The knock at the door woke her from a dream of a beach, and a man, and warm feelings she had not felt in a long time. She growled, sounding more like Urgal than herself, annoyed to be pulled from such pleasant imaginings. She rolled over on the mattress and closed her eyes. The knock came again. In fact, it was less a knock and more a pounding. A trickle of fear banished the final dregs of sleep and she sat upright, cursing and a little afraid. If it was someone trying to break in, they would not knock, she reminded herself. And you have Urgal.

  Urgal had been roused also. He lay on a fur rug next to her bed, and squinted at the shadows in the corner of the room as though they were the source of the irritant.

  “Let’s go see,” Ylia said. The cat begrudgingly got to its feet, making a crackling noise at the back of his throat, as though he were about to spit lightning.

  She went over to her armoire, found a beeswax candle and a small artfully constructed lighter she had purchased in Gorgosa. The lighter had been made in Qi’shath. So long as one kept it topped up with Daimonsblood, it could produce flame at will. She rolled the little wheel on its side to produce a spark and a flame shot into life. She applied it to the candlewick and then returned the lighter to a drawer. She carried the candle downstairs.

  The staircase creaked with every step. Urgal, on the other hand, descended in complete silence despite his immense size. The pounding came again at the door and she felt the beginnings of a migraine.

  “Coming!” she barked. “But I warn you, I am armed!”

  She crossed the huge common room, occasionally banging her hip on an errant chair or table in the darkness, and finally reached the main door, which was triple bolted. She slid the bolts aside and opened the door, bracing herself for whatever drunkard, militiaman, pilgrim, or horror she might find.

  The final outcome seemed to be a mixture of all four. He was a small man of dull brown hair and pale skin, though not entirely unhandsome. He looked like he had once been quite muscular, but famine had atrophied his former strength somewhat, leaving bones where muscles used to be. Scars latticed across his body, blackly gleaming. He was dripping wet like he’d swam naked through the river Nere. Maybe he had. That might have convinced her he was a drunk after all, but the clarity in his eyes was that of a pilgrim, someone who needed succour after long travail. Her gaze flicked to the brand on his ankle. She knew that brand and what it meant.

  Her father had been imprisoned when she was only fourteen, taken to some dungeon in the state of Tezada in southern Aurelia, never to return. She knew in her heart he was innocent of the crime they accused him of. That was the day she had lost all faith in governments and institutions, in emperors and kings. She had lost count of the number of letters she had written to the local Governor, to the High Imperial Court, and no one had answered her. Her father was simply unimportant. It mattered not whether he was innocent. It was a waste of resources and Relics to instigate the matter of investigating and releasing him.

  It was this and this alone that caused Ylia to say, “Why don’t you come in?”

  She stepped aside.

  “Thank you! Thank you!” the man said, shivering. He scampered into the common room and then froze when he saw Urgal. The huge cat regarded him warily.

  “He does not bite. But I wouldn’t try and pet him though,” Ylia said.

  The man nodded, giving a little laugh. Then he shivered again.

  “I’ll get the fire going,” she said. “And a blanket.”

  He nodded in thanks again.

  Ylia went upstairs, leaving Urgal to watch her strange guest. She found a sheepskin blanket and brought it down, draping it over the man, who wrapped it tightly about him. She led him to the hearth and bid him take a seat nearby. The fires had simmered down to meagre embers. She added leaves, timber, and logs. She stoked the flames and then breathed on them with a rusty old bellows. Soon, the fire was crackling again.

  “What is your name?” she asked.

  “Darall,” the man said.

  Urgal hissed. Ylia scowled.

  “Don’t lie to me. I can always tell when someone is lying.”

  The man’s eyebrows raised.

  “That is quite a useful skill.”

  “It is a survival technique. Now, your name.”

  “Telos,” he said. “I suppose you are wondering how I came to arrive at your doorstep, naked as the day I was born?”

  “I’d surmise you are an escaped prisoner.”

  Telos swallowed.

  “Y-yes. You are quite good at this, aren’t you?”

  Ylia smiled.

  “In my household, no one told the truth about anything…” Except one thing. That’s how I know my father was innocent. “And I have run this House for nine years now. You get to know people and their tricks very well in such conditions.”

  “I see.”

  “So, are you going to tell me how you escaped?”

  Telos smiled.

  “I shall, but first I would like to learn the name of the fair maiden who has delivered me from the cold and darkness.”

  Ylia rolled her eyes.

  “Ylia,” she said. Urgal growled. “And that is Urgal.”

  You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

  The cat jumped down from a table, upon which he had been lying, and approached Telos. He rubbed his head against the man’s side. It was Ylia’s turn to show surprise.

  “Perhaps he might want a stroke after all?” Telos said, laughing.

  Telos stroked the cat’s thick mane, played with his ears, and a deep-throated purr rumbled out of the beast, vibrating Ylia’s sternum. Ylia smiled. It was a good sign if Urgal liked him.

  “Well, Ylia...” Telos went on. “You have demanded truth from me, so I shall tell you the truth. But if you had not demanded truth, I should have told you a lie. Not because I wished to deceive you, but because what happened was so unbelievable, you should think I had lost my wits.”

  “I have heard some wilds tales in my time,” Ylia said.

  “Not like this, I don’t think.” And he told her, of the Warden and the punishment of black flame. About halfway through, he paused. “All this talking has made me mighty thirsty…” He looked pointedly at the rows of pewter tankards. Ylia rolled her eyes, but she fetched him an ale nonetheless. Gleefully, he gulped down a third of the pint before finally coming up for air.

  “That’s the best ale I’ve ever had!”

  “No doubt its flavour was enhanced by the incarceration that preceded it,” Ylia said, wryly.

  Telos shook his head. “No, no, this is fine ale. What’s your secret? Wait, don’t tell me.” He took another draft. He hummed under his breath, then cocked his head, listening to a sound so low it could barely be heard, especially not by the average drunken patron. “Honey!” Telos exclaimed.

  Ylia smiled.

  “Yes. I keep the hives out back. Well, actually, I built this place on the site of an ancient hive. Generation after generation has produced honey there. It’s the best I’ve ever tasted. Some people believe it’s even medicinal.”

  “That is quite remarkable.” He sounded sincere.

  “It takes a lot of skill to keep bees happy. For most, it is not worth the hassle… or the stings.” She pulled aside the collar of her gown and showed a welter on her neck.

  “You’re a hard worker,” Telos said, in a knowing—and patronising—way. “You see, I always prefer to make other people do the hard work and take it from them. In that way, we could be a great team.”

  “Team? My, my, you do get ahead of yourself don’t you? Are you always so quick with things?”

  Telos caught the double meaning and puffed out his chest.

  “I’ve been known to last at least four seconds on a good day.”

  She couldn’t help but laugh. She had met many narcissists who secretly experienced self doubt, but never a narcissist who so brazenly self-deprecated. Perhaps there was more to him, after all.

  “Finish your tale, strange man.”

  He told her of the man in the fire. Ylia could not believe her ears, but she also could not detect a word of a lie in the man’s voice. When he was done, they sat in silence for a few moments—save for Urgal’s ridiculous purring and fawning. He seemed quite taken with the thief.

  “So, how will you find the Weapon?” Such a storied artefact felt like it deserved the capital “W”.

  Telos stared blankly at her. Then he burst out laughing.

  “Find it? My dear Ylia, I do not have the slightest inclination to search for Nergal or whatever it is called.”

  Ylia was perplexed.

  “But.. an emissary of the Gods directly tasked you with it, in exchange for your freedom.”

  Telos sighed.

  “Very well. I had hoped to avoid theology. It is a repugnant topic of conversation, for it renders literal what must always remain mysterious… However, if we are going to talk about the Gods and their so-called tasking. Firstly, the Gods cannot be very, well, godlike if they could not perceive that I had no intention of ever honouring my side of the bargain. And secondly, they are hardly paragons of virtue if they always demand service in exchange for their favours.”

  “You play a dangerous game,” Ylia said. She was thinking of the sky-ship flying over her forest. It must have been real... “I would not taunt them like that. Suppose the emissary were to appear again, here, now…?”

  A tense silence followed.

  Telos slapped his knee and roared with markedly false laughter.

  “You almost had me. But I think the point is proven. Certainly Gods exist, or at least Sumyrians. I am not such as fool as to doubt the evidence of my eyes. Certainly, they are powerful. But are they all-knowing and benevolent? This I highly doubt. And so I think our contract, if it ever existed, is null. My intention is to flee to Aurelia, where the women are blonde and beautiful, and where Relics fall from the sky like rain.”

  So he is not entirely stupid, she thought. He had clearly worked out that she was from Aurelia.

  “And you think that I am going to help you get there, is that it?”

  “We might go there together.”

  If she’d a drink, she would have spat it out.

  “And why would I go there with you, precisely?”

  “Because of how good the sex we are about to have is.”

  She stared at him, incredulous.

  “You forget that I have already seen all. A man with so little to work with should not be so confident. Also, you have no eyebrows.”

  Telos ran his hand over his face. “Wretched flames,” he cursed. “But it is not the size of the dog in the fight, but the size of the fight in the dog.”

  Ylia made a pitying face.

  “Is that what your mother told you?”

  Telos frowned.

  “Very peculiar, that you should think I would show it to my mother.”

  “Did your mother never bathe you?”

  “No, actually.”

  “Ah ha!” Ylia cried. Telos blanched.

  “What do you mean ‘Ah ha’?”

  “You are a noble.”

  For the first time, irritation surfaced on Telos’s face, and the pleasant—if somewhat innocuous—features became hard and ratlike.

  “Perhaps,” he said. “But I would have thought you, Aurelian Girl, would understand better than most about leaving the past behind.”

  Ylia smiled.

  “Well riposted. Be that as it may, there will be no sex tonight, unless you wish to be mauled by Urgal.” The cat let out a soft growl, as if letting Telos know that he would regretfully follow through with the request, despite liking Telos a great deal. “You may stay here one night, and then must be on your way in the morning. I can give you clothes and directions.”

  “And coin too?” Telos said hopefully.

  “No, I think not. Remember, I am already doing you a great service in not turning you over to the authorities.”

  “Come now, that is an empty threat. I can tell you loathe them as much as I do.”

  Ylia flushed. Yes, he is much cleverer than he lets on. Best be wary. But despite her caution, she found herself asking, “Did you really moon the Warden of Ob-koron?”

  Telos laughed.

  “Oh yes. I gave him the full view.”