XXV. Arrivals

The conspiracy had grown slightly since the dwarf's arrival to the palace. Seva was worried she wasn't going to be able to keep it a secret for much longer. Daag was currently posing as the scion of a powerful dwarven trading house, here to negotiate deals with Yssa. His presence drew curiosity, but he had enough financial knowledge to make eyes glaze over whenever he was pressed on his business. It would have been slightly more difficult to explain what he was doing in a meeting with herself, Dušan Cipris, the Lord Protector, and the current representatives from Genev, Talin, and Ethilir...provided Fionn had the wherewithal to ask. Naris had been watching her carefully, clearly perplexed, which Seva answered with her best false, oblivious smile. So far, her deception seemed to be working.

Gods, but she was becoming almost as good of a liar as the elf. Maybe even better. The things we do for the greater good, Seva had reflected sourly at that thought. The last thing she wanted was to be anything like Naris. But what choice did she have when the world was at stake?

At the moment, though, she was distracted from such bitter ruminations. "We do not have enough mages to have one with every noble house," Dušan said emphatically. "Some of your men will have to do without, Lord Azenari. Perhaps you could try having fewer nobles?"

The ambassador from Genev did not look amused. He was a stern man in his late thirties, premature grey in his red hair and carefully trimmed goatee. His eyes, currently narrowed at the magus, were a dull, steely color. He was not known for his sense of humor, but he was a diplomat, so Seva trusted him not to just leap up and cut out a tongue. "We need mages if we fight demons," he said, accent thick.

"Perhaps apprentices?" Cadeyrn said as he tried to strike a middle-of-the-road approach.

Dušan sighed. "An apprentice is no match for a demon and certainly no danger to Mág Vrah. They have been systematically destroying magical traditions for centuries, so I think it's safe to say they know how to shrug off a basic fireball."

Seva could feel another tension headache coming on. "Not all the Imperium's soldiers are Immortals. Holland's stories made them out to be rarities." The fluttering in her abdomen eased the stress a little bit. She could feel her son moving now and her pregnancy was obvious. It was concern for her nerves and condition that was keeping the men in the room from coming to blows more than her own aptitude as a diplomat. "They will be trouble, truly, but we must turn our eyes towards how to handle the bulk of their legions."

Daag's brow was furrowed above his blind eyes as he drummed his fingers on the table. "We might be able to bridge some of the gaps with siege engines," the dwarf ventured. "Less flashy, but hundreds of stones lobbed into a crowd tends to break formations."

"That sounds—" Seva stopped abruptly. She felt a shiver run down her spine. "Didst thou mark that?"

The magus's eyes narrowed sharply. "We're being scryed," he said as he let his attention turn away from the conversation to perceiving the essence of magic around him. "Either one very powerful mage or several working in tandem."

"The Imperium has mages now?" Azenari demanded.

"No. 'Tis the magic of men they hate above all," Seva said.

The whole room rippled like the surface of a pond, knocking books off the library shelves and scattering the maps on the table. Seva grabbed the edge of the table to steady herself. Then, half a heartbeat later, there was a thunderous crack from the direction of the throne room. Dušan was the first to his feet. "A manifestation!" the magus barked. He almost didn't believe it, but he'd felt something shift. "Whoever was scrying sent something here."

"Is that possible?" Daag asked curiously as he climbed up off the floor.

"Aurel could," Seva said of her old mentor. "Well, he could send a copper coin nigh half across the room. 'Twas only a snap of sound, mind."

"His pretty little theories apparently have a larger application," Dušan said.

"Isn't Fionn holding court right now?" Cadeyrn asked even as he rose to his feet. He grabbed his sword from where it was hanging on the back of his chair and drew it.

"I imagine he was interrupted," Lord Botha said in his deep, rich voice. The ambassador from Ethilir looked like a man carved of mahogany, tall and powerfully built. His lamellar armor was as markedly foreign as it came, but Seva found something graceful to the curve of his sword. His real power, however, was as an archer on horseback. Seva had seen him practicing, punching holes in a plate breastplate with every shot. "Stay behind me, Your Majesty." He drew his wicked, curved blade and followed Cadeyrn down the hall.

They hurried down the hall, entering the throne room through one of the side doors. Two women stood in the middle of a clear space at the center, surrounded by guards who had spears leveled at the new arrivals. One was a slender, delicate figure with white-blonde hair and a definitely elven face. She had an aura that far surpassed Naris's, however: Seva could feel magical energy pouring off her, even from across the room. Her counterpart was even taller than her and broadly built, wearing leather armor and furs. Dark hair hung in her blocky face, but for all the savagery of her orcish blood, her red-painted features were calm and collected. "You missed," the orc said.

"No, Deyris missed, and we have larger problems at the moment," the elf said dryly. She smiled at the guards. "Relax. Put your weapons down. Everything is fine."

Seva felt a chill when she saw weapons fall from the grasp of every soldier in the hall. Noble guests who had been petitioning Fionn let their cherished blades drop to the floor. People relaxed almost as one. Whatever the effect, the queen's protectors were on the very edge of it. She saw Cadeyrn and Botha both lower their weapons, confusion and conflict written on their faces. Movement caught Seva's eyes for a moment and she glanced to the side. Naris had just stepped in, no doubt called by the same magical surge they felt, and she'd gone sheet white. That immediately endeared these visitors to Seva.

"That is more than glamor," Dušan said darkly. His hands were raised to cast a spell, but he hadn't started to pull from anywhere yet.

"Who are you?" Fionn demanded. He was difficult to rattle, but there was a hint of uncertainty to his voice after seeing his guards suddenly obey this newcomer.

"A king on his throne. We may be quite close, Khagra. I told you there was nothing to fear."

"Presuming your little friends managed the right kingdom," the orc muttered, tightening her grip on her spear.

"So difficult to please," the elf said with a cluck of her tongue. She acknowledged Fionn with a little bow of her head, barely anything. It was not the same deference that Naris showed to Seva's husband. "I am Lieren Númenyaron. My delightful companion is Khagra of the Wing. We are here to speak with the Queen of Yssa. I assure you that our intentions are quite noble."

"They are dangerous, Your Majesty," Naris said to Fionn, hurrying towards him. "Do not trust them!" No doubt she intended to counter any potential glamor from Lieren with her own. She couldn't afford competition from another elf, particularly one far more ancient.

The elf, Lieren, laughed with delight. It was a beautiful, silvery sound that hung in the air, but it was also definitely cruel. "Khagra, you didn't tell me there were going to be Dúath," she said brightly. "Look at her run. Do you wear a collar, little thing, or just that brand on your cheek? Do you jump on command? Lick their feet? Oh, I wonder if she fetches. Shall I find a ball to toss?"

Seva felt her lips curving up into a genuine smile for the first time in a long time. Was it vindictive and petty? Certainly. That didn't make it any less enjoyable. Naris looked too afraid to retaliate, which made it even better.

The orc elbowed her companion less than gently. "Focus," she said sharply.

"Of course. I'll housebreak her later, as a courtesy to our hosts," Lieren said. "But we will have to do something about her pesky yapping in the meantime. Such a shrill voice."

Naris went to warn Fionn further, but her voice died halfway up her throat. She could move her lips, but no sound came out. The King looked visibly uncomfortable and let his hand stray to his sword.

For her part, the orc seemed to be growing impatient. "Enough games, elf," she snapped.

"You must be so delightful at parties, Khagra," the elf said. She did, however, turn her pale eyes towards Seva and her small group with a sharp inhale. It was like an animal catching a scent. She smiled. "Ah, magic. So there are humans with enough wits to dabble. I almost thought it was a myth."

"Stay back, Your Majesty," Dušan said quietly. "We do not know why they're here."

The orc seemed to catch the tail end of the comment as they approached. Apparently her hearing was good. "We are not her foes. We are messengers from the north."

Seva felt her breath catch in her throat. The north. This could only be Holland's doing. Gods, had she actually managed to reach the elves and the orcs? A hope was blooming in the queen's chest. "Then thou mayest give thy message in the library. Whatever this matter is, it need not trouble my lord husband." She kept her voice steady, showing no hint of anxiety or excitement. The Queen's expression remained casual, if questioning. Naris was still watching.

Fionn opened his mouth to argue and Lieren's lips quirked into a smile. "Sleep," the elf said.

People in the room dropped like flies. The average noble was nowhere near as strong-willed as the little group of adventurers who had stepped into the Vale. Even Fionn slumped over in his throne. Naris was the only one left standing besides Seva and her followers, but she was swaying and dazed. The spell also brought a grudging approval to Khagra's face, which prompted a grin from Lieren.

"See? You adore me," Lieren said to her companion. "Or at least what I can do."

"Definitely the second, and even then only in small doses," Khagra said, grabbing the elf by the upper arm and pulling her towards Seva. "Quickly, before they wake up."

The elf scoffed. "Please, they'll be drooling on themselves for at least an hour. Do you think me a child?"

"In the head? Certainly," the orc muttered. She bowed to Seva, not bothering to demand that Lieren do the same. Elven arrogance would hardly tolerate such a level of deference to a human. "Greetings, Your Majesty. We'll follow you."

"Did Holland send thee?" Seva asked as they hurried back the way they'd come with their guests.

"Yes." The orc's answer was so swift and definite that it had to be honest.

"My darling requested that I go, orc. Your attendance is most unwelcome," Lieren said, a touch miffed. "You certainly do not represent my people and your idea of defending the Queen would probably be cracking skulls with your hands. "

Seva wasn't certain what to make of the fact that the elf was apparently so fond of Holland, but she knew that it made her uncomfortable. It might have been jealousy, but she didn't examine the emotion enough to name it. There were other, larger things to attend to.

"Fine, Holland sent the elf and Ardashir sent me to make certain she reached you without terrorizing the local villages," Khagra said irritably. "I'm more resistant to her enchantments than most, it would seem."

"More and more I reconsider not allowing Vaeroth to pluck your limbs off," the female elf said smoothly before studying Seva with unsettling intensity. It was hard to gauge her reason for it. "Fascinating."

Khagra tightened her grip on Lieren's arm until it was bruising, prompting a wince from the elf that broke her atmosphere of perfect superiority. "Lieren is here because the elves have agreed to assist in the defense," the orc said.

"My tongue works perfectly fine, orc," the elf snapped, brushing some of her white-blonde hair out of her face.

"Then use it for more than just casting spells and harassing the locals," the orc snapped back.

"Some of us are wise enough not to speak until we're behind closed doors. I'm sure the concept of subtlety boggles your tiny mind, but I beg you to give it a try."

"This does not bode well for our future alliances," Botha rumbled, though he was grinning a little bit with amusement. Both the orc and the elf fixed him with matching glares that were ferocious enough to make his smile evaporate.

"We are all on the same side," Seva said smoothly as she pulled open the library doors. She waited until everyone was in to enter and close the door behind them. "Holland mentioned thy name passingly in her letter, Khagra. 'Tis good to make thy acquaintance. How fares she?"

Khagra hesitated, clearly deliberating something. She was trying to decide exactly how much of the truth she was willing to give in front of everyone. "She is alive," the orc said, settling on vagueness. "Just...busy." She didn't know any of these people enough to tell them that last time she'd seen Holland, the penitent was staring at a wall hard enough to bore through the stone as she tried to put her racing thoughts in order. Khagra hated the fact that there was no medicine for what was ailing her friend at the moment. More than that, though, she didn't want to air out Holland's problems in front of the elf. The last thing Lieren needed was any kind of indication that the penitent might be vulnerable...not that she would have an opportunity to hunt down that blood in the water while she was trapped in Yssa as an ambassador. There had been a definite logic to Ardashir's nomination.

Seva's brow creased with worry. "She is unwell?"

"Busy," the orc said again. She released the elf once they were behind closed doors. "I am not here for the nuts and bolts. I should return to her, if the elf is feeling charitable enough to send me back."

"You flatter me, Khagra, thinking I can send you back all by myself," Lieren said with amusement.

Khagra scowled. "You assured us it was within your power."

"I'll require assistance," the elf said. She looked at Dušan. "What of it, mageling? You seem to be the most experienced in such matters in the room."

"Mageling?" the magus said, his face darkening with anger.

"The beard and grey hair means he's of age, elf," Khagra said. Her expression was that of a saint tried far beyond her patience. She'd been with the elf more than twenty-four hours now and that was more than enough for a thousand lifetimes, as far as the orc was concerned.

Lieren looked puzzled for a moment, considering this. "Interesting. I always thought it was more a matter of taste." The elf waved a hand. "Regardless, while my powers are considerable, it would be incredibly inconvenient to expend the energy required to send you back where we came from. But I hear there are some particularly hellish parts of the Wild Reach that you might enjoy. Equally distant, of course, but far more cathartic for me."

"Thou art able to manifest a person?" Seva said, a little bit awed despite herself. "Across such a distance?"

"An inch or a thousand miles are hardly different," Lieren said. She seemed amused. "The world is so...solid to you, isn't it? Your arcane naivety is charming. But that isn't the issue at the moment. The stories say that humans are capable of sharing their power. I want to know if it's true. So if either you, mageling, or the queen, would care to demonstrate and assist me, that would be most appreciated."

Even though Dušan was still scowling, he stepped forward. "I will. Seva, you're in no condition to assist."

Khagra's head snapped over at the sound of that name and she stared at the queen intently, ignoring Lieren's delight at the opportunity to see what a human mage could do. So this was the woman Ardashir had said Holland needed. Her yellow, animal eyes seemed to unsettle the queen. Even so, the human woman stepped closer to Khagra and lowered her voice. "When next thou seest Holland, tell her she is still dearly missed," Seva said softly. "Mine thoughts linger with her often."

She needs Seva, Ardashir had said. The woman was dearer to Holland's heart than they were. Khagra made a mental note to press her knight for more information when she returned. "She is doing this for you," the orc said with certainty while Lieren was distracted. That much she had been able to determine on her own since she'd sat down to talk to Ardashir. He hadn't said everything—he said he was keeping Holland's confidence and she believed him—but enough for Khagra to draw conclusions for herself. "Make the elf count."

Seva looked startled by that comment, but she nodded.

Dušan touched the elf's outstretched hand, letting his energy flow into her. Contact wasn't necessary, but it made the connection much easier to maintain. At the same time, the plants in the room started to wither. "Do it now," the magus said sharply. "Not all of us are ageless."

"How unfortunate for you," Lieren said with a smile, weaving a pattern with her dexterous fingers. The air in front of her started to ripple. The elf's smile faded fast, the distortion spreading as her face grew paler and paler. It was a significant expenditure of energy. "Go, orc. I cannot maintain this long."

Khagra nodded and stepped through the twisting area. Half a heartbeat after she passed through, the portal collapsed as Lieren released the spell. Seva's eyes were like saucers. The others were probably less impressed because they didn't realize just how complicated what had just happened was. The elf made it look easy, even though she was trembling slightly from the strain and looked lightheaded. Dušan was white as a sheet. He didn't have reserves like Lieren did and he'd given more than he meant to.

"Fascinating," the elf said, examining the hand that the magus had been holding. She smiled. "It seems you humans do have things of value to share." Her pale green eyes focused on Seva. "Now, we have much to discuss. A charming young gentleman informed me that Yssa had no mages of its own. My people are more than prepared to lend themselves to the endeavor."

"What's your price, elf?" Lord Botha asked, his eyes narrowing slightly. Ethilir's stories of elves were even less kind than Leus's, likely because they had isolated groups of elves within their own borders that occasionally wreaked havoc. They were rogues, outcasts from the Vale, but still elves.

Lieren's smile was feline. "Let's just say that we are invested in your future."

Far, far to the north, there was a thunderclap and a brilliant flash of light as Khagra came stumbling out of the portal and into Lieren's chambers. It was not as gentle and steady a transition as the initial spell, which had more casters to maintain it. "How did it go?" Ardashir asked, steadying the orc.

"I've never been so glad to be rid of anyone in my life," Khagra groused, straightening up. "How's Holland?"

Vladan shrugged where he was sitting a few feet away, sharpening his claws on a glass file that belonged to the room's owner. "She's out with her horse," Vladan said. "The elves managed to fetch them and Zajar. All the pointy-ears have been giving her a wide berth since we talked to their Elentári."

"Why?" Khagra asked. She was glad of it, but it was still a little bit concerning.

"She's amarthan, apparently," Vladan said. "Fated. Lieren didn't tell them everything, but she told them that much. They aren't sure what to do with her, I guess, but they know they don't want to get in her way."

"Probably a sign of wisdom at this point." Ardashir sighed. "She needs her space. She'll say something when she's ready. We should probably head north towards Murdak before the elves decide we look like fun again."

Khagra nodded. She couldn't have agreed enough. "Murdak's reception will be much warmer," she said with confidence.

"Hope so," Vladan muttered. "There's been an awful lot of cold ones. Not sure Holland can take any more arrows."

"At least those would distract her from whatever she's thinking now," Ardashir said quietly. "Will you let her know we're going to leave, Vladan?"

The anthroparion nodded and let himself out. He knew that was an indication that the knight wanted to talk to the orc in private. Khagra sighed when the door closed, tucking some of her dark hair back behind one ear. "We should join them," she said.

"Are you alright?" Ardashir asked with concern, moving over to her.

"Fine. Lieren was more annoying than dangerous," Khagra said. "Still, I think she's the best defense against Imperial spies that we could hope for. Those enchantments of hers are wicked things."

"That wasn't what I meant," the hooded knight said as he picked up his helm from the table.

Khagra shrugged. "Not much we can do about it, is there? Fate is fate," the orc said. "From the look on Holland's face and everything Orobas said, doesn't seem like a lie. But I'm here to see it through. After we see Murdak and get the tribes riled up, we follow Holland. I'm thinking the best thing we can do right now is be there, no matter what happens."

Ardashir smiled at her. "Loyal to the bone."

"Takes one to know one," Khagra said, feeling an answering smile touch her lips despite the situation. She knew that was the highest compliment from Ardashir. "Guess the Queen's hound has a pack."

The knight nodded. He looked self-conscious, but sincere, as he spoke next, "You're lovely when you smile."

She was grateful that the red paint and her grey skin-tone made it difficult to see a blush. She was very, very glad that she'd decided to assist the strange little band that had crossed her path back in the mountains. "Heaven-sent man," she murmured, smiling at him. "Flattery will take you far."

"Only truth," he said, trying not to fidget with his helm. He was beyond pleased with what she'd said, but he was still a little bit uncertain. His last venture into love had not ended well for him. Khagra was a very different woman than Genovefa, but he was still half-expecting to fall.

Khagra had every intention of catching him on his leap of faith, however. The orc kissed him and caught his hand, interlacing their fingers. "We will be fine," she murmured when they parted.

Ardashir nodded. When she said it, despite everything that had happened, he believed it.