Lyn actually put on a chainmail shirt under his red silk outfit. Light but dense. "Light," in reference to chainmail, meant about seven kilograms, though it was better than twenty.

It came in handy in a rather unexpected moment: during dinner.

The food, prepared by the cooks at Iron Pass, was the simplest fare — beans and cabbage. But after the cold night and a bed with a hole in it, Lyn wasn’t expecting miracles. The wine, however, smelled decent. Except, mixed with its aroma was something else... A faint herbal scent that most would consider part of the bouquet.

And Lyn knew that smell. Knew it all too well. He wouldn’t have minded if his acquaintance with this concoction had been limited to a couple of occasions, but it had lasted over a year.

It began when the Red Emperor became convinced of his stubbornness or hopeless stupidity. Lyn’s memory retained only fragments: each time he regained consciousness, a servant — sometimes one, sometimes another — would lean over him with a cup and make him drink this sedative. During that time, Lyn couldn’t tell whether hours or days, weeks or months were passing. Everything blended into periods of gray, endless emptiness. It was worse than threats, worse than beatings and the fear of torture — worse than anything.

He learned how much time had passed only later: summer, autumn, winter, spring, and summer again. One day, the brew stopped coming, and that’s how he discovered the Red Emperor’s daughter had dealt with her father, finally doing what Lyn hadn’t had the courage to.

Lyn swirled the goblet thoughtfully in his hands.

"Antipater, my guardian of sobriety, wouldn’t have let me take even a sip," he said. "Once I start, I won’t stop for a week..."

Sophia laughed.

"Lucky for us Antipater isn’t here. Come on, Archon, you’re not as hopeless as you try to seem. One cup won’t hurt!"

Lyn eyed her suspiciously. Simple friendliness — or was she intentionally encouraging him to drink? After all, it was Sophia who had ordered the gates opened earlier that day. Could it have been to give Lyn’s bodyguards a chance to meet and talk with someone from the Arya? And what exactly had Sophia been doing at the time?

Did anyone besides Lyn even want this truce to succeed? Could anyone here be trusted?

Feigning a sip, he poured the wine into his sleeve. The fabric would get damp, but not as quickly or noticeably with chainmail underneath. Then Lyn handed the empty cup to a servant.

"Pour me another, my friend."

"Easy now, let’s not get carried away..." Sophia remarked.

The new cup smelled as wine should. So the sedative had been in the goblet, not the barrel. It was Lyn they had intended to put to sleep, not everyone at the dinner.

"What a marvelous flavor. And especially the aroma. Is this wine from Merv? How did such treasures find their way to such a boondo... so far from the capital, Captain?"

The captain of the fortress, watching with visible regret as the barrel emptied, replied gruffly:

"Your people ordered us to serve the best and most fragrant we had, Archon."

His people, then... Lyn glanced at his "bodyguards."

"Such care."

"Only the best for the Archon," one of the "guards" responded serenely.

So Sophia wasn’t involved? Good, if so.

Lyn knew how this drink worked. The trace of the scent in the wine was minimal — just enough to ensure a deep sleep through the night. After about five minutes, he pretended to nod off.

"I think I’ll turn in. Goodnight, everyone," Lyn said.

"Be ready by noon tomorrow," Sophia reminded him for the umpteenth time. "Though don’t worry — they’ll wake you much earlier."

Lyn made his way to his room, deliberately swaying and pretending his legs were unsteady. The "bodyguards" dutifully followed him. Lyn collapsed onto his bed without undressing, half-covered himself with a blanket—mainly to hide his damp sleeve — and after a couple of minutes began breathing slowly and evenly.

"Is he asleep?" one of the "bodyguards" whispered.

"Seems like it," the other replied just as quietly.

"Maybe we should... finish the kid off? Just to be sure..."

"Is that even... uh... possible? Aren’t you afraid? He’s a saint, after all."

"What the fuck kind of saint?" the first one retorted, clearly trying to sound brave. "He’s just a man... Look at this scrawny neck like a chicken’s — one slash and it’s over."

"True enough... But the people who’ll come here later to inspect everything need it to look unambiguous. It must be clear that it was the shifters’ doing, and humans had no part in it. No cut throats. Not a single clue pointing back to our lord."

"Yeah, good point," the first one agreed with some relief. "You’re sharp."

"Of course. Or did you think you’re smarter than our lord? He said: just put him to sleep..."

The "bodyguards" fell silent and started rustling with their belongings. It seemed they were preparing to leave. Something was going to happen that night — something bad — and these two intended to get out of Iron Pass before it began.

One of them spoke again, and Lyn strained to listen:

"Did you deliver the larva?"

The what? Lyn thought. He belatedly realized how shockingly little he knew about Arya, their magic, and the magic used against them. He had never wanted to get involved in such matters. But now that he was, it seemed he would have to learn — and quickly.

"Not yet," the other replied irritably. "I couldn’t even get a word in. That red-haired guy was glued to her all day."

"So what do we do? Take it back to the lord?"

"If she complains to him that we didn’t deliver the larva, he’ll have our heads. Maybe we just leave it here in the fortress?"

"What if we open it ourselves?"

"Are you insane?"

"Not right now... But what if we wait for the right time and then open it? And bolt right after."

"What bolt? To Charon we’ll go, if we stay here and unleash that thing... Let's leave it here. They’ll find it. They have a way of sensing such things."

The bodyguards finished their preparations and headed for the exit, still arguing:

"If they could sense the larva, do you think we’d have gotten it here so easily? What if you’re wrong and it’s some other shifter than Roxhana who finds it first?"

Roxhana! Lyn committed the name to memory. It matched what the redhead had said: "Her."

After that, Lyn heard nothing more; their voices faded into the distance. He waited another ten minutes, then got up from the bed.

Without lighting a lamp, trying not to wake anyone, he crept to Sophia’s room. There was no guard outside, and the door was unlocked. Lyn slipped inside. While the dim corridors had allowed him to see a little, the room was pitch black.

"Sophia... Sophia!" he called in a loud whisper. "Are you here? Are you awake?"

Someone grabbed Lyn from behind with one arm, immobilizing him completely. A second hand clamped over his mouth.

Then there was the striking of flint, and an oil lamp flared to life. Sophia, holding the lamp, was sitting up in bed, draped in a light robe she had clearly just thrown on. The chestnut-haired man holding Lyn was her bodyguard. Lyn glanced down — oh, the raven take it, the man was entirely naked.

Sophia’s bed was significantly larger than Lyn’s, and there was no second bed in the room. Well, Lyn thought, he might also not spend nights alone if he had such a bed. And such a bodyguard.

Sophia nodded silently to the bodyguard, who released Lyn.

"I hope you came for something important," she said quietly.

"Er... My apologies," Lyn said just as softly, embarrassed on behalf of both of them, as neither Sophia nor her bodyguard seemed particularly bothered by the situation. "But I’m afraid this is quite serious. Someone is trying to sabotage the negotiations. My bodyguards tried to drug me. From what I overheard, there’s going to be an attack on the fortress tonight. Not all these Arya want peace. One of them is a traitor — or maybe more than one..."

"And you’re only telling me this now?!" Sophia exclaimed. She quickly tied her robe’s belt and threw on a thicker cloak. Her bodyguard dressed as well — in mere seconds.

"I didn’t know who to trust here!"

Sophia, usually so composed, hissed irritably like a cat:

"The Council’s eternal problem: everyone has their own agenda, and everyone lies to each other. It’s like solving a puzzle blindfolded... Fine. These bodyguards of yours. Where are they now?"

"They left. About ten minutes ago."

"Then they might still be saddling their horses," Sophia’s bodyguard suggested.

"We need to stop them and interrogate them," Sophia said. She grabbed a crossbow from the table while her bodyguard armed himself with both a crossbow and a sword. "If you’re right, this is treason, plain and simple. Who assigned those men to you, Lyn? Xenophon?"

She exited the room and began descending the stairs toward the courtyard. The chestnut-haired man obediently followed her.

Lyn suddenly realized that the chestnut-haired man wasn’t much of a bodyguard. Not because he was sleeping with Sophia, but because, upon hearing that the fortress was about to be attacked, a good bodyguard would have grabbed his charge, thrown her onto a horse, and fled as fast as possible. No matter how accustomed she was to giving orders or how much depended on her during the negotiations—to ravens with the truce, all Arya, and all of Bizanth!

Strangely enough, the best bodyguard Lyn had ever seen was still Iliphyia’s mute Gaut woman, the protector of a modest brothel owner...

But that wasn’t his concern. So Lyn followed the "sweet couple" down the stairs while voicing his thoughts:

"No, I don’t think Xenophon or anyone from the Church sent them. At least because they know I’m familiar with that sedative and wouldn’t have used it. And my poor tedious Antipater wasn’t happy to be replaced by those two. Frankly, I thought you’d tell me who they work for... It’s not your grandfather, the grand logothete. And not Cassiodorus’s superior — what’s her name again —the one in charge of finances. She wouldn’t send a subordinate to certain death, would she?"

"I wouldn’t rule anything out, not even my grandfather," Sophia replied rather dryly. "You’ll learn this soon enough, Lyn: when it comes to power, there are no friends or relatives. The idea of peace with Arya belongs to Empress Valeria; she’s the only one who truly wants it. Everyone else on the Council is... questionable."

She still spoke very quietly. Lyn asked:

"Shouldn’t we wake the captain and... I don’t know... arm everyone?"

"The night watch is already on duty. If the fortress erupts into chaos, the Arya will think we’re planning to attack them. That would cause exactly what we’re trying to prevent."

As soon as they stepped into the fortress courtyard, they saw Lyn’s "bodyguards." They were quietly leading two horses by the reins, heading for the still-open gates — apparently trying not to attract the sentries’ attention.

"Not another step," Sophia said. Someone — either Sophia or her bodyguard; it was too dark to tell — cocked a crossbow with a sharp click. "You are accused of treason against Bizanth and the crown."

The "bodyguards" hesitated for a second and exchanged glances. Then one of them stuck two fingers in his mouth and let out an elaborate, melodic whistle. Lyn hadn’t known such a loud whistle was even possible — it must have carried for kilometers in the thin mountain air!

It have reached even the Arya camp, Lyn realized instantly...

In the next few moments, several things happened almost simultaneously.

First, someone — Sophia or her bodyguard — fired. One of Lyn’s "bodyguards" staggered and fell; his horse neighed nervously, pulled the reins from the dead man’s stiffening hand, and bolted toward the gate — alone.

Second, in the middle of the fortress courtyard, a tall, stunningly beautiful woman with a long blonde braid materialized out of nowhere. Lyn had seen her among the Arya earlier that day. But before he could even blink, she transformed into something else entirely, something inhuman: a tall, black silhouette, about one and a half times the height of a person, vaguely spider-like. It seemed completely flat yet moved and shifted as though it existed in more dimensions than three. And no, it wasn’t entirely pitch black — within its flowing darkness were glimpses of something resembling stars, but Lyn had no desire to look closely...

The creature lashed out with two of its limbs. One impossibly swift motion, then another — and the black claws sliced through Sophia and her bodyguard’s chests like a knife through butter, flinging their bodies to the ground.

Third, a shout came from the fortress wall — the sentries had noticed something amiss — followed by the whistle of arrows.

Fourth, Lyn’s second "bodyguard" shouted:

"Roxhana! Catch it!" and hurled something toward the black creature — a box of blue glass. The creature shifted back into the form of the blonde woman, who caught the box. "That’s it, my job’s done! Hyah!" He leaped onto his horse, kicked it hard in the side, and galloped toward the gate.

And fifth, before mounting his horse, the "bodyguard" struck Lyn in the temple with the hilt of his sword. Lyn felt himself falling onto the courtyard stones; the last thing he managed to do was throw his hands out to avoid smashing his face.

Then the world went dark.