About the Characters

Ulric Darktalon

And what of the handsome stranger sitting next to her? Julia hadn’t seen the true Ulric yet; of that, she was certain. There was menace and violence hidden in the way he moved. She had seen and heard a glimpse of it when his pale blue eyes turned to ice, and his tone sharpened to a cutting edge. There was a hint in his lies, for no failing metalworker could afford a tutor for his children, and a warning in his praise, for Neesis was a goddess of the Underworld, seductive but treacherous. He hid part of himself from her, something dangerous, maybe even something wicked. She could only see Ulric’s shadow, its dark contours shaped to his will. And like the shadows on the wall of the philosopher’s cave, it was an illusion distorting the truth.

Persius Julia

Suddenly, the child stopped breathing. “Quickly now… close your eyes!” The young couple complied, gripping each other’s hands tightly. “Listen closely and repeat after me.” Julia took a deep breath and recited the prayer as quickly as she dared. “Thou art the queen of divinities, O Myrill. Thee, divine one, I adore and thy power I invoke: graciously vouchsafe me this which I ask of thee: and with due fealty, Myrill, I will repay thee thanks. Entrust to me now this healing virtue of thine: let healing come with thy power: whate’er I do in consonance therewith, let it have favorable issue. Finally, now, O Myrill, let thy majesty vouchsafe to me what I ask of thee in prayer.”

Luciano Porteles

Luciano eased casually into the chair across from the man and glared at him through strands of stringy, dirt-brown hair. He casually gripped the smoky quartz pommel of a sheathed spatha in one hand, his elbow resting on the arm of his chair, while the fingers of the other rapped repeatedly on the wooden table. He sat silent, staring at the man in front of him, who was now trying desperately to hide his nerves.

Vipsania Tertia

of the Collegium Draconis Aurei

Vipsania stretched out her hand and a long rod of ebony wood, embossed and capped in gold, appeared. Ulric had no idea where it came from. He looked closer and saw the gold was molten, flowing across the wood to trace arcane symbols in bright streams. The headpiece was sculpted in the visage of a dragon, with white-hot glowing eyes. Wispy blue smoke curled from its tiny nostrils. Magus Vipsania Tertia walked past Kehindé and stood in the middle of the patio, glaring contemptuously at the men and their blades. Lightning flashed in the distance. She waited for the thunder to rumble past before she spoke. “You would dare assault a Dragon Magus and priestess of Eltarus in view of the collegium towers? Who set you on such a treacherous path? Who sent you to your doom with promises of coin you’d never collect, hmmm?”

Kehindé of Suloko

A man bounded up to the gallery, sliced through the crowd loitering at the top of the stairs, then marched straight toward their table. He was tall, with the sort of body that could only be forged by years on the battlefield or the arena. His skin was dark and scarred, his hair and beard close-cropped with a light dusting of gray. He wore an expensive red tunic trimmed in gold and a belt adorned with bronze plates. A bejeweled Bayjoni cavalry saber hung at his side. Mercenary or gladiator, Ulric thought he looked prosperous and formidable. In a booming voice, he called out, “Vipsania Tertia! It’s been too long. You look as beautiful as ever!” Vipsania’s sour expression did not change. “It has been a long time, Kehindé; enough time to turn you into a liar.” Kehindé laughed. “My lovely Vipsania, I forgot how much you dislike flattery, no matter how sincere.” He moved to embrace her, but she sat down, leaving him and everyone else standing awkwardly. Kehindé grabbed a nearby chair and swung a long leg over it, sitting between Vipsania and Ulric. “Your letters were guarded; your purpose left vague. We came, of course. How could we refuse?”

Rexinda Hamunds-Daughter

“You have your answer.” Kehindé’s calm tone held more power than any shout. “You get nothing. Walk away and live. Or, if you insult the magus again, die.” “Battle ’n blood! Why wait?” Rexinda cried. She spun out of her chair, sweeping her sword upward in a graceful arc. The blade tore a red line along the scraggly faced man’s tunic before slashing his neck and tearing through his jaw. He hit the ground in a spray of bright blood.

Sextus Pinarius Flaccus

“And that’s why Magus Vipsania doesn’t like you, She says—” “And who exactly likes Vipsania?” Ulric asked. “Uh… no one, really,” Flaccus conceded. “Anyway, she says those favored by the gods are unpredictable, and therefore dangerous.” Julia’s dark eyes widened. “How could anyone be threatened by Myrill’s will?” Flaccus unleashed a stammering, disjointed defense of Vipsania’s position. Julia was having none of it. “The real danger is the magi and wild maleficae! Ask any priest, they’ll tell you. Many hold the view that Eltarus should never have given the secret of magic to men.” “What a stupid idea born of… ignorance and jealousy!” Flaccus said, his face flush with anger. “Everyone seems to forget the collegium is the Temple of Eltarus. His gift has been nothing but a benefit to the Trumin people.”

Dennis Riley