Arathan found the pocket dimension and streaked into the tent. A quick glance revealed that she had missed whatever happened. Tamara sat at the head of a table with a … head on the table nearby. An apple was stuffed in the mouth of the head. Her sword lay on the table and her fingers were tapping the blade making slow rhythmic ringing sounds.

Her expression was full of irritation, and that didn’t change when she saw Arathan.

“What happened?” Arathan flew to the table and landed on the head, not bothering about the nature of the perch. It was a bit higher than the table and she could look Tamara directly in the eye from a comfortable distance.

Tamara started to smile, her lips peeling back and her head tilting back slightly. Her shoulders began to shake slightly as she tried to contain her laughter. It was a sad, angry, desperate sound that came from her lips.

“He ran,” Tamara gestured inarticulately toward an empty space. “He just… ran.”

Arathan was casting fearful looks at Tamara and finally got the nerve up to ask, “who ran?”

“Damascus. I thought I’d provoked him enough but, he still ran. I assume an enforcer from the Table will be here soon to ask if I obey or not.” Tamara sighed, and added almost compulsively, “I obey.”

“Damascus.” Distaste colored Arathan’s raspy voice. Her eyes had immediately narrowed. “Was Nenod with him? I’d love to eat that snake.”

“I don’t know. Nenod didn’t show himself. I thought Damascus would stay and fight. He was just saying ‘good’ over and over again and shaking so hard I thought his aura would spill out and crush this space. Then he got ahold of himself and left.”

“Pity… but, probably for the best,” Arathan hedged quietly.

“Probably,” Tamara started tapping her finger on the sword again and sighed. “You go, Arathan. I am sorry to bother you. Continue your task.”

“About that…” Arathan figured, you know, while she was here, “I named it Rush. Did you know that it can--”

Tamara glanced up lazily and made a flicking motion with her wrist. “Later. The first guest has arrived. See yourself out.”

Arathan lowered her head and acknowledged the command. “Arathan loves Tamara…”

Arathan spread her wings and flew through the tent flaps. A stylish point since she could have just slipped out of this space from the table.

“Heath.”

“Tamara.”

“We must speak. Soon. You’re going to get yourself killed.” Heath smiled gently.

“...and maybe your chosen?” Tamara smiled back in the same gentle way.

“Maybe them, too. Then I’d be mad, and sad, at the same time.”

“Yeah.”

Heath and Tamara just stared at one another with knowing smiles. The smiles became forced. Heath moved to the table from the opposite side and sat down. His broad shoulders slumping a bit. Neither spoke. Neither had to speak.

The hall shook once and a busy-looking man walked out of a corner. Realistically there was no way he could have come from the corner of the tent because it was one of the few areas that had boxes stacked high from side-to-side.

“Tamara and Heath. Hello.”

“Hello.”

“Simius.”

He was short. Shorter than Tamara by two heads and had slumping shoulders. A simple green robe hung off his body and golden spectacles perched on a pug-nose. One might have even thought he resembled a pug in some ways with his forehead folds and small dark irises.

Simius smiled dryly, “I suppose it is no surprise to you two that I am here?”

“Damascus complained,” Tamara guessed.

“No, he needn’t bother. The Table is unwilling to take in complaints. It presumes that we need to be advised when things are going against our wishes,” Simius lost his smile somewhat and moved toward a chair near Heath, leaving a few seats distance between him and them.

A sign of paranoia thought Heath.

“Our wishes,” Heath smiled. “Were you promoted? Congratulations!”

“I was! Thank you!” Simius smiled briefly, amusement touching his eyes before they wandered over to Tamara. “So, if you could make this less awkward than it needs to be I’d certainly remember the favor. Let’s start with, Lucian…” He cast a distasteful look toward the head. “...I don’t care. Neither about his death or the fury of Damascus regarding his death.”

“I like this start!” Tamara snickered.

“I do care, however, that you provoked Damascus for a petty reason and then tried to kill him without the sanction of the Table.” Simius sighed. “Do you obey?”

For the briefest of moments the room seemed to shrink. The space around Simius seemed to enlarge as a beast stirred in shadow behind him. It seemed to be peering at Tamara closely. In response Tamara shuddered slightly and the three-eyed golden crow appeared at her back. This time the crow seemed to be stretching against green and sickly chains that seemed to be confining it. The shadowed beast sneered at this sight, lazing against similar chains with content ease.

“Of course, I obey…” Tamara said through tight-lips.

The stand-off immediately ended and space once again returned to normal as everyone once again condensed down into their normal forms.

“Perhaps you wouldn’t mind repeating the soul-shatter oath you’re under to me? What were the conditions?” Simius had a dangerous look now. Coy and friendly despite the words coming out of his mouth.

“I, Tamara, swear upon my soul that I will not disobey the Table of Order. This means that I will not rebel against them. I will not kill other gods without permission or unless my life is endangered. I will instantly shatter my soul if a member of authority from the Table of Order requests it of me.” Tamara sighed. “I obey.”

Simius cast a look at Heath. Heath frowned but said the same oath.

Simius turned to Tamara with a bright smile. “I see! Then I have gladly witnessed that both your oaths are intact and confirm that this was just a misunderstanding. The Table will be pleased. I understand, Tamara, that you have certain grievances from the past…”

Tamara’s eyes narrowed into razor-thin strips.

“...but that is the past.” Simius finished firmly. “I know you want revenge and you were trying to orchestrate it. It was a nice try, attempting to provoke him into attacking you first. Even if it had been a blow meant in anger without the intention of killing you, I suppose it would have been enough for the soul-shatter oath to leave you alone while you murdered him.”

“Murder is such a strong word,” Tamara carefully slid a finger over the darkened steel sword. “He is much older than me. The last time we were pitted against each other I was held down quite easily. I’m sure that I wouldn’t stand a chance…”

Simius rolled his eyes, “I think differently, but that’s neither here, nor there. Tamara, Heath, will you two do something for me? Stay out of trouble so I don’t have to come visit you? Tamara? At least vent your grievances in a manner that doesn’t trouble everyone else?”

“I will always do my best,” Tamara said brightly. “Goodbye Simius. See you soon.”

Simius almost lost his smile. It returned after a brief moment of hesitation as he stared at her with clear eyes. “Shame. About your friend.”

“Shame.” Tamara agreed, nodding without any change in expression.

Simius stood up and turned away before walking forward a few steps. He cast one brief wave and then took another step, seeming to vanish from sight.

Both Heath and Tamara remained silent after he left. At last, when they were both convinced that he was gone, they looked at each other.

“Don’t…” Heath started to say something but was interrupted because Tamara had raised a fist she had been concealing behind the table and backhanded it against Lucian’s severed head. The head flew to the left and through the tent flaps and, presumably, far off into the night. Heath wisely shut his mouth, sighing.

“Come then…” Tamara grit her teeth. “Let’s go somewhere a bit more private.”

↢↦

Heath and Tamara stood in the meadow, or it would be more accurate to say, stood in the middle of a space created from Heath’s soul space and his imagination. Tamara had condensed hers and was holding that black space inside of her for now. The bright chipper sky and the woodland around them dimmed somewhat before Heath nodded to Tamara.

She, in turn, took a casual glance around. “Well done. It is absolutely possible for one of the Order to barge in and overhear us but we will realize it long before they hear anything. It makes it seem like this is a casual chat to admonish me for endangering your chosen.”

“I am going to admonish you for endangering my chosen,” Heath said dryly. “You make it sound like you’re contemplating and conspiring a grand rebellion. Any formation of a plan like that would have us both turned into vegetables. Our soul shapes wouldn’t have a place to rest and would disperse. It’s not on my priority list to waste away into nothingness.”

“Rebellion?” Tamara put a hand over her chest and gave a look of shock. “I wouldn’t dream of it. The Table of Order, as we all know, grabs anyone about to make a breakthrough into godhood and gifts that wonderful soul shatter oath so that we can all live out our lives in peace and harmony, with puppies and rainbows.”

“Praise them,” Heath snickered as a result of her tone of voice. “In their infinite wisdom they seem to be slightly alarmed by anything you do.”

“They do indeed! I was trying to settle a simple score and they showed up…” Tamara narrowed her eyes and finished, “...immediately. I don’t know why they’re so worried about little old me. I’m not even mad that Damascus got away! I just wanted to see if I had an audience, to be honest.”

“I think you sounded… a little mad.” Heath sat down on the log.

“Perhaps, but it was useful knowledge. Now I know that their eyes are on me and it will be difficult for me to get into trouble. I am so relieved. It is such a nice thing, knowing that there are helping hands waiting to pull me back if I start to get a little free-willed.” Tamara hugged herself making an overjoyed expression. She whirled around a few times and spread her arms, slowly falling onto her back into a pile of flowers. Several lazy whirlygig leaves and a whole fleet of white seeds shot up from her sides and into the air, blanketing her body.

“When I said you sounded a little mad, I was joking. You sounded enraged.” Heath decided to provoke her anyway.

“Yeah. It was a shame he got away. I was thinking I could kill him before they got there, to be honest. It’s easier to say sorry, after all.” Tamara sighed and her shoulders slumped slightly. “Sorry, uh, about Amaranthe. I think I scared her.”

“Well, most chosen, I am talking about the vast majority here, get to decline being a chosen when they’re asked by us,” Heath said pointedly. “So she knew what she was getting into years ago.”

“Yeah, she did I suppose. My poor dragon.” Tamara opened her eyes and then remembered something. “Oh, I recalled my will. He is probably lost without my delicate touch.” Tamara looked up and briefly considered breaking the isolation that Heath had set up so she could send the ‘immortal and deadly text’ back to Ruth. “I better not… send it right away, huh? It’ll make it seem like I actually care about him.”

“Do you actually care about him?” Heath smiled carefully. Something in his voice must have given him away because golden yellow eyes turned toward him with a hint of rage. It was the first time she had looked at him with any sort of emotion. Naturally, that emotion seemed to be violence. Just as quickly the emotion seemed to vanish.

“Nah.”

“I see.” Heath put his hat on and looked down, searching for a piece of long grass to put in his mouth. “You need to control yourself better. I didn’t believe that for a second.”

“Yeah,” Tamara’s voice was rough like she was angry now. “I did that with Amaranthe too. She thought about killing him and I almost iced her on the spot.”

“Yes, if you’re going to pretend you don’t care about him, do a better job. Maybe watch him less or something.” Heath shrugged.

“I can’t.”

That got his attention. “Why not?”

“Because his soul shape can eat aura. I have to constantly monitor him so that if another god swings by I can shield the soul shap--” Tamara paused, and the continued after correcting herself, “...I have to shield Rush so they don’t see him. It would be bad.”

His mouth open now, Heath really didn’t know what to say. The more he thought about it, the more he thought that anything he said might risk his own soul shattering. Finally, after very careful thought about whether he wanted to know about this insanity at all, he couldn’t help but ask, “...it can really eat aura?”

“It can. I’m sitting here and all I can think about is how I shouldn’t immediately look after him again. If I do that this soon , the Table might think my concern for him is something more. Instead of the concern shown for just a pet or an amusement, they might realize there is more. So I sit here, agonizing on whether he is okay. Tormenting myself because the best thing I can do to keep him safe is to pretend I care nothing for him, to disregard his existence, to sneer at him every time he looks to me for help…” Tamara covered her face with the back of her arm, and amazingly, her voice started to shake. “...to make him hate me.”

“Why?” Heath asked carefully.

“Because. I need him to hate every god. For now, I can throw him in that place to grow. Eventually, Wilkeena will be in his sights. Given his nature, he’ll hate her immediately and they will clash. She is such a small fry though. If I help him at that stage everyone will know I care. Past that stage, when the time comes that he can start actually defending himself there will be no shortage of enemies or even allies who are eager to gain his favor and his ability. Hence, he must be suspicious of them and automatically hate them.” Tamara began to laugh. “How many years since I have had hope, Heath? Now terror hounds my every waking second. I think Arathan has just learned the truth. I have endangered both our lives and now yours.”

“So you’re putting on a show?” Heath stood up and started to walk toward the edge of the clearing. He seemed to be staring at nothing in particular as he thought it out. “The Table would never believe you’ve forgiven them. You won’t even try to pretend. Instead, you’ll make them think you are heading after people you think you can actually hurt by bending the rules. They’ll look at you and ignore him.”

“Simius already said it didn’t he? He didn’t care about the chosen? The Table is the same.” Tamara pulled her arm from her face and rested it at her side again. “In ten years when all the remaining chosen are called together, they’ll have a chance to go to that place and advance from chosen to demi-god. Then, if he survives the trials, maybe... they will start to pay attention to him.”

“That is wishful thinking. You’ll never hide something like this for long.” Heath turned toward her and his eyes were hard. “Even telling this to me has endangered your plan.”

“He was your friend, too,” Tamara said sorrowfully.

“He was my brother.” Heath slowly smiled. “That’s why I’m going to help you. Long live the Table.”

“Long live the Table,” Tamara said coldly, her own lips starting to peel back into a smile. “I hope they appreciate the talent I am raising for them.”

“I’ll look in on him then. They can consider it me deciding whether or not to punish you for you endangering mine.” Heath said, thinking carefully.

“Thank you,” Tamara said.

“What about Damascus? Won’t he kill your Ruth?”

“No. On the one hand, he thinks I don’t care about my chosen, that it is a lark. Secondly, as much as it will pain him to admit it, Lucian did mouth off to me and that’s enough. Damascus going to my Ruth and trying to start something similar will likely enrage Simius. Simius surely went to him and said that the matter was resolved. Any further escalation will be a direct affront to his authority. Damascus is too much of a coward to risk that.”

“You hope,” Heath said grimly.

“Yes.” Tamara shuddered. “I forgot how hope is so terrifying.”

“Well,” Heath drawled. “You are right to be afraid.”

“Why?” Tamara quirked an eyebrow in question.

“Because Ruth is still stupid and is fighting for his life right now.” Heath sighed. He waved his hand and the barrier around the space vanished. “Don’t look yourself. I’ll show you.”

A window appeared in the meadow. Tamara got herself up and moved over to him. They stood staring into the window with growing looks of concern.

“I can start over. It’ll just take me another several centuries to find another soul shape… Ha-ha-ha…” Tamara covered her face with a palm.

↢↦

Arathan briefly glanced up from her invisible perch near Ruth’s soul space. Rush was tackling something about his size and shape that was fighting back feebly. The smacking he received actually seeming to excite the little masochist. He bit and clawed and tail-slapped it while trying to pin it. The aura projection smacked him back repeatedly but was getting slowly devoured for its effort.

Arathan was rolling her eyes again at this. The little shit-talker had sassed her when she returned. Emboldened by her leaving earlier, apparently. So, she’d throw a bunch of rabbits with knives at it. It had just finished those and was moving onto the bigger opponent.

Arathan was considering what to throw at the petty little thing next. She was leaning toward something that would pin him. Then the soul space started to crack a bit around the edges. Rush didn’t recognize the shape distortion and was too busy fighting to notice. Arathan, however, noticed the slight tremors that were going through space and cast a perplexed look around.

Ruth must be hurt.

↢↦

The arrow struck him through the shoulder, spinning him clear around and off his feet.

Ruth had been admiring the burning fire that was meandering through the wilderness in front of him. Admiring it and trying to think of something to do other than keep up his flex tail workout. It was all good and well to be working on the tail and how to use it, but it took very little thought and he was starting to get so bored.

That had changed a minute later when he became aware of a whistling sound. He was starting to turn when the arrow struck him.

A long and dark wooden shaft poked out of his shoulder. The black scales were bent and broken near the wound and a preliminary touch of the shaft revealed some information on the wound. It hurt a lot!

HISSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS.

Ruth looked around wildly, spotting some sort of bipedal goat in the classic release stance of an archer. Heading grimly toward Ruth was another bipedal goat holding a huge stick with a blade on the end of it.

Ruth was no stranger to bows. Many bows had been shot at him in his life as a dragon. Some with the intent to kill, others in an attempt to frighten him, and once because he had startled a hunter who had come around a tree to see that Ruth was eating the boar he had been stalking.

Bows had never been a huge deal to Ruth because even his eyes had been somewhat hardened, nevermind his scales that could deflect much stronger attacks.

That appeared to be no longer the case. Ruth scrambled on his hands and knees and fell into a shallow ditch that was more hole in the ground than anything. Maybe it had been a burrow for one of the spiders, maybe it was just a place where runoff had gradually formed a hole because the soil was looser there and fed into some underground water source. Ruth didn’t really care and he wasn’t a geologist!

A quick peek over the dirt mound told him that in less than ten seconds the goat with the halberd would be reaching him. The archer had already loosed an arrow the second Ruth had peeked over the edge. The bladed edge of the arrow tip scraped the top of his scalp leaving a very shallow gash and immediately caused him to lower his head even further.

Ruth took a second to hold his shoulder and narrowed his eyes as he ducked down.

Cold calculation began to filter through the pain on his scalp and from his shoulder.

Ruth wasn’t certain why he was being targeted by bipedal goats but he suspected it might be because he was burning down the forest. Goats lived in the forest, didn’t they? Now they knew he was responsible for burning it.

Despite the burden of carrying yet another grudge, Ruth just sighed exasperatedly because this newest grudge seemed like it might really be the end of him. It was one of the disadvantages of being a dragon, or, in this case, being someone important enough to have enemies.

Ruth had always known he was important.