A Perverted Path to Victory

Tinvel

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It wasn’t easy to find people that didn’t want to be found. That was true in a city, in a town, and, it turned out, in the vast, abandoned plains of southern Tulian.

Both groups had been the survivors of a logging camp that had been razed to the ground by griffon riders. The creatures had fallen out of the sky without warning, crushing men and women underfoot. Imperials without uniforms threw javelins or shot crossbow bolts atop their mounts indiscriminately, but it was the animals that had done most of the killing, bloody beaks ripping limb from limb.

Tinvel and the others had been searching for the griffons for nearly a full week. They’d given up on helping the logging work, using every ounce of flight time they could squeeze out of their plane’s engines to crisscross the seemingly endless fields of grass. Twice now, on the second and fifth day of searching, they’d run across what looked like parties of message-runners. They’d spotted them walking along the trails as a bundle of scarred, scared workers, and they’d decided to touch down nearby in order to investigate.

Tinvel had told those workers that the government already knew about the griffons. That it was what they’d been sent here to put a stop to, and to not head towards the capital, exposing themselves on the long march under hostile skies, and instead make for the nearest logging camps. He’d flown there shortly after, bringing the news ahead of the scattered refugees, and suggested they start using their gargantuan piles of wood to build sturdy shelters.

Then he and Chona had plotted the attacks on a map, adding what scattered few sightings of the enemy they’d seen. Trying to piece together some kind of pattern. Chona kept pointing out that there was no way to tell if they’d just wasted their time notating hazy sightings of buzzards and hawks, but Tinvel didn’t see what else they could do.

Besides, he didn’t think the loggers were that blind. With their dangling legs and massive wingspans, griffons hardly looked like anything else in the air. And there was a pattern to the sightings. Most of them were in the far southeast, with the majority described traveling north and south, only occasionally to the east or west. If he had to guess– and it was a mighty big guess he was making– the griffon-riders were following their own search strategy. They were scouring an imaginary grid of the lands that the jungle sought to overwhelm, making absolutely sure that there were no obstructing camps in their way.

He’d convinced the others that they should focus their search to the southeast as a result. His theory was based on precious little, just spurious accounts from half-dead loggers and only two confirmed attacks, but he felt convinced. More convinced than he’d had any reason to be, frankly. He assumed that the strange sensation was the “gut instinct” he’d heard so much about. After spending so long reading the few textbooks on spellcraft he’d scavenged from ruins as a child, then studying in the university, the notion was almost foreign.

“Seen anything interesting?” Tinvel asked, lifting one hand to press the copper funnel to his lips. The rubber speaking tube he’d tossed together let him and Chona talk in midflight, but only barely. It was still damned loud.

“Nothing that looked like griffons,” Chona replied. She had the keen eyesight common to most vanara, often spotting things he could have only seen with a spyglass. “But I’ve been keeping my eye on a little patch of trees to the southeast. It looks like it was half cut down.”

“We near any logging camps?”

“Not according to the maps.”

Tinvel barely gave that any thought. The longer he’d been flying, the more he yearned for the maps of exacting precision Professor Brown had told them were so common on earth. Maybe there wasn’t a logging camp in the area, maybe there was. No one had bothered to keep track of all the different workers that had been sent out across Tulian, at least not any more than was required to make sure there weren’t too many in any one area.

Still, it wasn’t like he had any better ideas.

“Alright, let’s check it out,” he said, not bothering to hide his doubtful tone. “Toss a green bag.”

He felt Chona rustling around in the seat behind him, and then there was a whumph as the wind caught something that had been tossed overboard. He glanced back just briefly, confirming the bright cloud of green dye had properly spread itself out, then nudged the plane into a gentle roll, curving in the direction Chona had indicated.

A few miles away, he knew, Affe would have seen the ball of dust (mostly composed of dried-out aviation paint they’d crushed into powder) expanding in the air, recognizing it as the sign that he and Chona were going to investigate something they’d spotted. Affe would accordingly alter course a few degrees in their direction, making sure they maintained line-of-sight with one another.

That was important, they’d learned. They’d lost contact early on the first day of their search, and reconnecting had taken the entire rest of the day. Tinvel had started retracing their flight path as best he could, hoping to run into Affe, only to find out hours later that the other pilot had decided to land the very moment he’d realized he couldn’t see Tinvel’s plane, figuring that they’d be easier to spot against the tall grass than the blue sky. The fact that Tinvel had actually run into him was something of an embarrassment, considering what it implied of how lost he’d gotten while trying to retrace his steps.

“We don’t have long left,” Chona said into his ear, her voice stripped of emotion by the rubber speaking tube. “Someone in the capital is going to find out what we’re doing sooner or later. At the very least, they’ll know once word of the attacks gets there.”

“I know,” Tinvel said back, slightly distracted. There was a heavy crosswind, and it took a lot of effort to keep their canvas biplane on a steady course. “I don’t think we’ve got more than another day or two left at best. Let’s hope you found something good this time.”

“Let’s hope so,” Chona agreed.

As they crept up on the distant point of interest, Tinvel couldn’t help but wonder why he was doing this. The deaths of Hunes and Docks had been tragic, yes, but he hadn’t been particularly close to them. Hardly friends, really. Just acquaintances.

So why am I so angry about their deaths?The simple injustice of it? The fact that I could have done something to stop it, but I wasn’t ready for it? Not skilled enough? Am I trying to prove something?

The Church of Amarat taught mindfulness above all else, believing that the path to contentment lay in self-reflection, but Tinvel had never been sure of that. Maybe it worked great for some people, but he’d never struggled with overthinking his own emotions. It was actually coming to a conclusion about things that he found difficult.

“Shit!” Chona yelled, leaning forward and pointing. “That’s really them! There’s a camp under the trees! I can see one, two, three…” She swore again. “Five griffons! They’re resting, I think!”

After so long spent on a fruitless search, it took longer than it should have for the reality of the situation to seep its way through Tinvel’s thick skull. When it did, he cursed.

“Shit! Toss the red dye!” He yelled, flicking the engine up to combat speed. “Are any in the sky?”

Chona flung a package of red powder overboard, creating a massive puff of crimson in the middle of the sky. The vortex of air created by the Sunrise’s prop wash turned it into a dizzying, spiralling mass. “I don’t think so!” She called. “Not that I can see! Don’t wait for Affe! We’ve gotta get them while they’re still on the ground!”

“Already on it!”

He began a shallow dive, trying to angle the Sunrise so they’d be leveling out just before the cluster of trees. He still couldn’t make out much more than a small patch of darker green on the grassy plains, but he trusted Chona’s eyes.

“We’ve only got fifty gallons of boiling thermite!” He told Chona. They’d kept the tanks only partially filled to help extend their search range, which now felt like a mistake. “We’re only gonna get one shot at this, then they’ll be in the air!”

“If they aren’t before we get there! I think they noticed us! They’re putting saddles on the griffons!”

Tinvel grit his teeth. He could feel the temptation to take the Sunrise’s engine up to emergency speed, but he fought it off. They’d been flying for the better part of an hour on this particular hop, and probably would have had to land in forty-five minutes or so, even if they’d only kept to cruise speed. Lacking an exact method of judging remaining flight time, general experience had shown that each speed setting lasted roughly half as long as the previous.

Running the numbers in his head, he came up with an estimate of twenty minutes of combat flight time remaining in the Sunrise’s emeralds. That’s how long they had to kill five griffons.

We should turn around, Tinvel thought, twisting his grip on the flight controls. It’s stupid to gamble it all here. Once he gets here, Affe might have even less of a charge than we do. The Sunrise is faster than a griffon in level flight, and we could get out of sight easily.

He knew Chona was thinking the same thing behind him. It was too obvious of a conclusion. Even if they got the drop on the griffons and bathed their camp in boiling thermite before a single animal could take off, there was next to no chance that they’d get them all. Not with only fifty gallons in the tank.

But Chona didn’t say anything, so Tinvel didn’t, either. Images of Hunes and Docks’ broken bodies floated behind his eyes. It didn’t matter to whom these griffon riders owed their allegiance. Imperials or rebels, Tulian wasn’t at war with them. They’d attacked without reason, provocation, or declaration.

“Get ready!” He yelled. “We’re only gonna get one shot at this!”

He felt the plane rattle slightly as Chona opened the trapdoor between her feet. His supernatural senses were tickled by a spark popping over Chona’s palm.

The strange slowness of aerial combat took over. Despite diving down on their enemies faster than any normal person could have ever dreamed, the distance between the Sunrise and its target was vast. Tinvel was drowning in adrenaline-soaked impatience. The glade of trees gained more definition with every second, first solidifying in his eyes from a blurry blob into a distinct shape, one which slowly sprouted individual trees, before finally unveiling the brown and white-feathered griffons which sheltered below the canopy. If he’d had Professor Brown’s watch, he could have glanced at it to tell how long it had been, but he didn’t. It felt like days.

He didn’t know precisely when the griffons noticed the diving biplane, but they’d certainly caught it by the time Tinvel could see them clearly. Three griffons and their handlers were trying to ready harnesses as rapidly as possible, while two of the creatures were squawking loudly at their riders, crouching down to let them grab fistfuls of feathers as they scrambled up the animal’s back. It was a chaotic scene, one he still felt was lasting entirely too long.

Then the distance closed. Time sped up.

Tinvel popped the Sunrise out of its dive with a harsh jerk on the control stick, leveling the plane mere feet above the highest branches.

One of the griffons emerged from the canopy and reared up on two legs, spreading its wings wide as it leapt, throwing a cloud of dust from the ground as it flung itself into the sky. The Sunrise shot past the animal faster than he could track.

At the same moment, he felt a rumble shiver its way up the Sunrise’s frame, Chona releasing the boiling thermite. Her spell sputtered and roared, a flash of awful heat cooking his back.

He couldn’t look. He was too low, flying less than a wingspan away from a deadly crash. It took all his focus to fight the buffeting created by fiery updrafts and hundreds of pounds of burning fluid spilling from the plane’s tanks, the sloshing motion throwing the entire craft out of balance. Canvas creaked and metal groaned, Tinvel’s hands moving on pure instinct.

The moment the whoosh of flames disappeared, Tinvel pulled hard on the stick, gaining enough altitude to allow for a left-sided roll, balancing the plane on its side as he began a sharp u-turn, nearly going inverted. He craned his neck upward, looking at their target.

There was a streak of glowing fire etched through the cluster of jungle trees. A spear of orange flames were already spewing a column of sickly black smoke, dotted within by white-hot stars of molten thermite. He caught a brief glance of a thrashing griffon, its feathers melting to its reddened skin. It vanished within the growing inferno.

“Two up!” Chona yelled. “Two up, two up! Ten o’clock high!”

Tinvel snapped his attention towards the indicated direction, easily catching what Chona had seen. The two griffons which had eschewed their harnesses had made it out. They were flapping hard, gaining as much altitude as they could, fighting for time by flying directly away from the Sunrise.

“I’ll herd them toward Affe!” Tinvel yelled. He tapped the plane’s gemstone controls, returning it to cruise mode. Better to feign being slower, to give Affe more time to rejoin them.

“We need to get them while they’re low and slow!” Chona argued.

“There’s two! One will jump us while we go for the other!”

“They can’t coordinate like that! Not without the harnesses to control the griffon!”

Tinvel cursed silently, pulsing Intent into the Sunrise’s controls to order it back to combat speed. He didn’t know if Chona was right, but she at least made sense.

How smart are those griffons? Tinvel wondered, pulling up to match the animal’s rate of climb. Can they fight on their own? With claws like that, they have to be natural fighters, right? But do they know how to fight in midair, or are their instincts just to pick animals off the ground like hawks?

He didn’t know how much control the riders had without a harness, if the griffons would obey them, if they were capable of or trained to coordinate in aerial combat. Too many questions, too little time. Sara’s information on the Imperial griffon riders had been frustratingly sparse. She’d only ever seen them used as scouts, not frontline combatants.

“Your spell ready?” Tinvel yelled.

“Almost!” Chona yelled back.

They were closing the distance fast. The griffons were focusing on altitude at the expense of speed, which meant the Sunrise was rocketing up behind them.

He reached out, hesitating over the speed controls. “Do you need more time?”

“No! Just let me focus!”

Tinvel wanted to turn around and watch what she was doing, to see how close she was to casting the latest spell she’d created, but he couldn’t spare the attention. The wind that had been battering them all day was growing even fiercer, likely owing to a brewing storm that he could just barely see rolling in from the southwest horizon. Both the Sunrise and griffons were being knocked up and down by violent, unpredictable gusts, and he had to make constant adjustments to keep them on a steady course.

“Will it work in this wind?” He asked Chona. “You’ve had issues with the spellform refusing to-”

“Let me FOCUS!” She roared, her tail swiping up to thwap angrily against the side of his head.

Shit, Tinvel swore, adjusting his flight goggles, which had nearly been knocked free. I guess I deserved that one.

About a mile ahead of the Sunrise, and thus about three-quarters of a mile ahead of the griffon pair, Affe’s plane was slipping into a dive. They’d seen the griffons. He and Cebrav were flying with the whipping stormwind at their port quarter, speeding them on their way.

We can hit them at the same time, Tinvel realized, his subconscious calculating their flight time better than he ever could with quill and paper. But if we go for the same one, it’s pointless.

He rapidly tried to think of what he could possibly do to signal to Affe which of the two griffons to dive on, but he rejected each idea in turn. They were too far apart to see each other as more than a thin blurry line, and they’d never prepared for this possibility. He could start diving on his target early, telegraphing to Affe who he was targeting, but the griffons would see that just as easily.

“Screw it!” He yelled. “We’re going for the left one!”

“Attacking overtop or alongside?”

“I’m gonna swing past their left side, so aim right!”

“What? Left or right?”

“Aim right! Aim right!”

“Aiming right!”

Tinvel kicked the rudder and leaned against the stick, sending them slipping down and to the left. The struts between the Sunrise’s wings warbled and groaned as they were struck side-on by wind, an angle they’d never been built to withstand.

He leveled out, silently applauding his own craftsmanship as the Sunrise gracefully returned to normal flight. Not a single crack or popped screw.

“Forty seconds! Can you see ‘em from your angle?”

“No!”

Tinvel kicked the rudder again, giving Chona more room.

“Now?”

He felt her brush against his shoulder as she leaned forward. Her hands appeared in his peripheral vision, both arms outstretched. One hand held a large, hollow ox horn, empty palm spread wide, fingertips twitching.

“Got ‘em!”

Tinvel mentally locked in the relative angle of the griffon and Sunrise, all four limbs working in concert as he tore and jerked at the plane’s control surfaces. His feet twitched and pumped the rudder pedals, ankles aching from the tension he couldn’t drain out of his legs, while his hands popped the control stick left and right almost spasmodically, following the griffon’s wing-beaten path even as the bitter sky tried to throw them both off-course.

His eyes briefly flicked up to Affe’s Halfeye. Slightly too far away. He peeled one hand off the control stick just long enough to drop the Sunrise back to cruise speed, then returned to his guidance of the plane.

The griffons weren’t passively accepting this trap. They’d swung together until their wingtips were nearly brushing on every downstroke, each animal’s head turned to watch one of the two oncoming threats. He caught a brief glimpse of one the riders trying to release one hand from its desperate grip on their animal’s feathers, trying to pull something from a chest pocket, only for a gust of wind to nearly blow them up and away, forcing them to seize a bundle of feathers and hunker down yet again.

He didn’t consider himself an expert on griffon body language, but he decided in that very moment that the animals were smarter than he’d given them credit for. There was an almost nervous anticipation to them, as if they were waiting for some signal.

“Twenty seconds!” Tinvel yelled. “They’re gonna try some shit!”

“Let ‘em!”

That was all that could be said. Tinvel’s world narrowed to a single brown dot, all his mind and body working to keep their jerky, erratic dive on track. The griffons grew larger, and larger, and larger still, and then–

“Brace!” Chona screamed.

Tinvel ducked down and to the side, raising one shoulder to shelter his right ear as best he could.

“Flurry!”

A new gust of wind erupted throughout the cockpit, a spiraling tunnel of spellwrought air spilling from the hand which held Chona’s powder horn. Grains of blackpowder flew from the container, suffusing the midair vortex with a black pallor. The spell wailed against Tinvel’s mage senses and ears alike. Rather than overwhelming the natural winds of the surrounding skies, it used them, tuning their energies to Chona’s Intent as her magic wove them into a dense, spiraling weave.

The griffon, oblivious to the tiny particles it was already flying through, brought its wings in, beginning a dive that would have taken it well out of range by the time the Sunrise shot past. It was beautifully timed.

For the wrong spell.

“POWDERSTRIKE!”

Tiny sparks hopped off Chona’s fingertips, darting forward, reaching, grasping, until, in a blinding instant, one branching fork collided with the second hidden powder suspended in the vortex: chips of thin, conductive iron. In an instant too brief to see, yet strangely drawn-out to his Mage’s mind, Tinvel felt each spark pop and hiss as they joyously coursed through the path they’d been provided, heating every sliver of metal to a shining glow.

Caught in a swirl of ionized air, the first grain of blackpowder lit.

BOOM!

The Sunrise rattled and trembled as an explosion rent the skies, not quite thunderbolt, not quite fireball, deadlier than either. It was so quick that he only caught a single glimpse of a violent, flashing column of red flame, veins of blue electricity running erratically under its sickly skin.

Like a demon bleeding lightning.

The afterimage faded, revealing the griffon’s smoking, charred body. It fell bonelessly, the unrecognizable charcoal lumps of its riders falling limply away.

Tinvel jerked the plane hard to the left, dodging the other griffon as it let out a high-pitched screech of anger and fear, convinced the second plane was going to unleash the same hellish spell on it. Its wings flared as it dragged itself in a leftward turn so violent it nearly stopped in midair, then it began to dive.

Tinvel began maneuvering back right, preparing to help if Cebrav's spell didn’t get the kill on the first pass. Instead he found himself wincing as a second, far louder screech ripped through the skies, one filled with a terror so profound it seemed nearly human. The griffon abandoned its turn, pulling its wings and legs into itself as it angled straight down, screaming louder still.

One of the blurry figures on its back had lost their grip. Tinvel could see them spinning wildly through the air, a tiny dot plummeting toward the green grass sea. They were barely fifteen hundred feet above the ground, seconds until impact, but the griffon was diving after them with everything it had.

Affe followed.

A bolt of pure lightning ripped through the sky, spat from the side of an olive-skinned biplane to wrap the griffon in its deadly tendrils. The beast seized violently, then unfolded, tumbling end over end.

The person it had been chasing disappeared into the grass. The griffon hit the ground nearby, striking the front of a hill at a nearly perfect perpendicular angle. More blood than Tinvel had seen in his life erupted across the grass, the animal’s body bursting like a rotten wineskin.

Chona let out a loud whoop of celebration, clapping Tinvel hard on the back, gripping his shoulder to rock him back and forth in his seat.

He threw a slight smile back at her, still focused on flying.

“Hell yeah! Fuck yeah! They didn’t stand a chance! It was over just like that!”

“Yeah!” Tinvel called back, the only thing he could think to say. He didn’t know what he felt. He focused on flying, adjusting his speed as he began to circle the fallen animals. The emotions that swirled within him were gray and muted, difficult to pick apart.

But… he did think he felt proud. Relieved, mostly. Terrified, certainly. But beneath that? Yes. He was proud.

That pride made him feel ill.

Tinvel began circling the twin griffon corpses, searching for a flat enough stretch of land to touch down on. Above him, Affe and Cebrav tossed a green powder bag, turning their Halfeye towards the column of smoke that was still burning fiercely on the horizon.

Doubt there’s anything left, he thought, remembering the way flames had already been boiling over the small jungle cluster. But I guess it doesn’t hurt to check.

He eyed the storm. In the short few minutes the dogfight had lasted, it had grown to a massive, sprawling thunderhead, one darkening the entire horizon. He could see sheets of rain coating the land it swallowed, backlit by flashes of brilliant white.

“We need to get the Sunrise tied down as soon as we land!” He yelled to Chona. “Then we need to grab any kind of paper those griffons had on them before the storm ruins the ink!”

“Got it!” She called back, still grinning madly. “Nice fucking flying, man!”

Tinvel muttered his thanks too quietly to be heard, focusing on landing the plane. He’d have time to think things over later.

Right now, he just wanted to know what was so important that total strangers would kill Hunes and Docks.

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Mui Thom

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Mui sat in the Powdered Lead’s barracks, wondering if the thing across from him could tell he was staring. He’d given up pretending he was doing otherwise quite a while ago, and it hadn’t provided him any reaction. The green-robed figure wasn’t even looking at him, in fact. Their expressionless face was turned towards the room’s lone door, though he couldn’t tell if their eyes were actually focused on it. Hurlish’s bodyguards were a blank slate.

In fact, the longer he looked, the less he could tell about them in general. They had a face, that much was certain. A human one, of the skin tone common to most northerners, though tanned deeply enough that they might have been mistaken for a particularly light-skinned Imperial. Their eyebrows were brown, as was their short hair, and their cheeks were unblemished by freckles or moles. They were perfectly unremarkable. So unremarkable that he couldn’t determine their emotions, the build of their body beneath their thick green robes, or even their gender.

If they have one at all, Mui thought, sniffing the air. He couldn’t smell them, either. Four of them in one room, each standing motionlessly in a corner, and there wasn’t a whiff. Entirely unnatural. He’d begun to suspect the creatures which Evie trusted with the protection of her wife and child weren’t living things whatsoever. No guard, no matter how dedicated, could match the devotion they showed. They were dutiful past the point of obsession, failing to show the slightest deviation from their given tasks at any time.

Particularly when they’re protecting the child, he reflected. The strange-looking babe– born of three women, not two, showing attributes of them all– was resting in his enchanted crib, having thankfully fallen asleep some time ago. While Hurlish, Evie, and Sara had gone to attend yet another political meeting, he had been recalled to help protect the child.

He wondered what Evie thought he could contribute. If General Borek, one of the Empire’s greatest non-elven Warriors, thought himself incapable of defeating even one of those green-robed… things… what use was Mui? Thus far, his only purpose had been to feed young Tahn from a glass bottle when he began to cry, and, at one point, change his diaper. Hardly something one sent an Imperial Sergeant to do.

Maybe that is all I’m here for? He considered. If he was right, and the four guards which protected Tahn were magical constructs of some sort, that might be literally his only purpose. Something built only for combat would be incapable of basic child-rearing duties. Evie, Sara, and Hurlish might have asked him to stay with Tahn to make sure the poor boy didn’t go hungry while his mothers were engaged with unavoidable political matters.

Mui didn’t mind, surprising as that might be to some. The second eldest of five children by a number of years, he had spent as much time as either of his parents helping with the care of his younger siblings. Even when he’d begun to grow into his body in his teen years, preparing to join the army, his father had never let him believe for a second that he would ever be above caring for his family. No matter how high he rose in life, his father had warned him, not even if he fulfilled his wildest dreams, he would never be above comforting a squalling child.

I guess they would be proud of me, Mui thought. To know that I’ve stood beside a Chosen, spoken my mind freely to Generals, yet still don’t so much as flinch at changing a soiled diaper.

He’d only sent his family one letter since re-entering the Imperial domain, and the last sent before that had been months before his arrival in Tulian with the Northern Expeditionary Force. That had been a short one, too, only providing them official proof of his promotion to Sergeant, so they could collect their portion of his stipend from the local garrison. If he didn’t send another letter soon, his family would have only received two from him in the entire last year. They would be irate about that, he knew. The life of a soldier, even a Sergeant, was far from safe.

And what about you? He wanted to ask, trying to grab the eye of the expressionless creature which stood across the room. Do you fear for your safety? With power like yours, do you worry about failure and its consequences?

Mui suppressed a grim chuckle.

Of course you do. You work for Evie Brown. Even automatons fear what she might do to them.

Mui was pulled from his study of the peculiar guards by the sound of a commotion outside the room, mercenary soldiers calling out greetings. It was late in the night, and they kept their voices down in respect for those asleep nearby, but his ears caught it easily enough.

He stood with a slight groan, stretching to work out the kinks in his legs and arms that had developed after so long spent in a hard wooden chair. Even in her private rooms, the only luxury Sara allowed herself was a comfortable, sturdy bed. Everything else was brutally spartan, from a cheap, beaten chest of drawers for their belongings, to a long wooden rack which held their clothing.

Well, the bed wasn’t the only luxury. The sound-proofed walls had to have been expensive. But those were more for the Powdered Lead’s benefit than her own.

Mui was about to reach for the door handle when it clicked and flew open, cracking against his knuckles. He jumped back as Sara strode into the room, Evie and Hurlish following inches behind her.

“Oh, thank fuck that’s over,” Sara groaned, popping buttons open on her leather overcoat. “That sucked even worse than I thought it would.”

“Sara,” Evie chided, emphatic as always about avoiding profanity around their son.

“Sorry, sorry,” she said, dropping her voice. “But still–” She interrupted herself with an adoring coo, hurrying over to bend over Tahn’s crib. “Oh my god, look at him. He’s just so fast asleep. All tuckered out, aren’t you, Tahny-tahn?”

“He certainly wore himself out,” Mui agreed, his ears reflexively flattening as he recalled the child’s wails. “I believe he’ll be sleeping soundly for quite a while.”

“He didn’t give you too much trouble?” Hurlish asked, joining Sara in unbuttoning her strange outerwear. “I know he can get a bit screamy.”

“Nothing I haven’t seen before,” Mui assured her. “He was fairly well behaved, at least as far as four-month-olds go. Once I figured out what he wanted, he always quieted himself.”

“That’s because he’s the best little baby in all the world,” Sara said, visibly fighting her urge to reach out and pinch her sleeping son’s cheeks. “He’s a perfect little angel, and he never does anything wrong ever, no he doesn’t.”

Evie laughed under her breath. “And here I was under the impression that you thought it better to avoid ‘baby talk’ around Tahn, Sara. Something about helping him develop finer speech skills, no?”

“I’m trying, but he’s just too cute,” Sara said in an almost lamenting tone, reaching out to gently brush a lock of hair away from his eyes. “He’s just the cutest little guy. The perfectest little baby ever. I can’t help myself.”

Mui shifted his weight from foot to foot. He had seen so very many faces of the Chosen of Emotion, but it was this one, the adoring, awestruck mother, that felt most at odds with what childhood tales had told him a legendary Chosen would be like. He didn’t feel as if it was his right to witness it.

Exceedingly more jarring than that, however, was when Evie joined Sara at Tahn’s side, wrapping a casual, familiar arm around her wife’s waist as they looked at their son.

“He is, isn’t he?” Evie warmly agreed. “Look at his ears. So big. I wonder if he’ll grow into them, or if they’ll always be so large. Maybe it’s on account of his orcish heritage?” Evie turned to Mui, the peaceful smile she wore more alien on her face than any bloody gash. “You helped raise your siblings, didn’t you, Mui? I have never seen a young Feline, but I imagine we are not dissimilar to catfolk in certain respects. Did your siblings ever have ears so large?”

All three were now looking at him with interest. Compared to the high stakes environments he normally found himself in around these women, such a simple conversation should have been child’s play. Instead, it felt decidedly nerve wracking.

“Not particularly, no,” Mui said, thinking back. “They were more, ah, proportional, I suppose. Perhaps his ears really will stay so large.”

At the moment, they were half again as large as Evie’s own ears, at least when scaled for the relative size of their heads. If folded down over his face, the tips of his ears could have just barely touched his upper lip. Mui thought it looked very odd on a child, but he knew some catfolk found large ears appealing. Perhaps that was a feature of Sara’s contribution to his lineage. Supernatural beauty applied to the already famously-alluring Feline people.

“Wonder if that means he’ll have big ol’ tusks, too,” Hurlish rumbled, joining her wives at Tahn’s crib. She began to rock it gently. “Hope so. Little guy’s got some big shoes to fill when it comes to picking up ladies.”

“He might be interested in men, dear,” Evie gently chided Hurlish. “Being born from three women does not mean he will have our preferences.”

“Ain’t it genetic or something, Sara? That’s what you said, anyway.”

“I mean, maybe?” Sara shrugged uncertainly. While she kept talking, Mui tried to remember what ‘genetic’ meant. “Back on Earth, we were pretty sure sexual preferences weren’t something you could pick and choose, at the very least. Even if sexuality is genetically determined, it’s probably not heritable. Even if it was, I think it’d actually make him more likely to be into dudes, since he’d probably get the same gay gene you have or whatever.” She laughed. “Then again, if it really does work like that, your genetics are outnumbered. Evie and I aren’t as picky as you.”

“There’s no point in speculating,” Evie said. “We all agreed that we wish to avoid pressuring him with our legacies as much as possible. That includes his romantic endeavors.”

“Guess so,” Hurlish said. “Either way, if he ends up looking half as good as you two, he’ll be set for life.”

“We’ll have to count on you and Evie for that, mostly,” Sara said. “Remember, it’s looking like he got the genes I had back on Earth, which means he’s not gonna look all that much like I do now. I wasn’t all that bad, but I wasn’t a bombshell like y’all.”

“You’ve shown us what you looked like,” Hurlish reminded Sara. “You were hot.”

“In a chubby butch kind of way, I guess.”

“Like I said. Hot.”

Mui began to sidle towards the door, trying not to draw too much attention to himself. It was clear that he was no longer needed, and though he’d napped between bouts of Tahn’s crying, he’d still had a very, very long day.

“Hey,” Sara called, casting her voice across the room. It echoed in a peculiar way, shielding her shout from waking Tahn. “Where do you think you’re going?”

“...To sleep?”

“Not yet, you aren’t.” Sara stepped away from Tahn’s crib, dropping her leather coat to the ground, so she was left only in a sweat-stained undershirt. “That meeting was the shi— crappiest— thing I’ve been to in months. I need to blow off some steam.”

Mui’s heart began to thump, his two heads warring to assert a different opinion on this development.

“Oh?” He asked meekly.

“Yeah,” Sara said, stepping up to him. She put her hands on his hips, looking down at him with a mischievous grin. Gods, she was a tall human. “Did you know Ta-Pet has a really, really fancy brothel?”

“Is that so?” He all but squeaked.

“Sure does. And it turns out, fancy brothels really like the idea of a Champion of Amarat coming to visit. Great for business. They’ll even let her bring whoever she wants for free.”

The thudding in Mui’s chest redoubled. “That’s… ah, something to be done now? The day after we captured the city?”

Her fingers tightened on his hips. One hand slipped up, tickling the fur beneath his shirt.

“Yeah. Now.”

----------------------

-------------------

----------------

The late night streets of Ta-Pet were empty save for the occasional passing patrol of Imperial troops. Sara and Evie walked on either side of Mui, as if escorting him. Hurlish had remained behind, explaining that she’d rather “catch her girls the old fashioned way,” whatever that meant. Mui thought that was well enough, because it left someone trustworthy to watch over Tahn while they were away.

And because she is only interested in women, which I am most certainly not.

Teasing remarks from Sara floated through his head, accompanied by the memory of Evie in an alleyway, shivering and moaning as she spilled seed into Sara’s teasing palm.

At least, I’m not one at the moment.

Mui spent most of the walk in a slightly dazed silence, unwilling to believe that he was going along with whatever this was. He knew that the northerners thought less of sex than Imperials, likely on account of their ready access to flawless contraceptives, but to be so casually invited to a brothel? It wasn’t an experience he’d ever imagined knowing.

“You want to back out?” Sara asked.

Mui started. He hadn’t realized the woman had been staring at him, concern on her face. Taking a breath, he began to shake his head.

“You really don’t have to feel pressured,” Sara interrupted. “I thought it’d be fun for you to be with some women other than me. But there’s a lot of trust that goes into having sex with someone, and it’s never going to be fun to have your boundaries crossed. Give it some thought. Really. Just… here, Evie, hold up. Give it a solid thirty seconds of thought, Mui.”

So he did. He closed his mouth, considering the offer.

He’d known plenty of soldiers that visited brothels, of course. More did than didn’t, naturally. It was only those who were already in a physical relationship with a fellow soldier that usually abstained, and even then, not always. A life of war was a stressful thing, and he’d made a point to never think less of anyone who took the opportunity to relieve their body’s desires, at least so long as they did so safely.

Then why do I feel nervous? He asked himself. He began to consider the question, teasing its tangled edges apart, before an easier path occurred to him.

“Why do I feel nervous?” He asked Sara. “I don’t think I should be. Not really. My time with you has been… delightful, truthfully, and I trust your judgement. If you think I would enjoy myself, I see no reason to believe otherwise. You’ve always been right before.”

Sara raised an eyebrow. “You really want to ask me why you feel the way you do? Isn’t that something you should be working out for yourself?”

“You can figure it out easier than I can.” Mui looked up the street, pretending he knew where he was. “And we are not far, no? Best to cut to the chase.”

Sara paused, cocking a hip and crossing her arms under her breasts. She looked Mui up and down, appraising him.

He shivered slightly. He had been naked before her many times by then, but he’d never felt as exposed as he did in that moment. He had seen her evaluate others in this way, and he’d been privy to the incredible, impossible insight she’d gained in those scant few moments. He was being studied in a manner more intimate than any but the gods could have matched.

“It’s a mix of things,” she said, speaking with authority born of confidence. “You’re still not comfortable with being involved in a multi-partner relationship. Caught up with Imperial taboos regarding it, I suppose, and it also seems like you’ve got a bit of a superiority complex about not visiting brothels like other soldiers do.”

Mui blinked. “I do? I never minded it.”

“You think they’re wasting their time. That they should spend the effort and money wooing themselves a partner, not spending way too much on a bad handjob in a shady tavern’s back room. Which, like, I get where you’re coming from, but also? A bit judgy, Mui.” Sara tapped her chin thoughtfully. “Also, it seems like you’re nervous about exactly how far I’m gonna drag you down the path of sexual depravity. You’ve got the gist of the kind of stuff I do when I’m alone with Evie, and that scares the shit out of you. Which, again, fair. But don’t worry, she’s fucked in the head. You’re not gonna end up like that no matter how hard I push you.”

He blinked in confusion. “Ah. That is… reassuring to hear, I suppose. And enlightening. Thank you–”

“You’re also worried that it’s going to hurt like hell when I shove my cock up your pussy.”

Evie cackled as Mui coughed, doubling over like his lungs were trying to leap out of his throat. Sara laughed as well, but stepped up to his side, giving him a few reassuring pats on the back.

“Okay, maybe I should’ve phrased that more delicately, but I couldn’t help myself.”

Mui’s response was a mixture of sputtering, stuttering, and coughing. Somehow, Sara seemed to understand.

“For what it’s worth, it’s not always that big. Evie just likes when it hurts.”

The Feline silently licked her lips.

“I can change the size,” Sara explained. “Kinda. It mostly just works out to whatever my partner wants, I think. So you’ll never have more than you can handle.”

“We-” he choked on his own spit, coughed, then gathered himself once more. “We are on the street!” He protested. He waved to a nearby window. “What if there is a family in there?”

“Then the parents can come out and join us, for all I care,” Sara said with a shrug. She eyed the home’s front door, which didn’t budge. “Looks like that’s a no. Oh, well.” Sara lifted Mui up, smiling in that dazzling way of hers. “Look, Mui. I just want you to have a good time. I think you will. Honest. But if you don’t want to, that’s perfectly alright. Hurlish and I won’t think any less of you.”

Mui opened his mouth to respond, then squinted, turning his attention to Evie.

“Okay,” Sara begrudged, “Evie might, but that’s because she doesn’t know what it’s like to have a normal libido. I know you’re still relatively new to this whole ‘active sexuality’ thing, so let me give you a tip: never, ever assume Evie’s desires are anything close to normal. When I say she’s a freak, I mean it.”

Mui swallowed. “Then, ah, what will she be doing at this brothel?”

“I haven’t the faintest clue,” Evie said, her voice taking on a light, almost wistfully distant tone. “Master would not tell me. I’m sure she will put my body to good use, of course.”

Put your body to use? Not you? Mui wanted to ask. He quickly thought better of it. Sara was right; the less he knew about that woman’s sexuality, the better.

“So?” Sara prompted. “You decided yet?”

Mui sighed, long and low, taking a few extra seconds to firm up his thoughts.

“Yes,” he said, even if he didn’t say it with as much excitement as he was sure Sara would have preferred. “Every moment I’ve spent in your bed has been lovely, Sara. You’ve gifted me experiences I likely never would have known without you, and every time you have asked for just a drop of my trust, it has been repaid tenfold. This is a larger leap than most, but… without you, I think I may have ended up living an awfully dull life. I can’t think of a safer way to seek excitement.”

Sara stiffened slightly, blinking several times in quick succession. It wasn’t the reaction he’d expected from her, but it didn’t seem to be a bad one. It was more like she was surprised. Mui doubted that was the case; how could he, of all people, surprise Emotion’s Chosen?

“Fucking hell,” she muttered, turning on a heel. “It’s a good thing you’re right. We are close.”

Behind her wife’s back, Evie tossed him a quick, secretive smirk. As if the two of them knew something Sara didn’t.

He smiled back, feeling rather awkward for it. Evie’s grin grew slightly, then she turned around, leaving Mui wondering.

------------------------------------

Sara Brown

------------------------------------

The brothel was exactly as she’d expected it to be. That was surprising, considering the fact that she’d never been to one. They weren’t legal in Michigan, and while Tulian had established a few in recent months, Sara hadn’t ever had a chance to go, though she’d always meant to. Having already set up a network of particularly indulgent acquaintances that filled the role, it hadn’t been all that pressing.

So it came as a minor shock that the high-end Imperial brothel fit her mental preconceptions for its aesthetic values. Bordering on a stereotype, in fact. She, Evie, and Mui were recognized on sight by someone on the street outside, then ushered into the building with a polite, humble discretion. Brothels weren’t illegal in either part of the Empire, but visiting them was still a taboo, and the workers were used to clientele who preferred their privacy. The employees wore nondescript clothing of fine make, only a slight bit more revealing than otherwise may have been expected.

Sara cast her eyes about appraisingly as they entered. For the men, sleeves were wrapped tight around muscular arms, their shirts easily riding up when they reached above their heads, which they seemed to find frequent occasion for, if only just to stretch. The women wore sleek, cool dresses with a sliver of cleavage on display, their arms bare all the way to the shoulder. In the hot climate of a jungle, none of it was too unusual. Perfectly deniable if one happened to be caught in public with one of these staff members hanging nearby.

But when they were wearing it in the velvet-carpeted, candle-lit interior of a thick-walled waiting room, it didn’t take a genius to draw the right conclusions. Some lounged on plush sofas, speaking in low, husky undertones to fellow workers sitting beside them, always just a bit of either party touching the other. Hands, legs, shoulders, hips, whatever was convenient to find a bit of skin contact. Others stood behind tall desks, all of which were put up against the wall, so no one speaking to them would have their face in easy line of sight of other patrons. Thick, rich wooden doors were occasionally opened by staff, leading to hallways with far too few doors for their considerable length.

“There’s… no one else here?” Mui whispered at her side.

“There’s plenty of employees,” Sara stage-whispered back.

“But no other, ah, customers.”

“It’s late. Maybe they’re not very busy.”

“Master made an agreement with the head of the facility to have all rooms reserved,” Evie explained snippily, “in exchange for a public endorsement of their services at various Ta-Pet social functions. Dependent on adequate quality on display tonight, of course.”

Sara rolled her eyes at Evie. “Come on. Can’t you let me have any fun with him?”

Her wife’s gaze was steely as it met hers. “I am impatient, Master. You have deprived me for an entire day.”

“Don’t worry,” Sara said, patting Evie on the ass. “You’ll get your fill soon enough. Look, there she is.”

The proprietor of the brothel (a madame, Sara supposed?) was sauntering out from behind a desk, a warm, calculatedly seductive smile on her face.

“Sara,” she greeted easily, meeting her eyes. “Lady Evie,” she continued, bowing into a low, flawless curtsy, “and Sergeant Mui Thom,” she said as she straightened, replacing her seductive grin with a plainer, more casual smile. “I am Lady Anaka, and I am glad you are all here. I have prepared things exactly as you asked, Sara.”

“Excellent,” Sara said, clapping her hands together. “Evie, knees.”

The feline fell like her legs had been cut out from under her, an exquisite full-body shiver rolling up her spine. She had to put one hand forward to stop herself from collapsing entirely, barely keeping herself on her knees.

“Anaka?” Sara prompted. The madame produced a blindfold from within her robes, which Sara wrapped over Evie’s eyes with ease. The girl was shivering beneath her fingers already, but it was when Sara kept wrapping, forcibly pressing at the base of her ears to keep them pinned in just the way that would apply pressure without satisfaction, that she truly began to tremble. It thus hid her most distinctly Feline features, leaving only her tail, which could plausibly be explained by a single catfolk grandparent.

Sara bent down, using the last fistful of blindfold to drag Evie’s head painfully upward as she spat harsh whispers in her ear.

“I lied. You have no fucking idea how expensive this was. Your cunt better make that money back. Understand?”

Before Evie could respond, the tail end of the blindfold was stuffed into her mouth, gagging her. Sara tied it off, then dropped her. Without the support, she fell onto her side. She could have reached up to take it off, but her Master had put it on her. Sara knew the thought of undoing it didn’t so much as graze her mind.

“Sina?” Anaka called, waving a hand. “Tonight’s entertainment is here.”

An orc, large even for his kind and wrapped in muscles of a sort Sara hadn’t seen since roided-out bodybuilders on Earth, gave a loud, theatric groan of irritation as he peeled himself off the couch he’d been resting on.

“This the one you mentioned? For downstairs, right?”

“Yes. If one of the customers asks for it, you can take its gag out, but only if you’ve made sure it won’t bite.”

“Got it,” he rumbled, wrapping his hand over Evie’s skull. He picked her up with ease, but only enough for himself to straighten. That left her legs still dangling at just the wrong height. Unable to walk or crawl, she had no option left but to be dragged unceremoniously across the carpet.

Then, apparently seeing Mui’s horrified reaction over Sara’s shoulder, the orc’s bored expression turned into an apologetic wince. Sorry, he mouthed, jutting his chin towards Evie. Don’t worry.

Mui took a breath to respond, but Sara flung a finger up to his lips, keeping him silent. As Evie was dragged away, she spoke to Anaka.

“How much are you charging?”

“A few dozen copper, time depending.”

“That’s it?” Sara poured a frown into her words, even if she was actually holding back a laugh. “Do you even have enough customers down there to cover the cost?”

“If it’s as good a hole as you said it is, I expect some repeats. And we put a good few signs across the poorer regions of the city. Most of those brutes can’t read, but the illustrations were very striking. Word should spread quickly.”

“If you say so…” Sara said doubtfully, watching the squirming Evie get dragged through a door that led to a spiraling staircase. The door boomed shut behind her.

Sara waited a few beats, making sure Evie’s absurdly good hearing was actually out of earshot, then blew out a sigh, taking her finger from Mui’s lips.

“Sorry about that,” she told him. “I couldn’t figure out a way to tell you ahead of time without ruining the surprise for her.”

Mui looked between Sara and Anaka, eyes wide.

“Where is she being taken?”

“Exactly where Anaka said,” Sara replied with a shrug. “The Powdered Lead’s had to ration our supply of contraceptive herbs, but word’s spread, and places like this have cut deals with Vesta back in Tulian. Tonight’s gonna be their big reveal, basically. I’m sure lots of people will be real eager to finally have a whore with every hole on offer.”

“But…” Mui looked about. “Surely they’ll just be actors, no? The other, ah, employees of this establishment, playing a role.”

“That’s normally the route I’d go,” Sara admitted casually. “But only with the collar, so I can order her not to notice. She’s too perceptive for her own good, otherwise. She enjoys it, but there’s always a little bit of disappointment in her eyes when the collar comes off and she realizes the scene was fake. That’s why I hid her ears. So she can actually get used by random people without getting recognized.” Sara glanced at Anaka. “Is there anything stopping them from pulling that off, by the way?”

“Not particularly, no. The customers are told they aren’t allowed to remove it, but that warning is our only safety measure. Will that be a problem?”

“No, no, I haven’t changed my mind on that. Evie still thinks people might not fully understand just how needy she is, and that uncertainty does a lot for her. If some random nobodies happen to add to the rumors after tearing it off, that’s fine.” Sara chuckled. “Or, if she decides she actually wants to keep things quiet, she’ll handle it herself. If they break a brothel’s rules like that, whatever happens is on them.”

Anaka’s lips pursed further at that, but she didn’t say anything further. This had all been discussed fairly thoroughly over correspondence. She knew the terms.

“You don’t look like you’re doing too good, Mui,” Sara said, glancing at the catfolk man. His whiskers were twitching something fierce. Sara inspected him closely. She had plenty of time to, because he didn’t respond right away.

Oh, she thought as her Blessings slowly absorbed information. Oh, interesting. Got your blood pumping, did that? Question is, do you wanna be in line, or have a line all to yourself?

Tucking away that little nugget of knowledge for later, Sara gave an exaggerated sigh, stretching her arms.

“Well, I’m about ready to go, but Mui here didn’t bathe before he came over. I’m guessing you have some heated baths?”

“With many wonderful attendants, of course.” Anaka raised an eyebrow at Mui. “To the women-only bath, I presume?”

That finally brought him back to earth. He looked at her, confused. “But I am a man? I wouldn’t want to intrude on anyone.”

Anaka actually laughed at this. “Oh, dear. You’ve brought us a fun one, haven’t you, Sara?”

“Which group of naked people would you rather have slathering you up in soap?” Sara patiently explained to Mui. “All men, all women, or a sample platter selection?”

“Oh. Oh.” Mui’s whiskers twitched even harder. “Women, of course.” He chuckled under his breath. “Not that I thought I’d ever be going into the women’s bath.”

“I assure you, Sergeant,” Anaka said, patting his shoulder kindly, “they do very little bathing themselves. Saria?”

A short, sleek catfolk woman stepped away from her conversation with another worker, padding over to Mui. Unlike the other employees, she was barefoot and more overtly dressed for disrobing, already half ready for the baths. Her graceful steps barely made a sound as she came up to Mui, taking one of his hands in hers.

Shit, how tall is she? Sara thought as the woman tugged Mui along. Like, four foot eight? No wonder her tail looks so big and fuzzy on her. Might have to ask for a turn with her later. Looks like fun to throw around.

“And are you ready for your own room, Sara?” Anaka asked, adopting an even more casual tone than she had around Mui. Sara was impressed with the woman thus far; she’d never once had to repeat herself after telling the madame how she preferred to be addressed. It was the first time in quite a while that any Imperial citizen had treated Sara with a modicum of what she considered normality.

“No, not quite,” Sara said, turning her head about. “I’m curious about your operations here, really. Tulian’s got its own brothels up and running, but I haven’t had time to inspect them. I’m curious about your work.”

“Truly?” Anaka asked, surprised. “That seems like a matter that might have been better addressed in your letters. Not,” she hastened to add, “that I’m unwilling to answer, of course.” She giggled slightly. “If you were anyone else, I’d say your patronage to my ‘humble establishment’ is its own reward, but I think we both know that’s a lie. I’m very much looking forward to the business your endorsement will bring, Sara.”

“Of course,” she said, matching the woman’s smile. “There’s a lot of work that’s got to go into running a brothel. Ensuring employee safety while maintaining client privacy, acquiring lubricant, finding, hiring, and training new staff, the list goes on. It seems easy to forget everything.” Sara’s eyes glinted. “For example, I noticed that in our first letters, you never responded to my question about whether or not you ever used slave collars at this brothel.”

Anaka, halfway through happily starting up a business conversation, froze.

“And I thought, well, that’s weird,” Sara continued. “Why didn’t she respond to that? It was bullet-pointed and everything, and she responded to everything else. So I did some digging, and what do you know?”Anaka took two quick steps back, furtively glancing at her desk. “You did use slaves here! I mean, I can’t blame you. Those collars are pretty damn handy, even if you can’t use them like I can.”

“I n-never o-ordered anyone t-to do things they didn’t want,” Anaka stuttered. Her beautiful face was draining of color “The c-clients would be able to t-tell. We were not that kind of establishment!”

“Then what did you use them for?” Sara asked. Her voice was so cool that it seemed there should have been frost dropping from her lips.

“Improving their service,” Anaka said hurriedly. “They were already slaves before, you see, but I never, never took those who did not want this life. They wouldn’t do the job well, and when I managed to purchase a collar, well…” She swallowed. “It is useful. For training. For having them work past their limits, to have them do things they otherwise couldn’t. Many of them even, ah, e-enjoyed it, I believe.”

“Interesting,” Sara hummed, moving closer. Anaka once again backed away, matching Sara’s every step, but quickly ran out of room. Her back hit the wall with a muted thump. “And it’s particularly interesting to me, because I can tell you actually believe you’re telling the truth.”

The rising panic in Anaka, about to burst, hesitated.

“In fact,” Sara said, “that’s what all my investigations turned up, too. You even turned over your slaves for freeing the moment we took the city. Actually, you went one step further than that: you helped organize the collection of slaves across the city, presenting them to the Imperial Army’s Mages for de-collaring, didn’t you?”

“I did!” Anaka said, frantically bobbing her head. “I wanted rid of them. I didn’t use the collars as I could have, I swear it! Only to help some of the inexperienced ones through… difficulties. To help them adjust to certain sizes, or, or…” Her eyes danced as her panicked brain fought for examples she once knew so well. “To have them restrained in ways that would be otherwise impossible, enticing clients! But then I’d hear of the things others did with them, the other brothels, and it was… horrible! Despicable, horrible things! I didn’t want to bear that… that taint, that guilt by association, any longer. That is why I helped so much with freeing the slaves.”

“Mm,” Sara said, tapping her lips thoughtfully. “Lot of truth in that one, a little bit of fiction. I’m not sure you know where the line is yourself, though, so we’ll move on. After you had that realization, you kept the collars then, didn’t you?”

“Of course I did!” She replied breathily. “Until you came, they couldn’t be broken! Divine or sculpted by man, whichever of those strange memories you follow, none knew how to free their victims. And if I sold them, the– the slaves I bought– what would have happened to them? Where would they, men and women with Classes of Prostitutes and Whores, ever found better treatment? I had no choice!”

“No,” Sara said, dropping the faux lightness in her voice. “No, I guess you didn’t. You really fucked up, but once you did, you were stuck with it. You didn’t handle it perfectly, but who does? You didn’t have to keep them as prostitutes. You could have let them become maids, servants, whatever. But you didn’t.”

“They did not want that,” Anaka all but moaned, “truly, Sara, they didn’t! They had Skills for their work, talents that could be used nowhere else. I gave them the same pay as my other workers, let them spend it as they wished. I swear by every Emotion in your Holy Pantheon, it is true!”

“I believe you.”

Anaka sagged with relief. There was a dagger hidden behind the desk she’d retreated towards that Sara could now see, but the madame had stopped reaching for it almost as soon as she started. They both knew that Sara could have physically torn her apart, unarmed or not.

“I’m impressed,” Sara said. She was speaking matter-of-factly now, with full honesty. “You fucked up, but you did the best you could after you realized it. I talked to those slaves personally, in case you were wondering. Interviewed each and every one.”

“What? How? W-when?”

“I have slept all of three hours in the past two days,” Sara said with a shrug, ignoring the pounding ache behind her eyes. “But that doesn’t matter. What matters now is, what am I going to do with you?” Sara looked out at the room. The brothel’s workers had formed a loose, distant semicircle around the confrontation, keeping close to exit doors in case things really went wrong. “I hate slavers like nothing else. But in a way, I almost admire you. You’re an impressive woman, Anaka.” Sara dropped her voice to a whisper. “I quite like how you forged your own proof of noble heritage before arriving in Ta-Pet, letting you cater to all kinds of clients you never could have before.” Her voice rose to its normal volume. “But you kept slaves. In Tulian, that’s a crime that gets you the rope. Here, though, the True Adjutant has decreed that all who freely give up their slaves will face no punishment— and will be protected from me, specifically, because he knows what I’m like. I agreed to those terms.”

Anaka’s breath was stabilizing now. Some of the woman she’d been before was coming back.

“So, I decided on doing exactly what I said in our letters, Anaka. I want the best whore in this whole whorehouse: you.”

Anaka sketched a shaky smile. “Of course, Sara. I’ll be happy to provide for your needs.”

“Will you?” Sara raised an eyebrow. “I don’t fuck women who don’t want me, Anaka. I just scared the shit out of you to make a point to the other people here. Your terror was a political statement for me. Do you really think I’m hot enough to actually, honestly want to suck me off, despite all that?”

Anaka hesitated. “I-I’ve always heard of your beauty, Sara,” she said slowly, carefully, recognizing now that lying was a hopeless prospect. Sara could hear her working out her thoughts even as she spoke. “And yes, you did scare me. But… well, you wouldn’t be the first client to do that.”

“I imagine most of those weren’t allowed back.”

“No. Not necessarily.” Anaka licked her lips. “But not all. Some were allowed back. So long as they behaved themselves.”

“Do you want me to check?” Sara asked.

“What do you mean?”

“To check if you want to fuck me. I have a spell for it, courtesy of Amarat. Works wonders for establishing consent.”

Anaka blinked. “Well, I don’t see why not, if you can-”

Anaka’s own gasp cut her off as Sara activated Gift of Lust. The madame’s eyes fluttered heavily.

“O-oh. Well then. That’s quite something, and-”

Sara activated Gift of Lust again.

And again.

And again.

Anaka’s hands went between her legs as she nearly collapsed, trying to hide a rising bulge as if the quivering of her knees hadn’t already given everything away. Sara stepped forward. The woman barely had the strength to look up at her.

“When I heard about you, I thought you were fascinating. I couldn’t decide if I should punish you or reward you. So I thought to myself, why not both?” Sara grinned, using two fingers beneath the woman’s chin to tilt her head back, making searing eye contact. “I’m not going to go easy on you. When this night is done, it’ll be up to you to decide if it was worth it. But I can assure you, no matter what happens, the next little while is going to feel very, very good.”

Anaka stood there for a time, panting into the open air. Then, with all the willpower she could muster, swallowed hard.

“P-please.”

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