I put my hand on his small shoulder when he hesitates, feeling again the satin softness of his scales against my skin.

  “The scaled ones thought the way to water lay in the Aethid,” Threenut says, watching Burl with sad eyes. “Ye remember the iron jaws ye saved me from?”

  “The whole place was like that,” Burl says softly. “That’s what they say, at least. The whole damn place. A house of techno horrors. The four strongest Corps went in, and only one came out. They barely even got any of the pointy-earred assholes.”

  “That’s why they’re in the lead,” I say softly.

  “Yeah. When the protections went down, they just huddled in the middle of a murder maze they’d been building like they knew it was coming.” Burl’s snout curls back from his teeth. His slitted eyes bore into mine. “Any chance they did?”

  “No way to tell, but I doubt it. I think that’s just who they are. Lasers and traps and trickery.”

  “Not much else to tell,” Burl continues, gesturing up towards the glowing list. “Urnza apparently have the strategic thought process of a disease, which meant they spread out and caused a bunch of mayhem eating whatever they could find. And softskins…”

  “Yeah, I was there.” Flaming willows, knives in the dark, bodies carpeting the ground. 96 humans left in this shard. So few. “Everybody who could took a shot. Which reminds me…”

  I turn and squint towards the sky. A few Qellis drift overhead, though they seem listless compared to their previous blithe arrogance. Losing a few thousand people will do that to you. I don’t see the royal that wanted a piece of me, but I do see his bodyguard. The creepy one, not the angry one.

  Identification: Qellis Competitor

  Level: 41

  Strengths:

  Weaknesses:

  Skills: Obfuscation

  I grit my teeth. Whatever ability this little faerie has, it manages to block almost everything even from Mythic Identification. Doesn’t seem super fair, considering how much energy I invested into the Skill for just this very purpose. The Qellis notices me watching almost immediately, returning my gaze stoically. Taking a deep breath, I raise my hand and beckon her over. She hesitates in the air for a moment before descending, stopping a healthy distance from us.

  “Yes, human?” she asks in a voice like a melodic whisper.

  “Did your master survive?”

  She searches my face for signs of deceit, and I take the time to study her in return. Her cheekbones and jawline are softer than most of the Qellis I’ve seen, more childlike. Long blonde hair the color of ripened wheat. I’ve no idea how to judge how old they are, but I’d imagine she’s on the younger side of the Qellis Competitors. She’d be cute, if she wasn’t clearly a deadly opponent representing the species of scam artists.

  “He did,” she says finally.

  “Can you bring me to him? I’ve got information I’d like to sell. Really, really valuable information.”

  “I am not sure…” She trails off, glancing towards the sky. Her uncertainty is disarming, her clothing simple and clean. She’s like the damn Otachai; too adorable and harmless for my stupid brain to register as a threat. But you don’t get to be level 41 through pacifism. “I will ask.”

  “Hey!” She pauses in her flight, glancing back over her shoulder. And through her translucent wing. “What’s your name?”

  Silence stretches between us, long enough that I start to count my heartbeats to pass the time. Fourteen, fifteen…

  “Almora,” she says finally.

  “I’m Sam!” I wave, grinning, probably looking like an idiot. “Nice to officially meet you, and thanks!”

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  She heads off towards the apartments, floating over the heads of the few passersby below.

  “Hey, I’m all for selling what we can, but doesn’t that guy hate you?” Burl asks after a moment.

  “Yeah, he does.”

  “If you’ve got some info to sell, isn’t he gonna try to gouge you?”

  “I’m sure he will.”

  “So what am I missing?”

  I glance down at him, knowing what I’m about to say is going to break his little capitalist heart.

  “I’m going to give him the information for free and let him decide what it’s worth.”

  Burl freezes like I just told him I planned on committing ritualistic murder. Of his family. His burnished scales turn paler.

  “Free?” he whispers, like it’s a sin too deep to speak loudly.

  “Free.”

  The Cobald puts his clawed hands over his face and makes a pained hiss deep within his gullet. Threenut, looking unconcerned, leans on his stick and reaches up to pat the distressed lizard’s back. After a moment, Almora reappears and beckons with one graceful hand. Burl and Threenut fall in as we wind through the streets towards a building of unremarkable construction near the apartments. I haven’t spent a ton of time investigating Haven, treating it more as a place to sleep safely than a location worth curiosity.

  That might be a mistake. The antechamber of the square building is filled with Qellis, many of them bearing wounds. Their adorable little faces all turn at our approach, a few glaring, many more whispering with open curiosity about the nature of our little group. There are several passages stretching onward, and Almora leads us to a hallway filled with glowing doors. Opaque white light blocks the view of each of the rooms beyond, making the corridor look like a nexus of portals leading to far away lands. Our guide stops before a portal seemingly at random, hovering in the air. With an uncertain smile, she floats to the door and disappears through the light.

  “Uh,” Burl says, a sentiment I share completely.

  No fucking way am I following a trickster fae into a portal to an unknown place. This is the kind of fairy tale where the kid doesn’t make it back from the adventure. A second later, Almora’s head peeks back through, looking confused. When she sees the look on our faces, she nods solemnly, most of her body hidden behind the barrier.

  “It is a barrier of sound and sight and nothing more,” she says softly. “For privacy. Haven’s protections do not allow for killing through deceit, or we would have advanced to the next stage of this tournament long ago.”

  The translation power turns her voice into the pseudo British ‘nobility’ voice popular in Hollywood, complete with pronouncing ‘privacy’ like you’d say ‘liv.’ I feel like I’m being invited in for extradimensional tea. Alice in Murderland. Shrugging, I step into the light. And pass through it like it doesn’t exist.

  His Royal Asshole Vurin the Scammer sits within, looking naked absent his hostile bodyguard. A bandage wrapped across his torso covers what looks like a large wound. His wings move gingerly. I’m almost impressed that the scent of a deal was enough to get his clearly-damaged body out of bed. He holds up a hand to stop us well out of range of any kind of conventional attack, though it brings me no small satisfaction to overlay a purple Strengthen field over him and… imagine.

  “This had best not be a waste of my time, human,” Vurin sneers after a moment.

  “What? No greeting? No salutations? Come on, Vurry, I thought we were friends!”

  “More disrespect? We’re done here,” he mutters, looking affronted and defeated as he waves us haughtily away. The move is only slightly ruined by the graceless tilt of his drooping wings. Almora immediately begins to crowd us towards the glowing door, but I peer over her shoulder to speak to her master.

  “How’d you like to know about the mysterious Ninth?” I ask.

  He freezes, as I knew he would. The enigma of the Ninth has haunted all of the other species throughout this stage of the tournament. Who are they? Their numbers dwindle in time with the rest of us, but no one is fighting them. Are they out in the woods, losing to Challenges, or is it something else?

  “Go on,” he says after a moment.

  “I know what the Ninth is, and how they’ve operated in secret this entire time. It’s in all our best interest that I share this information.”

  “But?” Vurin says, wings twitching painfully.

  “You’ve dealt with people of every species, right? The Qellis know everything, and everyone, there is to know.”

  “This century, human.”

  Dick.

  “I need your help,” I say sourly, the words cutting their way out of my mouth like razor blades. “Send word. Call every species to a collective meeting, where I’ll share what I know for the benefit of all.”

  “What makes you think they’d listen to me?” he asks, though I’m pretty sure he’s just stalling for time, judging by the calculation behind his eyes.

  “Even if I don’t think you ever make a deal that isn’t to your benefit, I’ve been able to determine that what you told me when we first met wasn’t actually a lie: Qellis do keep your word, and your honor is important to you.” He looks like he’s chewing something unpleasant, his sharp jaw working in tandem with a vein pulsing in his temple, but he doesn’t interrupt. “The others know it, too. They’ll listen if the call comes from you.”

  “I’m not sure I see what I get out of this,” he says flatly. “All of the work seems to fall on me.”

  “You get to be there.” His eyes narrow. I smile broadly. “Refuse, and I'll find another way, but I’ll make sure to cut you out next time.”

  He nods like his head weighs a thousand pounds, reluctance evident from toe to wing tip. But he nods.