Their lawyer was my lawyer, as it was in those times when I couldn’t do the work myself. I was still preoccupied with my arrangements in the north. I had not been told of the nature of Lucius’ foe yet, that word had to be conveyed to me by the very same man later that week. To call him a man would be to call a well tailored suit of clothes a man themselves however. At least, he had more wit than a tailor store mannequin, and he was familiar to Aisha.

The Divine Beast, Golden, arrived at Rackvidd to do my contracted business, and had already been paid his dues. He moved with a pop in his step and a smile on his face because his stomach was long since full and because rather than a body of feathers he introduced himself as a man. The farce was whimsical to him, and so far beyond the imaginations of any servant that they couldn’t even guess he was anything but human.

The man-eater wore a silk robe dyed the color of the night sky at sea and embroidered with startling white thread which danced about his lapel and hems as though birds had been transformed into stars and cast upon his attire in new constellations. The outfit fluttered as he walked, his slippered feet ghostly upon the ground.

He found the two girls having breakfast upon the roof. Between all the defenses and crenelations was a lovely garden and some colorful shades. All the flowers–most of which were cacti–had to be maintained in pots and by the labor of punished servants dragging pot upon pot of water up from the wells, but the ambiance was nearly that of a northern garden. The toil of maintaining it was invisible to the girls who were baking like lizards in the sun, waiting for their hangovers to dissipate and wondering if their meager headaches were what older people moaned about.

What they attributed to fresh air and tea, along with far too many cookies, was in fact nothing more than the passage of time before their appointed meeting with the Shipping Investments Guild, a self-delusion Golden saw through at once when he spotted them.

To Aisha and Sera, he looked like a relic from the days of the Yellow King–which, in a sense, he was–and far more beautiful than any military man in Rackvidd. He had a glow to him which they interpreted as vitality and youth, when in reality it was nothing more than his overflowing gluttony, the spilling out of his own presence into the world. His skin was tanned and glistened in the light, but looked ghastly pale if compared to his black hair which swept down his back, held barely in place by golden hairpins.

“Well,” he said, with a magnanimous grin. “If it isn’t the traitor’s little sister. It has been so very long since we’ve spoken. Are you still doing the singing? Or have you finally agreed that it’s a man’s profession?”

Aisha leapt up, slammed her hands onto the little table, which by no ways deserved to be slapped; it was a dainty thing if rod metal with a floral mosaic that had dutifully hosted thousands of tea parties for women and girls alike, and she shouted, “Since when are you human?”

Sera’s head snapped over and she leapt to her feet as Golden sat down and poured himself a cup of tea. “Aisha, what’s going on?” she asked, hand to her sword.

“Oh calm down, would you? Your voices are so much… I can’t even put words to it, but it feels like you’re digging needles through my skull when the two of you shout like that. It was much easier to tune out while I was in my natural form.”

“You don’t even sound the same,” Aisha protested, retreating from the table but not from the shade.

“You can thank the body for that. It has a different temperament. The mind is not independent of the body, after all,” Golden said, and crossed one leg over the other to sip his tea.

Sera put up her hand and said, “Okay, yeah, sure, laugh about it. I’ll play the dumb fighter person, but can someone tell me what’s going on?”

Golden laughed, Aisha didn’t. She said, “He’s an emissary of Shepherd.”

The Divine Beast crossed one leg over the other and picked up a sugar glazed cookie. “I’m more of a witness now than an emissary. Responsibilities change with the centuries. You understand, don’t you? But, what’s important now is that I’m here to help you. You children need more help than you can imagine. You’re prancing about and meeting people you should be afraid to even make eye contact with, and you haven’t even gotten to the real monsters yet.”

She glared at him. “Real monsters like you?” She, of course, had not forgotten what he had done to her brother’s corpse.

“Oh, far worse than me, little bard. I actually bothered to learn your language. The ones you have to be worried about are my runaway siblings. The ones off on their own, pretending Mother doesn’t exist. But, don’t worry about that just yet,” he said, and popped the cookie into his mouth. He cracked it between his teeth and washed it down with tea. “Today, I am merely here to deal with the human monsters. The soul suckers and life drainers. Come now, let us go meet with the investors.”

The three of them arrived at the villa before the sun had reached its zenith. Golden took the lead, pushing his way through the doors and past confused servants. The staff ran about, alerting the merchants to the early arrival and preparing the conference room appropriately. Golden sat first, taking the central chair at one side of a long flat of cedar planks. Aisha sat beside him and Sera stood at her back, glancing out the heavy window. The thing had been cracked open for a spot of fresh air, but the lead lining and glass were each so thick that no cutpurse or assassin’s arrow could possibly intrude.

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Sera whispered when they could hear the approaching footsteps of their business partners.

“Relax. He’s too simple to be dangerous… to us. He gets paid too much and asked too little.”

Golden cocked an eyebrow at her. “My little bard, I dare say that was both an insult and a compliment at once.”

“Am I wrong?”

“Not in the least,” he said, and turned to see Faezel enter along with a younger man.

“Miss Canta! I see you’ve brought a friend,” the old merchant said as his companion took the seat opposite Golden.

“My lawyer,” she said.

“And this is mine,” Faezel said, gesturing to the scribe. “You may call him Bazzi. Just a standard precaution for business such as this. You’ll understand.”

Bazzi nodded and looked golden over with half-lidded eyes. “Shake my hand, would you? That way both of us will be bound to tell nothing but the truth while we do this,” he said, and stuck out his soft hand.

Golden smirked and gripped the man’s hand. At once, panic gripped Bazzi. Golden didn’t let go. “Ah, I recognize this power. [Fleeting Interrogation], is it? My dear fellow, you’ll have to do better than that. Why, this isn’t fair at all! Your power does nothing at all to compel your own speech.”

Faezel’s eyes widened as Golden clicked his tongue, and the merchant at last made eye contact with the divine beast. He saw through the human skin suit and to the mass of presence that hid within his eyes. Faezel shrank into his chair, babbling. “Why, we would never lie in such a– a– a cooperative agreement!”

Golden laughed, still gripping Bazzi’s trembling hand. “Then, you won’t mind a few conditions of my own? In fact, I’ve prepared my own little set of assurances. An oath if you will. You don’t mind, do you? Repeat after me, yes, that’s right, say as I say. In the name of Shepherd, the goddess, lady of death and debts…”

Three hours later, there was a break for lunch, and the two parties retired to different dining areas. Golden spent the time laying into Aisha with questions and nuances. He quizzed her on impressions and economics. He asked about the noise in the city, the quality of the beer, the drunkenness of the sailors, and a hundred other near-useless questions which he went on to meld together into the true picture of Aliston and its prospects. Sera chimed in where Aisha failed, and then he carried that information back to the conference room like a set of weapons and armor.

Faezel sat down, his brow pulled low and his shoulders slumped. The pep of life had fled from him and he couldn’t even raise his eyes to meet Golden’s glib gleam. “We’ll sign,” he said, and that was that.

That put Golden into a foul mood. He stayed no longer than was necessary to scratch his notary upon the paperwork and see that Aisha put her own name to it. The contract was made up in duplicate and each party took the indentured signatures of the other’s contract as proof. Aisha had to be steadied on her feet once more, helped out the door by Sera, for the weight of the contract made her head spin. She was no stranger to the kinds of agreements and figures that a single merchant and his family could command. What the Shipping Investments Guild had made most noblemen seem to be paupers. The scale of economy she had just facilitated swamped her mind with awe, but did nothing at all to slake Golden’s thirst.

“If you need me, I’ll be gambling,” he said, scowling at the city.

“What? Like, cards?” Sera asked, gawking at the humanoid beast.

“If that’s all I can find, yes. Why? Surprised?”

The knight stepped back and looked away. “Didn’t take you for the sort.”

He flicked his hand at her. “You wouldn’t understand, woman. I’m pent up. That old codger disappointed me greatly. Maybe a youth will be more reckless,” he said, and headed straight for the poorest of neighborhoods, where rich men gave out bad loans backed by violence.

Aisha made no move to follow him. She gripped the parchment to her chest and turned her gaze to the southern sea. “I don’t suppose this is good enough reason to go back to Aliston, is it?”

Sera shrugged. “I think that depends entirely upon whether your man has killed the demon yet. At least, in his mind it will. To any reasonable person, we absolutely should head down with the good news. Somebody needs to explain the contract to the young lord, right?”

Aisha grinned. “Yes, somebody indeed. If only there were a ship available.”

“If only indeed. I hear fifty ships were just contracted. They’ll be very busy, won’t they?”

Both of them laughed at their own japes, for it was the only way they could find levity from the tension of the day. And to nobody’s surprise, after the requisite few days of preparation, they were aboard Captain Thornby’s ship, headed for the Misty Isles.