by Aaron Crash
Ymir wasn’t going to grin or smirk. He wanted this tiny fairy woman to know that she wouldn’t be the one to disrupt his business. “I’ve been told I stink of elk. Others have said I just stink. I’m here to study magic and have sex with women. You’re magical. Not sure you’re a woman. But even if I did have a xocalati business, that would be no concern of yours. You have your shop, you have your profits, and if your product is good, it will sell. If it’s not?” He shrugged.
Ziziva marched over to his cup again. She nodded. “It’s easy to sell a product when you’ve cornered the market. There is a corner inside you, and it’s full of shadows. We’ll be friendly, Ymir, Ymir, but don’t think our friendly friendliness is any kind of weakness. It’s not.” She then bent and spat into his coffee.
Ymir wasn’t squeamish, but he wasn’t going to tempt fate by drinking fairy spit.
She giggled and rose up, placing her hat on her head. “Oh, and it’s Nan Honeysweet’s Paradise Tree, and I’m just the shopgirl. I take some classes here, have some friends here, and I’ve been known to take a cock or two.”
“Small cocks from fairy boys you keep hidden away for special occasions?” Ymir asked.
“Nope, silly, silly. I ride big uhts on hornier men than you.” Ziziva laughed her way away.
Tori tilted her head, making a funny face of wonder. “Now, I’m not one to consider the intimate activities of other races, but I do wonder how that would work given her size.”
Ymir had done some reading. There had never been a sighting of a male Fayee in Theran history. Most of what he read sounded like literal fairy tales—stories of fairies stealing away boys, raising them in secret villages on lost islands in the lakes and rivers of Thera. There, the boys were pampered and fed so they could have sex with the Fayee all day long. It wouldn’t be a bad life, Ymir didn’t think.
Speaking of history, Ymir had his history class with Nile Preat later that day. The professor was an unorganized mess most of the time, with mussed hair and an obsession with clocks. Maybe studying history gave her a keen appreciation for the passage of time.
Ymir had to consider that Nan Honeysweet and Ziziva were behind the entire demon attack. They were attacked after they secured the xoca beans from Salt Love and Sambal. The Fayee’s magical abilities weren’t fully understood, and so demon summoning could be a part of that. And he hadn’t seen the old woman, no one had, but she was there, in the shop, behind the curtain, preparing candies and packaging the xocalati sculptures.
As for the flame attack in the shower? Perhaps the old woman and the fairy had seen into the future. With damn Flow magic, that was possible.
“Fucking magic,” Ymir cursed.
“Did that go well?” Tori shook her head and chuckled. “I don’t think that went well.”
“I’ll teach you a spell to hide yourself from scrying,” he said. “I’d cast it a few times a day, just so we can stay hidden. Ziziva knows something is up. You can do Flow magic, correct?”
“Enough to be dangerous,” the dwab laughed. “I tried to cool a tart the other day, cast some Flow cantrip, and wound up freezing the tart completely. But I can try your special magic. I don’t like the Fayee in general, and that Ziziva in particular. I think she might be dangerous.”
“Afraid?” Ymir asked.
The dwab met his gaze with her clear green eyes. “Not of her. Only of when I get my Inconvenience again. Like I said, we’re friends, but I’m still hoping we can be Inconvenience Partners. Though it scares me, Ymir. It scares me like nothing else.”
“I’m sorry about that,” the clansman said. “Perhaps answering the three questions might make you feel better.”
Tori blushed. “I won’t get pregnant, not without some special Morbuskor magic, that I, of course, won’t talk about. As for myself? Yep, I guess I feel some shame, but the Inconvenience is something I have to deal with. I’d like your help, and Lillee’s, and maybe Jenny’s. I don’t know. It would make good stone sense for me to have more than just a couple of people in case it gets bad and I can’t find you.” She shook her head. “This sex business is a silly waste of time.”
Was she trying to get out of answering the third question? Ymir couldn’t let her. “What about disrespecting your family?”
Tori closed her eyes for a second, trying to hide her sadness. “No, my family, such as they are, figures I’ll disrespect myself one way or another. They don’t think it’s my fault. They just think that it was my bad luck being born me.” She knocked a hand on the table. “So we’re fine. Questions answered. I’m still scared.”
She popped up, hiding away in her cheer. She came around and grabbed his spoiled mug. “Let me get you a fresh cup of kaif. The Morbuskor don’t like many races, and we definitely hate the Gruul, but you know, today I’m feeling a special hatred for the Fayee. The Morbuskor should be the only race to keep secrets about their bedroom activities. Those fairies are trying to one-up us in the secrets department.” She laughed at her own joke.
“Wait, Tori.” Ymir found himself wanting to help this little woman, and not just with her Inconvenience. He liked her. He’d always liked her.
She paused, cup in hand, close enough for him to take her free hand.
“You helped us with that other business. I’m working on a new enterprise. It’s dangerous. And Ziziva was right, it does stink of forbidden magic.”
The fire-headed dwab cut him off. “I’m in. I don’t know what it is, but I’m in. You all are just too much fun.”
Her smile was real. She loved them, it was clear, and they loved her, though Jenny and the dwab hadn’t gotten that close. Not yet.
“And that is the correct answer.” Ymir gently pulled her in to hold her. Sitting, she was the perfect height for a long, warm hug. He felt himself get excited. She wouldn’t be feeling the same way right then.
Lillee could take off her essess. For Tori? They’d just have to wait and see. The dwab refused to try the xocalati. From what he’d read, there was no pattern to her Inconveniences. It could be hours, or it could be months.
He hoped that wasn’t the case.
Chapter Twenty-Four
THE MONDAY BEFORE THE Third Exams started, the Honored Princept, Della Pennez, stood in the Moons Tower classroom, waiting for her Introduction to Languages class to come in.
Over the past couple of weeks, she’d made several vows to herself, and she’d broken two out of the three promises.
The first was that she wouldn’t smoke more than five kharo sticks a day. The second, she wouldn’t sleep with Hayleesia Heenn. Lastly, she’d wait until after the Third Exam to pick who would become the next Moons Studia Dux.
She’d kept her hands off the half-elf. The other two oaths had been shattered to pieces.
She wanted to leave the classroom and run down, smoke a stick quickly, and race back. Agneeyeshka had gotten tired of the Princept asking to borrow her kharo, so the security guard offered to go to the open market in StormCry and buy the leaves and rolling papers for her.
The Princept had agreed. That had been a mistake. She’d made so many mistakes that it was hard to think clearly. This was the wrong time for her head to be muddled. The Third Exam was a week away. Ymir was most likely in danger. Someone was selling aphrodisiac xocalati that, while not illegal, didn’t sit well with Della. Her scholars were randy enough without someone adding to their desires. So far, no one had been harmed, and actually, there were less cases of fights and trouble at the taverns on the Sea Stair Market. Nonetheless, such underground businesses rarely helped to create a stable environment. Officially, all such enterprises needed to be registered with the Undergem Guild.
Some woman, Nan Honeysweet, had sent Della a letter complaining about her competitor. That made Della consider where Ymir had gotten enough money to buy his way out of work study, at least for the first half of the semester.
One piece of good news: Haylee had given Della some space, but the half-elf still threw her heated glances whenever she drift
ed near—in the feasting hall, in the halls of the Moons Tower, and in the Librarium. Those looks were enough to drive the Princept up to her chambers in the middle of the day to take care of her complaining loins. Della was masturbating nearly constantly to keep herself from breaking that last promise.
As for the Studia Dux? She’d decided on the Morbuskor woman. Ibeliah wasn’t easy to deal with, but she had a good sense of order, and she worked hard. Of course, she was a dwab, and it was understood that the Morbuskor in general weren’t preoccupied with their sexuality, whatever it was in the end.
Linnylynn Albatross was a fine teacher and had excellent credentials, but her friendship with Haylee had Della reconsidering her. Not that Haylee had done anything wrong except mishandle her introduction with Della.
Her past. The Silent Scream. Unger.
Della stood at the window, watching the sun struggling to break through the clouds. It was almost April. They should get some kind of spring soon. While her body was in the classroom on Vempor’s Cape, her mind took her across the continent and back a hundred and some years.
She’d been living in Four Roads and trying to teach more than just two classes at the Kifu Yun Lirum University. She was also trying to figure out how to pay for her rat-infested room at a local inn. Elf rice and ficco beans kept her alive, but she longed for meat and mead.
Her poverty forced her to register as a mercenary with the Bloody Dawn Guild. They wanted to see her skill with a sword, and she’d shown them. She bloodied three men and escaped without a scratch.
Unger had been watching. He saw her sword work, her pretty face, and her long white hair. And it wasn’t long before he offered her a job that would more than pay for her meager life as an adjunct professor at the Kifu Yun Lirum.
Unger altered her ears, so she could pass as human. She had to be human to sleep with the ugly wife of the man she had to kill. He was a bad man who had crossed the wrong person in the Sun, Moon, & Stars Guild, the coalition of sorcerers in Thera. This bad man and his wives hated elves, but they loved beauty.
Dark rumors trailed after this bad man, tales of demonic magic, blood-soaked deals, and ancient artifacts. And there was talk of the Midnight Guild, even then, even back then. Della had convinced herself it was for the good of the world. Now, she knew, it was for the good of her pocketbook. It hadn’t been her only mission, but it had been her first.
She’d won her way into the ugly woman’s bed, and in the throes of passion, that woman, however homely, had seemed beautiful. She loved her husband but was of a free mind when it came to sex. Della had felt bad for allowing herself to orgasm with the woman. It seemed dishonest because she was about to shatter her world.
Della slipped the ugly woman a sleeping potion. Once the wife was out, Della cast Moons magic to float silently through the man’s mansion. His warding magic in his bedroom was easy to dispel. His throat was even easier to cut. She’d made the decision to kill him, and it was as simple as that.
Early on in life, Della had made up her mind on what kind of person she would be. She would logically weigh all her options, make a choice, and would never, ever let herself feel any regret. She was going to live five hundred years. Regret would be lethal for her if she let it build up.
Della was in the ugly woman’s bed when another one of the man’s wives found the corpse. Della comforted the ugly woman and her sister-wives through their tears and consternation. They trusted her—she’d made sure of that. After all, she was a university professor, a powerful sorceress, and one of them—a human.
Della saw the havoc she’d caused. That one long decision, that one quick slash, and those women’s lives would never be the same. Did it matter? They remained rich. They were all dead in a few decades anyway.
Della got enough money to live on. She also got a fuck from Unger, up against the brick wall of a back alley, where his hot uht filled her until he gripped her hard, shuddering. It was strange; she felt him come not in her body, but in her dusza. There were far stranger things about him than his sweet smell, his flame-colored irises, or the blackened skin around his eyes.
Why had she bent over for him? That sack of shecks, her getting away with murder, it all had been so illicit, so outside of what normal life had been for her, that adding another sin felt exciting. Unger was dirty. That made it better.
She’d done a few more jobs with Unger before getting a full-time position at the Kifu Yun Lirum. She left Unger and that life behind. Time and distance soon swallowed him and that part of her life whole. If he was human, he was dead. If he was something else, he might not be. There was no way to know—an entity like Unger kept himself hidden.
Ymir strutted into the classroom and sat down in his usual seat, in the back, near the door. They were alone for a moment. This was the classroom where he fucked Siteev Ckins. Maybe if Della wanted to destroy her life, she’d start with the barbarian. He might be dead in a week anyway.
No, the Honored Princept wanted Haylee.
And she could have neither.
The clansman spoke up suddenly. “You haven’t seen anything more about me and the Third Exam next week, have you?”
Della had used her Flow vision to try to pierce the veil. She helped some scholars steer clear of trouble in StormCry. She warned the incoming Examiners about a storm on their way up to Old Ironbound. She’d had a vision of Haylee sleeping, alone in her bed. But she hadn’t seen anything more about Ymir. There was a mist around him, one she couldn’t penetrate. Before, she’d seen him punch Darisbeau because she’d been able to read the Cujan boy.
With Ymir, he was a mystery. She’d been lucky to see the Third Exam week’s attack.
I curse you. I curse you forever. Let the sleeper wake from the dream. Those words came back to the Princept. She didn’t say them.
“Where’s your head been at?” Ymir asked. “I think I know. I’ve seen you look at a certain new professor. I wouldn’t expect you to lose your focus over a pretty face.”
The Princept moved from the window and walked to the front of the classroom. “I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about. I have talked to Gharam about your situation. During the Third Exam week, you’ll live in the Imperial Palace, in an empty room. You’ll take your exam, but when you aren’t there, you’ll be in the Librarium, in your seat. You won’t be alone in any of those places. Agneeyeshka will guard you. I’ll continue with my Flow visions. We won’t let anything happen to you.”
“That would be fine,” the clansman said. “Unless the assassin sent the demon for Jenny, and in that case, she’ll die as well.”
“She and Lillee Nehenna will be with you.” Della had seen Jennybelle laying lifeless on stone steps. The Princept had seen the shadowy hands around Ymir’s throat, choking him.
“Speaking of Jenny,” the Princept said. “She received another sand letter. She can pick it up in the Imperial Palace, next to the sand chamber, across from the infirmary. She can cast a simple identify spell, Flow magic, to access it.” It was a new procedure; Della had perfected that piece of magic. There was a series of locked cubbies, and they would only open if the person matched their letter.
“I’ll tell her.” Ymir stood and walked to the front of the classroom.
“You three are as thick as thieves.”
“Thieves or assassins,” he agreed.
That word pierced the Princept like a spike of ice. Assassins weren’t tight. It was hard to kill for a living and keep close friends. Of course, she didn’t say any of that. She only stood tall and looked Ymir in the eye. She had to tilt her head a bit since he was so tall.
He squinted at her. “You know, Della, if you need to talk, I would listen. You look haunted.”
“By ghosts?” she laughed. “Some say Old Ironbound is surrounded by ghosts. Some say the Vempor Aegel Akkridor himself wanders the halls of his old fortress, wondering how it has all gone awry for him.”
“Ghosts. I have a question about that.” Ymir grinned. She’d changed the sub
ject.
Did he really think she’d tell him, of all people, her woes and secrets? Of course not. So she talked of Aegel Akkridor. She knew Nile Preat was discussing such things in Ymir’s history class.
“Ask your question,” Della said. “I’ve been thinking of ghosts a lot lately.”
The clansman did just that. “Akkridor. Akkir is a word for royalty. That, I understand. I came across the word akkor, though, and that has similar origins, I think. The double K consonant. But it means other-spirited. Would that be a ghost?”
“Ghost, demon, or angel,” the Princept said. “This is the other, the unknowable. Some people think that Aegel’s ancestor, Aeno, sold his soul and the souls of all his kin to the seven devils. That’s why he chose the name Akkridor for his family name. You could translate that to demon king.”
“Akkir Akkor.” It was like Ymir was trying those words out in his mouth. “Yes, I can see that. How do you think Aegel Akkridor died?”
“I think a clansman came down from the north and killed him.” The words spilled out before she could stop them. She regretted them immediately.
They made Ymir smile. “You southerners couldn’t handle your demon king, so one of us northerners had to do it for you. I like the idea.”
“Of course you do.”
Other scholars filtered in, and Ymir drifted back to his seat. She thought she heard him whisper a spell as she walked back and forth, talking about the roots of Homme in the Theranus language, and how that spilled into Pidgin.
The barbarian’s irises weren’t brown then, they were a bright blue. He sat unmoving. He was lost in a vision, his own Flow magic, and she wondered what he was seeing.
He left class quickly before she could ask.
Della, done with her work, hurried down to smoke a kharo stick behind the Chapel of the Tree, under the eaves. It was raining again. The church was built on the very edge of the southern cliffs. Below was StormCry, barely visible in the fog and rain. The StormLight lighthouse was visible, the light flickering as it rotated. The white lines of surf, blurred in the weather, traveled toward the fishing village.