Greywolf-Muzen's scheme

"I'll do nothing of the kind," Asena snarls as she whirls around. Her hair's bristling even more and she's extended her claws. "The Shadow-walker's my son, and he wasn't trying to kidnap your priestess."

Muzen's eyes narrow. "Then what was he doing?"

"Kissing her," a high pitched female voice says from behind him. She sounds amused. "He would have gotten away with it too, if Blood-Wysper had not gotten so enthusiastic." A stick thin figure no more than three feet tall walks in and stops beside him. Her skin's black and shiny as polished onyx, but her hair's as white as a snow lion's mane. She's dressed in skin tight black leather, with at least a half dozen knives strapped to her body that wink in the lamplight as she looks up at the priest. "I kept my eyes on the young man the moment I spotted him walking towards us, and watched the whole affair. Blood-Wysper was never in any danger." The tiny female turns and looks across the room. "Hello, Asena. It's been a long time."

The bald headed priest gives a start. "Asena the Wolf-mother?"

"Who else would I be?" Asena points a claw at his face. "I know you."

"A long time ago under a different name. In the Sasnayam empire I am called Muzen, high priest of Yun-Kax." From behind him, the clattering sounds of armored men running is getting closer, and he turns to look through the doorway. "Captain, you and your men may stand down, since this appears to be a case of high spirits and nothing more. Return to the platform of the doves and escort the priestesses back to the women's quarters. If anyone asks questions, tell them Yrg and I have matters well in hand."

"Yes, sir," a young man's voice says.

He gives orders to his soldiers, and a moment later the sound of armored men marching away echoes off the alley walls as Muzen turns back towards us. "So what brings the Wolf-mother to Bukhara?"

"Hunting," she replies before glancing back at me, "and trying to keep Greywolf out of trouble." She frowns. "Stop bothering that woman and get over here."

"Greywolf's fine where he is," the mercenary answers, placing her arm on the table in front of me. I give her an uneasy glance and she grins. "Well met, Greywolf. Amazonia, captain of the band of rogues sitting at this table."

Could this get any more awkward? The mercenaries grin as if sharing a private joke as I touch my heart in a gesture of respect. "Likewise. Sir," I begin, turning towards Muzen, "apologies for causing such a ruckus. I only meant to kiss her and disappear before anyone got alarmed."

"And if you had realized they might be alarmed anyway, would that have stopped you?"

"Ah... probably not."

The room erupts in laughter, and I really want to sink right into the floor as Asena rolls her eyes. At least her hair's not bristling quite so much as the priest smiles. "Apology accepted. Asena, now that you are here, may I extend an offer of hospitality? The blood-corn my priestesses create will give you back the mana your body no longer produces."

Asena's already shaking her head. "None of our kind give anything for free, and I remember your plotting of old. Here in the Sasnayam empire you hold the upper hand, but if you've displaced the others, then you know they're plotting your downfall."

"Which is why I have strong alliances among the temples that were previously repressed under the old regime. Chaac, Ix-Chel, and their cronies can plot all they want, but so long as I control the blood-corn, they will not prevail."

Asena snorts. "You haven't changed. To be fair, neither have I, which is why I won't let Greywolf become a pawn in your schemes. There are still plenty of monsters in the world with enough mana stored in their hearts, for me to survive a few years longer without relying on anyone's... charity."

The priest opens his arms. "Why remain on this world at all, when you have a Shadow-walker son who could escort you safely to the Celestial Kingdom? He would be denied entry, of course, but as a veteran of the Daemo war, you would have a place of honor."

Daemo war? Since when has anyone been at war with them? "There's no place for me in the Celestial Kingdom," she says, her shoulders slumping. "Some years ago, me and several others contracted with the Shadow-walker Ghostdog to guard us as we traveled back there through the Shadowlands. However, when we arrived we discovered the Celestial Kingdom has changed." Asena sighs as her shoulders slump even more. "The wild places have all been tamed, the monsters domesticated and made into pets, and the intrigues of the past replaced by squabbles over philosophy, or music, or art."

This is the first time she's ever mentioned anything about her old home. "Sounds boring."

Asena glances at me and smiles. "Well beyond boring. Had I been as old as the others," her gaze shifting back to the priest, "it might have seemed like heaven. But I was young when the Daemo princes led their troops through the Shadowlands to conquer this world, and we led our armies the same way to stop them. How can I live a life of peace when all I've ever known is war?"

"What of Wotan?" Muzen gestures with his left hand towards the north. "My spies tell me he has formed a confederation of the Germanic tribes, and now holds his own against the Empire of the West and the Kingdom of the Gauls as well."

"Wotan banished me for having Ghostdog's son," she replies in a harsh voice. "When I refused the Celestial Council's invitation to lay down my sword and submit to them, the bastards ritually cursed me with an even greater need for mana to survive, their way of forcing me to return. Ghostdog offered to get a son on me in the Shadowlands, predicting a child overflowing with mana along with the ability to Shadow-walk, and he was right. Greywolf takes care of most of my needs and hunting monsters provides the rest."

The bald priest frowns. "I am familiar with your condition and the curse laid upon you. A half-human Oldenblood would be flowing with mana to be sure, yet your need would still be great."

Yrg giggles. "Who said anything about Ghostdog being human?"

"What about you, Winter Fae?" Asena asks, before Muzen can reply. "The last time we met, you were the assassin for the tyrant Maximinus of the Etruscan empire, right before it broke apart."

"Yrg bit off a bit more than she could chew," Muzen replies with a sly smile. "Greywolf, has Asena ever mentioned the race known as the Fae of Winter?" I shake my head. "They are a long lived race of magic users who can tolerate extreme temperatures, but prefer the cold, living at the bottom of the world in a land of eternal ice and snow."

"In ice palaces that make Tesiphon look like a hovel," she says, looking at me with dark eyes. "Enlarged and crafted by us over thousands of years. The humans we have brought there think us gods for the wonders we create."

"Right before you eat them," Asena says. "Winter Fae can only eat human flesh."

My eyes widen as Yrg shrugs. "Considering you eat the hearts of Trolls and Vampyres, among other races, I wouldn't talk."

Asena bristles as Muzen calmly cuts in. "Among the Winter Fae there exists only one queen, with all her children born neither male or female. Whenever a queen dies, as happened in a tragic accident several centuries ago, several of the strongest begin a process of transformation leading to one of them becoming queen. The rest are supposed to die."

"Except they no longer do. The war between the Celestial Kingdom and the Daemo princes brought magic to the earth it was never meant to have."

"The gods came down from the heavens to do battle with the Daemo," Muzen says, speaking to the humans in the room. "When the conflict finally ended and the gods won, humans had the ability to produce small amounts of mana, and the transformed Winter Fae's magic twisted. Instead of dying, they became wielders of death magic, their skin turning white as a corpse while their hair became black." He motions towards the Fae. "Yrg managed to catch one named Lys by waiting until she had gorged herself into a stupor, then chopped off her hands and feet before capping them over with gold."

"I also draped her body with gold medallions and amulets with lethargy spells the empire's mage-slaves provided. My people are tough to kill because we regenerate faster than any other living being, and the Shadow Fae are worse, because they can bring themselves back into an undead state. Think of a Lich. Anyway, to kill Lys my plan was using the gold to slowly drain her of mana over several years while starving her, until she became so weak that returning to an undead state would not work." Yrg scowls. "The emperor assured me Lys would remain under guard."

Muzen chuckles. "You can hardly blame the man for being violently deposed by the Praetorians, who then sacked the palace. The gold was stripped off of Lys, including the caps on her arms and feet, and her body thrown into a pit with other corpses."

"Lys ate her way out," Yrg says, "and was gone by the time I heard the news. I decided the Etruscan empire had become too unstable for my comfort, and eventually found Muzen."

"Yrg serves not only as my temple's assassin, but also as my Finder of Secrets, able to rummage through a person's memories the same way either I or Asena can."

"Waste of mana," Asena growls.

"You would be surprised at how many plots against the temple I have uncovered... though, I do understand your reasoning." Muzen looks at her and sighs. "Asena, let us stop bandying words and speak the truth. You are dying."

Instead of getting angry, Asena only shrugs. "What of it?"

"What of it?" Muzen gives her an exasperated look. "Asena, I admit I want your son's help in Yun-Kax remaining the chief temple of this pantheon, yet I also desire to help you. I know what it is like to have depleted your mana, the deep aches and fatigue you feel until it reaches a certain level in your body once more. And with the added burden the council cursed you with..." Muzen shakes his head. "No wonder you drink so much."

"Again, what of it? My life's my own, and so is Greywolf's. We won't be slaves to you or anyone else. Now, go away and leave us alone, so I may drink myself to death in peace."

"I can make things worse for you if I wish," Muzen says in a gentle voice. "Your resistance to Aethyr magic is legendary... or at least it was at one time, and I am certain the council expended a great deal of energy getting past your resistance. However, you admitted to me that they did so by saddling you with the curse. So all I need to do is intensify the spell until you either die or submit to me."

I tense, ready to dive in and help her, but the mercenary woman wraps her armored arm around my waist, holding me fast as Asena snarls, "Try that and I'll kill you right here."

"And I will help," a deep bass voice rumbles. From the dark shadows of the corner, an Ogri bigger than Asena and wearing chainmail armor steps into the lamp light, with a sword strapped to his back I'd never be able to lift, let alone use.

The woman nods once to my look of surprise as Asena turns around. "Titan? What are you doing here?"

"Paying off an old debt. I had word of you as I passed through the lands of Khor to the north, and followed you here. I was going to wait until morning to speak to you over a cup of Kaffe, or several, but it seems fate has decided otherwise." He looks past Asena at the priest. "Asena was my battle commander during an age when the kings of men dwelt in huts and cowered in fear as our armies clashed against the Daemo princes. Muzen, I mean no harm to you or to the Winter Fae, but if you attack Asena, I will defend her to the death."

Muzen raises one eyebrow... is that painted on? "The debt must be enormous."

"Far greater than words can express. Leave us to drink in peace and you are no worse off than when you entered. If not..." The Ogri lets his words hang as Muzen's eyes narrow.

Then he shrugs. "A good general knows when to advance, and when to withdraw."

"And when to risk it all on a throw of the dice." Yrg leaps towards the table, back flipping to land barefoot on the wooden top. I freeze as the mercenaries put their hands to their weapons, Yrg drawing a dagger with one hand while forming a miniature ice storm in the cupped hand of the other. "First to draw, dies."

"Wardogs, hold," the woman mercenary says, though she keeps her hand on her sword hilt. "What do you want?"

"To speak with Greywolf without interference," she looks at Asena, "from anyone."

Titan rests his hand on Asena's shoulder. "You have it, so long as words are the only weapon you draw."

Asena glowers, but remains in place as all the mercenaries let go of their weapons. Yrg sheathes her knife and the ice storm dissipates as she opens her hand. "Greywolf, let us speak of my ability to rummage through a person's memories."

It's hard to look menacing when you're sitting in someone's lap, but I give Yrg my best glower. "I'm not letting you anywhere near my head, if that's what you're going to ask."

Her smile's like glittering shards of jagged ice. "Nor do I want to. Not only would you resist me, but I feel certain that during my attempt, you would figure out how I was doing it. Unfortunately, Blood-Wysper does not have your defenses."

"How do you know that?"

"Because every few months I go through her memories to make sure Muzen can still trust her. Not only that, but whenever I discover that she has done something questionable, I plant nightmares in her mind addressing the questionable act that she cannot shake off or forget. However, they do not have to be nightmares. Tonight, I shall give the girl a dream that shall ring true to her like the voice of prophecy, of your coming to rescue her before we leave Bukhara for Tesiphon."

Asena snarls, "Greywolf's not coming anywhere near Bukhara once we shake it's dust off our heels."

Yrg folds her stick thin arms across her chest. "Then the first night on the road I shall plant a recurring nightmare of hopelessness and despair which will drive her to suicide."

I surge to my feet. "You can't make her do that."

Yrg raises white eyebrows the color of new fallen snow. "Blood-Wysper is close to suicide now. Ever since being brought here, she has been sacrificed over and over and over again, crushing her spirit under a weight of unimaginable sorrow. All she will need is a gentle push to send her over the edge."

"Yrg," Muzen says, a note of worry in his voice, "why have I never been informed of this?"

"Perhaps you should be more specific in what you want me to look for. Or perhaps," Yrg's face turning towards mine, "I desire the chance to dine upon her after she is gone, sinking my teeth into her soft white flesh-"

"I'll kill you first!" Hands grab me and pull me back as I struggle to leap across the table, several hands too strong to resist. "Let me go, Yrg can't get away with this."

"She will if you do not cooperate," Muzen says as Yrg leaps off the table and jumps onto his shoulder. I strain against those holding onto me as the bald priest smiles. "In ten days we leave Bukhara for Tesiphon, and during that time, Blood-Wysper will be under constant guard. However, if you come find me, she will be given to you as part of the bargain we shall enact between us, and you may end her torment once and for all."

"What happened to your holier than thou: 'we don't tolerate slavery here in Bukhara," the woman mercenary snarls, rising alongside me. "At least the Eastern Empire's honest in their evil practices."

"He's bluffing," Asena growls. "If she dies, the blood-corn dies with her."

"A year ago that would have been true," the priest says. "Now, a girl child was just born with hair exactly like Blood-Wysper's, and I have hopes for two more. I will have blood-corn whether my priestess is alive or dead... though the sell-sword is right," Muzen says, looking at me. "Blood-Wysper truly is a slave, and Greywolf is now her master. For I am placing her life in his hands. Whether she dies by her own hand, or lives by his sworn word, is entirely Greywolf's choice."

Without another word, Muzen and Yrg turn around and walk into the night.