Page 68 of The Malevolent Seven

Corrigan chuckled. ‘Relative of yours, Aradeus?’

‘I’m a ratmage, you overstuffed idiot,’ Aradeus said, ‘not an actual rat.’

One of the brothers misunderstood the joke. ‘We hope our servants do not make you unduly uncomfortable. We find it more convenient to reshape local animals to our needs rather than contend with the unfortunate eccentricities of human beings.’

In case you’re wondering? On the scale of magical abilities one tosses off casually in conversation, transmogrifying animals into walking, talking,thinkingservants is pretty damned impressive. Actually,fucking terrifyingwould be a better description.

‘It’s cruel,’ Galass said, still holding on to a snarling Mister Bones. Her right hand, extending towards the servants, had started weaving back and forth as if she were holding it under the current of a river. ‘They did not consent to be transformed this way.’

‘Should they serve us well, they will be returned to their natural state soon enough,’ one of the brothers said peaceably.

‘As a matter of fact,’ I began, sitting down on one of the replacement chairs and resting my elbows on the table, ‘we’re here to discuss some of those human eccentricities that so trouble you.’

One of the brothers– at a guess, I’d have said he was the oldest, but they were all close enough in age that it was hard to be entirely sure– leaned his own arms on the table as if trying to mirror my casual posture. ‘You have concerns about our presence here?’

The brother next to him gestured towards the ceiling at the other side of the hall. ‘Perhaps the same concerns as the previous delegations?’

‘Our client—’

I stopped myself. Who the fuckwasour client at this point? Were we working for one of the Lords Devilish for whom Tenebris bartered deals with Mortal wonderists like those dangling from the ceiling? The Lords Celestine who’d sold Shame into sexual slavery? The Glorian Justiciars who had very definitely herded me into this, not to mention who knew how many other jobs since leaving the order?

Whose orders was I following now? Or was I now so accustomed to selling my services– along with my conscience– to the highest bidder that I didn’t know what else to do?

Stand up, smile, thank them for their hospitality, and get Corrigan, Galass and Aradeus the fuck out of here. That’s the only duty you have left.

I started to rise, but Galass, sitting next to me with Mister Bones snuggled up on her lap, reached over and pulled me back down.

‘Our concern,’ she started, ‘is that you are using magic to poison the land here, making it even worse than it already was, so that the extra-planar beings whom you serve can use the Blastlands as a base from which to invade the Mortal plane.’

So much for subtly guiding our hosts into revealing their intentions.

On my right side, Corrigan hissed between clenched teeth, ‘I told you not to bring the crazy girl, Cade.’

During our hike up the hill, the four of us had debated whether to reveal what we knew of the brothers’ plans or keep silent. Corrigan and Aradeus had argued that showing your hand to an enemy is never good military strategy. I’d countered that playing dumb when the evidence is obvious to anyone with a brain serves only to convince your opponent that you are, in fact, dumb. Galass hadn’t expressed an opinion on which approach we should take. Apparently she’d decided on excessive moral rectitude as a tactic.

‘An invasion?’ one of the other brothers asked. ‘Whoever spoke of—?’

The one two seats down finished for him, ‘—an invasion?’

I was beginning to wonder how they decided who would speak next, since they never looked at one another, never talked over each other and somehow perpetually finished each other’s sentences.

‘What are we “invading”, precisely?’ asked a third.

The younger one next to him replied, ‘A place abandoned by its former rulers.’

‘Left to rot and decay,’ said the slightly plumper-faced brother to his right.

‘A graveyard of past misjudgements,’ came another.

I was starting to get a sore neck from twisting to meet the gaze of whoever was talking.

‘A land already occupied,’ Galass said, slamming a fist on the table, which caused the snoozing Mister Bones to awaken just long enough to lend an affirming bark to her anger. ‘That they are poor is no reason t—’

‘They are not poor,’ the brother opposite me corrected, his eyes fixed on mine, as if he’d decided not to deal with Galass any more. ‘They are destitute and miserable, despising the desolation that encroaches year after year upon their town, yet unable to leave because their bodies are addicted to the very toxins infecting the soil that make their existences unbearable.’

He rapped his knuckles gently on the table and I heard that same buzzing in my ears from earlier– and suddenly the wooden surface of the table became a living model of the town of Mages’ Grave and its surrounding landscape, including this fortress. It even had the blood-red haze that blew across all of it.

‘This settlement you seem eager to die for barely sustains the two hundred lives who still cling to it,’ said the brother to his left.

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