It had only taken three hours for Eeluk to come racing back to the courtroom with news of Gantulga’s activities. I was lounging on one of the benches. Erhi had fallen asleep on my shoulder, so I put a finger to my lips as Eeluk approached.

He breathed in big huffs. “My…lord, Gantulga…”

“Take a breath,” I whispered.

He paused for a moment, then resumed whispering. “Gantulga has had a meeting.”

“Who?”

“I couldn’t see his face, but Gantulga seemed to know him. They embraced when they met.” Eeluk wiped the sweat off his brow. “He’d been waiting in Gantulga’s home. Gantulga seemed surprised, but happy. Joyous, even. I could only make out his visitor’s silhouette.”

“Portly or skinny?”

“Quite portly.”

“I suppose he didn’t want a parade, then,” I said. “Funny. He seems like the type that would.”

“You know who he is?”

“He’s Lord Batbayar.”

Erhi stirred and woke up. She blinked her eyes rapidly.

“Good, you’re awake,” I said.

She rubbed her eye. The flowers in her hair opened gradually as she woke. “What’s happening?”

“Batbayar is here.” I stood and offered Erhi a hand up.

“Wouldn’t it be better for me to stay here?” she said. “In my vision we were together. If we aren’t together—”

“Do your visions always come true?”

She paused, then nodded slowly.

“Then there’s no point delaying the inevitable.” I reached down and took her hand in mine with a smile. “You only saw the emissary arrive. Now you’ll get to see him leave, in person.”

“Shall I prepare a guard to escort you?” Eeluk asked.

“No,” I said. “Just show Erhi and me there.”

He nodded. “Follow me, my lord.”

He led us out the back door and through another little door, then down a spiral staircase. Years of old men shuffling up and down them had curved the edges and darkened the once-white stone to a sickly light yellow. I pulled Erhi closer. The emissary could appear at any moment, so I had to be prepared to protect her.

“Through here.” Eeluk held open a red door at the bottom of the staircase.

The streets of upper Karakhorum were cleaner than those nearer the wall. Trees were planted in neat rows on both sides of the cobblestone street. Homes were bigger here, and their doors and windows had gold trim. Goblins heaved too-big sacks of letters over their shoulders, but the pitter-patter of their steps was unimpeded.

Gantulga’s home was at the end of the street. The gold trim was bigger than everyone else’s, and his bright yellow door was twice the size it needed to be. His garden, however, had faded, and the grass had grown into the street. As we approached, something shattered.

“I assume that isn’t a lovers’ quarrel,” I said to Erhi and Eeluk. “Wait here.”

I went quietly up the steps and put my ear to Gantulga’s front door. I could only make out fragments of their conversation.

“…it’s happening, Gantulga.” I recognized the voice as Batbayar’s. “…install you as lord of Karakhorum.”

“…as we planned,” Gantulga replied, “…Oktai… reveal his hand.”

I waved Erhi and Eeluk over. They took the first step carefully, but when both of them put their weight on the second step at the same time, it creaked sharply. Chairs moved inside.

“Hurry,” one of them said.

I kicked down the door before they had the chance. A cloud of dust made Erhi sneeze.

“My lord!” Gantulga shuffled out the corner. “How wonderful it is to see you—”

“Enough,” I said. “Where is he?”

The room was large and open. The heads of a boar and a lion flanked Gantulga’s fireplace. Chairs were scattered through the sitting room, and books were piled high on the tiled floor. Gantulga stood by a large cupboard with his hands behind his back.

“Who, my lord?” Gantulga said. “There’s no one here but us.”

“Forgive me for not believing you.” I strolled around the sitting room, making my footsteps as loud and heavy as possible.

“Can I offer my lord and his companions some refreshments?” Gantulga stepped away from the cupboard and tried to pull me out of the room. “You certainly look wary. Let me be polite and—”

“Eeluk,” I said. “Lend me your blade please.”

Gantulga jumped back, pulling his hands off my arm like he’d just touched a hot pot. “My lord, I apologize for…for…”

I locked eyes with Gantulga and stepped over to the large cupboard in the corner of the room.

“For suggesting that you look weary!” Gantulga waved his hands and rushed over to me.

I rested Eeluk’s blade on the cupboard door. Gantulga froze.

“Batbayar,” I said. “You might want to come out. Slowly.”

I paused for a few moments. He didn’t come out, so I pressed the blade into the door with a crack as the wood—

“Fine!” The cupboard door swung open, and Batbayar stumbled out. “You’re a very violent man, you know that? You have an underdeveloped sense of pace and measure.”

“When I have to be, I choose to be,” I said. “Sit down.”

“For what?” Gantulga said.

“Our meeting.” I returned Eeluk’s blade. “Eeluk, you may leave us.”

After Batbayar took his seat, Gantulga moved to sit down. I pulled the chair away from under him and sat on it.

“Eeluk, Erhi, have a seat,” I said. “Gantulga, it’s impolite to seat yourself before your guests.”

“And get me some wine,” Batbayar said.

“Let’s get on with it.” I leaned forward in my chair. “You want to end the war already?”

“I’m not committing to anything,” he said, “but I believe I hadn’t considered… alternatives. You see, my young lord, let me give you some advice as a…more experienced colleague. Us lords must endeavor to find means of resolving conflict besides battle. For the sake of the people, of course. Not to mention the damage unnecessary damage does to our reputations.”

I rolled my eyes and nodded. “Of course.”

“And in order to do that, the Council has a…particular way of doing things.” Batbayar took the cup Gantulga handed to him. “For example, you might want, I don’t know, some new fortifications for this fine city of Karakhorum. Just look at the state of the wall. But that’s expensive, and perhaps you lack the artisans—”

“And you’re going to provide them?”

He snapped his fingers. “You always struck me as a smart one. We understand each other, you and me.”

“In exchange for ending the war?”

“No, no.” He took a big sip of his wine, then scowled at its taste. “I propose we enter into a new era of collaboration. You scratch my back, I scratch yours.” He shrugged and took another drink. “You see, when one starts a war, the people suffer.” He locked eyes with me and smirked. “Food supplies mysteriously burn down. Horses get blinded in the night. Rivers get poisoned. These are simply…inevitabilities.”

“But if we were in an alliance…these wouldn’t be so inevitable, would they?”

He nodded. “When lowlifes and miscreants hear that I, Lord Batbayar, am your ally, then surely they will cease their horse-blinding and river-poisoning.”

“So I would be spreading this news of our alliance throughout the continent, then?” I leaned back in my chair.

“Well, there are sensitive issues at play at that level.” He finished his drink and held the cup out to Gantulga without as much as glancing up at him. “It’s best we keep it a secret. Between us lords.”

Gantulga filled Baybayar’s cup.

“Then how will the miscreants know of our alliance?”

“They’ll know we aren’t at war. And that’s basically what an alliance iss, as far as the history of our fine continent is concerned. I’m sure they already know you’ve taken Lady Khulan into your custody, so returning her to her rightful position on the Council would signal a certain, ahem, change in loyalties.”

I nodded thoughtfully and pretended to consider it.

“You’re not seriously thinking about this are you?” Erhi whispered into my ear.

“I have a distaste for secrecy,” I said to Batbayar. “If we are to embrace, we should do so openly. Why can’t we be upfront?”

He smiled and waved a finger at me. “If only. This is just the way it’s always been done. Everyone else has secret allies and secret enemies. If we hold hands and skip down the riverside, we will have shown our chickens. Let them taste our cows’ milk before they buy. Bend over and spread our cheeks.” He sipped his drink, then wiped his mouth. “Crack our eggs and let them prod the yolk. Secrecy has just always been the way it’s been done. It’s the way of the world, young lord. You’re basically at apprenticeship age. It’s absolutely fine for you to still be learning on the job.”

“Do you know how I defeated your men?” I said.

He glanced at his lap. “I wouldn’t go as far as to say defeated, but my scouts reported you used…” He narrowed his eyes at me. “Some untraditional strategy.”

“Wars have always been fought with men. More men against fewer men. Better men against worse. But men always die. That’s just the way it’s always been, since the Eternal Blue Sky taught man to forge the first steel from moonrock. That’s the way of things.” I leaned forward and snatched Batbayar’s cup from his hand. “I have no intention of doing things the way they’ve always been done. And I have even less intention of being in an alliance with someone like you.” I downed his drink.

“I admire your youthful—”

“Surrender your cities to me.” I put the cup on the floor and stood up. “And bend the knee.”

He chuckled nervously. “In addition to being green and cocky, you’re also very foolish, apparently.” He shook his head. “I honestly don’t know why I expected any better from someone like you. Someone who just lets goblins and men mingle like they could just be pals after all the tense history they’ve shared, given the obvious superiority of men. You have giants guarding your city! Disgusting. Disgrace—”

I glared at him. “Bend. The. Knee.”

“You arrogant fuck.” Batbayar struggled to his feet, Gantulga scrambling to catch him under his armpits and help him. “You think you’re the only one with ‘untraditional’ assets.” He smirked and looked around with unfocused eyes, before shouting, “Now!”

The ground underneath us cracked like a plate under a giant’s heel. Gantulga’s house shook. The lion’s head fell off the wall. Blue light streamed in, but it was sicklier, tainted with tendrils the color of fire. Smoke filled the room as chairs and tables and blankets were singed at their edges.

Erhi latched onto my arm. I picked her up and ran out of the house before it collapsed.

The entire street had purple light erupting from between the stones. Men, women, and goblins ran screaming from their homes. Trees burnt to ashes instantly. The ground boiled the bottoms of my boots. I blinked, and every house looked as if it had been chewed on and spat out by a fire. I blinked, and the wind pulled all the smoke into a tornado with Gantulga’s house at its eye.

I blinked, and everything around me was reduced to ash. People-shaped mounds of ash dotted the street. Erhi and I were unharmed, while not even the trees remained, no buildings were left standing. Smoke blotted out the sun. I squinted at the remnants of Gantulga’s house. We were alone, save for…

Batbayar. Batbayar stood there, the most unimpressive of human figures making a world turn to ash just by raising his squeaky voice. And by his side, a man who looked like an absolute void.