“Are you totally sure you don’t want to ask Gnosis for help, Zia?” a slightly singed Drexl asked. I’m sorry, I’m sorry! But yes, I’m sure!
“He already knows too much, because according to Ser Mien he knows everything.”
“If he knows everything, he’ll know you’re trying to learn more fire sorcery anyway.” Smartlec.
“More to the point, we can’t afford him. Our delegate of favors is effectively under room arrest, and Zia and I don’t together have enough silver to hire a court mage,” Darka added.
“What in damnation is a ‘delegate of favors’?”
“That’d be you,” Zidrist said dryly. “You’re by far the most effective executor of any scheme we’re obliged to undertake.” Hey! I was very successful with Lady Amorous!
“Ah. Well. Thank you, Darka. But we can’t try this in a way where Zia won’t set fire to my hair?” It was an accident!
Zidrist sighed. Oh boy, here it comes. “If she were doing it halfway right, you’d be feeling the heat in your chest anyway.”
“Wait, I’m supposed to center on her chest? Gnosis’ sorcery was distinctly in my head.”
“You’re supposed to start by centering on fire, thus the candle. This is complex and difficult magic, you need to build power first.”
“If you know so much, why aren’t you the fire sorcerer?”
“Because I don’t know so much, that’s where my knowledge ends. I can’t even conjure flame, because I have too much faith.”
“You have too much faith to work faith-based sorcery?” While I may well be failing because I don’t have enough faith, because I’m not so sure Izkarzon was a good thing.
“I firmly believe that if the One God wanted me to set something on fire, He would have handed me a candle.” Zidrist snorted a laugh when Zia tried to pass her the candle she had been meditating on. “Thank you, but again, the object of the exercise is to transcend fire. Without Drexl on hand, we’ll need every advantage we can get and for advantages we’re limited.”
“The One God wants us to succeed, Zidrist. His Son crowned Izkarzon, divinely investing the blah blah blah.” Zidrist raised an eyebrow and smirked. Zia’s heart skipped a beat until she realized that Zidrist was containing laughter.
Darka chimed in. “Zidrist doesn’t need to be a fire sorcerer, Zia. The One God was kind enough to supply her with one!”
“I… am not a very good fire sorcerer, though.” Boy was that galling to admit.
Zidrist shrugged one shoulder, a gesture she had certainly acquired from Drexl. “The One God will provide. Try again.” Zia sighed, took a deep breath besides, and focused on the candle again. The light dimmed, then flared, and then she closed her eyes and tried to feel the candle. This is going to be a long road—sarx! I needed to focus! She smelled the smoke and knew the flame had gone out. Again. A long road indeed.
Lord Drake, it seemed, took an immediate dislike to Zia, Zidrist, and Darka. Zia was sure of this. All that practice—and heartburn—paid off. To let us know that she is not impressed with us, which at least lets us know that we’re not bargaining from a position of strength. Before the noble—and Historian, whatever that is—took notice of who was rifling through her chest with sorcery, Zia released her spell. Without letting off a nimbus of flame. Okay, so evidently if I try and actually practice I can learn a thing or two.
Plastering her most fake, broad smile across her face, and dressed in her dark blue gown, Zia closed the gap between herself and the orange-scaled Lord, once again not looking to see if her companions were following her. “Lord Drake! Hello! I’ve heard so much about you! I was hoping to see you here, at the opening ball of the Season! It’s a pity the White Queen isn’t yet in attendance!”
Drake sneered—I’ll be blighted if I’m applying an honorific to someone who views me or us with such disdain—and then smiled, almost fast enough that the first expression might have been Zia’s imagination. Okay, so she’s interested in making this a game. Fine then. “The White Queen can hardly deign to attend the entertainments at every one of her estates, especially when she has the Black Queen to coordinate with.”
“As I said, I’ve heard so much about you. Surely Ser Mien told you about us?”
“He spoke glowingly of one I don’t see here, a stout woman by the name of Drexl.” Oooh, that earthbrain—no, he’s not slow on the uptake, he did that on purpose. Once again everyone wants to remind us how provincial we are, coming from Dragold.
“She is otherwise occupied. Galas are not really her thing. Rest assured the rest of us are capable.”
“Capable? Perhaps. Subtle? No. One would think that a noble could read my disinterest without the use of sorcery.” Oh, so you have heard of us, you’re just slighting us for the fun of it. Thornseed. “Ser Mien’s choices are… at times eccentric.”
“Ser Mien said you could direct us on the next leg of our adventure. If you want to do that without risking the use of un-subtle tools such as ourselves, I would hardly complain.”
Lord Drake laughed. “Oh my dear, but that wouldn’t be playing the game, now would it?”
“Neither would denying us the chance to prove ourselves after we’d been promised an introduction.”
“I never said I wouldn’t give you a chance to prove yourselves. Oh, my dear, you really must develop a sense for these things if you hope to last long. I was just having a bit of sport. The intrigues of Fief will envelop Dragold in due time, and you’ll have to contend with this sort of thing all the time, if you hope to retain any kind of status.”
“Dragold stands tall, and if we show a moment of weakness, that moment will soon pass.”
Drake rolled her coppery eyes, orange eyelids heavy over them. “Yes, your heir. Who will doubtless be very happy to take the throne of a… queendom.” There’s something that everyone is not telling us about a dragon taking the throne of Dragold! Just come out and say it you fiend friend scatwits! “So, I think I want you to kill someone for me. Burn them to ash, so that they’re never found.” Ulp! What?! “Is there a problem with that, Lady Skarlefaxus?” How does she know my family name? I never gave that to Mien. Someone here is double deali—“You’re veritably infamous after your little show for Lady Amorous and Lord Hew. Let’s see… you started out your little crime spree with murder and arson in Sasson. After that, you proceeded to offend the entirety of a little inn with songs of your heretical dragon king, while you personally tried to scam a man out of the cost of rooms you could not honestly afford.” Her secrets laid bare, even the ones she thought safely hidden in her mind, Zia felt a rush of panic.
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Zidrist stepped forward. “News out of Dragold does not travel the ‘Loon routes that quickly. Lord Born would not have revealed his having been undermined.”
Drake laughed gaily. “I never said he did! It’s as good as written on your mind, Lady Skarlefaxus! You’re dwelling, and the more you dwell on the past the more ingrained it becomes, like a wagon in its rut!” Zia’s eyes widened. I haven’t felt that presence since… Gnosis! He’s in Lord Drake’s pocket—!! “Ah, finally the light sparks. A dim light, but light nonetheless. Even a candle illuminates the night. Go. Complete my task for me, kill the courtier Mien, and I’ll send you on to find your heir.” Without a word, Zia spun on her heel and fled the ballroom, needing to speak to Drexl—she really is the only one of us suited to this. Either bread really should be criminals or she was horribly under-utilized by Krask—immediately, as to what their options were. She knew she would have nightmares about burning bodies that night.
“The first thing to remember is that we don’t have to do it with sorcery,” Darka said, once they were seated in their main room, sipping mugs of blittero. “We could just burn the body to ash.”
Zidrist shook her head. “It takes spell-fire or a crucible to burn bones, and I doubt they keep refinery equipment on hand at a pleasure estate. Fief isn’t known for its cremation. They’re land-rich, considering we haven’t even reached the midpoint of the nation.”
“Torture the Lord?” Drexl asked. Faced with three incredulous stares, she shrugged. “Thought this was important. Never mind.”
The silence stretched on. Eventually, Zia said, “…go home? No! I’m sorry, I’m sorry! I will say Our Dragon of Mercy a hundred times, I know we’re on a sacred mission!”
“What I want to know is what Gnosis is doing working for Drake,” Zidrist said, ignoring Zia’s outburst. Despite the lack of obvious signs of displeasure, Zia continued mouthing the words of benediction. “Being the court mage to one of the Queens of the realm seems a step up from croneying for a mere Lord.”
“Maybe he’s a Historian?” Drexl asked. Once again, everyone stared at her, even Zia interrupting her fervent prayer. “It’s a front scam. Lord Drake is the obvious Historian in the court, mystery solved, no need to go looking for more if they’re only as subtle as her.”
“Well now we have a deadline,” Zia said. “Because if Gnosis rifles through our thoughts again, he’ll know we figured out his secret. And if it’s a secret worth keeping, we’re worth eliminating. All this time, we’ve been ‘expendables.’”
Zidrist “hmmm”ed. “Perhaps not. Lord Drake did comment about the light catching when she started reciting our crimes.” Our? You haven’t committed hardly any crimes worth noting. Are you… we’re on the same side? After I suggested going home? Before I suggested going home? You’re my compatriot, if not my friend? To the point that you’d bear the guilt of my actions? “In any case, the festivities have just started. We even have another day before Drexl can roam free again. Let’s take our time and see what our options are.”
Zia rested her elbows on her knees, prayers forgotten, and said, “I don’t know that I can reduce someone to ash anymore. And it’s not a faith problem, it’s a… compunctions problem. And a faith problem. I don’t want to be a killer. Daring Kaliskast made it seem so glamorous, but he always killed villains and such. Not to mention… Mien was nice to us. He made the introduction, even. It seems wrong to kill the very person that we befriended, just to… not just to. I guess that we didn’t really befriend him, he just confided that he was weary of the politics of court and finding the heir is important… I mean, if we don’t then now we know that the White Queen is going to go invade Dragold. And whatever ouroboros is in charge at that point… the standing army has largely been depleted. We need the aegis of a dragon if we want to stay our own country. Which… is largely my fault, proclaiming our mission to everyone who would listen, like a badge of honor. It never occurred to me that it would read as an invitation.”
“You’ve got more than one circular line of thought there, Zia,” Darka said. “You’re not sure if it’s right to kill people. Without a divine mandate, it isn’t right. But we have one, though you’re doubting that that’s a separate question. So that’s two circles. And you’re asking whether it’s right to kill the man who made our introductions, that’s another line, and you’re asking whether he’s our friend. That’s four lines. And you’re pulling at one line hoping to untangle another.”
Drexl reclined in her chair. “So what do you suggest, Darka?”
“I mean, like Zidrist said, we have time. You’re our ‘subtle’ member and you’re stuck in this room for at least another day. What I do suggest is not deciding we’re not doing it until and unless we decide we’re leaving that day.”
“Uh…”
“Because Gnosis will read it, or could read it, off our minds.”
“Isn’t making that plan pretty much as bad as deciding now and biding our time, though?”
“That depends on how badly the Historians want Mien dead.”
“Which we don’t know, because we don’t even know why they want Mien dead.”
Zidrist clapped her hands on her thighs. “So that should be our next concern. We have a starting point. Mien is up to his own intrigues, he had us plant those papers on the noble suggesting ‘regressive religious policies’ or whatever to the White Queen.”
“But why would the Historians care about that?!” Zia cried. “All we know is that they hate dragons, for whatever demented reason they would have for that!”
“Darka, you’re the fastest reader out of us. Maybe peruse the library in the mansion. See if you can find out the role of dragons in… no, that’s a silly thought. If there were records of draconic interactions with societies outside of Dragold, we wouldn’t need a Historian… say, now there’s a thought. What if the Historians hate dragons because of something from the Age of Loss? I mean, they’re called ‘Historians’ so presumably they know something.”
Drexl crossed her arms. “But what would they know? That the dragons are up to no good somehow? They keep busy with dragon things and get rich. Even Izkarzon did that.”
“Drexl!” Zia admonished. “Don’t blaspheme! Izkarzon was a good and honorable Lord of our realm! He kept Fief from invading, evidently, which is more than Fief can say about their dragons! Say… there’s an idea. What if we sought out a dragon in Fief and asked her about Izkarzon’s heir? Just like… leave?”
Darka groaned. “Zia, we were just saying we needed to not make a plan like that unless we’re acting on it right then!”
Two days of circular conversation later, Lord Drake—or someone—forced their hand. Zia was busily having second thoughts with one of the courtiers when she heard a door slam. She ignored it at first, but when she heard shouts and the sound of more doors slamming, she sided with her second thoughts and left the courtier where he had been sitting on the bed. Guards poured into their rooms, and if Zia had compunctions about burning people anymore, they went away with Zidrist’s pained groan as they manacled her arms behind her back. Zia conjured a gout of fire and sprayed it across the expensively-appointed room, an act she would have balked at only a month ago for the sheer beauty of the furnishings. She stopped pouring on flame only when she realized the guards were wearing full canvas masks and leather gloves, obviously prepared for sorcerous assault. Before she could think of another option, a guard came up behind her and struck her head with the hilt of his sword. Zia’s last thought was that’s not terribly sporting…
Pattern of the Savior
He came from Heaven, He was the Savior
His message was of peace and love, like we have for God above
He performed some healing, He walked on water
But those in power saw
Him as a fatal flaw
in the system they had wrought
With all the things they’d bought!
So they went and they killed Him!
It was horribly grim!
It’s the pattern! Yes of the Savior!
He comes to each planet to repay your (sins!)
It’s the pattern! Yes of the Savior!
Love and compassion are always the trappings
of the Savior… they did him in.
Savior, pattern to save ya
All the peoples they,
wanted a Savior!
A warrior King who came from Marz, who would make the planet ours
A divine ruler, who would rule over
A kingdom near and far
Overthrowing every tzar
But He came and started preaching love, straight from One God above
They really didn’t like that
So what did they do?
It’s the pattern! Yes of the Savior!
He comes to each planet to repay your (sins!)
It’s the pattern! Yes of the Savior!
Love and compassion are always the trappings
of the Savior… He died for sin.
He is the Savior, one day He’ll return
After Ages come and go, when exactly we don’t know
Only the Father, Spirit and Son learned
When that Kingdom’s going to come
So don’t just sit upon your thumb
Do some real good deeds, give Scripture lots of reads
You need to worship heart and mind
Give yourself to things divine!
It’s the pattern! Yes of the Savior!
He comes to each planet to repay your (sins!)
It’s the pattern! Yes of the Savior!
Love and compassion are always the trappings
of the Savior… he will return.
