Gehsek released the breath he’d been holding, sliding his sword back into its sheath as Hegwous stared at the broken banister. His cloak gently rested on the floor again, covering most of the splitters and pieces of wood as not one pierced the Lord’s hands.

“My Lord?” Gehsek approached, his gaudy cape billowing behind him as a breeze swept through the room. Rubbing his neck, as if preparing his throat, he switched tongues. “It is only a seal. Anyone could have dug it up accidentally. We haven’t heard of house Malihabar since the Rivers dried up. It means nothing…”

The new language made Hegwous’ ears twitch, the Lord’s own mother tongue. It was as choppy as his own attempt at the local language, but Gehsek spoke the words fluently. “Have you seen one recently, Gehsek?”

The Commander curled his lips. “If this is her, Janelsa’s daughter...” 

“I can hear you biting your tongue,” Hegwous said.

Gehsek stopped before he bit through it then said through clenched teeth, “Am I right to guess we can’t just kill her straight away?”

“Don’t take that tone with me, Commander,” Lord Hegwous scowled. “You made your case when we took down House Malihabar. Make it again and—” He cut himself off and took a calming sigh. “No, no we can’t.” Hegwous lowered his head, fidgeting in thought. Remembering himself, he righted his posture to a small slouch before pacing. “No, Gehsek. We can’t. If this is her, then she’s survived the Outside this long. I doubt any warrior we’d send to take her out quietly could do so. Not even you.”

“She was no fighter then.” Gehsek chuckled and drew his sword, mocking a few slashes. “What is time in the Outside? A tiger is no match for trained warriors. Even if she’s like us, what’s the harm? Her legacy was dealt with long ago. What’s one girl?” 

Gehsek’s staccato use of Hegwous’ mother tongue clashed with how lyrically his Lord spoke.

“One girl, one girl with memory.” The Lord rubbed his head, stress leaking from his words. “One girl who the governors may decide they like better than me, or is easier to control.”

Gehsek sighed, sheathed his sword, and moved forward to comfort him. “Hegwous.”

Hegwous recoiled. Not sharply, but it was enough for Gehsek to draw his hand back. 

“My Lord, Hegwous, please.” Gehsek grimaced as his Lord caressed his massive red gem. An indistinct shadow rose from its depths to follow his trailing fingers inside it. Gehsek knew what his Lord would suggest next. “He was useful then, but went too far and didn’t control his fires! We don’t need—”

Hegwous let go of the gem, bundled his cloak tighter, and waved Gehsek off in the same manner that the Commander had tried to use to dismiss the lesser nobles. “Summon him, Gehsek.” 

With an exaggerated, angry flourish of his cape Gehsek grit his teeth and stepped back. He drew his sword, sighing as his Lord never performed the ritual himself, and lined up his blade with the long, thick scar across his palm. The blood pooled from the wound, dripping into the dust of the floor. In his own blood, facing the window, he wrote in a simplistic script consisting only of lines, as if carving into stone. The first character was an upside down hook, the next a north facing fish, then an open mouth, and ended by a simple line. The letters were more basic than the more complex Daksinian alphabet. He squeezed his fist for more blood, and over the whole word he scrawled two swirls that curled in on each other, like two snakes coiling together. In a more guttural language than either his own or his Lord’s, he spoke the incantation to complete what he had drawn. 

He still wasn’t sure what the language was, or what he was saying, but it didn’t matter as the letters began to glow. Outside the window a swirl of smoke formed. Gehsek continued until the spell was finished, punctuating itself with a powerful burst. The force of it nearly ripped Gehsek’s cape from its moorings and almost opened Hegwous’ cloak. 

Both men lowered their arms, and before them stood a third figure, floating in the air, a white man. Though his color was similar to Hegwous’, his nose was thrice the size, with a burning shock of bright red and orange hair whose tips appeared black when he moved his head, like the last burning embers of a fire. The soles of his black shoes glowed amber, and he stood with a thin hand on his waist. He greeted them with a scoff, making Lord Hegwous and Commander Gehsek flinch. 

“Dearest Gehsek, I won’t be accepting these summons anymore without proper offerings.” He strode forward, his light cape billowing as he descended. The glow in his shoes dimmed as he got closer to the ground, darkening to normalcy as he leapt to join the nobles on the floor.

Gehsek and Hegwous did their best to keep their composure, but either fidgeted with their sword or fiddled with their cloak. Neither did a proper job of hiding their quirks, which made the summoned man smile.

“Deiweb, we—” Gehsek was promptly ignored.

“Oh, are you in another war already?” Deiweb stepped closer, and Gehsek stepped back. He chortled at how quickly Gehsek looked away when their eyes met. “How fun. Do I get to play again?” A small flame ran across the tips of his fingers and extinguished.

“I—” 

“Not some pissant runes on catacomb doors or city walls because of scary spirits. Why you had me do that before you used my fire anyways, I will never know. Oh! Right.” His hand flew to the top of his head with aplomb. As it did, his hair and face mutated in its wake, smoking and almost bubbling as they changed to the features of a typical southerner. “Better?”

The smoke that rolled off him from the transformation was intangibly foul, beyond even Hegwous and Gehsek’s more sensitive noses. The scent wasn’t putrid like a rotting corpse left for days. Deiweb simply smelled wrong, as if he wasn’t supposed to exists at all.

“Deiweb—” Lord Hegwous corrected himself. “Wise and Cunning Deiweb. I need you to tail someone.”

“Oh,” Deiweb replied. Scowling and rolling his eyes, he strolled over to the table, his thin frame contrasted with the bulk of Gehsek’s armor. “Is that all?”

Gehsek and Hegwous both cringed.

“She just arrived in this city, fairer than most, clearly not a southerner, a parasol, wild hair.” Hegwous stroked his gem.

“You just want me to watch her?” Deiweb scooped up the candle that had been thrown about the room, picking at the reed at the center of the wax lethargically. It began to smoke.

“Partly,” Hegwous continued as Deiweb’s ears perked up, clearly intrigued. “I need you to find out why she’s here. Please.”

Deiweb groaned, pushing himself from the table. “Of course.” His tone fell like a rock and he dropped the candle. It landed with an oppressive thunk. “I’m more than a raven,” he gently spat out like a Kalia’s venom. “I think I’ll give you until the end of this task. If doesn’t turn out as interesting as that Scorching, you’d do to bring a proper offering before I even consider listening again.” As he walked to the window, Gehsek and Hegwous were still, with Hegwous’ skin seeming somehow paler. Deiweb spun on his heel and dropped to a full bow, then extended his hand, as if holding a cup. “To your health.”

Before either of Hegwous or Gehsek could respond, smoke pooled at his feet, then quickly rose to engulf Deiweb. In an instant he was but a wisp, sailing off across the city.

Hegwous released a massive sigh and covered his face with exasperation. “I can’t. I can’t, Gehsek. I can’t. I’m too tired to deal with this too.”

His Lord’s honesty drew Gehsek to his side. He wanted to say “You’re the one who summoned him” but knew it wasn’t the time. 

“Here.” Gehsek handed him a leftover cup from the table and slid a comforting hand over Hegwous’ shoulders. He slowly unfurled his tight fingers from his sword’s grip.

Hegwous scowled at the cup, grimacing at the diluted blood inside, pure human mixed with animal.

“I know. I know,” Gehsek sighed wearily, as if convincing a child to eat their dinner.