“Holy nutria skewer, this place is beautiful,” Drexl said.

  Darka raised an eyebrow. “When you’re not foul-mouthed, you’re food-mouthed?”

  Zia put up her hands between the two of them. “Much as I’d love to explore group dynamics of a diversely-caste group removed from their context, we need to figure out what we’re doing about Defiant Mien.”

  Zidrist straightened and said. “It doesn’t really matter what we decide.”

  “Getting fatalistic in your old age?”

  “Age before beauty, Zia. But no. Just the opposite. Determinist. The divine mandate given to kings to rule means that we will find Izkarzon’s heir, regardless of whether that’s by betraying Lord Prowess or murdering Lord Mien.”

  Drexl gave Zidrist an incredulous look. “You really go through life believing that kind of thing?”

  Zidrist arched an eyebrow, an expression at which she still had Drexl beat. “It is that, or go mad, at this point. Our fool’s errand has clearly come into itself. What keeps you going?”

  Drexl pooched her lips. “I dunno. I take it a day at a time. Today we’re walking through mist into a beautiful land of rolling hills, flowery fields, and what looks like at least one not-soggy forest. This afternoon Darka will sing for our dinner… and then I sleep before I have to enact whatever fool plan we come up with. It’s a problem for tomorrow me.”

  Darka barked a laugh. “To use your verbiage, holy nutria skewer the muscle has hidden depths!”

  “Didn’t we know that, dear, from the numerous times she’s been our primary contact at each juncture of our little adventure?”

  Zia huffed. “I said she’d keep us safe, and she has! She’s navigated the seamy criminal underworld of a foreign land with aplomb. You thought I, an ouroboros—oh, sarx it. Nobody thinks I have the first clue what I’m doing, I may as well give up the act.”

  Darka patted Zia on the back. “Learning you’re delusional is the first step towards losing those delusions.”

  “I just… I’m ouroboros. I should lead. I should know what I’m doing.”

  “And maybe you would, if you had been trained for this. Like the Eyes of Izkarzon go through training in secret sorcery even if they’re ouroboros.”

  “But if caste doesn’t mean anything… I mean, should we make Drexl our leader because she knows better than any of us how to navigate this Royal Society I’d never heard of?”

  Drexl’s expression became shuttered. “You don’t need that much dislike for the idea.”

  “Drexl, it’s not you, it’s your caste! You’re bread, bread isn’t supposed to lead!”

  “I thought you thought I would and should be elevated for finding the heir.”

  Zia shrugged. “Do you want to lead, then?”

  “Oh, sarx no! Leaders get assassinated, loyal retainers get beaten and sent home.”

  “In Daring Kaliskast it’s always the retainers that get killed, to send a messa—you know the word ‘retainer’?”

  “I’m paid on one, I know what one is.”

  Darka guffawed. “Hidden depths!”

  Zia stood upright. “If I’m still the leader, then we’re done plumbing hidden depths for now. A good place for a country estate would be on the border of woodlands, near a river for a bathhouse. So we’re going to head for that forest, and then we’ll go downhill until we find a river, and then the estate we’re supposed to be visiting.”

  Darka stage whispered to Zidrist, “She’s so much happier when she’s in charge. Remember when you were like that?”

  Zidrist winged her arm as to escort Darka and replied in full voice, “She’s young, give her time.”

  Zia felt a pang of envy at their camaraderie, but nothing bitter or hostile. If anything, she was glad her friends had the comfort of one another on her adventure. And it is still my adventure. We just voted—voted?! Government should be autocratic! Voting is for weak rulers! …which I guess I am. But we just voted me into leadership, which is where I belong. I may not be trained for this, but neither are any of them except maybe Drexl who doesn’t want to lead. Except she can hardly be afraid of death, with the life she chose to lead. Did she give me leadership—she didn’t choose the life she leads. Madame Krask gave her “honest work” and it was probably all she could get as bread. Zia didn’t break stride when she spoke up. “Hey, Drexl.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Sorry for roping you into this. I had no idea it would be this complicated, but with hindsight I feel like it wasn’t the best gesture to make towards a friend.”

  “I think I knew better than you what we were gonna be up to. You want to apologize for something, apologize for not trusting me.”

  “When did I—when I tried to read your emotions to see if you read my mind. I thought I did apologi—I’m sorry. For not trusting you.”

  Drexl clapped her on the back. “You got there eventually!”

  Drexl in lockstep with Zia, Zidrist escorting Darka, they walked in companionable silence towards the woods, then skirted them in the general direction of downhill. Eventually, they came upon a road that went their way, and finally came upon the white limestone walls of the White Queen’s vacation estate. There was a gate of painted wrought iron, but when Zia tried it, it was not locked. Inside the gate, Zia watched Drexl watch for hidden assassins, but none materialized. The manor house was expansive, and built of the same white stone as the walls. At the door, a butler regarded them with obvious disdain. Too late, Zia realized she was wearing her dad’s leathers, and not her fine dress. Nothing for it but to play it to the hilt. “We are the adventuring company known as the Heirrors, seeking the rightful claimant of the throne of Izkarzon, and we have information for the courtier Defiant Mien. We have been traveling for some time, and would appreciate the opportunity to make ourselves presentable before meeting with him, please.” The butler stood there like a statue, and Zia was just about ready to wonder if he was a stone fey nephilim when he cocked his head, closed the door, and with a loud “click” locked it. “Well. Now what?”

  “The stables,” Drexl said. “Or the servant’s door or whatever the low-caste—class people enter through. Y’all can change there and I can fit in a little better.”

  “Brilliant!” Zia declared. “I was just about to su—I was just about to give up, thank you for having an idea.”

  Drexl shrugged with one shoulder. “You’re welcome.” Circling around, they found a rather large stable, and a broad-shouldered woman shoveling the inevitable byproduct of horses greeted them. Drexl murmured, “You want to try again, or is this being my arena?”

  Zia straightened her shoulders and shook her head. “I got this.” She waved to the woman. “Hail! We are the Heirrors, seekers of the heir of the late Izkarzon! We’re looking for an audience with Defiant Mien, but we need to make ourselves presentable! Is there somewhere we could do that?”

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  “Defiant Mien doesn’t entertain your sort, he’s got a straight line to the White Queen. What’re you really here for?”

  “We really are here to see Lord Mien.”

  “Lord Mien? He’s no… hmm.” The woman’s expression turned calculating. “You’re here on business alright, but it’s more than my head’s worth to know anything about it. Wait here.” The woman leaned her shovel against one wall and washed her hands in a bucket of water, before traipsing into the main building. I’m relieved we didn’t hear another click of a lock, this time. After some sandglasses, at most three by Zia’s judgment, she came back out with a man in white livery with cream piping and silver trim and buttons. The tailoring was exquisite, and moved with his lean, muscular frame. Much to Zia’s surprise, she felt no impulse to flirt with him, despite his obvious power and status. He might be a mere guard or servant, but he was at least on par with a hunger with how his suit fit and the obvious alliance to the White Queen—who, evidently, is one of the two Queens of the realm? I really do wish I’d paid more attention to my studies. “This here is Gnosis. He’ll be deciding whether to let you in.” Zia was about to ask questions before Gnosis raised one hand to his temple and she felt a breeze at her back. Bits of hay and dust swirled around his hand, and then Zia felt the unpleasant sensation of a hand rifling through her mind. Drexl groaned, while Zidrist and Darka grimaced.

  Gnosis put down his hand, and the whirling debris settled to the ground. “The graying one is resistant to my probe, but I don’t think we need to press. They’re here to beg favors from Ser Mien, trading on the knowledge that Analytical Prowess resents his crimping her trade in Royal artifacts. If he’s not agreeable, they have illusions of harming him. He’s been restless lately, maybe a little intrigue will perk him up. Worst case, we can set them loose in the woods and let him make sport of them.”

  The stable woman jerked her head in Gnosis’ direction. “You heard him. Follow me, and I’ll take you somewhere you can bathe and change.” Bathe!? Oh, a bath sounds heavenly!

  The bathhouse exceeded Zia’s wildest dreams. Submerged in heated water in a fire runed tub, she let the stress and frustration of the last few weeks soak out of her body. She hid behind a cloth when she slipped out of the tub, before remembering that everyone present knew her… it wasn’t so much a secret anyway so much as something she didn’t like to discuss. Dried off and dressed in her dark blue dress—if we stay long I’ll need to find another like it in another color—along with Darka in her chorister’s robes and Zidrist in her deacon’s attire—nothing to be done for Drexl, but I think she’s intent upon staying in the below rooms anyway. Probably make “Ser” Mien more comfortable if the obviously armed person stayed away. Zia snapped a little spark between two fingers, then paid for her impulsive act with an almost immediate blistering from the poorly-contained flame. I’d rather not kill anyone anyway. Maybe the Daring Kaliskast can live with himself, but honestly I’d like to live without any further violence as long as I… well, live.

  The interior of the mansion was expansive and tasteful. While yes, there was gold thread in the wall hangings, it was echoed by goldenrod and tempered by stately blues and rich purples. The statuary and portraiture were illuminated by the generously-proportioned windows between vast limestone columns carved in relief with images of refined ladies and gentlemen and competing athletes performing superhuman feats. Resembling the pangs of longing she felt when she considered her quest for a partner, Zia felt desire to live in such an estate, to possess the fine appointments in her surroundings and the indubitable qualities of the rest of such a life. Cold melons in midsummer, preserves in winter, roast migratory fowl in any season… she nearly drooled at the thought. While she had never gone hungry before her adventure, the seasons made themselves felt in what was served at her parents’ table.

  The room where they were evidently to wait for Defiant Mien—Ser Mien. Wouldn’t do to flub that like I did with Analytical Prowess—was more of the tame, the paintings hunting scenes rather than portraits of nobles or Queens that Zia had no knowledge of. The air sorcerer… Gnosis? Did he actually say Ser Mien might hunt us for sport? Best get this right, then.

  The man who entered the room was short, round, and bore a sparse beard. Right away, Zia’s self-recriminating sense of gender twigged him as a man who drank tea weekly, a piece of herbalism which she had been unable to find an equivalent for with her own desires. She also recalled that Gnosis had seemed derisive that they might injure Ser Mien, and looked for outward signs of his dangerous nature. Noticing her surreptitious inspection, Ser Mien cocked a smile and said, “Looking for my sword? I assure you I have no need of so crude a weapon. You could have brought your thug, I am not concerned.” Well sarx. I could have used Drexl’s sense of subtle here—Ser Mien laughed. “Send for her, if you’re so dependent upon your underlings!” He snapped his fingers and a servant who had blended in with the statuary fled the room. “I don’t think you understand just how far out of your depth you are, Heirrors. Your name is fitting.” He stood with a wide stance, clearly at ease as even Zidrist could not pretend to be, thumbs looped into his pockets, until Drexl was fetched from the kitchens. “Now then. Aside from the banal attempts by ‘Lord’ Prowess to have me killed, what do you bring to the table? Gnosis was cursory in his search, and he knew more than he let on to boot.”

  Zia cleared her throat. “We have… accomplished numerous tasks for various Royal Society members, which we gather you to be. We are ‘deniable’ as foreigners, and could accomplish something at your behest, if you would deign to grant us a favor in return.” She sighed. Always, there is another favor to be exchanged. When will this end, that I might enjoy my reward?

  Ser Mien laughed. “You think I am a Royal Society member? Oh, my good woman, I am so much more than that. I am the emissary between the Royal Society and their Royal Highnesses, the Black and White Queens. I make sure that nothing goes missing their Highnesses would rather stayed put.”

  “It would be a trifle, then, for you to grant us our favor. And if you run in such rarified heights, you doubtless have work too dirty for your own hands.”

  Ser Mien barked another laugh. “And what favor would you have me grant you?”

  “Lord Pro—Analytical Prowess possessed connections to a group known as the ‘Historians’ which could help us to find the heir of Izkarzon, our dear Lord departed at the hands of the Dragonslayer. Surely, with your superior status and influence, you too could offer us such a trifle, in exchange for a little shadow work?”

  Ser Mien stroked his chin thoughtfully. “You are entirely without subtlety. It took you two tries just to gain admission to these halls.” Sarx. “If any of you has tact, it is the muscle you very nearly left out of this conversation entirely, in a misguided attempt not to threaten me.” He jerked his head. “Brute! Why should I grant the favor of even letting your Heirrors handle my dirty work?”

  Drexl strode forward and aped Ser Mien’s pose, wide stance and thumbs hooked in pockets. “Because mayhem is chaotic and you are very clearly bored. I recognize it from our leader when she came down to the slums of Sasson. You’re rubbing shoulders with us when we’re clearly ‘out of our league’ because you are tired of courtiers and their petty intrigues. You don’t care who slept with who, you want someone… I think the term is ‘cast low’?”

  “‘Brought low.’ An accurate enough answer, otherwise. Your rough speech disguises wit. Very well. I will supply you with papers to plant in the quarters of a particular noble. She has been abusing the favor of the White Queen to advocate for regressive, religious policies such as a legally mandated remission of debts every eight years. She might actually start listening, so I would have her embarrassed and retreat to her country seat.” Ser Mien spun on his heel and began to walk out.

  Zia raised her voice. “How will it come out that she has these papers? What kind of—”

  Ser Mien put up a hand for silence. “You will be given instructions. Honestly, you would think I held illusions as to the kind of tool I was employing. I don’t even care if you succeed but I will give you a sporting chance. Rather like I will if you do fail.” I really am starting to wish I had stayed in Sasson.

  Saved Us From Hell’s Flame

  Praise the Lord, the Savior came!

  He saved us, from Hell’s flame.

  I praise the Lord, with joyful lips

  Stroke my prayer beads, with my fingertips.

  I live in fear, of the One God

  We’d all be deceased if not for Gotorjod!

  Praise the Lord, the holy One

  There is no one greater, than God and His Son!

  Praise the Lord, the Savior came!

  He saved us, from Hell’s flame.

  We stray from right ways but He makes it okay

  Yeah He saved us, from Hell’s flame.

  Your burden’s easy, your load is light

  To praise the Lord, I do what’s right.

  Spread His word, and spread His joy

  Been praising the Lord since I was a boy!

  Praise the Lord, the holy One

  There is no one greater, than God and His Son!

  Praise the Lord, the Savior came!

  He saved us, from Hell’s flame.

  We stray from right ways but He makes it okay

  Yeah He saved us, from Hell’s flame.

  Praise the Lord, the holy One

  There is no one greater, than God and His Son!

  Praise the Lord, the Savior came!

  He saved us, from Hell’s flame.

  We stray from right ways but He makes it okay

  Yeah He saved us, from Hell’s flame.