Currently, Tasselhane and Vedburg are the only places that have regular contact with the Dust Empire. They form the two gateways to the two major trade routes that oversee ninety per cent of the trade between the Empire and Gerios; Tasselhane by land, Vedburg by sea.

  Excerpt from 'Annotated History of the Dust Empire'

  Cecille stared at the mansion in the distance, light streaming from its many windows. It looks like Echeb is again planning a grand soirée.

  His mansion was one of several large residences that covered the south-east half of the mountain range, where only the wealthy could afford to live.

  Cecille leaned back into the soft pillows of the closed carriage that rode her there. It would be a little longer until she reached her destination and she needed to think about what she hoped to achieve this evening. During the past few days she had learned a great deal more about Hischi Echeb, and much of it posed some intriguing questions.

  The thing that stood out most was the fact that Echeb had indeed somehow managed to acquire a lot of wealth over the past year. The mansion Cecille was now being carried towards had been bought by him at some point last year, and according to Rocam, Echeb's trade-house was filled to capacity every day.

  However, Rocam had also discovered that while Echeb's negotiators made many deals, none of them were very profitable. He had even provided her with a list of the deals he had observed during the past few days, pointing out some that were obvious losses. Wherever Echeb's wealth was coming from, it wasn't his trade-house, and that was odd for someone who was a merchant by profession.

  In the end, Rocam had been unable to find the source of Echeb's wealth, so it was now up to Cecille to find clues to where it was all coming from.

  Even so, Rocam dug up a lot of information, Cecille thought, recalling the size of the final report she had sent to the Whisper. Where does he find the time?

  Rocam's ease in getting things done was something she had wondered about several times before. She herself had spent two days just organizing the found information into a report and making it presentable. It seemed impossible that Rocam could gather all of that in a similar time-span.

  His claim was that he had a large network of informants and snitches who provided him with the information he needed, which, while plausible, did not explain some of the other things he managed to do with the very limited funds the Whisper provided.

  The carriage she was riding in was a good example. Only the wealthy could afford to have their own carriages and drivers. Anyone else would have to rely on the public carriages, who charged a florin or more. Yet Rocam had somehow arranged for Cecille to have Nerial, the driver and owner of this carriage, ride her wherever she wanted for only ten coppers. Two other drivers were available to her on the same terms as well, and Rocam had not offered an explanation for how he managed to secure their services.

  Even so, she did not bother to question Rocam about his dealings, knowing full well he would not give her a straight answer in any case. She just assumed he was running some scheme on the side that allowed him to do these things.

  I need to worry about tonight. Talk to anyone close to Echeb and see if I can uncover something. It's up to me to find the next clue.

  The carriage slowed down and Cecille noticed that they had reached the fence that surrounded the estate. The gate was open and flanked by several guards who barred the carriage's way.

  After coming to a complete stop, one of the guards walked up to the carriage and shone a bright light into Cecille's eyes, briefly blinding her.

  Cecille raised her hand to ward off the light. What are you doing, you oaf?

  “Alone?” the guard asked with a heavy Enti accent.

  “Yes,” Cecille replied.

  The light vanished. “Okay,” the guard said, waving to the others to let the carriage pass.

  As the carriage passed the gate, Cecille noted that all the guards present were Dusters. Their bronze skin gleamed yellow in the sparse light of a handful of sun sigils.

  Six men at the gate. Is Echeb expecting some kind of trouble? I can't recall ever seeing so many before.

  The carriage approached the mansion rapidly now, and within a few moments they stopped in front of the main entrance. A young manservant immediately ran forward to help Cecille out of the carriage.

  She smiled graciously at him, which caused him to blush.

  Seeing that gave Cecille some satisfaction. I'm looking well this evening.

  “What time will you be leaving?” Nerial asked from the front of the carriage, shaking his hands to alleviate the uncomfortable sensation caused by constant ?ther channelling.

  “Around midnight will be fine,” Cecille replied.

  Nerial looked at the line of parked carriages at the nearby coach-house and the light and laughter streaming forth from within.

  “If you can spare a florin, I can wait for you here,” he said.

  So you can drink your fill with the other drivers, no doubt, Cecille thought. Though I suppose it would be more convenient for me. “Very well,” she said, holding up a florin from her purse. “Provided you aren't drunk when I want to leave.”

  “That won't be a problem,” Nerial said, accepting the coin with a flourishing bow.

  He moved his carriage away, leaving Cecille alone with the manservant who was still standing nearby, fidgeting nervously.

  Cecille ignored him and moved towards the entrance, where she was greeted by the head of the household, a tall and impeccably groomed man named Saj.

  “Madam De Alistrin,” Saj said with a slight bow. “How good it is to see you again.”

  “Saj,” Cecille replied with a smile. “If I didn't know better, I would think you have missed me.”

  “I was merely observing that a lady such as yourself is a most welcome sight under any circumstance.”

  “You flatter me needlessly,” Cecille said. “I graciously accept your warm welcome.”

  Saj bowed again lightly, allowing her to pass into the mansion without challenge.

  Normally one needed to be part of the upper class to attend social gatherings like these, yet as a well-known socialite Cecille could attend without special invitation. Moving around in civilized social circles with grace and without causing offence was one of the few natural skills she possessed, and she had spent years to reach the point where she could attend any soirée held in the city without anyone batting an eyelid at her presence.

  Upon entering the mansion's reception hall, Cecille immediately noted that it was as crowded as she had expected. A quick glance around the room confirmed that most of the city's nobility and great merchants had already gathered here. The master of the house himself, however, was nowhere to be seen, though the reason for that could merely be Echeb's short stature.

  Cecille turned her attention towards the servants, who gracefully moved around between the guests holding food and drink. Apart from the servers there were several other servants standing inconspicuously along the walls, and Cecille immediately noted that they were all male Dusters, just like the guards outside.

  Were they here last time?

  Normally she would not pay the staff any heed, but as Echeb was the person under investigation here, so were his staff. The men along the walls appeared to be regular servants at a glance, but as Cecille passed one closely she could tell that the doublets they were wearing were actually brigandines with leather sleeves attached. Some of them were sweating despite the cool spring evening, suggesting that they were wearing something thick beneath as well.

  Isn't this excessive for a mere household guard?

  She accepted a glass of kaar from a nearby server and sipped the anise-flavoured drink as she slowly wandered through the room, nodding greetings to women and beaming smiles to men.

  There were some new faces that drew Cecille's attention. The most prominent ones belonged to a group of three Duster men, who seemed cloaked in a tense, raw atmosphere. They were wearing silk shirts, golden bracelets and fitted trousers according to the latest fashion, yet only one of them was wearing the outfit with the grace it warranted. The other two were visibly uncomfortable in their rich clothing. The largest of these two, a huge man with a short soldier cut, frequently reached up to the buttons of his shirt as if he wanted to tear the cloth off, and the other was continuously spinning one of his bracelets around his arm in a way that indicated he did not feel comfortable wearing it.

  That looks interesting. I should introduce myself.

  Before Cecille could reach the three men, however, a young woman dressed in a billowing, dark-green dress jumped in front of her.

  “Lady Cecille!” she exclaimed with enthusiasm.

  “Minerva, dear,” Cecille responded with a smile. “How often must I tell you that I'm not a lady?”

  Minerva was the youngest child of Lord De Reswinn, a baron and the magistrate of Ceriel province of which Tasselhane was the capital. His barony included several of the mines that dug up the minerals used in the creation of runestones, which made him one of the richest men in Tasselhane.

  His wealth stood in sharp contrast with most of the other noble houses in Ceriel, who had failed to take notice of the changing times and had consequently been left with only a small portion of the influence and wealth they had enjoyed several generations ago.

  As a result, Minerva had no lack of suitors, which was a good thing because for a noble woman she was rather plain-looking. Her face still held the roundness of a little girl despite her seventeen years, and her hair, while long and waving, was shaggy and dull-brown. Her nose was a little too big and her hazel eyes a little too small, but perhaps the most damning thing was her lack of bosom; even the lift in her tightly laced dress failed to enhance it.

  “How is your mother doing?” Cecille asked.

  “She's still not well, I'm afraid,” Minerva replied glumly.

  “I'm sorry to hear that; if there is anything I can do to help, please let me know.”

  Minerva's face brightened a little. “Actually, there is something you can help me with right now. I lost Catherine and need to find her.” She looked down at the floor around her.

  Cecille raised a single eyebrow. “Catherine?”

  “My pet. I lost her somewhere.”

  “You brought a pet?” And why do you need my help to find it? Ask one of the servants.

  “Oh, there she is,” Minerva said, her face breaking into a smile.

  From the corner of her eye Cecille saw a silver flash streak across the floor and disappear behind Minerva's dress before she had a chance to get a good look at it.

  Cecille cringed as she heard the sound of ripping fabric and then gasped as a small silver fox appeared on Minerva's shoulder.

  What is that?!

  As she looked closely at Minerva's pet, Cecille's eyes widened and she brought a hand to her mouth. That fox is a chimera!

  It was unmistakable. The build of the creature's body clearly showed that it was an adult, yet the head was strange. Its eyes were too large, its ears too small, and its snout too short. The fur of the fox was another clue to its nature, as it was completely silver with only a hint of the black a regular fox would have mixed in.

  “Isn't she adorable?” Minerva said, allowing the fox to nuzzle her.

  “Yes, she is,” Cecille said, recovering from her initial shock and regaining control of her face.

  Inside she was still reeling, however. Has she gone mad? Keeping a chimera as a pet and not even on a leash? If her father ever finds out about this, she's going to be in so much trouble.

  “Sir Echeb gave her to me as a gift.”

  “I see,” Cecille said. “Does your father know about this?”

  Minerva stopped petting Catherine and looked at Cecille with surprise. “Of course he does. Why wouldn't he know?”

  Oh, I don't know. Maybe because ownership of chimeras is strictly regulated by law, which your father, the magistrate, is supposed to uphold. She couldn't voice those thoughts to Minerva, however. Perhaps she doesn't know it's a chimera and her father is playing favourites?

  Cecille smiled again, while keeping an eye on the little fox. “If a man gives you a gift, there is usually some reason behind it. Especially such a special gift as this chimera.”

  Minerva made a dismissive gesture with her free hand. “Sir Echeb said it was a belated birthday gift. He couldn't arrange for it sooner because chimeras like this are very rare.” She nodded to herself.

  “Then why did he give you this? Chimeras are frowned upon by many in Gerios. Surely he would not want you to get into any trouble.”

  Again Minerva waved her hand dismissively. “He told me that back in Saffir all the noble ladies have cute pets like these and that it would be only fitting for me to have one as well. He also said that soon everyone will have one.” She puffed herself up, pushing her modest chest forward. “I'm the first.”

  I can see that, but why are you even allowed to have one? In Gerios, ?ther beings of any sort were illegal and liable to be exterminated upon discovery, apart from those held by magic guilds; a law instituted during the Great Cleansing of Gerios under Vargarre the Second.

  This attitude was radically different from the Dust Empire where ?ther beings were a part of daily life. Chimeras were considered the same as natural animals there, and even things like ghasts and horrors on occasion had a place in society, although that was a far less frequent occurrence.

  “I can tell you are most pleased with her,” Cecille said, reaching out to pet the fox.

  The chimera accepted the outstretched hand without challenge, allowing Cecille to scratch it behind the ears.

  Very docile, Cecille thought. That makes sense. Lord De Reswinn would never have allowed this if it was unsafe.

  A young man dressed in a golden-stitched doublet approached them both and gave a flourishing bow to Minerva.

  “My Lady Minerva, would you perhaps like to dance?”

  Cecille recognized him as the son of one of the wealthier spice traders in Tasselhane, though he could easily pass for a member of the nobility considering the lavish way he was dressed.

  He was rather handsome as well, and Minerva flushed as she smiled at him. He smiled back at her with a broad smile, his blue eyes sparkling underneath a thick bush of unruly looking dark-brown hair.

  “I would love to, Arjen,” Minerva replied.

  Cecille was pinched by a twinge of envy. This was the sort of man she had imagined being with in the past. But now young men like him barely extended more than polite interest towards her.

  “Won't your adorable fox be in the way?” Arjen asked as he took Minerva's hand.

  “Oh,” Minerva said. “You are right.” She turned back to Cecille. “Lady Cecille? Could you hold onto Catherine for a bit? I don't want her to get lost again.”

  Without waiting for an answer Minerva placed the fox on Cecille's shoulder, then turned around to follow Arjen towards the back of the hall where a group of musicians were playing a light tune.

  Cecille was stunned for a moment before she started seething inside. You insufferable, flat-chested bitch. He's only interested in you because of your heritage. If you weren't noble born you would be working as a cleaning lady with a few-toothed mongrel as your husband.

  However, Cecille's mouth retained a benevolent smile as she watched Minerva vanish into the crowd. Her eyes did not match that smile, however, as there was now a chimera sitting on her shoulder who found delight in chewing on a lock of Cecille's blonde hair.

  What am I supposed to do with this creature? I can't talk to people like this. Even worse, she couldn't just hand it to some servant. It was a rare animal after all, and if something happened to it, it would be on Cecille's head.

  Waiting for Minerva to return was pointless as Cecille knew the gleam Minerva had in her eyes while looking at Arjen all too well. She would be gone for the rest of the evening.

  Maybe I can find Lord De Reswinn. He'll certainly take this thing off my hands.

  She emptied her glass in one gulp and started to wander through the hall, trying to pretend there wasn't a small fox on her shoulder, occasionally giving her ear a lick.

  Can't it just run off on its own? No, wait, that would be even worse for me.

  She was so preoccupied with Catherine that she didn't notice the most important man and host of the evening until she almost stumbled into him. Echeb looked at her in surprise and then at the chimera on her shoulder.

  Oh krat. Why do I run into him now, of all times?

  Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings.

  Hischi Echeb was a bulky man in his late thirties with a stomach that was twice as wide as his shoulders. He was dressed in the typical fineries that befitted a trader of his wealth and was surrounded by no less than three very young women wearing tight dresses.

  As he was the host of the soirée, Cecille couldn't afford to ignore him. She would have to greet him, chimera or not.

  “Sir Echeb,” Cecille said, bowing her head. Normally she would curtsey but she didn't dare risk that with a fox on her shoulder. “Your soirées are as splendid as always.”

  “Indeed, madam,” Echeb said with a smile that didn't reach his eyes. “Only the best for my guests.”

  He doesn't remember my name.

  Truthfully, she had not expected him to, but it stung a little regardless.

  “I'm surprised to see you walking around with a sajila,” he continued. “I wasn't aware that our great Empire's customs were being adopted by Geriossa.”

  “Oh, this sajila isn't mine. It belongs to Minerva de Reswinn, whom you gifted it to.”

  Echeb stared at the little fox for a moment before raising his hand to tap his forehead. “Of course, I remember now. I was wondering why it seemed familiar.”

  “Minerva was asked to dance and she entrusted me with it,” Cecille hastily explained.

  “Dance, you say? Ah, the sweetness of youth.” He dabbed his forehead with a silk handkerchief, having noticed the sweat on his fingers.

  “Do you perhaps know of someone I can entrust this sajila to? I'm unaccustomed to dealing with chimeras and I'm afraid I might mistreat it somehow.”

  “Yes, of course,” Echeb said, snapping his fingers.

  A small Duster boy with raven-black hair appeared at his side.

  “Akkat here will take the sajila off your hands. He was the original caretaker for it before I gifted it to Lady De Reswinn.”

  “Thank you kindly, sir,” Cecille said with visible relief as the boy stretched out his arm. The chimera immediately darted off Cecille's shoulder and onto the boy's. “I am grateful for your consideration.”

  “Are you perhaps scared of chimeras, madam?” Echeb asked with a brief chuckle. “Or were you concerned about its legality?”

  Cecille hesitated before speaking. “Its legality did cross my mind, I have to admit.”

  “It is an unfortunate thing,” Echeb said, making a face as if smelling something foul, “but such matters will be a thing of the past soon enough.” He chuckled again. “Progress cannot be stopped.”

  Two men approached Echeb and he faced away from Cecille, who in turn backed away. She was relieved to be rid of her illegal burden and was glad she would not have to draw out the conversation with Echeb any longer. She would have preferred not to have her presence known to him at all this evening. Not if she was planning to fish for information from his employees.

  Well, it won't matter much as he didn't even remember my name. He's probably forgotten me already.

  In her hurry to put some distance between her and Echeb, she almost crashed into a server who swirled around her, brushing her arm and pushing her into the back of one of the guests.

  It was a large back, and as Cecille looked up at the man turning around she saw two dark-brown eyes glaring down at her.

  She recognized him instantly. He was the larger one of the group of three men she had wanted to speak to before Minerva jumped in front of her.

  “What are you doing, woman?” the man said in thick Enti.

  “I'm sorry,” Cecille said in Enti while conjuring her best disarming smile. “A server bumped into me,” she added in Rion.

  “So you are sorry?” the man continued in Enti, glancing down at her cleavage and raising one of his shovel-sized hands.

  Cecille felt a twinge of fear and her mind raced to find a way out of the situation as she took a step backwards.

  “Fazir, leave the lady alone,” a soothing voice said in Enti. “It was an accident.”

  Fazir narrowed his eyes and then suddenly huffed at Cecille, causing her to jump in fright.

  “Fazir!”

  Another man, the owner of the voice, grabbed Fazir by the shoulder and pulled him away. To Cecille's amazement, Fazir relented and stepped away from Cecille, allowing the man to position himself in front of her.

  He was another of the three men that she had seen earlier, the one who had seemed comfortable wearing his rich outfit.

  “Deepest apologies, my lady,” the man said in broken Rion and with a clear Enti accent. “Fazir is a man unsuited to the finer points of soirées like this. I am Hischi Rishad.” With a flourishing bow he raised his hand and waited for Cecille to offer hers.

  Cecille allowed her social habits to take over and placed her hand in Rishad's, who promptly kissed it, lightly brushing her fingers with his lips as was proper. She smiled warmly at him. “I am Cecille de Alistrin. I'm pleased to meet you.”

  Nevertheless, her outward appearance did not reflect her inner thoughts. Hischi Rishad. So he's someone from the Hischi clan as well. Now that she was standing close to him, she noted that his skin was more olive than bronze, indicating that he came from the far south of the Dust Empire. Far south like the Hischi clan homelands.

  Even though she had not planned on meeting like this, she felt pleased with herself. Her intuition about wanting to speak to these men first had proven correct.

  “So, tell me,” Rishad said. “What is a beautiful woman like you doing all alone at a soirée like this?”

  “What makes you think I am alone?” Cecille replied.

  Rishad smiled broadly, revealing a set of straight, though not so white, teeth. “If I was your escort I would never let you leave my side.”

  Does he think that's supposed to be charming? Cecille thought. Typical male Duster. However, she didn't feel annoyed as this was something she could use to her advantage. Acting like a meek and submissive woman was something she could do perfectly. Just the way you like it.

  “You are very sharp,” Cecille said. “I have no escort this evening.”

  “A shame that is, very much,” Rishad said. “Although a good chance for me. I never miss an opportunity to entertain a noblewoman.”

  “Oh, I'm not of noble blood, I'm afraid,” Cecille said, having some trouble following his broken Rion. “I'm a businesswoman.”

  Rishad raised an eyebrow. “Oh? What business then might that be?”

  “I sell perfumes.”

  “Perfumes?” Rishad said, slowly repeating the word.

  “Fajassa,” Cecille said, switching to the Enti word.

  “Ah, I see,” Rishad said, his expression becoming relaxed.

  He actually looks relieved, Cecille noted with disdain. Perish the thought that a woman could have a job she isn't supposed to be doing.

  “You speak Enti quite well,” Rishad continued.

  “Oh, no, no,” Cecille said, waving her hand in front of her. “I only know a handful of words. Most of them work-related.”

  “You would do good to learn our language.”

  I know, and I already did, but let's talk about you now.

  “Is this your first visit to Tasselhane?” Cecille asked, brushing away a lock of hair. “I cannot recall having seen you before and I'm certain I would have not missed your appearance.”

  “It is my first visit. Though so far things seem not so different.” He waved his arm around. “Only more Geriossa.”

  Cecille pouted. “Oh? You do not like Geriossa?”

  “Nothing like that, my lady. I don't meet new people often, but I can be very appreciating to the right woman.” Rishad leaned forward slightly, bringing his face closer to Cecille.

  Cecille could smell a hint of anise. It appears Rishad has been drinking his share of kaar this evening.

  “Don't you meet a lot of people in your work as a trader?”

  “I'm no trader. I deal in...” He paused for a moment as he was looking for the right word. “Security.”

  “Security? Like a guard? Or a caravan escort?”

  “Something like that, yes,” Rishad said, becoming evasive.

  I knew there was something off about these men. She glanced at the two others behind him. Like Rishad, they all had excellent physiques and their bearing was one of alertness.

  “Are these men your bodyguards?” Cecille asked.

  “Bodyguards?” Rishad repeated, not understanding.

  Cecille paused. She knew the Enti word for bodyguard, yet unlike the word for perfume it was not one she was supposed to know. Not if she wanted to maintain the illusion that she did not understand Enti.

  “They guard you,” Cecille explained. “They protect you?”

  Rishad raised both his hands and smiled. “Ah, I understand. Not like that, they are my companions. We work together.”

  “I see, that sounds exciting,” Cecille said, smiling and briefly touching his arm. “So why are you here? Are you related to Sir Echeb?”

  “Related? No, no. Business.”

  “But you are both Hischi?”

  Rishad frowned. “There are only few who have the real blood of Hischi. We are not directly related.”

  “Oh,” Cecille said with her most innocent face. The suggestion seemed to have offended Rishad somehow and she ran her mind past everything she knew about clan ties.

  Every Duster had two clans, his own minor clan and the major clan they swore blood fealty to. The Hischi clan probably had tens if not hundreds of thousands of people in it, but only a small number of them actually belonged to the true Hischi bloodline.

  As a result, every Duster had three names. First the major clan, then their given name, and finally the name of their minor clan. Only those belonging to the major clan's bloodline were allowed to call themselves Hischi twice or omit either the first or last clan name altogether.

  Had we been in the Dust Empire they would not have dared to leave off their minor clan name.

  “So are you staying long?” Cecille asked. “It's always nice to see new faces.”

  To her surprise, Rishad started to laugh. Not just a chuckle, but full-blown laughter causing some nearby guests to turn their heads.

  “I'm sorry,” Rishad said as he regained control over his laughing fit. “I was not laughing at you, my lady. It was merely that your words recalled my memory. But yes, I will be staying long as you say.”

  What is so funny about that? Am I missing something, or did he misunderstand me?

  The third man leaned forward and whispered something in Rishad's ear, whose smile instantly disappeared.

  “I'm sorry, my lady,” Rishad said in a suddenly flat voice. “I need to assist on something.”

  With a curt nod he walked away, leaving Cecille with the two other Dusters. Fazir was still leering at her breasts, but the third man, who had apparently sent Rishad away, was looking at her coldly.

  Knowing that she had worn out her welcome, she mumbled a goodbye in Enti and moved away from them. She could feel the third man's cold stare at her back and she kept walking until she knew he could no longer see her.

  What was that all about? She felt that she had stumbled upon something important, but as she recalled the conversation she could find nothing that was really out of place. For all she knew, it was just the alcohol talking.

  In the end, the only thing strange was why these men were here to begin with. He said they dealt in security, but what kind? It was obvious that the group Rishad belonged to was a martial one. The male servants wearing brigandines were probably part of his group as well.

  Are they here to protect Echeb? But why does he need guards? Is he expecting problems? Or is he planning something?

  Her head spun from question to question and she accepted another glass of kaar from a nearby server. Well, I'll sort that out later. Time to mingle a bit.

  Cecille spent several hours performing her usual routine. Chatting with the women and asking about their spouses, feigning devoted interest in the men and even cornering adolescent servant boys to get them to tell her the rumours that only reached the lower class.

  As midnight approached and the soirée started to wind down, Cecille was standing behind a large, pompous-looking chamber plant drinking from a glass of spring water. On the other side, Rishad, Fazir and the third man, who she had discovered was named Kaseem, were engaged in conversation. She had positioned herself her to eavesdrop on them, as after speaking with everyone else, it was clear to her that whatever Echeb was up to, these three men were an important part of it.

  Unfortunately, they didn't speak much and when they did it wasn't about anything of import. They were mostly spending their time commenting on the guests.

  From the corner of her eye Cecille saw Minerva approach, her arm hooked through the arm of an older nobleman with a bushy dark-grey beard and a similar wild bush of hair crowning his head. There's Lord De Reswinn, Cecille thought as she eyed the silver fox that was once again sitting on Minerva's shoulder. And he really does know about that chimera.

  For a moment Cecille worried that they were approaching her, but they ignored her completely and Lord De Reswinn greeted the three Duster men instead.

  “Great Lord,” Rishad addressed him. “I see you are doing well since we last met.”

  Cecille, who was just raising the glass to her mouth, froze mid-motion. They know each other?

  “I am,” Lord De Reswinn said, his voice cracking. It seemed that he had been using it a lot recently. “Minerva, why don't you go find something to do? Your father needs to speak to these men.”

  In her mind's eye Cecille could see Minerva's nose wrinkling disapprovingly.

  “But I'm tired,” Minerva protested. “And so is Catherine.”

  That's because you let yourself be dragged off by every single man in the room, you trollop.

  “I will only be a moment, dear. If you wish you can ask one of the servants to take you home.”

  Minerva didn't answer, but from the sound of clacking heels Cecille could tell Minerva was stomping off in a huff.

  “Having a daughter must be tiring,” Rishad said.

  “Try having two. It is an endless source of worry. But I'm not here to talk about my daughters. Can we speak in private somewhere?”

  “Of course, my Lord; Echeb has arranged the study for us.”

  “Will he be joining us?”

  “There is no urgency as he entertains the guests. Perhaps later he joins.”

  Cecille stepped away from the plant and a moment later saw the four men disappear through a door at the far end of the hall, flanked by two of the brigandine-wearing servants.

  I must hear that conversation. The revelation that the magistrate of the province was somehow involved in all this left her filled with a tense excitement. If she could discover what was going on here, the Whisper leadership would have to acknowledge her for certain.

  The only question is, how am I going to do that?

  The two guards at the door wouldn't let her through, no matter what. As a guest she had no business to be in any other part of the mansion.

  They said they were going to the study... Despite never visiting other parts of Echeb's mansion, she did know the layout of houses similar to this one. Echeb was a Duster who would likely appreciate the sun and smell of fresh air. His study, if he had one, would likely be a solar room, which were usually on the first or second floor.

  No, that's not right. Echeb wouldn't climb stairs if he could avoid it. Not with his weight. And that one servant told me their quarters are up there. So where then...?

  She wandered through the reception hall, noting that Saj was busy directing the servants to light some fires outside in the courtyard to warm the guests there.

  The upper courtyard, Cecille thought. If this mansion has one of those, then that's the place. The lower courtyard would be too noisy.

  She unfurled the shawl she had wrapped around her thighs and draped it over her shoulders as she stepped outside. Dusk had passed a while ago and it was growing cold.

  She directed her gaze towards the dark end of the courtyard. If there is an upper courtyard, there should be a passageway connecting it to this one.

  A server passed and she replaced her glass of water with a glass of kaar. If someone caught her in a place she wasn't supposed to be, she could always pretend to be a drunk woman who had got lost.

  She made her way through the courtyard garden, the small white pebbles that made up the path crunching softly beneath her feet.

  It was a garden typical of a mountainside mansion. Hedges and ferns mostly, as other plants had a hard time growing in the poor soil.

  Away from the fires, it got dark quickly. The Light Moon was somewhere on the other side of the mansion, leaving only the sparse illumination of the Dark Moon to light her way.

  To her left she could hear a woman's muffled giggling, and Cecille instantly knew what was going on there. She herself had accompanied a man to such a place often enough when she was younger, and the couple she heard probably wasn't the only one hiding between the hedges.

  So much the better for me. She knew from experience that servants and guards alike had a tendency to spy on such couples, hoping to get a glimpse of naked noblewomen or some sort of deviant behaviour.

  Upon reaching the end of the courtyard, she halted just before the tiled path that ran parallel to the mansion wall and peered around the corner of the hedge that flanked the path.

  There was a single sun sigil burning in the distance, right next to what appeared to be the iron bars of a gate.

  There it is. She looked around and found the entire path abandoned. Nobody here.

  As quickly as her dress allowed, she hurried towards the gate where she put down her glass and reached up towards the sun sigil to dispel it, only to find that it was the kind of sigil that did not allow easy dispelling.

  It's a watch light. That's unfortunate. I'll have to drain the charge, then.

  Even if she was only a seventh-rank channeller, barely tier two, she could forcibly dispel a weak spell like this. It would only take some time.

  Through the bars of the gate she could see the faint light of another open area at the end of the passageway. That must be the upper courtyard. Let's hope I'm right and Echeb's study is indeed there.

  She used her free hand to push down on the gate's handle and pulled. The gate did not budge.

  Locked.

  The sun sigil's light sputtered and then went dark. Again Cecille checked around to see if anyone was coming as her heart beat in her throat. It had been a while since she had done something like this, and the tense excitement she felt was growing stronger.

  I can do this.

  Cecille reached inside her sleeve and withdrew the appropriate lock-picking tools that were hidden inside one of her sturdy cloth bracers. The lock on the gate was a simple one and it didn't take long for the sound of an opening lock to ring through the otherwise quiet courtyard.

  She picked up her glass and slipped through the gate. Her footsteps echoed in the passageway as she dashed towards the upper courtyard, where she was greeted with a garden of wild plant growth. If Echeb employed a gardener, he wasn't taking care of this patch of the mansion's flora.

  On her right-hand side she spotted a light and could hear the soft murmur of voices. Not wanting to tear her dress, she pulled it up towards her thighs and carefully shuffled over towards the window that was the source of both the light and sound. The glass was opaque so she could not see inside, yet a smaller window at the top was open, allowing her to hear what was said.

  As she positioned herself next to the window, she recognized Lord De Reswinn's cracked voice immediately.

  “Make certain it's ready,” Lord De Reswinn said. “Considering what you asked of me, I don't want any delays.”

  “We may be many things, but we are not oath breakers,” an unknown male voice replied with an Enti accent. “The scions do not stand for that sort of thing. You will have what was promised, I will ensure it myself.”

  “Very well; if you'll excuse me then.”

  Cecille heard the sound of a door opening and closing. It seemed Lord De Reswinn had left the room.

  Krat! All this trouble to get here and I only hear the end?

  “You think he will go through with it?” another man, with a familiar voice, asked in Enti.

  That's Rishad, Cecille realized. So he is there as well.

  “At this point he doesn't have a choice,” the unknown voice answered in Enti. “The operation can no longer be halted.”

  If all three of them are there, then that voice must belong to Kaseem. Was he hiding that he understands Rion?

  “What do we do now?” Fazir's deep voice sounded. “This place is boring.”

  “We wait,” Kaseem said. “It's only a few days more, Fazir. We will be very busy once the operation starts.”

  “And Echeb?” Fazir asked.

  “A tainted man,” Kaseem answered, the disgust clear in his voice. “Living here with Geriossa made him even more shameful.”

  “He's of the Achjilla clan, so no surprise there,” Rishad added.

  “I wasn't told what the scions have in mind for him once the operation begins,” Kaseem said, “nor do I know what he was promised. He is of no concern to us; we won't have to suffer him for much longer, in any case.”

  With that the conversation ended and the men left the room.

  Cecille was annoyed that she had missed the important part of the conversation. What kind of deal does Lord De Reswinn have with these men? And what is this operation they spoke about?

  With careful paces she started to move back through the garden towards the passageway. With this her work for the night was done, as the soirée had wound down. All that was left for her to do was to sneak back to the reception hall and then leave.

  As she stepped back into the passageway, she heard a faint sound coming from up ahead on her left-hand side.

  Instinctively she pressed herself against the wall, the cold stone sending a chill through her still bare legs. What was that?

  A small line of light appeared near the ground and Cecille gasped at the sight.

  A door, Cecille immediately realized. The darkness of the passage had made it impossible to see otherwise.

  A thud came from the door and Cecille could see a shadow moving through the light.

  Someone's coming out!

  With a start, she darted forward towards the gate.

  As she ran past the door, she heard a key being turned and a moment later it opened with a loud creaking sound, flooding the passageway with light.

  It's too far, she realized. She would not reach the gate before whoever was coming through the door saw her.

  Drunk woman it is, then.

  She hastily put the remaining kaar from her glass into her mouth and leaned her shoulder against the wall with her back towards the door.

  “Hey, who's there?” a heavy voice said in Enti.

  Cecille slowly turned her head to see who it was. A huge Duster man was standing in the passageway with a menacing look on his face.

  The warm excitement Cecille had felt earlier vanished and was replaced with the reality of the cold night. Oh krat, it's Fazir.

  Fazir took a few steps towards her. “Who are you?”

  Cecille's mind raced. What do I do now? Had it been a random guard or servant, she could have easily played dumb. They wouldn't have known there was a private meeting a moment ago and would have no reason to find Cecille suspicious. They would have escorted her back to the reception hall and that would have been the end of it.

  Fazir, however, did know about the meeting and even worse he only spoke Enti, so she couldn't talk her way out of it either. If word got out that she understood the Duster language, no Duster would ever trust her again. Her public image would be ruined and her cover as a perfume-selling socialite would become useless.

  She giggled coquettishly.

  It was a subconscious reaction, a habit from her past, yet Cecille immediately grasped onto it. The only way she was going to make it out of here was to make sure Fazir was sufficiently distracted by the oddness of the situation.

  “Is that you, Fazir?” Cecille said in Rion, slurring her voice.

  To her relief she saw no other shadows moving in the light from the door. Fazir was alone.

  “Are you a woman?” Fazir said with a hint of surprise in his voice.

  Cecille giggled again and staggered towards him, making certain he got a good look at her empty glass.

  When she got close Fazir threw out his arm in an attempt to keep her at a distance, and Cecille immediately used the brush against her to fall in a dramatic stumble onto the ground.

  “Ow, that hurts,” Cecille said thickly. “You're mean,” she added in Enti.

  She looked up at Fazir from her vulnerable position low on the ground with her eyes half-open, slowly weaving her head back and forth.

  Fazir remained confused.

  “Help me,” she said in Enti, reaching up with her arm.

  Fazir grabbed her hand and helped her back on her feet, though he still kept her at arm's length.

  “How did you get in here?” Fazir asked, keeping a firm hold on her.

  Cecille shrugged and smiled at him, pretending not to understand.

  He gestured towards the gate. “How did you get in here?” he repeated more slowly.

  “Open,” she said in response, using the Enti word.

  Fazir frowned and then pulled her with him towards the gate. There he found that the gate was indeed open and Cecille could hear him mutter some curses beneath his breath.

  Don't give him time to think it over.

  “Oh Fazir, didn't you come to see me?” Cecille said seductively, mixing Rion and Enti. “I love big and strong men like you.”

  Fazir turned to face her and she caressed his chest through his silk shirt, biting her lower lip.

  Only a little more.

  His grip on her loosened so she pulled herself against him, pressing her breasts against his stomach and using her free hand to touch his groin.

  He was erect as she hoped, yet he remained frozen.

  She raised her head and stared into his eyes, blowing a huff of kaar-scented breath in his face.

  Oh come on, you want this, stop doubting me.

  As if in response to her thoughts his gaze changed, exchanging the earlier distrustful expression with one of unbridled lust. His grasp became forceful again and he grabbed her wrists, causing her to drop her glass which shattered on the tiles beneath.

  “Oh,” she said simply, still smiling.

  “You want this, you Geriossa whore?” Fazir said as he unfastened his trousers. “I'll give it to you.”

  He spun her around to face the wall and pulled her dress up all the way to her stomach. A large hand grabbed one of her buttocks and then stuck two fingers behind the delicate lace of her undergarments, tearing them off in one pull.

  She gritted her teeth.