Red Tide, Enchantress of the 4th Renown, The Reef, not such a bad hangover

  Cuda Bite, Throne Gazer, Salt Wall, the champions of the Reef, and Turtle Jaw, their Quill, preparing for a fight

  Gauntlet, Healer of the 3rd Renown, the Trolkin, once believed in bountiful harvests

  Mockery, Knife Master of the 8th Renown and Quill of the Trolkin, once believed in meritocracy

  26 Meltzend, 61 AW

  The Crown, North Continent

  94 days until the next Granting

  Red Tide awoke back in the vault filled with empty coffers. Turtle Jaw crouched next to her, the look of concern on his square-shaped face melting away as her eyes fluttered open. He put a hand gently on Red Tide's shoulder, as if to keep her from sitting up right away.

  “How long was I out?” Red Tide asked, her voice scratchy.

  “Almost a day,” Turtle Jaw replied quietly. “At least, I think so. Hard to tell in this place. How do you feel?”

  Red Tide considered the question. Her mouth still tasted like burnt pine and walrus shit, but the rest of her body felt invigorated. She stretched her arms and legs out across the bedroll, arching her back. The last time she'd tried to sleep in here, she couldn't manage it. Now, Red Tide luxuriated after what felt like the best rest she'd gotten in months.

  “I'm fine,” she told Turtle Jaw. “I was in the ocean.”

  The quill's eyes widened like she'd seen them do when the man spotted some majestic feature of the foreign lands they trekked across. He leaned closer and his voice got even quieter.

  “What did you see?” he asked her. “In the smoke?”

  Red Tide's eyes slid past him. Throne Gazer stood at a respectful distance, though she could tell he watched her with the same motherly interest as Turtle Jaw. Two gods damned penguins standing watch over a precious chick. When he saw that she was awake, Throne Gazer nodded to himself, and slipped out of sight. His departure did not disturb Cuda Bite who napped nearby with his feet propped up on a treasure chest. Red Tide's eyes lingered on the young skulker. He had floated through her vision with his belly split open.

  “Nothing,” she said, shaking the memory off. “Bullshit. Bunch of trolkin bullshit.”

  “Ah.” Turtle Jaw sat back, frowning. She could tell he was disappointed, but the warden didn't press her further.

  Of course, Red Tide knew what she’d seen was a bit more elaborate than mere trolkin bullshit. Cursed blood, dead gods, entities of malicious hunger and furious cold. She wouldn't let herself get pulled into such matters. Mythology was for old men like Esoteric. It was worthless unless she could leverage it in the here and now. Red Tide had learned a song of the giants—a powerful song—but the words were gone now, faded, and her mind felt stretched and empty as a result, like one of these abandoned vaults.

  “You didn't cover this in your pitch,” she said to Turtle Jaw, sitting up. “When you lured me out of the Grotto with all your promises. You didn’t tell me I’d end up here.”

  “No, I suppose I didn't,” Turtle Jaw replied with a smile. “It's more interesting than the Grotto, though, isn't it? The things that we’ve seen…”

  Red Tide licked her teeth and spit. “What good is interesting, old man? What good is interesting when I’m this thirsty?”

  As Turtle Jaw grabbed her a waterskin, new movement drew Red Tide's attention to the archway. The trolkin Gauntlet entered the room on long strides. She was as bulky and muscular as Red Tide had seen her in the smoke, her shining silver hair cropped close and spiky, her skin an icy blue. The ruined hand wasn't some symbolism created by the frosswiss—it was truly as mangled as Red Tide had seen, swollen flesh bursting forth from between the overlapping metal plates of a gauntlet. At least, Red Tide didn't have to wonder how the trolkin chose her name.

  Gauntlet stopped next to Red Tide's bed and dropped immediately to a knee, her head bowed.

  “Red Tide of the Reef, I am in your debt,” Gauntlet said. “You saw me through a battle that I had thought lost.”

  Everywhere she went on this continent, it seemed there were land-walkers willing to owe her something. Red Tide sat up a little straighter, but that effort still put the trolkin's big head above her. So, she decided instead to lean back on her elbows, raising her eyebrows.

  “What good is that?” Red Tide asked. “To have you in my debt?”

  Gauntlet lifted her eyes. “I am a healer. My skills are meant to preserve Lady Mockery, but if you or yours have need of me upon the island, I shall do everything in my power to assist you.”

  As she said this, the trolkin draped her bound hand across her heart. Red Tide recognized the symbol etched there—the circle in the shape of a shield.

  “If you're a healer, why don't you fix that hand of yours?” Red Tide asked. “Get that Sulkie glove off.”

  “I like to remember where I came from,” Gauntlet said. “The Ministry was good to me, though I failed them in the end.”

  Red Tide shrugged. The life story of the world's most noble trolkin meant little to her, but it couldn't hurt to have another ally on the island. She wasn't sure what she was supposed to do now—tap the trolkin's shoulders with a sword like she'd see some of the southern knights do? Red Tide didn't have anything handy.

  Luckily, at that moment, Mockery appeared in the archway.

  “I sense that my battle-sister has returned to us,” Mockery bellowed.

  “I came to tell you as much,” Blanket mumbled. Mockery's wife crouched behind the knife master's larger form. “You sensed it from words I said to you, my lady.”

  Mockery reached back to slap the top of Blanket's head, but otherwise kept her attention on Red Tide. Not wanting another trolkin crouched at her bedside, Red Tide scrambled to her feet, accepting a hand from Turtle Jaw as she did.

  “You have done a great service to me, battle-sister,” Mockery said as she swaggered close, brushing Gauntlet aside. “You've done my will without my even having to ask. We know each other's minds, do we not?”

  “It was your mage who asked for help,” Red Tide said. “Did you cut his ear off?”

  The trolkin pulled her own hair. “No, I forgot I promised that. Do you want me to?”

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  Red Tide remembered how easily Mockery had murdered one of her fellow trolkin when she thought he had given the oca'em offense. Quickly, she shook her head.

  “No,” Red Tide said. “Leave him be. Ugly enough already with that fucking beard.”

  “Ah, my battle-sister is merciful.” Mockery took two bounding steps forward, then hooked a finger in the collar of Red Tide's tunic and peeked at her chest, a presumption that Red Tide couldn't be bothered to address. “Good. Your color is back. Let us go kill a troll.”

  The murder of Feather began with the acquisition of a long, heavy plank of wood that Mockery picked out from a vault full of lumber. Mockery heaved the front end of the board onto her shoulder, Salt Wall took the back, and they set out through the Crown to the pit where Mockery had been housing the Ink-covered troll. Before that, Red Tide had given the gifts of coral she'd crafted—like the bracelet she had shaped for Throne Gazer—to her other two champions. For Salt Wall, she'd created a coral cuff that fit snugly over the berserker's thick bicep. And, for Cuda Bite, she had made two crisscrossing chains which he was meant to wear over his chest and back. Red Tide had brusquely explained what she had in mind with these armaments of coral and, unlike Throne Gazer, these other two didn't complain about their growing dependence on her.

  Throne Gazer hadn't spoken to her since Red Tide had come out of the smoke. That was fine. She still felt an unreasoning annoyance toward him. Red Tide didn’t like the thought of him hovering about while she tripped through the frosswiss, acting all protective. She didn’t need that. Even now, he walked beside Red Tide and she could tell by the thoughtful pout of his lips that the trident master was preparing to say something. Red Tide wasn't in the mood. She picked up her pace so that she walked level with Mockery, figuring Throne Gazer wouldn't start any conversations so close to the trolkin.

  She was surprised when Throne Gazer caught up to them, walking on Mockery's other side. The trolkin simply grinned through the strain of her load, as if grateful for the company.

  “Lady Mockery, if I may,” Throne Gazer began with the formal elocution that came so easy to him. “Where do you come from?”

  Mockery stuck out her jaw, peering around the plank at him. “What? I come from the belly of winter, Throne Man. The end of the world–”

  “No, no,” he cut her off gently. “Originally. You have a mage and a paladin of Sulk in your service. But what were you, before you were this?”

  The trolkin's expression darkened. “Past is passed here. The before doesn't matter.”

  “You told me that past, present, and future are the same.” Red Tide wasn't entirely sure why she spoke up. She supposed she was curious, too.

  “All the same in the smoke,” Mockery said. “You want to smoke with me, Throne Man? We can see whose mommy fucked them up harder.”

  Throne Gazer's eyes narrowed a fraction, but he kept his tone carefully neutral. “You said everything in the north is shared. Share your story with us, Lady Mockery. I would fully know who we're allied with.”

  Grunting, Mockery shot Red Tide a questioning look. A look that asked ‘do I have to?’ Red Tide shrugged her shoulders in response. They had all shared naming songs when they escaped from the Grotto—well, all except for Throne Gazer—but he had shown himself in time. After the gruesome scenes at the trolkin encampment, it was only now, after the frosswiss, that Red Tide had started to understand the trolkin more as people than mad beasts. Maybe it was the same for Throne Gazer. He sought some common ground with their new allies.

  Perhaps Mockery read some of this in her battle-sister's face, because she sighed through her nose. “I was born to a place of manners and culture and deals. High houses and their powerful bloodlines. Do you know the city of Penchenne?”

  Red Tide nodded. “We met some of them on the road. Sassy little bitch and her dopey champion.”

  “I came from a lesser house, always looking to impress, always scrabbling after our betters,” Mockery continued. “The frosswiss was a game to them. A diversion. A dare. And oh, how I wanted to show them how brave I could be by filling my lungs. I was their favorite little sideshow, dancing and screaming and doing battle with the lurker, singing prophecies as they passed me around their salons. I made them laugh and laugh, with my panic, with my baffling strength.” With her free hand, Mockery dragged her thumb across her scarred chest. “Not so amusing the night that I cut myself. I needed to make space for the knives, you see? I saw them waiting for me in the smoke. All that blood and meat wasn’t so amusing. No. The little, scrabbling lower house girl wasn’t such a delight then. Dumped on a beach and left to bleed. But soon, the winter came for me, and I walked away from all of that.” She turned her head to look around the beam, peering at Throne Gazer. “Do you know me better now, my lord? Are you satisfied?”

  Throne Gazer stared straight ahead. “I do,” he replied. “I am.”

  “I’ll see them again,” Mockery whispered, her voice only for Red Tide now. “I’ll make them laugh again. Oh, they will laugh, and laugh.”

  They arrived to the half-crumbled passage that led out to the troll’s pit. With the collapsed wall, the hallway was only wide enough for three of them to stand shoulder-to-shoulder. It would be tight for the troll, which gave them an advantage. Red Tide noticed that the smashed bodies that had littered the passage had all been cleaned up.

  “I fed him well. Got him nice and fat and sated,” Mockery said. “Maybe makes him easier to kill.”

  Even from here, Red Tide could hear the troll’s frustrated pacing, his footfalls vibrating the broken stone. She doubted the meal had been big enough that the beast wouldn’t want more.

  Mockery and Salt Wall set the plank down. Then, Mockery motioned for Salt Wall to switch places with her. “You want to be up front I assume, eh, big girl?”

  Salt Wall nodded. “It’s what I do.”

  Mockery grinned. “So, we push the plank in. Feather climbs up. You kill him. They heal quickly, so you’ll want to hack the head off as soon as you can.” She looked the oca’em over. “You know how to game the gods, right?”

  Turtle Jaw stepped forward. “What do you mean by that?”

  “Everybody does their part, everybody gets a little Ink. He’s got enough on him that you should be able to share, long as nobody glory hounds.” Mockery looked at Red Tide. “Easy kill if you hypnotize him, so give the others a chance first, huh?” She dropped her voice theatrically. “Or don’t!”

  With that, Mockery maneuvered to the back of the plank, ready to shove it forward.

  Cuda Bite squeaked. “Hold on. You aren’t going to help?”

  “It’s your Ink, that was the deal,” Mockery said. “Suppose he gets by you, I’ll have no choice. So don’t fuck it up.”

  Mockery waited for the oca’em to arrange themselves. Salt Wall stood closest to the pit, her hook fitted tightly over her hand. Throne Gazer took position a few steps behind her. Before falling back, Red Tide used [Poisonous], coating both their weapons in a toxic brown sludge, then did the same for Cuda Bite’s daggers. She and the skulker put a good distance between them and the others, nearly at the end of the passageway. Turtle Jaw, meanwhile, wisely put himself behind even Mockery.

  “I hate this,” Cuda Bite said to her.

  “Be careful,” Red Tide replied.

  “Obviously,” Cuda Bite said, then glanced at her. “Wait. Why’d you say it like that?”

  “How’d I say it?”

  “All serious.”

  “Because this is serious, idiot.”

  “Yeah, but—”

  “Whee!” screamed Mockery.

  The trolkin shoved the plank across the ground, it slid into the pit, and the troll scrambled upward like he’d been waiting for the board to drop. More than double the height of an oca’em, rippling with animal muscle, covered with icy fur that crackled as it galloped forward on all fours—Feather didn’t hesitate to assess its situation. He came straight for Salt Wall.

  Red Tide used [Coral Tender] and manipulated the cuff on Salt Wall’s arm. Tiny coral spikes bit into her skin, activating her [Bloodlust]. Better, Red Tide figured, to damage Salt Wall themselves than to wait for her to be hurt in battle.

  Feather’s fist pounded down at Salt Wall. She met the blow with a roar and barely lost any ground, burying her hook between the troll’s second and third knuckle. She ripped backward, spilling blood and ripping muscle, and spreading Red Tide’s poison through the creature’s hand. As the flesh tried to knit back together, it bubbled and rotted.

  Throne Gazer hurled his trident at the troll, but the monster’s reflexes were sharp. He batted the weapon aside with his free hand. Throne Gazer tried to use [Weapon Return], but Feather lunged forward as he tried to make the catch. He slapped Throne Gazer against the wall and maybe would’ve crushed him if Red Tide hadn’t used [Coral Tender] again, extending Throne Gazer’s shield. He braced himself behind the coral as Red Tide formed a cushion of spikes on the barrier’s front that dug into the troll’s forearm. The creature raised its arm, carrying Throne Gazer with it, his legs flailing.

  Salt Wall bulled into the opening as the troll raised its other arm. She raked at his belly, pulling out guts like digging stuffing out of a mattress. The troll wailed, enraged, and snapped its powerful jaws down at Salt Wall.

  “Oh, fuck it,” Cuda Bite said.

  There was nothing but shadows in the passageway, so when the skulker used [Shadow Step], he was able to drop right onto the troll’s broad shoulders. He hacked down with his knife—the eye, the throat, the eye again—before the troll bucked and tossed Cuda Bite toward the pit behind him. Cuda Bite used [Shadow Step] again, collapsing in a heap next to Red Tide.

  “That was good, right?” Cuda Bite said. “Enough for me to get some?”

  Red Tide swung her harp off her shoulder without response. She began to play.

  The troll again snapped down at Salt Wall, but this time reeled backward as a glob of water formed around his head. Throne Gazer had used [Summon Bubble], trapping the creature’s head within an orb of water. Suddenly, animal savagery gave way to survival instincts, and Feather, spilling blackened blood and shredded intestines, gulping water instead of air, tried to double-back for the pit.

  Red Tide used [Hypnotic Object]. She sang a song of giving in. She sang a song of drowning.

  And, in blood and water, the troll did as she asked.