“Shit,” Jason said. “It really is you.” He swallowed. “What’s wrong with your hair?”

Eris gazed at the sword against his waist. It wasn’t at a belt, but instead suspended from a sling over his shoulder that ran across his body like a strap. She relaxed the illusion of Arcane Semblance and let their appearances return to normal at his question.

“Do you make a habit of greeting friends while armed?” she asked.

“What?” he said. When she nodded he realized. “Oh, it’s—self-defense, you know. I’m, uh, cautious about visitors past midnight.”

“That’s why I’m here,” the dwarf behind them said. He twirled the blade of his axe. Even from a distance Eris smelled the nog on his breath.

“I thought it was for company,” Rook said. There were couches before them; Rook took off his swordbelt and lounged comfortably, throwing his arms back as if he were the owner of everything around them, and Aletheia soon sat at his side.

Eris decided to remain standing. She liked Jason for precisely the reason that he was untrustworthy. Making him uncomfortable was enjoyable, but becoming too comfortable herself would be dangerous.

He clearly was anxious to see them. He stayed standing, eyes wide, wringing his hands.

“So…” he tried.

“Are you well?” Rook said.

“Well?”

“You look sick.”

“No, I just—didn’t expect you. Now. I mean right now.”

“Why not?” Rook continued easily. “We said we’d be by sooner or later. Oh, it’s been a dull few months for us anyway; no sign of the Seekers. We decided this was our chance to slip into the city, under disguise.”

Jason nodded. “Where’s Pyraz?” he wheezed.

“Seneria,” Eris said. “Where he walks on two legs. Such was our diversion for the better part of last year. Our adventures have taken us far afield.”

“They haven’t been half so profitable as yours, anyway,” Rook said. “I heard from a man in the Grand Library that you killed a vampire all by yourself. That’s not what I remember from Darom, so I presumed he must have meant some other vampire—you have been busy.”

“Get some nog,” Jason commanded his dwarf guard, who smiled at the prospect. He rubbed his neck. “Yeah—these stories can kind of spiral out of control. First it was me and Robur, but then he wasn’t big on the attention, so I told people about the dwarves, and Tarfur, and Absalon. But somehow it ended up just being me in the play.”

“A whole play about you,” Rook said.

“Yeah…”

“Am I in it?” Aletheia said.

“No. There is a witch named, uh, Seris, but she’s fictional.”

“…who wrote this play?” Eris said.

Jason fell quiet. “I did,” he whispered. When they all recoiled he added, “But Theschylos helped me with the dramaturgy—”

“Theschylos?” Rook exclaimed.

“Yes—”

“You were right, we should kill him,” Rook said.

He threw up his hands, as if unarmed, before he started scrambling for his sword. But Rook was upon him like a tiger, and before the fuller of Lord Arqa’s blade was out of its scabbard, Rook’s sword point was against Jason’ stomach.

The dwarf reappeared with a carton of nog under his arm. He dropped it—it was solid as stone, thankfully, and didn’t break from the short fall—and scrambled for his axe. But this was no challenge for Eris. She restrained him at distance with nothing more than the extension of a hand, and all his scrambling and shouting to be let go was a minor strain against her Essence.

“You need better guards,” Aletheia said.

“It’s just a play,” Jason squeaked to Rook. Now his arms really were up.

“I don’t care about the play,” Rook said. Actually Eris watched his face; he clearly did care about the play, but perhaps more for being left out of the process of its composition than the script itself. He continued, “But I left out a detail. His name is Lukon. He paid us a visit when we went to make use of the forgestone from Arqa’s vault.”

Jason let everything slip.

“I swear I didn’t want to tell him anything, but there was no choice! He came here with fifteen guards! What was I supposed to do?”

“You could have lied,” Eris said. She tightened her mind’s grip on the dwarf’s shoulders, restraining him more tightly, as she perused the room’s upholstery: the curtains and pillows and carpets imported from the far eastern realms. This was the closest she had ever come to the presence of an aristocrat’s home. She liked it. It suited her.

“And risk him finding out and coming back for me? No thanks. I have a lot to live for here, I’m not going to piss it away for anyone.”

“Like what? Yourself?” Aletheia said.

“Among other things,” he said. “Look—you took down a vampire, mostly without my help, I thought you could handle some clown with a silly accent. And I was right, so lay off me.”

Rook pulled his sword away. He sheathed it and threw it on the sofa. Eris let the dwarf go.

“You bastard!” he screamed. He raised his axe, but Jason got in his way.

“It’s fine. Calm down. Just—go watch the door.”

“Not a chance,” the dwarf growled, but under a harsh glare he eventually submitted. Jason picked up the nog and hauled it to a table, but didn’t offer any. Instead he dispensed a small cup for himself and took two sips before collapsing onto a seat.

“We lost the fight,” Rook said. “The girls were captured. Getting them back has turned us into the most wanted fugitives in Esenia.”

“What?” Jason said.

“Who knows how many Seekers will be hunting us now,” Eris said. “All the remaining eleven, perhaps.”

“And you came here? You came to me?”

“We were in town,” Rook said.

“You fuckers!” He put his head in his hands and bit his palm.

Rook frowned. He leaned forward. “Now you know how it feels.”

“You don’t understand—” he started, but he stopped when there appeared a silhouette in an archway. For a moment it loomed in the darkness, but at last it stepped into the manalight.

A woman was revealed.

She was tall and dressed in a too-short gown. Her hair and eyes were dark but her skin fair, untouched by the sun, and Eris thought her rather stunning at a glance. She had a strong jawline, wide hips, and an enormous bust. Like Eris often did when confronted with other women who might be attractive—she had no real sense of this herself, no interest or desire in female physique whatsoever beyond a knowledge of what she thought others liked—her mind at once flooded with contempt and a search for small flaws. Before long, though, she realized that this woman shared many features in common with Eris herself.

But Eris was taller. And this woman’s breasts were too large, so that they looked out of proportion to the point of unattractiveness. Her nose was also slightly hooked, and her hair too thin, and her eyes too small, and she had a small scar in her overly-thick brow that ruined the symmetry of her features entirely. Before long Eris had calmed herself, as she was assured that this newcomer was, in fact, quite ugly after all.

They still all stared.

“Who’s she?” Aletheia asked.

“Other things,” Jason said.

The woman stepped forward. She gave a small curtsy, revealing her legs—which were far too short for her height—before saying in a neutral accent, “I’m Diana.”

“You are high class indeed,” Eris sneered. “What brothel do you call home?”

Diana smiled sincerely at this comment, but Jason intervened. “I know it’s hard to believe, but she’s not a whore. She’s my wife.”

“I’m an actress,” she said. Her voice was practically baritone. Then she looked to Eris. “Jason has told me the true story. I play Seris, in the production. You must be—”

“Very disinterested,” Eris completed the sentence. She checked Rook to make sure ‘Diana’ did not have his attention. She did, but he seemed only moderately interested.

“Yes, that sounds right,” Diana said.

“When did you get married?” Rook said.

“A few months ago,” Jason said. “When I told Theschylos the specifications I had in mind for the part, he introduced us, and…can you blame me?”

“I am surprised she puts up with the chlamydia,” Eris said.

“I know girls who tolerate much worse for far less,” Diana said. “But don’t you think he’s cute?”

Apparently Diana was also blind, which was a significant mark against her. “I have met bilge rats with better grooming habits,” Eris said.

“So do you get it, Rook?” Jason said. “Do you understand why I didn’t play games with the Seekers? I’m sorry, really, but I never thought I’d have a life like this. I’m not throwing it away for anyone. Not even my best friends.”

“No,” Rook said. “I understand.”

Jason looked surprised at this, but he nodded. “Okay. Then will you please go? I can give you some money, but—”

“No,” Rook said again. “You’re going to make it up to us.”

“How? I already told you—”

“I’m the rightful duke of Korakos,” Rook said flatly. “I don’t think we ever talked about that. Well, I am, and I want to be duke again. Or…for the first time, like I should’ve been four years ago. For that I need access back into high society. For that, I need money, fame, prestige,” he counted this off on his hands, “…and a base of operations.”

Jason shook his head. “No.”

“You owe us,” Aletheia said.

“You told me you owed me,” Rook said. “Remember when I rescued you?”

“I changed my mind. Now that I’m rich I don’t believe in debts. Usury is immoral.”

“Jason…” Diana said. She put an arm on his shoulder, but he pushed her away.

“No! You heard what they said! There’s going to be a dozen of those psychos marching down on us, and then all of this will be up in smoke. Sorry, no, I won’t help you. I might send them a letter to make sure they know I’m not involved though—”

Eris reactivated her illusion. The party chamaeleoned back into their false selves. Diana and Jason both jumped to see the transformations.

“With your help,” Eris said, “we will not be discovered. I have magic that will keep us unrecognizable. Our phylacteries have been destroyed; there is no way for the Magisters to track us.”

“This is the first place they’ll think to look,” Jason said.

“Let them look. When they do, we will be absent. I am confident I can outwit the Seekers, so long as we stay ahead of them.”

He shook his head. “I don’t—I don’t even understand you plan.”

“You’ll introduce me and Eris into the Archon’s Court under disguise. From there I’ll make contact with my uncle. From there…I’ll figure something out.”

“And once you reveal yourself? That’s my neck on the line!”

“Once I reveal myself, I’ll be a duke,” Rook said. “I’ll have cleared my name. I’ll be one of the most powerful men in the world. You’ll be happy that I’m a good friend. Unlike you.”

Jason was clearly content with his current status, but the allure of more power was just what was needed to demolish the walls of his inhibition.

“And,” Eris said, “I believe you are missing the point. If you do as we ask, we continue with our previous friendship. If you do not…then you may not need fear the Magisters, yet you will be leaving this room as nothing more than an insect smeared on the bottom of my sandals. Let me assure you that when we learned of your treachery this was the first thought on my mind.”

Jason jumped back at the memory of their murder of the dwarf, Ras or Kas (Eris couldn’t remember which), and he stared at her with open eyes. Because he knew she would do it.

“For my part,” Diana said, “I think it’s right to be loyal to old friends. Especially aristocrats.”

Jason nodded. He sighed. “Okay. We can—we can talk about it more. I’ll have a servant escort you up to the guest rooms and…if we figure out a good enough plan, maybe we can work something out.”

“We have lodgings nearby,” Rook said. “We’ll stay there tonight before we move in with our things.”

“What? Don’t you trust me?” Jason was smiling.

“With all my heart. So we’ll be back first thing in the morning. Don’t get too spooked.”

“Okay…first thing. Now—I need to go back to bed.”

Back across the city at night. Beneath the silver lights. Through the streets. To the hotel and up the stairs, then into their room once more.

Eris considered the bed. One bed. Strangely, for all she liked being alone, she found it easy to sleep with Rook against her. He was like a warm fire in the comfort he provided. She looked forward to doing it again.

Or maybe it was easy to sleep next to him because they were both so exhausted after spending time near each other.

As they entered, Eris said what was on her mind: “Am even I so selfish?”

“He’s protecting his family,” Rook said.

“What family? A whore he met six months past? We have known him longer than that. He is protecting himself.”

Rook hesitated. “If I were him…I would look after you and Aletheia first. And I wouldn’t want the risk of the Seekers swooping down on the two of you either, if I could help it.”

“You deceive yourself. Have you forgotten the circumstances of Aletheia’s adoption? You would take in a stray cat at risk of execution if it purred and scratched your leg.”

He smiled at the metaphor, because he knew it was true, and a few moments later Eris found herself kissing him before a mirror.

“You know me too well,” he said. “But a family changes things.” He examined his leg injury in the mirror. “…do you think he’ll betray us? Again?”

“Why do you ask me? Because I am the treacherous one?”

“I can’t believe you’d say that about yourself. But since you have…”

Eris considered it. She wasn’t sure. “You know him better than I. He is capable of treachery, even unprovoked, yet it would be cold-blooded. We can rely on Jason to behave in his self-interest in any case.”

“Diana might be all that’s stopping him,” Rook said. He sat down and took off his boots. “But I don’t see any other way.” A sigh. “I wish this had been a better reunion with old friends.”

Now a thought wormed its way through Eris’ mind. She sat down beside him. “What did you think of her?”

“Who?”

“The ‘wife.’”

His eyes narrowed. He smiled. “Why?”

“Am I not allowed to be curious?”

Rook shrugged. “I didn’t notice her.”

Eris dragged a hand down his chest. “The fact that I have so far chosen not to Disintegrate you, my love, does not mean that you should tempt me.”

“Well, in that case…she’s quite impressive. Goes to show what money can attract. I wonder how often they…”

“I think she was ugly,” Eris said definitively.

“Ugly?”

“Did you not see the scar on her eyebrow?”

Rook looked dazed. “She had eyes? I didn’t notice.”

“And her breasts were far too large. I say she was ugly.”

“I thought—you two are similar, in frame—you’re far more beautiful, of course, but—she’s one of Theschylos’ players, of course she’s not ugly.”

“I said she was ugly!”

“So she is,” Rook said. He looked defeated, resigned to making this admission, which suited Eris just fine. She was happy to hear her opinion affirmed regardless of how that affirmation came. If she had her way attractiveness would begin and end with her. “Are there any women you think are attractive?”

“Beyond myself?” she said. She gave this a moment’s consideration. “They say Galena of Ewsos was appealing, yet I have my doubts.”

This might have been a joke—Galena of Ewsos was the daughter of an ancient Regizar, an Old Kingdom myth, the most beautiful woman to have ever lived, for whom wars were waged—but Eris said it with general sincerity. Rook laughed anyway.

“There must be some,” Rook said.

“Why? Women are weak and fragile, adorned with useless bits that only get in the way. Truly, I am not certain why men are drawn to us. Strength, on the other hand…” again her hands explored Rook’s chest. “Strength is beautiful. Function is beautiful.” Now to his arms. “The male body is something to desire.”

He could never resist her touch, but as she kissed him he said, “So Guinevere was the perfect woman?”

She had pushed him to the bed, but now she stopped, looming over him. “You are joking.”

“You say strength is beautiful.”

“Yes, well—strength is one thing. Sinew is another. No one desires tough meat.”

He laughed at her. “I think what I’m understanding,” he said, “is that you have no idea what men really desire. You just know we like you.”

“That is enough. I will prove it to you.”

“Strength isn’t the only form of beauty, Eris,” he said. “There’s grace, dexterity, elegance—the mind and soul,” a kiss distracted his train of thought, so he concluded thus, “et cetera.”

“Hogwash,” Eris said. “Fortitude and willpower, perhaps. But best of all: strength. And power.”

Of course not all strength came in the form of muscle and bone, and beauty was itself power over others. Such was the cycle of attraction. Here they split apart and readied themselves for bed, and in the process Rook reclined onto the mattress and said to the open air,

“Strength destroys. That’s its power.”

“And controls,” Eris said. “Control precedes, and ideally precludes, the need for destruction. Yet when the time comes…”

“And that’s the beauty of a man? The function to control and destroy?”

“Why, Rook. You are a warrior, are you not? An aristocrat, whose very purpose in life is to rule? I did not know you thought so poorly of your own art. For that is what battle is—destruction and control.” His brow scrunched up like a puppy into a ball as he considered this. She added, “Surely you know there is nothing women love more than soldiers?”

“Yes,” he said uncertainly. “Maybe you’re right…”

“Of course I am right. I am always right.”

“So you’d like me more if I were a mage? I could destroy much more, far more quickly.”

That was an interesting question. She took off her silver necklace and placed it on a dresser. “I cannot know for certain, yet in my experience ‘tis rare men of the Tower share the knightly physique of one such as yourself. Now, were you to possess both…is that a question that truly needs consideration?”

“You might find it harder to control me. I think you like to feel like you’re in command, when it suits you.”

She smiled. “When it suits me. Will you help me remove this ludicrous dress?”

He did so. The silk slipped down around her shoulders. She savored his touch on her back. They were silent for a time as Eris thought on nothing in particular, until Rook had a thought.

“If the beauty of a man is destruction, it must follow that the beauty in a woman is the capacity for creation.” That was like a ringing alarm bell in her mind. She snapped to look at him over her shoulder. “There is function in female form.”

The bell rang louder. “Ah. I see.”

He undid a lace on her back. “Does that make you uncomfortable? It’s a fact of our sexes.”

She turned to face him, covering herself for some reason even she did not understand. “And is that what is on your mind when you see me?”

“Not when we first met,” he said, but he took a deep breath. “But we’ve known each other for a long time.”

“By the Archon,” she slipped away from him, “what degenerate fantasies have I appeared within behind your eyes? They do not involve marriage, do they?”

“I’ve always told you I wanted a family of my own.”

“Yes, but—surely not with me?”

He laughed at her, and she felt unusually embarrassed when she realized how silly question sounded. He asked the obvious: “With who else?”

“I…don’t wish to have this conversation. We have depleted all there is to discuss.”

She slipped from the dress, but quickly covered herself again with a robe.

“You must realize, if I become duke again, I’ll have to have a wife. I’ll need a son, eventually. And I won’t pretend I don’t want both. We won’t be able to—continue like we have been, unless you—”

“Stop it! You speak of a future years, perhaps decades, away. I am not interested in it. We have matters to handle in the present.”

“Why does this topic upset you so much?”

“Do I sound upset?” she was nearly shouting, and she sat down on the bed sullenly thereafter.

“I just don’t understand. You can admit you love me, but family is too much to consider? Even to discuss? We could have a duchy together. A son and a daughter to secure our rule—”

“You foolish man!” Eris said. She didn’t understand how he was so dense. “I would sooner be a Servitor. You might be Archon; you shan’t own me to breed with, do you understand?” Now she turned to him. “Yes. I…love you. And so long as there is no price on that love, I will stay. You would not want me otherwise. Yet you speak only now of prices. And you can have my assurance, there is no faster way to drive me from your arms. Now do you understand, you—do you understand?”

He hung his head for a long moment. But then he looked back at her with a smile. “Yes,” he said. “And you’re right. I wouldn’t want you any other way.”

She reached for his arm. “Then banish such lunatic notions as ‘family’—and let us enjoy the present.”

And enjoy the present they did.

Falling asleep atop a mountain of muscle she could get used to. Waking up within his arms—that she doubted she ever could. She awoke first in the pale morning light and did nothing but stare at the wall, waiting for him to stir next, and all the while feeling very strangely. There was no lust early in the morning, yet still she felt a strange contentment, a satisfaction not unlike committing homicide, like glorious and complete victory at another’s expense, when she settled against him.

It always took her by surprise. And while she liked it, in the way she liked being drunk, it also left her feeling empty and confused.

This was the destruction love wrought. But she was in its thrall now, and imagining abandoning it now, after tasting what it was like so deeply—death seemed easier.

When they rose they gathered their things and prepared to return to Jason’s manor. Their packs, funds, weapons and equipment. Rook helped Eris put on her dress. She went through her backpack and selected out an array of jewelry to drape over herself, and it was only after all this that she remembered her necklace.

The silver necklace. Guinevere’s necklace, given to her in a moment of sacrifice. It was missing. Where had she—

It was on the dresser, where Rook stood. She stepped over toward him to grab it and…he turned, clutching it in his hand.

“I’ve seen you wearing this, but I hadn’t recognized it.”

“I do not remember where ‘tis from,” Eris said. She tried to grab it from him, but he pulled it away—holding it just out of grasp.

“No, that’s not it. The symbol—this was Guinevere’s, wasn’t it? I remember. She…on our way out from the bugbear caves. I left it for you in your room.”

“Is that where? As I said, I do not remember.” She finally got it from him and put it on. “I merely like the design.”

“You’ve kept it all this time,” Rook said.

“I like the design!”

“You prefer gold. It matches your eyes.” He was grinning.

“Yes, but—‘tis the design—" Eris knew she had been seen through, but she felt like she had to keep up the pretense infinitely. She sighed in frustration. “Yes. It is Guinevere’s. What of it?”

“You’ve never forgotten what she did for you,” he said.

She clutched the necklace. “If you are implying I am carrying it for sentimentality’s sake, I am going to kill you.”

“I would never dream to. But…” He swooped down around her shoulders, clutching both, and he kissed her neck. “You’re not half so dispassionate as you pretend.”

Again she felt deeply embarrassed. Eris considered Guinevere a fool, but at the time the significance of her sacrifice—so pointless, too—had not been lost on her. Wearing her necklace had seemed fitting, somehow, at the time, and then it became habit, then tradition…and there was now no reason to find a new one. It was hers. She liked it.

“I am not,” she said, lifting her hair above the chain.

“Whatever you say.”

“I am not! I simply like nice things! And anyway, for one who pretends to be so empathetic, you would think you had more artifacts of companions past, yet I see nothing on your person. Perhaps ‘tis you who is pretending.”

“Are you implying I’m secretly selfish?”

Eris sighed dreamily. “I wish you were.”

They finished reading themselves to depart. The illusion resumed. Staff again in-hand. Now it was time to see if they could do business with Jason, or if his weasel’s instinct would prevail. In any event Eris was certain the mission ahead of them would not be an easy one. At least if they succeeded, profit was guaranteed at the end.