50. A VERY GOOD GIRL

Qown’s story

Outside Senera’s cottage, northern Kirpis

Just after discovering Anlyr is a mimic

Anlyr didn’t immediately kill Qown, for which Qown was grateful even if he didn’t understand the reason for the delay. Given what Qown had learned about mimics from Talon, he thought it reasonable to assume that a mimic’s mind fractured a little more with every victim consumed. Talon certainly had (and he didn’t doubt continued to have) difficulty sorting the myriad voices taking up space inside her head. If Anlyr had so far largely avoided that, Qown could understand why he would be reluctant to do anything to jeopardize that arrangement.

No, Qown wasn’t complaining.

Which was why they were both still sitting sullenly on rocks near the edge of the woods, one of them notably not killing the other, when a strange chirping call sounded from beyond the tree line.

Anlyr heard it too. The mimic frowned, and started looking around. The orange glow of the burned-out cottage highlighted the edges of a fox. It had jumped up on top of a nearby rock, using the height to stare straight at Anlyr with its head down and teeth bared. Then it made an odd yet charming vocalization, a series of short whistles.

Qown’s eyes widened. He was wrong. That wasn’t a fox.

It was a dhole.

As far as Qown knew, dholes weren’t native to this area, weren’t even found anywhere west of the Dragonspires, so there was really only one animal it could possibly be.

Senera’s pet, Rebel.

He almost couldn’t believe it. He’d never been so happy to see an animal before in his life. It was Rebel, wasn’t it? It had to be. The wild dog was wearing a collar, something that he wouldn’t expect to see on a wild dhole or a fox.

“Fuck,” Anlyr said, which suggested that the mimic agreed. Without a second’s hesitation, the mimic conjured a blast of fire and sent it to explode on the dhole’s position. But Rebel moved too fast. She leaped to the side even as Anlyr released the spell, easily clearing the area of effect with an impossibly long, graceful jump.

Rebel was possibly the most heavily warded animal in existence. Senera had layered so many magical protections on her pet that Anlyr could have hit the animal straight on without so much as singeing her red fur.

Rebel slowly stalked forward, never taking her eyes off Anlyr, occasionally letting out another one of those whistles. Normally—normally—a dhole was far too skittish a creature to behave this way. They didn’t view humans as prey animals but as predators, something to be avoided at all costs.

Rebel continued to advance.

Despite Anlyr’s protest that he never shape-changed, he’d formed his right hand into a set of devastatingly fatal-looking claws. He watched Rebel advance warily, clearly contemplating whether or not it was worth fighting the dhole.

There was no way Senera had left Rebel behind at the cottage. Either Relos Var and Anlyr had been wrong about what had happened to Senera—which Qown knew wasn’t the case—or she’d have taken Rebel with her.

“You know that whistle’s how they call to their pack mates,” Qown said, his voice startlingly loud against the quiet of the standoff. “Rebel doesn’t think she’s out here alone.”

Anlyr scowled, but didn’t tell Qown he was wrong.

Qown slowly, carefully stood. Anlyr had removed Qown’s talismans and even healed his leg. Qown’s fingers were still broken, but Anlyr had to be wondering just how effective that would really be in stopping a Vishai healer from fixing himself. At which point, Anlyr would be facing Qown too, in addition to whoever Senera had brought with her. Qown hoped Thurvishar. And Sheloran. And Caless too. Everyone would be nice.

“Senera,” Anlyr called out. “I know you’re out there.”

Laughter met his statement—a woman’s laugh.

And then, in case there had been any doubt, Senera called from somewhere out in the darkness. “It’s been a while, Anlyr. Did Relos Var really leave you here all by yourself? Tsk, tsk, tsk. Whereas I brought all my friends.”

There was rustling from the edge of the clearing and just enough light to see several shapes moving at the tree line. One of them was recognizably Senera. Another, to the side, was probably Thurvishar, to judge by the silhouette of a large man with a bald head, wearing robes. There were other noises, other sounds.

Anlyr laughed, although not happily. “Satisfy a curiosity for me, if you would. Just how long did you spend figuring out exactly how you’d take me down if we ever fought?”

Qown began concentrating on his fingers. If they were going to have a friendly little chat before the fighting started, he wouldn’t waste the opportunity.

Senera said, “Just an afternoon. But I had the Name of All Things. An afternoon was enough.”

The mimic stood very still, watching the moving shadows and the more visible dhole. Tension vibrated in the air. Soon, someone would make a move, do something, and everything would explode in a flurry of violence.

Anlyr laughed. “Well, aren’t you a lucky bastard, Qown. Looks like you’re going to have your chance to not die a virgin, after all.”

Several shiny objects streaked across the clearing, metal reflected red in the light. They moved so fast that even Anlyr couldn’t dodge them, though he tried. What might have otherwise been a strike to the head and the throat became a graze across a temple and spray of blood at his shoulder. Sadly, neither appeared to be a lethal—or even debilitating—wound. Especially not for a mimic.

A bell rang out. Everyone began moving. But even as Rebel leaped at Anlyr, the mimic vanished.

Senera immediately cast something, fingers spread wide, and then shook her head. “He’s really gone.”

The clearing fell into quiet again.

Qown held out a hand to the dhole. “Who’s a good girl? Who’s a very good girl?”

“I am,” Sheloran said as she walked forward, waving a fan in front of her face.

Qown looked up to see Sheloran, along with Galen and Senera. He was so relieved he started laughing. He stopped, though, when Thurvishar’s silhouette vanished only to reappear a second later as a cloud of darkness and smoke, which re-formed in a vaguely man-size shape, topped with an eyeless ceramic mask.

“Thurvishar’s not here?” Qown asked. He had absolutely zero doubt that Senera by herself wouldn’t have been able to drive Anlyr off. And it was even possible that Senera, Rebel, and Sheloran might not have been, although that was a riskier fight. But Jarith fooling Anlyr into thinking Thurvishar had been present too had likely made the decision to run obvious.

Where was the real Thurvishar, though?

“Thurvishar’s dealing with a different problem,” Senera said. “We’re going there next.”

Galen started to cross over to Qown when Jarith blocked his way.

“What…?” Qown didn’t understand.

The cloud of darkness floated in Qown’s direction before hovering right in front of him, the face mask at eye level.

**It is Qown and not an impersonator. The souls match.**

Galen blinked. So did Qown, for that matter. The idea that he might have already been replaced by the mimic hadn’t occurred to him. But he supposed that Anlyr could have already eaten him and then used illusions to make it seem like Anlyr was a different person, one who had then “teleported” away … He shuddered.

Galen started to pull Qown into his arms, but then stopped, looking down at his fingers. “Your hands—?”

“I’m healing them,” Qown said. “But that’s not important.” He leaned around Galen so he could talk to Senera. “Senera, Relos Var doesn’t have the Stone of Shackles anymore. He gave it to Anlyr.”

She began cursing.

“But Anlyr isn’t wearing it!” Qown interrupted, because Senera needed to know this. “Relos Var ordered him not to, because he wanted to make sure that he could locate Anlyr later, and the Stone of Shackles would block that.”

Senera stared at him. “You’re saying Anlyr can still be scryed.”

“Yes,” Qown said. “That’s exactly what I’m saying.”

Senera whirled around to Sheloran. “When you attacked him just now…?”

Sheloran was still fanning herself. “Yes, obviously I planted a marker we can use to track him. As small as I could make it, but I don’t think it will last for long. He’s bound to notice it soon.”

“Maybe we can salvage this after all,” Senera murmured. Louder, she said to Qown, “I’ll finish healing your fingers in a few minutes. But now we should leave before someone we don’t want to fight returns. The odds that Anlyr’s going to come back with Relos Var are not in our favor.”

**Do you want me to tell Kihrin about the Stone of—?**

“Veils, yes! Please!” Senera said. A second later, Jarith vanished, presumably off to do just that.

Senera spelled open a portal. “Let’s hurry,” she said. “We have places to be.”