( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)Adult Content Warning ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

Reyn left Starra to finish the transaction with the headmistress.

Starra was new to Shan Alee, but for whatever reason, the empress believed she could trust her. With that in mind, Starra had been granted diplomatic authority equal to that of a Diamond Knight. Perhaps necessary, seeing as the empress and the Lord of Citrines both were reluctant to allow Pacifica, the empress' sole Diamond, to return to her duties.

Reyn's thoughts on the matter were confused. On the one hand, she took offense towards any possible slight against Princess Pacifica Romov. On the other, Pacifica had died. A temporary condition, true, but being pulled back into the mortal world from the Beyond hadn't left her in the best of health. And it wasn't as if Pacifica had a dragon bond to restore herself with anymore.

In any case, Starra had matters in hand. Reyn's part in it had merely been to locate Headmistress Ardra and determine if she possessed samples of the oren reagent. It fell to Starra to obtain those samples. Reyn had something else to see to, but it wasn't for Shan Alee or the Dragon Empress. Not entirely.

Reyn needed to know if her old life was over.

The saloon was little different from any other dive in Drok Moran. The interior was cramped, deeper than it was wide. It had three stories, and Reyn could hear carousing going on above in the balconies overlooking the entrance. Concealed from view, a songstress was performing a bawdy tune, accompanied by a violin. A wooden sign hung just outside the open doorway, a message scrawled in bold lettering.

NO FREGS.

Reyn supposed it was less a warning to the goblins residing in Drok Moran and more an advertisement to the local bigots. Mountain goblins usually kept to the undercity, and even if they came to the surface, they wouldn't be caught dead associating with this saloon's clientele. Nadian goblins had higher standards than that.

Few raised their eyes when Reyn walked into the ground floor's common room. They nursed their tankards of ale and tumblers of whisky, eyes locked on their own tables and business. In saloons like the Dancing Wildcat, those who took too much interest in their neighbors didn't often make it home with all their bones intact.

The barkeep was a painfully thin man with a deep, craggy face and a nose that could have been used to chop firewood. By the look of him, someone might have tried it at some point. The bridge of his nose was crooked from a recent break, and the fading bruises on his face showed it had likely happened a week ago. Both sides of his head were shaved, leaving a mohawk of white and wispy hair, and his left eye was covered by a thick eyepatch.

"Name it," the barkeep said as Reyn came up to his counter. He spat into a tankard as he wiped it down.

Reyn managed to keep the disgust off her face. "Looking for company."

The barkeep frowned as he glanced at her through his uncovered eye. "Pretty thing like you ought not pay fer it."

"I don't need opinions."

"Yeah, yeah. The boss keeps some strappin' lads fer the ladies. Shiff fer ten minutes. Gold mark fer the night."

Reyn slapped seven pennies on the counter. Three silver and four copper.

"Three shiffs, but the scubs don't get ya aught." The barkeep's hand froze as it hovered over the coins. His eye darted up to Reyn's face. "Aye, might I can find a lad fer ya. I'll send a thing of mead up to boot.

Reyn met his eye. "Make it brandy. Nadian, not that Althandi swill."

The bead of sweat appearing on his brow was more satisfying than Reyn anticipated.

"Aye. Brandy. Best in the house. Top floor, end o' the hall. Yer lad'll be right with ya."

"Lass, Goodman. Black-haired if you can."

The barkeep furrowed his brow. "There's a one might do."

"Make it quick. My half hour is worth more than three shiffs." Reyn turned from the bar and walked towards the nearest staircase. As she ascended, she had a good view of the performance stage deeper inside the Dancing Wildcat. The songstress swayed her hips from side to side as she sang, skillfully making it appear as if the way she exposed her ankles for the onlookers was an accident.

A foreign woman in her early thirties, dark-skinned with voluminous curls of hair surrounding her head like a halo. She wasn't Melcian, but Iylisian, evidenced by her silver irises. The songstress was lovely, much more so than would be expected in a place like this. Doubtless, better paying venues would soon lure her away.

Unless she wasn't kept on for just her songs.

While ascending the staircase, Reyn's eyes lingered on the songstress. Her staring must have caught the songstress' attention. She returned Reyn's gaze, maintaining eye contact until she was out of sight.

And the hierarch came 'round no more, no more

His heart left cold

His apprentice did, too

The tavern girl made supper no more, no more

Why keep but just one honey spoon?

Reyn snorted as she reached the landing and turned to take the next. Judging by the raucous cheers from below, the saloon patrons appreciated songs of lowborn girls seducing and swindling the nobility.

By the time Reyn reached the top floor of the saloon, the violin had begun playing solo, much to the crowd's displeasure. She found the hall the barkeep spoke of, and opened the door at the far end. Inside was a single room suite. There was a bed with a lumpy mattress and threadbare linens, a square window set with frosted glass opposite the door, a ceramic washbasin, and a steel drain cover in the center of the floorboards. Reyn raised an eyebrow at where the owner thought indoor plumbing was most needed.

There weren't any chairs, so Reyn chose to stand as she waited and kicked off her shoes. There wasn't enough gold in this whole kingdom to persuade her to sit on the bed. She doubted the Dancing Wildcat was so fastidious as to change the linens after every use.

Reyn reached for her collar and pulled at the thin chain around her neck. She drew her amulet out from underneath her shirt. The scrimshaw amulet was whale bone, a tangle of straight lines and circles carved in overlapping and irregular shapes across its broad and flat surface. Some lines were thick and deep, others so small that they could barely be seen without a lens. As finely crafted as it was, the amulet was a homely piece as accessories went, but Reyn didn't keep it on her for decoration. It was the focus for her spellcraft.

The imprint was dizzyingly complex. Hundreds of component imprints branched off of the primary. Reyn could spend hours mapping each one and still feel as if she'd failed to explore a fraction of it. The carvings on the amulet were a feat of spellcraft only theorized within the magocracy.

A fractal imprint.

Each line melded into others, possibly becoming any single rune Reyn knew and many more she didn't have names for. Those runes could then be arranged into sigils, the end result of a scrivener's spellcraft. The amulet's imprint, once the exact lines Reyn wished were lit with etherlight, could become nearly any spell imaginable. The amulet was a singular creation, the work of a master scrivener of unparalleled genius.

For the moment, Reyn needed it for something simple. She didn't like using the amulet casually, but she hadn't brought along her implements for carving sigils. Besides, she doubted the Dancing Wildcat's owner would appreciate finding circles and runes scratched into the floorboards.

Reyn concentrated on lighting the precise lines in the fractal imprint. Lothya, at the center, surrounded by a circle and simple allowance runes to modify the spell. The privacy ward would make it so that no sound entered into the immediate area around the amulet and vice versa. Reyn only used the thinnest and faintest lines on the amulet, creating a ward that projected out in a radius of no more than three paces.

Using a fractal imprint was no small feat in and of itself. To pick and choose which lines shone with her etherlight, rather than light them all at once, required a level of precision Reyn doubted more than a handful of scriveners in the entire world were capable of. Lord Bannlyth the Karst was among the finest scriveners Reyn knew of, perhaps in all of Shan Alee, but even he would find the workings of a fractal imprint beyond him.

The Karst can channel more ether through his sigils than I can ever hope to match, Reyn thought sullenly. And that's before his bond with the Huntress comes into play.

Reyn resented the Lord Ban for his raw power. Her own stores of ether simply weren't comparable. She could train her blood to hold more ether for another two decades and still fall short. It irritated her like nothing else. The knight-marshal had only begun his education as a scrivener two years previous, and he was already capable of casting spells of such power and in far greater number than Reyn ever would. If she ever attempted lighting the sigils the Lord Ban had on his armor, she'd be ethershocked inside of ten minutes. Meanwhile, he could have them flared five times as strong for ten times the duration.

Absolutely irritating.

Elder houses and their pedigree, she groused to herself.

Reyn locked the sigil on the amulet, freeing her from needing to concentrate to maintain the ward, and hung it from a peg beside the bed. She removed her cloak and hung it over the amulet.

The door was close enough to be inside the privacy ward. Reyn heard the hinges creak as someone entered her room. She turned and had her suspicions about who her company was meant to be confirmed.

The Iylisian songstress had Reyn in her silver gaze as she closed the door behind her. She carried a small, ceramic jug held on the end of her finger. Approaching, the songstress offered forward the drink. "With the house's compliments."

Without breaking eye contact, Reyn took the jug and set it down on the bedpost.

"I am Komali," she said, stepping closer. She was a head shorter than Reyn and had an ample bust she wasn't afraid to push forward with the way she carried herself. "I don't get many Gaulatians. You don't have the look of Altier Nashal, so where else could that red hair come from?"

Reyn liked her. She found confidence attractive, and Reyn had long been aware of her weakness for the natural hair of northern women. Those curls were to die for.

Komali's fingers deftly unfastened the bottom-most buttons of Reyn's shirt. A sultry grin played across her lips as she leaned in. "Not all Gaulatian, are you? You've got some Althandi blood by the look of those eyes." She paused in consideration. "No. Not Althandi. Shotoese?"

Reyn smiled and gave a nod. One of her grandparents came to the mainland from the Isles of Shoto. It was extremely rare for anyone to guess Reyn's biracial ethnicity correctly, and she never bothered to correct misconceptions.

Komali pulled the undone lengths of Reyn's shirt aside and slid her hands up her abdomen. Her touch was firm as her hands went to Reyn's breasts. Komali stood on her toes for a kiss. It was brief and left Reyn wanting another.

Reyn kept her breaths even and measured as Komali unfastened the rest of the buttons and pulled the shirt and vest off her shoulders. The sultry grin Komali wore began to fade, and her touch grew hesitant. Reyn gave no resistance as Komali removed her chest wrap.

Bare to the waist, Reyn said nothing.

"If you don't stop me, the belt comes off next."

"Why should I stop you?" Reyn asked. "I payed for this, did I not?"

Komali's brow knitted together. "What? Then you're really just here for a prostitute?"

Reyn tilted her chin back, satisfied. "Not a prostitute." She bent to speak in Komali's ear. "A Courtesan."

Komali stepped back, her mouth drawn into a line. "It's a dangerous game you're playing, girl. Dalno about sent the bouncers up instead of me. No one's used those countersigns in a decade, or near enough."

"My cell has been out of touch," Reyn said in explanation. She raised her arms above her head and stretched.

Komali's eyes traced over Reyn's body. "Where? Gaulatia?"

"Dangerous to ask such questions." Reyn picked up the jug from the bedpost and gave it a sniff. She hadn't expected the barkeep to actually send the brandy. By the scent, it was watered down and half rancid. "If you were sent, you can act as an informant?"

Komali nodded. "I don't know how your cell does things, but info doesn't get traded for nothing. If you won't swap gossip, you pay coin."

"Naturally." Reyn poured the brandy down the drain in the floorboards. "I have visited a number of saloons tonight. This was the first to offer the mead. I nearly believed the Courtesans were no longer active in Drok Moran."

"Against all efforts to the contrary," Komali said. "We're still about."

"Then I see no reason to waste further time."

Komali crossed her arms. "Look, girl, my job's to keep the riff raff happy and buying drinks. Dalno doesn't normally pull me off the stage unless it's for the night, and even then it takes more than just the usual gold mark to make it worth my while. What I'm saying is I have better things to do than get jerked around."

"I tip generously, if that is your concern."

She shrugged with one shoulder in acceptance. "So, what do you want to know?"

The jug bounced when it hit the floor and came to rest in the corner. Reyn regarded Komali and beckoned her forward. "What I want is your tongue on my neck and your hand between my thighs. You will tell me what I wish to know as you work. I do admire efficiency."

Reyn put effort towards keeping her Voice in check, but the slight dilation of Komali's pupils suggested she hadn't been completely successful.

"Your shiffs to pay, I guess," Komali said, tugging her dress over her head as she spoke. She didn't wear a shift underneath, or even smallclothes.

Efficiency.

Komali began with undoing Reyn's belt. "You're the first to want both services."

"I find that hard to believe."

"Courtesans make a show of being uninterested. Playact as if they're above this sort of thing. So serious, every last one of them. So why not you?"

"I long for distraction," Reyn said quietly. "Once you tell me all I need, I would like to forget what lies out there for a time."

Komali hummed as she went to her knees, taking Reyn's leggings down with her. "I'll make you forget your own name."

Reyn closed her eyes as Komali's lips found her hip bone. She held onto the bedpost to steady herself and widened her stance.

"Did you shave your legs for the occasion?" Komali asked. "Clients don't often go to such lengths even for me."

"It is less arduous with spellcraft. I have become familiar with a sorceress who is adept at using magic for grooming. She was kind enough to assist me with crafting my own personal care spells."

Komali chuckled. "Perhaps she should help you forget your troubles, and you needn't come to me."

Reyn flushed, and not just from what Komali's hands were up to. The sorceress in question was spoken for by none other than the Dragon Empress. And Jin was an Algara. There were a host of reasons why Reyn would never dream of pursuing her.

Well, perhaps I could dream, Reyn thought. She draped her left leg over Komali's shoulder, urging her to take things further. Her grip on the bedpost and the back of Komali's neck tightened.

"My first question," Reyn said. "How do the Courtesans view the Aleesh forces outside the walls?"

Komali's tongue played over Reyn's skin before she replied. "With gratitude. Whatever vexes Cathis and Fen is welcome."

"You hope for the Dragon Empress to remove House Algara from the Nadian throne?"

"She'd get no resistance from us. A bit of assistance, even. If she means to keep the throne is another matter. Some of the cell leaders are wondering who might be helping her and hold out hopes she's here on someone else's behalf." Komali leaned back, but her fingers didn't stop what they were doing. "You said your cell's been out of touch. If you don't know who I mean, that info will cost a lot more than I think you've got on you."

"I know who you mean," Reyn panted. It was becoming necessary to hold onto Komali with both hands to keep her balance. "The bright tower was with my cell for a time."

Komali's fingers stilled. "Did you ever see him?"

"Once," Reyn said tersely, making it clear she wasn't the one offering information. She used the pause as an opportunity to lie down on the floor. Beckoning with her fingers, she guided Komali to lie on top of her. "You have attempted to send spies into the Aleesh camp?"

"My cell has. I assume the other local ones tried it."

Reyn already knew there'd been attempts, but the confirmation had its own value. There was no point in asking how many since Komali wouldn't know the specifics of what other cells were doing. "Learn anything?"

Komali had begun kissing Reyn's neck. She spoke in-between playful nips that drove Reyn to distraction, and all the while, her fingers danced inside her. "Didn't find out much. All three of our tries got stopped cold. Whoever's running security out there knows most of our tricks. They call him the Onyx Knight."

Paladin Rav, the empire's only Onyx thus far and husband of Dragon Lord Hugin. Reyn had made certain Rav knew of the methods Courtesans used to slither agents into military camps. Of course, she claimed to have found that information in her studies. It wouldn't do for the knightly order assigned to internal security to be made aware of Reyn's past connections.

"Not to say we don't know anything," Komali continued. "There are Algaras with the Aleesh."

Reyn affected surprise. "Are you sure?"

"Two of them, at the least," Komali said. "Royal assassins, no less. Our boy got close enough to spot the uniform of black hounds if not the beast eyes. Not prisoners, and barely kept under watch. Between that and some rumors coming from down south, we're sure one of them's the younger princess, Jin."

"And the other?"

"Can't say. She had a mask on when our boy spotted her. Wasn't long after when he got pinched by a black dragon and dumped just outside the city gates."

Princess Maya. We're fortunate the Courtesans didn't realize who she was, or they wouldn't be as willing to accept the empress' presence. The moment they learn Shan Alee owes fealty to Jin's sister, they'll see us as enemies.

"We don't know what to make of the assassins," Komali said. "Best we can gather is Cathis is trying to be diplomatic after the Aleesh trounced House Akazewi. Enfri the Yora has him scared, so he sent his youngest to barter terms. House Yora is stronger than he expected."

That last part was true, but Reyn doubted the path Komali's cell used to arrive at that conclusion. The Highest King would sooner throw himself from the top of the Palace of Towers than treat with an Aleesh. Jin's father was nothing if not consistent.

"One last thing I need to know before I let you work in peace."

Komali giggled, and her teeth nipped at Reyn's ear. Her hand caressed up the length of Reyn's body to her breast. Her fingers pinched the nipple between them, eliciting a small gasp of pleasure from Reyn. "I don't mind. This is more fun than I expected, but are you really getting hot and bothered by this kind of talk?"

"Despite it, not because of it. Who commands the Courtesans now?"

"You have been out of touch," Komali teased. "When'd your cell last check in?"

"Six years ago. We never received any sendings either."

"Bloody stones, so you wouldn't know. Things hit a rough patch a while back, and a lot of foreign cells might have fallen out of the loop. I should warn you, this'll be expensive info, girl."

"I assumed as much. I will pay what it costs."

"Zikara passed Beyond in the summer of ninety-seven. Old age. The following autumn, his successor got stabbed by some goblins while on his way back from Temradel. We think it was just a toll dispute on the highway, but cleaners got sent after the fregs who did it just to be safe. The cell leaders got together to choose the new commander since Haethel didn't name a successor yet. They went with Nalthorio."

Reyn frowned. "I don't know the name."

"Not many did." Komali shrugged. "I guess that was part of the reason. With this life, you want a man who knows how to stay out of the gaslight heading things. He was a cell leader in Primus. Ever since Nalthorio took charge, we mostly do more info gathering than the rabble rousing we used to. Fewer of our people get pinched by the Summit Guard, and I hear it's the same most everywhere else in the Five Kingdoms."

Reyn made a vague sound of acknowledgement. Komali's fingers had found their way back between her thighs, and it was becoming difficult to think straight. "What about the riots in Eastrun a few weeks back, right before the Sanguine Tower was destroyed? Or the canneries burning down in the Isles of Shoto? I thought the Courtesans were behind all that."

"No, we weren't part of the riots or the attack on the palace. Far as I know, we've got no quarrel with the blood runners. It's just Algara propaganda, blaming us because even his own goodfolk are seeing what a tyrant he is. The canneries, though, I hear that was us. I said we mostly do info gathering now. Still do some honest sabotage now and then. Whatever can throw spanners in the clockworks of Althandor's war machine."

Reyn was breathing heavily. She held her head in her hands, on the verge of losing herself to Komali's touch. It became even harder to think when Komali took Reyn's nipple into her mouth.

She'd learned enough from Komali. Enough to have a better idea of the threat the Courtesans could pose to Empress Enfri for the moment and in the future. With the things Krayson learned and passed to Her Majesty through his sendings, Reyn no longer had any doubts.

The Courtesans were now the pawns of demons. Perhaps they had been from the very start. For a shifter raised to despise everything to do with the old masters, there was nothing else that could better guarantee that Reyn would renounce her old loyalties

Distantly, Reyn thought she should feel something more about turning her back on the Courtesans. She'd worked for the cause since she could speak in full sentences. It had been her life for as long as she could remember. Her parents' lives as well, the spirits bless their souls in the Beyond. Old Ham gave everything for the Courtesans, up to and including his life. Reyn tossed it all away and felt nothing.

Because I'm close, she thought. Close to the end. I avenge Ham and it's done.

Reyn had no thoughts for what she would become after she took her vengeance. Whatever it was, it would not be a Courtesan ever again. But those concerns were not for this moment. For now, she needn't think about Dragon Empresses and Highest Kings. Of vampires or royal assassins. Not even about the broken actor she intended to slaughter with her bare hands.

She writhed on the floorboards and put her privacy ward to the test.

oOo

The half hour came and went. Komali had left the room but not before suggesting Reyn pay for more time. She even offered a discount. It was tempting to accept, but Reyn was certain Komali only wanted to coax out some information in return. With a touch like hers, she might have succeeded.

Reyn fastened her belt to secure her leggings, then she bent to pick her shirt off the ground. She didn't put it on just yet and instead reached into the pocket sewn inside the left cuff. She had five Dekaam spikes hidden away there, and Reyn pulled one out before letting her shirt fall back to the floor. She went to the window and threw it open to get some much needed cool air.

A narrow alleyway was beneath her. Empty, save for a pair of lazy cats grooming each other and a mess of urban debris. Reyn scanned the ground level as she placed the point of her spike against her wrist.

She quested through her own imprint and found something out of place but not unexpected. Those scented massage oils Komali used must have been invested. Reyn wasn't familiar with alchemy. Nonetheless, she could deduce some of what the spell was meant to do. A marking spell, to be used to find Reyn at a later time with scries or dousings. The Courtesans meant to keep an eye on her to make sure she didn't take her purchased information to House Algara or the Summit Guard.

Unacceptable. Reyn used the spike to eradicate all traces of the spell from her imprint.

More interesting was that the spell was locked. That could only mean Komali was the alchemist. If she was an arcanist, Komali might have even been this cell's leader. Reyn logged that information away for later use.

She pulled the spike from her wrist and wiped away the blood beading up from her skin. Feeling refreshed, Reyn made to step away from the window when she chanced to look to the building across the alley. A young man crouched on the eaves, perched like a gargoyle, and his face was red as a tomato as he looked right back at her.

Reyn, still bare to the waist, grabbed for anything she might hurl at him. All she could find was the empty brandy jug. "You filthy..."

The jug flew across the alleyway and froze in midair halfway between them.

"I understand I startled you, Mistress Reyn, but I assure you I didn't intend to find you unclothed."

"How long have you been out there?" Reyn demanded.

"A moment, and no more."

If it were anyone other than Joshuan Krayson, Reyn wouldn't have believed it for a second. The more she got to know the blood runner, the more she came to terms with the fact that he had never lied to her. Not once. She couldn't even say that about Pacifica.

"Get in here," Reyn called to him. "The room's mine for another minute or two."

She stepped away from the window and retrieved her shirt. A frown came on as she scanned the floorboards for her chest wrap. Where in the embrace of hellfire had Komali tossed it?

Krayson climbed into the room. He set the brandy jug down on the bed as soon as his feet touched the floorboards. "I apologize for the intrusion."

Reyn flicked her wrist at him, unconcerned. She had no qualms about Krayson getting an eyeful. Somewhere between blood magic stealing bits of his humanity and his personal disinterest towards sexuality, neither Reyn's body or her Voice had much of an effect on him. His red face came more from worry she'd be upset with him over the incident.

Krayson was a small youth, lean and wiry. Reyn could easily see the top of his head without craning her neck. One could almost mistake Krayson as scrawny, but he was more physically fit than he appeared at first glance. He had Althandi eyes with an epicanthic fold-- a half-breed like the empress. However, his other half wasn't Aleesh, but Teulite. His fair skin, chestnut hair, and cleft chin practically screamed that he was from the crimson steppes. He wore his hair longer than the last time she'd seen him two weeks ago. It nearly reached his shoulders now.

The dark red half-robe he wore was a symbol of his Order, but he'd reversed it to show the black lining in the interest of staying inconspicuous. His most noticeable feature was the color of his eyes. Red, but not because he was a vampire. Krayson was human, but he was also a blood mage. The red eyes were the physical evidence that he'd used lifeblood as a reagent in spellcraft.

Reyn bent to look under the bed for her missing undergarment. "You are back early. Her Majesty was not expecting you for another week."

"The Rampart is swifter than any other dragon in Her Majesty's service."

"He changed his mind? The Rampart did not seem willing to swear fealty to Her Majesty."

Krayson made a so-so gesture with his hand. "He's not swearing fealty, but Almo intends to help as long as Saveen's with us. His loyalty's to his daughter, not to Enfri."

"I am certain Her Majesty respects the difference." Reyn stood up after finding no sign of her chest wrap. She turned to find Krayson holding it out for her. "Ah, thank you," she said as she took it. She fit her arms through the straps and turned around. "Would you?"

Krayson fastened it without complaint. "Lady Starra is in the common room below. I was able to scry my way to her, and she sent me to come look for you."

"That woman," Reyn muttered with a grimace. She hadn't thought Starra would track her down, and she didn't much care for the knowing smirk Starra was sure to have on her face. "My apologies, Brother Joshuan, but it appears Lady Starra was having some amusement at your expense." Her brow knitted together as she put on her shirt and did up the buttons. "If she sent you up, why were you outside?"

"The door was locked."

"This is a brothel, Brother Joshuan."

"I was not made aware of that." His face started turning red again.

Reyn almost laughed. She once harbored such anger towards Krayson, but she owed him enough that she'd reconsidered her opinion. For what he did to save Pacifica's life, Reyn could let a few social faux pas slide.

Starra called her untrusting, but Reyn believed she could trust Joshuan Krayson. If anyone on the Continent could understand her, it was him. Not that she'd tell Krayson anything more about herself, of course, and perhaps that didn't quite count as trust, but she found that she didn't mind if he knew all that he did about her. If nothing else, Krayson knew how to keep his mouth shut.

But he did reveal my Courtesan connections to Pacifica, Reyn remembered. Well, as long as it was just to Pacifica, I can let that slide, too.

She wondered if either Krayson or Pacifica could ever understand how large a concession that was for her.

Reyn put on her vest and asked Krayson to hand her the cloak off the peg. He did so and uncovered the amulet glowing softly with etherlight. His red eyes widened as they did each time he saw it. The fractal imprint never failed to impress him.

"Care to try it out?" Reyn asked. She unlocked the privacy ward on the amulet and let the etherlight fade.

Krayson pursed his lips as he picked it up off the peg. "I wouldn't even know where to begin."

"Something simple. Use it to light a Cordek rune to warm the air. A wizard can do that much with runes."

Krayson furrowed his brow and held the amulet out in front of him in his palm. A small sputter of white etherlight flashed inside the lines, but nothing came of it. He made a quiet sound of defeat as he gave the amulet over. "Too complex. I can't isolate the component imprints of individual lines like you can."

Reyn took the praise as a high compliment. Krayson was among the most adept arcanists she'd come across, a master of both wizardry and witchery. He was a rare twinborn able to become two kinds of arcanist, was capable of weaving spells using lost schools of magic, and possessed ether stores even greater than Lord Ban's. It was no stretch of the imagination to call him Empress Enfri's most powerful human arcanist. It pleased Reyn to have earned his regard.

"I am ready to depart," Reyn said once she had the amulet back around her neck.

"What's your next destination?"

"The camp. My errands in Drok Moran are complete. The rest is up to Her Majesty."

Krayson produced a pair of dark-tinted spectacles from his pocket and set them over his eyes. "If it's no inconvenience, I'll accompany you."

"Of course." Reyn unlatched the door to her room and led the way out.

"I haven't spoken to anyone aside from Starra," Krayson said. "She gave me the impression something important is happening tonight."

Reyn looked at a timepiece on the wall as they passed. "Right now, I should say. The sky woman and her paramour are taking a well-deserved night out together."

Krayson nodded. He must have understood there was more to it and that Reyn was simply reluctant to say more where it could be overheard. "There are things I need to discuss with the sky woman."

"Health matters?"

"Of a sort. For a great many people."

Reyn nodded in understanding.

Komali was back on the performance stage. She gave Reyn a smile as she came down the stairs, and Reyn was sure to return it. Secret marking spells or no, Reyn had enjoyed their time together immensely.

Lady Starra couldn't have been easier to find if she conjured firefly lights in her hair. She had half the common room gathered around her. The saloon patrons roared with laughter as she regaled them with some story or another.

"One tankard," Starra said, barely able to get it out past her laughing. "Just one, and he was drunk as an Altieri priest. It fell to me to carry him back to his room, and the bloody dunce kept accusing me of trying to seduce him."

Her audience about fell out of their chairs.

Reyn couldn't fathom why, but Krayson's face was turning red again.

Starra noticed Reyn and Krayson approaching. She adjusted the veil over her eyes and got to her feet. "It pains me to say it, but I fear it's time for me to go."

The announcement was met with shouts of dismay.

"No, dear men, but I really must. Do tip the serving girls well. They've been so good to me."

They resorted to begging. Starra was compelled to remain for no less than three toasts to her health and at least one to her backside. Her adoring fans were only getting rowdier, so Reyn was forced to take drastic action lest the men decide to press the issue further.

She lit a few lines on her amulet to alter the sound of her Voice, disguising it and making it seem as if it came from a few paces off to her right. Reyn also made her Voice enflame any irritation or anger the saloon patrons might possess.

"Stones bless the Highest King, Cathis the Algara!"

The saloon went quiet as a tomb, and even Komali's song was put on hold.

Reyn darkened her sigil, turned sharply at the waist to look behind her, and leveled a finger towards the back of the saloon. "There's the gobshite what said it!"

She hadn't pointed at anyone in particular, but it was enough evidence to cause a few punches to get thrown. Inside five heartbeats, the ground floor of the saloon exploded into a chaotic mess of pounding fists and thrown chairs. Starra's audience leapt into the fray, the axe-nosed barkeep ducked behind his counter, and Komali was shouting for the bouncers to take control of the room. Reyn took the opportunity to grab Starra by the arm and pull her out through the front door. Krayson followed.

Starra shook Reyn's hand off once they were outside. "Reyn, that was..."

"Apologies, my lady."

"...simply the grandest thing I've ever seen you do! And all this time, I thought you were something of a stick in the mud."

Krayson cleared his throat. "It would be wise of us to move on."

Starra turned her head to look up the street. The blaring of whistles from the Summit Guard could be heard over the ruckus inside the saloon. Lantern light from a detachment of constables appeared from around the bend. "Mmm. Yes, Brother Joshuan, I believe you're right."

"We could always claim diplomatic immunity," Krayson suggested wryly.

"That would be pushing our luck to the extreme," Reyn said, guiding Starra towards the mouth of a nearby alleyway. "We should not still be within the city. You have my apologies."

"Don't fret, dear one. I'd never fault you for getting an itch scratched. My only problem is that you didn't think to ask me for help. I'd be more than willing."

Reyn hoped her blushing would be mistaken for indignation. "You could not provide what I came for."

"Am I misinterpreting your reasons for going to that establishment?"

"I was gathering information," Reyn said.

"I suppose that would account for the privacy ward. Not, however, for the mussed hair."

Reyn used every ounce of self-control she had to keep her expression neutral. "There are many ways to procure information."

It bothered her that Starra's eyes shone with admiration. Behind her, she could hear the constables storm into the Dancing Wildcat and demand the brawlers cease their disturbance. Reyn and the others were well out of sight and took several turns through the alleyway in case a constable decided to sweep the area for more miscreants.

Starra bade them all to come to a halt. She patted her hip where there was a slight bulge beneath her skirt. "As for my own objectives, I have what Her Majesty wants. The headmistress claims it's enough to create a month's supply of oren."

Krayson blinked. "That's your reason for being in Drok Moran? Has Her Majesty discovered the formula for the investiture."

"I procured that as well," Starra said. "I daresay the rest of the required reagents will be simple enough to find, so the dear girl shouldn't have to worry over Jin for the near future."

"A success on all fronts, then," Reyn said. She looked down either path through the alley and found no sign of them being followed or watched. "If there is no further reason to stay, we should take our leave."

"Agreed," Krayson said.

Starra stretched her arms out in front of her. "As you will. Just give me a few moments to take a measure of this spot. The better I know it, the easier this'll be. Gather round, and do pay attention, Brother Joshuan. I'd like you to learn how to do this before you leave on another extended errand." Starra raised her hands and began forming somatic gestures. As her fingers wove through the complex motions, her eyes went to Reyn. Her hands fell still. "Are you well, dear one?"

Reyn staggered and put a hand to her forehead. She felt warm. Nauseas and exhausted. It struck her suddenly, coming without warning of any kind. "We must go at once," she panted as her vision blurred. "I... I don't..."

Krayson took her by the arm to steady her. "What's wrong? It looks like ethershock."

Can't be, Reyn thought in a daze. Didn't use enough magic for that.

Starra grabbed Reyn's other arm and put a hand to her cheek. Her red eyes widened with what looked like horror. "Bloody... We must go at once, Brother Joshuan."

"What is it?"

"Use that witch sight of yours. Her ether's being siphoned, and the shock of the drain will kill her if we don't get back to camp immediately."

Krayson hissed through his teeth. "A wilt curse."

Their hold on her was all that kept Reyn from collapsing to the ground.

"So it is," Starra murmured. "Well, if she didn't have us with her, this might've been a bother. Be calm, dear one. You've been targeted by blood magic, but fortunately, you're friends with two blood mages. I'll spike the curse off you as soon as we're home."

Reyn tried to tell her there was no way she could've been cursed. She'd checked her imprint before leaving the saloon. The words wouldn't form on her lips, and everything began to go dark.

Starra held Reyn close and ushered Krayson to her side. "You'll need to hold on to me, Brother Joshuan. This is tricky enough without passengers."

Everything went silent and there came a flash of scalding heat. Starra's teleportation spell sent all three of them away from Drok Moran.