Vic’s eyes were wide, his nostrils flaring, his grip on Harald’s armor white-knuckled. His words rang in the sacred air, and for a moment nobody moved. Incredulity and shock were writ large on every face but Harald’s—only Vic’s hissed plea had prepared him for this revelation.

  Slowly, methodically, Harald pried Vic’s fingers from his front. “Start from the beginning, my dear, dear old friend.” His voice was just a little softer than iron. “What the hell have you done?”

  Vic laughed and backed away, checking his hair with a couple of pats and shrugging his ostentatious robe back into place. “I swear I’m the victim here. It may not look like it—”

  “Vic,” hissed Sam.

  “Fine. From the beginning, shall we?” Vic glanced over his shoulder at the closed door. “Fuck me, but Sythryxa is going to be pissed.”

  Kársek crossed his arms. “Not quite as biddable as you made her seem?”

  Vic dragged his fingers down his face, momentarily distending his features before sighing sadly. “Karsy, no woman is ever as biddable as she seems. Free lesson. But… no. The angels wept, that demon is…”

  “Vic!” Nessa’s tone was whipcrack.

  “All right!” He raised his hands to forestall more attacks. “So there I was, all by my lonesome, cast out from Alabenthos’ evil lair on the 34th Level, and left to fend by myself in this eerie, expansive realm filled with very unfriendly rock creatures—”

  Harald felt everyone’s mood grow even more exasperated, but Vic plunged on.

  “—when who should show but darling Eclavistra? It’s almost as if she could sense my distress. She offered to take me back to her lair, and, well, how could I refuse? She promised there’d be wine. So we returned to her boudoir, and after I satiated her unholy lust for my body, she made me an offer.”

  “Cut to the chase,” commanded Harald.

  “Right. So.” Vic inhaled sharply. “She introduced me to Sythryxa, who, believe you me, was a completely different demon in her mistress’s presence. Arch, witty, clearly depraved in all the right ways, and apparently instantly smitten with me—I thought I’d died and gone to—well. Wherever I was. The plan was simple: Eclavistra has achieved fuck-all in the Dungeon, largely, I believe, because she lacks the cold-blood instinct for domination that her brothers and sisters have. She’s all about seduction and misdirection, which’ll only get you so far in a Celestial War—”

  Harald raised a brow warningly.

  “I’m going, I’m getting to the good bit!” Vic shook his head in exasperation. “Anyway. She decided seizing Flutic was her best bid at getting some sort of power. Things are heating up below, and nobody’s minding the mortals. And you all know how much I want to fix things up here. Match made in—well. She’d give me twenty of her Handmaidens—guys. Seriously. They may look like they’re only interested in a little slap and tickle, but they can really hit hard. There was a scrap with a Gold-ranker early on, House Thornvale, I think—and the Handmaidens sent him packing. Solo, I think we could take one, but in a group?” Vic shook his head wearily. “Anyways. I got a small battalion of Handmaidens, and was told to come up here and take charge. Which I did.”

  “The Twilight Crown?” asked Nessa. “You have it?”

  Vic smirked. “No. That bit’s been a lie. It’s disappeared. I think House Veridian has it, as they’re the only ones who haven’t come knocking, but ol’ Vic is still adept at the classic bluff.”

  “Damn it,” muttered Nessa.

  “I don’t need it!” protested Vic, taking a step forward. “The threat is even more potent than the actual Artifact. Honestly, it’s sickening how quickly everyone up here is willing to turn on each other, and how much they fear being betrayed in turn. They’re all falling over themselves knocking on my door, begging for a piece of the pie, trying to exact concessions and promises—”

  “One moment, Vic,” cut in Kársek. “You’re still making this sound like an ideal situation for yourself.”

  “But it’s not!” Vic began to pace. “Sythryxa is a living nightmare. And her sisters are just as bad. The moment we got up here they showed their true colors. Sure I have a Demon Seed, but I’m still just a fucking Level 6 Rapier Regent, something they never tire of reminding me, and they’re mad, I mean, they’re demons, of course they’re not all there, but Eclavistra made me think I’d be in charge of this operation, that I’d be able to enact my noble intentions, but do you think they care about the poor?” Vic thumbed over his shoulder at the door. “Ha! It took me only half a Bell to realize I was nothing more than a gorgeous figurehead to their machinations, and that they intended to keep me in line with a heady mixture of degenerate sex, plenty of alcohol, and a mixture of flattery and threats.” Vic swung about to face them all. “I tried putting my foot down. Once. You know what happened? They laughed. They laughed and Sythryxa used her Velvet Mandate power to make me lick her boots clean.”

  Vic puckered up in distaste. “Which I’m fine with, in certain contexts, but not when the other Handmaidens are—”

  Nessa was pinching the bridge of her nose. Sam was tonguing the inside of her cheek with murder in her blue eyes. Even Kársek looked more dour and angry than Harald had ever seen.

  “Vic.” He placed a hand on his friend’s shoulder.

  “Yeah?” Vic’s expression lightened in hope. “You guys are going to get me out of here, right? Or perhaps—”

  “Vic.” Harald squeezed the Rapier Regent’s shoulder. “Shh.”

  “Right.” Vic mimed sewing his lips closed, then tossing away the needle. “There. Now I can’t speak. Go right ahead.”

  “You…” Harald tried to find the right words. “You are a damned idiot. I don’t know how you thought this would turn out. Where did all your basic intelligence go? You used to be smart, Vic. Eclavistra played you like… like you played me, back when we first met. How could you be so stupid?”

  Vic’s smile slowly died. “I know. I know. I just hoped… after we lost the Crown and the mess at the Celestara Estate, I just wanted…”

  “No, Vic.” Nessa cut in, voice withering. “Tell me one thing. Could Eclavistra have sent these Handmaidens here without your help?”

  Vic winced. “No. I had to invite them into Flutic. Usually there’s a whole ritual and other complicated stuff to go with it, but my having a Demon Seed simplified things. But… no. That’s what they needed me for.”

  “A willing dupe,” said Sam.

  “I mean—harsh. But… yeah. Fair.”

  “And there’s twenty of them?” asked Harald.

  Vic nodded. “They’re tough, Harry boy. They don’t have Classes or Thrones like we do—I think they’re fueled by Eclavistra herself—but they do have specialties. The Harrowbrides are terrifying combatants. The Thorned Muses are like… mental or psychic manipulators. The Veilbinders are their scouts and infiltrators.” Vic’s face paled. “They’re hard to spot, and don’t stray far from this cathedral.” His voice tightened with fear. “How are you going to get me out? Maybe we can come up with a fake mission, a reason I need to… no. They’d never let me go.”

  “All twenty are here?” asked Harald. “And they’re tough enough to stall a Gold-ranker?”

  “Doesn’t look good, Vic,” said Kársek grimly.

  “There’s got to be something! We’re the Throne Hunters, right?” Vic cuffed Harald’s shoulder with mock cheer. “All for one and all that? Nessa? Old times? You wouldn’t leave ol’ Vic at the mercy of a bunch of demon bitches, no matter how much I deserve it—right?”

  Nobody spoke.

  Harald sighed. “ Why do they need you so badly? Can’t they just find a more willing dupe?”

  “I’m their anchor to the surface world.” Vic’s shoulders sagged. “If I die, they’re forced back into the Dungeon.”

  “Oh,” said Nessa brightly. “I have an idea!”

  Vic glared at her.

  “We’re not going to fight all twenty of them now.” Harald looked to Nessa, who nodded in agreement. “We’re not ready for that kind of battle.”

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  “Maybe we could find a way to smuggle me out—”

  “No, Vic. You stay.” Harald released the other man’s shoulder. “We’re going to have to think of something.”

  “What’s with this coronation?” asked Sam. “You don’t have the Twilight Crown?”

  “It’s Sythryxa’s ploy. To flush out the Twilight Crown. She’s made a demonic Artifact that looks just like it. When the heads of the Houses swear allegiance to it, they’ll actually be binding themselves to Eclavistra.” Vic somehow managed to sound even more miserable. “It’s also meant to flush out the real Crown. Sythryxa hopes the real owner will appear to contest my being made king. Then they’ll grab it, claim it’s a fake, and crush all opposition.”

  “Oh, Vic,” said Sam in horror.

  “I know. I know!” Vic grew animated once more. “Which is why I’m so glad to see you guys. I was about to do something utterly irresponsible involving veins and broken wine bottles. Well. I was seriously starting to consider thinking about maybe entertaining the idea that I might have to act along those lines.”

  “Good,” said Nessa, expression forbidding, tone frigid. “This is bad, Vic. Bad even for you. I’m not sure you merit saving.”

  “Haha,” laughed Vic weakly. “Good one.”

  Nessa just stared at him.

  “Look, I know I fucked up.” Vic rubbed the back of his head. “And—if you get me out of this one? I’ll turn a new leaf. I’ll become whatever you guys think is best. Holy Vic. Good ol’ fashioned celibate and upstanding Vic. I’ll give up wine. I’ll give up demonic harems. You tell me, I’ll do it.”

  “If we get you out of this,” said Sam, “it won’t be because we’re trying to save you. It’ll be incidental to our saving Flutic from becoming a bastion of demonic horror.”

  “Sure, silver lining, I’ll take it.” Vic beamed.

  “And then we’re going to take care of Eclavistra,” said Harald. “Alabenthos has tasked us with destroying an outpost of hers on the 41st Level. You’ll help us strike at her forces.”

  “The 41st?” Vic blanched. “That’s not an outpost.”

  Harald paused. “What?”

  “That’s her home base.” Vic glanced from one member of the group to the other. “Oh. Did ol’ Alabenthos mention that?”

  “Her home base?” Harald inhaled deeply then held his breath, allowing that truth to hit home. Finally he exhaled. “He’s sending us to fight Eclavistra herself?”

  Vic shrugged apologetically.

  “A problem for another day,” said Sam hurriedly. “Seraphina made it clear that we can’t strike at the outpost—home base—till we’ve journeyed through the levels between the 33rd and the 41st.”

  Nessa’s tone was arch. “But she didn’t mention we’d be facing Eclavistra herself?”

  “I… no.” Sam’s shoulders slumped. “Perhaps they don’t know?”

  “Possible,” agreed Vic. “Eclavistra, powerful as she may be, is easily the weakest of the demon siblings. She’s survived by misdirection and avoiding attention.”

  “No matter. This is what we’re doing now.” Harald centered his thoughts. “We quit the cathedral, and leave you here. Then we’ll have twenty-four Bells to figure out a plan. You hang tight, play it as you’ve been doing, and trust that we’ll come up with something.”

  “Because we have to,” agreed Nessa.

  “Right.” Sam’s tone hardened again. “There’s no way we’re going to let this mess you’ve made consume the whole city.”

  Nessa snorted. “And here I was, thinking you cared about all the poor innocents. Innocents you were about to hand over to a demon.”

  “It was not—!” Vic bit off his words, twisting his head to the side as he did so. “I mean… fair. I was a purblind idiot. No denying it this time. But fine. I’ll play the sybaritic simpleton a little longer. But…” His eyes widened. “Please come up with something amazing? I’ll do anything. Anything.”

  “Don’t forget you said that,” snapped Sam. “Honestly, they’re going to have to convince me not to banish you along with the demons.”

  “Ha,” laughed Vic weakly. “Funny. Yeah. Rough humor amongst best friends.”

  “Let’s go,” said Harald. “Lead the way.”

  “Sure.” Vic turned and faced the door. Took a deep breath, then unbolted it and strode out with a boisterous laugh. “… that was a fun time, and to think we could go there right now and commandeer their entire inventory! Alas, I’m a little busy taking over Flutic, and just don’t have time for regular debauchery.”

  Harald led the others back out into the cathedral. He scanned the velvety darkness around them. If the Handmaidens were going to attack, it might be now as they emerged.

  But Sythryxa and her companions were lounging by the throne, looking relaxed and bored in equal measure.

  Still Harald scanned the dark depths. His growing familiarity with the shadows allowed him, not to see, but to sense knots of power. And there were clear presences hidden about them, lost in the swarming blackness beyond the candle-light. Perhaps another ten?

  “Oh come on.” Harald forced himself to sound exasperated. “We’re only back in town for a night. You’re seriously saying you can’t take an hour away?”

  “I would!” Vic turned to walk backwards, hands spread out apologetically. “But then who would pleasure these lovely ladies in my absence? No, I’m sorry. Even ‘old times’ won’t cut it. Try me after I’m king.”

  “Fine.” Harald stopped, letting Vic make his way alone to the apse and throne. “Then we’ll catch you next time.”

  “Unless we catch you first, right darling?” Vic dropped into the throne and turned to run a finger under Sythryxa’s chin.

  “Whatever you say, master,” purred the demon.

  One of her sisters leaned down to lick the side of Vic’s neck, her tongue impossibly long.

  “Not while they’re here, please,” protested Vic. “It’s like making out in front of the family dog.”

  Nessa snorted with disbelief and turned to stride away.

  Harald raised a hand in parting. “Have fun, Vic. Be seeing you.”

  “Oh, I will.” Vic laughed loudly. “Just say a prayer for my hips, will you? At this rate, I’m liable to dislocate them.”

  Kársek shook his head as he followed Sam after Nessa.

  Harald held Vic’s gaze for a second longer, and for a moment saw despair and terror in the depths of his friend’s eyes. But then Vic laughed again and gave him a wink.

  Harald inclined his head, aware that Sythryxa was watching him closely with her luminous purple eyes, and turned to walk away.

  * * *

  They strode down the Avenue of Penitence in silence. Assured that they were being watched, they waited till they’d left the cathedral far behind, crossed a number of different streets and finally stepped aside into a blind courtyard.

  “Wait for it,” whispered Harald, summoning the Scourge into his hand. “If they’re going to strike, it’ll be soon.”

  Their group went back to back and watched the rooftops around the tiny enclosed courtyard. Dusk was rapidly becoming night. The sounds of Flutic were muted. It felt as if the city were holding its breath.

  But nothing happened.

  “Perhaps they believed Vic,” said Sam at last.

  “Only if they’re complete idiots,” said Nessa. “More like they don’t think we’re worth the trouble.”

  “I don’t know that we are.” Harald still couldn’t relax. It was all too easy to imagine a pair of burning purple eyes watching him from some dark window or behind a tiled gable. “I’m Level 9. A solid Silver-ranker. Nessa, you’re Level 7. Sam? 5th. Kársek has his own thing going on, but I seriously doubt we could take a Gold-ranker by ourselves, and their group fought one off without taking losses.”

  “Exactly.” Nessa sheathed her blade and moved to a well where she began to draw up the bucket. “Vic has well and truly screwed us all over.”

  Harald reached into his Cosmos and summoned Shadowpaw. The massive hound appeared by his side, frosty mist burning off his thick pelt as always. “Scout around,” Harald instructed. “Be careful. Make sure we’re not being watched.”

  Shadowpaw huffed, gave himself a shake, and slinked off to disappear into the shadows. Harald sighed, rubbed at his face, then turned to his companions. “Thoughts?”

  Sam was hugging herself and staring off at nothing. “I don’t know.” She blinked, focused on him. “This is… I don’t see how we can take on twenty Handmaidens.”

  “If Vic is correct,” said Kársek, “then we may have to face them eventually, regardless. An assault on the 41st could cause Eclavistra to summon her Handmaidens back.”

  “Is that the way forward, then?” Sam sounded unsure. “Provoke a defense, draw them back into the Dungeon?”

  Nessa set the sloshing bucket on the lip of the well. “And do what? Allow ourselves to be massacred on their home turf only to return right after to resume taking control of Flutic?”

  Sam shrugged helplessly.

  “Kársek’s right,” said Harald. “This feels like a serious commitment on Eclavistra’s part. She’s weak, so she can’t have endless legions of Handmaidens. She’s taken a gamble. If we can defeat them here, we weaken her forces on the 41st.”

  “Big ‘if’,” said Nessa, raising water to her lips with cupped hands.

  “We’re making assumptions,” said Kársek. “Nobody said we had to fight them by ourselves.”

  “The Houses are hardly lining up to fight them,” said Nessa, scooping up more water.

  Kársek shrugged. “Lady Hammerfell is a potent ally. She may be able to draw other raiders to our cause. I can rally the dwarves.”

  “And…” Harald warmed to the idea. “The Houses are in disarray and think Vic has the Crown. Maybe they’re willing to bend knee because they think everyone else is doing so already. If we rally them…”

  Nessa laughed darkly. “You think they’ll rally to you, Harald? After what you did at House Celestara?”

  “Maybe not me.” Harald toyed with the idea. “Maybe Lady Hammerfell. Or.”

  “Or?” asked Sam.

  “Countess Sonora.” For some reason that felt… right. “She’s known as a Naked Countess, which earned their scorn before, but with Gorkin dead, and her possessing an Infinitum… I don’t know. If anyone could stand for honesty and integrity without being second-guessed, it’s her.”

  “That’s asking a lot of Anna,” said Sam.

  “True. I don’t even know if it’s feasible. But.” Harald wagged his head from side to side, as if trying to slot the idea into place. “We ask Lady Hammerfell to rally her Gold-rankers. Her old raiding team. Kársek, you rouse the dwarves. Then Anna goes on a lightning tour of the Houses, explains what we’ve learned, the trap the demons are setting for them. If we can just gather enough force to crush the Handmaidens, we’re set. We don’t need everyone at Anna’s banner.”

  “And then?” asked Nessa, crossing her arms. “Say this works. We drive off or kill the Handmaidens. What then? Anna will be the center of attention. It would be criminal for us to leave her and return to the Dungeon then.”

  “Fair.” Harald blew out his cheeks. “I’m working on this plan as we go. Anna needs to agree, obviously. But Kársek’s right. We don’t need to do this alone. We can’t. We need to somehow rally enough strong raiders to our cause to foil Eclavistra’s plan. If we can pull off that miracle in less than twenty-four Bells, well. We’ll take it from there.”

  “I’m in,” agreed Kársek. “I will speak to my people. Our enclave in Flutic is small, but there are many potent dwarves in Deepforge.”

  “Let’s take this to Lady Hammerfell,” said Sam. “She’ll have a much better idea if any of this is even feasible.”

  “Agreed.” Harald scanned the rooftops again. “I just… I find it hard to believe they just let us walk out. But Shadowpaw’s not found anything. Maybe they really do underestimate us.”

  “Let’s get back to Sonora Manor,” said Nessa. “If they’ve let us escape it’s their problem, not ours.”

  “Right.” Harald continued to scan the gambrel rooftops, wishing he had a power that could flush out any hidden watchers. Shadowpaw was up there, prowling among the chimneys, but even with him not scenting anything, he couldn’t release the suspicion they were being watched.

  Maybe he was just paranoid.

  Nessa led the way back out into the avenue. Sam and Kársek fell in behind her. After a final search, Harald gave it up and followed after.

  Time to see if they could come up with a plan to save Flutic from itself.