Janaxia sat down, in what had been Kivata’s seat, and was now indisputably hers. Kivata was sat at the very bottom of the table, her eyes down, refusing to meet anyone’s eyes, although at least, with her new clothing and her hair cleaned and styled, she was rather better looking. Since Kivata’s demotion, the others had mostly ignored her, seeing her as nothing more than garbage. Which, to be fair, was not an inaccurate assessment, but she could at least try and make an effort! The threat of summoning the iron crown again seemed to be keeping her in line, regardless.

Someone’s stomach rumbled, everyone else shifting uncomfortably. The gong had rung some time ago; where was Mother? Even Peresperan and Ophexia were looking uncomfortable, not willing to leave, in case that should incur Mother’s wrath, but wondering what was happening. Mother might sometimes be late, either to test her children or due to being busy elsewhere, but never this much. And so they waited, in awkward silence, with Kivata and Shamuth’s wife both refusing to look at Janaxia, granting her at least some measure of pleasure.

The door to Mother’s study finally opened, magical seals releasing with audible pops. Everyone sat up straight, trying to look attentive, even Trakatha hastily trying to put the cutlery she had been playing with back into position.

Mother stepped into the room, a rune painted onto her face in ash, one of her arms not quite hanging right, her enchanted robe alight with power. What had she been doing? The air was suddenly heavy with the scent of enchanted incenses and burnt blood and meat. She moved to her seat and sat down, seeming to be empowered by the action, looking more alert and aware, her dark eyes skimming over her children. Janaxia looked away, not wanting to draw any attention to herself, or any punishments.

She raised her goblet. ‘To the Uth Tremari. When the longest night is born, we shall rule the blood-stained shadows!’ Everyone echoed the words back at her, although Janaxia felt decided misgivings about the “ruling” – that sounded like rather a lot of work, and probably having to deal with traitors and paperwork and the like. Far easier, surely, to be an advisor or suchlike, able to reap the rewards of rule without all the irksome work? To idle away in the palace, enjoying the contents of the wine cellar, rather than having to engage with the actual details of organising and managing. And there would likely be rather a lot of people prone to objecting to such rule, and to persuade them would probably involve violence and suchlike.

Janaxia was jolted from her thoughts as another figure entered, stepping out from the door to Mother’s chambers. They were wearing loosely-fitting clothing, baggy trousers and a loose shirt, in high-quality fabric, but almost offensively blandly dull in colour. They had their hood up, covering their face, but a wisp of dark hair hung down out of the hood, the only sign it was a living person, and not some automaton or magical summoning. Everyone else relaxed slightly – thet must be a known person or entity, then.

They didn’t sit down – whoever they were, they weren’t afforded that honour. Instead, they took a position close by Mother, ready to advise. Janaxia tried to sneak a peek under the hood, curious as to what they were hiding, but they kept their face turned away as Mother spoke. All that could be seen of their flesh was their hands, strangely-mottled and burned. The flesh shifted as she watched, a shining hardness appearing for a moment, skin warping around something that looked metallic, before vanishing again.

‘Now that the Iristari heir has been eliminated,’ Mother favoured Janaxia with a rare smile, Janaxia trying to look thankful; praise was better than punishment, but having Mother pay attention to her at all was worrying, ‘then our plans can continue apace. Shamuth, you are to continue acquiring raw material for Trakatha. Trakatha, have your recent experiments been any more successful, or are you still failing?’

There was a clattering tinkle of cutlery as Trakatha twitched nervously, knocking her cutlery together. ‘The, um, latest versions are holding together better, especially when laced with the additive your, um, guest is supplying. But the substance reacts strangely to magic, absorbing and warping it, so that maintaining any spells is complicated. The Cormantara research was invaluable, but cut short early, and without a large number of sample cases, it is hard.’

Janaxia looked away, hoping no-one blamed her for that! Although quite what had been occurring there was something of a mystery – some form of large-scale magical effect around those mysterious black shards. But she had had something of a funny turn herself, and so hadn’t been at her best! A shame she hadn’t known Trakatha had been in town – a lot of unpleasantness could probably have been avoided with simple discussion. Maybe when not under Mother’s supervision, she could be persuaded to relax a little?

‘Then you must try harder. Do I need to be more persuasive to make you work harder?’

Trakatha shook her head frantically. ‘No! I will do all I can. Although I need some more cages, the last ones were broken. Um, rather thoroughly. Woven through with blessed silver, if possible. For containment of the subjects. They are rather strong. And, um, very pointy and sharp.’

The hooded figure spoke, voice quiet but well-pitched, strangely unaccented and flatly inflected, like an actor trying to speak without portraying any background in their words. ‘Those born of the Blade will need to be honed. They shall be weapons, made to defeat any that oppose them, their very touch as sharp as any blade.’

‘Um, yes. But that does mean they tend to be able to, um, break out of cages rather easily, and the pits are full of the past experiments, and the beetles haven’t had time to eat them yet. If someone could maybe remove them? The smell is quite bad as well.’

‘The removal of dead bodies is not my concern!’ Mother’s voice didn’t quite snap in anger, but Trakatha went silent, her face pale, fearing punishment. ‘Peresperan, deal with it. Now, Ophexia, your hunting has been successful?’

‘Yes, Mother. Although the Nightscourge is being troublesome, and I have had to avoid her on several occasions. Her power is impressive, and she has been fierce and forthright in her own attacks.’

‘Indeed. And yet she drives more towards me for protection, tightening the ties of those that claim to be our allies, until they need us to survive. And soon, we will have the resources we need in order to deal with her on a more permanent basis, and to overthrow the gods of the world. And you have slain the unicorns of the Greenglades?’

Ophexia nodded, then raised a hand and flexed her fingers. A shard of black metal appeared between her fingers, a dagger dropping into her hand, the “hilt” little more than string wrapped about the base, to allow it to be held without cutting her fingers. ‘This has feasted on their blood.’

‘Excellent. That will make progress easier. While Greganx is lost to us still, his skill at mass raising of bodies will have to substituted for elsewhere. Peresperan, before the elves can recover themselves, then you must acquire what bodies you can. Elven corpses are the most suitable for our need.’

‘I shall ready myself imminently.’

And with that, the meal began. The guest stayed in position, their hood moving slightly, probably surveying the room, seeming to spend an inordinate amount of time orientated towards Janaxia, although that could be coincidence. Their skin continued to mottle and dapple itself – some strange condition, maybe, or an out-of-control curse? It was most unusual for Mother to have someone that appeared to be an ally, rather than a minion to be controlled or an underling to be ordered around.

Janaxia made sure to eat slowly, not wanting to draw any attention by being the first to finish, or by having to sit and wait for everyone else to finish their own food. The food itself was terrible though – bland, flavourless stodge, the meat tasting as though it had come from a long-preserved carcass, rather than anything recently alive, and the “gravy” was thin and watery, without any appreciable flavour by itself. No-one talked during the meal, and everyone made sure to eat as quietly as they could, not wanting to attract any punishment for slurping or otherwise disrupting the meal.

Everyone silently conspired to finish at roughly the same time, a rare moment of unity and alliance. Mother rose, her chair screeching backwards across the floor. But rather than return to her chambers, she walked around the table, everyone looking nervous at the change to the usual pattern, unsure what was happening. Kivata looked about to cry, her whole body hunched up protectively. Trakatha was little different, keeping her face down, twitching at every footstep, only relaxing when Mother passed behind her without incident.

Janaxia knew better than to turn in her seat, keeping her eyes facing forward, trying to affect a confidence she didn’t entirely feel, her mind scrabbling through her recent performance – she had done anything wrong, had she? The footsteps advanced, and she swallowed nervously, trying not to remember past punishments, of being beaten and hurt, left alone in the darkness, hoping that someone would come for her. But surely it would be Kivata being punished? She had failed against Janaxia, hadn’t she?

The footsteps drew close, then stopped, right behind Janaxia. The temptation to speak, to apologise for whatever she had done wrong, was strong, but she managed to stay silent, in case this was an attempt to make her submit information Mother didn’t know.

Something brushed her cheek, dry and leathery – Mother’s hand. She barely restrained herself from flinching away and gasping at the shock of physical contact, uncertain what was happening. The scent of funereal incense was heavy, thick and cloying in her mouth and nose. The hand brushed down her cheek, then grabbed her under the chin, under her jaw, squeezing hard enough that it started to choke her. No-one else, of course, moved to react or help, as she tried to remain calm.

‘Janaxia. You have rested here long enough, time for you to be put to work, for the glory of the family.’

Bony fingers were tight around her throat, every breath an effort, her lungs already starting to burn. ‘For the… glory of… the Uth Tremari…’

‘While you may still be terrible at arcane studies, you have proven yourself somewhat in more direct situations. You have somehow managed to endure your trials, and prove yourself mildly competent.’ Her tone was entirely relaxed and conversational, as Janaxia managed to gasp in another partial breath, the fingers tightening around her throat. ‘I have a task for you.’

Janaxia tried to answer, but could only manage a wheezing, choking cough, that would hopefully be taken as assent.

‘There is an ancient artefact that needs acquiring. One that should enable our plans to advance further. And you are going to acquire it.’

The hand relaxed, oh-so-slightly, just enough to let her breath, a little, and talk, only managing a single word before it tightened again. ‘Yes.’

‘And should you fail, then this time I will not be so lenient. You have proven your worth, for now at least, but do not fail me. You bear my blood, and will obey me in all things. Do you understand?’

Janaxia managed to choke out a noise, that was apparently close enough to assent to get the hand to relax.

‘Excellent. I expect great things of you. You wouldn’t want to disappoint me, would you? And in the future, you are not to wear those ridiculous horns to dinner. Comport yourself appropriately.’

She was still gasping for breath, unable to properly reply, still acutely aware of Mother’s presence behind her, fearful of any further punishment.

‘I will call for you soon. Until then, you are not to leave. Now that you are returned, then you are to be put to good use.’ Without saying anything further, Mother walked away, the stranger moving to open the door to her chambers for her. Even after she was gone, of course no-one moved to help Janaxia, as she tried to recover herself, the darkness fading from her vision as everyone other than Kivata left.

Only when it was obvious they were alone did Kivata move, rising from her seat and approaching Janaxia. Janaxia tensed, fearing betrayal, a knife or spell to seek vengeance. But Kivata merely drew close without touching, hovering awkwardly, clearly unsure what to do, fingers twitching nervously as Janaxia managed to recover herself, sitting up straight in her seat, trying not to show any weakness.

‘You should prepare yourself for travel, sister. It appears Mother has a task for me, and, as you are currently unoccupied, then you can help.’ And it would be helpful to have someone to go at the front, in case of any traps and suchlike. Kivata’s lack of skill wouldn’t prevent her from triggering any pitfalls or acting as a shield against arrows and suchlike, and she would be easier to manage than buying livestock and using them instead. ‘And do bring some better clothing than simple robes – you never know when there may be the occasion to entertain. And you can carry my things as well.’

Kivata didn’t even quibble, only nodding, still looking somewhat fearful.

‘Now, is there anything you can tell me of Mother’s… ally?’ Kivata’s eye flared up with light, a rune of warning flickering into existence. ‘Ah, it seems as though you are bound still. Perhaps that can be remedied as well.’ It might have been her imagination, but did a spark of hope light Kivata’s other eye? It was likely she wanted to be released from her current binding. And that might make her more loyal to Janaxia, if such a thing could be managed. Hakara would be useful at this sort of thing, she had quite some aptitude with the more mundane and intricate aspects of magic, and unwinding spells that were already active. Perhaps whatever it was, she might be able to modify it, and to make Kivata into a more useful tool? Although meeting up with her might be somewhat complicated at the moment.

‘Now, go and ready yourself. It is best to be prepared to leave at a moment’s notice, as events can happen far faster than expected. And ensure your equipment is all sturdy enough to endure, as we won’t be slowing on your account.’

Kivata nodded and left, obediently following orders. It was nice to have someone that followed her instructions! Although her loyalty couldn’t yet be entirely assured, unless she was magically bound somehow, on top of whatever bindings Mother had placed on her. Still, for now, she was more useful alive than dead. And she would have to pack for herself, and tell Semari and Vrintar as well. She tried to avoid thinking about being called into Mother’s chambers, still feeling the imprint of the fingers around her neck, the numbing of her brain as air ceased to flow, only living at another’s sufferance, the terror and powerlessness. But if she were to prove herself, then maybe she could escape further punishment, or even be rewarded? Not that she wanted to stay here longer than she had to, but at least now she was no longer at the very bottom of the pecking order!