Session 31: Being Interrupted, Tylvim, Wasting Cool Line and Looking like Idiot, Sassafrass’s Timing, My New Nemesis, Snooty Tailor Shops, Weakness, Useless Sendings, Surprises That Have Last Name Senenova

Written by madigailfarm

General Summary

“So they are at this ball, it is, what do you call it? One where everyone is wearing the masks?”
“It is masquerade,” Grandfather says, his voice flat.
“Right, so they are at masquerade and Babblebell has been captured by Count Feddleneddle, and he has her up in his room in tower…”
“I don’t understand why Venssa didn’t just kill Count Feddleneddle the last time she rescued Babblebell” Ingoria says, annoyed.
“Because. I am telling you Ingoria, Venssa has sworn only to kill Count with blade he used to murder her beloved dog. But sword has been hidden away in cavern on island that does not exist, guarded by ghost of enormous sea dragon. She has to break her crew out of Fangroth Prison and steal map from lost centaur monastery before she can even try to get sword!”
“It would be a lot easier if she just used the sword she got from the genie in the last book!”
“It is not about easy thing, Cat! It is…”
From down hall, there is loud commotion, then sound of door being kicked in, and scream of pain and horror. Boots go running by, then someone yells, “Bloody hell! Bartley is dead! They…they took his heart!” followed quickly by sound of puking.
“I will tell you rest later!” I shout, jumping down from top bunk.
“I cannot wait,” Grandfather mutters, as slowly he stands up next to me.
Ingoria appears from nothing right in front of cell door, and whips out lockpicks (yes, yes, she could have been doing this whole time, but we were playing nice with Lightkeepers, ok?). She opens door with quickness, then glances down hall and hisses.
I step out of cell and look in same direction, back toward Bartley’s office. There is dead guard with throat cut, and over her are, of course, standing couple of fucking Unseen assholes. I try throwing at them the Chill Touch. (Yes, I know it is crap little spell, but I blew a lot of my magics when I was sending all those pointless messages to guy who is now laying on floor with big hole in his chest.) Does not matter anyway; it does not hit them.
“They’re out of their cells!” one of Unseen guys yells. Then he runs toward us waving his hands around. I recognize shape of gesture and sigh as Darkness is once again gathered all around us. You know I hated almost everyone when I was student at Academy, and opinion of them is not being improved by having to deal with their ninja bullshit constantly.
From end of hall, I hear Tylvim’s voice. “Kill them. Kill everyone,” she says. “I’m going downstairs to deal with the gnome.”
The gnome? GG?! Oh, fuck that!
Grandfather takes off, and I can hear him turn corner in front of us, heading toward where is stairs. I follow him, dragging hand along wall to keep from overshooting. There is at least one asshole hiding here in darkness with us, I know, but I do not have time to stop and play games with some henchman, so I keep running even when I feel sword slice into my side.
“Asshole!” I hiss and keep going.
Only good thing about Darkness spell is, it does not cover too large of area. I pop out after another few steps and see stairway in front of me. Grandfather is charging down it, fast as he can go. I follow him, not taking time to be cautious as I run across open hallway. I make it to stairwell and think maybe I got lucky, when I hear voice, almost right in my ear.
“Goodnight, sweetie,” Tylvim whispers, and I feel a blade sink into my back. Goddammit!
Darkness. Then light.
I do not think more than couple of seconds have passed before I open my eyes again. Grandfather is crouched down beside me, his hand pressed to my cheek. I can feel heat of healing magics still, in place where we touch.
“I will kill this bitch,” he growls before whipping around and continuing to run down stairs.
It takes me moment to shake off effects of spell, and I stumble little bit as I get up and run after him. At bottom of stairs, I see Grandfather and three guards gathered to stop Tylvim. I cannot see her, but I can hear her muttering from center of room, so I am guessing she has cast invisibility on herself. I also recognize words she is saying – it is Hold Person spell! Knowing this, I am able to brace myself against its effects, but Grandfather, he is frozen in place.
I push past him and into cellblock, where I see Tylvim, now visible after casting spell, standing outside cell which must be GG’s. She flings some kind of magical attack out at him, but I can hear him cast Shield. I take moment to bring into being my shadowy weapon and send it to strike her, and send also Chill Touch at her again, but neither one is so much as messing up her hair!
I miss my stick.
GG throws whole bunch of Magic Missiles at Tylvim and she staggers back under force of them. Behind me I hear Grandfather growl as her hold on him drops. She flicks her wrist, and light from three glowing gems on her bracer catches my eye. Two of them go out, then she whips out her hand, sending more attacks at GG. He shields again, but this time he is not so successful in blocking them. His eyes meet mine over her shoulder and widen. He bamphs out of cell to be standing next to me (really Lightkeepers need to rethink incarceration procedures) and looks up all wild-eyed and crazy.
“Alyona! What the fuck is going on?”
I don’t have time to answer him; I am too busy trying to hit her with shadows and spells, and again I fail! Fuck this shit. I run right up to where she is standing and give her Death Touch instead.
She screams. Ha! Fucking finally! That worked so well, I go ahead and do it again, and this time she screeches even louder!
She is pretty fucked up now, which, in my opinion, is really good look on her. “Goodnight sweetie,” I say to her with smirk. Her hands are lifted to cast spell – it looks like one to escape from room – but when she hears these words she snarls at me and changes motion, whipping very different spell right into my face. And then… I am unconscious. Again.
Shit, why am I never learning? You must give snappy one-liner before you hit them with big whammy, not afterwards when they are still standing, glaring at you. I would be so embarrassed if I was not right now laying on floor with eyes closed, bleeding from both ears, twitching.
And that is it. When I wake up, it is with useless Lightkeeper guard standing over me, and I can taste healing potion in my mouth. Fuck, they always taste like ass and defeat. I sit up slowly, and look around. There are few guards in room with me, but I can hear voices of others, in cell further down hallway. Everyone is here now, even Baermek and Skreek.
One of guards calls upstairs for someone named Witherspoon. Beat up little halfling comes creeping down, looking around him with eyes that are little bit wild. I remember seeing him before; he is – was – one of Bartley’s guys. He walks past where I am still sitting on ground, and over to cell where is everyone else. I sigh. Guess I should be finding out what happened while I was out.
It is big surprise to see Tylvim is still alive – we are not usually about this kind of restraint! Guards are in process of stripping her down. Clothes she was wearing turn out to be magical armor that can make you look like you are wearing anything you want. And when they try to remove strange, magical bracer she is wearing, it does not slide off easily, but resists as it is pulled away from her flesh, leaving her arm bloody. Once disarmed, they throw her in different cell, this one with glyphs on floor to keep her from using any magic.
Everyone else is standing in middle of cell block, studying Tylvim and talking quietly, except Grandfather. He remains in cell where she was captured. I walk over to him to see what is so very interesting about empty cell.
Kneeling in one corner, he studies floor intently, before reaching down to pick up tiny shards of glass that look like maybe they are remains of potion vial. Carefully, he is placing them in his handkerchief, before he stands back up. Sifting through pieces, he picks up each one to examine it closely, before finally, he seems to find what he is looking for.
“Orichalcum,” he says quietly, looking over at me.
“Orichalcum? Like what Aleorman…” I grimace.
“Yes, although this was a potion, not a powder like that which he mixed into the svetit’sya he gave you. Tylvim swallowed this right before we knocked her out. I have no idea what effect it was providing to her. If we could just get our hands on some more of this…”
He wraps up pieces, tucking handkerchief away in one of many pockets he has in coat. Crossing to pile on floor of Tylvim’s belongings, he reaches down and picks up strange bracer. Looking over it, he says it looks like it is maybe magical storage system for potions – you drink potion before you go into fight, but hold on to magic until you need it, then flick your wrist to activate it. Two of gems on it are same color as traces of orichalcum Grandfather found on broken glass.
What are they doing with this shit? Is it new magic…or old? And how is it connected to Shadow Knights or Nightshades or whatever they want to call themselves?

*****

As we are walking back to our apartments at Lightkeepers, Baermek shows us letter he received right before everything went down with Tylvim.
My Darlings,
It was so lovely to hear that you’re back. It’s been so long, and these are such trying times – I was beginning to wonder if your Shadowy friends hadn’t finally caught up to you. Well, it’s a good thing they haven't, darlings, and a better thing that I have.
I’m sure no reminder is necessary, but, as you most assuredly have surmised, I will be expecting you all to show up for your previously agreed-upon appointments at “The Hound’s Tooth” tomorrow at Second Bell.
At bottom is wax seal that looks like gambling chip with big paddle boat wheel on it. We all look at each other, and sigh. Sassafras really could have picked better time for this bullshit. But, when does anyone ever think about what might be convenient time for us? Never, that is when.
And, of course, deal is deal – we will go to this Hound’s Tooth tomorrow and find out how we are clearing this debt. Nobody wants to know what it is Lady Sassafrass will do to us if we do not go.
“Information, Sass,” I say. She raises eyebrow slightly and nods, unsurprised. “I need to know everything you can tell me about Aleorman, his plans, what your arrangement was. You know… ummmm… everything.”
She chuckles. “Well now, Sugar, the whiskey I’ll give ya, but the rest ain’t free.” I shrug. I did not expect it would be. “It’s a real shame now, what that bastard did to your back, and I surely do appreciate you getting him offa mine, but business is business.” She gives me look that is, all of sudden, very serious. “I can tell you what I know, but you’ll owe me…” She leans in to whisper in my ear. “Alyona Belov of the Unseen and Unheard, daughter of Tebard Nobikov and Natalya Belov, granddaughter of the Grey Ghost.”
She pulls back and smiles, but it is not seductive smile of before, and it does not touch her eyes. “The debt will be yours, and yours alone.”
God only knows what is thing Sass will want us to do. Trip to tailor is cause for concern – nothing good comes from fancy dress-up. Whatever job is, it will be so dangerous, and stupid, and probably Grandfather and Skreek will die. But I am caring less about that, than I do personal marker to her. It would be stupid of me to think Sass has not already heard about little career change I have made so recently. So, question is, how will she use me now? I cannot do the infiltration, I am no longer spy. I cannot even fight like once I did. I mean, magic is amazing thing, yes, but inconspicuous it is not. I am no longer killer who hides in shadows. I am… something else.
It is is one thing to pledge skills that only were mine to do with what I want, but now Boggie will have to answer when she calls, and this thought makes me… nervous. What if he doesn’t answer?
What if he does?

*****

Food, bath, trance, and suddenly all is right with world.
Trip to Hound’s Tooth is not until after lunchtime, so we have quiet morning to ourselves. What should I do with quiet morning? I do not know what it is everyone else is doing, but after maybe 30 minutes, I am bored already with all this peacefulness. So, I go to bug GG. But he is big important guy now, with many, many things he must be doing, and he shoos me away. He actually does shoo shoo with his hand! Shoo shoo!!
It is sad, sad thing when love grows cold.
Ok, so I go to library, instead. Yes! To library! I am looking for next book of pirate gnome series, but right away I discover that someone else has checked out not just this one, but two ones after that!
This is outrage!!
I go up to librarian desk to demand who it is that is hogging for themselves all of these books. Librarian will not tell me, says everyone is entitled to privacy. What is she talking about? No they are not!
I perch on corner of her desk, give her best crazy eyes, and lean into accent hard. “You are knowing who I am, right?” I pick up little stone statue that is of some old gnome’s scowling head, and toss it lightly in my hand.
“Y-yes,” she stutters, reaching out trembling hand toward statue, then pulling it back suddenly. Her eyes flash up to mine, then away very quickly.
“Then you have heard good news, maybe, that me and my friends, we are not responsible for killing of Big Guy, yes?”
She nods and looks back up at me, returning my grin with nervous little smile.
“Yes, it is wonderful thing when – once again – your name is cleared of murder. I wonder though, sometimes – when I am bored, and do not have book to pass time – why it is so often that I am accused of murder?”
Her smile freezes.
I shrug. “Eh, who can say? This is life, yes?” She is not even giving the nod anymore. She is just staring at me now. Fuck, this is too easy. “So, since today is such good day for me, and I am asking so sweetly, maybe you could tell me name of person who has stolen these books from me?”
Still, she is frozen.
I drop smile, and bring up one hand like I am about to cast something. “Name. Now.” I growl.
She breaks out of being statue and starts urgently flipping through giant ledger book that is in front of her. It is only minute later that she gives me name of my new nemesis.

*****

Hound’s Tooth is just exactly as fancy-schmancy as you are guessing from name and location up in Snootytown. Shop has these big carved wooden doors, framed on either side by frosted windows, which are shot through with black cobweb of lines and studded with semi-precious jewels. Light from inside shop shines through, making gems sparkle. On door there is beautifully painted sign which says closed, but as soon as we approach, door opens and well-dressed gnome steps out to look at us.
“You’re the two o’clock?” he asks in business-like way, holding up tiny clipboard.
“Indeed,” Grandfather says. Gnome makes show of counting us, then nods and makes little checkmark on his papers, before holding door open for us to enter.
Only other person we can see in shop is attendant, who is busy putting trays of sandwiches and tea on sideboard next to entrance. Room is filled with warm light, although I cannot be seeing lamps anywhere, and air, it smells like sandalwood and jasmine – smells that remind me of back when I was child, working with Mama to make tinctures and ointments for stupid, ungrateful townsfolk.
In middle of room, there are two wood-framed sofas covered in dark green velvet. Fat, golden pillows with tassels sit all uselessly next to ones that look like someone cut up an ugly tapestry to make them. Between sofas is large round table that almost it is hidden beneath enormous flower arrangement.
Wood and fresh flowers – these are things from Overland. They are luxuries here, things which say whole world belongs to us. Everything in shop screams money, in that quiet way really rich people like to be so proud of. I would hate it immediately except for…
You might not think I would be knowing much about places like this, but I have big surprise for you. Many of targets when I was at Academy, were rich assholes. To be honest, most of targets were rich assholes. It does not require trained assassin to take down broke-ass loser who cannot cough up vig!
Anyhow, I do not even remember how much time it is I have spent hiding in rafters or closets or under floorboards, and having to listen to idiots talk about fashion. I am not kidding you, it is like 90% of what rich assholes talk about to each other! And, of course, this is not first time i have been in tailor shop – sometimes best place to hit someone is when they are trying on new clothes and literally they have their pants down! (There is little helpful tip for you if you decide to try life as assassin.)
(But you probably shouldn’t. You would suck.)
Point is, I am knowing that normally these tailors, they have for their customers big books full of drawings, showing clothes they might like to buy. That is normal way of doing business, yes? But not this shop. No, no, that is not fancy enough for hoity-toityest of customers! No, what they have is entire wall that is covered with diorama of ballroom – many levels, all way from floor up to ceiling. And everywhere on diorama there are these tiny dolls – tallest ones maybe six inches high or so – and each one is unique individual. There are people of every race, every age. And each is dressed in different gorgeous outfit, made with such detail that I can count buttons on back of lady’s dress when I lean in to look closer.
This, this is their catalog!
But even that is not most amazing part! You see, thing which draws me across room like I cannot even help myself, is that these dollies are moving! They dance. And not just dance – they switch partners, they flirt, they whisper, they bow to each other. Some of them even have arguments – tiny little dramas – the shaken fist, the cut direct! It is like fancy ball in miniature, all playing out on intricate little stage.
It is single biggest fucking waste of magical juju I have ever seen, and I cannot bring myself to look away. I don’t even turn when I hear Grandfather come to stand next to me.
He stands and watches quietly for minute then says in a low voice, “This is the life we should have had, Alyona. This is all I ever wanted for Eketerina, for Natalya…”
“For me?” I ask, scorn in my voice.
“You look a bit like her, I suppose,” he says, his voice low and rough with emotion. But I can see it now, the monster Mama warned me about. It’s glaring out at me through eyes that look just like hers.
His lip curls in disgust. “But that stupid, vacant expression?” he sniffs. “Now, that’s your father, through and through.”
“For Tebard’s brat?” he chuckles. “No. No, of course not. These things would have been wasted on you.”
“Right.”
He turns to study me. “At least this is what I thought when first you came to me. I looked at you and saw a dirty child, filled with rage – cunning, vicious… but too broken to be of use to me as anything more than a hammer for smashing things.”
“You say the sweetest things, Grandfather,” I roll my eyes.
“Do you deny it?”
I think back to the tunnels – to the darkness, the hunger, the fear, the blood…
“No. Why would I? Cunning? Vicious? Broken? What can I say? I feel seen.”
He sighs. “I only speak of first impressions, Granddaughter. You have always been more than you appear, and you know it. It didn't take me long to see that either.” he smiles briefly. “Scrimshaw made sure of it.”
“Scrimshaw,” I snort. “You’d better keep him on the payroll, Grandfather. Without him, you'd lose whatever bits of a soul you’re currently managing to scrape together.” I turn back to face dolls. “So what am I, then? This?” I gesture to where dolls dance in circles, following pattern that never changes, on stage only foot deep.
He studies them for a moment, then picks up one wearing a pale yellow gown, tiny sparks of jewels shining at her throat and wrists. As the doll leaves the display, she continues to move in his hand – dancing now looks more like struggle to escape than waltz – but all of other dolls freeze in place. Some stop in poses that are off-balance, and fall over. He holds lady in yellow up to me, then mutters something under his breath and passes his hand over it.
Doll changes. Still she is dressed in beautiful gown, but now her skin is pale blue, her hair white. Shadow tattoos wind up both arms and her face wears amused smirk I recognize from mirror.
“When we are done, Granddaughter, yes, this could be you.” She curtsies to me and winks. I frown at doll then look up at him, scowling.
“If you seriously think…”
He is not listening to me; his attention is on doll. He passes his hand over her again, and now she is dressed in exact copy of outfit I am currently wearing. Her hands are up in front of her, casting magic, hair flying in wind we cannot feel, mouth twisted in snarl.
Damn, I look even more badass than I thought!
“Or you can continue to be as you are.” Doll is yelling at someone now, and even small as little mouth is, I can see her words are “Fuck you, asshole!”
I smile at this. Yes, this. This I am happy with. Why would I want to be someone else?
“But, if you were to ask me how I see you, Alyona, when our work is finished...” Once more his hand passes over doll. Final gown is, well – one thing you cannot be saying about Grandfather is that he lacks the style. Ribbons of black embroidery on sheer black fabric sweep and flow, mirroring my tattoos. Underneath is lace-edged black sheath, and whole thing is dripping with teardrops of smoky crystal and jet. Her hair is twisted in fancy braids, and on top of it sits crown made of shadows.
She stands and studies unmoving dolls in front of her, then lifts her hand and snaps fingers. Dolls all give jerk as they spring back into motion, each one turning to bow before tiny Alyona.
“You are the future of the Belovs, Alyona. This is what I see. You will be cunning and vicious, yes, but most of all you will be powerful.”
My eyes meet his. “I…”
“You! You over there! Put that down! That is incredibly delicate magic! If you’ve…”
Gnome who let us in rushes over to snatch doll from Grandfather’s hand. Immediately it appears as it originally did, and he places it back into display with much care. For moment, nothing happens and I hear him muttering “Come on, come on…” under his breath. But, with jerk, dolls spring once more into action, dancing to music we cannot hear. Gnome sighs with relief, then turns and glares at both of us before fetching stepladder so he can stand up dolls which have fallen over.
Different gnome enters room through archway in back, while first one is still muttering away to himself. New guy is wearing absolutely killer suit, and has measuring tape draped around his neck. Immediately I think that I must bring GG here to talk to this man. Now that he is bigshot, wardrobe could use sprucing up, and he would rock suit like this guy is wearing! Tailor clears throat, interrupting these thoughts, and everyone turns to face him.
“Hello and welcome to The Hound’s Tooth, my dear friends. We are delighted to be of service to you. My name is…” and here he says some kind of gnome gobbeldygook. “...but you can call me T. Now, it is my understanding that you will be requiring eveningwear?” We all sort of just look around at each other and shrug. T ignores our confusion. “Wonderful. And who shall we begin with?”
I look at others, their mouths currently stuffed full of cucumber and watercress sandwiches, and then back over my shoulder at dancing dolls. “Me,” I say, stepping forward. “Might as well get this over with.”
“Excellent. If you would follow me?”
I glance at Grandfather, but he has turned back to watch dolls. Sighing, I reach out and pat him on back, casting on him the Death Ward in fit of stupid sentimentality, before I follow gnome into back room. There he has me stand on dias in front of three tall mirrors, which is little bit depressing because I can see from every angle just how scrawny I am now. All around us are bolts of fabric and bins overflowing with ribbons and lace and things like that. Several assistants stand next to the dais, clipboards ready.
“Now, what kind of thing might you be looking for, young miss?” T asks, his voice business-like but also, friendly. Gnomes, man, you gotta love them. Unless they are like Tylvim – then you must kill them very hard.
He looks at me expectantly. I think about doll in black, glittery gown that Grandfather showed to me.
Ha! Grandfather is total prude.
Idea was not terrible, but it is going to need a lot more skin. I smile and start talking.

*****

After everyone has been measured and we are stuffed full of nonsense dainty foods, and are sloshing around with all so much tea we have been forced to drink, finally we leave shop. Clothes, they say, will be delivered to us in two days time. Bill has already been paid. None of us are happy about any of this, of course not, but deal is deal, right? And since we are in cranky mood anyway, we decide we may as well go over to Tylkvim’s house to see if there is anything left there to see, which, how likely is that, now that Lightkeepers have been tromping all over it for last day?
Witherspoon is there when we arrive. Lightkeepers have already done very thorough search, he is assuring us (what did I say?) and only thing of interest they have found are some potions they cannot be identifying. Grandfather offers to help them with this, and Witherspoon tells him to speak to GG.
We ask him if they have interrogated Tylvim yet. Not yet, he tells us. They have decided to wait until Zindalla has arrived before they question her. They did try speaking to corpses of some of her companions, but those were not so helpful, which is really not very big surprise.
After telling us nothing which is of interest, Witherspoon says we should head back to offices, GG needs to talk to us.
Fine. Like good little children, we march back to GG’s office. He tells us that he has been in touch with Zinalla. They have officially cleared him of Syllar’s death (took dummies long enough) and now he is being Acting Head Librarian. Zinalla is sending us thanks, he tells us, and she wants to have the brunch with us day after tomorrow. Also he gives us armor and bracer they took off Tylvim. Ha ha! Spoils of war!
Then, like every other person we have ever talked to, he tells us to be quiet and not get into any trouble. You would think, from way everyone always tells us this, that always we are rampaging crazy people. This is unfair. Sometimes we have to rest.

*****

This night we are busy with behaving ourselves, which is boring. I have not yet gone to find book thief, so I do not even have new book to read. I try to speak with Grandfather some more, but he is busy studying bracer we got from Tylvim. We have decided to give this one to Ingoria since so often she is one who out doing scouting and she cannot just fly away like Skreek can, but if he can figure out how to make new ones? This would be useful thing.
I want to go back to Engineering School Secret Base to see how things are that we have left behind, but Baermek does not think this is thing which counts as laying low. What is it he expects to happen in building which has been sealed away for thousands of years and only we have secret code to enter? How is it he is managing to both be same old boring stick in mud he always was, but also brand new pain in ass at same time? Truly, it is special gift he has to annoy me.
So, I spend time doing kata.
No, I am not strong and flexible like once I was being. My balance is off and my arms tremble when I hold staff out at length. But still, memories of these forms are written in bones, too deep even for Czernobog to root out when he remade me. My body fights against me, but my mind sinks into that place between movement and thought, like it is coming home.
“Again, Belov.”
It must be the thousandth time tonight I have done this. Exhaustion was hours ago, this is something more. I am beyond pain. I kick the staff up into the air and swing under it, sweeping my leg out against a phantom opponent, then hook my elbows over the staff, catching it across my back. Leaning in to brace an end against the ground, I flip up and out of the low stance into a kick that brushes the far wall. My toes scrape across the same spot each time, adding a tiny smear of blood to the slowly growing stain. Repetition. Precision. I use the staff to cartwheel across the room, coming out of into a series of sweeping blows, one two three, drive back the enemy, control the space, and then a quick jab behind me to deal with the asshole who thought they could sneak up on me. Tuck the staff under my arm and swing my leg out into a high roundhouse, then plant the foot and follow through with the back…
Two hands grasp my extended foot and pull. I have committed to the movement and my exhausted leg buckles beneath me. I eat the stone floor and it tastes like blood.
Grabbing me by the scruff of my neck, he scrapes me off the floor and throws me down to my knees. I try to look at him, but feel a staff, my staff, which I dropped when I fell, smash across my shoulders. I barely catch myself from crashing back to the floor. I do not try to lift my face again. Instead I watch the drops of blood as they fall to the floor from my busted lip. I can hear him pace around me, waiting to see if I will dare to move. I do not give him the excuse. I am still as a corpse.
“Kata are all well and good, Belov.” I feel his hand reach out to stroke my hair. “But there is no excuse for letting your guard down. You’re never safe here, you should know that by now. Not in class, not when you train, not in the mess.” He leans down to whisper in my ear, “Not when you sleep…”
My whole body trembles.
“Again, Belov.”
I kick the staff up into the air and swing under it, sweeping my leg out against a phantom opponent…

*****

It is not very long until my body is shaking with exhaustion. I try not to hate myself for this weakness, but it is impossible not to.
A quick wash up and I head back to my room. Skreek and Baermek are sitting in common room playing cards. I can see large pile of coins next to Baermek and I give him little glare. He just raises eyebrow at me and pushes stack of coins into center of table. Skreek, far as I can tell, is holding cards upside down. I step up behind him, rest hand on his shoulder and give him little spell called Fox’s Cunning just to make him tiny bit smarter. I do not know if it will help, but that is best I can do.
Once in my room, I strip down to underthings and settle into seated pose for meditation. But before I am entering trance, I will send out messages, since I have not used much magic at all today.
At dinner, Skreek asked me to contact Mama Bird again. I do not like to do this thing. What can it tell us that is good or useful? All it will do is make him that much closer to doing stupid thing. But I can not ignore this asking either. So, to Mama Bird, I send, “Skreek says ‘Still can’t break free. We will come. I promise.’” Then I add, “But Mama Bird, I will not be able to delay him much longer.” Her voice comes back to me, and I hear it in such sadness. “Please don’t let him kill himself for me.”
Fuck. I should just forget ever I knew this spell. I do not like to be in middle of such things. Of course… it is not always having to be about stupid family drama. Sometimes, I am reminding myself, you can use it for fun things!
So, to Kisha, I send, “You fucking missed, dumbass. Try harder.” I do not know if laughing counts as part of 25 words, but if so I use up whole rest of count on ha ha ha.
“Missed?” Her answer comes back dismissively, her voice monotone. “Oh yes. Congratulations.”
Ok. If I did not already have suspicions about thing which has been done to Kisha – this transformation into being “Radiant” – I would know just from that response, that she is not same person who killed me once long time ago. Kisha shrug off my taunting like this? Not if she was half dead!
It is too bad, you know? I mean, will I really be killing Kisha when finally I am standing in front of her and reach out with the Death Touch? Or has someone else already taken from me my vengeance, and left it its place this stupid pretend Kisha for me to kill?
Fuck. I think I am knowing what is answer to that question. And so it is just one more thing fucking Nightshade assholes have stolen from me.
I spend too long dwelling on this, but finally I shake off bitterness and send final message, this time to Truffle. “Kisha just went after Lightkeepers in Freehold. Do you know anything about her plans? Do you know her agent, Tylvim?”
He responds, “Tylvim? Dunno. All I know of Kisha’s plans is profit-making in Freehold. And you. Unsure why they want to start things with Lightkeepers.”
Fuck. Not sure which was bigger waste of my time tonight – stupid, weak kata or messages that tell me nothing.

*****

Next morning and it is time for brunch with Zinalla. I guess she will probably be having some interesting information for us about what is going on with things, and maybe it is that she will be able to help us in fight against Kisha, but damn, I am tired of sitting around talking about things. Sometimes I wish we could just be back in jungles, slaughtering Sylvans. Those were good old days.
Zinalla’s house is very nice, like what you are expecting from head of Lightkeepers. Fancy servanty guy lets us in and leads us to dining area, telling us Zinalla will be along shortly and she does not care about formalities, so it is ok to start with the eating. I do not have to be told twice, which is why I am almost choking on big bite of apple when door opens on second floor balcony and Senenova enters room.
“The Administration of the Academy has proven unfortunately supportive of the Alliance,” Senenova says, after Annika leaves us to speak privately.
I laugh. “Yeah, they’ve got their heads stuck way up their asses on this one. Did you really expect any different?”
“Frankly, no. The Academy has always been hand in glove with the Council. That is why we are so pleased to be speaking with you.” She gives me a pained smile. Damn. Couldn't they have sent someone who didn’t so obviously think I’m beneath her? All the diplomatic ones must be off making friends with more important prospects.
“There are many people who have been watching your progress within the Academy with great interest.”
Um, really?
“That could be of use to us. You will have access to a great deal of information that we’d otherwise…”
“Are you crazy? No!” I sputter. “I mean, have you met… the Administrator? There’s no way. No way!”
“Well, I, that is we, are just asking you to keep an eye out for opportunities. You don’t have to break into the school vault or anything…” She chuckles, but it rings false.
I exhale sharply through my nose and shake my head at her in disbelief. She can’t possibly understand what it is she’s asking! I mean, look at her! She is everything I am not – stunningly beautiful, obscenely wealthy, powerful. And stupid. So fucking stupid. I turn to walk away.
“Alyona,” she says softly, her voice bare of condescension. I turn back to look at her.
“Fine,” she says with a sigh. “It’s off the table.” She looks me up and down, a craftsman contemplating her tool. “But you can still be useful to us.”
Why does she want my help so badly? Without the access I might be able to offer to the Academy, I’m nobody, nothing – just a minor cog being steadily ground down until I fit their machine. I mean, forget her snobbery, why do I warrant her intervention at all? Annika could have recruited me directly. Shit, I’d have responded so much better to her.
Questions I don’t have answers for. Yet.
So, I grin at her. “Great! I live to be useful. What’s the job, Grafinya?”
The way she looks at me, I know she won’t be dropping this. Eventually, she will ask again. But for now, she says, “How do you feel about killing some Nightshades?”
I wink at her. “Should have opened with that.”
No. No, this is not Senenova. Well, not that Senenova, at least. Resemblance is crazy, but there are differences. Style of clothes is different, and hair is much shorter – of course, these are things which can easily be changed – but much harder to change posture, way she walks, presence. Senenova I dealt with before, there was hardness to her that I do not see in this woman.
Twin sister, I am guessing. Nothing else makes sense. And Zinalla? This cannot be her real name. It is not Drow name. Why is she hiding connection?
She looks down at all of us with welcoming smile, before meeting my gaze. She examines me for moment, slightly puzzled – Maybe I am not what she is expecting. Maybe, I am twin, also! Ha! I smile and point my finger at her like I am shooting one of Grandfather’s guns. Bang bang, bitch.
She raises one fucking perfect eyebrow at me, then walks gracefully down stairs. After taking moment to speak softly with server who stands at bottom of stairs, she crosses room to empty seat at dining table and sits down. All of us watch her without saying word. There is kind of magic, you know, that some people have, kind of magic that commands attention from everyone around. Senenova sisters both have this magic.
Sitting down at table, she places napkin in lap, and takes small sip from glass flute, before helping herself from the bowl of fruit sitting in front of her.
“First, let me begin by apologizing for the dreadful misunderstanding regarding the death of our honored head librarian Syllar. It was certainly not deliberate on our part, but it does not negate the effects it had on dear Gnyddwipgnonsnagug Groskimankoblat, or on you. I deeply regret any hardship this has caused you.”
I have many smartass things I think of to say, but for once I keep them to myself.
“Now, I am guessing you have some questions?”
We all look at each other, everyone waiting for someone else to talk, and no one having any idea where to start. “Perhaps,” says Baermek, “It might be better for us to first answer any questions you might have.”
“Indeed." She nods and takes bite of melon. "So, as I understand it, Syllar was murdered by an Unseen agent named Kisha, in order to frame GG. Was it Kisha herself who commited the crime, or was she working entirely through her agent, Tylvim?” Her voice goes cold at mention of her former employee.
“Well, Tylvim ripped heart out of Bartley, practically right in front of us, and certainly she was having access to Syllar’s private rooms, so my guess is she was one who did actual killing.” I respond. “But Kisha, we know she has been here as well. In person. We can not tell what other things she might have done while on Lightkeeper grounds, but she definitely gained access to our rooms.”
“I see. And how is it you know she was in your rooms?”
“Message was left for us,” I say. Then in Elven, I add, “It was…unambiguous.”
I can see she wants to ask me more, but instead she says, “I’m somewhat surprised that she would risk this, that she would pay personal attention…”
“Do you know Kisha?” Baermek interrupts.
“I know of her.” If this bitch does not stop looking at me so much while we are talking, others are going to think she has hots for me. Which she probably does, but you would figure fancyass people like her would be at least little bit discreet about whole thing.
“And what is it you know about her?” Ingoria asks. I glance over at her. Her plate is piled high with cured meats and these seem to be whole focus of her attention, but maybe she is listening also.
“Probably more than most of you. She’s an agent of the Unseen. She’s risen through the ranks rather rapidly, and has a reputation for being utterly ruthless – willing to do whatever it takes to further her ends.” She pauses. “I also know she hasn’t been seen since last year. Are you certain she was here?”
“Do not doubt me on this,” I say, again in Elven. In Common, I add “I am sure.”
“Did you know she was a threat to the Lightkeepers?” Ingoria asks.
“Not particularly,” Zinalla answers. “While that organization, the Unseen, is distasteful to us on general principles, our larger mission is to preserve and recover knowledge. As such, we did not believe we were likely to be working at cross-purposes to them.”
Grandfather takes a sip from his glass. “So you have had no dealings with Unseen?” he asks.
“I… didn’t.”
“Didn’t? But you do now?” He does eyebrow thing.
She looks across table at whole group. “As the Belovs are well aware – and have no doubt informed you as well – there is a schism which has developed within the ranks of the Unseen. Normally this would be of little more than academic interest to me, but, unfortunately, I find myself unavoidably entangled in this business. It is a family matter.” She nods toward me, “As Alyona knows.”
Others all turn and look at me, including Grandfather. I ignore them and lean in toward her. “And are you in contact with your family, Zinalla?”
Her mouth twitches at emphasis I have placed on obviously false name. “I just got back.”
“From Novo?”
“Yes.” She turns to serve herself a slice of quiche, her motions graceful.
Ingoria puts down her knife and fork and looks back and forth between Zinalla and I. “Are you related to the Belovs?”
Face she makes when she says, “No!” is worth bother of this whole breakfast. I laugh and she frowns at me.
“When the alliance formed,” she goes on, as if that last question never happened. “We had our suspicions, and while I did not want to get directly involved in matters, I did have the Lightkeepers start paying more attention to the actions of the Sylvans.”
Baermek responds, “So you knew about the connection between the Nightshades and the Sylvans?”
“We certainly didn't know the extent or nature of it.”
He snorts. “We still don’t.”
“Your… sister?” I ask, seeking confirmation. She nods and I continue. “What does she say?”
Zinalla sighs. “She doesn’t tell me a lot. We’re not as close as we were as children. But I know her. I know things aren’t going well. “
“So what made you decide to go to Novo?”
“I wanted to help.”
“Help?”
“She’s still my sister, Alyona,” she says with exasperation.
“And what does she want?”
“She fights the alliance, as you are well aware.”
“Am I?” I ask with little bit of sneer. “After all, I was nothing but little pawn. How do I know what are real motivations of players in this game? I only know what i am told”
She looks from me to Grandfather and back again. “A pawn, Alyona? I think you sell yourself short. She told me about your mission.”
I give her blank stare.
“As far as my sister is concerned, while you did not achieve the mission objective as provided to you, the resolution was, nevertheless, effective.”
“That’s nice,” I tell her, grabbing muffin from the center of table and proceeding to shove half of it in my mouth, letting crumbs spill everywhere.
“Your increased involvement in Unseen politics, suggests we were not the primary focus of the attack,” Baermek says thoughtfully. “Perhaps this opportunity to take a swipe at us was nothing more than happy circumstance for Kisha.”
“Honestly,” she says. “I suspect they figured out I was working with my sister.”
Interesting. “They know she is Unheard?”
She sighs and put downs her silverware. “The war is no longer in the shadows, my dear. Lines have been drawn. This was either retribution or consolidation.”
“And are you target, you think, or are they after all of Lightkeepers now?” I ask.
“I tried to create some plausible deniability for the organization,” she says, and pain in her voice is impossible to miss.
“So what happens now?” Baermek asks. He does not notice this exchange or probably he is just ignoring it.
Zinalla lifts her chin and, sounding more like her sister than she has for whole conversation, says sharply, “I think it is time we show Kisha why you do not fuck with wizards.”
Nice. Already she is favorite twin, although this is very, very, very low bar for her to jump over.
I give her big toothy grin. “Hey, if you want to kill Kisha together, well, let us kill Kisha I say!”
She studies me intently, “You are certain you can set things aside to work with me?”
I roll eyes at her. “Look, your sister is real bitch, you know? But we cannot be going around and judging people by their family, can we now? I mean how unfair would it be for you to look at me and assume I am being giant asshole just because Grandfather is one? I mean, I am giant asshole, but this I have done on my own, so do not go giving him credit for that.”
Grandfather looks at me. “Truly, I am so proud of her,” he says drily.
She clasps her hands together, pointer fingers up, and taps them against her lips as she thinks. “Very well. GG says you are low on funds. I have given him a budget for acquiring more artifacts from you.”
“Thank you,” Grandfather says. “You should know, though, we have obligation we must see to before we can join you for fight. Do you have plans for immediate action?”
“No, that's fine. We will require time to research and formulate a plan. I’d estimate a week or so before we’re ready to commence.”
“We can give you location of her base,” Baermek adds.
“Wonderful! I will have you speak with our team as soon as possible. That should certainly speed things up!”
“But, to return to the previous matter briefly, if you don’t mind” he says. “This schism, you speak of. It is out in the open now, as you say. Are things not going well?”
“No,” she sighs. “No, they aren’t.”
“Would you say it comes down strictly to numbers, or do you think their association with the Sylvans is giving them an edge?”
“Certainly, the loyalists outnumber the Unheard, but the Sylvans have definitely given them an extra advantage, unfortunately.”
Grandfather speaks up. “The Sylvans? Do you have any idea what is their purpose here?”
“There are many things we know, yes, but even more that we do not. Obviously their primary goal as far as we can tell, has been trying to reacquire and deploy technologies from the Age of Light. They’ve also shown intense interest in obtaining orichalcum crystals. These seem to be found in much higher frequency around the public portals and high population centers of the past. We’re not sure what they intend to do with these crystals – it may be related to ancient technologies they are collecting, but beyond that it is impossible to say.
“Based on the information you have provided, we know that the desperate measures taken during the Age of Light to rid themselves of whatever this infection is, failed. And that the survivors of that effort now constitute the kingdom of Goldenhome. The nature of the infection, and the means by which they tried to stop it, however? We cannot say.
“And, as for the Sylvans/Nightshades and their alliance with the Unseen? It appears they have conquered the overworld, and are following this path toward conquering the underworld. But is this simply conquest for the sake of conquest, or is it tied more closely to their fascination with the Age of Light?” Her mouth quirks up at corner. “As I said, more questions than answers.”
“This certainly jibes with what we’ve seen,” Baermek nods. “And this isn’t restrained to just the mainland, either. They have managed to infiltrate and seize control of the Bird Folk as well. I wonder if there’s some way we can reach out to the Birds to coordinate with their resistance movement?”
Zinalla turns to look at Skreek. “I am sorry to hear this. And I am curious why it is the Sylvans would spread themselves so thin? Is there something driving this urgency to move on multiple fronts like this?” She shakes her head. “Unfortunately, there was a collapse in the Underdark long ago, and the paths between here and the island have been destroyed. I do not know how we could possibly coordinate our efforts.”
Skreek stands up from table and ruffles his feathers, “As far as communicating with the island, ma’am, that certainly wouldn’t be a challenge for me. I can act as go-between!”
“Exactly,” Baermek nods. “We could sow chaos. It would certainly distract…”
“My mother!” Skreek interrupts. “She is being held prisoner by the Sylvans. I am strongly motivated to help establish communication between you and the resistance there!”
“Yes, yes, it is definitely something to consider.” She gives him a sad smile. “I am sorry to hear about your mother, Skreek.
He give her tiniest of nods, then sits back down at table, picking up fork and toying with food but not eating anything.
“Another question that’s kind of been on the back burner with all the chaos since our return, is the matter of her people.” Baermek nods toward Ingoria. “Everything we’ve discovered about them suggests that they were created to combat these Radiants. The ancient Sylvans we fought in Iallon, were terrified when they saw her, called her a “Nightclaw.” I think we need to find out more about her people and their history. Maybe your scholars can look into the subject?”
She studies Ingoria for a moment, then nods. “I’m not sure how much information is available to us on the subject, but of course. Anything that might aid us in defeating Sylvan efforts is certainly worth looking into.” She stands up from the table, neatly folding her napkin and laying it beside her plate. “And now, if you’ll excuse me. There are many things which require my urgent attention at this time. We will speak again soon.”
We mumble good-byes, as she goes out, followed by servers. There is much for us to talk about, but no way to know if someone maybe is still listening to us. It is good to be cautious...
“What gives?!” Ingoria demands. We all turn to look at her. She is staring right at me with her weird cat eyes.
“I am sorry? What is problem?” I say with maybe little bit of annoyed.
“Who’s her sister? What’s she to you?”
Others turn to look at me as well. I sigh and settle back in chair. Always with so many personal fucking questions, that one. But this, eh, it is not such big deal to share this.
“Her sister, Oksana Senenova – Grafinya Oksana Senenova (this is like, um I think maybe Countess to you?) She recruited me to be member of Unheard. She was my handler. And she was total bitch. I did not leave Novo on best terms with her or Unheard. Or Unseen for that matter.” I pause for moment. “Huh. I do not think I left behind single friend in Novo, now that I am thinking about it. I know this might be difficult thing for you to believe, but it is true.”
There is more talk and Ingoria asks me many more questions, but they do not matter and I am ignoring them. I wait until Baermek is once more going on and on about whatever it is he is thinking is so important, before I get up as quietly as I can. Grandfather looks over at me and I smile. “Gotta take a dump,” I whisper in Elven. He winces at language, then rolls eyes. “Be careful. I do not trust that one” he whispers back.
“Do you think I am stupid, Grandfather?”
He shrugs.
Fuck him. Quietly, I make my way out of dining room. Across foyer, two guards are standing next to pair of large double doors, which is partially open. Well, that is invitation if ever I have been seeing one. I give nod to guards and push open doors.

Report Date

22 Feb 2024