In the heat, Stathis was regretting her armour, and tried to stay in the shade as much as possible. Janaxia was being carried in a palanquin, Sen walking in front. She’d acquired fancier robes overnight as well as an ornamental head-dress, a decorative plate over her brow, covered with a thin layer of gold. Every so often, an order would be relayed from inside of the palanquin and they would change direction through the streets.

Walking at the rear of the group was another guard Janaxia had acquired, from Poratia – wearing a tattered cloak, Stathis had tried and failed to catch sight of any of their skin, but their hands were wrapped in bandages and their face hidden behind a helmet. She’d let herself be pushed against them a few times in the crowd, finding them able to keep their balance well when she jostled them, wearing what felt like chainmail beneath the cloak, a sword on their hip. They didn’t say anything, although the way their head moved suggested they were looking around themselves, rather than being some animated undead or a golem.

From down here, Stathis could see the palace, set far above them. Although it was ornately decorated, it was clearly a functional fortress, the walls high and strong, with guards patrolling, and only a few entrances. Down from the elevated level of the palace, it was hot and dusty, buildings raised from stone built up from the ground. The place was divided into districts, each with its own walls, and more guards. The palanquin was allowed through, but others, presumably of lower rank, had to wait, the guards needing bribes or persuasion to let them through.

But the city itself seemed normal. Some of the inhabitants were a bit unusual-looking, and it was a lot hotter than Per Tolith, but barkers were shouting their trades, costermongers pushing heavy carts, even what looked like taverns selling drinks, although they were in small ceramic cups, rather than wooden or metal tankards and flagons.

The crowd gave them a wide berth, the palanquin presumably enough of a rarity, and signalling someone of high enough rank, that no-one wanted to get involved. Even the street merchants, normally desperate to make a deal with anyone, gave them a wide berth.

They passed through several of the boundary walls, skipping past the queues each time. Only at one did a guard query their presence, walking up to the palanquin and pulling the curtain back. They stayed there for a moment, before stepping backwards, their face pale, hurriedly waving at it to advance.

The area they were now in looked decidedly sorcerous, with globes of swirling gases or liquids hanging from the walls, some of them shining brightly enough to tint the walls even in the daylight. Unreadable graffiti was daubed in glowing paint on the walls, and strange scents hung in the air. An open window above her suddenly disgorged a smoke cloud, prismatic dust sparkling in the light. Another passer-by gestured, calling up a breeze and blowing it away.

It was quieter here, the background sounds those of occasional seething pops and hisses – they passed an open-fronted shop, shelves filled with glowing vials, masked and robed figures hunched over cauldrons, swirling the contents. Some sort of magical quarter, maybe? She heard a chittering from beneath her and looked down, to see several rats scurry past. The lead one had an exposed brain that was throbbing with a sickly green light. It looked up at her and squeaked again, before scampering away, darting through a crack in the wall, followed by other rats.

The streets here were quieter, without as much raucous trade, and every shop seemed to have at least one guard, or some sorcerous summoning or guardian beast stood ready. A hulking thing of stone stood in front of a smithy, ruby eyes unblinking. Pasted onto its chest was a flyer, probably advertising the store it guarded.

They turned off the main avenue down a narrow street, the sides of the palanquin scraping against the stone. Tall buildings on either side cut off the light and air, making it feel closed in and confined, heat seeping out from the walls. Piles of garbage further narrowed the walking area, discarded remnants of wizardry mingling with more usual trash. They stopped outside a door, black wood marred with what looked like claw marks, an emerald gem in the centre surrounded by circular swirls of glyphs.

Stathis had to shuffle further forward as the palanquin advanced, the curtains opening and Janaxia’s arm stretching out. It wasn’t quite long enough to reach the door and withdrew, Janaxia having to actually get out of the thing to touch it. She was in full regalia today, although with concessions to both the heat and the local styles – although her robe covered her from neck to toe, it was a layered thing of silks, disguising her form while clinging to it, with a rather overt “swirling runes” motif that made Stathis’ eyes hurt whenever she looked at it. Heavy jewellery hung from her wrists, while her horns were bound in a mesh of golden wires and dangling gems.

She knocked on the door, a black aura rippling out. This is a conversation you do not need to be party to, Stathis. If you could wait here until you are needed. And try to stay out of trouble – I am given to understand this is something of a rough quarter, where a certain amount of violence is seen as the cost of doing business.

Stathis gave an exaggerated nod, thankful that the helmet hid her expression. The markings on the door started to move, rotating around until they aligned, at which point they vanished and the door silently opened, Janaxia stepping through into darkness. The other guard moved to follow her, stopping silently as Janaxia glared at them and shook her head. The door silently closed behind her, the marks reappearing.

As soon as she was out of sight, the palanquin bearers all relaxed, in the universal manner of employees whose boss was out of sight. One of them propped the supporting rod on his shoulder and sparked up a cigarette, snapping his fingers to produce a flame. Then he looked over at Stathis and froze. She shrugged and spread her arms – it wasn’t as though they needed to be doing anything else, and he nodded at her with a smile, as she leaned on a wall, trying to make her armour comfortable. The brickwork was so hot that it didn’t help, making her even more sticky and uncomfortable. Having Hakara around would be helpful, just to summon up some ice!

She approached the cloaked guard. ‘So, you think we just wait?’

They didn’t respond, just staring back at her, before shrugging their shoulders and leaning against a wall, one hand resting on their sword-hilt, the few locals giving them a wide berth. So much for trying to befriend them!

With nothing else to do, Stathis patrolled the narrow passageway – the other doorways leading off it didn’t look magically protected, but instead relied on purely mundane metal bars and sturdy wood. The windows at ground level were all sealed – some were bricked up, others were covered with wooden boards, or had thick and closed shutters behind metal bars. At ground level were small downward-angled cuts, allowing some measure of air and light into basements, although a certain amount of rubbish had also drifted downwards.

A familiar-sounding hiss got her attention, coming from somewhere beneath her. She peered downwards, trying to see where it had come from, looking through the small light-shaft. It was dark, until she tapped a stray pebble and made it glow with light. Skulls leered back at her, bone rattling as they turned to look at her, magically animated somehow. A bony hand reached out towards her and she recoiled. From behind them, she caught a glimpse of a swirling cloud of darkness, hearing a familiar-sounding hiss of annoyance from behind silvery lines of magical power. The darkness surged, before the lines crackled and pushed it back.

Stathis glanced over her shoulder at the palanquin-bearers. One of them gave her a humouring look, clearly thinking she was crazy, before returning to his cigarette. She stamped down on the hand, shattering the bones and breaking the arm, then looked again. It looked like a wizard’s lair, with the walls covered with eldritch decorations, most of them uncomfortably organic-looking. The darkness seethed and hissed again – it definitely sounded like Skotadi. Or a very angry snake!

Stathis looked around – was there an entrance? Even if she pried away the metal cover, she wouldn’t be able to fit down there. Ignoring the bemused looks she was getting, she moved to the closest door and pushed on it – it resisted, but she was able to slide her blade into the crack until it encountered the bar of the lock. Then she focused and pushed power into the blade – it burned with sudden daylight, but fortunately it was on the other side of the door as it bit into the metal, easily slicing through it.

The door swung open and Stathis stepped through, closing the door behind her. Inside, it was dark and rickety, the floorboards bare and creaking under her feet. The air was hot and stuffy, a bitter-sweet tang of rot beneath the dryness. She tried to move as silently as possible, but the place was old and creaky. Now, where was an entrance to the cellar?

She entered what might once been a reception room, a dust-covered mirror staring back at her. There had been furniture, once, but it had been eaten away, broken down into tattered fragments of wood and faded cloth. In the corner was some strange growth, a thing of red paste, countless tiny tubes that looked as though it had grown out from the walls organically. As she approached, it started to buzz and hum ominously, the sound continuing even after she retreated. Her foot crunched on something, and the angry buzzing intensified, her foot sticking for a moment in a thick, sticky paste. She looked down, as a small black cloud swarmed around her leg. When it settled for a moment she saw that it was a cloud of black insects, red eyes bright as they swarmed over the metal, seeking a way in. The metal chinked and chimed under their assault, as more of them started to boil out of the tubes.

Stathis retreated, back into the hallway, trying to move away from them. The cloud was still moving close to her, and so she kicked out at a wall. She could feel bodies crunching as she crushed them, reducing the size of the thing, but the angry hum got louder, an exploratory tendril buzzing out of the room.

She pushed her way into the next room, took a step forward and then heard the floorboards give way beneath her. The drop wasn’t far before she slammed into the ground, rolling on one shoulder over uneven ground before rising to her feet, glad of her armour. She could hear the buzzing above her, but it didn’t draw any closer – when she looked up, she could see the ceiling was about four feet above her head, a magical symbol hovering there, warding off the insects. The dark swarm merged together and pushed against the symbol, the light starting to fade as they tried to break through.

The air down here was mercifully cooler than above, dry and still. It was a single open space, broken apart by unevenly-placed partitions. Stathis summoned up a light and looked around more closely – it looked like a wizard’s workshop, although a very untidy one. The light illuminated sealed glass beakers of body parts floating in preservative fluid, as well as bones, carefully cleaned, held together by wires, or piled in heaps. More jars and vials held powders and fluids, with indecipherable labels – whether they were written in another language, or simply with terrible handwriting, Stathis couldn’t tell.

Several of the bones on the floor started to twitch and shake, drawing themselves together into a full skeleton, assembling itself from the legs upwards. A red glow started to burn in the eye-sockets, before it stepped forward, a bony hand trying to take across Stathis’ chest.

The blow knocked against her armour without any effect. Another strike hit her, the impact slight, and then she attacked back. Her first blow severed an arm, her next flashed back and cut through the spinal column. The skeleton fell in half, still twitching and trying to attack before she stabbed it through the skull, breaking whatever power animated it.

She moved more carefully after that, in case more of the things appeared. The walls were covered with typical wizard’s scrawl, all entirely meaningless, and hopefully more for effect than potency. It seemed cleaner and less decrepit down here than upstairs, with signs of recent use. Along one wall, she found a pile of rags bound together into a mattress, next to a bowl of rotten food. There was a heap of books, all bulky tomes wrapped in leather. When she poked at them with her sword, none of them ignited with arcane power, but when she opened one to read inside, it made her head throb, the writing sliding from her eyes and out of her memory. Maybe Janaxia could make sense of it? She put it down and continued to explore, unable to orientate herself to where the gap she had first looked in had been.

She followed the wall around, a cloth “wall” hanging from the ceiling setting an area apart. She cut it down, just in case it was hiding something, and a pale light shone out.

This area was open and mostly clear, with the un-readable maybe-runes painted with great care onto the floors and the walls, even onto the ceiling. In the centre of the space was a circular curtain of light, with darkness seething on the other side, a tenebrous mass that coiled and spat against the barrier, which sparked with light whenever the darkness touched it.

Stood by the edge was a cloaked figure, a crown of iron on their brow, a pale red light shining out. As Stathis entered, they turned, and she could see that his expression was worn and haggard, eyes blood-shot, skin almost translucent from exhaustion. He whimpered, raising a shaking hand, the fingers bloodied, nails ragged.

‘Please… The words…’ It was a clear effort to speak, his chest heaving. His whole body was rigid and tense, but some force kept him standing. As Stathis moved around him, she could see that his other arm had been frozen and seared with acid, wounds biting deep, the limb mangled and unmoving.

‘What happened to you? What’s going on?’

The darkness seethed and broiled, and he whimpered, head rolling back, his voice turning to a strangled monotone. ‘Break the circle! This conjuration binds me here!’ His voice took on a strange, hissing quality, his eyes now jet black as the crown throbbed with power. ‘To think that some stripling sorcerer would cage me!’ The eyes faded back to normal colours, pleading with Stathis. ‘Please… Kill me! The voice, the cold…’ He shivered, body staggering, driven past the point of exhaustion, breath coming in short, swift pants. ‘I thought to summon and bind a power, but…’

His legs gave way, unable to withstand his own weight anymore, and he toppled forward. The darkness hissed in satisfaction, the wounded and broken arm coming forward. He whimpered in despair, but had seemingly lost control of his body as the acid-scarred hand scratched at the outer ring of the circle.

Stathis ran around the circle, wanting to stop him. The silvery light was already dimming, the darkness making a chuckling sound. A small hand appeared from inside, gripping the man’s wrist and pulling on it, making it erase more of the warding circle.

The darkness peeled back, focusing itself into a petite female form, clothing peeling out, Skotadi appearing in a somewhat ill-fitting version of one of Janaxia’s dresses. She looked at Stathis and grinned smugly, showing her fangs. ‘Serve at the foot of one of great power!’ She twisted her fingers, and Stathis felt a force trying to wrench at her will. She shook her head, brushing it off and stepping forward, Skotadi’s expression changing to one of annoyance, as she repeated the spell-casting gesture, Stathis feeling the same compulsion trying to overcome her, and just ignoring it again.

An angry buzzing sound resonated from behind her, a deep and loud thrumming. A black mass had appeared, scarlet insect eyes dotting the darkness. As Skotadi looked at them uncertainly, they surged forward, Stathis moving faster and bundling Skotadi to the ground, her small body easy to hold in place. She could hear the things attacking her, their stings bouncing off her armour. She twisted and wriggled around, trying to stay tucked into a tight ball to protect Skotadi as much as she could, flailing with one hand and feeling chitinous bodies get crushed under the impact.

Skotadi wriggled against her but lacked the strength to do anything more. She yelped in pain, one of the things presumably managing to sting her, and she started to twist around more violently. All Stathis could hear was the metallic chiming of stings against her helmet, making her feel dizzy and disoriented.

Sudden cold bit into her, a burning frost assaulting her body, a throbbing pain that she healed, trying to heal Skotadi as well, feeling a bitter cold creeping into her hands as she did so, something sucking at her power, trying to drain her dry.

The cold around her suddenly vanished, the ringing clang of the stings gone as well.

Crimson murder-bees? Really, Stathis, I would have thought you would know better than to get into a fight with something that cannot be stabbed. Or to prowl around abandoned buildings by yourself.

Stathis slowly looked up, to find Janaxia looking down on her, looking unfazed. Around her were countless dead murder-bees, their bodies flash-frozen or acid-melted. She shook her body, hearing more of the bodies slide off her armour, standing up and crushing chitin beneath her feet. Skotadi was still holding her close, hunched over in pain, rubbing a hand.

Janaxia immediately swooped forward, plucking Skotadi away, brushing dust and dirt off her clothing. ‘Ah, so this is where you where! I had hoped for somewhere a little more… prestigious, but I suppose this is what you are most used to.’

‘No, I…’

Janaxia cut her off. ‘Well, more suitable accommodation has been prepared. I think you will far prefer the palace to this place.’ She flicked a dead insect from Skotadi’s head, then turned back to look at Stathis. Hmmm, so you saw that Skotadi was in need of some assistance? That, I suppose, was somewhat knightly of you. My own business was sadly inconclusive, so we may as well return.

Both she and Skotadi blinked out of existence in a swirl of shadow. Stathis moved forward and could see their feet, up above her.

Do hurry up and rejoin us. I would rather not tarry here overlong.

‘I fell down here, I don’t know where the stairs are!’

Well, I would hope you find them before I get bored and leave.

Stathis saw the two of them climb into the palanquin, out of sight, then turned around and sighed. The summoner, or whoever he had been, was dead, body covered with stings, already swelling with reactions. She shuddered and carefully stepped over him, then picked up one of the unreadable books.

It took a while to find the stairs, as they were hidden behind a sliding panel, held shut by a complicated mechanism. Stathis cut at it, her sword bouncing off with the first blow before her second cut through it, sunlight blazing. Magical sigils puffed into ash as some spell broke, a few stray barbs of power striking at Stathis without effect, easy to ignore. Upstairs, she had to navigate around the place, seeing several more of the murderbee nests and staying well away.

Eventually, she managed to find her away around to the entrance again, stepping outside. The alleyway was, of course, entirely empty, Janaxia having already departed. Stathis swore and wondered how long it would take to find her way back to the palace.