Chapter 7

  “For the record, your name is Adeena Yassin, yes?” said a sharp-faced merfolk woman in a long brown coat with gold trim. She also had some kind of badge with a silver crescent on it, but it didn’t mean much to Adeena.

  Adeena had been dragged out of the train, had a bag put over her head, bundled into some kind of carriage, driven somewhere, taken out, put aboard what she thought was an skyship, moved to some other tier of the city, and finally ended up in some kind of enforcer prison: specifically, an interrogation room with a table, two chairs, and no windows.

  “Yes,” said Adeena tiredly as the merfolk flicked through her slightly bloodied documents.

  “And this says that Ser Samara, a member of the Dragonsworn, signed for your visa?” said the Merfolk, wrinkling her blue nose slightly. “Is that correct.”

  “Yes,” said Adeena. “I’ve said all this before. About three times.”

  “And I am confirming, for the record, what you have already said,” said the merfolk, making a few notes on a document. “Alright, Ms. Yassin. I am Detective Inspector Merissa Goldfinn, and I will conducting this preliminary interview. Perhaps you would care to tell me why you were fighting on a train?”

  “Choice is a not how I would put it,” said Adeena. “She attacked me, I was defending myself.”

  “I have here that you stabbed her in the stomach?” said the ‘Detective Inspector,’ whatever that was.

  "She was a priestess, that wasn’t going to kill her,” said Adeena.

  “And yet she is deceased,” said Goldfinn. “And you are not.”

  “Because she took some kind of poison when I unmasked her, and she realised she wasn’t going to be able to escape,” said Adeena.

  “We are still waiting on the alchemist’s report,” said Goldfinn primly. “Ms. Yassin, why were you armed with a sword? A rather deadly sword, all things considered: a ‘Galdeburgh Vorpal Blade’ – an antique, according to our armourer.”

  “What do you mean?” said Adeena. “I’m an adventurer, that’s my sword – have you found it? I’d like it back.”

  “Did you foresee needing such a deadly weapon in the Seat of the Stars?” asked Goldfinn.

  “I mean, no-”

  “Then why did you have it on you?” pressed Goldfinn.

  “I… what?”

  “Why did you have it on you?” said Goldfinn. “Vorpal blades are weapons of war. The Seat of the Stars is hardly a battlefield.” She pursed her lips. “At least, until you arrived.”

  “I don’t understand… it’s my sword, why would… why would I not have it with me?” said Adeena.

  Adeena couldn’t remember ever going out without her blade. In fact, not having it on her hip or within arms reach made her feel, well, naked. Even as a teenage urchin in Crowncourt, she’d always carried a dagger.

  “Hmm,” said Goldfinn, making a note that, from upside-down, might have been ‘violent.’

  “Look, Gabrielle, the elven priestess, she attacked me,” said Adeena. “I was just trying to stay alive.”

  “Let’s move onto that then. You knew the deceased well?” said Goldfinn. “This ‘Gabrielle?’”

  “Not ‘well,’” said Adeena. “I played a game of cards with her aboard the Brightspark.”

  “The ship that went down yesterperiod?” asked Goldfinn. “I see. And did you hold her responsible for this tragedy?”

  “I didn’t even know she’s survived until I took the mask off,” said Adeena. “And no, it was shot down by Vodyanoy.”

  “And this card game, how would you describe your emotions after it?” said Goldfinn.

  “My… emotions?” said Adeena. “What’s that got to do with anything?”

  “Just answer the question, please,” said Goldfinn.

  “I was… disappointed?” said Adeena. “She only played one round, I was hoping to win more money.”

  “So would you say you held a grudge against her?” said Goldfinn, making another note.

  “For a game of cards? No! Of course not!” said Adeena. “Look, I’m very tired – how long is this going to take?”

  “I’m afraid you are likely to be with us some time, Ms. Yassin,” said Goldfinn thinly. “I do not take kindly to outlanders coming into my city and turning it into a warzone, let alone murdering people on trains.”

  “I’m the victim here!” said Adeena. “I didn’t kill her!”

  “So you say, but you seem remarkably uninjured,” said Goldfinn. “A few scrapes, whereas your opponent is dead.”

  “It isn’t my fault I’m better at fighting than she was,” said Adeena.

  “So you believe that your strength entitles you to take the life of another?” said Goldfinn, making a note. “How barbaric.”

  “What? No! I wasn’t trying to kill her!” said Adeena.

  “You weren’t trying to kill her, but you did?” said Goldfinn.

  “What? No! I didn’t kill her!”

  “And yet, again, she is dead, and you are not,” said Goldfinn, making a final note before standing. “Ms. Yassin, in compliance with the Imperium Criminal Code, section 342, I must inform you that you are being detained pending the results of my investigation. You will be transferred to-”

  The door to their right banged open, and they both looked up to see the tall, heavily armoured, and fantastically groomed form of Ser Samara standing in the frame.

  “Good day, Detective Inspector,” smiled the feyleen woman as she stalked into the room. “Captain Yassin, I am gratified to see you are unharmed.”

  “What are you doing here, Dragonsworn?” said Goldfinn, narrowing her large golden eyes. “This has nothing to do with you.”

  “I am terminating this investigation,” said Ser Samara, handing the woman a folder filled with a few papers. “Captain Yassin, Mr. Xavier, and Ms. Hammerschmidt are to be immediately released and all charges dropped. You will find all the documentation enclosed.”

  “W-what?” spluttered Goldfinn, fumbling with the folder.

  “Heidi? Xavier?” said Adeena. “What have they got to do with this?”

  “You were not the only one who these assassins tried to kill,” said Ser Samara. “An attempt was made on your subordinates’ life as well. Unfortunately for the would-be assassins, Mr. Xavier strangled his assassin with a bath towel, and Ms. Hammerschmidt…” Ser Samara flicked open a folder and glanced down at another document. “‘Encased the deceased in some kind of gelatinous substance which affixed him to a nearby wall, after which the man expired from what appeared to be poison.’ The last I heard, they were still trying to pry the corpse off the masonry.”

  Adeena relaxed. Xavier was fine, Heidi was fine, no one else had been lost.

  “This is- this is outrageous!” said Goldfinn, shaking the documents angrily. “This is a civil matter, that makes it my jurisdiction! You have no right!”

  “I have every right. Your jurisdiction begins, and ends, where I say it does,” said Ser Samara, her eyes flashing for a moment as her affable facade cracked, ever so slightly. “You are to surrender all documents and evidence gathered to my squires before the end of the period, including the remains of the dead, cease all investigations into this matter, and not to discuss the contents of the case with anyone. Failure to comply would be… inadvisable.”

  “I- I will lodge an offical protest with your order!” said Goldfinn.

  “I will not stop you filling my waste paper basket,” said Ser Samara, smiling widely. “Now, please, remove the good Captain’s restraints.”

  Goldfinn glared as she stood and fumbled with keys for a moment before finding the right one and opening Adeena’s manacles with a click. Adeena stood up and rubbed her wrists, following the Dragonsworn out into the corridor.

  “Thanks,” said Adeena.

  “My pleasure, Captain,” said the terrifyingly unaccountable woman. “I am having your company’s affects moved to my chapter’s stronghold on the eleventh tier until we can resolve this matter. It will not be quite as comfortable as the Azure Pavillion, but any assassins will find it much harder to target you there.”

  “Oh, um, thank-you,” said Adeena. “Do you… do you know why I was attacked?”

  “I have a theory,” said the Dragonsworn. “But we can discuss it, and any possible next steps after you have rested. Once again, you look like you need it.”

  Adeena couldn’t argue with that, and fell silent as they made their way out into the foyer of the building, where Xavier and Heidi was waiting next to a human man dressed in a red tabard with the same sigil that Ser Samara wore. He had a sword at his hip, and saluted Ser Samara as she emerged.

  “Oh, Captain, there you are!” said the clearly upset Heidi. “Captain, someone- someone tried to kill me! And I stopped him, but then- then he poisoned himself! And then these people said I killed him, but the goo-generator isn’t lethal, and I made sure not to cover his face, and-”

  “It’s all right, Private, you did well,” said Adeena, patting the gnome on the shoulder. “It’s over now. We’ll be safe in the Dragonsworn’s fortress.”

  Which is not something she would have ever thought she’d hear herself saying.

  ***

  The Dragonsworn’s fortress was considerably less comfortable than the Blue Pavillion, but still cleaner than most of the inns she and Xavier were used to. They had a room with four hard bunkbeds, shared a bathroom with the rest of the floor, and could get bland meals in the large cafeteria. It didn’t seem to be because the order lacked resources, rather, it was on purpose – austerity and hardship was a time-honoured tactic for fostering psychopathy in militaries across the world.

  The complex was the headquarters Ser Samara’s Chapter, which itself was a division within the Order of the Dragonsworn, and housed hundreds of aspirants who were attempting to complete the preliminary trials in order to join the order. As far as Adeena could tell, it involved a brutal regime of training and study, and aspirants dying wasn’t particularly uncommon.

  Of the thousands who wished to undergo the trials, only one or two might actually pass every twenty or so cycles. According to Luca, Ser Samara’s squire, what they were primarily looking for, in addition to mastery with weapons, was fearlessness, intelligence, cunning, and guile. Even those who passed had to sufficiently impress whichever member they were assigned to squire for – often by being throw into progressively more dangerous life-threatening situations in order to see how they reacted, until, finally, they were given some kind of ‘loyalty test’ that Adeena elected not to ask about too closely.

  It was all brutal, and deeply unsettling, and only served to highlight that no matter how friendly Ser Samara might act with her, she was a ruthless and vicious woman. Adeena might be on her ‘good-side’ for the moment, but she knew that was because she was useful to her, and for no other reason.

  No more assassins came for them, however, and Ser Samara called for her the next period to share a first meal in the second shift in her apartments in the compound.

  Like the rest of the fortress, it was spartan, with grey tiled floors and white washed walls. The only concession to aesthetics a view of a birch tree in the courtyard outside the window and the heads of several highly deadly monsters that had been stuffed and mounted on the walls – a manticore, a wyvern, the beak of a kraken, and the pelt of a rune bear (all of which, presumably, Ser Samara had killed at some point); along with various battered weapons that looked to be trophies taken from battles.

  It was the first time that Adeena had seen the feyleen woman out of her armour, and was instead dressed in simple red robes – although a sword remained at her belt, even in her apartment, and her claymore was laying on one end of the table, freshly oiled and gleaming.

  “Please, have a seat Captain,” she said, gesturing to the chair opposite her at the end of the table laden with a simple meal of rice, grilled white-fish, and green tea. Her hostess served her a bowl, sliding it across to her before serving herself. “I thought it time we spoke at length.”

  “Have you found out why Gabrielle wanted to kill me?” asked Adeena. “Why the others tried to kill Xavier and Heidi?”

  “As I said yesterperiod,” she said. “I have a theory. But first I believe I should explain something of the upcoming expedition, to put things in context.”

  “Please,” said Adeena, taking a bite of the fish. It was simple, and seasoned only with salt and some pepper, but decently cooked and very fresh. They must have raised it in the agricultural tiers.

  “My Lady has a deep interest in the Wyrd,” said Ser Samara. “In particular, how it began, and if it might be mended.”

  “Mended?” said Adeena. “Is that possible?”

  “She believes so,” said Ser Samara. “And I am not one to question the wisdom of dragons.”

  Right. Fanatic. She’d probably agree the sky was green if a dragon said it was.

  “The Imperium has recently created a new generation of airships, capable of travelling significantly faster, and thus further into the Wyrd than previous models,” said Ser Samara. “I understand that you survived the Wyrdcoming?”

  “Yes,” nodded Adeena. “I was in C’mar when the first refugees started arriving. A had my own ship back then. Most people didn’t believe the rumours, but I had a bad feeling. Packed my hold with as many refugees as we could manage and headed for Althaea.”

  “So I do not need to tell you that it came from somewhere in the south west of the continent, and worked its way outwards,” said Ser Samara.

  Adeena nodded.

  “As you probably know then, there have been many attempts to calculate the source of the wave,” said Ser Samara. “But no expedition, even via airship, has managed to penetrate further south than Elfwater.”

  Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

  Adeena nodded again. Most expeditions stuck to the coastal cities, where they could have a safe place to retreat to between forays into the dimensionally shattered mainland. Airships, as far as she understood, could also fly high enough to avoid the effects, but they, like ships, always had to return to safe harbour before the Long Nights. Nothing survived the blizzards out in the open.

  “Using the newer generation of faster airships, Lady Aeviexistrixia means to try and locate the source of the Wyrd,” said Ser Samara.

  “How much faster are we walking?”

  “At sustained speed, the new generation can travel roughly ten times that of past designs,” said Ser Samara. “It uses ‘afterburners’ powered by fire elementals, rather than just wind for propulsion.”

  Adeena did a few quick mental calculations. “You could reach the borderlands and return safely at those speeds,” she said. “Although it would be pretty tight.”

  Assuming that the Wyrd didn’t begin in the desert wastes, there was actually a chance the expedition could reach such a hypothetical centre-point then.

  “Just so,” nodded Ser Samara.

  “That’s great, but… I don’t see why this means people are trying to kill me,” said Adeena.

  “This venture is considered reckless by many dragons, as I believe I said,” continued Ser Samara. “They take the long view. After all, why do something potentially dangerous with unproven magitek when you could just wait an epic-cycle or two for the design to be perfected? In fact, why bother even with that: the Imperium is stable, the Wyrd is presently contained, and even then, they have contingencies in the event of a spread.”

  “But Lady… Aevie…”

  “Aeviexistrixia,” said Ser Samara.

  “Right, she disagrees?”

  “She is young, and young dragons do not take the long view,” said Ser Samara. “She wants to know how the Wyrd started, and is not willing to wait.”

  “Hence why this is a ‘private’ expedition, OK I think I get it,” said Adeena. “Right. So?”

  “So, I have had to hire private mercenaries to serve as teams to explore the ruins of the old world,” said Ser Samara. “Or, rather, I have done so because I do not trust the woman whose responsibility it is.”

  Adeena frowned. “Who?”

  “Melicende vass K’lavier, Lady Aeviexistrixia’s seneschal,” said Ser Samara. “While I am incharge of her security, she handles much of the Lady’s day to day affairs.”

  Adeena frowned. That name was familiar, from a long, long time ago, before the Calamity…

  “Hold on, Princess Melicende?” said Adeena. “She joined the Imperium? I thought most nobles got purged?”

  Ser Samara smiled toothily. “Most did,” she said. “But the Imperium is not wasteful, and those that proved themselves loyal and useful were spared. She, in particular, demonstrated her loyalty by killing her brother, the erstwhile King of K’lavier.”

  “She- she killed her own brother!?” said Adeena.

  “Oh yes,” said Ser Samara. “He wished to to try and storm the Wardline, refuse the dragons demands. She knew that that was futile, and that her people would only survive by submitting themselves. Many call her the ‘Once-Queen,’ and ‘Kinslayer,’ although few to her face.”

  “OK… again, what has this got to do with me?” said Adeena. “Don’t you both work for Lady Aeviexistrixia? Why would she want me dead?”

  “As you may know, she was then, and still is, the High Priestess of Lassia,” said Ser Samara. “The Goddess’ Chosen.”

  Adeena narrowed her eyes. “Ah,” she said. That explained the connection, at least, although not the motive.

  “Ah, indeed,” said Ser Samara, sitting forward. “You may also be interested to learn that you are the third company I have hired, Captain. The first two perished under… suspicious circumstances: the first, a Kraken attack in the shallows off Everhearth – what should have been safe waters; the second turned up dead, an apparent robbery gone wrong, on the streets of Everhearth – a rare occurrence to be sure.

  “Still, once is bad luck; twice is coincidence. It is in thrice that one must suspect conspiracy,” said Ser Samara. “At first I thought the Brightspark’s and the Cloudskimmer’s destruction a case of exceedingly bad luck. But then you told me there were a company of Lassian priests aboard the Brightspark, and suddenly the Vodyanoy laboratory’s unserendipitous ‘containment failure’ made sense. It was deliberate, and the precise timing was managed by having agents aboard the airship. I am sure.”

  “If you knew that, why not tell me?” snapped Adeena. “Heidi could have been killed!”

  Ser Samara licked her nose. “I was not certain,” she said.

  “You still could have warned us!” said Adeena angrily.

  “I judged, given your reputation, and that you had survived half a dozen Vodyanoy, you would survive any potential attempt on your life,” she said. “A calculated risk.”

  “Heidi is a new recruit,” said Adeena. “I do not appreciate having my people put in harms way without my knowledge, Dragonsworn.”

  Ser Samara’s ear flicked. “I could not tip my hand. Not until I was certain.”

  “And are you certain now?” scoffed Adeena.

  “Yes,” said Ser Samara. “Now it is proof I require. Fear not, Captain, you will be paid for your additional services.”

  Adeena glowered at her.

  “As you will for the next section of my plan,” said Sera Samara, raising her tea-cup and lapping at it with her bright pink tongue.

  “I have no intention of helping you again,” said Adeena, standing up. “This contract is void.”

  “Before you make that decision, hear me out,” said Ser Samara.

  “I don’t see why I should,” said Adeena.

  “As I said, you will be handsomely remunerated – four hundred Horns for the assassination attempts, another four hundred for this next part.”

  Adeena flexed her jaw. That was a lot of money. More than the upfront payment for the expedition, although the real money there would come from any recovered items or artefacts.

  “I’m listening,” she said, sitting back down.

  “Excellent,” said Ser Samara. “As I said, I could not act before the assassination attempts to protect you. Melicende would have realised I knew of her plot if I had immediately removed you from the public, and the chance of catching her would have closed.”

  “But she surely knows now?” said Adeena, rubbing her forehead. Cloak and dagger gave her a headache. “That you know, I mean. You quashed the investigation, released us.”

  “Indeed, but those actions make sense after your three simultaneous failed assassinations. That coupled with my subsequent public actions would point to the fact that I have no idea who was behind it,” said Ser Samara. “An idea I have taken pains to reinforce by sending my agents on a series of futile and very noisy fact-finding missions totally unrelated to the Lassian Church, and by making several angry and destructive outbursts in public. Melicende underestimates me. Thinks me a brute with a sword. She always has. That will be her undoing.”

  Adeena decided not to ask what a ‘very noisy fact-finding mission’ and ‘angry and destructive outbursts’ entailed.

  “None of that explain why Princ- Melicende wants me dead,” said Adeena. “Surely it doesn’t really matter if a company works for you, not her – you both work for the same dragon.”

  “You should be right – at worst, it would merely be a matter of losing face and standing with our Lady, certainly not worth organising assassinations, let alone the destruction of two Imperium airships and the deaths hundreds of citizens,” said Ser Samara, her eyes flashing. “Which means she is up to something. I do not, and have never trusted her. Anyone who would turn on those they had pledged themselves to cannot be trusted. It was her duty to die in the flames next to her brother, and she forsook that. I mean, with your help, to discover what she is up to, and finally cleave her traitorous head from her shoulders.”

  Adeena drummed her fingers on the table. “That isn’t what I signed up for,” she said. “I signed up for an expedition into the Wyrd, not as a foot-soldier for Imperium politics.”

  “And if that is your decision, I will respect it,” said Ser Samara. “But Melicende, and her ‘mercenary companies’ are coming on the expedition with us, and there will be plenty of opportunity for her to kill you without witnesses in the wilds of the Wyrd.”

  “Not if I leave, void the contract,” said Adeena. “I have ample grounds.”

  Although she suspected that Ser Samara didn’t give a hoot about what the contract said, Adeena had a few tricks up her sleeve there.

  “You could,” said Ser Samara. “And I would not punish you. However, I would withdraw my protections, and there is no guarantee that Melicende would believe that you really were not still working for me. She might kill you just to be thorough. Likely would, in fact.”

  “So, what you’re saying, is that I don’t have a choice?” said Adeena.

  “You have several choices,” said Ser Samara. “Although working with me is, from my viewpoint at least, your best option.”

  Adeena sipped at her tea. “What’s your plan then?”

  Ser Samara smiled and popped a piece of fish into her mouth, chewing it for a moment before continuing. “Melicende’s power base is twofold,” she said. “On one paw, she is amongst the most senior of bureaucrats. Before serving my Lady, she served as head attache to Lady Aurelistraxia, ambassador to Althaea, a position of immense influence. She has strong connections in offices all across the Imperium, and served on several important committees.”

  “Did she do something wrong? Get demoted?” asked Adeena.

  Ser Samara cocked her head, for a moment was visibly confused. “Ah, you do not understand,” she said. “No. When a new dragon is born, a rare and joyous occurrence, they are assigned the most loyal and qualified of servants to manage their affairs. There is no higher honour than to be named a member of their staff. We have both served Lady Aeviexistrixia since she was a babbling hatchling.” Ser Samara smiled wistfully. “She used to call me ‘Auntie Sammy;’ ride upon my shoulders before she could fly, eat fish from my paws…”

  The image of that, of this hard and brutal woman being… tender was too weird for Adeena to really comprehend.

  “So you’re… head Dragonsworn?” asked Adeena.

  “No. I lead this Chapter, and sit on the executive council of the Order,” said Ser Samara. “We have no single leader – we answer to the Draconic Council,” She shook her head, making her impressive mane of hair swish and bounce. “Regardless, as I was saying,” said Ser Samara. “Melicende’s secondary base of power comes from the fact that she is head of one of the largest Churches in the known world, the Prime Chosen of Lassia.”

  “It is through the latter that she has coordinated the attempts on your life, and the life of Mr. Xavier and Ms. Hammerschmidt,” said Ser Samara. “For my part, I have pinpointed who her main contact in this matter is: one Father Jacques, who leads the largest temple of Lassia in the city, located on the eighth tier.”

  “In three hours, a letter will be delivered to you via normal channels,” she said. “It will claim that your missing team-member, Mr. Grimstar, was retrieved, and is receiving treatment in the Church.”

  “Is that… believable?” said Adeena.

  “Faithful recovering in a temple is not particularly unusual,” said Ser Samara. “It will fool the acolytes, although the senior priest, Father Jacques, will certainly not believe you. He will assume, correctly, that is a pretext, and that you are there for revenge. He will try to kill you. The letter will get you through the door, and in case Melicende has agents watching the mail system, will distract her at a critical moment. A strange letter addressed to you from her own church? She will be looking for a traitor, and assume you are acting without my ‘bumbing’ direction.”

  She snickered with laughter, before sobering.

  “But let me make one instruction very clear,” she said. “You are not to attack first, under any circumstance. I am not sending you there to assassinate Father Jacques, in fact, I need him alive. I am sending you there to prove his treachery. In the event I am wrong, in the event that he does not attack you, you are to return here – is that understood?”

  “I mean… yes, but why?” said Adeena.

  “Because I cannot, and will not lie to My Lady,” she said. “You need to be able to testify, under Dragonspeech, that you did not go there to kill him. And that I acted only after he revealed his treachery.”

  “OK…I’m not loving this plan so far,” said Adeena. “And why don’t you just arrest this ‘Father Jacques’ now? You seem certain, and Dragonspeech could force him to confess without all this song and dance.”

  Ser Samara clicked her teeth. “You are correct, I have ample evidence of Father Jacques treachery, but it is in the form of documents, reports, and a constructed argument. Melicende underestimates me, but I do not underestimate her, she is an immensely skilled politician. In the event that I attempt to present a detailed account to my Lady, I have no doubt that she would succeed in making me appear nothing more than a paranoid fool,” said Ser Samara. “My Lady is brilliant, as all dragons are, but she is young, and quickly grows bored with things that do not interest her which, at present, is magic and the Wyrd; not politics, and not intrigue. She would have no patience to sift through documents and evidence, listen to testimony and hear Melicende and I argue it out. I have, at most, a few minutes to present my case, and present it convincingly. That is why I need dramatic, prima faci evidence in the form of you and a man who has just tried to kill you right in front of her.”

  “A less charitably person might suggest that having a child as ultimate arbiter was not a particularly good system,” said Adeena dryly.

  Ser Samara’s ears flattered against her skull. “Watch yourself, Captain,” she said in a low, deadly voice. “I like you, but I will broker no slander against my Lady.”

  “Alright,” said Adeena, kicking herself for not holding her tongue and moving on. “So he tries to kill us, then you swoop in and arrest him? Then what?”

  “Then,” said Ser Samara, her tail flicking behind her in excitement. “I drag him before my Lady, who will rip the truth of the conspiracy from him with Dragonspeech, implicating Melicende and revealing the truth of things. With any luck, my Lady will permit me to cut that rats’ head from her body myself. It will likely delay our departure by a cycle while a new seneschal is found and the Lassian church is purged, but you will be compensated handsomely – the Lady may even grant you a boon herself.”

  Purged. Ser Samara said it so casually, but Adeena knew what it would entail. The Chuch of Samash had been purged following the Razing of Chace, for their Gods’ attempt to wage war against the Imperium. The propaganda was that its adherents had been given the chance to repudiate their God and been ‘reeducated,’ but Adeena knew that scores upon scores had died.

  Could she be responsible for such a massacre? Sure, this Melicende was trying to kill her, but there were plenty of acolytes and priests of Lassia who had nothing to do with this plot.

  On the other hand, if she didn’t do this, Heidi and Xavier may well die – either on the expedition, or trying to leave the Seat of the Stars. They were her responsibility, they put their trust in her-

  Adeena rubbed her forehead.

  No. It didn’t feel right. Getting innocents killed went against everything she believed in. Looking after her people was important, but it didn’t mean she betrayed her conscience. She was done doing that.

  “I want an assurance,” said Adeena.

  “Hmm?” said Ser Samara.

  “This ‘purge’ of the church,” she said. “If it happens, I want all steps to be taken to preserve life.”

  “Naturally,” purred Ser Samara. “The Imperium treasures life-”

  “No, I mean it,” said Adeena sharply. “Those who refuse to repudiate Lassia – give them the chance to leave the Imperium: exile, not execution. You’re the de facto head of the Dragonsworn or whatever, that must be within your power.”

  Ser Samara clicked her claws on the table.

  “That is my condition,” said Adeena, crossing her arms. “I cannot accept your mission otherwise, my Oath compels me.”

  Ser Samara’s claws ceased their clicking.

  “Very well, Captain,” she said, placing a hand over her heart. “I swear, one Oathsworn to another, that I will use all means available to me to ensure that those who refuse to repudiate Lassia will be exiled, not executed – provided they were not directly involved in the plot.”

  Although it was not a mystically binding promise, Ser Samara was no Grimalkin, Adeena could tell that those words held weight for her.

  “I should warn you, however,” continued Ser Samara, lowering her hand. “That if the Draconic Council ordered a their deaths, then there would be nothing I could do. But, provided the Order is given discretional oversight in such a matter, as we often are, then I am confident that I will be able to commute their sentences to exile. Does that satisfy you?”

  Adeena relaxed fractionally. That was the best she could ask for, she supposed. Although she couldn’t be entirely sure that Ser Samara wasn’t simply lying for the sake of expedience – she seemed both supremely direct and incredibly devious. It was a strange combination, and perhaps purposefully designed to throw those around her off balance.

  “Alright then, I’ll take the job,” she said.

  “Excellent,” said Ser Samara, putting another sliver of fish into her mouth. “The specifics are quite simple – I will be positioned nearby with a detachment of my fellows. I will give you a recording and signalling device, the later part you can activate when, or should we say, if they attack. You need only hold a few moments, then we will be there.”

  “Alright,” said Adeena. That was fairly simple, and with a squadron of Dragonsworn backing her up, she was far less concerned about walking straight into an ambush.

  “Marvellous,” said Ser Samara, topping up Adeena’s tea. “Now, since you have brought it up, I would love to hear more about your Oath while we finish our meal.”

  "My Oath?” said Adeena.

  “Indeed,” said Ser Samara. “Collecting and cataloguing Oaths is a personal interest of mine. To which God are you sworn? I presume not Lassia!” She snickered with laughter.

  “My Oath is to myself,” said Adeena. “And… I do not share the contents of it.”

  “Really, a Free Oath?” said Ser Samara, seemingly not put out by her reticence. “Remarkable, you are by far the most powerful Free Oathsworn I have ever heard of. You crossed blades with me, and to this day I am unsure if I would have bested you. If I recall true, I had the strength, you had the speed and, I am not ashamed to admit, the skill.”

  “My powers are… not what they once were,” said Adeena.

  “I surmised, since you had so much trouble with the Lassian assassin,” said Ser Samara. “But still, that is the nature of the Free Oath, and it does not diminish the heights you once reached. It is only a shame I cannot not spar with you at your strongest; I would relish testing my mettle. Still, I imagine you have much to teach me about swordplay.”

  It felt exceedingly strange to be complemented in such a manner by a woman who had once tried so very hard to kill her. “Perhaps,” said Adeena.

  “It must be an Ideal,” said Ser Samara after a moment, tapping her chopsticks on her bowl as she thought. “’Compassion,’ or ‘freedom,’ perhaps? Either strikes me as fitting for you.”

  Adeena shrugged. Even Xavier didn’t know the exact contents of her Oath, she wasn’t going to tell this woman she was pretty close. Damn, she was sharp.

  “And how does your power manifest?” she said. “I remember speed, strength, shields and some kind of invisible magic – projections of force?”

  All magic required a focus to wield. That was the fundamental precept of magic. But a secondary one was that the nature of the focus always affected the magic produced. It was why druidic magic was so different from sorcery, why lyrical magic was different to arteficing. Oaths were no different: all Oathsworn had commonalities, but there were also particulars that came from the nature of the Oath. Those sworn to Gods usually shared a handful of ‘thematic abilities’ with their God’s domain, while the Dragonsworn wielded lightning, fire, cold, darkness, or starlight – the five alignments matching to the different ‘types’ of dragons: steel, gold, bronze, brass, and silver, respectively.

  Free Oaths were wildly varied, and there was little understanding as to why they manifested the way they did. Adeena was, or had been, pretty lucky with hers – powerful and flexible in combat; a lot better than the Oathsworn she had met whose only additional ability was the power to talk to fish.

  Mind you, that Oathsworn had been Grimalkin, which in itself was weird, and she had been very chuffed with her power.

  “Yes, telekinesis,” said Adeena. “I also have- or had, other psionic abilities: sensing people nearby, and some limited precognition – normally only a few seconds, and impressions, not details. It was mostly useful in combat – dodging arrows, predicting movements, that kind of thing. I… had a burst of it when Gabrielle attacked, but it’s not like it was.”

  “Ah!” said Ser Samara. “That is why you seemed always one step ahead in our duel. It was most vexing. A shame the details of your Oath are almost certainly incompatible with fundamentals of the Dragon Oath, or your powers would be an invaluable addition to future members of the Order.”

  Adeena suppressed a grimace at the idea of Dragonsworn being even more lethal.

  They continued to chat lightly as they finished their meal, and by the time they were done Adeena had almost forgotten she was sharing rice with a psychopathic dragon-worshipping zealot. Ser Samara was witty and charming, and Adeena realised after a while that she was attracted to her. She left the meal feeling very confused, and more than a little disgusted with herself.

  A.N. As always, my is two chapters ahead.

  Mishka the Great and Powerful' which is available to read as a free member. Future parts will also be free, but with chapters available two weeks ahead for supporters. I do plan on putting it up here on Royal Road, but I need to sort out getting some cover art for it first.