“Rodney!” Vish awoke, his cricket’s name upon his lips, a cold sweat upon his forehead.

“By the Aether gods of Fire, Thunder and Fuckery!” Gabriel bolted upright in his cot next to Vish’s, “What’s happening? Where are we? Are we in danger?”

“I had a bad dream about Rodney.”

“You-,” Gabriel’s morning brain started to creak into action, “Oh for crying out loud, Vish.”

“You don’t understand, Gabe. You couldn’t possibly understand that feeling of true and devastating loss,” the mind-mapper sighed with his whole body.

“Yes. Yes, I couldn’t possibly understand a thing about loss now, could I? Never mind the fact that I was orphaned whilst in school, or that my sister is buried beneath the arrogant personality of an Aether-born dragon, or, or, and you might recall this one, Vish, we very recently lost our companion and friend, Figo. No, Vish, I can’t possibly understand what it’s like for you to be apart from your precious bloody cricket.”

“Thank you, Gabe. It means a lot to me that you see that.”

“Mmm,” Gabriel rubbed at him arms, “Speaking of loss, I seem to be down a blanket.”

“Yeah, I was cold.”

“You never cease to amaze me, Vish.”

The door to their chamber, a repurposed storage room in one of The Tooth’s burnt-out taverns, cracked open. A member of The Order of the Rising Dragon, one of nouveau-crazies who swapped his red robes for white after the events in Jandrir, poked his head around the corner.

“She wants to see you.”

“Now? Really?” Gabriel squinted at the one small slit in the wall, barely large enough to be called a window, and tried to make sense of the dim blue-hued light that barely broke the monotony of the room’s unadorned, grey-stone walls, “It’s hardly even morning.”

The guard shrugged, “You want me to tell her that?”

“Yeah, no, best not.”

“Thought as much. Hop to it.”

“Let me know how it goes,” Vish said, rolling over.

“Both of you.”

“Ah, man!”

They were marched out into the snow and down the street to the ramshackle remnants of the Church of Virtues. The dragon lord had repurposed the vaulted-ceilinged nave into a makeshift headquarters. She had even had some pinions and hangings thrown upon the walls in her colours, some of them even depicting her former image. To top it off, her soldiers had cobbled together a crooked version of a throne, mostly made from a bunch of benches and pews stacked precariously atop one another.

It was quiet when they entered. The guards lining the hall were unmoving, unuttering, virtually unblinking. There, at the far end, standing at the foot of her ‘throne’, was Pearl.

“Ahem,” Gabriel announced, “You wanted to see us?”

“Shhh,” Pearl said, holding up her finger.

“Ooof course.”

It was not immediately clear why they were being made to stand in absolute silence, but, as the echoes of their footsteps faded, the mercenaries started to hear it. It was a soft, barely perceptible, gurgling.

They looked up, instinctively following the sound.

Pinned to the wall by a lance of iron, slap-bang in the middle of a tapestry depicting the Communion of the Virtues, the church’s priest was busy burbling away his final breaths.

“Oh, come on,” Gabriel said turning away in disgust.

Pearl shot him a death stare and Gabriel immediately quietened again, forcing himself to watch the man’s last tragic moments, lest he incur the wrath of the dragon.

It took longer than one might expect for a person with a fourteen-foot-long stake protruding from their chest, but, finally, the priest spluttered his last, promptly soiled himself, and expired.

“Lovely.”

“Isn’t it?” Pearl rounded on Gabriel, “There’s just something so poignant about it. So, so intimate! I don’t know. Maybe it’s millennia of immortal existence which does it, or maybe I’m just a freak, who knows? But I just can’t get enough of it! It’s just so fascinating!”

“Quite.”

Pearl quivered in a manner that looked worryingly like ecstasy and then went and sat on her throne, scooping up a goblet of wine from a waiting attendee as she did, “Anyway,” she took a gulp of her drink, “what can I do for you gents?”

“Umm, you summoned us?”

“I did? Oh, right! Yes, yes, I did!” she drained the rest of her beverage and thrust it out to be refilled, “Mm, actually I just summoned the dark-skinned guy in the fancy robe. You I’m not even sure why I keep around.”

“To put it in your own words: because you enjoy the look of absolute abject misery on my face every time you use my sister’s body to murder a bunch of children,” Gabriel intoned.

“Haha, oh yeah, right! That’s it. Classic.”

“Truly, the height of comedy.”

“You’re a sarcastic fucker, Gary-”

“Gabriel.”

“- Lucky for you, I like that,” Pearl had switched out her goblet for a hunk of something meaty, on a length of something bony.

Gods’, Gabriel didn’t want to think too much about what kind of meat.

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“Since we have broached the topic again, and I do know that it is one you so love to talk about, are you quite sure I can’t offer you some other body to inhabit? One that’s, oh, I don’t know, a bit less my sister?”

“And why the hell would I do that?” Pearl said around a mouthful of flesh, “This one is perfectly fine.”

Pearl waltzed to the base of her throne and ushered over one of her guards. She admired herself in the soldier’s shimmering armour. The dragon lord stood roughly to chin height, with great, glossy, perfectly white locks that cascaded down her back like a cape. Her frame was small, but strong. Her skin glistened unnaturally white, and, notably, she had a bloody great big pair of pearlescent, scaly wings.

Pearl, as she now was, looked quite different to Natasha. Natasha, or Bling, as Vish had called her whenever her crow persona took over and she started to kleptomaniacally hoard anything shiny she could get her hands on, had been a fiery redhead before the takeover. She had had the same pretty, youthful face, but she tended to stoop beneath the weight of numerous cloaks and fabrics, not to mention baubles, daggers, knick-knacks and, once for a full week, a chandelier.

There was little in the way of familial resemblance between Gabriel and Natasha. Gabriel was lanky and pale, true, but this was in more of a spectral way then a luminescent way. He also had long hair, but his was entirely straight, dull-chestnut hair, that bobbed behind him in a loose ponytail, making him look unflatteringly like a horse. Their recent adventure had deepened some of the wrinkles on his late-twenties face, so that Gabriel now looked the older of the two siblings.

Gabriel’s ghostly pallor was accentuated by the fact that he and Vish were almost inevitably in one another’s company. The pair contrasted like bacon and maple syrup, and yet, like the unfortunate culinary pairing, were often mashed together. The trouble with this analogy is that Vish was both the bacon, and the maple syrup. The mind-mapper dressed vibrantly, regardless of the occasion. As well as favouring clothing that could be used to guide ships safely to harbour, Vish had healthy, ochre skin, framed by black hair and beard, that were well on their way to being grey. The years had added some cragginess to his soft features, so that all in all he looked, sounded, but certainly didn’t act, like he was, well, forty-two. He was forty-two.

The dragon hummed speculatively, “You know what? I look better than fine. In fact, I look downright awesome!”

Pearl concluded her preening and shooed the human mirror away.

Gabriel sank a little, but was undeterred.

“Wouldn’t you rather inhabit something a little, I don’t know, butcher? A little more masculine?”

“Masculine, feminine, ketamine, makes no difference to me. I’m a fricking dragon. I was born of the lifeblood of the universe. I really don’t care whether Jandrir high society thinks I should be wearing dresses or trousers.”

“Physically speaking, though, wouldn’t it make sense to look a little bigger? A little more intimidating? A little more like,” Gabriel cast his eye about the hall, “like that guy, for example?”

“What, Bernie? You want me to takeover Bernie?”

“I mean, it’s just an example.”

“Bernie is a dragons’ damned legend. Bernie is the backbone of my entourage. He gives great foot massages; he cooks a mean stew; he even sings, and I do not say this lightly, a pitch perfect soprano. Pitch. Perfect. And you want me to take over Bernie? What can you do, Graham? Stand about looking sullen and giving shitty advice?”

Gabriel hated himself a little when he reminded her, “I also look comically miserable.”

“Ha! Yeah, okay, there is that. I can’t believe I keep forgetting!” she wiped a tear from her eye, “Ah, don’t worry about it, Gaz, we’re cool, we’re cool,” she took a piece of fruit from the platter her servant had produced, “But, seriously, lay off of Bernie.”

“But of course.”

Pearl ascended the benches and sat regally upon her throne, “Anyway, on to real business, and the true reason I summoned you snivelling wretches before me today!”

Silence gripped the hall.

Even the guards started to fidget in dread and anticipation.

Slowly, deliberately, Pearl leant forward, and smiled, “Do that thing you do! You know, the soul swapping thing,” she motioned to Vish.

There was a collective sigh.

“You want me to map a soul from one body to another?” Vish asked slowly.

“Yeah! You know, like how you glued my soul on to George’s sister.”

Vish and Gabriel exchanged a glance. The two had worked and travelled together for almost two decades, and Gabriel had a pretty good idea that they could read one another like Gabriel could read a book, and Vish could read a menu.

The mind-mapper seemed to search his former captain’s expression and finally said:

“Ok.”

“Wait, wait, wait, what? Not ‘ok’!” Gabriel interrupted, “Mind-map why? Mind-map who?”

“Uh, for the same reason as always? Because it’s funny,” Pearl answered as if it were the most obvious thing in the continent.

“Same reason as always?” Gabriel turned slowly to Vish. “Have you… been mind-mapping people for her?”

“I mean, when she asks.”

“Just, randomly? On a whim?”

“She normally has me put them back.”

“Normally has you put them back?”

“Normally.”

“When has this been happening?”

“I did say I only summoned the mind-mapper,” the dragon said by way of answer.

“Vish, have you been using your clan’s ancient hereditary power to casually rip individuals’ souls from their bodies and imprint them on things? Have you abused one of the rarest and most powerful abilities known to creature-kind, just so that a sadistic dragon can have a little giggle?” Gabriel took a deep breath, “I need you to look me in the eye, and answer me honestly here, Vish.”

Vish chewed his lip, “Dooo you though?”

“You know what? Enough of this!” Pearl interrupted, “I will not have my hobbies judged by some mortal who looks like a pipe-cleaner. Go and sit in the corner, you silly little man.”

“Are you for real?”

“The corner! Before I decide I’ve found a more entertaining way to enjoy your suffering.”

Gabriel slunk off to the corner with a muttered, “Unbelievable.”

“Now,” Pearl said, regaining her composure, “Do the thing!” she said with an excited wiggle.

“Alright,” Vish yawned, “Who?”

“Oh, I dunno,” Pearl spotted her cupbearer standing vigil next to the plate of fruit on the arm of her throne, “this guy.”

There was a low whine, “Please, my liege, not again.”

“Quiet, you,” she started looking about again, “imprint him onto… ah, perfect! This,” she held up a grape.”

“Alrighty,”

Vish shuffled up to the attendant, still standing at attention, only now with his eyes closed.

“Sorry, buddy,” the mind-mapper said, as he placed a hand on the man’s temple.

The young man opened himself to the mind-mapper, allowing Vish to penetrate the natural defences that any self-aware creature has, and shunt his soul from his body. Almost instantaneously, the soul was flung the infinitesimally huge distance from groom to grape.

The attendee crumpled to the ground, his body temporarily devoid of any conscious life.

Pearl delicately pinched the grape between thumb and forefinger. She squealed in delight.

“Brilliant! Brilliant!” she said, smacking her leg as she peered over her throne at the jumble of limbs to her side, “Honestly, it never fails to entertain.”

“Pretty cool, right?”

“What else can you do?”

“Eh, a thing here, a thing there.”

“You’ll have to show me sometime.”

“I suspect I will have to,” Vish shrugged.

Pearl regarded the mind-mapper, “You know what, Vish, there might actually be some practical applications for your ability,” she said, munching the grape thoughtfully.

“Oooh,” Vish and half the guards winced.

“Oh, bugger.”

“Gods’,” Gabriel groaned.

“Shit, I seem to be down a cupbearer. Pity, he was rather good. Oh well! Onwards and upwards! Looks like it’s your time to shine, Glen,” she clicked her fingers at Gabriel, “Congratulations on the promotion. Don’t screw it up.”

Gabriel regarded the empty body of his predecessor, “I’m not sure I’m qualified to be your cupbearer… oh, great one.”

“Not qualified to pour wine and fetch food? No, probably not. You’ll figure it out, though! Or I’ll kill you. Win-win, really.”

“Win-win, indeed.”

“Now get this mess out of the way and start preparing my feast. I need some brain food tonight. I’ve got to figure out a way to build up an army, and quick-quick. I can’t link up with Ruby empty-handed. That would piss big brother right off,” the last few words were hard to decipher, as Pearl was busy picking gristle out of her teeth.

“It might be easier to build up an army if you don’t indiscriminately kill the majority of people you meet.”

“What did you just say to me?”

Gabriel froze on the spot, one of the attendee’s feet in each hand, “I, uh…”

Pearl perched on the edge of her throne, “You know what, cupbearer? You might not be as stupid as you look.”