So it was that on the first day of festival, the blank-eyed Tireless Ones and the Zaytuni spear-men faced off at the edge of the Midnight Soil docks. Eyes watched from upper windows. Street children huddled at the corner of alleyways to watch what would happen. Clashes in the city were not uncommon, as the ruling families paid no attention to small scale battles. Independent traders could squabble all they wanted as long as it didn’t disturb the rulers.

A group of Tireless Ones carrying an enormous crate were blocked by six Zaytuni spear men. The mindless zombies shuffled to a halt at the point of the spears held towards them. They waited for the obstacle to be removed. The spears quivered slightly; the men had never been this close to the senseless undead. Only their strict training kept them firm.

“You there! How dare you obstruct our business!” A gold-haired figure in robes and colourful cloak appeared round a corner. She pointed at the spear-men accusingly.

“Take the crates, I’ll take care of her,” Brunhilde said.

“Red Sparrow?” one of the men said.

“Did Marid tell you to follow my orders?”

“Yes, Red Sparrow.”

“Then follow it.” Brunhilde swaggered away to square up with Hope. “You’re interfering with the Glorious Emperor’s business. Turn around now, and I’ll let you live,” she shouted.

“Never! I’ll skin you like a cow and make you into a leather greatcoat you lumbering oaf.”

“I’ll tear your head off and weave your gold hair into a circlet, you tiny runt.”

Hope punched Brunhilde in the stomach.

Brunhilde responded by wrapping her arms around Hope in a head lock. “Easy,” Brunhilde whispered. “This is just for show.”

“You called me a runt,” Hope hissed. She jabbed her fingers into Brunhilde’s neck. The sharp pain forced the barbarian to release her. “And I’m not that short.”

Brunhilde swung punches that Hope ducked. “I’m not lumbering, everyone in my family is this tall, you are short.”

Hope landed kicks on Brunhilde’s lower legs. “Consider this one of the lessons I owe you.”

“You fickle cat.” Brunhilde’s sweeping kick knocked Hope flat on her back. “Not seen that move from me before?”

Hope leapt up and a dagger of light sprung from her hand. “Let’s make it a proper show then.”

Like a bear fighting a cat they lunged and danced around each other, their play fight slowly turning into a more serious battle. They forgot their companions to concentrate on besting each other’s guard.

The spear-men approached the crate cautiously, but the Tireless Ones stood taut and still. The crate was motionless in the air, so untiring was their grip. As the two adventures fought, the Zaytuni guards overcame their caution and speared the zombies standing senselessly around their cargo. The walking corpses did nothing to resist. The crate crashed to the floor as the Tireless Ones fell, thick alchemical fluid spilling from their wounds. The men stepped through the disgusting liquid to take up the crate.

“We have it, Red Sparrow,” they called out.

Brunhilde and Hope backed away from each other.

“I’ll see you again soon, hellcat.” Brunhilde rubbed blood from her lip, where Hope had split it with a punch.

“You will, you fat pig!” Hope waved her light-dagger in the air.

Brunhilde swung a fierce punch that Hope ducked. Hope’s mouth fell into a mock grimace. “Too slow!”

“Red Sparrow, we are ready to return to Marid,” the head spear-man called out.

“I hear you.” Brunhilde licked the tart pain of her split lip. “Next time, you miniature, I’ll carve you into an ornament.”

You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

“Miniature what?” Hope cocked her head sideways.

“Just miniature.”

On the ground the head of a Tireless One swivelled and a dark marble in its eye socket stared at the two heroes exchanging barbs. In his chamber, the Nameless One gazed at the scene from his crystal ball. He had seen the whole battle, his eyes transfixed as he watched Hope work her light-magic. He saw the two mercenaries back away from each other, leaving only the lopsided view of an empty alleyway. He would have to make more servants, and the Zaytuni and their coarse mercenary must be punished. But his own mercenary had powers he had never seen before that ignited a hunger in his belly. If he could wrangle those secrets out of her then it may be worth the loss of some corpses.

He roused himself from his crystal ball and shuffled off to a door guarded by two Tireless Ones. Dark and earthy smells came to him as he opened the door to his underground gardens. Dull blue light barely illuminated the plots of gravelilies and bone roses. He stroked his beard and perused the plants, searching for the fullest leaves and petals.

Meanwhile Brunhilde was nursing her wounds and pride as she escorted the shipment back to Marid. It was a petty cargo to upset a friendship over, but she had agreed to serve the Zaytuni interests. When they arrived at the Zaytuni compound, Marid was waiting for her. He clapped and circled the crate. “Marvellous work, Red Sparrow.” He saw the blood on her face. “Were you wounded?”

“A little.”

“You deserve a bonus, and for the men who had to face those vile creatures.” He clapped his hands and a servant brought a linen package.

She took it and unwrapped an edge, the scent of the tea they had drunk wafted up. “Tea?”

“The finest leaves from the Glorious Emperor’s own gardens.”

“My thanks.” She closed the edge of the package. Gold would be better but she suspected that asking for more would be against protocol.

Meanwhile the Nameless One had already received a package from the Zaytuni via a neutral courier, and in a fury summoned Hope to his chamber.

“The Zaytuni have mocked me,” he said. He dropped two bars of gold onto his table. Hope reached out to take them and he smacked her hand away. “This is payment, for our goods! Not only do they steal from me, but they pay me half of its value. Neither thieves nor trading partners. Marid must think himself a masterful tactician to embarrass me so. And what did you do?”

Hope’s face burned. “I am a- powerful mercenary. I refuse to be chided like a child.”

The Nameless One stared at her with his mouth open. “Have you no sense? I could easily make you into a Tireless One, have some care!” He raised his dark brows in a threatening manner.

“I could cut down every one of your playthings.” Light glittered on her arms and hands.

He stiffened. “It’s true that you do have power that you have not unleashed. In respect of your magical puissance, I shall not punish you. In fact, your powers are so unusual and interesting to me that I may even forgive you, if you agree to reveal me their secrets.”

Sharp motes of light glittered on her fingertips as she dragged them across the tabletop. The light faded and she wiped her hands over the scars left in the wood. “No.”

The Nameless Ones eyes bulged and his beard quivered as he spluttered wordlessly. “What use are you to me?”

“I fought off that big brute.” Hope stared at her fingertips, inspecting her nails. But it was true though that she had been made to look a fool. She had been so busy fighting Brunhilde that her side had escaped victorious. It was a stupid mistake to ignore her opponent’s mission. She had studied tactics for years, all the great sieges of history. When the city of Vis-Tamu fought Vis-Yamu they had mustered golems and starlancer pods in an apocalyptic attack that was merely a feint. Days of golems shattering themselves to pieces and starlancers singing themselves hoarse in the sky, all for a smaller force to slowly unweave a smaller hole in Vis-Yamu’s defences. She had better remind Brunhilde who was the smarter of the two. And not by stealing salt. “I’ll go into their compound and steal back something more valuable than that salt and spice.” Strike at the heart of the enemy whilst their guard was down. They should be lax after a victory.

The Nameless One stared at her, he was so used to dealing with the Tireless Ones instant obeyance that he had no method for dealing with an insubordinate. He had expected her to quake in fear at his anger. But she was lost in her own idle thoughts.

She rapped her fingers on the table and sprang up. “You’ll thank me later.” She marched out of his chambers, leaving him open mouthed.

Hope made her way towards the Zaytuni and climbed the rooftops to find a good spying spot. She was alone with the birds and the sun on gentle sloping roofs of slate. She stripped to replenish some of the energies she had spent fighting Brunhilde, and lay beside a chimney to peer around, watching the entrance of the compound. Presently Brunhilde emerged, holding a package in her long arms. She wandered off into the city, unawares that Hope was staring down at her. Hope resisted the urge to throw down a slate tile at her, she had bigger plans. From her spot she could see partway into the central courtyard, and through windows surrounded by climbing vines. She scratched marks in the brick of the chimney as guards patrolled. Their patrol patterns were precise and predictable, just as she had suspected from seeing the spear squad in action.

Secure in her calculations she dropped down into the streets and ran for the compound. The climbing vines on the walls made it easy to climb to the roof. She picked her way through the thick flowery vines, peering down into windows when she judged it was safe. She saw a tea-room filled with calligraphic scrolls and cushions around a low table, a store room of uninteresting looking supplies, guard barracks, and finally, something interesting: Marid’s room.