The bumping stopped as the wagon stopped. It had been a short ride and with the bumpiness of the road, Zandrue would have preferred to walk. However, Tadstaime had insisted. “Voices don’t walk,” she’d said.

One of the guards outside opened the door for them and Zandrue stepped into the rain. She helped Tadstaime down after her.

Fra-Ichtaca’s villa was larger than Tadstaime’s by a wide margin. There were several buildings—some even made of stone—spread about a large area of gardens and fields. It was almost like a small palace, complete with a short wall around the property.

Fra-Ichtaca waited under the arched gateway, which rose higher than the remainder of the wall. Four spear-carrying warriors stood near her. Zandrue and Tadstaime approached, followed by Tadstaime’s own guards. The Voice of Frana bowed her head to the Voice of Sestin, who did the same in return.

“We have a lot to talk about,” Fra-Ichtaca said. “Please walk with me, Ses-Xipil.” She pointed to Zandrue and scowled. “You, remain behind us and silent.”

Zandrue bowed her head. “Of course, Reverence.”

The Voice of Frana had taken an instant dislike to Zandrue on their first meeting.

“This is the one Fra-Mecatl was preparing?” Fra-Ichtaca had asked. “No wonder there have been delays presenting her. How did you end up with her?”

“I was the one she came here to find,” Tadstaime replied. “She ran away from Fra-Mecatl first chance she got.”

“She should have stayed, continued the process she started. It would have gotten her to you in the end and avoided the difficulty in explaining her presence now.”

“It wasn’t entirely her choice,” Tadstaime said.

“Still shows poor and incompetent planning on her part. And you wish me to take her into my confidence? You should know better than that, Ses-Xipil.”

So the job Tadstaime had intended for Zandrue never happened. Zandrue had spent the last month observing every visitor to Tadstaime’s villa and keeping a note of all their activities. There were a lot of them—mostly messengers and representatives of nobles and priests. The only ones who were ever up to anything suspicious were the ones Tadstaime already knew about, but it had kept Zandrue occupied. She was still a long way from getting where she wanted to be—which was closer to what Tadstaime and Fra-Ichtaca were up to.

She hoped today would present an opportunity though. Tadstaime usually met with Fra-Ichtaca at the Palace, and on a couple of occasions, Fra-Ichtaca had come to Tadstaime’s villa. Today was the first time a meeting had taken place at Fra-Ichtaca’s and Tadstaime had agreed that Zandrue should come along. Tadstaime was still eager to convince Fra-Ichtaca to take Zandrue into their confidence.

The downpour was getting lighter when Fra-Ichtaca took Tadstaime’s arm and began walking along the path towards the largest building in the villa. Zandrue fell in behind them. She made certain not to get too close, but she also wanted to hear them—whether Fra-Ichtaca liked it or not.

“What of the Will-Breaker?” Tadstaime asked.

“She should be dead by now,” Fra-Ichtaca answered. “The jailer is loyal to me. Even if she hasn’t acted yet, she will by nightfall.”

Tadstaime shook her head. “I think you are underestimating her abilities. She bested Ses-Tlacotl. A mere jailer will not challenge her.”

“And I think you underestimate the power of a blade to the throat or heart of even a wizard.”

When Tadstaime had first told her about the arrival of a person calling herself “Will-Breaker”, Zandrue had been stunned and had almost let Tadstaime see it. Now, she was full of questions as to how Felitïa had managed to find her way here, but those were questions for another time. For now, she was exuberant Felitïa had arrived. This jailer might have killed Felitïa, but Zandrue suspected and hoped Tadstaime’s assessment was correct.

“We shall see,” Tadstaime said.

“Regardless,” Fra-Ichtaca continued, “whatever her intentions, her arrival has only helped us.”

“Again, we shall see,” Tadstaime said.

“Still think I’m underestimating her? Very well. If she survives, I’ll put you in charge of removing her. This might even be a good test for your new protégé.”

Zandrue wouldn’t have minded that. She had little doubt Felitïa would willingly be part of a deception to make it look like Zandrue had killed her.

“No,” Tadstaime said. “If she survives, I will handle her myself.”

Oh well, Zandrue thought. She was still in a position to help make sure Felitïa survived.

“What of the Youth Guard?” Tadstaime asked.

Fra-Ichtaca took several seconds to respond. “I am still working on that. For the moment, they have Nin-Xoco’s sympathies. If they die now, it will raise her ire, which might be to our advantage if we can channel it in the right direction. We will need a scapegoat for that.”

“Fra-Atl?”

Fra-Ichtaca shook her head. “I’m not sure. Nin-Xoco still bears a great deal of love for Fra-Atl.”

“And if she learns Fra-Atl has killed the Youth Guard and was behind the original attempt on their lives as well? There is no greater source of rage than a love betrayed. And this would be her second betrayal.”

“You may have a point. I will consider it.”

They were just reaching the house, and Fra-Ichtaca released Tadstaime’s arm. She turned around and faced Zandrue. “Ses-Xipil and I have business to discuss in private.” She motioned to one of her guards. “Take this one to the guest pavilion and provide her with refreshments. If she wishes, she may use the sweat house. Watch her at all times. We wouldn’t want anything untoward to happen to her while she’s here.”

The guard bowed. “Yes, Reverence.”

“I will come for you when we are finished, Sonna,” Tadstaime said.

Zandrue bowed. “The blessings and love of the gods go with you, Reverences.”

One of Fra-Ichtaca’s other guards opened the door for them, and the two Voices entered the house. The guard closed the door behind them, and he and the remaining two of Fra-Ichtaca’s warriors took up positions in front of it. Tadstaime’s own guards remained where they were.

The guard Fra-Ichtaca had singled out motioned to Zandrue. “This way.” He led her through the gardens on the river side of the house to a large pavilion not far from the river bank. It contained several wooden tables and chairs. Delicate curtains hung between the columns that supported the stone roof. It would provide a dry place from the rain—although the rain had nearly stopped now anyway.

The guard stopped a servant they passed on the way. “Her Reverence has ordered refreshments for her guest here. Bring them.” The servant bowed and hurried off.

The guard pointed to the pavilion’s interior. “You may sit here.”

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“Thanks.” Zandrue climbed the entrance steps, went to the nearest chair, and sat down.

She had expected something like this. The chances she would have been invited to join Fra-Ichtaca and Tadstaime were near zero. But that was fine. She preferred to look around on her own. She just needed to ditch this guard first—preferably without him realising she was ever gone.

“My name’s Sonna,” she said.

The guard just nodded.

“Do you have a name? I’m sure her Reverence wouldn’t mind if you told me. It would make it easier to talk to you.”

“Nin-Yuluk.”

“Nice to meet you, Nin-Yuluk. You can have a seat too, if you want.” She indicated the chair beside her, but he continued to stand at the top of the steps, watching her. “No need for you to stand the whole time. Relax. Join me in some of those refreshments when they get here.”

He shook his head.

She shrugged. “Suit yourself.”

A few minutes later, two servants arrived. One carried a tray of pineapple, avocado, and papaya, the other a tray with a wine pitcher and clay cups. They placed the trays on the table, bowed, and left.

Zandrue selected a piece of pineapple, popped it in her mouth, and poured herself a cup of wine. “You sure you don’t want one? They brought more than one cup. It’s fate.”

The guard shook his head again.

No, it wouldn’t be that easy. Besides, this wouldn’t be the best place to leave a sleeping guard.

“So, what’s it like working for her Reverence?”

Nin-Yuluk remained silent.

“Oh come on. You’re supposed to watch me, but nothing about that says you can’t talk to me, too. Why should we both sit here—okay, you stand—being bored when we could entertain each other with some conversation? Besides, you’re supposed to make certain nothing untoward happens to me, and frankly, I classify boredom as something untoward.”

A glimmer of a smile passed his lips.

“So tell me, what’s it like working for her? I’ve heard all kinds of stories.”

“What kind of stories?” he said.

“That she’s a pretty harsh task mistress, for one.”

“She is strict. Strictness is necessary for discipline.”

“I guess that’s one way of looking at it.” She took a sip of wine. It was a honey wine—more a liqueur than a wine, but sweet and pleasant. She’d need to be careful not to drink too much.

“What of Ses-Xipil?” he asked.

That was better. He was opening up a little, and it hadn’t taken too long. “She’s strict, too. But in a different way. She’s very open and friendly if you work well, and very rewarding. I’ve been with her less than two months now, but I couldn’t imagine ever working for anyone else. I love her. She’s like a mother to me.”

“I’ve never heard anyone speak that way about a Voice before,” he said.

“I take it you don’t think of Fra-Ichtaca that way.”

He shook his head. “No one thinks of Fra-Ichtaca that way.”

Zandrue laughed. “Based on her reputation, I’m not surprised.” She downed her drink and poured herself another cup. “Sure you don’t want one?”

“I’m sure.”

“Fra-Ichtaca has a very nice place here. But I’ve never been one to sit around. Do you think we could take a walk through the gardens? From what I saw on the way here, they’re very beautiful.”

“Fra-Ichtaca’s instructions were here or the sweat house.”

“Oh well. Then again, I don’t suppose we’d have to pass through the gardens to get to the sweat house, would we?”

He smirked. “Yes, I suppose we would.”

“Perfect! Take me to the sweat house, please.”

Nin-Yuluk motioned to the path. “This way.”

Zandrue picked up her cup and the pitcher as well. “I think I’ll just take this along, if that’s okay.”

He nodded and led her back along the path again. She continued to chat about inconsequential things along the way—commenting on the gardens and the differences between Fra-Ichtaca’s and Ses-Xipil’s villas, always asking his opinion on everything she said. Kept him talking as much as she could. When they passed a couple of servants, Nin-Yuluk ordered them to have the sweat house prepared.

Zandrue finished her latest cup of wine, poured another, and offered him some again. Once more, he refused, but she didn’t make a big deal of it. Just sipped at it herself, kept her hand near the small pouch on her belt for when he finally gave in.

They reached the sweat house and waited for servants to arrive and prepare it. Zandrue continued to sip her drink, and when she reached the bottom of her cup, she refilled it again and offered some to Nin-Yuluk. She hoped she didn’t have to drink the whole pitcher before he agreed to a sip.

Once the servants had the sweat house ready, Zandrue stepped inside. She turned around and acted surprised that Nin-Yuluk hadn’t followed her in. “You’re not coming in?”

“That would not be appropriate.”

“Oh. I suppose that’s true. Still...”

“I cannot come in with you, Sonna.”

“It’s just...” She put the pitcher and cup down on one of the stone benches and approached him, touched his arm. He shivered and she stepped a little closer. “As much as Fra-Ichtaca said you’re supposed to make sure nothing bad happens to me, you and I both know your real job is to make sure I don’t take off into parts of the villa where I’m not allowed, right?”

“Yes.”

“If you’re there and I’m in here with the door closed, how do you know I won’t just take off, then slip back later without you knowing?”

He looked at her and laughed. “There’s only one door. I’d see you leave.”

“Very good point, and it would be true with most people. You know Ses-Xipil is a wizard, right?”

“Yes.”

“I’m her personal servant, her closest associate. You don’t think maybe I might be a wizard, too?”

“Are you telling me that you’re going to sneak off with magic if I don’t come in?”

“No, of course not!” She gave him a playful shove. “I intend to enjoy the sauna. But it occurs to me that Fra-Ichtaca is also aware of my wizardly powers. What if she and Ses-Xipil come back before I’m done in here, and she sees you out here? Ses-Xipil trusts me, and I’m getting the sense that you trust me, too, but Fra-Ichtaca really doesn’t. She’s disliked me since day one. I’m saying this for your sake, Nin-Yuluk, because I like you and I don’t want to see you getting in trouble, and honestly, if she sees you without your eyes directly on me, don’t you think she might be a little upset?”

He remained silent for a moment, thinking. “I suppose you have a point.”

She took hold of his arm. “Come on. It’ll be fine.”

“All right,” he said and let her lead him into the sweat house.

She closed the door behind them. “I’ll just lie on the bench over there, and you can stand by the door here, where you’ll have a good view of me. Unless of course, you’d like to join. No, I know that would actually be inappropriate.”

She collected her cup and took the last sip from it, then removed her shawl, placing it and its collection of yellow feathers on the bench. Keeping her back to him and her body between him and the cup and pitcher, she took the pouch from her belt and sprinkled some of the contents into the cup. Then she refilled the cup from the pitcher.

Tadstaime had quite the collection of herbs and poisons, including all the ones Zandrue had been sent to retrieve all those years ago—the mission that had led her to meet Felitïa, and to abandon the arcraime once and for all. In fact, Tadstaime had such a large collection, that she was unlikely to notice that Zandrue had taken this small amount. Even if she did, she had given Zandrue access to the supply at her discretion. It wouldn’t be hard to come up with a reason.

She turned around and raised the cup to her mouth, but stopped. “My, you’re getting sweaty already.” She approached Nin-Yuluk and ran a finger over the sweat forming on his tattooed chest. “You sure you don’t want a bit of this. It’s the last. I’m afraid I drank the entire rest of the pitcher. I might just be getting a bit tipsy, but that’s okay. Anyway, you want a sip before I finish it?” She put her free hand on his shoulder and held the cup up to him. “Come on. One sip won’t hurt. For me?”

He sighed. “One sip. But that’s it.”

She raised the cup to his mouth and tipped it just enough for him to take a sip. “Good, isn’t it?”

He nodded. “I’ve heard her Reverence only buys the best.”

“It’s true.” Zandrue lowered the cup and stepped back from him. “It’s a shame you can’t join me in drinking more.” She held the cup to her lips again, but didn’t drink.

“Maybe not now,” he said. “But maybe some time when we’re...both off...duty...we...” He fell over and hit the ground with a heavy thud.