Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Death and Love seem to walk on either hand as I go through life:
they are the only things I think of,
their wings shadow me. - Oscar Wilde

They were going to die.

Zolf took a deep breath, shook his head to clear it out, and reassessed. Iduin, his spectacled caiman daemon, said nothing, but the whip of her tail against his leg sent vibrations through the metal.

They'd come to the warehouse anticipating an ambush; Wilde's information had been at least that good. Casters, he'd said, and fighters. Bertie had laughed with that great big guffaw of his and Sasha spun her knives and he'd thought they would be fine. Hadn't they encountered such things before?

But there'd been more than they thought, too many.

The abandoned warehouse sat with its crooked roof and crooked walls near enough to Other London that Sasha startled at shadows, her face drawn and grim. Enter quietly, clear it out, take prisoners if possible. Simple. Easy.

He should've known better.

The building groaned as they entered, plumes of musty dirt rising with each step. Hamid put a hand on Zolf's arm. He tilted his head toward the last glimpse of a shadowed creature. At least Wilde's information was right.

With a resounding crash, something fell from the upper eaves to the floor. Zolf had only a moment to see the small daemon - a dog maybe - before it dissipated into a swirl of gold Dust, and the man beneath it went still. Sasha's work.

The warehouse exploded into action. Four figures dropped from their perches and advanced, the glint of metal catching the few streaks of weak sunlight cutting into the building. A knife seemed to bloom from the eye of one figure, and it went down, a small bird vanishing into its cloak.

Hamid left him, for cover like usual, but Bertie charged forward, a gleaming monstrosity amongst the shadows. His sword cleaved through two at once and it looked - it seemed like -

Well. It was good hope and optimism were not the same thing.

Fire lit up a figure still in the eaves, just as a bolt hit Zolf's pauldron, only hard enough to bruise. He twisted his hands around for Searing Light.

"Something's wrong," Iduin whispered, standing on her hind legs like she hated. "We're missing something. Didn't Wilde say there'd be casters?"

Zolf released the spell, and white radiant light bathed the rafters, enough to see four figures flinching away. He hurried up to Bertie's flank, waving away the buzz of his wasp beetle daemon, Nevir, whose squeaky little voice thanked him. He harried two more shadows with his glaive and told Iduin to find the problem.

Hamid's signature fire caught two of the figures in streaks of flame. Bertie laughed as he swung, even when he missed and his greatsword thunked into a beam of wood. With a decisive sweep of his glaive, Zolf carved through the left figure and knocked the other off its feet.

"Iduin?"

She hissed and twitched her snout up. "There - the other casters!"

Zolf prepared another spell, but a sudden stiffness engulfed him. He had just a chance to glimpse Hamid topple over, a yell from Sasha. His limbs wouldn't respond to anything he tried, and Zolf cursed under his breath. Iduin fell beside him, panting.

Nevir glided over them, the black and yellow of his body flickering in the weak afternoon sunlight, muttering. Bertie hadn't been affected by the spell and Zolf counted the meaty thumps versus the wooden ones, trying to fight through the paralysis.

"Damnit!" Sasha swore from somewhere to the right of him. He couldn't - he couldn't move -

"Gev?" Iduin said, clenching her claws into the wood and pulling her body, just a centimetre. The spell had to be fading. Zolf pulled in a deep breath and focused, focused on the place in his chest where he used to feel the undulation of the tide and the grit of salt, and that'd gone, but it'd been filled with something else, something warm and bright and burning in that wash of refinement, the strength of conviction and unrelenting vigour. Wilde called it hope, which would've rankled, but he'd said it so plainly and devoid of his usual sarcasm.

So maybe it was. Hope. Fine, whatever. If he focused down, he could hold the heat of it in his mind and use it.

Zolf pushed against the spell, and it fractured.

He bolted upright, coughing, and scrambled to his feet. Sasha, there, curling back into the shadows even as a dagger glinted in her palm. Hamid, stuck still in the spell, though his fingers began to twitch. He glanced up, and whatever he'd managed to deal with before going down hadn't stopped more from appearing. They were tremendously outmatched.

Iduin's attention shifted, and Zolf had the glaive in his hand, deep in the gut of a robed figure who slipped forward when Zolf yanked the blade out. He caught a glimpse of a pale face, though it seemed wrong somehow, marred, and he realized there were blue lines etched into their face. What -?

The thunderous splintering of wood snared away his thoughts, and Zolf turned.

Bertie finished his opponent, which apparently included the beam of wood he'd been so diligently attacking, and whipped around his sword with a flourish. The whole warehouse creaked ominously. Zolf had just enough time to realize what was happening, flinging himself somewhat futilely over Iduin, the warmth of her body a comfort and the slide of her scales so familiar.

And then, the whole building collapsed.

He had to be alive. Zolf hadn't been dead before, but he was nearly certain it didn't hurt, and pain lanced down his side. Coughing, he shifted around. One of the platforms above him had fallen, catching his side, but the structure of it prevented the rest of the roof from hitting him. He wiped his mouth, streaking dirt into a muddy smear.

"Hamid?" he called, voice rough. The collapse took out most of the building, a wall toward the back in jagged fragments still standing, and they must've lost several hours, the sun red and bloody along the horizon. "Hamid?"

A groan, somewhere not too far from him, as Hamid shifted in the debris to raise out a hand. Zolf pulled the wood away from where he was curled in a tight ball. After several months of knowing him, the lack of a daemon didn't bother Zolf as much anymore, even if he instinctively looked for an animal to be near Hamid. He checked over Hamid, noting the large bruise he was going to get on his jaw, but a lack of blood, thankfully.

"You need healing?"

Hamid waved him away. "No, I think I'm alright. Sasha? Bertie?"

"Look for them."

Zolf picked his way through the wood, grimacing whenever he encountered a robed body. He used the end of his glaive to expose their face, and they all were the same: blue lines, which faded after a few moments. Bizarre. Hopefully, Wilde would know more about it. A large beam obstructed where he thought he'd last seen Bertie, and Zolf heaved it away, coughing again when a new cloud of dust billowed up.

"Oh," Iduin said softly, hesitating where she was normally so confident.

The blood had enough time to dry into that tacky state, not bright red but deepening to a crimson, a splash of colour amidst the brown and grey. Zolf tripped over something and caught himself, skinning the length of his palm and ignoring it. That golden armour, so useful and so protective, had done the one thing it constantly threatened. The weight of the building had crushed him and the solid metal ensured it, and even as Zolf checked for a pulse, he couldn't see or hear Nevir; healing magic would be useless.

"Fuck," Zolf whispered.

It didn't remind him of an earlier incident, of a collapsed mine, the rush of rock and dust so quick there were no screams, only the thunderous echo. It didn't bring up Feryn's face, the arguments on following family tradition, the way he'd keep going no matter what. It didn't remind him of sifting through rubble, desperate to find evidence, bile in his throat that he might see the blood-smeared blond of his brother's hair.

It didn't remind him of anything at all.

Zolf settled a Decompose over the body and headed back to Hamid.

Gev ran up to Iduin and climbed on her back, the white stripes of his fur a startling contrast against her green scales. He liked to settle there whenever they had a long journey and Sasha didn't want to wear him like a fidgety ferret stole. It lightened Zolf's heart to see Gevrun, knowing Sasha was up and nearby. In much the same way he'd gotten used to Hamid's lack of daemon, Sasha being Separated from hers no longer alarmed him. He couldn't deny it was useful; he and Iduin couldn't be more than six feet or so away from each other, but Gev could scout an entire building with Sasha standing outside. Gev spoke quietly to Iduin as he pet the side of her scaly head.

Hamid was fretting, his hands gesturing animatedly while he spoke to Sasha. She caught sight of Zolf and gave him a quick scan, as though she turned her expert eye to appraising treasure. Zolf jerked his chin at her. Her fingers touched the blood at her shoulder and she broke their eye contact.

"Zolf!" Hamid cried, offering a hand to help him over the worst of the debris. Zolf set his hands aglow with healing light and laid it over Sasha's shoulder, but turned his attention toward Hamid.

"They're dead, far as I can tell. Bertie too," he said, grimacing when Hamid gasped. "We should get out of here before more of them show up."

"Bertie - but -" He whirled around to Sasha, as if she would have a different answer, but she shrugged and Hamid slumped. "Right. We - we - well we should - go. Before their reinforcements show up."

"Yes. Good." Zolf began to climb over the jagged wood remains, struggling to keep his balance and ending up with more splinters than he'd ever want his whole life. Sasha moved with more grace, no surprise, and Hamid as well.

They'd cleared the building, brushing themselves off, when Hamid stopped and turned back. The warehouse had seemed so big when they first arrived, dilapidated but walls intact and foreboding. Crumbling to the ground, it lost all that vigour, broken and quiet. Iduin nudged Zolf forward.

Zolf's hand hovered over Hamid's shoulder, then he sighed and let it fall. "Listen, Hamid, I know he was - your friend, but there weren't anything I could do for him. I'm sorry."

Hamid nodded. He stretched out his hand and flame poured out, catching amongst the dry wood quickly, enough that Zolf winced from the heat. They watched the wood burn, Hamid's quiet sniffles fading as the flames grew, writhing into something nearly alive and hungry. Zolf shook his shoulder and with a nod, Hamid followed him.

Sasha pulled at Zolf's arm just enough to keep him a few paces behind Hamid. "He's gonna be good, yeah?"

"Dunno. Bertie wasn't exactly a good man, but he was Hamid's friend. Sometimes morals matter less when you're close. I'd say yeah, though. Yeah." Zolf lightened the tone of his voice. "Did you notice anything off about those guys?"

To her credit, she didn't seem fooled by anything he was doing. She stuck her hands in her pockets, casual. "You mean the weird blue veins. Yeah, I noticed."

"Yeah," Zolf said, Gods, he hoped someone knew what the hell that was on about.

"You think it means something?"

"Yes," Iduin said before Zolf could deny it. It'd be a lacklustre fib at best, anyway.

"I think yeah, obviously it does. There's not much more I can do about it though. Wilde should be able to at least ask around."

Sasha nodded. She, bizarrely, liked Wilde, catching him unaware with jokes and fumbling affection. Zolf loved Sasha, of course he did, but he thought Wilde might too. His smirk went less wry around her, his quips dirtier but less cruel. In the three years or so he'd been working with Wilde, he hadn't seen anyone get to him like that, especially not as quickly as she had.

The walk consisted more of alleys and waiting than travel, straining to hear if any more of those people showed up. Sasha took point, sometimes disappearing from Zolf's view altogether, but they made steady progress.

Wilde's flop in Bristol wasn't the worst - that was the Hackney shithole he swore wasn't condemned - but it had only a single room aside from the washroom, and a bed they took turns sleeping in. The seven-storey building had fallen into disrepair somewhere in the last half-century, crumbling ledges posing a constant threat, ochre paint peeling from what had been decorative corbels. Zolf made his approach noisily to distract from the others' entrance. If anyone on the deserted street kept watch, they'd known him for coming and going with relative frequency. The building was only marginally better than the one they'd just demolished, and Zolf had to wiggle the lock to make his key work.

Both Sasha and Hamid were waiting near the flop's door, invisible and obtrusive respectively. Zolf passed his hand over the doorframe to feel the warm slick thread of magic Wilde left when things were fine.

He took a step inside and then -

"Zolf," Wilde said. He stood in the entrance, hands posed on his hips, wearing that trademark ridiculous peacock green waistcoat and violet duster that almost caused Zolf physical harm, though his expression beneath his ridiculously flippy hair was sombre - a rarity.

He jerked in surprise. Wilde didn't ever wait for him at the approach. Wilde bitched all the time about how much work he had to do, that he couldn't be at Zolf's beck and call. He wouldn't just stand there .

"Wilde -"

"Don't bother, it's an illusion. I've been called to Paris. Meet me there. There are tickets for you in our special place. Call me much." Then, Wilde exaggerated a wink and the illusion vanished. Zolf sighed.

"Paris?" Sasha asked, peering over Zolf at the empty space where the illusion used to be. "What's in Paris?"

Zolf headed toward the matchbox kitchen and began tossing things out of the bottom cabinets. "It's Guivres. If she's called him to Paris, something is wrong. And - something is wrong ."

"You have a code," Hamid said, already packing up the meagre things they'd left around the room.

"Whatever Guivres said to him made him wary." Zolf squeezed under the counter next to the sink and blindly felt around until his hand closed on paper. "We need to get to Paris fast."

When he crawled out, Hamid had a bag slung over his shoulder and Sasha clutched Gev in her arms, his face pressed against her neck. The usual tidy piles of paper and spell components had disappeared, so when Wilde left it hadn't been under duress. Zolf herded everyone out of the flop and sealed the door the way Wilde taught him.

Hamid looked through the envelope, humming to himself. "Tickets for the tunnel in Dover. We should be able to take the rail from here."

"Right. Everyone ready?" Zolf especially regarded Sasha, who'd been quieter than he expected from her. She'd told him before that she had never been out of London the first time they took a trip to Oxford for a job. Travelling throughout England got easier, but going to the mainland held a different significance, a weight that didn't mean anything to the well-travelled. Hamid didn't seem fazed by their new destination, but Sasha clung tightly to her daemon and Zolf would remember that.

The ride from Bristol to Dover had several stopovers. Zolf took one to stand outside the metal-lined cars to try a spell. There wasn't any real evidence to suggest that metal or manmade objects hindered magic at all, but the superstitions he'd gleaned from the years aboard a ship sometimes grew more solid, a tangible barrier to logic.

Iduin pressed against his legs, scraping the edges of her scales against the metal to make a faint ringing until he reached down and rubbed at the ridge of her snout.

"Fine, fine ," he muttered. Zolf cast a Sending spell. "I'm - we're - erm, we're heading to Paris. Like you - for - for you. Oh, erm, Bertie's - dead. Are you safe or? Do you need - fuck."

He broke off the spell and pressed at his eye sockets. Iduin chuckled. He hated that stupid spell. Only twenty-five words, which always felt like too few, but he never seemed to use enough of them, and then felt compelled to add random nothings until the allotment ran out. He waited for a response.

The bell to signal the impending train departure sounded.

"Did he… did he say anything?" Iduin asked, even though she knew she'd hear any response as well, too connected to be divided from his magic. Zolf straightened his shoulders.

"He's probably asleep. He wouldn't answer if he's asleep."

"Right."

He kept his face neutral when he sat down with the others. Hamid had begun to animatedly explain his favourite parts of Paris. Unsurprisingly, they were all places Zolf knew to be expensive to visit and difficult to get into, but with the way Hamid wove a tapestry of description and emotion, the excitement was contagious. His face screwed up into confusion at some of the questions Sasha asked, about sewers and alleys and the style of the buildings.

It was typical of their interactions, which Zolf had come to know so well. He'd been working with Sasha for a year, Hamid just a bit less, and most of their mercenary jobs were in London. They'd been to Bristol before, and all the way up to Liverpool, but Wilde usually kept them local. Zolf had grown used to Hamid knowing the fanciest places in a town, his enthusiasm welcome, Sasha always looking eager but sceptical.

Three years ago, after Zolf had left the navy, after his privateer crew shipwrecked near Svalbard, he'd met Wilde while doing simple security jobs. He'd resisted all of Wilde's charms, and, impressed, Wilde had asked Zolf to work for him. Since then, he'd gone through people regularly, never finding a good fit. Not until Hamid, who he clashed so often with; not until Sasha, whose kindness and quickness were equally devastating. He'd known Bertie wasn't gonna work out, no matter what Hamid said, but these two - they were his , in a way he hadn't allowed something to be in a long time.

Zolf fell asleep to Hamid's earnest if bewildered answers and the rhythmic pressure of Gev sitting on Iduin and kneading at her back.

Although Zolf hadn't been in Dover in many years, it graciously refused to change. The high white cliffs loomed in the distance barely visible through the soupy layer of fog, the ocean only a cacophonous crash amidst the blind air. He guided the group as directly to the port as he could, keeping his head shrouded and Iduin alert for any familiar robes. He never officially filed, like, a declaration of departure, and Zolf wasn't sure how the Poseidon lot dealt with those who lost the faith. Given their strict and hefty hand in dealing with anything else, he could guess.

It soon became apparent that the unusually thick crowd in Dover were all heading toward the terminal, a stream of people with irritated voices and jostling luggage. Zolf relented and picked up Iduin - even inadvertently getting stepped on hurt . When they at last reached the entrance, a horde of people stood in front of a lone transit officer in a tailored blue uniform, hands raised. The sharp-eyed calico cat next to him thrashed her tail in annoyance.

Between Sasha's grace and Hamid's apologies and Zolf barreling through, they struggled to the front.

"Oi!" Zolf said, catching the man's attention. "We have tickets - can we get on?"

"No one's allowed through," the man said.

"We have somewhere to be-"

"And these other people don't?"

"Hey-"

"My apologies, sir," Hamid said, sliding between the argument threatening the air. "I can see you've a lot to deal with at the moment. Has something gone wrong with the train?"

The man - pallid and rail-thin with a few artfully combed hairs he might've called a moustache - stroked his cat several times to calm himself. "It's been happening for weeks now, but today's the first time it's been so bad to stop the train altogether."

"Oh dear," Hamid said. His sympathy face was top-notch, and it was a shame Zolf would never be able to fake something like that. "That must be incredibly difficult for you. Have they worked out a solution yet?"

"Well," the man said, and leaned forward conspiratorially. "They reckon it's Dust. Not usually visible like this unless you're in the Northern Wastes, but it's shutting down the elementals and we can't get 'em going again."

What Zolf knew about Dust could fit in a thimble. Speaking of it used to be forbidden, the knowledge heavily regulated by the Roman cults. There'd been some notions about it causing suffering or whatnot, but when the Meritocrats tore down Rome, they revealed the truth. Dust was merely a resource, like air or land, and people could utilize it to a one if it were available. The Romans sat on that power to keep the people in line. Dust allowed magic use, whether learned through the arcane or channelled divinely, and - here's where his knowledge began to dry up - daemons were entirely Dust, spreading in a sparkling gold spray when a person died. One of the first things they taught him as a cleric was not to waste healing on someone who didn't have their daemon present; they were unrecoverable.

He hadn't studied Dust in the way an arcane user like Hamid would - academically, scientifically - so the idea of it visually manifesting seemed wrong, but he didn't have anything to back that up. He couldn't think of anything within the last few weeks that would cause it, either. A sinuous sense of dread spooled through his chest; it was all coincidence, surely.

"Oh, I've studied at the University in Prague - maybe I could be of some use?" Hamid said, still using that soft inviting voice.

The man hesitated. "I think they've got a solution, but it's slow going."

"Understandable. Well, thank you so much for the information. You've been very helpful. Do you have an estimate for when the tunnel might be available?"

"Ah, might be morning, at the earliest."

"Thank you again."

They found an inn, close enough to the shore that Zolf could hear the waves at all times.

He didn't - he didn't need that. But he'd catch himself breathing in time with the ebb and flow, Iduin with her gaze cast outward even when darkness settled and he knew she couldn't see anything. It was never the ocean that was the problem, or even the structure of a vessel's hierarchy. When a captain gave an order, he knew why and what the purpose of it was. The strictures of faith, the collapse of support if he did something wrong and no one could explain to him exactly what it was or why it stripped him of the only connection he had to something holy and sacred and - wanted - that he couldn't understand.

Someone knocked on the door, and Zolf startled. He was hanging in the window, nearly out of it, one metal leg slung through and Iduin next to him, her body cold as she stared into the void. It happened, sometimes, that the feel of the sea, that devotion he'd so readily gave to Poseidon, still pulled at him, called him, and he couldn't always resist it. He shook himself off and pulled Iduin away from the window.

"Come in," he said, voice rough for some reason. He cleared his throat.

Hamid peered around the corner, a polite and empty smile across his face. "Do you mind if I come in?"

Zolf waved. Hamid took the lone chair near the closet, wicker and steel blue and probably falling apart, and scooted it closer to where Zolf sat on the bed. He primly settled in.

"Everything alright?"

"Yes." Hamid looked around, eyes catching on the open window, on the salt-sprayed cloak draped over the wooden dresser. His hands laid too still in his lap, and Zolf sighed.

"D'ya want some tea or -?"

"Oh, no thank you. I'm fine."

"Right. Right," Zolf muttered under his breath. He prepared tea anyway, the kit from the hotel containing only a dark dark brew he knew the Northern boys favoured. Might offend Hamid's delicate sensibilities and was probably too much for settling into the evening, but why not.

"It's only -" ah, there it was "Do you think that was odd, what happened at the tunnel station?"

"Can't say. I've never been through the tunnel before. But the officer said it'd only been happening for a few weeks."

"Yes, that's right. I kept trying to think of something that would've made that happen, you know? An event or a weather phenomenon, something to incite Dust to act that way. I couldn't think of anything. I asked Sasha, and she couldn't either. Do you - can you think of something we might have missed?"

Zolf stroked his beard, slightly stiff with the oceanic air (needed to be redone before he left in the morning). "Couldn't think of anything myself. Maybe we aren't looking far enough."

Hamid took the offered cup of tea, even though he only cradled it in his palms. "That could be it. Have you talked to Wilde? Did he say anything about this? He must've known - he got us these tickets."

The tea was too strong and could probably hold up a spoon, but Zolf took a big sip anyway, grimacing. "Haven't heard from him yet. He's probably busy with whatever Guivres wants him for. I figure tomorrow I'll try again."

Hamid nodded, almost absent-mindedly. "Right. Well, it will be a long trip, several more days at least. I'm sure he can spare a moment for us in that time."

When Zolf only gave a noncommittal agreement noise, Hamid eyed him directly, and then took pains to avoid that as well. Iduin finally removed herself from the window and passed close enough to Hamid that he could've reached out for her. Not that he would. Even without a daemon of his own, Hamid knew that no one touched each others' daemons - not unless you were lovers or parents of small children. Maybe one day Zolf would ask him, ask Hamid why he didn't have a daemon, if he'd ever met anyone else who didn't, what it felt like, if he felt empty and if that echoed sometimes, banging around his chest.

Even with Iduin, Zolf felt that sometimes.

"I'm not trying to be rude Hamid, but we do have an early start tomorrow. Did you need anything else?"

"Oh!" Hamid set down his cup of untouched tea. He smoothed the sides of his coat as though it got irreparably wrinkled in the ten minutes he'd sat in an unkempt wicker chair. "No, no. Thank you, for listening to me. I'm… is it strange to say that I have an odd feeling? I don't like what happened at the warehouse."

Ah, shite. Zolf clasped onto Hamid's shoulder, their close height only emphasizing the disparity between their strengths, and how slight Hamid's flesh felt. "I know that - I didn't get much along with Bertie, but I am sorry you lost a friend."

With a slightly wet laugh, Hamid shook his head. "We weren't even that close, really. At any point. He was just… something familiar, I suppose. Something from my life before. I'm not happy for anyone's death, but I do think I may have been mourning that as well."

"That's okay. No one's gonna judge you for that, least of all me."

Hamid left smiling, crooked and genuine in a way it hadn't been when he first entered. Iduin curled up under Zolf's arm. He'd have to make a point to watch out for Hamid. And Sasha. First time for her going so far. He'd really need to - if only he could keep them curled around him the same way, he could shelter all of them. If only.

The transit officer proved accurate, and they boarded the train through the tunnel early in the morning. Even then, the faded smudges of Dust lingered in the air, shifting ripples of rainbow colours that almost held weight and reflected, ever so slightly, the distorted world around them. Many of the passengers hesitated to board, their apprehension stalling them before they crossed that final threshold.

To Hamid's chagrin, the tickets Wilde purchased were only third class. It was near impossible to ignore the look of longing on Hamid's face as they passed through first and second.

Luckily, the train didn't succumb to the faint eddies of Dust, and they got to Calais without any problem. Hamid asked Zolf to contact Wilde. So he did. Still no response. Neither of the others said anything, but Sasha flipped a dagger over and over.

The journey from Calais to Paris began with another train and ended in the back of a potato merchant's cart. Hamid kept casting Prestidigitation as subtly as he could to clear the dirt constantly sprinkling over them.

The roads smoothed out beneath them, and the city began to sprout around them, farms falling behind, taller buildings shooting up, the sharp clack of horseshoes against cobblestone. All cities smelled - a potent mix of living bodies, exhaust, metal and shit - but Paris smelled strange. Their sewers were better made, maybe, and the Seine wasn't nearly as wrecked as the Thames. Less like sewage and more like, well, like the lavender fields they ambled through on their way in.

Sasha peered over the mound of potatoes and Gevrun copied her, lower body around her neck and his own extended as high as it could go. Zolf steadied her legs.

"Where are we meeting up?" Hamid asked.

Zolf had cast Sending several more times to no avail. He didn't tell Hamid the spell hadn't worked, merely maintained an air of purpose, as though he were sure of everything he was doing. Besides, he and Wilde long ago set up contingency plans and locations of safe houses. Zolf gave in, as he hadn’t done the whole trip, and touched the small locket he wore at his waist. "Some posh tenement near the centre of the city. Le Oiseaux Or , I think."

Hamid laughed and his face lit up as it hadn't the whole trip. "Of course. I wouldn't expect anything less from Wilde."

"It's a pun, isn't it." Zolf scowled.

"No, no. An, ah, an epithet, perhaps." That didn't sound much better, but Zolf didn't know enough French to decisively say either way.

The cart dropped them off at a street not too far from the building. The mercantile shops were lovely, hand-painted signs and elegantly designed window showings, and a myriad of well-dressed folk meandered between them all. It wasn't as fancy as some areas, the places where only Hamid could get around unscathed, but Sasha walked closer to Zolf with Gev tightly wrapped around her neck. Even with the sun still breaking through the light cloud cover, the whisper of the coming autumn could not be denied.

The tenement was like all other buildings in the centre of Paris: tall, ornate, ostentatious, and old. The gild along the windows and doors had mostly worn away, leaving the facade with a weathered feeling, like a great actor past their prime and still begging to go onstage. The worst thing about the building - and probably the reason Wilde chose it for its distinctness - was the faded mural above the entrance of a bird in flight, wrought in some metal patinated green with age. Zolf barely gave it a glance as he headed inside.

The interior did not disappoint the outside: a mixture of decadence and anachronism, some tired brothel from Paris fifty years ago. Along with flyspecked mirrors and wrinkly damask wallpaper, the foyer had several plush settees in plum velvet, worn smooth with use. Behind a long apothecary's desk of pockmarked mahogany, a concierge wearing an immaculate ivory uniform and tiny silver glasses stood going over papers. He kept clearing away the smoke from a nearby incense burner, rather than snuff it out, and the whole room barely displaced the heavy scent of musk and vanilla.

Zolf steeled himself for the exchange, knowing that his twenty words of French were barely going to make it through. Hamid put a hand on his arm.

"Is there something specific you say? A codeword?" The brightness to Hamid's eyes and his giddy grin betrayed his excitement over something Zolf was confident was not that exciting . Zolf rolled his eyes.

"I ask if there's a message for Herodias. Wilde always leaves a key."

With a final Prestidigitation cast over himself, Hamid clasped Zolf on the shoulder and walked over to the front desk. He proceeded to speak some very pretty and very rapid French. The concierge, someone Zolf had only ever known to scowl and speak in scornful undertones, brightened with the conversation. The two had a lightning-fast repartee and the concierge actually laughed before handing over an envelope to Hamid.

Gev bounded back over to Sasha where he'd snuck close to eavesdrop on the conversation. He wound up Sasha's side and spoke conspiratorially to both of them. "It was too posh and I didn't understand more than a few words of it, but seems there was a key left for you, Zolf."

A tentative relief washed over him; it wasn't like Wilde to leave the key without also being in the room. He should be there. He should . If Wilde was in the room, then he wasn't imprisoned somewhere, or, well worse. And if someone had managed to get the knowledge out of Wilde, the information of their secret code and their safehouses and their dropoffs, then they were in more trouble than a missing Wilde.

The second floor of the building looked to be in better shape than the foyer, though the dark wooden floors had been polished so many times there was a visible gap between the baseboard and the planks. Hamid led them to 203 and then turned to Zolf.

"Is there a secret knock that you do -"

Zolf tried not to sigh. Hamid was having too much fun with this. "You have a key. You can just - open the door, Hamid."

He did, though he knocked beforehand because Hamid couldn't do something potentially impolite if his life depended on it. The room was small, though it had obviously been ornate and decadent in its youth. The settee and chaise lounge were worn deep brown leather, oiled enough that they hadn't cracked despite their age, and well-kept enough that the leather bathed the whole room in that warm animal scent. The wood floors continued throughout, but several sizable rugs of woven thread in formerly bright - maybe even garish - colours softened the flooring. To the right, a small kitchenette boasted only an icebox inscribed with runes of cold visible even from the door and a sink with a single tall cabinet next to it. To the left, three doors marked the bedrooms, with the washroom between, the far bedroom one ajar.

Hamid entered first, and Zolf behind. He went up to the first door, the bedroom Wilde usually stayed in, and knocked twice. Wilde's little whistle relayed back to him, and Zolf could finally relax. Wilde was here; he was fine.

Zolf slumped down onto the settee with a tired grunt. Sasha prowled inside with her usual caution, even as Gev darted toward the closed balcony doors, scrambling up the side to see if they were open. They were, and when he used his weight to open them, the low sounds of Parisian night swirled into the room, honks and distant chatter, and the wind working itself up to a howl.

Not many more moments after that, the closed door flung open, and Wilde appeared from the darkness. He didn't seem visibly injured. His clothes, a modest brown waistcoat, ivory white shirt (with lacy edging, of course) and a deep green coat barely seemed in line with his usual fashion. His hair was sufficiently coiffed, though damp around the edges as if he’d splashed water onto his face. He wore a slinky smile, complementing his exaggerated lean against the doorframe, but Zolf could see the undercurrent of fatigue, distraction. Most tellingly, rather than sit imperiously on Wilde's shoulder, Ernest bolted in a flash of gold and deep teal plumage to land near Gev and preen at the fur on his head. Not all was well, then.

"It's about time you all showed up. I was afraid I'd have to leave by myself and we'd play catch up forever."

"Leave? Already?" Hamid asked, clearly longing to visit the decadent Paris restaurants he hadn't been able to in ages. The tragedy of his life.

Wilde waved his hand. "Unfortunately, yes. You see, after spending such a lovely time here, I thought I might as well continue my little trip and visit Prague. You've been to Prague before, haven't you, Hamid?"

He knew that, of course, and his arrow struck true. Hamid blanched and sat down hard on the chaise. "Ah, well, yes. I - I haven't been in so long but, um, yes of course I'd love to go back to - to Prague. What - what is there in - why would we need to go to Prague?"

The smile that broke across Wilde's face was deeply insincere. Gods, what had happened to him? "Not too much, I promise. It's only that I need a meeting with Bolla Smok. The communication lines have been lacking in their usual standard, and so I'm to be the errand boy between them. It's nothing to worry about, but I shan't be able to enjoy any more of Paris than what I already have."

"There's problems with the, uh, the Meritocrats?" Sasha asked, sitting on the back of the settee with her hands clasped tightly to the frame.

Wilde's expression shifted sweeter, even as Gev returned to Sasha and curled around her neck. Ernest, then, landed on Iduin's snout and Zolf looked away. "Sometimes, being an ancient creature of immeasurable power leads you to a bit of melodrama about minor things. It's almost certainly only a spy who's terrible at their job and an easy fix."

"And you've traced it to Prague?" Hamid asked.

"Yes." Wilde clapped his hands together. "There is a small shop near here that serves an incredible jambon beurre until midnight. Sasha? Would you care to accompany me?"

Gev pranced in front of the door, chittering involuntarily like he did when he was very excited. Sasha rolled her shoulders and stood. "Yeah, alright."

Wilde moved, but Zolf grabbed his forearm and pulled him down. This close, Zolf could smell the green floral scent of his clothes - hyacinth, he'd said once - and the lingering acridity of strong magic. Wilde leaned into it.

"Tighter, if you please."

Zolf obliged, and Wilde hummed low in his throat. "What happened to you?"

"I'm fine."

"Yeah, now, but what happened? "

The stares of both Sasha and Hamid warmed the back of his neck, and the flick of Wilde's eyes to either side confirmed it. "It's late. A meal first? And then you can have me any way you want me."

"Fine." His grip tightened a little more, the taut muscle giving to his fingers, and Wilde exhaled a shaky breath. Zolf jerked away.

"Come along, Ernest," Wilde said, his voice lacking its usual flippancy. Zolf glared at Iduin, who'd turned onto her back and wriggled as Ernest sat in a fluffy mound on her throat, but the bird took flight at Wilde's command. He landed on Wilde's shoulder and peeked out at Zolf through a curtain of hair.

"Hi, Zolf," Ernest said shyly.

"Hey." The soft-spoken daemon always surprised Zolf, who'd expected something more performative for Wilde. He turned his gaze to Wilde. "When you come back, we'll talk."

A curt nod, and then the two were gone, Wilde leaning to whisper something to Sasha that made her laugh in her restrained, awkward way.

He sat down next to Hamid, both of them silent. That wouldn't do. The kitchen would be sparse, especially if Wilde only just arrived, but he could probably make something work. Wilde's sandwich shop always sold him their bruised, over-ripe fruit from the morning for half price. He wasn't a good baker, and there was a whole city of patisseries out there who could do much better, but he knew how to whip up a genoise without much fuss and it'd be nice to have something warm with the meal.

The cupboards had the supplies he made sure to stock: sugar, flour, spices, and herbs. He'd badgered Wilde for ages to find someone who could preserve perishables for a decent amount of time and the icebox held its ground, despite their neglect.

Zolf set out his ingredients and surveyed his bounty. Good. "Alright, so, tell me about Prague."

By the time Wilde and Sasha returned, the cake was in the oven and Hamid had a map drawn on the dining table in flour, where he'd used various pieces of egg and wrapper to demarcate landmarks and other pertinent interests in Prague. Hamid quickly Prestidigitated the mess away, and Sasha laid out their spread.

Zolf finished up the simple syrup he'd had cooling with several generous splashes of brandy and poured it over the genoise. He took the bag of bruised fruit (plums and peaches, this time) and gave it all a rough chop with some sprinkled sugar. Wilde peered over his shoulder and stole more than a few sips from the too-sweet brandy bottle.

Tickets to Prague weren't difficult to come by, and Wilde procured some while he and Sasha were out getting dinner. He handed them over; they'd all be leaving in the morning.

Everyone ate, and then the brandy made another appearance, the neck of the bottle warm from so many hands passing it around. At some point, both Hamid and Sasha with their weaker constitutions dropped off to sleep. Zolf cleaned up as Wilde went to stand on the balcony. Iduin didn't have any eyebrows to raise, but she conveyed the same intention.

Zolf brought the nearly empty bottle of brandy with him and joined Wilde. The balcony overlooked a smaller alley, almost a terrible view, except the building was tall enough and situated in the best spot to peer down one of the avenues, so the cobblestone streets and lights of Paris created a path toward that huge building, the tower. He didn't know the name of it. Wilde sat on the stone bench, leaning back against the building and stroking Ernest, who was curled up against his chest.

"Need more of this?" Zolf asked, swishing around the liquid at Wilde. Probably not, with the meandering gaze Wilde gave him, and the spread of a lazy smile. He shrugged, but motioned to the bench on the other side of the balcony doors. Instead, Zolf sat next to him, their whole sides pressed against each other in a warm line.

"Won't get more out of me, wi'tha," Wilde said. Zolf tried to control his expression, but Iduin made a choked noise. Gone was the refined and posh public school accent Wilde always used - instead, it was lively and musical, threaded with an Irish lilt. Zolf - had no idea if Wilde either was Irish or adopted that accent when he was drunk. It'd be a strange affectation, but he'd seen weirder.

Instead of calling attention to it, Zolf stared out at the city. He took a few more drinks of the terrible alcohol, but it wasn't going to do more for him. His constitution or his dwarf-ness or whatever wouldn't allow it. He pet Iduin as she sidled up to him. Wilde gently placed Ernest atop her head, careful to avoid touching her, then closed his eyes and leaned back.

"You said you'd talk about it now. Are you going to?"

Wilde gave a careless wave. "If you've any questions, might as well ask."

This - this soused and Irish Wilde was so incredibly different to any he'd seen before. Wilde always made sure to keep himself restrained, to sip more than drink, to keep himself sober when others around him went stupid. It was a trick that Zolf admired since he couldn't pretend anything like that.

"I tried - well. I just. I didn't hear from you. Is all."

Wilde nodded. "Aye, that's coz of the barrier. No foreign magic in."

"The barrier? So you - you did meet up with Guivres."

With a laugh, Wilde shook his head so forcefully he teetered on the bench. "I've never met a one of them, Zolf. Not a lowly agent like me. But her minions, her high-ranking minions, they asked me some questions. Wanted to know if I knew anything about leaks or information getting lost."

"And did you?"

A brief pause. Zolf glanced away from the city to catch Wilde staring right at him, the drunkenness fading a bit with the keenness of his eyes. "I don't. But can't say I don't know how to get that information. It's why they got me in the first place."

"You… I know you're a … a spy, basically."

With a loud laugh, Wilde stumbled to his feet and leaned over the balcony. "Aye, a spy. I suppose. Now I watch after you lot. But that's… that's why I didn't hear from you."

"I - Sent to you. Every day. I know your work can be dangerous, but I don't know what would we do if you weren't around to give orders."

"I'm sorry," Wilde said, leaning back against the balustrade, his eyebrows furrowed in deep concern. He patted his breast pocket as if checking for something. "I wouldn't want to have worried you. I do the worry; you do the doing."

After a beat, Zolf laughed. "Nothing from that? No puns? You're drunker than I thought."

"Maybe." Wilde slumped to the ground, leaning back against the stone. "It wasn't even the worst thing I've been through. Not by a long shot. You worried for no reason."

"Well." Zolf looked down at where Iduin was gently stroking her claws through Ernest's wings, straightening the feathers. "That's just what I do, I guess. You were wrong; I worry all the time."

"Not about me."

"About you."

"Don't. I can take care of myself."

Zolf actually smiled. "Unless there's terrible brandy around?"

Wilde tapped the side of his nose and pointed. "Unless then, aye."

In the quiet stillness of night, when they'd all gone to sleep, Sasha knew Zolf was the one to worry about. He'd let Hamid have his bedroom, so Zolf slept upright in a chair close to the balcony doors. Sasha slid across the floor carefully, keeping her eyes glued to Zolf's prone form. Gev prowled along the baseboards until he could open the doors, his feet landing soundlessly on the ground.

Sasha followed. Zolf stirred, muttering something under his breath and she froze. But he woke no further. Even though it was late at night, the noise of the city still leaked through the open door, and she pulled it close, not letting it latch.

Gev already found a decent spot on the roof. He ran circles over the stone as she climbed her way up. The view from the balcony hadn't been bad, but there was nothing to beat the roof. The lights of the city took on a pattern this far up, concentric circles spiralling from the centre, delicate plumes of smoke rising like flags. Sasha didn't realize the roof had gargoyles, but she figured it would be safer to sit between them as anchors rather than right at the edge. She settled down.

"Hope you don't mind," she said.

"Not at all," the left gargoyle said in a rough scraping voice. Only years of training prevented her from jerking back and tumbling away.

Was that normal? Did gargoyles usually… speak? No need to be rude, even if she hadn't expected it.

"Right, uh, good. Sorry? It's alright that I'm up here?"

"Course."

"Not much visitors," the right gargoyle said. "Nice to have the company."

"Oh, um, thanks." She sat down and looked at both, their carved stone faces, unmoving even with speech. "So, what's... good to look at, up here?"

With a loud, grating noise, the left gargoyle extended one of its clawed hands and pointed. "There. Once a week or so, a luthier brings out one of his instruments and plays while his wife dances."

"That sounds nice," Sasha said, imagining the couple swaying in the darkness.

"And there. The confectioner gives out her candies to the children. They always crowd around when the sun sets."

"Used to. Not anymore," the right gargoyle said, sounding sad. Gev scrambled up next to it.

"Not anymore? What happened?" he asked.

"There's hardly any children, now," the left gargoyle said, wistfully, if you could make stone sound wistful.

"Did something happen? They're not allowed out anymore?"

"No," the gargoyle said. "Just went missing. Too many of them gone, and now the last of them are locked up tight."

She and Gev exchanged glances. "How long has this been happening?"

"Few days."

"No, it's been months."

"Months? Can't be that long. But it's hard to tell time now."

"It's been months, little one."

Sasha shivered with the knowledge, though it had nowhere to go. It merely plinked down inside her, unsettling but wayward. What did that mean? Why weren't more people talking about it? She pulled her knees to her chest.

"Is there, um, anything - ah - anything else to see?" She cleared her throat, even as Gev pushed against her hand over and over.

"Oh yes," the gargoyle said, its hand slowly moving to point elsewhere. "Let us show you the real city."

The trip to Prague took hardly any time at all, the trains in Paris running more smoothly than the ones in England. Maybe the Dust concentration hadn't gotten too bad this far south. For whatever reason it was doing so. Zolf remembered to ask Wilde about it, and he shrugged, made up some flippant comment. Sober and it was back to buttoned-up, sly teasing, and complete insincerity. Hamid spent most of the train ride recreating the map of Prague they'd done in the flat, excitedly pointing out some of his favourite haunts. It reminded Zolf of their trip to Paris, with the same types of restaurants, buildings, theatres, being proposed. When he caught Sasha's eye, he knew she was on the same page.

The great floating school over Prague didn't cast a shadow, but it was nearly impossible to avoid seeing it lingering overhead. Zolf knew, intellectually, that it wouldn't fall, that a hundred wizards kept the thing afloat, or maybe it was dragon magic, but it still did little to combat the oppressive feeling that weighed him down.

Wilde explained that he'd get in touch with Bolla Smok's people and set up another seemingly asinine meeting where they'd ask him a bunch of questions and he'd evade or do whatever he did and Zolf would worry for no reason. Allegedly.

As they walked through the market, Sasha stopped at one of the leatherworkers to admire some gloves.

"They're well-made," Zolf said, touching the nearly invisible stitching. Gev leaned out from his perch on Sasha's shoulder to sniff the fabric.

"Yeah. I suppose they probably cost too much. I'm not - if I'm gonna get gloves, they should be ones that help, yeah?" Still, Sasha's fingers trailed over the sets.

"Don't have to be."

"I. Ah. Maybe."

Hamid joined them not a moment later, eagerly showing them a collection of shiny items, most of which looked more fashionable than functional. It was then that Zolf first noticed the sound.

It wasn't something he'd heard before, and yet still felt familiar, placeable. He turned to the right, where it seemed to be coming from, and squinted. It sounded like wet fabric dragged over stone and the grate of rock against something solid, maybe chalk or limestone - hard but worn away, leaving a trail. He stepped back from the booth and cautiously began to move toward the sound. Sasha, then Hamid, noticed, and they went stiff with concern and wariness.

A cry erupted from the end of the street. They ran.

The sight was just as discordant as the sound. A group of people clumped together with twenty of them, maybe more, shambling together in a simultaneous motion, together but not synced, swaying from one side to the next: none of them had daemons. Zolf raised his glaive.

One of the people stumbled out of the group, a woman dressed in rags. Her head hung low and swung back and forth, like an animal scenting for something. Zolf gripped his glaive tighter and stepped forward. Whatever it was, he'd have to draw their attention at some point; the market had been full of normal people. He couldn't let them get hurt.

"What are they?" Iduin whispered. Zolf shook his head. There was no way to know and he wasn't well-versed enough to make a good guess.

Two others broke off the main group and did the same thing - searching, leading with their head, arms hanging slack. And then, one of them noticed.

The effect was instant. All their aimless shuffling halted, and as a group, they turned toward Zolf and ran.

He skewered the first one without conscious thought, no grunt of pain or spurt of blood following. The body went limp on his blade. He tried to get a look at the thing, but its hair was overgrown and obscuring its face. The second closest figure went down in a flurry of daggers and the third with a shriek of flame.

He glanced back to check Hamid and Sasha, both alert and ready, when Iduin shouted his name. He turned and -

- teeth sunk into his arm. He jerked away but the mouth wasn't finished, the cold viscous saliva oozing down his arm, mingled with warm blood. He staggered back. With a jab of his elbow to its throat, the creature released. Zolf touched his arm; a chunk of it was gone.

Dull teeth squelched around the mouthful of flesh. Bright red blood leaked around its torn lips before the chewed remains plopped on the ground. The creature lunged again. Zolf brought up his glaive but he only managed to just push it off, and he slipped in the gout of his own blood splashed across the ground.

Someone began to hum. Quietly, then louder, an upbeat lilting tune that pulsed through him with vigour. His muscles tensed with strength, and though he couldn't look away, though he hadn't heard it before, he knew it was Wilde.

A muted explosion dropped several more figures. Through the smoke, more rose in their place. Hamid's fire zinged by him and Sasha kept flinging her daggers, picking them up when they gained ground; it was slow going. Zolf took a deep breath.

He didn't know what the thing inside him was. He had faith - of course he did - his magic wouldn't work otherwise. But in what? Not Posiedon, something more nebulous, resistant to definition. It wasn't quite hope, though he joked about it, rather more, well, faith . Faith in himself and in others and in the ability of people to make things better, if only for small instances. It sounded stupid to say you were a cleric of faith. Even in its sinuous, difficult form, he could grab it, he could funnel it through his body, through the Dust that enabled magic, and project it.

He channelled the positive energy out. A light, so white and radiant it blinded, shone from his hands and washed over the street. Each thump of a body almost made him falter, but the humming kept him focused.

When the last of the energy left him, he staggered. Someone caught him under the arms and helped him stay upright, Sasha's soft voice saying "Hey, you did good. You did good."

The weakness passed. He pushed Sasha away to check her for injuries.

"Did you get hit? Are you okay?"

She shrugged. "Yeah, it wasn't much. Are you okay, though? I thought one of them got you."

"I'm fine. What were those things?" Zolf knelt next to the body closest to him, singed from holy light, and carefully used the end of his glaive to turn it over. He jerked back, toppling.

Blue lines. Branching like a root system taking over the creature's skin. As he watched, the lines became brighter, seemed to surface, and once they were light blue instead of that deep cobalt, they seemed to dissolve away.

"Those things were on the guys in Bristol," Sasha said, arms crossed tightly around her, Gev curled like a scarf. "What are they doing all the way over here?"

"Dunno, but it can't be good."

"It very rarely is," Wilde said. His long fingers landed on Zolf's shoulder and slid down until they scraped the edges of the wound. Zolf hissed. "Apologies. I usually ask before a bit of pain. Hold still."

His magic flowed through the wound, silky and thick and smelling of warmed honey. The flesh stitched up beneath his fingers as he hummed a different tune than before, and he patted the skin when he was done.

"You didn't have to -"

"But I did, so. Tell me more about these 'things' you saw?" Wilde said, catching each of them in a pointed look. Ernest settled in the strands of Wilde's hair, peeking out in a poor mimicry.

And so they explained. It wasn't much for anyone to go off, and Wilde's face didn't change at all, his eyebrows furrowed, lips a straight line. He nodded once they were through, and asked if there were anything else. Of course not - they knew less than nothing about it.

"Well, it is good to know. I'm not sure what relevancy it has to anything, but it's not something to discount immediately." His face swept up into one of those brilliant fake smiles. "There's a place, Pachtuv, that has paid rooms for us. Please take advantage of them as much as possible. I'd hate for the Meritocrat’s money to not have its full use."

"Where are you goin?" Sasha asked. Gev leaned forward, and Ernest obligingly touched his beak to Gev's nose.

Wilde did the flourish with his hands he always did when he had something to say that was for show, part of a performance. "Another meeting. You know, I've always been very popular, but I never thought dragons would be my new audience. I'll meet back up with you when I can."

"Does - does Bolla Smok have the same anti-outside magic thing Guivres did?" Zolf asked, frowning.

"Ah, yes, I would presume so." Wilde's smile softened a bit and he tipped his head toward Zolf. "I won't forget to Send one out, I promise."

With a wave and mock salute, Wilde left them. They helped the authorities with the wreckage in the marketplace, and Hamid made sure to burn the bodies. Whatever these strange creatures turned out to be, having civilians or unsuspecting police poking around them wouldn't do any good.

Hamid stared down at the bodies, devoid of those distinct marks that confused all of them so much. He held his hands on his hips. "I wonder if -"

"What?"

"Oh, no. Nothing! It's nothing." Hamid quickly set the body aflame and scurried to the next one. Sasha caught up to him easily.

"What's nothing?"

"It's only, well - and I wouldn't suggest it. But. The university. There might be someone there who knows what this is about."

"Wilde's gonna ask about that," Zolf said.

"Yes, of course, of course. I only thought that maybe a more academic viewpoint could provide us with new information, or at the very least, a new angle. But that's - I wouldn't want to impose, on either of you or the university." He worried at his hands, eyes darting upward to where the university loomed over the city.

"You've not seemed real excited to go back there," Sasha said casually, fiddling around with one of her daggers to not look at Hamid.

"I, ah, yes. I, well I don't have the best history with the university. They wouldn't deny me! Of course. But it will be, ah, a bit awkward."

Zolf clapped Hamid on the back hard enough to make him stumble. "Lucky for you, awkward's what we do best."

The transportation circles up to the university were easy to find and crowded. Gev wrapped around Sasha's waist under her coat and Zolf picked up Iduin as well. People wouldn't often run into daemons out of an almost instinctive taboo, but it didn't do to test it. Hamid always walked around with such confidence, and for the first time, it didn't look as natural as it usually did. Zolf touched his arm.

"You alright with this? We don't have to."

"No," Hamid said, sighing. "No, you're right. We don't know what they'll tell Wilde, and what Wilde can tell us. Having another perspective on it is the best solution."

Sasha held onto Zolf's coat with a strength he didn't know she had in her, her fingers so tight they went white. The teleportation felt as it always did, a strange sucking sensation near the navel that made your whole body shiver. But they arrived at the university without a problem, and Hamid drew that cloak of confidence back over himself, chin tilted up.

Zolf's knowledge on architecture could fill half a sheet of paper, but the university was beautiful. With high arches, decorated turrets, and more than a few striated windows with colourful glass displays in them, the university gave the impression of ancient and stately, as if it were intelligent as well, rather than only a place to hold those learning. Zolf brushed off his dusty armour and did not ask Hamid to Prestidigitate him. He was fine .

The bustling activity in the university meant they went fairly far without anyone stopping them. It was only when they approached a certain corridor that someone - a human student who looked younger than Sasha - asked what they were doing.

"I have the researchers that, ah, Einstein wanted. I was only heading to his office to deliver them. You wouldn't want to waste his time, would you?" Hamid asked, smiling with his teeth almost bared. The student held up their hands and fled.

"Einstein?"

Hamid shrugged. "It was the only professor I could remember! It's been a bit and I might not be feeling very confident here, Zolf."

"It's alright. I just - is that someone we should go talk to? Could he help us?"

Hamid thought for a long moment, still wandering through the corridors with a purposeful stroll. "Maybe? He's a genius, but I don't know if it's only relegated to his field. I can't remember what he specialized in."

"We should try at least, yeah?" Sasha said, even as she stayed close to the shadows of the hallway, eyes darting around.

The hallways, wide and stone, intermittently cut with huge stained glass windows depicting victorious Meritocrats scenes, formed a labyrinth, and Zolf was certain they'd passed the same door at least three times. Hamid had a confidence to him that probably belied what he didn't know.

"We… we are heading to this Einstein, right?"

"Yes!" Hamid stopped, heaved a sigh. "At least, I thought we were. I've only been to the professors' offices when they called for me."

"Okay, so…" Zolf cupped his hands around his mouth. "Oi! Einstein!"

"Zolf!" Hamid squealed.

The third door to the right from them opened. An older man, short with an impressive mane of furious grey hair, peeked out.

"Who is out here shouting my name? Just knock! Meine Götter ," he mumbled, disappearing back into his office.

Hamid and Zolf exchanged glances and then shrugs. As much of an invitation as any.

Describing Einstein's office as cluttered would've been generous and inaccurate. Every available surface was covered with books and papers and trinkets and glass beakers and two globes and a saw and some sort of complicated metal apparatus that bubbled and hissed as they entered. Every wall held diagrams and breakdowns of birds, a tower, a knife with a rainbow edge, and a strange dial with tiny pictures. Gev kept extending his snout to smell things, recoiling at whatever he encountered. Iduin stayed so close Zolf was sure he'd trip over her. Einstein himself sat on top of his… desk and rifled through a flurry of papers. He glanced up at their entrance, his eyes shrewder than his appearance would suggest.

"Well? What is it? What do you want?"

"Sorry professor," Hamid said in his soft, respectful voice. "We don't mean to bother you, but there's a… a situation? that I think you could help us with."

Einstein didn't say anything, furiously scribbling in a notebook. After a few moments of silence, he threw up his hands. "Then tell me! Geez, people barge into your office to tell you something and then they don't tell you! "

"Look," Zolf said, not having the soft respectful voice Hamid did and so it came out mostly frustrated and pissy. "We seen some things, bad things , and if you're as smart as everyone says, we thought you might be able to help. That's all."

Einstein jumped off his desk and started to pace. "Well, then, tell me these 'bad' things."

Hamid hesitated. "It's - well. You see, we fought some, ah, people, up in England. And they had these peculiar blue lines all over their faces. And when we came to Prague, there were also people with blue lines. These ones, though, were much worse off. They were acting as if they didn't have a mind. I - we were wondering if you'd ever heard of something like that."

"People losing their minds?" Einstein rubbed at his moustache. "There are so many spells that deal with the mind, many of them making people crazy or different. Maybe it is one of those spells gone awry, yes? Have you tried detecting if there is a magical school?"

"Uh, no. No I haven't." Hamid's face fell into a deep furrow.

"You didn't even check that! What kind of arcane user are you? The school can tell you many things, and if there is no school even more things! Seems to me your blue veins problem is a common spell gone wrong. Maybe wild magic showed up there. It is unknowable, you know. It's no bother to me!"

Hamid nodded, clasping his hands behind him. "Yes, of course. Sorry for bothering you professor. I thought - sorry again."

"Can't even check the school! Out here bothering me! "

Sasha stepped in the path of his pacing, her chin tilted up. Einstein halted as though he hit a wall. For the first time, Zolf could see something peeking up out of his array of collars, several small tentacles, and a gelatinous head started to lift itself out. The daemon eventually came to cling at Einstein's neck, two pale pink tentacles wrapped around it and one laid atop his head. An octopus of all things!

"What if -" Sasha started abruptly, faltering in her nerve. Gev nipped at her ear and she steeled herself. "What about the children gone missing? Could that be related?"

The bright manic energy they'd seen over Einstein's face dimmed, and his daemon tucked against his ear, whispering. He stroked the head of it absently. "What do you mean, children? They didn't mention that!"

No, they didn't. His mouth was open, and Hamid's a mirror, of disbelief and not a bit of hurt. Why had Sasha kept something from them? When had she heard that? What did it mean? Her gaze flickered to them for a second, then back to Einstein.

"I had a reliable source. In Paris, the children are all going missing. Is that- is that enough to be concerned about?"

Einstein leaned forward on his toes, examining Sasha. "What is your name? Who are all of you?"

"Sasha," she said, too loudly. Then pointed at them. "Hamid and - Zolf. We're looking into some weird stuff happening. Started in England, but it seems to be following us. Or we're following it. Thing is - thing is, that it's connected. We didn't see none of those blue vein people in Paris, but I bet they were there. And when we go back down, we'll see if the kids 'ave gone missing here too."

"Ah," Einstein's daemon stroked his moustache for him. "Ah, yes. They have. The children. They've gone missing here too. There's been some investigations, but it's not been enough to find anything. So the authorities ignore it until the children going missing are more than urchins and orphans."

Zolf stepped forward before he could help himself. "You knew children were going missing in this town and you haven't done anything about it?"

With a scoff, Einstein scrambled through his papers again and brandished them at Zolf. They had the worn, lined look of maps. "Haven't done anything? What have you been doing? I cannot put out the resources to find someone to look into this and I have classes and things up here. But I've made maps! Do you want these maps, Mr Zolf? Are you willing to stand up and do something ?"

In his placating way, Hamid slid forward and gently took the papers out of Einstein's hands. "This would be very helpful, thank you professor. Is there - do you have a way we could contact you? If we have any questions about the maps or if we find something we can use your help with."

"Yeah, yeah, of course I do. Elphea, please get the scrolls, won't you?" The octopus ambled down his arm and into the messy pile on the desk. She disappeared for what seemed like ages, then emerged with three slender scrolls in her tentacles. "Ah, here. See? You know the spell, don't you? The one to talk over long distances. These will let you use that spell. If you have questions, contact me, okay?"

Zolf took the scrolls and tossed them in his bag. "Right. Well. Thank you. We'll - we'll do some investigating, and if we find anything, we'll let you know. If you're needed."

"Yes, yes, good." Einstein's brows twisted, and he chanced a look at Sasha. Then, he flicked his hands at them and began to shoo. "Now get out! You got what you needed! Tell me if you need more things, though I'm not going to just give them to you!"

In the hallway, both Sasha and Zolf turned to Hamid. He laughed, breathy and disbelieving.

"They'd said Einstein was a little eccentric but, ah."

"A little? He's bloody mad!"

"Brilliant, though," Hamid said. Zolf snatched the maps away and pushed them into his bag, marching toward the exit of the university.

"We'll see."

Teleportation down was just as easy as up, though the attendants warned the group it was closing for the evening, and they wouldn't be able to return until the next day. After that, it wasn't difficult to find the hotel Wilde mentioned.

It must've been a home, at some point, or still was, three large buildings forming a U around a courtyard. The four floors were separated by purpose, and only the left wing allowed outsiders to stay. Their room was bigger than the one in Paris, but of lower quality.

Zolf stepped out onto the balcony, leaving Sasha and Hamid to argue about what kind of food was best for a hangover. He couldn't agree with Hamid suggesting soft-poached eggs but Sasha kept bringing up fried mudcrabs from the part of the Thames underground and Zolf was fairly certain there were no crustaceans down there so who knew what they were eating. Iduin wiggled through the bars and perched precariously on the edge.

"Why do they always have balconies," he muttered, leaning over the railing to get a better view of Prague.

"Oh, that's for Ernest. He doesn't get much time to just fly, you know? So, I think… I think Oscar likes to watch him."

Zolf peered down at Iduin. "It's for Ernest to fly? But…"

"They're Separated. You didn't know?"

"But they never…" With Sasha and Gev, it was obvious. She always sent him ahead to scout or get somewhere she couldn't. He'd never seen Ernest more than a few feet from Wilde. "I never noticed."

Iduin smoothed her toothy snout against his thigh in admonition. "I think it was part of the deal. When they started doing, you know, 'the work.'"

"Right." He rubbed his palms over his face, smoothing down the flyaway hairs of his beard. "Right."

Prague still had lights and buildings and streets, and yet was so different from Paris, you could never confuse the two. The architecture felt off, sharp edges and rigid lines compared to the opulence of Paris. He buried his face in his hands.

"Are you going to do it?"

"I don't know!" He laid his palm against her warm head. "Yeah. Yeah, of course I'm gonna do it."

He drew up the magic inside him, the golden lines of power flowing from Iduin. She didn't always act so blatant when they cast spells, the connection strong enough that they didn't need touch or focus. When she got emotional, when she thought he was, she cuddled up next to him, put her teeth against his skin to feel the life of him. He tucked his fingers under her throat.

"You were - supposed to, um, check in by now. You - you promised. You arsehole, say something."

They waited. Zolf sighed and gathered Iduin up to head for the sofa, their bed that evening. He took off his legs and rubbed at the ends, the area so calloused they didn't hurt anymore, and some of the magics in the legs negated it as well. Still. When he laid down, Iduin squirmed into place beside him, her tail thudding against the end table while she feigned sleep. He should sleep. The next day could bring anything. Who knew what sort of trouble Wilde had got into.

He really should sleep.

A sharp pain jolted him from a dreamless slumber. He pushed at Iduin and rubbed at the tender spot on his bicep where she'd bit him.

"And what was that for!"

"Shh! Listen!" She raised her head high as if she might be able to see it as well as hear it.

She was right. A faint, high-pitched hum rang through his head, more sensation than sound. He'd hardly noticed it, and he didn't notice it usually, but he knew what it was. Whenever he accessed his magic, when he touched the pillar of Dust in his core, he could feel the same tone like a cradle, like a reassurance. All Dust had a resonance to it, and one of the reasons bards weren't particularly endeared: to utilize something so primal and sacred sat almost wrong.

But, he knew why he heard it now.

"Apologies," Wilde said, voice chipper and saccharine. "This meeting feels like it's gone on forever . I won't make lunch, but I can't miss the pyramids. Some brandy should tide me over."

That - that made no sense at all. He roused himself, summoning some water to wake up quicker.

"He didn't use any of our codes."

"Yeah, I noticed." Zolf pulled his legs on. "He should've. That's why we made them."

"I'll get the others," Iduin said, moving before Zolf finished with his legs.

"Wait-"

She stepped too far and the pain lanced through his chest, buckling him at the knees. Iduin whimpered and scurried back to him. He clutched at her. They hadn't done something like that in so long. He forgot how awful it was, how it felt like a hand trying to yank your heart out through your chest. The pain and the loneliness were unbearable.

"Zolf, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." Her voice edged at the verge of tears.

"It's okay. We're alright. You were just - you were just - worried." He panted with the pain of it, trying to regain his equilibrium, and reassure himself that she was right there, she wasn't going away.

Whether the noise or the time, one of the bedroom doors opened and Gev scurried out, flopping over in front of Iduin to encourage her to scratch his belly. She obliged him, and he wriggled with it. Zolf took a deep breath, settling himself.

"Morning. Wilde's not back?" Sasha said, stretching and yawning.

"No. I think he's in trouble."

She frowned, her dark eyes shadowed beneath furrowed brows, then gave a casual shrug. "That's usually how it goes for us. Are we - so - what are we, we gonna do?"

"Gonna do about what?" Hamid asked, giving Zolf a little wave as he came out of the other bedroom.

Zolf, halfway through packing up their few personal items, paused. "Wilde. He's - well. I don't think he's good."

Hamid considered. "He was going to talk to Bolla Smok, right? That's at the castle, not too far from here. I think that's the best place to start."

"Right. Good. I agree. Let's - let's get out of here then."

The narrow winding streets of Prague all looked the same, cobbled and crowded, buildings blocking the sunlight so each turn was another cool windy place, but Hamid moved deftly. Even if he had gone to the university above the city, he’d clearly spent enough time down here to become familiar.

He was right, the castle wasn't too far. The surrounding buildings were brightly painted but the castle was dark stone, black metal thrust into the sky in a myriad of peaks. Unlike the university, the leaded glass windows were only smoke grey and opaque.

"Do we just… go inside?"

"Oh, no, I don't think so," Hamid said, absolutely unsure. "It feels rude to just go in? It's - it's the office of a Meritocrat!"

"Be rude to go in the front ," Sasha muttered and Gev cackled, running along the steps outside the glass entrance.

Zolf started up the steps. "We're here on Meritocratic orders, lookin for a Meritocrat’s agent. If anyone's got a right to be here, it's us. Come on."

Sasha followed close behind, and Hamid after with only a little protesting. The cold glass retained the morning's moisture, and his hand slipped as he pushed it open. Only the tender morning sunlight spilt any luminance into the room, a bare four feet or so of light that enabled him to see the ground made of the same stone as the building. Zolf took a step inside, and when no one called out or shot at him or appeared, he stepped in further.

"Hello?" He fumbled in the pack at his waist for a bit of kindling, just a bit to provide a glimpse of the surrounding area. He cast Spark, and the kindling flared, revealing the interior.

He hadn't known what to expect, but it wasn't - the burst of light illuminated a bruised blue field with a scattering of stars, pink and white and cerulean where they sparkled, as if he'd stepped straight into the night sky. A dizzying rush of vertigo washed over him and he put a foot behind to steady himself. Sasha caught his elbow before it hit her, and Hamid let out a small 'oof!' as he ducked out of the way.

"The ground," Gev said, twisting his way back up Sasha's legs. Now that he had pointed it out, Zolf could see the scrawl of Dust-infused writing, of spellcraft and symbols, runes that he couldn't hope to decipher with any level of accuracy.

Hamid bent down. "Huh. These look a lot like telepor -"

That increasingly familiar yank on his navel, the disorienting twirl, and another teleportation spell took hold, depositing them somewhere new. Iduin's' shivering body curled against him, and Zolf pressed his face against her scaly back to breathe in that familiar smell, like salt and sea and sun. He stood, casting Spark again to catch a ten-minute torch. The flame didn't throw light as far, and the humidity of the air made the fire flicker and warp.

Wherever they were, it reminded him of bad summers along the Spanish coast, wet and moisture-laden, the water beading up on his skin and refusing to evaporate. The ground had some sort of growth: slightly squishy, emitting a musty, sweet rot smell like decaying plant matter. Whatever it was, it crept up the sides of the room they were in, to the fifteen feet or so Zolf could make out in the low light. The ceiling stretched farther than the torch permitted. Even with his darkvision, he couldn't even be sure there was anything above them. As he focused, he could hear just the slightest bit of noise far ahead of them.

"Stay quiet. Hold hands and I'll lead us through. And be on guard." He quashed the torch. Hamid's hand, warm and clammy, slipped into his.

They made slow going, with Zolf stopping to check for noises or approach or voices. Whatever was at the far end was growing louder. They tripped a few times over the large roots running intermittently over the ground, and Iduin whispered complaints to him about the wet mush sticking into her claws. Eventually, after - oh, ages of walking, a light seemingly burst into view, and Zolf guided them to press against one of the walls, waiting.

Several figures appeared in the light, dark outlines moving purposefully. They spoke in a language Zolf didn't speak, and when he looked at the others, they shook their heads. He had Tongues, and he could cast it if he needed, but it would most likely garner attention. He leaned over to Hamid.

"I can cast a spell to understand them, but it'll reveal us."

Hamid winced. "We won't know what to do if we don't know what they're doing."

"Right, yeah. Okay." Zolf saw Sasha slip away. He cast the spell, trying to keep his voice quiet, but he could feel the magic resisting him until he raised his voice enough.

"We just need ten more, and then we can go back. Stop your whining," one of the voices, a gruff male, said.

"Fine! But I'm not responsible for watching them. I hate how they look at me," said a younger, nasal voice.

"Quit bickering. There's no time to waste. We don't know how long this is going to last." Finally, a deep female voice with a strong ring of authority.

Zolf repeated the words to Hamid, who nodded. "Doesn't sound like anything good."

"No, it doesn't. Alright, time to, uh, confront them. I guess."

Zolf threw a Bless over himself and strolled out of the hidden alcove. At first, none of the figures noticed him, but one, then another and another all perked up their heads.

"Yeah, hello. You haven't seen a missing bard 'round here, have you?"

An arrow flew toward him, and he figured the answer to that was, then, probably no. He knocked it aside with his glaive and rushed forward.

Fire spewed out of Hamid, a brilliant glow flaring across his face, and alighted one of the individuals who had a loaded crossbow in their arms. Zolf traded blows with a sword user who didn't like the reach the glaive gave him.

He caught a glimpse of Gev spiralling around on the ground and hoped Sasha could duck through the shadows well enough. The light should provide her with plenty of darkness to play in, and she could do one of those very strong attacks she was so good at.

A bright, piercing pain blossomed in his left shoulder, and he noticed another archer, this one with a shortbow, aiming at him and scanning over the darkness where he knew Hamid was lurking. He threw out a Searing Light, catching enough of them off guard, though he lost his ability to fight back. The one with the sword moved up, slashed at his belly.

Iduin, docile and sweet and prone to petting the other daemons, had her jaws locked around something small and dark-furred. A figure in the back fell to their knees, weeping, crawling along the ground to where he could hear Iduin crunching on those Dust-built bones.

He popped the sword out of the person's hands, swinging around with the glaive to throw it off into the darkness.

When Sasha came up and slit someone's throat, an ejecta of hot blood spraying over the two figures in front of them, he could feel the attitude change. Whoever these people were, they had not expected such a fight. The throaty female voice rose again.

"Leave it!"

And it was then that Zolf saw what they meant, by 'it'. One of the crates a figure'd been using for height fell over, and a small body tumbled out. The variance in size between beings was vast, but he knew what a child looked like, and everything inside him ground to a halt.

The figure in front, who was backing up with their hands raised, began to shake.

"They're all - they're all children! What are you - why are you-"

A dagger, flung out of the shadows buried into the side of Zolf's chest; the thick leathers stopping it from going more than an inch in. He grunted with the blow, regardless. The rest of the people fled down the tunnel when he was distracted. Zolf ran through his list of spells, trying to come up with something even as he reeled from the discovery.

"No," Hamid said, voice choked with tears, hand outstretched.

The thin streak of vermillion light zoomed through the air. It ignited, a great belch of flame exploding from that pinprick, so bright it made Zolf's eyes water (or so he told himself). The damp walls soaked up the abrupt screams until the only sound was the crackle of smouldering remains.

Hamid trembled where he stood, hand raised, tears streaming down his face. Zolf touched his shoulder.

"Are you good to go? We'll talk about it later, I promise, but are you good to go now?"

"Yes, I -" Hamid sniffled, but gathered himself up, chin raised. "Yes. I'm good to go."

Sasha had pried open the other crates, six in all, and had begun hauling out the bodies, laying them down carefully in rows, their tattered clothes neatly arranged. Some had been in the crates so long their bones curved to fit the shape.

Zolf reached out. "Sash -"

"Don't." Her face was blank, set, only her watery eyes betraying anything.

"Okay. So. What… are we going to do about this?"

"Could we," Hamid said, hiccuping mostly under control, "could we find their parents? Figure out who they are? Let someone know?"

"No," Sasha said. "They're urchins and orphans like Einstein said. They're no one."

Zolf couldn't help but grab her then, shaking her arm. The vehemence in his voice surprised him. " No , they are not no one. They were children and if no one out there knows they’re gone, we know. We killed the ones who did this, and we'll kill whoever gave the orders. This - this whatever the fuck is happening here? This is unacceptable. We're gonna make sure it ends."

Her face stayed impassive, but Gev nudged his nose against her jaw, and Sasha leaned against her daemon just a bit.

He blinked rapidly, clearing his eyes, then cleared his throat. "Right. Well. There's no way we can bury them. I don't…"

"I have, ah, some. I have spells - left, that could. We could. Burn them."

"Okay, good. Good."

He broke down some of the crates to encourage the fire - he knew Hamid's fires didn't usually sustain themselves, weren't designed to, but with Spark, they could get a pyre going.

By mute, mutual agreement, they stood to watch. The ceiling couldn't be as high as he thought, the smoke of the fire curling back toward them until, eventually, they had to move.

As they walked, light began to grow at the end of the tunnel. It was broken up in jagged edges, the stalagmites and stalactites probably meant it was a natural cave. That would help to explain the moisture and the growth on the walls - moss or lichen. The gaps letting in sunlight widened, with two stalagmites removed to allow easier access.

As Zolf stepped through, it became obvious that this was where the group set up. There were two large carts with enough room to hold the crates, a large bay gelding standing in front of each one, and a half-dismantled camp with two tents and a quashed fire.

He unhitched one of the bays and lashed him next to the other, adjusting the configuration until they'd be able to move in tandem. Although he had no idea where they were, he could make out a trail in the distance leading somewhere, which was better than nothing.

"Zolf?" Hamid called, a faint note of panic in his voice.

"Be right there!" He'd have to go through the camp, see if there was anything useful.

"Zolf!"

He spun around, trying to summon any patience he could. "What? What is-"

He stopped.

The cave they'd been in, had just exited, was not a cave. Those rough outcroppings he thought he knew, had seen before, were not rocks, but the bleached white of teeth. What had been skin stretched tight and dry like leather around those teeth, extending out to the hills beyond, but not hills. The rest of the body. The partially open mouth was at least twenty feet across, the gaping holes where eyes had been easily able to fit the three of them, the black baked skin extending off into the horizon. He could not make sense of what he was seeing.

"Wha… what - what is that?"

Hamid cast Fly and bolted into the sky. Zolf activated his boots of levitation and held out a hand to Sasha, who declined and instead wrapped Gev around Iduin as his daemon situated herself between his legs.

Although Hamid got there first, he hadn't moved, a hundred feet or so in the air, hovering. Zolf joined him.

The display was more impressive from the air. The creature was easier to discern, a deep black blight against low scrubland and gold sand, the rib cage responsible for that massive cave, wings without edge even from this height. Zolf sighed.

"Fuck."

"Zolf, do you know what that is?"

He shrugged, scanning from the vantage point for a better idea of where they were. "A gi- fucking -gantic creature that we walked inside of and I hope is the only one?"

"It's a dragon, Zolf," Hamid said quietly, barely audible over the wind.

"No." He evaluated the creature again. Wings, sharp teeth, curled horns. No. "They don't get that big."

"They do. They do if they get old enough." Hamid swayed with the eddies of the wind. "We know of a very old black dragon, Zolf."

The weight of the implication made him sink, the levitation bringing him down slowly. Gev leapt off when they reached Sasha, and Hamid followed, his arms wrapped tight around his waist.

Iduin blurted it out. "They're a Meritocrat, Hamid. They can't be -

"Who else could it be?"

Sasha scoffed, petting Gev as he rested over her shoulder. "We were inside that thing. It can't be a dragon, right?"

"It's - it's probably a dragon. It - it looks like it. But it can't be Bolla Smok, Hamid. Who killed a Meritocrat? Who could? "

Hamid shrugged, helplessly, face strained and stricken. "I don't know. That group of people? The ones in the - the, ah, cave?"

"The people we just killed?" Zolf shook his head. "We took 'em out, and we're a bit of a step down from one of the most powerful dragons in the world, don't you think?"

"I don't know, Zolf!" Hamid threw up his hands and it was all Zolf could do not to just console him, reassure him. "I don't know. I didn't think it was possible to kill a Meritocrat but-"

Sasha dropped a bag between them, the contents heavy and clinking together. With her hands on her hips, she kept her gaze averted but kicked at the bag a bit, rattling the contents. "Didn't have much in the camp. Some weapons, rations, papers I can't read, bunch 'a shackles."

Despite the severe desire not to, Zolf thanked Sasha and pulled the bag onto the cart he'd set up. If they could find a direction or any sort of indication as to where they were… He levitated back up into the air and - avoiding the vast remains of what might be a Meritocrat - tried to find any discernible landmarks.

"There," Hamid said, hovering beside him. He only jumped a little, making Iduin groan when he clutched her a bit too tight.

"What?"

"There," Hamid said more insistently, grabbing Zolf's hand and pointing it in the same direction he was. "You can just make it out in the distance."

"Make out what?" But even as he protested, he could see it. The temperature of the day grew, causing the ground to gyrate with the shimmers of mirage and heat, and blur things at the edge of his vision. When the breeze shifted, and he could change the angle, an incongruous line of brilliant green stood out amongst the beige of sand and scrub. The shock of vibrant life felt bewildering after the cave, the body of a dragon, the chilly morning they'd left in Prague.

"If it's a river, there will be settlements along it. Maybe we can get some direction." Hamid's voice grew back a hint of its emotive vibrancy.

"Yeah, good. I'll figure out which way's north, and it'll help us figure out where the fuck we are."

On the ground, they hopped into the cart and spread around some Endure Elements with the way the sun had already begun to beat down on them. Gev didn't like the sun at all and hid inside Sasha's jacket, but Iduin stretched across the driver's bench, her long snout resting on Zolf's thighs.

Even with the spell up, the heat of the day sapped strength and vigour from the group, making the ride dilate in time until it felt like they'd always been travelling through the desert. Zolf cast Create Water a few times to keep the horses compliant and to stave off any potential irritation from his passengers. At some point, Hamid brought out the papers Sasha'd found. None of them could read the language, so Hamid cast Comprehend Languages. Zolf did the same to Iduin so she could hop in the back and help Hamid pore over the material.

Sasha joined Zolf in the front, petting the haunches of the horses whenever she got too bored. They didn't speak, but the tension eased, made Zolf crack a joke and she laughed and that weight he'd had like a stone in his gut began to ease. Zolf paused periodically to check if they were still headed toward the greenery, and every time it got bigger, longer, he calmed just an increment more.

After a few hours, they made it to the far edge of the verdant area, full of trees and ground cover and even boats floating down what was certainly a river. Zolf almost cheered.

The small fishing town didn't have more than a few families in it, but Hamid discovered they spoke Arabic rather quickly, even if it was an unfamiliar dialect, and they managed to work out that they were in Egypt, south of Cairo by a day or so. Zolf knew Hamid had family in Cairo, and it was the best news he'd had in a very long time.

"We could go the rest of the day along the river and camp out, at some point?" Hamid said, life returning to his face and a smile twitching at the corners of his mouth. The prospect of family seemed to have invigorated him. Zolf nodded, looking out at the fishing boats with their nets and the people standing in the riverbeds pulling at some sort of plant in the water.

"Yeah, yeah that sounds good. Could you ask for some food? We have money."

The townspeople sold them fish and gazelle readily. Zolf also offered healing services for a collection of lentils, onions, peas, celery, leeks, and a handful of dates. Sufficiently supplied for the rest of their journey, they headed back out along the river.

When they set up camp for that evening, Zolf made sure to brush down the horses, keeping them fed and watered. They could probably walk without too much hassle, but having the horses was much nicer than, well, walking through the desert themselves. He helped with the tents and started cooking an uncomplicated broth-based meal with the pieces of dried fish they'd traded for flavouring the stock. With lentils, onions, and some of the lotus root, he thickened the soup, and it didn't turn out so bad.

"Did you find anything in those papers?" Zolf asked Hamid, as night settled in formally and they had to make a small fire.

"Oh, yes! I don't know what they were written in, but I think it might be a Scandinavian language? It's only a guess, but that's what it seemed like to me. They were talking about, well." Hamid frowned and picked up a few of the papers, showing them to Zolf. Some of them had drawings, a weird contraption that looked almost like one of those French guillotines, except smaller and contained.

"What - what is that? " he asked, holding the drawing up to his face.

"I don't know. The word they use for it even the spell didn't translate. Leikkerot . That only happens when it's not in the common parlance. If that's the case, then it's something new, Zolf. And it doesn't look like something good. But I think they were collecting something for this, something to power it, maybe? The text is also written in code, and I'm afraid I'm not very good with codes."

"Yeah, me neither. That's usually Wilde." Zolf stopped, the edges of his mouth tightening, his fingers growing white where they clenched the papers.

"Oh, oh dear." Hamid made a noise, sad and quiet. "Have you tried contacting him again? I think, from what you've said, he was trying to tell us to come here, to Egypt. Why else would he mention the pyramids?"

"You're right. He's very clever about that sort of thing, and I never seem to figure it out until too late."

A small warm hand covered his, warmer than it should be with the cold of the desert night settling over them. Hamid gave a tiny reassuring smile. "We figured it out, even if we didn't do it the right way. I'm sure Wilde's fine. And we'll give him this code to work on so we don't have to."

Zolf nodded. He couldn't dwell on it. He had to take care of Hamid and Sasha and he couldn't worry about Wilde, who always complained when Zolf tried too hard to 'mother' him, to ensure he was keeping himself well-rested and fed and not holed up in his office for weeks at a time with only paper and ink as his companions. Besides, he couldn't do anything about it anyway from the middle of the desert.

That night though, before he dropped off, he took out the locket and rubbed the tarnished surface, wondering. He didn't have a mirror, didn't have anything he could actually use for the spell, but… the possibility felt - comforting. He tried to Send again.

"We, uh, we found your… thing, in Prague. It was terrible. If you're not okay, I'm going to find you and kick you. Don't - die."

There wasn't a response - he hadn't expected one really - and Zolf finally went to sleep.

He woke to the horses whining and stamping. They'd been quiet for the most part, but the sound seemed more frantic, nervous. Zolf opened his eyes as one of the horses shrieked.

He was on his feet before he realized, glaive in his hand, trying to wake up, to discern what had caused it. Iduin pulled him toward the horse, which bucked and strained against its tether. Next to the horse, only a trail of blood, black in the low moonlight, remained of the other one.

"What is it? What's happened?" Hamid whispered loudly, the faint flickers of Dust rising around his moving hands.

"I don't know." He peered into the darkness, hardly able to see more than the small dunes casting shadows around them. "Sasha?"

"I'm on it." She disappeared into the darkness.

Zolf wasn't great with animals, but he pet the horse soothingly, muttering nonsense to it. Hamid kept his hands raised, though he came up next to Zolf and looked around.

"Do you see anything?"

"I just heard it. But something happened. The horse is gone and this one's spooked, so it's still out there, whatever it is."

They both peered into the night, trying to discern anything that could be amiss or explain what had happened to the horse.

"There's nothing," Sasha said. They both jumped, Hamid giving a little squeal. She put up her hands. "Sorry! Sor - just - there's nothing out there. Not as far as I could see."

With a final pat, Zolf turned from the horse and to their meagre little camp. "Regardless, we should move. We're only inviting trouble if we stay here."

They turned, and an arrow whistled through the air, hitting Hamid in the shoulder and bearing him to the ground. Zolf stepped over him to block another shot, and Sasha whipped out her daggers. He had better vision, but he couldn't see anything moving. He nudged Sasha, gave her a look; she closed her eyes like they'd practised.

The bright arc of his Searing Light blazed through the sky, and a few cries went up. By the time it'd faded, Sasha was already gone.

"I'm okay, Zolf," Hamid said weakly, scrambling away from the growing pool of his own blood. Zolf hesitated, and Hamid shakily got to his feet, chin stubborn, and a bolt of fire leapt from his hand. Was it a bit hotter than normal?

He ran out, past the screaming horse, past the edge of their camp, and he finally saw. The moonlight did more good concealing them than plain darkness, the fibre of their clothes shifting like the reflective sand. He counted seven of them, and movement in the sky drew his eyes up to three large blobs tearing something apart, which he belatedly realized was the missing horse.

All pretence of stealth was gone, and Zolf sent a wave of vibrating sound into the air, knocking into those big creatures and sending them spiralling to the ground.

"Zolf!" Iduin yelled.

He swung, knocked a sword away from spearing through him, and traded back a blow. His attention split between fighting the shadowy figure before him, and Iduin wrestling with the person's daemon. It was a venomous creature of some sort, but its stinger was having a difficult time piercing her thick skin.

A burst of fire, so bright it made the whole desert seem as day, exploded not too far from him. Hamid caught the flying creatures and at least one of the humanoids. Zolf tried to keep his opponent at bay, harrying them with his glaive, the drops of their blood glittering like rubies whenever Hamid unleashed another gout of flame.

The crunch of a shattered carapace brought the person to their knees as Iduin got her jaws around their daemon. Zolf knocked them out with a hit of his glaive's butt end, and Iduin dropped the creature - a scorpion - over the fallen body.

By the time he and Iduin took out another two people, he finally saw Sasha slitting the last figure's throat. Half her face was dark, and he already called a healing spell to hand, tracing over the cut along her brow. She winced.

"We should find out what they were doing out here."

"You don't think they were just bandits?" Sasha said, though she began searching through pockets.

"I'm not saying anything is 'just' after what's been going on." He'd have to tie up the one left alive to interrogate later, if it was worth it. Zolf started picking his way through the sand to return to the unconscious person.

It wasn’t until Iduin gasped and kicked up her speed, making him stumble after her, that he realized the downed figure wasn't alone - another smaller shape above it. Zolf caught the glint of a blade.

"Hey! Stop!" He lunged for the other person, caught short when a daemon reared at him, something large and furry and wielding a whole mouth of sharp teeth. Iduin barreled into the daemon, and Zolf tackled the person, both of them grunting as they rolled along the sand.

"Let - go - of - me!" the person said in a high-pitched, scratchy voice. The person was much smaller than he was, and whenever Zolf thought he got a good grip, the other slipped away again.

"Wait," Hamid said, from somewhere close by. The person went stiff and frozen, and Zolf recognized Hold Person. He flopped over in the sand for a moment, spitting out a mouthful of mud before rising to his feet.

"Can everyone just hold on ? There's no need for all this." He lit up a torch and sunk it into the ground. The other figure, smaller even than Hamid, still sat stiff, and Zolf threw back the black hood it wore.

A goblin. Zolf had only met a few goblins in his life, usually in the seedier ports or in locales where they were seen as a novelty to have as servants. This goblin, with ash-grey skin and wide red eyes, was wearing a breastplate, and carved into it was a symbol he recognized. An upside-down moonbow crossed by three arrows. If the goblin was Cult of Artemis, then it would explain why he'd been hunting.

He raised a hand to Hamid. "Let him go, Hamid."

"Zolf-"

"He follows Artemis - whatever side he's on, we're on the same." Zolf pointed down at the prone enemy. "We have to keep this one alive so I can interrogate him, okay?"

As Hamid lifted the spell, the goblin nodded, though his face remained severe and angry. He kicked at the body twice, then extended a hand out to Zolf.

"Grizzop drik acht Amsterdam, paladin of Artemis. Who are you?"

Zolf shook his hand, found it to be calloused and strong. "Zolf Smith. What are you doing out here?"

"Who's that?" Grizzop asked, ignoring the question to jerk his chin at Hamid.

"Oh!" Hamid wiped his hands off on his jacket and extended it out. "Hamid Saleh Haroun al-Tahan. Nice to meet you, uh, Grizzop."

Those wide red eyes narrowed. "Al-Tahan? That's the name on the big bank in Cairo. That your lot?"

"Oh dear, yes. That's - that's my family."

Although he'd known about Hamid's background, he hadn't ever thought about the possible implications until he saw, in that moment, the suspicion creep over their new acquaintance. He wasn't equipped to deal with all this nuance.

"And this is - Sasha! Sasha?"

She appeared from behind him as though she'd been there the whole time. She kept her arms crossed, Gev only visible as two pinpricks of light from inside her jacket. "Yeah, Sasha."

They were saved from further awkward posturing by a groan at their feet. Faster than he would've expected, Grizzop had out a bow aimed directly at the figure, arrow nocked. Zolf pushed the person onto their face and quickly tied them up, turning them back so he had a good view. He hefted his glaive, then glanced at Hamid.

"You're better at this than me." Zolf pointed at Grizzop. "The two'a you? Play 'nice captor, mean captor'?"

When he got two nods in response, even if Grizzop's was more wary than warranted, he stepped back, keeping the glaive level with the captive's chest. Zolf took a second to cast Comprehend Languages on himself, then hesitantly reached out to cast it on Grizzop, who nodded a wary affirmation. Hamid also cast the spell on himself.

When the captive woke up fully, she shook back her hood and revealed a gaunt human face, dark eyes watching them, wide and fearful. Iduin kept the scorpion daemon inside her jaws, stinger carefully controlled. Sitting next to her was what had to be Grizzop's daemon, a bear-like thing nearly as long as Iduin's four feet, but bulky with dense dark fur. Some people made detailed study of daemons and what they meant, but Zolf couldn't be arsed to remember any of it. The creature looked ferocious; so did Grizzop.

"What were you doing out here?" Hamid asked politely. The woman shook her head, staring at Grizzop. Hamid cleared his throat and tried again, the magic letting Zolf know it was a different language, likely Arabic. "What are you doing out here?"

That caught her attention. Her eyes flickered over to Hamid for a moment, then back. "You've made a big mistake."

"Oh no, we've made a big mistake," Grizzop said, rolling his eyes. He poked at her arm with his arrow. "Answer his question."

"I'm not afraid of death. I am afraid of what they will do if they know I talked." She winced, and Zolf knew Iduin had increased the pressure on her daemon.

"They don't have to know, and who are they? If we could find them, you wouldn't be in danger," Hamid said.

"They'll know. They can see everything with the compass."

The way Hamid stiffened meant it was something important, but Zolf didn't get the reference. Apparently, neither did Grizzop, who poked at her again.

"You're here with us right now. That should be more important to you."

She shrugged. "You're a paladin. You wouldn't torture me."

"I am a paladin," Grizzop knocked on his breastplate, "- of Artemis . We get what we're hunting, however we need to."

Whether the threat or the darkness or the group of people and daemons hovering around her, the woman bowed her head and heaved a great sigh. "You had the cart from the other group and none of the cargo. They've been compromised. You had to be killed."

That twisted fury in his gut flared, and Zolf pushed on his glaive just a bit, just enough to make her grunt and throw a glance his way. Hamid tried to get her attention back. "We saw your cargo. What is it for? Where are you taking them?"

"I can't tell you. They’ll do worse than kill me. If I - if you know about the leikkerot -"

Even in the mostly dark, Zolf caught Hamid's eyes. "We've seen that word. What is that?"

She shook her head, so much that she started to lose balance in the sand. "I cannot. If they find out, if you know about the -"

Her words choked. Froth began to bubble from her throat, running out of her mouth in a white cascade. Zolf dropped his glaive and sprinted to her, putting his hands over her throat and casting a Cure Wounds. She jerked and spasmed under his palms. He readied his hands to cast a higher Cure when Iduin nudged against his thigh.

"The daemon's gone, Zolf," she said, leaning. He rested his hand on the ridge between her eyes, letting the heavy veil of defeat settle over him for just a few moments.

"I've never seen that before," Grizzop said.

"It looked like some sort of long-range magic?" Hamid bit his lip as though he were reviewing a list of spells in his head. "It could also be a geas or command of some kind. Whatever it was, they didn't want her to speak on this."

"Not for any of 'em," Sasha said, coming up next to their group. "I barely got a guy and he did the same thing."

"So. Whatever group they're working for knows it's bad and knows it's gotta be secret. Have you got any leads on that?" Zolf asked Grizzop.

The paladin said a quick prayer over the body and his daemon came up beside him, the two conferring for a moment. "What do you know? You have a cart from one of the other group? What does that mean?"

Ah. Zolf pulled Sasha and Hamid to the side for a quick conference, leaving Grizzop to start disposing of the bodies. He bent his head and whispered.

"He's a paladin of Artemis. They're not always nice , but I trust them."

Hamid shrugged. "He seems alright. Maybe a little, um, quick? On the offence. But we could use that."

"He's here now, so we can't just tell him to fuck off, right? He can stick around 'til Cairo, then maybe we can see if we still need 'im."

In agreement, Zolf went back to Grizzop. He told the paladin about the cave, about Bolla Smok dead, about the crates of children, about that weird word and how it fit with the drawings of whatever else was in those papers. Grizzop nodded slowly, as though absorbing it all.

"That's what I'm investigating. Not a big fan of the Meritocrats, but they have money, and that's what I need. I found out the rates of children missing in Cairo went up drastically and I needed to find out why. So I went to Apophis, and his office gave me a handler. Now they give me money to do what I was going to do anyway." Grizzop leaned down to whisper to his daemon. "Riona says she'd like to look at those documents, if you still got 'em. She's good at that sort of stuff."

"Yeah, yeah we can do that." Zolf rubbed his eyes. The sudden lethargy of a day of travel and a night of fighting rushed over him. "We can't stay here. The bodies will attract predators. Let's travel a few hours and set up camp again. If everyone's alright with that."

There was a round of affirmations. Zolf saddled up their last horse, casting Calm Emotions on it to hopefully settle its nerves after, well, witnessing the brutal death of its fellow. The horse didn't resist, and they settled back in for another ride. They made camp, as they'd planned, and Zolf hoped they hadn't made a mistake with this new acquaintance. Trusting paladins was left over from when he worked for Poseidon, some belief that they were infallible, that they'd lose their abilities if they were evil or worked against the good of people. He couldn't be sure if that was true anymore. After all, he used to be a cleric of a god, and now he was just some guy with magic, unconnected. Still.

The next morning, they started their trip again, with Sasha on the reins and Zolf in the back, unfortunately, helping the two very enthusiastic others read up. The papers were confusing, misleading, heavy on the jargon of some academic who knew exactly what they were talking about and not willing to put it into words regular people understood.

"Hamid," Zolf said, remembering something from the night before.

"Hmm?" He had a paper literally up to his nose as if being a scant few centimetres would help him see the writing better.

"Last night. That woman mentioned a compass. What was that? Do you know?"

With a squirming fidget Zolf had not expected of him, Hamid prevaricated. "Well, I can't be sure, since she wasn't specific and there are many studies that say information accrued under torture can't be trusted-"

"That wasn't torture," Grizzop scoffed.

" And no one can definitively prove whether it exists anymore-"

"Hamid!" Zolf grabbed his arm and gave him a little shake. "Get on with it. I don't need a whole academic lecture."

"Oh, oh of course. I, erm, the, ah, so you remember the Magisterium? They ruled Rome before the Meritocrats destroyed it. There's a story that they created several items to help them maintain power. A spyglass to track Dust, a knife that cuts through anything, and a compass that tells you anything you want to know. While there's no physical evidence the glass or the knife existed, rumour says the compass, the alethiometer, survived. I imagine if it were around now, people would do anything to have control of it."

If that thing was real, if it's what they were dealing with, then Zolf agreed - people would do anything for it. Killing children would be low on the list. "Thanks. That sounds… complicated."

"Oh it is. Any time mention of the alethiometer surfaced, there'd be a massacre or uprising in the area." Hamid frowned into his papers. "If it exists, if these people have it, we should tell the Meritocrats."

"Here's hoping we can."

Grizzop grabbed several of the papers, laying them next to each other. His brows furrowed. "Where did you get these maps?"

"They were in the camp-"

"No, no, no. These maps," he said, brandishing them at Hamid.

"We got 'em from a wizard named Einstein," Gev said, curling his lanky body around the map's edge. "He was lookin into somethin, with the children."

Grizzop spread out the maps and pulled some of his own papers to add. The mess of lines and numbers - written in two languages Zolf normally couldn't understand (seriously, when would a clue pop up in Ancient Greek, please) - didn't explain anything. "This is London. This is happening in London?"

"And Paris and Cairo and Prague and Kyoto and Siam and Istanbul," Grizzop said, slapping down a corresponding map for each city. "I knew something was happening! I told Wilde but he said to bring proof and when I see his stupid smug face-"

"Wilde?" Hamid blurted as Zolf attempted to choke to death on his own spit. "Did you say Wilde, Oscar Wilde?"

"Yeah, he's my handler - wait." Grizzop squinted, eyeing them critically. "Do you know Wilde? He said he was a famous author in London, but I figured that meant he wrote smut for The Rambler . Do you -"

"No! No. We, uh, we work for the Meritocrats sometimes and he's our liaison," Hamid said, recovering much faster than Zolf.

"Okay," Grizzop said with an air of doubt that did not dissipate. "This whole thing has been an issue for a while. The Hera cult approached Artemis about six months ago to look into it. Since then, we've found the issue in several major cities and only getting worse."

Zolf hesitated. He knew Artemis paladins weren't the sort to trick and deceive their way into things. Obviously, that wasn't always true, but those sorts of paladins usually lost their abilities. Grizzop didn't seem as if he were trying to pull one over on them, and Zolf usually had a knack for it. He could tell when people were trying to betray him. If Grizzop were to turn on his principles, turn on all of them, Zolf was prepared to deal with that, in whatever capacity proved necessary.

And if Grizzop was a trustworthy ally, well - they needed all the help they could get.

"Have you seen the blue veins?" Zolf asked quietly.

That sharp gaze turned his way. "No, I haven't."

"We don't know what they are yet, but we've seen them infecting people in England and in Prague. These people seem… mindless? Or, at least, unthinking." He gestured at the overlapping maps. "If it's in Cairo, then they're connected."

"Three would make a pattern," Hamid said, grey pallor under his dark skin.

"There's, um, there's a - thing? There's a thing."

Iduin, who'd been keeping Sasha company, locked eyes with Zolf. "It looks like a, uh, a - structure?"

"A structure?" Hamid scrambled over Zolf. "What do you mean, what's - you should see this."

He clambered over the scattering of papers and haphazardly avoided both Gev and Grizzop's daemon, Riona, to sprawl in the seat next to Sasha. Her scarred hands were white where they gripped the reins, even as the horse continued to plod along unperturbed. Zolf followed her gaze out onto the horizon. Ah.

Hearing about the pyramids and seeing them were suddenly two exceedingly different things. He'd heard they were tall and wide and impressive, but to see them rising out of the morning light, great monoliths limned in gold and fiery red, Zolf sat back against the bench seat. They had to be, oh, hundreds of metres out still, but the pyramids dominated the horizon, immovable, ancient. Iduin pressed into his fingers and he rubbed his thumb along her sharp sturdy teeth.

"Look at that. Fuck," he whispered. Sasha leaned into his side.

"This is very, very far from London."

He laughed, helplessly. "Yeah, it really is. It's… it's alright, to be, be, um, overwhelmed."

She cast him a sidelong glance. "You telling just me that, or yourself too?"

Unable to tear his eyes away from the great structures growing only impossibly bigger, Zolf shook his head. "Fuck, me too."

It made her laugh, and it always sent a tender rush of accomplishment through him that he could make her happy. She always extended herself over their group in her halting, protective ways, tentative fragile tendrils of care, but reaching out, nonetheless. He'd struggled to show her it was appreciated, that he felt the same, that they could watch out for each other.

Grizzop suggested they approach the southwestern gate, where he knew Artemis members usually guarded. He was right, and when they showed up in a cart that apparently belonged to some child-murdering bandits, no one questioned them. They knocked on Grizzop's plate, where the symbol of Artemis shone, and he did so in kind.

"There's an Artemis stronghold not too far from here; you could all stay there."

"Oh, uh." Hamid's cheeks went dark, sheepish. "I would offer up my family estate, though everyone's free to stay in the Artemis temple, of course."

Grizzop was proving both difficult and easy to offend, shrugging at Hamid's suggestion. "Sure! If you think your fancy family is up to this many guests."

"It'll be fine, I'm sure of it."

Their trip through the town, then, consisted of Grizzop pointing out the improvements that the Artemis cult had made to the city for fortification, due to some of the outside bandits becoming braver and braver. Hamid, in a completely different manner, pointed out his favourite places to visit as a child, where he first learned to use a cantrip, where he'd broken his left arm falling out of a high window. The ebb and flow of their stories lulled Zolf into a semi-meditative state, his hands holding the reins where Sasha's surrendered them, Iduin filled with the heat of the sun and pressed against his side. He didn't even hear the first warning call.

"Hey!" Grizzop shouted. He leapt from the moving cart, somersaulting along the ground as Riona ran after him, her dark form a blur along the packed earthen ground. Zolf shook himself out of it and understood quickly what, exactly, had warranted such a reaction.

There was a crowd. All of Cairo was crowded, people milling together in the middle of a bazaar, already full of savoury smells of meats and the sweetness of fruits and the heavy scent of leather, bartering and making noise in a near-constant murmur. He hadn't noticed it fade away, or when it was replaced by the sounds of fighting.

Zolf jumped from his perch, quickly tying the horse to anything he knew would stand still for a bit of time, and followed Grizzop.

Those same figures. Those struggling, loose-limbed figures, invigorated with life or energy or whatever that made them attack and bite and scratch. More than he'd seen in Bristol, definitely more than Prague, at least fifty of them, crowding around a central point.

He didn't know what it was or why it happened, but the central point glowed, a faint pink dusting in the air that held the sparkle of divine magic, radiating outwards and coating all the creatures near it. The beings weren't loud, just the shuffle of clothes and feet, and it didn't take long for the loud grunts of whoever was in the middle of the whole mess to make their way out.

Small and deft, Grizzop was already darting between the legs of the creatures, who were slow to react. Zolf swung his glaive and took one down at the knees, leaving it sprawled across the ground, mouth opening and closing like a gaping fish left behind with the tide.

Blue veins.

He took out the next one, and that caught the attention of the rest. Some still pressed inward, but a good chunk looked at him, at what he was doing, his movements and his glaive slicing clean through their fellows, and then fell upon him. He knew - he knew - that Sasha and Hamid would have his back, Sasha invisible until she'd done her work, Hamid throwing out fire and lightning in arcs that lit up the dingy alleyway, flashes of colour across those blank lined faces.

Once he got enough space cleared around him, Zolf focused and used one of his channel energies to hurt as many as he could and take care of the injury he'd seen Sasha get to her shoulder. The creatures - and they had to be undead, they wouldn't respond to his spell like that otherwise - staggered, fell, their real death finally claiming them.

As he moved forward with the wave, something washed over him. It was - not unfamiliar, but nothing he'd ever felt before. A soothing feeling, like the brush of silk and the searing heat of a blush and a low guttural laugh that reminded him of Wilde chuckling when he was playing someone for information. It was friendly, too friendly maybe. Zolf paused.

The last of the creatures collapsed into a heap before him, and he was confronted by one of the largest people he'd ever seen. The orc woman was very tall, taller than any human he'd met, even Wilde, even Bertie. She had a shaved head and a wide grin with a broken tusk and - even with the blood spattered all over it, pink armour. He let out a small laugh, disbelieving. Grizzop struggled out of a mound of bodies, caked in more gore than the rest of them combined. His daemon - what had he called it on the road? A wolverine? - was dark and wet with blood, panting and nuzzling against Grizzop's legs.

"Hello," the large woman said, smiling down at all of them. Zolf gave another weak laugh and, trying for some of Hamid's diplomacy with him off to the side avoiding the worst of the mess, extended out his hand.

"Hi. I'm, uh, Zolf Smith. You -" He got a glimpse of the enormous axe slung over her shoulder and her filthy armour and her wide wide smile. "You seemed to have it in hand, but no one minds a bit of help, yeah?"

"Thank you. I do appreciate your help with all this. I haven't seen anything quite like it in Cairo before." She had a calm rhythmic voice, one that would probably instantly soothe a room. "I'm Azu, paladin of Aphrodite."

"Nice to, ah, nice to meet you." He nudged at one of the bodies, rolling it over so its lifeless eyes peered at the sky.

The blue lines on its face were still scored deep, trying to fade away as they had before, but it was sluggish this time, as though whatever was trying to leave had obstacles, and it only moved the slightest bit. Azu sucked in a sharp breath.

"Those lines - would you say they're sky-coloured?"

A strange turn of phrase, but he recognized it immediately as something of import, the way she spoke it in a hushed reverent tone. "Yeah, I'd say so."

She turned her deep dark eyes away from the body and up to their group. "And you, you're new to Cairo?"

"Sort of. One of us is from here, but yeah, everyone else."

"Ah." Azu glanced over her shoulder, then back to fix Zolf with an earnest expression. "The Aphrodite temple can provide you with lodgings, should you need them."

"Oh, we're - we're staying at the al-Tahan place. But - thank you." Zolf hesitated. "Have you… seen these blue veins before?"

"Never. Have you?"

"Uh, yes. A few times, actually."

Azu started to respond, but a daemon came up next to her. It was taller than Hamid, looking like a cross between a dog and a bear, distinctly spotted with a ridge of fur down its back. It trotted up to Azu and she bent over to speak with it. She gave a sharp nod. "I have to, uh, go. Could I - speak with you again? At length, some time?"

That level of honest feeling directed at Zolf rendered him useless. He shrugged. "Yeah? Sure."

"Thank you," she said, walking away with the daemon at her side. Zolf stared after her a little helplessly.

"Everything alright, Zolf?" Hamid asked, having picked his way through the bodies and thoroughly cleaned himself.

"Yeah. Let's - yeah."

Azu'd never seen the door to Eren Fairhands' office closed. He always kept it open, available to anyone who should need his advice or wisdom or services. She'd made use of those before, when she'd have a question about faith or her role or how well she was doing, and he always listened patiently, always explained to her things in a way that didn't feel condescending but uplifting. He built her up. She trusted Eren with her life, and more importantly, with her faith.

"Go on," Zuberi said, nipping at her fingertips. Azu nodded, gave her hyena daemon a pat, and knocked on the door.

"Come in," Eren said, his deep voice loud in the quiet.

Azu took a step inside, not quite entering. "Ah, hello? I was - wondering if you had some time. To chat."

He glanced up from his paperwork, those ancient eyes in a timeless face scanning over her. He nodded. "Yes, Azu."

She scurried in, Zuberi nearly hindering her by leaning against her side. She looked at the small chair Eren had in front of his desk and instead opted to stand. She felt better standing, felt like she had her power and her core when she wasn't down close to the ground. She watched as Eren went through some more papers, laden with sums and notes from other writers.

He caught her staring, white eyebrows lifting, stark in his dark face. "Did you have something, Azu?"

"Oh. Oh, yes. I did. I - um." Her eyes darted over to Eren's familiar Alinor, a lovely melanistic leopard, who regarded her with the same impassive and wise gaze. "I had a question about - about the, um, the prophecy."

Immediately, Eren closed the papers and sat up straighter, calling his daemon to his shoulder. "What of it?"

"Could you - could you tell it to me again, please? I think I have it memorized, but I just want to make sure."

He scanned her over, expression inscrutable, then gave a slow nod. "Of course. I believe it is yours, and you can have it whenever you wish. 'Wayward child of enduring love, Shall guide the lost from death's bed, But when bodies limned with sky above, The great shadows cross all through the dead.'"

Azu hummed. "Right. Yes. That's what I thought."

"You think you've figured out part of it," he said, steepling his fingers in front of him.

"Yes. There was - in the southern market, there was… something. These people who weren't people started to attack, and they had dark veins all over them, blue veins. I think that might be what the prophecy is referring to. And there was another group there who handled them quite well. They said they'd seen the veins before. And I think. I think that's what I need to do."

"Prophecies are rarely explicit," Eren said. His daemon settled her head into his lap. Eren tilted his head. "But you're sure this is what it refers to."

"I -" Azu stopped. Eren had given her the prophecy not two years ago, with some hesitance, but an assurance that he thought it referred to her. That it was up to Azu to interpret it, to allow Aphrodite to work her will through Azu, in whatever way that manifested. She gave a firm nod. "Yes. I… I feel that it is right. I don't know if that's me, or if that's Aphrodite, but I know this is the right path."

Something flickered across Eren's face, just the slightest hint of an expression. He gestured toward the door. "You are an agent of Aphrodite, one of her warriors called to spread her will and her love. If you think this is right, then it is undoubtedly her speaking through you."

Azu trembled with the words. She closed her eyes briefly, her fingers gripping hard in Zuberi's ruff. "Thank you, sir."

"No need. I didn't make the prophecy, and it isn't for me. Be true out there, Azu."

"Yes."

Hamid tried not to bounce in the back of the cart, something he'd already done that earned a hard glare from Grizzop. But he couldn't help himself. His family. His family! He hadn't seen them in so long, since before he left Prague, and now he was here, on their doorstep, ready to see them again. He didn't doubt that they would welcome him, but would that be all? Would they be glad, in their heart of hearts? The twins and Aziza and Saira and mother would be happy, and if Saleh was there, maybe. But Father - what would he think? He'd wasted all that money at the university.

"Good gods, Hamid. Is that your home?" Zolf said from the front of the cart. He and Sasha had stationed themselves up there to keep an eye on their journey, though they hadn't encountered any more of the creatures.

The estate hadn't changed much since Hamid had last seen it. Still the well-tended gardens out front with their tall colourful blooms, the little pathways of water filling the air with a calming rush, the intricate mosaics above the entryways gleaming in golds and blues and oranges like they always did, protected with certain charms. There was even a grove of date trees flowering off to the side, an orchard he'd seen planted but not yet bear fruit. Hamid nodded.

"Yes, that's it. Oh dear, do you think they're home? I'd hate to intrude."

"They're your family, right?" Grizzop said, climbing over the back of the cart to get a better look. "Family always has to take you in, if it's the right sort of family."

"I suppose…" Hamid watched the entrance for the appearance of one of these family members.

A shadow appeared in the doorway. It was one of the taller members, clothed in something flowing and deep burnt umber, belted with an ornately wrought metal rope of burnished gold. Aziza. She was as beautiful as he remembered, her face lighting up when she saw Hamid. He started to cry.

He was out of the cart and running before he realized, his palms stinging from the fall. He flung himself into Aziza's arms and they were strong around him, her skin soft, her smell like the night-blooming jasmine that lined the back of the house, and Hamid sobbed into her shoulder. She passed her hands over his head again and again.

"Hello, brother," she said in her soft musical voice. She pulled him back and her eyes were glittering with tears as well. She kissed his forehead. "You've been away too long for me, Hamid. Much too long."

"I'm sorry, Aziza." He scrubbed at his face.

"Hamid!" Dual voices shouting his name were the only warning before he was tackled to the ground by the twins. They were taller, at least an inch, since he'd last seen them, and heavier. Hamid wriggled away from their embrace, laughing.

"Have you been keeping out of trouble?" he asked, knowing the answer.

"Nope!" Ismail chirped.

"Look, look Midi," said Ishaq. He twirled his hands in the air and small green sparks popped in front of his face

Hamid's heart squeezed in his chest. He put a hand over his throat to massage out the lump suddenly formed there. "Oh. Oh that's wonderful. You as well Ismail?"

The exuberance evaporated from Ismail, and Aziza leaned close.

"It's touchy. He's been inconsolable for weeks." Aziza shooed the boys. "Go on! We have guests. Make sure there's rooms aired out."

They stumbled over each other in their haste; Hamid watched them go. "They've grown so much."

"You as well. What are you doing here, brother?"

Hamid sighed. "Where is everyone else?"

"Mother's at the bank in Paris, Saira should be home soon from her work, and Father is… attempting to work Saleh into the business." She didn't hide the wry smile twisting her mouth.

"That bad, is it?"

"I believe Father is waiting until Ismail is reasonably old enough to take over. It can't come soon enough, I suppose." She waved at the rest of the group in the cart. "Stop avoiding my question, Midi. Why are you here?"

He shook his head and held her hand again, the familiar weight of it tying him back to the earth and reality. "Things are bad, Aziza. And… and we're going to try to do something about it. I needed to see Saira."

She eyed him carefully. "You needed Apophis. Try to not let that be the first thing you say to Saira, okay?"

"I - I - I wouldn't! I - Aziza, I -"

"Bring your friends here, let me meet them."

Hamid introduced everyone to Aziza, a bit wary, but she charmed them, like she charmed everyone, her tinkling laugh inviting. He followed as she led them into the house where the servants had laid out a light meal, grapes and olives and dates, wine breathing out of an amphora.

Aziza regaled her captive audience with a dramatic story about a stagehand, his paramour, and an unfortunate incident with a lighting rig. She had them laughing when Saira came home, muttering to herself over papers in her hands. She stopped as abruptly as if she ran into a wall.

"Hamid," she said, quickly looking over the other assembled people. "You're home."

It wasn't like Saira to state the obvious. Hamid stood and went to her for an embrace. "Only for a little while, sister. I'm - we're set on a task and so can't stay very long."

Her dark eyes were as piercing as ever, gathering everything she needed to know with a glance. "Was that you, in the southern market?"

"Yes. Sort of? A paladin of Aphrodite did most of the work. But. Yes."

"You must be the one he was speaking of. He said you'd arrive within the next week or so." She pulled out one of her papers to read something, Hamid forgotten.

"A - Apophis?"

"Hmm? No, no. The bard. Wilde. Wouldn't shut up about it."

The rest of the party scrambled to their feet at that.

"Wilde? You have Wilde?" Zolf said, voice so rough it almost sounded angry.

"Yes? He's at the office."

"We need to get him," Grizzop said.

Saira raised an eyebrow. "The office is closed. You want to tell Apophis to open up again so you can retrieve your bard, who is perfectly safe?"

Hamid saw the yes written across three faces and moved to intercept. "No, of course not, Saira. We can go with you in the morning if that's alright."

"Fine. Hamid, you and I can go tomorrow-"

"All of us. We all go," Sasha said, then instantly shrank back into the shadows; impressive for being the tallest person in the room.

Saira locked eyes with Hamid as she spoke. "You can all accompany me to the office. I can't guarantee anything else."

She looked at each of them for confirmation, then left for her rooms.

Aziza laughed, throaty and more teasing than before. "Good to know some things don't change."

Unfortunately, Hamid's house did not have gargoyles on the roof. In fact, there was no statuary up there, which was a clear area for improvement. Gevrun kept running to the top of the slope and sliding down the tiles, juddering with every bump.

Sasha peered over the unfamiliar city. It wasn't lit up the same way Paris or Prague was, barely any pinpricks of light from homes as opposed to the manicured street lamps that lined the other cities' avenues. Even with the darkness, she could catch glimpses of the rising spires and white domes of the buildings in little clusters, giving way to the flat roofs of the more domestic parts. What she wouldn't give for something to explain what all that was.

"Oh, so it's just you," a rough voice said, two clawed hands swinging a body up onto the roof. Sasha didn't jump, though her fingernails scraped along the clay tiles. Grizzop came to stand beside her, a near height with her sitting.

"What are you - doin? Up here?" she said. Gev ran up to Riona and reached out to touch her nose. She allowed it, though Sasha didn't get to see how reluctant it seemed.

"Saw a shadow crawling up here while I was patrolling. I had to come investigate."

In a moment, she would ask why he'd been patrolling, what he thought was coming, but she held it back. She barely knew the guy, and he was - if nothing else - real dedicated to his whole paladin thing.

"Sorry, I - um - I like the roofs? They're a good spot. For. For looking at things. Getting a feel of a city. There was a, a, uh, gargoyle, in Paris. Two of 'em. They taught me the streets there and it was very helpful."

Grizzop nodded. "I can see how that'd be good. No gargoyles here, but I've been here a while. I could point some things out for you?"

"Yeah. Uh, yeah. That'd be - great."

So he did, pointing out the different buildings and what they were for, the markets and what to find there, the different temples, the place that made the best papyrus paper, and another one you could get a necklace of crocodile teeth for hardly nothing. She even laughed when he imitated the rude hawker at the river shore who couldn't pronounce any of the Arabic names for his wares and instead just yelled an approximate garble.

They were laying on the roof, cataloguing the different constellations, when Grizzop pointedly cleared his throat. "So, I didn't know if it was gonna be rude, and they are giving us a place to sleep but. None of these people have daemons. You noticed that, right? Hamid has that container, the one for delicate daemons, but he never checks it and none of the others had 'em. So. What is that?"

Sasha swallowed her instinct to defend Hamid, her hands curling into Gev's fur where he lay on her stomach. "He doesn't have one. Must be a family thing, I guess. But, yeah. He's never had one, uses that container so's people don't ask questions. But he can still do magic? And I never figured it out."

"You don't need faith to do magic, I know that. But the other way is to study it, and Hamid's never taking notes or opening a book on magic."

"Yeah, no, he just. He's just always been able to… to cast it. On his own."

Grizzop grunted. "Weird."

"Yeah… weird."

Gev bit at her fingertips until Sasha sat upright, knocking him off, one elbow propped beneath her to stare down at Grizzop. His eyes went wide, expression bewildered.

"There's nothing wrong with Hamid, okay? You can't start nothing just because he's strange. Okay? "

Grizzop nodded, a bit too vigorously. "Yeah, right, okay. Seems like a good guy. I'm not worried about anything yet."

"Good." She settled back down, clutching Gev closer to her. Moments passed with the tension growing, Sasha shifting around until she would probably just head back down.

"That one there," Grizzop said, pointing. "That looks like a pig on a bicycle."

A giggle bubbled out of her. She looked. "Yeah, and he's - he's bein chased by a - by a real angry goose."

Grizzop concentrated on the image, then said, solemnly. "Honk, honk."

She laughed.

Although he was not normally an early riser, Hamid woke just as the first few fingers of dawn peeked over the horizon, casting the whole house in muted pink. Perhaps it was nerves. He was, fate willing, set to meet a dragon, and not just a dragon, but a Meritocrat , one of the dragons ruling over the whole world. His breath shuddered as he exhaled.

Hamid stole down to the kitchen, taking great care to keep as quiet as possible. The room where they'd dined the night before was picked up, and he went into the kitchen, just as their housekeeper Hasina pulled something out of the oven. She motioned for Hamid to clear off a place on the table, and he did so.

"It smells wonderful, Hasina."

She narrowed her eyes at him in a way so familiar he aged backwards several years. "There's no eating before everyone else, master Hamid."

"Of course, sorry." Hamid smiled at her, wide as it could go. She rolled her eyes and cut a piece of the steaming feteer, the dough flaky even as she smeared a pat of ghee atop it, and handed it to him.

"Don't tell the others."

"I would never, " Hamid swore. He took the scorching pastry and scurried out of the room. It was mostly eaten, ghee dripping down his fingers, when he realized their entry room had a guest.

She was tall - taller than Sasha, maybe as tall as that orc woman they'd met in the market. She was not, however, an orc. She wasn't human either, but carried the features of one. Her dark hair billowed out behind her in a cloud streaked with stormy grey, and when she turned to face him, her eyes were that same thunderstorm. The delicate branching lines across her exposed throat and collarbone were nothing like the veins they'd see in the square. These were raised, natural, placed there when she acquired the ability to fly. Hamid heard a rumour you could tell the age of a witch by the silvering of the cloud-pine laced under her skin, and this witch was drawn in shimmering pewter. She stepped closer to him, her bare feet making no noise on the tile, the swish of her layered skirts barely a whisper in the air.

Hamid had never cast Prestidigitation so fast in his life.

"Oh dear! I'm - I'm so sorry! I didn't know we were having a visitor. Especially not someone from, well, from one of the clans." He had to take a breath and was grateful since he was certain he'd continue talking right into a hole.

"There's no need for apologies, Hamid of the al-Tahans. You were not to be expecting me or my sisters. I am Edrelina Venerrek of the Saimaa Clan. Well met." Her accent put him in the Scandinavian countries, but he wasn't experienced enough to know exactly where.

"Well - well met. Is there, ah, is there anything I can help you with?"

She regarded him impassively, for just long enough that Hamid had to use all his willpower not to fidget. "Your clan, no, your family is close to the dragon who rules here. I have need to speak with him. "

Hamid nodded. "Yes, of course. My sister, ah, works for Apophis, the - the dragon. We're actually just headed there, in a little while. You could come with us."

The witch tilted her head as though considering the prospect. "I shall meet you at the dragon's offices. Your sister can grant me an audience?"

He didn't want to speak for Saira or the likelihood of her getting in to see Apophis, but he couldn't outright refuse her. He'd heard, somewhere, that witches could be very proud and you did well not to offend them. "I'm not really anyone, so I don't want to make promises, Miss Venerrek. But should you meet us there, I'll do my very best to make it happen."

She evaluated him again and came to some sort of conclusion. "Thank you, Hamid. Until then."

The doors opened for her, somehow, and she flew away into the golden sky. Hamid sat on the floor.

He had to explain the encounter three separate times. Once for the group, then again for Saira, then again for clarification. Saira did not look pleased that a witch clan was interested in Apophis, but he didn't believe having a witch involved was a thing anyone would take lightly.

When Hamid opened the door to leave, another visitor greeted him. He stopped, blinking rapidly. The orc woman cast her eyes to the side, even as she held her posture straight and proud.

"Good morning," she said. She shifted her weight to one side. "I'm Azu. We, ah, met yesterday in the southern market. I believe that I have been… called to accompany you. To fight the blue veins."

Hamid stared, mouth open, unable to think of a single response to her. Zolf sidled up next to him, peering at Azu and the hyena at her side.

"Aphrodite called you to come help us?"

"Yes, I believe so." Her conviction was so absolute, Hamid couldn't doubt that Aphrodite herself had sat down to tea with this woman and told her to follow their ragtag group.

Zolf shrugged. "Not like it can get any more ridiculous today. Come on."

With an exasperated Saira leading them, the group walked to the offices of Apophis. Saira walked up with no hesitation, despite clearly seeing the witch to the side, waiting calmly.

Saira left through the doors and did not return for a long while. Eventually, Zolf heaved a big sigh and introduced himself to the witch, and the rest of the gang reluctantly did as well. She kept her same placid countenance, which was even more unnerving now that Hamid was fully awake.

After much more awkward conversation, Saira peeked her head out of the twin doors. Although her expression was solemn, Hamid knew her well enough to see relief in the corners of her eyes and the loose hold of her mouth. Whatever had happened in there, it wasn't bad.

The witch gestured for them. "My own business can wait. Please proceed. It was pleasant to meet all of you - I hope that when our paths cross again, it may be on a happy occasion."

Hamid thanked her, perhaps, and he heard the mumbled agreement from the others. But he couldn't shift away enough focus from the idea that they were meeting Apophis , a Meritocrat, the leader of their area. His hands shook, and he kept clenching and unclenching them. A giant palm covered one of his fists. He looked up at Azu.

"Don't be afraid, Hamid. We're all here with you." He wasn't sure if he'd been afraid, but with that pronouncement, the tension in his body eased.

The room they entered was cavernous and mostly open air. The darkness swallowed all but two orange lamps keeping some semblance of light in the large space. After a few moments to let his eyes adjust, Hamid realized the lights were not from lamps or torches, but rather the huge glowing eyes of a dragon. He could only see the grand head of Apophis, his mere mouth wider than Wilde was tall, a beautiful cascade of brass and green-tinged scales flowing over his snout. When he breathed, a curl of smoke drifted through the air and the entire room was humid and hot with his breath. He swung that giant head toward Hamid.

"You wear your heritage well, child of mine. Why have you come here?" Apophis said in his impossibly deep voice. To a one, the group turned to Hamid.

"Something to explain, Hamid? " Zolf said, voice verging on hysterical.

Hamid threw up his hands. "I don't - I don't -! Please, your, um, eminence. I'm not sure of the relation between us, or if that is a term of endearment I'm as of yet unfamiliar."

Apophis shifted his golden eye between them: the group, Hamid, Saira waiting in the back. "You have no knowledge then. Unfortunate. You are indeed a descendant of mine, as you should know from your abilities. They shall emerge the more you draw upon them. It pleases me to see another of you show such talent. It has been too long since the bloodline emerged so clearly."

Hamid's mind raced. "A… a sorcerer? That's what I am? I didn't - there hasn't been one of those in hundreds of years!"

"Just so."

Grizzop leaned over. "Wait, so is that why you don't have a daemon? Because the magic's all inside you in dragon pieces?"

"I don't - I don't - Um. Your Eminence? No one in my family has ever had a daemon. Is that because of this connection to you?"

Apophis breathed, and the great heat of his breath made everyone recoil just a bit. "Yes. This manifestation that is so common amongst the people is not one burdened upon you. It was an error I sought to rectify. I would not allow my children to suffer."

"Suffer -!"

"Thank you, Your Eminence. Our other concern, um, is the blue veins? Well. And the children. Let me start from the beginning." And so Hamid told Apophis everything they knew, between the blue veins and the missing children and the death of Bolla Smok ( that got a gasp or two) and the indication that something was happening somewhere else. Apophis took it all in stride.

"Yes. All of the happenings of the world are interconnected, and to separate them is folly. Your findings are consistent with what I've heard from other agents. Investigate this further, this leikkerot . I believe that shall be the key to uncovering the truth of these events."

Hamid nodded so vigorously his neck hurt. "Yes, yes of course. There is also, ah, the small matter of our handler, our friend, Oscar Wilde? My sister indicated that he was safe here, with you."

Apophis growled, a deep rumble that made the earth shake beneath them. Hamid had no idea if it was threatening or not, but everything inside him perked at the noise and begged to run. Instead of an attack or anything from Apophis, a figure appeared from a side door.

Wilde didn't seem in too bad a shape, in the same clothes Hamid had last seen him in, hair combed neatly. The circles beneath his eyes were deep and black, and Ernest pressed right against his throat, but other than that, a devil-may-care smile and a swagger to his walk made him almost the picture of health.

No one spoke. Wilde spread his hands out. "Your obvious enthusiasm at my return is heartwarming. Let's not have this drag on any longer than necessary."

Ernest took flight, swooping down with a fierce dive to land atop Iduin, wings outstretched and twisting, rolling onto the daemon's head. Zolf blushed, and Wilde's face dropped into something smooth and bland.

"He is unharmed. Would you have anything else of me, child?"

Hamid took a very deep breath. "No, thank you. I am so grateful you agreed to see us."

"Hmm." Apophis breathed out again, the tiniest flare of orange flame near his nostrils. "I've read these papers you gave Saira. The next lead you seek is in Damascus. I have the means to get you there quickly. Be prepared to leave by the end of day."

And with that, their meeting was over.

Hamid waved to Edrelina as they exchanged places, and she dipped her head to him with a soft smile. The sincerity of it sent a rush of twisting warmth through his gut; Hamid hurried along.

They stood outside the office, the heat of the day picking up and the swell of a market crowd filling the air with murmured voices.

"Well," Wilde said, hands on his hips and an irreverent smile over his pallid face. "I suppose we best be supplied properly. Seems to be a long trip ahead."

Not long into their meandering and indolent stroll through town, Zolf clasped Wilde's arm, his fingers too tight, and pulled him to a stop. He staved off Sasha's concerned look with a gesture as he found an alcove halfway down an alley that seemed deserted enough.

Wilde, grin stretched across his face so wide it exposed his crooked teeth, bent his head low, close to Zolf's ear. "I'd say you only had to ask to get me alone, but you know how much I like it rough."

"Stop that. Do you have to make jokes about everything?"

"I don't joke about what I want, Zolf."

"Sure you do. And this is - this is deadly serious."

Wilde dropped his grin, eyes narrowed. "Then I would be gravely remiss to joke about it."

"Wilde -"

"You didn't message us," Iduin said, her voice wavering. Exposed, Zolf squeezed his eyes shut. "You promised you'd message us and you didn't. We were so worried, Oscar."

Wilde dropped to a knee, hand hovering over Iduin, as if he'd touch her to reassure her. Zolf didn't - he knew Wilde wouldn't touch her, not if he wasn't asked or invited and - he wasn't. Ernest, not bound by the same taboos, hopped off Wilde's shoulder and settled between Iduin's eyes.

"I'm so sorry, my dear," Wilde said softly. "You're right. It was a very simple promise and I couldn't keep it."

"What happened? And no evading," Zolf said.

"Where to start?" Wilde rubbed at the front of his left shoulder, where Zolf knew the Meritocrats had marked him as their agent. "Bolla Smok was already dead when we arrived at Prague. I dare say they were expecting me. I was overwhelmed. I'm afraid I don't remember much after that, only waking up already in Cairo, under Apophis' care. This thing lets them know when an agent might be compromised. Convenient, I suppose."

"You don't remember?" Iduin asked.

"He remembers more than I do," Ernest said, so soft and melodious. "Whatever it was, I was disoriented for much longer."

Wilde stroked the back of his fingers over Ernest's chest, face contemplative. Zolf inhaled steadily.

"I think… you should stay here."

"Ah, no."

"Wilde -"

"I have work to do, Mr Smith."

"Your work got you kidnapped! Twice! I couldn't find you." Zolf swayed, torn between war and retreat.

"I gave you -"

"I know, but I don't have one of those fancy mirrors, do I?"

Wilde raised an eyebrow, much better than anyone he knew. "Gave that too. I knew I should've told Iduin - she would've remembered."

"It's a thousand gold - no. That's not - that's not the point. You would be safe here." It sounded petulant even to his own ears. He could feel the heat rising in them.

Still sat back on his heels, Wilde faced Zolf, a small smirk lurking in the corner of his mouth. "What good is safety when others suffer and you refuse to lift your capable hand? Would you stay here with me, if I said I would?"

"That's - I can't -" He sighed. Iduin leaned against him, and he ran his fingers down her back. "I can't stay here."

"But I can?" The tone of his voice, high and deceptively casual, didn't bode well for whatever Zolf said next. Wilde was smarter than him, and he had to take care to tread lightly when he tried to win an argument.

"Please. Please, stay here." The words barely passed through his lips and he couldn't look at Wilde directly.

"Oh, Zolf. You know how pretty I think you are when you beg." It lacked the usual lascivious spin he'd put on such a sentence. "I can't stay. I won't. But I will promise to take more heed. Is that enough?"

"No," Iduin said sullenly. Wilde laughed, the too-loud laugh he only made when he was genuinely amused. That laugh sounded nothing like the one he used at parties and with people he tried to pry for information - deep in his throat, husky, carefully cultivated, could make every head in a room turn.

"I'll try to dramatically collapse in your arms at some point, would that be nice?"

"Stop it, Wilde."

He didn't stop offering various scenarios, even when they rejoined the group.