Hidden in a shadowy alcove between two street lamps, Egil felt along the grain of a plain door, letting out a victorious laugh when his fingers found a symbol etched in its wood. There, almost invisible against the dark stain, was her symbol: an open eye with a set of veiny dragonfly wings. Apparently, the Oracle of Damael hadn’t bothered to change her safe house locations in nearly a hundred years. What arrogance, to assume Egil wouldn’t come for them.
First confirming the street around him was empty, he raised a leg to kick the door down. It swung open before he could, the person on the other side dropping their keys with a shriek.
“It’s you!” he cried, pointing at Egil. When Egil lowered his leg, his gaze tracked the movement, eyes nearly bugging out of his head. “Were you about to break in?!”
“No,” Egil lied. “You have good timing; I was just looking for you.”
“What happened to knocking? Wait, for me?” the boy repeated, dumbstruck.
“Did you talk to Leandros?”
Aleksir Bardon opened his mouth, then shut it again, then sighed and crouched to retrieve his keys. Briefly, Egil could see past him into a narrow entryway, a set of dark wood stairs leading up. A normal flat, at first glance, but it held many of the Oracle’s secrets. Egil looked away. “Yeah, I talked to him,” Aleksir said. “First thing this morning.”
“He heard you out?”
“’Course. Some people actually take the Oracle’s name seriously, you know. I told him all of it, except the bit about meeting you.”
“How is he?” Egil asked. When Aleksir’s eyes widened, he wished he hadn’t. He cleared his throat and corrected, “Forget it. What did he say after you told him?”
Aleksir scratched at the scraggly beard on his chin. “Not much. He shooed me away when I asked him about Histrios.”
When Aleksir made to step out of the safe house, Egil blocked him with his arm. “You what? Why would you do that?” he asked.
“Because you wouldn’t tell me anything!”
“Don’t mention it to him again. Don’t even speak to him again. Do you understand?” Egil hissed. Aleksir took a step back, alarmed at the venom in Egil’s voice, but nodded. “Good.”
Coming here had been a mistake. He should have let his ghosts rest, rather than dig them up. But like a man relentlessly prodding at a toothache, checking to see if it still hurt, he’d had to ask. Having confirmed that it did, indeed, hurt, he turned to leave.
“Wait!” Aleksir called after him, too loudly. They were alone for now, but if Aleksir kept making noise, he was bound to attract attention. Egil waited while Aleksir scrambled to lock his door, then let him catch up — just to keep him from shouting again, he told himself. Breathlessly, Aleksir asked, “Are you seriously going, just like that? I thought I’d never see you again.”
“You should be so lucky. Stop following me.”
“Wait, but I have more information for you!” Aleksir said. When Egil didn’t immediately shoo him away, Aleksir grinned, realizing Egil’s silence meant curiosity. “I’m running late for a meeting. If you come with me, I’ll tell you what I know on the way.”
Egil sighed and pointed down the street. “You have until that street lamp to convince me not to leave.”
Devikra’s visions had always been like a drug: as soon as Egil knew a little, he needed to know more. And so, against his better judgment, he fell into step beside the Oracle’s errand-boy.
The street around them was quiet, the cobblestone and dark storefronts lit by the neighborhood’s new electric carbon arc lamps. But the white light they produced was cold compared to the warm lamplight pouring out of second- and third-floor windows, occasionally filtering down through cracks between drawn curtains. Egil watched the shadows around them as they walked. This city could be dangerous at night, and Aleksir made himself an easy target. The boy almost tripped over his feet several times, too busy watching Egil with a look that came uncomfortably close to awe.
“I met up with Devikra''s Unity contact today, the one you scared off,” he said excitedly. “I found out what Unity’s planning. They’re going to—”
“Send a team to Orean to negotiate King Nochdvor''s release,” Egil finished. So this wasn''t about Devikra''s visions at all. “Your deadline is approaching. Tell me something I don’t already know, and be quick.”
Aleksir didn''t seem put off. Instead, he grinned from ear to ear and spun to walk backward, so he could face Egil as he talked. “I should’ve guessed — no one can keep anything from Egil! You know your Prince Nochdvor is leading the team, then, yeah?”
Egil frowned. “He agreed to something like that?”
“It was his idea, far as I can tell,” Aleksir said. Glancing back and finding the final lamp post close, his next words came out in a rush. “How about this: there’s more to those magic rumors than I thought.”
“I’m listening.”
“The King of Alfheimr was abducted out of a tower full of people, all of them dead now except for the prince and princess. The only way out was down a single set of stairs, and even though people saw her go up, no one saw her come back down. That’s not even getting into the explosion.”
“Explosion?” Egil asked. The lamp post came and went.
“That’s what killed everyone. Charred the flesh right off their bones and shook all of Illyon. The amount of firepower that lady would’ve had to smuggle in there...no one knows how she did it, and that’s why they’re saying it’s magic.”
“How did the prince and princess survive?”
“The prince threw them both out the window in the nick of time,” Aleksir said, his smile growing wider the longer he kept pace with Egil’s interrogation.
“What is the prince saying happened?”
“Dunno. He’s being real tight-lipped. So is Unity. My contact is on the team and even they haven’t been told the truth.”
The two of them turned onto a bright, noisy street full of taverns and lights and people. Though no one paid them any mind, Egil kept quiet, waiting until the lights and laughter had faded back into darkness and quiet to ask, “If your contact is on the team, have they noticed any...shady characters among their teammates? Anyone that stood out to them?”
“The whole team’s a bit eccentric, as I hear it. They’re supposed to be the best Unity’s got to offer, so I guess that’s not too surprising. The more important a person is, the weirder they can be,” Aleksir said with an unsubtle glance in Egil’s direction. “What do you mean by shady?”
“I can’t get more specific than that, I’m afraid. They could be normal, they could be suspicious. They’d could be too perfect for the job, have unexplained skillsets or ties to Unity. Strange gaps in their resumes, maybe. Evasive natures. Something would just feel off.”
“I can ask. Why? Who are you looking for?”
“No one in particular,” Egil said. Then, “Have you heard of the Enforcers?”
Aleskir shook his head. “What’s an Enf—”
Egil shushed Aleksir. “Gods, boy, you’re trying to join the game and don’t even know the most important players? You’re in over your head.”
“Who are they?”Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.
“Ask your Oracle. She knows.”
Sounding very much his age, Aleksir whined, “Devikra never tells me anything.”
“That’s not my problem,” Egil said with a practiced smirk. When they’d met the other night, Egil had seen Aleksir’s reaction to his smirks — the flicker of irritation, the anger. The boy had a temper, and a great deal of pride, too. The more Egil could stir those embers, stoke them into a fire, the faster he could burn down Aleksir’s blind idol worship and dance in the smoke.
When Aleksir slowed, Egil scolded, “Don’t you have somewhere to be? What am I, your mother? Your assistant, that I have to keep your appointments for you?”
Aleksir’s cheeks flushed, but he ducked his head and hurried on, duly chastised. Egil followed him down a side street, then over a fence into a vast park. Its gate was locked; Egil guessed it had been closed for several hours, at least since the suns set. He knew the park, of course. It was a popular meeting place in Gallontea among individuals who wished to go unnoticed: popular, but not too popular. Maintained, but not monitored. Dense, with thick foliage. Best of all, because of its location in Greysdale, Gallontea’s police looked the other way. As they walked between the dark trees, the only sounds were the occasional crunch of early-fallen leaves beneath their boots and a distant church bells. Soon, a small pond came into view, moonlight glittering off its surface. A dragon crouched before it, silhouetted against the bright water, and she turned when they approached.
When Aleksir gave her an awkward wave, Egil had to bite his tongue to keep from laughing. Devikra’s standards had really changed, over the decades. Back in his day, she had strict rules governing public meetings — for safety, for secrecy. Not only had Aleksir invited along a stranger, a known enemy of the Oracle, he’d failed to even check the perimeter for eavesdroppers. While Aleksir sidled awkwardly up to the dragon, Egil sank back into the shadows to do it for the kid.
“Nice weather we''re having,” Aleksir said.
“A blessing from the Guardians,” the dragon agreed. Unlike Aleksir, she followed protocol. Though the exact wording had changed over the years, he recognized the start of a passcode.
“May Ellaes continue to bless us,” Aleksir said, finishing the code. He sounded serious, but that was the best that could be said for him. He didn’t even notice Egil left until he turned to introduce Egil and found him gone.
“Who is your friend?” the dragon asked. Unable to whisper, her rumbling voice carried through the park.
“He''s–,” Aleksir started, jumping a foot when Egil suddenly appeared beside him, shooting him a warning look. “Uh. He''s alright. He''s with me.”
Egil smiled at the dragon, hands clasped behind his back. “Just a trainee. Happy to be here.”
Satisfied enough with that explanation, the dragon shrugged. “I have a letter from Our Lady in my bag,” she told Aleksir, lowering one shoulder so Aleksir could reach the bag in question, strapped as it was to her scaly side. “If you have any to return to her, put them in the front pouch.”
So that''s what this was. A delivery, a letter from Devikra herself. To require an in-person trade-off, it must contain something interesting. Aleksir climbed up and made the exchange quickly, and as he tucked his own letter in the dragon’s bag, Egil asked, “Did you mention me in there?”
Aleksir froze. “Um...”
“It’s fine. I''ll be gone before Dev can do anything.” The nickname slipped out unconsciously, and when both Aleksir and the dragon turned to gawp at him, Egil almost winced. That woman didn’t deserve nicknames, not from him. “I''m leaving,” he announced, then turned and walked away.
“Wait!” Aleksir called for the second time that night. Unlike the last time, Egil didn''t wait. He was hopping the fence back into the city proper when Aleksir finally caught up with him, nearly falling from the fence himself in his haste to follow.
“Does she really let you call her ''Dev''?” Aleksir asked as he jogged after Egil. “I thought only Wil could call her that.”
Ignoring him, Egil snatched the unopened letter from Devikra out of Aleksir''s hands and tore the envelope open. When Aleksir made a grab for it, Egil simply held it over his head. He had half a foot on the kid, and Aleksir seemed to realize he stood little chance, settling for glaring at Egil instead. “Let me read it,” Egil said. “If Devikra''s written about any new visions, I want to know.”
Trying to catch Egil by surprise, Aleksir suddenly jumped for the letter. Egil easily stepped out of reach, laughing and waving the letter just to mock him.
“Look,” Aleksir said slowly, as if speaking to a child. Egil had been trying to stoke Aleksir’s temper, but it was his own that flared instead. He stomped it down as Aleksir added, “She''ll kill me. You know she will.”
“Hmph,” Egil said. “Let me read this and I''ll tell you about the Enforcers.”
Aleksir looked between the letter and Egil''s face. “And Histrios?”
“Absolutely not. Don''t try to bargain with me.”
Aleksir grimaced. “Fine, fine. But I have to tell her you read it.”
“Tell her I took it by force, if you have to,” Egil said, pulling the letter out and unfolding it. The familiar handwriting startled him; he’d surmised as much already, but if Devikra really was writing to this boy personally, he must be deep in her circle of trust. He walked as he read, Aleksir following his winding path back to the safe house without complaint.
It was useless. No new visions. Nothing interesting, except: “So that’s the name of your Unity contact.”
Aleksir swore and snatched the letter out of Egil’s hand. This time, Egil let him. “Please don’t contact him,” Aleksir begged. When Egil made no promises, he pouted. “Ugh, she’s really going to kill me. Tell me who the Enforcers are — you owe me that much.”
“I’ll tell you commensurate with the information I got from that letter.”
Aleksir’s pout turned into a glare. “That wasn’t the deal!”
Egil laughed, tapped the tip of Aleksir’s nose, and said, “Too bad.” If he couldn’t use the boy’s temper to alienate him, there was still the madness. It tended to keep people distant. “The Enforcers are a lot like Dev’s agents, but first and foremost, they’re soldiers. The deadliest soldiers you’ll ever meet, and trained to do anything Unity asks of them. They’ll have their hands in this mess, one way or another.”
Aleksir clearly waited for more, but Egil stopped there, noticing something strange down the alley he’d stopped in front of. Without giving Aleksir any warning, he turned down it.
“Egil?” Aleksir asked, following.
Gallontea''s streets were full of the downtrodden and houseless. It was, unfortunately, a common occurrence to glance down alleys and spot small encampments, though Gallontea''s police came down on them hard when they found them. Several feet ahead sat a small, shoddy shelter tucked alongside a dumpster. Sticking out of it was a pair of bare feet and, more strangely, the tip of a tail. As Egil neared the makeshift shelter, both the tail and feet disappeared inside. Egil knocked on the wood twice. “I''m not with the police, and I won''t hurt you,” he called, far gentler than he’d ever spoken to Aleksir. “You''re orinian, aren''t you?”
A long pause answered Egil''s question, then a messy head of hair peeked out from the shelter. It was a girl, barely older than Aleksir. When she saw they didn''t wear uniforms, the tension in his shoulders eased, though she bared her teeth at them all the same. “Go away. Leave me alone.”
“I will if that''s what you want,” Egil said, crouching, “But you have to know Gallontea''s not safe for you, right now.”
“No shit,” the girl said. Aleksir frowned and opened his mouth, probably to do something stupid like defend Egil''s honor, but Egil held a hand up.
“What do you need? Money? A ride out of town? How can I help you?” he asked. Now eye level with the girl, he saw her mouth draw into a pout.
“You can’t. I need my brother back.”
Egil blinked. “What happened to him?” When she didn’t answer, Egil ignored the feel of Aleksir’s eyes on his back and said, “We won’t know if I can help or not unless you tell me. Give it a chance.”
“Unless you can break onto Unity’s island and free prisoners, there’s no point. Who do you think you are, Egil?”
Aleksir chose that moment to jump in. His eyes were brimming with excitement, and Egil felt all the work he’d done disillusioning the kid fade into oblivion. He sighed. “He is, actually! You''d be lucky to have his help!”
“Shut up, Aleksir,” Egil hissed.
But the damage was already done. The girl looked between Egil and Aleksir, her expression closing off once more. “Great. You’re crazy. Just so you know, I was the star boxer on my college team. If you try anything, I''ll punch you.”
Egil held his hands up and crept back from the shelter, giving the girl more space. In her, he saw a fellow victim, another life blackened by Unity’s cursed touch. This was why they needed to be destroyed. “Ignore him. We actually work for the Oracle of Damael,” he said, brushing a lock of his dark hair aside to reveal the small mark tattooed under his ear: an open eye and a set of dragonfly wings. After a moment''s hesitation, Aleksir did the same. “You know what the tattoo means, right?”
Eyes wide, the girl nodded. She leaned out of her shelter to see it better. The purple ink was irreplicable, the pigment produced only in Damael. Small wins, Egil supposed. He may be forever branded with Devikra’s mark, but it did him good, now and then. “Your brother — did they arrest him?”
Another nod.
“After the King’s kidnapping?”
“Yes,” the girl said, voice barely a whisper, now.
“If he’s still alive, I know how to get him back,” Egil said, watching hope reignite behind the girl’s gray eyes. It made him uneasy. He wasn’t a hero anymore; playing at one felt wrong. Still, the words came too easily to his tongue, even half-forgotten as they were. “I know you have no reason to trust me, but at least trust that doing what I say is better than waiting for the police to find you. I’m afraid I can’t come with you, but Aleksir here will help.”
“What!” Aleksir said, biting his tongue when Egil threw a cold look at him over his shoulder.
“Why? Why would you — why help me at all?” the girl asked.
Egil smiled at her, as warmly as it could manage. That wasn’t much, but it did make the girl smile back, tentatively. “Because that’s my job. That’s what the Oracle does,” he said, her name bitter on his tongue. In the eyes of the public, though, his own was spoiled by the stain of Histrios. To Aleksir, he said, “Take her back to the safe house. In the morning, go to the Rinehart Festival Grounds. East of it is a camp. Ask for a man named Roman Hallisey. He’ll help.”
“What if he won’t?” the girl asked, her long, cow-like ears pressed flat to her head.
“He will,” Egil promised her. After a moment’s thought, he shrugged out of his cloak and passed it to the girl. “Hide your ears and tail with this.”
“Thank you,” she breathed, running her hands along the fabric in a nervous gesture.
“Who''s Roman Hallisey?” Aleksir whispered while she shrugged it on.
“You remember those people we were talking about? The Enforcers?” Egil said, standing again. “He was once the strongest of them.”