Changeling

Nestra’s brain went into overdrive. A Carved Tusk B-class standing together with five of the raiders who had attacked the camp? Some of them still carrying bags of human heads? That was definitely in the ‘political nightmare’ category. There was too much to consider and she was in danger so… fuck it.

Step 1, ignore the B-class. It might leave her alone, and besides, she couldn’t kill it.

Step 2, don’t stop. Stopping was dying against the lizards. She had to be the hound.

So Nestra accelerated, trusting that Camille had her back. The fleeing messenger was barely turning towards her, exhausted, eyes widened with fear. She rushed it. Momentum closed the gap.

Movement at the edge of her vision, just a burst of soil where the B-class used to be. Reflexes and instincts made her react before her mind could process it. She put her sword up in a guard. A spear tip smacked against it with such strength that she was sent flying. Searing pain in her shoulder. Blood.

“Nestra!”

The B-class had hit her. Well, shit. The five other lizards were already brandishing javelins while the runner tried to recover. Camille was rushing by her side.

Nestra’s grip on her sword failed, and the heavy implement fell to the ground with a dull clang. The B-class could have used this opportunity to press the attack but for some reason, it didn’t. The runner was now hissing ‘assi assi!’ Things were starting to look complicated. The B-class lizardman wasn’t fresh off its ascension like Manh used to be, and it was not on the weak side either. Nestra didn’t stand a chance, even with Camille quickly approaching.

The five invader lizardmen stopped, waiting for the B-class to react. In the lull, Nestra studied her opponents: they were all wounded, some more than others. Maybe that was why they were being cautious.

“Assi… So-luh-diuh? Soldier?”

It pointed at Nestra who was more surprised that it was trying to communicate than anything. Its pronunciation of English was pretty impressive considering the completely different mouth and lack of proper lips. However, its attention quickly returned to Camille instead. It hissed something, then the finger on its weapon tightened.

“Not very bright, are you?” Nestra asked to save time and because she hoped she was right.

The lizardman bristed, the crest on its head flaring a little. So it did understand her, but that was ok. Nestra’s horns picked up the old familiar feeling.

Heat and light filled her field of vision. A beam of searing radiance descended from the sky, covering the B-class instantly. Nestra was up and out before the other lizards could react. She bumped against Camille’s shield trying to cover them. Camille was still blinded though. Thank fuck for her own sensory resistance.

The B-class lizardman used a defensive technique to survive Mazingwe’s laser. A brief exchange of spear thrusts left gouges in the calm meadow, the water of the brook hissing as it evaporated, then they were gone.

Finally.

The field was free. Time to resume the hunt.

Nestra’s right arm was still numb but she had other tools, and she should not hold back. Charging herself with electricity, her speed increased until she was a blur. Runner, still not recovered. Weakened. Her fingers formed claws of void mana. Momentum carried her to its far side. A swipe. First kill.

Energy flooded her. It hadn’t run far enough.

Five left. Electricity coursed through her veins.

“Take the left,” Camille roared.

Worked for her. Nestra charged. The lizards threw their spears. She dove under one, then used passe-muraille to disappear under the loam before the skill ran out and spat her back out to avoid the second. She blocked a third with her right forearm and the use of immovable. Still painful. It made her landing awkward but she was close enough. Little blood. Not too bad. Releasing the cloud of electricity, she got two of the three lizards around her. Momentum carried her to the one she’d hurt the most but before she could land, two more javelins aimed at her back forced her to twist midair.

One of the lizards was going for a discarded javelin. She dodged a thrust from the one who’s just recovered and made for the one who had its back turned, but two more javelins forced another momentum, and her target assumed a defensive posture. They were working together. New instincts told her it couldn’t have come naturally.

So the lizards were learning as well. They just hadn’t learned enough yet.

Nestra stopped, turned, and pointed her finger at the back of one of the two lizardmen attacking Camille. The dot connected even as she moved to avoid getting cornered. The lizard looked very surprised, and even more so when Nestra’s bolt reached its spine. An earthen wall raised in defense too late didn’t save its life. Power rushed into Nestra.

Two down.

Unfortunately that attack had left her open. Despite dodging, another javelin still clipped her flank, drawing more blood.

Ow.

Nestra’s resistances had limits, especially against strong C-class. She grit her teeth as she closed in. On the other side, one of the lizards was disengaging, going into the forest. Nestra was surprised but not as much as the lizard she was chasing. Undecided, the third threw a javelin she dodged by stepping back, then momentum carried her forward and into the guard of her target. The lizard’s side was suddenly covered in rocks, blocking her first punch.

Nestra tried to use her right arm. It was barely usable. The lizard tried to disengage while pushing her away with a swipe, but she simply grabbed the shaft, rotated, and then landed the hardest low kick she could in its thigh.

Both of them flinched. The lizard flinched more, so Nestra grabbed its right hand, turned on herself, and pulled, lifting the surprised saurian over her head in a really nice ippon seoi nage. Now judo was part of the cultural exchange.

The lizard was very surprised, then it yelped when a javelin aimed at Nestra pierced its back as it was falling.

“Not used to teamwork, are you?” she hissed at the thrower.

It ran into the forest after its brethren.

Nestra looked back to Camille, but the fencer was espada deep in their foe’s belly and didn’t need any assistance.

“I’m going after them,” she roared just in case.

She jumped over the brook and followed. The situation was still confusing, but there was one thing she knew for sure.

No witnesses.

Sereth wouldn't do shit if her identity leaked because of aliens. He would argue she should have expected it. If she didn’t want to spend the next two years raiding the boonies while wearing beast skin until she reached B-class, she had to kill them now. There was a burst of nature mana in front of her, guiding her. She accelerated, then braked, almost falling.

She knew the lizardmen liked snares so she’d expected one, but she hadn’t thought it would be used to catch another lizardman.

The one who had run away first had trapped the second in a nest of lianas between two large trees. Nestra turned to the ambusher in surprise. That one was dark green with pale spots, its right flank and arm heavy with scabs. Multiple bullet wounds. It had to hurt to even move in this state. Did it want to surrender?

The trapped lizard hissed and struggled. As it did so, the wounded lizardman changed shape. It grew taller, stronger, and its color changed to a darker black with white highlights. Shapeshifting? Nestra blinked.

The black lizardman speared the other through the throat.

“No fucking way,” she whispered.

Turning to her, the still wounded shapeshifter approached. At the same time, Camille arrived next to Nestra.

The lizard stopped. Camille gasped, not understanding what was going on and Nestra wasn’t sure she should give a hint. The ‘lizardman’ took the decision out of her hands.

It spoke in Aszhii.

“Greetings, sister. Kill the human so we can separate before the third spheres return.”

Riel.

A brethren.

Nestra knew on an intellectual level that there were other Aszhii among other species but she’d never expected to see another one in the flesh any time soon. It was a statistical possibility just like being hit by a meteor was. She just didn’t think it would happen to her. Another Aszhii! Another member of the People, here, now, in front of her eyes! Male for sure, she was sure of it. She had so many questions about his experience, about lizard culture. They had so much to share!

But then his eyes remained fixed on Camille and she didn’t like that at all. Memories of Sereth being sad about his first family resurfaced. She remembered humans had surprised him because they bonded with anything, but lizardmen? Yeah. He wouldn’t understand.

So she had to make him understand. That was more important than anything else.

“They are with me, and they know. They will keep the secret,” Nestra replied in Aszhii, subtly moving to cover her friend.

The fencer was smart enough to sense that something was wrong. Had they been here to see the shift? As for the member of the People, he seemed to consider her words. She knew this because his tongue darted out, testing the air, and he was looking to the side which was non-threatening.

The fact that cultural understanding from her small lizard form reached her Aszhii self was… slightly disturbing. But she could read a room full of humans even in Aszhii form… well she could read a room just as well in Aszhii form as could in human form. Yeah. So why not?

If humans and lizardmen had a conference, could she pick social cues from both sides? Ugh, another trick question. To be fair, humans could probably pick social cues from lizardmen after a couple hours of training…

Suddenly, Nestra didn’t feel that special anymore.

“There better be a really, really damn good explanation,” Camille grumbled.

“I want to say that I really appreciate you sticking with me despite how weird stuff might seem,” Nestra whispered.

Camille huffed, though it lacked bite.

“If there was a single deceptive bone in your body, I would be really worried by now.”

“Hey I can be cunning when I want to!”

“Yes, but you do not lie to your friends.”

Nestra finally looked at the fencer, who was still hanging ready, bloodied blade out. The shimmer of mana in the air showed that invisible shields were up. Camille was ready to fight.

“Aw you consider me a friend. I knew I’d grow on you.”

“If you make a ‘fungal’ pun, I’m switching sides.”

Dammit.

“Camaraderie,” the other Aszhii hissed.

He said the word slowly, as if tasting it.

“It does not exist in my native language. You have it. My instincts are telling me to kill your Mask kin, but humans are so strange. And I know you would fight me.”

“So you won’t attack us?”

“No. You are People. And female. This feels… important.”

He shivered, uncomfortable.

“I do not like this. I do not like… two sides of instincts warring over me. It is very disturbing. We must leave before either of the third sphere warriors triumphs over the other, for one of us would die then.”

“Sure,” Nestra said, “I wouldn’t want to slay kin either. You should leave.”

He made to turn.

Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.

“After you’ve returned the heads,” she finished.

She pointed at the bag hanging from the lizard’s lone belt. It was bulging with what Nestra assumed he’d harvested from Camp Riel’s workers. No way she was letting him take those away. Both her human and Aszhii sides were in agreement with that one.

“I need them to save my honor,” the Aszhii said.

“And I need to return them to their family so they can grieve and conduct the last rites.”

She remembered it was important for the lizardmen as well.

“And besides, they were poor prey. Workers, striving to build and develop. Not warriors. You killed them out of opportunity, as you fled, not because they were a mighty quarry. Now you wish to display them to your tribe as if you had won a great victory. You have not. Return the heads, brother.”

She smiled. The male Aszhii hissed in a way that was more amused than angry, but the way he squared his shoulder gave her her answer.

“No.”

“Fight you for it?” she hissed with amusement.

He should not agree, of course. It was a monumentally stupid decision and a waste of time. From the snares he’d cast, he probably had ways to slow down pursuit. He could just go now.

But he was an Aszhii. And she was offering a fight. Nestra knew he wanted to benchmark himself as much as she wanted to, test each other’s skills, see what ability they’d picked from the planetarium. He wouldn’t resist.

“I will not kill you, little sister,” he said, letting out a hacking sound she identified as a chuckle. “But I will bleed you a bit.”

“If you can. My name is Nezhra.”

“Argent Ephis.”

“Good, can I pick up my sword first?”

This time the chuckle was even louder.

“No, and you may not wait to heal either. Fight me, or don’t. What will it be, little sister?”

Oh he wanted to play it dirty?

“Very well. As for my weapon, I pick…”

She moved and, by surprise, grabbed Camille by the collar.

“Hey!”

“Surprise blade master!” she roared in English, then she gently tossed Camille who very, very obligingly charged ahead.

“We’re after the heads!” she told them. “Go get ’em tiger!”

“Nestra I fucking hate you so much right now you have no idea.”

Argent Ephis looked nonplussed but only for a moment. His spear danced in front of him in an effort to push Camille off, but they were already right in his face. They parried and blocked with their barrier, then closed in using an invisible panel as a springboard. Nestra followed, but then she hung back.

Camille was winning. They were really, really good at fucking with a spear user. They also had good instincts by abusing the Aszhii’s current weakness, wounded as it was… and then Nestra got it. Why it wasn’t even close.

The Aszhii’s lizard form had died, killed during the assault on Camp Riel. That was why he was still this badly wounded: he had to turn back before his mask had the time to fully regenerate. She wasn’t sure why he had hidden among the lizards using another body instead of the black and white shape he seemed more comfortable in. Maybe they were from a different tribe? In any case, Camille had him. She used another feint to pierce through his left forearm as he parried and now he had two lame arms. It was already finished while Nestra just hovered behind Camille, ready to move in.

Argent Ephis hissed in annoyance, something she translated as ‘tsk tsk’. She knew what was going to happen before it did, and so she charged ahead.

The Aszhii erupted out of its damaged mask, a nightmarish lizard now easily as tall as two men. Twin horns surged from the grey crest while its serpentine glare had given ground to twin abyssal pools. Nestra felt very annoyed that he had longer horns. Camille’s rapier ripped on a bony vambrace while he reached for her throat. He almost succeeded, but Nestra front kicked him away.

Camille gasped, fingers searching her neck for ripped arteries, but there was no damage.

“What the ever loving…”

Camille’s voice wavered into a long list of Vietnamese epithets Nestra didn’t need the translation for. Argent Ephis was… certainly a sight. If lizards had been intimidating with their size and reach before, the Aszhii version looked like a dark, demonic upgrade. Even the posture was different. Lizards tended to lean forward but this one stood up straight, tail longer and more muscular. Its facial features were sharper. More cruel.

Now that Nestra could see, the symbiote skin covering him looked thicker with actual plates. How had he even gotten one? Nevermind, how was it even so thick? It was unfair as fuck. Maybe he was older. Definitely older. Definitely unfair as fuck.

Argent Ephis looked at his spear, now tinier in his hands. With a hissing sigh, he tossed it away.

“Crafty human-born Nezhra. Very clever. Now… fight me like one of the People!”

Nestra knew what it meant. Fight as equals. She could tell she probably didn’t stand a chance… but that was fine. Her objective was not to defeat him. She knew what she had to do.

“Stay out of it, please,” she asked Camille.

Shaking their head, the fencer took a few steps back. Nestra definitely owed them a drink for going along. And now it was time to face the music. Nestra flexed her right arm. It hurt. A lot. Her flank had stopped bleeding but it was still uncomfortable.

It would have to do.

Nestra loaded herself with electricity, then she charged forward. Argent Ephis rushed as well, his feral smile mirroring her own. They were both taking a stupid risk for an interesting fight, and she knew why.

Hubris.

Nestra dodged under a predictable haymaker, her wounded oblique screaming in protest. He easily blocked her jab. His knee rose, so she pivoted to block it. Impact. It still clipped her. Another haymaker followed and this time, it sent her careening on the ground. His strength was stupid. A twist and she was up, dodging a kick down. She lunged, pushing all her power in her right leg. A vicious uppercut caught him in the ribs behind his guard. He grunted. He tried to backhand her. She grabbed his arm, allowing the momentum to carry her around. He was so fast that she lost focus from the sheer inertia.

Her hand missed the bag of heads because of that.

He let himself drop. Nestra used passe-muraille to not get squished, then both of them were up, staring at each other. There was something crazed in Argent-Ephis’ gaze. It was almost scary.

And then, something pulled her foot. She was smashed on her belly.

“Oof.”

Air gone from her lungs. Pain. The urge to throw up. Him, bum rushing her. He’d used a fucking liana. Gah! She released the electric charge she was holding, frying the vegetation around her with void electricity, and catching him as well. The forest was now a clearing of peeled barks. She was up with a roar but the pain in her core was too much. Her follow up kick lacked power. He recovered from the static, took a step back, then put everything he had in a cross.

Unbalanced. Too much forward. Her training kicked in. As she grabbed his arm and put her leg against his abs, she realized… he just wasn’t that good, technique wise.

“Get flipped,” she coughed. “idiot.”

He looked very surprised when she fell on her back, lifting him like a pancake. Then she planted his head into the loam. Riel dammit but she hadn’t landed such a beautiful tomoe-nage in years.

Nestra didn’t try to stand up. She dragged herself to one knee and, with a supreme effort, punched her foe in the nads.

Unfortunately, lizard folks had hidden genitalia so the result wasn’t as good as it could have been. From his scream, though, it still hurt. A second wind up was aborted. Nestra was sent flying. Before she could panic or feel pain, her eyes caught a heaving piece of ground. He’d used a spell.

She broke three branches with her back before landing. Her painful core complained. Again. Had to stand up anyway.

The two faced each other. Argent Ephis was feeling it. Served him right. Reacting first, she advanced and socked him in the jaw. He didn’t block her. Instead, his tail lashed out, hitting her thigh. He wasn’t even looking at her.

He was using precision. The hit was too perfect for anything else. Not enough for her idea to work. She had to push him more.

Come on, use it.

He didn't. He closed the distance again, barely blocking her jab. Her second, precision-driven cross hit him in the nose, and the following hook smashed against his eye. A counter landed on her ribs, left side. Something cracked.

“Gah!”

“Enough…. of thissss,” he hissed.

Nestra pretended to be weakened. She accepted another hit, angling her head to take it on the horn. She saw stars and her mana perception made her head swim, but the distinctive sound and following hiss confirmed he’d paid for it with a knuckle bone. It was time anyway.

Arcane strike fed so much power in her fist, it almost shone. She smashed it against his biceps since a jaw hit might have killed him.

They were still sparring or they would have both used void coating.

His right arm broke with a ghastly noise.

Come on!

He roared. Blood fell from his half-open mouth, and his arm now hung limp by his side. It wasn’t over, though. His mana exploded outward in a way she didn’t comprehend until all the trees around her grew roots and branches, grasping at her. She was too hurt to dodge. Annoyed, she pointed her finger at a nearby trunk.

Fear twisted Argent-Ephis’ puffy face, but Nestra was still in non-lethal mode. The tree took the bolt and exploded in a shower of bark shrapnel. And it happened. He disappeared.

He had finally used momentum, as she expected he could.

Space warped in an interesting way. It was easy for Nestra to see exactly where he would land so she used it as well. They appeared at the same spot almost at the same time. Nestra charged her left hand with void mana since the right one wasn’t moving so well anymore. She swiped, just as her foe kicked blindly where he thought she might be. He also had danger sense then, Nestra thought with the cold, distant kind of thought that came with not feeling so hot.

She crashed against a tree, which fell. This time, she didn’t stand up. Argent Ephis was left in control of the bark-covered wasteland where a forest used to stand. And they’d taken it easy.

“Oooooow,” Nestra said, allowing herself to winge a bit.

Yeah, she was done for today.

“Sister. It looks like… I won,” the male Aszhii said.

He had a broken arm, probably broken ribs, a painful groin, dark gray bruises all over his face, but technically it was true. She wouldn’t go on.

Except that her last strike had completely cut through the bag at his belt. Nestra saw the head of a female technician resting against a broken stump of a tree, a young woman with short dark hair and a smattering of freckles. Despite being three days old, the body part looked eerily well-kept. Her face was stuck in a rictus of pained focus. There were others, of various ages and ethnicities. All Thresholders caught off guard and slaughtered defenseless. Camille breathed in. They took a step forward, hand on the hilt of their rapier.

“Congratulations,” Nestra huffed back. “But I don’t think you have the time to…”

It was getting hard to breathe properly. Her lips felt warm and puffed and very, very painful.

“Time to pick up… your prize,” she finished.

The Aszhii looked at the scattered heads. He could pick them up. If Camille let him. Nestra and he crossed gazes.

He let out a nod, and she knew it was a human gesture.

“Well played.”

He took a step back, then disappeared in a puff of warped space.

***

Nestra felt like she’d been run over by the weight of Threshold’s bureaucracy. From her right flank to her horn, she was just one large, radiating patch of pain. Also taking that head blow had been a little bit of a shit idea because things were definitely a bit wobbly. Camille soon approached, the previously severed bag closed with duct tape.

“You owe me some really good explanations, Nestra.”

“Whu.”

“As cathartic as it was to see you and that strange lizard punch the ever-loving shit out of each other, it’s time for you to turn back.”

Transform?

Oh yeah, she could use her human mask.

Actually, that sounded like a really good idea. This form needed a good sleep.

“Uuuuuuh.”

Right.

Yeah, let’s do it.

Nestra was suddenly smaller, much more alert and she was also simultaneously starving, drowning in thick mana, and sore all over by sympathy.

So typical of her Aszhii self to let the human self clean up the mess, though, to be fair, the duel idea had worked well to get the heads back without anyone dying.

“Fuck,” she said when a new wave of pain made her wince.

It was hard to breathe here. And now she had an annoyed gleam breathing down her neck. Just great.

“Nestra…”

“Let’s…. get back to the brook. You’re right. I owe you an explanation. But this isn’t the place. We’re still in danger.”

She could see Camille wanted to protest but they also knew she was right. They’d gotten all the lizards except the C-class that they’d seen, not necessarily all the fugitives. And they had heads to collect before some predator attracted by the scent of blood grabbed a take out bag. Camille was first to jog back, but that jog was at gleam speed and Nestra struggled to follow. The mana here was at an uncomfortably high level. C-class world, for sure. She had to focus to keep functioning. It was still not a reason to slack off, so she helped Camille gather all the bags they could find.

“That’s thirty-two dead,” Camille finally said. “We’re still missing another fifteen.”

“Maybe the B-class has some,” Nestra forced out.

“I doubt it. He couldn’t have been part of the assault.”

Camille studied her. The gaze felt impatient, but not overtly hostile and that was very encouraging.

“Are you alright?” they asked after a while.

Their display of concern made Nestra feel all fuzzy inside.

“The ambient mana is too high for me. It’s uncomfortable,” she admitted.

“Ah… your main body is still D-class. True.”

“Yeah. Hey, wait… do you hear—”

Three hundred meters to her right, the forest exploded in an orb of light that obliterated everything in its area. When Nestra’s eyes could see again, the warm glow of superheated glass provided a luminous background to fiery rays coursing through the forest. A giant of stone rose, half destroyed, from the ruin. At the same time, a star took off from the epicenter.

“What the fuck,” Nestra screamed, but her voice was muted by a whistling sound, one that reminded her of a soprano solo holding a high note. The woods lit up like the height of summer. The shadows deepened to black lines by sheer contrast. She was forced to look away, towards the giant that ambled forward, stumbling and rumbling, its surface dry and pitted.

The star reached the apex of its course and the delicate voice turned into a scream. Nestra crouched, throat dry, eyes burning, skin inflamed. Even channeling ice into her armor didn’t help. The ice wasn’t melting. It was evaporating.

“An aspected spell…” Camille said, kneeling next to her. “Only the Patriarch can do it…”

‘Should we run?” Nestra screamed back.

“It’s far too late for that.”

Nestra knew it was a bad idea, but she had to look anyway. It was supposed to be late afternoon but, somehow, there was a new sun above her, and the light was so pale and clean she was surprised no birds were singing…

And then the impression was gone because the star was falling.

“Dawn Spear,” she remembered.

Mazingwe fell onto the limping giant, his weapon as large as a ship’s prow. The titan exploded on impact. Debris as large as boulders crashed through the burning forest.

The fight stopped. It looked like Nestra had caught the tail end of the duel. As she watched, the star slowly made its way to them, resolving itself into the golden form of Mazingwe. The good doctor’s armor was damaged on the flank but he looked otherwise unharmed. He removed an elaborate helmet as he returned. Slowly, the light returned to normal levels. From legend to man once again.

In the minute it had taken him to reach them, neither Nestra nor Camille had spoken a word.

“B-class duels,” Camille finally whispered.

“I see that you are both alive, well, and victorious. Unless… Nestra, are you wounded?”

“Yes. I’ll let my other form rest for a while. We’ve also recovered most of the heads. You?”

“My foe didn’t have a bag.”

They must have missed a group of two.

“Wait, wait, hold on. I will have my explanation right now. Nestra. I’m sorry but your life is no longer in danger and… I really need to understand.”

Camille took a step back with a guarded look that hurt Nestra more than any scolding. That was… fair, she guessed. Kind of a dick move to do that in front of Mazingwe and not later while they were alone in their tent too, but maybe Camille just assumed it was not the kind of secrets that would get her killed? She breathed deep, especially when Mazingwe turned to her with a look of terrible disappointment. What stung more was how unsurprised he was by Nestra’s slip up.

“Wait. You knew?” Camille asked the tall gleam.

Mazingwe ignored them both. He instead approached the bags of heads, attaching them together to his backpack.

Nestra was just glad Mazingwe hadn’t even asked about the fight. The existence of an Aszhii among the lizardmen was, well, she wasn’t sure. He was C-class and would be taken away after ascending so it wasn’t like he was a significant threat to the humans here. And besides, she didn’t see a reason to share this with Mazingwe, as kind as he was to her. Nestra tended to share too much and now her ‘secrets’ had ballooned to untenable levels. It was a bit late to start shutting up but, well, better late than ever she supposed. So long as Camille didn’t mention it. Was there a way to let her friend know not to mention it?

“So, I’ll tell you why things happened but if you could delay most of your questions until we’re back in our soundproof tents, I’d appreciate it,” she whispered. “You never know.”

Well done Nestra, you master manipulator.

“Alright. Then, as you Thresholders like to say, start spilling.”

“So, you may have noticed that my transformation powers work a bit strangely.”

“Nestra, thanks for redefining euphemism. Now what the hell was that?”

“Well to summarize, everything that happened, and I do mean everything,” Nestra said, giving Camille a very pointed glare while Mazingwe’s back was turned, “is because, essentially, I’m an alien.”

“I’m sorry what?”

“I would use ‘monster’ but monsters come from portals and I am… well, I originate from another world. Like a real world. Not unlike the lizardmen. And, uh, the big form is my real body. And this is just a disguise.”

Camille was gobsmacked. The way their mouth hung open was kind of funny.

“Fair dinkum?” they finally asked.

“Camille, no one says that anymore.”

“But the short vid said that’s how Thresholders speak?” Camille complained.

“Yeah if you’re above sixty. I’m sorry. It’s just not wired.”

“Miss Palladian,” Mazingwe interrupted.

“Sorry. As I was saying, I’m an alien and that’s why my ‘transformation power’ is so weird. And the rest of it too,” she finished.

Camille’s attention was on Mazingwe. As if sensing her gaze, the gleam turned back, face a mask of boredom.

“If you could hurry it up a little since we are ready to depart with vital information through hostile territory?”

“So this isn’t a joke?”

“I’m afraid not,” Nestra said.

Note to self, if she had to do another reveal, bringing an authority figure with her appeared to be helpful to move things past the ‘you’re joking’ phase.

“Who else knows?”

“Very few people,” Nestra said.

“More than there should be,” Mazingwe amended, glaring at her.

“Ahem. A few authority figures, my sis, my aunt, a couple of close friends including you.”

“And… that’s it? No government programs? No spies? No cage?”

“It has been deemed very unwise,” Mazingwe said.

“And your parents? I assume they know?”

“Well, not. It’s complicated. I really am their child.”

“Swapped at birth?”

“No and as I said it’s complicated and I don’t want to share the details,” Nestra insisted.

In this she wouldn’t budge.

“Alright. Fine. Weird. Can you tell me more? How did you find out?”

Camille seemed weirded out but surprisingly calm. It was a strange experience. At least she didn’t seem hostile.

“You’re remarkably composed about the whole thing,” Nestra said.

“Well it explains quite a bit about you.”

“Oi!”

“I have questions but they can wait. What now?” they asked.

“I can’t fight anymore. Too wounded.”

Mazingwe silenced them both by standing to his full height. He pointed at the bags.

“Now that we got this out of the way perhaps we can resume our mission, hmm? We will first bring our people home and report that the Carved Tusk tribe betrayed us by aligning with our foes. The presence of one of their Elders here is a direct help to our enemies. It violates our agreement.”

Anger turned his gaze vicious.

“I knew they couldn’t be trusted. It’s time to purge them from our camp.”

“Actually, that might not be the best idea,” Nestra replied.

Mazingwe frowned. For a moment, it almost looked like he’d forgotten they were here.

“Nestra, I am relatively certain you have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“I do. That Carved Tusk didn’t help with the assault itself which would have been an act of war and a cause for a blood feud. In lizard society, skirting agreements is a test of the other tribe’s cunning when there are no blood bonds between them. They will not see it as a betrayal as much as a game move. We can get much more by demanding reparations, and they will respect us for it. Oh, and we should rub the loss of an elder in their face.”

Both of them stared at Nestra like she’d whipped out an accordion out of thin air to sing out the Threshold national anthem.

“Miss Palladian, since when are you an expert in xenodiplomacy?”

“Mlem. Hsss.”

“Oh dear.”