Sudden heat assaulted Stathis’ body, slamming into her, sweat prickling her skin almost instantly. And the scent changed from dry, chill stone to that of a crowded, bustling city. She heard footsteps, heavy and hard against the floor, and the sound of weapons. She glanced around – the room they were in was large and luxuriously decorated, with large and intricately-woven wall-hangings, large potted plants in the corners. Narrow slits let in air and light, a loud tumult coming from outside.

Janaxia was already there, looking around uncertainly as several guards rounded the corner. Their padded fabric armour covered their chests and arms, their heads covered behind heavy helms, shaped into bestial faces. As they ran into the room, they skidded to a stop, all staring at Janaxia.

Sen darted around Stathis, spreading her arms wide and speaking rapidly, in some language that Stathis didn’t recognise. She gestured at Janaxia and spoke again, bowing deeply, then dropping to all fours and prostrating herself, knocking her head against the floor. Janaxia looked at her, before shrugging her shoulders, her heavy furs fading and changing into something appropriate for the weather, adopting sheer and clinging silks, the black tinged with red, jewellery forming around her horns. The guards all looked at Janaxia, then each other, before Sen said something else, fast and urgent.

They all took a step back, their swords sliding back into sheathes as they bowed, very deeply. Janaxia looked confused for a moment before apparently accepting this, tucking hair around a horn.

They all intoned, as one. ‘Karhacki!’ And then they bowed again.

Stathis let her sword go, very carefully making sure they saw her raise her hand away from the hilt. ‘Any idea what’s going on? Or where we are?’

Somewhere far more pleasant! And where they knew how to treat their betters. She nodded at them, prompting them into another bow. Behind them, another person entered – not a fighter, this was a slender male figure, wearing silk trousers, a silk shirt hanging open to show a toned chest, half of it covered with shiny, iridescent scales, a golden pectoral around his neck and throat. He spoke to Sen in the same language she had used, and she kept her head to the floor as she responded.

Then he looked up at Janaxia, and Stathis could see that his eyes were slitted like a snake’s, ducking his head in a truncated nod, his tone soothing and unctuous as he changed languages. ‘A Blessed One! We were not expecting such a visit. But you are not known to me – which of the great ones do you claim as ancestor?’

Sen started to speak, but was cut off as he stamped the ground, making her twitch. Janaxia growled before answering herself, shoulders back, exuding her aura of affronted nobility. ‘Kindly desist from threatening my servants! I am Janaxia Uth Tremari.’ She gestured with a hand, ethereal darkness flickering over her fingers. ‘I have travelled far, and demand food and drink.’

He couldn’t hide his look of surprise but bowed more deeply. ‘Of course, blessed one. Please forgive any errant behaviour, no disrespect was intended. Follow me and your wishes shall be met.’

He spun on a heel, shirt billowing. Janaxia helped Sen to her feet, her own clothing rippling into something suitable for an ominous glide down the hallway, light skirts trailing behind her, translucent silks partially shrouding the movement of her feet. Wherever they were, it was hot and humid, Stathis twisting in her armour to try and gain relief as she followed along behind them, wishing she could take the helm off but it seemed safer to keep in on and stay semi-anonymous.

Wherever they were, it looked like a palace – the walls were carved into elaborate friezes, some showing combat, figures in ornate clothing defeating their foes and receiving homage and tribute from massed ranks of the defeated. Or with the defeated, organised into groups, fettered and shackled, waiting upon their new masters. Along the top writhed serpentine patterns, broken occasionally by heads and faces, most of which bore horns, fangs, scales or more outlandish shapes.

The servants and flunkeys they passed in the hallway all stopped and dropped to the ground in deep bows aimed at Janaxia until she had passed. Each time this happened, Janaxia seemed to swell, walking with a little more swagger each time, extra decorations appearing, her clothing getting more and more ornate. Stathis began to make out some markers of differences – those bowing a little less deeply seeming to have various levels of scales on their flesh, or shoulders and chests dappled with smears of blue, green or red skin. Fine silks and expensive jewellery seemed to be common, along with gold, silver and gems gleaming and catching the light.

Large double doors, twice the height of Stathis, swung open as they approached, to reveal a room with large windows, giving views of a hot, blue sky. Several chaise lounges were arranged around a table, servants hurriedly laying out food and drink. An ornamental garden had been laid out at one end, a pool of water surrounded by dark rocks and spiky plants. A tendril moved, and Stathis realised it was a snake, vivid green with a red diamond on its head, wrapped around a small tree.

‘Please, Blessed One, rest and make yourself comfortable. We are exalted by your presence.’ He bowed again, then looked at Sen, looking her up and down, making her shrink back, before scrutinising Stathis. ‘Do you wish your slaves to stay?’

Janaxia swept forwards and sat down, laying languorously across a couch, her clothing rearranging itself as she did so. ‘Yes, they may attend upon me.’ She used magic to lift some grapes, conveying them to her mouth, then filling up a wine-glass. ‘Very good, you may go.’ She waved with a hand, dismissing him, ignoring the look of resigned irritation that appeared on his face as he bowed again and left, the doors silently shutting behind him.

As they did so, Stathis moved to the large windows, wincing at the heat conducting itself through her armour as she stepped into the sunlight, but wanting to see where they were. The palace must be on a hill, as it was overlooking a large city, blocky buildings stretching out in front and around of her. There was a wide stone avenue fringed with lush, green trees leading from the palace to an outer defensive wall, but most of the rest of the city looked dry and dusty, except for occasional rooftop gardens splashed amidst the sandy stonework. It was dense and built-up, busy and well-populated, with what were probably markets amongst the buildings, wagons and caravans moving to and from the gates.

She carefully approached the water feature, dipping her hand into the pool and pouring water over her armour to try and cool off, then retreated back into the relative cool of the shade. The snake gave a territorial hiss, tongue flickering, but didn’t otherwise move, simply staring at her.

Well, this is certainly pleasant. Janaxia helped herself to the wine. ‘Sen, you may stand. This place appears known to you?’

‘This is Setha, Karhacki.’

Stathis squinted, trying to see outside of the walls – it was hard to see, but the land did seem to be black and ashen outside of the walls.

‘Ah, of course! That would explain the excellent wine. Although I thought it was meant to be a rather more barren land? I was not expecting such greenery.’

‘For one such as you, bounty shall be given.’ She approached Janaxia’s seat and then took a kneeling position.

‘Very good.’ Janaxia helped herself to another grape. I suppose my loyal guard may have some as well, should she desire?

‘Do we need to be careful of anything?’

Janaxia shrugged nonchalantly as Sen spoke. ‘I have never had many dealing with those of such elevated rank. I would never wish to cast aspersions on those exalted by the ancients.’ Sen made a gentle hiss, and the snake unwound itself and started to slither forward, moving towards her. When she stretched out a hand, it crawled up and around her arm, winding around until it was wound around her arm like a bangle. She stroked it on the head, hissing at it. ‘This is the Palace of the Scales. I never dreamed of being in so grand a place! And as the follower of a Blessed One!’

‘So, what exactly does that mean?’ Stathis asked.

‘She is closer to the ancient ones.’ Sen made a gesture with her hand, making the shape of a horn on her head.

‘So, just to be clear, Janaxia’s properly part demon? I mean, I pretty much suspected, but it’s nice to have confirmation.’

There’s no need to sound so judgemental! I mingled my essence with Galondwyn, and so became something more than simply human. And it is to be commended that some people are cultured enough to make such things a mark of distinction.

‘She is far closer to the ancient ones than I am. I bear only the slightest of marks, rather than the signs of rulership.’

‘So what happens now? Is she actually in charge?’

‘I do not know how the elders determine rule amongst themselves. I imagine that there will be interest in meeting one of such elevated status though.’

Janaxia preened, her jewellery shimmering as she plucked another grape. Such a shame you have to keep that helmet on, otherwise you could join me. But I suppose you will have to remain masked for your own safety.

‘Well, as long as she doesn’t get sacrificed or anything. What about Skotadi?’

Hmm, I believe she came through with us, although I cannot see her. Well, she endured Belazaan, I imagine she will do better here. Peresperan was likely sloppy with his spellcasting – I’m sure she will find her way back to us in time.

Part of the wall opened up, a hidden passage appearing and disgorging servants. All were veiled but with plenty of flesh on display, showing various flecks and marks of scales or streaks of different colours. They bought more food and drink, bringing in trays and laying them out, all curtseying or bowing at Janaxia. One of them, who had a bony growth on the side of his head, spoke to her.

‘The Queen of Scales desires to speak to you.’ They all kept their eyes down, not even looking directly at Janaxia. ‘Do not show fear or make any comments, unless you wish to be punished.’

‘Of course, what do you take me for? Do you think me entirely unused to dealing with those of wealth and status?’ She reached out and took him by the chin, forcing him to look at her.

‘Yes, Blessed One, of course. And do you wish fresh attire for this one?’

‘Yes, something more suited to her position as my chief servant.’

From Sen’s happy wriggle, that was presumably a promotion?

‘It shall be done as you command, Blessed One.’ He bowed again, Janaxia clearly admiring his body. Stathis rolled her eyes, unseen behind her helmet. The servants vanished as quickly as they had appeared, the wall closing up behind them.

As soon as they had left, the huge doors swung open, and an older man, in fabulously ornate robes, entered. He had one bare arm, covered entirely in gleaming scales, which he raised dramatically in front of himself.

‘Zarazonnia, Queen of the Iron Scales, approaches, and bids you welcome!’ Despite the small size of the room, he still raised his voice, making a formal announcement. Stathis heard a dry rasping sound from behind him, accompanied by a dry and musky scent.

The doors opened wider, a woman sliding smoothly in, her body larger than normal, although not on the scale of a giant, with six arms emerging from her torso. Long black hair streamed from her head, and she was wearing a brilliantly-polished breastplate. She didn’t have legs – from the waist down, she was a snake, a large and powerful-looking coil of scales and muscles beneath her. She was armed as well, with three swords on each hip, a selection of different styles.

She slithered into the room, her bulk imposing as she settled herself down, still above Janaxia even when resting. At least the helmet made it east not to show any shock! She must be a demon-queen or otherwise in charge, a golden circlet bright against her dark hair, scales sliding against the ground. Her torso and shoulders moved strangely as her arms settled into position, two resting on sword-hilts, a pair crossed in front of her, two more reaching for some of the food and drink.

Janaxia bowed her head slightly, entirely unphased. ‘The Queen of Iron Scales, then? An honour, I’m sure. I thank you for your hospitality.’

They nodded in response. ‘Of course. It is rare to see one of your background. You are not what I would have expected, from how the Grand Magus described you.’ An arm reached out – despite its uncanny size, the nails were painted a bright red, the fingers and palms calloused, as a thin haze of some spell appeared around a fingertip. She reached out and lightly touched one of Janaxia’s horns. ‘An interesting infusion. Ancient power anew.’ Her head flicked around, settling on Stathis, then looking at her blade. ‘Hmm. That is a fine looking blade. Bring it here.’

Stathis paused until Janaxia nodded. Stathis obeyed, slowly sliding the blade from the sheathe and holding it across her palms, holding it out so that they could see. It was plucked from her grip and carefully examined, even swung a few times, whistling through the air with each cut.

‘Hmmm. Well-made, and well-used.’ She held it up, looking down the blade. ‘Enchanted. Elven steel, but human craftwork? Nothing unique, but suitable for a commander or trusted guard.’ She swung it a few more times before flipping it around and handing it back to Stathis. ‘You should look after it more though – the grip is worn and needs replacing, and the sheathe is scarcely befitting of such a fine blade.’

Hmmm, yes, you really should take better care of your equipment, Stathis.

Stathis slid the sword back into the sheath, resting her hand on it. Zarazonnia patted the hilt of one of her swords – the grip was oversized, probably to accommodate her larger hands, wrapped in gleaming leather, a rune gleaming on the pommel. It scraped outwards, Stathis tensing, the blade single-edged and slightly curved, lines of gold shot through the clearly-enchanted steel.

‘This is Woundfang, my latest.’ She swung it, hard enough to create a breeze in their air, the metal singing. ‘Eight hundred years old, crafted by Illyrisanio of the Orak-He. One of his greatest works. And troublesome to acquire, but worthy of the effort.’ She moved it with increasing speed, using it to flip a melon off the table then slicing it into pieces, tossing and juggling them into the air with the blade. She hooked two of her thumbs together and spread her fingers wide, projecting a wide burst of flame upwards and reducing all of the fruit to ash. Her attendant passed her a cloth, and she wiped her sword clean before sheathing it. ‘A silly game, but there is a certain joy in such things. You are certainly not what I expected through – you are truly the blood of that Poratia woman?’

Janaxia froze, partway towards putting another grape into her mouth, her head dropping for a moment before she made a show of it, brushing hair out of her face.

‘Yes, I am her daughter.’

‘Hmm. You are rather more than I expected. I smell ancient power on you, something I thought long gone from this world. And you certainly do not carry yourself in the fashion of your kin.’

‘I do aim to set myself apart from the common mass.’ Janaxia played with her hair. Was she flirting? Or was that just nervousness? ‘I find the usual robes a little fusty, especially in this climate. But you appear to comport yourself quite impressively as well. The armour suits you, while also being practical. And that sword-harness is impressively crafted.’ She gestured at the web of belts and straps, where the human waist turned into scales, holding the swords.

‘Yes, I designed it myself - thank you for noticing. Drakeskin leather – now that was a pleasure to hunt! Your own clothing appears finely crafted, I must say. So few have the bravery to mix materials like that. Silk and mesh? And the touches on your horns, those chains? Set off the black magnificently. Have you considered opals, maybe? Although this does seem a little too distinct.’ A hand reached out and tapped the choker, a nail chinking against the metal. ‘Rather a lot of gold, and do you not find it rather tight around the neck?’

Janaxia stroked the metal. ‘Oh, I think it’s just right. I quite like the fit, and it was a gift.’ She glared at Stathis. ‘It must be a challenge having clothing tailored for your specific, ah, needs.’

Zarazonnia shrugged, an eye-catching sight with her number of arms and shoulders. ‘I find most can be… persuaded. Although I have had to acquire a certain amount of skill with needle and thread myself. It is something to do when on campaign. Is your champion skilled? Perhaps a contest is in order.’ She moved, her torso coming closer to Stathis without moving her snake-body, her trunk simply extending forwards.

‘Most here prefer agility or magic to metal – useful for duelling, not so much for massed combat in the field. A rather major impediment, should they ever be required to battle in the field.’ A finger flicked Stathis’ breastplate. ‘Although this is well-crafted, especially for something recent. Fresh-made, unless I am mistaken? Impressive, they must have done well to afford such a thing. Or did you have it crafted for them?’

‘Oh, that was a gift. But she is an impressive warrior. Even if not always entirely honest.’

‘Ah, well, as long as they are loyal. A good follower may have their own interests, as long as they follow your lead and orders.’ She tensed, a hand dropping to the hilt of a different sword. Stathis moved to draw her own blade as Zarazonnia chuckled. ‘Well, they’re certainly attentive, at least. I wonder how many swords you deserve? At least two, I think. Maybe as many as four.’ The tail seethed, a solid coil of muscle that could deliver a powerful blow by itself. ‘There are few that can manage all six, at least not for long. Will you not eat or drink?’

‘Oh, she prefers to stay on guard. Very watchful. I may permit her some food later.’

Zarazonnia withdrew, dropping down to look at Sen, who was tense and rigid, eyes fixed on the floor. ‘A well-formed piece.’ A hand stroked against a scale-patch, making Sen shiver. ‘You certainly appear to travel in more style than most itinerant adventurers.’

‘Well, I do like to try, and it is nice to have a few creature comforts, is it not? It sounds as though you have some experience yourself in such matters. Did you conquer this place?’

‘Oh, I only came here some few years ago. I had been trapped and sealed somewhere far from here. I was released and ended up here, after being deposited in the ocean – a long journey, and one filled with its own adventures. But they are certainly respectful here! There has been the occasional challenger, but a little blood in the arena helps to cement my power. It’s almost a shame, the occasional assassination attempt kept things lively. And gave me the chance to acquire a few more blades for my collection. Do you fight at all? You appear a little more toned than most of your ilk.’

‘I have some skill but prefer to leave such things to my associate here. She is rather better equipped for it. I find it easier to improvise, and enchant what I need. Although if you could furnish me with a well-crafted wooden blade, that would be appreciated.’

‘A blade of wood? An interesting request. I take it that you are not one of those sworn to the primal woodlands and the sleeping power of the lands?’

‘Oh no.’ Janaxia waved a hand. ‘Far too uncivilised. No, my magic is far more refined than their savage casting.’

‘And yet you are not a regular practitioner? You appear quite different to Poratia. And certainly far more refined in style.’ Her eyes dipped down to the book on Janaxia’s waist. ‘Although still bound by your learning?’

Janaxia gave a tight-lipped smile. ‘Well, I have learned a fair amount on the road. Rather more practical skills, rather than mere academic theory. I prefer a more instinctive form of magic, rather than spending hours poring over tomes.’

‘And a rather interesting tattoo. I’ve seen something like that before, a long time ago. Where did you get the design?’

‘Hmmm, well… It seemed appropriate.’ Janaxia traced a finger over the whorls and loops of the spirals between her breasts. ‘Although it has faded a little, it used to be more vivid.’

‘The last one I saw was rather more lively. And the bearer was something of a unique specimen themselves. But that was a long time ago. Things are somewhat calmer now though. Conquest is nice but can be rather tiring after a while! But your ancestor was of similar thoughts, was he not? A shame we never met, he sounds like an interesting fellow. But you mortals live for such short periods, even for those with magical prowess. But enough of this – I assume that you are here to meet with your mother?’

Janaxia gave a deep sigh. ‘Yes. I was ordered to attend, after completing a mission in Belazaan.’

‘The city of the Crystal Princes? A fascinating-sounding place, although the last time I visited it was laying the place to siege. And they managed to hold me off, more’s the pity! Their commander was a genius. Up until I had him assassinated, but even that wasn’t enough and we had to withdraw. That was a mess to organise, let me tell you.’

The attendant stepped forward and had to stand on tip-toes to be even close to the woman’s ear, before she shifted down to be closer to him, scales rasping as she moved. She nodded.

‘It seems as though your mother will be joining us. I would have more food bought, but she rarely seems to eat, and certainly doesn’t appreciate it as you do. Nor is much of an appreciator of fashion. Too much time doing magical research rather than anything pleasurable! But such is business.’

The doors swept open again, dark magical forces pushing them open, a chill rushing into the room…