When adults die we lose their accumulated wisdom of the past, but when children die we lose our hope for the future.

  - Unknown.

  Vincenzio leaned back in his chair, stretching his arms above his head in an attempt to appear relaxed. But the tension in his eyes betrayed him.

  “The long or the short of it?” he asked, his tone offhand.

  I mirrored his relaxed demeanor, offering a thin-lipped smile in response. “The short of it. But don’t skip any of the important details.”

  “One was young once, and a woman was involved,” he replied, almost flippantly.

  His answer raised more questions than it answered, leaving me frustrated. I worked hard to keep my expression neutral, and I believe I succeeded.

  “Come now, if a woman was involved, wouldn’t that make Salahaem an illogical choice? Such decisions are driven by sentimentality and emotion, and any connection of yours to them would be well-known, wouldn’t it?” I countered.

  He snorted in a vague amusement. “Too true by far. Logic is not often aligned with emotion, but in this case, it most assuredly is. Oftentimes, logic without emotion is stale and meaningless. Imagine how would one choose the color of one’s clothes if one were bereft of all emotions and followed logic’s instruction alone, I wonder.”

  Waving a hand in front of his face, he tried to brush my doubts aside. “And be not afeared on that account of them knowing me. What ties one had were made, broken, and forgotten long, long before your existence was even a concept considered. None alive of the Salahaem would remember me now.”

  Pausing for a moment, he raised his cups to his lips, but realized it was empty. He placed his cup down and poured himself another from the teapot, his eyes growing distant for a fraction of a moment.

  “As for the logic of it. Salahaem is weakened now, ever since a young slip of a girl dared to grasp its reins. It is old wisdom that in times of weakness when new friends are most welcome,” he explained with only a hint of pleading in his voice. “The other Great Houses would not give you the time of day if you paid them court. In this day and age, to take a foreigner in their exalted service would be preposterous.”

  I found myself being swayed by his words, yet there was an unease I could not shake—a feeling I couldn't quite place. Beneath his arguments lay layers of deception, all designed to lead to a predetermined conclusion. Unwilling to be swept along, I challenged him again.

  "And if their power and influence are so diminished, they'd make a poor shield against the Guild’s reprisal. What help could we realistically expect from them to achieve your… our goals?" I asked, suspicion lacing my words.

  The Necromancer fought for justice against forces and entities beyond my understanding. My own goal was more immediate, though no less ambitious—I needed his scroll, the key to unlocking a new path of power through his dark magic.

  "The Adventurer’s Guild has never been fully embraced by all the factions that rule this city," the Necromancer explained, his voice carrying the authoritative tone of a teacher. "Relying on outsiders for the city's vital defenses is a weakness. In the past, Al-Lazar hired soldiers and men-at-arms out of necessity, for survival and prosperity. But now, the city has grown complacent, hiring mercenaries out of convenience. Salahaem, however, clings to the old belief that the city should be largely self-reliant. A mercenary can never be trusted in the most desperate times," he continued, his demeanor as precise as that of a lecturer. "Salahaem is the logical choice, and, truly, the only choice."

  "In summary, with the Aranthian Bulls of Heaven situation... resolved... there's been turbulence in the broader political landscape. This, in turn, presents one with an opportunity to exploit. No matter who throws the stone, it will always sink," Vincenzio concluded.

  "What is that supposed to mean?" I snapped, frustrated by the use of cryptic idioms.

  "It means, young man, that certain outcomes are inevitable once events are set in motion," he replied, his tone teetering on the edge of patronizing. “We are in agreement?”

  “Yes, though I have my fair share of doubts,” I conceded.

  He nodded. “Good. Cultivate your doubts. You will need them when dealing with the houses of Al-Lazar.”

  Vincenzio had made his case, and I could find no reason to say not. It was time to cast fate’s die.

  “Just see to it that my things are delivered to the Begonia’s Shade. I must look the part if they are to take me in their service.”

  *****

  Larynda helped me don my Aranthian harness in a brisk and practiced manner with a small smile on her face. No doubt the whole ritual of it must have reminded her of a more innocent time. Over the layer of steel, I wore the flowing garb of the local people dyed in black. Not that I needed to, of course, the heat barely touched me with my elevated attributes.

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  Larynda wore a richly adorned abaya of marble white, woven with a warp gold thread and weft of fine silk, the badge of her rank on her chest. A curved dagger hung from her a red sash that was cinched around her slender waist. Underneath all of this, she wore a padded jerkin which I knew was wired with steel to help turn a cut. She shouldered her two staves on her back, a proclamation that she had been touched by Mana. A checkered headscarf contrasted sharply with her attire, completing her striking appearance.

  A large palanquin was waiting for us outside, manned by a team of half-naked men of muscled dark bronze and uniform height and stature. It seemed we would be traveling in style, if not at speed.

  The Necromancer sat atop the palanquin, exuding an imperious air. His pale complexion stood in stark contrast to the dusky porters, making me half-expect him to wither or burst into flames under the sun's rays. As the men set the palanquin down, he made a regal gesture, inviting us to join him.

  The palanquin was shaded, the seats soft velvet and comfortable. Once aboard we set off at a brisk pace, the palanquin surprisingly smoother than I thought it would be. We cut through the crowd like a fast ship through he waves. I could get used to this.

  “How is our lever this morning?” opened up the Necromancer with a smile.

  Larynda's brow furrowed in puzzlement. “And a good morning to you too, Vince. What are you going on about a lever?”

  His smile tightening a fraction, the practitioner of the dark arts replied, “Why if the monster Kaila and the damned head of the Guild are the rock then…”

  “Gilgamesh is to be our lever? That’s what you're about?” finished Larynda resignedly.

  Vincenzio gave her a clap of approval. “You are many things Larynda, but one is once against reminded that stupid you are not. Yes, Gil is to be the lever, and Salahaem will make sure that our lever does not break.”

  “One accepts that most backhanded of compliments,” Larynda replied with a nod of her head, mimicking Vincenzio’s pitch, manner, and tone.

  I had to stifle a giggle.

  “Early hour jests and japes aside, one must remind you to be on your best manners. We meet with one of the most powerful women…”

  “A woman? I thought we were to meet with the head of Salahaem?” I asked perplexed.

  “Unlike in other lands, the two are not necessarily exclusive here in Al-Lazar. The current leader of Salahaem is the Lady Aelayah. Come to think of it, one does believe she is of an age with you young Gilgamesh. Still, the pair of you must mind your manners. Just be silent, answer only when questioned, and do as I do,” he warned like a nagging mother. “One simply must insist that you let me do the talking.”

  I drummed my fingers against the wood of the palanquin, looking down at the people around us, before nodding at the Necromancer in resigned agreement.

  *****

  I was told that House Salahaem had fallen from grace, weakened by its rivals, and fallen on bad times. The sight before my eyes challenged this, for before me was a glory of architecture and a bold testament to its wealth. The ransom of nations, I was sure, could be found here.

  We were escorted by men clad in scale, each piece of armor burnished to a gleam and edged with gold, their movements precise, almost regal. Their professional silence spoke of discipline and a trained and wary vigilance.

  As we walked, the garden surrounding the palace revealed a mastery of nature itself—manicured lawns that seemed as if lifted from a master’s landscape painting, and trees shaped into forms that teased the eye with their impossible shapes and symmetry. Among them roamed birds of vibrant plumage, their flightless forms drifting with the dainty grace of nobility, pecking at the earth as if it were their royal right.

  The palace, for such it could only be called, was named the Place of the Dancing Water or Mahdi Al-Maraquis. The name, far from being a fanciful exaggeration, was an understatement. Everywhere, fountains of crystal water rose and fell, the sound a symphony of gentle murmurs and lively gurgles. The palace itself seemed to breathe with the rhythm of the water, a living thing of marble and stone.

  Larynda beamed with delight, her wide smile reflecting the wonder in her eyes as she took in every marvel around us. Her expression mirrored my own sense of awe. But to Vincenzio, the sights held no such enchantment.

  Upon entering the palace proper, the air changed, the heat of the day banished by an almost preternatural coolness. Solid columns of water cascaded from domed high ceilings, seemingly disappearing into a marble floor the color of a calm sea. As we made our way deeper into the heart of the palace, more and more servants appeared, each bowing low in silent deference. They moved with grace and efficiency, and I felt that their presence was a part of the architecture itself.

  A door of black wood, inlaid with mother of pearl and white gold was opened as a rotund fat man heralded our arrival.

  We had arrived at the court of House Salahaem and I stepped into a whole new world.

  Above me, the ceiling was painted so realistically that for a moment, I believed I had stepped outside. Only the highly stylized golden sun at the dome's apex and the stillness of the clouds above reminded me that I was still indoors.

  Not wanting to appear like a country bumpkin, I forced my gaze down, focusing instead on the people of House Salahaem's court. Nearly everyone bore the features of Al-Lazar, but they carried themselves with a distinct poise—no stooped shoulders or downcast eyes here.

  The herald announced us again, stamping his staff upon the blue marble floor, silencing the gossip and conversation that shadowed us, the new arrivals.

  “Vincenzio the Alchemist of the Adventurer’s Guild… and his companions!” he announced to all, a note of disturbed annoyance in his booming voice.

  Vincenzio moved to the center of a hall at a stately pace before a woman lazily reclining sideways on a raised elegant chaise. Dragging us in his wake, we had no choice but to follow. Not a woman, but a girl by my estimation, only a little older than Larynda, I corrected.

  The girl was most attractive, her skin a bit paler than the other Lazarians, likely because the sun had rarely graced her with its touch. Her long dark brown hair framed a comely oval face, and for a moment, I compared her to Zariyah, finding that she was nearly her equal. One arm rested on the chaise, supporting her chin, and her other hand lay on a shapely thigh. Her cream dress was cut low, and she wore this almost scandalous attire with royal pride. Her manner and poise unsettlingly combined youthful innocence with a mature sensuality.

  Yet, this was not the most striking thing about her. Hers was the most curious and strangest of gazes. In her left eye, were two irises of crystal azur surrounding two small pupils, while her right was a completely different lush shade of emerald green altogether. This unusual combination of polycoria and heterochromia gave the beautiful Lady Aelayah an almost otherworldly aura. It was disturbing and most alien in its aspect.

  As I observed her, I thought to myself, If this is the leader of the once-great House, it's no wonder they've grown weak.

  Still, I knew it was wise to keep this particular opinion to myself.