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“And you want my help?”  Natchua perched on the edge of the chair, tense with nervous energy.  Nothing in here should have been unnerving to Natchua of all people, but given everything else going on in her life right now it seemed fair for her to be congenitally on edge.  “I’ll be honest, Ravana, I assumed this whole alliance of Houses was something you proposed so you could have me as a stick to threaten people with.  And I don’t mind that, genuinely; I make a pretty good stick, if I say so myself.  But you’re talking about political maneuvering now, and frankly I think you should be having this conversation with Vette.”

“I assure you, Natchua, I know what I am about,” Ravana said primly.  She was also perched on the edge of her chair, of course, but only because proper posture demanded it; fidgeting and even outwardly visible tension were indulgences she did not permit herself.  “You are indeed an excellent stick.  And while I urge you not to underestimate your intellectual gifts, in truth it is not a complex or subtle action I propose.”

“It’s the core of your strategy,” the drow countered.  “I do understand politics well enough to know what populism is.”

“Why, of course you do.  It is, after all, the core of your strategy, as well.”

“Hey, I haven’t done anything like—”

“Perhaps you have not thought of it as such, but your actions in the months since you have ensconced yourself in Veilgrad have all led toward the singular goal of making yourself a popular local celebrity.  Indeed, after Ninkabi and especially your recent defense of the city, a true hero.”

Natchua squirmed, and Ravana only didn’t wince because she was too well-bred.  The woman wasn’t wrong; she had entirely the wrong mindset for politics.  It was as if she deliberately eschewed Narisian reserve to broadcast everything she was thinking.

“That was all just…  Seriously, I was not angling for anything.  Everything I’ve done since Ninkabi was just…well, stuff that I either felt like doing, or somebody absolutely had to and I was the only one there.”

“Oh, Natchua,” Ravana murmured, sipping her tea.  “That is precisely how everyone who has lived to be called ‘hero’ described their actions.”

Natchua scowled at her.  “Buttering me up isn’t your best approach, Ravana.”

“Believe me, I know it.  Your pardon; that was more…a little joke.  But back to the point, Natchua, you are perfectly positioned to take part in this campaign, for all the reasons we both just described.  And for the same reasons, Malivette is not.  Charming as she is in person, we both know that Vette is not well-liked.”

“Which is kind of unfair, when you think about it.  I’m at least as creepy a monster as she is.”

“You are as scary a monster.  Vette is creepy, and that’s different.  I am creepier than you, Natchua.  You’re so refreshingly brazen; even when you are being caustic and unpleasant, it is hard to suspect you of hidden motives.”

“You really know how to ask for a favor.”

“I do, in fact, and I do not see this as such.”  She lowered her teacup, holding Natchua’s gaze with a resolute expression.  “I am proposing a mutual strategy.  We have the same enemy and the same need to take action against him.  This is not a matter in which I would involve a mercenary, or anyone bound to it by anything so fragile as momentary self-interest.”

Natchua’s expression darkened.  For just a moment, so did the sunroom itself—only by a barely perceptible hair.  Then Yancey very softly cleared his throat from his discreet position by the door, and Natchua’s thunderous scowl dissolved into a wince.  The eerie shadow vanished instantly from the sunroom, leaving it once more brightly lit by the glow of sunlight upon the snow which blanketed the garden all around its glass walls.

“That son of a bitch.  The damage to Veilgrad alone was catastrophic—as if we need any more of that!  And I’ve heard it’s as bad everywhere one of those things has showed up.  Calderaas barely fared better than we did.”

“In fact,” Ravana said quietly, “it is worse in most other places.  Veilgrad and Calderaas are well-defended.  Most of the incident sites have been in smaller towns throughout the Great Plains.  Our paladin friends are still mopping up the monsters but I’ve already seen reports of an elven grove attacked and a trade caravan wiped out.”

“Your point is made,” Natchua hissed, baring her teeth.  “If you know the best way to get me Justinian’s head on a spike, I’ll play along.”

“I fear we shall all have to content ourselves with a…class-action settlement, so to speak.  Justinian has grievously offended so very many at this point that each individual contender has a low chance at the killing blow, simply by the law of averages.  Furthermore, given the sheer magnitude of the threat he has come to represent, I would strongly discourage any infighting over the privilege.  Whoever is best able to extinguish him should do so at the first possible opportunity.  For my part, I do not expect to be a candidate for that role; my intent is to undercut his support structure and help clear a path for those better positioned to strike at him directly.  Whether or not you ultimately find yourself able to take up that charge, Natchua, there is now a chance for you to assist in my efforts to weaken him institutionally—in fact, your help may well be crucial.”

“I’m listening,” the drow said, still wary but more amenable.

“Have you had the opportunity to read the papers today?”

“I’ve been kind of busy, so no, but if you’re referring to your little press conference, my—Jonathan told me.  Ravana, was that information accurate or are you just stirring up trouble?”

“I have full confidence in the veracity of the details I publicized,” Ravana said seriously.  “I’m afraid my source must remain confidential for the sake of their protection, but I consider it authoritative.”

“If you’re right, then you describing the exact secret technique by which the Archpope is building his new superweapon…  Ravana, if anyone else deliberately went out and painted a target on their face like that I would call them an idiot.  You, though…  I’m sure you’ve thought it over carefully and believe you can withstand the massive retaliation this is going to provoke from him?”

“So you consider me…a more specific kind of idiot?” Ravana said with a coy little smile.

“It’s pretty consistent with your established pattern, I’ll put it that way.  Actually, what’s unusual is that you don’t like to play defense.  The complete lack of restraint is in character, but what I would expect is for you to build your own superweapon and drop it on the Grand Cathedral.”

“Assaulting a sitting Archpope directly is simply not a viable proposition,” Ravana demurred, “even for the considerable array of powers allied to our cause.  Even in the Enchanter Wars, the Archpope largely at fault for the conflict remained untouchable against every mortal challenger until he was unseated through a combination of political maneuvering and the rejection of the very gods.  And according to our paladin friends, at least one of those will not be forthcoming.  Among the evils Justinian has been playing with are machines of the Elder Gods which seem to render him impervious to the Pantheon’s censure.  They tried it in person.”

“Veth’na alaue,” Natchua whispered, her fingers tightening on the arm of her chair.

“Which leaves politics,” Ravana continued in her deceptively light tone.  “And, as you put it, playing defense.  You are correct, I would much prefer to hit the bastard with everything we have—but when everything we have will simply not suffice, we must do otherwise.  I will not claim to be a match, pound for pound, for the might of the Universal Church—but House Madouri is the farthest thing in the world from a soft target.  Any assets Justinian attempts to deploy against me will necessarily be high-value.”  Her lips curled up by one slow degree at a time, vulpine malice leaking by increments into her smile as she spoke.  “And he will lose them, in as loud and embarrassing a fashion as possible.  It’s as I told you, Natchua: I do not have the capability, in my estimation, to end Justinian myself.  What I can do, and what I intend to do, is make myself a constant nuisance that bleeds him of assets he can ill afford to expend.”

“You think you can kill an Angelus Knight?” Natchua asked quietly.

Ravana sipped her tea.  “No.”

“Well, there you go.”

“Ask me again in a week.”

Both Duchesses stared at each other in silence, Ravana’s smile barely holding back the vindictive delight behind it.

“To know how a thing is made is to know how it can be unmade. As you said, Natchua: it is more in my nature to build superweapons than play the long game.”

“I don’t know how you do that,” Natchua murmured, tilting her head quizzically.  “Not the…obliquely channeled rabid aggression, you get that from an abusive childhood.  I know exactly how that feels.  This is just like that bullshit you got us to do to Mrs. Oak when the campus was attacked.  Listening to you, it always seems like you know exactly what you’re doing, and then in the aftermath I find myself completely flummoxed how I let you talk me into whatever insanity you came up with.”

“I have been—rightly, I’ll admit—criticized for my methods,” Ravana acknowledged.  “But only with regard to their implications and unintended consequences.  No one has ever been able to deny that I get precisely the results I intend.  Natchua, whatever the man ultimately plans, he is suborning the very gods and unleashing monsters to ravage the population—just to deflect attention from himself.  Strong indications are that he has been behind multiple massive disasters in the last several years, including the cataclysm that befell Ninkabi.  This is no time for half-measures.  Consequences be damned, Justinian must fall. I will burn whatever and walk over whomever I must to bring him down.  If you cannot accept those terms, you are consigning the world to devastation at the hands of an omnipotent madman.”

Natchua studied her in silence for a long moment through narrowed eyes.  Ravana just smiled, giving her the time to think.

“Are you a Vesker, by any chance?” the drow asked suddenly.

“I am not particularly religious—ah, is this the villain thing?”

“This is the villain thing,” she confirmed.  “Once I noticed it, I can’t stop seeing it.  It’s uncanny. Ravana, nobody talks this way.  Nobody thinks this way!”

“I have a lovely idea,” the human replied, permitting an edge of impatience to creep into her tone.  “Someday in the future, after creation itself is not in imminent peril, we can have a pleasant little slumber party, just us girls, and chitchat all about my various character flaws.  I’m sure that would keep us occupied for at least a full night.  But in the here and now, may we please focus?”

Natchua sighed and shrugged.  “What is it specifically you’re asking me to do, then?”

“The paladins have already begun wielding their innate political power against Justinian, by having their cults publicly sever relations with the Church,” Ravana said more briskly.  “They are, of course, currently occupied in dealing with a specific threat which none but they realistically can. Immediately thereafter, I mean to coordinate with them on a campaign to strategically release information, and I would like you to participate.  Though empirical proof is in most cases lacking, the sheer number of credible accusations which can be levied at Justinian have swollen to an enormous volume.  This is war, and thus calls for strategy; we should confer amongst ourselves and determine who should release what information to the public, and in what order.”

“So the Archpope’s behind a lot of stuff?  Fine, I believe that.  I’m less sure about this plan, Ravana.  Why play these games when you could just put it all out there?”

“There is a relatively small roster of individuals well-positioned to begin divulging Justinian’s secrets,” Ravana explained.  “They must have enough personal credibility with the public that their word carries weight, have a willingness to involve themselves directly in political struggles for moral reason when it will not carry a personal advantage, and have the power to withstand what is sure to be fierce retaliation from the Church.  In essence…  The paladins, myself, and you.”

“Okay,” Natchua said with rising impatience, “but why do this? I don’t understand what the purpose of this…coordinated campaign is.  You have all of that yourself; the paladins are busy doing paladin shit and if you haven’t heard, things in Veilgrad are still rough enough that I have a lot of work to do there.  Why not just do it yourself, Ravana?  You love doing things yourself without asking anyone.”

Ravana lifted her eyebrow, and then her teacup in a miniature toast of acknowledgment.  “This campaign is about public perception, and that is the reason for this approach.  Damning information that undercuts the Archpope’s public credibility, released in a steady flood from multiple directions by multiple credible parties, will accomplish its goal.  One woman constantly pouring out the same becomes a shrill conspiracy theorist, to be mocked when not ignored.”

Natchua scowled.  “So.  This is about your reputation.”

“It is about the perception of the information in question,” Ravana corrected.  “My reputation is not in danger, Natchua.  Most of my ancestors were far more eccentric than I.  My high popularity in my own province is due to my diligent effort over the last two years to improve the lives of my people; I am unknown and my family rather disliked outside Tiraan Province, to the point I could hardly damage my prospects.  This is not about me.  The accusations I propose to levy against Justinian are truth, but they are also shocking, and will require all the aid we can give them to take root and spread.  They must therefore not all come from the mouth of one person with an established antipathy toward him.”

“Okay, but…  Surely you don’t think this is some kind of deviously effective scheme, Ravana.  You, me, the paladins?  None of us are close,but the connections there are easy to trace.  We all went to the same school, you’ve got the three of them staying in your house, you and I are formal allies and you helped put me in power.  It’s not going to look natural if we all start holding anti-Archpope press conferences on some kind of…rotating schedule.  Anyone will see through that.”

“The significant players who will discern that pattern will also analyze the information we release on its own merits and not require these measures to be persuaded.  Those individuals are important, but they are few in number and not the point of this plan.  This is about the general public, which makes its decisions purely emotionally.  It is not necessary to deceive the public, merely to…manage its attention.  And even when one is correct and acting in the public’s best interests…  It is usually still necessary to employ some misdirection to convey one’s message effectively.”

Natchua sighed, grimacing.  “People are smarter than you give them credit for, Ravana.”

“No, they are not,” Ravana replied instantly.  “A person is smart, at least potentially.  But people?  The quality of a decision varies inversely with the number involved in its making.  People in groups decide what to do by looking around at what everyone else is doing.  Beggars and newsboys understand this, Natchua; the same person who will ignore someone shouting amid an entire crowd doing the same will often buy a newspaper or donate a coin if singled out and greeted personally.  I agree that if you must deal with any person, no matter how humble his station, it serves best to address him with all courtesy and respect.  In handling a crowd, however?  Tailor your approach to dealing with toddlers.”

“In my experience,” Natchua said slowly, keeping Ravana fixed with a level stare, “what a crowd does can be anticipated based on the culture they live in.  In a crisis I expect Narisians to quietly claw for scraps of advantage like extremely polite rats, until someone with more power tells them to disperse.  Things are different elsewhere.  We’ve both seen how people in Last Rock can be riled up to the brink of violence—but that was under unnatural influence, and we also saw how quick they are to reconsider and act right when addressed with calm and kindness.  I’ve seen the same in Veilgrad.  People there know how to deal with a crisis, they know how to look after each other and stay strong, they just need a gentle reminder from time to time.  If you find the people in your domain act like toddlers under pressure, you should maybe think about what kind of governance they’ve had over the last century that’s trained them to do that.  And maybe consider whether you want to continue that tradition.”

Another silence fell, in which both women studied one another: Natchua with intent focus, Ravana having gone impassive.

“That is an interesting insight,” Ravana said at last, having another sip of her cooled tea.  “I do hope you and I continue to spend time socially once all this is laid to rest; I greatly appreciate challenging input from people of respectable intellect.  Here and now, however, the fact remains that with regard to the matter at hand, I am not wrong. The only question remaining is whether you will consent to lend us your aid.”

Though she grimaced and heaved another sigh, Natchua grudgingly nodded.  “It’s not that I doubt your…skill at manipulating the general public, Ravana.  I have concerns about someone doing so who seems to hold the public in such contempt, but at the end of the day, you’re just kind of snooty.  You aren’t out there unleashing monsters and opening hellgates.”

“Contempt would be if I thought less of people for being what they are,” Ravana said quietly.  “The difference between me and a shoemaker’s daughter caught up in a riot is a pure accident of heredity.  Troublingly few aristocrats understand that important fact; one of the reasons I so value your input is that I know you do.”

“And she sweetens the deal with a little flattery,” Natchua snorted, rolling her eyes.  “Yeah, yeah, fine.  You’re right: this is war, and we don’t have time to be squeamish.  I’m in.  What’s my assignment?”

“Oh, I would not presume,” Ravana said primly.  “It is not my intention to position myself as leader; you and I are of the same rank, and the paladins are outside our power structure entirely.  On the contrary, I believe this will go better if we each act independently but in close coordination.”

“That way,” Natchua said quietly, “if one of us falls, the entire campaign doesn’t collapse.”

“That, too,” Ravana agreed.  “I am receiving updates as regularly as my people can get them; the situation around the Great Plains is disastrous right now, but one by one the paladins and the Conclave—and, to be fair, that Angelus beast—are bringing down the chaos monsters.  As soon as that is done and they are free to meet, I would like you to join us so we can hash out a strategy together.  Several of the core incidents and plots for which Justinian is responsible were cleaned up or at least found by the Class of 1182, or members thereof.  I think it would be best for them to have first say with regard to who shall announce what.  Forgive me for calling you here prematurely, Natchua, but I believed it would be more fair and less…coercive to gain your consent before putting you in a room where tasks are being assigned.”

“Well, that’s already an improvement over the last time I was summoned to a meeting with you,” she said dryly.  “Relax, Ravana, I’m kidding.  Partly.  The courtesy is noted and appreciated.  All right, then—I think you were right to do it this way.  It’s not as if I can’t get here and back home with a flick of my wrist, and apparently you are able to send your little messenger to fetch me just as adroitly.”

“I do apologize for whatever Veilwin did or said.  I assume it was something.”

“Oh, that woman is unbearable,” Natchua agreed, grinning.  “She called Sherwin a lecherous, balding polecat.  I like her; send her over anytime.”

“And the same goes.  I am likely to be kept on the move by my various duties, but you may consider yourself invited to my home any time you deem it needful.  If you’ll shadow-jump into the main entry hall, a servant will immediately escort you to me if possible, and convey a message if not.  In the meantime, I shall dispatch Veilwin to notify you when I have arranged a meeting with our paladin friends.”

“Well, I’ll catch you then.”  Setting aside her teacup, Natchua rose from her seat, Ravana doing likewise.

“And Natchua.”  She inclined her head solemnly in the deep nod which was as close to a bow as an aristocrat of her rank was required to offer anyone.  “Thank you.”

Natchua hesitated, mouth slightly open as if to reply.  But she just nodded back.  And then, with a momentary surge of shadow, was gone.

Ravana permitted herself a small sigh, glancing down at her cooled teacup, and set it aside.  “That’s one cat herded.  Yancey, any fresh developments or may I proceed to the next item on my agenda?”

“In fact, my Lady, I believe Veilwin has a—”

“You bet your arse I do,” the Court Wizard announced, shoving the sunroom’s door roughly open and stalking in.  “Omnu’s balls, why pick now of all bloody times to discuss philosophy? And with that jumped up—”

“Veilwin,” Ravana said coldly.

“Right, yes.”  The mage stalked forward, holding out a folded letter.  “The signal came in from the lodge up north, so I ‘ported in to check.  Sheriff Ingvar and all the rest of those puppies seem to be fine, as far as I could tell the lizards were as comfy as could reasonably be expected, but that big chief shaman of theirs had an important message for you.”

“It’s just one blasted thing after another,” Ravana muttered, accepting the letter and flipping it open.  Her eyes darted rapidly across the page, then narrowed.  Then she looked up at Veilwin again.  “Really?  This?  He summoned my personal mage for this?”

“It’s fae magic stuff,” Veilwin said with an expressive shrug.  “I grew up around that shite.  Even I can tell he’s a serious business kind of shaman; if he says this is important, I suggest you take it seriously.”

“I assume you read this?”

“Oh, he wanted me to deliver the message verbally,like I’m some kind of singing courier.  I had Ingvar write it down.  But yeah, I got the gist.”

“Perhaps you could enlighten me,” Ravana said irritably, handing the letter to Yancey, “as someone whose comprehension of fae magic is cursory and theoretical, what the point of this could possibly have been?”

Veilwin shrugged again, taking out her flask and indulging in a long gulp of whatever it held.  Maybe it was the enclosed space, but from a yard away the smell of it made Ravana’s eyes sting.  “The cursory theoreticals should be all you need to know.  Fae divinations, oracles, and prophecies are annoyingly hard to decipher, but they are never wrong and can’t be faked or interfered with.  You should always do what it says.”

“He tells me that lodge is about to come under attack, on my lands, while it holds two separate groups of refugees under my protection?  Absolutely not. Yancey, make preparations to bolster defenses—”

“Hey,” Veilwin said sharply, scowling.  “I’m serious. The shaman’s instructions are clear, and they’re the important part of this.  You should stay out and let this unfold.”

“After the man called upon his spirits to conduct a direct evaluation of my character in person,I am quite certain the last thing he expects is that I will stand back and allow people under my protection to be harmed.”

“If I may, my Lady?” Yancey said diffidently, then waited for Ravana’s nod to continue.  “The will of fae spirits is of course inscrutable, but I believe I perceive a clear motive in the shaman’s actions.  He appears to be working to build credibility.”

“That is a…counter-intuitive interpretation,” Ravana said, narrowing her eyes.

“Indeed, my Lady; such matters all too often are.  The shaman forewarns you of danger, then dictates that you must not intervene, and that all will be well provided you do not.  As for the immediate threat, consider that Ingvar and his band have already readily demonstrated their competence, and they are now forewarned; in my estimation, they are perfectly capable of repelling any assault by the orthodox Huntsmen of Shaath.  And once the events he predicts have unfolded as he foretold, he will have proved to you his ability to do so.”

The Duchess grimaced, her mind darting ahead.  “Ah.  Which must be important, because he expects—”

“In the near future, he’s gonna have to ask you to do something you really won’t like, and he wants proof on the record ahead of time that he knows what he’s talking about.”

“Yes, thank you, Veilwin, we all got there,” Ravana said irritably.  “The logic…tracks.  Yancey, your opinion?”

“Always do what the shaman says,” Veilwin said stridently.  “They practically never speak in direct terms like this.  When they do, it is serious, and they are right. Always!”

“Thank you, Veilwin, which is not the name that preceded my request for an opinion and very rarely will be. Yancey?”

“In the worst case,” the Butler said, his utter calm a perfect counterpoint to Veilwin’s scowl and rumpled demeanor, “some losses will be incurred at the lodge, and probably not strategically significant ones, at that.  The Huntsmen simply do not have the capability to decisively defeat the Shadow Hunters.  They know this, and will be pursuing a smaller and more specific goal.  With the shaman’s forewarning, this will almost certainly fail.  The risk of defying a shamanic prophecy to install more defenses at the lodge are at least as great as the risk of trusting Ingvar and his people to preserve order, which is the task with which you have entrusted them to begin with.  Neither outcome should damage our organizational strength unduly, my Lady.  Following the shaman’s…rather inscrutable advice presents you the opportunity to gain an unconventional set of assets, in the event that matters unfold as he claims.”

“I do love unconventional assets,” she murmured.  “Veilwin, did Ingvar see fit to weigh in on this?”

“When I ‘ported out, he was arranging his people to act on the warning as ordered.  That boy has the proper respect for a shaman’s dictates.  He seemed to assume you’d do the same.”

“Very well,” Ravana decided, not without trepidation.  “I have far too many fires to put out today, many alarmingly literal.  Ingvar has in a short time amply rewarded my trust in him; I shall continue to believe him worthy of it.  Come, let us move on to the next crisis before any more arise.”