Kin, are you sure this is a good idea?

He stood to the side, nodding respectfully at a priestess as she passed, admiring the cut of her robes. From the smile he got, she had noticed his looking, and appreciated it. Sadly, he had business to be about, otherwise it might have been pleasant to dally and enquire about the specifics of her faith’s stance on “chastity”. From the tightness of her robes, she was probably from one of the more liberal contingents, or no respecter of whatever rules she was meant to be following. Or just liked showing herself off.

No, but when has that ever stopped us? I don’t know what you’re complaining about though, think of the gold you can get.

She didn’t respond in words, instead giving a purr of pleasure, a sinuous, roaring sensation of flame, surging and hot. He continued walking through the city – large and prosperous, merchants and traders going about their business, inns doing a roaring trade. And with the High Convocation of the Faiths starting soon, there were all sorts of clerics and priests amongst the townsfolk, brightly coloured robes and holy symbols making them stand out. Some almost glowed with power, bearing the tangible blessings of their gods, wreathed in magical robes, amulets and talismans.

In the centre of the city was a huge tower, a column of white stone reaching into the heavens, crowned with gold. Banners and pennants flapped in the wind, signifying all the faiths in attendance. And in the vaults hidden somewhere nearby… He smiled to himself. Not just gold, but all sorts of other treasures, and something far more important. Of course, with the Convocation around, it might make things a little more complicated, but that added to the fun.

Another murmur in his mind, this one a black and bloody shadow. He reached over his shoulder, patting the hilt of his sword, covering the too-bright ruby on the hilt before it drew any attention, a golden band bound around the metal. ‘Don’t worry, I’m sure you’ll feast your fill as well.’ The grumbling subsided slightly.

Have you still got thing with you? It’s really dangerous, Kin.

I know, but it’s also powerful. Once we’ve done this, I’ll see if I can do something about it.

As long as you don’t expect me to deal with it. I want nothing to do with it, and I’m not using my fire on that thing!

The sword shook slightly, quivering with something close to indignation, Kinnevar patting it again to try and soothe it. He glanced around, trying to spot Ash – from her ‘volume’ she was nearby, but the place was busy, and he had no idea what shape she was in at the moment.

With so many priests and clerics around, at least he didn’t stand out, looking like just another adventurer. Although one rather more handsome and attractive, he couldn’t help but think – it really wasn’t that much work to spruce oneself up after working, and a few touches of darkness, a few dark rubies and some spikes, added some much-needed edge and dash. And something to stand out from everyone one, all in dull and stuffy robes, or simplistically functional armour. His own tunic was close-cut, a deep “V” to show off his chest, and tight on the shoulders as well. The metal bracers were largely ornamental but did help to draw attention to his well-muscled arms.

He turned into an alleyway that twisted and wound off the main streets, through the shadier areas that existed in any city, no matter how much the forces of law and light might protest. There was no need to hide here – a tough stepped out to challenge him, knife in hand, several of his colleagues lurking close by, and Kinnevar simply walked past. There was the sound of a footstep behind him and he twisted, the sound of metal-on-metal as the knife scraped on Kinnevar’s sword, followed by a burst of heat, and a pained scream. He half-turned, just in time to see the would-be mugger stagger backwards, body still on fire from Kinnevar’s defensive spell, the others scattering into the shadows.

Their screams were mercifully quiet, the infernal flames shrouding their body sucking away the air as well, preventing them making too much noise. Kinnevar walked towards them, grabbed them by the scruff of the neck and pulled them off the ground, then tossed them into a tub of dirty water. They smashed into it, the water hissing into steam as he let the spell go. The man, wearing the burnt and ashen remnants of his clothing, his skin burnt and seared, looked at Kinnevar in terror.

The sword on his back gave a mental howl of hunger, until Kinnevar reached over his shoulder and flicked the pommel gem, silencing it as he spoke. ‘Was that necessary, or even remotely a good idea? Accosting handsome strangers that carry ominous-looking swords is rarely a good idea, I think you will find.’

Terror flashed in the man’s eyes as he tried to scrabble away, before Kinnevar pinned him to the ground with a foot. ‘I’m here to see someone. The Hidden Master – you know of them?’

He pulled the sword off his back, the hugely oversized blade something he could heft in a single hand. The dark metal shone, despite the buildings being so cramped together that barely any sunlight penetrated. A low moan started, shapes appearing in the metal, suggestive shadows of faces in the dark steel. Stop that! The moaning lowered in volume but didn’t stop.

‘I asked you a question. The Hidden Master – where?’

The man gibbered, arms splashing in the water, body still smoking and steaming, clearly too terrified to say anything. Although whether it was terror of the Hidden Master or of Kinnevar, it was hard to say. He swung the blade, stopping it just shy of the man’s face.

‘I would appreciate answers, friend.’

The man raised an arm, pointing behind Kinnevar, his entire body shaking. Kinnevar glanced behind himself, where a figure had appeared, a silvery robe covering their tall frame, an ornate longsword sheathed on their hip. They raised an arm, a gloved hand appearing from within a sleeve, settling into a stance ready to draw their blade. The robe seemed to shimmer, blurring the outline of the wearer, making them harder to target. Kinnevar stamped down on the man, then kicked him in the head, knocking him unconscious before turning to face the figure.

He could sense power coming from both the robe and the blade – a protective aura from the robe, turning the fabric into protection equal to the toughest armour, while also deflecting any enchantments to determine the identity of wearer. It must be the source of the misty effect as well. And the blade virtually shone with magic, enchantments to cut and rend woven into the very steel, causing wounds that would never heal without the most potent of healing magics being applied. He smiled – this might be fun.

‘An emissary of the Hidden Lord, I take it? Or perhaps the Lord themselves?’ He turned, being sure to keep his blade between himself and the newcomer. ‘I was expecting a little more show and flash, but I suppose being the master of this place limits what you dare to show. So, are we going to settle this with blades or with words?’

Careful Kin, this one’s powerful!

I know, that’s what makes it fun.

He got the sense of bemused irritation back.

A voice rasped from beneath the hood, the tone of a thousand dead things scuttling away beneath ancient stone slabs, bodies fallen to rot and ruin. ‘And you would be Kinnevar Ultremar, late of Desandor?’ A long pause, and the feeling of being scrutinised. ‘I expected some hunched-over mage, yet you appear to practice the arts of the swordsman. Should you not be on your throne, directing a nation? An intriguing conundrum.’

Their stance changed, oh-so-slightly, and that was all the warning he had as they dashed forward, blade singing from their sheath, a bright flash of silver in the dark alleyway. He blocked it, the metals raising a discordant screech as they clashed together. They were strong, almost able to knock him off-balance with each blow but he moved with the impacts, deflecting the force to one side. His counter was a probe, slashing back with his own blade, the great black blade slicing through the air, with far more power than his one-handed grip would suggest as the blade used its own power to strengthen the attack.

They blocked, taking the strike full on against their weapon, getting pushed off-balance themselves and giving him an opening. He twisted the sword, trying to strike them with the pommel. They flung themselves further backwards, barely avoiding the strike, a disappointed sigh coming from the weapon, but giving Kinnevar the initiative, striding forward and invoking darkness. To him, the colour faded from the world, everything getting re-cast into soft greys and whites. But to anyone else, it was a sphere of impenetrable darkness, filled with harmful ice and acid.

They moved into a defensive stance, feet light on the ground, head tilted as they tried to listen for him. He gestured with his hands, summoning up bolts of force and flinging them forward. Their senses must be sharp indeed, as they managed to swing their blade, blocking and deflecting three of the bolts, before the next found its target, striking into their shoulder. They spun and twirled their blade, moves designed to open up space as he prowled towards them, bringing his blade into a two-handed grip.

He stamped heavily on the ground, deliberately making a noise, and they took the bait, taking swift strides towards him, swinging their sword. Even in the darkness it seemed to shine, its swings leaving eddies in the darkness behind it, somehow interfering with his magic. Despite their blindness, they were skilled, managing to find him in the darkness, blade sliding towards him, straight thrusts of deceptive speed, changing angle and speed at the last moment. He swung his own sword, deflecting the strikes, feeling the force of the strikes, some magic enhancing them to more than mortal power.

He adapted a rolling defence, trying to deflect each attack with the slightest touch rather than expend energy on meeting force with force. Where the blades met, there was an explosion of force, shockwaves rippling out. Whoever they were, they had skill, enhanced by the power of their blade. He managed to slide a blow in, their robe stiffening under the impact, taking most of the force of the strike and preventing him stealing their soul. In exchange, they had managed to strike across his shoulder, only his protective spells saving him from serious damage, the magic fading from the touch of that silver blade.

They pressed the attack, Kinnevar ceding a step of ground and using it as a chance to try another barrage of bolts. In the darkness, they missed the chance to counter, three of the blasts hitting home this time. He parried at full strength, smashing their next attack wide. Crimson energy started to seethe around his blade, the howling in his mind growing louder as it sensed the imminence of feeding, a heavy two-handed strike powering towards the neck of his foe, with enough force to shear through any magical protection they might possess.

A force jolted through his arm, the blade bouncing off a place of force that sprung into being, strike skidding downwards. A voice rang out, old and weary. ‘Enough of this!’ Kinnevar’s darkness was forcibly broken apart, the spell sundered. His attacker took advantage of the disruption to leap backwards, opening some space between them, levelling their sword but not pressing the attack.

Off to one side stood an elderly man, wearing the robes of a wizard, an ornately gilded and gem-laden staff in his hands, currently shining with spell-light. ‘Kinnevar, could you, just once, visit somewhere without causing such a commotion? You don’t quite seem to have understood what is meant by “unobtrusive travelling”. Unless you want your wife to send out some, shall we say, concerned parties to check on your health, and attempt to make it rather worse?’ He stroked fingers through his oiled and pointed beard, shaking his head in regret.

Kinnevar sheathed his sword, the thing whining as it went back onto his back without having feasted. ‘You should make yourself easier to find, then I wouldn’t have to do this. I wasn’t sure if it was still you, or if you had been overthrown or retired.’

‘I am Devram Kassiam, the Hidden Master of Sainted Hirata, lord of the sacred shadows. I can scarcely have an office and post my hours of availability, there are standards to maintain! Although I suppose you are doing something of a public duty by eliminating those foolish enough to attack you.’ He turned to the robed figure. ‘And you! I appreciate the thought, but I am quite capable of my own protection. It seems as though you were giving a good account of yourself, at least.’

Kinnevar shook his head. ‘Fast, but I would have won. A strike to the neck – either a killing blow, or, if they pushed themselves back, then the water trough, kicked into their face.’ He pointed at a long wooden trencher, filled with dank water.

They lowered their hood, the blurring effect around them blinking out, long silvery hair spilling out and framing an attractive face, not even breathing hard from the fighting. She flicked her sword, re-sheathing it with a quiet “click”. ‘Slice the water and the trough, pushing them back towards you and using the two halves of the trough to create a blindspot dilemma, where you wouldn’t know where I was.’

‘A powerful strike to one, while assaulting the other with arcane attacks.’

‘Which would…’ She was cut off as Devram sighed.

‘Although your strategic thinking is appreciated, if the two of you could kindly stop? Kinnevar, your display of power has, once again, drawn rather more attention than needed, and I daresay that a number of clerics will be dropping by rather shortly. So if we could continue this conversation elsewhere? And that is, by the by, not a request.’

He gestured with his hand, a magical portal forming beneath him, silvery light beneath his feet. The ground beneath Kinnevar suddenly vanished, and he dropped, unable to prevent his fall. As he fell, he saw the woman descend with rather more grace, some energy shimmering around her and slowing her fall.

He was surrounded by crazed, mazed silver light, a pearlescent fractured glow, without direction or distance. And then, suddenly, he was back in the real world, falling through the air, landing on something soft. His sword came quickly into his hand, just in case, as he tried to stand, pushing against the excessively soft couch he had landed on. Magelights blinked into being, casting a warm yellow glow over a well-appointed room, walls lined with fine art, life-size sculptures of warriors and wizards set into niches, varying expressions of terror or lust on their faces. Wisps of icy steam boiled out of a box in one corner, which he opened, finding several bottles of wine inside. He took one and uncorked it, drinking straight from the bottle – it was good stuff, strong and hearty.

‘Could you at least wait until being offered, Kinnevar? You really are a terrible guest, you know.’ Devram shook his head, before gesturing, arcane energy pulling another bottle of wine towards himself, along with a pair of glasses. ‘You seem to be doing well. It seems rumours of your demise at the hands of Bronwyn Cuille were exaggerated? A shame, I had money on you not making it until the end of the year.’

A murmur of alarm rose in Kinnevar’s mind, as he broadcast a message of calm back. Come find me. I don’t think I’ve gone far. ‘She was a tough fight, all three damn days of it! But she was a worthy foe and kept her word.’

‘And so now you are here?’

‘Well, Skatara is rather, ah, prickly at the moment, so I deemed it best to travel the world. I’m hoping she will calm down, eventually.’

‘Ah, she’s making her play for power? Well, I suppose that explains a lot. I know how tiresome it can get having to protect oneself against poison all the time, and the continual attacks by assassins can certainly get tiresome. And when it’s ones wife behind it all, it can get make conjugal relationships rather trying.’

‘It does make some of the longer meetings a bit more entertaining, when masked figures burst through the window. Certainly more interesting than another session of accounts!’

‘Hah, accountants! Worse bloodsuckers than vampires, at least the biters are honest and someone gets to have some fun. But the coin-counters are needed to keep things running. Still, it seems a long time since I got to hit the streets myself and cut loose. Now I’ve got agents of the faiths watching my every move, double- and triple-agents from within my own ranks watching me watching myself and reporting to all sorts of other groups and organisations, some of which I run, but they don’t know. There’s a certain satisfaction in eliminating a rival without anyone realising, but it’s not quite the same as simply kicking the door in and unleashing fire and fury!’

Kinnevar nodded. ‘It’s a whole different world at the heights.’

The woman entered, her robe now changed for a far more flattering dress, sleek silk falling to her ankles and rippling around her legs as she moved, tight around the bodice and waist, one hand resting on the sword still sheathed on her hip. The bottle of wine tipped over, pouring itself into a glass, which floated towards her.

‘Thank you, father.’ She turned towards Kinnevar. ‘You fight well, and your magical powers are interesting. Similar to the stories of the Black Triad, but you seem somewhat less destructive – unless you have destroyed an empire recently? An interesting heritage, it seems.’ She sat on a stool, a long length of toned and tanned leg appearing as she crossed a leg over her knee. ‘I look forward to crossing blades with you again.’

‘I have conquered a few kingdoms, but not destroyed any empires. But for a fight, I would happily oblige.’ His sword murmured in agreement, desirous of her soul. ‘But I am here on business, sad to say. Perhaps when that is done, then we can continue our exertions?’

She stroked the hilt of her sword and smiled, although in a rather unfriendly fashion. ‘Perhaps. It remains to be seen if you will leave this place alive.’ She nodded at the statues. ‘Those were others that thought it might be profitable to meddle in affairs that were nothing to do with them.’

‘That would explain the detail of the carving. You must have a medusa on staff? I hope you are treating her well, they can get very lonely sometimes.’

Devram chuckled. ‘I heard of your dalliance with Karipulnira. Yes, another of the serpentine sisterhood sought us out for sanctuary, and a desire to live in a less isolated environment than her kin. Do not worry yourself on her behalf – she has all she could desire, and my daughter has even started introducing her to wider society. Although it would be appreciated if she could prove herself better at stopping others from looking under the veils. The reagents to remove the curse are rather expensive, and young Master Ethwin now has some rather dazed recollections of a tousle-haired maiden having her way with him.’

‘It’ll do him some good! And she needs some attention. Unless you would care to volunteer?’ She turned back to Kinnevar.

‘I do try never to turn my back on a lady in need of… attention. If she is willing, then I’m sure an assignation can be arranged. Would you care to join us? I find that their loneliness tends to make them quite inventive when various, shall we say, options, are presented?’

That apparently wasn’t the reaction she was expecting, although she covered her moment of amused shock well, raising her wine to her lips for a sip.

Devram spoke. ‘If the two of you could restrain yourselves? There are more important things to discuss. Kinnevar, I trust you aren’t here to do anything foolish like assassinate Morenia Pasthuli?’

‘I didn’t know the esteemed lady inquisitor was even here. Although I would rather avoid her, ah, rather particular attentions.’

‘Yes, she seems to have something of a grudge against you. And has sworn quite vehement oaths to see you bound in chains and humbled before her, although it seems vague as it whether that is for divine punishment or to prevent you leaving her unattended during a party again. She was quite put out by your previous behaviour, abandoning her like that.’

‘I believe she may have misunderstood the nature of our relationship, and taken ill at my random sudden departure, but I needed her mostly to gain access to the Vault of Mist. She is both rather fetching and good company, and I would appreciate the chance to apologise, but not, I think, when bound in chains.’

‘Perhaps my daughter can arrange an introduction? The Hidden Master of Sainted Hirata may be a wanted criminal, but Master Kassiam, trader in rare and exotic goods, has friends amongst the highest circles, and his daughter is a leading light of the, uh, “fast set”, I believe the term is? In my day, we simply got drunk and saw who we woke up with, none of this “invite cards” and “soiree” nonsense!’

Kinnevar shook his head. ‘It tends to make for rather less knife-scars and clearer memories of quite whom you’ve bedded, I find. Although it can be rather more awkward to leave, as I’m sure you must have experienced?’

The woman tapped the hilt of her sword. ‘I find smoke bombs and having some help on the staff to be sufficient. Although I have heard of your flair for the rather more dramatic. That affair at Castle Blackfire…’

Kinnevar coughed. ‘Yes, well, that got a little out of hand. Quite by accident, but it was resolved mostly peaceably, at least aside from volcano. That part, at least, wasn’t my fault. Regardless, I assume you didn’t bring me here simply for conversation?’

Devram spoke. ‘True, your company isn’t that delightful. No, it is a business matter. Although perhaps if you were to call your colleague in? Before they kill any of my guards – I know they’re sloppy, but I would rather train them up than have them killed.’

You close?

Ah, that’s where you are. Clever humans, always coming up with these tricks! There’s some very rude men here, let me deal with them first.

Save yourself the trouble, tell them you’re here for Devram and that you have an appointment.

This provoked some slight grumbling, her desire for respect clashing with her laziness, laziness soon winning. While waiting for her to be shown up, Kinnevar sipped his wine – it was a decent vintage, chilled to the right temperature, although necking it from the bottle wasn’t the most dignified way of going about it.