“Since Bridon can’t be bought,” he said, bluntly. “I have no choice but to kill him.”

         “I was hoping you’d say that. Killing always works best.”

         “It’s not the method I’d prefer, especially not with one of the Blue Stone, but Bridon is difficult, to say the least.”

         Difficult didn’t begin to describe Bridon. Other than Rizla, he was the most frustrating personality Suga had ever known. He wouldn’t step into danger but invited it. They’d never been able to find his home in the mountain, for the wards were profuse and complicated; even Rizla, during one torturous night flight, had only found the first lock but had been unable to open it. Yet, he appeared at the Fish Belly twice a year during Open Court to play rulla. Bridon was a fiend for rulla, playing for hours on end. He’d even played with Suga, for dice was one activity that a man of his girth could enjoy. Then, Bridon would depart, leaving no losses, no gains, not even a scent trail. Bridon, who loved risk, took none.

         “No, killing isn’t the method I’d prefer,” he repeated. “We risk much at taking the life of a Brother of the Blue Stone, but we risk more from the Dark the longer the bottle remains unfilled. I’ve instructed—” he stopped. He didn’t want Rizla to know her name. He wanted Gustie to live.

         “Who?”

         “I’ll reveal the identity after this is over.”

         She stomped a bare foot. “You would keep this from me? At this time?”

         “It’s for your own good,” he said and when she didn’t believe him, he coughed out, “Higher up.”

         He hated lying. Hated it even more as he watched her reach for a chair to steady herself. 

         “I wish you all the cunning of the Dark,” She stood erect, regal.

         He bowed his head, receiving her blessing. Yet, he didn’t want to leave on a formal note. It was stranger to him than the lie he’d just told.

         “After I deal with Bridon, I must see to the wagon as well as to the driver.” His eyebrows, shaved and drawn with kohl, drew together at the thought of Faw Shandy. Not the best choice, but there were few who would undertake a journey to the Nevers. Fewer still who would stand before the Tu’el and deliver the goods. “I’ll come to Castle Ursaulis, as soon as the details are settled, so don’t expect me at once. Take care until then.” 

         She nodded and walked behind the partition carved with elephants and began the chant which he, who knew all languages, couldn’t understand. Then came the sharp, familiar cries that signaled change. She’d once told him that on these occasions her bones twisted and turned, nearly pressing through her skin. He’d never doubted, though he knew it wasn’t how she’d gotten the fish-hook scar on her back.

         The room filled with smoke. The distortion of her bones was necessary, but the smoke was one of Rizla’s additions. She was secretive about her changes and had never liked anyone knowing what form she’d arrive in. She’d mentioned the serving wench. It might be true. As the years wore on, there was less dissimulation between them. Again, he regretted the lie. 

         The room billowed with indigo smoke. He shut his eyes. When the smoke thinned, Rizla was gone, lost in flight.

         Suga dropped his head in his hands, confessing for the hundredth time, the thousandth, that he’d never get used to her leaving him.

         As Rizla flew through the air, shrouded in indigo and thunder, she once again relished the gift of flight. The Curse-Blessed had granted her many powers, but flight was a gift. The others she’d earned. 

The child was within reach; she’s sensed it with the distorted maternal instinct she’d had ever since the birth of her son, and the Gibbor’s message had only confirmed what she knew. 

She was also certain that the child was somewhere in the castle.  She’d flown every night, searching for a little hut, a second story with a light inside that would indicate feeding. That she hadn’t found him was disturbing. That Elymas hadn’t found him was more so. That was the main reason they’d withheld the news of the child’s birth: Elymas should have exterminated him by now. The Red Robes were nothing if not efficient. 

What fools they were! The babe was probably under their noses, birthed by a serving wench and tended to by a bevy of maids. She’d find him and send word to the Tu’el; then maybe she’d sleep the night through without seeing the girl at the Hungry Rocks in her dreams.