The advice of the ancestor spirits is like the wind. Abstract, yet they shape the mountains. Their wisdom may seem to be clouded, but their purpose is always clear.

  - The Book of Wise Tellings from the Land of Streams.

  The air hung heavy with the weight of Yousef’s brazen treachery. The room reeled from the seneschal’s open confession, and sown with it was the potential seed of division. I could see the glances from those I summarily judged to be of questionable loyalties, their eyes shifting nervously toward the exit. No doubt, they feared they might be next to be named.

  "Gilgamesh of Uruk, it is time you fulfilled your promise to me," declared Lady Aelayah, her voice cold and distant. "As you well know, I do not need a knight in shining armor. I need an executioner to rid me of a traitor to this House."

  I sighed, understanding the unspoken command for what it was. The powerful rarely gave direct orders. They commanded through mere suggestion, no matter how bare-faced. A flicker of annoyance surfaced, quickly replaced by a quiet, eager excitement. Time to reap some free experience.

  I removed my helm and hooked it to my belt. I wanted Yousef to see my face. A strange exhibitionist streak flared within me, a desire for everyone to witness what was about to unfold.

  Yousef stood tall, his expression calm, his back straight. There was an almost pitying look in his eyes, like that of a martyr resigned to his fate.

  "Misguided fool, I did what I did for the…" he began, his voice faltering.

  "Shush now," I interrupted, dismissing him without a second thought. "The reasons of the old and infirm are as varied as the leaves in the forest."

  I approached him, my hammer resting on my pauldron, eager to be used.

  His face twisted with indignation, an expression I had seen many times in my old world—elderly men faced with the harsh reality of a society that no longer cared for their views.

  With swift finality, my hammer descended like a judge’s gavel, smashing his features into an unrecognizable mess. As the hammer claimed his life, I felt as if it purred almost in satisfaction.

  Kneeling, I wiped the blood and viscera from my weapon. It was time for my declaration of loyalty, though only for as long as it served my ends.

  I cast Decay on the corpse, the words of the spell echoing in my mind even as I voiced my challenge, "Is there anyone else?"

  A simple question, but filled with the elegant power of the moment. A deadly piece of theatre. Yousef’s corpse bubbled with rot and released a stench that no amount of pure water flowing could cleanly wash. Under the eyes of all those present, it sagged and slowly turned to fine grey dust as the weight and hunger of the years took everything from it.

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  Silence answered me. Aelayah nodded, her lips curling faintly, a thin line of approval. My work pleased her. She had strengthened her position with a single stroke. However, a great deal of her power now rested not in the strength of her command, but in the strength of my arm.

  I had to give her credit, she looked completely unperturbed by my display of power.

  “If no one else wishes to confess,” she said, her voice carrying the sharpness of freshly honed steel, “I will assume your loyalty to House Salahaem is unwavering. The other seven Holder Houses and the Council move against us. We must be prepared.” She cast her gaze across the room, eyes as cold as the desert night. “Go about your duties. See to it that our House stands ready.”

  The room stirred, the notables retreating like beaten dogs, eager to escape the weight of her command. She closed her eyes for a moment, as if savoring the power she held over them, or perhaps simply seeking respite from the burden of it.

  “Farzan,” she breathed, her eyes opening once more.

  The captain stepped forward, rigid as a sword unsheathed. “Yes, Lady Aelayah.”

  “Prepare to wake the Sleepers.”

  An odd command—considering I was certain that the once-mighty House Salahaem, in their recent decline, had no Sleepers left. Farzan bowed, deep and solemn.

  “And see to Yousef’s family,” Aelayah continued, her voice low now, weariness creeping in like an old friend. “Corruption must be torn out by its roots. Summon Caspian—I want him here with a full Dragon of men within the hour. If he dares dither, remind him of his obligations.”

  Farzan’s bow deepened. “As you command, my lady.”

  She turned to me then, her eyes narrowing as she regarded me, though I towered over her. Still, she had that look about her, that noble disdain, as though she were looking down at me from a great height. “Gilgamesh, attend me.”

  I shrugged, the metal of my armor scraping with the motion. A smile tugged at the corner of my lips as I nodded, stepping forward to her side.

  *****

  Tea, that essential mark of civilization separating us from the barbarian hordes beyond the walls, was served. The servants, as graceful as dancers, moved around us, setting the table with light refreshments and pouring the fragrant beverage from teapots and into cups so fine they could each have been a revered piece of art in a museum.

  I raised the delicate cup to my lips, tasting it. It was far too weak for my liking, but I drank it anyway.

  Lady Aelayah, usually lounging in her opulence, sat upright, her posture stiff and serious, a stark contrast to her usual relaxed demeanor.

  She looked at me directly, her expression demanding. "I want explanations."

  "I…"

  "Without prevarication or deception. I need to know the forces under my command," she insisted, throwing me off balance.

  I inwardly cursed her relentless questioning. “Not even a word of thanks to the man who parried the promise of death aimed at your throat?”

  Ignoring me, she pressed on. "What is the magic you command?"

  "It’s a gift from the gods. Specifically, the Goddess Avaria," I answered bluntly. It seemed that the time for games had passed.

  "You wield a sliver of Divine power?" Though she masked it well, there was a hint of awe in her voice. "That’s the domain of the Great Temples, fiercely guarded."

  "I am her chosen on this world. Some would call me her Herald," I answered offhandedly.

  "Had I not witnessed you heal the Elwin fellow, I’d have dismissed it as the claim of a madman. But what about the other things I saw? You burned two score men like a Pyromancer, and what you did to Yousef…"

  "At your command," I reminded her.

  "Yes, at my command," she admitted, her tone testy and sharp. It was rare for someone like her to admit anything so easily. "What was that?"

  "The source is the same," I said, the half-truth slipping out almost automatically.

  "So you can heal and also summon Her fire?" she asked, incredulous. "What’s stopping you from burning down anyone you wish? Surely you could call down Her judgment on anyone. What held you back?" she continued to dig.

  I borrowed a phrase from my associate, Vincenzio. "A Magister’s secrets are his own. There’s no obligation to reveal the steps of one’s path."