There is a misconception, born from the desire of artists to aggrandize reality. When they seek to depict figures such as the angel Acheliah they have a natural inclination to make her the centerpiece of the art. This is a bias born from the patronage of the temples of course. They surround her with radiance because they know no other way to depict the peculiar impact of perception that beings of magic have on the eye. Most inaccurately, they tend to depict her constantly surrounded by handmaidens and servants, perhaps on a palanquin of gold and sapphire.

These artists, although they are possessed of a true artistic muse and produce wonderfully aesthetic works, have almost no foundation in reality. The image of the palanquin is a misassociation because she did prefer a rather lavish throne whenever she sat and watched something like a play, but it was never a mode of transport. Not only was flying faster and easier, but her visage alone sufficed for the grand impact that an entourage would give. This let her move about as she saw fit, playing every bit the role of the matriarch for she very much saw herself as organizing children. Given that she was older than their entire kingdom, her attitude was rather justified.

With these facts established, it can now be understood that the angel of Vassermark, the living embodiment of their theocratic righteousness as a kingdom, strolled through the festival overflow like a manager of merchants and while doing so laid eyes on an unremarkable swordsman of skaldish descent. I speak of course about Leomund, who by now was far more acquainted with angels and divine beasts than he would have ever imagined he would be.

When she loomed over him, her eyes read the immaterial world. Her mind ran through the realm of ideas and of will, reading him as a scholar might skim a codex. In turn, Leomund stared back at her without a hint of awe or lust in his blue eyes. Naturally, not one person except Leomund’s companions, imagined that his only thought was whether he would have to fight with a butter knife in place of a proper sword. The rest of the crowd thought the angel was picking herself out a companion for the night.

The crowd was thus shocked when she asked, “You basically have my cousin’s lipstick smeared over your neck. Just where is Vita?”

Sardonically, Leomund laughed and returned to his drink. He answered, “If only I knew.”

The lost angel Vita had transformed the Emerald Jawhara over the preceding year since her revival, making it a sensuous den of pleasure that burrowed into the sandstone below Tavina. She draped opulence over decay, separating the layers of her business through the floors of the building. Wives and daughters left destitute and abandoned by Medorosa’s revolt worked throughout the snake’s den. The elderly cleaned and served, turning over rooms for travelers that still opened their windows to the desert breeze. The young and hesitant carried food and drink between tables of conversation and of dice.

The more desperate women found themselves in a hierarchy of flesh, forming a carnal body with a small facade led by chaste and beautiful courtesans in the Aillesterran way. These few women were gems of the female form, crafted like sculptures by the ancient divine. Blessed and loyal, they had been girls of low status, of drab faces and lean bodies, but with minds like diamonds for the angel was never one to train her pets. These queens of the pit extracted obscene payments from the mercantile network of Tavina, through which Vita laundered her more sordid income. Monthly payments of silver to the local temples were her apparent taxation, the charitable contribution her den of flesh provided the small city.

It was not why she was allowed to operate.

The conversation Aisha and Vita had was short, and insulting trash. To cover it simply, she agreed to teach the girl all manner of magic purely to spite me. The two of them shortly embarked on a compressed and rushed tutelage that would only ever be offered by a fool with no experience in teaching. Aisha was taught methods without reasons, and given weapons but few defenses even from her own mistakes. Her arcane apprenticeship was trash that I will not put to ink here, even if it were information fit for public consumption.

But, her study left ample time for Leomund, the troll of the northern fields and slayer of trolls to wallow in temptation. The man drank and he brooded over present responsibility and future possibility. He was torn that he might be making a mistake by helping Lucius instead of me though I had given no contravening direction. It was Anubi’s gift that captivated his thoughts, conjuring up fantasies of what relief it might give him.

And so his duties of protection fell victim to distraction. The presence of guards inside the Jawhara eased his tension. Games of chance lured him to tables where women sat in his lap with soft bodies and tittering laughs. On the fourth day, while Rodrick’s champion still approached Tavina, an audacious girl snuck enough wine down his throat that she drew Leomund from the tables and to her room.

Whoring was nothing new to the mercenary. Indeed, it was in a sense one of the reasons he worked for me. Not the opportunities, but because I had educated him in the subtle matters of medical diagnosis. Consequently, there was a scandal in the basement of the Jawhara when he stormed out. Many assumed it was a common problem, a girl too young or too old, makeup coming off in sweaty streaks. Because he kept his mouth shut as he laced his breeches once more, only the girl’s madame realized it was because the girl was diseased.

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Apologies were swift and diplomatic. One of the untouchable courtesans was sent in to occupy him, to bring him even deeper into the establishment. She plied her body across him, assaulting his senses but his guard had already been raised. Empty compliments fell on deaf ears, until at last the lady herself arrived and the two of them found privacy in the night.

Lounging across a mismatched collection of pillows, the angel swirled a goblet of wine and explained, “The girl is lucky. Her disease isn’t the end of her.”

Leomund let his wine sit, his attention on the enormous sprawl of scale and tail that might unravel into the material world with him, the monstrous body of the divine beast masquerading as a woman. There was no visible sign of it, but he remembered well enough from his first encounter with her. “Perhaps not the end of her, but how many months of fire?”

The angel curled her lips. “Here, it depends entirely on contribution. Medicine for it exists, for a price. Had you hired her, you would have cut down her sickness.”

“And I would have paid more than silver.”

“But not as much as the drifters and vagabonds. You are worth far too much.”

“I’m just a sword and to be honest, I’m feeling a bit of rust growing on me. There’s a war going on right now–”

“Several.”

“And I’m here like some kind of retiree.”

Vita laughed. “I’d say you need a bard, but you’re protecting one. I’ll have a word with the Canta girl. She really should be pumping up your ego more. You’re not a retiree, you’re a knight defending a woman. You were the only man that could be trusted to keep her safe in a city populated by angels and daemons. Quite the honor. Were you prepared to fight me when we met?”

The northerner grinned. “I was. I figured I stood a good chance too. It’s not like I was facing Aurum or Acheliah.”

Vita laughed. “Now I think you overestimate yourself. You’re a specimen of the masculine variety, but plunging me through with your weapon is hardly enough to do me in.”

“I’m curious about something,” Leomund said, finally picking up his drink. “This isn’t your territory. Why are you allowed to, well all of this.”

After a moment, Vita sat upright and smiled. “I could explain to you, but I don’t think you’d believe me if you didn’t see the others. Don’t you think this den is lovely though? The entire universe is reflected in it. As above, so below. The base reality of desire and power, cycling from hand to hand in a churning flux of bodies. I’m doing exactly what the temples do, and I’m doing it more efficiently. The tribute I pay is not merely the coinage I send as tax, but I provide the very essence the black chick of Tavina needs to sustain herself. Worn thin by her reaping I am the only water in her desert. Ah, you don’t grasp it still. Even though you came here to learn the secrets of magic, you don’t even know what you came to ask.”

Leomund drained his goblet. “Aisha came to learn. I came to keep her safe.”

She grinned and leaned closer. “But aren’t you curious? Your stigmata is a form of magic. It gives you such strength that you think is your own, but you were not the one that forged it. You just use it.”

The swordmaster matched her lean, their faces almost as close as lovers. “Is an angel about to blaspheme?”

“The capital T Truth can never be blasphemy. Did you know that stigmata are only a few hundred years old? Lumisgard only started being called Lumisgard when they began appearing. They are tied one and the same.”

“Ancient history. The wizard has told me much the same.”

Vita cocked her head, grinning still. “The wizard will fail. He grasps for too much. He would seize the whole world but he is no god. Leomund Tolzi, swordmaster and mercenary, is there anything in all the worlds, of material and of will, that you desire?”

There was, of course, but Lucius held it close. “Not that you can offer me.”

She rolled her shoulders back, letting her silk dress droop across her body more deeply. “No need to act like a eunuch.”

“I know I came down here because of a whore, but that doesn’t mean they tempt me much.”

Vita laughed and at last retreated, once more lounging. “To the north, the eagle has a swordmaster, a paladin of impeccable character. Quite the ornament, even if a human’s lifespan is so fightfully short and bloody. Leomund, truly if there is anything that can be offered to sway your loyalty, I will offer it. I cannot wade through this world by paying off those stronger than me. You don’t even understand the depravity I must stoop to for my protection. If a parasite were to dig through the barrier, I would have to throw myself at the feet of my cousins and if I did that, they wouldn’t think twice about putting a collar around my throat.”

“So you’d rather have a collar on mine?”

“Don’t rebuke me then stoop to bedroom talk,” she said, grinning as he snarled at her. “Still, if you turn me down, I’ll have to throw in my lot with the wizard. And you would be very, very surprised what I can offer him. Not just in the delectability of the bait, but in the swiftness I can deliver it. I despise that incarnation of rage, but I will work with him if I must.”

Leomund rolled back in his chair, rocking his head back to stare at the timber ceiling above. I hadn’t kept him around for so many years because he was stupid. He understood the value of even being a mere interlocutor. While Lucius had his dearest desire, he knew I still offered much. “What could you offer him that he did not wring from your body last we were here?”

Vita spoke softly, eyes cold. “Aurum’s brother.”