 |
There was a bustle in Villa Vivikadvra. Preparations for a long trip were being made. The early morning sun was just peeking over the hills, and the start of summer smelled in the air. A few tiny bits of frost still clung beneath trees near the villa.
A long limousine in the front of the villa was being loaded with an assortment of trunks and supplies. It was being loaded by two figures, and overseen by two more.
“Those are delicate, Daemon.” Malgrave barked at Hylie, who was about to toss a box onto the roof of the car. “Put my equipment in the trunk.”
Hylie sighed and walked around to the other end of the car, dropping the box down as heavily as she thought she could get away with. There was a quiet but satisfying crunch from the inside.
“Can you get these too, Cadmus?” Narshe pointed to a few trunks that she had dragged down from the top floor.
The homunculus nodded. He was dressed in a red coat, but it was very different from his ‘father’ Malgrave’s noble clothing. His orange-blond hair was matted with sweat from carrying and packing for the past hour. Narshe had packed and repacked at least thrice so far.
Lord Malgrave turned from his perch near the door to call up to the foyer. “Is this really everything, Landraner?”
“Yes, I’m quite sure this time, Hulbrenth.” She nodded.
“Do you have our itinerary?”
“I do. Train to California, ship to China, and then charter rails and private cars for whatever smaller trips we need to make.”
It was going to be a big journey—one that might take months. Asia was a huge place, and Nateel—and the Legion—could be anywhere. Containing the monster seemed like a task that would be impossible for an army, much less for the small party composed of Cosette and her allies.
“I’ll go wake Cosette and Sarin.” Narshe turned and headed up the stairs. She made a light knock on Cosette’s door.
“Mrmph…” There was a grumble from the other room, and a sound like covers being pulled tighter over their owner’s head.
“Princess, time to go.” Narshe cooed.
“Quite the sleeper.” Lady Jelcriste sidled up behind Narshe. “That’s a weakness in royalty.” She was wearing a long green dress to match her deep greenish-red eyes. A scarlet flower pattern climbed from the hem of the dress and crisscrossed up to her high neckline. A wide hat with a black rose perched atop it covered her head, a slight veil hiding her features. She had a small parasol to match the dress tucked under one arm.
“Ah, I didn’t realize you were awake.” Narshe bristled a bit at the insult to her mistress, a motion not unnoticed by Jelcriste.
“I rarely sleep.” Jelcriste had become a master of the darker arts of magic in her centuries-long lifespan. Extending her life with arcane power had made her a creature not unlike a vampire in constitution, though she retained human appetites.
“I see.” Narshe smiled as best she could.
“I suppose I shall be downstairs with Hulbrenth, to oversee the packing. Come, Tournelouse.” Sarin swept by, her black Grimalkin arching its tail at Narshe as it trundled past in the form of a proud cat.
“Yes, I’ll take care of things here.” Narshe nodded, eager to be left alone by the strange witch. The rivalries between Cosette Garidion and Sarin Jelcriste were well known. Why had Cosette agreed to work alongside her to stop Nateel? There was no guarantee that she wouldn’t stab the princess in the back at the first opportunity. And it would be so easy to kill in the faraway reaches of Asia and pass it off as an accident or attack by assassins.
Narshe pushed aside the door to Cosette’s room and stepped in once Jelcriste was safely away. Cosette sat in her wing-backed chair, smoking from her long pipe calmly. She was fully dressed and awake—something Narshe had not expected.
“Well, good morning, Princess. That was some quick dressing. You didn’t need any help?”
“I’ve been awake all night, Narshe. I took an infusion Lord Malgrave made to ward off fatigue.”
“Oh. ‘Only a fool sleeps while there are enemies in her house’ is what your mother always said.”
“Classic advice.”
“So that noise?”
Cosette blinked rapidly, as though casting a silent cantrip, and her eyes locked onto the bed. The same muffled sound emanated from thin air, complete with the sheet swishing Narshe had heard. “Show weakness to disguise your strength.”
“Or sloth to disguise your vigilance? I’m impressed.”
“Thank you.” Cosette smiled. “I’ll need to bathe and dress before we go. It wouldn’t do to wear the same thing as yesterday.”
* * *
The limousine pulled up to a train platform, and soon Cosette, Narshe and Hylie were boarding a fast train west. In the compartment ahead of them, Lord Malgrave sat with Cadmus. Behind their compartment was Lady Jelcriste. There were slight noises, as though she were playing with her cat by talking to it. Cosette recognized it as a conversation in High Infernal, but it was too faint to make out.
“Grimalkins, they’re another kind of Daemon, right?” Narshe turned to Hylie.
“It’s more a distinction than a class.” Hylie sat, arms folded. “You might even call me one, since I’m bound to serve a human.”
“Do they call you that?” Cosette asked.
“It would be the last thing they called me.” The Daemon’s teeth flashed for a moment. “It’s unfortunate that humans can master magic so much faster than Daemons can. Because of that, many try to find a witch or wizard to teach them. A single Grimalkin might serve a number of masters, collecting knowledge over hundreds or even thousands of years before returning to the underworld to use that knowledge.”
“Ah.” Narshe looked out the window.
“Tournelouse, that Grimalkin over there,” Hylie’s chin moved to indicate the room to behind Narshe, “he’s a little younger than me. Fatespinner class. That’s what most of them are. Fatespinners or Mourners.”
“Or Strategists.” Cosette put in.
“I’ve never heard of it.” Hylie sniffed.
“That’s because their masters don’t last long. Most Grimalkins serve their masters. A Strategist’s master is just a pawn that gets replaced at first opportunity.”
“Hm. So you think Overlord Knale bound herself to a human once?”
“Lord Enlu, naturally. History softens the story, but I imagine he was viciously used. Like the rest of us.”
“So what happens when a witch tries to summon a Grimalkin that’s too powerful? I mean, if you’ve studied magic for ten years, and you get a Daemon a thousand years old, he wouldn’t just abide a summoner’s pact, would he?”
“Rogue warlocks often summon Daemons too strong. There goes another soul.” Hylie shrugged.
“If they practiced under the supervision of the Empire, there’s little danger of that.” Cosette nodded. “But there are cases of Daemons who use their pacts to stay in this world. Of course, they have to find new masters if they are to continue to persist after the deaths of their summoners. And the Daemon needs blood or souls to subsist… it can get messy quickly.”
The train ride passed by slowly, with Cosette finishing up a novel she had brought from the villa. Narshe and Hylie amused themselves with a game of checkers, which ended when Hylie’s minion, Gruphul, tried to eat the pieces its master had captured. The little Daemon in training was reprimanded by being tied with a short rope and hung out the window to bounce along the side of the car as it clattered down the tracks.
* * *
After two days of train travel, Cosette and the others in her compartment were no longer on friendly speaking terms. The train stopped at a little junction outpost in California, from which they were booked to take another train south the following morning. Cosette wanted nothing more than to spend an evening away from Narshe and Hylie after the long, arduous train ride.
The California air was hot, but not too humid, and everything seemed tropical, from the plants to the dress code. Cosette, in her black lace and furs, felt out of place and swelteringly hot.
“Let’s get to the hotel.” The princess turned to Narshe, “What did you book?”
“A little place nearby. It’s a bed and breakfast a ways off from the station, so you won’t have to listen to the trains all night.”
“Good.” Cosette actually found herself smiling, despite her mood. A chance to admire Narshe’s competence was a rare treat.
“You made accommodations for us as well, I presume?” Lord Malgrave, Cadmus, and Sarin Jelcriste stepped off of the platform, with Tournelouse strutting about at their heels.
“Naturally.” Narshe spread her hands open in a gesture of friendliness. “I told Hylie to hail two cabs after she’s unloaded the luggage. We should head down to meet her soon.”
Hylie was indeed waiting for them with two cabs stopped. Malgrave, Cadmus, and Jelcriste took the latter, while Cosette, Narshe, and the demon herself took the first.
“Take us to In Memoriam.” Narshe nodded to the cab driver.
“Like the poem?” Cosette asked, glancing out her window. The sky was clear blue, with not a cloud in sight, and the streets were busy, even in these evening hours. It was much too bright outside for the time of day it was. Cosette wasn’t one to say that she liked day or night better or worse, but a healthy balance was in order, she believed. Day got too much of the day, and it was stepping even further in this realm. Possibly the work of The Church.
“I don’t think there’s any relationship.”
“Maybe it was just built in memory of something then?” They spoke in Romanian, so that driver wouldn’t overhear their words. He seemed intimidated enough by Hylie’s unusually toothy grin to keep quiet during the trip.
It was only a ten minute drive to the inn, which was indeed on the outskirts of town. The buildings around seemed abandoned or condemned. The inn itself, however, was in good enough shape, though a little dull from the outside. The words ‘In Memoriam’ were spelled out in brass over the front door, which was made of wood, like the rest of the building. The inn stood alone, apart from other buildings, and seemed to be an old homestead that had been converted to accommodate guests. A cheery light was coming from the parlor, and there were voices inside.
“Seems legitimate enough, though I could do with a better location.” Jelcriste stepped out of her cab, a heavy purse in one hand.
“Let’s go inside and check our reservations.” Narshe led the party up the front steps of the inn, and pulled open the front door.
* * *
“See it’s actually much nicer on the inside.” Narshe led them into the decorated hotel lobby, trying to sound like she knew all this in advance. To Cosette’s trained ears, however, the vampire couldn’t hide the relief in her voice. Some posh chairs were arranged around a large fireplace, and other guests were moving between the lobby and what was apparently some kind of restaurant and bar combination.
After a brief check in, dinner was served for the party in the hotel restaurant, though conversation was quiet at best and tense at worst. Cadmus declined to eat, and retreated to Malgrave’s room almost immediately. It was impossible to talk with Lady Sarin without fishing back some snide remark or insulting nuance. Cosette finished quickly. Her eyes seemed to dart around nervously, watching the other guests and the servers with a kind of suspicion that she was doing nothing to mask.
“You’ll have to excuse me, Lord Malgrave, Lady Jelcriste, but I should retire soon.” She stood without prompting and looked at Narshe, a glimmer of something passed between their eyes.
The Princess’s retainer stood together with her. “I’ll come help you with your things.” The vampire smiled.
“Very well, and good night Princess Cosette.” Hulbrenth Malgrave stood and bowed.
“Do have a good night.” Jelcriste remained seated, and Malgrave rejoined her to finish his meal.
“See ya’.” Hylie continued munching on a whole roast chicken she had ordered. She was making good headway on finishing it too.
Cosette and Narshe walked into the parlor and up a flight of steps to Cosette’s suite. It was a room decorated with modern black furniture and a thick white carpet. Some pieces of artwork hung on the walls, depicting various landscapes and events. They seemed to be scenes of famous battles and of saints, predominantly. Cosette turned once Narshe was inside and clicked the door shut, listening for a moment to see if anyone had followed them.
“Ooh, we’re all alone, Cosette.” Narshe giggled and grinned, baring her fangs. “What do you want with me?”
“Why did you bring us here?” Cosette hissed. “This place…”
“Whatever are you talking about, mistress?” Narshe swept forward, gently placing a hand on Cosette’s shoulder. “Shall I get you dressed for bed?”
“Get off, you!” Cosette knocked her hand away. “This place is dangerous. Didn’t you see the other guests?”
“What about them? Nothing caught my eye…”
“They didn’t look appetizing at all to you, or didn’t you notice?”
Narshe’s initial reaction to most people was to try and take a bite, but she hadn’t had that impulse tonight. She looked suddenly thoughtful. “I suppose not.” She had a quizzical look on her features as she crossed her arms and adjusted her glasses.
“They didn’t have any life. They’re all specters. You can see it in the eyes if you know what to look for.” Cosette seemed anxious, “did you do this on purpose?”
“I swear I didn’t know a thing about it. These things just happen.” Narshe held up a hand, taking on a solemn look. “What do you think it is?”
“That we’ve walked into something that we’ll have a time walking out of, is what I think.”
“Well, if you don’t feel safe, I’ll go check us out, and we can just leave.”
“Let’s try.” Cosette agreed, and the two of them headed downstairs.
* * *
Though they had only been gone a few minutes, when they returned, the lobby was deserted, and the lights were out.
“Arcolyss.” Narshe murmured a spell, and a ball of white light snapped into existence, hovering above her open hand. Everything seemed to be in order, except for the complete lack of staff.
“Try the door.” Cosette ordered.
It was locked.
“Hm…” The Princess considered for a bit, then raised a hand. A bolt of black shadow arced from her fingertips and crashed against some invisible force hovering just above the door. “So it’s warded. Another of Legion’s little worlds?” She closed her eyes and concentrated, trying to sense the nature of whatever spell they had become trapped in.
“It feels like Daemonic high magic.” A familiar voice spoke.
“I was thinking the same thing.” Cosette opened her eyes to see not Narshe in front of her as expected, but Jelcriste coming in from the side.
“Where’s Narshe?” The vampire had vanished in just the few seconds Cosette had spent trying to analyze the spell around her.
“Taken by the spell, maybe?”
“This isn’t your doing, is it?”
“No.” Sarin answered, but something in her voice seemed to say she wished it had been her idea because it was a rather good trap. “Tournelouse used his own similar magic to break us free from the spell. It took Hulbrenth and your daemon as well.” The little black Grimalkin purred and brushed up against its master’s leg.
“I must not have been affected yet.”
“Your resistance to Daemonic magic is especially strong.”
“It’s in the blood. Legacy magic.”
“Ah, descended from Empress Carmine, a half daemon herself. It makes sense.” Jelcriste considered.
“We need to figure this out and get out of here. Are you with me?”
“For now, I suppose.” She snapped open her fan. This one was embossed with a cherry-tree design in black and red inks on white paper, to match her red dress with its white and black trim.
“Very well. Can your servant lead us to the heart of this thing?” Both of them looked down at the black cat, who was beaming up proudly. Its eyes were glowing a bright green.
“Tournelouse, you heard the Empress. Snap snap.” Jelcriste clapped her hands lightly.
“Alright, alright, I’m on it. Keep ya’ head on.” The cat snapped back. Even speaking in high Daemonic, the grimalkin had a Chicago wise-guy twang in its voice that Cosette had become familiar with. Cosette was surprised at first to hear him speak—not so much that he could speak, but that he would, and that it didn’t sound like the low Daemonic rumble she had come to be used to with Hylie.
Tournelouse sniffed the air. “We’re dealin’ with a real tough guy ‘ere. You betta’ be prepped.”
“Elaborate.” Cosette ordered.
“It’s a Daemon. An old one. Set up shop here, and he’s lurin’ people in for lunch, if ya’ know what I mean.”
The Princess had a flashback to the conversation she and Hylie had shared on the train. If a warlock outside the Empire tried to summon and bind a daemon too strong, that Daemon could dominate him. All the signs pointed to that case.
“Anything else? Is it one of Knale’s old enemies?”
“Can’t say from ‘ere.” The grimalkin mewed. “Will be soon, attacking nobility.”
“I’m sure once we present ourselves and it realizes who it’s dealing with, it will be quick to release the others.” Sarin spoke with an air of self-assuredness.
“That always happens. Practically every time.” Cosette’s words were thick with sarcasm.
“Let’s jus’ search around. I think we need to go downwards.” Tournelouse padded ahead, leading the way.
* * *
Led by floating spells of light and warding, and the little cat-daemon walking carefully before them, the two women made their way through the old house-turned-hotel. In the dark, without all the festive lights and distracting staff, Cosette noticed how run-down the place really was. The paintings seemed more gruesome, and she noticed holes in the rugs and tears in the wallpaper she hadn’t seen before. Here and there, signs of old struggles were evident—like a few scrapes on the wall, and a stain of something that might be blood, trailing away and down the hall.
Tournelouse seemed to be following these blood-trails, leading them down a long hall, then another, and then to a door that was chipped in places, and locked with several locks.
“Ugh, let’s see…” Jelcriste looked at the daunting array of locks. They resonated with a soft light, clearly warded with powerful magics.
“I have no idea.” Cosette feigned. She could open any lock with a touch—a blood gift from her ancestors—but it wouldn’t do to show off to a rival.
“Figures, with Landraner around to take care of chores for you.” The woman sighed, fanning herself absent-mindedly. “I’ll show you, child.” Jelcriste concentrated, examined all the locks with a touch, and then pulled her magic together into one hand. She knocked on the door once, twice, and then again.
All at once, the ten locks on the door sprung open, and it sounded like a deadbolt from the other side had been pulled away as well.
“Knock before entering. Classic.” Cosette smiled, indicating that she indeed did know the spell. Jelcriste said nothing, but followed Tournelouse inside and down a steep staircase.
There was a skittering sound as light penetrated down into the thick, dusty gloom of the basement. It smelled like a tomb, and Cosette coughed and covered her mouth as she descended.
“Not used to dust? I’m surprised, with the state of that villa.”
“The smell of death gets to me. I guess you’re used to it, after… how many centuries was it?”
“More than you’ll ever reach.” Sarin fanned her face in annoyance, but only succeeded in getting a little dust in her eyes.
The cellar was mostly empty, except for what looked like a few infested sacks of grains, sugar, and other such supplies. Crates were stacked neatly, probably filled with memorabilia from when the place had been someone’s home.
There were two doors in the cellar. One was a large wooden door, that looked like it was leading to something like a wine cellar. The other was smaller, and less obvious. It was a tiny opening just a little shorter than Cosette’s shoulder-height, cut deep into the stones of the cellar. A crate was partially pushed in front of it. The door was clearly meant to be a hidden one, but it seemed that someone had just been halfhearted about the affair of hiding it.
A hissing seemed to be all around them—like they were in the middle of one larger presence. It sounded like the chittering of a hundred insects.
“Who daresss disssturb my web?” There was a voice in the hissing, Cosette and Jelcriste both heard it at once.
“Who’s there?” Cosette called back.
“I am Sssspider, and you have entered the heart of my domain.” The hissing answered back from everywhere.
“We are of the nobility of the Dark Empire, Daemon. Release us and our friends, and your punishment will be short of death.” Jelcriste crowed into the darkness. “If you stand against us, you face all the wrath of the God-Empress Carmine.”
“A frightening proposssssition…” The Daemon hissed back. “Your friendssss are mine now. But I can releasssse you, for Carmine I know.”
Jelcriste looked thoughtful.
“You’re not actually considering—” Cosette glared
“Of course not.” She cut back in a whisper. “We need them.” She regained her composure. “What is it you desire from our comrades, Daemon? Perhaps we can strike a deal? I have many expendable servants I could exchange for their lives. They are valuable to me. How many souls? Ten for three?”
“Ssssslaves and ssssacrifices will not ssssate me. You have now a chanssssssse to leave. The doors are open. Get out, or I will devour you as well.” And the hissing was silent.
“Very well, so you choose the wrath of the Most Dark Empire!” Cosette shouted back. “Eltar Mernilaat!” She raised a hand, casting a bolt of crimson energy at the crates in the corner, smashing open the hidden door.
“You refuse my mercy at your own rissssssk.” Spider hissed, as Jelcriste, Cosette, and Tournelouse walked through the door.
* * *
The small door led down a short, cramped tunnel that was just higher than Cosette’s and Jelcriste’s heads. The damp enclosure opened up into a wide chamber, lined with what appeared to be open wine casks on either side. The floor was made of mold-crusted stone, and old, rotting beams supported the ceiling above. A few torches flared to life as they entered.
At the far end of the wine-cellar, there were four figures standing together. Three were the more familiar forms of Narshe, Malgrave, and Hylie. Behind them was a larger cowled figure, whose robes swept out long behind his body, and seemed to hover over the ground. No portion of his form was visible except for two glowing red eyes beneath the hood.
“They’re shadows.” Cosette examined the faces of her friends. Their eyes were replaced by glowing yellow bulbs of light, and their bodies had a certain ephemeral quality, such that they swayed in the torchlight.
Cadmus, with his artificial soul, must have been overlooked by the Daemon.
“Above us.” Jelcriste whispered, and Cosette glanced up to see three figures suspended upside down from the ceiling, wrapped in what could best be described as a kind of webbing. Their faces looked as though they were lost in sleep—a permanent dream brought about by Spider’s magic.
“The time for talk isssss over, children. Prepare to join your friendssss!” A long, bony arm lifted from the cloak that defined Spider’s form, and pointed out at the intruders.
Malgrave’s shade unsheathed a sword in one hand and a pistol in the other, while Narshe’s lifted its hands, beginning some sort of incantation.
The shadow of Hylie rushed foward, making an initial attack, but Jelcriste had already drawn her silver polearm from the air, and was wielding it in a spectacular display. Hylie’s fists clashed together with the metal weapon in a burst of energy, sending both attacker and defender back a few feet in recoil.
Spider’s arms were crossed over the chest of his robe, but it was clear from the glint of his malevolent eyes that he was concentrating to control the all the shadows at once. Cosette knew that the majority of his power was being used to sift through the minds of her servants above, nibbling at their consciousness, and they didn’t have long before the damage would be permanent.
“Get through them and stop him!” Cosette shouted, raising a hand to scatter more red lightning towards Spider. Narshe’s shadow made a motion and uttered a few hoarse words. Wind whipped around her, swirling the dust of the cellar into a shield that grounded Cosette’s spell.
So she knows that one’s my favorite. Cosette gritted her teeth, but not without a little smile. Let’s see about a spell she doesn’t know.
Tournelouse leapt at Hylie, scratching at her eyes before she could get up from the floor where she had fallen. There was something like a faint white line following his trail, as though held in his teeth. As Hylie scratched and jabbed to get the agile creature off of her, the grimalkin dodged and looped around through her legs and around her arms. Hylie at last raised a foot, prepared to stomp down upon the little black cat. Just as her heel was about to connect with its body, the grimalkin uttered a word of binding.
The silvery, ethereal thread surrounding Hylie suddenly solidified into a ghostly chain, ripping her from her feet and lashing her to the ground.
A shot rang though the air, as the shadow Malgrave’s heavy gun fired, burying a bullet in Jelcriste’s chest. The front of her expensive dress was soaked in dark blood that spurted from a wound above her left breast.
Cosette looked over, and could see Jelcriste’s eyes darken in rage and Malgrave’s shadow took aim for another shot. The noble spat a spell from her lips, releasing each word like a clump of tar. “Nevix Verfernam Aklite Egelis.” She placed a hand upon the wound, and it washed away like ink under her touch. “Verniscaate!” The grip of the hand over Jelcriste’s wound tightened, and there was an explosion of something black and oozing from her grip. The same gunshot wound that had so recently scarred Jelcriste appeared now on Malgrave’s own chest, and the shadow fell back suddenly.
Hylie’s shadow was tearing through Tournelouse’s chains, and Malgrave’s would regenerate in a few moments. There was no use in fighting shadows. Cosette had to stop Spider, or he would wear them down to nothing in time.
A spell Narshe doesn’t know… Cosette searched her memory. How many spells could a vampire arcanist not learn in seven hundred years that her student could learn in nineteen?
In a moment, the young sorceress caught a glimpse of inspiration reflected in the dim light of the storehouse. She rushed forward, hurling a few bursts of deadly energy to cover herself. Then, with a terrific leap, she splashed into a puddle of stagnant water that had formed on the damp stone floor.
She stood for a moment blinking, before the Narshe-shadow cast a bolt of ice magic that shimmered through the air, piercing Cosette right through the chest. The princess’ body just quivered like water as the spell passed through it harmlessly. She continued advancing upon Spider and Narshe, immune to spell and weapon alike as though she were a ghost.
“You’re relying too much on your puppets, Spider, and that mistake will be your life.” The sorceress’ voice came from somewhere below.
In a flash, Cosette’s real body rose from another puddle behind the Daemon. She reached back her cursed left hand and drove it through Spider’s cloak, closing clawed fingers around something soft and pulsing. The Daemon screamed in agony as she twisted its heart out.
The shadows of her friends began to dissolve as Spider’s form hissed and oozed into nothing. “Hsssss… I underesssstimated you indeed.” The daemon gave a halfhearted chuckle. “To hell oncsssssse more I ssssupossse…” And with those final words, he was no more.
“Impressive.” Jelcriste said in an unimpressed way as she stepped past. “A vampire would never think of switching places with her reflection, naturally. If Spider hadn’t let Narshe do the thinking for him, he might have seen it coming.”
One less weapon to use against Jelcriste, when the time comes. Cosette sighed to herself. “Let’s cut them down and get out of this hole.” She sniffed instead.
* * *
“No, Lord Malgrave will be taking care of that from now on.” Cosette spoke curtly. The five of them were standing on the roadside, as Hylie and Cadmus loaded their belongings into a hired car. The homunculus, oblivious to what had happened the previous night, seemed to have slept soundly without interruption.
“I can do it! I’ll do better! I promise!” Narshe pleaded.
“You’re never to reserve another hotel for us, ever again.” Jelcriste scowled, snapping her fan open to cover her mouth. “I would demand your head, were I your master.”
“But mistress!!!”
“No. Period. And we’ve covered this—don’t call me mistress. I’m only nineteen!”
Narshe sulked as they climbed into the car and departed towards the harbor.
