The smoke from the incense rose slowly, curling slightly in the mostly still air of the small room. Zandrue generally wasn’t fond of incense. It tended to be overly spiced and cloying, scents designed for people who were not very good at detecting scents. However, this incense was subtler—a mild, woody scent with a hint of a local grass Miana called vetiver. It was surprisingly calming.

The curtain parted, and Zandrue started slightly at the introduction of several other perfumes and incenses from the rest of the teahouse. Singeans as a whole, seemed to prefer subtle scents, but bunches of them all together could still be quite powerful.

A Singean girl carrying a tray with a steaming teapot and several cups entered the room. She placed the tray on the floor in front of Zandrue and bowed. Then she said something that Zandrue was fairly certain was an offer to pour.

“Yes, thank you.” Hopefully, she’d gotten the pronunciation right. It was not a simple language. The slightest variation in pronunciation or even pitch could change the meaning significantly. It was a bit like Isyarian that way, and she’d never done well with that language.

With a smile, the girl knelt down, and picked up the teapot. She was around fifteen or sixteen, her black hair done up in a simple bazhu made with coloured stones. A smoky perfume with more hints of vetiver blended with her natural scent, adding a similar comforting feel to the incense. She poured a cup. As she did so, there was a brief glint of metal from something rolled up in her robe by her hips. A dagger? This didn’t seem a very rough place, but Zandrue couldn’t blame the girl for wanting some protection. It was impossible to know what kind of person might come into the shop at any time.

Zandrue took the cup when the girl held it out to her. “Thank you.”

The girl smiled, then left the room, pulling the curtain closed behind her.

Zandrue raised the cup. She should probably have waited for Miana, but a little wouldn’t hurt. She was thirsty. She moved the cup to just under her nose, and sniffed. Sweet tea she had ordered, and she could smell the condensed milk and sugar in it. However, like every other “sweet tea” she’d had so far in Singea—and anywhere else in human lands—it probably wouldn’t actually qualify as sweet. She took a sip. She was right, but at least it was better than butter tea.

She sat there for the next few minutes, quietly sipping at the tea. After a few sips, she started to get used to it, even found herself liking it, even if it could be sweeter.

They had reached Kiff—their last stop before the temple if their information was correct—last night and had camped on the road outside town, as they’d been doing their entire journey. It was supposedly for Felitïa’s benefit, so that she couldn’t accidentally “fall” into people’s heads. Yet she spent every night playing in Miana’s head anyway—and last night had been no different—so was there really any point to it?

Zandrue sighed. Yes, there was a point to it. Miana had consented; the unknowing public hadn’t. As much as Zandrue hated what Felitïa and Miana were doing, it was their business, not hers. She was just worried something would go terribly wrong—it always did—and Felitïa would never forgive herself. Zandrue wasn’t sure she would forgive her either. Oh well, they would deal with that when it happened.

This morning, they had packed up their things as usual, and Felitïa had found an out-of-the-way spot to meditate, or do whatever she did when they left her alone for lengthy periods of time. Borisin was there to look after her, so she would no doubt be fine.

Zandrue and Miana had come into town with the goal of finding out as much about the monastery as possible before they continued on their way. Miana had taken the job of finding people to talk to, while Zandrue found this location for them to talk in—a job she could manage with her very limited command of the language. Now, it was just a matter of waiting.

Thankfully, she didn’t have to wait long. A few minutes later, the curtain parted and the young girl from before motioned Miana and a man into the room before pulling the curtain closed again. The man was fairly short with a shaved head that showed several days of stubble growth. He wore a burgundy woollen robe with yellow-gold trim made from a single long sheet wrapped around his body and shoulders.

Zandrue rose, pressed her palms together in front of her chest, and bowed her head. “Greetings.” She used the formal form of the word intended for monks and the elderly—at least, she hoped she did.

The monk returned the gesture and greeting, and also stuck his tongue out briefly afterwards.

Zandrue smiled. Either she’d gotten the intonation right, or this monk was understanding of her lack of proficiency in the language.

Speaking in Singean, but keeping it slow, Miana said, “This is Brother Chodha from the monastery. Brother, this is Zandrue, whom I told you of.”

From the monastery? They’d come here hoping to find someone who knew about the monastery, but to find someone actually from it… Maybe they were having good luck for a change.

They all sat, and Miana poured Chodha and themself some tea.

“Miana has told me you wish to know more of the monastery,” Chodha said, via Miana translating.

“You’re actually from the monastery?” Zandrue said. “We got the impression the monks didn’t leave there very often.”

Chodha smiled and took a sip of his tea. “We don’t. I am the exception. While we are mostly self-sufficient, we cannot survive entirely on our own. I make arrangements to supply the monastery with the things we cannot produce ourselves—mainly tools and some foodstuffs. It requires that I come into Kiff regularly.”

“Can I ask what the monastery’s name is? The maps we’ve found that even show it only ever have a symbol at its location with no label.”

“The monastery has no name. This is precisely because it makes it harder to label on a map. We prefer to remain somewhat unknown. The elevation also helps discourage visitors.”

“I guess that means they won’t like us going there very much?”

Chodha chuckled. “Quite the opposite. We eagerly welcome pilgrims and never turn them away as long as they commit no bloodshed or other violence in or near the monastery.”

“How many pilgrims do you get?”

“Very few. One or two groups a year, sometimes not even that.”

“But we’re not exactly pilgrims.” Zandrue sipped at her tea, using it as a way to give her a moment of thought. How honest should she be with him? She, Felitïa, and Miana had all agreed they would be honest with the monks at the monastery, but they weren’t at the monastery yet. Still, this guy—assuming he was being truthful—was a monk from the monastery, and being dishonest with him now could come back to haunt them later. “We’re going there because some other people are going there. We’re hoping to get there first. It’s to do with the sword you guard.”

Chodha smiled broadly. “Most pilgrims who come to us are there because of the sword. As long as you mean us no harm, we will welcome you.”

Miana added, “He added the tag, -zi to the word for pilgrim. It means… It’s hard to explain. It means the word isn’t necessarily being used literally.”

Zandrue nodded. “I get it. Most of the pilgrims aren’t really there for the religious experience.”

“Exactly,” Miana said.

“May I ask what your interest in Daemonslayer is?” Chodha asked.

Zandrue took a deep breath and looked to Miana.

“It’s your decision,” they said.

Zandrue drank down the last of her tea. Honesty. Right. “We’re not so much interested in the sword as we are the other people we’re trying to beat to it. One of them is very dear to me, and the others are Darkers. We want to keep them away from the sword.”

Chodha smiled knowingly. “Yes, most who come to us are Darkness Worshippers, and you are not?”

“No, of course not!”

“Please take no offence,” Chodha said. “You are merely unusual. Darkness Worshippers have long wanted to get their hands on Daemonslayer, and people who are not Darkness Worshippers rarely even know it exists.”

“And you let them in?”

Chodha let out a long sigh. “The rare few who are not Darkness Worshippers always react with the same surprise. As long as they mean us no harm, and commit no violence in or near the monastery, we welcome them, as we welcome all.”

“But don’t they try to steal it? I mean, you said they want to get their hands on it.”

Chodha chuckled. “They often try, but they fail. Daemonslayer will remain under our protection until the prophesied Sword-Bearer comes to collect.”

“How will you know who that is?”

“We have tests.”

“I see.” Zandrue rubbed her chin. This wasn’t entirely unknown or surprising information. Should she tell him about Rudiger?

As if echoing her thoughts, Miana said, “Should we ask about Rudiger?”

Zandrue stretched her neck and nodded. “There’s a man who has a sword some Darkness Worshippers, one in particular, think is Daemonslayer. In fact, that one is bringing him to the monastery forcibly in order to find out.”

“This man is the one you said is dear to you?”

Zandrue nodded.

“The sword he carries is most definitely not Daemonslayer. However, if others are convinced it is, then it could be one of the ten decoy swords. They are not as powerful as Daemonslayer, but they are potent weapons nonetheless. So I have been taught, at any rate. None of us currently living at the monastery have ever encountered one of the decoys.”

“And you’ll be able to determine this for sure?”

He nodded. “We have tests to differentiate all eleven swords.”

Zandrue forced a smile. “Thank you for being so open about all this.”

“There is no reason for me not to be. You may be happy to know that, if your friend is indeed being brought as a prisoner, they will not be allowed into the monastery until he is freed. Holding a person against their will is a form of violence, and we will not tolerate it.”

This time, she smiled genuinely. “Thank you.”

“Is there anything else you wish to know?”

Zandrue shrugged. “Just any advice you might have about the remaining journey there. Should we bring any offerings?”

Chodha started to reply, but stopped at the sound of raised voices from the other side of the curtain. He turned his head.

Miana rose to their feet. “I’ll check what’s happening,” they said in Singean, and pulled the back the curtain a fraction, but then it was pulled out of their hand as someone on the other side opened it all the way.

Their server stood on the other side. “Brother!” She spoke rapidly in Singean.

Chodha rose to his feet and bowed his head to Zandrue. “Excuse me a moment.” Miana didn’t translate, but it was an easy enough phrase to follow.

Zandrue bowed her head in return, and Chodha went out into the main room of the teahouse, where the yelling was getting louder.

Zandrue walked over to the doorway beside Miana. Two men were arguing loudly by the front window. They were both standing, and one shoved the other.

Chodha approached them, his arms outstretched, speaking calmly.

“The one on the right is accusing the other of stealing from him,” Miana said.

The two men stopped yelling at each other, and faced Chodha. They both began to speak at the same time, but Chodha held his hands up, palms out.

The serving girl said something, and motioned to the room they’d been talking in.

“She says Brother Chodha will handle this,” Miana said. “We should have a seat and she’ll pour us some more tea.”

Zandrue smiled at the girl. “Tell her I’d like to watch Brother Chodha at work.”

After Miana translated, the girl shook her head and motioned into the room again, protesting. Zandrue caught the word please repeatedly, but the rest was too rapid.

Miana turned back into the room. “I think she’s embarrassed by the commotion. We are in a noble room after all. Let’s just do as she asks.”

Zandrue shrugged and looked back towards Chodha. He was talking calmly with the two men, and now that the shouting had stopped, it was hard to hear anything. With a nod to the girl, she headed back over to the cushion she’d been sitting on.

“This is a noble room?”

Miana sat across from her. “Yes, I assumed you knew. You got it.”

Zandrue shrugged. “There are intricacies of the language I still haven’t figured out. I just wanted a place somewhat private.”

The girl knelt between Zandrue and Miana, and picked up the teapot. She started to pour, her arms shaking. The tea sloshed about, much of it spilling onto the floor. Strange. It was a heavy cast-iron pot, but she’d handled it much more easily earlier.

“Are you all right?” Miana asked in Singean.

The girl looked at Miana, fear in her eyes, and sweat trickling down her forehead. With a snarl, she threw the pot at Miana, and her hand went for the dagger folded in her robe.

Miana fell back with a cry, and Zandrue leapt at the girl. The girl had the dagger in her hand, but Zandrue grabbed her wrist and yanked her over. She pressed the girl down onto her back and twisted her wrist around. The sleeve of the girl’s robe fell back just enough to reveal the bottom of a familiar tattoo just above her elbow. Zandrue pulled the dagger from the girl’s hand.

The girl screamed.

“Oh shit.”

“Help! Someone, please help!”

The curtain yanked back to reveal the teahouse proprietress, and several other people.

Zandrue let go of the girl, who jumped to her feet and ran to the older woman, sobbing and talking rapidly.

Miana, rubbing their forehead where the pot had hit them, rose to their feet. They raised their hands, palms out. What followed was an eruption of voices as the girl, the proprietress, and Miana all began talking at once. Zandrue only picked up a fraction of the words, but it was clear the serving girl was accusing Zandrue and Miana of attacking her. She pointed repeatedly at the dagger, which, after a moment, Zandrue placed on the ground and backed away from.

After a minute or so of this, Chodha squeezed through the gathering crowd, and made his way into the room. He looked at Miana, then Zandrue, then the dagger. The serving girl spoke accusingly, but he held up his palm and she fell silent. He looked again to Miana. “Speak.”

“We did not do this,” Miana said in Singean. Zandrue only picked up a portion of what they said next, but it seemed to be a description of what had actually happened.

When Miana was done, Chodha turned to the serving girl. “Speak.”

The girl launched into a tirade, which Zandrue was fairly certain claimed that Zandrue had drawn the dagger on the girl and thrown her to the ground because she was unhappy about how the girl had poured her tea. When she’d finished, the elderly proprietress hissed something angrily.

Chodha bowed his head to the proprietress, then turned to Zandrue and Miana. “You should leave.”

“But we—” Miana started, but Chodha held up his hand with a shake of his head.

Zandrue nodded. “Let’s go, Miana. We don’t want to cause any more trouble.” She pressed her palms together in front of her chest, and bowed her head to Chodha, who returned the gesture.

Miana exchanged the gesture with Chodha, then started out of the room. As they passed him, Chodha touched their arm, and said something quietly to them.

Miana paused to listen, nodded, then headed out of the room. Zandrue followed, taking the opportunity to breathe in deeply as she passed by Chodha, getting his scent, which she hadn’t had the opportunity to do earlier. He wasn’t wearing perfume, so she only had to separate it from all the other incense and perfume about.

The old woman muttered angrily, but moved aside, as did the people gathered. Zandrue resisted the temptation to throw the old woman to the ground and search for the goat-skull tattoo she was certain she would find.

People spat at them as they made their way to the front door, but otherwise no one tried to impede them. Once they were outside, they headed along the road towards where they had left Felitïa.

“What did he say?” Zandrue asked after a couple minutes.

“He said he believes us because he knows the old woman is a Darker, but it was better to diffuse the situation. If they think he believes them, they might not try to come at us again because they believe he will send word to the monastery not to let us in.”

Zandrue rolled her eyes. “Yeah, I figured it was something like that.”

“But if she had killed us, how would—?”

“She wasn’t supposed to. We were supposed to kill her. That’s why she was so scared. Fucking Darkers! Using fucking children to do their dirty work!”

“Like they used you?”

Zandrue stopped and glared at Miana. “How…?” She groaned.

Miana bowed their head. “I’m sorry. I saw it in Felitïa’s head.”

“Then you know what I am?”

Miana nodded.

“Fuck!”

“It doesn’t bother me. I know you are a good person.”

“That was not Felitïa’s secret to reveal!”

“She didn’t. I learned it—”

“While you were playing in her fucking head! Yeah, I know. She should have hid it.”

“I don’t think she could.”

“Yeah, no kidding. Fuck!” She started forward again, walking quickly to get away from Miana. “If you know what’s good for you, you’ll stay out of my way for a few hours, got it?”

“Fine, but one thing first!” Miana called after her.

Zandrue stopped and looked back.

“If you’re planning on laying into Felitïa, don’t.”

“Excuse me?”

“Felitïa doesn’t need you and Borisin lecturing her all the time. She’s an adult and can make her own decisions, as can I. We know what we’re doing.”

Zandrue wanted to laugh in disbelief. “No. You don’t. That’s the fucking problem.”

“Don’t presume to tell me—”

“I’ll presume to tell you whatever I fucking want!” Zandrue started back towards Miana, her fist raised, but she stopped and turned back around. It wouldn’t do well to make a scene in the streets so soon after what had happened in the teahouse.

“I’ll let you calm down, and then we can talk.”

“Fuck you!”

She continued along the street, practically stomping her feet. It was time to have it out with Felitïa.