Liam possessed only a handful of memorable experiences from his time doing office work. At a ripe and fresh thirty-odd years of life, he had a little over a decade's worth of time spent in that space with off-white cubicle walls, buzzing office lights, and the clicking sound of keyboards from computers twenty years past their expiration date. Yet out of the muck of flavorless hours wasted within a dozen different equally bland companies, Liam distinctly remembered the day when Gabrielle Green came to his little corner of Helheim.
Gabrielle Greene was the boss of the boss of the boss of Liam’s boss. She was a woman twenty years his senior and with the impetus of a scalpel. Cold, sharp, precise, and deadly. She could have served as a palliative against summer heat, a mere glare from her blue eyes chilling a room. When she spoke, you could be assured someone would suffer consequences. To the people on Liam’s level, she was a myth, a horror story you would share between hushed whispers.
And that day she’d visited him, specifically.
The meeting was brief; she told him exactly two things.
First, she congratulated him on the finance report he’d made during his free time. She praised his ability to spot how management had been misusing the department's resources, and she even pointed out that his reporting system would be integrated into every department moving forward.
The second was that he, and everyone in his department, were fired effective immediately.
Understanding what had transpired didn’t come to him until years later when he stumbled upon a picture of his old department head on a fishing trip with the now new CEO of the same company. After that, it was easy enough to connect the dots. His report had been a heavy blow to the department head, and the friends further up the ladder chose to respond by unleashing Greene on the problem.
Liam had come to the breakfast fully expecting Aisha al-Hakim to be some variation of Greene: a ruthlessly competent woman, one who’d been tasked to deal with him by someone further up the chain of command. After all, only the Vizier could appoint or fire an Amil, and the guy possessed several blessings from several deities, Thalgrim included among them, making him an easy in for many of the Gods to have an influential pawn within the politics of the Caliphate.
In short, he’d imagined that staying as a guest had been a “well done, good game”, and now the guillotine was coming his way.
What he got was… not that.
On one hand, Aisha al-Hakim was a charming woman around his age, if not maybe a couple of years his senior. She was smart, intensely so, and there was something about how her smile would dimple sometimes that made her almost disarming and easy to approach. On the other hand, there was an intensity to her gaze whenever she looked at the silver ring on his right hand, or the way she used silence as a way to draw the conversation out, it left him feeling off-balance and almost as if being interrogated.
The questions were sharp, and frequently aimed at subjects Liam was trying to not talk about for his own safety if nothing else. If anything, he suspected that the spell she cast, the one that left her with dimly glowing eyes, had been something intended to sniff secrets out and detect lies. He was walking on eggshells, and he couldn’t risk a slip-up where it might lead to suspicion.
Maybe this was what Wolf had meant with a hunt devoid of violence.
“I’ve been meaning to ask, but where did you come from? I’d thought that, with your complexion, you were perhaps from the Ice-Mountains, but the journey from there would’ve taken years.” She took a small bite from her fish, a well-spiced mackerel, with olive oil on top. “How could you have protected yourself from the sun so thoroughly during your travels?”
“I had a bit of a teleportation mishap.” Escaping soldiers of the Weaver’s church. “And there wasn’t much direct sunlight within the Twilight Jungle.” Rust-moss light didn’t tan due to a lack of UV. “But even so, I get burned easily, so I tend to stick to the shade whenever I can, otherwise I’m just flip-flopping between deathly pale and tomato red.”
Aisha laughed, a soft lilt. “You would’ve been quite popular within the diwan.”
“I can’t say I’m familiar with the term.”
"It is those near and around the sultan, not the harem, but those who aid in carrying out his will, while also ensuring the Caliphate runs smoothly." Another small bite of fish, letting out a bored sigh. "They are a whimsical bunch, but I’m sure someone as exotic as you would have garnered a fair share of favors." Her gaze traveled down his right shoulder to the silver ring. "Though I wouldn’t recommend staying there too long, as all things are prone to become entangled in politics."
Liam swallowed. She had meant the court, and he knew exactly how that situation would have turned out. The Caliphate was no stranger to slavery, and anyone in possession of traits that were a bit too alluring was at risk of meeting the business end of a branding tool. Worse still, the politics of the court were ruthless, and one preferred method of attacking your opponent was to damage their “exotic” property.
"And you were part of the court?" he asked, trying to potentially dig out some usable detail from her.
"I was fortunate enough to catch the Vizier’s eye during my time as a katib, that is, a scribe," she made a flourish with her right hand as if holding an invisible quill. "Your vocabulary is an odd one. Did you perhaps learn Caliphate-common at a temple?"
Liam relaxed a little with this new line of inquiry. "Why? Do I mispronounce some of the words?"
"Not technically, rather, it is of the older formal Caliphate-common. It is the sort of pronunciation among imams and sheikhs, that is, priests and temple elders," she gave a slight dimpled smile as she sipped at her tea. "I must admit that speaking to you in such a casual setting is disorienting to a degree. Part of me is half expecting a lecture about showing proper respect to someone carrying a divine blessing."
They shared a laugh, Liam’s more a half-hearted chuckle, as his gaze discreetly checked their surroundings. When his focus returned to her, he caught her eyes lingering on the silver ring.
He glanced at the machalite stones, not sensing anything amiss, wondering if maybe he had put it on the wrong finger. "Is there something wrong?" He was fairly sure he had followed the traditional customs, but now he wasn’t so sure.
Aisha’s dark skin took a barely perceptible darker hue as her eyes snapped up to his. "Nothing wrong," she spoke urgently, emerald eyes still glowing with faint traces of the spell she had cast at the beginning of their meal. "No, nothing wrong," she reiterated with a slight cough, taking a measured sip from her tea. "You said you weren’t a mage?"
"Unfortunately, I never had the chance to learn." He would have probably killed for the chance to have actual magic as a kid, but then again, so would everyone he had ever known.
"And you do now?" Aisha’s perfectly groomed brow rose slightly.
There was a brief moment of panic; he definitely did not want her finding out that he was practicing with a divine tool made by what she would call a demon. But at the same time, he couldn’t outright lie without risking whatever she had going from catching it. "Your skill at the craft is quite inspiring. I’d certainly hope to be able to make spells look like works of art like you do."
Aisha’s dark complexion made it near impossible for Liam to catch the blush, but he did notice a slight hitch in her voice. "I am only a second-circle mage; my spell-knots are not as grand as you make them out to be."
The proclamation nearly made him choke on the flatbread.
It was like finding the missing piece of the puzzle.
"You mastered a single high-ranking spell."
The typical way to gauge a mage’s capabilities was through how broad their knowledge was, knowledge that could not grow deeper without corresponding skill. But there were only two ways to broaden that knowledge: either learn new spell-knots from teachers or manuscripts, or experiment and find new ones on your own. The latter of the two was an incredibly expensive and dangerous endeavor.
The Amil had grown up as a scribe, embroiled in politics, with little time or reason to do more than merely take what she’d learned and refine it.
“What of it?” Aisha’s voice came brusquely, shooting him an icy glare.
“You mastered a high-ranking spell!” Liam leaned forward, grasping her hands tightly, a smile so wide his cheeks ached. “Don’t you see? Learning a spell and mastering it are two entirely different things. To master a spell of high complexity requires a level of skill only a fourth-circle mage could possess!” It was only when their eyes met, and he saw how close their faces were that he appeared to realize what he was doing, pulling away quickly. “Ah, excuse me.”
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“W-Whatever for?” She pulled her teacup up to her lips to hide her flustered expression. “Your enthusiasm is… there is nothing wrong with it. Even if your claims are a tad exaggerated.”
Liam frowned. “You have the skill to become a fourth-circle mage, if not higher.” Even if he lacked the knowledge to be sure, an aspect of a literal multi-billion-year-old deity had confirmed it.
“Perhaps a matter to consider another time.” Aisha deflected, taking a very long gulp from her tea and avoiding eye contact. “If… if it is not too bold of me to ask, what would your goals be by any chance? What will Liam do once his business in Doeta is finished?”
“Oh, uhm…” He scratched his cheek, quietly cataloging what she would undoubtedly become aware of through her own contacts. “A friend of mine confirmed that Nuremo fell to a monster attack and the city’s basically empty, so I was thinking of gathering as large a labor force as I could get away with and head over.”
Aisha hesitated. “The monster has yet to be dealt with.”
“I’m not interested in fighting the monster.” Apparently, the news of its ‘defeat’ had yet to spread, which meant they still had a first-mover advantage once they got there. Hopefully, it’d be enough to strong-arm others into staying away. “We’ll wait if we have to, but the goal is to start repairs and secure the place.” He shrugged. “My friend has hopes that once everything settles, titles start getting thrown around.”
She perked up a little. “Nuremo is not too far from Doeta,” she claimed thoughtfully, glancing at him from over the lip of her cup before taking a long sip. “But you haven’t spoken of your goals, only your friend’s.”
“This project is kind of a big deal, with lots of potential to go really well or horribly wrong,” he grinned a little. “My goals will mostly depend on whether they’ll be in a position to help me out or not.”
After all, there was no sense in asking Maridah to return the favor if she was under the pantheon’s boot.
“I see…” Aisha kept looking at him as if he were a puzzle, flickering back down to the ring. “And where would I fit into your plans?”
“Uhm…” He glanced at the ring, then up at her. “I… am not sure what you mean?”
The Amil paused, confusion apparent in her eyes as her hand reflexively reached out to the jade pendant that hung around her neck, a design that Liam immediately recognized as the same one Grauch had worn. The confusion turned to shock, eyes widening into what could only be horror.
“I am not-!” The words were choked out, stopping at an abrupt trill. Her eyes kept staring down at the ring and then up at his face. “I-I was informed I have important matters to attend to.”
She turned around and walked away in a rush.
Liam sat there, dumbfounded and staring in the general direction of her departure. He was left entirely uncertain about what had just happened. The words played back in a loop, stuck and entirely unable to escape.
A gentle cough startled him, and he saw Grauch emerge. “The Amil apologizes for her departure and expresses her desire that this not ruin your meal,” he spoke smoothly, bowing slightly. “She also wished for you to enjoy the festivities.”
“Thanks?” He kept staring at the platters with food in front of him.
Yeah, maybe he needed to clear his head a little too.
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Aisha al-Hakim had stormed directly into her study, her abaya barely tight enough to keep her from making a full run for it. She slammed the door behind her, not bothering to order the servants to leave, for they had known to make a run for it the instant they had seen her approach.
The woman rushed to her desk and sat down.
She smoothed her hijab, the mantle on her shoulders, and then stared directly ahead.
Old habits rushed into place, her face became an embodiment of stoicism, her back straightened, and she became the image of self-control and poise. For but a moment, she was the Amil, the one who had ruled over the coin purses of every man, woman, and child in the city. She was a representative of the Vizier, her word was practically law, thus her every action was measured and calculated. Hers was the hand that could bring ruin or fortune to any she so pleased within this city.
The next moment, she was Aisha al-Hakim, the woman who had forgotten all about the subtle interrogation she was supposed to carry out because she had stupidly spent the whole meal quietly marveling at the swirls and stars hidden right under her guest's skin. Only to then remember at the last second, and humiliate herself by bungling up and leaving the man believing she was somehow insinuating a proposal!
Proposing! Her! When she had volunteered to become Amil of such a distant place to escape the nightmare of her family trying to marry her off.
The worst part was that she had no one but herself to blame. Her servant had used the pendant to warn her about the meaning of rings to the man's culture at the very start of the meal. Yet her gaze had been unable to escape the pull of the glowing art he wore on his arm; she had been so lost in the beauty of those swirls that she had needed to be reminded about it when her blunder hadn't clicked immediately.
It was the kind of mistake not even a fresh-eyed alim would have made.
Her forehead met the desk with a thud.
"What is wrong with me?" She groaned out for no one but herself to hear.
"Nothing is wrong with you."
The voice startled Aisha; she made to move but froze as her eyes fell upon the lone figure opposite her desk.
An image of herself, yet more. It was a copy of Aisha in the same way that a master copied their student's work and improved upon it. This woman was older, regal, adorned in gold and jewels befitting a sultana, possessing a presence that imposed itself upon the very air around her. Yet there was one thing that was not there; this image, seated across from Aisha, had white eyes that glowed with power.
"Nothing is wrong with you, Aisha al-Hakim, fateful encounters are always... memorable."
"Who are you?" She spoke, barely able to remain composed, her mind spinning as she wondered whether this was an attack or...
"You know who I am, Aisha, it was I who wove your escape from your father's obsessive clutches. I was the one that made the Vizier's gaze turn your way when a spot opened among his scribes."
Eyes widened, words choked, Aisha restrained her first impulse to throw herself down to her knees. "If you are who you claim you are..."
"'Trust but verify' is an adage older than the Caliphate, I will not fault you for questioning me." She made a dismissive gesture, as if throwing away some undesirable thing over to the side. "One of my high-priestesses has come to the city. She will be meeting with the followers of my temple by noon." The mirror Aisha leaned forward, placing a coin on the table. "Call upon her and give her this token; she will verify its origin, and my words."
She dared not touch the piece of silver, or even look upon it, instead focusing on the supposed deity.
"I..." Aisha hesitated.
"Fret not for formality, girl; if I cared for it, I would have not come to you in a moment of privacy." The Weaver's lips curled into the same stern line Aisha's mother used whenever there was a reason to scold her. "The man you met, Liam, is in grave danger. Two demons have been shadowing his every step since he left the Twilight Jungle, whispering promises into his ear. The calamity they serve seeks to sink roots into this city and corrupt it from within."
"Is Liam-"
"He is an unwitting accomplice, but under their influence all the same," the Weaver dismissed her concerns. "You must not act any differently than you already have. The demons are cowardly things and dare not expose their presence. They will keep their distance from him if you are nearby, but only if they feel that their ploy is not being unraveled." A scowl formed. "If they suspect anything amiss, he will be their first victim."
Aisha’s mind spun with implications and emotions she’d never thought she would have to battle. If this was truly the Weaver… no, she would verify. The problem presented to her was that she was the Amil; she had power over the economics of the city, not the military. If any of the books she’d read on the matter proved true, then just one demon could prove a calamity to the city as a whole, but two!? And they were chasing after Liam. Was-
Taking a deep breath to calm herself, she met the Weaver’s gaze with a stern look. “What would you need of me?”
"There are illegal gambling establishments within the city; have them raided the day after tomorrow," the Goddess handed Aisha a list of locations, each of them was known to her. The reason those dens had remained standing was that tax-dodgers often used them, so it let her have a finger on the city’s pulse. "The only thing you will need to do afterwards is to bring that human to this room, and my priestess will cleanse him of corruption," the Goddess continued, lips twisting into a grin. "I will ensure the demons will be unable to find him when the time is right."
“I will inform the other temples as well.”
The Weaver stirred at Aisha’s words, hastily gesturing for her to silence. “Speak to no one of the details of this conversation save my high priestess, and only mention of my presence here to my priests." There was a moment of hesitation on the part of the Goddess as she stood up. "I’ve shared this with you, girl, because I trust you will be discreet." Her hand made an aggravated quick gesture. "Do this well, and I will see to it that you receive ample rewards."
She motioned at herself as if hinting at such a future before she vanished, leaving only the silver coin behind.
Aisha grit her teeth as she watched the spot the supposed deity had occupied, feeling a reminiscent wave of irritation. She had a few choice words she would’ve wished to speak, but dared not blaspheme when a god might still be listening. She would’ve also questioned why she wasn’t supposed to contact the other temples but knew better than to ignore the warning. It would not be the first time she was expected to follow strict instructions, though this time she wouldn’t be taking them to heart without at least getting a dozen priests from her temple to confirm this had indeed been the Weaver.
And… it wasn’t as if the command had been too outrageous. Just clean up some illegal gambling dens and get Liam to meet a high priest in private.
Aisha’s gaze fell on the “token” her uninvited guest had left behind.
The silver coin tinkled on her desk. It was like no coin she’d seen before, as its surface was intricately decorated with jewels smaller than grains of sand. The pattern depicted on the face of the coin was a web of intertwined knots with hundreds of crossings, a spell-knot of some sort, of a complexity far above anything Aisha had ever seen. The object almost seemed to vibrate with the power contained within, and though she felt tempted, she dared not look upon it through her divination spell.
Whatever was inside the coin felt dangerous in the same way a naked blade would be. A threat looming in wait for someone to use.
The Amil studiously turned to look away from the coin, covering it with a piece of silk cloth. Her mind turned back to the conversation, carefully going over every word, brows furrowed in concentration.
What had she meant with her encounter with Liam being a fated one? The question made her oddly more nervous than the prospect of having demons in her city. No, that should not be her concern right now. A cult was a threat to all, and as the Amil, she would protect Doeta.
As to Liam… he was her guest; as his host, she could not ignore his safety either.
She nodded with some reassurance, feeling that it was a far more reasonable explanation than the alternative she dared not think of.