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\chapter{Draw}\label{chapter-32-draw}}



\epigraph{``You have to enjoy life's little pleasures, like lazy mornings
and strawberries and invading Callow with an invisible army.''}{Dread Empress Malevolent III}



A heartbeat passed as my brains struggled to cope with too many
surprises in a row -- I forced myself to focus on one at a time. Had
Heiress just casually banished a fucking demon? No, that couldn't be. I
didn't even think she was a mage, and even if she was there was no way a
girl barely older than me had that much power at her fingertips.
\emph{Apprentice} couldn't even do that, and sorcery was at the heart of
his Name. Black I could see pulling out something from his apparently
bottomless bag of tricks, Warlock probably and Malicia almost certainly
but Heiress? No.~I'd missed something. My eyes drifted to my rival's
saddle, noticing she was resting her gloved hand on a long wooden haft.
Old wood, with fresh new runes carved into it. It took another heartbeat
before everything clicked into place. Triumphant's demons had been bound
to the standards of her Legions, Masego had told us. \emph{She never let
it loose. She let it out, and after she got what she wanted she
just\ldots{} popped it back in.} Heiress' irritatingly perfect face was
the picture of friendliness, but I thought I saw a glimmer of vicious
amusement in her eyes when she met my stare.

``Would I be correct in assuming she's the person responsible for the
demon running around?'' Archer asked in a very, very calm tone.

``That's the one,'' I confirmed.

Heiress' face painted itself with what I would have believed to be
genuine surprise, had I not known who I was dealing with. I couldn't
make out too much of her in the dark, but what I did see was perfectly
groomed. Not a speck of dust on her polished steel scales or that rather
nice green shawl wrapped around her neck. Even the horse was spotless,
and a beautiful beast besides: all grey, and Callowan stock too.

``Is that how you'll be trying to get out of this grave you've dug?''
the aristocrat asked. ``By pinning the blame on me? We both know the
Silver Spears would never had come over the temple holding the demon,
had you not pushed them so relentlessly after your victory.''

``Oh, you \emph{bitch},'' I replied.

``Uncouth language only betrays your lesser breeding,'' she informed me
with a sneer. ``I will not take the fall for you, Squire. You made the
decision to hound their retreat out of petty spite, I am told. Something
about the death of a Tribune Nilin?''

My fingers tightened around the grip of my sword until I felt them
turning white. I'd thought I knew hatred, from the days where I'd lived
under the thumb of Mazus. I found now I'd been mistaken. The Governor
grinding his heel over the city's throat was an impersonal sort of
attack, directed at a people instead of my own person. This? This was
personal.

``Well, Miss,'' Archer smiled. ``You and I seem to have an account to
settle. Do try to struggle, it'll be that much more satisfying.''

My eyes remained on Heiress' gloved fingers, watching them drum
absent-mindedly against the haft of wood. I could see the place where
metal rings had once bound the cloth part of the standard. The
dark-skinned villain met my eyes again, the implied threat perfectly
clear\emph{. I let it out once. If my life is in danger, I might just do
it again.}

``You'd be the representative from Refuge, yes?'' my rival said.

Archer flicked her wrist, slowly spinning the longknife in her hand.

``Could be I'm just a concerned citizen,'' she replied.

Heiress cocked her head to the side. ``I'm given to understand that you
were sent to smooth over a little diplomatic wrinkle with the Tower. I
wonder what the consequences for your mistress would be, if you attempt
the murder of a Praesi aristocrat in broad daylight?''

``Oh, I won't be `attempting' anything,'' Archer chuckled. ``Anyhow,
I've got doubts anyone here will bear witness for your corpse
afterwards.''

Why had she forced the demon back in the standard? I allowed their words
to drift past me as I put all my mind to figuring that one riddle out.
If she'd waited a few moments longer, it might have killed me. Or
corrupted me, at which point she'd have an excuse to put me down that
not even the Empress could dispute. \emph{Her victory condition for this
does not involve me being permanently out of the game.} What was she
actually after, then? Crippling the Fifteenth, maybe. \emph{Or she might
have been trying to avoid something that would cause her to lose.} If
I'd been dead or corrupted, there were decent odds the defence of
Marchford would have collapsed. At which point the entire population and
the remnants of a legion would have ended up corrupted puppets. And
Black would have killed her outright for it, because she'd have been
responsible for an existential threat to the Empire.

By stopping now, the only strength on the field to have been damaged was
mine. The Fifteenth was in shambles, I'd damaged my Name irreparably and
she could just stroll in at the end of the fight to claim credit for the
``victory''. It was a twisted, labyrinthine plan that had at least half
a dozen possible point of failures I could name off the top of my head.
The very kind of plot the Praesi brand of villains loved the most. The
enormity of what she'd just done slowly sunk in. She had, when it came
down to it, used a genuine threat to Creation itself as a fucking
hunting hound to damage my position. Hundreds of soldiers, \emph{my
soldiers}, had died just so that smiling failure of a human being could
hobble me for the rest of this war. I took a long breath. Archer was
right: Heiress didn't get to walk away from something like this.

``Apprentice, you still with us?'' I called out.

``Still alive,'' Masego replied through gritted teeth.

``If you had the standard a demon is bound to, would you be able to use
it?'' I asked, glancing at the bespectacled mage.

``Easiest thing in the world,'' he replied, baring his teeth at Heiress.

``I'll need you to hold off the demon for a while,'' I told Archer.
``This is going to get messy.''

The ochre-skinned woman nodded sharply, leaning forward in anticipation.
Heiress cleared her throat.

``As to your earlier point about witnesses, Envoy,'' she said, idly
waving her hand. ``I would dispute that statement.''

The still-lingering cloud of dust and ash dispersed under an unseen
wind. Magic, I knew instantly. Without incantation, which was even more
worrying -- although not as much as the sight now revealed. Lightly
armoured men bearing large oval shields and spears, quietly marching
down the avenue. Numbers were hard to gauge, but I could see them
spreading out in the distance beyond how far I could see. \emph{At least
a thousand.} Behind me I heard Nauk calling for my legionaries to form
up in proper ranks. Gods, I'd misunderstood her endgame. She didn't want
us mauled for a long-term advantage. She wanted us as weak as possible
before wiping us out with her own men, using the excuse of possible
corruption as a political shield afterwards. And I'd danced to her tune
the whole time, never knowing who was playing the lute. I reached for my
Name, finding the well still near-empty. \emph{Might be able to pass
over that if I tap into Struggle.}

Alarmed yells started coming from the back of Heiress' column a moment
later. Out of principle I refused to try to push myself up on the tip of
my toes to catch a glimpse of what was happening -- instead I looked at
the aristocrat, and for the first time a flicker of doubt passed through
her face. The crossbow bolt passed three inches away from her mount's
head, clattering on the ground, and I turned to watch Robber scuttle
down from a roof to the left like an ugly leering green spider. His
sappers lined that entire flank, crossbows loaded and ready.

``Evening, Boss,'' he said.

``Tribune,'' I replied, schooling my face to make it look like I knew
exactly what was happening.

I'd gotten a lot of experience at that since I got put in charge of a
legion.

``The Callowan volunteers are in place,'' he reported. ``Learning a
bunch of Proceran looters were visiting their home got them motivated
good and proper.''

Half of Heiress' army had been made of Proceran light infantry, I
remembered. Robber hadn't been at the briefing where General Sacker had
told me that\ldots{} but Juniper had. \emph{Three cheers for the
godsdamned Hellhound, may she ever keep one step ahead of our enemies,}
I thought, turning to face my opponent.

``Looks like you called it off too early,'' I told Heiress.

``I have numbers on my side,'' she noted in a neutral tone.

``Lady,'' Robber broke in with a malevolent smile. ``We just fucked up a
bunch of devils and most our number in mercenaries with a demon's hand
shoved up their arse. Chewing up your pretty lads will be light exercise
before we turn in for the night. But please, doubt me. \emph{Try us}.''

I laughed. ``You heard the goblin, Akua,'' I grinned. ``Take out your
sword. Last time we had a chance to dance, you legged it before we got
to the good stuff.''

Heiress' face went blank and she remained silent for a long moment
before she sighed.

``I suppose now and then one must be willing to settle for a draw,'' she
said.

``I still say we knife her and put the head on a pike,'' Archer growled.

``You kill her now and the Empress might have to declare war on
Refuge,'' I admitted. ``She's not without backing.''

With another growl, the Named shoved her longknives back in their
sheaths and strode away. My rival seemed about to add a pithy comment to
the situation, but before she could someone tossed an empty bottle at
her head. Or tried to, at least -- it missed by a solid three feet.

``Boooo,'' the Wandering Bard yelled. ``Boooo, villains, boooo.''

Of course Almorava would show up. This night just wouldn't be shitty
enough with the mouthy heroine making an appearance. Evidently the godly
quota for screwing me over this month had yet to be filled in full.
\emph{I bet she practiced the booing, too, there's no way it could sound
this excruciatingly obnoxious otherwise.}

``I paid good money for this seat,'' she called out from the ledge where
she was seated, surrounded by a line of my sappers. ``Show me some
blood, or at least lose some clothes!''

The olive-skinned heroine still wore the only outfit I'd ever seen her
in, garishly coloured silks that were just a little too wide for her.
The sleeves were longer than her arm and larger than her wrist, flopping
around as she gesticulated. I could make out a few stains on her
clothes, and I'd been a waitress long enough to recognize the effect of
liquor spills on nice garments. Sloppy.

``Lieutenant Rattler,'' Robber gasped. ``What's the meaning of this? Why
is that woman's kidney going unstabbed? This is against all we stand
for.''

A female goblin -- Lieutenant Rattler, I assumed -- saluted sloppily.

``I'm afraid she bribed me, sir,'' she replied.

``We don't take bribes,'' the yellow-eyed tribune chided her.

``I'll cut you in for half?''

Robber turned towards me. ``Protocol was followed, Boss.''

I knew from experience that actually getting the Bard to leave was next
to impossible, but at least my soldiers were making pocket change out of
her presence. That was\ldots{} a win, maybe? Having to ask myself that
question at all honestly felt like a loss of its own.

``You again,'' Heiress spoke with distaste.

``Oh, it's\ldots{} Inheritor? Successor? Legatee, maybe?'' Almorava
mused. ``I'm sorry, you just weren't that interesting of a person.
Anyhow, nice to see you again. Watcha been doing since you let that
demon out?''

At the edge of my vision I saw Archer still for a heartbeat before she
continued walking away. Most of my legionaries weren't in hearing range
of the Bard's declaration, but those that were eyed Heiress like they
were measuring where to slide the knife in. The knowledge of exactly who
had caused our demon troubles hadn't been spread outside of the
Fifteenth general staff, but now it was a given all of my soldiers would
know who to blame before dawn rose. Godsdamnit. I hadn't had a reason to
keep that morsel under wraps aside from not seeing a reason the
information should be spread, but Almorava throwing it out there was bad
news. \emph{She} definitely had a reason, and I doubted it was to my
benefit.

``Unusual, that your accusations and that of a known heroine coincide,''
Heiress spoke, keeping me in her peripheral vision as she faced the
drunken minstrel. ``It smells of\ldots{} untoward sympathies.''

``I'd watch my mouth, if I were you,'' I replied cheerfully. ``Accidents
happen all the time, on campaigns.''

``You kinda grew into the villain thing, didn't you Cat?'' the Bard
mused. ``I mean, you've got the distinctive wound down with your limp.
You've already got a notable tic with the clenching fingers thing, so
basically all you need now is a catchphrase and you're set.''

I did actually have one of those. One that had been crafted in response
to something said by a hero, even. Not that I was about to admit as much
to the bloody pest.

``You'll probably even manage to get a few atrocities under your belt
before the war's over, if your friend here doesn't beat you to them,''
Almorava continued, toasting me with a half-empty bottle of rum.

``Ah, heroic posturing,'' Heiress said softly. ``Considering the
behaviour of your little band of murderers in Summerholm, any talk of
`atrocities' coming from your mouth is the height of hypocrisy.''

``Says the slaver,'' the Bard smiled.

``I employ only free men,'' the aristocrat sneered.

``Well, at least you fed them properly after buying them,'' Almorava
conceded. ``Truly, you are the cream of the scum of Creation.''

Huh. So the Bard could get under Heiress' skin almost effortlessly. That
was good to know. Exploitable right now? Unlikely. The Ashuran had no
real combat abilities, as far as I knew. In a way that made her sudden
presence more worrying: physical assault I could prepare for, but the
subtler forms of Name warfare were largely beyond me. I could try to
slit Heiress' throat while she was being distracted, but I was
nigh-powerless while she was at full tilt. No to mention I wasn't sure
exactly what the consequences would be, if I managed it. A fresh battle
with her mercenaries, possibly, and for all that I'd pretended to be
unmoved at the idea I really did not want to pull that trigger. My men
were exhausted and the volunteers were not real soldiers -- maybe we'd
win, but the odds weren't much in our favour.

``Why are you here, Almorava?'' I asked instead, playing for time.

It should keep her distracted long enough for the sappers I was pretty
sure Robber had discreetly mobilized to to make their move.

``Why are any of us here, Squire?'' she wondered waving the now almost
entirely empty bottle around. I hadn't even seen her take another swig.
``Interesting question. Well, for you it's that you think you're doing
the right thing. That road to the Hells you're paving is looking real
good these days. Your fellow villain thinks she \emph{is} the right
thing, and is hilariously mistaken about that in pretty much every way
that matters. As for me, I'm just having a gander.''

``One of these days, you wretched little foreigner,'' Heiress said
pleasantly, ``I am going to have your mouth sown shut.''

``Everyone here who was actually born in Callow, raise your fucking
hand,'' I spoke sweetly.

Robber raised his hand.

``I feel that, spiritually, I have told the truth,'' my tribune offered
when I glared at him.

``The standards for Legion discipline have truly grown lax if you allow
this kind of backtalk,'' Heiress scoffed. ``A trickle down effect, I
imagine.''

``Oh, you don't want to start going down that road,'' I replied with
bared teeth.

Almorava suddenly gasped, killing the tension before it could escalate.

``Clatter, you've betrayed me?''

``Rattler,'' the sapper reminder her. ``My name is Rattler. Also yes.''

``I thought we had something real,'' the Ashuran deplored.

There were a series of sharper detonations under the roof where the Bard
was seated, the tiles collapsing as a neat hole and the heroine dropping
in. A long moment passed until another goblin popped his head out from
the house's front door.

``No body, ma'am,'' he reported.

Yeah, I hadn't really counted on one. At least she was gone. From the
corner of my eyes I watched Lieutenant Rattler bite down on a silver
coin and curse when it bent easily. Counterfeit silver, I realized with
an involuntary twitch of the lips. She'd bribed my sappers with
counterfeit silver, and not even a good fake.

``We appear do be done here,'' Akua decided, turning her horse around.
``My host will be occupying the Countess' manor, as it is the only
lodging in this\ldots{} backwater befitting someone of my rank.''

``You do that,'' I grunted, watching her ride away back to her troops.

I waited for her to be out of hearing range.

``Robber?''

``Boss?''

``I want that manor on fire before she ever sets foot on the grounds.''

``Gods, I love this outfit,'' the yellow-eyed goblin confessed.