After the meal, there was no further speech or welcoming, Mother simply rising from her seat and gesturing at Perasperan and Ophexia to accompany her back to her chambers. Their retainers and spouses showed themselves out without making a sound. Trakatha almost bolted from her chair, probably seeking the sanctuary of her laboratory, and to prepare whatever monstrosities Janaxia was to face in her trial. Janaxia carefully arranged her cutlery on the plate before rising, making sure to lock eyes with Kivata, allowing herself to smile, oh-so-slightly, watching Kivata seethe.

She knew from long and bitter experience how uncomfortable that chair was, and years of further neglect would have done little to improve matters. Relegating it to Kivata was entirely deserved, and, from the look of sheer hatred she received, taken and understood as an opening attacking. She would have to be on guard against the inevitable counterstrike – it was possible that Kivata had, even with the impediments of her poor frame and ill-fortuned features, found herself some allies. It seemed unlikely she would have the courage for a direct attack, and any confrontation would likely be in Janaxia’s favour, unless her sister had managed to spend an impressive amount of time secretly training.

No, she was of little threat, and not even worth the trouble of forming an unstable alliance with. As Janaxia left, Shamuth was trying to rouse his wife from her stupor, hauling her to her feet and wiping away a trace of spittle from her mouth and the blood trickling from her nose. A vague flare of awareness returned to her glassy eyes, and she looked at Janaxia with a shudder, before allowing herself to be pulled away, her steps slow and halting.

That one must have sorcerous powers of some kind – she had attempted to penetrate Janaxia’s mind somehow, although the attack had faltered against her adamantine will. Hopefully that would cause her to desist from any future attempts. Now, what to do next? Trakatha would be highly unlikely to aid her, and her laboratory would doubtless be unpleasant. Shamuth had already tried to attack her once via proxy, and Kivata had been a lost cause for years.

The only thing for it was to find her pre-existing allies, such as they were. As she hadn’t been ordered to return to her chambers, it seemed safe enough to explore the grounds, both to see how they had changed, and also to find where Semari and Vrintar had been taken.

The only notable change, other than a general increase in shabbiness, was a large stone building built in the gardens, a raised passageway connecting it to Mother’s chambers. It was a circular dome, of sturdy stone construction. The stone slabs were interlaced with lead and daubed with blood, probably from a gorgon. It would block scrying attempts, along with runes of containment and binding, to ensure whatever forces were channeled inside were kept there.

Of more direct interest was the coach house, currently the only source of noise amidst the funereal silence of the rest of the grounds. Janaxia approached, finding the place converted into a barracks-cum-dormitory, several dozen rough-looking soldiers taking their ease. They must have been in service for quite some time - the delipidated building showed evidence of repairs, fresh wood and even a lick of paint amidst the mould and ruin.

As soon as she entered, the relaxed cheers and curses went silent, as swift as if she’d cast a spell. They didn’t snap to respectful attention, as soldiers did around Stathis, instead looking somewhere between fearful and… one of them appeared to be leering, although that might just have been the result of some rather unfortunate injuries to his face. Another approached, his armour slightly less beaten-looking than that of his colleagues.

‘You have need of us, uh…’ He looked her over, clearly not recognising her, ‘…Lady Uth Tremari?’ He sounded unsure of even that much.

‘Lady Janaxia Uth Tremara. Indeed. I assume my companions are here?’

He relaxed slightly. ‘Oh, Semari and Vrintar? Yes. Unless you wish them moved to the main house?’

‘No, here will be fine. Take me to them.’

‘Of course, Lady Janaxia. They are back here.’

She was led through the open space of the coach house towards the rooms at the back. As they approached, she could hear Semari’s voice, celebrating in victory and Vrintar grumbling.

They were, of course, gambling, a spread of cards across the table, Semari and Vrintar playing with several soldiers. From the stack of coins in front of Semari, she was winning. As soon as Janaxia entered, the other guards jumped to their feet, looking guilty at being seen.

Semari jumped to her feet. ‘Hey, you’re back! Thought you might have been, like, fed to a monster or something. These guys are friendlier than I thought they would be, I thought they’d all be creepy and possessed and stuff. So, what are we doing?’

‘I am to be put through a wizard’s trial to prove myself. I… I would appreciate it if you were to remain here.’ She spoke rapidly, hoping that Semari would agree, trying to find the words. ‘For a time, at least.’

‘Sure, I guess. As long as you don’t want me to do anything, like, oogie and eldritch. The food here’s a bit shit though.’

‘Well, yes, this is a marsh, most of the fish are rather oily, I’m afraid. And the cook is rather old and set in its ways.’ It was probably the same skeletal retainer as it had always been, albeit with rather more patches and repairs than before. As long as it wasn’t given poisonous or rotted fish to serve again, it should be survivable, if not entirely palatable. ‘I am… unsure as to how long we may remain here.’

Semari picked up the cards and shuffled them. ‘This place is kinda shit, so I’ll probably bugger off if it’s too long. Not got Parth to dump money on, and you’re kinda on Carissia’s shit list, so it’s, like, unhealthy to stick around too long. Vrintar?’

‘I concur. Your home is… rather unpleasant, Janaxia.’

Janaxia wanted to protest, but they raised valid points – even in its far-distant glory days, it had still been a clunkily built manor atop a rather unpleasant swamp, notable mostly for the pirates and smugglers that called it home. Redcastle was far superior, even if the residence there was smaller. ‘Yes, I too have little desire to stay overly long.’ If nothing else, a knife in the back from one of her siblings was an acute and on-going danger. She looked around. ‘Are they treating you well?’ It actually looked more comfortable than her own rooms, with better ventilation and bedding that had been washed sometime this year, at least.

Vrintar shrugged. ‘They seem moderately disciplined, or at least afraid of your blood. But it seems that your family has something of a poor reputation.’

‘Yes, there is something of a historical tendency to hire mercenaries, and then, when they die, raise the bodies to continue in service. If this can be arranged before the first payment is due, then so much the better. Very economical, I’m given to understand. And having some stout individuals with sharp blades around can certainly help with attackers. Mother appears to be busy with some form of research.’ She turned back to the man. ‘The building appears securely warded, but I imagine there are still some odd sensations and the like?’

He nodded. ‘Yes, it sounds like it’s screaming, and the stone grates. Forgive me, Lady Janaxia, but I don’t want to know what’s being done inside. I’ve worked for quite a few folk like your Mother before, but those sounds are unnatural. Strange words, that cannot be remembered.’

Research into the Unspeakable Tongue? Well, such had been attempted before, and of course a simple mercenary would dismiss it as uncanny sorcery. But Mother had never been interested in such things before – had she discovered something new, even though the thing was a linguistic artefact from, well, before there was a such a thing as “time”.

‘And then there’s that person that showed up a while back. Or possibly several of them, I’m not sure. Creepy fucker. Their shape changes. Not much, but their hair colour will change, or their height will slowly shift, or their eyes… Billin swears he saw an arm covered with scales for a moment, but that might have been the booze talking. Whenever they show up, that’s when the sounds are the loudest. But I try to stay out of wizard’s business. I’m a simple man – gold buys my blade, and that’s good enough.’

‘Your simplicity does you credit. I daresay Mother has you working on a number of other tasks at need? Having a few strong swordarms around certainly makes me feel somewhat safer. But you need not concern yourself with the strange noises, they are a perfectly normal result of arcane experimentation. Although it would, perhaps, be wisest to avoid the research building, especially when any of the moons are full? The effects can probably be unpleasant, especially to those of weaker will.’

He nodded in agreement. ‘Of course, Lady Janaxia. If you don’t mind me saying, it is rather unnerving. I’ve seen a few things in my time – earned my braid serving with Sauruwere the Black, so a bit of bone-fiddling’s not that strange, but the sounds burrow into your brain and don’t leave. Like hearing a song and not knowing all the words, except without knowing any of the words.’

Semari jumped into the conversation. ‘So your family are proper eldritch and stuff then? All oogie and creepy and dark?’

‘I prefer the term “arcane”. I have already foiled one attempt on my life, I expect there will be more. It may be best to be on your guard.’

‘No shit, this place is, like, hella creepy. Like when we had to visit Kethys’ relatives, but with less screams. And not in a cave, so that’s something. If you die, then I guess I’ll leave, doesn’t seem much reason to stick around. Anything you really need us for, or are we just chilling?’

‘If you could be ready, but I think this is something I must face alone.’

Vrintar nodded. ‘Some challenges must be faced alone. I shall hope for your success but would request you resolve whatever business you have here swiftly. I like this place not – it is cold, in ways more than the pure worldly.’

Janaxia felt as though she should defend her ancestral home but could think of little to refute the simple truth of Vrintar’s statement. And it would be good to be gone from this place, before any of her siblings tried to kill her again! A shame she didn’t know any of the alliances; as it was, she couldn’t even strike against Kivata, in case she was under the protection of someone else.

Perhaps she could help Mother with her research? After all, she was something of an expert on the Unspeakable Tongue. Although that might lead to awkward questions, and quite possibly some rather pointed questions. Janaxia shuddered – she had no desire to end up as one of Mother’s experiments, cut apart into as many pieces as possible while being denied the escape of death. And then her body would be given to Trakatha, her spirit bound elsewhere, to be tormented further. No, probably best to keep her knowledge to herself, at least for now. And this stranger sounded like something best avoided, their agenda unknown and probably unpleasant.

Mother seemed to be striving for something more – that strike against the Iristari outpost had been unexpectedly direct and would have succeeded if it hadn’t been for the efforts of herself and Stathis. Quite what she would have done with an army of the dead though – conquest was lengthy, messy work, that tended to draw rather negative attention, not to mention consequences and reprisals for those being conquered. And asking would likely get her punished for asking questions above her station!

Her pondering was interrupted as the guards turned around, trying to look diligent again. Kivata was stood in the doorway, an unpleasant grin on her face. In her hand she held a black leather sack, well-worn from years of use.

‘Ready yourself, for your trial begins.’

Janaxia looked at the sack with distaste – the silver stitching on the thing had long-since faded into little more than vague suggestions of brightness, and it was stained with what appeared to be dried blood, and probably crusted spittle as well. She waved a hand at it, trying to clean it off, but it resisted her magic. There was the temptation to try and simply kill Kivata and then flee, but it wasn’t as though she had anywhere to go.

‘Vrintar, if you would pass me that robe please?’

It was old and worn, but didn’t seem to be stained with anything other than age and dust, and should provide additional protection in case her own clothing was dispelled. Then, with a resigned sigh, she took the bag, undid the strap and upended it, shards of glass falling to the floor. She looked at Kivata, who simply shrugged. Simply because Kivata was ill-favoured (although not beyond reason – if she were simply to take the time and effort to improve herself, she had some potential) was no reason for such harshness!

After shaking the bag thoroughly to remove scorpions or any other “surprises” Kivata may have planted, Janaxia pulled it over her head. The world immediately went silent as she was enclosed within a silence spell. There was a darkness spell as well, but that had no hold upon her, showing her the inside of the bag, almost as horrifying as whatever travail was soon to be inflicted upon her. Used to deliver generations of Uth Tremari scions to their trials, it was marked with blood and spit, the scent of pain and fear bound close around her head, as well as making it hard to breath. The strap was bound around her neck, Kivata trying to tighten it enough to choke her, but the metal of the choker got in the way and protected her.

Someone, probably Kivata, shoved her from behind, making her step forward. Blinded, she had to take small steps as she was guided (hopefully) towards her trial, rather than death in a dark chamber somewhere. Although it might be both! If I do not return within the day, you two may wish to decamp. With rather significant haste, I would imagine. She let herself be guided around, Kivata giving her a shove whenever she slowed, seeming to guide her through the trickiest terrain of the steps and uneven ground of the gardens, before she stepped onto firmer ground.

She had no idea where she was being lead – probably the catacombs and caverns beneath the house – but had little choice but to go along with it, managing, at least, to not fall over or smash her face against a wall as she walked. She was given a hard shove, stone scraping against her hand as she stumbled, foot clipping against a raised stone lip. And then… nothing, Kivata seemingly gone.