It was only a short walk and considering all the trouble someone had evidently gone to to get them all here, it was curiously underwhelming to be walked around by what looked like a city bureaucrat. Even more so, considering the fight that Dia had put up in the tavern, Arne would have expected at least one escape attempt or a roaring verbal shitstorm at the very least. And the little smile Toog had given when Arne interrupted being introduced by his old name gave him a feeling that Toog was unlikely to be blinded by food or fear, though they might want to appear that way. Toog vanishing underway seemed to Arne almost a certainty, though perhaps Toog was just waiting for Dia to start shouting again as a distraction.

But here they were, at a nondescript door in a nondescript street in a nondescript neighbourhood. Neither wealthy nor poor. Just a normal wooden door, slightly bent and cracked with the heat like all the others. And both Toog and Dia were still there. Arne couldn’t help but wonder what they had been threatened with.

Their bureaucrat caretaker knocked at the door and it swung open. Or rather, it opened inward and disappeared in the layer of darkness that was revealed. Just darkness. A black, impenetrable mass sat in the doorway.

“Well?” their bureaucrat said impatiently, gesturing at the door.

“Are you staying on this side?” Arne asked.

“Yes, of course. And time’s a wasting.”

“Now, there’s something to motivate us,” Arne shrugged. He briefly looked at the other two. Dia was looking from the chaperone to Arne as if daring him and despite the nervous thundering of his heart, he almost found it funny. Toog stood transfixed, staring into the darkness. Arne sighed inwardly, took a second to appreciate being alive and walked through the darkness.

He expected… something. Some kind of sensation of having passed a threshold. But there was nothing. The only effect of passing through the wall of darkness was that he was now inside a house. A very large and lavishly appointed house if the entrance hall was anything to judge by. Before he did anything else, Arne scanned the room, walls and ceilings both, for the creature that had attacked him. Apart from the doorman, no other things appeared present.

The man who had opened the door and still stood impassive next to it was large and looked tired. Well, dead and tired. He was clad in a servant’s uniform; simple white tunic and black trousers with a sash to mark his rank in the household, all of it of extremely high quality. His short beard was well trimmed, and his dark eyes sat in sunken sockets and stared at nothing.

Arne quickly looked around, taking in the luxurious surroundings. The walls were covered in polished sandstone slabs, carved in intricate patterns and painted in bright blue and green colours edged in gold. Large vases with fresh flowers stood on the edge of a beautifully fashioned little fountain in the middle of the room. The running water gave the large room a lively, cool feel.

Arne noticed that the entire room was lit with fine lamps of metal filigree and colourful glass hanging from the ceiling. There were no windows at all, not even the little ones under the eaves people usually kept. Not completely unusual, since the sun and heat were ever present challenges that dictated everything from architecture to fashion in Arabesk, but it was still a very thorough and consistent approach.

There were three exits. A large set of double doors inlaid with polished copper, a hallway leading off to the left and the door he had come from, which from this side seemed completely normal. Out in the street, Dia and Toog stood, still trying to decide what to do.

Arne stepped aside so the others could enter and looked out at them. He saw Toog, enormous bag held under one arm, stare at Dia. The young woman shrugged her delicate shoulders, sent the bureaucrat a sour sneer and then stepped through.

A moment later, Toog followed while Dia looked around, taking in their surroundings.

Toog stood transfixed in the doorway and stared at the doorman. He had still not said anything or even looked down to acknowledge any of them.

“So, what happens now. I have places to burn and people to punish,” Dia stated.

“Yes, Ayrah,” the doorman said in a deep voice that seemed to come from far away, using the polite formal designation for a woman whose education level was unknown. “Only I’m waiting to close the door.” Finally, the doorman looked down at Toog, more than a head shorter, who still stood in the way, looking up at him with a puzzled expression.

“Are you alive?” Toog asked, unabashed, still not moving.

“Debatably.” No other explanation seemed forthcoming.

“Can I have a blood sample?” Toog asked.

“No.”

Arne took a few steps around the fountain, so he could peer down the hallway. He caught a glimpse of another door, as beautifully appointed as the double doors across from the entrance.

“A skin sample?” Toog persisted.

“No.”

“Toog?” Arne ventured. “Maybe this can wait?”

“Fine…” Toog finally moved away and the door was duly closed.

The doorman turned an empty stare at the three of them. “Kindly stay here. I will inform her majesty of your arrival.”

“Before you do…” Arne insisted.

“Yes?” came the hollow reply.

“Your Mistress’ name? How may we address her correctly?”

“She is the Queen of Arabesk. Address her as such,” came the laconic reply.

“Well, see, she isn’t, though,” Arne insisted calmly. “Because Arabesk is ruled by the Prime and the Synod and subjects itself to certain parts of the body of laws of the Assembly of the Nine Cities. Arabesk is not a monarchy.”

The doorman gave him a long, impassive stare. “I suggest you let her know. Perhaps you can take over my duties for the next few centuries when the dust settles,” he said in a calm, disinterested voice. Then he looked at Arne for a few moments with his dull sunken eyes, seemed to decide that all had been said on the matter and walked calmly down the hallway, leaving the three of them alone in the foyer. The moment he crossed into the hallway, he disappeared as if he had crossed another magical barrier.

“Centuries…” Arne just said.

“Definitely not living!” Toog said excitedly.

“So what?” Dia asked. “Oh… You have got to be kidding…” she suddenly added, and an annoyed little line appeared by the corner of her mouth. She closed her eyes for a second, seemingly in concentration, and then looked at Toog and Arne again. “Well, there’s the dying stalks there,” she gestured at the fresh flowers by the fountain, “and I’m guessing a couple of palm trees and some shrubbery somewhere in that direction.” She waved a hand at the double doors.

“Eh…” Arne looked at her, eyebrow raised, not sure what the information actually conveyed.

You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

“That’s it. That’s the only life here, except for us.” She explained and crossed her arms.

“You sense life?” Toog asked, fascinated.

“Sense and utilise, and I’m good at it!” Dia stated.

“So, the Queen is as dead as the… doorman? How does that work?” Arne asked.

“Not my damned problem,” Dia shrugged.

“Well, it might be all of our problem in a second.” Arne countered.

“What did the gnomes threaten you with?” Toog asked conversationally and sat down on the edge of the fountain, setting the large bag down.

“Gnomes?” Arne asked and then shut up when the doorman reappeared.

“The Mistress awaits. Follow me,” the doorman said and turned away before any of the guests could comment.

Ignoring the other two, Arne followed, hesitating a heartbeat at the barrier to the hallway before proceeding. They passed several doors before the hallway ended in a large, open room, as lavishly appointed as the rest of the house and equally windowless. Colourful silken pillows and cushions and soft-looking rugs littered the seating area with low sofas around a table of copper filigree and coloured glass, and the entire end wall was a bar, stocked with exotic and intricate bottles of all shapes and hues.

And then there was the woman.

She had her back turned and was leaning over the bar counter, reaching for a jar of something. She was willowy, petite, with smooth dark hair bound in a thick coil down her back and clasped with a gold and mother of pearl hair slide. She was dressed in a pair of simple grey trousers that hugged her lovely backside enviably and a loose transparent shirt that revealed the intricately embroidered purple silk top underneath. A golden belt matching her hair slide adorned her narrow waist.

The doorman stepped aside letting the guests enter. For a few seconds, Arne was barely aware that Dia and Toog had caught up but when they filed into the room, he forcibly reminded himself to pay attention and hold on to his fear.

“Your guests have arrived, Your Majesty,” intoned the doorman blankly.

Whatever this woman was, she was dangerous, Arne reminded himself and scanned the room for the creature that had brought him the ‘invitation’ to this meeting. But then the woman turned around, and again his thoughts and caution stopped working momentarily. Her skin was pale and smooth with a hint of rosy life to her high cheekbones. The silky dark hair framed her lovely face. Pink lips, pale green eyes, dark eyebrows – all of her a lovely harmony of contrasts.

She smiled at them. “Thank you, Lerr,” she said in a warm voice. Then she gestured to the sofas. “Please, have a seat. Any particular preferences for drinks?”

Her beauty, the informal setting for the meeting and the almost cordial contrast to the horror of yesterday was a nice touch, Arne thought. Really professional. It almost actually succeeded in throwing him off his vigilance. “What happens if we have no preferences, Your Majesty?” he asked and walked over to take a seat.

There was a tiny smile that manifested at the corners of her mouth. “In your case, nothing, I already know what I will make for you.”

“It was nice knowing you,” Toog told him casually, taking a seat next to him, “or, knowing your names, if nothing else.”

“I don’t think we came this far to get poisoned,” Arne commented, gaze fixed on the phenomenal woman at the bar.

“Really?” Dia sat down on the sofa cushions next to Toog. “I think all options are still valid. Hells, maybe I’ll kill you both in a few moments.”

Arne ignored them both and kept his eyes on the woman. The ‘Queen’. He was singularly not at ease and at the back of his mind, he was taking notes. Anything that might give him clues or might be important later. Mannerisms the opponent displayed, details in the surroundings, anything.

Finally, their hostess turned and came over to them carrying a tray with three different glasses. She put it down and took a seat opposite to them, movements calm and elegant. Then she held out a tall glass with a swirling, milky drink to Dia, who just crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow. Arne kept his gaze focused on the Queen, equal parts unsettled at the whole affair and curious about where it would lead.

“I’m not drinking that,” Dia stated.

“You liked it last time,” the Queen said conversationally. “When you found a bottle of it in what was left of the visiting caravan’s saddlebags after you killed thirty-seven townspeople and traders in the little fishing village near Rasheed. I think it was the first time you ever got drunk. Am I right?”

Dia just narrowed her eyes and stared, making no move towards the glass.

“Drink.” The sweet smile never left the Queen’s lips, but the effect of the word was immediate. Dia reached out, took the glass from her and drank the contents down in just a few quick gulps. Then she put the glass on the table and sat there, looking angry and panicked and obviously trying to hide her discomfort.

The Queen just smiled sweetly and turned to Toog. “Since you didn’t speak up, I thought I would be safe with a beer for you,” she said and handed Toog a mug. “The kind they brew with moonflower bark in the Restless Mountains.”

Toog accepted the metal-inlaid glass mug and took a long drink, completely unrestrained. “Thanks. Not much I miss, but man! The beer was good!”

The green drink in a twisted tall glass left on the tray held a white, wormlike object in its newly stirred confines.

Arne pressed his lips together, keeping his comment to himself. The Queen held his gaze for a moment, and he got the distinct impression that she was quite entertained by the whole thing.

“Please, do speak you mind, mixing drinks is a pastime close to my heart, so I’m always happy receiving fair critique from darkly handsome, amber-eyed fellows,” she said.

“I’m just wondering how alcohol-pickled rat’s tail became your choice for me,” he said, reaching for the drink.

She smiled and handed the cool glass over, long slender fingers brushing his hand. “Don’t be silly. It was your father’s favourite. A little bit of sentiment goes a long way in business, wouldn’t you say? Actually, I believe Mirkon Grenn might have impressed that upon me originally. He was always so polite to people before he stabbed them. I liked that about him. But maybe you’ve taken a different path?”

It was a long-faded memory, more than twenty years in the past, but her words did tease it halfway up to the surface. He’d been fascinated as a child, seeing the drink being made, grossed out at the tails in the pickle jar when they were carefully lifted into the drink.

But it was true. He had seen his father drink ‘Spiky Tails’ as it was known. She could not have somehow read his mind since he’d forgotten this little detail of a long-gone childhood. Or, well, maybe she could. He didn’t know magic well enough to say. The drink was pleasant, cool and bittersweet, the spices in the cactus juice teasing his tongue when he took a sip, careful to avoid the tail.

“Delicious,” he commented. “Won’t you be having a drink with us, Your Majesty? I think that’s a more traditional approach to a cordial business meeting.”

“Sadly,” she said and smiled broadly, showing a set of small white teeth with an unreasonable amount of serrated edges and needle-sharp points, “I have a condition. I don’t think you would like to watch me drink just now.”

Darkness. No windows. Sharp teeth. Arne nodded, agreeing wholeheartedly. “You are undoubtedly right.”

“So, to business,” she said. “There is a new religious group in Arabesk. They call themselves the Family and have set up in the southern Zihr district in an old town mansion they bought four months ago. They are spreading very, very quickly, expanding and hiding something. I want to know what. You are going to infiltrate them and find out for me and solve whatever problem they present.”

“If I do this, can I have a blood sample from you?” Toog asked, unabashed.

“There really is no if,” the Queen said calmly. “You will do as I ask and in return, you stay alive. In the current economic climate, that’s not a bad wage. You will do as you are told as quickly as possible. The faster you do the job, the faster you can expect to be off the proverbial hook. Therefore, you will not turn on each other, there isn’t time for that. If one or two of you should happen to die, I expect the last person standing to bring the corpses to me immediately so I can handle the situation. You will report to me on a weekly basis or more often if you produce results faster. At no point will my involvement be mentioned, hinted at or revealed to anyone or anything. Questions?”

Arne looked at the petite, unreasonably lovely woman with the very sharp teeth. “I really cannot believe you don’t have someone better suited in your organisation than three random strangers. Why us?” he ventured, fairly sure asking equalled playing with fire.

“Why would I risk my people and identity when you will do it for me? Besides, new blood, fresh eyes and all that… anatomy.” She looked Arne up and down and smiled so her sharp teeth were visible.

He silently cursed himself for finding her incredibly intriguing and mentally focused on his instincts that told him in no uncertain terms that he was prey in the presence of a much bigger predator. “We don’t even know what each other are capable of, which means we are less efficient. It will take time,” he argued, forcing himself not to squirm under her pale green gaze.

“Time you don’t have.” She pointed a slender finger at him. “Planning and organising,” she said before pointing to Toog, “Information retrieval, and,” she pointed to Dia, “Brute strength. There, you know each other.”

Arne looked at Dia. She looked furious, granted. But she didn’t look like the ‘brute strength’ addition to the group. “Alright…” he said, hesitantly. “Infiltrate the Family in southern Zihr district. Find out what they are hiding and solve the problem, whatever it might be.”

“Lovely!” the Queen got to her small, sandaled feet in a smooth graceful motion. “I will see you in a week at the most. Lerr will show you out.”

Arne got to his feet as she turned her back and walked to the door. Dia and Toog got up too and all three stared after their hostess. The second she crossed the threshold of the doorway and disappeared out of sight, her sandaled footfalls stopped abruptly and all was silent.

“Loot the bar before we go?” Toog asked, clearly not joking.