Morning came sooner than I would have liked. I blinked hard, clearing my eyes of sleep with the scrubbing of my fingers. I still had my sword by my side and Vex's humming was audible throughout the tent like a dark lullaby, along with the sound of her delicately filing her sharp claws. I sat up on the borrowed bedroll and turned to face her. The wight's sleepless vigil had apparently continued uninterrupted.

The young woman I had taken from Varys was curled into a little ball in my blankets, unconscious from pure exhaustion with her wrists no longer bound in iron. She'd pulled on the tunic from Vex, but the pants clearly hadn't fit, because they sat at the end of my bedroll. I would have to requisition her clothing, not a difficult proposal.

In the dim light filtering through the hole at the top of my tent that allowed smoke through, I could see her more clearly than I had bothered to the night before when my entire fixation had been thwarting Varys. He always liked the pretty ones, taking a special pleasure in destroying something beautiful, and this one was no different. Her features had a classical style, like the statues they carved of angels. Her hair had the rich shadings of brown found in mahogany and the way it fell loose reminded me very much of the waves of such a tree's wood.

Vex's head swiveled to face me, the rest of her body unmoving. It reminded me of an owl sometimes, though she couldn't twist quite that far back. Just enough to unnerve most of the living. "Good morning, my lady. Sleep well?"

"Well enough." I glanced meaningfully over at our sleeping prisoner. "Did she give you any trouble?"

"She tried to run once. She stopped when I told her that your protection was the only thing keeping her away from Lord Varys." Vex grinned. "Doesn't say much, but she does sign."

I raised an eyebrow. "Why doesn't she speak?"

"She's one of the Sisters. They take a whole heap of vows from what I remember. Fidelity, celibacy, silence." Vex shrugged. "You know how those religious folk get when they're really devout."

Immediately, I thought of the holy symbol I cast into the fire and bitterness welled in my throat. A lowly priestess was not likely to have played any role in selecting some fabled hero to come and kill me, but it didn't change my hatred of the gods of light and all who sought to spread their influence. "Those vows explain why Varys was so fascinated with her."

"He does enjoy breaking things." The wight finished filing her claws and tucked the rasp away inside her own bag. "Not to put too fine a point on it, my lady, but what do you intend to do with her now?"

"I'm open to suggestions," I muttered as I opened up my bag and pulled out a clean set of clothes. "I'd prefer not to keep her."

"Varys will just take her back if she's given over to the army as a slave. Though if the only goal was to annoy him for last night..." Vex shrugged, aware that I would read her indifference to the priestess's fate with ease.

Did I really care? At that point, though, the desire to rub salt in Varys's wounded pride was stronger than my customary indifference. "Fine. Until I find some other use for her, she stays."

"I didn't take you for the slaver type, my lady. Are we expanding your interests?"

"She is a prisoner, not a slave." I fished out my comb next and moved over to the basin. It was hard to stay clean on campaign, but that didn't stop me from trying. "We may even be able to ransom her back to her people."

"Will they take her back with broken vows?"

"It wouldn't surprise me if they discarded her. That is the fashion of the righteous and noble, in my experience." I stripped quickly and used a wet washcloth to get the worst of the blood and sweat off of me. My armor kept me from being bruised and battered to pieces from combat, but my muscles were still stiff and tired from exertion. I lived for battle, but I was well aware that my body had limits. As soon as I was clean, I dressed and then used the comb to unsnarl my hair.

I looked like a woman in her thirties, even if my age was far beyond that. Age could only cling to me in certain ways, like the threads of silver in my auburn hair.

I heard a soft cry behind me and turned to look. Now our captive was awake and white with terror as she looked up at Vex. I supposed that to anyone but me, the wight was not a welcoming or comforting sight first thing in the morning.

I stretched my stiff neck one way and then the other before belting Woe on. I made no move to don my armor, my second skin. Negotiating the spoils of war meant coming from a place of strength and wearing my armor might suggest to Varys that I was concerned about losing a fight. Besides, even without surprise on my side, I was capable of doing him a grievous wound.

"I am not going to devour you, little morsel," Vex said solicitously to our captive priestess. "Not without my lady's permission."

I glanced over my shoulder. Vex stood with her arms folded, absolute sincerity and a definite hunger shining in her expression. It was clearly not relaxing the young woman any, curled into a ball as she was. I sighed and tightened the wrap of my swordbelt, cinching it down until it reached the groove I had worn into it, fitting like the solitary key into a masterwork lock. There was a hesitant flurry of motion from our prisoner's hands, still bruised and bloody from the twisted iron that had held them the night before.

"She wants to know your name, my lady."

I raised an eyebrow as I checked my reflection, aiming for at least presentable. "She may give hers first." It was a fortunate thing that Vex's brother in life had been deaf. She could actually speak sign in a way I could not.

Another quick few movements. Her delicate fingers danced deftly in the air, sketching out a brief pattern. "Her name is Shira."

I turned and approached our prisoner. Vex moved instinctively to the side, like a lesser shark moving to allow its superior to approach prey. Luminous blue eyes met mine, still reddened by tears. The impression was clear enough: she did not know me, but doubted I was a true salvation. I stopped in front of her, making no effort to lower myself to her level. "My name is Aleyr Frostborn."

She flinched like I had slapped her and shrank back. I suppose I might as well have. My blasphemies and impiety was legendary. Nothing soothes the soul of that savage beast like the glow of a burning temple, the stories said.

"If we leave her here during the negotiations, my lady, she might be taken from you," Vex pointed out. "Varys is a schemer."

"An abysmal one," I said by way of agreement. It would have been a heavy handed way to reclaim some of his pride, so he was likely to try it. I looked down at Shira. "You are to be Vex's shadow until my affairs are settled, is this understood? If you flee, I will not come after you, but I promise that the undead will gladly give chase."

Shira nodded and started to sign quickly, hands shaking.

"She wants to know why you haven't killed her."

I set my hand on Woe, looking straight into those blue eyes. "My reasons are my own. If you wish to die, you need only ask."

There was something fascinating about the way her fingers danced in the air. It reminded me almost of arcane workings, though such knowledge a priestess would have found blasphemous. Vex, fortunately, translated again. "She says she doesn't want to die." The wight sighed slightly. "More's the pity."

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I clucked my tongue at my second and shook my head. "Insatiable. Keep an eye on her, Vex. If anyone interferes with you, you may act on your own accord with my blessing."

Vex grinned, dark eyes flashing with delight. "A carte blanche? You shouldn't have, my lady."

I almost groaned at the thought of what horrible 'gift' would be waiting in my tent for me if Varys was stupid enough to send his spawn after our captive. Vex had a flair for decoration better left in the halls of a torturer. "I'm aware." I flexed my fingers, working out some of the stiffness. "I will be back later."

With that said, I departed, headed quickly for General Maric's grand tent. He and I had similar tastes in accommodations, but his was large enough that he could host such councils. This time, everyone would be in attendance except for the King in Black. The distribution of spoils was a matter beneath his time and attention unless there was a particular artifact he thought would be useful to advancing his knowledge, things few and far between. The wight guards in polished black armor made no effort to bar my passage, saluting with bowed heads.

It was a bit overdone, to my mind, the darkness of the aesthetic Maric pursued. It was meant to reinforce the menacing appearance of his undead troops and advertise his loyalty to our sovereign, but black everything became rather dreary. Even my armor was only darkened steel, just enough shine taken off by smoke that it wouldn't reflect the light if I needed to move stealthily. The end result was a dull, unpolished gray.

Of course, I had the luxury of still seeing color. Perhaps I would have cared less, had I his duller vision.

"Ah, Lady Frostborn, welcome," Maric said, a hint of a smile twisting his grim mouth. I felt a throb in my temple in automatic response. With Rhandiir standing beside him, and Varys sulking behind, I knew they had made some plan in my absence. "It is always an honor."

I took a seat on one of the benches around the central table without waiting for an invitation to do so. "How flattering. It's as though you've spent the morning scheming to deprive me of hard won spoils."

To Maric's left, Teth grinned. She was an interesting woman, covered from head to toe in beautifully intricate tattoos imbued with magic that granted her a resistance to the holy powers that wights struggled at times to combat. Her hair was in its typical top-knot, as if ready for battle, but the vampire had eschewed her armor just as I had. She looked utterly comfortable on her part of the bench, leaning with elbows on the table. "Isn't it so wonderful, how well we all know each other?"

I shrugged, letting the lids of my eyes fall heavy. "I suppose a sufficient amount of contempt does engender some familiarity."

"Harsh language, Frostborn," Rhandiir said, running his fingers through slicked-back hair. "Your victories always make you so dour."

"If she wasn't dour, we would have great cause for concern." Teth said. There was a wonderfully smooth quality to her voice, like pouring oil. I knew full well that she had a habit of spreading her words around, ready at any moment to drop a match that would ignite them and burn someone's world to nothingness.

Naltheme stepped into the tent, Luka and Hallen on her heels. "Are we ready?" she asked.

Rhandiir pulled the covering off the table in answer, a faint glow filling the room. Here, contained on a single tabletop, were the most powerful magical items the enemy could muster: the spoils of war. Wealth was immaterial to us, we had accumulated so much over so long, but power was a resource that never lost its value. The boy's sword hummed at the center of the table, surrounded by a selection of rings, pendants, wands, weapons, and potions.

"Better than average," Luka commented, his nostrils flaring to take in the air. I always wondered how the Master of Spies managed to breathe at all, standing so close to our egos. He was a much more practical man. "I assume an even split?"

"Not quite," Rhandiir said. "Lady Frostborn has taken part of her share early."

I raised an eyebrow, disguising my displeasure behind a mask-like indifference. "I wasn't aware Varys's hand was considered valuable."

"The priestess," Varys snarled.

I reached out and picked up a dwarven dagger, a gleaming masterwork glowing with runes of fire, and turned it over in my hands. "Are you expecting me to believe that your little plaything is equivalent to any of this?" I flicked hard, sending the dagger into the table point-first with a flash of flame. "Absurd."

Teth chuckled. "Perhaps Lord Rhandiir objects to losing the dignity of his progeny."

Now acidic spite was welling up in my stomach. Teth liked to say that I sharpened my tongue and dipped it in poison for precisely these occasions. "How does one value the loss of something they have never known?"

Varys moved as if to grab his blade, then realized his sword-hand was still fresh and weak. I expected a yowl, but he managed to contain it to gritted teeth. Rhandiir grabbed the younger vampire by his collar and wrenched him back down into his seat.

"You took something that was not agreed upon by the whole, Aleyr," Rhandiir said reasonably. "Thus, we felt—"

"We have not agreed on anything," Luka said. He smiled, a dazzling array of fangs. "Unless, of course, you intended to undertake these negotiations without the input of your King's spymaster and his favored apprentice."

Teth's smile broadened. "I'm sure they would never be so bold, Luka. We all know well that an army without eyes and ears is a feeble sacrifice awaiting the knife."

Naltheme took a seat at my left hand, Luka at my right.

"We have always divided things evenly," Luka said. "If Aleyr has taken property from Varys, I am certain she will be happy to reimburse him, but these items are considerably more precious than a human life."

Before Varys could argue, Teth interjected. "A reasonable concession, if Aleyr agrees."

Coin meant nothing to me and they all knew it, which was probably why Varys was gritting his teeth hard enough to almost crack a fang. Rhandiir sighed. "That will hardly discourage further unwarranted invasions of our privacy."

I almost laughed at the absurdity of that comment. "Perhaps if your privacy was not audible at such a range, I would consider it privacy."

Luka nudged me under the table, a sign that he was up to something and I should let him talk. "Very well. Shall we take our shares evenly and then I, as a disinterested party, will select an item from Aleyr's share to allocate?"

"You're at her back more often than you're not, Luka," Maric growled.

"And you're sour that Hallen is alive because of her, so do not pretend you are impartial either, my dear wight," Luka said cheerfully.

Hallen had been silent up to this point, but seemed stirred into motion by the sound of his name. "Luka has always been fair."

"It is one of his worse qualities," Teth agreed with an impish smile, ignoring Rhandiir and Varys's betrayed anger. "Very well, I have no objection. Naltheme?"

Our necromancer ran her hand down her bone staff, carved from the leg of a slain wyrm. "I find Luka's proposition reasonable."

Luka glanced at me, eyes flashing like a wolf's in the firelight. "Aleyr, will you abide by my selection?"

I leaned back and stretched lazily. "I agree."

"Then let us begin. Naltheme, you were last the last time we split," Luka said, rubbing his hands together with anticipation. "That means you begin this time."

Piece by piece, the arsenal of good arrayed against us was split up until each person had a small pile of magic items sitting before them. I made certain to take the sword of the boy with sunflower eyes first. When we were done, Luka's eyes darted across my pile. He pulled the Chosen One's sword free, still bearing the crest of Lord Sidon's fabled house. "For you, Varys."

The vampire grinned and seized it immediately, almost cutting open Luka's hand.

I nodded slightly to Luka, pleased with his choice even if I kept my face stony. Varys clearly assumed the loss would grate on me, a prize I had won directly in battle.

Luka knew me better. He knew that I had chosen it so it would be discarded, because such items made me sick with rage at those who gave them out.

"If everyone is satisfied?" the spymaster asked, hopping up out of his seat and sweeping his items into a small bag at his waist.

"Immensely," Varys said, gloating eyes turning my way. His expression faltered slightly when I gave no response.

Teth raised an eyebrow. "Aleyr?"

I waved a hand, making a mental note to express my gratitude to Luka away from prying eyes. "I am pleased to be done with this and headed home on the march. The whole affair was tedious."

"Agreed," Naltheme said quickly, her raven-dark eyes flitting about the group assembled. "I miss my library."

Luka helped himself to one of Maric's glasses and a bottle of blood. He poured each of us a cup, knowing that Naltheme, Hallen, and I wouldn't drink it. We shared in the toast all the same. "To Aleyr's idea of tedium," he said with a grin. "May it never be less bloody."