Zia turned to Drexl. “You’re sure this is the place?”

  Drexl pouted. “What do you keep me in the group for if not to have dubious knowledge?”

  “Muscle,” Darka replied. “That was actually your stated purpose.”

  Zia ground her teeth. Why thank you Darka. “Great, Drexl. Follow my lead, everyone.”

  There was a tent erected outside the city wall mansion of Lady Amorous, and while Drexl had confirmed it was nominally a public space, she had been advised in ways Zia didn’t entirely understand that loitering would not be permitted. Nobody scopes out a thief lord’s estate, outside Dragold, evidently. Given the slow flow of sand over the city walls, it was about the only way to have fresh outdoor air.

  Zia strode confidently up to the flaps of the tent, dressed in fine formal wear with a suitable amount of padding. The dress, a flattering dark blue, had been folded carefully and wrapped in oilcloth, because, after all, when the Daring Kaliskast found his romantic interest, he always managed to materialize something suitable for the ball at which they danced. Walking with confidence was not difficult, she’d done it all her life until a few years ago, and walking with defiance was nearly the same thing. Confidence. The distinction could make or break this, from what I’ve gathered from Drexl. She was not the only one who had thought formal wear an essential, and for that I thank Izka—the One God. Zidrist, trailing to her left, was in her black robe, trimmed with green. Darka, like a mirror image to Zia’s right, wore white robes trimmed with the same shade of green. Both, hopefully, held their heads high, and Darka was singing some generic aria in a soft voice. Hard on the throat, but for a good cause. Drexl formed the diamond, and by general consensus clutched their rag doll that made their token fifth member. Zia hadn’t given the doll much thought after its existence, but here she wanted all the favor of the One God she could muster, and besides it made Drexl look just a bit less threatening in her hodgepodge of leather and cord armor. She could hit with her club fine one-handed. People of status always have muscle at hand. Don’t think of her as a friend right now. Think of her as the servile bread that an ouroboros rightly claims.

  At the flap of the tent, a man with several obvious knives interposed himself between Zia and the interior courtyard. “I explained to your friend,” he gave a dismissive jerk of his head, “the Jester’s Compound isn’t a place for—”

  Zia did not wait to find out who the “Jester’s Compound” wasn’t for, and talked over the man without raising her voice. “I’m sure it’s not a place for her but it is a place for me. I have business with Lady Amorous, most important business that I—no no, good sir, don’t dare speak, the business is none of yours. I’ll see the Lady now.” And with that, she stepped around him, as though he were not a heavily armed thug, or even worth her notice. She heard an exclamation when she had entered the tent, followed by the hollow “tonk” of Drexl’s club on a skull. I wonder if she bounces it to make that sound. I forget what I read Kaliskast advised when it came to applying force to the most effect. But then, I should take that source with a grain of salt, clearly. I should have had at least three romantic encounters by now and I think I’m on one.

  The mansion, she knew, would be a tougher nut to crack. Not only were doorways defensible positions, but there would not be even a pretense of being a public space. With her left hand she rapped smartly on the door, and raised an eyebrow in disdain when a view slit opened rather than the door itself. She tried not to swallow as she knocked again, intentionally right below the eyes of the pugnacious sort looking through the slit. When the door didn’t open, she lobbed her next salvo of bravado. Taking the letter, wax seal at the fore, she held it up in front of the slit. “Open the door immediately, my good lady. I needn’t tell you the consequences that you will be made to suffer should you fail to oblige someone here to see Lady Amorous on Society business!” The eyes on the other side of the door narrowed, and then the slit closed. Zia held her head high and waited as though there weren’t thugs approaching from behind her on two sides, from the sound of their footsteps on the sand.

  Drexl muttered. “We got mere moments, Z—Boss.”

  The door opened before it came down to whether Drexl was the equal of two people with superior arms and inferior armor. The moment it opened, their footsteps fell silent. The woman on the other side was dark, and muscular in slabs rather than the sculpted musculature of Lord Hew. Her voice, however, was a soprano, affected low. Just the kind of contrasting detail that would turn out relevant in Daring—sigh. “What business do you have with the Lady, that you bandy about her society name?”

  Zia arched an eyebrow, penciled in ahead of time for an especially dramatic arch. “You think I would tell you? You must be joking! This is not gossip for every house servant or hired thug, this is important. I have come from an entire country away, to the West, and I will not be deterred. Take me to Lady Amorous and I will confer with her personally. If she chooses, in my hearing to let you be party to her business, I will consider honoring you with the details. Drexl. The door. This lackwit is clearly too slow to understand my gravity.” Zia did not jerk her head, that being beneath her, a mere utterance enough to convey meaning. Drexl stepped around Zia—one does not move out of the way of one’s hirelings—and applied a shoulder to the door. The other woman had height on Drexl, but Drexl had mass. The door opened, and without a word of thanks Zia strode into the residence. Ah, this is how it should be. This is how I was meant to conduct business. From a position of power, authority, and strength. Eugh, this woman’s taste in decoration is so gaudy. She clearly fancies herself some kind of romantic hero. The Jester, all this rose and salmon upholstery, the dark wood furniture…

  Zia walked into the main foyer, while the thug cum butler tried to keep her likely-broken nose from dripping blood on the expensive—and tasteless—red carpet. “If you want to redeem yourself before your mistress, you’ll tell me whether she keeps her office on the first floor or the second. Any delay in my bringing my business before her will be squarely upon your shoulders.”

  “Now hold on! I can’t just let anyone in to see Lady Amorous! Who are you? Whose seal was that?” Or I suppose that’s what she said, it came out a bit gloopy from the nosebleed.

  Zia pitched her voice to carry through the halls of the mansion, despite what it did to her affect, replying, “I am Lady Ziandria Skarlefaxus, ouroboros under the empire of the dragon Izkarzon’s legacy, worthy of Dear Born, and I am quite out of patience. Which floor shall I have Drexl break down doors on first? That is the point we are at, for it is beneath me to notice a hireling at all but for my wanting to minimize the destruction of Lady Amorous’ property.” Zia had it timed out in her head. She would wait for exactly three of the thug’s labored breaths before she strode into the mansion proper.

  It was on the second that she answered, still distorted by a broken nose, “I’ll take you before Lady Amorous. And then I’ll be getting more of the house guard.” Threats? How pedestrian. Zia would have sneered, but she was entirely caught up in her role. She left it to Drexl to sneer, and her thoughts on the thug unspoken as beneath her. She followed until there was a doorway open to an office, then lengthened her stride to arrive before the thug could announce her. Lady Amorous was already alert, just as I intended. She can already be worrying over what business I have with her.

  “What is the meaning of this intrusion?!” Lady Amorous was built along the same lines as Zia, but shorter. She had few curves, fair skin to go with brown eyes someone had probably once written poetry about, and she wore her gray hair in an elaborate braid.

  You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

  “Lady Amorous, unless you are the kind of coward who manages her estates by proxy. In any event, you shall have to do. Summon your husband for me.”

  Amorous colored with rage, replying in a veritable rasp, “Excuse me? Who do you think you are, ordering me about and demanding to speak with, as though you might have any business with him, my husband?!”

  This time, Zia did sneer. She heard footsteps coming from the hall, but it didn’t deter her. Despite what the civil war might have taught her of caution, arrogance was a potent drug running through Zia’s veins. “You know who I am. You heard me tell your thug—butler, I mean, and have been shaking in your boots ever since, wondering what business Dear Born or one of his agents has with you.” Zia flashed the letter of introduction again, this time holding it to let it unfold and reveal Dear Born’s elaborate signature next to a second wax seal. “Now fetch your husband, before I presume you are more than an unsuspecting dupe in this affair.”

  Amorous sat back in her chair, churlish posture and expression suffusing her. “And with what do you accuse me, Lady Ziandria? I am a thief lord, as you announced for all to hear in my courtyard, laws are trifles to me. Yet you seem to think you have some hold over me.”

  “You stole something, or foolishly bought a token off a disreputable fence.”

  “La. I do not steal things, I hire people to steal them for me. Why should I care that you lost some bauble? If you were foolish enough to lose it, the Society will not back you in claiming it back.”

  “Ah, but I am not Royal Society. I merely carry the seal of Dear Born, having earned it, and I am choosing to offer you an out. Once. The band your husband bears, the ring of your marriage, was stolen from the Skarlefaxus forty years ago. I took this quest from my mother, and I will see its end. You can surrender it to me now, or you can suffer the loss of status that would come with me robbing not only your husband but your entire estate.”

  Amorous’ voice was cold. “You are mistaken. My husband’s ring is a legitimate purchase.”

  Zia shrugged. “Then it should be as nothing to you to summon him, show me that it is not the heirloom I suppose it is, and kill me for my audacity, shouldn’t it?”

  “Why don’t I just skip to that last step?”

  Zia’s guts churned with fear, but she did not let it show, or thought she didn’t. “The aegis of Dear Born, whose letter I carry. Unless you wish to incur the wrath of a dragon nephilim?”

  Amorous stared at the letter, refolded, in Zia’s hand, and her eyes narrowed thoughtfully. Finally, she called to one of the thugs that had assembled outside the office. “Fetter! Fetch Lord Amorous from his entertainments. Make sure he is… not covered in art supplies.”

  At this, Zia protested. “You will send my priestess with your servant. I’ll not have you substituting one ring for another. The Church of Izkarzon is not your Wholist Church, but I would imagine she will be safe out of respect for honest piety.” The servant Fetter looked to his mistress, who eyed Zidrist before nodding. The two of them filed out of the room.

  She gestured to the seats which Zia, Zidrist, and Darka had pointedly not taken. “Please, have a seat while my husband is fetched. He could be a bit, his entertainments can be… involved.” At this invitation, without looking to Darka or Drexl, Zia sat gracefully in the plush seat before the desk. “So how is Dear Born? And what did you do to so earn his esteem that he puts you under his, as you say, aegis?”

  Zia said nothing, head still held high, but she inclined it slightly towards Darka. That small head movement was all it took for the chorister to burst into full voice, filling the small office with a particularly elaborate hymn from the folio she had perused back several spheres before. It was not short, and successfully filled the time that Lady Amorous could stall in fetching her husband. He was bald but bearded, bespectacled, and thick through the middle in a way his tailoring glorified. “You summoned me, my love?” Over his shoulder was Zidrist, looking none the worse for wear, and behind her were at least three liveried servants openly carrying arms.

  Lady Amorous was grinning like the cat that ate the canary. “Darling, this foreigner supposes that the ring I gave you was stolen some forty years ago. Seeing as we have been wed for some fifty years, I thought you might like to let her have a look at it before I have her killed for her insolence.” Lord Amorous shared the grin of his wife, and ambled over to Zia to allow her to inspect his ring finger. Rather than inspect the ring, she grasped his wrist and pulled sharply, causing him to land in a heap on the floor. Drexl had already rolled forward and removed the ring sharply, eliciting a cry of pain from the thief lord’s husband. Amorous once again looked furious, and exclaimed, “Kill them!”

  Zia summoned her will and sprayed flames at head height, Zidrist having already dropped to the floor the moment Lord Amorous had cried out in pain. Unbidden, the thought came, what does it say about my faith that I am certain Izkarzon would approve… would the One God approve of my actions? I’ve never thought of it in those terms. The flames faltered in their flow from her outstretched hand, but they had done their job. The thugs and the office were on fire, and Drexl had gotten the time she needed to stuff both doll and ring in her pocket. I guess five really is luckier than four, this was a caper worthy of the Daring Kaliskast. Her club was in her hands, and she floored two of the thugs with smart raps bouncing between their heads, catching the first in the temple and the second in the jaw. The third got a long sword drawn, just in time for the narrow hall to give the advantage to Drexl’s dagger in his gut. It was a stiletto blade, not much use against leathers but quite effective at piercing low-profile armor like chainmail. Whatever the man wore, it did not stop her thrust enough to keep the pain from taking him out of the fight. Gut wounds are messy, but they’re simple enough for an earth sorcerer to heal. This woman has the money to be gaudy, she can take care of her soldiers. Their deaths are not on my hands. Zia shuddered as she rose, remembering the tortured expression of the man—I don’t even know his name—she had burned to death less than a month before. I will never do that again. As Lady Amorous and her husband fled the burning office—looks like wallpaper over adobe, more smoke than fire. If there’s one thing I know, it’s what fire does—the Heirrors took their leave of her estate. Smoke became a breathing problem before they left, but they successfully ducked out of the main doors and left the tent by the flap vacated by the thug Drexl—Zia giggled hysterically at the thought, adrenaline soaring through her veins—had “tonk”ed unconscious.

  Forgiveness Rhapsody

  Do you revere God? Do you hold Him dear?

  Is the thing that you want most for Him to be near?

  Open your eyes, look up to the skies and see!

  We all need the Lord, we need His sympathy

  Because He knows our sins, saw them all, would to Hell like to Fall?

  Are you the seed upon the stones, does God’s Word matter, does God’s word matter, to thee?

  One God, oh Holy Lord

  I’ve done it yet again

  Committed sins against Your Name

  One God, I’m a flower on the wind

  My life is chaff to face your winnowing

  One God, ooh, I sinned for all my life

  But now I’m facing an eternal tomorrow

  Help me Lord, help me Lord, my soul is all that matters.

  Too late, my time has come,

  I offer to the Lord my life, as it’s ending by the knife

  Draw the sword, anybody

  And that’s how you’ll go

  Know the words of the Savior they’re the truth.

  One God, ooh (seed upon the stones)

  I don’t wanna die,

  If it means I’ll spend eternity in Sheol!

  I see the glory of the One and Only God

  Hallelu—Hallelu—hallelujah hosanna!

  Revere our Lord and Savior,

  He beat out the grave, you’re

  Loved!

  Hallelujah! Hallelujah!

  Hallelujah! Hallelujah!

  Hallelujah! Praise the Lord!

  I love to serve God, my God He loves me,

  I live to serve God, God makes me happy!

  Giving my life as a sin offering!

  Praise to God, love the Lord

  Could I love the Lord more?

  No you could not! No, you cannot love Him more!

  You could not! No, you cannot love Him more!

  You could not! No, you cannot love Him more!

  Cannot love Him more!

  Great is the Lord! Lord! Lord! Lord! Lord!

  Great is the Lord!

  Oh hallelujah hallelujah!

  Hallelujah praise the Lord!

  The One and Only God is in his Heave~n, Heave~n, Heaven!

  So you think you can mock God and spit in His eye?!

  So you think in his love He will let your soul die?!

  No way!

  He won’t do that to you baby!

  He won’t send you to hell

  At least not for ever~!

  Everyone’s forgiven. By the Grace of God.

  Everyone’s forgiven. Everyone’s forgiven… By God.