Just as Ylia was getting worried, Telos returned. The man looked harried, like he had seen a ghost.

  “What’s the matter?” she said. She tried to inject some humour into her voice: “Are the city watch after us already?”

  Telos smiled, though she could tell it was forced.

  “No. No, all is surprisingly well.” He proferred a glistening dress before her, then as she reached out, snatched it away with a playful smile. She bared her teeth and poked out her tongue. “This is for you, your highness,” Telos said to Qala, with a wink. He extended it to the Qi’shathian heiress, who stroked the silkwork and smiled.

  “A fine garment. I trust it will not be missed?”

  “No. In fact, it was given freely.”

  “I’m sure,” Qala said with no small degree of irony, her lips quirking.

  “It actually was,” Telos said. “As always, it’s a long story.”

  “Well, I’m sorry, but I cannot wait any longer for this bath,” Ylia said. “If I don’t get this grime off me, I will go mad. I feel like a Yarulian badger who has been rooting around in shit for weeks.”

  “That is a harsh assessment by any measure,” Telos said. “You don’t smell of shit, you just look like you got mistaken for fuel and shoved into the firebox.”

  She went to swipe at him but his supernatural reactions meant she did not even get close. She grinned. Telos looked more himself. His usual banter was flowing and the haunted look had left his eyes. She wondered what’d spooked him in the first place, but for now was happy to think she might be the reason he was feeling better.

  The bastard.

  She didn’t know why she cared about him so much when he was the reason she was poor, hungry, filthy, and homeless. Then again, if the gods really were returning, and Daimons too, then she would rather be aware and destitute than blissfully ignorant of the carnage that was about to come. Who knows, maybe when all this was through, Qala’s promise would come true, and she would be wealthier than she dreamed for the part she played.

  They found a secluded alleyway. Telos, Jubal, and Xheng stood with their backs to Qala and Ylia, watching the mouth of the alley, while Qala changed. Ylia took the Governor’s robes off the heiress. Teos was right: they would fetch a pretty price, even stained as they were.

  “I’m sorry this is so undignified,” Ylia said to Qala.

  “Oh I endured much worse than this when I escaped my brother. We do what needs to be done. On dog days, even Emperors must beg forgiveness, or crawl, or clean out shit.”

  Ylia laughed. She hadn’t expected such coarse language from Qala, but Qala was a woman made up of delightful contradictions.

  “There,” Qala said.

  She stood now in the jade dress, somehow looking immaculate despite everything that’d happened, beautiful despite the setting of a dingy alleyway between two factory buildings. Her missing nails were still evident, as were the marks of age that frightened Ylia—mainly because she did not understand how they had occurred. It had certainly dampened her enthusiasm for learning magic.

  But despite these minor imperfections, Qala looked gorgeous.

  The jade dress hugged her form like a glove. She was, perhaps, slightly too curvaceous for it, but that only amplified her beauty, like a fruit so ripened it was ready to burst its skin. Looking as she did, Ylia suspected she could ask anyone for anything and they would obey. Beauty had that power to command where force and coercion failed. It was the ultimate reward of life. That’s almost profound, Ylia, she thought. And look at you: thinking about something other than money.

  To be fair, it was a lot easier to surround oneself with beauty if one had money.

  She grinned to herself.

  “Well, let’s go sell this, then,” Ylia said.

  The men all reacted differently when Qala came forth from the alley. Jubal’s face was hidden, but she heard his breath catch. Xheng bowed reverently. Ylia thought he might be forcibly restraining a more boisterous, animalistic reaction based on how he had spoken to Qala at their first meeting. Telos made her laugh out loud. His eyes practically bulged out of their sockets and he openly gawked. Ylia knew she should feel jealous, but Telos’s reaction was so infantile, she couldn’t hold it against him. After all, she was pretty stunned by Qala herself.

  “Well, it has been a long time since I dressed like this,” Qala said, the faintest blush coming to her cheeks. “I spent so long playing the merchant, I had almost begun to believe she was the true me. Still, I need to do something about the smell.”

  “You aren’t worried about being recognised?” Telos said.

  Qala shook her head.

  “I doubt anyone will, especially after…” She gestured to the white locks in her hair. “But even if they do, the time for hiding is over. How can I amass a following if I remain in the shadows? I must come forward into the light, or else I shall waste the rest of my days in darkness.”

  They soon found a market stall selling clothing. They showed the female merchant the robes, and her eyes went wide when she saw the silkwork. She did not ask them many questions about how they’d acquired such an item. She simply inspected the damage and quoted them the price of twenty Demons. Qala haggled her to thirty, hands were shaken, and they departed with a bag of jingling coins.

  Telos started laughing. Hysterically.

  Ylia’s eyes narrowed.

  “And what is so funny?”

  “You!” he said, pointing a rude finger at her face. “You look relaxed for the first time since I saw you at the Drunken Dragon!”

  “And why is that funny?” she said, her brow knitting.

  But Qala and Xheng and even Jubal were laughing too. Ylia folded her arms and harrumphed. Urgal rubbed up against her legs as if to soothe her.

  “Sorry,” Telos said. “We’re not really laughing at you. It’s just human nature. You’ve been through so much, but a few coins in your purse and all is well.”

  “It’s not the coins,” she said, more earnestly than she meant. “It’s what you can do with the coins.”

  “I bet that’s what Telos says about his cock,” Xheng enjoined.

  They laughed all the way to the bathhouse.

  ***

  The Mermaid Palace was a colossal sandstone structure. Unlike the other buildings in Daimonopolis, it sprawled flatly in the shape of a five-pointed star, having only two storeys. Its sandstone walls were untarnished by grime and adorned with hanging vines, so that it shone like an oasis amidst the soot-encrusted crown of the machine-worshipping city.

  They approached the doorway, a massive arch flanked by two stone sculptures of Sea Lions. The beasts resembled Urgal from the waist upward, but their tails were like a mermaid’s.

  Urgal growled at the statues. They were surprisingly lifelike, though rendered in muted stone.

  Ylia had heard of these magnificent beasts. Apparently, they hunted the sea between Aurelia’s western coast and Memory. Some stories said they could breathe out clouds of poison, though Ylia wondered why they would need such a defence, already possessing a lion’s fangs and fore-claws.

  They passed under the archway, which was crowned with the familiar Virgodan Owl at its peak, and into a large forum. Stone pillars supposed a high ceiling. Mosaics adorned the walls depicting aquatic scenes. One showed a goddess figure bathing in a pool. Ylia saw Telos staring at it, a dark cloud passing over his normally jovial face.

  Hosts, all women, in glorious, white silk moved to and fro like birds parading their plumage, talking to customers as they entered. One approached them. Her hair was ringletted gold, her smile impossibly dazzling.

  “Greetings, travellers.” The host’s eyes flashed to their muddy attire and careworn faces. Her gaze lingered particularly on Jubal’s massive form, but whether it was suspicion of his true nature, or admiration of his physique, Ylia did not know. “The bathhouses are largely full at the moment. Many have come here seeking a moment of respite from the chaos of the fires. They were queuing before the sun had even risen. But if you come back in a few hours, there may be space available again.”

  Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  “We were hoping to book a private suite,” Telos said, smoothly.

  The woman kept her expression neutral, not betraying her surprise save for in the raising of a single eyebrow.

  “Oh. In which case, I can offer you the Dragon Suite. It has all the amenities of our special suites, including salt baths, steam rooms, sweat rooms, and pools. There are separate areas for men and women and communal areas. It is large enough to accommodate all of you.” Her eyes alighted on Urgal. “But your feline friend may have to wait outside. Oh, he is adorable!”

  To the surprise of everyone, Ylia most of all, the hostess knelt and started to scratch Urgal’s ear and chin. Whether he was blindsided by her confidence or simply a sucker for attention, Urgal started to purr deeply and loudly.

  “Oh you are magnificent, aren’t you?” the hostess cooed.

  “A magnificent bastard,” Telos said.

  “Hey!” both Ylia and the hostess said, at once. Urgal looked at Telos with what might have been a wounded look.

  The hostess straightened, brushing her hands together. Turquoise fur clung to her immaculate garment.

  “The Dragon Suite sounds perfect,” Telos said. “What is the price?”

  “Five gold coins,” she said.

  Xheng choked. “It is not worth it. I have gone three months at sea without a bath and it did me no harm!”

  “Yes, but I am sure it did your fellow crew great harm,” Telos quipped in response. She could see him puffing out his chest like a peacock, pleased to have landed a retaliation blow on Xheng. Ylia rolled her eyes. Boys!

  “We all need this,” she said. “Let’s do it.”

  The hostess flashed them another immaculate smile. Coins changed hands. And then she led them through one of five archways that led away from the main forum. After a few twists and turns down sandstone-hewn corridors draped with exotic tapestries, they were led to a door. A plaque above the door said THE DRAGON SUITE. An iron doorknocker in the shape of a snarling dragon’s head stared at them menacingly. The hostess produced a key.

  “Return this to me when you are done.” She placed it in Ylia’s hands. “And enjoy.”

  The hostess left them, disappearing down the corridor in a shimmer of white. Ylia unlocked the door and immediately plumes of steam filled the corridor. Urgal let out a disconsolate grumble. He liked warmth but loathed humidity. He settled himself down by the doorway, resting his head on his huge paws. Ylia thought she saw him looking longingly after the hostess a few times. She felt a pang of guilt that she had not treated him very well, recently.

  “Thank you, Urgal,” she said, kneeling and rubbing his head. He let out a deep purr and closed his eyes. She knew, however, that even asleep he would remain aware of everything around him. It was some unique sense cats possessed. “We won’t be long. Let us know if anything is up.”

  He continued purring gently.

  They stepped inside the suite. The walls and floors were tiled. The first room was merely a changing room, with hooks to hang up their coats, and storage to place their boots in, but the steam issuing from the other rooms was so thick and pervasive it had filtered here, clinging to their skin already, causing beads of sweat to form. They soon found another changing room, concealed by a portiere of gemlike stones.

  “We’ll go in here,” Telos said. “Give you ladies some privacy!”

  Ylia smiled. Telos, Jubal, and Xheng tramped off into the other changing room. She wondered what they would talk about. Men never seemed to lack a topic of conversation no matter how pointless, dubious, or absurd.

  Ylia and Qala undressed in silence. She felt awkward. She could not stop looking at Qala’s body. It wasn’t just that she was beautiful, although she was divinely wrought. It was also a morbid curiosity about the magical aging process. Ylia wanted to see if it had left other marks. There were certainly scars, here and there, but Ylia did not know whether they were older. Had her brother tried to have her killed? Had Qala survived assassins? She had lived a life unlike any of the others. The only person who could begin to understand Qala’s past was, surprisingly, Telos, and even then his status as a noble was nothing next to her imperial birthright.

  “I… I think I need to wash this off first,” Ylia said. The steam and sweat were making the filth and oiled caked to her skin run. She cursed herself for not purchasing a change of clothes for herself at the market, for now, she would have to change back into her Daimonsblood-stained clothes when they were done.

  Qala simply nodded.

  “I’ll be in the steam room,” she said.

  She disappeared in mist.

  Ylia searched through the palatial suite until she found a bath—although calling it such was a misnomer, for it could have accommodated four or five people with ease. She suddenly wondered whether wealthy patrons rented these suites in order to enjoy orgies. Was that what the hostess had assumed? They probably looked like a bunch of deviants. Jubal, with his hood down concealing his face. Xheng and Telos, who had lust written all over them. Jade, dressed like an upper class harlot in that dress… Mental imagery came before Ylia could block it out. Fire burned in her cheeks. What has gotten into you? That is NOT something you want to picture! Your mind is a mess, today.

  She knew it was because she was tired. Exhausted, in fact. They had done nothing but run and scramble for survival for the last three or four days. She was still processing the loss of her home, her riches.

  Not to mention the end of the world.

  Meeting gods.

  She let out a whistling breath. She tried the water of the bath, which gurgled out of a fountain shaped like a dragon’s head, and lowered herself in. She felt the muscles relaxing, working her skin like a masseuse. The waters had been scented with jasmine and rose and lavender. Oh, she was in heaven. She was home. Her father had always grown lots of lavender on the farm, for the bees loved it so.

  She submerged herself fully in the waters, resting her head back on the smooth, cool stone. Slowly, almost as if in a trance, she washed the mud and grime from her flesh. With the heat, it came away easily. Filth and oil and Daimonsblood floated for a moment in the water, then was drawn down through some aperture. The water here was constantly flowing and evidently being recycled, somehow. She briefly let her mind contemplate the engineering complexity of it, before giving up.

  Her mind floated on clouds. She forgot how often she used to daydream. Working the House was tough, demanding, but there were moments at night when she could withdraw to her room, count her coins, then lie in bed and simply imagine. When she did this, she felt like she was back at home, lying on one of her parents’ fields, smelling the flowers, listening to the buzz of the bees, the bray of the goats, just being…

  Sleep almost took her, but she caught herself just before she nodded off. She stepped out of the bath and went through to the steam room.

  Qala reclined by the far wall. She looked almost in a trance. Now that she was clean, Ylia felt less awkward in the presence of the princess. She entered, sitting down on the warm tiles. The smell of the salt crystals burning in the central firepit was pure vitality.

  “Better?” Qala said.

  “Much.”

  “It is good we have taken this moment. The road is only going to get harder. We must restore ourselves when we can.”

  At that, Ylia’s stomach growled audibly.

  The two women stared at one another for a moment, then burst out laughing.

  “That shall be our next port of call,” Qala said. “One cannot save the world on an empty stomach.”

  “Oh steak please. And potatoes.” Ylia’s stomach rumbled again. “It’s good to talk about normal things.”

  “Yes,” Qala said, rather quietly. “Though I fear sometimes I do not know what normal is. I grew up in the Palace of Eternal Dream. I was raised by teams of nurses and midwives. I was trained since birth in the arts of magic, and music, and diplomacy. My life has always been, well, extraordinary, although I only discovered this, of course, once I was forced to leave, force to walk the dirt tracks as a merchant.” Qala was smiling, a dreamy, vacant look in her eyes. She, too, was seeing the past in the fog of the steam. Ylia let her talk, listening with rapt attention. “I used to sneak out, you know. I was so curious about the world beyond the palace. Understand that the palace is itself a world. So vast, but also possessing its own ecosystem. Many are born and die there, never leaving. They know not the world. They know only service to the Eternal Empress… my mother.”

  “Is she really immortal?” Ylia asked.

  “Yes. Or at least, she had found a way to sustain herself.” Qala swallowed. “But it is not natural, Ylia. The process has… warped her. She has become more callous, more cruel. Even in the relatively short time I have been alive. It makes sense, does it not? She has watched many generations of her children live and die. She refuses to hand over the Imperial Seat. She uses us as diplomats and governors or provinces. We are promised, always, the fruit of inheritance. But I have read my history. I have looked into her eyes. I know the inheritance will only come if she dies.”

  Ylia felt herself trembling. What was Qala saying? That she would kill her own mother? Ylia felt harshly towards her mother. After her father had vanished into the darkness of the Aurelian justice system, her mother had needed to make up income, selling her daughter into indentureship with the Wagemaster Gorm. That had been the start of Ylia’s troubles, the reason she had eventually left Aurelia altogether.

  But even so, she could not contemplate harming her mother for a single second. Then again, the fate of a country—and millions of lives—did not depend on Evelyn Hart’s life or death. It was an impossible situation. Only now did Ylia realise what pressure Qala was under, contending with a murderous brother, an insane and immortal mother, and the politics of her nation.

  She reached out and placed a hand delicately over Qala’s. The princess started, for a moment, surprised, but then she smiled warmly and placed her other hand on Ylia’s. They sat there together, naked and sweating, simply enjoying the comfort of that contact. Neither felt the need to do, say, or touch more. They simply existed together for a moment.

  “I have a confession, Ylia,” Qala whispered.

  Ylia leaned in closer.

  “What?”

  “I’m scared.”

  “It’s alright to be scared.”

  “You misunderstand. Always, my auguries have shown me the future. Never certainties or absolutes, but glimpses.”

  “You were correct that I would fly over the sea,” Ylia said.

  Qala nodded.

  “Yes. But now my auguries have become… dark. It is like this room, Ylia, covered in mist and steam. I cannot… I cannot sea. I thought at first it was exhaustion, having evoked so much power to save us from the waves… But the difficulty has continued. In small moments when others have been talking, I have entered the imaginal space, tried to glimpse…”

  “That’s where you went when we were waiting for Telos,” Ylia said. “You had a look in your eyes, like you were seeing far off.”

  Qala nodded once more.

  “Yes. I was trying to see. But the auguries are blind, Ylia. And that can only mean one thing.”

  “What?”

  “That Fate is undecided. That it hangs in the balance. And that the Way is... realigning itself. All is in flux, Ylia. All is changing. Fate itself...”

  Ylia smiled gently.

  “I see that as a good thing, Qala.”

  Qala frowned.

  “How so?”

  Ylia’s smiled widened.

  “It means that doom isn’t certain. Not yet, anyway.”