Tale

Karsgaard Neuvil slumped down onto the stool in front of Cassandra Thordwall’s desk. “Am I? Pardon me, I did not know your time was so precious as to preclude a mateo getting stuck in the throngs of people crossing the Bridge of a Hundred Arches. Next time I shall cancel the city’s Festival of Night…

Anahuark leapt at Karolyse, who ducked but didn’t succeed in stopping Anahuark from driving a knee into the face. Karolyse flew backwards and slammed into the groundkeeper’s stone veranda. Karsgaard Neuvil’s old footy reflexes kicked-in and he pounced onto Anahuark, grabbing her in a bear hug.…

Cassandra Thordwall couldn’t imagine what Karsgaard Neuvil was fussing about. “How hard can it be to beat a few clowns?” Neuvil’s jaw dropped open so far it almost slammed onto the floor of the groundskeeper’s cottage they were using as their team headquarters. “I thought you were a footy fan.” “I…

"The hat's the signal." Neuvil nodded, took the scrap of paper back from Jacyntha, and crumpled it up. “Thanks.” She smiled. “I could teach you how to read.” “I could teach you how to hold your ale. Don’t think I didn’t notice how awful you were in training yesterday.”

Sharks; proper killer sharks. But sharks were hard to bring inland and damn near useless when you did, so she’d settle for no sharks. Cassandra Thordwall crept towards the villa, keeping to the shadows where the wan moonlight couldn’t penetrate. Umberto was a step behind her, and despite being so…

Cassandra Thordwall shook her head to let Jacyntha know exactly what she thought of that idea. Then she added, “Here in Guayamartí, that’s called murder.” She looked out between the columns lining the Militantes' training ground towards the aqueduct. Then her gaze shifted to the citadel atop its…

Sweating, Jacyntha crept low through the underbrush, spear in one hand, machete in the other. It was hot, hotter than the N’Itgat Jungle usually got. The light was strange … muted, diffuse, as opposed to refracted and verdant under the influence of the canopy high above. This part of the jungle was…

He’s got a dagger! Jacyntha ducked and felt the blade trim her hair. She dodged to the left and scrambled around the side of Rodentien line. The sewer-slipper spat green phlegm after her. Protecting Gods, these things are disgusting! Pre-season training, all two sessions of it, hadn’t prepared her…

Naught says "you're not going to score" like a spike through the arm. It was Karsgaard Neuvil’s approach to footy. You could swap out the specific body part, but the principle held; it’s impossible to score a touchdown when impaled on a spike. In this particular case, it was the arm.

One hit Umberto, another embedded itself into the snug’s door-frame. Neuvil jumped up and grabbed a stool. Thordwall dove under the table and another dagger thumped into the wood panelling right behind where her head had been a second earlier. Two men and two women surged from the throng that had…