Swarth allegiance. “You stook a fine stabbing from Ersecutor, ol’ pal.” Woid continued fussing over his appearance without turning to face The Killer. Guards invisible or masked slithered off.

The goggled shooter grumbled, being no pal of Woid’s or anyone else: “I’m hard to kill.”

“Did that really need saying?” Woid straightened his collar in a mirror, fetching different clothes from nowhere.

∞

Having finished or grown tired with this exchange, Panjzrah approached The Dam’e’s desk. Even to Shay’s eyes he showed little sign (despite his lacerated jacket) of having been brutally wounded by The Ersecutor’s broken sword; she was sure she’d notice the tell eventually. His laser pistols hung fastened at his hips and Serib wondered how he could see at all wearing his dark goggles in the barely lit club. He held pairs of thick iron cuffs in his hands as he offered:

“Wear these as my prisoners, pose as bait for The Ersecutor, then I’ll tell you where the prison is."

“We’re back to your idea.” Woid nodded at the little shaman. “Bait and all.”

Serib ran over to Shay, reaching for her hand.

“The disguise would have fooled me, but the other two give you away.” Panzjrah pointed his finger like a gun at Woid and Serib. “Who are you?” he asked Shay.

Shay weighed in her mind if Panzjrah would be more irate at The Ersecutor for having nearly killed him, ‘The Killer’, or at her for taking the tea seeds when he was trapped in the weighted net. From what she knew of him from Woid, he was not one for teamwork or any indirect method. Pose as bait? What was all that about?

∞

“Should I and The Ersecutor not hold equal hatred from you? How can I trust with me in cuffs you won’t take the opportunity?”

“No need for them to be locked, or you can keep the key on you. All the same to me.”

Shay still waited for an elaboration, and her stubbornness won over The Killer:

“I didn’t expect you to help me out when I was tangled there. You had your job to do and I had mine, but this eye-freak - Argus - got in the middle of things. No one gets away from me, myth or otherwise.”

Hearing that Woid thought to himself: so it is in Greed's age, when all of Need is spent.

“A tatter-matter of reputation.” Shay traced from one scenario to another. “Dam’e…”

“What I said before was and is still true.” The Dam’e replied from her desk. “You have brought the seeds, and with Panzjrah’s offer you will not need to sneak into Entroprison. Getting back out with Lay'd Payn - I assume that is her wish - may then be the true problem." She then asked, apparently not remembering as well as we do: "When we spoke before, I imagine it was a far calmer lineage, hmm?”

The tattered musician took a break. Shay nodded and listened on to The Dam’e, as she referenced the more chaotic lineage unravelling outside the windows to her club:

“Now the prison will be closely watched. Lay’d Payn’s last wishes will be little honoured with everything falling apart - her execution sped if possible. Being delivered as prisoners to The Ersecutor and his minions… I’m sure you can manage to break yourselves free once inside.”

“You two have already discussed this, I gather.” Shay spoke to The Dam’e and The Killer.

She felt a snag on her disguising clothes. The arm of her chair had cuts and grooves for such threads to get stuck in, letters and words were there to read:

“Complication, contradiction and complication are now among our most powerful tools against the enemy. Being careful goes a longer way than ever…”

∞

Woid hadn’t been paying all his attention, thinking about some arena match or another he had open bets on, in some now distant lineage of crumbling Time. Reminiscing back to when things were worse, when Need still reigned. Until - Shay’s rebuke hit him as a loss:

“I don’t want to keep running from this Ersector - I’m going to remove him as a variable. Anything to avoid Serib being bait.”

“He might even be beyond you two.” Woid quickly waved at Shay and Panzjrah. “He’s fast. Already got you once.” He lifted his chin to The Killer.

“My weapons had been tampered with.” Panzjrah stated.

“What was that one joke, about the shoddy worker?” Woid teased. “How did it go again…”

∞

Shay addressed the room before it could erupt:

“The Ersecutor catching sight of Serib, as bait essentially, got me shot in the shoulder and we were separated at the station. I’m not convinced adding me and Woid as bait along with Serib will help.”

“It doesn’t need to be convincing, just a distraction for Ersecutor to get attached to - and I’ll take it from there. He's proved elusive. Difficult to track in this mess.” Panzjrah looked on the verge of shooting something, and some assassins though wounded, fled from their tended beds out of the room to avoid any crossfire.

“That is not what we agreed…” The Dam’e interjected.

“We’ll take him down together.” Shay insisted to The Killer.

“I hunt alone.”

∞

“And if you fail?” Shay pressed him, her hand on Serib's little shoulder. “How will we get the location of the prison?”

“I’m going to kill The Ersecutor.”

“So am I, but you need to set aside your pride. This prey may need two predators.”

“And how do you plan to get the location if you don’t go with my plan?” His face and stare were blank through his dark goggles.

“I can’t leave Serib’s safety up to you - you’re hiding the wound well, but you weren’t much help before.” Shay said as respectfully as she could.

The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

“My weaponry was tampered with.” Panzjrah’s teeth were drilling together.

“Something-shoddy-something. Anyway, what about my safety?” Woid scoffed.

“I got your back.” Serib pointed at him, her lightning robes all a sparkle and eyes flashing bright.

∞

The little shaman then felt the changing atmosphere, up through her feet from the trembling ground and in the tightening air - Panzjrah in anger was drawing a pistol. Her eyes flashed with fiercer lightning and the already torn skies outside darkened from their warring flames, as through them ran a light followed by thunder. She tried putting her body between Shay and Panzjrah. Woid had already umbra-stepped over there, holding his shadowy dagger to Panzjrah’s throat. Shay had not budged and The Dam’e sighed; that was enough of a command for Woid to lean elsewhere. Serib however was transfixed on Panzjrah, while Shay focused on the changed skies outside that were glooming over with a sudden storm. The angels fleeing for cover.

“Is that you?” she asked the shaman, receiving no reply.

The Killer holstered his weapon and finally, Serib stood down from her defences.

∞

The Dam’e waited for someone to speak, though as no one would:

“I agree mostly with The Killer - I sadly cannot help you find Entroprison without ruffling much suspicion. I can move more freely than Lay’d Payn, but Fate is watching me through Greed and The Dorns. After Argus The Ersecutor is out of the way, you could enter The Old Palace-turned prison as Wanted’s being delivered. That would be your ultimate destination, stitched by Fate… destined for interrogation. And reintegration into a preferred story.”

Woid spoke up:

“I imagine me murdering a few of The Dorns-lot at their outposts has something to do with you being watched more closely? They had laser-sights on my colleagues, Dam’e. What any good lad would've done.”

The Dam’e nodded rather than speaking, accepting Woid’s justification and holding back her coughs until she felt the need to expand:

“You are distinctive enough, and the authorities know you run for me. I can handle The Dorns, but Courtdom’s monks were already searching for you…” she pointed a bandaged hand in Serib’s vague direction. “…and now for Woid - having been spotted with her - cutting throats for her, no less.”

“Courtdom don’t have enough going on?” Shay motioned to the window.

Black sand or ash fell slow as snow out there, covering the fallen and moveless things. Serib walked to the window and watched all that would be, already is and has, turning almost away from the sights she was heading towards. Creatures she knew as whales fell bleeding without tails from the immolated heavens. Crashing impaled some of them, into Humanity's spires. She could hear faintly - fabric being ripped. Pages being turned. Whatever battles had past into Yet left only the drifting.

∞

“Remember the lineages are all happening at once, and Serib’s involvements are well known in Our Lay’d’s plans.” The Dam’e broke her gaze. “The Ersecutor and others loyal to the other side of all this, loyal to Fate, will little rest until Serib is theirs in their view to reverse what has come undone. In this version of The Tayl, I certainly cannot help you find The Old Palace. Who knows what happened to it this far along; has it yet been built or already destroyed - but when you return to layers you are more familiar with… your wanted status could be used to your advantage. Jailors such as Gargarensyr, likely, would gladly take you to a cell that you can easily break out of.”

Shay asked:

“How can we reliably navigate through the lineages?”

“Leave that to Our Lay’d. An age for us is merely another page to her.”

Shay though unimpressed felt there was no other option.

∞

The same masked servant from before that wanted to help The Dam’e with her coughing, approached from behind the desk. They uttered to her and held out their arm for support. The dark-robed Dam'e shooed it away again, standing gingerly with the help of the arms on her chair, speaking to the servant:

“Where I am going, you will not be able to help me there.”

The masked servant bowed. Shay and Woid moved into a hushed discussion, while Panzjrah was cleaning his laser pistols, having made himself a territory of a nearby table. Serib however was little fooled and from under her lightning hood she stared at The Dam'e's servant, whom soon gave her a subtle nod. Serib could not figure out who they were.

∞

“I am needed elsewhere by the scheme Our Lay’d has planned, now that you are aware of your options." The Dam'e coughed through her bandages. "Embrace The Escape from Entropy.”

The Dam’e said this almost as a mantra. Both she and the masked servant umbra-stepped away, exiting their stage.

∞

Amid their hushed discussion, Woid interrupted the precise steps Shay was quietly laying out:

“Yes, yes... but are you alright?”

Her pause answered him, and she looked at Serib a while by the black-sand-snow window, answering finally aloud:

“I met a ghost, I suppose… in all this weirdness I met my younger self, coming back from the funeral.”

Woid’s eyes fell to the ground, sharing:

“The prince lost his favourite parent, before you lost both of yours; it’s what happens. You could always write back.”

Shay raised her prop eyebrows:

“How would you know that?”

∞

“I’ve been keeping the letters - intercepting them for you. I haven’t started writing back pretending to be you, yet. Would be a bit cruel!”

Shay shook her head with a smile:

“He never stopped sending them…” she blinked, and the weak moment parted away in part. “You’ll keep Serib here for me? Wherever here is.”

She looked over and Panzjrah had already started to leave. Shay said to Woid: “I’ve got a race to join.”

Woid nodded in agreement and Serib found Shay soon standing over her by the sand-scratched windows:

“I need you to do as Woid says; I’m going to take Argus down; no more hiding.”

Serib’s small tusks flared as she was about to start her barrage of insistent refusals. Shay was quicker to refuse:

“It’s not safe for you out there. I need to focus on the hunt and the kill. You will be well here with Woid, and after we’ll find your Lay’d.”

∞

That same protected warmth Serib had felt could no longer breathe, and wrapped with parting cold her heart shivered, watching Shay walk towards the exit, wounded, her wacky disguise visible in the fading light. Different schemes all vying to be foremost. Serib rushed after Shay, though wounded assassins passed here-there getting in her way and her friend was gone. Woid from his nowhere placed a hand on the young shaman's shoulder:

"She'll be alright, it's how she is. Let's play cards."