Stathis managed not to tense, forcing herself to keep her arms relaxed, as Janaxia’s mother entered the room. She wasn’t particularly tall, her body wrapped in a dark robe, the fringes embroidered with silver threads, enchanted gemstones across her chest, gleaming with power. Her face was withered and old, skin leathery and taut, although she had the same green eyes as Janaxia. Several wands hung from her waist, bone, metal and crystal rods bound about with runes, a palpable aura of power hanging about her. Magical rings and amulets were on her fingers and around her neck. What could be seen of her hands and fingers were dirty with what looked like dried blood.

She looked from side to side, gaze sweeping the room, before settling on Janaxia, who gulped, looking guilty and nervous.

‘You have managed to make it here. More than I expected. Your mission in Baalazaan was surprisingly successful. And you seem to be alive. More than I expected. Now, the Dragon’s Eye – hand it over.’

Janaxia’s head drooped, her hand going into her own robes and pulling out an item, a fist-sized stone that gleamed with an inner light. Poratia lunged for it, her withered hand grabbing it from Janaxia, holding it up. A swirl of magic rippled around it as it was suspended in the air. ‘You have surpassed my expectations. But there are more important tasks to be about than chatting here!’ She strode forward, the orb hovering behind her. ‘Stand up.’

Janaxia obeyed, her robes settling about herself, still looking awkward and uncertain. Poratia bent her fingers, and a lash of energy flicked out, striking Janaxia across the face, hard enough to make her head snap back, a red welt appearing on her face. Stathis’ hand tensed on her sword hilt and she stepped forward, body rigid.

‘You should keep your followers in check. Or they might get taught a lesson.’ Poratia gestured again and dark energy lashed towards Stathis, striking against her armour, scratching against the metal, a cold numbness searing into Stathis’ chest.

Stay back!

Stathis obeyed, taking a step back and moving her hand away from her sword, still tense with anger. The lash struck Janaxia across the chest now, making her clothing ripple as the magic was disrupted, a painful strike to judge from Janaxia’s expression.

‘You are wasting time. There are more important things to do than being a wastrel and indulging yourself. I do hope this useless wretch hasn’t been wasting your valuable time, Zarazonnia?’

‘No, she was actually rather pleasant to talk to.’ Two of the hands rested on swords, hands gripping the hilts, Zarazonnia focused on Poratia, snake-tail tense despite the relaxed expression on her face.

Force wrapped around Janaxia, binding her arms to her side, compressing her body and squeezing the breath from her. ‘Never forget your duty to the family. Now, come with me.’ She walked around, the energy tightening around Janaxia until she stumbled after her, gasping for breath, getting dragged from the room. Stathis moved to follow, but Zarazonnia slithered in the way, shaking her head and speaking quietly.

‘Better to leave them to it. Unless you wish to end up as part of Poratia’s experiments. The time will come when she is dealt with, but for now she is needed, sad to say.’ The doors slammed shut with a crash, the two of them vanishing from sight. ‘You must be devoted to your mistress to consider standing up to such a powerful wizard. Or are you under such a heavy enchantment as to have no choice?’

Stathis didn’t say anything. Steel rang, a blade singing out, and she barely managed to draw her own blade in time, staggering backwards as she blocked a powerful attack, Zarazonnia’s body snapping forward, using the full force of her body to power her attack. This blade was wreathed in blue fire, and Stathis just about managed to duck beneath another attack. She was only using one hand, body shifting backwards as Stathis advanced, sidestepping a thrust, then blocking another strike with her shield. Zarazonnia was strong, her attacks staggering Stathis, and fast enough that getting in attack range was hard, despite her bulk. Her snake-tail made it easy for Zarazonnia to move herself, keeping out of attacking range, torso weaving back and forth.

The flaming blade sliced the air, ringing against Stathis’ armour, jarring her arm badly. The backswing clipped a tapestry, the weave catching alight, Zarazonnia still pressing the attack. Her size allowed her to hem in Stathis’ movement, any attempt to break past likely to invite attacks and involve clambering over that oversized body.

‘Queen Zarazonnia! Please control yourself!’ The attendant pulled the tapestry from the wall and stamped on it, extinguishing the fire.

Zarazonnia attacked again, pushing Stathis back before suddenly withdrawing, blade still afire. ‘You move well, Janaxia seems to have excellent taste in slaves. A shame she is unlikely to sell you. Although seeing you in action will be pleasurable, I am sure.’ She glanced at the door, to where Poratia had dragged Janaxia. ‘Do not worry yourself overmuch about your mistress – Poratia still needs her, so is unlikely to do anything permanent. She is a rather odious woman, though, despite her power. Now, some of those candied fruits, I think.’

Sen moved back in from the corner where she had taken shelter, picking up several items from the table and carrying them over to Zarazonnia.

‘Very good. You are a nice little thing, aren’t you?’ She patted Sen on the head. ‘But I have other business to be about. No matter how many advisors I appoint, I always seem to have to work myself, or eliminate them before they try and usurp me. The occasional assassination attempt makes things exciting, but it would be nice if they could at least finish all their paperwork first! Very rude of them.’

‘Queen Zarazonnia, you have a meeting with the Ancient and August Fraternity of the Traders across the Three Seas and Five Mountains. They were unhappy about your lateness previously, which resulted in some… ugliness.’

Zarazonnia sighed. ‘Life as a sellsword must be much simpler. No meetings with merchants, demanding tariff changes, and you’re not allowed to stab them! Very well, Abelard. The emerald chamber, I imagine?’

‘Yes, your ladyship. I have prepared some notes for you to read, that summarise the current situation.’ He pulled out a sheaf of papers from his sleeve, covered with dense script. ‘Please read this.’

Zarazonnia flipped her sword around, the flame blinking out as it slid away into a sheath, another arm reaching out for the papers. She turned around, managing to twist her bulk without smashing or even knocking any of the furniture, slithering away with a dry rasp. ‘Your swordsmanship is impressive but needs refining still. Keep at it, and you may be worthy of your mistress.’

Stathis waited until she had left and the door had slammed shut before turning to Sen, who had taken some of the sweets for herself.

‘We’re slaves? When did that happen?’

‘Lady Janaxia is a blessed one, close to those like Most Blessed Zarazonnia of the Iron Scales, sacred in her power. It is only right that she have power. Although I did not know that you had placed yourself beneath her.’

‘I haven’t! And you’re not her property either.’

‘There is power in having such an owner, Lady Stathis. It grants us some level of protection.’

‘I think I’d rather look out for myself. So is there where you’re from?’

Sen moved to the windows, looking out over the city that sprawled around them. ‘I was born and raised in the Seven-Scale Ward.’ She pointed at an area that looked much the same as those surrounding it, the city divided into walled areas, different coloured flags and banners waving above gates and walls. ‘I never aspired to a position such as this!’

‘Do you want to go and see family or anything? They must be worried about you.’

‘Yes, I shall have to ask Lady Janaxia if I may see them. Although…’ Sen looked nervous and worried.

‘Yeah, we need to check Janaxia is alright. I knew her family relationships were bad, but I wasn’t expecting it to be quite like that. Explains a lot.’

‘Yes, she should defeat those that stand against her, so that she may rule.’ Sen picked up some of the tableware that had been knocked aside.

‘Or maybe just walk out and never come back? Not everything has to be resolved in violence. Is that what you would do if you had an argument with your family?’

Sen paused, looking out over the city before responding. ‘Feuding is forbidden to those of lower blood. And we are sworn to Karitalinkaa. Or were – I am unsure if he still lives. Our lives were his, not our own.’

‘Right, I need to get Janaxia to free you or something. Do you think we’re allowed to leave, or will we be stopped? I’d rather not try and fight my way out. Although I suppose we should stay here first and wait for Janaxia.’ Was there something that could be done about that? Attacking her would probably end very badly, as well as reveal her identity, but the sheer cruelty of the way she treated Janaxia – was she the same with Kivata? That would explain why she was, well, the way she was. Even Zarazonnia seemed better, and she was a giant six-armed snake-demon!

‘I do not think we will be stopped directly, but there will be areas we are turned away from. This is where the highest of powers dwell, after all – according to rumour, the plotting is almost constant.’

‘Great. So, lots of demons plotting against each other, murder in the night, that sort of thing?’

‘Those of the oldest blood, like the Queen of the Iron Scales, are rare – most of those that rule are but mortals, albeit with the marks of their ancestry. It will certainly be wisest to avoid causing any offence. Although I am sure that Lady Janaxia will protect us.’ Even Sen couldn’t make herself sound very certain of that. ‘She is certain to have some plan, I am sure.’

‘I wouldn’t be so sure of that. We’ll need to keep an eye on her. And make sure she’s OK.’ Stathis moved towards the huge doors, trying to find any handle, before gripping part of the carving and pulling, having to strain before it started to slide open. Sen moved close behind her, looking nervous as Stathis managed to get the door open enough to step through.

The hallway outside was massive, the walls ornately carved – servants were tugging a rug back into place, Zarazonnia’s movement having pulled it out of alignment. All of them were finely dressed, with jewellery hanging from their ears and around their necks, dipping their heads even lower.

‘Servants of the Blessed One. Her chambers have been prepared, by the orders of Queen Zarazonnia.’ They spoke so softly that Stathis had to strain to hear their voice, as Sen stepped around her.

‘Yes. Conduct us to Lady Janaxia’s chambers.’ She held herself proudly, staring down at them – presumably being a follower of Janaxia meant she was higher rank now, able to boss them around?

‘Of course. This one shall serve.’

They rose without making eye contact and walked away, moving slowly and waiting for Sen and Stathis to follow.

As they moved through the palace, Stathis started to get an idea of the size of the place – everything was built on a massive scale, large enough to swallow up the people moving through them. Most of them bore traces of some inhuman heritage – horns, fangs, claws, scales or swirls of oddly-coloured skin, a few even with tails or hooves. All were elaborately dressed, even those that were tending to menial tasks wearing silks. Sudden giggles broke the soft silence as a quartet of children ran past, all of them with dark blue skin, their leader a young boy with a single horn, who kicked a ball and then ran after it. The servants all pushed themselves against the walls as they passed, the groups both pretending that the other didn’t exist.

Some of the passageways were partially open, showing inner courtyards carved into elaborate sets of statues (or were people transformed into stone), some of them even decorated with clothing and jewellery, or alive with vivid plant-life, brilliant green vines surmounted by red and yellow flowers. Another had a group doing weapons practice, or possibly duelling, the air alive with the clashing ring of steel. Stathis slowed her pace, watching their style – all of those involved were stripped to the waist, weaving and leaping around to evade strikes, bodies slick with sweat, a few bright with bloody smears where they hadn’t managed to move fast enough. They were paired up, focusing on a single opponent – duelling, rather than battlefield combat. If she had to fight people like that, then weathering their strikes would be the easiest, and then countering to take them down.

The hallways curved and wound around without any obvious pattern, until they found themselves in a skywalk, a stone passageway suspended over a drop. Stathis turned around – the main palace looked like it was built atop a steep-sided hill by itself, with another stone spur linked to it by the skywalk. Beneath them was the city, a stretch of it cast into shadow by the palace. She could make out movement, dots going about their business beneath her, the sky a bright blue above, the breeze a welcome relief.

Sen whispered, or tried to, having to raise her voice so that Stathis could hear her through her helmet. ‘The Tower of Fangs. This is where foreign visitors and prisoners stay.’

That would explain the skywalk – there didn’t seem to be any way into the Tower without coming through the palace itself. As long as they weren’t locked into somewhere though!

The entrance to the Tower itself was guarded, a rough-looking group of scarred and tattooed warriors, lounging around, most of them focused on a game of cards. Apparently even demon’s blood didn’t make guards immune to boredom and gambling. Two of them looked at Stathis as she approached, weighing her up and assessing her. She calmly looked back at them (not that they could see her face), looking at their weapons – there was no uniformity of equipment, with four of them having swords, but all of different styles, one with a net and trident, one with a metal-tipped whip, and one unarmed, but sat close to a huge stone maul, propped against the wall.

One hissed at her, a forked tongue flicking from their mouth. Their hand moved and metal shot out, a blur shooting towards her. She didn’t bother dodging, hearing metal clang against her breastplate without effect, but let her hand drop to her hilt, sliding her blade out slightly.

Sen stepped forward again and said something, gesturing with her hands, making the “horn” gesture again. They said something back, crude and bantering from the tone, as Sen made an attempt at Janxaia’s hauteur, holding herself straight and staring them down. As the knife thrower moved again, Stathis stepped forward and slammed her sword-hilt forward into their chest with enough force to knock them back, not sliding it back.

Steel whispered as swords were drawn, the whip flicking out with a crack. Not that he would be able to use it in these confines or do anything against armour other than annoy her! Sen spoke again, making more expansive gestures, a few of them looking similar to some of Janaxia’s spellcasting gestures, except without her fingers fading from reality. Janaxia stared at the knife-thrower, hoping to make him feel uncomfortable. The détente was broken by one of the swordfighters laughing, sheathing his weapon before stepping forward and rapping a knuckle against Stathis’ breastplate. His bare chest was marked with dozens of scars, some of them worked into tattooed patterns, slashing and spiralling over his chest. He grinned at her, showing fangs.

‘Good armour. But a fight only gets fun when blood is shed. What use is denying the call of blood?’

Stathis turned to look at him, her voice tinny from behind her helmet. ‘I fight to protect others. I can do that better when uninjured. Care to test me?’

‘Zarazonnia has decreed no feuding in the halls, my armoured friend. But perhaps we shall meet in the arena? It has grown dull of late, since the Queen of Iron Scales culled the weak, and recruited the best for her personal guard. She speaks of “units” and “logistics” and “tactics”! I prefer to trust in my own strength – I am not so weak as to not others to support me. You belong to the whelp of that witch? Perhaps you have strength, or perhaps you are nothing but meat for the butcher, an empty heart wrapped in steel. I hope we shall find out sometime. Remember the name Krizek Redfang, my steely friend.’ He stepped away, picking up his hand of cards. ‘Ziven, your draw. Blades are high.’

That seemed to serve as a signal, the others all standing down as well, letting them pass. She could feel their eyes on her still, but there were no other attacks, as they moved around the corner, coming to a massive spiral staircase and being led upwards, before branching off and being shown to a small suite of rooms, richly furnished, but with only tiny windows. Sen thanked them before they left, then looked around with interest.

‘That was Krizek Redfang, the old champion of the arena! I watched him fight against a pack of direwolves, slaying them all. That’s how he got his scars!’

‘He’d probably have done better if he was wearing armour. Although in this heat, something lighter!’ Stathis looked around, wondering where the spyholes were. ‘How safe are we likely to be here?’

‘I would presume we are under the protection of Zarazonnia. I doubt many would openly break such a thing.’

‘And covertly?’

‘Caution would be advised. Although Lady Janaxia’s mother must have some influence as well? Even it would be nice if she were to suffer and die.’ She looked slightly taken aback by her words, looking around nervously for any eavesdroppers.

‘Can’t really disagree with you there. I hope she continues to dismiss me as well. She’s meant to be very powerful. And how she treats Janaxia!’

Sen nodded, braids sliding around. ‘Yes, one of such nobility and grace should not be treated in such a way!’ Her fangs slid into sight – did they happen when she was angry? Then she coughed and covered her mouth with her hand. ‘My apologies, Lady Stathis.’

‘Best you don’t use my name, just in case. But we should be fairly safe here?’

‘Do not be too trusting, but I doubt we will be openly attacked.’ She looked around the apartments. ‘At least Lady Janaxia should enjoy the apartments, they are luxurious.’ Sen poked her head into other adjoining chambers. ‘I shall run her a bath, as I am sure she will want to relax on her return.’

Stathis nodded, before returning to checking the walls for spyholes, checking behind hangings, shifting wardrobes and chests aside.