“And that makes you our friend?” Nira asked skeptically.
“No,” replied Tychus with disdain. “It merely means I can think past my people’s inherent prejudices when I happen to be using my scry lens and see humans creeping about. Also,” he admitted, “it’s been very boring around here lately.”
Gamarron stepped forward. “Your boredom seems to have worked in our favor, so we thank you for it. But we have a task here and do not intend to be stopped. How far will your ennui extend?”
A fey light glimmered in the Naga’s eye. “Oh, you two-leg devil. You must tell me what you’re about. Please, I beg you!” He edged forward, excited, his hands twisting on themselves.
“What we wish is not for the benefit of your people,” the black-robed monk warned. “It would be unwise to tell you.”
Frustration and desire twisted ugly in Tychus’s face. “Gods’ piss on those toothless crones,” he hissed. “They call for me at all hours and use me for their breeding five, six times a day. The weakest among them can command me, and if I complain, I am beaten and buried in the dirt until I beg for forgiveness. The other studs scratch my face in my sleep and spit in my face paints. I’d see them all dead if I could. You wish to hurt them, to fight them? The blessings of the Three on you, and tell me how to help!”
A long silence followed his outburst. “Such things are easily said,” Gamarron said doubtfully. “How can we know you won’t give us up?”
The Naga tsked in annoyance. “All I had to do was let you keep walking toward the First Tree. You’d have been dead in minutes. What more do you want? Shall I shed my blood on it? Give you my glass? Shave my head? I’ll do it. Tell me what you are about.” His fists clenched and unclenched at his sides.
Gamarron appeared to mull the Naga’s words, though Nira suspected he was merely baiting his hook. The canny old monk pulled at his beard and looked to her. “Can you touch him and look?” he asked obliquely.
Irritation flashed through her. She knew exactly what he meant – he wanted her to view the Naga’s history, or maybe get a glimpse of his possible future. “I thought I was just here to be a dumb pair of hands,” she said nastily.
He eyed her dolefully. “Is that what you’d rather be?”
With a snarl, she relented and crossed to the lounging snake-man, slapping a hand onto his bare shoulder. Her headache was receding and her numbed arm was starting to feel halfway normal again, so she focused on the warmth in her core and waited for the vision. Nothing happened. No visions, no feeling of dislocation, no tears. “Uh,” she said, nonplussed. “I don’t think it works on him.”
“You’re a curious one,” remarked the Naga. “What’s all this?”
“She can see things sometimes,” Kest offered. “Things that have happened, that might happen.”
“I don’t understand,” Nira muttered, gripping tighter to his arm and trying to force the feeling of connection. Still nothing. “Does it only work on humans?”
“Far be it from me to presume to know things that you don’t,” Tychus said dryly, “but if I may be so bold: none of you should even be allowed out of the house with how little you know about the situation you’re in.”
“I’ve done just fine so far,” she snapped back with a grimace, withdrawing her hand from him. “I don’t need some snake to tell me my business.”
“Apparently you do,” he retorted. “You were all about to waltz in to your deaths.”
Nira grimaced and drew back from him. Seeing the twist of her features, Tychus donned a mollifying smile. “Here,” he purred, producing the glass lens with another sleight-of-hand flourish. “A token of my good will so you frightfully dim apes will trust me. Take it. Perhaps it will be of use as you learn to study your… abilities.”
Nira carefully accepted the proffered object, disbelieving his intent. No way in Gaia’s green garters is he going to let me keep this thing. The circle of glass was crystal clear and heavy in her hand. She could sell it and never work again as long as she lived – unless she were hanged for having it in the first place. She stuffed the bauble into her pocket and backed away.
“See? I harbor no ill will. The same cannot be said for the warrior matrons of my people. As far as I’m concerned, you could set them aflame and I would dance merrily around the bonfire. Failing that, I will be satisfied with anything that weakens their hold on us.”
Gamarron looked to each of the companions in turn. Renna nodded decisively, and though he hesitated, Kest did the same. Guyrin was resting dazedly on the floor and gave a noncommittal shrug. His nose had stopped bleeding, but crusts of drying brown still smeared his face. When the old man looked to her, Nira shrugged. “Doesn’t seem like we’ll get much farther on our own.”
“Very well,” Gamarron said. “We seek the Chaos Shard.”
Tychus paused, open-mouthed, and then threw back his head, laughing. “The God Stone! Oh, Great Three take me, you don’t dream small, do you, human?” He put his head in his hands and shook it, chuckling. “Are you sure you wouldn’t like to piss on our altar during the middle of worship, too? It could hardly make things worse.”
“It is a sacred object to your people, then?” Gamarron asked.
Tychus looked at him as if he were impossibly stupid. “No, it is the sacred object. And it would be to yours too, if you knew anything about it. Do you have any concept of what your ‘Chaos Shard’ is?”
“A thing of power,” responded Gamarron, shrugging. “It holds Chaos essence, much like our friend here, but much, much more of it. I intend to take it to my homeland on
