AKI:

  Discipulus was a vast metropolis of commerce and trade, its architecture, populace, and happenings denoting a hub of ephemeral wealth. Our every foray into its labyrinth of disparities merely reasserted this stark observation. The exotically dressed foreigners, seemingly infinite brands of merchandise, packed crowds jostling like a colony of ants, and the various colossal erections scattered throughout made for a barrage of new aromas and sights. The onslaught to my senses and the pulls on my curiosity gave me little time to dwell on my fears, even as my friends and I went about handling my most pressing concern.

  “The stench somewhat ruins the view,” Dako said, pinching his nose. We’d come out of a street full of fishmongers. The pungent odor of their goods, fresh though they might’ve been, rankled. Before us was Discipulus’s harbor, ships of all sizes hugging long and wide piers, beggars and merchants and royals mingling, roars and screams underscored by faint laughter, spices, piss, the perfumes of the rich, and the body odor of the unwashed masses drifting in the air, all of the hubbub contrasted by the quiet stillness of The Dead Sea in the background.

  “I’ve seen it a thousand times, yet I am always awed,” Sil said.

  “The Academy is more impressive.” Dako’s finger and thumb remained clamped on his nose, adding a nasal quality to his voice. “We’ve lived there a cycle of seasons, and still, it amazes me.”

  “They're impressive in different ways,” I said.

  Dako shrugged. “Impressive is impressive.”

  “As with beauty, magnificence is in the eyes of the beholder. Past the allure of its magics, The Academy is a marvel of function. Hard. Impassive. Exacting. Like you godlings.”

  “Like us godlings, you mean.”

  “Like most of our contemporaries, yes, but not wholly like us.” I swept a hand over the expanse of the docks. “This is different. It is a marvel of diversity. Every race, all the stripes of almost all the kingdoms are represented here. Just as The Academy is symbolic of most godlings, this here is symbolic of most of humanity, of diversity.”

  Sil smiled and shook her head. “Yeah, I’m not sure I share your poetic view of things. I merely appreciate the chaos of it all.”

  I nodded. “As I said, magnificence is in the eyes of the beholder.”

  Dako shoved himself between Sil and me and wrapped his arms around our shoulders. “Whatever the case, my friends, we aren’t here to sightsee. Let’s get on with our business.”

  Half a turn later, we stood before Siren’s Call, a tavern huddled between two of the many storefronts lining the coast. The place was clearly meant for commoners. Not low-standing Roots who might as well have been Muds, but the respectable sort, like merchants and well-to-do craftsmen. The building itself was much the same. With white-washed walls and floors treated by a passable Golem, the unnatural stone aimed to mimic marble but was but an echo of the intentions that imagined its appearance.

  We entered. A dozen circular tables were evenly spaced about the room. Only a third or so of the seats were occupied, the clusters of patrons simulating the decorous conduct of godlings. Their lackluster attempts at matching someone of a better stature marked them as merchants. That, the purses hanging off their belts, and the hushed but heated negotiations whispering through the room. A polished bar took up much of the back, where a bored-looking man leaned over the counter, a tangle of dark hair sagging over his dark eyes.

  “It’s not often we entertain students of The Academy in our humble tavern,” the barman said, his soft voice somehow curtailing the distance between us. “And never before have we hosted Seculors.”

  Both barmaids paused to watch us, platters in hand. As did the merchants, their conversations about profit held in limbo—a wonderous sight, considering the piety they were known to show the subject. Ignoring them all, I crossed the room to stand opposite the barkeep, my eyes never leaving his. A glint of blue deep within the darkness of his gaze beckoned me even closer. I resisted, standing my ground.

  “So, what shall you wet your lips with?” The barkeep turned around and gestured at the shelves of sealed clay jugs and capped glass bottles. “Ale, perhaps? No, no. Too cheap. Spirits? Hmm, no, I think not. Spirits are for those who feel too much or not at all. I assume Seculors in The Academy cannot afford to be either. Ah, yes! Mead.” He looked over his shoulder at me. “It is mead, is it not? Your favored beverage?” He turned back around and continued his perusal of the shelves. “Sweet or dry, I wonder. Dry? No, that doesn’t seem right. You’re students. The young rarely appreciate the complexity of dry. Sweet it is, then.”

  “We have no coin,” I said, freezing him in place before he unsealed the clay pot he’d chosen for us.

  “No coin? You’ve come to my tavern without coinage. Do you mean to barter for drinks? I may host many a merchant, but I am not one, good sir. If you have no coins with which to purchase my brews, I must ask you to leave my establishment.”

  Dako stepped forward. “We did not come here for libation, Tripler. It is a man we seek.”

  “What man? Here? If you do not see him, then he is not here. And I’m no Tripler, good sir, just a humble tavern owner who wishes to go about my trade without trouble. I ask again, please leave.”

  Dako growled and leaned forward, his bulk burying the man under his shadow.

  “Let us try for diplomacy before we resort to violence, Dako.” Gently, I urged my friend to step back, then turned my attention back to the excitable fellow behind the bar. “Svelok, I presume.”

  “Svelok?” Sil leaned closer and squinted at the man as if her perfect eyes needed the help. “The contractor’s guard?”

  Svelok’s face jerked. A moment of anger? Fear?

  Dako pointed a finger at the barkeep. “Then I was right. He is a Tripler. He had the smell of godlings about him.”

  “She,” I corrected.

  The barkeep shook her head. “I’m not sure what you three are rambling on about, but for all our sakes, I ask once more, please leave.”

  “Loath as I am to aggravate this encounter, my objective is too grave to let the prospect of violence deter me from my task.” I reached out a hand over the counter. “My name is Aki au Farian. It is, for now, a pleasure to meet you, Lady Svelok.”

  The barkeep looked about the room, finding we still held everyone’s attention. “Return to your business, people, or I’ll make you mine.” They did as they were told, and with a nod, the barkeep returned to watching me. “Fine. Let’s talk. But first, how about your two friends introduce themselves.”

  “I am Dakomir.”

  “And I, Silani.”

  The barkeep cocked his head. “Just Silani?”

  “Kin Lore.”

  “And you? What is your full name?”

  “Dakomir kin Bainan.”

  A shiver ran through the man—woman? “On the path?”

  Dako shrugged. “I’d say no. Others might say I am straddling the line.”

  “And yours?” I asked.

  The barkeep tore his gaze from Dako and shook off his sudden apprehension. “As you’ve deduced, I am Svelok. What gave me away?”

  “Your Painting is good. I mightn’t have noticed if not for my recent efforts in advancing my Auger senses.”

  The Painting slipped off her then, revealing her appearance. Hair grew and brightened into the color of wet sand. The glint in her eyes expanded, turning them a midnight blue. The line of her jaw softened, her lips grew fuller, and her brow flattened.

  “Ah, so you are a prospective Auger,” she said. “I’ve got to say, that is not a choice that speaks well of you.”

  “Nor is it a talent I chose.”

  “I know the feeling.”

  “So,” I began, “is Svelok your full name?”

  “It has been some time since I lost the rest of it.”

  “Faded,” Sil whispered.

  Svelok snarled at her. “Do not pity me, child. Cutting me out from under their influence was and is the best thing that has ever happened to me. Losing my mother’s name in the process was less than ideal, but I reckon the bargain was in my favor.”

  I nodded in agreement. “House Lorail is not a family one suffers willingly.”

  Svelok turned her glare my way. “And how would you know, au Farian? I’ve not heard the name. A Bark, I presume. Though I suppose you aren’t even that anymore, given you are a student.”

  “A Heartwood,” I corrected. “My sponsor is the Reeve for the capital’s Bark.” Svelok’s smile was quick and small. “He calls Adeenas wife.”

  “Adeenas Pinmoon, Lorail’s Adjudicator?” Her shock was unobscured by her cunning.

  “The very same.”

  Svelok sighed, undoubtedly because I’d just confirmed we were not people she could kill with impunity. “Who is it you are looking for?”

  “Your employer.”

  “Why?”

  “Regarding a contract.”

  “Whose?”

  “The target? Well, that would be me. As for who commissioned the contract…”

  “My employer is unavailable.”

  “Is he not here?”

  “He is.”

  “Then he’s available.”

  “Let me be more clear. He is unavailable”—she pointed at me—“to you.”

  It was my turn to sigh. “Have I not mentioned, or at the very least implied, my determination to remain steadfast in regards to my objective?”

  Svelok snorted. “I believe we both have. Now, if we are done with words, let action walk you away or send you to your death.”

  “Before I decide, let me ask you a question. Have you considered what our deaths would cost you and this ‘Raven’ you serve?”

  Svelok’s eyes went hard. “We do not disclose the identities of our clients.”

  Sil moved first, quick as lightning, surprising us all. She flowed over the counter, a leg whipping towards Svelok. The Tripler defended herself without difficulty, blocking three blows before Dako moved to join. Noticing his approach, Svelok turned the fourth block into a hold, snatched Sil’s ankle, pulled, adding to Sil’s momentum, and swung her across the room. Sil crashed into a man trailing the crowd of floundering merchants. Only when I saw Sil pushing herself off the man did I turn to help Dako.

  Dako’s speed and strength kept the Tripler at bay. No one his size should be as fast as he was. I pushed down the shock of seeing an Auger outdo a Reaper in physical combat and rushed over the counter. We attacked as one. I ducked in from one side, going low, my fist aimed at the side of her knee. Dako struck high from the other, a sweeping punch. She defended herself like there were two of her. The leg I sought rose and front-kicked Dako. I changed targets and went for the other. She leaped, braced one foot on Dako’s chest, sent the other under his chin, snapping his head back, and proceeded to backflip over me.

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  I launched myself at her. My arm whipped forward. She Painted a sword in my way. I unbelieved it out of existence. Her eyes went wide—such a raw showing of power spoke of a more profound harmony than hers, a Tripler of House Lorail, Faded though she may have been. As with all Auger Arts, one of the hallmarks of a higher harmony or quality of sensus was the ability to defuse constructs of Meaning by dismantling the sensus used to build them. This was why many Triplers with a great talent in Meaning were not considered for leafdom—most suffered from a less-than-ideal harmony.

  Svelok did not let her shock transform into hesitation, weaving back and out of my range. But in doing so, her back met the broken remnants of her shelves and gave me a chance at pinning her in place.

  I pounced. My bone-wrapped knuckles met her blocking forearm. I heard and felt her bones protest. She was a better fighter than even Dako, but the tight confines of our arena did not let her use her superior technique to negate my superior speed and strength.

  Another bone-covered fist followed. Mid-motion, a thought struck me, slowing my attack. My fist never made it to its target.

  Why am I attacking her? The thought expanded. I need her help. She is my link to whoever is trying to take my life. I should prostrate. Beg. Attacking her will get me nowhere. Attack her? Why had that ever been an idea? She is a goddess. Perfect. Untouchable.

  Dako pulled me back and out of his way. I tumbled back and over the counter, landing on my back. The compulsion driving my thoughts died away. I lay frozen. Fear gripped my heart. The thoughts felt as natural as my own. I’d seen where they were heading. Each was more ridiculous than the last, yet they felt rational as they’d sprung into being. Correct. Like truths I was discovering rather than planted fabrications.

  “Aki!” Sil shook me out of my stupor and pulled me to my feet. “Let’s get this done before Admin gets here!”

  I turned my gaze to Dako and Svelok’s fight. She was having a more challenging time of it. Dako had gotten serious, compressing his form and turning into a whip-lean, long-limbed impression of a man, his arms and legs trapping her in a cage of rapid attacks.

  “I can’t get close,” Sil said. She was right. Dako was lost in battle, too engrossed to make room for cooperation. “Tunnel her.”

  “I-I can’t.”

  Sil turned to me, confused. “Why not?”

  “She… she Tunneled me.”

  “You mean she tried.”

  “No, I mean she was in my head, dictating my thoughts.”

  “But not anymore?”

  “No.”

  “So, Tunnel her.”

  I looked down, trying to hide the dismay I was unable to clear from my face. “But…”

  “Snap out of it, will you!”

  “I—”

  An explosion of sound and stone saved me from my confession. Plumes of debris obscured Dako and Svelok. We peered over the bar. Their figures slowly came into view as the white cloud of pulverized stone settled, revealing a winded Dako standing over a defeated Svelok. He’d smashed her into the floor and part of the back wall, cracks webbing outwards from where she lay.

  “Bitch,” Dako gasped between labored breaths. “No one invades my mind.”

  Sil hurried to Svelok’s unconscious form, picked her up, and slung her over her shoulder. “We’ve got to go.”

  Deactivating his ready matrix, Dako shifted into his usual self, dense muscles expanding and losing solidity. “Right behind you.”

  Sil led us through a half-broken side door we found behind the bar counter. A storage room filled with barrels and jugs met us on the other side. Another door at the rear took us into an office. An empty office.

  “She lied,” I said.

  “Of course she did,” Dako said. “She’s a Lorail.”

  Sil stepped forward, peering around the room. “We can get the truth out of her in due time. For now, let’s get out of here.”

  A small, high window took us to the street behind the tavern.

  To accommodate the city's many visitors, Discipulus boasted many inns, particularly in the districts in and around the harbor. The first we came across took us but a short walk. We opted to walk further, passing several more before we felt we were far enough from the scene of our battle to waylay our fears of being caught.

  ‘Hearthstay’ was a poor excuse for an inn. Any place where even the walls creaked when you walked on its floors was a poor excuse for whatever it was trying to be. It did, however, suit our purposes. Without any coins with which to rent a room, we needed a place we could sneak into and whose owners we were sure to escape from if and when they came looking. We chose an empty room on the ground floor—there were more on the upper floors, but besides being more troublesome in case of a sudden egress, the creaking birthed in us a mistrust of its structural integrity.

  Sil lay Svelok on the lice-infested straw bed we found beneath the window. Our prisoner was still unconscious.

  “Wake her,” Sil said to me.

  “She Tunneled me, Sil.”

  Dako growled. “The bitch was as crafty a Tunneller as I’ve ever come across. Well trained. Old, too. Experienced. Two, maybe three hundred years, I’d guess.”

  Sil sighed. “You too.”

  Dako patted my shoulder. “He’s never been Tunnelled, Sil. Not successfully in any case. Give him a moment. I’m sure you remember your first time. Everyone does.”

  “What!” Sil was incredulous. “Never? How?”

  My shoulders slumped in defeat. “I didn’t even notice until Dako…”

  “Aki,” Sil began. She shuffled closer to me. “The first time isn't easy, but—” The jab of her fist was more brutal on my thoughts than on my arm. “But you’re you, Aki. Get over it. Now wake that grandniece of yours up so we can find out what’s what.”

  Dako and I stared at her, our mouths working towards words.

  “Yes,” Sil said, “I know. You knew I suspected, and I’m not so unaware as to ignore all the signs.” She clapped her hands. “Now get to it, Aki, we haven't got all day.”

  Dako nudged my shoulder, his shock replaced by a mix of wry amusement and gentle encouragement. “She isn't wrong.”

  I nodded. “Yes.”

  None of my physical prompting, no matter how hard or repetitive, woke Svelok. A spike of Tunneler sensus against the gate to her soul did. She jerked awake and groaned in pain, both from her bodily injuries and the backlash of having her soul gate attacked.

  “Do not interfere,” I said, my narrowed eyes not leaving the Tripler. “She’s mine.”

  Sil giggled. “Now that’s the Aki I know.”

  After a moment of confusion, where the Svelok took the time to acclimate to her sudden return to the land of the conscious, she met my gaze. She put up a meek front, an illusion. Painter Arts can heal almost as well as Duros, though their effects were temporary.

  “I see the prestige of being students of The Academy actually has some worth,” she said.

  “Flattery?” I asked.

  She jerked forward, hand snatching for my throat, her body supported by her belief. I blew away the threads she used to lie to the world with a wave of my hand.

  “No,” I said. “Which of my nieces did you spawn from?”

  “Nieces? What…” Her eyes and mouth flew wide.

  “Was it you or your mother who fell from grace?”

  She came for me again, this time with a deviously faint Tunneler matrix whose power was hidden by five layers of complexity. Unlike those constructed by Meaning, matrixes built by skill alone were rigid creations of logic and nothing like the nebulous creations of intent Meaning engaged; waving the attack away with greater harmony was possible but far more difficult.

  “A failed experiment, I’d say.” Her smirk was distinctly cruel.

  Just as Svelok’s matrix had circumvented my rudimentary defense, I hurled an avalanche of sensus at her, a wasteful surge of pure power. Her attack was buried under relentless waves, chipping away at her matrix until it lost all cohesion and crumbled.

  Svelok slumped back, spent.

  “Aslian?” I asked, naming one of Lorails ruling Fiora’s.

  Svelok gritted her teeth. “Ramla. My mother's name was Velu kin Ramla.”

  “Was?”

  “They killed her and relegated me once they’d found out who my father was.” Seeing me open my mouth to ask, she got ahead of my question. “He was a Named from House Grono. Godling women from House Lorail are barred from bearing any children from anyone but slaves.”

  “Of course,” I scoffed. “They can’t very well risk allowing a man outside their control from poisoning their offspring with the truth.” I leaned over her and tore a sizable piece from her flowing robe, carefully avoiding any region too saturated with her blood. Placing the ripped rag on a free bit of space on the lice-infested bed, I sat. “Tell me, Slevok, how many faces do you wear. And how many know this so-called ‘Raven’ is one of them?”

  “Tell me, is my life forfeit?”

  I did not mince my answer. “Yes. Whatever happens, you die here. Find solace in knowing your soul will be left to fade into the next plane without interference.”

  Svelok sighed a sigh so tired as to seem suicidal. Almost as if she were relieved to hear of her impending death. “My superiors know of my identities.” She held up a hand to stop me from speaking. “I ask that you hold your questions until I am done.

  “I am a member of a syndicate known as Uorago, though few know we exist. We are a collection of houseless citizens, Faded and retired Named, who’ve, over the years, set up a guild of sorts, offering clandestine services from assassinations to information gathering. They’d recruited me soon after I’d been relegated to a Root, first by hiring me for jobs, which, with my talents for Paintings, I was well suited for. Later, as my successes grew, I was offered a leadership role. I am currently their principal officer in Discipulus.

  “Your contract came from above. I was not given details regarding who commissioned the service or why. A messenger came with nothing but a name, a drawing of your likeness, and the fact that you were a student of The Academy.”

  “When?” I asked. My mind whirled with all the new information, yet I found no connections that might elucidate the knowledge I sought.

  “The day before you arrived in the city.”

  “And your network of subordinates, are they all members of this Uorago?”

  “Only a handful. Most believe we are a local broker of… surreptitious services.”

  “Given the nature of your work, I assume you have a cache of secrets somewhere.”

  “In my office, hidden under the floors by a Brownsmith I have under my employ.”

  “I see,” I said, thinking of more questions.

  “Any more questions?”

  “None that I can…” My words trailed off.

  Dako hated Tunnellers with a passion I had yet to find the depths of.

  ***

  A blurry figure crept in through my window and ambled towards me, inching closer at an angle and swaying from side to side.

  “What in Merkusian’s name are you doing?” I asked.

  “You can see me?” Disbelief raised the pitch of his voice.

  “Tell me you have your clothes close at hand.”

  “I… I didn’t think I’d need them.”

  I shook my head. “I beg to differ.”

  Fuller crashed into being as if reality was a reflective window, and he’d shattered his way in. I looked away from his naked form. The glow of reality bending wrapped around him, and the hazy outline of a slack, flowing dress of pale blue hung like fog over his figure.

  “Do better,” I said.

  “Uhm…”

  “Fuller, I do not care to be greeted by the sight of your nakedness this early in the morning.”

  The Auger raised both arms and inspected himself. “But for all intents and purposes, I’m dressed.”

  “Not to me.”

  “But I…” He inspected his work more closely. “This is a coupled four-layer matrix.” He looked up at me. “When did you develop the skill to see past such an advanced Painting.”

  “Blame yourself. Now, for all that is holy, clothe yourself.”

  Fuller closed his eyes, concentrated, and suddenly, the weak mist he called a Painting solidified. “Better?” he asked, opening his eyes.

  “I’d have preferred it if you’d left. Or better yet, had never come, but I suppose rescuing me from your nakedness will have to do.”

  “You left The Academy yesterday.”

  “I did.”

  “To learn about whoever’s been sending assassins?”

  I nodded.

  “What did you find?”

  “More questions.”

  Fuller sighed out of his nose. “Fine, keep your secrets, but Lokos is looking for you, and I doubt he’ll be as accepting of your answer.”

  “Why are you here in his stead?”

  “I’m not. He’d asked after your whereabouts last night. I did not tell him you were with Brittle—he is not privy to the secret of your harmonies.”

  “But Brittle is. I’ve wondered about that.”

  “Your mother very nearly took that knowledge from her, but since the Pondus has kept quiet thus far, and since you’re unlikely to find a better instructor, she’s been spared. Besides, the friction between our House and that of Bainan’s is too close to bursting into flame, and I doubt our mistress cares to deal with The Old Queen’s wrath if the conflict conflagrates, which it surely would do if the mistress actually went for Bainan’s favorate.”

  Rubbing the sleep from my eyes, I sat forward. “What time is it?”

  “Early.”

  “How early?”

  “Early enough for you to visit Lokos before the day starts in earnest.”

  “Are you sure you aren't his errand boy? You sure are acting the part.”

  Fuller sat at the end of the bed and put a hand on my leg. “What I am is your errand boy, Young Master.”

  I pulled my leg out of his reach. “Fine, fine. Truce.”

  Fuller laughed his rejection.

  ***

  “Welcome,” Lokos greeted me as I entered. “You know, you’re a hard man to find. Try as I might, I could not sniff you out when I went looking.”

  I walked deeper into his small office. A single slab of hardwood made up the floor. His plain desk, chair, bookcase, and sitting table were all made of seamless hardwood—the work of Kolokasians.

  “A nice office you have here,” I said, taking a seat. Morning light stabbed through the window behind him, and I had to squint to look his way. “Though a little monotone, don’t you think?”

  Lokos made a gesture. A trickle of his sensus flowed into the window and darkened the glass. “I prefer more subtle showings of wealth, and unlike my Goddess’ children, I think quality comes from substance, not appearance.”

  I blinked a few times to acclimate myself to the lowered brightness. “Thank you.”

  “Think nothing of it,” he said, the smoking pipe hanging from the corner of his mouth bobbing as he spoke. “So, have you anything to tell me?”

  “Nothing of note.”

  “Hm, well, that’s disappointing.”

  “Either you think too highly of me, or you think too lowly of my enemies.”

  Lokos shook his head. “Our enemies. But no, I meant it's disappointing you’ve chosen to lie.”

  The fire of my ever-present anger flared. “You had us followed?”

  “Of course not,” Lokos snorted. “I followed you myself.”

  I got to my feet before I knew I had any desire to do so. The thoughtless action encouraged me to take a deep breath.

  “Good idea,” Lokos said, seeing me rein in my rage.

  I sat back down. He was right. Lorail had given him the same mission. Ceding to my request to go about finding and neutralizing the source of my assailants without his aid was already a favor of sorts. My failure would cost Lokos. He knew I’d gleaned some information from the assassins I’d dealt with. That information would be lost upon my death, and that was to say nothing of what Lorail would do to him if I died. Her son. Her project. A slave she’d spent some effort in rearing. No, Lokos, to safeguard his mission and thus his life, had no choice but to follow me.

  “I see you are beginning to understand,” he said. “Well done, by the way. I was rather impressed with how you dealt with the Tripler. Your Auger Arts are coming along quite nicely.”

  “Were you there for all of it?”

  “I saw everything, but the distance I was forced to keep between us to avoid detection kept me from eavesdropping. Tell me, what did she reveal before your large friend took her life.”

  “And if I don’t, what then?”

  Lokos shrugged. “Then nothing.”

  I nodded, thankful my pride did not have to contend with his threats. “I wasn’t lying when I said we found nothing of note. Not who sent the assassins, nor why.”

  “But you gained any inklings that might help uncover them?”

  “Some.”

  “Tell me.”

  “If you promise to stop following me.”

  “Sure.”

  “Invoke your sensus and swear upon your soul.”

  Lokos smiled wryly and shook his head. “I’m afraid I cannot.”

  “So you lied to me?”

  “I did.”

  “Do you still wish for me to answer your question?”

  Lokos’ chuckle was short and dry. “Fair enough.”