The wine was adequate – barely – but the furnishings had a certain amount of style, in a rather overstuffed and grandiose fashion, too much shining ornamentation and gems in too small a place. A little went a long way – having a golden reliquary atop a golden table was simply too much, despite the obvious display of wealth, the other gold and silver ornaments only adding to the effect. Still, talking over wine was preferable to violence, despite the glare Semari was giving her from inside her warded sphere.

‘Please, accept my apologies, Lady Janaxia. If we had known you were going to visit, then we would have tidied up more. Trannor, clean that up, please.’

‘I wasn’t expecting such hospitality! Davash’s reputation is rather more… foreboding.’ She too another sip of the wine, ignoring the heavy “thump” as Semari jumped into a spinning kick in another attempt to break the sphere containing her. ‘You say that he died recently?’ She gestured at the table, summoning up magical energy to bring an apple to herself, feeling she should make some display of magical power. A robed figure, presumably another apprentice, listlessly scrubbed at a stain on the floor, barely putting any effort into it. Janaxia was tempted to punish him with a blast or two for his lack of diligence, but it scarcely seemed worth the trouble.

‘Yes, there was an… accident, in the course of his research.’ Janaxia’s notional-captor was a middle-aged woman, at least by appearance – whether she was actually young and aged by exposure to strange power, or older and well-preserved by her studies, was impossible to tell. Her once-fine robes bore the general stains and marks of a researching wizard though, a combination of fine craftsmanship and ragged use. Hakara would doubtless be able to ascertain something of her studies by looking at the precise colour and texture of the stains, but to Janaxia, they all looked like fine material being soiled. And whether the “accident” had been truly accidental, or a targeted assassination, seemed largely immaterial at this point.

‘Of course. And you and the other apprentices no doubt wished to keep such a thing secret, so as to avoid any political upset?’

‘Of course, Lady Janaxia. I wasn’t expecting a personal representative of the Uth Tremari though! I’m aware that Master Davash was negotiating with Archmagus Poratia Uth Tremari but assumed it to be a minor thing.’ She ducked her head in an awkward bow, lanky and unwashed hair slipping out from beneath her headband.

Janaxia accepted the deference with a relaxed wave. ‘Well, such is the way of things. There is much I imagine is not known to you.’ Like hairbrushes, by the looks of things, or ordering a servant to clean a robe. Even a skeletal flunky could manage that much, if ordered with sufficient exactitude! ‘But yes, while it is regrettable that Davash has been killed, I have been sent to acquire certain items that he had acquired. It seems that you may be in a rather troublesome situation – I assume you lack the potency Davash had?’ He likely would have killed off any possible rivals, trying to ensure his lackeys were skilled enough to be useful, but not enough to be able to overthrow him.

‘I have attained the third circle.’ She looked slightly affronted, but if that was the pinnacle of her power, then they were in danger – as soon as it was realised that Davash was gone, then everyone else would come scrabbling to seize his power. Although that might make the issue resolve itself, if the skull were to be claimed by another, and this bunch killed, or bound to a new master.

‘A far cry from Davash’s mastery, then. But, to business. Are you aware of the nature of the negotiations? I take it you were his most trusted aide?’ A little flattery likely wouldn’t hurt at all, and the woman did indeed sit up a little straighter. ‘Good, then we can continue. In your current position, it would probably be best if we were to resolve this swiftly. It would be decidedly inconvenient if the weakness of your position were to be discovered and you were all slain before an arrangement could be made.’

The woman shifted uncomfortably, clearly aware of the position she was in, and how vulnerable she was. ‘The master did not, unfortunately, share the full details. But, if you would care to stay for the rest of the night, then I’m sure we could come to some form of bargain. If the Uth Tremari were to offer their protection…’ She left the sentence hanging.

Janaxia smiled at her indulgently. ‘An intriguing proposition. Of course, such protection wouldn’t be free. But it has been a rather arduous day, and I would appreciate some rest and the chance to clean up. I assume there is no-one with the capability to remove the barriers around my companions?’ She ignored a loud thud, as Semari punched the field around herself again, without effect.

‘Uh, yes. Sadly, you are correct. Your companions will be restrained for some time yet, I’m afraid.’

‘Have them bought to my chambers, and I will deal with it. I think some time to ponder the matter, and communicate with Mother, would be wise.’

At the mention of Poratia, the woman gasped. ‘Yes, of course, Lady Janaxia. My apologies, do you have any preferred title? I wouldn’t want to cause offence!’

Janaxia considered. She hadn’t formally been assessed by anyone else, so the titles she could legitimately claim were limited. “Theurgist” was a little humdrum and dull, “Warlock” was decidedly grubby and beneath her, but “Archmage” was rather presumptuous. Perhaps it was time to get inventive? Kinnevar had created and claimed his own title, of “Frostreaver”, after all. Now, what would suit her best, and not attract too much teasing from Semari?

‘You may address me as “Lady Janaxia, Darkbinder”.’ That sounded about right, didn’t it, and not too silly? Something appropriate to invoke in the dark and hidden places, a name to inspire fear and awe?

‘Of course, Darkbinder. Please, let me know if there is anything else I can do for you. Allow me to show you to your chambers.’

She rose, making a gesture, two skeletons shambling from the shadows and pushing the spell-spheres, Semari trying to punch one, without effect. As they walked, Janaxia added a few extra ornaments to her outfit, arcane sigils flaring into life.

The woman led her further into the complex, a few other robed figures skulking in doorways as they passed. The whole place was decorated in the usual fashion – dank stone, vaguely mossy carvings, a few rats, both skeletal and alive, scuttling around. Hopefully the sleeping chambers were less unpleasant, or at least better drained.

They came to a heavy wooden door, the woman waving her hand to dispel the magical protections bound into place – nothing that potent, but enough to deter the rabble and vermin here. And on the other side… Was a disappointingly mundane sleeping chamber. At least it looked comfortable enough, if a little cramped. The bare stone was excessively spartan, but that did mean less space for assassins and the like to hide in.

Semari and Vrintar were both now looking resigned to their fates, or at least bored, Semari trying to stretch out for a nap in the tiny space allowed her. Janaxia shooed the woman out of the room, closing the door firmly in her face, before checking the room for any spyholes. She found two, pushing her finger through and firing some eldritch blasts into the other side, just in case.

The bed was an uncomfortable-looking thing of cold iron, although it was raised high enough off the floor to help deter vermin. She pulled the sheets off and wrapped them around herself, before turning to the energy spheres, focusing her will and casting a spell. Energy danced around her fingers, before blasting out towards the spheres, making them flicker and get noticeably tinner and paler.

Beneath the sheet, she felt her own clothing vanish – maybe Stathis had a point, and she should start wearing more mundane clothing again? But it felt so restrictive, and not in a pleasurable way, to be bound to a single style. Vrintar started punching the field around herself, setting up low thudding sounds that echoed around the stone room, like a weird heartbeat. Semari roused herself enough from her doze to kick, sending louder sounds through the small room, before flipping to her feet and launching a rapid sequence of blows, making it wobble. Janaxia repeated the spell, the bubbles thinning again, before Semari punched out, managing to shatter hers. She dropped neatly to the floor and then rounded on Vrintar’s bubble until that was also broken and she was freed. As hers broke, her axe was released, Vrintar plucking it from the air and holstering it.

As the bubbles had probably been soundproof, Janaxia summarised the situation. ‘It seems we have come at a fortuitous time. Slavamir Davash is dead, in a rather more permanent fashion than expected. The survivors are rather desperate for support, which means that we may be able to acquire our objective without the need for violence. Now, I have stalled negotiations until tomorrow morning, and so we can rest until then. Of course, it may be wise to maintain a watch, in case some treachery is afoot, but they seem genuinely in fear of us, and likely will be thankful for any support they can get.’

Semari flexed, obviously savouring her recently-regained ability to move freely. ‘Can’t we just, like, jack the skull now and clear off? Get the job done fast?’

‘We could, but it would likely provoke an unfriendly response. It seems simpler to cooperate, at least for now. Promising them aid and then leaving seems expedient – they have little recourse if no aid materializes, but the promise of support should engender the needed support from them.’ Semari approached, tugging at the sheet, trying to pull it off. ‘Would you stop that? At least grant me some time to reform my clothing!’

Semari pulled harder, managing to grab an edge and yank, sending Janaxia spinning around as the sheet was unravelled. She was barely able to form clothing in time, and only a simple wrap of light linen. Semari looked at her, tilting her head. ‘Not bad, but not really your best. So, we’re properly resting up, not, like, waiting until they think we’re asleep and then sneaking out? Vrintar, you want to go first or second? She’ll be useless, and just used pretty much all her spells until she’s rested.’

‘I still have vast magical power!’

Semari rolled her eyes. ‘Pretty sure that’s you done, except for your pew-pew.’ She mimicked throwing energy. ‘Compared to Hakara, you’ve got, like, barely any spells, but you’ve not got to study up to use them. So you rest, I’ll keep watch, then Vrintar can take over.’

Vrintar nodded. ‘That seems a wise course.’ She sat down, leaning on the wall, an axe in hand. ‘I trust not these people, but they seem afraid of Lady Janaxia, which offers some protection.’

Janaxia finished reforming her clothing, adding a few more ruffs and curls of material. Had Semari been counting her spell usage? It was true that she had less diversity, but far greater capacity to recuperate her powers, than a more traditionally-trained magus, but having Semari of all people pick up on it was something of a shock! Still, it would be best to refresh her power when the chance was offered, so she laid herself on the bed, resting as best she could.

She was awoken by a gentle touch some time later, blinking away darkness – the only darkness she could now experience, when she closed her eyes – to see Vrintar. ‘A message.’

Janaxia rose, making sure her clothing and her were both suitably styled. If she were to be serving in the role of herald and messenger, then she should look the part! After making sure she was appropriately composed and dressed, she went to the door and opened it, to reveal the woman. From the look on her face, she hadn’t slept – her look had been rather cadaverous before, but was now outright wretched, face gaunt and drawn in a style rather more reminiscent of ‘worry and prolonged lack of sleep’ rather than ‘dramatic and artful cosmetics’.

‘Lady Darkbinder.’ She bowed, Janaxia supressing a smile at the use of her new title. ‘I trust you rested well? I have bought you food as well.’ She raised up a tray holding a covered plate, as though offering libations to a travelling potentate. Which, Janaxia supposed, she mostly was.

‘Thank you. I shall eat, and then we shall discuss important matters.’ Janaxia took the tray, then stepped back and called up mystical energies to close the door in the woman’s face. That should suitably establish the power dynamic. Then she lifted the covering, expecting, and being granted, disappointment – several bowls of murky-looking soup and some tough-looking bread. The best that could be said of it was that it was fresh, or at least hot, the soup still steaming.

Semari picked up a bowl and drank it down, Janaxia watching her in case of poison. She remained remarkably alive afterwards, and so she took a bowl for herself. It was as bland as she expected – little more than gruel, flavoured with vegetable mash. But it was better than going hungry or resorting to travel rations. With that done, she waited a few more minutes, to ensure they were stewing, before throwing the door open from a distance, and sweeping grandly towards it, ensuring her clothing ruffled and swayed as though she was being blown in an unseen wind. Simple theatrics, of course, but from the look on the woman’s face, it was certainly effective.

‘To business then? I have other engagements to deal with, I would appreciate some haste.’

‘Ye… yes, of course. Ah, this way.’

The woman was already behaving like a cowed servant, taking the tray as Janaxia passed it back, before leading her to a small waiting room. It was decorated in the style typical of wizards over-eager to impress, all overly-ostentatious ornamentation, cheap brass reflecting several mage-lights, a metal plaque engraved with fragments of the Unreadable Tongue – in this case, what appeared to be a warning to stay away from wherever the metal had come from, not that anyone else would be capable of reading it. Poorly-lit shelves were full to bursting with a collection of geegaws and trinkets, mostly tending towards the morbid – skulls shaped into goblets (an uncomfortable size, and prone to tainting the taste of wine in an unpleasant fashion), ominously shaped devices of metal (that appeared to include a melon baller, unless there was some tortuous use for such a thing that Janaxia was unaware of) and the like.

Janaxia moved to the largest chair and sat down. If matters turn unpleasant, then this one seems simple to eliminate. And Semari, please stop fiddling with the decorations – they may be tacky, but some of them may be cursed or possessed.

Semari put down the knife-tipped femur she had been playing with, stabbing it into the wood of the shelf, as Janaxia made herself comfortable in the chair, at least as much was possible against the hard and un-cushioned wood. ‘Now, to begin with, I hope I can trust you to make good on your end of the agreement? It would be most… unpleasant if you were to not even have the items I seek.’ She actually only needed the Skull of Grishmoor, but if they woman were to offer anything else, that would be a pleasant bonus.

‘Yes, Darkbinder Janaxia. Of course.’ She gestured, and a chest in one corner opened, a gaudily-decorated casket lifting itself (with an uneven and tilting motion, the woman’s control clearly lacking) out, unsteadily moving towards the woman. It landed on her lap, and she carefully opened it up, a rush of cold air blowing out, ruffling Janaxia’s hair. A skull stared back at her, the old bone decorated with brass and gold, and a slightly tacky excess of gems, with rubies in the eyes, several of the teeth replaced with diamonds.

One of Vrintar’s hands reached towards an axe. Hold. There is no need for violence. Yet. Vrintar stilled herself but maintained a wary attitude. Janaxia could sense the power coming from the thing, old and chill, sufficient to make clear it was the genuine item. They must truly need protection, then.

‘Very well. A good start. Now, in the more recent communications, there were a few other items mentioned. As I’m sure you appreciate, then time is short, so I would rather this be concluded swiftly. The Uth Tremari will extend their protection, but only in the case of full cooperation.’

The woman’s eyes darted about, clearly unaware of any such communication – most likely because they didn’t exist, but it never hurt to press for more than was initially presented. ‘I… I was not aware of such.’

‘Well, it is unlikely that Master Davash would share everything, is it? Now, I’m sure you know what else I speak of.’ Janaxia held the woman’s gaze with her own, being sure to project nothing other than command and power, secure in her position – if nothing else, she could probably destroy the woman before an alarm could be raised.

The woman shivered as though cold, before reaching into her voluminous – and tatty and dirty – sleeve, pulling out a wand. It was shaped like a miniature skeleton carved of pale white wood, a foot long and made to be grasped by the legs, the tip a leering skull. She was holding it as lightly as possible, almost throwing it at Janaxia.

‘Excellent. I am glad to see we are of an accord.’

The thing shivered slightly, fingers twitching, the woman wincing. A will brushed itself against her, a mental probe like a sharp stiletto trying to force itself into her spirit. She frowned, shaking her head and ignoring it, before flicking the skull as it clicked and clattered. Behave, or I’ll throw you into the sea.

The attempt at an assault redoubled, more of the mental blades trying to slice into her. It was simple enough to conjure up an inner darkness, a protective haze of the Unspeakable Tongue that provided an invulnrable bulwark. As it continued to chitter at her, she spoke to the woman. ‘The Rod of Usorc? I have heard tales of it, most impressive. And something that would doubtless draw attackers to yourselves, far safer it be away from you. Now, I will let Poratia know at the first opportunity, do you believe yourself to be in imminent danger?’

As the skull continued to clack and twitch, she lifted it, giving it a sharp smack against the arm of the chair. There is no call for rudeness! If you wish to talk, we can do so later. It continued to make the same irritating, grating noise, earning itself several more smacks until it was silenced, somehow contriving to look sullen. Simply because you are an item of legend, that is no excuse for rank discourtesy. It finally went mostly-silent, save for the occasional dry clack of finger-bones.

The women was looking at her in shock, clearly unused to seeing someone deal with magical items so adroitly. Janaxia smiled back, idly smacking the wand against the arm again, jolting her into a response.

‘Um, yes, Darkbinder. The Iristari are moving and seeking out anyone that trucks with dark forces. While I believe that Master Davash was slain by an error within his calculations, I imagine it won’t be long until we must face a direct assault. With him gone, we are lacking in concrete power, although I am attempting to study his tomes and learn more spells, as best I can.’

‘You may wish to reinforce your defences, perhaps hire some more mundane guards. While they lack the abilities of the arcane arts, there is something to be said for the comfort of a strong sword arm to shelter behind in times of crisis. I imagine the resources here are sufficient that you would prefer to stay?’

‘Yes, all the results of Master Davash’s research, all our tomes, and everything else… But if Carissia the Nightscourge were to assault us, we have no chance of defence! We would be annihilated in moments.’

“Nightscourge” was new, although Carissia had, by all accounts, been extraordinarily active in hunting down any possible enemies, even at the cost of making those that had been uncertain into enemies rather than staying neutral.

‘I would imagine it unlikely she strike here, there will be other targets of higher concern. It may be wise to arrange a method of swift escape though, just in case. Or throw yourself on her mercy, although that may be a gamble. But we will aid you, at least as much as we can. A good deal, I think, in exchange for some items you lack the puissance to utilise. Now, do you have any information on the Iristari? It would be inconvenient were I to be apprehended by them. And, of course, if you were to pass information on regarding my location, the consequences would be… unpleasant.’

She gave the woman a deliberately friendly smile, to hopefully make the threat all the more chilling. From how she paled, it had the intended effect, and she even bowed in her seat. ‘Of course not, Darkbinder, I know what happens to those that cross the Uth Tremari. But we are isolated here, and so hear little. I believe that the Circle of the First Blood have scattered across the lands, rather than face the wrath of the Iristari. Falinax d’Arcineux fell in combat with Carissia, their body burnt to ashes in the light of the dawn. She tore down the Old House and torched it to ashes.’

‘Well, it was overdue for remodelling, it was a bit grim and tattered. Destroying it seems a bit much though, some of the sculptures in the sacrificial hall were rather nice, if in need of a clean. But those are both quite some distance from here, so we are hopefully safe. Although I have other business to be about, and so cannot stay overlong.’

‘We, uh, have heard rumours of what happened between yourself and Stathis. Is it true that you devoured her soul, and disintegrated her body?’ From how the woman reacted, Janaxia’s expression must have been severe. ‘Not that I would wish to pry, Lady Janaxia.’

‘Very good. Such matters are not things for you to dwell upon. Now, unless there is anything else, then I need to confer with my colleagues.’ She stared at the woman, whose will quickly faltered as she beat a hasty retreat. As she moved towards the door, Semari silently padded up behind her, cocking a fist. Not yet, leave her be. For now.

Semari stood down, letting the woman leave without coldcocking her. As soon as the door shut, Vrintar spoke.

‘An unexpected mercy, Janaxia. I was expecting to leave this place on fire.’

‘That seems rather more effort than I wish to put forth – moss and wet stone make poor kindling, in my experience. No, I think now we take our leave.’ She reached forth and took the skull. Excessively gaudy, but it must bear some power. From the stories she could remember, it contained the spirits of several ancient magi, that would advise the bearer, but also attempt to possess and control their body. She sighed – the last thing she needed was a set of spirits wanting to possess her! Hopefully they would remain quiescent until needed. She felt a soft chill around her hands, an ethereal flicker of energy sparking as she touched it, something force energizing and revitalising her. The skull at least recognised her mastery then! She tilted her head, in case it spoke to her, but there was nothing. Maybe it required some ritual to activate?

Semari picked up the bone-knife, flipping it in her hand a few times, before flinging it, hard, at the door. It stuck there, quivering in the wood. ‘Lousy balance. Right, so, we going to make a distraction or anything? Stone doesn’t burn, but, like, a lot of this furniture will.’

‘No, I think it preferable if we were simply to absent ourselves. The less attention we draw, the better. Any objections?’ They both shook their heads. ‘Very good. Semari, if you could find us an unobserved path away from here, and I will make it look as though we have transported ourselves via arcane means.’ She found a stick of charcoal and began to inscribe a spell-circle on the floor, trying to remember the general shape of a teleportation spell.