mercedes said. "I answer only to the Phoenix Himself."

"I await the time the Phoenix seeks audience with me to discuss that matter." She stood at full height. "Until then, the laws within the Treaty of the Sun prevail, and as I'm Crown's Own Justicar Dame Sedna Fedraxx, recognized under the very treaty your own government agrees to, those laws within the Treaty permit me to ask you questions until the sun rises again, regarding only the circumstances of your unauthorized visit, before I send you back to Heliopolis." She relaxed her body, and bent over Mercedes as if to confide in her. "You are not, of course, required to actually answer them, and no harm will befall you if this be your choice."

daring use of subjunctive mood

Mercedes stared at Sedna with eyes as wide as they got. For a moment, she looked to the side, as if listening to something outside of Stanley's range of hearing. she's getting"You...have edified my knowledge, then. I'm entirely willing to be flexible and reasonable, since you, Dame, are specifically one of the people I seek. If I tell you all that I know, can we dispense with sending me back there?" Her voice shook as she said that.

"Interesting. I'll consider it. Varolus, make sure that was written down."

"I'm writing everything said as it's being said. Including what we're saying right now."

"That always amazes me. Mercedes, would you be willing to testify to the Diet?"

"I don't know. Will I be free afterward?"

"I don't know. What were you doing with Sabrine here? Explain it to me as if I'm a five year old child. I recognize that you are a Nerd but I do not speak Nerd. Start when you encountered them. Why were you there in the first place with armed guards?"

"All people in our defense services--and I'm one of those--was, now--perform various administrative duties on a revolving roster. The duty of Antiquities quartermaster fell upon me that day. I received a properly notarized order to retrieve an item from a particular room and hold it in the office locker with armed guards until the Miracle Man arrived. I was then to transfer custody of it to him."

"Wow, your little children are definitely well-educated in language skills, I'll give you that. Did you know what this thing was?"

"It wasn't my duty to know."

"Fair enough. Continue."

"This item was in an area where use of lethal force is authorized if unauthorized personnel were there. It was my first time performing this specific duty, since the rotation is annual and I'm--was--a...newer official. As I made my way with my guards, I sensed what I know now to be this creature's mind broadcasting how much he wanted to steal it, but I didn't know its identity. We moved into the room, and this woman-child was about to put her hand upon the object. I thought she was the broadcasting mind so I ordered accordingly. I didn't see the creature until--"

"I'm right here, and my name is Stanley."

"Will you please ask it to quit making its mouth noises?"

Sedna turned to one of the armed Colossi security men. "Be ready to return her to Heliopolis upon my command and do not hesitate."

"Yes, Crown's Own," they replied in perfect unison, thumping the butt ends of their spears on the hardwood floor twice.

Sedna turned back to Mercedes. "If you are hellbent on never going back to Heliopolis, here's your first lesson as a Regulan: your personhood is not threatened by his. Choose to speak accordingly, or choose to return to your former home. Traqueljax," she said to him, "let her continue. Continue, Mercedes."

With reddened cheeks, Mercedes continued. "I didn't see this Unseelie until he slipped away. I sent my men to follow him and then began examining this child to see if there was any way to stop the bleeding. It was obvious to me that the Unseelie had poisoned her innocent mind and she was not to blame for this invasion."

Stanley sighed and looked at the ceiling. Sedna's eyes darted to him and back to Mercedes.

"She should have been close to expiring. She should have emptied her blood all over the floor. Instead, the blood had stopped after only a few drops. She actually stood up, so I took her to the corridor, whereupon she began bleeding again. I grabbed the object and put it into her hand, and the blood abated again. I didn't want her to die, but this was foul, ancient blood sorcery in the City of Light. Its form resolved to me into the likeness of a phylactery, but a twisted and blasphemous one made of devilswood. It became obvious that the Seven Devils had seduced the Grand Diurne, since to stow anything in that area was to have his signature upon the order to do so.

"So I vowed unto the Phoenix Himself during that one moment of temptation into doubt, to leave that den of darkness behind me and take this innocent girl to safety. I ordered an interception team to chase after the Unseelie while I took this child to my apartment and made ready to leave in haste. It was then that she herself uncovered even more treachery on the part of the Grand Diurne. You should let her explain, since her discernment differs from mine."

"Sabrine?" Sedna asked.

"My story is the same as Mercedes'," Sabrine began, "except without all the 'oh blasphemy' and ugly racisms. So we're at her place, she was packing some things and had me hold her money purse. I got curious about Phoenix money since I've never seen it, and she said I could look at 'real money' as she put it. I found one coin that was shaved, so I checked the edge to see if the fake milling was any good--it wasn't bad, really--when I saw a line of not-gold. I said, 'Hey, is your money minted around a blank now?' and she said something like--"

"I said that we are blessed and proud to have always minted our money from the pure rays of the sun and that it's shameful to carry adulterated coin."

"Yeah, that. So I showed the shaved coin to her and she got pissed. I looked at the date on it and the rest of her money and it was all very new, no more than two years old."

"The Golden Purse had recalled all gold coinage three years ago to update it. We were all having problems with the faces wearing off after fifty years. They added the lines on the edges to discourage thieves. It's never a joyous occasion to remove hands, so we hinder them as much as possible to reduce suffering."

"Was there a period of steep rising prices afterward?" Sedna asked Mercedes.

"No. We're as prosperous as ever."

Sedna nodded. "Who decided to leave a coin on the road west of the Fast?"

"Both of us, actually," Sabrine answered. "I lied and said I had a friend in the Fast--"

"We're not friends anymore?" Stanley asked.

"I didn't know you were in there, since the Fast has no gates. So anyway I told her they go to the Colossi every week for groceries and if we left it west of the Fast, they'd find it. Since you know...that road is deadsville. I told her I'd put my initial on it to let them know it was me. I figured if we left it as close as possible to where we left the wagon, he'd find it. We were in a big hurry since her Miracle Man was due at any time during that particular day."

"It's very odd that Simon's security didn't find it and take it," the Seer said.

"Shit. They weren't on the road," Stanley said. "I remember seeing mud on the wheels and the horse." He looked up at Sedna, but she merely paid attention to him speaking.

Fjalle sat back and crossed her arms. "Come to think of it, Dorcas didn't tell me about the very first Crown's Own coming by her inn. She's a gossip."

"Maybe in the excitement of the fire it slipped her mind?" Sedna suggested.

"Ooh no. She doesn't have his dumb Touch of Nostalgia but she's sharper than winter cheese. You have to be when you're in her business. Both of her businesses."

"We'll examine that evidence later," Sedna said. "I might be able to convince the Diet of Justicars to allow you to remain in Regula as a political refugee. Where's that coin?"

"I have it here in my pocket," Stanley said. He fished about in the pocket for a moment and then tossed the coin at Sedna.

"How did you--" Fjalle began, patting her own pockets before scoffing and shaking her head. [reference this a little earlier, making it sound like he goosed her]

She caught the coin, turned around to the security detail, and told them, "Reshackle the elf behind his back this time."

After they did so, Sedna faced him. "What were your plans with the Phylactery? Take it to the Unseelie Court and the thing with hypertermites?"

After Stanley made no move to answer her, Fjalle spoke up. "Yes, we were going to destroy the Phylactery."

"Who were you working for? You had to have logistics and funding for this sort of thing."

"My guru," the Seer said quietly.

"Traqueljax, when did you and the Third Eye meet up and join forces?"

"Two years or so before we put down the Dead King," Fjalle answered again, her words literally measured and even, mind focusing on what her eyes never could, before lifting her brows with a faint, resigned smile. "It got a better name in the meantime." She closed her eyes and shook her head slowly.

"One of these days I'm going to get you to sit down and explain everything you did."

"Maybe not everything," Fjalle said with a chuckle.

"Minus the debauchery." Sedna pointed that last word at Mercedes. "But with that in mind, Commancer Satorey, I have a question about your role with the Kingslayers. I need you to repeat what you told us the other night about what you did as one. Little more detail, please."

"Like I said--oh, you want Varolus to write it down, gotcha--so Lorinni Traqueljax, who was my instructor, and I stole into the Mansus Regal with the Five, and looked everywhere for that phylactery. Corky and Hanaa were asleep under a slightly lighter dose of the drug, so they couldn't help except to signal us when they woke so that we had time to get out. As was mentioned, we did what I now reveal what we refer to in Upper Modern Nerdish as a multidimensional manifold sweep."

"All of that sounds very...cosmic. Why did you go that far?"

"If the lich had polymath training--and from what we could tell, if you become a lich, you are probably a polymath to begin with--then that lich probably got training in advanced geometry. For example, I had to show Lorinni proofs for the equation to calculate the surface area of seven-dimensional rhombic dodec--"

"Nerdish."

"A magically enabled polymath could fold things into geometry that untrained people can't see, since we only exist in three dimensions."

"I actually understood that. And you thoroughly explored those options?"

"Yes. This is important because the Phylactery was believed to have been constructed as a simple box made out of bluewood. Mercedes' testimony confirms this. Bluewood, you see, exists in five dimensions. Hypertermites are five-dimensional--"

Sedna's voice dropped to a hoarse whisper. "The bugs are Nerdy too?"

"Shit's lousy with Nerdliness." Fjalle shook her head.

"And you never found it."

"Not hide, nor hair."

Sedna nodded, then turned back to Stanley. "Do you think you're the only smart person in the world?"

"What are you--"

"Waggles. We figured out how to get them to tell us the names of exploded communes when we offered to help investigate the causes. Which we did. And they had names like Quartzenheimer...Thermopyle...Waggles...Alchemique--very on-the-nose, I must say...wait what was that other one again? Waggles doesn't sound metallic or chemical." Sedna frowned and pursed her lips at him. "That and the estimated date--Blessed Regicide anniversary number fourteen--we kind of already multiplied two by seven. Simon never did pay attention to that commune's holocaust, so odd. He ignored that one, and the Nitroboom Manufactorium. Out of what, just under three hundred? Exactly what were the chances, especially as only one of all of those constituted the complete extinction of the commune?" She smiled and cocked her head. "Do remember, Fjalle confirmed at the Wonky Donkey debriefing that she was still hot on the Phylactery. I guess you didn't think we'd pick that mission back up? Fjalle here was our top agent, Kingslayer status not known but not surprising in the least."

"Is this some sort of accusation?" he asked.

"You tell me. You blundered into the walls of the Fast. We get slaughtered--by Kith Scouts, from what you say, if it's even to believe on top of being Faerie and Unseelie--"

"That status isn't really as uncommon as Faerie would like to claim--I have the Banyan mark under my--"

"And you're an unregistered Mentat."

"How the fuck was I supposed to know?"

And legally an orc--"

"No, legally I'm Yrqhatha. Orc is a species. Any child accepted into a Mastery study at a Kith Sorority is--"

"Fair enough. But see, you have one little finger in each of these pies. Mentat. Kith, Unseelie. Faerie. Polymath, through your dad."

"Are you kidding me?" Varolus asked. "I know what you just meant."

"Wow, Dame Sedna," Fjalle said. "Just, wow. Not trusting me? Never mind, I get it. I'm a Kingslayer, and it seems we're quite the untrustworthy bunch. But all of us? What about your dad?"

"He allowed Coshebas and his Kith Scouts to escape." She turned back to Stanley. "Now what did the survivor tell you? Tell me before I have him arrested and interrogated myself. He's had over forty years to drink away his trauma or whatever."

that's not how it works my stars you're cold he was just a child

Stanley looked at the Seer. She said, "Tell her."

"Seriously, dude, don't make me do all the talking," Sabrine said.

Stanley was trapped. "He told me that his cousin--once removed--was Tinkÿ-Pie. And she told him she brought the Phylactery back, and that all the Pixie polymaths were converging to study the item. It took them that long to conduct the physical experiments they needed on the Phylactery, and the analysis of the data they gathered, and then meta-analy--"

"By the Seven Houses of the Stars, you're a Nerd too?"

oh shit she has a look in her eye what the hell is that look in her eye I don't like that look she's almost enjoying herself

"Why did she take the Phylactery, when it was so important to destroy it as soon as possible?"

"I don't know. Unfortunately she's not around to ask."

"Oh please. I know all I need to. The Dark Tyrant pulled all of your strings. Tinkÿ-Pie was told by him--"

"It prefers to be refered to as 'it,'" the Seer mentioned.  Sedna waved her off.

"--to kype the Phylactery and take it all the six hells the way out into this somewhat isolated Pixie commune for fourteen years of study. Oh but you're supposed to destroy it right away."

Stanley began slouching again as he watched a single, blue leaf flutter to the floor.

\* \* \*

"No," the Seer replied. "If it knew where the Phylactery had been, it would not have..." She covered her mouth like she was about to retch. "...enslaved Stanley to find it." [she wants to lie here to protect him from the demon's wrath, but the idea of lying makes her ill as a Mentat, and part of their Ascension involves voluntarily, with witness,\* agreeing to be brainwashed against lying]

she's not Oathbound motherfucker she can talk all she wants about it you didn't mention that in the agreement and she's clever as fuck

~too~clever~by~half~

After a second of stunned silence, Sedna said to Fjalle, "You're a polymath, you didn't catch that?"

"I was preoccupied with building an impregnable fortress and defending our eastern quadrant with my wife. And two sets of girl twins."

Sedna cleared her throat. "Your boss had you all hopping about, keeping you busy and separated. It had its own agenda. In fact, the whole Kingslaying thing? I'd bet money, part of its plan to get control of the Phylactery. It didn't even care what happened to you. It was probably trying to kill you off, Traqueljax."

like you are "No. The Phylactery was lost at the time. I...volunteered to--because I'm the most expendible of the nine of us."

"Stanley," Fjalle said, "That's not true--"

Stanley counted on his fingers, "Dad and Castille were needed to judge your final Polymathesis. Jude belonged to that, too, as Castille's twin brother. Simon was building an entire republic. Corky and Hanaa deserved a place in the new Republic. Tinky said she needed to return to her commune to train their dogs, no one knew any better for fourteen years. Me? I don't even have a tribe to call home anymore."

Sedna scoffed and picked up the shackles on the table behind where Stanley was sitting. One of the security men stepped forward but she held up her finger before planting the cuffs in his gloved hand. "All right. So other than a Sorority in the Gardens of Glass, you have no home." Sedna stepped to stand in front of Sabrine. "So, Sabrine. How are you doing, really?"

Sabrine shrugged. "Fine, I suppose."

"For someone beginning the process of becoming a lich's vessel." Sedna took a chair and placed it in front of Sabrine, sitting down in it once she did so. "You're really going to go through with this?"

She looked down at her own shackled hands and nodded after a moment. "Yeah. The box and I seem to get along. I don't want to die--"

"You yourself said you're dead," Stanley said softly.

"But I'm seeing things, and doing things, and eating things. I sleep. I shit. That's good enough for me."

"And later? When you aren't you anymore?"

Sedna stood up and walked a few paces. "Are you certain that a murderous rampage is the natural course of being a lich?"

"The whole world saw what Treveque--"

"And was Treveque typical of all liches? Hells, where are all these other monsters? Pretty sure that would have been in one of those oldy-moldy books you read, apocalypses here and there until the greatest experts in the world killed it and took the phylactery and went out west to feed it to Nerdbugs. Isn't that where you learned how to destroy it? Commancer, did anyone, such as Lorinni Traqueljax, tell you how to erase the lich once you found its phylactery?"

"They did not."

"Stanley, did you read about how to erase a lich in those oldy-moldy books in those creepy libraries?"

Stanley shook his head. His eyes began to twitch.

"And who--or what--did?"

He stared straight forward at a vase on a wall shelf ahead of him. He noticed more bluewood tree frescoes behind it when his eyes held still for a moment.

"So...what if that was a lie to get you to move the Phylactery right where it wants the thing? And what kind of person calls themself a 'third eye?'"

The Seer inhaled sharply, her eyes wide. "Shut your whore brain, Stanley. That can't be the Third Eye."

He looked at her. "And why not?"

"Because it has eleven!"

"So there's nine candidates to be the third one."

"That's not the point. It's not a person. People don't have eleven eyes."

"You've never seen it?"

"No, that's why I keep asking and you never answered and in fact you changed subjects too quickly to recall a memory of its image so I thought it was invisible."

"What kind of creature has eleven eyes?" Sedna asked, looking at all three polymaths in turn. "Anyone?"

this is theoretical talk you know the deal this is allowed

~this~is~allowed~per~our~contract~I~don't~fear~science~and~I~don't~fear~polymaths~

Varolus raised his head, eyes cast to the side in thought. "Draw it." He handed Stanley his pen and book.

"I'm not much of an artist, but..." He managed to keep his eyes still enough to draw three concentric circles, exactly like his brand. Evenly spaced around it he drew ten small circles and attached them to the central eye with one wavy line apiece. "The little ones can move about, they're on stalks." He handed the pen and book to Varolus.

"Oh, that's a demon. My instructor dabbled in Manifestation--never summoned one like this, just little messenger imps--and so he kept a manual of demons." Varolus flipped a few pages, and then turned his book away from himself. On the page to the left, a detailed drawing of the demon Stanley drew. On the right, what seemed like an encyclopedic article about something called--"Panopticon. Also known as the All-Seeing Eye."

"That's the one," Stanley said.

"I'm impressed by its master. That's a very complex demon to Dominate, according to this article. You have to make it submit in all nine spatial dimensions plus two of the time dimensions."

"How long would that take?" Sedna asked.

"I would have to read its ritual of Domination."

"How long would that take?" she repeated.

"I'm going to need the help of a theoretical polymath to read it in time."

"Are there any in Regula?"

"Yeah," Fjalle said. "Lorinni Traqueljax. What do you want to know?"

Sedna smirked. "If it takes becoming a lich to complete this demon's submission."

~this~is~so~cute~

Varolus sat back, silent for five seconds. "Young lady," he said to Sabrine, "you just might be the master of that demon he's been serving."

Someone pounded on the door to the room and, with Lorinni Traqueljax's voice, began to yell, "What have you been doing to my son?"

\* \* \*

"Sedna! Open this before I make you regret opening it!" Lorinni's fists pounded on the locked door in a rhythm...

Sedna's face, lip curled up slightly, tracked the swing of the world's most invisible pendulum in front of her nose in her confusion. "That...didn't..."

...a five-beat rhythm...

Varolus' eyes opened even wider than they looked in his spectacles. "He finally did it."

The Seer clapped Varolus' back with a grin. "I'll be a son of a bitch since I'm neither male nor canine."

"I've heard Stanley sort of use it, I thought it was his type of humor."

"I'm right here! It's just a turn of speech."

Lorinni continued to pound on the door. "You're dividing a parent from their ailing child, which is against the Convention of the Spire! Especially as I'm not at all the cause of said child's ailment!"

"How the hell did he even get past the gate?" Sedna asked. Her guards looked between themselves, shrugging.

so much for vaunted state security

Varolus and the Seer stared at each other. "He has a Gate of his own."

Sedna looked at Stanley if he were a smelly fish. "There aren't any secrets you two won't plunge after, are there?"

"Not if you want to keep them!" Lorinni said from the other side of the door, still keeping up the five-beat rhythm.

The Seer crossed her arms and her eyes. "That's Erisolalia. He's sowing Confusion--oh wait, no Stanley I'm sorry I didn't mean to trigg--"

"No, I think the Confusion keeps Me too Confused to Recall too Strongly, we're Good."

"So you admit it!"

"Admit What?"

"I have no idea!"

"Is he actually threatening my authority?" Sedna snarled. "Fucking Kingslayers--"

"No, see, that's part of the Confusion. He bet Varolus and I--"

"--and Me," Stanley corrected.

The Seer cocked her head. "Really? Oh yeah, you're right, and there's Confusion again! So here's the deal: Varolus and me bet Lorinni--"

"And I!"

"--we could crack the last Quantum Riddle of M'l'k'v and prove Strife really existed as a cross-discipline between Mentalism and magic. Before he could. Solo."

"What was The Reward of the Bet?"

"Five tons of flax," she laughed. "It seems to make sense now..."

Lorinni slowly quit pounding on the door while she explained that. The sound of someone's body sliding down the other side of the door in almost the exact way he himself did at the Wonky Donkey broke Stanley's heart. "I just want to see my baby...you've nearly killed him several times now. What...what did you expect?" He sniffled. "I'm not trying to hurt you. I'm trying to convince you to open the damn door, please!"

"Discord. He's using external empathy pressure to turn us on each other--ooh, you and Robbert could use this when you do that 'you bastard' skit again."

"We knew what to expect," Varolus said, suppressing giggles. "It's still quite a trip though."

"I usually snort Ghoul Drool to get this Quality of Disconnect from my Memories."

"But Ghoul Drool also kind of reveals your inner asshole, old man. It feels better for you but not for anyone around you. Like now."

"Am I correct to assume," Mercedes said, wearing a warm smile, "that Lorinni Traqueljax is the grieving father, separated from his offspring, who is causing this odd mental chaos?"

"I Really love Your Grammar, Super Really," Stanley told Mercedes.

"You are," the Seer replied. "Damn right you are!"

"Lorinni Traqueljax! Hello! It is I, Mercedes!"

"Hey there, Mercedes! I don't think I've met you in person, but I didn't expect you this far west. Wait, aren't you a raging racist?"

"Indeed! I'm not particularly comfortable speaking to you because of that fact. However, Dame Sedna, whom I actually do respect and honor as the Crown's Own Justicar, as all in Heliopolis do, has impressed upon me the need to at least pretend you are a person of equal personhood as I esteem myself to be."

"It's a start," he replied. "I appreciate the pretense. May it spread to amity."

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves. We were all in the midst of what seems to be a very animated conversation about Blood Magic and the economic collapse of the city of my birth, if my clairvoyance is to be trust--oh look there I went, giving away my secrets."

"I'm Confusing you. It's to be expected. I want to save my son. He's dying, and these humans are killing him. I don't want to hurt anyone, but I need to save my child."

"Of course you do. Even the beasts of the field would do the same."

"What are you even talking about?" Sedna asked. The irides of her eyes didn't even exist anymore, completely swallowed by her gigantic pupils.

"We are having a detente, Crown's Own."

"Oh, one of those. Carry on."

"From the conversation between my comrade the Seer and her companion, I am to expect that you, Lorinni Traqueljax, as like the Seer, are both Polymath and Mentat, and you've somehow divined a means of combining the two. Personally I find the inclusion of devil magic to the pure realm of self-dominance to be heretical and disgusting, but professionally I find the idea intriguing."

"You're quite the compartmentalizer."

"Not sure if that's an insult or a compliment."

"Neither am I. Continue."

"Because of course he Confused himself," Varolus grumbled and then chuckled.

"To be honest, their conversation hadn't quite finished, since they never touched on the impending financial crisis that my home will endure due to its own folly, whatever that may be. And I have quite a bit invested in that conversation. I know that you yearn to be with your offspring--"

"Hey, look. That sort of cold terminology is actually insulting, all right? I'm trying very hard to be civil with a known elf-hater such as yourself, no personal barb intended except for all of them."

Mercedes closed her eyes and inhaled deeply. "Your empathy bomb is a neat circumvention of my need for impartial clarity."

"I am his father, and he is my son. I am a blessed man to know him."

"One might mistake your ability to target someone's emotions as an act of Lection."

"Mistake away. Please have someone unlock this door so that I can at least touch my son before he expires."

Stanley called out, "Dad! I'm Right Here. I'm not Dying at This Very Moment."

"Hello Moment my old friend..." Sabrine began to sing quietly, giggling at some internal joke while fiddling with her circlet.

"Good gracious, finally some proof of life. Yes, you are. Let me in!"

"You Might Want to Drop Your Ball of Confusion, Dad. I think it's Affecting You as Well."

"Indeed," Mercedes said.

"..I've come to sing with you again..." Sabrine continued.

"How did you know I called it that?" Lorinni asked. "No one can read minds."

"No Idea, Dad."

"I pray," said Mercedes, "that you would quit whatever assault you are committing upon this room."

"That's one of Jude Satorey's songs," the Seer whispered at Sabrine with a smile.

"It's the least I can do. But Mercedes..." Lorinni sniffled hard, "they've threatened to cut him to death, they've pushed him into alchemical Exaustion just a day after they watched him do it to himself. He's not even recovered from that and they've sent him on the Trek. You humans aren't being very humane."

Sabrine rolled her eyes languidly toward the Seer. "My favorite singer too."

"How does assaulting us help your son?" Mercedes asked.

"What parent would miss the opportunity to prevent further harm to their child?" Lorinni wailed.

"Drop the Ball, Dad. Everyone's too Confused to Figure Out where the door is."

"...Heresy visited, She softly crept..." The Seer joined Sabrine in her song. She whirled her hand on its wrist, inviting everyone.

"You know where it is," Lorinni said.

"I also can't move about."

"...like a Kith assassin while I slept..." Varolus joined in.

"Not sure if I actually can drop the Ball now."

"It's a tiny bit maybe required, Dad."

"...and the future that She planted in my mind..." Sedna picked up the tune with the rest of them.

"...itself rewinds..." Stanley and the security officers sang this.

Silence descended upon the room. Through the haze of his Confusion, within his mind Stanley groped for the string he and Lorinni and Fjalle all shared from fifty-seven years ago. A spark, not hot but warm, surged through him. Although the memories of his past once again lapped at his ankles, he could, for the moment, tolerate their presence, and that of everyone around him.

"...within the sound of violence," Lorinni finished. Stanley heard his knuckles softly hit the floor tiles between sobs.

Fjalle stood up and twisted the iron key in the iron door's iron lock with an iron click.

\* \* \*

Lorinni shot through the door as soon as Sedna opened it, faster than a starving cat. Stanley, on his side on the table, put out his arms toward his father, unable to lift them anymore. Magnets meet like the Traqueljaxes did, except with less enthusiasm. Everyone else was shaking their head, wiping their face, or in Sabrine's case, just laughing at some secret cosmic punchline. Father pulled son into his embrace, planting kisses all over the top of his boy's head, his rainbow braids falling around both of their faces. Stanley dissolved into sobs, grasping at Lorinni's jacket. she's trying to kill me

\*I can see that\*

Stanley's breath caught in his throat.

"The hells are you doing to my son?" Lorinni yelled at Sedna. She advanced on Lorinni, sword in hand, until Fjalle stepped in front of her, both shortsticks in her hand.

"I love you Sedna but you are way out of line," Fjalle growled.

"He attacked us!" Sedna shrieked.

"He's trying to protect his child! The fuck you expect a parent to do?"

curses foiled again Sedna

The two women stared at each other. One of the security guards advanced on her and she immediately lifted and pointed one of her shortsticks directly at his face without looking. "No." He stopped in mid-step, his eyes on the end of her barrel. "Both of you." She waved the other one at the less bold guard. "You two just volunteered for a new task. You will be taking the younger elf to the Sanatorium with his father."

"And I'll need two students of the Third Eye," Lorinni said, scooping up Stanley like a new bride. "And a lich."

"I'm too fucking tired to doubt you, older man," Fjalle mumbled. "Sorry you two had to get mixed up in this." She pointed at the shackled women on the table. "Release those two into the Seer's custody. She's under my command and I will take responsibility for them." The less-bold man immediately moved to unlock their shackles. Fjalle nodded at the Seer. She nodded back, headed toward the open door, and gave Sedna a hairy-eyed glance on the way. "Now unfortunately for the Justicar, the law says we cannot keep foreign diplomats and their immediate families in the Diet's custody except for charges of rape and murder, neither of which have happened here nor were attempted."

"Don't apologize for me," Sedna said.

"Good, I'm not. I'm apologizing for the situation. We'll sit down and talk once it's under control."

"You can't--"

"I can and I am. You're in shock as much as that elf. I made the mistake of thinking you were able to function after seeing your father do what he did." She turned to Lorinni. "Get going. I got this."

Sedna hung her head as she sheathed her sword. "This...episode does not leave this room. Are we all clear?"

The humans, including the two security men, verbally agreed in their way. I'm not agreeing to shit wait you don't care you're not prompting me you're going to try it again

you didn't bother to ask dad either

Lorinni nodded at his student before whirling away with Stanley. Sabrine and Mercedes stuck together, holding hands with the Seer, following the elves, the security guards following them all. The women, all at least a head shorter than Lorinni, had to trot to keep up with him. The guards themselves still had to speed-walk.

The Seer caught up along Lorinni. "You act as if Stanley's dying."

"He is. He needs to be put into dreamless sleep as soon as possible." He smiled at her. "He won't be Mitting."

"You're here now," Stanley said before having to gasp in his next breath. "I'm not dying anymore, she failed." He felt his father change his grip underneath his shoulders, keeping his head from falling back. It turned out that the fresco of bluewood trees extended into the hall. Someone had opened a door somewhere, and blue leaves blew about on the floor.

"You might have twenty minutes left."

The bolder security guard said, "We know where to get you a carriage and a competent driver. Meet us at the back gate." He beckoned his partner to follow.

"That's awfully trusting," the Seer said.

"I know, isn't it great?" Sabrine replied.

"They can be trusted." Lorinni didn't even stop. "All right, where is the back gate? Do any of you know?"

"Follow me," said Mercedes.

"Remote viewing! So that's how you do it."

Mercedes shot him a venomous glance. "Please let me concentrate."

"Where is the staff?" Sabrine asked with a quiet volume.

"I Confused anyone in my way," Lorinni replied in kind. "They'll be fine. I told them a walk would clear their minds. Most of them believed me. I mean, it wasn't a lie. Then I wandered about for half an hour because I Confused myself too. Brilliant idea, by the way, Sabrine--"

"I never told you my name--"

"--you're my son's best friend--"

"--you and I've never met."

"--you countered my Confusion by getting everyone to participate in a 4-beat rhythmic activity without consciously knowing it. My boy here has never picked stupid friends."

"This way," Mercedes snapped. She reversed direction down the hall and even led them back past the party room. Stanley got a short glance through the open door at Sedna sitting in one of the ugly chairs with her face in her hands, elbows on knees, head down and shoulders shaking, Fjalle touching her shoulder. she's playing your friendship Fjalle can't you see that

Lorinni murmured to Stanley. "You're stepping on the edge of the Infinite Grove. A few have returned, so it's known what it's like." His next laugh was empty. "You're completely aware of the Trek. The transition from here to the Grove is seamless on your end. Which is why you need to keep your eyes open. You need to see this world so you know to stay in it, at least until we can make you sleep without dreaming. Don't look at any trees on the way. Are we clear?"

Stanley looked at the fresco. The branches began to shudder in the breeze. "Maybe I am dying." inhale "I see the trees already. Please--"

Lorinni smiled down at Stanley. "I'm not going to let you."

"What's causing this?" Sabrine asked. "So, you know, I can avoid killing him."

"Make him take a power nap every afternoon."

"I hate sleeping." inhale "The memories come back in dreams."

"I know. This wasn't your fault. No, the Seer, I'm not going to tell you how I know."

"This is it," said Mercedes. "We go out this door, and the carriage should pull up."

The Seer opened the heavy mahogany door. Twilight ruled the air, ochre and turmeric in the west, the lavender and pink Girdle of Celebran to the east as the sky drew its night shawl across the world. There wasn't a carriage.

Lorinni looked this way and that. "I was sure I could trust them."

Mercedes glanced askance at him. "They are on the way."

He nodded. "Can you hear the horses, Sibrulon?"

"Who's Sibrulon?" Sabrine asked.

"I am," Stanley replied. "And we're not-" inhale "--supposed to speak that name out here."

"Why not? I use mine," Lorinni said.

A two-horse coach rounded the wall's corner and pulled up to the quintet waiting for it. The driver pulled the team to a stop right in front of them. Sabrine quickly opened the coach's door and Lorinni dashed in, followed by Mercedes and Sabrine. The Seer lingered enough to say to the driver, "Sanatorium, fast, please."

The man sitting on the driver's box tipped his billed hat. "Name's Gyves, happy to hear 'please.'" She hadn't even yet secured the door when he got the horses to pulling.

Sabrine settled in next to Lorinni and put Stanley's feet on her lap. "Wfew! Something literally smells like shit in here."

"Probably me," Lorinni said.

"Try another cologne."

"Sky and wind, she's right," the Seer said, wrinkling her nose. Mercedes sat on the window side of their bench, looking out, her jaw muscle fluttering.

"Should only be another five minutes. The Seer, you need to walk ahead of me as fast and angry as you can and throw your rank around."

"That won't be difficult. I'm already angry." She took Stanley's hand. "Keep your eyes open like your dad said."

"It's hard with all," inhale, "the branches in my face."

"You put off Exhaustion for an hour the other day. Pretty sure you can put off dying to death for a few minutes."

Stanley smiled, but it faded quickly. Just too much effort. "Looks like no" inhale, "grandkids, dad." The forest outside pressed against the coach. He wondered how Gyves was able to drive horses through this blue thicket.

~no~no~you~don't~get~to~leave~me~this~soon~

"Maybe this will help him." Sabrine pulled her steel circlet off her head and set it on Stanley's. The blue trees immediately receded. The young elf inhaled deeply, opened his eyes wide, and sat up. Everyone shrieked. Sabrine clapped.

"How did you know--" Lorinni began.

"I don't know." Sabrine shrugged. "She did."

"You may have bought him some time."

Stanley slumped against his father again, breathing slowly. "Oh look we're coming to a clearing," he said.

"That's the Sanatorium," the Seer told him, scooting on her bench toward the door. Lorinni gripped Stanley again, ready to heave him up.

"Oh sun above," Mercedes murmured. "The whites of his eyes are vivid lavender."

"That's the last stage of the Trek beginning," Lorinni replied. "Ready, the Seer?"

She nodded before pushing open the door. "Thank you Gyves!" she called out as she sprinted up a ramp to a porch attended by women in white robes. The trees began closing in again. The women quickly opened the heavy doors of the Sanitorium and let the Seer and the elves in.

"Doctor Traqueljax!" someone exclaimed.

"Is there a physician who knows elves?" the Seer asked. One attendant in white robes pushed a cot on caster wheels in front of the elves. "We have one about to die of Exhaustion."

"I've done this," said a woman from ten kilometers away. She had an accent of some type, one he thought he should know but then again he had finally accepted that it probably didn't matter since he would be taken away by those trees soon. Lorinni put Stanley on the cot. "Theater five, run. Phlogistonic nitrous air, right now," she snapped.

"Yes, Doctor." Soft shoes slapped on the white tile floor, receding. Someone started pushing his cot. The hallway walls had shivering frescoes of bluewood, climbing from the floors and stretching over the ceiling.

"Don't let" inhale, "the trees get me." Inhale, "I'm scared."

"The trees aren't here," said the doctor as she trotted beside the cot. "Quit looking at them. Look at me. My name is Doctor Bjenqvast. What is your name?"

"Stanley." inhale "Traqueljax." He rolled his eyes, so difficult to do now, to find her face. Oddly, it was right above him and to the left, not kilometers away like she sounded. She had black, curly hair pulled back tightly from her dark brown face and tied sloppily. She wore the same sort of white robes as the attendants, except with golden trim. Behind her shoulders bobbed a hood. Her brown eyes crinkled.

"Stanley, you're about to go to a sleep so deep you won't dream."

"That's good." inhale "I hate dreaming."

She looked at Lorinni, who kept pace. "Is that why he's--"

"Official government business," the Seer cut in.

Stanley kept looking at the doctor. She looked so nice. He saw her remove from a white pouch on her belt an object wrapped in white silk. "While you're asleep we're going to push fluids through you constantly, with an array of these. You'll be happy to know we won't make you feel them, because you're going to be a pincushion soon." She pulled off the silk to reveal a long, cruel, silver syringe. That didn't look so nice. "Until we let you wake up, this room will be your home. Doctor Traqueljax, you can't come any farther. We will contact you when you can visit him."

"Dad," Stanley whispered.

The cot took a sharp turn and pushed through a series of two sets of white silk curtains into a brightly lit white room that reeked of vinegar. The trees started whipping their branches through the airlock, framing his father's iridescent braids as he obeyed the physician before she drew the curtains shut. Someone covered the bottom half of his face with some sort of leather mask that smelled faintly sweet.

"Breathe in deeply, Stanley. You'll be fine before you know it."

With great effort, he obeyed. Within a minute, he wasn't smelling anything.

of course you're going to die alone

Chapter 9

for five suns you will act upon the pleasures and desires of your Warchief

your Warchief will need someone to die quietly

you will kill them dishonorably

your Warchief will need something stolen

you will defy its rightful owner

your Warchief will need another clan's honor diminished

you will sow the seeds of chaos among blood-bonded siblings

whom you kill will save many from death

what you steal may mean life for your Warclan

what you sabotage can stop the engines of destruction

only your Warchief can order you to do these dishonorable acts in the name of the Eternal Jyhad

your Warchief doesn't need to know how you did it

your honor and glory will kill him, you, and your clan

you are important only by being unimportant

do you understand what I've told you

Scout Mother Daisy Petal I understand your words

do you accept the terms, Fancy Pup

when do we begin Scout Mother

\* \* \*

"I don't get it," a voice said as soon as Stanley could hear again. "How come I can't unshape you? What makes you so special?" It was a very familiar voice.

Stanley opened his eyes to a barely lit white ceiling. As his eyes adjusted to being open and letting in any light, he turned his head back and forth where it rested on a soft thing, a pillow. All he saw to his right were white walls, lit by whatever weak light spilled from the quiet hall through the open doorway, and to the left--

"Coshebas," he whispered. Ice spread slowly from his solar plexus outward. He flexed his fingers: they actually felt comparatively strong. thank you Doctor Bjenqvast if you're still alive

Coshebas put his finger to Stanley's lips. Motherfucker twisted her head clean off. No blood. Like she was made of clay. Nothing happened except that the man said, "Shh. I'm not here to hurt you. I want you to come with me. But I can't unshape you and take you with me." He backed off a step, looking at the length of the elf's body. "Barbarians," he muttered at the sight. "What they've done to you...and I can't even shape your flesh to fix this. No, don't look, it will break your heart. But you're not a child of the box, are you?"

he can't hurt me it can't hurt to ask "What are you doing?"

"Who did this to you? Who put you into such extreme Exhaustion? Was it Sedna? It would be like her. This isn't the first time she's killed someone indirectly that got in her way." Coshebas cleared his throat. "Me, to be precise."

"You were executed for murder," Stanley argued in a gentle voice.

Coshebas waved the words away like an aggressively stinky fart. "I nearly had the process perfected. Castille and the rest were necessary--I--we need to save the world from that comet." He looked off into a distance blocked by tiled white walls. "It's our destiny. My gift with Carnal Vicissitude was the sign." He looked at Stanley as if for the first time. "You have that gift too, don't you? You can shape flesh! I can see it in your eyes, just now. Sun and moon, you're magnificent. Just like me. We're both Lichborne."

"We're nothing alike, Coshebas."

Coshebas bent over Stanley, took his hand between his own. Stanley's blood throbbed beneath his skin. "We're brothers. Not literal, of course. I didn't realize it that night we met. I'm sorry I had people try to kill you. I forgive you for stabbing my leg. It didn't last, as you saw." Tears began to drip from his eyes. "We're a rare breed, you and I. Which one is your ancestor? Will it be your father? Your mother, maybe? What's your name? It doesn't matter."

"I destroyed a lich. I'm not descended from one."

"Oh, but you have to be. I've been studying this one for decades, ever since my Polymathesis. I have the literature, plundered from the Sphynx itself two hundred years ago. Our gift only runs among descendants of those who submit to a phylactery." He paused. "Wait, you said you destroyed a lich? Are you a Kingslayer too? Like my father?"

The blood drained from Stanley's face. "Who's your father?"

"Simon Mertny. I saw you talk to him before his body went dormant."

Despite the warm August climate, Stanley's innards finally froze solid, but his skin caught fire.

Coshebas grinned as if he'd found his long-lost cousin. "You're the younger Traqueljax! Father told me about you. I'm so honored to meet you. You freed the Phylactery from an inferior host. Thank you, from the bottom of my heart. Thank you." He kissed Stanley's hand. The elf swallowed back bile. "There's a comet that is going to hit the planet soon. I have a plan to save us all. I just need the Phylactery."

I hope you can brain my loud-ass brain ma'am Coshebas is here he's talking to me he wants the Phylactery get Sabrine away now now now

"Just tell me where your girl friend is and I'll take it from there. You'll see. My father can save the world with it. He will be the Phoenix embodied."

"I know about the comet."

"Then you know that a second Starless Night is coming. But if we use the box to hatch the Phoenix, it can be the light of the world. It can be the sun when the sun is taken from us."

"You're not touching that box. Sabrine can't live withou--"

"One life, or two billion?"

"That's not your call."

"It's not yours either."

"I would rather leave her that choice."

"She can't do what needs to be done."

"I don't care. She has the box. It's giving her life. She has the right to decide on her own." not to mention she's my friend

but she's a lich now

ffffffffffffffffffffuck

"That stupid girl took what is rightfully ours!" Coshebas closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. "It's fine. I have a team of Kith Scouts looking for her."

"I don't care." Stanley sat up.

he has Kith Scouts looking for her run and don't stop and don't look back

"You want to know why you can't shape me," Stanley continued, swinging his naked legs off the cot and onto the floor. He had a cloth dressing over his crotch, wet and ammonia-scented and stained lavender with what he guessed was the urine he'd passed while unconscious, which fell away and hit the white tile floor with a soft splat when he stood. "Here's why." Then he did his skin trick.

Coshebas gasped.

\*he shapes himself I wish I could heal him he's so beautiful he would make a perfect host for the box\* His mind felt like tentacles.

"Despite the barbarity of what the physicians have put me through, I have my strength back," Stanley said, not sure if he was lying, his voice higher pitched. He felt added weight on his chest and his arse, and nothing hung down between his thicker legs. His hearing diminished slightly, but not as much as the morning in the Fast under Sedna's gaze. "You might want to leave now. Your hired Scouts aren't the only ones in this building. I know of some others that you don't, and their orders are to protect my friend." He stepped toward Coshebas. It felt wonderful to be able to move again, even if slowly. I'm in the right place to take a nap afterward

The human man stepped back, his eyes open wide, one arm unconsciously feeling behind himself. "Please don't hurt me. Again."

"I don't need to. Call off your hounds before I kill them all myself." Stanley, still naked, walked toward the entryway to the room. Coshebas slipped out before Stanley could. A second soft shuffle echoed only for his ears, different from those of Coshebas' feet padding rapidly away, carrying his thoughts with him.

The elf stepped slowly into the hall. His belly ached with hunger and his head felt light, but his cold fear and hot rage fueled his limbs instead. He looked down at himself, now dancing in the body of a Kindred woman, skin smooth and tawny brown, the patch of hair below the abdomen nearly the same color as the hair on Coshebas' scalp, pale--almost silver, not an abnormal palette for Kindred. interesting choice of his The trick didn't erase all the tiny red punctures that speckled him all along his arms, legs, abdomen, just as it didn't take away the scars on his right arm; but his sight wasn't diminished by the new anatomy, still firmly rooted in an elfkind body. He flattened himself against the wall, his now-receptive mind sensing someone trying not to be sensed, to his left.

these Kith slaughtered everyone at the Fast

murder just became a valid option

~what~did~I~tell~you~

shut up

A Kith man, tall and broad and tan with braided red hair, small tusks protruding from behind his lower lip, dressed in the white robes of a nurse attendant, exited an adjacent room, gave Stanley a double take. \*this isn't the one I was hired to--\*

Stanley sent knuckles into the center of the Scout's face, snapping his small nose. While he stepped back, surprised and stunned, Stanley casually grabbed his head and rotated it backward with a thoughtless, savage wrench. The Kith man's thoughts extinguished as his spinal cord ripped asunder from the violence of the elf's silent, instant attack. Stanley cringed at the mental silence, became nauseated at it, fell to his knees gagging at it. while he let now-inanimate meat and bones sink to the floor.

why brother

He set to distracting himself from cold-blooded murder by pulling off the robe and fishing the clothes of the corpse for any sort of weapon, finding a nyanduka--a weapon of orcish design, a light, steel throwing cable with tungsten steel weights on the ends--Stanley had lost his years ago--spiked iron knuckles, and a blackjack the length of his own arm, a small weapon for Kith. The knuckles felt toxic to his skin, but he kept them anyway, quickly snapping off the blackjack's strap to use it to lash the knuckles tightly to the bulb, spikes outward. This Kith wore no shoes, surprising Stanley not in the least.

After plundering what he thought he could use, Stanley continued his way down the hall, searching for anyone out of place, or for his father. He remembered the physician telling him as much as to stay out of the way.

one down, nineteen to go

\* \* \*

He hated the intrusion in his head that wearing someone else's body made possible, but at least he'd be able to sense anything alive a couple seconds before it could reach him. He passed rooms with patients in them, asleep and awake, their pain and fear and ill sensations pressing against his own thoughts, making him feel their pain and fear and ill sensations. Ghoul Drool would fix all that Everywhere he looked were white walls, white ceiling, white tiles, white silk curtains blowing in the night breeze, the shadow of a cot in each room, some empty, others occupied. Everything was scrubbed clean, every floor swept and mopped. His eyes scanned the floor for any sign, a smudge of dirt or a stray pebble, any trace of something that could tell him where the next Scout had secreted themselves.

\*I thought she was supposed to be human\*

"I hear you, Brother," he called out in the Yrqhash language, using the moment to use his ring and pinky to push loose strands of his hair behind his left ear. "The girl with the box is long gone by now, but if I find you I will kill you for your dishonorable murders at the Fast. I already made another of our Brothers pay for it." He turned his head to the left. seven meters

"Did you find joy taking his payment?"

"You must have had a very easy Warchief." Stanley turned his head to the right. three meters

The Kith's voice grunted. "Typical Kazu-Mazu. All talk."

"Typical Kazu-Gorzola and your shitty Scout Mothers." Stanley dropped to his belly, slipping back into his own skin, pushing forward with his palms on the ground. His robes took all the friction out of sliding backward on the highly glossy tiles through the wide stance the Kith took while swinging an axe through the air where the elf's head had been. A few strands of glittering taupe fluttered to the ground. He took a swing at the thick tendon connecting the Kith's calf to his heel with the blackjack in his hand, and connected with the weapon's shaft: might as well not have connected at all. He then rolled away before hopping lightly back on his own feet. "Long steps make more noise."

The Kith took another swing, missing the nonstop elf but hitting the wall. His axe bit deeply into the polished tile, shattering several squares. Stanley brought the modified, spiked bulb of his blackjack down on the Kith's wrist. The other Scout howled this time: the elf had been aiming for where orc-kin keep their medial nerve. The Scout could not help but let go his axe, but he had the head to lunge at Stanley, his left hand flying to Stanley's throat to crush it, missing that mark. His hand did manage to thread his fingers into the elf's long hair and make a fist. He began shaking the elf back and forth like a wet rag. Stanley had his weapon in his own left hand, too awkwardly angled to hit anything but the Kith's iron jaw.

So he walked his feet up the Kith's leg and torso, slinging out one weighted end of the nyanduka with his right hand, around the Kith's thick neck. He dropped his blackjack and, just after grabbing the other end of the nyanduka, stomped a heel into the Kith's face.

He felt some of his hair rip out, some slip between the Scout's fingers. What mattered was that he was free to use the Kith's inertia backward to use the nyanduka as a centrifuge and his meaty neck as the axis. Stanley wasn't surprised that this swing didn't affect his stance if at all. He counted on it. The swing enabled him to throw another loop of cable around the Kith's neck, shortening the grip by half a meter. He swung his left leg up as he came face to face with the Kith Scout again, hooking it over his shoulder and squeezing to stop his swing, then doing the same with his right leg on the other shoulder.

The Kith and the elf locked amber eyes, a zero and a one. The cable already bit into flesh, lacerating skin, closing off air.

"I yield," the Scout choked out.

"I don't care." Stanley crossed his arms and let his head and torso drop backward, the back of his skull stopping above the ground by the height of the Kith's knees. He wasn't sure how much he would cut, if any, but it would at least choke off breath and blood as long as he could stay extended. The more the larger man tried to instinctively counterbalance the weight of the smaller man, the tighter the cable. Stanley looked up by looking down the length of his body to his knees. Blood stained both white robes and slicked his bare legs all the way to his groin. For a moment he absurdly thought it looked like he was giving birth to a big bald head with sharp, ivory tusks.

And then his newborn's knees began to buckle. He tucked his head, chin to chest, letting go the nyanduka, accepting that a little wind would be knocked out as his shoulders impacted the floor, not wanting to be trapped under the Kith's bulk. That his legs were still locked around the Kith's shoulders helped him leverage some room to wriggle free from this writhing meat.

maybe he's faking

~git'im!~

Stanley rolled over and found his blackjack. He brought it down on the back of the Scout's skull, its spikes biting into thin flesh and thick bone. The Kith's limbs danced mindlessly. The elf kept thrashing at the Kith's head until occipital bones cracked and brain matter squished beneath. Only then did he see blood spurting in successively weaker bursts from the side of the Scout's neck from where the slender nyanduka cable sliced him open.

Without wasting any time, Stanley flipped up the hem of the Scout's nurse attendant robe, fished in his pants pockets, finding no money or weapons, but a small leather pouch tightly tied up.

oh moon and stars tell me it's--

He pulled the drawstrings loose and sniffed.

pure Ghoul Drool

/"But Ghoul Drool also kind of reveals your inner asshole, old man. It feels better for you, but not for anyone around you."/

He spent four heavy breaths contemplating.

I'm an asshole when I use this

but there are eighteen more of these fuckers

I shouldn't

I can't do this without it

With the fifth breath, Stanley carefully spilled an eyeballed measure on the tile, then put his finger against one nostril.

\* \* \*

From the hall only twenty meters back where he had left the first Kith corpse, someone finally found it and alerted anyone else around with a shout for help. At first, Stanley became irritated by their sounds, until it hit him: my Brothers will be scrambling to leave now they will make worse mistakes He disentangled his dripping nyanduka from his latest victim's savaged neck and re-coiled it into his right hand. He expected tiny electric sparks to jump out of his sparkling fingers when he reached with his left hand for the blackjack and wrenched the spikes out of the Kith's split skull. Every inch of his skin scintillated with the night color, regardless that it wasn't deeply dark. Every limb drank in the Ghoul Drool that filled his mind and made each drop of his blood hum. His crippling memories evaporated. All he could think about in the moment was to find eighteen more of his Brothers, all larger and stronger and probably healthier, before they found his best friend, and kill them first.

Easy enough.

The world passed him in slow motion as he finished finding an exit from this ward. Hard lines and light sources left trails in his vision. Attendant nurses summoned to the ward made a wide arc around the bloody, scary elf with a powdery nose as he stalked the direction they ran from, his eyes barely noticing their presence, although he held the door from the exit to the main body of the Sanatorium open for five more. If the Scouts were after Sabrine, some might still occupy the public space, checking any possible hiding spots, scenting her like hounds--intelligent, freakishly strong hounds, although he did truly doubt the competence of their Scout Mothers.

When he passed into the public space, still completely white and lacking the animate bluewood frescoes that chased him while he began the Trek, he saw the flurry of movement to his right too late. A bulk with blonde braids laced with bones slammed into him. definitely Kazu-Gorzola why do they have to advertise His hand, the size of a dinner plate, shoved Stanley's upper chest, pinning him to the wall; the other hand pulled a long dirk from his boot. He stepped forward so close, his chest pressed against the elf's, hips between knees, removing the elf's ability to kick or use any of his weapons with any force. In a flash, Stanley instinctively felt a rush of drug-fueled sexual desire from this sudden and intimate contact, even while his Scout Brother readied his dirk under the elf's chin, as if his hungry body decided it was going to go out with a bang.

"So this is the Fancy Pup, huh? I'll make this slow, I want to watch while you realize you're about to pay your blood debt to Kazu-Gorzola."

I owe that sorority nothing--

Stanley let his long legs encircle the Kith's waist. The way his adversary's hard belly felt sliding past his bare junk only thrilled him more. Once he hitched his knees around the lower curve of the Kith's ribs, the dirk had penetrated the skin of his jaw and was slowly pushing along the bone beneath and behind his lower teeth. this is the Drool thinking oh my stars but why can't he just open his pants and take me right here The Kith man smiled broadly, cruelly, his heavy breath blowing across the elf's cheek as he savored his slow kill. Stanley squeezed his knees as hard as he could, feeling the success of crackling cartillage and bone between his legs. The pain of the blade pressing under his tongue didn't matter anymore. This Scout wasn't relenting even with broken ribs. The Ghoul Drool in the elf's system made the contact between his genitalia and the Kith's bare skin nearly unbearably erotic. In the back of his head he wondered how dying while climaxing would work.

Before he could find out, something bright and silver flashed and the grip on Stanley's throat went clean away, along with the Kith's hand, which fell to the floor. Another silver swipe, while the elf found his breath, and a fountain of blood sprayed up into his face from the Kith's sliced carotid. As the man fell, leaving his knife still protruding from under the elf's jaw before it fell out of its own accord, Stanley saw who just happened: glittering feline topaz eyes in a golden brown face with the most perfect pout of lips, framed by loose waves of frost-streaked umber tendrils; the swell of this Kindred's forearms ended in lean fists gripping the hilts of long-familiar, bloodied twin cutlasses. The sweet ache in Stanley's solar plexus he felt around Fjalle swelled again.

"Jude," he whispered, panting. He reached out with his hand and pulled Jude's face to his. Jude's kiss deepened into his mouth, their tongues embracing as their arms slid around each other's lean torsos.

"You are impossible to track down," Jude whispered when their faces parted, brows still touching. "I was almost afraid I felt you--or Fjalle--leave us last week." Stanley saw where a line had formed itself on Jude's skin from his nostrils to the corners of his mouth during the last half century. of course he's changed Kindred can actually age that's so hot why can't we just shag right here I'm about to explode

"How...?" Stanley hoped Jude didn't notice his hand creeping down toward the front of Jude's pants.

"I felt one of us leave. I went to the Fast to...Please tell me my sister's wife isn't among the carnage."

"She's alive. We both made it out."

Jude swatted Stanley's hand away a trio of seconds after contact was made, his eyes focusing on the end of Stanley's nose. he sees the powder "You were there? That place is the sixth hell." Jude's head dipped. "I followed muddy cart-tracks on the road toward the Wonky Donkey. It was...worse."

Without warning, Stanley's heart splattered all over the floor, his sexual machinations completely forgotten. "Children too?"

"I couldn't look at all of the...parts."

Stanley followed his heart with his body to the floor, wailing, his gory hands grasping at his own hair. Jude wiped his blades on a rare unbloodied swatch of robe and sheathed them before crouching before Stanley, who had begun rocking to and fro on his knees with his arms wrapped around himself, repeating, "I led them right there. I led them--" Tarique and Firouzée's faces melted off in Stanley's internal vision,  their bare skulls collapsing into dust; the other children ran past, while invisible knives sliced them like cheese, the slices continuing to run on momentum even as their innards trailed behind their bare feet.

"Hey. Hey! No one told them to kill these people." Jude's voice evaporated Stanley's imagined sins but the guilt remained.

/"Guilt only evaporates in the absence of memory," Spirit Mother told Fancy Pup, a lifetime ago, after she found his first powdered nose. "Ghoul Drool can stop your memories just for so long, then it enthusiastically invites them back like a bad lover."/

Why do I keep doing this to myself?

"You don't know, do you? Someone did tell them, hired the most bloodthirsty, vicious Scouts from Kazu-Gorzola specifically for massacre. Got Heliopolis to embezzle itself to pay for them. Oh moon and stars, he was in my room. He touched me. He wanted to unshape me."

Jude stared at Stanley, open mouthed, his face darkening and his eyes wide open in disbelief. After a few speechless seconds, he let his breath go, inhaled deeply, and screamed at the floor. "There won't ever be justice for Castille, will there? My sister was fed to the sky--and that piece of shit still gets to walk around!"

"I still haven't told you the best part," Stanley said bitterly, wiping blood that dripped from behind his chin. "They're looking for the Phylactery too. We have to get out of here, we have to find Sabrine--he wants to make Dead Simon into another lich. Another Treveque."

"Then we better find it first." Jude looked around as he stood up, then put his hand out to help Stanley stand.

"We already did. Or rather, it found us."

"And we're not running headlong into the west because...?"

"Because Sedna kept me in Exhaustion until I began to Trek. I've been in this building...I don't even know how many days."

"Lorinni told me tomorrow would be five days. He's out of his mind. That's how I found you. He kept bothering the head physician until she banned him from the building. Got arrested by the Municipium and they're holding him for disorderly conduct but they have to let him go at dawn. Imagine my surprise--I expected you behind bars, not him."

"I love you longer than the stars can shine, but fuck you."

"Only if I'm on top. Come on. Let's see if we can make it to the Municipium alive. Keep your robe open, we'll get arrested faster."

Chapter 10

They emerged from the white marble Sanatorium into a deep night alive with the symphony of cicadas that sang from ornamental trees that lined the streets of the Colossi. Pixie lanterns lighting up the square surrounding the Sanatorium itself left multiple sharp black shadows at crazy angles around the two men, disorienting Stanley even further.

"Give me one of those," he said, pointing at Jude's sheathed cutlasses.

"No," Jude answered, not letting go of Stanley's other hand. "You're in no shape--"

"There's seventeen of them!"

"Where?" Jude swept his free arm out into the harsh light. "We'll see their shadows before we see them. Are they coming after you specifically, and why?" He wouldn't move past the bottom of the ramp that Lorinni had carried Stanley up four nights past. Stanley squirmed, straining to hear anything above the insect song. "If we stay here in the light, I'm sure someone ran off to alert the Municipium, and they'll put us into custody and we'll be safe and then when you sleep this off you'll explain to me why I had to rescue you and what the fuck is going on."

"Coshebas didn't want to hurt me but I think some of the Scouts he hired do. I think he overpaid them."

"How do you know that?"

"Because he told me specifically he didn't want to hurt me and anyway he can't--"

"I don't want to talk about--him. I'm talking about the people you killed. I killed. Augh!" Jude looked at the cloudy sky like someone was going to drop the answer for him. "You best not be lying about the lich."

"I think that might be where the other seventeen are going after."

"Now you tell me."

"We need to find her!" Stanley began to walk off but Jude's hand kept him close. He stumbled before realizing this bit. "These are the people who did the things at the Fast and the Wonky Donkey and everyone is going to die if we don't--"

"Die if we don't what--There they are."

Jude lifted his eyes, and Stanley followed with his own to see a knot of black-uniformed Municipium enforcers that all reminded him of Robbert...oh sky above Robbert and the larvae I can't let them get away with that

"Finally," Jude said. "I'm disarming," he called out.

"You sure are," Stanley cooed.

Jude scoffed as he slowly unbuckled his cutlass' belts. "I'm Jude Satorey, I am no threat to you, and this man is a patient of the Sanatorium and isn't armed. I hope." He hissed at Stanley, "Put your hands up, at least," before laying his swords on the ground behind himself and putting his hands behind his head.

Stanley squinted at the knot of men. "I'll put'm up all right," he replied. The closest of the enforcers stood a head taller than the other people, broader, with a shaven head and small tusks, his halberd glinting in the harsh white Pixie light. Stanley planted his feet and held up his balled fists. He pushed his hair behind his left ear with the ring and little finger of his left hand before calling out in Yrqhash, "Turn around and walk away, Brother. You're not going to get her unless you kill me first."

"Traqueljax! Just shut up and submit!" Jude called out.

"Who do you think I am?" the Kith answered Stanley in the same language.

he must be in disguise they're all in on it I can take them out "I just killed two--wait, no, three?" He counted on his fingers. "No, two--of our Brothers, don't make me have to--"

The Kith waved his human associates back, handing one of them his halberd before he knelt on both knees in front of the elf, palms visible in front of his broad shoulders. "What do you mean, you killed two of our Brothers? Did you attend Sorority?"

"I am Fancy Pup of Kazu-Mazu and--" wait he's kneeling honorably Stanley dropped to his knees, holding his hands up, palms out, at shoulder level. The two of them put their foreheads to the ground momentarily, opposite each other.

"Hail, Fancy Pup of Kazu-Mazu. I am Glittering Pebble of Zuka-Pamjzan. Who are the Brothers you claim to have ended?"

"Hail, Glittering Pebble of Zuka-Pamjzan. I don't know their names. They're Scouts, trained at Kazu-Gorzola--"

"How old are you?"

Stanley shook his head, unsure what to make of this question. "I've passed through one hundred forty-three suns."

Glittering Pebble nodded. "You must have left the Gardens of Glass around the fall of the Dead King. Kazu-Gorzola has no sorority standing anymore, not for over forty suns. They were Ptomasynths, cooperating with ghouls. There was an Yrqhmuut, whereupon all Warchiefs and Greatmothers unanimously agreed that the clan should Wither. No students of any kind have been assigned to them since. This is why there is no Kazu-Gorzola anymore."

"Then I do owe Kazu-Gorzola a Blood Debt." He looked at his own knees.

Glittering Pebble scratched his stubbly chin. "We need to put you into custody. You will be bound by iron."

"There are seventeen more of them."

"You are in no shape to hunt the rest of them down. I will if you point me to the path." In a lower tone, Glittering Pebble continued, "The undead are not our friends."

Stanley stared into Glittering Pebble's green eyes. "The enablers of the undead are not our friends."

Glittering Pebble inclined his head. "Some have forgotten." He stood up, gesturing for his halberd before he continued speaking, this time in plain Regulese. Stanley saw that he also went without shoes. "These prisoners are to be bound and sequestered adjacent to the other elf in our custody. I have an investigation to perform. We may have aggressive infiltrators from my homeland in this city."

Glittering Pebble's associates, three men and a woman, all human in black leather as well, descended upon the elf to bind him. "Watch out for their chief," Stanley warned, still speaking in Yrqhash while they slapped iron shackles on his arms behind his back as he knelt. The iron felt like slimy tentacles. "He's a skin-dancer, and he can make your skin dance too, if he touches you."

Glittering Pebble glared at Stanley. "He was executed last year."

"Speak to the mate of the victim of that murder. She's at the Caruba Union with Dame Sedna. Tell her the old man sent you."

"Thank you for showing me this unblazed trail, Fancy Pup."

"Freely given. Slawa Yrqhatha, Glittering Pebble."

"Glory to the Yrqhatha, Fancy Pup. Shed that filthy drug before we speak again, else I forget you are my Brother. We just agreed the undead are not our friends. Not in any form."

holy shit the undead have infiltrated the Municipium and someone sanctioned it

\* \* \*

"The hells did you say to him, Traqueljax?" Jude asked once he and Stanley were sequestered in the jail, Jude across the walkway from Stanley and, in a cell adjacent to Stanley's, Lorinni. Both of the elves wore iron shackles encircling their wrists and necks. Lorinni didn't even greet his son. By his night color, he was huddled up in a ball.

"The facts," Stanley answered without other explanation. He knelt in his cell, his hands trapped in iron behind his back, a chain leading from them to the iron collar around his neck, staring at the floor. The Municipium took no chances using steel. At least he was left with his bloody robe against the underground chill.

"That was a long conversation you two had."

"There were cultural processes we had to navigate," Stanley said. "Yrqhatha society has strict rules of polite communication between strangers. It keeps the words clean so there are no misunderstandings. Misunderstandings can tend to get a bit bloody, and no one wants bloodshed."

"No one wants bloodshed? You blazed a pretty bloody trail before I caught up to you. Two Kith Scouts, then you got high and got sloppy."

"What was I supposed to do?"

"For one thing, stay in your room and let your other friends--"

"From Scouts? Do you know how brutal they are?"

"You're the orc here, you tell me. How do you take out two brutal murderers while practically naked?"

"Orc is a species. Yrqhatha is their culture. I grew up Yrqhatha, it's not terribly abnormal--"

"It's terribly abnormal when you can take out two Scouts by yourself, unarmed."

"Were you even at the Blessed Regicide? I thought I saw you there. Some sexy Kindred man with a couple of silver plated cutlasses, ring a bell? Same guy cut a Scout's hand off my neck tonight."

"So...by what you're saying, either 'Scouts aren't a threat, they're easy for a naked, Exhausted elf to defeat in hand-to-hand combat,' or, 'Scouts are extremely scary...and I'm one of them.'"

"That's insane."

"You didn't say no!"

"Would saying 'I'm not a Kith Scout' convince you otherwise?"

"Too late for that."

Stanley scoffed. "I'm not a Kith Scout." not technically a lie if you squint

"So tell me what you were doing at the Great Hunt and why a kid fresh from a Sorority was sent there?"

"My final linguistics experience for my Master of Tongues ring, I told you at the time."

"A Nerd boy on a class project just happened to--"

"Yes."

Jude's night color shook its head. "Suit yourself." He looked around. "Isn't it illegal to hold you two like this? Lorinni's still the agricultural liaison right?"

"Yes, it's illegal. But you won't like it when I tell you who's behind it."

"That skin-dancing freak?"

Those words made pain lash through Stanley, unrelated to Panopticon's brand. he doesn't know Stanley cleared his throat.

"Sedna will delay our release. I'll probably be separated from you and kept awake to death."

"So I'm not mad," Lorinni mumbled in the dark from the cell next to Stanley's.

"That's a matter of opinion, Dad. But we're chained in iron in cages of iron ten meters below the ground, and Sedna's dead set on killing me 'accidentally.'"

"Wait, what?" Jude asked, his face blazing with sudden night color. "Why?"

"I don't know--"

"Sedna wants a bluewood acorn," Lorinni answered. "She's using Sibrulon as leverage against me. Either I'll allow her the acorn, or I'll be sent home in bereavement--and probably killed on my way home--and someone else will be put in my place. To answer your unspoken question--both of you--she wants to plant it here." Lorinni paused. "She doesn't understand the disaster that would cause, or she doesn't care." He paused again. "As soon as Winter Mirrored me, and I saw you held in the Fast..." Lorinni laughed bitterly. "And then I knew you saw Fjalle. I knew you'd never leave her to save your life."

"Why not?" Jude hissed. "He left her once already--"

Stanley exploded. "I left then because my tree and everyone under it was slaughtered and I was dying with them!"

~dancing~on~thin~ice~here~

Fjalle knows the Seer knows Mercedes will know soon so fuck you

Stanley choked when the brand erupted with the searing pain of lightning for a full second ~we~have~a~deal~ha~you~can't~even~say~you~forgot~

After the cold silence that followed filled only with the sound of panting, Stanley murmured, "I need my sleep. No way I'm giving Sedna the pleasure anymore."

\* \* \*

don't you feel that

did one of us die

can't you OH NO

FJALLE

DAD

CAN'T YOU FEEL THAT

people are being slaughtered

moon and stars

it's happening again

why can't you feel this

sun above

why is this coming to me

knives are cutting me

arrows are piercing me

I'm being incinerated alive over and over

am I feeling every death in the world now

WHAT THE

WHERE IS MY TREE

WHERE IS MY LIFE

don't touch me

I have to leave

I can't die again in front of you

I'm cursed

\* \* \*

Stanley awoke to the sound of the cell block's heavy iron door's iron lock clicking open and squealing softly on its hinges. He was still on his knees, bound helplessly. A stalactite of clotted blood hung from his chin. His belly echoed with hunger; his throat begged for water.

"The prisoners will stand."

"Not sure I can," Stanley croaked.

"Please," came Lorinni's voice, cracking. "My child needs to be back in the Sanatorium."

"When Crown's Own is done with her interview, he will return there."

yep she's still trying to kill me

someone help me

fuck this iron

"Look, you can keep me here--I know it's illegal--but my boy--"

I can't do this anymore

~then~make~him~hold~still~

/no now YOU hold still/ wish he'd just hold still and let me--/~just~hold~still~/"No. Now YOU hold still."/

Stanley raised his head as much as the heavy collar would allow. The human tromped down the walkway to Stanley's cell. He could see the man's boots and black leather pants. He heard keys--oh, these are brass--jangling as the custodian flipped them around on a ring, finding the appropriate one for this cell block.

will this even work with the iron

He turned his head so he could see the whole person standing in front of him, now side-ways to his vision. "~Hold~still~"

The keys stopped jangling. They stopped doing anything.

"Sibrulon..." Lorinni whispered.

Stanley didn't take his eyes off the custodian. The top of his head felt like it had swung wide open. One of the keys hung in the air, mid-fall, in front of the man's face, within reach...

"Dad, take his keys--Hurry! I don't know how long I can do this." The collar weighed his neck down. He struggled to keep his eyes on his victim.

Lorinni's chained wrists appeared, stretching from the door of his own cage, until the tips of his fingers hooked into the ring and snatched it from the human's thick hands. They fell on the floor but Lorinni easily pulled them back into his own custody.

"Jude! Catch!" Lorinni tossed the keys past the frozen man.

Jude's arm shot out and caught the keys. Having no iron hobbling him, he quickly found the one to unlock his own cage. Just as Stanley's view of the man slipped away, the Kindred slammed his bars open with a loud bang. He tossed the keys back to Lorinni and, without a word, planted his fist in the human's solar plexus when he turned. As the human doubled over, unable even to gasp, Jude said, "I want you to know this is very personal, just not about you." His arm hooked around his victim's neck, the other hand grasping the biceps of his own other arm, forcing the man's head into an angle of bone and muscle, cutting off the blood to his head. The human began to sag within ten seconds. Jude dragged him into the cell he just came out of, checked him for breath, and shut the door on him.

Lorinni wasted no time finding the key that opened shackles. After they popped open, he unlocked his own cell before scrambling to Stanley's. Lorinni had the iron off his son within two seconds. The world felt fresh again. Air tasted sweet and went deep into his lungs.

"Can you do that again?" Lorinni asked.

"We're going to find out," Stanley replied. no seriously where the fuck did that even come from "Jude, I need to borrow something from you first." need all the confusion we can get

"What--?"

"A skin. I'm a skin-dancing freak."

After a second, Jude screamed out loud in perfect horror.

"Hey!" called a human voice from the gate chamber. Two sets of boots trotted to the cell block's open gate. As their bulk cast long shadows in the dark corridor, Stanley caught them with his eyes and said, "~HOLD~STILL~"

They quit moving. It didn't even seem to matter that the laws of gravity quit working around them. But what fascinated Stanley, more than this crazy temporal suspension, was that his now-open mind sensed nothing from them, although in the second just before he held them still, he'd definitely felt signs of their life and initial confusion regarding Jude's scream. Lorinni and Jude started moving. The Kindred and Unseelie snaked their lithe bodies around the men on their way out. Stanley, his eyes still on the black-leather-clad men, removed the halberd off the one in the rear. "Jude, can you use this?"

Jude snatched the weapon from his hand. Stanley removed their batons, one from a hand and the other from a belt, then carefully navigated himself past them. "Jude, sing one of your songs. One that I'll know."

"What are--"

"The Sound of Violence, NOW!"

"Hello Moment, my old friend..."

"Dad, remember how you told everyone in your way in the Caruba Union to go for a walk? Keep doing that as we work our way out. I don't doubt for one second that you can remain very Confusing, but try to focus on where I'm going, all right? Jude, I don't blame you for hating me right now but don't stop your song, repeat it if you have to. You both have to do this or we're going to die here."

"What are you going to do?"

"Sing with Jude, maybe beat people up, read their minds, help you Confuse the fuck out of anyone and everyone by using Castille's skin, and/or find our way out. 'I've come to sing with you again.' The more you Confuse, the fewer I have to beat up. Do you two have your roles straight?"

"My boy," Lorinni whispered in awe. At that moment, catching his father's eyes, Stanley felt like the puddle Coshebas melted into.

"Heresy visited, She softly crept..."

"Will this work?" Lorinni asked.

"What does it matter?" Stanley replied with a broad smile and a simple shrug. "Go do you, Dad."

"...Like a Kith assassin while I slept..." Jude's eyes accused him. Stanley re-affirmed his grip on the confiscated batons, then landed a sharp blow on the back of each human's head before closing his eyes from them. Both slumped to the floor with quieted but not silenced minds.

"...and the future that She planted in my mind..."

Lorinni's Confusion pressed upon him. Stanley led the two of them into the stairwell that led uh well up maybe

Another memory well beckoned him down, the sight of Treveque's face gloating over Stanley's while his hand pantomimed the bluewood-handled knife in Stanley's left hand slashing his own right arm, sprouting scarlet fountains, no one else moving a hair, his father screaming frantically from the next chamber, Treveque purring, "just ~hold~still~ and it will all be over with soon," and the shimmering lady partly emerging from the lich to touch Stanley's brow and then--"No. Now YOU ~hold~still~"

"...itself rewinds..."

Chapter 11

Lorinni softly slapped his thigh with the five-beat Confusion rhythm. As they ascended the spiral stone stairs, while he sang with Jude, in his own mind Treveque cackled over him, beckoning Lorinni to him with Malphasian like a sacrificial dagger.

/"No, I think the Confusion keeps Me too Confused to Recall too Strongly, we're Good."/

Stanley stopped singing. By the time they completed mounting the stairs, the memory well evaporated. He stood at the top, eyes closed, breathing freely into his nose, out of his mouth, calm and confident and completely, utterly, blissfully unaware of anything around himself.

Jude raised his voice. "When my eyes were assaulted by a vivid lighting strike..." Stanley opened his eyes and turned. Jude wheeled his hand on his wrist. \*what's keeping him he's not singing why the fuck did he have to pick Castille the heartless--\*

"...that split the night..."

"Without its sound of violence," Stanley sang without a thought. The regular, predictable beat cleared the Confusion. He caught Jude's pleading, reddened eyes.

"Let's just keep moving, thoughtless cur," Jude sang. "I can't believe you skin-danced her."

Stanley looked around the doorframe. Three enforcers and a sub-warden, their backs to the stairwell, chatting about something that involved a clipboard. I only sensed four people in this room oh my stars it's here He couldn't hear what they were talking about above the song, even though they sang barely above a whisper. "I wish I could bring her back to you," he struggled to find a rhyme-- "and to bring her back to Fjalle too..."

"Why not simply just admit you're a piece of shit?"

"I re-admit!" like I need be reminded

"That doesn't rhyme with orange!" Lorinni burst out joyfully. The room ahead became silent.

Stanley, eyes wide, stared at his father, then around the doorframe again. He came eye to eye with an enforcer and barely was able to spin back behind the doorway before a baton arced down through the air behind him.

"How does the rest of it go?" Stanley asked while Jude shoved him aside and began menacing the enforcers with his halberd.

"You don't know?" Jude asked over his shoulder after a bloodless thrust. "I wrote it right after the Regicide."

"Haven't really delved into current culture."

"That was fifty-seven years ago!"

"Exactly!"

After scoffing, Lorinni stepped into the doorway with a smile, still tapping on his leg. "Hello, lawbreakers! I'm Lorinni Fucking Traqueljax. I'm not supposed to be here." He walked across the room without a care. The enforcers approached him, grabbed at his arms, missing every time. Stanley stepped into the doorway beside his father, watching the enforcers chase his Glamour in their Confusion for slightly more than one second before they figured it out but were still bunched together--

"~Hold~still~"

The sub-Warden was in Stanley's field of vision, but in a corner, out of focus. She let out a bitter chuckle, then called out, "This is why we use iron on your kind." why it isn't running up the hallway not three meters away--

"We outnumber you, ma'am," Jude replied to her as he eased from the doorway, the point of the halberd steady in front of him, "and all three of us are surviving Kingslayers. I'm sure you recognize Doctor Traqueljax's work."

I can't just dismantle it here they won't understand I have to prove it how the hell did it make it this far into the Municipium

"All I see is a lot of Glamour. You could be any elves out of iron."

"Wait, are you kidding me?" Jude set down the butt of his halberd and shook his finger up at arm's length with a frown. "You don't recognize this voice?"

"Or my hair?" Lorinni added.

"Jude! Keep your weapon pointed at it!" fucking Confusion

As if he'd heard that, Lorinni quit tapping himself. Stanley felt the effects drip away into the endless plane of memory wells in his mind.

"I see a very famous corpse too," she said, pointing at Stanley-as-Castille. "I know she's wrong."

it would know a wrong corpse wouldn't it

"That's my twin sister's corpse, bit of respect please."

"How long are we going to argue?" Stanley asked, his eyes not wavering from the enforcers he held still. "I still don't know how long I can keep this up."

"Interesting," Lorinni said, cocking his head at the sub-warden. "Son, tell me what you think she's thinking right now?"

"No one can read minds, Dad. Shackle these men, please. Quickly."

Jude picked up his halberd and approached the sub-warden while Lorinni did as his son bade. Jude grinned at the sub-warden. "I guess he has plans for you." better actor than Robbert I guess

"Please," she pleaded, "I just had my first child last season." it's trying to sound believable

Lorinni finished locking the last shackle. Stanley took his eyes off the men. Lorinni had linked their shackles together and changed their orientations, which probably was why they stumbled about to find their feet again. While this happened, Stanley quit dancing in Castille's skin as he approached the sub-warden and snatched her clipboard. One auburn hair had been pinned under the clip. Skindancing would be useless for now, since he had no access to her mind whatsoever. "Dad," he said, "open her uniform at the waist."

"What the hell, kid?" Jude called out.

Stanley pointed behind himself at the knot of entangled enforcers. "Might want to sit down, humans. Pay attention. I've done this for longer than you've been alive. You're gonna love what I do next, but spoilers: I just saved your careers. First, you three gentlemen simply need be honest with me, whether your sub-warden here is, in fact, a new mother."

"What are you doing?" Jude asked, scoffed.

"Don't let that--" Stanley jabbed his left baton at the sub-warden, "move out of the corner, for any reason."

Lorinni turned at his son, shrugging and begging with his eyes. "We don't have time."

"Yes, we do. No one's feet left this room since we broke out. Well, humans? Was she lying?"

The eldest among them, silver threads beginning to thread in his beard, said, "She's a new mother." The other men assented. Lorinni nodded at them and then at his son.

"We're going to test this. Open the waist area of her uniform, Dad." Stanley didn't take his eyes off hers. "I'm not a sick freak." He grabbed a lamp from the desk and approached the sub-warden again. "Do it, Dad."

"This is gross," Lorinni said as he complied.

Stanley held the lamp up to her exposed, and pristine, although a little ashen, belly. "No mother stripes. I expected that--but not every mother's skin forms those."

"What are you doing?" Jude repeated.

"I'm showing my work," Stanley replied. "You should have figured this out by now, Dad."

"What work?" Lorinni asked.

"These men could be lying--"

"They aren't!"

"This creature here could have given them a non-verbal or meta-verbal signal to lie. No one reads minds, so I can't know this."

"Tell me where this is leading, kid," Jude said between his teeth.

"It's going to lead your halberd hacking it to pieces."

"That's it, you've fallen in the Maw--"

"I can prove everything. You three humans, try to sit. You'll be more comfortable and able to pay attention to this."

"I'm not going to hack a new mother to death for you, Stanley!" Jude shook his head, brows knit, unbelieving his eyes.

"You're not going to. You'll know when you know." I already know

Lorinni's eyes widened on Stanley. fuck he's listening to me

"Third person, even?" Lorinni scoffed.

and fuck Mittence of mine he's a Mentat too

"Now let me finish my proof. I'm not standing close enough to you humans to tell if you lied about its motherhood. Maybe she's innocent and just didn't form mother stripes. But I know its kind," Stanley tapped his head, "in here, what it really is. I simply have to be able to prove it beyond any doubt. And it depends on whether you," he waved his baton hand backward to include everyone present, "find my evidence surmounts your doubt."

"It's really gross to call her an 'it,'" Lorinni said quietly.

Stanley flared his nostrils. "'Them,'" he offered.

"Better."

"Only because you don't speak Pixipie. They have fifteen genders. This one here, I think it--they, apologies--is new to their new body, but not to this city, not to be able to pretend they're your sub-warden. Do any of you three gentlemen ever visit her at her home?"

"No." "Not really." "She keeps to herself and her husband."

Stanley nodded. "Again, they could have signalled you to lie, but that would mean both answers were lies."

"They aren't lying," Lorinni repeated.

"Or, both answers could be the truth. Still no proof. Except..." Stanley reached out to hold the sub-warden's chin in his left hand and turn her face to his right. "One of you mentioned a husband, and I really don't think under this duress you'd be that clever with lies. So...where is her wedding ring? I don't even see a hole in the lobe here for it." He stepped back. "Then again, you might be untraditional. Who am I to judge? I'm a Faerie with no tree. But law enforcement is, by its very nature, a system of upholding tradition."

"Fffffuck," Lorinni said. geez dad don't have to exaggerate you saw half of this too

"I still don't get it," said Jude.

"See, I--I'm sorry, Jude, I had to do that to your sister's skin--I only felt uh, three people in this room. When singing failed, I listened, there were more breath sets than three. Dad could have picked this up, but he doesn't count his sounds."

"Lorinni, do you know what the fuck he's talking about?"

"He also didn't count how many people got Confused in this room. They didn't get Confused." Stanley pointed at the sub-warden.

Lorinni and his son locked eyes for half a second. Stanley's solar plexus echoed the delicious pang from downstairs.

Stanley turned his attention back on the sub-Warden, who was whimpering by now. He inhaled deeply through his nostrils. "Wow, we must be getting ready for a nice day full of rain, I can feel the humidity even in here. Definitely not conditions to make static cling."

"Oh shit," Lorinni said, his hand over his mouth.

Stanley unclipped the single hair from the clipboard, then held it close to the sub-warden's face. The hair reached out to that face like a prodigal worm and, like the rest of that worm's family, her auburn hair reached out to the separated strand.

Lorinni, the three enforcers, Jude, and the sub-warden all screamed at once. The sub-warden quit screaming when Jude's halberd bit deeply and bloodlessly into the ghoul's neck over and over until the head fell off the ghoul and rolled, its angry eyes fixed on Stanley. Its body slumped down against the wall. Jude panted and looked at Stanley, his head shaking back and forth slowly, his eyes accusing him more. "You knew."

Stanley didn't respond. He fished the sub-warden's belt and found more brass keys, which he threw at the enforcers. "Hurry, before this ghoul recovers and eats one of you." Stanley then mumbled quietly in Yrqhash, "Raise your soft palate."

\* \* \*

"Where's your diplomatic packet?" said the inquisitor who was summoned to the scene. The elves and their Kindred at least weren't shackled again as long as they weren't armed or standing. The three knelt facing three different corners than the one the disabled ghoul's occupied. Small, threadlike tendrils of its flesh extended from its sliced neck, hunting about for its head, which Stanley had kicked to the middle of the room before reinforcements came to investigate all the screaming. A new enforcer complete with pointy halberd stood behind each of them. Stanley noticed no one had moved to further dismantle the ghoul or move it out of the room--or even remove the head to ensure it woulnd't reconnect with the body.

"It's wherever your intake put it!" Lorinni replied, his hands behind his head. "Did you think they'd leave it on me when they put me in the delightful iron cage with iron restraints downstairs?"

"Intake says they took no packet from you," he replied. "As a foreign diplomat, you are supposed to have it on you at all times."

"I can't believe this bullshit. It's not on me because your staff confiscated it and someone is lying."

I can't tell who's scarier, Sedna or Coshebas or the Scouts "Are you going to do anything about that ghoul?" Stanley asked quietly.

"I don't see it going anywhere," the inquisitor responded, scratching something onto the paperwork on his clipboard. The enforcers who had witnessed the revelation weren't around anymore and new men had replaced them. He also hadn't seen the custodians from downstairs. He had no idea where Glittering Pebble was anymore; he seemed to have taken the breath control advice to heart, or to have abandoned Stanley.

please someone hear me Sedna's trying to bury us away from the sky

"Someone has heard you," said the inquisitor, "were involved with the Heliopolitans who sacked both the Fast and the Wonky Donkey."

Stanley hung his head with exasperation. not this again "The people responsible weren't from there. They're Scouts, or former Scouts, hired by Heliopolis."

"And you claim to be an expert about Scouts?" The inquisitor flipped through paperwork clipped to his board. "Like you claim to be an expert with the undead, according to our Crown's Own."

"You do see a disabled ghoul right here. One which has been operating under your noses for I would guess a full moon. You might want to check up on the victim's husband and child."

The inquisitor chuckled. "She's single, and has no children."

Stanley's breath froze within him. they know about the ghoul that can't be right the other enforcers weren't faking screaming the man and child are dead sun and stars

"We're never getting out of here, are we?" Stanley asked. "Which one of us are you going to feed to it? If it were me, I'd kill Jude by stabbing him about fifty times with my bluewood knife, which Sedna's probably already taken by now, have me killed while 'resisting arrest' for the murder, and lock the ghoul in an iron cage with my father so that Sedna gets her nut. Shame that Fjalle will lose the father of her children too, she'll probably have to quit as Commancer."

"Thanks kid," Jude said from across the room. "I feel safer knowing you told them how to kill us."

"I wasn't talking to the inquisitor."

\* \* \*

"That was the most spectacular jailbreak," Jude muttered once the iron cell block door ten meters below ground clanged shut upon them again and left them all with only the night color. "And now I have iron on me, like I even care. Splendid plan, kid. Bravo. You know, here's what I want to ask: why Castille? Why not just plunge a white-hot poker into my gut and slowly turn it like a spit?"

"It wasn't about you," Stanley croaked.

"You're absolutely correct. It's about you. We could be out of here, but you had to show off with that ghoul--"

"That ghoul was here specifically to eat my father!"

"And we could have, I don't know, run past it--"

"--them--"

"Thank you for that, by the way Lorinni."

"You're welcome. And this bread really isn't too bad for week-old croutons."

Stanley had already finished the small cubes of cornbread he'd been alotted, drained the bucket of stale water as well. They chained his arms in front, at least, though with the iron restraints his fingers could barely hold his food and drink to his mouth. "They fed us to keep us alive long enough to--"

"And there's your paranoid scheme. Or maybe we're locked up because you can't keep your nose out of Ghoul Drool. Is that why you left us?"

"Did you not hear what I said last night?"

"You were howling about the Banyan. So you go find another tribe to take you in. Then you get a new tattoo on your other heel I guess? So then for the fifty-four years after that, what? Were you off to learn how to dance into the skins of dead people? Where did you learn Carnal Vicissitude--"

"We're born with it," Lorinni butted in. "Unless you were hiding something from me, Sibrulon, you were a late bloomer."

"That's not what I was--" His brand flared enough to make him catch his breath.

~tread~lightly~unless~you~want~me~to~replace~you~with~one~of~them~

I didn't break the agreement

I told no one about you except what is already known by Kingslayers

she saw your mark because YOU were sloppy

do you spy on her through her mark as well

do you tell her to do horrible things

do you punish her like you punish me

do you do that to Mercedes

did you instruct her to leave Heliopolis with Sabrine and the Phylactery

oh wait no you don't and no you didn't

because if you did things the smart way you'd have the Phylactery by now

I've personally known earthworms more devious--

This time the pain didn't remain in the brand. It ignited his skin as if he were on fire. It turned his blood into caustic acid in his veins. It shot up every nerve like a direct lightning strike. It ground his bones into dust and baked them into stone. His only relief came from screaming and then, only to inform the world of this searing agony.

"What the hell--!" Jude cried out.

Lorinni shouted, "Stop it! You're killing him! Take--"

"No!" Stanley rolled onto his side and began kicking the iron bars. It helped, along with the screaming. The pain stopped only long enough for him to breathe for five seconds, then it resumed as intensely as ever.

~YOU~ARE~NOT~MY~STUDENT~YOU~ARE~NOTHING~YOU~ARE~A~SLAVE~NO~ONE~WILL~SAVE~YOU~

~YOU~ARE~THE~WORM~

Beyond the iron door, a voice called out, "What is going--"

Then something clanged over the iron door. "Good time for the real jailbreak," came a basso profundo voice from the floor.

The pain ended as abruptly as it began.

Stanley lifted his eyes from his knees. "Brother!"

Glittering Pebble grunted in greeting while unlocking Stanley's iron cage. "Our accounts will be balanced when you are moving west. I will have to abandon my post here, but I need to get word to my Warchief and Greatmother that Crown's Own is associating with the undead. Thank you for this information, Brother." He twisted a key in Stanley's iron shackles and they fell off. Stanley no longer feared to live anymore. The Kith man handed Stanley the brass keys in his hand.

"Freely given, and thank you for our freedom." Stanley immediately set to liberating his father and Jude.

"Freely given. The widow made sure your things are all in this...sorry excuse for luggage." Glittering Pebble handed Stanley his burlap sack. It felt exactly the right weight if it contained his leather pants, coat, boots, socks, a shirt, his sling, eight iron bullets, baton, and knife, Winter's gold, and his own three rings. "Now get through this hole in the floor. The steps are very crude. You and I could climb down them, but I'm not sure about--"

"We'll all do fine. I'll bring up--down?--the rear. You'll all be slow enough, I can put on my real things." After unlocking the other cages, Stanley pulled the filthy robe up and over his head, then fished in the sack, pulling out Malphasian in its sheath before anything else. After a moment's gaze, he set the knife on the ground by his knees and pulled out his rings and The Best Pants In The Whole World.

"I'll still go down first, in case there's a slip. I can easily catch all three of you at once."

"I don't doubt it!" Lorinni said. "But I think I'll watch Jude climb first."

Jude's night color stood with his jaw wide open. "What's going--"

Stanley interrupted Jude while pulling on The Best Pants In The Whole World. "You were right about me, Jude. I needed to show off. To him, to Glittering Pebble." Stanley clipped Malphasian's sheath to the top of his pants.

"Pleased to make your acquaintance in a more cordial setting," Jude said to Glittering Pebble, with a small bow of his head.

Glittering Pebble jutted his chin in greeting at Jude in return.

"He told me when we were arrested that he knew where a ghoul was but had no experience proving them." On went his hatch-mark-scored steel ring, on his left index finger.

"Did you forget that I speak Yrqhash too? You two were jawing on about the kid's drug habit."

Stanley and Glittering Pebble looked at each other before erupting in laughter as if Jude had completed a joke's punchline. Without elaborating, Stanley continued, "I told him that Fjalle would vouch about the Scouts, that they caused all the carnage in the Fast and the Wonky Donkey." Then a silver ring with a raised, dull, almost black mineral stripe through the whole band, he slipped on his left ring finger.

"It wasn't your conversation, Jude Satorey," Glittering Pebble added.

"He made sure I was in the cell block where I would find the ghoul. That's how I knew what the plan for it was supposed to be.  He was right there, watched me prove the ghoul, and he heard my analysis of Sedna's plans and he concurs with the evidence known. Then he spoke to Fjalle while we were busy being locked up again. And now Clan Pamjzan will know about Sedna deliberately using a ghoul to further her political ambitions. I've never heard of anyone in the Yrqhmuut speak ill of Pamjzan." And his titanium Master of Tongues signet he jammed firmly on his right middle finger, with a whimsical little kiss.

"Do I need to kill them now?" Glittering Pebble called out from the hole.

"I trust them more than the sunrise."

"I will stay my hand if they stay their tongues."

"I find that an acceptable agreement. You two, you need to agree not to remember who he is before you get to the bottom."

"I'm at the bottom now," Glittering Pebble said. "So either agree, or stay up there."

"Who the hell is that guy down there?" Lorinni said very quickly, tracing a five-pointed star in the air with two fingers held like a V.

"I accept your agreement," Glittering Pebble replied. "You may pass me unharmed."

"What?" Jude asked.

"You've seen his face, and he wants to remain anonymous," Stanley explained to Jude. "Swear to forget it, or climb down and be killed, or stay here and be killed anyway. Tell us whether you agree."

"I agree, of course! Who chooses to get killed?"

"I accept your agreement," Glittering Pebble responded. "You may pass me unharmed."

"What if I later decided to blab, just out of curiosity?" Jude's head slipped down into the hole, grunting.

"The nearest Scout would be required to kill you and everyone you told."

Stanley added. "It's an Oath now. We all know about Oaths, don't we?"

"You didn't accept the agreement," Jude pointed out from within the abyss.

"I don't have to."

Jude swallowed, hard.

He heard Glittering Pebble's soft snort.

Chapter 12

Stanley felt with his hand in the hole to find the hand and foot holds. They bit only a few inches into the solid black stone, but their bites were at least regularly placed. Once he heard Jude reach the bottom, he called out, "I'm dropping the bag you brought," before dropping the burlap sack and then climbing in. After descending just below the level of the floor, Stanley reached up and found the rope to pull the lid back on. The lid's edge felt rough to a point, where it became beveled and then lined with cork and latex. It slid soundlessly back into its nest. As it did, Stanley heard something iron scrape at the door, whereupon it swung open and several human feet entered the cell block.

Everyone's night color shone brightly in the tunnel. Glittering Pebble kept his side of the agreement, no one was a new corpse cooling off on the deck. Everyone had to hunch over somewhat, as the height of the passage measured a head shorter than two meters.

Glittering Pebble led them more-or-less horizontally. He had to actually move on all fours. Stanley wasn't even sure what direction was which anymore, not without stars. "I know your kind can see what you call the night color. Lorinni, do not lose my night color. If you do, stop immediately, and call out for Fancy Pup back there."

"Why?"

"It will mean that I hit a trap wrong, fell into an abyss, and Fancy Pup will have to lead you out of here. But I doubt that will happen. This isn't my first time in this tunnel."

"It's your second time," Lorinni chirped. "First time was when you arrived in our cell block."

"How did--"

"Dad's extremely observant. We need to keep moving or our breath will sour the air," Stanley said.

"There's a chamber not far ahead where we can stop for a few moments of rest. It's a well to the surface but I don't advise climbing it--it's actually a public well."

"You're a spiritual man, right Brother?"

"I pray to the Divine Family at every sunrise and greet the Tide Sisters at sunset."

another beautiful thing you've taken from me

"Can you ask one of them for me which one I angered so much that I can't keep my pants dry?"

"I think that's a physician's worry--"

"My son has forgotten who his father is," Lorinni grumbled. "Take them off and I'll enchant the leather, stitching, and lining to remain dry. I can't guarantee the decorative parts in these conditions. That includes the dye, by the way."

"It's fine, what you're offering. Thank you. You don't know how much it really means, I love these pants."

Jude and Glittering Pebble grumbled and scoffed. "So like an elf," the Kith man said.

"We elves always have to dress to impress," Stanley snickered, peeling off his pants. "Especially when I'm about to see my best girl."

After a pause, Jude admitted, "All right, you aren't wrong on that point. Is your girlfriend in this town able to help us?"

"It's Commancer Satorey," Glittering Pebble replied, "and I would hope so."

"What?" Jude cried.

"About time," Lorinni murmured.

Stanley began at Glittering Pebble, and then caught himself and scoffed. "The scent."

"Huh?" Jude asked.

"I smelled your mingled skin gardens. It was quite obvious, even after a week."

"Mingled skin--you two--!"

"Hand me your pants while you argue, beloved," Lorinni said, his hand reaching back past Jude.

Stanley put his beloved leather pants in his father's hands. "We were all together before she was your sister's widow, if you reme--"

"Yes, that led her to being my sister's one and only. Because she was wife to my sister when Castille comforted Fjalle after you broke all our hearts by disappearing."

"Well..." Stanley shrugged, "happy days are here again? It pleases her--or you--"

"Until you leave again--"

"I won't be doing that."

"Yeah. Now that she maybe has two decades at best."

Lorinni shushed them all. "I'm very flustered, let me concentrate." He shut his eyes and murmured in a language Stanley never learned.

Jude and Stanley kept quiet but they both stared each other down.

"You soft people are so weird," Glittering Pebble said at length.

"Tell me about it," Lorinni grumbled, handing Stanley back his pants. "There, best I can do is one day of dry. Humidity is killing magical conductivity today."

"You're the best, Dad." Stanley kissed his father's hand when Lorinni handed him the pants. Lorinni traced a finger on his son's chin.

"Of course I am," he replied.

\* \* \*

A few drops of rain made it to the bottom of the well, but a breeze blew on the surface, driving the rain to hit the inner walls near the top. The water dribbled into the opening of the underground stream the well dipped into, watering the wan plants that sprouted between bricks. The enchantment on the pants did not extend to Stanley's own skin while they gathered in the well, but the water felt like life after a day wearing nothing but blood and bloody linen.

"Get the filth off your skin," Glittering Pebble whispered to Stanley.

"But don't people drink out of this?"

"Not in fifteen years. The city has clean cisterns, and this well is thought to be haunted." He coughed quietly. "Because of things like what we're doing right now."

Lorinni made ghostly "oooo" noises.

"Twist my arm--wait, I didn't mean that literally!"

Stanley plunged his head beneath the water, eyes closed, wiping his fingers all over his upper body. He hadn't donned a shirt yet, not wanting to soil it on the dried and now, in the cloying humidity of this day, gummy and slimy gore covering his face, hair, arms, upper chest. He had used the Sanatorium robe to wipe away as much of the blood from his groin and crotch as he could before it utterly lost its ability to be useful to clean anything. Upon thinking about it, he rejoiced that the water could seep under his pants and finish cleaning his junk as well. Jude and Lorinni ended up joining him in a short and refreshing rinse-off.

"We need to continue moving," Glittering Pebble grunted quietly before wriggling into a gap in the stones lining the well. It occured to Stanley that this man knew this path well--he himself could barely see the space, as camouflaged as it was by mossy carpets and hanging streaks of algae. "We don't have far to go. We might, however, encounter a confrontation with the Heretic who arranged this."

"Ooh, they might have mushro--Jude!" when Jude punched Stanley's shoulder.

"Why are you always thinking about getting high?"

got no time to answer that this moment Stanley lifted his index finger and lidded his eyes, putting on airs. "I meant for the Seer. She said that she hasn't any with her for Heretical Communion."

Jude shook his head and followed Lorinni into the gap. Stanley tightened the jute strings on his burlap sack and threw it over his shoulder before following Jude.

"What's the big deal anyway?" Stanley continued. "I seem to remember more than one Longleaf Pine at the Oxbow orgy in which we were licking Flower Power off each other's assho--"

"Flowers aren't ghouls!"

"The undead are not our friends," Glittering Pebble agreed, nodding, but not stopping.

"Brother, I think I've proven what kind of relationship I want with the undead."

Glittering Pebble hmphed. "I no longer engage in sexual congress with the woman I was with ten years ago."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Jude asked.

"Relationships change over the years. All kinds: with friends, lovers, intoxicants...even Clans."

\* \* \*

"Question, Glittering Pebble," Stanley began, "if you had no problems getting into this secret passage from the Heretic's basement...why are you worried at all about getting out?"

"She mentioned payment," he replied, "and that I wasn't going to be the one to pay."

"That leaves Sibrulon then," Lorinni said. "Other than my clothes, I don't have shit."

"Same here," Jude added.

"Who's Sibrulon?" Glittering Pebble asked.

"Dad doesn't like using my Outer Name, except we're not supposed to use our native names outside the Unseelie Court."

"'Stanley' sounds too human!" Lorinni complained. "It feels like I'm lying when saying it."

"It sounds perfectly Yrqhash to me," Glittering Pebble said.

"I told you, Dad!"

"How are you ever supposed to use your true name then?"

"Can we argue later?" Stanley fished about by feel in his burlap sack, which didn't shine with night color like the people in the cool tunnel. "I need to figure out what I have that they want and I swear to the moon if it's my knife we're climbing out that well."

"You can get another kni--"

"No," both Jude and Lorinni cut Glittering Pebble off, shaking their heads and drawing out the vowel. Stanley internally chuckled at that.

"He can't see you shaking your heads," he said.

"Well," Jude said, "we're shaking them."

"Hard," Lorinni added.

"You're certainly talking enough," Glittering Pebble said, "but I don't think that's what the Heretic wants, since I can wag my tongue too."

Stanley pulled his coat out of the sack, opened it up and lay it flat on the stone, then dumped the entire sack on top of it. "Process of elimination, feel free to chirp in."

"I don't think they want clothes," Lorinni said.

"I highly doubt they want your weapons," Jude added. "Not their style."

"All right then," Stanley said, folding himself into a seated crouch on his heels, "what would a bunch of people whose religion is about the future, who prep and save for it: what do they want, out of a pile of seven rings, two brooches, a fob watch, and this ugly medallion?"

"I would think a watch," Jude said. "You can plan the future if you can measure your time."

"That's a great idea," Stanley replied, wagging his finger at Jude.

"I'm not so sure," Lorinni mumbled.

"I have no thoughts on the matter," Glittering Pebble said, shrugging. "Our Heretics in the Garden of Glass just predict herd migrations for hunting purposes."

"What more should they do?" Stanley chuckled and clapped Glittering Pebble's shoulder. "Life is so much easier out there."

"We have a higher death rate from violence than in Regula."

"I didn't say it was more survivable, just easier." Stanley picked up the fob watch. He couldn't see it now, just a round, black void with his night color palm behind it, but remembered it had a silver casing. He felt about for the winding knob and twisted it a few times. The faint sound of gears and springs dribbled into his ears. "Sounds like it works...but I agree with Dad, it seems a bit easy, especially since Glittering Pebble was literally carrying it in with him. But it's the best we have for now." He handed it to his father before stuffing everything back in the sack.

"I'm still not happy with this," Lorinni grumbled, "but you're right. We have nothing else to go on."

"Shall I signal them?" Glittering Pebble asked.

As if someone heard him, a soft light appeared above. "Do you have the payment, boy?"

"Whom are you talking to?" Glittering Pebble called out, squinting against the light.

"That half-naked child you have with you."

"Me?" Stanley pointed at himself. "Dad, give me the--"

"We're not interested in the watch."

"You're not getting Mal--"

"Do you think we're violent idiots like you?"

"Oh!" Stanley slapped his own head. "You want something I know."

"Now he gets it," the voice above grumbled. "We were told you have it."

"Give me a moment to figure out what it is, please?"

Whoever it was up there, she sighed. "As I said, idiots. Figure it out or we fill this hole in. You don't have very long."

"I don't get it," Lorinni said. "I mean, I was correct, but between us all, I'm the Polymath with all the studying and knowledge."

"There's a lot of things we all know that we all keep secret," Jude said, boring holes through Stanley's skull with his eyes.

"I told you I wanted to get married in the Spring but you insisted on eloping during the Celebra--" Stanley stopped cold. "She knows that she doesn't know and she knows that I know but not what I know."

"What's new with Heretics? Not that," Lorinni groaned.

"Dad, have you recently gotten a message at all from Az Thanis?"

"It's in Az Khalud, I was hoping my brilliant son would--how the fuck did you know?" Lorinni clasped his hands together. "You really can read minds!"

"No one reads minds, Dad. You should know this. So you don't know what the Dwarves were telling you?"

"I don't read Az Khalud. You're the Master of Tongues."

"Don't I know it," Jude mumbled. Glittering Pebble snorted.

Stanley stood up. "Jude and--our esteemed stranger--would have been sent this message, except Dad. I found out at the Won--" walking through a sunflower field, all the flowers are sprouting out of chopped up parts of children The vision evaporated when someone shook his arm.

"Let the well behind us be the only one you go into today," Lorinni said softly. "What did you find out?"

"So you don't know? About Doctor Starlight's comet?"

"You mean the meteor shower at the Celebration?"

"Where do you keep that message?"

"It disappeared along with my diplomatic packet."

"Brother," Stanley said to Glittering Pebble. "When you hear this, you will want to run as fast as you can to your Warchief and Greatmother. You need to tell them to call an Yrqhmuut." Stanley then looked upward to the light. "I know what I know that you know I know but you don't know," he called out.

"I know," she replied. "Spit it out."

"Doctor Starlight's Comet will hit the world right before the end of Celebration--"

"Shut your mouth!" Jude exclaimed.

"--It's expected to cause a worldwide holocaust." He blinked up toward the golden-glowing square above.

After a long minute of silence, a soft noise whispered at the men in the tunnel. A rope ladder smacked Glittering Pebble on his shoulder. He stepped on the bottom rung, then beckoned the others. "I'll hold it steady for you."

Stanley had his father climb first, but he quit worrying when he saw Lorinni scurry up the ladder as easily as a squirrel. "Damn, Dad, where did you learn to climb like that?"

"We do have trees back home, you know. Lots of them. We sell parts of them to everyone else. You may have heard of bluewood?"

Jude ascended next. He lacked Lorinni's alacrity and speed but made up for that failing with a view that Stanley could very well appreciate from below.

"Before or after me?" Glittering Pebble asked Stanley.

"Give me a moment; I need to put all of this stuff on me. I can't climb and haul a sack."

As the Kith began ascending, Stanley donned his shirt, coat, belt, socks, boots. It left him unsettled that he couldn't properly cover his right forearm; no one saved the ratty vambrace he'd been using. did look hinky don't blame them just try not to look at them avoid that well  He tucked all of his little hidden pins and blades and cables back into their seams and plackers and hems where they belonged before he climbed on the rope ladder himself. The rig led up four meters into a candle-lit chamber lined with the same black rock as the tunnel they left and the bowels of the Municipium, except highly polished. Lorinni and Jude looked confused. Glittering Pebble looked around as he exited the tunnel. "Where..."

Stanley also looked around as he pulled himself up through the hole. Only himself, Lorinni, Jude, and Glittering Pebble were present. Glittering Pebble pulled up the rope ladder. "Where is she?" Stanley asked, turning around in wonder.

"Gone," Lorinni said. "Even before I got up here."

"She took the way out with her," Jude added, turning around with his arms outward, laughing. "This room's only exit appears to be the hole we just climbed out of. Excellent."

Stanley looked around the chamber, forlorn. The whole affair was bare, black, and clean as the Sanatorium except for the thumblike stub of a yellowish candle the color of beeswax on its last two centimeters burning in the center of the floor. It started sputtering. not even one mushroom

Glittering Pebble turned himself around, sniffing the air. "My eyes don't recognize this room but my nose does. Is this illusion?"

Lorinni looked about. "Give me a moment. Glamour only lies optically and acoustically--both light and sound are waves. It can't lie to touch, smell, or taste, the latter two being alchemical by nature. Walk around, touch the walls, Sibrulon. Tell me if you feel a hidden passage of any kind."

"Dad, shush about that please. We have polite company here." Nevertheless, Stanley examined the walls as quickly as he could under the dwindling light with his eyes, knuckles, fingers, and palms. Then he went over the floor. "Everything is solid. There's nothing but the hole we came through."

"Then how did she get out of here? There's no Gate, and you can't Fetch the living. She wasn't a ghoul, was she?"

"I would have smelled it," Glittering Pebble replied, shaking his head. "It's how I discovered there was a ghoul in the Municipium."

Lorinni bit his nail, looking at one patch of wall intently. "I don't trust this wall. Don't you fellows think this wall is just amazingly flat for a flat wall?"

"It's all polished bedrock," Stanley said. "It's all amazingly flat." Something, though, did look odd, now that his attention stuck to it. "I felt out this bit, right?" He looked at Glittering Pebble, who nodded. The Kith's black brows knit over his eyes like wooly caterpillars as he himself drew his fingers over the area. "Where are my fingerprints?"

"Look, this time don't--" Lorinni licked the wall, then licked another one. He pointed at the first wall he licked. "That one has no flavor. Try it."

"Think I'll pass," Jude said. He kept turning one way, then the other, frowning. "Do you hear that?"

Stanley licked the second wall. It tasted faintly of candle soot and silica. He wiped his tongue off on his steel baton to shock away the flavor, then licked the first wall--

"It isn't there. There's no wall flavor. And where's my saliva? I just licked this spot."

"Good Kith sir, would you be so kind as to smell this patch of wall?"

Glittering Pebble inclined his head toward it. "It literally smells like nothing. I can't smell our finger gardens or your saliva at all on it."

"Um, guys," Jude said, looking around nervously. "You might want to hurry up. The room is shrinking."

Lorinni started laughing. "I need gold dust and by the way we have about two minutes left."

"I got that." Stanley dug into a pocket and pulled out what he knew was a plain gold band, then slipped his steel ring off and began rasping it as fast as he could against the gold ring, letting the dust fall into Lorinni's cupped hands.

"Two minutes before what?" Jude asked.

Lorinni answered, "Before the candle goes out. Keep track of these walls. Tell us if they close in faster."

"What's going on?" Glittering Pebble asked.

"We're in a trap, but it's really simple...unless the candle goes out, at which time the room will cease to exist. We will still exist, just liquified in place when we snap into our native spatial dimensions. I can short out the Manifold's exit with a good conductor like gold. Foil is best, but dust will work for about five seconds."

The candle flickered--all the men caught their breaths at once. Stanley kept sawing at the gold, hoping his firestarter ring was shaving enough of the soft metal away.

"I can touch the ceiling now," Jude said.

Lorinni hummed a note that split into a chorus, and while he did he blew across his palms. Gold glittered in the air, then adhered to the unnaturally flat surface. None of them needed to be told what to do as they all bolted through the now-existing portal in the shrinking wall.

The first thing Stanley saw was a blank, black-painted door frame in the middle of a wood-paneled wall. As he looked around, he also saw that the entrance to the tunnel underground didn't lead to this room. He gauged that the tunnel ended about a meter outside the walls of the room they were now in, a fairly small one with zero additional features than the door and the wood paneling.

"It took you men long enough."

The third thing he saw had three eyes, no hair, and today she wore a cerulean choli and skirts embroidered with sunflowers.

\* \* \*

"I needed Heresy Mushrooms." She held up a parcel wrapped in banana leaves and tied with jute twine to her nose and inhaled deeply, loudly, with a smile. "Fresh as they get!"

Stanley grabbed her shoulders and held them at arm's length, looking straight into her actual eyes. "Where is Sabrine?"

"She's with Mercedes, Fjalle, and Varolus--"

"Coshebas knows she has the Phylactery."

"He's here? Son of a bitch--yes, Jude, come here and hug me, before you jump out of your skin."

Jude deployed himself into her arms. "I saw the Fast--I was afraid--"

"I'm sure Stanley let you know Fjalle survived."

Stanley cleared his throat uncomfortably. He shared a short, dark glance with Jude before the Kindred man disengaged.

"Do I know you?" the Seer asked, noticing Glittering Pebble.

"I don't think so," he replied. His fingers flexed by his sides.

"All right." She turned to Lorinni and did air kisses with him on either side of his face, holding his hands between them. "But don't go too far, Person I Don't Know, you have to help me get some things out of your intake lockup closet."

"I can't go--"

"You don't have to. We just need to pick your brain a little."

Glittering Pebble shook his head. "I have no reason--"

"It's part of this Heretic's price. She trades favors by trapping you into needing one."

"It would take a Kith Scout to get the drop on me."

"I watched you walk straight into a Manifold Trap. All of you. Now quit flapping your yaps, I don't have all day. Literally." She pointed at the Gate. "Clip-clop, the Gate has a time limit, whoever's left will suffocate."

Stanley frowned at her as Jude grabbed his hand and pulled him, stumbling over himself momentarily, through the Gate's frame. He watched as she shoved Lorinni, also frowning at her, through the opening. She cast her gaze at Glittering Pebble, who suddenly hurried to follow Lorinni. She wasted no time following Glittering Pebble.

Thick clouds of hay met his nose first, then the stench of shit, like an afterthought. He felt a small tension in his mind subside. "Spot's here."

"She can wait," the Seer said. "I can't. You've paid your debt now that you're here, but now I have to pay mine...and it won't be possible without you, Person I Don't Know." She turned her back to the elves to face Glittering Pebble.

"What do I need to do?" he asked.

"You need to let this guy read your mind." She tossed her head back, toward both Stanley and Lorinni.

"No one can read minds." except me

"I wasn't talking about you, Stanley. But thanks for confirming my suspicions." She looked over her shoulder with a grin. "My 'except your dad' was silent. Ask him."

\* \* \*

Stanley gaped at Lorinni, who nodded with brows up and lips pursed.

Glittering Pebble snorted, bobbing his weight from left foot to right and back again.

"I'm so sorry, Person I Don't Know, the youngster here is being an idiot. Lorinni, I need you. No offense, Stanley, but I'd rather work with an Ascended Mentat like myself. If you want to feel useful, make sure we don't get physically disturbed."

"What are you about to do?" Stanley asked.

"We're about to rob the room where Lorinni's diplomatic packet and Jude's cutlasses are held."

"Why didn't you tell me?" Glittering Pebble asked. "The Municipium owes me a debt for tricking me into working with a ghoul and owes these two elves for illegally confining them."

"Hold on, ma'am," Lorinni said, "confiscation lockups use an iron cage to prevent Fetching."

"Stop talking. Stanley's seen me do this twice before when I was drunk."

Stanley's mind cranked. last time she was actually drunk was the sacking

what did she Fetch

oh moon and stars the whiskey from the iron dungeon and the gumbo in its cast iron pot

I didn't even catch that

She nodded at Stanley after he finished figuring. "Whoever you are, please sit down and make yourself as relaxed as possible. I wasn't joking when I said keep the flies off us, you two," she pointed between Stanley and Jude. "The faster we get this done, the faster I get the antidote. The rest of us will sit in a circle. Stranger, when I give the signal, you will imagine walking from here to where Jude's cutlasses and Lorinni's diplomatic packet will be locked up. If I can See it, I can Fetch it."

"Understood," Glittering Pebble replied, folding down to sit cross-legged on the hay. Lorinni and the Seer followed him.

"Lorinni, you will make sure there is an open conduit between me and whoever this is, since Mercedes and her remote viewing aren't here. I will Fetch the things. I don't have a lot of time, as I had to agree to be poisoned before she would do anything. We're Fetching the payment object first and none of you will touch it until I say so."

"What if she lets you die?" Stanley asked, dread bubbling again.

"Get creative. Now do what I told you to do." She held her hands to each side, then everyone took hands.

Stanley looked about for a moment. He caught sight of Spot's ears again. Her breath quickened, she shifted her weight among her hooves, her tail swished. "I'm here, girl," he whispered. One ear swiveled directly toward his voice.

"We're all getting something back we lost," Jude murmured. "Wonder what she lost?"

Stanley knit his brows. "I really hope it's not worth her life. Is that buzzing one of those fucking horseflies?"

Jude's eyes tracked something looping about in the air. He pointed vaguely with his hand. "Make it freeze up."

"I'm not a carnival performer."

Jude made it look easy scooping the fly out of the air. After carefully and gently taking hold of its hind legs, he held up the flustered, buzzing insect, a brown fly around a centimeter long. "The gods decided to dump yet another gift on the pile you already have, least you can do is show me under more leisurely conditions."

"I can see you too--might affect you." Stanley glanced at the three of them, still silently concentrating on their task--and then saw the Seer sway. "Ma'am, are you all right?"

Without opening her eyes or breaking her contact with Glittering Pebble's and Lorinni's hands, she said, "My lips turning black will be the second to the last symptom. Once convulsions begin, I'll have about five minutes left before the antidote is worthless. Now shut up and keep talking to Jude."

Stanley nodded, even though her eyes were closed, and backed away quietly, still keeping his ears open for the sound of buzzing. The three of them sat in shadow inside an empty stall.

"Someone's walking into the stable," Jude said. He let the fly go. She shot out toward sunlit prey. Jude craned his neck to see down the walkway before walking in the direction of steps that Stanley could also hear.

"Just me!" a woman's familiar voice called out. "Coming to grab that door frame." Her black boots had hard soles that rang out on the wooden walkway. She wore tan equestrian jodhpurs and a white button-down shirt tucked under a pouched utility belt. As she approached, Jude startled; on her shoulder perched a large, mottled brown, false widow spider, her body easily two centimeters long, partly concealed in the woman's chunky grey curls. She looked around as she approached the Gate's frame. "Where's the payment?"

Jude and Stanley shrugged. "She's working on it."

"Oh shit," she said. "Not good."

"You don't have her antidote?"

"Of course I do. Maybe you should have been faster in getting to her." She craned her neck to look past Stanley's shoulder at the Seer. "Oh, her lips are beginning to blacken." She pulled a fob watch from her pocket and checked it. Stanley saw the numerals 2 through 15 on its face, not 1 through 14 like normal clock faces.

"Do you have a time limit or something?" Jude asked, frowning a little.

"Well," she began, still looking at her watch and twirling her finger in the air a little, murmuring some numbers, then scoffing quietly. "I'm scheduled to deliver this across town in half an hour. Did you pause at all in the tunnel?"

"I was covered in blood, I rinsed it off."

"How long did that take?"

Stanley scoffed, then replied, "A minute and some change."

She bunched her lips above a dimpled chin and turned her face slightly from the watch, keeping her eyes on the face. "Going to be tight."

"Claim it's a plot twist, unavoidable."

"Nothing is unavoidable." She peeled her eyes from her timepiece, grinning at Stanley.

"That comet isn't," he shot back. "You're the same lady who took my news of the comet."

"Indeed!" she replied with a bright smile. For a moment, he felt a quick rush of libido at the sight of her huge pupils, before his head reminded himself what was going on. bless you boner assassin

"You're a lot more cordial now."

"You aren't the person I'm dealing with at the moment. I don't have to work around your slow intellect. But yes, to counter your assumption, the comet is avoidable."

"How?" Stanley lowered his head toward hers with a frown, hands akimbo.

Her smile changed not one millimeter but her pupils widened half of one. "That's going to cost you! Now look, I was under the impression your friend here could Transferrously Transfer." She turned to look at the still-empty space within the space between the trio of people thinking furiously.

"We are inside intake confiscation," Glittering Pebble murmured, lifting his chin toward the Heretic without opening his eyes.

The Seer's lips went completely black.

"Oh, she doesn't have a lot of time," the Heretic noticed.

"Thank you for warning me," Stanley spat. "Is there anything--"

"Not really, not for a while."

"What can I do?"

"I don't know, catch horseflies?"

"Hard to track the little fuckers."

"Then you're kind of useless, aren't you?"

Stanley scoffed and looked to Jude, who snorted before laughing quietly. "It's all right to be useless on occasion," he offered.

"Wasn't the comet news, I don't know, pretty profound? Why are you putting her life on the line?"

"She needs to pay for services rendered."

"Does she know this?"

"She will in a moment, when you tell her."

Stanley took three steps to the stall's door. "It's in Dad's diplomatic packet," he called out.

"Not as stupid as first assessed."

The Seer nodded. Her black lips tightened.

"Look, I can't wait any longer--" the Heretic woman began, consulting her watch once more. Stanley looked back at her.

"~hold~still~"

And she did.

"Shit!" Jude walked around her. Even her spider had quit moving her legs.

"There, now you can gawk. The Seer, you need to maybe hurry, your lips have been black for a minute now."

"Almost done, hold your horses," she called out softly, her brows rising and then falling and then quirking one way and then the other.

"She's a mule, remember?"

The Seer laughed. "All right, you can touch them now."

"The things are here," Lorinni called out.

"Get your message from Az Thanis. Fast, put it in this woman's hand." Stanley thought the Heretic woman had a lovely nose. He wasn't about to look at her freaky eyes.

The squelch of papers like half of a deck of shuffled playing cards filled the stall. "Got them!" Lorinni shoved a hastily curated packet into her rigid hand. Stanley shifted his attention to the Seer, whose body had already begun to seize up. "You ~hold~still~ too, freaky larva girl."

As the Heretic joined the forward-flowing timeline again, Jude said sharply, "You have your payment--!"

After half a second of glaring at Stanley, she rifled through the papers in her hand. "I don't read Az Khalud--"

Stanley pointed at the Heretic without taking his eyes off the Seer. "She dies, I will hold you still again until the sky falls. We'll see who blinks first."

"Fine!" The Heretic pulled a wooden case containing a wicked syringe from a pouch on her belt. After pinching off a solidified, white drop of latex sealing the needle's tip, she impaled it into the Seer's upper arm and pressed the plunger with her thumb."You--" she pointed at Stanley "--never do that to me again."

"Didn't see that coming, did you?"

Without another word or even a glance, the Heretic grabbed her door frame and wheeled it out of Hamid's.

"I see you got creative," the Seer mumbled as Jude helped her stand. At her feet also lay twin silvered cutlasses in their belted scabbards, which Jude snatched up without fanfare.

"All of this for mushrooms?"

"No, I paid actual money--well, those secretly devalued illegal Heliopolitan Phoenices--for those. This was for the jail break."

"She didn't know they're devalued?"

"Or she didn't care?"

"I think you just earned 'Kingslayer's Girl Sidekick' status."

"You should ask your father about that. He's the one I was springing, you messed me up by joining him."

"Fancy Pup," Glittering Pebble said, his voice softer and deeper. "Don't joke about those people."

All three of the elf men cleared their throats at the same time. The Seer just looked at him with a bright smile.

The Kith looked from the Seer to Stanley to Lorinni to Jude, then grunted. "I think it's time for me to head east, Fancy Pup."

"Find the sun, Glittering Pebble."

The two turned their backs to each other, Stanley toward the west and Spot's stall, and Glittering Pebble to the darkening east. Stanley listened to his footsteps dwindle down the walkway until he stepped off into the grassy meadow beyond that.

"I wonder who that was," the Seer mumbled. Lorinni shrugged. Jude shook his head.

Spot's hooves stamped back and forth as Stanley lifted the bar locking her stall door. "Come here, girl!" he cried at her from the walkway, his arms open wide as he backed off. Spot pranced out of her stall like a proud, blood-spattered unicorn, neck erect and nose down, tail high and fluttering in the evening breeze, hooves clipping and dancing on wooden planks. She sniffed at her elf's face as delicately as a cat before laying her chin on his shoulder.

He held her face at arm's length. "You're my best girl, you know." Spot nodded her head. Burying his face in her mane, he inhaled deeply and sighed.

"Do you two need a moment alone?" Jude asked with a chuckle.

"Stanley and I came to town on three horses and his mule, so we're saddling them all. I'm Seeing there's a molly saddle and bridle in the back of the tack room, though I'm giving it only even odds it will last more than a month," said the Seer. "We have to move quickly if we're going to get to Arena by sunrise."

"It will take two days even with a fast stage," Lorinni replied.

"Come on, men! Be ready to ride an hour ago," the Seer said to Stanley, whirling her hand on her wrist at him. "This is the last stage of the plan."

"What plan?" Stanley asked.

"Weren't you listening? My plan to be in Arena with you by sunrise."

Chapter 13

"For all of this to end with that woman, I have to win decisively."

"Win what?" Stanley asked as he gently put Spot's bit into her mouth.

"Sun and sky, you didn't start a duel with her?" Jude slapped his forehead.

"It happened, all right?" she snapped.

"Why the hell would you begin a duel, especially at a time like this?" Lorinni asked.

"Polymaths duel?" Stanley asked.

"She started it," the Seer replied. "When I got the mushrooms yesterday."

"You're still dueling?"

"Sometimes a Heretic-Mentat duel can go on for years," Lorinni said.

"I don't have years, I have just an hour or so."

"To..." Stanley whirled his hand on his wrist.

The Seer closed her eyes and inhaled deeply.  "To surprise her."

"That's all? No...pow pow..." He flared his fingers with the least convincing approximation of lightning. "No, I don't know, pulling a roof down on her head?"

"You don't get it--they are always high on Heresy Mushrooms. They always have access to the future. I swear by the sun that chestnut mare is mine!"

she wasn't horny she's tripping

Lorinni's head snapped up, eyes wide. "I don't understand..."

The Seer mirrored his face. "Yeah, that makes no sense."

"What?" Jude asked. He looked at Stanley. "Are they doing the thing?"

"How should I know, I don't get to play in their sandbox."

"Yes, we're doing a thing," the Seer stated quickly, holding her finger up.

"Why isn't there a warrant out for us?" Lorinni asked the air.

"No warrant?" Stanley asked. "We just--"

"Alouysius hasn't sensed any unusual personnel assignments, and he has had no notice of any legal decree or even so much as a casual memorandum about any of you," the Seer replied, rocking her finger and eyes as if reading the words on a big sign in front of her.

"He could be ly--"

Both Lorinni's and the Seer's faces snapped toward Stanley's, glaring for one smoky second. In unison, they said, "Mentats don't lie."

Jude took Stanley's arm and pulled him away, slowly. "Mmmmaybe don't say that again."

The Seer breathed hard for a moment, eyes unfocused. "Don't ever ever accuse any of us of lying, not without proof."

"He doesn't know," Lorinni said. "He's been cut off from us most of his life."

"So we're free to go? Just get on our horses and mule and ride off literally into the sunset?"

"Still gotta be in Arena by sunrise," the Seer replied. "But you, sir," she pointed at Lorinni, "have a Gate!"

Lorinni bunched his lips, frowning. "My Gate is in Arena and--"

"The Heretic's Gate is halfway to its next appointment."

"Then let's go!" Jude exclaimed.

"She's not going to just let you all use her Gate!" The Seer looked from face to face to face. "Not without another set of death traps. I'm almost convinced she's really trying to kill me this time."

"Wait, 'this time'?" Stanley asked.

"I'm two for zero so far."

"What, is this 'third time's a charm' time?" Jude blew out his cheeks and ran his fingers through his unfortunate hair, pulling several strands away from his face where they stuck to the sweat on his skin.

"She keeps picking the fights. I'm never getting mushrooms in this city again until she's fed to the sky. But I want her Gate."

"I'll get it for you," Stanley said.

"What?"

"She said the comet is avoidable."

Everyone stared at him, suddenly speechless.

"She...she actually said that," the Seer said, "out loud, even."

"Are you sure you weren't just reading her mind, Son?"

"No one--"

"Except Mentats of the Traqueljax family," Lorinni finished impatiently. "It's very important, she said with her mouth that--"

The Seer opened her mouth, but Stanley's voice came out. "Claim it's a plot twist, unavoidable."

"Nothing is unavoidable." Lorinni's mouth, the Heretic's voice.

"That comet isn't," the Seer shot back. "You're the same lady who took my news of the comet."

"Indeed!" Lorinni replied with a bright smile.

"You're a lot more cordial now."

"You aren't the person I'm dealing with at the moment. I don't have to work around your slow intellect. But yes, to counter your assumption, the comet is avoidable."

"How?" the Seer raised her face to Lorinni's with a frown, hands akimbo.

"That's going to cost you!" Lorinni shook his head, and the Seer followed suit. "Is that true to your inner recall?"

"Yes, and that was very odd."

"Be glad we didn't talk about your boner assassin. You're almost as bad as I am." Lorinni pushed his thin and now ragged braids behind his ear.

"That's why I want to get her Gate. She owes me, and you, and every single living thing a debt. She wasn't surprised when I told her about the comet."

Jude cocked his head. "Wait, that means she already had an inkling."

"She could have lied," the Seer shot back.

"Her pupils only moved when I asked her how."

Jude put up his finger. "And not when she told you the comet was avoidable?" He nodded while Stanley shook his head. "So she doesn't know how, and that question upset her somehow."

"She also didn't predict you at all," the Seer said, tapping her lips. "That's important." She snapped her fingers. "You stopped my time."

"Ohh," Lorinni drew out the vowel. "Yes."

"Is that the holding still thing?" Jude asked.  Everyone else nodded.

"Isn't that cheating?" Lorinni asked the Seer.

"In any duel," she said with her not-scary toothy grin growing and eyes glowing a sunny gold at Stanley, "the participants can choose a champion to fight in their stead. In this case, I want you to wipe the floor with her. Not literally, get your hand off that knife."

"I know what to do, then," Stanley said, rolling his shoulders back and swiveling his head on his neck with a small crack. "I need to do two things first: find Varolus, and then borrow your clothes, ma'am."

\* \* \*

"How do you know they're safe at the hostel?" Stanley asked.

"Mercedes is a Mentat. This way." She pulled him across Orc Gate Boulevard with zero decorum.

"And Mentats don't lie." He inhaled deeply. "I have to trust her."

"You don't have to do anything," the Seer said, laughing, hanging off his arm like a debutante.

"You're sure this is a shortcut." Clouds of noxious perfume from rubbish assailed his nose.

"Yes. This leads directly there."

"Who's the host?"

The Seer grinned. "Momentary Convent."

"Of course they are. So back to--Say someone holds you at knifepoint, 'your money or your life!'"

"You can choose the knife. I mean, it would be the last choice ever and really stupid since once you're dead they can take anything of yours they want. But it's...a choice."

"That's not a choice. No one chooses death."

"Even trapped in the Pit of Melancholy?"

"Oh that. Great. Just paint that part on my tapestry," Stanley wrote in the air with his finger as he spoke, "'he will probably kill himself eventually.'"

"Well, I mean. Your forearm."

"How long until we get to the hostel?"

"I would estimate another fifteen minute walk. Mercedes really is the best, she found this shortcut. I think she might really be defecting."

"Splendid." He looked this way and that, then pulled her to a stop next to the back door of a diner. Thankfully, this one covered their rubbish against hungry rats, although roaches also lusted after the contents by the hordeful along this narrow path hemmed in by business buildings on both sides . He pushed the sleeve off his right forearm and held it up to the fading sunlight.

"This?" He pointed at the trellis of white scars wrapping around his skin on all sides, from elbow to knuckles. "Is a lich's lie. I am forced to tell a lie to everyone every day of my life literally forever as I'm functionally immortal. My only other choice at the time was to let the lich claim victory and actually kill me and every one of us in the Mansus Regal including his own trusted staff." He scoffed, covering his arm back up as well as he could. "Normal people don't call that a choice."

"Maybe that's why they're normal."

"From what I understand, that's the kind of thing Treveque said when he tied that fucking blue box to his arm."

They stared, five eyes locked for what seemed like five hours. He noticed that he held his breath, waiting for her to soak this in. Once she began blinking, he began breathing.

"Am I normal?" he asked.

The Seer shook her head. "Of course you're not."

"You're wrong. I'm very normal. Despite having difficulty actually feeling them, I have the same sort of feelings as anyone else." He backed off. "Anyone else who isn't a monster. Despite my particular affliction, I want very much to live and I want very much for everyone else to live as well. You know, like normal people." He shook his head and faced the direction they'd been travelling. "This is all I have to teach at the moment."

\* \* \*

With a scowl, but without any more chatter, the Seer led Stanley further along her alleyway shortcut through the back walls of businesses in the center of the Madrigal District. Frogs sang vespers from rooftop ponds, only pausing when the people who lived below them moved the canvas sheets shading the ponds in the day.  For the length of a block, he began to notice that he noticed something: what, he wasn't quite sure of. He tugged back on the Seer's arm.

this feels like a trap

before we go farther I want to stop and look and think

be ready to hide scream get attention

She looked around, then shrugged. "From whom?"

He looked around too. Her question was valid. Very casually he turned around slowly, looking at the eaves, his left index finger to his lips, his right hand casually slipping into his coat pocket. He glanced sideways at her--

--sorry about this, but I need--

--then his clothes completed their rotation around the flesh of Jude instead. And they still fit perfectly, damn him

°how did you know

He glanced sidelong at her again with a wink and a grin, before regretting it one heartbeat later. "I feel played with."

°I'll keep an eye in the very near future

"Speaking of being quiet," He looked toward the direction they had been travelling, then pointing toward it. "Vesper sanitation patrol."

"Oh shit," the Seer said out loud. He felt her dismay descend like fog. "It's coming toward us. Now we'll be covered in bugs!"

"Can't be helped, there's no intersections between us and it." Stanley flattened himself against the wall next to the Seer.

"We can at least help the collectors and make it faster."

Stanley shrugged with Jude's shoulders. "Can't hurt."

They peeled themselves off the wall to approach the velocipede. A single man pedaled the machine, a steel frame with one wheel in the front and two in the back, with a wheeled cart piled above its sides and almost toppling with trash attached to the frame.

"Where's your next drop?" the Seer asked the driver. He wore green coveralls, worn-out brown leather gloves, and black leather boots, and his salt-and-pepper hair could use a trimming a month ago. He wiped his dripping brow with a bright yellow cloth.

"Aw, well thank you ma'am, I do appreciate it. Just at the next junction, the one that's wider for horse carts."

"I can push you," Stanley-as-Jude offered, catching sight of the Kindred man's lovely, muscular arms. The aroma had risen to an olfactory crescendo so thick he nearly choked. The Seer stood there, exchanging her lack of a name with the collector "Gaath" as if in a field of lavender.

"I'd be much obliged, I would. I should have a partner but he took the day off sick. First time in ten years." Gaath breathed hard as Stanley topped the pile with the contents of the next steel drum of diner refuse. The roaches in it jumped ship and skittered down the sleek leather of his pants onto the neglected pavement.

"You weren't assigned a temporary replacement?" the Seer asked.

"Municipium's been mighty stingy as of late," Gaath replied. "Said maybe tomorrow, if Yurig don't feel better."

With the last of the refuse perched precariously on top the cart, Stanley braced the heels of his hands on the back corners of the cart and pushed with his booted feet. The small amount of bread from the underground holding cell under the Municipium had finally fully reached his limbs. As Gaath strugged with his own pedals, between the two of them they had the cart finally rolling toward the junction they'd passed just after he corrected her about his scars. An empty velocipede cart sat on the corner. The two of them helped Gaath disengage the full cart and engage the empty one, so that he could continue down the alley, collecting refuse before the rats came out in the dusk.

"Awful lot of coincidences, don't you think?" Stanley asked the Seer, squinting against the stench as if that would work, wondering how she could stand it. "And with these bugs all riled up, I can't hear an individual. We've been pushed back, and everything in me says this was intended."

"Kith?"

"Doubtful. They can be this manipulative in the Gardens of Glass but here? Like fish out of water."

"Even Scouts?"

"Yes, including them."

"Unless that Scout is you."

fuck all you Mentats already Stanley sighed heavily when he looked at her. "No secret's safe from you, I swear."

She shook her head as if explaining to a toddler. "It's literally my job."

He inhaled deeply, trying to keep his soft palate up and away from retch position. His mind felt no other sapient being close enough to hear. "I trained to be one. All I had left to do was serve five years, I was ready for it. However, everything got cut short by the Regicide. Before you ask, yes, the poor man at the Wonky--I...I did exactly the same thing to him I did to the Dead King."

"I'm going to be honest," she said after a moment of pondering. "Except for some flashes of absolute mental brilliance, I haven't seen anything out of you that screams, 'I brilliantly killed the monster of the century.' Your blade work at the Fast was good, but not particularly brilliant. Jude works the sharps better."

"I don't mind hearing that. Jude's a miracle on two disgustingly fuckable legs." He indicated the body he wore with that body's hands. Just looking at them made his heart flutter.

The Seer pulled her face backward. "I thought you and Fja--"

"Yes, me and Fjalle. And Castille. And Jude. Well, except for Jude with Castille since that was never happening, of course." He looked all over the place. "He's Fjalle's children's--"

"We all thought it was weird--"

"No wonder he's protective of her." Stanley hid his face in hs hands, moaning, "I ruined so much by leaving." He let a bitter tear slide down his face. "I was supposed to give them some of the later children they wanted, since I was a little too young at the start to sire anyone. I kept thinking--" He looked about. "The bugs aren't as riled," he whispered. "I can hear things now, including seven people slapping away roaches and," letting his voice grow in volume, "not being as quiet as they need to be."

He heard soneone breathing with an unraised palate and shifting between bare feet, occasionally brushing away a bug. Once he focused on their breath, he could hear more of them.

"Now see, I'm beginning to admire that Heretic now. She's good."

°I'm letting Mercedes know to look out for shifty Kith

He nodded. "Be ready now." He tucked some loose strands of hair behind his left ear with his ring and little fingers. In a voice just louder than conversation, he called out in Yrqhash, "I can hear you, Sibling. I'm Fancy Pup of Kazu-Mazu."

He distinctly heard seven tiny scoffs from every direction including above.

"By those sounds of disdain, I'm to understand you came from Kazu-Gorz--"

"There is no Gorzola!" a Kith woman replied, her voice's edge ragged with rage. "Thanks to you, we aren't a Clan anymore. And thanks to you, we can no longer call our art Scouting." He watched a shadow hand slap away a flying roach. In a few minutes, it would be too dark to see and too light for the night color.

"I agree to stipulate that fact, and to acknowledge...that indeed I owe Gorzola a blood debt. By the fact that the woman I'm with isn't part of your blood debt, I now understand why you haven't attacked, at this moment. I'm sure you knew I would defend her."

"She is not part of our blood debt and no, we don't want to include her, even by mistake. Of course, that only unmasks your cowardice. I mean, you didn't even serve one single Yrqhatha for the gifts our Gardens gave you. You hid behind your father's riches, and now you're hiding behind a Nerd woman."

\*what are you two saying\*

Stanley cut his hand through the air toward the Seer. "Trust me," he clipped in Regulese before turning back to the voice of the still-unseen Kith woman. "I agree that I stole five suns of service. It was wrong of me. I should have returned after the Regicide and paid what I owe. I understand that now. But unfortunately for you, I'm the son of a diplomat, so you wouldn't be off the hook, you would be hunted down by two different nations. Even we Scouts--"

"What did I tell you? We're not Scouts! A Scout must be in service to a Warchief or a Greatmother. Without service, we are nothing but assassins." She paused. "And that makes you nothing but an assassin."

It stung. "That being neither here nor there, we're at an impasse. You claim we're not Scouts, but here we all are, feet firmly on the Unblazed Trail. I think that's why you're hesitating."

"Don't test our aversion to blaze a new trail. Gorzola has waited forty-four suns to find you. Before our clan dies, you're coming to the hells with us--"

"Whether or not you decide that I should let you live for tonight," Stanley began, flicking his baton out right there in the open, pausing to let the hidden not-Scouts chuckle, "I will come to Gorzola and serve ten suns. I wouldn't laugh, Siblings. None of you raised your soft palate to make your breath too quiet for an elf to hear, and therefore I could already hear how many of you there are. With your laugh, I know where you are as well. As I said," he continued, turning to point directly at a glint of an eye in a back doorway two buildings behind him, "I might let you live long enough to see the stars I'll feed some of you to tonight."

He felt a sudden urge to look at me at the Seer, who flicked her eyes upward and at an angle.

~move~

He backed under the eaves below her glance. A volley of frustration hit him like darts.

I'm surprised you care enough demon

"Hey, lady," the Kith woman called out, in Regulese. He could barely feel her, just a shifting carpet of shy spikes softly brushing his own awareness. nine meters

"Now you trust me," she whispered, shoving past Jude's lean body in the alley, pausing to smile directly at Jude's face with an inward hiss through her teeth. She looked directly at a spot, even though Stanley still couldn't see the Kith woman unless she moved her hand. Waving cordially, she called out in reply, "Hi there! So nice to meet you!"

"Is this uh, elf keeping you captive in any way?" Under hear breath she whispered in Yrqhash, "He is an elf, right? Looks more like Kindred."

"I can never tell them apart," another breath responded. "They're all bamboo people."

"No one keeps me captive," the Seer called out. "Ever."

"Don't you know what's going on?" called out the same woman.

"Not really, my associate here is in a skin that doesn't allow him to Emit."

"You're a Mentat."

"I am! So is he, barely."

"We were told he has a companion, but that she's a younger woman. No offense."

"None taken! I like my forties so far."

"So you've no connection to the woman with the blue box."

"On the contrary! I have a vested interest in protecting her from you."

"So you freely admit you are, with full will intact, aiding this fugitive?"

"Fugitive? What law did he break, and where?"

There came a scoff, then, "My clan will go extinct because of something he did."

~delay~them~

"I was actually avenging Picks Petunias when you think about it at the right angle," Stanley replied.

"You had no right to that vengeance. You were of Kazu-Mazu. You had nothing to do with her."

"I have evidence of my right."

The Seer called out, "If I stand in this little patch of what's left of sunlight, holding the evidence he believes will prove his case, can you agree to parlay and examine it?"

"Only if it's still attached to his hand."

"I don't mind if she doesn't," Stanley called out. come closer mass murderer child murderer I got your blood debt right here He flexed the fingers on both hands. All ten wanted a piece along with him.

The Seer nodded. "I'm fine with that too." She looked back at him with immense pupils. He nodded.

why is it she can get high to do what she does and I can't

\* \* \*

these are the people who massacred the Fast

these are the people who murdered everyone at the Wonky Donkey

they take gold from the people who genocided my entire tribe

She wore her black hair in cornrow braids and her clothing, homespun trousers and an undyed flax blouse, would never attract attention on the street during a busy work day, especially with her bare feet. She left her blouse untucked. He noted the suggestion of a handle pushing around under the fabric by her waist. Her hard eyes regarded him with a frown while she joined Stanley and the Seer in the narrow alley. Her nostrils made sniffing sounds before she grunted.

"Show me the evidence."

Stanley held up his right hand, brandishing his titanium Master of Tongues signet. Gorzola Gal sniffed it as well, then slapped a roach off her shoulder. "I want to examine the ring," she announced. "I want to take it off myself."

He wrapped all his fingers around his baton except for the middle one, holding it just a quarter meter from his face. "I invite you to take it." She glanced at his left hand as it slowly closed over Malphasian's handle. He didn't bother to make it subtle, his eyes darting between hers and her seemingly empty hands as she stepped within his arm's reach.

The Seer snorted once.

The Kith woman snapped her fingers. "Zvitol."  After a metallic scrape, the light of a lantern filled the alley as the sun's emptied away for the night. The Kith man holding it cleared his throat, glaring at Jude's skin. Stanley glared back. Then the woman pulled the titanium signet off Stanley's extended, rude finger. She turned it over in her hand, she held it to the lantern, she clicked her tongue before slapping another roach off her thigh.

"I see that the ring was crafted for a finger exactly your tiny size. I can read the Yrqhash name that you claim is yours engraved on the inside with its maker's mark, which is from Kazu-Mazu. I see the universal insignia of a Degree of Tongues with a double border--so yes, this is a Master of Tongues signet. Congratulations, I already knew you could yap with the best of them." She cocked her head at him with deadpan, humorless eyes.

"Look at the glyphs of contributing instructors stamped along the shank."

Her tusked jaw went slack when she found it. She handed the ring back to Stanley. "She was one of your Book Mothers. You had standing to avenge her." She snarled while he slid his finger back inside his ring as she held it. "You still had no standing to make our clan extinct."

"At this point, I do."

"Explain."

"Including the three Brothers I had a hand in ending, I saw and heard every one of you on the fifty-seventh anniversary of the Blessed Regicide, within the walls of the Fast, around this time of day in fact."

Recognition sparked in her eyes as she chuckled. "You must have been the kindà lunë  he went on about." She laughed like it was a funny punchline as she slapped at her thigh again.

"I am honored to have killed you."

"Which one?"

"All of you."

"There are seven of us."

"Six."

"What?"

"Look at your hand."

She looked down at the blood dripping from the fingers that last slapped her thigh. She looked back at Stanley with eyes of terror before they rolled back. She slumped to the pavement. Her pants were drenched in blood and a dark pool formed under her thigh.

"Parlay's over!" the Seer chimed.

The lantern's glass panels shattered when they hit the hard ground. In the sudden dark, Stanley couldn't see what the lantern's former operator had done. Seven minds still pressed on his, only one of them soft and friendly.

A nyanduka cable wrapped around his left hand, which had a very bloody Malphasian in it. Its weilder yanked Stanley off-balance, tearing at his skin. He reeled straight toward the Kith formerly with the lantern, bumping his shoulder into the man. He realized he hadn't even taken a good look at the man's face. The etiquette of this struggle felt wrong to Stanley when he bashed his baton into that face. By the feel, a tooth cracked. The grip on the nyanduka slacked slightly.

He took as good a look as he could in this blinding gloom, before realizing the emerging glow of two warm spots shining in the night color just above the general region he'd just put his baton.

"This is for Tarique and Firouzee," he spat, letting slip his rage and grief. He spent the next second dropping his baton, snatching Malphasian with his free right hand, and punching a hole in each eye the Kith had. With the quarter-meter blade still crossguard-deep in a bony socket, Stanley spent the next second letting go his knife to snatch up his baton and fold it back up against his own thigh, swatting away another disturbed and irritating cockroach with it. He found he almost enjoyed feeling these murder minds vanish and he definitely enjoyed seeing gravity claim their murder meat.

"Five!"

"Holy shit," the Seer said. By the smooth texture of the mind behind her spoken words, this lacked sarcasm completely. "Where the fuck were you at the Fast?"

"I'm not Exhausted anymore." While looking this way and that, he unwound the nyanduka from where it had lacerated the skin around his wrist and stuffed the whole thing in a coat pocket with his sling and bullets. The night had deepened enough to let all of its special color be seen easily. All the personal night color shapes he could make out were himself, the Seer, and a few blobs over ten meters distant with a diffuse jumble of minds too far away to distinguish. He yanked Malphasian out of the Kith's head after a couple of grunts and twists, then called out, "Care to become a quartet?"

"Cocky!"

He shook his head, then indicated the length of the alley with a sweep of Malphasian's gory blade. "Offering a pause to hostilities. We'll see if they accept."

"How will you know?"

"Let's move forward and find out."

\* \* \*

"It's been half an hour," the Seer fretted as he dribbled iodine on his laceration in an apothecary's shop. It had already been locked for the night. The Seer left a Phoenix on the counter above the locked cash till. "Do you think this is necessary?"

"I've seen wounds like this turn into amputations." He felt under his own chin, grimaced, pried the day-old hole open, and dabbed it as well with the deep yellow fluid before blood began to seep out again. "This happened in a filthy alley full of cockroaches. You tell me." He glanced at her with a merry chuckle before winding gauze around his wrist.

"I don't know, I don't do...dirt."

Stanley nodded while looking at his work. "It's basically a canal of disease and we're swimming upstream."

"See, I figured, if they take trash before the rats get to it, it's cleaner."

"Bugs like the trash too." He grabbed a roll of gauze from the shelves behind the till and unraveled one end, wrapping it around his wrist with a purpose.

"That became increasingly clear when I had to transcend my sense of smell and imagine lavender not to gag. Are you sure you don't need stitches? I did learn how to sew up a wound."

He shook his head. "Who told you about this shortcut again?"

She shrugged noncommittally. "Mercedes. Could be a bit of passive-aggressive rebellion. I don't mind if she has feelings."

"And you've never used it before." He finished the gauze roll, tucking the end under a lower layer.

"Storefronts are more pleasant to look at while traveling. How do you think I got this delightful ensemble you're going to wear?" She followed him back to the alley door, where he palmed his pick and tension bar from its lock on their way out.

"I'm not sure if this shortcut was such a good idea and we couldn't have just ridden the long--oh."

The Seer nodded. "Spot is very conspicuous. Are you sure you're a Scout?"

Stanley made a raspberry at her. "I only have one final question from you before we meet Varolus."

"And that is?"

"What started the duel? When did you know? I'm going to have to do this while doing...this...brain stealing..."

"Lection, and it's particular to your family only. But back to the real subject." She took a deep breath. "That little cunt," she hissed, "said, 'What happened at the Fast last week?' and I said, 'What's it to you?' and she was all, 'The waning crescent kind of looks like a sickle, doesn't it?'"

"The moon was in waning crescent...wait, the Fast was sacked three days after the last quarter." His eyes popped wide. "How long would it have taken her to make a warning?"

"As long as it would have taken for her to walk to the Municipium and report, as a Heretic, that she had a prediction salient to national security. Would have taken not another second for every other Mentat between the Gardens of Glass, Regula, and any Faeri--"

"There are no Faerie Mentats," he snapped.

"You're a F--"

"There are no Faerie Mentats."

"All right then. Anyway, every Ascended Mentat on this side of the planet would have been warned."

"So since you can't lie, why haven't you warned every Ascended Mentat about the comet?"

The Seer raised her brows, bit her lips, and looked at the upcoming junction. "Justicar Fedraxx advised me not to. For once I agree, until we have a contingency in place to house everyone through the inferno phase. That's if the comet doesn't hit this continent directly."

not calling her Sedna "So since I'm not a government officer but I know the secret, I can't be made to remain quiet." He sucked on his own tongue and teeth while he contemplated the timing of her subsequent attempts on him--all after Varolus told us what Az Thanis was warning us about

and she's seen my signet

she would know I read Az Khalud

by the time she decided was after everyone knew about Fjalle and myself being Kingslayers

can't even be mad at her

at least she decided not to kill her friend

except she can handle a sword

two dead Commancers in a row within her capability to save them wouldn't exactly look good to the public

told you Fjalle

I'm the least important of us

"Will you stop that? You're not the least important."

"Unholy carnage and darkness you've been read--" he began shrieking. He wrenched his arm away from hers. "You said you can't lie. So what is it, you are reading my mind or lying?"

"No, no!" She put her hands up. "This is a natural Mentat event! What was that you said earlier about a sandbox?"

"I said, 'How should I know, I don't get to play in their sandbox.'"

"All right then." The Seer crossed her arms over herself, palms turned upward, then bowed deeply. "I'm honored to welcome your little toe into our sandbox, Sibrulon Traqueljax."

"What's going on?"

"It's a Mentat thing--it's your first real Mentat thing! We have to move--but this makes what I think you're going to do even better."

"Wait, why then do you have no name?"

She scoffed. "We have to move!"

\* \* \*

"Do we have to cross the street to get to the hostel?" Stanley asked.

"No. We'll have cover from the rooftop," she replied.

"You're driving me batty."

"You've been voluntarily reading minds for what, fifty years or something? You have no standing to complain. Let's go." She slipped under white canvasses, tented for the night like awnings over the public face of the building.

"You haven't told me how--"

"We don't have time. I'm going to stay right here. You're going to tell her that you (as me) won. You're going to demand the use of the Gate for the next hour. If she asks about you, you tell her that the Kith killed you when you were defending me."

"But that's a lie."

"Exactly. You're not Ascended. Then you threaten to bring the Municipium here to explain why she didn't report the premonition."

Stanley pulled his tools out again to pick the lock but the Seer shook her head and put her hand over his. "Will you just trust us? She'll be down here."

"How can I trust her?"

"How can I trust you?" she replied. "You're not anywhere in my chain of command. Technically, you're a foreign agent. You're here by the grace of the Justicars and one of them is trying to kill you."

The door clicked and opened. Mercedes stood there, brown curls swept back and tied up behind her head. "Who is he?" she asked, jutting her chin at Stanley, still in Jude's skin.

"Oh, I'm sorry." He lapsed back into his native body. She took a step back, pushing the door to shut it. The Seer put her foot in the gap.

"What did I say?" the Seer asked Mercedes. "Anyone with me. Including blasphemous weirdos. Understood?"

Mercedes stood back and allowed the two to enter the building. The doorway led to a bare hall in beige stucco which ended in a stairwell. Up this she led them, three flights up to the top floor. The last flight led to the roof. The sky pond above had a small leak here; algae flourished in the damp patch, and a snail had discovered this feast, sweeping its slow head back and forth in trails through the tiny pasture.

The Seer grabbed his wrist and pulled him into one of the two doors on this floor.

\* \* \*

"Good to see you again, Stanley Traqueljax," Varolus said while Sabrine attached herself to Stanley like an ardent octopus. He wound his tentacles around her as well, burying his beak in her umber curls. "Not so dead," he choked out.

"That's too bad," she replied. "I was hoping to get your stuff."

"Stanley, do the thing. No time to waste." The Seer reached behind herself to untie her choli. He undid the laces of his leather pants and pulled them off right there.

"Do you two need privacy?" Sabrine asked.

"You've seen him naked plenty of times." She flung her choli at Stanley, who had just finished giving Varolus a thorough looking-at. He used her hand to catch it. "Hold on," she added as she walked around behind him. "Wow, you even have the mole I had removed." Her finger brushed over a spot just above the swell of his buttocks. "But not the hair on my head."

"I'll need you to tie it," he told her with her mouth, arms twisted behind his back awkwardly. "I don't know how you manage this."

The Seer's amused grin melted as she looked at Stanley. "What about this?" She tapped her own third eye, which spun around for a moment.

"She isn't marked by Panopticon, right?"

"Good idea. Varolus, copy my tattoo on my copy's forehead once he's in my clothes." She stepped out of her skirt. Stanley played with the elastic waistband for a moment before installing himself through it.

"We need to cover my right arm as well." Stanley peeled off his shirt and pointed to the scars. "I can explain the left arm injury--she'll know about the Scouts but not about our hunting rules--"

"Our?" Varolus asked, crossing his arms. "So you're one of the type of people who killed all the people I've lived and worked with for fifteen years."

"No--it's a long story, not for now. But it was supposed to be how I paid for--" he held up his signet, now too big for anything but his thumb-- "this rather expensive degree." He dropped all of his rings into the coat pocket he kept his bullets.

The Seer pulled her bangles off her wrists. "I'll put a Glamour of my arm on each piece of this stuff. Should be enough overlap to keep you covered." Still completely unclothed and not blushing about it, she wandered off with her jewelry, mumbling over it.

Varolus pulled Stanley in front of him a little roughly. "Look up at me, please." He began to dab ink with a slender brush on Stanley's burnished-copper forehead.

"Oh hold on, I plucked my brows this morning," she moaned. "Where are my pincers?"

"You used mine," Varolus sighed. He paused to fish in his bag before producing a pair of scissor clamps. She took them and began to torture the line of short black hairs above Stanley's eyes, making them water and sting.

"This is going to show when I'm back in my own skin," he remarked.

"Good. Your brows could use some shaping." She ripped more hair out of his upper face. "This your first time?"

"Don't you dare nod," Varolus warned, grabbing Stanley's chin firmly.

"Plucking virgin, I'm afraid," Stanley replied without using his jaw, eyeing Varolus with caution.

"Oh wait. She's going to get suspicious about not seeing your future." She looked off somewhere invisible and held up her finger. "I'm Seeing a possibility of her asking you to prove you're me."

"I'm not a Polymath."

"No, but you can read her mind."

"Noted. Can't I get a bit of that mushroom?"

"Are you a Heretic?"

"No--"

"Then no." She slipped off her thongs, completing her nudity. "Put these on. Now get going."

\* \* \*

Pools spilled from street lights marked his passage as Stanley walked alone wearing both the Seer's skin and her clothing. Everything looked dark beyond those lights, completely lacking any night color. Not as much sound trickled into those tiny, round ears. The only sense that remained unaltered by human anatomy was the press of minds around him, now that he had entered the stream of people passing the cleaner sides of businesses than he'd been traveling just a few minutes earlier. All of the minds felt smooth, his presence only causing mild curiosity in those who looked at him; most seemed to recognize the Seer.

of course they know her

she's lived only two days east for a decade

she comes here whenever she can

she's an important figure

If the person waved, Stanley waved back with what he hoped looked like a big, dazzling smile. The temporary Glamor she put on her bangles covered both arms. He paused when passing darkened store fronts, checking out mannequins behind expensive panes of glass. His actual curiosity urged him to stop and look more, but when his hand went into the skirt's pocket, the hard, springy steel of his basic pick and tension bar reminded him of the first step in his mission: get to the Heretic's shop before she does.

He carried nothing else with him but those lock picks. He felt naked and alone without Malphasian's weight on his belt. He hoped he needed nothing else.

And there it was. The tile by the street entrance spelled out HERETICAL. To the east, the block had no windows save the one in the street entrance of an art gallery. To the west, the windows reflected the Seers face back at him, mirrors silvered by thick black cotton curtains.The street entrance to Heretical had no key hole. He walked around the block to the next junction, made it around the corner, and found the alley. Containing no businesses involving food, scents from the empty bins surrendered the woody perfume of sawdust, lacquer, and acacia gum in this area.

Only two doors broke the monotony of the alley bulwark's north bank. One of them had smudges of paint on it. The other smelled of dirt. Stanley reached for that one, then stopped.

she knows she's in a duel

she loves to use magical traps

dad is not with me to disarm them

He looked around. He saw no exterior ladder nor stairs to get to the roof pond. For a moment he considered holding her still right after she opened the door, but after the last time, he knew she'd be ready for that, or at least know it was him and not the Seer.

After casting about for any idea, he grabbed a trash barrel and wrestled it with the Seer's not meaty body to a point where he was sure he could jump up and grab the eaves...if her legs are strong enough to jump that high

"Need help with something, ma'am?"

Stanley nearly jumped out of not his skin. "Oh!"

"I'm sorry, didn't mean to startle--"

"I'm sure I look a sight in this alley," Stanley replied to the man backing off slightly, who had his hands up along with his lantern.

The young man nodded in return. "You're the Seer?"

"In the flesh!" he giggled back at him. but is it really a lie

He put his weight on his back foot and stroked his chin pensively. "Is this the endgame, you think?"

"For this duel? How--"

"Everyone who rents the gallery gets the story about their difficult roofmate. That lady. Things getting pretty weird when you're in town, specifically."

Stanley nodded, actually not acting. "Yeah, sure does. Do you know why she's got such a beef?"

"She wants your job."

"She wouldn't last a week."

"She has an axe to grind."

"Why, because the Republic went secular after the Regicide?"

He planted his tongue in his cheek, nodding. "You're reading my--"

"No one can read minds. I don't even know your name."

He added a smile to the nod. "Chadra. Oh, and here." He fished in his pocket. "She returns at one bell after sunset, on the nose. Here's a key to get in, it'll bypass all the traps."

Stanley looked at the key, stunned and speechless, then back at Chadra. He winked and wiggled the key at him again. His mind felt swirly and tickly, but not spiky--amused. He snatched the key with a big, hopefully dazzling grin, blew a kiss, then set to the lock without further ado. Chadra chuckled before unlocking his own gallery.

Before he entered his own business, he called to Stanley, "There's something weird about you tonight. I can't feel your mind meld at all."

he's a Mentat how could I miss that oh fuck

but he didn't flinch when I asked his name

he can't lie

neither can "I"

and a Mentat would know about mind-reading

was that how ma'am could read my mind earlier

is there some sort of network

if that's the case, it took a week for the Seer and I to do whatever for the first time

I don't even have that with my own father

"I ate one of those mushrooms--probably a temporrrrifal disruptication..." do those words even exist

He shrugged. "I'm no Polymath. Just an artist! Don't be a stranger though. Through connection the web cannot break." The last bit definitely felt like a pass phrase, and he expected something in return. Something he was disciplined enough to hold back--Stanley could feel it rattle behind a smooth, glassy consciousness.

"I really can't chat, actual national security issue!" The lock popped open and he slipped into the doorway, palming the key and shutting the door quickly. Then the barb in his mind scraped against Stanley's.

he was stalling he's up to something she's paying him off somehow and he's not lying he can't lie

he even expected me to somehow read his mind

or maybe to Emit something back

do a Mentat thing maybe

I'm not really a Mentat

I'm out of my league

\*no, you're not, boy.

dad?

\*wait, that was wrong: no! you're not boy!

hot shit she's expecting the--

"She's in there."

"Are you sure it was her? Short, bald lady with a dumb tatt? And you're sure she's a Mentat?"

"Absolutely. She's got hellish discipline, but you'd expect that from--"

"You'll have it before dawn."

The door lock rattled as her key slid into the cylinder and lifted the right pins to the right altitude to match a shear line and allow the lock to turn open. While this happened, Stanley found a place to hide among the shelves of curios and jars of incense, both raw and processed.

From the doorway, she sighed, almost as if she were dejected. "I really expected more out of you, this time." Her breaths slowed--so easy to hear--and by the sound of it, she stepped into her shop left foot first. She held her light in her left hand and kept her right hand free.

"I know you're in there, lady." She shone her lantern exactly where Stanley stood.

He squinted and raised his hands against the sudden invasion of light. When she took one more step, he heard her draw in a sharp breath--

"Do I even look like a lady to you?" He stepped forward, one ear point trailing an accidental cobweb it caught on the way up a minute ago. Oddly, the circumference of his rib cage must have matched the Seer's, as the blue silk choli still felt comfortably snug around his upper torso. He swished the skirt dramatically as he frowned down at her.

The Heretic squinted at Stanley's vertical pupils. "Hey, Chadra?" she called out over her shoulder, toward the alley door.

"Yeah, baby?"

baby

"You just lost me this duel."

"What are you talking about?"

"I know you can't lie, but come on!"

Chadra entered the shop, fuming barely out loud under his breath, until that breath caught at the sight of the elf. The Heretic punched his shoulder with bunched lips barely holding back her teeth. "This is not a petite bald human woman."

Chadra did a double take at Stanley, who stood in the middle of the pool of light in the darkened shop, fists on his hips, shaggy head cocked to the side. Inside his head, he wrestled down his urge to laugh in both of their faces.

The Heretic looked at her boots and clenched her jaw. "You surprised me, I concede. Get her here, elf, since you seem to be enough of a Mentat to fool this idiot."

"Honestly?" Stanley replied, smiling at Chadra. "I'm not even Ascended." He closed his eyes. she conceded

Chadra pointed at him. "You're on the Web. Who are you?"

"Are you doing Mentat things again?" the Heretic asked. "It was already weird when we were--"

"Making love?" Chadra's blonde brows raised and his blue eyes got all dreamy.

"Keep telling yourself that," she replied.

"What the hell is the Web?" Stanley asked.

Chadra held up his finger between his face and the Heretic's. "You said you're not Ascended. How come you're on the Web? Who's your guru?"

"It's obvious, he's the so-called Seer's pet."

"No, this guy's a Faerie."

"So?"

"There's never been a Faerie Mentat."

"Does this--" Stanley grabbed a handful of his own, hopelessly ruined hair-- "still look bald?" things keep up like this I will be

Chadra scoffed.

"You really earned that one, Chad," the Heretic chuckled before opening the street door. Outside stood the Gate.

"He lied about being the Seer."

"He's still not bald," she called over her shoulder as she exited her shop.

Stanley grabbed Chadra's arm and pulled him close enough to whisper in his ear, "There are no Faerie Mentats. Do you hear me? There will never be a Faerie Mentat. We don't exist."

\* \* \*

The Seer arrived first, dressed like a flasher in a park, naked under her hooded cloak which she cinched at the waist with Stanley's belt. She handed a parcel to him, wrapped in his own coat, and then pulled off his boots and socks from her own feet. "How is she taking it?" she whispered, glancing through the door at the Heretic. Chadra glowered at them from behind the counter, as if the short barrier could protect him.

"Surprisingly well, I think," Stanley answered as he stepped out of the Seer's skirt. "She's been sassy in her disappointment. It's very weird."

The Seer took her skirt back and stepped into it. "She's up to something--no, you're going to rip my new choli--let me untie it!" He turned his back to give her access to the silk strings around his neck and his ribs.

"Are Dad and Jude on the way?"

\*we are!

Stanley covered his brow and eyes with his hand. "I'm never going to have solitude again, am I?"

"Nope."

"Do they--Dad, do you--"

"Stop saying things out loud. Remember how you were thinking at me before the interrogation?"

"Is everyone going to--I suppose receive?"

"Only the Mentats nearby. You only have three connections to the Web at the moment: me, your father, and Mercedes--you were knocked out at the time. Chadra's right here, but it takes about a week to splice with another Mentat's thread." She finished tying up the choli to herself. "It would have been four, but Alouysius was afraid Justicar Fedraxx would turn on him too. She's got it out for Mentats right now. Hurry up, you wear too many clothes." She exited the shop. Stanley heard the Heretic say to her, "Oh good, can you watch this Gate? I need to fetch something from my quarters." Within seconds, she entered her shop, crossed to a third door in the interior wall not shared with Chadra's gallery, unlocked and opened it, and shut it behind herself.

°she's definitely up to something

do you have Spot

\*Sibrulon, I know you love her, but--

I don't leave here without Spot this is not negotiable

\*son--

don't test me

bring her

^Sibrulon, please don't be harsh at him.

°we're all on edge, sweetie. just breathe through it

"I, uh," Chadra began. "I didn't realize what's going on. I'm sorry. Welcome to the life of one of us, Sibrulon is it?"

"That's my native name. Stanley is my outer name. Unseelie don't use our native names outside the Unseelie Court."

"Your father and Mercedes both call you Sibrulon. They wouldn't use it as your true name if that weren't it."

"Shouldn't I get to choose my true name?"

"Weren't you disappointed that your pupils aren't round like mine?"

"What's that got to do with--"

"This is how my guru explained it to me. The true name is a part of you like your body parts. It's your identity on the Web. Which I'm still not sure was wise since you're nowhere near Ascended."

"I'm not sure either."

"Who is your guru?"

^we all are. he's an orphaned Savant with the Touch of Nostalgia.

"Sun and stars!" Chadra exclaimed, his hand flying up to his breast. "Is that your Gift?"

"You call it a Gift."

\*my boy is also afflicted with Melancholy. incurable, and severe. the interaction with Nostalgia's Touch isn't a pleasant one for him, although he had it under control until the Great Banyan--

-wait, he's saying there are no Faerie Mentats.

there are no Faerie Mentats

\*you are--

THERE ARE NO FAERIE MENTATS

The Web held still for several seconds while Stanley panted, his mind buzzing with panic.

-he's really serious about that, guys, and I mean, he's a Traqueljax.

\*I know he's a Traqueljax for fuck's sake Chadra--he's my son.

-with all due respect, you're not the one watching him freak out over it.

A hole yawned beneath Stanley, one with flames lashing out, licking and pulling at him. It didn't go away when he shut his physical eyes.

\*let's be still for a while. this is his first time he's woven a strand with us as a Mentat.

°I think you're right

^I concur as well

-good idea. vibe with you later. Out loud, Chadra said, "I caught some of what--my Gift is Empathy. Were you implying Faeries--"

Stanley's face snapped to face Chadra's. "I implied nothing. You sensed nothing. You will say nothing."

"Kid, if someone asks, I'm bound by our Law to say it."

"Then tell everyone who asks that I'm a Traqueljax. Traqueljaxes are all Unseelie."

Chadra peered at him before slowly nodding. "I'm allowed to do that. It's not a lie." He looked about, then asked, "So you're leaving now? I still would like to splice you into my strand."

"I'll try to get back. I have some other pressing issues I hope you never find out about." Stanley crossed his arms. "So how come, if we're using our true names, the Seer has no name?"

Chadra looked back and forth, then leaned toward Stanley. "I trust those ladies, but I don't trust their guru. What kind of guru marks you up?" He jutted his chin at the elf. "Come back as soon as you can. I'm not trying to be weird, I just like the strands of the Web to be as strong as it can get. We have to watch out for each other." He walked toward the alley door and slipped out into the night, turning toward his own gallery.

\* \* \*

Stanley made a point to look at but not touch Heretical's wares: spiral seashell thuribles on silver chains, various books on several different techniques of divination such as cards, astrology, and dowsing, herbal bundles that smelled like they belonged in a kitchen. A bluewood grandfather clock, with a price tag far outside of his own capability to purchase, squatted beside the street door, like her fob watch its face marked with the numerals 2 through 15. is that symbolic of living in the future I wonder He lifted the lids on small wicker bins set on shelves against the street wall, releasing clouds of sweet, resiny perfume--

"Interested in a purchase before you leave?"

He about jumped right out of his own skin. His ears were his own now, yet they never picked up the sound of her approach. At the moment he realized this, a smile began to spread across his entire face. damn she's good I don't care if the Seer hates her I'm almost sorry to leave her behind He rotated around on his boot heel, still brandishing his grin, pointing at her, still trying to figure out a witty reply and kind of failing. So he closed his mouth, dropped his finger, and raised his hands in a surrendering shrug.

She laughed, then put her hand out. Her mirth still made him uneasy, but he took her hand and gripped it firmly but not tightly. "Lexx. That's me. Chadra forgot to introduce me but he's not the brightest pigment in the paint palette."

"I would say it's been a complete pleasure, but that's a lie. Stanley Traquelj--"

"I know. The Seer said Lorinni wasn't going to leave without his son, and you look so much alike. Did not know your Outer name, so thank you for that." She tapped her own head, making her spider rear back slightly on her long legs.

Stanley noticed in the partially lit gloom, too bright still for the night color, that she had a fairly sizeable rucksack already strapped to her shoulders. She walked to her cash till and emptied it into a purse she withdrew from some cabinet under the till.

The iron shoes on Spot's hooves rang out on the pavement from a few blocks away. "Wait, you're leaving?" he asked Lexx.

She fluttered her lashes but made no verbal reply to that question. "Go ahead, take anything you like from here. I promise, it's a little parting gift. Maybe the Seer would like one of these divination books."

He squinted at her, his mind spinning on all available gears now.

"Before you ask--no, I can't predict you for some reason--I legitimately conceded the duel, if you recall. This isn't some trap laid to win the duel. I'm done."

"I can't forget a single moment of my experience, just to let you know, so I wasn't suspicious of that."

"Touch of Nostalgia! Useless to me, but impressive. Maybe She's why I can't predict you." She exited through the alley door with an envelope in her hand.

Spot's hooves stopped. With one last glance at the shop's interior, combined with a small frown, Stanley turned toward the street door and trotted out, looking for the love of his life.

She stood there, tossing her mane in the middle of the road, among his father and Mercedes and everyone who left the Fast with him--except of course for Justicar Fedraxx--

"Robbert!" he shrieked.

"What?" the Seer cried out. "Where?"

Stanley pointed. He choked out, "The larvae?"

Robbert stepped into the pool of the street light, his hell-halberd gripped like a walking staff as he leaned against it. His eyes hollowed straight into his skull. His wavy black hair hung in mop-string clumps about his haggard face. The arms of his uniform jacket were tied in a knot over his chest. "Dorcas has them. They should be at the Longleaf Pine at the Oxbow grove by now."

"My mother's rebinding to that Grove, it's a good one." Stanley, along with the Seer, rushed at him. He nearly collapsed into their arms.

"I need to find Sedna..." he mumbled.

"She can wait, sweetie," Fjalle said after tsking. Jude took hold of him, being far more robust than those two supporting him. "You're coming with us and may I remind you, I am your Commancer." She looked straight into Stanley's eyes. "Not Justicar Fedraxx."

He nodded back at her.

"Besides," she continued, facing Robbert "she left here four days ago."

"On that note," Lorinni added, plucking at his student's elbow, "we have news."

"That's always wonderful to hear," she grumbled. "Everyone, stand still for one godsdamned minute so I can take role."

Sabrine, Varolus, and Mercedes became visible. With one arm still around Spot's neck, Stanley received Sabrine into his arms with a kiss on top of her head. she still feels like Sabrine

when is the lich going to show up

Fjalle counted with one finger pointing and the other fingers keeping count, saying off names: "Sabrine. Stanley. Robbert. Varolus. The Seer. Mercedes. Lorinni. Jude. Yes, old man, Spot too." She hmphed. "Nine people and one beast--can you recall any groups like that in our past, Kingslayers?"

Stanley and Jude looked at each other with a simultaneous, "Whoa." Jude continued, "All we need is a poison-happy lady and a creepy invisible tactician--right," he added after catching the Seer's hairy eye, "poison-happy lady, check."

Mercedes crossed her gloved arms and smiled. "Tell me that the Sun sends no signs."

Fjalle ignored her. "I'm not going to command anyone into this mutiny. But if you pass through the Gate, you have joined it. Civilian or Crown's Agent."

"Or sympathetic foreigner," Lorinni added, glancing at his son before turning to put his hands on the rune-covered frame of the Gate. "This is really well-made. Shame we have to leave it behind."

Varolus stepped beside Lorinni. "Can I offer any help? I want as far away from anything Fedraxx as possible as soon as possible, if not yesterday."

Lorinni nodded. The two slipped into some sort of language that contained Regulese words but for all the world even as a Master of Tongues Stanley could not understand a single word of it. He focused his attention on Robbert. "Jude saw it."

Robbert looked at Jude, who nodded grimly. Robbert let his chin fall to his chest. "Not here," he whispered.

"Gate's ready," Lorinni called out before stepping through with one foot and flattening himself against a doorpost.

"Where to?" Fjalle asked him.

"My laboratory, which is where the Seer correctly guessed--"

"Deduced," the Seer corrected him.

"Guessed," he corrected her back. "A very lucky guess, but your deduction was wrong. Are you coming?"

Fjalle faced the Gate, then looked at her instructor with a small nod. "I can't expect the rest of you to go without me blazing the trail ahead of you." She stepped through without looking behind herself.

"I can't believe I have to do this," she grumbled, stepping past Lorinni. Varolus and his bag followed her, without hesitation, but with a visible scowl under his hat.

"You don't have to do anything," Stanley called after her, looking directly at the Seer. She shook her head, rolling her eyes, before stepping through after Varolus.

Mercedes hesitated as she passed Stanley on her way to the Gate. "Welcome to the Web," she said quietly, before hurrying past him and past Lorinni. "I've already committed mutiny once, today makes it a habit."

"Come on," Jude said to Stanley.

"I'm waiting for everyone else. I have to lead Spot through."

"You're always traveling with some sort of critter, aren't you?"

Stanley shrugged, the watched Jude step out of the Colossi through the Gate.

"You better not ditch me there," Sabrine said, nicking his chin with a knuckle playfully.

"You'll hunt me down if I didn't, and now I can't outlive you."

She stepped backward over the bluewood threshold, pointing at him and nodding with pursed lips.

"What's keeping you, Robbert?"

"I made a promise to Sedna--"

"Can you keep it while standing here in a state of human exhaustion in a city that she's not even occupying?"

Robbert dropped his gaze to his boots, then nodded and followed the others.

"Son?" Lorinni beckoned with his hand.

"I have to bring Spot, and she can't fit with you in the Gateway."

Lorinni looked up, tapping his chin. "I don't like compromising my laboratory's security."

"Then I'll hold it," Lexx offered, grabbing the doorpost from behind him on the Colossi's side.

Both of the elves shrieked, Stanley for the second time this hour.

"Are you kidding me?" Lorinni asked when he gained his composure.

"Either that or he rides to Arena, and whatever plans the Seer had will fail." She cocked her head and waved at the Seer.

"You just had to mention the poison-crazy lady, didn't you, Jude?" Stanley asked, glaring at her.

Lexx looked at Stanley. "I can't see your future, but I can see theirs."

"Let her do it, Lorinni," said the Seer. "She's right."

"And I won't leave without Spot," Stanley declared, hanging his head.

"She'll have access to my laboratory through any Gate!" he wailed.

"You thought I started this duel to win?" Lexx asked, barely able to contain the corners of her mouth within her face. "Didn't see that coming, did you?"

Chapter 14

Lexx had just stepped through her own Gate into Lorinni's laboratory, foggy with night color coming from the round, iron floor hatch in the center of its floor, when she got an excellent view of how well Fjalle cleaned the barrel of her shortstick, up close and personal.

"Pretty sure you know what one of these does," Fjalle said in a low, even voice, the one that always made Stanley wonder what he'd done wrong when she used it on him. "Come up with a reason why I shouldn't show you how it works."

Lexx put up her hands, suddenly not smiling so much. "No harm intended!"

"No harm?" the Seer snapped. "You poisoned me."

"And you got the antidote, just as we agreed!"

"How many people have you murdered that way?" Varolus asked.

Lexx closed her eyes and shook her head slowly. "No one has ever, ever died."

The Seer's eyes flickered toward Lorinni. "She's not lying," he replied.

"You're reading my--"

"Lack of pupillary dilation, your pulse never increased," he replied quickly, waving his hand. "I'm only reading what you're telling me. My son can do that as well."

Stanley nodded, staring at his father. The Seer and Mercedes didn't recoil. Not one word of that was strictly a lie. is he teaching me how to not-lie

\*still in third person, boy? I'm right here. you're never not disconnected anymore.

"Of course I'm telling you the truth! Everyone chooses life. I'm just motivating them, keeps 'm honest."

Stanley pointed at Lexx and blazed his eyes at the Seer, who turned the corners of her mouth down before looking away.

"And what if someone fails?" Lorinni asked, staring her down. "Your Manifold trap could have killed my boy if I hadn't been there."

"You would have been there, because the Seer asked me to arrange your escape. Jude and Junior here were a bonus."

"That's why I asked you to arrange for Lorinni's escape," the Seer added. "Who played whom?"

Lexx looked at the Seer with wide-open eyes. "She didn't tell you," Fjalle said, "that I'm the one who came up with the idea. You assaulted my Director of Intelligence." She put that shortstick right under Lexx's nose.

Spot snorted and stomped a front hoof. "I need to take her out of here," Stanley explained, "before she digs herself a trench in the floor."

"We're safe, for now, son," Lorinni replied, twitching his head toward the stairs that led upward along the round outside wall.

"Are you sure? Coshebas has had time to get here on his own, without a Gate."

Lorinni's lips peeled back from his teeth at the mention of that name. "We will speak of this when Spot is not in a position to take a shit in my home. Brenya's allergic to equines."

Stanley nodded and patted his thigh before mounting the steps. Spot followed him, slowly, placing her iron-shod hooves very carefully on her way up.

\* \* \*

Lorinni's home always looked different every time Stanley stumbled into it, normally while half-dead and requiring stitches or a splint, over the past half century. No matter what, however, his bed was always rumpled and smelling of sexual fluids and Ghoul Drool. He found the glass that had shattered when his father fumbled for his Mirror on the morning of the fifty-seventh anniversary of the Blessed Regicide. Stanley wondered if he even kept track of that. He almost internally verbalized that before stopping himself--boner assassin reminded him that, every time he did, someone was "listening" now. He led Spot toward the exterior door when--

--his stomach dropped out from under him, down into a pit so black even the night color could never be seen within it. He stumbled against the door. "Dad!" he called out.

"Fuck!" Jude cried out. Stanley heard his feet take the stairs two at a time. "Fjalle!"

"Who is it?" she asked, her voice shaking. "This doesn't feel like when the others--"

~probably~should~hurry~

"It has to be Corky and Hanaa," Stanley replied, the same caustic dread rising through his chest as caused by Justicar Fedraxx's evil sword the morning of the holiday, over a week ago. "Panopticon is interested." Spot stepped past her elf and leaned her forehead against the outer door. Stanley felt for the knob and turned it. She stepped through and found her orientation on the road, rotating her ears and looking from side to side.

"How do you know..." Lorinni began before he stopped cold. "Moon and stars, Sibrulon."

"Do you remember where they live?" Jude asked. Stanley nodded. "Get there first, then, and cut some more flesh off that bastard. It has to be Coshebas."

Fjalle added, "We're all behind you, just slower."

Stanley patted Spot before he vaulted onto her bare back. Now was the supper hour, with nearly everyone bellied up to a bar or a smorgasbord or the home table and not traveling the roads. "You can run, girl."

Spot rotated her ear back at him and then foreward before launching herself. "Just don't run into anyone!" he called out, flattening himself against her mane. She brayed at anyone crossing the streets--they hustled when they saw her galloping toward them, often with some choice language after the pair passed.

"Turn here," he called out. She had already pointed her nose toward the direction he'd wanted her to turn. Now he had to wonder, could she sense him Emitting while he spoke? He had no time to test this and didn't want to miss a road--the old couple lived at the end of a very exclusive cul-de-sac; the Justicar of Arena was their next-door neighbor. Any wrong turn could cost minutes--and possibly more lives than just two.

I can't lose two in one night not so soon after Simon and Castille

Barreling at a full, headlong gallop, Spot's straight back barely moved vertically. When she ran like this, and he shut his eyes, Stanley could almost imagine this to feel like flying. If it weren't for the strings in his soul humming ominously like a lightning wire, he could enjoy the ride.

The cul-de-sac where the people who ran the city and the district loomed to their right. Without skipping a beat, Spot skidded on her shoes to slow her momentum enough to make the sharp turn, raising sparks beneath her, before resuming her headlong race down the road--another kilometer, another two minutes, then however long it would take to pick their locks, if necessary, while Spot would run interference with the Jendarmerie guarding this neighborhood against dangerous men like himself. kind of like when I killed the Seer's vampire brother, only it was a hawk back then

is that why she's so fast

Spot slowed enough in front of the exact building to allow him to slip off onto the lawn and roll into the shadows cast by decorative myrtles lining the footpath before braying loudly and trotting about in the circle of pavement around the end of the road. She caught a mouthful of grass in the sward at the very center of the circle before nickering and false-startling at the black-leather-clad humans with polearms running toward her. While she played around at keeping them busy with her, Stanley crept to the luxury cottage's glass back door. Hanaa never locked it. Why should she, with the amount of security all about?

Stanley twisted the knob, or at least tried to. moon and stars Without another thought, he dropped to his knee and pulled out his tension bar and pick. His hands shook and sweated. He wasn't even sure he was going to be able to finesse all the pins--this was an expensive, deep cylinder.

The thrumming wire shooting up his spine felt plucked again. Snarling, he balled his bandaged left fist and punched through the glass, screaming, "Corky! Hanaa! Tell me--" He fumbled for the interior deadbolt knob and twisted it.

The knob finally turned. He withdrew his arm and kicked the door inward, uncaring over what else he just heard break. He stalked through the darkness until he heard his voice.

"If you hadn't threatened me in the Sanatorium, I could have told you all I wanted was to have you get me back into the Fast."

he's here Coshebas is here

=who is this? I don't recognize your strand.

\*my son, Sibrulon.

+what's going on, Doctor?

\*he just told you--Coshebas isn't dead!

Spot go get Dad

+who the hell is Spot?

shut up shut up

"Didn't you get what you wanted when you had twenty Kith assassins murder young interns and children at the Fast?" Stanley asked Coshebas, "or did you forget before you could finish the job? Bet that made your dad proud--oh wait, he was already dead."

"He's not dead!" Coshebas shrieked. As Stanley rounded the corner from the living room to the sleeping quarters on the eastern side, he found the night color of three people.

no wait

Two people and an abomination with tentacles for arms, each tendril wrapped around them and tipped with a scorpion's barb inserted into their necks, sat on the end of the crown-sized bed.

Corky and Hanaa looked as aged as Simon had looked in his last few minutes, except with hale, bright night color beneath the wrinkles. He could still recognize them after over half a century.

"Don't!" Hanaa shouted fearlessly, waving her knobbly hands at Stanley to tell him to stop. He nodded at her.

"Looked pretty dead to me," the elf replied to Coshebas after one tear-riddled caress of his eyes at the ancient woman. without you we could never have taken Treveque down "I'm standing here, I don't have a weapon in my hand, my hands are up--"

"I stole some elf eyes, I can see you as well as you see me."

"If you want to see your daddy's flyblown corpse, I'll take you. Just leave Corky and Hanaa unharmed. You can't take them to the Fast. The trip is too hard for them anymore." He took one step forward.

"Stanley, stop!" Corky hollered. he still shaves every day

"If I can save you two..." Stanley slowly lowered himself to his knees with his fingers laced on top of his head, fixing his eyes finally upon Coshebas'. He hadn't lied, his irides were amber and his pupils stretched up their entire diameters. "I'm not important."

you are important only by being unimportant

"You're lying," Coshebas said, softly. "You're a Kingslayer. Without you, the Phylactery wouldn't have been freed from that abomination."

"Without these two Kingslayers?" Stanley indicated with a jut of his chin to both the woman and the man. "I would have been useless."

Their human eyes shone at him in the darkness, blinking. Stanley panicked for a second, not understanding the code, until he realized they were blinking away tears. Corky nodded at him.

"And the nation will mourn two unequivocably deserving heroes come sun-up." Coshebas looked at his two prisoners with a smile of relish. "All I have to do is squeeze a tiny muscle in a tiny gland and they will be gone within minutes. But you know what? Just because they're heroes like you, I'll use a relatively painless venom. And then you can either chase after me, or use your newest little trick to--wait, you don't know I know."

wait the only way "You're a Mentat too?"

Coshebas' upper lip snarled while his face collapsed with dismay--fake or not, Stanley couldn't tell. "You're the new Mentat?" He switched to a sunny grin. "What else ya got up there? Yes, of course I'm a Mentat. The Lichborne receive all sorts of favors in exchange...you'll find out. I told you--"

"I'm a Traqueljax, not a lich thing."

"Doesn't change the fact that you're going to let me walk right out of here. You're right, they aren't strong enough to travel four days east. However," Coshebas transfixed Stanley's eyes, "Fjalle's in great shape for her age, wouldn't you say?" He closed his eyes, letting out a small sigh, flexing his tentacles.

"Didn't I just tell you I'd go with you?" Stanley cried out, trailing into sobs.

Coshebas shook his head. "I can't control your flesh."

Dad when you see Spot send Lexx

I can hold them still while Lexx rides here

Spot is damn fast

he's coming for Fjalle

\*THE FUCK HE IS.

Coshebas winced at that as he let the humans go before melting into a pool of viscera. Hanaa collapsed on Stanley, not a tear on her face, but shaking.

"Is there pain?" Stanley asked them. He pulled Corky against himself, catching sight of a single, tiny pinprick of blood on the sides of each of their necks. Corky shook his head. "Get him!"

"No you don't understand, I can stop the venom, I just have to stay here until Lexx--"

"You heard him," Hanaa said softly.

"Fjalle has a lot of ammunition, and Dad can read minds. He won't get close--"

Corky grabbed a wad of Stanley's collar in his veiny fist. "We woke up to the barbs while he was in the hall, then he just flowed under the door behind them."

"Imagine," Hanaa added, "how long he can snake himself, move without sound--go!"

"No, I'm going to stop your time until Lexx can get here--she knows poison--"

"Two of us, or two billion of everyone else?" Corky asked.

"We know all about the comet," Hanaa added.

"Let us go. We always knew it could end like this."

Stanley wanted to throw Coshebas into a volcano.

\*Lexx is on her way

I'm going after him

I'm going to murder him

~good~luck~with~that~

\* \* \*

Stanley crept along the shadow of the pink-blossomed myrtles using Corky's skin. Hanaa's was too small for his clothes, but he wanted to feel the Jandarmerie individuals before they could see him. Hard, confused minds milled about. Spot should have been halfway back to Lorinni's house by now. He reached out to the only people who could hear him.

Coshebas is a Mentat

+how rude, giving away my secret! now I'm going to have to tell them yours:

+you willfully enslaved yourself to my guru so that you could learn how to use the lives of beasts to elongate your own.

+you should have died with the Banyan or been tethered to another tree like the moon child you are.

you were cooing all over this moon child like the second coming of Jindiford at the Sanatorium

+as annoying as you are, I'm sure our fellows on the Web understand how exciting it is to discover a rare specimen of stinging insect

+before impaling it with a pin and mounting it in a glass case

^you have just evaporated all my doubts about taking the Phylactery from you, Miracle Man.

+Mercedes?You took it?

^what kind of Mentat are you? didn't see that coming, did you? and if your guru is mine, I reject him as much as I reject you

~that's~not~likely~

The exruciating torture Stanley experienced in the iron cage returned, and yet somehow magnified--

No, that was the Seer and Mercedes all joining with him.

His own native skin melted back around him as he screamed in exquisite agony, collapsing on the lawn, every muscle taut, not allowing him to pull in another breath once the scream spent out. His veins burned as his blood acidified in place from the lack of oxygen. He almost wished to feel the blade of a spear penetrating his left breast, right through the brand binding him to the demon, impaling his heart, putting him out of this misery--

but what about the Seer and Mercedes

you can't leave them to face it without you

you're responsible for their agony too

\*hey there Panopticon, you lying, demonic motherfucker. guess what?

√Panopticon?

≈the demon of eyes? here, in Arena?

\*it's been lying to the entire Web this whole time by calling itself the Third Eye.

~took~you~long~enough~

\*let's see how plucky your strand is when you learn that I have my hands on the very Phylactery which we Kingslayers swore the Blood and Body Oath to remove from the Dead King. her new lich just told me to Fetch it so far down into the planet it'll squish into what she assures me will be a teensy tyncey diamond--

∞Kingslayers?

~but~that~will~

\*kill her for eternity too--or you can let them go.

~you're~bluffing~

\*unlike you, I'm actually a properly Ascended Mentat. therefore, I don't lie, so

\*just.

\*you

\*try.

\*us.

Salty air filled Stanley's lungs. He lay, limp, on the lawn, unable to do anything but gulp in air. Hatred filled him, more hatred than for Treveque, but he had more pressing issues at hand in the form of half a dozen spear heads pointed at him. Then another man, one with a silver fringe on his shoulder and a swirling orb the size of a baby's fist in his hand, walked into his view. The orb turned blue.

"Let him go," he said. "He's Doctor Traqueljax's son."

Spot's hooves rang out at the exit of the cul-de-sac. Stanley's heart soared. Lexx is here

One second later, a third of his soul vanished.

~oh~look~yet~one~more~time~you~were~too~late~

\* \* \*

\* \* \*