Cormantara sprawled around its central fortress, itself sat atop a cliff, the city having grown over the defensive walls long ago. They were riding through an untidy urban sprawl, messily-constructed buildings around them, the road just a muddy patch simply marked by not having anything built on it. Even Semari had jumped onto the back of Parth’s horse to keep out of the thick, clinging mud. Compared to Redcastle, or even the ruins of Ashfall Keep, the place was a dump. The walls were dirty and falling apart, chunks missing where stones had been taken to use elsewhere. Guards, excessively armoured for inside a city, were grouped together. One gestured at them to dismount, pointing towards a line waiting in front of a row of tables, officials collecting the details of those wanting to enter, travellers getting taxed, goods being assessed.

The mud sucked and pulled at her feet, heavy and claggy. Janaxia looked down at it with obvious distaste, before slowly dismounting herself, holding her skirts as clear as she could, having switched from impractical armour to impractical dresses several days ago as they approached the city, in case there was anyone fancy to make an impression on. Hakara was less precious, although her head was swivelling constantly, keeping an eye on anyone getting too close, hands hovering over her pouches.

‘I’ve heard there’s a lot of pickpockets in big cities. We should be careful.’

‘Semari probably knows most of them, we can hunt them down if anything gets taken. But be careful.’ Stathis glanced around. ‘Where are Semari and Parth?’ She caught sight of them, somehow already on the other side. Semari waved, then vanished into the crowd, as Stathis sighed. ‘Right, so we’ll find them later. Janaxia, can you be aristocratic and indignant at them? That normally helps.’

‘There’s no need to be mean. Just because others do not give me the respect I am due, is no call to cast aspersions upon my character.’

Janaxia was looking around in disgust, but swept forward towards the table, back straight, ready to overawe the unfortunate official with pureblood imperiousity. Stathis followed behind, trying to look like a simple bodyguard. The official was sat down, scribbling into a large book, a squad of guards nearby, in case anyone protested too much and needed to be forcibly calmed down.

‘Name, occupation and reason for visit?’ She didn’t look up from her book, quill poised and ready.

Janaxia stood up straight, flicking her hair back as she assumed her most aristocratic stance, staring down at the official, outrage in every line of her body, even before she spoke. ‘I am Lady Janaxia Seyroon Falmeth Uth Tremari, and I demand entry to Cormantara.’

The silence stretched out before the official spoke, her voice bored. ‘Occupation and reason for visit?’

‘I see no reason why that is any concern of yours.’

Janaxia’s back was rigid with indignation, as she stared down at the official, who slowly raised her head and stared back with the bland look of someone who was willing to take all day, secure in the knowledge that she had a seat, and probably lunch within reaching distance. Then her eyes drifted over to Stathis, a smile breaking over her face.

‘Well, ain’t this a surprise!’ She rose from her seat, stepping around Janaxia and approaching Stathis, looking up at her. ‘Didn’t know you’d be droppin’ through. So, escortin’ one of the fancy now?’

Stathis looked at her, taking a moment to place the features. ‘Brina? What are you doing here?’ Without the bells wound through her hair, and dressed in a uniform, she looked very different then the rough-and-tumble adventuring gear she normally wore.

Brina gave her a quick hug, then stepped back and looked around, checking for any eavesdroppers, speaking quietly. ‘Let me know where you’re staying and I’ll drop by for a chat. There’s a lot to talk about – your mother thinks that something big is comin’ down, real soon. We need to talk, I’ll send a messenger.’ She raised her voice to a louder level, loud enough for passerbys to hear as she moved back to her seat. ‘So, that’s Janaxia Saymoon Falmass Uth Tremor, here for whoring, wenching and general degradation. And her guard Sakis, and her personal aide, Katera.’ Names were scribbled in her book. ‘That will be five gold to enter. No weapons in the streets, any fights will be broken up with the full force of the law.’

‘I don’t know who you think you are, but I will not be spoken to in such a way. I am most certainly not here for such vulgar activities!’ Janaxia’s face was tight with indignation. ‘I wish to file a formal complaint with your commanding officer. And will most certainly not be paying your extortionate fees!’

Considering they had a small fortune in elven jewellery stashed in their packs, it was a trivial amount for them, but if that was charged to everyone, then the merchants and commoners were getting gouged to the bone. Brina was grinning, clearly enjoying Janaxia’s irritation. ‘The Duke’s orders are very clear, miss. All entering must pay the fees, it’s for the good of the city.’

‘Miss? Miss? I am of the blood of the Frostreaver, and have titles older than this entire city! You will address me with the respect I am due.’

Stathis caught a glimpse of Semari through the now-gathering crowd, grinning as she watched the show.

‘I think that’s another gold for disrespecting an officer of the law. Although maybe you’d prefer a night in the cells? I’ve heard some nobles like it rough, plenty in the cells that would appreciate your refined company, Miss.’

Janaxia made a strangled noise, her lash of hair burning a stark crimson, polished horns gleaming darkly. ‘You, you wretched little… I will speak to the Duke, personally, about your behaviour, and see what…’

Stathis dropped a pile of coins onto the table. ‘There you go. Apologies for the trouble.’ She put a hand on Janaxia’s shoulder and gave her a shove, ignoring Janaxia’s fuming tenseness as she leant close to whisper into her ear. ‘Let it go. She’s a friend, and we don’t want to draw too much attention.’

Before they could leave, Brina grabbed Janaxia’s wrist, slapping a red cord around it. There was a brief flare of magic as the ends bound themselves together, bound with a copper seal, a brief sensation of heat flashing against her skin. ‘You’ll need these, anyone without them is thrown into the cells, if they’re lucky. Duke’s orders. And don’t be out past curfew, starts at 9th bell, ends at 6th. Meet me tomorrow at the Crippled King, noon tomorrow.’

Janaxia sniffed, contenting herself with an imperious glare before sweeping past in a grandiose flurry of skirts and ruffled sleeves. Stathis and Hakara held out their wrists, allowing the cords to be wrapped around, before they entered the city proper. The cord was light and scratchy, making Stathis flick her wrist, trying to settle it comfortably, the metal warmer than it should be.

Even inside the city proper, the place was a dump. The roads were barely cobbled, buildings were erected any which-way, the market was a sad, muddy field and barely half-full, a few traders making an attempt to do business. The buildings hung low to the ground, and were so crowded together that the sky was barely visible, the ‘main road’ little more than a wide alleyway, sodden with mud and garbage. Semari melted out from an alleyway, Parth hanging back in the shadows, hood pulled up to cover her face, another cloaked figure lurking with her.

Stathis shook her head. ‘Could you two warn me if you’re going to sneak off like that?’

Semari looked nervous, glancing around. ‘Don’t like people knowing I’m around, you know? I’ve been here before and this place is a bit shit towards criminals, and I like having two hands!’

‘Yes, it’s a city. Criminals are generally not approved of, that’s why they’re criminals. Anyway, didn’t you say a friend of yours had somewhere for us to stay?’

Semari pulled out a key, almost the length of her hand, rusty and worn iron covered with odd shapes and protrusions. ‘Yup, used to be a sacking house. A friend of a friend wants someone to keep an eye on the place, keep any scrags out. Ain’t gonna be fancy though – no maids or cooks. No demon-servants neither, which is probably a good thing, although Misutira turned out OK after all.’ She reached into the shadows, yanking on the cloak of the other figure, hauling them out into the light, their hood falling back to reveal a young woman who glanced at them nervously, small red marks tattooed beneath her right eye. ‘This is Jalmi, she’s in tight with the upright folk round here. Gonna help you lot stay out of trouble.’ Beneath the cloak, Stathis could see that Jalmi was armed, a sword on each hip, even as she pulled herself away from Semari, pulling her hood back up and retreating back into the shadows.

She darted off down a side passage, letting the others follow, leading the horses as there wasn’t enough space to ride. They moved along rapidly, Stathis noting the generally seedy atmosphere, the looks they (and especially Janaxia) were getting – this was very obviously the rough part of the city, all the buildings cheap and poorly maintained, and not a guard in sight, although there were quite a few people with weapons that shouldn’t be needed in a city. They headed towards the cliff wall, along what had once been a processional avenue lined with statues, now absorbed by the buildings, a giant figure now just half a body and a head protruding from the top of a buildings, other buildings constructed around the bases of the statues. It looked as though a lot of damage had been done a while ago, long enough for new construction to have happened, but the marks were still obvious. Older, fancier buildings were ahead of them, set into the base of the cliff, old manors, now absorbed by the lower city. Above was the castle itself, manors overlooking the rest, windows catching the sun.

The light was blocked by the cliff above, air heavy with smoke, as they proceeded along a row of old manors, each in their own little walled compounds. Most had been divided into smaller homes, the yards filled with garbage, people working away at various domestic tasks, or simply passing the time with drinking or gambling.

Jalmi stopped in front of a large wall, 20 feet tall and topped with broken glass, the main gate bricked up, only a metal side-gate allowing entrance. ‘This is it. My boys have kept any scrags and bums out, but we’re fighting thin as it is, Duke’s a bastard. Don’t wreck the place, or you’ll piss off people you don’t want to piss off.’

From here, it looked dark and grimy, every window barred and shuttered, the main entrance up a narrow set of stairs, without any other access points at ground level. Semari leapt up, somehow finding enough cracks in the wall to gain purchase, clambering up and over, carefully avoiding the glass before dropping out of sight. The gate clacked and screeched before getting shoved open, gouging a scrape into the mud.

‘Definitely not as fancy as Janaxia’s place, but no demon-maids.’

‘That was entirely due to the hiring agency! I can scarcely be blamed for them improperly vetting their staff, and allowing a demon to be hired as a domestic. But I daresay we will endure without the assistance of domestics.’

While they bickered, Stathis rapped a knuckle against the walls. They were solid stone – they wouldn’t stand against a determined attacker, but would hold off a mob for a while, and the building itself was stone as well. With the main entrance up a staircase, that would make it even easier to protect, in case everything went wrong. The place must once have been fancy, with a small coach-house, and a fountain, with a statue of a muse holding aloft a harp, now covered by grime and weeds, in the middle of a dry basin.

All the windows on the ground floor were covered by bars, with wooden shutters on the inside. Although there was rust bleeding down the walls where the bars had been inserted, they seemed sturdy, or at least didn’t budge when Stathis yanked on them. From above came the sound of cursing as Semari fought with the door, rattling the key around and slamming the wood before eventually getting it open.

Inside was a dark chamber, the air heavy with dust and scent of faded perfume. The furniture, or what remained of it, was cheap and covered with mouldy cushions, dust floating into the air as soon as anything was touched. The floor was grimy, and the remnants of a bar on the other side of the room yielded nothing but empty bottles and broken glasses.

A wooden door barred their way, taking the combined efforts of Stathis and Semari to smash down when the key didn’t work. Even after they opened the shutters, the place was dim and dingy, the room filled with racks of outfits, metal rails holding up a lot of fabric and lace and ruffles. Hakara lifted one.

‘I thought you said this place didn’t have any maids?’

Stathis looked at the outfit. It was, indeed, the standard black dress of a servant, complete with a little apron, lace petticoats peeking out of the bottom. It was, however, quite noticeably shorter than was standard, looking like it would barely come to mid-thigh on someone of normal height. She looked through the other outfits in close reach – all seemed to have certain commonalities, involving not a great deal of fabric, and a good deal of that being see-through, tight, sleek or sheer in varying combinations. Even the men’s outfits were similar. A wardrobe held what could charitably be called ‘accessories’; cloaks, cuffs, masks, cheap jewellery, masks and other adornments. There were small mirrors along one wall, surrounded by long-emptied pots of foundation and other cosmetics. And, on further examination, yes, a few eyeholes, not-very-well concealed within the internal wooden walls.

Stathis raised her voice. ‘Semari, what did you say this place was?’ She jumped as Semari’s voice came from the other side of the wall, before a slot opened up, revealing a narrow hallway, with wooden benches to sit on. She formed two fingers into a ring, pushing a finger from her other hand in and out. Then she looked between Stathis and Janaxia, forming each hand into a ‘V’ shape and sliding them together. Stathis sighed. ‘This is an abandoned brothel, isn’t it?’

Semari nodded. ‘I did tell you. It’s got beds though, right? And a kitchen and stuff.’

Janaxia stopped looking through the outfits, flicking her fingers with distaste, more dust dancing through the dim light. ‘Are there any outfits that pique your interest, Stathis? They have quite the assortment. But I do think some new bedding may be in order. I shudder to think what acts have been perpetrated both in, upon and around them, and would rather not sleep upon such a thing. Although some of these outfits could be rather fetching, after sufficient, and rather intensive, cleaning.’ She held up a black silk evening dress, tight and sleek, holding it against herself.

‘That’s a bit dull for you, isn’t it? Although it is slit pretty high, you could wear one of your fancy garters with it, that would look good.’ Stathis flicked through some of the other outfits, some of them looking utterly implausible, and impractical, to wear, even for somewhere like this. And Janaxia would likely be even more awkward to deal with. She would look damn good in most of the outfits, but she was getting increasingly persistent, although at least that Akoni person or spirit or whatever she had been had relieved some of Janaxia’s tension. The scratches Janaxia had got had looked a bit painful, but at least that had meant she’d been happily dazed and blissed out for most of the journey, not complaining all the time.

Janaxia smiled. ‘Thank you, I do try. And black is never really out of style, at least with a few appropriate accents. I think maybe something in silver, to compliment, or maybe a few rubies? Nevertheless, may I suggest a few domestic improvements. That, notably, will mean that I do not have to sleep upon bedding soiled by countless… excretions.’ Apparently that was outside the pale as far as Janaxia was concerned, despite the other odd stuff she so obviously enjoyed.

Semari shrugged. ‘Hey, you do you. I’m calling the lookout room for myself though, no “excretions” up there.’

‘Lookout room?’ Stathis asked, hoping for an excuse to leave before Janaxia started modelling outfits then and there. Looking would be nice, but it seemed better to not encourage her right now.

‘Yeah, keep an eye out, just in case the watch drop by. Gives enough time to make everything look respectable, standard stuff. It’s up at the back.’

A magic circle was forming around Janaxia, energy forming into a roughly humanoid shape, crimson light whirling into existence, legs trailing off into nothingness, the head a shifting chaotic mass of thorns and spikes. She gestured, the shape moving over the dress, dust and grime peeling off the fabric, absorbed into the magical shape. Stathis did what she could to ignore the darkness and doom that came from the shape, as nearby shadows writhed and twisted into malefic shapes.

Stathis followed Semari down a back passage, into a room that backed onto bare rock, where metal rungs had been hammered into the wall. They climbed up to a small stone cave, a long slot cut through the wall, with a good view over the surrounding area, clearly a watchpost for the brothel, and whatever other illegal activities had once been practiced there. The view was pretty miserable, a heavy pall of smoke drifting up from the nearby houses, everything dirty and mud-spattered. The docks could just about be seen, a clustering of masts with the sea behind them. A cluster of spires, ridged and spined, were a temple, brass roof catching the light. A huge circular building was an old amphitheatre or theatre, covered in scaffolding.

‘Thanks for finding this place, but are we going to get into any trouble from rival gangs or bosses, that sort of thing? Jalmi seemed fairly relaxed, is she reliable?’

‘Not dealt with her before, but she’s got a good rep. Probably won’t be anything we can’t handle, but there’s a lot of rumours. We’re not planning on being here long, anyway, right, just until you get healed up? There’s some gang stuff, the lord’s a dick, usual crap. At least there’s no ghosts or ancestors about.’

‘You’re not exactly reassuring me here! Do we need to post a watch or anything? I’d at least like to know if I have to sleep in armour or not.’

‘Nah, the watch keep everything pretty locked down, even here in Undercliff. Place is, like, super-controlled. And shitty. It wasn’t nice before, but it’s a total dump now.’

From up here, that much was obvious – the place was decrepit and rundown, everything worn and dirty. ‘Have you been here before then? A job with Kethys?’

Semari shrugged. ‘Yeah, quite a while back though, like, 5 years or something? Bit livelier back then, this place was swanky then. And some of the dudes were nice, know what I mean? Just watch out for things trying to eat you. And, uh, quite a lot of the place is easy to burn. Just as, like, some advice.’

‘The city does feel a bit tense. I should check with Brina and see what’s up, she might know.’ Stathis relaxed for a moment, feeling the warm, humid air blowing from the sea. She couldn’t sense anything more untoward than usual, a blistering coldness assaulting her soul as Janaxia continued to clean the house beneath them. But nothing else – this manor, at least, didn’t seem to have a resident ghost, wraith or other monster lurking nearby, or if there was, Janaxia’s presence was drowning it out. It probably had secret tunnels and passages though; there must to be at least one hidden way for people to get in and out, to see their favourites or whatever people did at a place like this.

Stathis held up her wrist, looking at the bracelet – the cord was bound with a metal seal holding the ends together, stamped with what was probably the seal of the Duke, the blobs of two miscellaneous quadrupeds holding up a shield between them. It felt warm, although that could just be the metal, but it was probably better to be sure. She took a dagger and carefully positioned it, trying to cut through. The cord, despite looking like cheap thread, resisted the slice. She called on her powers, the blade glowing with holy power, easily slicing through the cord. She carefully placed the cut somewhere it could be patched together, if it was needed. Semari nodded approval.

‘Smart. Who knows what those tricksy bastards are up to. Probably got, like, evil magic in or something. Can’t you tell?’

‘I can’t sense anything, but with Janaxia around, who knows? They are a bit creepy. Anyway, which of the rooms is going to be the least… used?’ Stathis looked around the watchpost – the bare rock floor didn’t look particularly comfortable, although compared to other places she had seen Semari fall asleep, it wasn’t the worst.

‘The gambling room?’ She considered. ‘Janaxia’s too weedy to get in there, got a big heavy door. Unless Parth’s gone all ghosty and claimed it. That or the booze cellar. Bit manky down there though. Used to be some fun goin’ on in there sometimes, but it was mostly for gaming, not fucking.’

‘I’ll go have a look, sounds better than the alternative. You staying up here?’

‘Better ‘n getting involved with Janaxia’s evil cleaning-things! Yeah, I’ll yell if I see anything weird.’

Stathis climbed back down, returning to the entrance, feeling her ribs ache from the exertion. Whatever that banshee had done, hadn’t healed straight and still goddam hurt. Dust was whirling through the air, Janaxia’s spirit-creature moving dust outside, leaving a trail of cleaner wood behind it, Stathis’ skin crawling every time it got close to her. The clothes all looked clean now, a diverse assembly of silk, linin, leather and other, more exotic fabrics Stathis didn’t recognise. At least if they had to go to a costume ball, they wouldn’t have any shortage of outfits, although there probably wouldn’t be anything in there that would fit her, or be remotely appropriate. Hakara was sat in a meditative pose, sprites of blue energy emerging from a hovering mandala of light, and contributing to the cleaning effort.

‘I’m going out to meet Brina. Thanks for doing the cleaning you two, good job.’

Hakara didn’t respond, but Janaxia accepted the praise. ‘A certain level of dirt can be intriguing, but there are limits.’ She shuddered. ‘Some things should not have to be endured, even for those in our profession!’ She gestured again, her spirit whirling to clean another dress, little more than some leather straps connected by gauze and buckles. ‘Although some of the workers did have good taste. Try to avoid getting engaged in any unnecessary events, this place has a rather unsavoury feel. It would be irksome to end up within a civil dispute, I feel.’

Stathis nodded. ‘Yeah, this place feels odd. Anyway, I’ll be back soon.’