Janaxia’s conjured spirit flitted about the small space, moving the plates into stacks, before starting to clean the coagulated grease and grime off. From how dirty they were, it seemed a rarity for them to be cleaned, as such – instead they were simply reused, the locals probably thinking that added to the flavour or somesuch. Janaxia gestured, and another layer of charcoal-encrusted grease lifted itself off the plate and coagulated into a grimy sphere. At the back of the kitchen was a running stream of water, conveniently placed for garbage disposal, with a sluice-gate placed so that a sink could be filled. Magic was far more convenient than all the labour of scrubbing though!

She adjusted her clothing, shifting her shoulders and making the cloth rustle against her, comfortingly tight and close, embracing her body. But it was frustrating that it refused to shift and change as it should! There was no flaw in her murmured incantation, she was sure of that, but her clothing remained in its current, admittedly impressive, state, which was rather excessively ostentatious given her current surrounds and occupation.

The door was open, letting her see the occasional customers that walked in. As sanctuaries went, this one seemed quite pleasant, although being engaged as assassins did seem rather tasteless. Still, certainly a better choice than having to face Carissia! That would likely be an encounter she would not survive.

She twisted her fingers, magical energy scrubbing at a particularly stubborn stain, peeling more congealed food away. As well as dealing with this “Wendal” individual, she would have to try and acquire the Dragon’s Eye for herself, or face punishment when she returned. She shuddered, not wanting to think what that might entail! Or it might be simply handed over to Mother’s mysterious new colleague. Something had been done to her in the ritual chamber, likely a geas or similar binding. She had attempted to discern if anything was different within herself, meditating upon the restful darkness within her spirit, but to no avail – had she somehow escaped through the sheer power of her willpower, or was there some binding upon her, waiting to activate on command? Or warping her behaviour in ways she couldn’t detect? Mother had typically displayed little subtlety in such things, but who knew what the limit of her powers was?

Ophexia had spoken of being bound in such a way, of having her freedom limited by a threat of death hanging over her head. If true, even distance may not be a bar – Mother may be able to snuff out her life at any moment! Rough material suddenly scratched at her arm as she moved. She was now wearing rough-spun cloth, prickling and scratching her skin, a saggy dress that fell past her knees, although still with a window between her breasts. Her tattoo was there, barely moving, although one of the extended arms seemed brighter, almost a grey rather than an abyssal black.

‘I think your other dress was a lot better looking.’

She was startled from her ruminations by a young girl’s voice. They stepped into the room, looking behind themselves furtively, back at the people in the restaurant, although no-one was paying attention to them. They were well-dressed, if rather eccentrically so – an ornate but rather grubby dress that was too big for them, cinched at the waist with silver band studded with red and black gems, while a veil covered their eyes. Beneath one sleeve could be seen the edge of a chunky-looking bracelet of bare metal, a stubby remnant of a chain dangling down, while it looked like there was something around their neck as well, although hidden behind the high neck of their dress. Their black hair was twisted and coiled around their head into a crown of spikes and thorns, although a certain amount of dirt seemed to have found its way into the construction as well.

Janaxia tried to transform it back – looking powerful, wealthy and attractive was, of course, far preferable to looking like a kitchen drudge, but her outfit stubbornly refused to change. Her tattoo was now utterly still, looking like an entirely mundane mark, her flesh visible through it, rather than abyssal darkness.

‘Thank you, I happen to agree. Nevertheless, sometimes there are circumstances under which one should shroud their true glory, in order to allow for events.’

The girl grinned, her teeth seeming overly sharp. Was she perhaps a member of one of the local gangs? Semari had been inducted into her trade by Kethys at a young age – was the girl perhaps in the employee of some other assassin or rogue? But she seemed unarmed, nothing hanging from her belt save a small book, the cover faded, but bearing worn and dirty silver embossing. Perhaps she was an arcanist of some kind, tutored in whatever rough magics they practiced down here?

‘I think that you should be true to yourself. You look a lot better in black than that drab and dull brown. It is scarcely becoming of one so grand as yourself.’

Janaxia couldn’t see their eyes as anything other than dark gleams beneath the veil but smiled at the compliment. ‘Yes, it was rather fetching, wasn’t it?’

‘Sethan tulle, the finest lace and leather, and onyx set in silver.’ It sounded like she was reciting a store inventory. ‘Surely you deserve nothing but the finest? And yet you are working here, scrubbing pots. Should you not be rather more insistent upon your dignity? Your blood bears great honour, does it not?’

The child, despite their rough upbringing, seemed to be blessed with great perception! And was even making an attempt at fashion herself, although her dress was clearly made for someone taller, and with a rather fuller figure. Janaxia gestured, her magic plucking flecks of dust and grit from the nest of the girl’s hair, casting it into the stream.

‘Well, yes. But I am in, sadly, something of a distressed position at this moment, without access to my usual resources. My colleagues are otherwise engaged, and so I, regrettably, must endure this.’

‘You could just… take what you want?’

That settled it – the child must be one of the local urchins, no doubt raised in the roughest of manners, likely destined for a life of petty thievery, if she didn’t fall into even more disreputable behaviour. Although her features were more than fair, so she may be able to negotiate a less openly dangerous path, if she wished.

‘There is a certain temptation in that, I must admit. But to flaunt power is to make oneself a target, which can be risky by itself, and especially without allies. And the cook here undoubtedly has allies of his own, to be able to run a business in such a place. Having to flee a bunch of thugs and scoundrels is scarcely how I wish to expend my efforts.’

‘Your allies – they should serve you, fear you! Souls of fire and lightning, they would make excellent pawns!’ The girl sound frustrated, her jaw clenched and tight. ‘But you let them have their own will.’

‘Well, I think Semari is rather simple to be a good tool. Effective in a fight, to be sure, but otherwise very limited. Vrintar is, despite her background, rather more useful, but is best deployed under her own direction, I feel. And she does not take kindly to having her will tampered with.’

‘Do you fear a simple axe? You can rend the worlds with but a thought, and allow some spirit-oathed warrior to command you?’ The girl’s hands were clenching, her nails sharp.

‘I will thank you to keep a polite tongue in your head! She has skills I do not, and is both polite and easy to work with. Binding the will of others is possible, but tends to create… friction, shall we say, when the spell expires. Except for those of weak will. My sister, for example, is easy to command, even if, sadly, something of an incompetent when it comes to the finer arts of magecraft. I take it that you have some knowledge in the field yourself?’

The girl giggled, an eerie and unnerving sound that seemed to echo for longer than it should, although the customers seemed not to notice. ‘I do, yes. There is much that I have seen wizards do that I cannot, but I possess talents that they would find strange.’

‘Ah, I find myself in a similar position! My attunement to magic is such that I can cast spells beyond the ken of those with a greater knowledge of the dreary and practical side of things.’ Perhaps she was a by-blow of some visiting sorcerer, got upon a dancing girl or suchlike, and now blossoming into fuller power? ‘Power is a privilege visited upon us, but also a burden, a distance that cannot be crossed.’

The girl hissed, short and sharp. ‘Power should let you seize what you want! Let others serve and please. Would you not bind or slay your siblings for power? I took the power of my sibling to heal myself, binding the greatest part of it within myself, that I may flourish even as he weakens. But now it seems that they are broken and shattered, taken and used by others. I may take mercy on them, and help. Or maybe not. They could be useful to me, but only if they are obedient.’

It seemed that the local criminal underworld was rather savage! Although Janaxia herself would happily kill most of her siblings for free if it was convenient. ‘A commendable attitude, although you should hope that they do not return the favour. If you cannot keep them under your power and ensure they cannot escape, then such a position can be dangerous. Does your sibling not have any other allies they might seek out? If so, then your position may become dangerous. Better, surely, to lend them some aid, such that if they are able to recover themselves, then they will be thankful to you. Assuming, of course, that the relationship is not utterly poisoned.’

One of the customers stepped in, hand on their sword hilt. Before Janaxia could say anything, the girl gestured at them, and their eyes went dark for a moment before they turned around and left without saying anything. So she was a spellcaster of some kind, although had managed to cast that without requiring any of the more usual finger-twisting or chanting.

‘That is an interesting idea.’

Janaxia twisted her own fingers, directing the spirit to clean more of the dirt from the girl’s hair. If she lived down here, then a certain amount of grime was probably unavoidable, but one should try and look after oneself!

‘Perhaps a rapprochement of some form should be undertaken? After all, surviving in this place must bring certain challenges, best tackled with the aid of allies. And it may place you in a position to more fully command and dominate in the future, much as I have done with my own sister – once, she thought herself above me, but she is now at my command. A far superior arrangement, I feel, and one that gains me a servant!’

The eyes behind the veil sparked for a moment, catching the light, glinting emerald. She really was an eccentric little thing, in her motley dress and jewellery, and talking of betrayal and plots. Was there not some local crime boss to take her under their wing? ‘You should be more ambitious! Slay those who oppose you, crush them and make them your own.’

Janaxia stepped in and used her hand to tweak some stray curls of their hair into a tidier strand – it was clean and glossy, without the greasiness she would expect. ‘There is a time for crushing and domination, but it can be a lot of extra labour without any accompanying rewards. There are times when it is easier to be more circumspect. And it is hard to look one’s best when undertaking such labours, I find. Better, I think, to allow the labour to fall to others, and then claim the reward for oneself. Now, your hair is passable, for one dwelling in this place, but perhaps a less unusual appearance may be better?’ She unpicked a tangle of hair, the weave falling apart into a cascade of ink-black hair, soft and strong.

‘Are you… are you not going to conquer?’ The girl sounded almost desperate, close to pleading.

‘Perhaps later. For now, I will sort your hair, as it dearly needs the attention.’

The girl grumbled, before acquiescing with a sudden grin, and running outside. It seemed darker now, at least as far as Janaxia could tell – did the place have some emulation of day and night? Or perhaps the mage-lights simply fluctuated at random? Janaxia followed, the cook not seeming to notice.

Outside, the girl plopped herself down by the edge of the water and dangled her bare feet into the flow, as Janaxia sat behind her and started to un-weave the mazed and tangled mass of her hair. It had been curved and knotted back on itself to form the strange crown shape – did she believe it to be some requirement for her magic? Those without proper training often believed the strangest things about what was required to use their powers.

As she untied the girl’s hair (which seemed to uncompress from its bindings in a rather impressive way, expanding and uncoiling into a flow of dark and glossy strands), they hummed, a low and sonorous tone that seemed particularly soothing, harmonising with the trickling flow of the water, even the splashing of her feet in the water seeming to fit into the thrumming sound.

Janaxia fell into the simple movements, letting her hands move without thinking about it too much, simply untangling the strands before gathering them together. For an urchin rogue to have such magnificent hair must be quite a challenge – the air here was scarcely conducive to such things, to say nothing of her profession!

As she went through the motions, lulled by the sounds, her thoughts drifted. To escape this place was the immediate goal, of course, but then what? The tune shifted, something a little more martial. If she could overthrow Mother and take control of the family, then she could change matters. If Stathis’ soul was still somewhere, then maybe they could work together to try and rescue her? But Mother would be a formidable foe – challenging her directly would be foolish, and she had protections against most mundane attacks, such as poison or a stab in the back. Maybe Semari could be induced to attack her? Although that was risky, and probably sufficiently close to a mundane attack that it wouldn’t work. Perhaps collapse part of the house on top of her? That would at least take her time to struggle free and cost her effort.

Mother doubtless carried a variety of powerful magical items as well – it seemed unlikely that she would ever leave such things behind. If she could be pushed into a pit, or fought over water? A swift attack would be simplest, leave her defeated in a single, decapitating strike, and leave no doubt as to where the power now lay. Although, of course, Peresperan and Ophexia would have their own issues with such a state of affairs, and neither would settle for anything less than the headship.

Janaxia wound hair between her fingers, forming it into an intricate and multi-layered braid, the black strands gleaming with a fine lustre. She would make a better apprentice than Kita, who was an ugly and lumpen thing, scarcely fit for anything other than her technical knowledge, and to maybe catch stray arrows, should such a scenario develop. Although this one doubtless had some poor habits – likely, she would be sticky-fingered and prone to getting distracted, but her diction and speech was serviceable.

But if she could gain the headship, then all the power (even if much diminished) and wealth (definitely far diminished) of the Uth Tremari would be hers. And whatever that strange sword was capable of as well. It must be potent in some fashion, otherwise Mother wouldn’t be engaging with it, but quite what it did was entirely beyond her. Some form of large-scale conquest seemed to be in Mother’s plans, although quite how seemed mysterious. Using the blade as a catalyst somehow, for some wider effect?

She felt a clawing sensation at her waist, bony pinpricks on her flesh. The rod of Usorc was shifting around, bones vibrating together. She held the braid she was in the middle of forming with one hand while lifting the wand up with the other. ‘For an allegedly powerful item, you really haven’t been very useful, have you?’ She flicked it on the skull, making the whole thing shake and rattle. ‘I wonder if I should sell you instead. Although I doubt there are many in the market for such a thing.’

‘May I have a look, Darkbinder?’ The tune echoed around, persisting even as the girl spoke.

‘Be careful with it. I am informed that it is a potent wand, but I suspect that may be the exaggeration of legend. It certainly doesn’t seem capable of much beyond what I suspect are complaints.’ As she handed it over, the things movements intensified, every limb juddering and shaking, the head twitching as if in fear. The girl raised it to her lips like it was a child’s toy, whispering something that Janaxia couldn’t make out, as the wand went rictus-stiff with a clatter.

‘I think it needed a little persuasion, isn’t that right?’ She kissed it on the skull, and it tensed once more before sagging into a weirdly-relaxed looking pose, limbs slack. Janaxia continued to tend to the hair, which was now flowing through her fingers, soft and warm, staying mercifully untangled until re-bound into braids and ties, far tidier. The girl’s humming continued, sounding warm and relaxed, a soothing thrum that was easy to sink into.

Something stabbed into her finger, something sharp bound into the girl’s hair. She felt it break the skin, blood welling out, a drop or two falling onto the girl’s head, invisible amongst the dark hair. Janaxia pulled out a twisted coil of metal, thick wire studded with spiked barbs, one of them tinged dark with her blood.

‘Thank you, I couldn’t get that out by myself.’ The girl gave a happy wriggle, her feet splashing in the water again.

‘Mmm, it is a rather unpleasant thing. I assume it was forced upon you?’ Janaxia carefully extracted it, having to snap a few strands of hair to get the thing fully out. It was a tightly-twisted coil, all savage spikes and barbs, that must have been quite uncomfortable to have scraping against the head. But it seemed quite fragile, the edges disintegrating already. Janaxia tossed it into the water. ‘I find that when facing such bullies, then a focused and tactical show of overwhelming force can be best. If there is a weakling amongst those harassing you, isolate and destroy them, as a show of strength.’

‘Yes, I agree. But perhaps your sister could be made rather more agreeable. You have claimed the title of “Darkbinder”. Perhaps you should claim her more thoroughly? Her mind is weak, you could turn her into a loyal thrall.’

With the tangling mass of wires gone, it was easier to work through the rest of the girl’s hair. ‘Oh? You seem very well-informed.’

The girl giggled again. ‘You’re quite famous as an adventuring beauty!’ She gave the wand a flick, as though it were a child’s rattle. ‘But you could be more powerful.’ She shook her head, braids twirling out, thick black magical energy flickering around her for a moment. ‘And more commanding. You are in charge now, are you not?’

‘Well, I suppose. Although I do hope that Stathis will return. She is rather more proficient at the minutiae of leadership, I prefer to lend my assistance when needed and give more of a high-level overview and guidance. Far less effort than having to deal with all the tiresome details, I find.’

The girl hissed. ‘The lightbearer. No, you should lead, you need not subject yourself to the commands of another. You could rule! In darkness and blood, an empire to serve your needs.’

‘That sounds rather a lot of work. And having to deal with assassins and coups and suchlike seems troublesome. While Stathis may have been occasionally onerous, and kept a frankly insulting number of secrets, she was competent as a commander. And I’d rather be waited on hand and foot by rather more willing devotees. A lot easier than having to keep everyone enchanted or forced into servitude.’

The braids shook and danced, seeming to writhe like snakes. ‘You really are interesting! I’ve not seen many others like you. My sibling found someone similar once, he was like you, but that was a long time ago, but I only get to see boring wizards. You’re like a cool sister!’

The hair stopped writhing and suddenly settled down, falling over her shoulders.

‘Well, I have done little save tend to your hair. Which is rather fine – I do hope you won’t have it shorn, it is magnificent.’ She ran her hand through the glossy strands – it was smooth and clean, not quite as nice as her own, but impressive for a street urchin. ‘Well, you have been good company. But you should run along now. Go and play with your friends.’ Is that what urchins did? She would more likely be pickpocketing the wealthy or similar.

‘I think we’ll be meeting again soon, Darkbinder.’ She handed the wand back. ‘And I think he’ll be a little cooperative now.’ It shivered as it was handed over but didn’t raise any further protest. Instead, its eyes sparked with a red light, limbs gently shifting, as the girl stood and made a strangely formal curtsey, lifting her skirts and bowing her head.

‘Hey, there you are. You OK, you look a little, like, spaced out.’ Semari tapped Janaxia on the shoulder. ‘Took a bit longer than I thought, but I guess you stayed out of trouble. Couldn’t find the guy, but there’s a lot of shit going down. Hey, your wand’s different now. Cool, guess you’ve been busy the last few days. Let’s go grab some food. I’ll pay this time, managed to earn some cash as well.’

Janaxia looked around – the girl had vanished. A lifetime in the streets had presumably made her rather shy, and Semari and Vrintar did look rather rough and probably intimidating. Well, no doubt she would be back again. She was certainly interesting company, far more pleasurable to converse with than might be expected from one of such a low background!