Back at Hellfrost. Esharah never thought she’d be happy to see the blackstone keep’s walls rising from the bleak snowpack like jagged blades. After Frostwood, after the battle, Hellfrost was sanctuary. Aven’s unconscious form lay on a bed in the infirmary, under the watchful eye of the healers. A special room of his own, of course. No one knew what he would be upon awakening.

  If he awoke. Esharah had to believe he would.

  Most shocking was the intensity of concern rolling off of Etrani’s mind. Esharah had known the executor was growing attached to Aven, but she had no idea the depth of it. To a mind like Esharah’s, the anxiety of a mind like Etrani’s felt like the mountain shivering before an avalanche.

  At Esharah’s mental touch, the panic calmed. Just a little. Enough that Etrani could function.

  “And Sergrud is dead?” Etrani asked, hand hovering over Aven’s, as if scared to touch. Not frightened of Aven, though that was the far more rational fear, Esharah thought.

  “Very dead,” Logash confirmed. He was waiting just outside the doorway, one of his massive hands clutched by Tanya’s two tiny ones. So they were finally out in the open, were they? Esharah had felt that particular affair blossoming for months. “...in three pieces if you need confirmation.”

  “I suspect...Governor Iraias may desire that proof,” Etrani’s eyes were still on Aven’s still, scarcely breathing form, though her mind was moving on to other matters. As it must. An executor’s work was never done. “And the Vulgares leaders you brought?”

  “Mensikhana desired an audience with you as soon as possible,” Esharah said. This was the tricky part. The part that would determine how the whole conflict ended. “To negotiate an end to hostilities. And...a possible alliance against the voidspawn.”

  Uncertainty pulsed back. Assimilating conquered peoples was the empire’s greatest mission. Ones who had just been actively hostile, however...

  The Kvormskaja would not accept simply being enslaved, Esharah knew. Clan Hravast...they were so beaten, so desperate to survive that they’d probably accept anything. Frostwood complicated matters as well. What would the survivors demand? Some had fought alongside the Vulgares. Strict readings of imperial law demanded such traitors’ execution.

  Etrani stepped back, turning her eyes from Aven as if the decision to do so pained her. A mask of the cold Executor slid back over her features. “Then we will negotiate.”

  * * *

  “I am honored to meet with you, Etrani of Hellfrost,” Mensikhana’s voice carried from Esharah’s mind to Etrani’s. An awkward way to do it, but better than simply allowing a Mindspeaker unfettered access to the executor’s mind. In a way, it was better. Esharah could transfer intended emotions as well as mere words, filling in the gaps. Adding nuance. She felt Mensikhana’s desperation, her fear, and her earnest desire for peace.

  “The honor is all mine,” Etrani’s voice was cool, but not quite cold.

  She and Esharah sat across a table from the ogress. Captain Breton and Sergeant Akra at the door, acting as guards. They’d offered Breton a place at the table as well, but the captain declined, claiming that negotiations were above his station. Even as the highest ranking living, conscious officer in Hellfrost.

  Two Kvormskaja warriors had come with Mensikhana, both waiting outside the door. The rest of the tribe remained in Frostwood for the time being. A temporary truce. It would be up to Etrani and Mensikhana to make it more than that. The surviving members of the Hravast had likewise remained in Frostwood to tend their dead.

  “The Kvormskaja...the Rocksmashers...have fought the voidspawn for generations,” Mensikhana said. “Your voidhunters have the same purpose. Aven and I have received our commandments from the Watcher in the Void herself. She has guided us both. Our conflict is a mistake, brought on by Sergrud’s ambition and my own foolishness.”

  “Esharah informed me of the shared visions,” Etrani glanced to Esharah, a twinge of wariness in her emotions. Not towards Esharah. Certainly not towards Aven. The figure calling herself a goddess — that was the source of her wariness. Understandable. The Empire acknowledged the existence of deities as an incontrovertible fact. Divinities choosing to act or directly commission mortals, however, was a matter of extreme suspicion. The Ideals were fixed guiding stars. A deity’s whims were far less predictable. Despite (or perhaps because of) this particular goddess’ refusal to give direct commands. “I understand you wish to offer your people in service of the empire to fight against the void.”

  “Not in service of the empire,” Mensikhana corrected, a touch of anger rising behind her thoughts. “We will serve our own people. But we will fight alongside you.”

  “The empire does not allow for independent tribes within its borders,” Etrani’s mind was as placid as a frozen lake. “All peoples are one under Octarnis. If you wish to live in our lands, you must follow our laws and serve our cause.”

  For a moment, Esharah felt the rage swell in the ogress, the temptation to lash out, to tell Etrani to go to the hells with her laws. The temptation of the proud, the wounded.

  “You are using this as an opportunity to subjugate us,” Mensikhana’s mental voice carried an unmistakable tone of accusation that even Esharah’s mediation couldn’t soften.

  “You attacked Octarnis,” Etrani returned. “Unprovoked. Murdered citizens of the empire. Slew dozens of our soldiers, including a Legion Captain. You invaded Frostwood. Put an imperial Mindspeaker in chains. The opportunity for negotiation is a privilege. We would be within our rights to end your threat to Octarnis by violent means or expel you from the empire’s lands.”

  Hells, this was spiraling quickly. Esharah had thought the offer of an alliance against the voidspawn would be enough to secure a truce, at least. But Etrani...she saw things only as executor. She was bound by the laws of Octarnis.

  “Mensikhana, please,” Esharah spoke, her own mind joining the conversation. “This isn’t just a surrender. This is an opportunity for something better. Not subjugation. A partnership.”

  Mensikhana’s anger subsided, replaced by weary frustration. “I have seen the abyss. I know what is coming. Your voidtouched has seen it as well. What lies beneath the void will overrun your empire, heedless of your laws, your ideals. While we argue, the void rises. you must see this threat. All that matters is the fight against the void. Everything else must be subordinate to that.”

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  Etrani considered this for a long while, “Let us assume what you say is true-”

  “It is true,” Mensikhana’s mental voice came out offended. “Every word I speak is true!”

  Etrani stared at her, a touch of bafflement emerging, “Yes, I just told you I am assuming it is.”

  Esharah suppressed a groan. These two minds were worlds apart. Mensikhana was all...conviction. Absolute belief. Doubt was weakness at best, anathema at worst. She’d gone from Sergrud’s staunchest ally to bitter enemy with little space in between.

  Etrani had her own convictions, of course, but she...considered. She weighed ideas. Her mind could hold an idea and consider all its implications without accepting it. She entertained possibilities. Mensikhana simply would not.

  “I am assuming,” Etrani repeated, voice calm but a flicker of impatience showing in her mind, “that the threat of the void is as severe as you claim. Under that assumption, an alliance is desirable. I need more information, however. How long until the threat you see materializes?”

  “What does that matter?” Mensikhana asked, incredulous. “It comes. Whether in a year or a hundred, it comes!”

  “It matters a great deal,” Etrani replied. “If the threat were to come tomorrow, then we’ve no time to prepare, so this discussion is meaningless, and we will all die. If the threat is to come in a week, then we’ve only time to evacuate Hellfrost and flee to a more defensible position. If it comes in a month, we’ve time to shore up our defenses and send for reinforcements. If it comes in a year, then our first priority is surviving winter so that frost and hunger do not kill us before the voidspawn do. If it comes in ten years, that is enough time reorganize Hellfrost into a force dedicated solely to that fight. And if it comes in a hundred years, then none of us will be alive to meet it, so our individual actions matter less than the structures and systems we create to guide the future. The answer to ‘when’ determines ‘how’, Mindspeaker.”

  Silence. The rebuttal had stumped Mensikhana. As it stumped Esharah. Etrani’s pragmatic mind was a terrifying thing when focused. She had broken Mensikhana’s conviction into practical considerations.

  “I do not know,” Mensikhana’s mental voice was much softer now. “I only know that it is coming. I saw it in the abyss; I felt its hunger; I heard its song.” A shudder ran through the ogress, and Esharah felt it too. The primal terror of that memory. The abyss wasn’t merely a threat; it was an ending. An absolute.

  “’Soon’ is not a schedule,” Etrani said, not unkindly. “Esharah, what have you seen in Aven’s memories of this? His sense of it.”

  “I...couldn’t determine a timescale,” Esharah searched the memory, but all that she could remember was the terror. No concept of time. Only the absolute certainty of the end. She admitted as much.

  “I see,” Etrani’s fingers steepled. “I cannot base imperial policy on vague feelings of doom. I will need more than that.”

  “Then perhaps I can provide!” Sunshine burst through the doors.

  The ogre guards outside yelped, rushing in after Sunshine. Akra and Breton started, reaching for their spears.

  Esharah hadn’t felt the boy’s mind at all until it was already in the room. As if a sun blossomed from nothing, now blotting out everything.

  Only Etrani responded with anything other than panic, “Hold your weapons!” No alarm in her mind. Only bemusement.

  Both ogre guards glanced to Mensikhana, waiting for her to confirm the command. Only when she did so did they step back. Akra and Breton lowered their spears. They didn’t relax their stance.

  Sunshine spread his arms out in a sign of peace, “Pardon, I had no desire to startle such lovely ladies in their gathering. Only I felt Fortune’s call and knew it was time to present the gift burdened to me!”

  “A...gift?” Etrani’s bemusement grew.

  “Indeed! ‘Tis time, after all,” Sunshine swept a scroll from his bag and presented it, bowing low. “A message from the esteemed Lady Elesmara Genthus, to the executor of Hellfrost.”

  Esharah felt a flash of recognition. She’d seen that name in memory. And seen the face of that woman in the void.

  Etrani’s eyes widened when Esharah whispered the identity through their mental connection, “Aven’s...mother?” She took the scroll cautiously, as if it might burn her.

  Aside from seeing the woman’s face in that of the goddess, Esharah knew little of Aven’s mother. His thoughts (and Yvris’ interest) focused more on the father Aven had murdered. All she knew was that Elesmara Genthus was a woman willing to infect her own son with voidblood.

  “The very same!” Sunshine said. “Her sincerest well wishes and regards to the fair executor and all of Hellfrost! Along with a proposal of business and an offering of her scholarship that might prove of great interest to one such as yourself.” He gestured to the scroll.

  Etrani’s eyes flickered from Sunshine to the scroll, “And who, may I ask, are you? Beyond your actions aiding in the Frostwood operation, I have no idea who you are.”

  “Oh, I never gave myself a formal introduction, did I?” the boy grinned and bowed lower, “Duke Sunshine Clavicus Pigeonshit Markunius III, at your service.”

  Seven pairs of eyes stared incredulously, sharing the same sense of sheer disbelief and disdain.

  “Duke?” Etrani asked, somehow focusing on that part of the ridiculous name. “That title has been obsolete for over a century. Not even in the most remote corners of the empire does it hold any legal-” She paused, shaking her head as she finally concluded what the others had already realized: that the boy didn’t deserve anywhere close to the level of seriousness she was giving the name. Something else had captured her attention, “These figures...”

  “Ah, yes,” Sunshine said brightly. “Never been a man of numbers myself, but Lady Elesmara thought they’d be of interest.”

  “Dates of surges in voidpit activity,” Etrani said. Something caught her eye, “This surge...the date...”

  She suddenly dove towards a stack of her own records, alarm rising up. The others waited breathlessly until she found what she was looking for.

  “The surge noted in these observations matches exactly with the date of the deathsinger’s attack this past Triem,” Etrani said. Her attention returned to the message, “Such surges happened all on the same date at seven different locations throughout the empire.”

  “I believe the message also hypothesizes a pattern for a future such surge,” Sunshine said cheerfully.

  “Yes,” Etrani’s alarm grew. “It does. Three hypotheses, in fact. If the first one is correct...” She lowered the paper, “If it is correct, the next surge will be in fifteen months.”

  “Fifteen months,” Mensikhana repeated. She looked at Etrani, her conviction replaced by a new feeling. “Now do you see? Now do you understand the urgency?”

  “I understand,” Etrani said. “And we have time to prepare. Much can be done in that time. I will accept an alliance with the...Kvormskaja.” Not the best pronunciation, but a good attempt. And one that Mensikhana appreciated. “But we will need to sign a formal treaty with the exact terms. It must be legally binding. That is the only way the governor will accept it, and without the aid of the governor’s forces, I cannot guarantee that our own will be sufficient. We have already lost too many.”

  Esharah still felt the hesitance. Binding documents were not the Kvormskaja’s way. Nor was submitting to another people’s laws.

  “You yourself said the fight against the void is what matters most,” Esharah whispered. “If a treaty aids that fight, is it not worth the cost?”

  “You have my word,” Mensikhana relented. “I will sign your treaty.”

  “Good, as for the offer from Elesmara Genthus...” Etrani turned her attention back.

  To find Sunshine gone. None of them had noticed, but now that Esharah focused, she could feel the boy’s mind heading towards the kitchens with gluttonous intent. Duke Pigeonshit, indeed.

  “And him?” Breton asked.

  “This letter...offers him into my service as a commissar of the executor,” Etrani’s face twisted in distaste. A rank equal to the wardens under Esharah’s command, technically. “There are...further offers, but I will have to consider those on my own time. For now, I have a treaty to draft, and a legion to reorganize. We have fifteen months to prepare for this threat. All of Hellfrost will be needed to meet it.”

  The meeting concluded. Esharah felt a weight lift, only to be replaced by another, heavier one. Fifteen months. It was a time, a concrete measure, a number that made the threat real, not just a vague, distant fear. The abyss had a timetable. And it was coming.

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