Sebastien
Month 8 Day 15, Sunday 1:15 p.m.
The next day, Sebastien walked a long, winding route through Verdant Stag territory on the way to the Nightmare Pack’s fighting arena. It was sunny, without a trace of clouds in the sky, but she wanted to be triply certain she was not being tracked or followed. Her divination-diverting ward didn’t so much as twitch, and though she was aware that she might have no idea if some more arcane magics were being used, she noticed nothing alarming.
It was apparent that Oliver had been busy improving his much-expanded territory over the last few months. It wasn’t just the quality-of-life things like the clean streets and the fact that there was a noticeable decrease in homeless people in the poorer areas.
It seemed like at least one building on every street was being renovated, or torn down and rebuilt. She passed at least six different areas where old, run-down buildings were being razed and replaced with tall, multi-story apartment buildings. The one farthest along was already being filled with appliances, the interiors painted a bright, cheery yellow. Every single one had a window large enough to climb through and an external stairwell to escape the building in case of emergency.
Each apartment was small, but Sebastien imagined living there would be comfortable and hopeful. They had been designed with a future in mind for each inhabitant, and Sebastien remembered how Oliver had once spoken of the diseases that stemmed from despair.
There were small shop fronts that Sebastien didn’t remember, which brought to mind the loans that the Verdant Stag provided.
Every street corner had a vivid green flag, and people were wearing clothing that looked new, in the kind of bright colors that would normally never be seen in the Mires. ‘Though I guess this can’t really be called the Mires anymore,’ she mused.
She walked until her shirt stuck to her back, soaked in sweat, but couldn’t take off her thin linen jacket in case the leather holster under her shirt became visible. Tiny insects forced her to wave her hands in the air constantly, until she eventually gave up and decided they could crawl in her hair and drink her sweat as long as they didn’t try to bite her.
She found the house with the private garden shrine, and after a few minutes of watching, slipped into the tunnel that led to the Nightmare Pack’s fighting arena. She changed into Siobhan in the darkness of the tunnel.
When a giant spider tried to ambush her from the darkness, coming only inches from slamming into her head, she dearly wished for the battle wand she’d lost in the fight with the Red Guard agent. In the end, she was forced into a wild fight against the creature using dual-cast slicing spells and the light projectile spell.
She won, but arrived at the iron door on the other side of the tunnel out of breath and rather disheveled.
The man who opened the door took a long look at her, and then very carefully did not stare as she passed. The whole arena had been closed for the day, despite the gold it would cost, as a safe place for Theo and a select group of trusted people to celebrate his birthday. A gift from the Nightmare Pack to the Verdant Stag.
Siobhan gave her own, much less extravagant, gift to Martha, then headed up to one of the private booths that overlooked the party area, so as not to disrupt the atmosphere. It would be hard for many of the adults to enjoy Theo’s birthday party or act normally with the Raven Queen in attendance, after all.
Down below, Theo was busy telling a small group of children and several adult gang members the “Tales of the Raven Queen.” But of course, the story featured himself as the hero. Things might have spiraled quickly into the realm of the unbelievable, but Miles was there, constantly muttering contradictions to everything Theo was saying, until the whole storytelling time devolved into bickering between the two.
Gera, who was standing on the edge of the group and listening to the children’s stories, turned slightly and lifted her face toward Siobhan. She mouthed, “I’m sorry,” and bowed deeply. She must have sensed Siobhan’s presence, even this far away from the main party crowd.
“No need,” Siobhan responded in a murmur that had Miles turning toward her like a dog with perked ears, despite how impossible it should have been to hear her. “Let the children have fun.” It actually rather fit with her gift to Theo.
Katerin had contacted her several times mentioning that Theo wanted, more than anything, for Siobhan to attend his birthday party. And so she had rented a camera obscura and used it to take photographs of illusions that told the story of Theo the Dragon Hunter and his sidekick, Empress Regal, then had the photographs printed and bound into a book.
Miles tried to get up and leave to join Siobhan, and then Theo noticed what was happening and tried to trip him, but Gera caught Miles before he could hit the ground and kept both boys from leaving.
Siobhan raised a hand to her mouth to cover a chuckle.
But Oliver had noticed her too, and he wasn’t so easily dissuaded. It only took a few minutes for him to make his way up to the private box. He leaned against the balustrade next to her, his forearms on the banister and his hands clasped together. “I talked to Katerin,” he said abruptly. “And she told me I was being an idiot. Our relationship could never have been free or equal, with the way it started. She told me I was showing my rich childhood and sense of entitlement, that I couldn’t imagine what it must have been like for you. But I want you to know, I really didn’t ever plan for this. And while I cannot say for sure whether Ennis was compelled to steal the book, I certainly didn’t order something like that.”
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Siobhan remained silent, considering his words for some time before speaking. “I didn’t tell Ana to sabotage the Gervin textile commission. She did that without my knowledge, and not even out of any particular malice toward you. And…even if I had known all the consequences of my plan on the day of Ennis’s sentencing, I still would have gone through with it. I had to stop the divination attempts. But maybe if I had trusted you a bit more, I would have told you about it.”
“I suppose I could say the same about the book.”
“And now, we both have a big secret of the other’s,” she said, turning to face him directly. “Have you ever heard of the term mutually assured destruction?”
One side of Oliver’s mouth quirked up in a small, wry smile. “The perfect recipe for a stable alliance? One with neither indebted to the other.”
“Perhaps. Have you heard from Kiernan about whatever is going on in Osham?”
Oliver sighed and let his head flop forward until his chin touched his chest. A lock of dark hair spilled down over his forehead. “He wasn’t at his house and hasn’t responded to any of my missives. I contacted Tanya Canelo, but she didn’t know anything else, and I didn’t want to put her in danger out of respect for you. It hasn’t even been enough time for the team I sent to Osham to arrive. I’m…worried.”
“Hmm. Well, the Red Guard came after me last night.”
Oliver’s head snapped up. He opened his mouth, closed it again, then choked a little. After taking the time to clear his throat, he said, “Your news is much more shocking than mine.”
Siobhan told him about the incident, much more honestly than she had to Professor Lacer, though still not the full truth. No one could know about the thing inside the seal.
Oliver wasn’t as surprised to learn the truth of how the Red Guard operated as she had been. In some ways, despite his altruism, he was less naive than her.
She added a quick explanation of the measures she had already taken to mitigate the danger. “It’s not enough. I need to do more, and be proactive.”
Oliver rubbed his thumb across his lower lip. “Do you think the growing Raven Queen mythos might be an issue? The agent mentioned it specifically, and from what I can tell, it’s only spreading.”
Siobhan rubbed her forehead. “What do you mean? Even more rumor-mongering about how I’m a flesh-eating creature who’s planning to Sacrifice all of Gilbratha in a blood ritual?”
“Well, more like the opposite. I meant the people who have been praying to you. Mostly among the poor commoners. It’s quite popular in both Verdant Stag and Nightmare Pack territory. There’s even a woman going around writing up some holy book and holding church services where she talks about you? Some basic prayers are becoming standardized, and your ‘believers’ have taken to wearing feathers and other raven paraphernalia to signify their alliance—and most importantly—their protected status. I think the rumors about your vindictiveness are actually what people find most appealing. They feel like you’ll make their enemies pay to the last drop of blood if retribution is ever called for. As long as they’ve paid in advance or can be called upon for a useful favor sometime later.”
Looking down at the people below, Siobhan caught at least three people wearing something that might have been “raven paraphernalia.” Some tiny feather earrings, a wooden pendant of a bird in flight, and an actual bird’s skull hanging from a strip of leather. “How could I have believers!?” she exclaimed. “I’ve obviously never answered any of their prayers!”
“Well, according to the rumors, you have answered some. And I know this sounds counterintuitive, but I think your ‘fickleness’ might actually be working in your favor in this case. Everyone who prays to you knows you answer the prayers you want to, not the ones they want you to. You prefer your payment in advance, and if you seem not to be accepting their offerings, they suspect that you also have no intention to answer their prayers. Just the other day I heard a woman who seemed to be, well, bragging about the fact that you were not all-powerful, which was actually somehow proof that you were real and could be relied upon, and that you needed time to rest and regain your strength before you could ‘manifest’ again.”
“What about the fact that I made an appearance in Silva Erde? Don’t people think I left Gilbratha?” she tried.
Oliver gave her a pitying look. “You can move through the shadows, traveling as fast as the sunset. And be in several places at once, watching through the eyes of any raven. And—”
“Okay, stop! I understand.” Siobhan squeezed her eyes shut, clenched her jaw, and let out a muffled whimper as she stomped her feet in place. ‘I don’t want to be involved with something like this!’ she screamed internally. ‘Why!? Why are people doing this?’ If no one were watching, she might have dropped to the ground and flailed around screaming like a child having a temper tantrum. ‘Just for once, would it be too much to ask for things to be easy?’
“It’s too late to stop it,” Oliver announced cruelly. “But at least we can mitigate the potential future damage. Before people do something dangerous in your name, like a blood Sacrifice of thirteen cows or burning an effigy of the High Crown.”
“Why are these ideas so specific?” she whispered, horrified. “Have you heard people discussing that?”
Oliver placed his hand on her shoulder sympathetically. “I cannot stop the rumors, but we could spread new ones, or even secret informational pamphlets. Something to guide what cannot be stopped. You’d need to decide what direction you want to take things, though. Maybe you should talk to the woman who’s writing a book about you?”
“Stars above!” She took a deep, stabilizing breath. “I need to think. I need time to think about…this.”
“Fair enough. Do you want to go down there and perform some magic for Theo’s birthday? He keeps talking about this raven that Katerin is convinced is imaginary…”
“Oh, do you mean Empress Regal?”
Oliver’s eyebrows rose. “Don’t tell me…”
“She’s entirely real. Perhaps I should summon her?”
> Here ends Book IV: A Foreboding of Woe.
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> The story continues in A Practical Guide to Sorcery Book V: A Cauldron of Bitterness.
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