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\hypertarget{chapter-38-juncture}{%
\chapter{Juncture}\label{chapter-38-juncture}}



\epigraph{``Hahahahaha. Ha. You can't beat me now, this is the first part of
my plan!''}{Dread Emperor Irritant I, the Oddly Successful}



Some days I wondered how I'd ended up where I was. In a technical sense
it had all started when I'd come across Black in that alley, or perhaps
the moment where I'd decided I would be joining the Legions.

``What I mean, though, is how did I end up \emph{here},'' I mused. ``As
in, asking a report from a blood-dripping goblin in the middle of the
night while I lead some kind of shady war council.''

Robber, if anything, was tickled by my sudden comment. Masego was
utterly indifferent to everything going on, as was his wont, and Hakram
looked like the epithet of `shady' offended him but he couldn't find an
argument to refute me.

``Bad life choices,'' the goblin tribune offered. ``Or the best. Maybe a
little bit of both.''

``Don't mind me,'' I grunted. ``It just suddenly hit home that I'm
leading a Legion of Terror while wearing a black cape and plotting
nefarious things in the dark.''

``You're not currently wearing a cape,'' Masego pointed out, about as
helpful as tits on a sparrow.

``Apprentice,'' I replied patiently, ``I own like five capes. All of
them black. I get we have a theme here, but would it kill anyone to get
me some clothes that a vampire wouldn't wear? I mean, Heiress is Evil
and she wears actual colours. And does her hair nice! I bet she even has
her nails filed by some half-naked oiled up manservant.''

I didn't even have manservants. My closest equivalents were an orc with
a gossip addiction and a goblin who owned a jar full of eyeballs. The
House of Light had always told me Evil was decadent, where were all my
creature comforts? My sheets weren't even silk. The only opulence around
was the way I never seemed to run out of wine and that was purely
Ratface's doing.

``The ponytail looks good,'' Hakram said loyally.

``Hakram, I love you like a brother, but the day I take grooming advice
from you is the day I jump into the Tyrian Sea,'' I replied.

I poured myself a glass of Vale summer wine, ignoring the look from
Hakram indicating he wouldn't mind one. The crate Ratface had somehow
gotten his hands on before we left Ater was mostly empty now and I
wasn't wasting my favourite drink on someone who'd guzzle it down like
water. I sighed and got comfortable in my wooden camp chair.

``Well, I suppose I'll have to ask at some point. Whose blood is this,
Robber?''

``It could be mine,'' he grinned.

``Goblins bleed black,'' I grunted. ``Try again.''

``Not always true,'' Apprentice said. ``Dread Emperor Sorcerous
exsanguinated a Matron and filled in human-``

He trailed off when everyone stared at him then cleared his throat.

``Perhaps not the best time,'' he conceded. ``Still, it's not an
absolute.''

I let him retreat with a modicum of dignity while he still could and
pushed down the morbid curiosity that almost made me ask why Sorcerous
had done that. He'd been the one to make the sentient tiger army, if I
recalled correctly. The one that had defected the moment it got out of
the Tower and was the reason tigers in the Wastelands were still so
intelligent. They still found half-chewed corpses by the road every
year, a testament to the way the `cleverness' of Tyrants could continue
to backfire for centuries after their death.

``Robber,'' I prompted.

``So some of the boys and I went to have a look in Heiress' camp,'' he
said. ``Might have slit a few throats on the way in.''

``I'd gathered as much,'' I replied. ``So why does that lead you to
waking me up in the middle of the night?''

``They changed up their patrol schedules after the last time we left
them a few corpses,'' the yellow-eyed tribune grinned. ``They haven't
figured out Kilian's scrying them to lay out the timing.''

``They will soon,'' Hakram grunted. ``And Heiress has the mages to block
us when she picks up on it.''

``If she uses standard wards, I can teach your paramour to slip past
them,'' Masego noted. I let the word pass by without a comment, since it
was more or less accurate. ``Though given who Akua's father is, I would
not bet on it.''

I raised an eyebrow. ``Some other Praesi noble? I thought you could run
circles around any of those.''

``Nioro of Aksum. Most talented practitioner to come out of that part of
the Wasteland in at least half a century,'' Apprentice said. ``Father
says he was good enough to have a claim on the Name of Warlock after the
old one died, though he never pressed it.''

I'd never heard the name before, which was somewhat intriguing. I'd have
to ask Aisha about it at some point, since none of the men in this tent
followed Praesi politics in the least.

``Anyhow,'' Robber said. ``We planned around their schedules and routes
so we could get deeper in the camp than we've ever been. Found out two
interesting tidbits I thought you should know about now instead of the
morning.''

``Amaze me,'' I said.

``First, she's got a goblin in there,'' the tribune said.

\emph{Huh}. I hadn't seen that coming, I'd give Robber that much.
Heiress wasn't as consistently racist as some of the other Praesi
nobility I'd come across, but she did have certain leanings. Though I'd
never heard her lay on greenskins, now that I thought about it. Was she
in league with one of the goblin tribes? That could get messy as all
Hells.

``Recognized them?'' Hakram asked.

``So just because I'm a goblin I know all the others, is that it?''
Robber asked, his face the very picture of outrage.

``You've claimed as much repeatedly,'' Adjutant replied amusedly.

The goblin tribune shrugged, the pretense of affront discarded in a
heartbeat.

``Couldn't get a good look,'' he said. ``Was going to, but a scroll
sheath fell over and woke them up. Nasty customer, whoever they are.
Pretty sure they had burn wounds, and not the small discrete kind.''

``I don't suppose there's a famous goblin with that as their
signature?'' I sighed.

``Wouldn't know,'' Robber said. ``Didn't get out much before I joined
the College. Pickler might know something I don't -- she was much higher
up the food chain in her own tribe.''

Another question for the pile, though I doubted it would be as easy as
that.

``And the other thing?'' Hakram asked.

``They're making some kind of ritual array,'' Robber said.

Apprentice's back straightened in his seat, the reason my tribune had
asked for him to be there finally clear.

``Not on the ground,'' Masego immediately guessed. ``The runes -- on
wood, stone or metal?''

``Twenty five metal pegs with small square stones between them,'' the
goblin informed us. ``The stone's granite, if that makes a difference.''

Robber's tribe was one of the mining ones deep in the Grey Eyries, I
remembered. Apparently he still remembered some of what he'd learned
there.

``It does,'' Apprentice muttered. ``Ocean-dredged granite like the one
found off Thalassina has properties linking it to the classical elements
of earth and water. It's used as a stabilizer.''

One of these days I was going to have to find out exactly what those
`classical elements' actually were.

``Got a look at the metal pegs,'' Robber continued. ``Wrought iron, all
of it.''

``To attract, collect and retain power,'' Masego frowned. ``Whatever the
ritual is, the scale will be massive.''

``Oh, I don't like the sounds of that,'' I cursed. ``Robber did you get
a look at the runes?''

``On the pegs,'' he replied. ``There was one that was everywhere, it
was\ldots{}''

He paused. Yellow eyes blinked in confusion.

``I can't actually remember,'' he admitted.

Masego let out a small noise of understanding.

``I'm going to trace symbols in the air,'' he said. ``Tell me when one
looks familiar.''

The dark-skinned mage traced a finger in the air, hard light hovering
behind his touch. A dozen runes were made before Robber stopped him.

``That,'' he said. ``I'm almost sure.''

Masego traced another one, two squiggly lines with a small dot between
them.

``Are you sure it wasn't this one?''

I peered at both, honestly incapable of seeing a difference between the
two even if I kept staring at them.

``Could go either way,'' Robber grunted.

Apprentice dismissed all the shapes with a casual wave of the hand.

``Why couldn't he remember?'' I asked.

``Those are High Arcana,'' he explained. ``No one without the Gift can
hold them in their mind longer than they're looking at them. Catherine,
I cannot stress enough how dangerous this is. I've studied sorcery since
I could walk and I'm not sure I could make an array using those. Someone
on Heiress' side is a mage of the very highest caliber.''

``Wolof is apparently full of stuff like this,'' I pointed out. ``She
could just have inherited the ritual.''

Masego shook his head. ``That's not how High Arcana works. You can't
make a\ldots{} recipe, using them. How the runes react to every
practitioner varies wildly, even if the underlying principles are the
same. The mage who made that ritual understands exactly what they're
doing.''

Last time I'd dismissed a warning from Apprentice I'd turned myself into
a demon-touched cripple. I was not about to make the same mistake twice.

``So that just shot up to the top of my priority list,'' I grunted.

``You recognized some of the runes,'' Hakram said suddenly. ``Can you
guess the purpose of the ritual?''

``Retrieval,'' Masego murmured. ``That rune means retrieval. I can think
of one entity she's got contained.''

Well, fuck. That had just gone from bad to worse. I'd had my mage lines
and Apprentice working on something to keep the demon inside the
standard, but it didn't look like Heiress was going to be using the same
trick as last time. Had she anticipated I'd take countermeasures? She
had a way of being one step ahead of me. \emph{Not this time, though.}

``That ritual, can you shut it down?'' I asked.

The bespectacled man smiled. ``Breaking something is much easier than
making it. I'm not without skills with High Arcana myself.''

``Whatever you need,'' I said, ``and I do mean whatever, you'll get it.
Hakram, I'm using my authority as the Squire to put all our resources at
Apprentice's disposal.''

There was a heartbeat after the words left my mouth where I
\emph{wondered}. Whether this was real or just a specter Masego had
dredged up to get his hands on something. I grit my teeth and put the
thought aside. Kilian would keep an eye on him, as much as she could. I
couldn't afford to leave a weapon like this in Heiress' hands and do
nothing, not even if my answer might be compromised. I rubbed the bridge
of my nose.

``Robber, good work. You might have saved our lives tonight. Now get
washed up before you stink up my camp,'' I ordered. ``The rest of you,
dismissed.''

I'd need to grab whatever sleep I could before our march resumed. At
least my bed was warm and full of Kilian. Apprentice lingered a moment
after the others left. I raised an eyebrow at him.

``A gift,'' he said, fishing out something from his tunic.

It was a long pipe of carved bone with an almost comically small mouth
carved like a lion's head. I blinked in surprise.

``I don't smoke bangue,'' I told him. ``Or poppy leaves.''

Bangue was more or less unknown in Callow, save for very wealthy
merchants. The dreamy trance it induced was said to be highly pleasant,
and without the nausea abusing drink would bring. Poppy was better
known, but so were its addictive properties. Anyhow, I'd been too
strapped for gold back in Laure to ever consider trying something as
expensive.

He snorted. ``I didn't expect you to,'' he replied. ``Save for wine you
are remarkably free of vices. I did notice you disliked the brew I made
you for the pain, though. As it happens those herbs can also be
smoked.''

I closed my fingers around the offered pipe. Couldn't feel any magic
coming from it, but with a mage as skilled as Masego that meant nothing.
Was he laying a trap as I had? I searched his face and found nothing but
earnestness. Apprentice was not practiced enough a liar or intriguer to
pull this kind of play, I decided. Although demon corruption might make
his personality moot, if it had sunk deep enough. \emph{If it had,
though, there'd be signs.}

``Thank you,'' I said, and got a sunny smile in response.

I was definitely having that looked at by a mage.

---

Dawn found me sitting by a campfire, alone. I'd already eaten a bowl the
stew that was the Fifteenth's morning meal and set it aside. Taking the
pipe Masego had given me I took a piece of tinder from the flames and
lit it up, breathing deep and letting the herbs do their work. I coughed
out the first few times, but eventually got the hand of it. Kilian was
on duty at the moment, but before she'd left I'd had her take a look at
the gift. It was, apparently, dragonbone. That precluded enchantment of
any kind: the bones and scales of dragons could not be touched by
sorcery. It was why putting them down so often ended up the
responsibility of heroes. Part of me wanted to chide myself for
paranoia, but I could not. \emph{I'm paranoid, but am I paranoid
enough?} The lifespan of villains had not theoretical limit to it, yet
they died about as old as their heroic counterparts. I noted eventually
that the effect wasn't as solid as when the herbs were drunk, so I lit
up a second time. The medicine was common enough I was in no danger of
running out, and as long as I kept myself below a certain dosage
ingested per day there was no danger of side effects. Aisha arrived just
as I spewed out a stream of white smoke. She eyed me strangely then
shook her head. I raised an eyebrow.

``My mother does the same,'' she said. ``Joint pains.''

I snorted. ``Sit down, Aisha,'' I ordered.

She folded her legs and plopped down at my side, somehow managing to
make the gesture fluid and graceful.

``We haven't talked much, you and I,'' I said.

``There has been no reason to, Lady Squire,'' she said cautiously.

``Drop that,'' I said. ``I'm an orphan of no consequence, Aisha. Titles
always sound mocking to me.''

``With all due respect, Lady Squire,'' the lovely aristocrat replied,
``you \emph{were} an orphan of no consequence. Now you are, arguably,
third in rank under the Empress and the Calamities. I understand you're
trying to foster a certain attitude in your closest collaborators, but I
would shame my family if I referred to you so casually.''

``Gods, it's like dealing with Juniper all over again,'' I complained.

The Staff Tribune smiled. ``It took me years to get her this trained up.
The Red Moons are from the Northern Steppes, but her father is from the
Lesser ones. That breed has a certain disregard for etiquette, even for
orcs.''

The Lesser Steppes were the part of the steppes north of the Empire that
were on the western side of the Wasaliti's headwaters. Imperial writ had
always run thin there, and so had Miezan authority before it. It was
said they kept to more of the old ways there than anywhere else on
Calernia. None of that had been mentioned in my history lectures at the
orphanage, but orcs from there broke regulations so much more often than
the others I'd gotten a primer on the subject from Hakram. I inhaled
from the pipe, spitting out a mouthful of smoke as the pain in my leg
finished ebbing away.

``I don't know you very well,'' I said. ``I brought you into the
Fifteenth at Juniper's request, and you've served admirably ever
since.''

A flicker of something passed through the Taghreb beauty's eyes.

``But I am the only aristocrat on the general staff, and there is a leak
in the Fifteenth,'' she said.

Her tone was entirely calm, but for all that I could see she was angry
from the way she held herself. A year ago I wouldn't have noticed, but a
side-effect of learning to read people on the battlefield had been
picking up on their reactions off of it. It must have been galling to
believe your birth was being held against you, especially after a
lifetime of it being held in your favour.

``That's not the issue,'' I said. ``You've already been vetted by Black,
which ends the matter as far as I'm concerned.''

She paled at the mention of my teacher. My highborn officers usually did
-- his long-standing dislike of the nobility was well documented and
several mass graves in the Empire served as standing reminders of it.

``I know what most of my people want,'' I said, unashamed at the claim I
was laying on my officers. ``Pickler, Ratface, Nauk. Juniper, even. You
though? You're like Hune in that regard. I never quite got a handle on
what you're after.''

Aisha remained silent for a long moment, warming her hands by the fire.

``You've done this before,'' she decided. ``Not with Juniper, I'd have
heard of it, but with Hakram. There's a reason you trust him most of us.
With Hasan too, most likely, not that you'd have to dig deep to find how
much he despises the nobility.''

I'd always found her insistence on calling Ratface by his actual name a
little strange, though since they'd been involved she likely had her
reasons. I remained silent.

``You have a use for me,'' she mused. ``And so you must know what I
want.''

She laughed lightly.

``Have it your way, then. I am fourth in line, Lady Squire, for a
lordship sworn to Kahtan. A glorious phrasing for an inglorious reality:
my family's holdings are a tower by an oasis and a village of less than
two hundred people. The rest is leagues of dunes and rock. There are
freeholds in the Green Stretch with more people living on them.''

She turned her eyes on me, serious for all her smiling.

``My blood goes back to before the Miezan waged the War of Chains on us,
Lady Catherine. The Bishara tribe was mighty once, the first to twine
its ruling line with djinn. Twice we sacked Aksum and stole the wealth
of its kingdom. Now? Now we die slowly in the desert, as all Taghreb
do.''

Aisha spat in the fire, the gesture so uncouth I blinked in surprise.

``I could have stayed home, served as steward for my oldest sister when
she succeeded Father, but the thought was horrid to me. You are
Callowan, Lady Catherine. I do not mean this as denigration: you simply
have not been raised to see Creation as my people do. Sooner or later,
the sands swallow everything. So I left before they got me too, and
sought my fortune at the War College -- that ancient dumping ground for
noble children.''

Aisha looked into the flames and smiled sadly.

``What I found there, I cannot put easily into words. Friends, yes.
Something like a sister and more. But most of all, I found that my
people had been left behind.''

She met my eyes.

``Oh, they study our battles and praise our victories -- but we are a
relic of the past. I look at Praes, and see that all I've ever loved is
dying the slow death. I believe in tradition, Lady Catherine. I believe
that my ways still have a place in this Empire, and I will not let the
Taghreb become faceless soldiers in an Imperial horde. If I must temper
the wisdom of my ancestors with the steel of the world your master has
made, so be it. We will survive. We will adapt. \emph{We are not done
yet}.''

Teacher, not master. The distinction became more important with every
passing day. I looked at her, this lovely slip of a girl I would have
thought delicate if not for the callouses on her hands, and felt a
thousand years of history looking back. Ancient Kahtan had been among
the greatest cities in Calernia when Callow was a mere maze of petty
kingdoms, I remembered. The Taghreb had been a force to be reckoned
with, once upon a time. A people who prized freedom above all, fiercely
independent. I called them Praesi but there was a lie in that, a denial
of history. When it came down to it her people were just as old as mine,
and I could feel the same fear behind her face that sometimes kept me up
at night. \emph{Are my people done?} Was all that made Callow, Callow to
be discarded in the quest for survival? Honesty for honesty, that was
the trade I'd made with Hakram. I would offer Aisha Bishara no less on
this misty morning.

``I will rule Callow,'' I said. ``Some day. Because I can, because I
have to. Not as the old kingdom, but as a part of the Empire -- and to
do it, I'll need help. Someone who can guide me when I'm dealing with
the Tower and the nobles.''

I offered an arm, the way Lieutenant Abase had taught me.

``Trade you,'' I offered, the tone light compared to the promise I was
making.

She clasped my arm in the warrior's way. We both leaned away afterwards,
too young for the gravity of the words we'd said. Most of the herbs in
my pipe had burned during our conversation, but I pulled at the last of
them and breathed out the smoke.

``So tell me,'' I said. ``Who do I need on my side, to establish a
ruling council over Callow?''