XI. The Magus's Deal

Holland was unable to shake Naris's words as the days passed. She could still feel Deus reaching out to her, His presence resonating in her mind like the strains of a song she didn't remember ever hearing. She knew it was because of the changes Saraqael had made to her body so long ago. She could feel it in her bones. Laenus seemed well-rested, so she doubted he was even hearing it. Her own sleep had become oft interrupted and her waking hours were restless. She needed to either find a way to silence Deus or give into Him. The second option was more tempting than she would have liked. The only thing that kept her away was the knowledge that Seva would need her protection if this deal with their customary enemies were to happen.

She lay half-awake in bed, the sheets tangled around her legs. There was no shaking His presence. She could feel it in her bones, in the beat of her heart. I can give you all that you desire, my Ilex, that warm and comforting voice whispered to her. I can grant you the power to ruin Laenus, to win over Seva. All you have to do is let me in...

There was a knock at the door that roused her from her reverie. Holland sat up. "Come in!" she called as she swung her legs over the edge of the bed. She just wore a long shirt that covered her to about mid-thigh, but she wasn't really worried about impropriety. The only person she could imagine trying to find her this late would be Seva.

It was not Seva, however. "Lady Penitent, forgive me," Fionn said, averting his eyes as he stepped in. "I did not realize you were in a state of undress."

Holland pulled the sheets over her lap. "Apologies, Your Majesty," she said. "I wasn't exactly expecting a visitor this late. How can I be of assistance?"

"I was hoping you could intercede on my behalf with my wife," he said. "She is...displeased with me at the moment."

"Dare I ask why?" Holland said, fighting the urge to sigh.

"I forbid her from going on this trip to Laweden," Fionn said with a deep frown. "It is too dangerous."

"She's homesick, Your Majesty," Holland said softly, worried herself now. They needed an agreement with Leus more than Fionn could possibly understand. "It's a great deal to adjust to. I can vouch for her safety on the road, and with a few Hooded Knights, she would be well protected."

"That is no protection from an army. Leus could march at any time," the King said. There was a certain stubborn set to his jaw that Holland recognized. She wore it herself when she felt she had been backed into a corner.

"We would know if that were the case," the penitent said. "There are many scouts in the Elbane Pass."

"You are her advocate, as always," Fionn said a bit wryly. "I suppose you think that I should agree to placate her."

"I think you should agree because you care about her happiness," Holland said. She at least hoped that was the case. "We would not linger in Laweden long. I think Her Majesty just has a few things she wants to collect."

The King sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose between thumb and forefinger. He seemed to realize that this was a battle he was better off conceding. "Very well. But I am holding you responsible for her safety, Lady Penitent. If any harm befalls her, there will be a wrath from me like you cannot imagine."

Holland almost laughed, but she managed to keep her expression neutral. Fionn had nothing on Saraqael, so she wasn't particularly frightened by him. "Understood," she said with an inclination of her head. Part of her wanted to give him the same warning, but he was still King, even if she hated him for tolerating Laenus. "Her Majesty will be safe with me. I will go speak to her and let her know that you have reconsidered."

"That is appreciated," Fionn said. "Good night, Lady Penitent."

He let himself out and Holland dressed quickly before heading to the library. She was reasonably confident she could find Seva there, gathering her thoughts amongst the books. She knocked lightly on the door before letting herself in. "My lady?" she said, spotting Seva by the window. The blonde woman looked tense.

Seva relaxed slightly. "Holland, I am surprised thou art awake at this hour," she said, turning around.

"I'm not precisely awake by choice. I had a visitor. The King says you're unhappy with him. I persuaded him to agree to let you travel to Laweden," Holland said. She noted that while Seva looked relieved at that, she also didn't look particularly happy. "What's really bothering you?"

Seva shook her head. "Thou art sweet with thy concern, but 'tis only doubt and no grave ill," she said softly.

"Doubt?" Holland said, approaching with her usual soft tread. She could really only think of a few areas where Seva might have reason to doubt, and only one would likely motivate her to abandon her bed and husband for the chill night air. "This is about the King."

The young woman sighed, combing her fingers through her hair. "His eyes wander," she said softly after a moment's pause, eyes downcast. "What if his heart follows them?"

Holland remembered Cadeyrn's comment still. A man of quantity as well as quality. "If his heart follows, he will be a fool beyond measure. You are everything someone could want, my lady," she said as a gentle reassurance. She smiled a little bit, though it was an almost bitter amusement. "Besides, he ought to remember that he'll be beside you every night unconscious and naked. That should dissuade him from displeasing you."

It made Seva laugh despite herself. "Aye, the bed is mine to rule," she said, sounding reassured. "And...thank thee for thy kind words. Thou art a fine friend."

Holland knew she would have to settle for being the best friend she could be, though if Fionn ever hurt Seva, she couldn't guarantee that she wouldn't rip his throat out with her teeth. "My pleasure, my lady," Holland said. She sat down on the couch and tipped her head back. She felt like she was about ready to fall asleep again, but she knew that if she gave herself over to dreams, she would only hear that voice again. She sighed. Maybe it was time to go to the Tuama again. Maybe she could destroy that piece. But she was still afraid that she would fall under his sway. Her native stubbornness might not be enough to shield her.

"And what of thee?" Seva said softly, sitting down next to her friend. "I have not asked thee in some time how thou dost fare and thou art quiet as ever on the subject."

"I'm fine, my lady," Holland said automatically. Since her conversation with Naris, she had begun to feel guilty concealing her nature from Seva, but she didn't feel like she could confide in her friend. Not a secret of that magnitude. Her concern was not a breach of confidence—it was a fear that Seva would try to come to her aid and fall prey to Deus's seductive words. She took in a deep breath.

"Thine aspect is most troubled, Holland," Seva said gently.

"I will be better once we have a guarantee of assistance from Leus," Holland said. "Then we need only convince Talin and Genev to lend their aid. That would solidify the powers of the east against the Imperium and perhaps give us a fighting chance, though we should also turn eyes to the north, towards the other races."

"Dost thou truly have such little faith? Thou art a grim oracle indeed."

"But an honest one, my lady," the penitent said as her eyes drifted closed. "Their might is as vast as their territories, their artifices terrible in their workings. They have already crushed many in the west and added the monstrous races there to their armies. The numen are powerful creatures."

"Numen?"

"That is their name for the mixed races: orcs and dwarves and elves and men and even others. They do not believe in the separation of bloodlines, following instead the dictates of prophecy. The Divine Princes will do as they were commanded to do a thousand years ago," Holland said. "When Deus returns to the Desolate Throne, it will begin. I think they are searching him out now. That is why they are sending soldiers to the east."

Seva looked at her friend curiously. "And art thou numen?" she asked.

"Yes," Holland said. "Though my bloodline is less mixed than that of others, as the Oameni were only incorporated within the last few centuries, but I am still of many races. Purebloods are rare in the Imperium and regarded as relics of an old world, a world that no longer has its place under the sun. I will admit that I was deeply confused when first I arrived in the east."

"I do not like being thought of as a relic," Seva said. "It does not sound as though there will be a place for me in such a world."

"There would not be," Holland said, feeling an ache of sorrow at the idea of losing Seva. "They hate few things more than the magic of men. To them it is stagnation, the corruption of the Ancient ways by those who do not know that they touch the face of the divine. Saraqael once called it children playing with fire, knowing not how it might consume the world again."

"And what dost thou believe?"

Holland sighed and turned her head, studying curious blue eyes. "It is a tool, if a misunderstood one. It has its purpose and its uses. I have seen it wreak havoc on armies, but the west will not break and run when confronted with it. They know how to combat it after dealing with the witches of the Oameni and the shuhadaku of the Igigi." That was how she had earned the name Invicta: as the undefeated slayer of mages, something no other servant of Saraqael could claim to be. It had been her purpose above all other purposes, courtesy of the ancient artifices that Saraqael had worked into her body, the sorcery he had employed before she was even born. She was not ready to confide that in Seva, not even a little.

"Something troubles thee," Seva said, turning to face Holland more fully. She reached out, finding the penitent's hand with her own. "I can keep thine confidences, Holland. Trust me in this, as I trust in thee."

Holland sighed. "I feel a pull to return to the life I once had," she said. "The simplicity of obedience, the fulfillment of purpose well-executed. I am a stranger in these lands, one ill-trusted. I can see it in the eyes of the people when they look at me." When she saw the fear spring to life in Seva's eyes, she squeezed the young queen's hand. "I will not, my lady, have no fear. Your safety is far more important to me than my past. Besides, Laenus is a fine reminder that returning is not and will never be possible." Perhaps Deus could author her return, but Holland knew it would be like trying to put on clothing that she had outgrown. She had seen too much good in the east to believe the necessity of purging it, though occasionally when speaking with Fionn she saw the appeal of removing the kings of men.

"What evil did Laenus visit upon thee?" Seva asked softly.

The penitent focused for a moment on the warmth of Seva's hand touching her own. "I served Saraqael for a long time without hesitation. But eventually, I began to have...doubts. My encounters with the Oameni who were still wild made me long for things I had never known—family, friends, and most of all, freedom to choose. I made the mistake of confiding those doubts in Laenus, who I then considered to be my closest of comrades. I did not realize how greatly he resented my shadow, nor how desperately he desired my power. My doubts became plans of sedition by his telling to Saraqael, plots to disrupt the order which the Divine Prince had so painstakingly created. My imagined treachery was repaid in full. I was humiliated and stripped of rank, broken on the saltire like a traitor in full view of all I had ever known, and cast then into the sea to drown."

Seva looked stunned. "Holland, I am so sorry," she said, blue eyes heartbroken when they looked at her friend. "That must have been horrible. That is from whence came thy name."

Holland shrugged. "There are worse fates," she said. "I will not pretend that I am not bitter—that much is evident from how I interact with Laenus—but I do appreciate that it might have been much worse. After all, I survived to come to the east. I met many good people, yourself included, and I found the freedom I desired. I have my chance to leave the world a better place than I found it."

"A noble goal," Seva said softly. She studied her friend's face. "Still, I am grieved that my lord husband has extended his hospitality to one who wounded thee so deeply."

"It's not your fault, my lady," Holland said. "Tomorrow on the road, it will be better. Time and distance are the best healers."

"I have a question for thee, bearing that in mind, though thou shouldst not take it as a wish for thy absence. Why remain?" the queen asked.

Holland looked down at her hands, studying the scars and callouses across her fingers and palms. "For you," she said. She hoped that having her eyes looking away would hide the true depths to that answer.

Seva blushed. "Thou speakest honey."

But not enough to win you as Fionn did, Holland reflected. She knew she needed to let it go. Pining away for Seva was doing her no good. She just couldn't manage to root it out of her heart. And what if she did? She would only focus all of her energy and emotion on her hatred of Laenus, she was certain of it. Seva kept something softer alive in her heart, something that had never existed in her old life. "Not empty honey, I promise you," Holland said, flashing Seva a small smile as she stood up. "I should get back to bed, and so should you. I think His Majesty misses you."

"Thank thee for speaking with me, Holland," Seva said. She rose to her feet and pulled the tired penitent into a hug.

Holland folded her arms around Seva, holding the queen close for just a moment. It felt wonderful. Things like this, little things though they were, made it hard to abandon those feelings she held. She couldn't just release them. "Good night, my lady," she murmured before gently releasing Seva. "I will see you in the morning when we depart."

It was weeks before they reached Laweden, taking old side roads that were half overgrown with brush to avoid watchful eyes, just in case Laenus or Naris had people reporting back to them. Holland didn't doubt it for a moment, though honestly she was more worried about the elf than anyone else. As inoffensive as Naris seemed, elves were dangerous. Holland was also on high alert for demons. She couldn't shake the feeling that they were being watched, that they weren't alone. It was a relief to actually see the silhouette of the keep on the mountain that looked down on Laweden, a sign that they'd reached their destination. In the absence of a baron or baroness, the household was being run by the faithful servants of the House of Essen. Seva retained control of her lands even after her marriage to Fionn, so there was no need to appoint a new noble to that position unless she wanted to.

The keep was an ancient and brooding structure, once better known as Naran Aethel, constructed by the warrior-kings of Usadir long ago to repel armies. Its approach was narrow and spanned a deep chasm where the River Essen raged in frothing white torrents towards the sea. Holland found herself wondering what Seva's childhood had been like as they passed through a gate that revealed the wall to be twenty feet thick, or at least wondering about the parts when Seva had been in Yssa. Holland had only been to Leus once and found it almost more alien than was palatable, so she couldn't imagine what growing up in that court had been like. Then again, she had little frame of reference for the eastern experience. The penitent had not enjoyed much of a childhood—she had been a future weapon, not a girl.

"It hasn't changed a whit," Seva said wonderingly.

"A year hasn't even passed yet since we met," Holland reminded her friend gently.

The queen nodded. "True," she said before focusing on the task at hand. "What are thy thoughts on Dušan Cipris?"

"I don't know," the warrior said as they approached the stables. There were servants waiting to care for the horses and Seva greeted them fondly before returning to their conversation. Holland waited patiently before continuing, "His servant said he has the Sight. Mages are powerful and dangerous enemies to make. Ones that can see across interminable distances, even more so. Your thoughts, my lady?"

"I know him by reputation alone," Seva said. She paused, biting her lower lip for a moment. "Truth be told, naught I heard when I was last in Zaeylael was reassuring. I was hosted by Magus Aurel Jelen, and they were bitter rivals—compliments were not much of what caught my ears. I am...uneasy."

"I doubt this is about getting at an old enemy," Holland said, though she knew those words weren't necessarily as reassuring as they could have been.

"We will see," Seva said. She took a deep breath to steady her nerves before walking into the main building of the keep with Holland at her side. "Tell me truly—an alliance with Leus, even one of convenience, dost thou think it will anger Fionn overmuch?"

"I doubt he'll be thrilled for a while," Holland answered honestly. "But he's not a complete fool. An end to the war with Leus will have its benefits, particularly if you can negotiate a good deal." She could see uncertainty in Seva's expression and halted for a moment, turning to face her friend. "My lady, you have the support of the old nobility and more power than you think at your fingertips—certainly more than Fionn has probably realized. You don't have to fear his anger or cater to his every whim."

Seva sighed and twisted the wedding ring on her finger. "'Tis not that I fear his anger. 'Tis just...I love him," she said quietly.

"From what I understand, outsider looking in as it may be, both sides seem to have to give ground in love," the penitent said. It felt uncomfortable, being in the position to give any kind of personal advice. She was much more comfortable putting a sword through a man's head. But she had enough experience from her talks with Riaghán that she had some idea of how things were seen in the east. "Maybe it's not my place to say it, but I don't think you should stop being the Baroness of Essen just because you're Queen of Yssa, if that makes even the remotest amount of sense."

"It does," Seva said before taking a deep breath. "Mayhap I am straying from mine own self for love. Food for thought." She looked at her friend. "Thou gift fine advice, like one who has loved before."

"I have an inkling of it," Holland said. She didn't feel like she needed to elaborate beyond that. It brought too much risk of accidentally giving some cue that the love in question was the one she felt for Seva—or that it felt like far more than an inkling. It burned too badly to be considered a passing fancy. "But I was not made to love or be loved. Anyway, let's not keep Magus Cipris waiting."

The queen nodded and steeled herself as they approached the door to the solar. It was a smaller, private room where she'd spent much of her life since her return to Yssa, generally lost in study near the fireplace for warmth. Holland opened the door for her friend, revealing a room decorated with beautiful tapestries with images of heroes throughout the history of her house and her family heraldry—a rampant golden lion on a field of sable. Waiting for them, currently without guards, was the magus himself.

Dušan Cipris was a distinguished man in his late fifties, silver hair cropped short and his long beard neatly trimmed. He wore a navy blue surcoat over a white tunic held together by a golden belt. His leather breeches were soft and matched with silk stockings. He rose from his seat near the fire and bowed politely to the two women. "Greetings, Your Majesty. You look lovely today, and I sense you are as powerful as I had heard. I hope the travel treated you well," he said politely. His vibrantly green eyes focused on Holland. "Such interesting company you keep, Your Majesty. It is fascinating to see you in person, Lady Penitent. I have read much of the western Mág Vrah."

Seva looked startled at the mention of mage-hunters in conjunction with Holland. "Pardon?" she said.

The magus smiled, eyes crinkling at the corners. His amusement seemed genuine, though not particularly kind. His tone when he spoke, however, was more scholarly than scathing. "Ah, forgive me, Your Majesty. I am acquainted with the nature of the Immortals, including your companion, at least by reputation. The Lady Penitent is known in certain circles, albeit by different names than the one she bears now. Invicta was the favorite of her people. I believe the Oameni preferred Cruciata—an Imperial word for an Imperial scourge, yes?" Holland could hear it now, the faint echoes of distrust and dislike.

The penitent forced herself to keep a neutral expression. "My old life," Holland said. "I am no longer in the service of the Divine Prince Saraqael."

"Old sins cast long shadows, Lady Penitent," Dušan said. His voice remained polite. "But I did not come to analyze your history, as illuminating as such a pursuit might be. All three of us are aware at this point, I would hope, that powerful, powerful forces are now in motion. I will reveal what I have learned, and your guardian, Your Majesty, may help us interpret that knowledge. From there, we will understand precisely what kind of alliance is needed, if that is agreeable to you."

"Methinks 'tis reasonable," Seva said cautiously, taking a seat at the table. She motioned for the magus and Holland to join her. "What visions hast thou seen?"

"I was able to hear the voices of the meeting of the seven princes," Dušan said. "Clairaudience, if you will. They have felt the call of the Emperor. Something has stirred the Deceiver into wakefulness. I suspect, if you will allow supposition, that it was a combination of the passage of time and the presence of the Lady Penitent in the area. It has been exactly a millennium since the Revealing. In response to His call, they have crafted the Aeterna Pacis—their peace accord. What comes next...I do not know. I am not familiar with the prophecies and agendas that govern the Imperium."

Holland took in a breath in a sharp hiss, feeling like the world had fallen out from under her feet. "Are you certain?" she asked, leaning forward slightly. Never had she expected to hear those two words in her lifetime. This is it, she thought numbly. This is the end of the world.

"As the grave," the magus confirmed.

"They will scour clean the world and begin anew under Deus, then," Holland said, feeling dread twist in her stomach like a cold knot. "If they have cemented the Aeterna Pacis, then...they will begin by calling forth the legions and the Immortals. Then they will head south across the Wild Reach until they make it to the shores of the Sundered Sea. They know they cannot cross the Eye of the World straight to Yssa, but they can certainly call up a fleet of ships to take them to Ethilir and this continent. Their path will take them across the whole of the known world, one nation at a time. It will be an army like nothing you have ever seen. Their armies number in the hundreds of thousands and they are not warriors like here in the east."

"If they do not come straight for Yssa, we have time to gather our armies," Seva said with the air of a woman trying desperately not to show fear. "Holland suggested we approach the other races in the north."

"A difficult proposition," Dušan said thoughtfully, resting his clasped hands on the table. The many rings on his fingers gleamed in the sunlight, each one a powerful magical artifact from the First World. Holland had no doubt that they could do her grievous injury if she so much as breathed threateningly. He wouldn't hurt a Queen of Yssa, but he might just hurt a former Immortal. "They are suspicious creatures with old grudges, against each other as well as the kingdoms of men. Cooperation would be a difficult thing to broach, provided they could even be reached. Particularly the elves."

"I hate the fact that we need elvish help," Holland muttered.

"Why?" Seva said curiously.

"Because I've met elves," the penitent said, leaning back in her chair with a sigh. "The outcasts or enslaved, like Naris, are tolerable. They're the young ones. The ancients? They'd pluck the wings off a butterfly just to watch it squirm."

"But they have power and enlightened self-interest is a powerful force," Dušan said.

Holland gritted her teeth at the idea. Dušan was right. In the face of the Imperium, they would need everyone. However, that didn't mean she had to like it. "I know," she said. "I would much rather deal with the dwarves. They have honor, even if they do not love the surface races."

"And their artifices that surpass those of men," Seva said softly. Even here in the southeast, they'd heard of the workings of dwarven forges. Their crafts were legendary. She'd seen shields of dwarven make shatter attacking blades and dwarven swords slice through armor like a hot knife through butter.

"The orcish hordes would be invaluable," the magus added. "Though difficult to sway through reason. They are savage creatures."

Seva paled slightly. "The tales of them are not those of flattering words," she said quietly.

Holland shrugged. She'd never met a pure-blooded orc or passed far enough north to encounter tales with accuracy. She expected what reached the south was incredibly distorted, making them out to be creatures of brutish, stupid bloodlust. But then again, every story had a grain of truth to it. "Orcs, dwarves, and elves. There may be others we can recruit, but those should be our main focus."

Dušan nodded. "I will make the kingdoms of men my priority to advocate in for peace and cooperation. If you could bring the north in line, the kings of the south will follow—they will have to. But first, Yssa and Leus must come to an arrangement."

"And what are thy terms?" Seva asked.

"The High King has granted me permission to negotiate on his behalf. If Yssa cedes the southernmost Stonemarch to us, from Windfield to Reddell, we will cease our advances and look to mutual defense," Dušan said.

"That has some of the richest mines in Yssa," Seva said sharply.

"No one ever said our assistance would come cheaply," the magus said with a shrug. "This is the High King's price, not mine. He does not understand the pressing need that we do. If you do not agree, it will be beyond my power to aid you."

"A dangerous game to play with the whole of the world on the line," Seva said. Instead of crumbling, she leaned forward and her blue eyes narrowed slightly. "What wouldst thou do if I bade thee leave and simply made for the north?"

"It would cost you precious time and preparations that you cannot afford to lose." The magus raised an eyebrow at the Queen, his eyes carefully evaluating. "Unless you have a counter offer?" He motioned to the map spread out on the table.

Seva studied the map for a minute or so, running her fingers across the old parchment. It was an accurate one, given the Sight of the Leyans, but not as accurate as some of the cartography that Holland had seen in her lifetime. "What about the Denale Isles?" she said.

"Rocks in the sea?" Dušan said. However, his eyes were appraising. The Denale were not particularly rich, but they were a valuable stop on the way in trade with Genev. It wasn't nearly as nice of a deal as taking a swath of border territory, but it was something to walk away with.

"Thou has need of us as much as we have need of thee," the Queen of Yssa said. "No other can field armies like Yssa."

Seva didn't look uncertain, but Holland caught a hint of nerves. The penitent was used to watching her friend's moods carefully. Seva probably didn't know what she was doing, but she was going to give it a shot anyway. The queen's father had been a diplomat. Perhaps some of those skills and early training would come back to help her now, along with her usually personable self.

"Armies of peasants," Dušan said dryly.

"Peasants who turned thy people back with the falling leaves," Seva pointed out.

It seemed to rankle at the magus a little bit, but he didn't say anything. Instead, he chuckled. "Fiery. I didn't expect that from one of Fionn's women," he said.

"My lord should adjust his tone," Holland said frostily before the queen could even react, taking offense on her friend's behalf. It was not a comment the penitent appreciated.

Dušan looked over at the penitent. "Or, respectfully, you'll do what, Lady Penitent?"

She saw his enchanted rings flash in the light when he moved his hand, but she wasn't frightened of him. A fireball or lightning bolt would hurt very badly, but it wouldn't be the end of the world. "I was not called Cruciata for my humor or my patience," the penitent said by way of reminder. Her hands were both on the table and still, but she could feel her muscles tensing expectantly like a hunting cat's. She wasn't going to kill Dušan, but she might hurt him.

The magus looked at her for a long moment, gauging her seriousness. Whatever he saw gave him pause, because he inclined his head slightly to Seva before continuing. He wouldn't apologize for the condescension, but he wasn't likely to do it again.

Heated debate filled the solar for the next two hours as Seva and Dušan worked furiously to come to some kind of accommodation. Neither wanted to give ground, but a grudging compromise slowly took root. Yssa would retain hold of the Stonemarch in exchange for the Denale and the Idoas Pass. Neither side would be happy about it, a sign of a proper bargain. "As a show of good faith, I will send one of my sons with you," Dušan said. "Vladan is quite the warrior. I think even the Lady Penitent will be impressed. He will help you repel the dangers of the north." He raised his voice in a brief shout, "Vladan!"

Holland heard the heavy approaching tread. Whatever Vladan was, he was large. The eastern door to the solar opened and a creature eased through. The word came immediately to Holland's mind: anthroparion. It was the traditional, ancient name for life shaped by a powerful mage, existent only in Leyan traditions of magic—but she'd never, ever heard of one so large. He would have been seven feet tall if he stood fully erect, but instead his shoulders were hunched in a bestial fashion, almost as if he was not meant to wholly walk upright. Vladan's thick, mahogany fur was broken up by intermittent, dull brown scales over sheets of iron muscle. His face was a blunt muzzle and dark inquisitive eyes that reminded her a little bit of some kind of cross between an otter and a wolf. The weapon slung across his back was a dull, pitted great-maul that looked like it would easily crush a man. Each of his hands had a thumb on either side of the palm and three long, clawed fingers. He was not wearing a surcoat or a shirt at all, but instead a pair of trousers without boots to allow his hawk-like feet to spread.

"Oh," Seva exhaled, surprised despite herself. She recovered gracefully, however. "Welcome to Yssa, Vladan. It's a pleasure to make thy acquaintance."

"Your Majesty," Vladan greeted with a deep and careful bow. His voice was guttural, but the words were distinct enough to be understood. "You are kind. It pleases me to be traveling with such company." He looked at Holland with respect in his dark eyes. "Lady Penitent."

"Vladan is something of an admirer of yours, Lady Penitent," Dušan said smoothly. "He finds the Mág Vrah to be fascinating."

"Difficult to kill, yes. It will please me to see one turned to proper work," Vladan said with a grin that exposed altogether too many sharp teeth for anyone's comfort.

"To mine thoughts, 'twould be far preferable for thee to avoid coming to blows with Holland," Seva said with no small amount of concern.

Vladan chuckled. "No, I do not fight comrades," he said. He cocked his head at the two women. "Will we be traveling to Tamaris? To see the seat of the young enemy before fighting the old enemy, this would be good."

"I can see already that this is going to be an eventful trip," Holland said just a little bit dryly before offering a silent prayer to the gods for a peaceful road.