Tammy woke. One moment she was asleep, and the next she was alert and ready for a new day of serving the Great Lady. There was no drowsiness, no confusion. None of the lingering exhaustion and vague disappointment at waking up at all that had been her constant companion for as long as she could remember. She’d been free of those for seventy days now. Free of the listlessness and the confusion, the pettiness and the misplaced anger.

  Those seventy days had been the best days she could remember.

  Seventy days. It was such a short time, and yet it felt like a whole life. It had been seventy days since Leretem, that wretched woman, died. Seventy days since the Great Lady had stripped away all her fears, all her doubts and insecurities, leaving only purpose. In every way that mattered, it had been seventy days since Tammy was born.

  She dressed quickly — as quickly as she could, missing her dominant hand — in the Karakani fashion. Since she’d be staying at the house for at least the whole morning, she chose a loose wrap; it fit her well, but was more practical than fashionable. She’d have to change if they had visitors, or if she decided to go out. Not that Tammy cared for fashion for her own sake, nor had Leretem before her, but it would not do for one of the Great Lady’s servants to appear slovenly. She tied the wrap off with a sash, slipped on a pair of sandals, and left the small but well furnished room, ready to start her day.

  When the Great Lady sent Tammy to live with the Tesprils, she had not left her any specific instructions. She had, however, allowed the ladies to have Tammy make herself useful, within reason. This, Tammy reasoned, made them her superiors, but that didn’t bother her. She appreciated a clear hierarchy, and the Tesprils were far kinder than any officer Leretem ever had. One way that they expressed that kindness was in allowing Tammy to decide for herself what being useful meant. It was an unparalleled level of freedom, one that Leretem had not known even in her childhood, and it was just one more thing for which the Great Lady had Tammy’s undying gratitude.

  She began her day in the kitchen, preparing a simple breakfast for two. There were servants in the house, of course, but the cook only came in the evening, and no one had protested when Tammy took on helping the ladies break their fast as one of her duties. Zabra was most active during the night, and would not wake for many hours yet, but Kesra rose as early as Tammy did. They’d made a habit of eating together in the mornings, combining it with lessons where Kesra would help Tammy with her Karakani.

  Tammy liked Kesra. She knew that Kesra was not as devoutly dedicated to the Great Lady as Zabra or Tammy herself were, but that was only a small failing. Kesra worked hard for their lady’s benefit, and in the month that Tammy had spent with the Tesprils she had seen no reason to doubt the younger sister’s loyalty. She may not belong to the Great Lady, but there was a reverence in her whenever Tammy or Zabra mentioned their mistress, an undeniable recognition of her greatness, mercy, and generosity. And that was only natural. With what Kesra had experienced — with how the Great Lady had spared Zabra despite her sins, and how Kesra herself was brought back to life by the Lady’s servant — how could Kesra fail to revere the Lady?

  She couldn’t. It was that simple.

  Besides, Kesra was easy to like and get along with. She had that Advancement, which made people want her to be happy, but she didn’t need that for Tammy to enjoy her company. Even without it she was kind, thoughtful, and much more intelligent than Tammy herself was. All qualities that Tammy could appreciate.

  Leretem would have despised her.

  Carrying a tray of fruit, cold meat from the previous day, simple flatbread, and steaming tea, Tammy walked up the stairs. She knocked on Kesra’s door with her foot, as she always did, and in moments Kesra came to open it for her.

  “Well, let’s have a look,” Kesra said, as she did every morning after they’d exchanged good-mornings and Tammy had set down her tray on the low table that stood beside the balcony door. “Give me your arm.”

  Tammy obediently knelt on her customary pillow, by the side of the table adjacent to where Kesra sat, and held out her arm. Kesra carefully unwrapped the bandages covering the stump, then looked critically at the smooth, pink flesh. It was a little swollen and tender, as it had been ever since Bekiratag — no, “Kira,” now — had done her work, but the new growth that was visible every morning was worth any discomfort. Soon, she’d have her hand back — the hand that the Great Lady’s servant had taken from Leretem on the day that woman had died. What was a little bit of discomfort compared to a hand?

  “Wow,” Kesra breathed. She touched her fingers to the nub oh-so carefully, and Tammy twitched with surprise at several separate points of increased sensitivity. “There are little bumps here. At this rate, you’ll have fingers in a few weeks.”

  Tammy took her stump back, looking at it with wonder. The rest of their breakfast she kept looking at it in wonder. She was going to have her hand back. She’d known that she would, but that morning it became so very real. And it was all thanks to the Great Lady.

  Well, her and Kira. But Kira served the Great Lady, so it was the same thing, really.

  Two hours past midday, Tammy was reading in the small study by the front entrance when a woman she recognized but didn’t know snuck down the stairs. Tammy took that as her cue to put something together for Zabra to eat; judging by the woman’s somewhat disheveled and breathless state, Zabra was awake and likely to be in a fine mood.

  Tammy gave the woman a friendly nod as she crossed the house’s antechamber, heading for the kitchen. She expected to hear the front door shut behind her; instead she heard the soft sound of sandals tentatively following her.

  She stopped by the large bench in the center of the kitchen, turning to face the woman who stood in the doorway. She was about Kesra’s age, she guessed, and very pretty, with big, bright eyes. “Can I help?” Tammy asked, careful of her pronunciation — Leretem had picked up some Happaran in preparation for her company’s campaign on this island, and it was far too easy to mix the dialects.

  “Oh, I… I’m sorry,” the young woman said. She was surprisingly bashful, Tammy thought, for someone who’d just spent the night with a crime lord. “I just… you’re her, aren’t you? You’re the priestess.”

  “Priestess?” Tammy wasn’t quite sure if she’d misheard, or perhaps misunderstood some kind of slang.

  “Zabra told me— I figured, with the…” the woman trailed off, gesturing lamely to Tammy’s stump. “Are you Tammy? The dragon priestess?”

  A bright joy sparked inside Tammy. She’d understood just fine. But priestess? Was that how Zabra saw her? She’d never thought of herself that way, but she would never deny that she took great satisfaction and comfort in telling others about her mistress. “I am Tammy,” she agreed, smiling warmly. “And I serve Great Lady Draka. Though she has not named me priestess. You are?”

  The woman blushed lightly and gave Tammy a shallow bow “Oh, Mercies, where are my manners! I’m Samara. Parvion Samara. I’m Zabra’s… friend.”

  Tammy grinned, tilting her head. “Very good friend.”

  The blush intensified, quickly flowing all the way to Samara’s ears as she looked down, embarrassed. Embarrassed, but not ashamed; there was a smile there, too. Leretem, Tammy thought, would have used cruel words to change that. She’d’ve made this woman feel ashamed. She’d’ve made Samara cry, simply because she could and because it would let her forget her own misery for a few moments. But not Tammy. Tammy didn’t have any misery to forget. She’d left that behind with Leretem. All Tammy felt was a mild amusement. It was the third night in a row that Samara had spent in this house, after all; the time for embarrassment was two days past.

  “Hungry?” Tammy asked. “I prepare food for Zabra. No trouble for two.”

  “Oh, no,” Samara said quickly, raising her face again. “We’re not… I mean, we’ve never had breakfast together! That seems so—”

  “You choose. But I think Zabra would appreciate,” Tammy said as she busied herself, heating water for tea and taking some meat and fruit from the cooling cabinet where the perishable foods were kept.

  “You think?”

  “I think,” Tammy declared with near absolute certainty. Zabra had been entirely open with her background; where Tammy hadn’t been able to get away from her few partners for the last several years, no matter how much she’d wanted to, Zabra wasn’t used to waking up with hers, much less sharing a meal with them. Actually having breakfast with someone she liked? Yeah. Tammy thought Zabra might like that.

  “Oh. Um, sure, then. Thank you.”

  “You wanted to talk?” Tammy asked as she doubled up on everything, adding some of the bread that had been delivered that morning, along with clotted cream, some small jams, and honey. “Curious about Great Lady? Or me?”

  “Yes!” Samara said, a note of excitement entering her voice. “You know… her, right? The dragon?”

  Do I know the Great Lady? Tammy wondered. Could anyone know someone so far above themself? Perhaps Lady Herald or Lady Drakonum did, or Bekiratag— No! Kira, she reminded herself. They all certainly knew the Great Lady better than Tammy did, and she envied them that. A healthy envy, she told herself, that drove her to improve herself and become more worthy. “I know her better than most,” Tammy concluded. “But wish I knew her better.”

  Stolen story; please report.

  “What’s she like?” Samara blurted almost as soon as Tammy had answered her previous question. “I mean, Zabra thinks she’s awesome, amazing, terrifying, but she said to talk to you if I wanted to know about her — that you actually know her. That you’ve been telling, or maybe teaching, everyone about her like… well, like a priestess. So… what’s she like?”

  “Awesome,” Tammy said, smiling cheekily. “Amazing. Terrifying.” Then, at Samara’s expression, somewhere in the intersection of a pout, an eye roll, and a scowl, she kept going. “Kind. Generous when she could take. Merciful when she has the right to kill. Caring to those who do not deserve. I live because she gave life back to me. I am happy, because she took my misery. I am here because she would not have me be in danger. That is what she is like.”

  Samara’s mixed expression had turned into one of curious interest, and when Tammy fell silent, she smiled. “You must love her. The way you speak of her, it’s like she’s really a goddess. Like you worship her, like in the stories.”

  “Perhaps,” Tammy said, and at her tone Samara’s smile turned into something more solemn. “You call me ‘priestess,’” Tammy continued. “Perhaps. Perhaps not. Who deserves worship? Gods never help me. Gods never show me they care. Great Lady cares. Great Lady saved me.” She shrugged, spreading her hands — well, her hand and her stump — with a smile, as if to ask, “what can I do?”

  “You should be careful,” Samara said pensively. “Many people would be quite angry about you putting a dragon above the gods. The old stories—”

  “Not above gods,” Tammy corrected calmly. “Great Lady calls to Mercies, and to Sorrows. Beside gods, perhaps. But, yes. Thank you for your worry. Help me with tray?”

  When Tammy gestured with her stump, Samara hurried to her side, taking the tray. She held it like she was unfamiliar with the act of balancing, but she did have a family name, so she was probably some rich girl who was used to having servants do everything for her. Tammy smiled at her back as she walked carefully toward the door. They could have called in the maid, but Samara hadn’t hesitated.

  “Zabra talked about Great Lady?” Tammy asked as she walked beside Samara, ready to step in if the younger woman lost her balance on the tray. The tea was already sloshing dangerously.

  “Oh, well, not really,” Samara said. “This morning I mentioned how I’d heard that the dragon had been away from the city for some time, and Zabra got this sad look on her face. And when I asked why she said that she felt safer with her around, and when I asked why she… well, you pretty much know the rest. She got all worked up…” Samara blushed again. “We didn’t talk much after that.”

  So Zabra hadn’t revealed her own connection to the Great Lady. That was probably for the best.

  By walking exceedingly slowly and carefully, Samara made it all the way to Zabra’s door without dropping or spilling anything. There Tammy held her finger to her own lips, indicating silence, and, standing to the side so she wouldn’t be seen, carefully pushed the door open with her hand. Then she waved Samara in and closed the door behind her.

  “My waves and stars, what are you still doing here? And did you bring me breakfast?!”

  Zabra’s voice from inside the room carried notes of wonder and gratitude and sheer, simple delight, and it warmed Tammy’s heart in a way that Leretem could never have appreciated. Leretem would have scoffed. She would have called Zabra weak and a sentimental fool. She would have been disgusted, or told herself that she was.

  Leretem would have been consumed by envy that no one had been that happy to see her since she was a child.

  Tammy just smiled, happy for her friend, and went to see if Kesra needed anything.

  Every evening, anywhere between a handful and ten to a dozen of Hardal’s — and thus Zabra’s — underlings would gather in the secret lounge underneath the kitchen. With them, Tammy had taken on another duty: keeping them drunk enough to be happy, but not so much that they wouldn’t be sober when they were needed. It was a good way to get to know people and practice her Karakani, and people tended to like and listen to the one pouring the drinks. That extended to when she talked about her favorite topic: the Great Lady.

  It also probably helped, Tammy admitted, that they were all there by special invitation, as a show of favor, and unlikely to be invited back if they got impolite with the boss’ permanent guest.

  They had a fairly small group that night; only seven people. One of Hardal’s street crews was being rewarded for running off a rival gang that had been trying to squeeze one of Zabra’s taverns for protection money. At least that was what Tammy thought was going on; their gutter accents were so strong and filled with slang that she had serious trouble following them.

  Zabra hadn’t come down yet, and Tammy was telling one of them about the Great Lady. He was a particularly pretty boy with a scar on his throat and a look in his eye that said that he might not remember her name in the morning, but she’d never forget him. That suited Tammy just fine; the Great Lady had not forbidden her to enjoy herself, but she wasn't looking for any entanglements. Besides, whenever he spoke she really wished that he hadn’t.

  Unfortunately, when she paused at one point, the fellow in question said, “Cor, that reminds me! You bein’ the dragon lady an’ all, yeah? Wouldn’t poke around, only there’s a thing popped up I’d rot to root your mind over.”

  “Yes?” Tammy said, more out of politeness than out of any real comprehension or desire for him to keep talking.

  “Right, so, last night me and me mate was up this fancy inn, the Favor. Know it? Decent music, damn good wine for what you pay. Boss wants people keeping a feeler on it. Anyway, I’ve been sitting here, yabberin’ with you an’ thinking, ‘Cor, Smiles, ain’t that a fetching accent? But where’ve I heard it before?’ An’ now it’s come to me! So we was up that inn, and there was these blokes there, dressed all respectable an’ talking proper Karakani an’ all, only they had a bit of a funny sound to the way they talked. An’ I swear, it was just like yours, wasn’t it, only not so much! An’ they was asking around about ‘Is this where the dragon’s at?’ an’ ‘When did she leave?’ an’ ‘Which way did she go?’ Not really all suspicious like that, you understand, they was friendly an’ incon-spicuo-us an’ all, but that was the meat an’ bread. What you make o’ it?”

  Tammy didn’t make much of it at all. She felt like despite her best efforts, she’d understood one word in ten. Well, perhaps that was an exaggeration. She’d understood something of it. “Men want to learn about Great Lady?” she asked.

  The pretty boy shrugged. “Guess so, yeah.”

  Ah, well. That was good, but also unfortunate. She would have loved to tell them all about her mistress, but she wasn't about to go looking for them.

  Switching over to her native dialect of Tekereteki, she told him, “Bless the Mercies for making you so handsome, boy, because I have no idea how anyone understands a word you say.”

  He just smiled and replied, “Dragon lady, I haven’t a shiny what you said, but I do like to see your mouth move.”

  Tammy went back to telling him about her mistress. It really was better when this beautiful man didn't talk.

  Sometime later, after that glorious idiot had left her bed to return to his fellows, Tammy's eyes snapped open. As she'd been slowly dozing off, some of his words fell into place. Those men he’d come across had the same accent as her. That was what he’d said!

  Men with a Tekereteki accent had been asking around about the Great Lady.

  Tammy leaped out of bed, pulling on her hastily discarded clothes and doing her best to tie her sash as she rushed to the kitchen and the secret door. Downstairs, Zabra was holding court. Her guests for the evening were hanging onto her every word, each of them looking absolutely besotted — including, she noted with a rare twinge of jealousy, her pretty idiot. The man had been inside her not fifteen minutes ago, for Mercies’ sake!

  “Lady Blossom!” Tammy called from the stairs, remembering not to use Zabra's real name in front of her subordinates. “Problem!”

  Zabra, who’d been reclining on a couch and smiling enigmatically, immediately sat up, fully alert. “What?”

  Tammy strode across the small lounge, grabbing her recent partner by the shoulder and turning him toward his boss. “You! Tell Blossom about men who looked for Great Lady!”

  It only took one look from Zabra for him to overcome his surprise and start talking.

  Half an hour later the two women stood alone outside the dark inn. They'd come alone; two women raised fewer eyebrows than two women and half a dozen thugs. “Around the back, maybe?” Tammy suggested. She spoke in Barlean; for once, clarity had to take precedence over practice.

  “Yeah, maybe. Let’s check, let's,” Zabra agreed and headed for the alley that led to the back of the inn. They hadn't expected the inn to be open. They were there for—

  “Sergeant!” Zabra said forcefully as a small group of city guards came into view. They were sitting on some old barrels, speaking softly, and were clustered around a very large man wearing some kind of sash, which might indicate rank. He looked up when Zabra spoke.

  “Yes, Miss?” the large man said. His voice was surprisingly gentle. Then, perhaps taking in the quality of their clothes in the light of the lantern Zabra carried, he corrected himself. “Or, apologies, my ladies. May I ask who you are, and what are you doing here at this time of night?”

  “Tell me, Sergeant, have you apprehended any Tekereteki agents here in the last day?”

  “Can’t say that we have, my lady,” the big sergeant said. And though he laughed, he also leaned forward curiously. “Should we have?”

  “You should. And in that case, I need to get a message to Lady Draka’s liaison with the guard,” Zabra said, approaching the group with absolute confidence.

  “My lady, it’s the middle of the night.”

  “Which should make it clear how important this is.”

  The sound of footsteps came from behind Tammy, but she wasn’t worried. Those would belong to the guards who’d been watching the square while their mates took a break. Instead she watched the guards and their sergeant as Zabra got closer, taking out the note that she’d written hastily before they left the house. And to her satisfaction, she could almost see the moment Zabra’s advancements got their hooks in each of them.

  “Listen, Sergeant,” Zabra said, her tone less commanding and more pleasant. “You would be Terdam, correct?”

  “That’s right, my lady,” the big man said, looking quite pleased that Zabra knew his name.

  “Good. Lady Drakonum mentioned you as one of two people I could trust to get word to Lady Draka if needed. This message needs to get to Captain Nahasia as fast as possible. Can you arrange that, Sergeant?”

  “You know Mak— I mean, Lady Drakonum?”

  “I do, Sergeant. So, can you help me?”

  “Oh, well, I guess—”

  “I’ll run it up!” one of the guards said.

  “Don’t give it to that lame bastard, I’ll do it!” said another.

  “I think it’d best come from me,” Terdam said, and that was that.

  Tammy liked Zabra, but she couldn’t help but envy her for the way she had the guards and their sergeant fawning over her in moments. Leretem would have wanted her dead. And not in any abstract way, either; Leretem might have plotted for Zabra to have an “accident.” It had happened with the Spurs.

  It was, Tammy thought, a very good thing that she wasn’t Leretem anymore.

  and get 8 chapters early of both Draka and , as well as anything else I’m trying out.

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