4. Kavian

"You told me to keep a lookout, so I'm giving you a heads up," I say, reading aloud the piece of parchment in my hand and petting the karasu across its head and wing.

In my study, a candle flickers, the growing shadows of trees stretching across my walls as they rap against the window. It's quiet, save for the occasional droplets of rain that pelt my window.

"I keep hearing strange rumblings of a caravan," I keep reading, scratching my chin as I do. "People keep real quiet about it because they don't want to get the wrong kind of attention, but it all stinks. Could it be the inhumane human slave trade entering New Solas? Could it be your friend? If so, you might arrive just in time to intercept it.

"If this helps you, don't forget to pay it forward. Your trusted eyes, Vrask."

I fold up the parchment. For a moment, I drum my fingers against my desk, considering whether to heed or ignore the message.

It's a long way to New Solas, and traveling so far on a mere whim seems inadvisable.

But everything seems to line up. And if I don't act fast, Gorran's never going to stop.

I hate that hypocrite.

I open the window and a sharp gust of wind blows water into my study, the karasu crying out as it bolts out the window and takes flight. In the distant black sky, lightning crashes, revealing the vast red wasteland of Ikoth, if only for a second.

I suppose I could do with a change of scenery anyway, even if Vrask is wrong.

And I'm sure I can always find some other way to fuck over Gorran's plans in New Solas, if all else fails.

I watch as the karasu, weighted down by the oppressive rain, becomes a shadow, then vanishes on the horizon. I wish for even a small amount of that bird's resilience, before quietly hoping it makes its way back to its destination.

So many business ventures—so many opportunities—crushed beneath the weight of that buffoon's fumbling hands. If I have the slightest chance to get him out of my way, if only for a little bit, then I should be jumping at it, not questioning its validity.

I begin packing my belongings, preparing for a quick voyage. Tearing through my closet, I find clothing that can be worn briefly and discarded quickly, while still maintaining my family's image abroad. If I delay myself even a little bit, I might miss my chance.

I have no idea what I'm going to find in New Solas. While the slave trade there has always unsettled me, it's not something I've ever wanted to meddle in.

Doesn't sit right, seeing all those pathetic creatures reduced to nothing, I think. Don't know who could keep their composure being around all that complaining and moaning.

The following morning, a crisp chill hangs in the air as I depart for the docks. A heavy fog has settled over Ikoth, making its natural reddish hue even more muted and less appealing. With the small amount of luggage I've brought, I step over the threshold and board the ship, preparing for a lonely and quiet trip.

The boat ride is long and unsavory, a harsh smell of sulfur filling my nostrils as we make our way across the seas and down the channel. The entire time, all I can consider is how to remain humble while looking Gorran in the eye, after he's lost everything. I often monologue to myself, thinking of how best to displace him from all of the markets.

Victory is within my clutches. I've heard that the slave trade makes up a large percentage of his revenue and that he's unwisely invested a great deal of his personal fortune in its success. Once that crumbles, he'll have nothing left.

It will serve him right too, I think.

I don't know how he's been so successful for so long, making such inadvisable business decisions. His good fortune is a crime against nature.

Of course, this is just a small step in that direction. This particular mission, if successful and assuming correct intel, will pose little more than an inconvenience to Gorran. And I'll still need to manage my own business affairs while I'm abroad.

"Sir?"

The cabin below the dock has stopped rocking, and the navigator's voice calls down from overhead.

I step up the rickety stairs, bags in hand. It wasn't the best ship money could buy, but it was certainly enough to get me here safely.

"We've docked at the harbor outside New Solas," the navigator says. "Get your things and go."

I nod, ignoring how curt he is, and breathe in the briny air as I step off the ship. Here, the air is much more calming. And though the sky is still a striking gray, I can see the sun peeking barely through the clouds.

It's much more picturesque than anything back home.

I hail a carriage and make my way from the outskirts through the forest, back to the golden city of New Solas. There's a tavern a little way in where I like to visit. The drinks aren't great, and there are far better places in the city.

But there's nowhere better if you're looking for an interesting experience. And after my long and uneventful boat ride, filled with scheming and monologues, I could certainly use some stimulation.

The sign outside the bar is decrepit, and there are animal droppings I have to step over to get inside. It's probably the seediest place near the xaphan ports, but it's still brighter than anything back home. All around me, people still like to flaunt their wealth, even when they can't be bothered with basic building maintenance.

I take a seat at the bar counter and wait for service, looking around for anything that stands out. I suppose while I'm here, I might as well investigate the threat—see if I can find anything about the slave trade here. I know a few things, but I really am going in blind.

"‘Scuse me."

I look up, expecting the bartender. I'm disappointed when I see some prick with a staggered wing, his golden, curly hair giving away his opulence.

He doesn't know much about personal space.

"How can I help you?" I growl, looking around the room for signs of support.

I should have expected that in New Solas, I wouldn't find many demons. Usually, there's one or two, but I realize that the only clientele today is xaphans, who are all oblivious to this confrontation.

"I think you should find another bar," the xaphan says, his voice shrill and inexperienced. "You'll find plenty that serve your kind. We really don't want another incident."

Inspecting my surroundings one more time, I notice that nobody else is paying attention, which might be fortuitous.

"Oh, really? And why the fuck is that?"

He brings himself in close, whispering. His breath is foul, his teeth rotting.

And they say we're the wicked ones.

"Just a bit ago, one of your kind came in with two human slaves by his side," he says, in a menacing tone. "We dealt with that right away. Didn't even put up much of a fight. Are we going to have to deal with you too, or are you going to get the fuck out?"

I smile in response.

"See, I'm really glad you came to me with this…"

I look him up and down, making it clear that I'm waiting for him to interject.

"What did you say your name was?" I ask.

"None of your fucking business."

I nod to myself, maintaining my smile.

"Right. Right."

Watching his body movements carefully to make sure he doesn't get close and escalate the situation, I again look around the bar.

"Now, I have a proposal for you, Mr. None," I say, whispering through gritting teeth.

He eyes me. I notice him reaching for his waist, indicating that he might have a weapon of some kind.

"And what the fuck would that be?" he asks.

"I've been looking around this tavern, and I don't see a single fucking soul standing with you. So I think you're full of shit. And that you're going to let me have a drink in peace."

He grips something on his belt. I keep myself prepared, standing at the ready.

I focus on the shadows in this bar—the roaring fireplace, which casts darkness around the furniture—the brilliant golden light from outside that leaves this room in partial obscurity.

I can feel them move, obeying my command.

"I had a really boring trip here," I say. "So I came into this bar looking for a little excitement. And fucking you up would be just the excitement I'm looking for."

It's a total lie. Although I had hoped to witness something eventful, and this place never disappoints, I didn't want to be the victim of the altercation.

I intend to deter him by acting as unapproachable and menacing as possible, something that usually isn't a problem for a demon.

But when he lunges at me with a knife, I know I've failed.

Let's hope the other xaphan sees he's the problem, not me.

Immediately, the shadows that I've brought to my attention obey me, swirling around the bar chaotically.

Before he can get close to me, he freezes in place.

A thick black rope binds itself around his arms, and a gray veil enwraps his torso and legs.

I can see him struggling, his hands shaking around the knife in his hand.

"What is this?"

He can't hide the panic from his voice.

I pace around him, as he's completely unable to move his body, his legs also covered in a thick shadow, made physical by my abilities.

"You really don't mess with a lot of demons, do you?"

I chuckle to myself.

Guess I'm not staying for a drink after all.

I know that the bartender will probably see my side. Maybe the guy is a problem customer.

But I don't intend to stay and find out.

When I finally leave the bar to find the caravan, without tasting a single drop of alcohol, nobody cares that the xaphan is bound up, suspended from the ceiling.

The sun is setting. Soon, the whole of New Solas will be covered in darkness.

It's the perfect time to find a slave caravan.

It's also the time when the shadows are thickest.