Chapter 27: And I Can’t Go Back

Pure Sunlight, Mr. FijiWiji, Laura Brehm, AgNO3

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The space was silent, save for the quiet trickling of water to one side of the room. The blond tilted his head side to side, his neck cracking several times, and then stretched out. His eyes were closed, focused instead on listening to the water sounds, and whatever it was that was going on in his head. It’d been thousands of years since the last time someone had managed to guess what it was that was in his head, Kassander didn’t expect anything else this time. Save, perhaps, Sandalio and Hasan, very few people knew him terribly well, now. Kassander preferred it that way.

He’d learnt a long time ago, of course, that there would always be someone out there too willing, perhaps, to villify someone else. Everyone was a villain in someone’s story. The question, Kassander supposed, was whether or not one was willing to embrace this reality. Trapped between potentially leading those that had followed him to their deaths, and becoming the bad guy, it was quite obvious which decision was the right one. There would always be those with criticisms. People that thought they had some kind of right to judge him for the life he’d been forced to lead. They didn’t matter. What mattered was, they were all alive, they were all together, and everyone else could choke on it.

As always he did, Kassander stood up, as he sensed, rather than heard, Sandalio come home. Both Sandalio and Hasan worked far too much, if one was asking Kassander, but it was just as well. He didn’t need as much attention as he used to, when he was younger and more impetuous. Ah, but, he was still a dragon… and dragons still did not do well in cages. Not that any had gotten brave enough to attempt to cage him, recently. Occasionally, the law thought itself capable, and rapidly discovered otherwise, but it hadn’t in quite some time now.

Kassander had gotten older, and perhaps a bit wiser.

Unconsciously, the blond leaned into it slightly, when Sandalio came in and gently wrapped his arms around him. Kassander wasn’t glass, at least, not anymore, and still Sandalio and Hasan both were notably gentle with him. It was unnecessary, if one asked Kassander, but no one had, and it was probably more of a side-effect of care than an attempt at patronisation. Kassander could live with it. Only because it was Sandalio and Hasan, if nothing else, and Kassander did not now, and had not ever, loved anyone so much as them. At least, not since Rome.

“How was your day?” Kassander asked, softly.

Sandalio snorted. “Quiet,” he said. “A little too quiet.”

Kassander leaned back slightly in Sandalio’s arms, looking up at him. “The calm before the storm?” he asked.

“Sounds right,” Sandalio answered. “Was yours any better?”

Kassander shook his head, looking at the wall. “Apollo took a hit or two,” Kassander said.

“The spellcaster?” Sandalio asked.

“Sarnai,” Kassander answered. “She seems to be hitting two targets at once.”

Sandalio frowned. “That’s a bad idea, isn’t it?”

“Of course,” Kassander replied. “If she gets to messing with Apollo too hard, she’ll learn the rough way Apollo messes back.” Unfortunately, that might end in her frying her own mind, but that was a little more complex than it sounded and got into territory Kassander had little interest in thinking about just this second. He was already having a hard enough time with things as it was. Of course, he was under no illusions. There would be a lot that was lost in this mess, and he knew it. There wasn’t much to do about it, unfortunately, and even if Kassander tried to stop tragedy from striking, people had their own wills. He couldn’t stop others from making the choices and decisions they would, and that meant they’d inevitably make mistakes, mistakes that perhaps couldn’t quite be recovered from.

This kind of thing, it was always a little befuddling. Did he take the chance and offer his counsel and advice, or did he leave well enough alone and let things go the way they would? The Dragon would survive. It always had, and it always would. But, there was always the chance he could save more than just the Dragon… or destroy it.

“This is that bad?” Sandalio murmured.

Kassander glanced up at him, and then shrugged and shook his head. “No more than usual,” he answered. “Why?”

“I lost you for a moment there,” Sandalio said. “I know you think a lot, but it seems like you’re thinking more than usual.”

Kassander made a noise. Maybe he was. “I never know if I want to interfere or if I’d better keep my snoot out of it before I make things worse.”

Sandalio snorted. “Always with that, isn’t it?”

“Seems that way.” Of course, in this situation, there was more at stake than meets the eye. One of the spellcasters would have to make a difficult decision, but then, so far, Kassander had no reason to think one of them wouldn’t. If it meant preserving their precious magic realm and their race, at least one of them in there would do just about anything. But then, the first one that came to mind, it was never magic realm he fought for, even though he’d say it was.

Kassander wondered how long it’d take for him to figure it out.

“I did tell Lilith,” Kassander said. “About Sarnai and Miss Hell being around, that is.”

Sandalio didn’t say anything, but Kassander could sense his discontent with the idea. “And why did you do that?” Sandalio asked.

Kassander shrugged. Because he felt like it, probably. At Kassander’s age, one simply stopped questioning their own motivations, because they’d ceased to matter after a point. “I guess I’m hoping she can figure it out. If nothing else, there’s the Hollow’s safety to be concerned with, and Vladislaus may or may not bother to attempt to preserve it.”

Sandalio released a sigh. “I’m just concerned you may have gotten her into something she won’t be able to get back out of. You know the Vatores are impulsive sometimes.”

“As we all were, once,” Kassander answered, smirking and turning around in Sandalio’s grasp. “But she is one of our strongest. Caleb never wanted to be a vampire, but Lilith’s flourished as one. She’ll be fine.”

Sandalio didn’t answer with words, making a concerned noise instead, and frowning.

“Oh, come on,” Kassander whispered, reaching up to rest a hand against Sandalio’s cheek. “Don’t make that face. You’ll get wrinkles.”

Sandalio laughed under his breath. “I think I’m beyond wrinkles, my love.” He paused, leaning forward slightly to nuzzle against Kassander’s nose. “But, I’ve always trusted you before. I’ll trust you now.” It really was that simple.

* * *

The Hollow was going to change. Vladislaus had tried, thus far, and been marginally successful, to keep it in a kind of stasis, a static existence that never changed or became something that he couldn’t recognise, as the rest of the world often did. Unfortunately, that wasn’t how things like this worked, and he did know this. Vladislaus simply had a way of rejecting what he didn’t like and attempting to mould it to suit his own machinations and desires.

Kassander had met many a man that had done so over the years. Vladislaus wasn’t the first, nor would he be the last. The problem remaining was that Forgotten Hollow had existed beneath his exacting jurisdiction for two hundred years now, never changing because change didn’t suit his tastes, and now it had 200 years to catch up to all at once. With the right guidance, it could manage to get through that sudden massive shift just fine. Kassander didn’t think that guidance was Vladislaus, and if he had any bloody sense, neither did the man in question.

It was no question, even early on with his aloof manner and slightly snappish temperament, that Lilith was Vladislaus’ favourite. Though Miss Hell had the drive and perhaps the ambition to run the Hollow, Lilith had something else, something that Miss Hell was sorely lacking in, aside from the fact that Miss Hell was horribly grating a personality. No, Lilith had the want to build a new family where hers had been lost, of vampires, and she saw them not as pawns in her game of glory, but rather as friends, as family. As people that she held in care that few others enjoyed.

She had empathy, without being a pushover. Caleb had the empathy, but he had issues with being a pushover. Miss Hell had the backbone and none could call her a pushover, but she lacked the empathy. Even someone like Vladislaus could understand that a notable lack of empathy made it difficult to lead a people into a future they didn’t and couldn’t know. They had to trust you. They had to want to believe in you.

Kassander eyed the wall, slightly, and then reached out, fingers just slightly brushing the stone. The bricks were neatly arranged in a notable and repeating pattern, a dark smokey grey tone, one of the prettiest shades of this particular colour Kassander had ever seen. Kassander found joy in very little, any more, but there were things still out there that got him very close to happiness. Most of the time, he never felt one way or another in particular about anything, and was okay with that reality. He always figured it was much better than being in a terrible mood constantly. The frequent ups and downs of life no longer concerned him terribly much, and it left him free to focus on more important things.

As his fingers touched the stone, several of the bricks lit up. Just slightly, Kassander heard a soft beep sound.

“Apollo, aktibatu,” Kassander commanded. There came another beep in response, and then the bricks rearranged, opening to reveal a see-through screen. Kassander murmured another string of commands, all in Basque, and the screen deactivated. As Kassander reached into the space where it was, and pulled his hand back, threads of light swirled around his hand. The threads stretched out, forming blocks of light in midair around Kassander’s hand. Each block corresponded to a room in the building that he was in.

Apollo had particularly unique manner of handling building security.

Kassander turned the projection around in his hands, manipulating the blocks as he willed. Apollo was first conceptualised quite a number of years ago. It was a mixture of magic and technology, seamlessly working together towards the same goals. The technology was powered by the magic, the magic was powered by the technology. Even now, Apollo seemed to have a mind of its own to some extent, but Kassander had designed it that way, too. The version of Apollo in his home was different from the one protecting the Drago. That one was much larger and more complex, but there was always someone out for his blood. He was used to that, by now, it being one of the only constants in his life, aside from Sandalio and Hasan.

And of course, if Lilith was going to take over the Hollow, then she’d need his support. Many figured, taking out the support would stop most problems, but that wasn’t quite how that would work. Kassander wasn’t up for demonstrations. That was what Apollo was for, preventing such. It wasn’t to say Kassander couldn’t deal with it himself. It was merely that he didn’t want to.

Of course, the Hollow’s leadership would inevitably be contested, and Kassander wasn’t terribly interested in getting caught in the middle of that, either. No matter what it was Lilith did, Miss Hell was going to challenge it, because that was what Miss Hell did, and even if it wasn’t, she would eventually get the idea of causing internal strife. With the Hollow in shambles, none would be able to rally against her and stop her near endless and consistent stream of vampire fodder. And Vladislaus got them into this situation by refusing her alliance some thirty years ago. Of course, Vladislaus likely knew that was a bad idea, but there were very few correct options in that situation all the same.

The spellcaster had very little idea who exactly it was she was pissing off. It wasn’t as if Kassander broadcast these things, but a little poking around over here, a little digging about over there, she could’ve figured it out. Or perhaps, the answer was that she didn’t care.

Well, there was time to fix that character flaw.

Kassander did have to wonder, as he rearranged the locked doors and windows, trained Apollo’s energy guns on different points throughout the manor, if Vladislaus was ready for the fallout of his choice back then. He was just about to get it, now, Kassander should think.

* * *

Some spoke of feeling the muscles of a snake move in time to create the creature’s motion, and how it was mesmerising and enthralling. Kassander had the same sort of reaction to feeling his own muscles do the same, and that was part of what had driven him, a long time ago, to dancing. And somehow, in the perpetual motion, one movement blurring into the next, Kassander found it easier to think.

He still wasn’t sure what to do with this particular situation. There were too many pieces at play, here, it was difficult to know which moves were the smart ones. Of course, no matter what Kassander did, he’d be able to withstand the potential fallout, and he was quite sure the Drago could, as well. Of course, that also wasn’t the point. Being as he was someone that would endure no matter what happened, one could say that it was partially his duty, in a sense, to make sure that he didn’t destroy anyone else needlessly along the way.

Then again, maybe he was just being dramatic. Kassander was prone to being dramatic, for the fuck of it.

The garden behind the manor was anything but quiet, but Kassander had always found it calming. When the world was younger, and he was too, he had a space out to the side of his villa in Rome. The little villa on the sea, not far from the shore, so close he could run a minute or two that way and run crashing into the sea, as he did from time to time. Floating in the water, letting the waves gently rock him, was calming, too, though for a much different reason. The space out to the side of the villa was his, dusty and coated in sand granules. Leon, one of the house’s slaves, insisted on keeping it maintained. Kassander just needed a space that was his, but Leon was adamant about its upkeep, and Kassander couldn’t ever bring himself to argue with Leon.

Every morning, for two thousand years, Kassander would wake up just before the sun rose, and head outside. The birds were almost always chirping before he was up, singing their greeting songs before the sun had come, and from that moment until some time after the sun had risen, Kassander danced. As always he did, when the sun finally made its way up above the horizon and over the buildings and trees, when the first rays of the daylight splashed across his face in dapples around the leaves, Kassander could feel the burst of energy it gave him. He was now, and always had been, the sun’s first child.

In between one motion and another, Kassander sensed Sandalio, and then felt him, as he slipped over and moved with him. It was from Kassander that Sandalio had learnt to dance, though initially he had little interest in it. His argument was always that he was a gladiator, not a dancer. Kassander failed to see the difference, and somewhere between his stubbornness and his pouting, Sandalio had come out one morning with intent to learn. He was better at it than he thought he was. Of course, they’d been dancing together off and on, now, ever since, and one tended to get rather good at something, doing it for two thousand years.

It took a while, before Kassander finally turned around to face Sandalio. He always smelled a little funny when he came home from work, like paper, a little ink, and stale coffee, the vague lingering tang of cigarette smoke somewhere in there. Somewhere under there, though, was Sandalio.

“Good morning,” Kassander said.

Sandalio rested his forehead against Kassander’s, and breathed in. “Good morning.”

“Was today any better of a day?” Kassander asked.

“Yes, and not really,” Sandalio replied. “No one accidentally shot anyone else today, at least. It’s nice when they don’t do that.”

Kassander loosed a smothered giggle.

“Have you figured out what to do, yet?” Sandalio asked.

Kassander turned his head down slightly. “Not really,” he said. “And the light’s not being much help. Of course, I didn’t expect it to be. It likes throwing me into the rapids unexpectedly. Usually sans a paddle. And a boat…”

Sandalio snorted softly. “You’ve always figured it out just fine, with or without the light’s help.”

“I know,” Kassander said. “I expect nothing else this time around. It’s just tiresome.” When you’d lived as long as they had, some things just became more trouble than it seemed like they were worth. This wasn’t Kassander’s first war. His first was Spartacus’ war, the third servile war. It was the first, and only, servile war that took place on the Italian peninsula, and it was an experience that Kassander was not quite interested in repeating. On the other hand, he’d be perhaps a very different person without it. Quite literally, as he thought, he and Sandalio, and Hasan, and the Drago before it was the Drago, would’ve died with the Roman Republic.

Then, neither would they have lived through what they had. There were times when it was debatable, whether death was as much of a tragedy as humans liked to believe that it was. There were things that were worse than death, and Kassander… he knew a few.

“You know,” Sandalio said softly, causing Kassander’s icy gaze to meet grey. “Waiting in the shadows really isn’t your style anymore. And I can tell, how much you want to rip the spellcaster’s spine out of her throat. You probably shouldn’t just yet.”

Kassander snorted. No, he shouldn’t. Of course, if he chose to do so anyway, it wasn’t as if anyone could tell him he was wrong. Perhaps Morgyn Ember might be on Kassander’s ass about it, because Morgyn didn’t know any better, and yet also did, it was a very complex thing. It wasn’t as if Kassander was afraid of Morgyn Ember, however, and Morgyn Ember had bigger problems than the father of vampires deciding to take down a parasite. She was inevitably upsetting the magical balance and the separation of the various worlds, things that would, were the spellcasters any form of intelligent life, end in the spellcasters deciding to turn on her.

And yet they didn’t. Because of Morgyn Ember. And every so often, Kassander lost more of his children, and for what?

Kassander glanced down at the grass beneath them, and then drew a breath in, looked back up at Sandalio, and smiled.

* * *

The sound of the waves crashing into the concrete walkway and the sea birds screeching overhead were almost enough to drown out his thoughts. As it was, Kassander had only come out here for a certain reason, primarily that he didn’t want the spellcaster anywhere near the manor. If she dared set foot into his territory, after all the trouble she’d already caused him, it would not end well for her.

Kassander moved for very little. Defending what was his was one of those things.

A quick glance around told him no one else was out this early. The sun was barely up, the light just now making it past the rooftops. With a slight flick of his hand, magical light spread beneath Kassander’s feet, swirls of intricate design curling around itself across the concrete. Kassander was born, and learnt magic, before this All stuff. His magic did not work the same way theirs did, didn’t have the same rules and restrictions. The ancient magics were the only true untamed ones. But he’d let the untamed spellcasters go on like they knew a thing or two about chaos and destruction. They all learnt differently, one day.

The light dimmed, died off, and Aine loosed a screech. Her eyes flicked up, and around at their environment, and then to Kassander, his back to her, in confusion.

“What…” she started to ask.

Kassander snorted. “You should’ve expected this sooner or later, Aine,” he said.

“How did you do that?” she asked. “You shouldn’t have been able to find me, let alone summon me, that shouldn’t be possible either -“

Kassander rolled his eyes, drawing a breath in. Whatever she had to say was of very little import to him, anyway. He tuned her out, until she was quiet finally, and stayed that way for longer than it took to draw a breath.

“… well?” she demanded.

Kassander turned to look at her over his shoulder. “Were you talking?” he asked.

Aine looked annoyed, her nostrils flaring, and she turned around and walked away.

“Oh, I’m sorry dear, I wasn’t done with you,” Kassander said, turning around and raising a hand. From the concrete beneath her feet burst out chains of golden energy, which rapidly snaked up her legs and rooted her in place.

“Unchain me!” Aine snarled.

“I’m afraid I do whatever the fuck I want,” Kassander answered, his tone level. “What is it, exactly, that you think you’re doing?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking -“

“Oh, don’t play stupid now,” Kassander said, interrupting her. “It isn’t very becoming of you, and you and I both know you know more about us than that. I can sense it, you know.”

Aine’s eyes narrowed. “Can you?” she asked.

Kassander snorted, shoes tapping against the concrete as he made his way over to her, and knelt down. “They are bound to me,” he said. “I will know every time, that much is unavoidable. And believe me, I have way more important things to be doing with my time than feeling you manipulate and murder my children from time to time.” He’d rather not sense it.

“You don’t scare me,” Aine said, levelling a stare at him. And she seemed to be telling the truth. There was no shaking that told another story, no hesitance meeting his gaze, even as his eyes brightened and began to emit a soft glow.

“I should,” Kassander answered. “It would be in your best interests not to play this game with me, Aine. You have no idea what the rules are.”

Aine snorted. “Oh please, of course I do. It’s the same as anything else, isn’t it? You win or I win.”

Kassander’s gaze flicked to the concrete, and then back to her. “But if only it was so simple,” he said. “That’s alright. There’s still time to learn, but I must warn you, I don’t teach the easy way.” Kassander paused, reached out, and tapped Aine’s nose. The blond loosed a soft snort of amusement.

She didn’t seem so entertained by this, wrinkling her nose. “Are you mad?”

Kassander loosed another amused snort. “Many would say so, I’m sure,” he said. “Of course, you’re the madder of us, aren’t you? Playing with fire and ice. You know the prophecy could be about either one.”

Aine’s eyes narrowed again, and she visibly reared her head back. “How do you know about the prophecy?”

“In your shadow he will grow stronger…” Kassander said. “I know everything. At least, everything important.” Of course, he always knew shadows to be kindly things, uninterested in conflict, until something pushed the wrong buttons. Ezio would inevitably be no different, but it was probably already far too late for that, in this specific case. Aine had likely already long messed it up.

Kassander stood up, and walked away a few paces. “You’re getting on my last nerves,” he said. “Find something else to wage your wars with, because you will have no more of my children, or I will rip your spine out through your nose.” Ah. He hadn’t threatened someone in a while, now. How refreshing, truly.

“I’m still not afraid of you,” Aine answered, her tone low. “This has nothing to do with you.”

“Ah,” Kassander said. “I see. Well, I will not warn you again.” Unfortunately, she didn’t seem to understand the meaning of father of vampires. Most didn’t, but neither did they need to. They figured it out pretty quickly when he took them to pieces. Or they didn’t. Either way, they weren’t his problem anymore. Kassander turned on one heel, and walked away.

“Hey!” Aine shrieked behind him. “You undo these chains before you walk away from me!”

Kassander paused in his step, smirking slightly. Then, he turned to look at her over his shoulder.

“They’ll wear off on their own,” he said. “Probably.” And then, he continued on his way. Aine did more protesting behind him as he went, but he had already tuned her shrieking out, and with one final step and a burst of shadow, he was gone.

* * *

She’d been pacing constantly. It was beginning to drive Sarnai just a little bit nuts, but all things considered, Sarnai already was nuts, so perhaps it was making no difference whatsoever. As it was, Sarnai was trying to focus on something else. Whatever Miss Hell was back there pacing around for, that was someone else’s problem (perhaps Miss Hell’s, but more likely someone else’s, because Miss Hell rarely kept her problems to herself).

Sarnai hovered several feet off the floor, swirls of dark energy around her. If she could manage to get around the spellcasters’ barrier, then she could break into magic realm, presumably. Lakshmi seemed to have some idea of how the barrier worked, but thus far the information she’d provided hadn’t gotten Sarnai through it. Somewhere beyond it was the All, and Sarnai desperately needed the All. Certainly, she needed it more than the spellcasters did.

Well, that was perhaps debatable, but it was a debate Sarnai was not interested in having.

“He’s got to be ancient by now,” Miss Hell eventually mumbled back there.

Sarnai rolled her eyes slightly, trying not to look disinterested. “Vlad?” she asked.

“Of course!” Miss Hell snapped. “Who else would I be talking about?”

The Pope, for all Sarnai gave a damn, but she kept that to herself. “No idea.”

“If he’s as old as everyone claims he is, then he must be easy enough to defeat in combat,” Miss Hell explained.

Sarnai shook her head. “He can’t be,” she said. “He has mental powers beyond even us, we don’t think you can handle it either.”

“I just happen to be stronger than you,” Miss Hell said. “Besides, you’re crazy. You wouldn’t know strategy if it bit you in the ass.”

And that was why she never flaunted her intelligence. “Right,” Sarnai said. “Forgot.”

“Of course you did,” Miss Hell said, sneering. “When I take over the Hollow, I’ll remember you, you know.”

“That’s nice,” Sarnai said, her hands joining in front of her. Magic realm’s barrier was complicated merely because it seemed to be multiple barriers all layered over each other. Like each generation of sages had added their own protections to it over time, and now it was this great, messy monstrosity that was a literal pain to break through. Nothing was beyond Sarnai, at least, no barriers were. Her family weren’t terribly good at breaking them, but she’d undone barriers that were far superior to this one.

Miss Hell talking to her every ten minutes likely wasn’t helping with breaking it, for lack of concentration. But it was either Miss Hell talking to her, or Lakshmi doing it. Either way, Sarnai was distracted. With Miss Hell doing the distracting, Sarnai was also annoyed. For some reason, it helped her energy levels.

“I’m going to crown myself queen,” Miss Hell said. “And then I can have anyone I want, and no one can tell me no. Finally, maybe I can get Caleb back.”

“We wouldn’t count on it,” Sarnai said, half distracted.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Miss Hell demanded, whirling around. Her good mood seemed to temper.

Sarnai snorted. “You’re not unpleasant to look at, but your personality is.”

Miss Hell stiffened up slightly, like she wanted to argue with that, but then one eyebrow raised, and her head tilted to the side. “Alright, that’s fair,” she finally said. “But that’s why Caleb and I were meant for each other.”

“We wouldn’t count on that, either,” Sarnai said. People sure were good at deluding themselves, even when they weren’t exactly people in the conventional sense of the term. That wasn’t Sarnai’s problem, that was for sure.

“What are you doing, anyway?” Miss Hell asked, watching her float there above the floor.

Sarnai released a sigh. She remembered telling her this before, but perhaps it got lost in Miss Hell’s delusions of grandeur and ideas of becoming someone notable. Or, perhaps she wanted the Hollow specifically because then she could become queen and decide that Caleb was her consort or something and no one could argue. That was such a foolish and petty reason to aim for a crown Sarnai had ever heard, and she’d heard quite a number of petty reasons over the centuries.

Then, she wondered if Miss Hell was aware she was rather doomed to fail at this… then again, she was nothing if not determined and tenacious, perhaps Miss Hell could take over the Hollow. And perhaps no one would be able to stop her, save maybe Lilith. Ah, the other problem, Sarnai figured; Miss Hell had yet to figure out Lilith Vatore was a vampire specifically and solely to rip out her throat. Probably with her teeth, because fan service.

“Breaking a barrier,” Sarnai mumbled after a moment.

“Why?” Miss Hell asked.

“Because it needs to be broken,” Sarnai answered.

“Yes, but why does the barrier need to be broken?” Miss Hell asked.

Sarnai released a very loud sigh. “Because the barrier doesn’t allow vampires through it and we need to get into magic realm,” she said.

“Oh,” Miss Hell answered. “You could probably build a thousand magic realms if you really -“

“It’s not the realm we’re after!” Sarnai snapped. “And don’t you have something else to do? You’re supposed to be finding someone. There’s a reason you were sent to San Myshuno. And don’t think we don’t know about Markus.”

“Hey, you stay out of that!” Miss Hell argued.

“Stop making all of your business our business, and we will,” Sarnai bit back, snarling just slightly. Unlike other, much younger whelps, Miss Hell didn’t recoil from the sound. Instead, she steeled slightly, her eyes narrowing.

“We’re in this together,” Miss Hell said.

“And now’s a stupid, nonsensical, and inconvenient time for you to decide you care about that,” Sarnai answered. “Go move into your palace.”

“I have to get the palace first,” Miss Hell answered.

“Then go get the palace,” Sarnai replied. Whatever it took for Miss Hell to go away, that was all Sarnai cared about.

Miss Hell crossed her arms, loosed a tisking sound, and then walked away. Finally, some blessed silence. Maybe Sarnai could make some progress, now.

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