“In the end, the knife knows no sheath,


    The crown knows no master,


    And the Tower knows no equal.”


    — Extract from ‘And So I Dreamt I Was Awake’ by Sherehazad the Seer


    <hr>


    The parlour door creaked like it had a personal vendetta against me as I shoved it open. Hickory walls — studded with enough gemstones to feed a farmer for life — caught the dim light and cast jagged shadows everywhere. Four polished mirrors sat atop a table in the centre of the chamber. Spice and wine hung heavy in the air, clinging to my throat with every breath.


    Akua arched an eyebrow as I stepped inside. She looked as though she’d been waiting to see me squirm. Her silk gown shimmered in the magelight as she rose. One of her hands brushed my arm as she swept forward. It took all my will not to stiffen. She probably thought it was funny. Like she was taming a Callowan horse. We’d see who was laughing when the knives came out.


    “Late again, Catherine,” she clicked her tongue as she mused. “Tardiness doesn’t suit you.”


    I glanced around. Mother snake was nowhere to be seen. Great. I was only half as likely to get my throat torn out today. A relief, of sorts.


    “The streets held me hostage,” I excused insincerely. “My apologies for the inconvenience to your schedule.”


    “Punctuality is a virtue even in Praes,” I shivered as she reprimanded me. “A pity you seem intent on discarding it.”


    I ignored the instinct to snap back, though my jaw tensed. Now wasn’t the time for an outburst, though the thought of wringing her neck did appeal a smidgeon more than it usually did. The theatre performance loomed. Another opportunity to ply people for answers. I hadn’t had much time to search before this meeting. The herbalists I’d tried had been a dead end, and Abigail still looked like a living corpse. The event would be useful. I’d make it useful.


    “Any new corpses to count during my absence?” I asked.


    “Only minor matters,” she dismissed. “Though I did wonder if you intended to arrive at all.”


    Idly, I wondered what the Catherine of two years ago might think of herself. Would she be ashamed? Or would she understand what I’d chosen to do? I almost snorted. As if. She’d think I’d sold out, become everything I hated. And hells, she’d be right. But that Catherine achieved nothing of worth. At least I had a chance.


    Akua’s hand lingered on my arm a fraction too long as she guided me to the couch. I didn’t look at her. Didn’t even want to feel the heat from her body beside mine. Fadila was already in the corner, nodding like a piece of furniture that had learned to talk.


    I sank into the chair as Akua sprawled out like a cat beside me.


    “Let us dispense with the pleasantries,” Akua murmured. She leaned forward and brushed her fingers against each of the mirrors. “Show me not my reflection but the face of your brother.”


    The surface of each mirror shimmered, blurring until faces emerged one by one. Barika Unonti’s eyes narrowed as she surveyed the room. Fasili Mirembe followed, lounging beside some kind of four-headed cat with the casual disregard for sanity only the Aksumite nobility could achieve. Hawulti Sahel’s chin jutted out imperiously as she appeared next. Ghassan Enazah materialized last, with a grin so fake it might as well have been painted on.


    Some days, I wondered what cruel joke had dropped me into this nest full of vipers. Other days, I just sharpened my teeth. All we were missing was someone actually playing the Role of Black Knight. Dark, broody, dressed in heavy armour. Perhaps a goblin? Who could I complain to about obtaining minions that were less archetypical?


    “Lady Sahelian,” Barika said with a smile, her gaze sweeping over me like I was an unruly servant. “I see you’ve brought… company.”


    I could taste the venom dripping from her fanged words. She’d stab me in the back without a second thought if I gave her the chance. Her opposition to me had always felt personal, which I couldn’t blame her for. I’d be jealous too if someone else got to be so close to Akua’s pretty face. Well, I would be if I didn’t know any better.


    “Barika,” I said, the wine sweet on my tongue, “I hear your gift for tongues has the Tower talking. Must be exhausting.”


    Her face tightened, and I had to fight back a grin. Hells, she was so easy to taunt. It only took one reminder of how she spent an entire week speaking half a dozen foreign languages for the pretty mask to slip off.


    Akua shot one of those exasperated ‘don’t start’ glances, but I could see the amusement flickering behind her mask. She enjoyed it as much as I did.


    “Catherine,” she chided insincerely. “Is there a reason for such… pleasantries among our friends?”


    Friends. Sure. A knife in the back did count as friendship here.


    “I’m sure our friendship will last forever,” I said insincerely.


    “Is it true, Novice, that Laure’s winters are kinder to those who crawl its gutters?” Barika’s lips twisted into a sneer.


    Really? Digging at my time on the streets? Times like this I wished I hadn’t chosen to side with the Truebloods. Punching her in the face wasn’t accepted in this outfit, no matter how satisfying it would be. Worse, backtalk had to be sophisticated. How about I return the barb in kind? Unonti had been stricken by the aftershocks of Ink Blot. They had yet to recover from the havoc it had caused.


    “I hear your people talk to stones when they want an equal conversation partner,” I drawled.


    Fury simmered behind her eyes as Barika’s mouth slammed shut.


    Ghassan picked that moment to slide into the conversation. I had to bite down the urge to gag. I heard the sneering voice of guilds masters in Laure demanding price hikes whenever he spoke.


    “I’ve acquired a modest force,” he began, “two thousand Stygian soldiers.”


    My gut twisted, but I didn’t let it show.


    “Stygian, you say?” Fasili mused. “I imagine their loyalty did not come cheap.”


    “True loyalty rarely is.” Ghassan countered.


    I kept my face smooth. Stygian slave soldiers. Slavery was illegal within the Empire. But he’d not be fielding them if he cared at all.


    “Impressive,” I lied, leaning back in the couch. “Can’t imagine the Tower’s fines are doing your treasury any favours these days.”


    “Tower fines?” Ghassan snorted. “Irrelevant. They are all free men employed for the defence of the Empire.”


    Freed. Sure. Another reason to want my allies dead. Did the leash really matter when you unclipped it if you’d trained a dog to heel from birth? I tensed, expecting the voice to compare me to a hound. No commentary came at all.


    I bit back a sharp comment and forced a grin.


    “Careful now. Nobody likes a benevolent master,” I cautioned, “especially one within stabbing range.”


    A bout of insincere laughter echoed through the glass.


    I felt the amused gaze of Wolof’s Heiress settle upon me. I ignored it and focused on a particularly plump date. My hatred simmered beneath the surface as the rhythm of the group drew me in.


    “Let’s set aside the theatrics,” Akua said as she set aside her glass. “It is time that we address more pressing matters.”


    “Go on, Akua,” I said as I mirrored her. “Don’t keep us all in suspense.”


    “The Empress’s Legions march on Liesse,” she began. “Wolof will not sit idle. Catherine shall lead my forces in securing the city.”


    “Not aiming for Malicia’s throat yet?” I asked, surprised.


    I couldn’t help it. She had me curious. A hostile force in Callow, splitting Malicia’s attention between two fronts. A potential uprising in Callow itself. We could wreak havoc just by striking now. So why was she bothering with Liesse? Not out of any sudden care for the people of Callow, that much was clear. This was the moment to make our claim. Why did she hold back?Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more.


    “Not yet,” she said, smirking. “The opening move must be more… calculated.”


    So there were more layers to this. My eyes narrowed.


    “A magnanimous gesture,” Ghassan interjected. “Though I suspect there’s more to it than simple loyalty.”


    “Indeed,” Akua replied, inclining her head. “Wolof does not serve without purpose, Lord Enazah. We will claim the governorship of Liesse as its due, and, as promised, you will all be compensated in turn.”


    She wanted Liesse for something. But what? It couldn’t be the city itself.


    “A curious stratagem,” Barika murmured.


    “How long do we have?” I pressed, focusing on Akua again.


    Her smile never wavered, but I caught the faintest flicker of tension at the corner of her mouth. She knew what I was really asking. How long could we afford to field mercenaries? How long until the coin ran out?


    “Sufficiently long to see plans set in motion,” she evaded.


    “We don’t want the window to slam shut on our fingers,” I countered.


    “Would you rather Liesse serve the Empress, kneel to Helike, or free from both?” she inquired.


    The attempt to manipulate me with the troubles of my people fell woefully short. What did she want? Maybe to use me as the face of a Callowan uprising? Possible, but I didn’t buy it. Too simple. I stared back at her, but the look she gave me made me rethink pushing any further. Later, she promised with her eyes. Not here. Not now.


    “Do the scouts have numbers for us, or did they come back counting on their fingers?” Ghassan asked.


    “The Tyrant’s march through the Waning Wood has cost him dearly,” Akua explained. “His forces number just over ten thousand and are split between a mix of Helikean heavy infantry, light infantry, and Cataphracts.”


    Ten thousand? Our mercenary force only numbered four thousand. I’d also require proper reports before I could decide on a path ahead. Without the benefit of city walls… The fight would be ugly even when fighting beside the Legions. On the other hand, that made petitioning for governorship more plausible.


    “Has any insight been gleaned into the Tyrant’s motives?” Ghassan inquired.


    “They remain obscure,” Akua lied. “Scouts report his supply train and slaves are missing, forcing him to pillage the countryside.”


    Akua was an excellent liar, but this act? It was thinner than some of the nicer dresses she wore. She didn’t know what the Tyrant planned. She only suspected it involved whatever she wanted.


    “And what happens if we lose the governorship?” I challenged.


    “We will not,” she replied, her eyes sparkling.


    “When do we march upon the Tower?” Barika inquired.


    “When the governorship is ours,” Akua replied. “The strike upon the Tower must be swift and decisive. Then we will march on Ater and claim what is rightfully ours.”


    How could I twist this to my advantage? Alliances outside of Akua’s little circle were looking mighty attractive right now. I needed a force of my own if I was going to pull off something as dangerous as sticking a knife into the heart of this little game once the dust had settled. But who could I convince?


    “Are the matrons involved?”  I asked, to no one in particular.


    The matrons ruled the goblin tribes. I didn’t understand them, and what little I knew convinced me that no outsider did. However, I had heard enough to convince me they were the right sort of people to talk to if I wanted to peddle an extra serving of treason.


    “Leave it to the provincial girl to grovel for scraps from her kind,” Barika said as her face twisted into a positively charming expression. One that wouldn’t look out of place on a frog.


    “Bold words,” I replied without missing a beat, “considering you’re swimming in the mud without me.”


    Akua’s gaze shifted to me. “Do you believe the matrons can be swayed?”


    “Why not?” I said, raising an eyebrow. “They’ve got a habit of stabbing both backs when the wind changes.”


    “Securing their support would grant us access to munitions,” Ghassan acknowledged.


    “They’ll demand concessions,” Fasili added. “It would be an insult to our pedigree to accept them.”


    Insult to pedigree, huh? Nice to know that some people’s heads were still firmly lodged in the clouds. The wealth must’ve had something to do with it. There was something to be said about too much coin pushing the nobility a few too many feet past the shores of sanity.


    “I like to think that it’s obvious to all of us that the Black Knight’s success is in part due to the reforms,” I drawled.


    “To cede even an inch to the greenskins is to betray the old truths,” the airhead of Unonti asserted. “They remain lesser than some of us.”


    Some of us. My lips twitched. She couldn’t waste another chance to plant a barb.


    “Truth is mutable,” I countered, “or so Akua informs me.”


    Barika’s mouth snapped shut.


    “Catherine is correct,” she acknowledged. “We will engage the matrons when the time is ripe.”


    “Promises are easy to break when you’re the one holding the throne,” I suggested.


    That proposal mollified the venomous snakelets. Good. Let them do that. I could offer to uphold those promises instead. I had no issues with granting goblins control of, say, Foramen. Better them than the Truebloods.


    “Then it is agreed,” Akua said. “We will engage the Black Knight further and reconvene when we near our foe. This meeting is adjourned.”


    Barika, Fasili, and Hawulti and Ghassan offered polite farewells, before four mirrors dimmed.


    Akua rose from the couch.


    I matched her without a second thought.


    I’d need to speak to the men and women who were presently under my command. It wouldn’t be my first engagement — I’d put down a group of nomadic brigands at the request of mother snake — but it would be the first one that mattered.


    The scent of scheming hung in the air as we left.


    “Come, Catherine,” she murmured. “The theatre beckons.”


    Another chance for me to find somebody who could identify the poison. And if that failed… My fingers clenched. I’d think it over if it got that far.


    “Does the mask ever get heavy?” I asked, as we walked. “Or have you forgotten you’re wearing it?”


    “What mask? ”Akua mused as she pulled a cloak around herself.


    We moved like two spiders in our red-and-gold threads as we departed the Elysium Palace. I wouldn’t fault anyone from turning the other way. We reached one of the many amphitheatres decorating the upper stretches of Wolof. The glimmering boughs of arches towered over us, illuminated by magelights. The place was packed, people crammed into every available space.


    The two of us ignored the cheaper seating as we swept towards the upper levels.


    The guards took one look under Akua’s hood and allowed us through.


    I scowled.


    None of the seats were free.


    “A pity,” she mused aloud. “Perhaps someone should leave, unless they’d rather face an… accident.”


    “And maybe you should''ve come earlier,” somebody in the crowd jeered.


    I raised an eyebrow. Her face might’ve been hidden under a hood, but… surely they could recognize Akua Sahelian from her gait alone? I tilted my head and studied the faces above. I didn’t see who said the words, but I admired their brazenness. Laughter rippled through the upper level. Nobody moved.


    “You’d think they’d care about their own survival,” I remarked.


    Akua’s smile stretched, but her eyes flicked to me, expecting something. Seriously? She wanted me to play the role of the Black Knight to her Empress here? I blinked. An early onset of megalomania did suit her perfectly. I saw what game she was playing, and I knew exactly where she was hoping I’d fit in.


    Her monster.


    I swallowed as my nails dug into my palms.


    Could I do this? My mouth dried. This was… violence without reason. No, not true. It’d build upon my existing relationship with the Sahelians. Besides, anybody here deserved what came to them. Still, if I was going to do this… best do it in a way that furthered my own goals. I examined the crowd as unease settled in my stomach.


    My eyes caught the familiar face of a master herbalist seated beside a merchant. Esran. He’d had the gall to sell me the wrong herbs the first few times I’d made use of his services. Even went so far as to call it a lesson. I shoved aside my nausea as I decided to teach him a lesson in turn.


    Whispers of darkness darted forwards eagerly and carried a gift from the pouch at my side. They slithered towards the pair unnoticed. The shadows hardly ever demanded the spilling of blood for subservience these days, and never when I did something villainous. Surely the most ringing of endorsements.


    The merchant’s drink got a quick dose of something fast-acting. The herbalist’s poison? Slower, subtler. Exactly what I’d need to make use of the man later. The merchant took a skip and gasped only heartbeats after my tendrils withdrew, clutching at his purpling throat.


    “Curious,” I murmured to Akua.


    The herbalist froze as the smile on Akua’s face widened.


    “A pity about your friend’s sudden illness,” I commented. “Bad timing, wouldn’t you say? Might be worth a chat later — if you’re still breathing.”


    His face paled as realization struck. He had offended the wrong person. I let my gaze linger, meeting his wide eyes with a faint, knowing smile. He’d run first. He’d try to cure it on his own. The antidote was ruinously expensive. He’d come to me for help when he failed, and I’d demand Abigail’s life as my price.


    “Efficient,” she whispered as the herbalist bolted from his seat. “I’d wager that was a better performance than the one we''ve come to watch.”


    My smile mirrored hers before I caught myself.


    I swallowed.


    Bile tinged at the back of my throat. I shoved the corpse aside as we ascended to the empty chairs. The whispers of the crowd died. Hundreds of eyes fell upon us before finding safer places to look.


    Akua’s hand came to rest on my arm.


    I stiffened.


    The performance began, but my mind was elsewhere. Akua wanted me to be her monster, and every day I felt a little closer to it. The silence in my head rang of judgement. Should I have listened? Should I have run for the Principate? Was it too late to change my mind?


    The thought fled almost as soon as it appeared. No. I wasn’t running West. They were no better than the monsters I’d surrounded myself with. At least the Empire’s was honest about its plans to ruin Callow. Procer would demand we thank them for it.


    Shadows shifted at my feet, restless and hungry.