\hypertarget{chapter-35-questions}{%
\chapter{Questions}\label{chapter-35-questions}}



\epigraph{``To bargain with devils is to paint with your own blood: the
greater the work, the harsher the price.''}{Dread Empress Maleficent II}



I shivered in discomfort when I crossed the boundary into the prison. It
felt wrong in a fundamental way, and if I'd not already gotten enough
hints that becoming the Duchess of Moonless Nights had changed my nature
in some eldtritch way this would have done the trick. There were
worrying aspects to that. I'd already made sure that cold iron didn't
really hurt me more than any other kind, but Masego was of the opinion
that spells crafted to affect entities not of Creation would sting a
great deal more than they used to. Given that diabolism as a sorcerous
discipline dealt with exactly that, I was going to have to take a few
precautions before dealing with Akua. Who was now Diabolist. If she
could be sure she could grab a godsdamned Hashmallim before even coming
into the Name, she could deal with my bastardized fae title: those two
things weren't even close to being in the same league. I shook away the
thought. The place where I now stood wasn't another dimension, not
exactly. The way Hierophant told it, if he was to keep the Princess of
High Noon contained he very much needed for her to be in Creation.

Her power was lesser here, a large part of it surrendered to cross a
threshold she did not belong on this side of. If she was in a pocket
dimension, however, then all bets were off. Even after being robbed of
the sun, Princess Sulia was absurdly powerful and she might just rip her
ay through the wards with her bare hands if she needed to. So the prison
my mages maintained was on Creation, a complicated array that had me
reaching for a drink just to look at the plans of. I'd forced Masego to
use progressively smaller splurges of magic babble until he found the
right metaphor: the whole thing was a drain, more or less. A bunch of
escapements had been attached to her that bled out power as quick as she
regained it, dispersing it into Creation. The results weren't pretty:
the grounds around the prison were alarming to look at, a circle of land
that grew, got overripe and died in the span of a dozen heartbeats. And
then again, and again, and again.

Ratface had poked his nose in and asked whether the phenomenon could be
used to accelerate crops, and gotten the reply that it could. But the
crops would be, essentially, plant-shaped dust. And possibly poisonous
as well, because why wouldn't the fae make this as horrifying as
possible? I'd left the quartermaster plotting with Pickler about
possible uses for it, catching something about `targeting farmland' but
also `spoiling rations'. Should have expected that, really. It was the
Praesi way to look at things best left not meddled with and ask `can we
make a weapon out of this?'. \emph{That's how you lot got the Wasteland,
Ratface.} They were still a step short of cackling and attempting to
steal another country's weather on the villain ladder, but I'd remind
Hakram to keep an eye on those two anyway. The last thing I needed was a
bunch of Summer-birthed plant monsters running amok in Callow when we
finally gave the Courts the boot.

The Princess of High Noon was still hovering in the air, runic shackles
on both her wrists and ankles. She was awake now though. Her hair was
fire, much like Kilian's when she drew too deep on sorcery, but that was
where the resemblance ended. My\ldots{} Senior Mage looked human, though
more delicate in her bones than the average Duni. There was nothing
mortal about the looks of Princess Sulia, though: she was power made
flesh, a blind sculptor's dream of what people would look like.

``My warden visits,'' the Princess of High Noon said.

``That'd be Hierophant,'' I replied easily. ``Though I suppose the
responsibility ultimately lies with me.''

``Have you come merely to equivocate, Duchess?'' the fae said. ``If so,
spare me your presence. Better silence than your ramblings.''

``I came to talk,'' I said. ``I happen to have a few questions for
you.''

``And I will indulge you in this?'' the princess mocked.

``Could be I'll have you tortured if you don't,'' I noted.

The mocking smile did not wane in the slightest.

``I have been under the knives of Winter across many, many lives,'' she
said. ``Anything mortals could muster would be childish imitation.''

``Speaking as someone who's been on Masego's operating table, you are
very much mistaken,'' I said. ``And that was when he was \emph{helping}.
But you're right. I won't have you tortured. I don't really condone the
practice, as a rule.''

``Then the King of Winter has left traces of who you once were inside
this misshapen carcass you wear,'' Princess Sulia said. ``Rejoice,
Duchess. You are less an abomination than you could be.''

``Again with he abomination talk,'' I said, rolling my eyes. ``That's no
way to treat someone come to bargain with you, Sulia.''

She actually laughed at that. It didn't sound like a person's laugh,
more like exhaustion and heat and the clash of steel against steel.

``You have already struck bargains, mortal,'' she sneered. ``Two that my
eyes can see. I wonder what you promised Larat, to have him risk my
wrath on the field.''

That was the Prince of Nightfall's name, I was pretty sure. The Winter
King had mentioned it once, but the whole getting my heart ripped out
afterwards adventure had ensured it didn't have a place of honour in my
memory.

``I'll trade that secret, for questions answered truly,'' I said.

Her eyes turned to me, and if had not stolen a mantle of power I
suspected it would have physically hurt me to meet her gaze. Even as it
was, it pricked behind my eyes to match her stare for stare.

``I do not often bargain with your kind,'' she said.

``I imagine the while incinerating them on sight thing limits your
options in that regard,'' I replied drily.

``There is little of worth to be found amongst mortals,'' she shrugged,
or tried to.

Her bindings didn't allow a lot of room for movement. Normally she
wouldn't even be able to speak, but Hierophant had released that binding
before I came in.

``Nine questions,'' I said. ``And I will give you the terms of my
bargain with the Prince of Nightfall. You are to answer them to my
satisfaction, or they will not count.''

``You seek to rob me, child,'' she sneered.

``I already have,'' I replied with my most unpleasant smile. ``Yoink,
remember?''

Her face boiled with anger and I cursed myself mentally. I really need
to learn to shut my mouth when treating with monsters. If I'd managed to
not fucking declare war on the King of Winter halfway through our
conversation, in the middle of his very seat of power no less, I'd still
have an actual heart instead of whatever he'd shoved into my chest.

``Enjoy that transient victory, Duchess,'' she said. ``Summer comes for
you now, and there is no escape.''

I sighed.

``You know, I don't actually \emph{want} to fight you people,'' I said,
using `people' in the loosest sense of the word. ``You invaded my home
without provocation and started butchering everyone that didn't kneel to
a queen from another realm. I'm not Ranger, Sulia. I don't get into
death matches with demigods for the bragging rights.''

``You think \emph{we} want to stride this godforsaken wasteland?'' she
burst out. ``Creation is madness. The disorder is like an itch none of
us can scratch, and the people --``

She bit her tongue, glaring at me like I'd forced her to speak up.

``Nine questions,'' I repeated. ``For the terms the Prince of Nightfall
gave me.''

I paused and hastily continued.

``With the previous stipulations added,'' I finished.

I still had the pact the King of Winter had forced on me to barter with
if that wasn't enough, though I'd rather avoid handing a potential
weakness like that hand wrapped to one of my most dangerous enemies. The
Princess of High Noon was supposedly terrible at scheming, but the rest
of Summer was bound to have some noble that was a fair hand at it. The
fae grit her teeth, but after a long silence calmed herself.

``I accept this bargain, as the terms were stated,'' she said.

Gods, finally. I'd been after answers since the moment the damned Winter
Court had popped up in Marchford and so far had gotten only cryptic
comments for my troubles. I'd thought about getting my hands on a Winter
noble for interrogation more than once, but I wouldn't be able to trust
answers from someone too low in the pecking order -- and a Count was
probably as high as I could aim to grab, even now. The Princess of High
Noon was second only to the queen, in the Summer Court, and probably the
least tricky operator I could hope for at that hallowed height.

``Why did the Summer Court invade Callow?'' I immediately asked.

Eight questions left.

``It was an obligation,'' Sulia replied. ``As Winter was waging war upon
Creation, so must we. Her Majesty chose Callow as our enemy, and I know
not her reasons.''

That explained, to an extent, why the Courts could be both be fighting
me when Masego had said they shouldn't be able to attack the same
target. If Winter was fighting Praes and Summer was fighting Callow, the
difference should be enough to appease whatever arcane rules they obeyed
to. It also confirmed that the Summer Queen was up to something: she
hadn't been forced to pick Callow, and I doubted she'd made that
decision without a reason. That meant there were two fae rulers trying
to get something out of my homeland, and in both cases I had no real
notion of \emph{what} that was.

``When the queen lives as a princess, what is her title?'' I asked.

Seven questions left. This one came at Hierophant's request. He'd told
me he would have a better idea of how to counter the queen if he knew
what form her powers usually took.

``Princess of the Morning Star,'' the fae replied through gritted teeth.

Hadn't liked that one, huh. She clearly knew why I'd asked. I'd wonder
about exactly what the implications of the answer were when I had mages
with me to make sense of it.

``What forces remained to the Diabolist when you left the field at
Liesse?'' I asked.

Six questions left. This one she took better than the last. Akua had not
made a friend there, looked like. She usually didn't.

``One greater devil,'' the Princess of High Noon said. ``No more than
six thousand mortals. Twice this in undead and lesser devils.''

Good. This wasn't anything I couldn't deal with, considering the armies
I had at my disposal. I'd have to be a raging imbecile to think this was
all Diabolist had at her disposal, but it should make up the bulk of her
strength on the ground. I mine could beat hers, all that was left was
the battle between trump cards. That one would be harder, given how long
she'd had to prepare, but I had four other Named on my side. My bag of
tricks went a lot deeper than hers, these days, and if that failed I had
the right kind of people to smash my way into a victory.

``What is your plan to escape this prison?'' I asked.

Five questions left, and she looked furious. Had she really thought I
wasn't going to ask that? I'd been dealing with the Ruling Council and
the High Lords for over a year. Green I might be, but I wasn't
\emph{that} green. She really was terrible at this. \emph{Or simply not
used to bargaining from a position of weakness}, I thought. What were
the odds she'd been in a story that went like this before? I very much
doubted she'd ever played a question game with Winter, if the talk of
torture was any indication. There was a very real chance she was
flailing because she'd never stood on grounds like these before.
\emph{You and me both, Sulia}. I was just better than the fae at keeping
my head above the water.

``I am transmuting the flesh of my left arm into power not siphoned by
your array,'' the princess said. ``It will allow me to break through the
wards eventually.''

``Answer's incomplete. When will you be done?'' I pressed.

``In a month,'' she grunted.

It figured. She would probably have broken out in the middle of our
tangle with Summer and wrecked our armies from the inside. Hierophant
was going to have to take care of this somehow. Now, for Juniper's
question.

``There are golden fae in your host,'' I said. ``What are their
weaknesses?''

Four questions left. When they'd fought against the legionaries under
Nauk, they'd ripped straight through the men until Masego and I had
dropped a pair of surprises into their formation to take their pressure
off. They seemed to be the equivalent to the Sword of Waning day that
Winter fielded, though a great deal more dangerous. Unlike the deadwood
soldiers they fought in a real formation.

``The Immortals are bound to the Queen of Summer,'' she said. ``Should
she die they will perish as well.''

Hardly a weakness, that. There had to be more to it.

``And?'' I prompted.

``They weaken away from Summer,'' she grudgingly added. ``They carry
banners with shards of the sun, but should these be destroyed they will
lose much of their power.''

And now my mages had a target. Progress. I'd covered everything I'd been
asked to find out by others so far, which left me four questions to try
to ferret out what I personally wanted to know that didn't qualify as an
`immediate concern'. By the standards of my officers, anyway. I was of
the opinion that the answers that would win us this war weren't numbers
or weaknesses.

``What does the Summer Court mean to do with Callow, if they take it?''
I asked.

Three questions.

``The taken territories are to be made part of Arcadia and Summer
itself,'' the princess said. ``Along with all those who live in them.''

I closed my eyes, mind spinning. The Winter Court had tried to do
something similar, I was pretty sure. During the attack that I'd gone
into Arcadia to end, the fae had brought a shard of Arcadia into
Creation. That had failed, but the Winter King had taken me as a vassal
afterwards, binding Marchford to him through me. If Summer was after the
same ends, then that lay at the heart of the plays on both their parts.
If Summer grew larger, then the balance between it and Winter swung in
their direction. It might even introduce fresh stories to the Court's
advantage, and would explain why the Summer fae had been forcing
Callowans to swear fealty to the Queen of Summer in my reports. I was
still missing something, though. If grabbing land had been the
objective, why had Winter struck one of the most fortified targets in
Callow? The Fifteenth had been at Marchford for months before they began
their attacks. Sure it would have been easier to cross there, but Summer
had proved it wasn't impossible to do so in other places. If Winter had
opened a gate into, say, Vale? They might have grabbed the entire
central plains of Callow before the Legions could react. Sulia had
already stated that Winter had been the ones to begin this dance, which
brought forward even more questions. He hadn't been the one reacting,
meaning it had been a deliberate choice.

``Why did the King of Winter target Marchford, specifically?'' I asked.

Two questions.

``I cannot know for certain,'' the princess said.

``Your best guesses,'' I grunted.

``The boundaries were thinner there, making an invasion possible,'' the
fae replied. ``Or he needed a Named in his service to act in Creation
without crossing himself.''

Shit, hadn't given her an actual number of guesses. Just plural, so she
got away with two. It wasn't worth using another question to ask for
what would be more speculation on her part. I might have misread the
situation, I frowned. When Summer had crossed, they'd had the weight of
symmetry on their side: Winter was at war on Creation, so they must be
as well. That might have made it easier for them to leave Arcadia, and
they'd certainty been better at it. They'd spread a lot quicker and in
several places compared to Winter's one failed beachhead. Since the
Winter Court had been the ones to begin the pattern, and an
unprecedented one at that, they might not have had another choice than
to go for the lowest-hanging fruit that was Marchford.

Then again, if I put myself in the King's boots, what better target than
Callow was there? On Calernia, at least. There was no other territory so
divided and recently weakened by war. If he'd pulled this shit in the
Principate, he would have been in a great deal of trouble. The Free
Cities, maybe, but there were far more players there and a larger amount
of Named. All he'd have to deal with here was a Squire with her crew and
the Diabolist down south. My people were untested, many recently come to
their Names and Akua had `going to rebel real soon' good as stamped onto
her forehead. It occurred to me, at that moment, that I might be the
cause of all this. That I might have ensured the Winter Court would
invade my homeland and force Summer to do the same by allowing the
Liesse Rebellion to happen in the first place. I'd put blood in the
water and the monsters had tasted it, taken it as invitation to come out
and play.

``Merciless Gods,'' I whispered.

Thousands had died, in the rebellion, but how many more to the fae? All
of southern Callow had been occupied. My own legion had come under
assault. Hells, I'd created the perfect conditions for the Diabolist to
try her crowning scheme and there was no avoiding the truth that putting
that madness would be bloody work. I'd let a hero go, once, and spoken
words to him. Years later and Callow was still paying the price of that
decision one corpse at a time. I took hold of myself. I could not afford
to show weakness in front of a Princess of Summer, even one my prisoner.
I met her eyes and saw she had missed nothing. She did not delight in my
horror, but neither did she shy away from it. \emph{I need to know}, I
thought. To get at the bottom of this, before it was too late. This was
larger than fae plying their usual tricks. Both Courts were playing for
larger stakes than I'd thought.

``If either Court keeps part of Callow,'' I asked hoarsely. ``What
happens in Arcadia?''

One question left. The Princess of High Noon smiled, slowly and broadly.

``I do not know,'' she laughed. ``Nothing, my queen says, for it will
pass. Everything, your king says, for that clay has never been shaped.''

I felt like I'd been handed the last piece of a jigsaw puzzle, the one
that made the shape of the whole clear. The Winter King didn't actually
care all that much if I could force out Summer. He'd prefer it, because
then any advantages that would come into being would be entirely on his
side. But even if I failed, as long as I lived he still had Marchford
and a Named he could influence. He would have an even deeper connection
to my city than Summer would manage with their stolen territories, if he
kept my heart. It dawned upon me that, as far as he was concerned, he
had already won. It was just the degree of victory that remained to be
determined. The Prince of Nightfall had compared the fae of Winter to
foxes chewing through their own keg to escape a trap, back in Skade.
Willing to destroy something part of them to escape a greater doom. And
I'd seen, when I'd become the Duchess of Moonless Nights, the unending
circle that was the lives and deaths of the Courts. The outcomes were
always fixed from the start, but that was because in that circle there
were only \emph{known quantities}.

If I became part of that, if Callow did? In Arcadia, the Summer Queen
had said the `story would correct itself'. She thought this attempt
would fail and everything would return to the way it used to be when the
wheel turned again. She was just playing out her role as assigned to
her, Summer Ascendant destroying everything in its path. But the King of
Winter thought he could escape the wheel, and was gambling with the
lives of everyone in Callow for his roll of the dice. It didn't matter
so much that he beat Summer so long as an outcome without precedent lay
at the end of the road. Even if he lost, he could be born to a different
story when the wheel turned. If the wheel turned, which would no longer
be a given. I'd been looking for a master plan in the Praesi tradition
this whole time, but there'd never been one. It was just a desperate man
throwing stones in a pond so the same old reflection would stop staring
back at him. If a single thread of fae influence remained in Callow by
the time this was over, it might be enough to drag then entire country
into the mess. I had just become the greatest living liability to peace
in my homeland.

I had to break them both, the royals on each side. Destroy everything
that they were. The consequences otherwise were beyond what I could
easily understand. I clenched my fingers, then unclenched them. The
Summer Queen. She would be the lynchpin of this, as the only one of the
two I could reach.

``Sulia,'' I said. ``What is the role at the heart of the Queen of
Summer?''

My last question. My most important.

``Threefold are the duties of the Laurel Crown,'' she said. ``To destroy
Winter. To protect Aine. To see the Sun victorious.''

Three, always three. And I would need them all in my palm, if I was to
bend a god to my will.

``Now complete your end of the bargain, abomination,'' she hissed.
``You've had your fill of me.''

``I will take the crown of seven mortals rulers and one, to lay them at
the feet of the Prince of Nightfall,'' I said.

Her face went still. A glimmer of something like fear passed through
those shining eyes, and shit that wasn't good at all.

``You know not what you have promised,'' she said. ``\emph{This must not
come to pass}.''

``Then tell me why,'' I said.

Silence, silence and hatred.

``I thought as much,'' I murmured. ``Sweet dreams, Princess of High
Noon.''

I left. I didn't look for my friends, though I felt the urge. Right now
I felt too disgusted with myself, with them, with everything I had
wrought since I first became the Squire. I loved them, and I should. I'd
paid an ugly price for them. How many lives I claimed I wanted to save
had I traded away to have them at my side? I sought someone else
instead, someone who would not pick at the loathing. I needed advice,
and I had the puppet of one of the greatest living rulers in Calernia
within my reach. I found the woman waiting in my tent and sat down in
front of the body Malicia was looking through from far, far away.

``You said you would teach me, once,'' I told the Empress. ``So teach me
now. I need to outwit a god in the flesh, before a moon has passed.''

Dread Empress Malicia, First of Her Name, Tyrant of Dominions High and
Low, Holder of the Nine Gates and Sovereign of All She Beheld, watched
me for a long moment.

Then she smiled.
