Amdirlain’s PoV - City of Brass

Their trek back through the city streets had provided Amdirlain confirmation that operating in the city would lead her to disaster. The nature of the Efreeti wouldn’t change, and she could already feel her growing anger and disgust. There weren’t any alien circumstances or anything obscene, weird, or grossly horrific like she’d encountered regularly in the Abyss.

Instead, the situations were close to what she knew had occurred in mediaeval and recent Human history, yet their familiarity grated on her nerves. Thousands of enslaved people moved among the populace wearing collars of living brass, but enchantments tied into their souls prevented them from quickly, or perhaps ever, being free. Most of them bore brands, marking them as criminals of one kind or another, yet the criminal offence most bore was a debtor’s mark from which they’d never be free.

Sarah took in Amdirlain’s tight jawline as their path lead them into areas where groups of slaves worked in the sweltering heat. The protections infused in the collar prevented more vulnerable species from bursting into flame, but they didn’t do enough to make life comfortable.

The path took them to the second ring from the Grand Sultan’s palace and around the city’s far side. Before reaching their destination, the darkness Hatim had mentioned stretched across the city from the bowl’s outer rim. Glimpses that Amdirlain caught of the process allowed her to identify the high towers anchoring the effect. “Do they serve the Grand Sultan directly or are they hired for the task?”

“Hired. The consortium is a cabal of wizards from various species that provide all manner of magical services within the city,” explained Sarah as she glanced up at the canopy of darkness. “If they worked directly for the Grand Sultan alone, no one would dare bribe them to alter the hours of darkness.”

With their path pointing straight through the palace, Sarah steered them along the concourse of the second ring. The externals made of brass limited their appearance to such an extent that the golden structures blended even with the most complicated decorative features. They all flowed into the same gaudy excess, differentiated only by the crests above their main gates and across their guards’ armour. There were no unstructured windows along the street front, but a meshwork of brass within arched window frames allowed those within to observe the street.

The wards across each abode they passed seemed suspiciously consistent in both their power and capabilities—despite their differing creators. Given the extent of Wizard songs Amdirlain heard traversing the street—some even among the guards—it was likely regulations that capped the wards’ capacity.

“Kilometres of McMansions,” Amdirlain deadpanned.

The Ash Prince’s palace was almost indistinguishable from the rest of the decadent abodes on the street. Amdirlain took in the strength and details of the wards, and it was clear that while their control lay with Hatim, he hadn’t created them. The study she had put in while they’d approached had detected nothing that would constrain a being of her nature from physically entering or departing. Along with hampering magical or psionic attacks, they prevented anyone from teleporting into or within the wards unless they had a ward stone.

The pair of Efreeti on duty at the front eyed them assessingly but didn’t object when they approached the gate. “You’re to go around the back, where all deliveries and servants arrive.”

“Is that your decision or the Ash Prince’s?” purred Sarah. “Sounds like a power play you’re not qualified to make to me.”

“Since we’re here with gifts and a petition and aren’t servants, the rear entrance doesn’t seem the correct place. Unless your statement was incorrect,” observed Amdirlain, and she almost let one of the new falchions appear in her hand. “Or you could tell the Ash Prince you turned away the gift of masterwork blades he’s currently expecting?”

“Prove it,” snapped the closest guard.

“Should I display one here in the street where his rivals would immediately know of it?” sneered Amdirlain. “You were alerted to expect us, so why don’t you stop the power games? I’ll walk away and let you explain why your Prince doesn’t have the swords I’ve ready to gift him.”

“He told us we could bring the gifts after the onset of darkness. However, he didn’t specify which one; perhaps we should return next year,” suggested Sarah.

Amdirlain looked the guard over like he was a bug to squish, and she let the murderous aura crawl over her skin. “Tell your Prince it might be in a century since you’re so ready to waste my time.”

“Get out of their way,” ordered the other guard, and he tried to force his colleague to step aside. “In the name of the Ash Prince, Hatim Ibn al-Razin, we bid you welcome to his palace.”

Sarah glanced between the two guards and shrugged. “I’d say we leave; Hatim must not be as strong as we believed if his gate guard will behave this way against his wishes. We should look to meet with another council member or the true head of the assassin’s guild.”

Raising a hand, Amdirlain flicked her fingers dismissively at the guards, and they both got out of her way. Only once they were completely clear of the gate did Amdirlain walk through, carefully monitoring the wards for any changes. They were halfway to the door when she caught the guards' hissed exchange.

“Why did you do that?”

The second guard gave a furious hiss. “Imbecile. Fire giants can’t emit such energy; she’s a Dragon or something powerful just using the form of one. Your idiot cousin nearly got us both in trouble with the Prince because of his wounded pride.”

Three paces from the massive front doors, a Human-sized pair pushed open the doors. Ash grey skin and blazing orange flames in place of hair, Amdirlain recognised them as Ifrit—elemental half-breeds between a Mortal species and Efreeti. Despite being female, they wore only the same style of silken black pants Hatim had worn, though their pants were nearly transparent. The massive doors didn’t move quickly, and the effort highlighted their trained muscularity.

The pair stopped and bowed elaborately when the doors had been opened far enough for Amdirlain and Sarah to enter. The gesture contained far more grace than Amdirlain had seen from the guards. “Prince al-Razin awaits; follow us promptly.”

“Lead the way,” commanded Amdirlain, and she waved for them to move ahead.

With that, the pair turned on their heels and strode away at a near jog past lines of other similarly clad Ifrit that stood at attention along the foyer’s wall. The pair were obviously experienced guides, used to dealing with individuals far taller than themselves. The pace they set had them at a jog but allowed Amdirlain to stride behind at a relaxed pace without the risk of catching at their heels.

Leading the way through a series of elaborately decorated passages and rooms, Amdirlain noticed neither looked back. They did, however, discreetly monitor Sarah and Amdirlain in the multitude of reflective surfaces available. Arriving at a pair of burnished doors, they pushed them open effortlessly and, stepping into the room, held them open long enough for the pair to enter.

Beyond was a sizeable receiving room, some eighty by a hundred metres wide. The left side was a solid wall with gem-studded decorative patterns, while the right was a series of horseshoe arches opening into a courtyard. A pair of guards secured each of the ten arches standing back to back, one focused on the empty yard and sky, while the other’s attention stayed within the room.

At the far end was a platform with five high-backed chairs arrayed in a semi-circle facing the door. The Ash Prince Hatim occupied the central chair, while another Efreeti sat in a chair to his right. While most of the Efreeti they’d seen so far were clean-shaven, this individual wore a long braided goatee that reached his lower chest. Like Hatim, he was also without horns, making him only the second without them Amdirlain had seen.

While most of the guards appeared to ignore their presence, one standing at the front right edge of the platform stared at them. He was the only guard equipped with a falchion, and he already had it drawn with the point directed towards the ceiling. The frost blade sat prominently displayed on a rack perpendicular to the platform with space for three more blades.

Amdirlain was more interested in the seated Efreeti and checked with Analysis.

[Name: Sufyan Ibn al-Razin

Species: Elder Efreeti

Class: Pyroclast / Planar Visionary / Greater Oracle / Grand Seer

Levels: 92 / 92 / 92 / 91 / 91

Health: 982,074

Defence: 4,280

Magic: 12,280

Mana: 98,645,952

Melee Attack Power: 3,032

Combat Skills: Short Blade [M] (24), Flame-Tyrant [GM] (105) - Various affinities, multiple Spell lists

Details: Older brother of the Ash Prince, his brother’s drive to advance dragged him from his studies in the Grand Sultan’s academy. He stays out of the council’s politics unless matters come up that would interfere with his business enterprises.]

“The Prince will receive your gifts.”

When they were still ten metres from the platform, their escort spread out further before they stopped and turned to face each other. Taking her cue from where the pair halted, Amdirlain stopped and disabled the traps the location set them under. Her approach didn’t challenge the creator’s skill but wrapped them up in a Lingering Song that blocked their ability to detect the trigger.

“Brother, have they explained what purpose brings a Fallen and a Diamond Dragon to work together?” asked Sufyan.

Amdirlain mentally cursed Sufyan’s delicate touch, not having picked up on any detection spells amid the background hum of the enchantments and more obvious traps.

“Fallen?” repeated Hatim, not taking his gaze from Amdirlain. “She demonstrated a healing power I took to be Celestial in nature—it had their golden light.”

“Some Fallen do retain abilities that can appear to be still Celestial in nature,” acknowledged Sufyan. “Quite extraordinary concealments, and I get no thoughts broadcast from her mind. Since gem dragons are dangerously skilled at using psionics, that could be her companion’s doing.”

Hatim looked as if he’d bitten into something sour. “Well, Fallen, what plot brings you to the City of Brass?”

“Your Highness, what I told you before was true—I’m looking to repay a debt. Does our purpose matter as long as we’re not breaking Efreeti laws or the guild laws on petitions?” asked Amdirlain. “I expect you’ll find the individual I’m trying to contact is a foreigner.”

“You expect?” queried Sufan, glancing at Hatim.

“They used the guild to contact the broker at The Exchange, but I don’t know how many layers they used to isolate themselves,” admitted Amdirlain. She caught a peak of interest in Hatim’s music, though his expression was unchanging. Another precaution came to Amdirlain’s mind, and she quickly composed a variation of the detection music.

Hafim nodded. “You are dealing with a careless individual if only the guild and a broker separate him from a deed. Did you forge the blade or just enchant it?”

“Both,” admitted Amdirlain. “Why?”

“There was no maker's mark on the blade. This isn’t a problem, but the absence made me curious. It’s not the best blade I’ve ever possessed, but the strength of the enchantment more than compensates for the balance,” critiqued Hatim.

“Might I examine a blade you consider better, Prince Hatim?” asked Amdirlain.

“Why do you ask?”

Curious to hear the weapon’s song, Amdirlain gave him the truth. “I’ve only made a few falchions. As you said, the enchantment more than compensates, but I prefer to improve, not sit idle. Studying one you consider better would aid my learning to match the expectation of a master of the weapon.”

“Why should I grant you such a favour?” asked Hatim suspiciously, his posture tightening into a ready coil

“So if I ever make you more weapons, they are to a higher standard. If you are concerned about tampering, I won’t need to handle the blade. Watching someone perform simple techniques would improve my next sword,” allowed Amdirlain.

Hatim grunted. “You would not be the first individual that tried to tamper with a sword under the guise of examination. You truly believe that a distant examination would be sufficient?”

“Isn’t it worth the chance of a better blade if we’ve reason to do business again?” asked Amdirlain, and she motioned to the space before the Prince’s dais. “They don’t even have to come close; just perform where I can see their hands and examine their posture to determine the shifting of its weight.”

Hatim relaxed slightly and beckoned to their escort. “Have the captain attend. His blade will be a sufficient trial to see if you can tell what you did wrong. We should agree on a penalty for wasting my time if you can’t.”

“I’ll not pay you a fee for something that will aid you and that I can gain from another for nothing. Especially ‌since an evaluation would be subjective, a true masterpiece requires it to be balanced for an individual’s reach and style. If you don’t waste my time, I might enchant future blades—though not today’s gifts—to allow their wielder to determine their balance,” countered Amdirlain. “Though given the lavish view you had of my trinkets, it would depend on the fee we agree to and the success of my petition.”

Hatim’s bark of laughter froze the escort before they reached the door. “Come back, little ones. It seems we have a bold Fallen. Yet she has no storage device nor sheaths, so tell me, where are the gifts you promised, bold one?”

“Appearances can deceive,” Amdirlain replied, and she retrieved the blades, letting each appear balanced on a fingertip beneath their crosspieces. The enchantment within them still activated, sheathing the swords in white-hot flames. “Should I place them on the rack or leave them on the floor again?”

Even as he cast one detection Spell after another at the blades, Sufyan murmured to Hatim. “The same again with these, and they’re not a normal fiery blade.”

“The enchantment’s strength influences its flames,” replied Amdirlain. “I was asked for two blades whose enchantment was equal to the ice blade I presented. Did you have a particular question about the blades?”

“Like the other, there is no maker’s mark or signature within the enchantment,” reported Sufyan. “You are interesting, Fallen. These are the first enchanted blades I’ve seen where the maker left no impression. There are no tool marks of any kind, mithril native to this Plane, and the enchantments are all tied to here and set to weaken upon entering the Material Plane.”

“That limits their usefulness in conquest,” critiqued Hatim.

“Then you should be careful what you request when you ask for particular gifts; the same restriction is on that blade,” stated Amdirlain, and she nodded to the frost blade. “I simply brought those that matched it in fiery power.”

Hatim hissed. “You should be careful of the games you play.”

“That is indeed sound advice,” replied Amdirlain, and she floated the blades out of her hands and had them spin in the air to either side. “Thank you for your concern; I’m sure all should take such wisdom to heart.”

“One hundred bars of mithril for your petition,” declared Hatim.

“One steel bar,” countered Amdirlain.

“Do you jest?” snapped Hatim.

“Only as much as you do,” countered Amdirlain, and she released the small merchant scales onto the floor at her feet. The gleaming mithril device didn’t even weigh twenty kilograms, including the tiny weights hanging on its holder inlaid with crystals to show their weight. “That is what I want to gift the issuer of the petitions in question. Honestly, a bar of steel is likely overpaying. The petition is simple: hold on to the scales until the same individual who commissioned a series of previous petitions involving the broker Hybris contacts the guild. Then these scales need to be given to them—obviously with the scales intact and without tampering.”

Amdirlain added the new detection song to the crystal within the scales as she spoke. When it settled into place, she heard everyone in the chamber—except Sarah and herself—get tagged, and reports fire off to the targeted memory crystal.

Hatim shot Amdirlain a sceptical look. “What purpose does this serve?”

“It's a weighing device, and I have a debt that I want to balance with them. Its purpose is entirely symbolic, but you’ll find no tool marks and no signature within the minimal enchantments inside them. Those factors will confirm it is from me, and they’ll know to get in touch,” explained Amdirlain. “I’m sure you can see why the gifts themselves might be considered more than sufficient, and indeed extravagant, by many.”

“We should let the rest of the guild’s council know of his greed; they’ll wonder how sticky his fingers have become,” suggested Sarah.

Amdirlain shrugged at the possibility. “Your time is valuable, and I can appreciate that should factor into things. For yourself, this matter is indeed trivial, but I didn’t request them to disturb you. The guild leaders escalated this matter to your attention because of the first gift. Success will certainly factor into any further dealing we might have.”

[Diplomacy [J] (24->25)]

“One mithril bar,” insisted Hatim.

“Agreed,” retorted Amdirlain, and she concealed the rapid creation of a mithril slab behind her and shaved off a 24-gram bar before she stored the rest. “After you have someone confirm they can identify the petitioner I seek, I’ll make the payment.”

“We’ve already identified the petitioner, though there were forty-six petitions addressed to The Exchange by the individual,” stated Sufyan.

Amdirlain let the tiny bar appear on the ground beside the scale. “One bar of mithril; it's enough to make a ring.”

Hatim roared with laughter. “You are indeed bold, Fallen.”

“If I hear from them, I’ll send another gift,” conceded Amdirlain. “If it takes too long, it will make me wonder if the guild accepted the petition and intended to break its bond.”

Her words didn’t stop Hatim’s laughter.

As his brother was lost in his laughter, Sufyan motioned to a guard. “See this pair out. I’ll register this petition.”

Hatim was still laughing when the door of the audience chamber closed behind them.

Amdirlain warned Sarah this time, and they’d just stepped out onto the street when the first Planar Shift swept them away. A series of rapid shifts bounced them between locations, sometimes even on the same Plane, before they finally stopped in the Outlands.

Sarah let out a relieved sigh. “Paranoia is healthy when it's not paranoia.”

“But it’s not always known threats that do the most damage,” offered Amdirlain. “I’ll stay away from the City of Brass for now. I’d want to go there mainly to free the slaves, but the collars they use aren’t easily broken.”

“Plenty of places you already know about that you can find trouble in,” agreed Sarah.

“Not that I had a chance to get to know this place,” stated Amdirlain.

It had been decades since Amdirlain had last seen the town of Xaos, but it hadn’t changed. Built into the side of a hill with expansive terraces leading up to a central keep that hosted the portal to Limbo. The upper floors of most structures gave a clear view of the surrounding fields, unobstructed by any outer walls.

The construction incorporated a wide variety of materials and, while wood and stone were common, many appeared grown. Others were far more exotic, having living or automated walls continually in motion. Those showed the most significant variations: bees, tinted water, liquid metals, growing crystals, mists, and stranger materials. The common theme between every building was that there wasn’t a straight line in sight; instead, they were all composed of circles, arcs, waves, and spirals; even the roads and pathways weren’t straight but rather crescents and curves following the topography.

The town’s inhabitants varied as wildly as the buildings, and while many appeared Human or Elven, others were far odder. From horse-sized talking insectoids to beast-kin of a hundred furred species and more, living relatively cooperatively. Whoever sponsored the maintenance of the fortifications around the one constant Portal to Limbo left the township to govern itself.

With the wind causing the grass around them to sway, Sarah reached down to pluck a long strand and strip its outer layers away as she considered the location. “Are you planning to homestead if they don’t let you within the wards?”

“I could build an inn a day’s walk out along the road,” suggested Amdirlain.

“From memory, you’ll find there is already one there, just hidden by a dozen or so kilometres of trees,” countered Sarah. She waved to where the barely visible dirt road cut its way through ripe grain fields and disappeared into the thick forest. “Unless it’s been destroyed and not replaced.”

“I’ll try the town, the wards aren’t strong enough to get through my concealments,” offered Amdirlain. “Though I’ve no idea what their rules are around buying or building structures. The place doesn’t look to have changed, so I doubt they get many new buildings going up.”

Sarah sighed. “Doesn’t mean there isn’t a local individual strong enough to detect your energies, even if you don’t give yourself away. An entryway into Limbo isn’t the biggest drawcard; they might be suspicious when they find out you plan to settle down.”

“I’ll play it carefully and try to keep my head down,” said Amdirlain with a broad smile. “Maybe I’ll get a bartending job to practise my Diplomacy.”

That suggestion earned a snicker from Sarah. “As long as you don’t get creative with cocktails again.”

“Since I’ve no idea of the biology of most of the species, I’ll take it softly,” reassured Amdirlain. “Does Sufyan strike you as a hand behind Hatim’s title?”

“Gideon’s details made him seem more like a facilitator of his brother’s ambition. Your Hidden state will make it hard for Sufyan to find you, but I’m a bit worried about drawing attention to your projects,” commented Sarah, her tone losing amusement.

“I didn’t want to keep you away from Sanctuary long; you’re still progressing things with Gaius after all,” said Amdirlain, and she gently pulled Sarah into a reassuring hug. “You take care; not like you can’t message me.”

“Don’t be so quick to shoo me towards him,” grumbled Sarah. “I can’t go near Sanctuary unless you think Sufyan couldn’t bypass the wards there. I’ll have to head to Mechanus and talk to some folks about improving my protections, but I’ll return as soon as possible. You said you wanted some time in the sun, but why here?”

“Two reasons: it's the only Outlands town I’ve seen, and I need time listening to the Portal to Limbo; I’ve some projects in mind. I won’t be here all the time, but I wanted somewhere not cut off to live.”

Sarah hummed but eventually gave a curt nod before she headed off.

When Sarah disappeared, Amdirlain headed towards a laneway that divided some of the closest grain fields.