“There’s a problem with this idea,” Zirilla said, crossing her arms. “It’s that I’m level 17.”

I’d told her and Hassina about the behemoth wyvern, and told them that I intended Zirilla to come and help me kill it.

She was the natural choice. My bow wouldn’t do anything, [Surge Pool] or no. It was simply too big; its armor plating was thicker in some places than my arrows were long.

This was a hunt that would need to be done with lightning, and strong lightning at that. Zirilla and I had been working together double up our bolts for a long time. She was the perfect choice.

I’d thought about bringing a few of the stormcallers, but I didn’t want to confront it with more than two of us. If things went badly, even for a moment, every warrior in the field would be someone I’d have to rush to defend. One target was the least risk, especially Zirilla. She was a better flyer than I was.

“I’m thinking we should get you to twenty two,” I said. “Twenty five, if we can manage it by the end of the day and the enchanters can prepare something for the extra binding.”

“Twenty two is possible, I think,” Zirilla. “Twenty five? I’m not so sure.”

Zirilla’s class was fourth tier. Beyond tenth level, a class granted a skill core every ten minus its tier levels. Hence I gained a skill every five levels, Zirilla every six—twenty two was her next. [Bestow], however, increased every five levels for everyone.

“We can do it at twenty two,” I said. “But the added [Bestow] will be a help.”

“Is there a reason to rush that I’m unaware of?” asked Hassina, looking between us. “Why do you need to do this today?”

“With the essence we gain from the hunt, we’ll have everyone at their level limit by the time we bed down,” I explained. “The night will pass in greater safety, and in the morning we can start sending our windcallers into the mountains to explore possible settlement locations without having to worry about the behemoth. Whereas If we wait until tomorrow, we have to do the hunt tomorrow—and the whole schedule is pushed back. The cost of making the attempt is that Zirilla and I leave for more than an hour or so to go there, fight, and come back—the worst outcome, realistically, is that we have to retreat.”

“Another day will make you both stronger,” said Hassina. “Could bolster some of the stormcallers….” She saw Zirilla shaking her head and stopped.

“Aziriel’s right to just want one partner for this,” said Zirilla. “She stays in front, keeps it occupied, and aims the bolts. I stay behind and function as a glorified mana and lightning reserve, and swoop in to rescue her if things really go south. It’s a lot harder to coordinate even three lightning callers than it is two, and there’s a much greater risk from added bodies. Two is how we do it if we want a safe opening to retreat.”

“And you agree that we should do this… today? It feels… overeager.”

Zirilla scowled. “Is this also in the realm of your duties, your holiness? If you feel it’s in poor judgement, I’m not sure what can change your mind if being gainsaid by myself and Lux Irovex isn’t enough.”

More frustrations on account of Hassina’s story. “Zirilla,” I said, letting a little iron into my voice.

Zirilla sighed, looking down for a moment, then back up at Hassina. “My apologies, your holiness. My remark was… unsuited to our stations.”

Hassina gave a light nod and spoke with an airy, quiet voice. “Think nothing of it, Zirilla. Your point was reasonable, and is taken. You two have the right of it.”

Zirilla sighed. Then she looked around at the cave, frowning. “I want to get out of here,” she said. “Get us all out of here, I mean. I’m too worried about flooding,” she said. “Aerial superpredators too, and anything from the deeper parts of the earth… but mostly just rain and the elementals it could bring. The faster we can get out of this cave, the better—and if I can get to twenty five today….” She shrugged. “I doubt I can hit level thirty tomorrow. You know how much harder it gets to raise limit, and Aziriel’s won’t come faster than mine. It’s not going to make much difference for us to wait another day, but it could make a difference to strike fast. It’s going to shave a whole day off the time it takes to get our scouts into those mountains.”

“If you’re both sure, then,” Hassina said. “What do you need?”

“We’ll need to pack me full of some stronger keys,” said Zirilla, nodding. “Get me enough [Air] skills to make up for my relatively smaller attribute pool so that I can fly as fast as Aziriel.”

“We may be lacking in some of the keys,” Hassina said.

“I can kill things,” I said pointedly.

“Oh—we know, Aziriel,” said Hassina.

“I meant that I can go get us any keys we’re lacking,” I said. “But with the basketful of boons I just gave you, her [Air] and [Body] needs should be covered. We just might need some [Mana] and [Surge]. Do you mind if she uses your slate?”

Hassina’s eyes flicked over to Zirilla, her expression protective. “I’ll find a place,” she said. “We can use small lettering.”

Very soon Zirilla had begun listing her needed skills on a small patch of Hassina’s writing space.

!—Zirilla’s Skills:

0: [Elemental Power 20]

2: [Lightning Magick 7]

4: [Earth Magick 8]

6: [Air Magick 13]

8: [Kite’s Grace 13]

10: [Wind’s Grace 8] > [Avian Grace 8]

“I’ll need keys to upgrade my [Air Magick],” she said. “But it needs to be done. Other than that, more flying, some mana, and a defense against those rocks that Aziriel mentioned—it’ll be lethal if one hits me. Keep the [Kite’s Grace] I’ve got already, because other aerial skills don’t compare. Replace my [Fire Magick] with another air skill. [Wind’s Grace] if we have the keys, [Avian Grace] if not. Other than that:”

16: [Wind Drinker 13]

22: [Earthen Might]

“Keep [Wind Drinker], obviously, because the mana in the air here is so dense. I kept [Earth Magick] so that we can add [Earthen Might]. As high as we can get it. [Strength] is movement on the ground, and I’ll need [Aegis] for defense if things go wrong. Mostly it’s so that I can sense any rocks that thing throws at me fast enough to dodge.”

[Wind Drinker] was a skill that would help her with flight and allow her to absorb mana from the air, much like my [Primeval Mana Hide]. A thought occurred to me as she mentioned it, one that I felt should have been obvious: the behemoth must have been using such an skill. Perhaps [Wind Drinker], perhaps [Primeval Mana Hide], perhaps something else… but a behemoth with a mana-drinking skill had much more bodily surface area to channel mana through. Surface area was only one part of the skill’s formula for determining how much mana its bearer drank… but still, this thing was likely gathering hundreds or even more than a thousand mana with every beat of its wings.

“Bindings,” said Zirilla. “Mana skills for the lightning, along with an armor skill. I’ve got the first two already:”

B1: [Surging Power]

B2: [Bountiful Mana]

B3: [Elemental Channeling]

B4: [Elemental Armor]

“[Elemental Channeling] for more [Channel] and potency, and [Elemental Armor] to help maintain the tactical advantages that come with not being dead.”

Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

“Have you been going around with no [Armor] skill?” I asked her.

“I just make sure there’s people between me and anything I attack,” she explained. Then she shrugged. “I can fly, that’s a form of defense.”

Sometimes it was a wonder to me how Zirilla had survived for so long. “As long as it’s fixed by the time we leave,” I said.

“I think we can do all this,” said Hassina.

“Good,” said Zirilla. “The point is essentially to make sure I can fly faster than Aziriel, since having to pull her out is a potential situation. I can shock her awake if she falls unconscious, but that could still leave a few seconds of having to carry her.”

“You’re not going to have too much [Source],” said Hassina. “Not from skills, at least.”

“It’s most of what I’ve leveled since I got here,” said Zirilla. “I needed it to keep up with my natural [Channel].”

“She’ll have plenty of time to gather mana into circles,” I said. “It’ll work.”

“Are we sure we want you with no [Life] skills?” I asked.

“I’ll use yours if I scrape my knees.”

“Exhaustion could set in,” I said.

“I’ll fight tired,” she said, laughing. “Were you this soft when I swore my loyalty to you? Poor Aziriel, can’t ascend to the top of the highest mountain and fight a behemoth to death without getting short of breath, needs her [Life Magick] to keep her going.” She gave me a meaningful look. “There’s always [Water of Life]. You could carry the gourd, you know.”

I scowled. “I’m not carrying the gourd just to potentially save your life.” I turned to Hassina. “If we’re done with her, I’ll be soaking up some spare keys too. [Air Magick] from 9 to 14, if we have the keys. [Lightning Magick] on both of us needs whatever [Elemental] keys we can spare. And if we still have any past that, my [Elemental Power] could use an upgrade.”

“The last one is pushing it,” said Hassina. “But the rest I think we can manage. Give me a moment and I’ll send you out with a list of what I need.”

“Anything else?” Zirilla asked. “I’ve got to get going if I want to hit 25.”

“Sure,” I said. “For one, consider overwriting your [Fire Magick] now, with an [Armor] skill, so that you can push yourself harder by being more comfortable with risk.”

Zirilla frowned. “That’s a good idea,” she said, crossing her arms and looking mildly annoyed about it.

“Second,” I said. I looked between them, then sighed. “We’ll just do this now: you two have a problem and I don’t like it. Surely a walk in the mists together or a shared meal could burn away any acrimoniousness either of you is feeling.”

Zirilla stiffened. “Neither of us is failing in our duties, Aziriel. I see no reason to treat a little cool air as anything but that—air.”

“And you, Hassina?”

Hassina’s eyes were locked on Zirilla’s. “I swore to the gods and the elves that I would do a duty, and I have done it. I’d rather bear cool air than have her hide her feelings for your sake.”

“And this is about the story, yes?” I asked Zirilla. “I haven’t missed some other obvious source of enmity?”

“Yes, Aziriel,” said Zirilla. “This is about the story.”

I nodded. “Tell me, then. What is your mind on this matter—and are our people of a mind with you?”

Zirilla turned to me, and didn’t spare so much as a glance at Hassina when my question was finished. “Do you need to ask me this now?”

“I do.”

Zirilla nodded stiffly. “Of course they are of a mind with me—and some, I think, are more hard-hearted about it than I am. There are so many mixed emotions among our people right now, so many complexities of loyalty and fear and hope, that I can’t see what she was possibly hoping to learn or warn of by telling the tale of Narana at Ithmel Bel.”

She’d begun to talk faster, now, pace quickening with anger and frustration. “Was it her intention to sound out those among your followers who would follow you blindly by watching to see who among us grew enraged? We’re all already enraged; everyone we knew just died. Was it her intention to make us second-guess the irrevocable decision to follow you by reminding us that you, you—with all your years—have not always been found on the right side of history? It cannot be,” she said, voice now trembling with subdued anger, “—cannot be that she wished to remind us that we must all work together by reminding us of Narana’s words. Nothing could have run more counter to the purpose of uniting elvenkind than telling that story.”

I listened to all of this and kept my expression impassive. She had a habit of getting wordier whenever she was emotional, of falling into our more archaic speech patterns. She was a lot like me in that way, Zirilla—just better at it. “And so we fracture beneath the blow that our Grand Storyteller has told with her single story, on our first night. In a time when we need division the least. You know as well as I that the high elves don’t like to work with us, let alone take orders from us. This colony was always going to be hard on that front—and her story wasn’t helping us with that problem, it was that problem.”

“I see,” I said, keeping my voice and face impassive. “And the soldiers? The civilians from Ellistara?”

“The civilians are largely even-tempered about it,” said Zirilla, seeming to grow calmer. “They follow your lead, which is to do nothing and carry on—to respect the authority of the Grand Storyteller. The soldiers—well, they’re more loyal to you than to our traditions. Soldiers and their commanders see the hour of tales more as a time for relief—for jokes and camaraderie, not political maneuvers. The soldiers are now against the high priest. And the young, the unskilled, the unruly—they say that Hassina’s shadow is… overlong. That the High Priest somehow… oversteps.”

“And have you spoken with any of them on this matter?” I asked.

Zirilla let out a humorless laugh. “Hassina has many gifts. I’ve cast my vote for her, almost unerringly, since she was but a century and a half old. I don’t see the wisdom in this division, but neither do I think she is wise because she merely agrees with me in everything. I tell the fools to bite their tongues, and that the protocol here is clear. They’re disciplined, even if they’re angry, and they’ll obey. It’s mostly been Valir whose been keeping them in order, though, and he’s less gentle about it than I would be.”

“Good,” I said.

I’d more or less expected that despite all her frustrations and her bitter remarks, Zirilla wouldn’t tolerate dissent in the ranks. Personal feelings didn’t interfere with her duties—if they had, she wouldn’t be one of my most trusted subordinates.

“And you?” Zirilla asked. “Am I ever going to get to learn your feelings on this, Aziriel?”

“Not today,” I said. “That would be all—go level.”

Zirilla gave a curt nod, then left us.

It was back to Hassina and I. She eyed me coolly, but said nothing of the conversation I’d just made her witness.

“I’m going to go hunt the keys we’ll need,” I told her. “Is there anything else we should discuss before I go?”

“The orchestra,” she said.

I gave a tilt of my head. I’d expected her to say something about Zirilla, not the music.

“To be clear,” she said. “You’re asking me to put together a concert for a group of potentially hostile, overwhelmingly powerful elementals who will decide how useful we are to them based on how well we perform—and might decide to destroy us regardless.”

“It’s not so bad,” I told her. “You’ll have what writings on the subject we’ve brought, and can ply the minds of the elders, Zirilla and I especially. You’ll assemble the proper people and strike the right chord. I’m sure of it.”

“Oh, certainly. But I was picked for my extraordinary talents, not my experience. My guess is that Zirilla has done this before—played for the elementals, I mean.”

I gave a small smile. “I know just the remedy for a lack of experience. You are the conductor, your holiness.”

“That I am,” she said, flashing me a confident smile. “And yet I wonder if there are, perhaps, less crucial moments to put forth the untested when some of the more, shall we say, vigorously tested are near at hand. Wisdom is, after all, the providence of the divine. Perhaps wisdom speaks now to say that it I ought set aside my ego and allow one with more—”

“It doesn’t,” I said flatly. “Wisdom agrees with me, Hassina.”

Hassina worked her mouth, clearly frustrated. “But… I’m the one who speaks with wisdom’s voice,” she said. “I am, after all—”

“The high priest,” I finished. “And thus the conductor.” I fixed her with a look that I meant to be a challenge: either your authority holds in both cases, or in neither. In either case, you’re conducting the orchestra.

Hassina was quiet a moment. “You can do it,” she said at last. “I know you can.”

I gazed back at her. Hassina’s lightheartedness and confidence weren’t false, but they were a kind of alloy between falsehood and truth, between irony and authenticity. It made her warm and welcoming to be around, everyone’s friend. It helped her to alleviate the insecurities of others by turning them into jokes.

But it was a double-edged sword. Jesters can dance their way through a conversation in such an amusing fashion that it’s easy to miss how much they avoid confronting.

So what if she was scared? One day—and it might be soon—she would not only have to withstand the pressures of command because she was ordered to, but elect to put herself in that position all on her own, even in the face of uncertainty.

And I would burden her with as much uncertainty as I thought she could face, for this.

“You might fail,” I admitted. “Worse, you might fail where another could have succeeded. Worst of all, the consequences for your failure are unthinkable.”

Hassina sagged, looking up at me with eyes that were suddenly tired.

I could have told her that she had to be comfortable with the full breadth of her authority—that if she was worried I was accruing too much power, as her story had seemed to suggest, she couldn’t then turn around and rely on me, of all people, to protect her from her duties. But I decided to be gentler.

“If you should feel like I’ve lit a fire beneath your feet, your holiness,” I said, reaching out to clasp her shoulder. My voice hardened. “It’s because I have. Now do as we all must and dance.”