So it was that on the second day of festival Brunhilde was summoned to Marid in the early morning. His hands were clasped together; she saw they were ringless.

“The Midnight Soil have stolen from me, precious gifts from the Glorious Emperor that are treasured memories,” he cried.

“How do you know it was them?”

“It must have been them. Who else would bear a grudge against us?” He rubbed his naked hands over each other. “How can I take back my rings?”

“I’ll take care of it, no need to trouble your men.” She had a suspicion that Hope was involved. She could never let go of what she considered a slight. There were always winners and losers in Hope’s world.

Brunhilde left Marid worrying over his loss and made for the Midnight Soil docks. Best to solve this problem in the cool of the morn. The dawn air was cool, but the Sun gave a creeping warmth to the city. It would be swelteringly hot later.

Hope was sitting at the edge of the dockyard, idly watching passers-by. When she saw Brunhilde, she perked up like a meerkat. “Come to finish our battle?” she cried out.

“You stole from Marid?”

“You left your little commander unguarded. If this were a game of chess you would have lost already.”

“Give back his rings, they have meaning to him.” Brunhilde edged slowly towards Hope. She wanted to solve this with words, but her patience was slipping.

“I don’t have them.” Hope leapt up and skipped away over the rooftop, shouting down taunts as she ran. She leapt over alleyways from roof to roof as Brunhilde chased after her on the ground.

The barbarian grabbed an awning and swung herself up into Hope’s path, who tumbled into her. Brunhilde grappled the twisting princess, trying to control her. But Hope would not stay still, and a sharp knee to the solar plexus forced Brunhilde to release her.

“I’ll look like a poor warrior to Marid if I don’t get back his rings.” Brunhilde doubled over. “Give me his rings, I’ll say I stole them back from you and we’ll share the reward.”

“No. I’ve already been embarrassed by you; I won’t let my reputation suffer more.”

“I thought we were on the same side of this ruse?”

“So did I, and now we’re not. The tides of battle have changed, now your army must taste bitter defeat.” Hope swished her cloak around her like a bullfighter showing off to a crowd.

“What moon-addled nonsense are you talking about? We have no armies, we’re earning coin to pay our way. You can’t stop playing the princess, can you? You crave attention more than riches. You’re like a child who loves the glitter of gold more than its value.”

“Huh. Pretty poetry. Tell it to Marid.” Hope sprinted away, dropping down out of sight on the far side of the building.

Brunhilde pelted after her, blood was roaring in her ears, she had a mind to beat some sense into Hope. She dropped down into the dock of the Midnight Soil, and saw Hope racing across towards a ship. She caught up with her easily, her hand passed through her cloak and body, and she fell flat on her face as the illusionary princess shivered and disappeared. She heard laughter coming from somewhere. She clambered up and took in the situation. Hope could have entered any of the squat warehouses here, or be behind the stacked crates that the Tireless Ones were unloading.

She grabbed a crate from the zombies’ grasp and hurled it into the water. “Come out!”

“I’m busy counting the rubies in Marid’s rings. Ohohoho!” Her painfully fake laughter set Brunhilde’s teeth on edge.

She hurled a few more crates into the water, but it was a distraction from her real purpose. She would never find Hope, with her illusions, in this strange location. The empty-handed Tireless Ones paused for a few moments, then turned wordlessly and returned to the ship to find another crate, oblivious to the raging barbarian in their midst. She could easily hurl entire warehouses into the bay, but with nobody trying to stop her, where was the fun?

She grudgingly made her way back to Marid. She would have to admit defeat this time, she suspected there would be no tea for her in it.

Hope crouched by a dark window and watched Brunhilde leave, wary of a ruse, but the barbarian trudged away and did not come back. Her heart was pounding and she found herself unable to relax. After a while of toying, she would have revealed where she had hidden the rings. Maybe she would have given some over to Brunhilde to take back. But one should earn one’s victories.

She dropped down from her hiding place and paced around the dark warehouse. What could she do for fun now?

The Nameless One hobbled into the yard, drawn by the sound of commotion. He spotted the floating and sinking crates of goods in the water, and cried out in anguish.

Hope came up beside him and peered at the crates with disinterest. “How will your zombies get that out of the water? You need human labourers.”

His head swivelled slowly towards her. “You stood by and let that oaf hurl our goods into the water!” His beard quivered and his eyes glared at her. “I formally terminate your employment. Begone from here, plague me no more!”

“You don’t know what I did to help you!” Hope cried.

The Nameless One’s hands clenched and twisted his robe. “You have been no help to me whatsoever. Begone, begone, begone!”

Hope flounced away. She was in no mood to argue with a commoner today. Let him find Marid’s rings or not.

Actually, why not show him that she was not to be insulted? She snuck into his chamber whilst he was occupied lamenting his cargo. His crystal ball was sitting on the table, unguarded. She scooped it up and skipped out of the warehouse. See how he would fare without his little bauble. She had bested Marid and the Nameless One.

Marid was overcome with grief at Brunhilde’s failure to find his jewellery. He ordered her to patrol the Zaytuni compound and retired to his chamber to recover.

She made her way glumly around with the guards. They were dressed in uniforms and each knew their place in the hierarchy of their little army. They treated her with uncertain respect. She was trusted by Marid but also a stranger, they did not know how to fit her into their strict routines. She was useless here. Earning coin without battle was no story to tell.

Still, she had agreed to follow Marid’s command. So, she walked the finely decorated corridors of the compound, envying the guards in their certainty and routine.

When the two adventurers returned to their temporary home, Yusuf and Miray were eager to tell them of their own day. They had sold wreaths in the city, and seen the piles of wood being made for the summer bonfires, they had been moved on by Family guards for selling near their chapel, but Yusuf had run around the square and back to the other side to continue selling, Miray had sold more wreaths than Yusuf, but Yusuf had made more of them so really it was he that had sold more. They fought over to each other to tell the whole story.

Brunhilde watched them with joy, their animated gestures made these small tales into grand adventures. “You found some good stories today.” Her spirits were lifted.

At that moment, Hope slunk into the kitchen. She sat down in a chair, ignoring Brunhilde.

“How was your day, Princess?” Yusuf said. He edged his chair closer to her.

“Boring. I’ve decided being a mercenary is no fun anymore. I won’t be working for that pompous necromancer.” She refused to say any more.

Brunhilde tousled Yusuf’s hair. “Maybe you’d like to become a mercenary.”

“I would.” Yusuf sat up straight. “Teach me how to fight.”

Alexander shook his head and rubbed his temples. “We are a merchant family.”

“Why don’t we go out tomorrow night, to see the bonfires?” Miray said.

“Yes!” Alexander said.

“We can jump over them, for good luck,” Miray said.

“No!” Alexander said.

“We could do with some luck.” Brunhilde slammed her fist on the table.

“Jumping over fire doesn’t bring good luck.” Hope said.

“Afraid of a little fire?”

Hope scowled and light shined from her hands.

“But won’t you be seen together, I thought you were pretending to be rivals? Better to stay here and rest in the evening.” Alexander was sweating. He told himself it was from working over his cooking.

“Brunhilde can go out with me, and Yusuf can go with Hope,” Miray said. “We’ll be on our own secret missions.”

“Yes! I can show you the strikes I’ve been practising, Princess.” Yusuf chopped his hands purposefully in the air, showing the deadly blows he had mastered with his shortsword. His face watched Hope’s for any sign of acknowledgement.

“You’re a child, Yusuf, you shouldn’t be chopping. You should be stabbing upwards, to the belly or groin. Use your height difference to your advantage, and put your weight into it.” She jabbed her hand upwards.

“Said by a short person, you admit it!” Brunhilde roared.

Hope leapt up and raced out of the kitchen without a word, whilst Yusuf practised imaginary strikes to bellies.

“What’s wrong with Hope?” Miray said.

Brunhilde shrugged. “She’s far away from home, and filled with moods more changeable than a storm. Being a princess sounds less fun the more I learn about it.”

“Where is her home?” Yusuf said.

“Somewhere secret and dangerous. She has a heavy storm following her.” Brunhilde spoke a riddle.

“I cannot discard my armour

A harsh touch will hurt you

A soft touch will open me.”

“What?” Yusuf cocked his head.

“It’s a riddle. That’s a hedgehog.” Miray said.

“That’s one answer,” Brunhilde said.

They ate supper and Alexander exhorted the children to behave when they went out with the two heroes.

When Brunhilde entered the attic, Hope was lounging on her side, holding something in her hands. Either she had been waiting like that the whole time, or she had casually dropped into the pose as she heard Brunhilde coming up.

“What’s that then?” Brunhilde said. It was obvious Hope wanted her to ask.

Hope spun the crystal globe on her finger. “The Nameless One’s magical spying device. I decided to terminate his employment of me and tax him for his grievous insults to my royal person. None of my magical tutors would dare insult me so, only my mother was allowed to do that.”

“Magic, eh?” Brunhilde dropped down onto her blanket.

Hope peered deliberately into the ball, tempting Brunhilde to look. But the barbarian was digging filth from her ears. Hope sniffed, but then she saw something in the crystal. An image flickered. She concentrated her magical senses, and it came into focus. “Look at this.” She pulled Brunhilde in to see.

Through the ball they saw the murky sight of a garden. Long boxes along the floor filled with soil and blooming flowers. They glimpsed walls at the edge of the vision, and candles burning an eerie red light. A figure was bent over a clump of gravelilies, his hand caressing their grey blooms, searching for the best to take. He picked some carefully, placing them in a basket.

He turned as if he were looking at them through the crystal ball.

“It’s the Nameless One.” Hope leaned in closer. Brunhilde pulled away, fearful that he would see them.

He handed the basket towards them, and they saw taut hands take the basket. He left the room and the vision followed him, bobbing up and down.

“He looks out through the Tireless Ones’ eyes. Very clever. He can be everywhere at once. Maybe he’s not that simple. Do they all have these eyes? Why use this power to unload cargo? He is simple after all, no ambition.”

In the next room they saw him approach a vat, the rough size of a coffin, and filled with thick liquid. Bodies lay nearby. At his command the Tireless Ones picked up a body and lowered it into the vat. The mage poured a concoction into the vat, and the liquid roiled and bubbled. After a few minutes a hand rose from the liquid, another Tireless One, birthed from alchemical foulness climbed into the world.

Brunhilde peered over Hope’s shoulder. “He’s making more Tireless Ones.”

“Obviously. He’s an alchemist, that’s even weaker than a necromancer.”

On a nearby table a pile of black marbles sat in a cloth. He took one and pressed it into the eye-socket of his new worker. He coughed and placed his robe over his mouth, there must be fumes from this new arrival from the vat. The worker turned and shuffled away.

Brunhilde grimaced and lay down. Magic and magic, and more magic. She had seen enough spells to last a lifetime.

Hope rested the ball in a knothole between floorboards, she had also seen enough, but her response was boredom.

Brunhilde watched her, and the topic of rings hung at the end of her tongue. Bring it up now whilst she was friendly, or keep her friendly?

Brunhilde rubbed her face. There were no stories in her family on how to deal with moody princesses. She was writing a new tale here.

“The living of a tale is harder than the telling,” she said to herself.

“What?” Hope said.

“Something my father used to say. You never know where the most interesting path will take you. Only after the journey do you know the full tale.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Brunhilde sighed. “I’m lost, oh Princess. In a strange land. And tired.” She gave a timber rattling yawn. Perhaps tomorrow would be a better time to ask about the rings. She fell asleep, and Hope fidgeted besides her, trying to find a comfortable spot.

In the chambers of the Midnight Soil, the Nameless One returned to his sanctum, and found the crystal ball gone. He was frozen in surprise. Who could have breached his sanctum? Would that brat be so bold? He grabbed a nearby Tireless One and peered into its eye. With a word he reversed the power of its gaze, and the surroundings of the crystal ball appeared as a smoky image in its socket.

He saw a room, with two figures. He recognised the gold-haired betrayer immediately. More interesting was the sight of the tall red-head barbarian snoring besides her. So, he and Marid had been played by this duo? The Nameless One pulled at his beard in anger, there was a revenge to be had against both these adventuring fraudsters.