Not everyone reading this is a historian or even has a passing knowledge of history, especially reaching into the previous Strata. Intellectually, I understand that. Yet there are times I have trouble grappling with the simple fact that my life is history. I shaped, and was shaped by, the events of the past. However, I did not have a hand in everything, or even most things. Even events that transpired right outside my door.

The following vignette occurred during what was later called the Holiite Zatrikriona. At the best of times, Castellandria was a nest of vipers, and with the Heacharid siege still a recent memory, these were not the best of times. I remained a bystander in this power struggle, and in fact was not even aware of it until battle lines had been drawn and both sides committed. The violence never spilled out into the streets. Thus I, and many Castellandrians, looked upon the Zatrikriona as a time of peace.

I took it also as a time to set my plans, so long percolating, into motion. I threw myself into research on Zuunkhorun. I learned everything I could about both country and the people who called it home. I spent much time in the Grand Library of Castellandria, devouring every text they had, from histories to biographies to cultural treatises and so forth. Zhahllaia and Maireili joined me in this endeavor, Zhahllaia concentrating on politics, while Maireili learned culture. In addition, Zhahllaia taught us both Zuunese, spoken in the interior of the country, as well as the dialect of Hecharian spoken in the two places the kingdom connected to the outside.

The dominant tribe within were unlike any others in Aucor in appearance and custom. Originally from the western coast of Jhobai, they journeyed across the Azure Ocean to colonize a piece of the continent, subjugating the local humans and sending the local dwarves into their stone halls in the Zuunkhor Mountains to be ruled as vassals.

Those mountains, craggy and forbidding, enclosed Zuunkhorun on three sides, with only a few treacherous passes leading into the fertile valley within. The eastern edge of the kingdom was a windswept coastline with a single bay worthy of the name. Two cities, one on this bay, and the other on the western edge of the kingdom where the Zuunkhor Mountains parted, were the only easy ways in. It was the most defensible place on the continent.

This was how the Zuun people had managed to maintain their foothold and why the Heacharids had never truly conquered them. Zuunkhorun was a client kingdom, paying tribute, but never truly submitting the way the bulk of the continent did. It was the perfect place for my aims, though I could not go in ignorance.

While I conducted research, I turned to the task of raising my children. Though this volume is not intended to be about them, I believe it is germane to mention them. So many of them would make some mark upon the world, and I believe that since this is about my paramours, the results of our love have some value to the work as a whole. Forgive me if I too often prattle on about my children, but I am a proud father to a mighty brood.

Threch was still in the midst of his adventures and would not return for several years and when he did, it was with a family of his own. Letters arrived infrequently, sketching the broad strokes of his exploits. He was not an adventurer because I was. He and I merely shared the same curiosity about the world and the wanderlust to push us to the road.

Belazei, though not grown by the standards of her people, was grown enough by our own. Some of her friends had become fishers, and she assisted them in finding the best spots to drop their nets. Her continuing project had been the cartography of the seafloor, and she had assembled impressive maps. I watched her sometimes, face locked in concentration, as she altered one detail or another on her papers.

Arkohnus was showing signs of becoming the beloved Black Rose of Ironmotte. He was obsessed with tales of Chassudorian knights, already talking about becoming a squire and taking vows. He was serious in his fencing practice with Shaluvia and he was learning horsemanship at the one stable that would accept a darkling child. This was where he would soon meet Sir Gereon of Rhandonia.

Faustan's destiny was bound by his gifts. I believe he would have wanted to join Arkohnus in such martial pursuits, but he was a wizard. He was a fount of untold power, and allowing it to grow untrained and unmastered would be the rankest folly. Fortunately, he embraced his studies more often than not, and his skill grew by the day.

Malycent had enough of her mother in her that I was not in the least surprised when she spent much of her time running about and waving a wooden sword. I thought she would be an adventurer or a freeblade, and she would in the fullness of time, turn out to be both.

As for the smallest, Sabrael was recently weaned and the twins were learning to speak. Sabrael was quiet and shy like her mother, while the twins were active and outgoing. It was an exciting time to be a father. Every time was exciting to be a father.

My dear friend Lyta Sullac chose to visit, and she stayed for some months. I do not think what followed would have happened had I not so recently been shown how much I valued having a colleague. We spent our days discussing the results of our various research and nights in each other's arms.

I was not the only one to enjoy the visit. Lyta's husband Jassam was besotted with Ujaala, and the two of them were inseparable for the duration. Lyta's wife Saroya enjoyed her reunion with Tanyth's three handmaids, and Shaluvia once again found shattering joy with Lyta's golem Teht. She was kind enough to put on a show for us, and though she lasted longer than she had before, by the time the brute was through with her, she was once again a boneless mess.

During our conversations, I showed Lyta the strange creature I had found in Thabban's stronghold. She had more expertise in such things than I, her magic far more focused on the imbuing of objects with power.

"It is powerful, I know that," she said, turning it over in her hands.

I chuckled. "I knew that much."

After some examination, she said, "It smells of travel magics, but I can't see the precise contours. Not without serious study."

I thanked her, and though we looked into the object a little more, all we were able to determine that it would facilitate travel to someplace far away. Those who know my story have already figured out what this was, but it would not become apparent until long after my time in Zuunkhorun had ended.

One night after a vigorous session of loveplay, we lay entwined in bed, our limbs sheathed in sweat. Her head pillowed on my chest, I gently stroked her hair and asked the questions that danced through my mind. I was curious as not only as to the method she used to seize Mairault, but how she had kept hold of it.

"It is a strange combination," she murmured, her voice low after her happy cries. "You must be subtle about your aims, about the power you have, but you must also be loved. You must have the populace beg you to take more power, and you must always refuse but still take what is offered. The crowd wants a leader, but does not trust one who too openly longs to lead."

"You are not the ruler in name."

"No," she said. "I do not think I would change that." I suspect Lyta would deny saying this later, for she would take direct control over Mairault. She did not do this until I was formally crowned Tyrant, so perhaps I had something to do with it. In any case, her line would rule Mairault until the oceans drank the Turquoise.

"How then?"

"It is a method of power. Exchanging one for the other. We, as wizards, have power to help. Use it. Do not wait for permission, do not even wait to be asked. No matter the problem that exists, there will be those already trying to solve it. They are the ones who know what they need and how you can most ably assist. Find them, talk to them, then do what they need. Ask for nothing in return, for you will receive gifts in plenty. Become known first as a benevolent presence, and you will be loved."

"I think I take your meaning."

She traced designs in my chest with her finger, looking up at me with her emerald eyes. "You do not ask without motive. You plan to do what I did."

"Something like that."

"Good," she said. Her hand snaked between the sheets, finding my staff. Her silken touch wrapped about me, still slick with the two of us. I began to swell. "Was that enough rest for you, Bel? Ready for a second bout?"

I laughed. "This is why you needed a golem."

Her wide mouth spread in a smile. "I know what I am. And you feel to be ready to me."

Lyta and her mates left not long after, and soon Zhahllaia came to me, as though she knew that my thinking had arrived at the conclusion she would give. "It's time. We know everything we will." The diminutive djinn was quite certain, her gold-flecked eyes hard.

"I know," I sighed. I looked upon my oldest friend. She had not aged a moment since I first summoned her from her lamp. She was tiny and exquisite, her bronze skin sparkling with its metallic undertones. She clasped her hands behind her back as she often did, an officious pose at odds with her nudity.

She regarded me. "You were meant for this. I saw it in the apprentice I first met at Thunderhead, and I see it more in you now. Send us, Master Wizard."

"I don't like being away from you."

She smiled, her expression softening. "I know. I will miss you, but I do this for all of us."

I sent them. Zhahllaia, Maireili, and Zhahllaia's warmaid Astar boarded a ship the following day, bound for Uraraoi, the single port city on the eastern coast of Zuunkhorun. They knew their goals well, and I could tell them nothing else. I had to trust that they would return to me successful and unharmed.

Of course, I could not remain unaware of the Zatrikiona forever. I learned of it on one night I had expected to do little save kiss the ring. The Doge had summoned the leading citizens to the Great Basilica for a fete, which he did a few times every year to reaffirm his control of us, and show off the power of his office. He couldn't have intended to provide a better contrast with Lyta had he tried.

My family was not equally known in the city, of course. Tanyth and Lysethe were famed, the former as the Angel of Castellandria, and the latter as the Heaven's Fire. One had brought relief to those suffering under the Heacharid siege, the other had summoned vengeance from the skies. Tanyth was beloved and Lysethe feared. Zhahllaia, Sarakiel, and Maireili were known only to friends and intimates.

Sarakiel stayed home with the children that night, assisted by the little sister of one of Belazei's friends, a young darkling named Adoel. She often watched the children, and we trusted her like a member of the family. I suspect both Arkohnus and Faustan nurtured a first love for her. It did not surprise me in the slightest that Faustan's first wife was a Castellandrian darkling. A lovely woman, her.

Tanyth, Lysethe, Quiyahui, and I went to the Great Basilica. I wore my elven robes and Kharsoomian crown. The Doge could remind me of his status, and I might as well remind him of mine. Tanyth wore one of her iridescent gowns, her crimson curves a shadow within, along with her crown. Her glossy black hair sparkled with amethysts. Lysethe wore the red enameled plate armor Tanyth had recently purchased for her. This was not the famous suit she wore in Zuunkhorun, but rather an ancestor to it. Her white tabard featured a feathered serpent in blue.

We passed beyond the guards standing by their burning braziers, making our way into the main hall where the Doge liked to host his guests. This was where the fabled wealth of Castellandria could be flaunted to all. As we entered, Quiyahui immediately slithered up to the ledges above, where she perched among the glittering statuary.

As soon as we entered, the Doge's eyes found me. I was surprised when he beckoned me over. Though I was expected to pay my respects, he never summoned me, instead making me wait while he greeted others. As we approached, I noted that while the Doge was an oily man at the best of times, he seemed damper than usual that night. His forehead glistened with feverish sweat, despite the room being comfortable.

"Lord Belromanazar," he said by way of greeting, and I was taken aback when he spoke my title, which he never did. "Princess Tanyth, you are lovely as usual. And brave Lysethe. It is my honor to host the valorous defenders of the great city."

"The honor is ours," I said carefully.

"Your Holiness, we are always pleased to accept any invitation to this great place," Tanyth said.

"I've been meaning to ask you to my council, my lady."

"Your council?"

"I know what they call you. Mother Mercy. The Angel of Castellandria. The crowd adores you."

"I merely filled a need during a difficult time."

"The dark secret of Castellandria is that there are no easy times," said the Doge. "The city could use her Angel, alleviating such times before they occur."

"I will give it some thought."

"We would, of course, need to give you title. A stipend," he mused. "And you, Belromanazar, having you close by would no doubt make everyone feel safer."

"Do you expect another invasion?"

"A wise man always expects such." He looked past us. "Please, excuse me. We can speak more later."

I watched him make his way to the head of the Stevedores' Guild. "What was that about?" I mused.

Tanyth stared at me with a mixture of love and pity. "Oh, my beautiful boy."

"What?" I looked to Lysethe, and saw only confusion in her red eyes.

"Do you not notice any significant absences here?"

"No one else from the Owls?"

"Priscus Kurkuas."

I looked about for the hawk-faced holy man. He was one of the Doge's closest advisors, with a reputation for cunning and ruthlessness. He was never far from the Doge, except that night, when he was nowhere about. "Where is he?"

"He and our Doge have been in a power struggle, Bel. Wrestling over who the Doge might be."

"What's that to do with us?"

"Nothing, but that is why he is so intent on courting the favor of our family. Like it or not, we have significant power."

"I suppose we do."

"I suspect many in this room, and outside of it, wonder where we might find ourselves."

"My preference is that we stay out of it," I said.

"Mine as well," agreed Tanyth. "There can be power in that too."

"You sound like Zhahllaia."

"Do I?" she asked with a fetching smirk. "She will be pleased to hear it."

I feel I must apologize for the chronology here. This is a muddier time in my mind than most and unfortunately, I will have to reckon time based on my children. I remember this particular night because the twins slept through it. They were better sleepers than little Sabrael, who I'm afraid was an insomniac all her days. She was always a deep thinker, and in the dark of night often found herself trapped with her own dark musings.

That night, I was out on the balcony, watching lightning dance on the horizon. Even in storms that did not spring from my will, I found a pleasant sense across my spirit, like the caress of a long-absent love. I stroked Quiyahui's head, watching each brilliant shaft of skyfire, wondering when the wind would sweep east and find us. My thoughts, as they often did, turned to my absent brides. I fretted over their safety, and wished them back by my side.

"My lord?" I turned and found Ku-Tala leaning on the jamb. She wore only her collar, her scarlet skin shining in the moonlight.

"Yes?"

"Princess Tanyth sent me to fetch you."

"Tell her I'll be along in a minute."

"Yes, my lord."

Ku-Tala was a quiet little thing, so unlike her brash people. I had not gotten to know her well, other than our occasional tumbles, where she served more than adequately. I nearly called her back before reflecting that spending in her when Tanyth desired a bout of love was a foolish impulse.

I rose, and a tingle worked through my body. At first, I assumed it was anticipation for the delights awaiting me in the bedchamber. Yet it ran not from my loins into my belly, but up my spine, spreading through my body on a widening web of light. The storm on the horizon grew no closer, but I felt it on my skin, a wind and rain ready to envelop Azureview.

The ring on my left hand whispered to me. Diotenah's ring, containing a piece of the fell necromancer's soul, raked its soft syllables over my mind. The words were past my hearing, if indeed any were actually spoken, but the meaning was clear. Whatever remained of the necromancer's soul was pleased about something. Strange, as the ring only awakened when I used my power.

Lightning flashed over the water, closer than any thus far. For a moment, the balcony was illuminated as bright as day. Two dripping shapes stood on the far end. I didn't know how long they had been there. They were utterly motionless, and as the light faded from the initial strike, I stared at them, trying to understand their bizarre silhouettes.

As my dazzled eyes recovered, the first thing I made out was the worms of lightning crawling over their rotting forms. Their shape was roughly human, but coral, clusters of barnacles and mussels, even anemones grew from them, making their outline alien and diseased. They wore the tattered remnants of armor, rusted and rotted, and they carried spears and shields in similar state of decay. They were stormwights. I would know they were mine even if I did not feel the connection that bridged us. I could not understand where they had come from, as I had not created any since the rout of Prince El's forces in far Kharsoom.

"Tent brother," whispered one.

"We have returned to you, tent brother," whispered the other.

My heart gripped me in a fist of ice. I knew their names, but I could scarce believe the horror. "Einoë? Kallea?"

"We have returned to you, tent brother," whispered Einoë. I saw now what remained of her once-beautiful features.

"Our vow has not been discharged," hissed Kallea. She too had only tiny pieces that were recognizable, not destroyed by decay or the sea creatures growing on her body.

"How are you speaking?" I murmured. The horror of seeing my boon companions, lovers, and friends in such a state warred with my own curiosity to know how and why they had returned to me. Stormwights were mindless creatures, silent save for the soft rattle of air through their bodies. They could not hold to vows. They would not seek me out unless I summoned them. They could not speak.

They had been in the ocean, that much was obvious thanks to the sea life growing over their ruined forms. Had they been beneath the water since Naeri's Revenge had gone down in the Turquoise? Had they been following me for all these years, walking through the crushing black depths of the ocean, only finally catching me here?

"We are your hetairoi," hissed Einoë.

"We will trade our lives for yours," whispered Kallea.

"You have no more vow to me," I said. "You protected me unto death. I slew you." Diotenah's whispers clawed my mind, echoing her approval at this horrible state.

"We are here, tent brother."

"We are yours still."

Quiyahui watched them, not an ounce of wariness in her muscular coils. I approached them, their scent heavy with the ocean, cut with the clean aroma of rain. I spoke to them for a time and found that they were not quite as they were. Some part of my hetairoi was truly dead, never to return. Yet a piece had persisted, unlike every other stormwight I had ever incarnated. They had some measure of will, some ability to think. I thought, then, that it must have been the vow they took. Their sense of honor had transcended death.

I would not turn them away. I had not intended to turn them into this, and had only struck them down at their insistence. Yet I owed them my loyalty as much as they had given me theirs. Similarly, I would not end them for good. I knew they would not look at their present state as desecration, but rather an honor. They had defeated death and would continue to serve.

I sent Quiyahui to fetch Tanyth, Sarakiel, and Lysethe. They were momentarily shocked at the sight of stormwights, but these were far from the first they had ever seen. Lysethe remembered the two of them from her time as my prisoner. We discussed what would be done, and agreed that they would need to be hidden away, at least for now, so as not to frighten the children.

"Rest?" Einoë asked as our deliberations came to a conclusion.

"Rest," I confirmed.

"We will serve when you command, tent brother," said Kallea.

We moved them to a seldom-used part of the house, and later had caskets made for them. There, after decades of wandering, they were able to rest.

I was not prepared for how Kurkuas would gauge my intentions. It was perhaps a month after my hetairoi had returned to me and I was with the Owls, looking over the map. I wondered if I stared long enough at Zuunkhorun, if I could somehow see Zhahllaia and Maireili going about their task.

"There you are, my lord," said the familiar voice, as sweet and rich as aged mead.

Varanaya of the Seven Shrouds entered the room as she entered every room, as though she owned it and everyone within. She had the bearing of a noble, and claimed a title, though I did not know if it was inborn or one she had obtained later as I had. She hailed from Tabiyya, with deep, lustrous brown skin and tawny eyes with an alluring slant to them. Her features were refined, nearly elven in their proportions. She was nearly as tall as I, with a long, swanlike neck and a slender figure clad in an elegant gown. Her long, black hair was pinned up with jeweled combs, and more jewels glittered from her wrists, fingers, and throat. On her shoulder, a silk manta perched, looking like a scarf until it moved one of its fins.

Though she was one of only three wizards in the Owls who lived in Castellandria, she and I had a strained relationship. I always had the impression she wasn't fond of me. Her use of my title took me aback. I never insisted upon it, but I often measured a person's attitude toward me by whether or not they used it.

Those who know where this story ends know that my wariness of her was not unwarranted. Yet I do not wish to give the impression she was evil. She was often selfish, yes, but so am I. I am also arrogant enough to believe that the world needs my shaping, as was she. Many of the same flaws were in both of us.

I believe the fundamental difference between Varanaya, my great rival, and me, is that she did not have a Zhahllaia, nor a Tanyth, nor an Allegeth, nor a Kyshaelyn or any of the others. What virtues I lack can be found in them, and I am keen to avail myself of their wisdom. Yes, Varanaya had her husbands and her concubines over the centuries, but she did not value their counsel.

"My lady," I said with a short bow. I confess I do not remember the Tabiyyan word for her title, though I know it was as minor as mine. Ujaala was the one Tabiyyan in my life at that time, she knew less about the land of her birth than I.

"I was hoping to speak with you."

"About anything specifically?"

"We are both wizards and yet there has always been distance between us. There is none between you and Iago, and I hoped you and I could find some closeness."

"Iago and I bonded during the Heacharid invasion. War has a way of making friends of acquaintances and brothers of friends."

"Ah yes. I was away."

"You were lucky."

"I was. Several of my husbands were here. I fear the events somewhat traumatized them. They spoke in glowing terms of your heroism."

"I was far from the only one on the walls."

"True, though I understand you were the one the enemy feared."

"I battled them in Axichis. They brought their fear from the Turquoise."

"When I was finally able to return home to the city, I confess, I was surprised to hear your name on so many lips. Almost as many as that of your wife."

I broke into a proud smile. "Tanyth is a remarkable woman. She saw what needed to be done and did it."

"And now there is a statue of her in Phrantolos Plaza."

"Why this interest in Tanyth?" I asked.

"Durrack talks about her a great deal."

I chuckled. "I believe Durrack nurtures a love for her."

"He is a romantic. Lord Belromanazar, I would be grateful if you would dine with me at my home. Please, bring your wives. Let us put aside this tension and become friends."

"It would be my honor."

Sarakiel did not want to go initially, but Tanyth and I convinced her. I wanted to abide by the spirit of the invitation, which meant all of my wives in the city must attend. I hoped to quash whatever rivalry existed between myself and Varanaya, as no one needs a wizard for an enemy. Not even a wizard. No, we were not enemies, but such a thing was possible. I believe she sensed it as well.

Belazei agreed to take charge of the children, assisted by Adoel. Arkohnus insisted he too would be responsible, and I couldn't deny the lad the chance to prove himself.

I wore my fine elven robes, and Tanyth one of her trademark gowns. Sarakiel wore soft robes that dripped over her curves like candle wax, and donned her amulet, hiding her darkling features behind a veil of magic. Lysethe had to be talked out wearing armor. Tanyth put her in a red gown with a cloak, and she looked lovely, if concerned that she was not projecting the proper intimidating mien.

Varanaya lived on the other side of the Castelpont, facing the Turquoise. That area was a collection of expansive estates, one of the primary homes of the elite of the great city. We hired one of the city's famous carriages, and the driver took us to Varanaya's home without trouble. As with my own home of Azureview, hers was unobtrusive from the street, merely a doorway in a wall with a gate some distance away.

As we approached the doorway, it opened to reveal a shimmering golden silhouette of a human being which immediately swept into a low bow and then beckoned us into the home beyond. Varanaya's home was in the Castellandrian style, with tiers of balcony patios extending out from the cliffside, and other, more intimate rooms within. Unlike my home, hers looked to be built with a single purpose. Where mine was patchwork and labyrinthine, hers was designed with symmetry and harmony in mind. Her tiers of balconies were all connected with sweeping staircases, and densely planted with a variety of trees, vines, and flowers. It looked like the hanging gardens of an ancient potentate, which, I had to reflect, it was.

Varanaya waited for us in the center of her garden, framed by lustrous green all around her. She wore a golden gown on her elegant body, with missing panels at her waist, showing smooth expanses of brown skin. Her long hair was up, emeralds sparkling at every coil. A group of handsome men flanked her, a half-dozen humans from a variety of lands, a single hulking orc, a halfling, and a man who looked to carry elvish, orcish, and dwarvish ancestry. They all wore matching livery and formal, blank expressions.

"Welcome, Lord Belromanazar," Varanaya said.

"We are honored to be here, Lady Varanaya." I introduced my wives, and caught a moment of hesitation as Varanaya introduced her household, making clear that only two of the humans and the fellow of the mixed ancestry were husbands while the rest were concubines. I had the distinct impression that she had not intended to introduce them at all, and now, with the experience of knowing her for many years, I am now certain this was the case.

She ushered us down a single tier of her hanging gardens to a pair of tables set out under the night sky. One was set for two, the other was long, set for our mates. I shared a look with Tanyth, and found a combination of amusement and disgust in her violet eyes. We sat, and more of these shimmering golden creatures served us. Quiyahui expressed no wariness of them, and soon had retreated into the biggest of the trees to watch from above.

"What are these?" I asked.

"Servants can leave and slaves will rebel," she said. "Proper help requires an act of creation, a focus of one's magic."

"That does not quite answer my question."

"These are love."

"Love?"

"Donated from my mates, given form and substance, and now they take care of us with the care one might expect from that emotion."

"Does that mean they can't feel love?" I asked, nodding to her mates at the other table. Tanyth, with some nervous assistance from Sarakiel and Lysethe, was trying to engage them in conversation and not doing well.

"If you were to spit, does that mean you have no spittle left?"

"I think I understand. The edges, perhaps."

"Yes, this is what I am. An enchanter. You are more of an elementalist, the power of wind and water at your fingertips. Have you plumbed deeper?"

The food arrived, carried by more of the golden servitors. Varanaya set a fine table, with expensive meats, fresh fruits, bread and cheese, and wine. "Deeper?" I asked.

"How old are you?"

"I recently marked my first half-century."

She smiled. "So young. I spent my first mortal lifespan exploring the most obvious of my gifts. That is enough for the life of an adventurer, or country wizard. Even enough for a court mage. I had to look deeper. I knew I could enchant the minds and hearts of men, but was there not more? It was not until I reflected on a simple truth: desires are more trenchant motivators than reality. Does that not make them more real?"

"I don't understand."

"A leap, Belromanazar. Desire leads reality, does it not? Therefore, desire itself is real." She gestured to the golden shapes. "As you see."

I stared at them, and the enormity of what she said hit me. "I had never thought of that."

"Neither had I. The mortal lifespan is its own fetter. Once you are free of it, you will think of things in different ways. I knew a wizard, and he showed me the path. That is how it must be. You can be shown the path, but it is you who must walk it."

"Can you show me the path?"

"Perhaps."

"Is that why you called me here?"

"To expand the horizons of the Dreadstorm? It was on my mind. Iago speaks highly of you."

"You are friends?"

"Iago and I have been long acquainted," she said with a satisfied smirk that could mean only one thing.

"He is a good man."

"That he is. He has been a resident of the city for almost a century, in Burrow Downs." That was one of several halfling neighborhoods, that one on the Turquoise side of the Castelpont, built atop an old, fallen part of town. The halflings had repurposed the ruins, imbuing them with new life.

"How long have you lived here?"

"Three centuries, though I am not here always. I have homes elsewhere. I was at my estate in Tabiyya when the Heacharids invaded."

"My presence has been an eyeblink."

"Which explains perhaps some of my reticence. Lately, though, I realized I was being foolish. Even if you leave tomorrow, you are still a wizard. Thür is a big place, but not so big for our kind."

"True. I never bore you any enmity."

"I know," she said mildly. "But you never liked me."

"Also true."

"I appreciate the honesty. Tell me, how long do you intend to stay?"

"Not for very much longer, but I plan to maintain Azureview."

"That is your residence?"

I gestured at my concubine. "Sarakiel named it."

"She is lovely. She does not have to hide her darkling nature here."

"You see through her disguise?"

"I see her mind. I know what she is truly. I bear no enmity for her people. Their ancestors were the criminals, not them."

Sarakiel must have sensed our conversation, as she was watching us. Her indigo eyes were huge behind her spectacles.

"You can speak with her if you like," I said.

"I wouldn't presume. She is your creature."

"She is the mother of two of my children," I said, bridling at the dismissal of my love.

"Oh, I remember children," Varanaya sighed. "I had some myself, long ago."

"Is your line still intact?"

"I believe so. Every now and again, a young person shows up at my door claiming to be a descendent. I cannot prove they are not. I never bothered with my own genealogy."

"I imagine after a certain point it becomes nearly impossible to track."

"Indeed. We have to turn ourselves to a broader goal. The mortal person makes the world better for their children. For wizards, anyone could be a child. Or child of a child, and so forth and so on, and thus what we do must be for the world."

"I understand."

"Not every mortal has that kind of understanding. A foolish ruler can do incomparable damage."

"You're speaking of the Prince Regent."

She laughed. "Come now. You might not be as old as I, but you know he has no power. It is the church, and through the church the Doge."

"I confess I am not quite certain how the government of this city works."

"No one is."

"No, I mean, how the Doge holds power."

"He doesn't, not really. He sits at the head of a table, but he has innumerable guilds, factions, gangs, and so on to keep the ship of state moving. He has money, he has the faith, and most importantly, he has the Kallisites. It is amazing what one can get done with one's own elite army."

"He has a rival."

"He always does."

"A serious rival. Priscus Kurkuas, who you prefer."

She smiled. "I should not have thought to obfuscate my motives from you. You are still in your mortal span, but your mind is keen, already sharpened by a brush with immortals."

"I have been fortunate to meet a few."

"In answer to your question, yes. I will do you the courtesy of speaking plainly. Wolusian is corrupt and foolish. The Heacharid invasion should never have happened."

"I am no great admirer of our Doge," I admitted, "but I can't blame him for Heacharid aggression."

"Whom do you blame?"

"The Heacharids."

She chuckled. "I should have seen that answer. Yet you agree that our Doge is perhaps not suited to the power he has amassed?"

"It seems to me that power seldom finds itself in the hands of one who will use it for the greatest good."

"You will not support Wolusian or Kurkuas?"

"Unless Kurkuas is planning to help the darkling community." She smiled blandly, and I understood the negative. "I plan to stay out of any power struggles in the city. Whoever rules is no concern of mine, so long as they do not make it one."

"That is good enough for me."

"Is that all?"

"No, Belromananzar. I was genuine in my desire to know you, and to end any ill will that might exist between us."

"I too would like that."

She held up her goblet. "To a friendship too long deferred."

"Control," Lysethe said.

"I know, Mama," Faustan said, his little mouth set in a grim line. He stood by the shore, his bare feet dug into the sand, his brow furrowed as he pulled a line of water from the waves.

Lysethe and I stood nearby, putting the boy through his paces. Not far away, Belazei surfaced in the bay, watching us, then ducking below the water as Quiyahui playfully lunged for her.

Faustan's concentration wavered, and the water fell, freed of his manipulations. He sighed, his shoulders slumped. "I'll never get it."

I put a hand on his shoulder. "I thought that many times. You will get it."

"What did your master do when you couldn't, Papa?"

"Called me a clod and an idiot."

"That's awful."

"It's nothing compared to what your mother had to countenance." I wrapped a protective arm about Lysethe, and she sank into my embrace. "We want things to be better for you than they were for us."

"What will I know, when this is finished?" he asked.

"I don't know. Every wizard's gifts are different."

"Your Papa controls storms, I call sunlight," Lysethe said. "You look to have some mastery over water."

"I wish it were fire," he said.

"It could be," I said. "I spoke to another wizard. Varanaya."

Lysethe's mouth turned into the same line I had just seen on Faustan's face, and for a moment, I was overwhelmed with love for them both. I paused, kissing her cheek and hugging the lad. Both looked at me as though I had gone mad, and perhaps I had.

"In any case, she told me that one's gifts are often more multifaceted than we initially assume. They require exploration."

"I could start now!" Faustan crowed.

"First you master what is in front of you. Then you explore," I said.

My conversation with Faustan put Varanaya's words back into my mind and they would not leave. Though it was long months after our initial meeting, I sent a bird to her, asking if she would consent to show me what she had meant. Her bird arrived shortly thereafter, with golden feathers, and whispering to join her that afternoon. I went, eager to begin this journey into my gift.

The gate opened and her golden servitor escorted me to the central courtyard, where Varanaya waited. She was clad in a shimmering gown that reminded me somewhat of Tanyth's own style, but while my bride wore an iridescent white, this was a shining gold. She presented the image of an elegant and noble lady, every part of her radiating not only loveliness but power.

"Welcome," she said. "Please, come with me."

She led me to a central courtyard where a fountain bubbled, all manner of birds and butterflies frolicking through the happy foliage. I was blanketed in the sweet smell of flowers and the hum of the wings of butterflies. As we approached, I began to see an angle that should not have been possible. A turn, that, once taken, revealed a new side to the fountain that could not exist. It opened in an impossible way, revealing a doorway and a stone staircase spiraling upward and out of sight into nothing.

We passed through this door, my senses rebelling at the very notion. Though Varanaya was ahead of me, I could see her from every angle, climbing to me, past me, and before me at once. Her gown vanished, revealing her body, then was there again. My own clothing was at once there and not there. I felt my own mind expanding, trying to hold these paradoxes without breaking. The stairs widened and widened, every revolution giving the impression of a great cone stood on its point. Then it was not stairs, but an endless field of flagstone. Around us, a field of shimmering gold stretched into cloying mists.

She was at once facing me and away. Her gown was present. She was nude. "You have no place like this."

"A place that is not a place. I don't."

"You will, assuming you survive."

"What would kill me?"

"Most of our kind do not outlast our mortal spans. We grow weary, or careless. Of those who live beyond a century, most fall before their second or third. And so forth and so on. Time winnows us, even as we keep its blades at bay."

"How do you persist?"

"This is the first step along that path as well. You are infinite. Holding time's blade at bay is found on the path, but also by walking it. One fuels the other."

The angle shifted and somehow I looked not upon the mists of her sanctum, but upon Castellandria itself, as though I floated above the Castelpont. I watched centuries pass in the blink of an eye, or perhaps it was an eternity. The waves chewed away at the cliffs, and houses, shops, entire neighborhoods, plunged into the water. The city expanded, even as it shed parts of itself into the hungry waters of the sea.

I understood, in that moment, precisely what she meant.

She was before me, clad only in her jewels. A line of gold, decorated with emeralds spanned her slender waist. Her fleece was a perfect triangle between her legs, her pouting breasts capped with delectable brown nipples. At once, she was out of reach and atop me. The tip of my staff, warm and wet, rested against her orchid.

I felt as I had when I lay with Ksenaëe at Storm's Rest or Errishti in the ruins of Tele'kili. Each time, it was as though I could only perceive a tiny piece of them, and through the place we were united, I could feel a reservoir of power beyond. Where they were truly past mortal comprehension, Varanaya was not. She opened before me, and I saw her pathway, the inside of her mind. She was like a flower, each petal vast and containing a world of its own. Each one was overwhelming. Together they were a cacophony.

This flower of infinity bloomed behind her eyes. This was the great sea of power that roiled within her. I rose above it, blissfully no longer able to see everything, and the space I traveled into was my own. I felt it as certainly as I felt hers, an infinite place not of void but of potential. My mind, groping for understanding, showed me thick roots, slithering into soil turned to mud by torrential rains.

I blinked, into what I believe was the reality I knew. I lay between her thighs, my staff taking her from base to crown. She held me, her tawny eyes holding but the palest reflection if of the power I sensed inside her.

"Walk the path," she moaned, her flower milking me.

The pleasure sparked like thunderbolts, and I followed them backwards, into the sky. The flower of infinity below, I rose to an endless sky of cloud, each one pregnant with storm. Lightning caressed the world below while thunder growled its need. Rain filled me, longing to fall.

I thrust deeply into her, stoking the storm inside me. I felt the act in its entirety, beginning middle, and end, at once. From the teasing of lips and teeth and tongue, to the finishing, shuddering thrusts that emptied hot seed into hungry womb, it flowed over me without beginning or end. My mouth found hers, and as her tongue pushed past my teeth.

I stood in the icy caves in northern Chassudor, at the edge of the abyss I hurled the fell city of Vexacion the Iceheart into. This was the site of my first great victory. Those who have read The Fourfold Chronicle know the tale well. For me, that was the first moment I truly rode the waves of my power. When the storm flowed through me, shaped but not entirely controlled, I had thrilled in the unfettered power, and Vexacion, for the first time in his existence perhaps, had known fear.

Delicious pleasure ran over my staff. I looked down to find two Varanayas, perfect twins of each other, giving me a knight's kiss. One would run the flat of her tongue up me, then suck my head into her mouth. The other licked, then sucked, alternating her attentions with the first. They went in circles, one then the other, one then the other, their tawny eyes fixed on mine. I felt warmth at my back, a pair of hard nipples pressed to me, the softness of her belly. A third Varanaya ran her hands down my arms, her fingers entangling in the hair of one of those at my staff. She gripped hard, forcing her own duplicate to take me deep. I leaned back and kissed this dominant one, yet I tasted myself on her tongue as though I kissed the submissive.

"Do you see?" she purred into my mouth.

I opened my eyes without realizing I had closed them. I was in Adrax, by a small pool. This was a cherished memory, of the time I lay with Allegeth and first truly used my power for loveplay. Even then, I felt a surge of affection for the sorceress, and a gentle ache from her absence. I floated above, and I should have been inside my sweet sorceress, but instead, it was Varanaya I impaled. Below, I saw what should be Mythseekers and Redmarks, but each time, it was two Varanayas, frantically coupling.

Her hand turned my face to hers. Her hips moved against me, grinding in slow circles, taking me to the hilt. The clouds covered her body, blooming, undulating with her. Thunder rocked her, Lightning crawled over her curves.

Her brow sweetly furrowed, she gasped, "Yes, do you see?"

I took her with flesh and magic in equal measure. Her body held me, even as I felt the tendrils of her power at the corners of my mind. I felt her lust, her magic, the boundless reservoir of her, at the borders of me. My own bliss thundered inside, calling to fill her.

It was night, and I was on Axichis. The chamber was filled with writhing flesh. I recognized the scent first, the Axichan food and wine, the sweat and arousal of amazons. This was the orgy on Kleogara, the night before the battle. Now I gripped the hips of one Varanaya while she ate the sex of another. That one looked at me, her tawny eyes smoky.

"Now do you see?"

I felt on the verge of something. Perhaps it was the storm raging through my body, demanding to be emptied inside her. No, it was far more than that. I was among the clouds even as I pounded into her body. No, not among the clouds. I was the clouds. I was above Thür, a being of impossible grace.

Then she lay on the stone altar in the dead city at the edge of the Axoxcan. She was bent over, splayed. As I penetrated her, as her body wrung the pleasure from my thrusts. Each one filled me with more of Atauchi's own power. Except that now, it wasn't her that I felt. It was a widening of the roads into me. I saw the avenues through the clouds, the flashing within them, the thunder calling me home.

Varanaya shuddered in ecstatic bliss, but we were over Tele'kili then, ascending on a shaft of pure magic. We floated together, the only parts of our bodies touching was my staff inside her. The movement was the pulse of blood and caress of magic. Our bodies were filled with our potential, a golden light in hers, a pounding, frigid, blue-white for mine.

The bliss took us. She fell into the infinite flower, and I rose into the howling sky. We were wracked with shudders, connected only by a pure, sticky line of ecstasy. We were one in that moment, but it was a one of the sublime.

I was the storm itself. The rain fell from my clouds, the lightning's hunger abated. Now, as she had told me since we began, now I saw. The rain fell from my body, soaking into the ground. The ground drank deeply.

Waves lashed the rocks below Castellandria over the course of centuries. Centuries that passed in the blink of an eye. Rains soaked the earth. Plants blossomed, grew. Trees stretched to the sky, blotting out the sun like earthbound clouds. Animals lived in their branches of the trees, ate the fruits and each other. An entire world, beginning with rain.

The storm was the genesis. There could not be the other without that.

The pleasure was raw lightning within me. Where it hit, fire bloomed. Flowers of heat and light, and within them, the lambent sparks of life itself. The storm was only the beginning of my power. There was so much more to understand, to tap, to create, but in that moment I touched the edge. I had been swimming in the shallows, when a great ocean had been waiting. And to think, the world had been trying to tell me from the beginning, for what was my life but such a celebration?

I opened my eyes.

I lay in the silk-covered bed. I had no memory of going there, but I was not troubled. Varanaya lay next to me on her side, her hair disheveled. Between her legs, her ruff of fleece was matted with our juices.

"Do you understand now?" she asked, her tawny eyes flashing.

"The beginnings."

"You have so much more to explore," she said.

Now, I felt my magic as not merely power, but potential. I could glimpse the vast ocean inside me and I could not wait to swim.