When the first of the ships were ready to head north, the Voice of Reason was on the rgest of them. It had taken almost as long to make her tiny fleet seaworthy as it had to make her new skin fight right. It did now, though, and it was worth the effort.

  As she stood in her deep red dress o castle of her refloated Caravel, she admired the way her skin fit like a literal glove on her hands as she flexed and moved. It was only after that, that she looked back at the tiny, bck sailed fleet, she wondered if she would return or if she would die on her fools errand far away from her master and his power.

  Some of those ships tained soldiers and powerful structs, it was true. She was hardly defenseless. Beh her, somewhere were even a few aquatistrosities that lurked somewhere beh her should the gods of sea and stive them trouble.

  She was well protected and had all the resources that she would need for her mission, but most of the ships that followed her tained only the skeletal remains of a few sailors, along with a hold full of poisoned and diseased rats powered by a god that was not her own.

  The Lich had po send a scouting mission along the coast to weaken the enemy. It was she who proposed that any such mission should have a diplomatipoo it. It had, after a few siderations and some questions, agreed. She’d argued that such dialogs could sew discord and panid discord among nominal allies, but the Lich had been far more ied in the prayers of the living.

  That was why her master’s high priest, Verdenin, had sent along a few of his bck-robed monks. They were the only living souls iire armada, but if her efforts were successful, then they would be the most important. Apparently, its war mae was a hungry thing, and in lieu of blood and souls, prayers to the dark could ameliorate a great many of its s. She would have do for any reason if only to be useful. In this thing, she was the carrot, and the ships behind her were the stick.

  The thought sent a shiver down her spine as she flicked her eyes back to them. The Lich could do n as far as she was ed, and any new abomination from its flesh fes was beautiful in her eyes. Even the dread leviathan that had been so critical to its atta Rahkin had been a work of art, but a huhousand squirming squealing rats packed into the holds of her fleet just waiting for her iations to g so that they could be unleashed and despoil everything they could find?

  She found something about all of that deeply uling. Not only were they ugly, uling things, but they were somehow indepe of the orue master of the world in a way that she would never be. She shook her head and walked slowly back to the prow of the ship.

  She hoped that she would never o unleash them. She shouldn’t have to. Not when she had such powerful allies of her own. The Dreamer and the Puppeteer had both joined her on this voyage, and though her of them would be much better in a fight than her own fragile form, they would both be very helpful iermining who might want what, and where the political fault lines of a given kingdom might be.

  At this point, they were little more than dots on a map to her. She’d read a few dusty tomes on the subject of the Kingdoms of Zum Jubar, but it still made little seo her, and beyond the most important trade cities, little was known about them in the south. She’d summoned and sulted the spirits of a few sailors and merts that had been there, but apparently those that were more knowledgeable had fled long before the Lich’s forces had pleted their quest.

  “Those will be our most fearsome oppos,” she said to herself in a voio louder than the breeze. “The ohat fear what they do not uand and have just enough knowledge for others to believe them. Something will have to be done.”

  Two monks stood not so far from her, but they her looked at her nor spoke to her. They couldn’t. Their eyes had been sewn shut long ago so that they could only see darkness, and their vows of silence prevehem from making any noise except for singing the discordant psalms of the Libsp;

  Part of her resehat the living had any p this mission, but it was not her pce to question her master, so she ighe urge tle them or push them off her ship and drown them. Instead, she focused once more on the view. And the destinations that y far ahead.

  Somewhere in the distance, passed endless dunes and abaster cliffs, y Tanda. It was an a, walled city ruled by a sultan that teo focus on trade rather than on warfare. It was often thought of by southern merts as the gateway to the north, and though she was journeying there for something other thaes and ivory that were the mainstays of their trade, she was fident she’d find what she was looking for.

  They needed allies, and leaders that cared more for the fate of their subjects than the vanity of the gods that lorded over them all. If she didn’t find those things in Tanda, then she’d keep going, and in Bastom, or somewhere even further north she was sure she would find what both she and her master were looking for.

  The voyage from Rahkin to Tanda would take a good crew and a fast ship about three weeks. They, unfortunately, had her, thanks to the limitations that daylight imposed on their vessels. Each m, they lowered the sails and drifted more at less and random. After a month at sea, though, they still had not arrived.

  It was only the magic imbued into the ships that kept them even somewhat together, especially after the storms that she was sure that the Gods were tormenting them with. Still, they met no opposition from mortals, until they were passed all the dunes, and reached the White Gates.

  There, they found a small armada of well-trimmed warships waiting for them. Fortunately, thanks to the wraiths that were released eaight to scour the ever-shifting seascape for hazards, they saw the enemy long before their sails crossed the horizon.

  As far as the Voice of Reason was ed, the best course of a would have been raise the fgs that unicated the need for a pary, and work things out with the opposing captain. She was sure that she could rea amicable solution. Unfortunately, with dawn a few hours away, that was impossible, and in the light of day those sleek white sailed ships would easily sink her helpless bck sailed vessals.

  Su oute was intolerable. So, instead, she tio sail forward directly at them, and when she was close enough, she unleashed a swarm of death’s heads. They had hundreds of those cursed skulls in the hold of her ship, and they were not strong enough to sink a rge ship on their own; the fires they caused would do that in an hour or two.

  As much as she might have liked to keep survivors and merely send a warning shot, that oute was equally intolerable. Knowledge of how easily the Lich’s forces might sink the loavies could be valuable iablishing a reputation in a new area. Unfortunately, that was not the reputation she wanted, which meant that there had to be no survivors.

  Thanks to the Lich’s magic, that’s exactly what happened. Fire rained from the sky, and every vessel, no matter how small, received its share. They went up like so many dles, and though the Voice’s heart felt heavy that she had not found a way t about a peaceful solution to this impasse, she looked at her lovely hands and decided that she would much rather have them stained with blood than be ruined by ons and wooden shrapnel.

  That dawn, as everyone fled below decks to escape the distant blue rays of the first sun, the bck fleet floated there at rest, surrounded by the fming wrecks of their burning enemies. In the m, they would harvest what corpses they could for spare parts, and the Puppeteer would do what it did and sniff out secrets that might aid them in their quest.

  That sinuous monstrosity learned a great deal in the night that followed. They sadly could not find the corpse of the fleet’s admiral, but they found a captain and several quartermasters, and it was able to firm her worst fears.

  “We came to stop yer foul kind before you could stain the holy nds with your evil!” the Puppeteer growled in an unfamiliar voice through the mouth of a dead man, “And even if you make your ast us, you’ll fiher quarter nor succor ihe walls of our beloved home!”

  Those ses were echoed by the other drowned souls, which they harvested for their dark god. Those ses worried her but not so much as to deter her from her pn. All they had e away with from this enter was maps and warnings, but they had lost nothing of value iurn, and that would have to be enough.

  Less than a week ter, they reached the verdant coast where Tanda stood like a glittering gem. It was gifted by nature and g to both sides of a fertile river that provided so much of its wealth. The Voice became instantly suspicious of what small gods of city and nature might lurk in su old pce, but ultimately, she still unleashed her wraiths and the Dreamer to learn what they could from the sleeping popuce while her bck fleet rested at anchor far offshore.

  It would be hours before any of those shadowy servants returned with useful information, of course, but even so, the Voice could not tear her eyes away from the glittering white spires that dotted the city and the starlight blue domes that sparkled in the moonlight.

  It was the most beautiful pce she’d ever been, and she dearly hoped that she could find a peaceful solution that would bring these people into the fold. She would hate to ruin such a lovely pce just to make a point that the other local lords would better uand, though she would if she had to.