They always met in restaurants.

The Gitya Clan didn’t necessarily deserve the title ‘clan’, per se; unlike the other clans of the Kasvra, the Gitya cannot date their existence from the earliest days of their interplanetary culture. Instead they are those who stood firm against the order that the ancient and powerful technology they safeguarded be destroyed. Since then they have maintained many laboratories, hideouts, and even smaller settlements where they go about their lives and pursue the Clan’s survival, except for the outliers.

Outliers are often called bandits by those who do not know, but within the Gitya Clan they are commonly called Shadows. Rather than pursue the Clan’s survival, they are tasked with pursuing its agenda, as set by the elders. Outside assignments, Shadows must not be marked out from the other Kasvra, and so once they take on the role, they never return to an open Gitya Clan holding, but instead spend their time out alone or near other Kasvra.

For Goka of the Gitya Clan, a Shadow who had dedicated decades to the purpose of the Clan already, his meetings with those who passed on assignments took place always in restaurants, where they would attract no attention.

For some while, these meetings had come twice or three times a year, preceded by prearranged signs which indicated the time and location of the desired meeting. In the last year or two, Goka had enjoyed more time to himself, with one job each year. Partly, he knew, this change had been brought about because the assignments given to him had become steadily more difficult and time-consuming. But he also suspected that he was seen now as older, and perhaps less capable, than the younger Gitya taking up the same roles.

It was for this reason that, when he sat down in Marzen’s Bar, he had questions of loyalty weighing heavy on his mind. He was joined five minutes later by Kladyll, who had become his handler five years ago - Goka still suspected internal clan politics had caused the change, but there was of course no acceptable way to ask about this - and with whom he felt he had a reasonable understanding.

“What does the Clan need?” he asked. Kladyll smiled, lifting one hand from the table, her long fingers splayed; asking him to wait, just some little while. Marzen herself bustled over and took their orders, and only when she had departed again did Kladyll answer him. “A great many things,” she said. “In point of fact, I haven’t seen so much activity among the Elders in my time working with them.”

Goka made a quick calculation. Five years as a contact outside the Clan proper. Time to learn the ways of outsiders, even of the Kasvra who agreed with the edict, before that. And before that, efforts made to ensure she was loyal to the Clan. “Fifteen years?” he hazarded.

“Six,” she said, and gave a small smile. “I can guess what you’re thinking. The training and selection process has changed since you went through it, Goka.”

“If they’re only a tenth as long as they were, I have to count myself greatly lucky that you are as effective as you are,” he returned, offering a smile of his own. Behind the smile his mind was racing. To send Gitya out into the open without ensuring that loyalty to the Clan was one of their most powerful motivators seemed like a recipe for the discovery and destruction of its strongholds.

Even now, when he wondered if his Clan no longer saw value in him and questioned whether he should continue to work for them rather than melting away to a life of his own, he still understood the importance of the Shadows’ tasks. He would never betray the Clan, but the Elders, rightly, had not believed this until it had been put to the test.

“Not exactly.” Kladyll grinned. “You saw the bag I was carrying when I arrived?”

Goka had picked out a table where he could put his back to the wall, not just out of long habit but through Gitya protocols.

The Shadow should sit where he could see the room at all times, for there were many who would want to hasten the Clan’s downfall, a list beginning with any officer of the law who knew about them, and the Shadow was better able to deal with them than his handler would be. But, also, if the Shadow watched the room, their handler would face away from it. Fewer people would see their face clearly enough to be remembered. In the event that a meeting was compromised, a handler might preserve their anonymity for the future.

Consequently, Goka had been studying the room since before Kladyll walked in. He had seen the sling bag over her shoulder, had watched her hang it on a peg and then hide it with her jacket. The question was not rhetorical, but it should have been. He showed he felt this way in his answer, opening the hand that rested on the table, a minimalist echo of a shrug.

“Within is a Kasvra Screen. You should take the bag with you when you leave, as if you had brought it here.”

Goka nodded, but his pulse quickened as he did. These Screens were a fusion of the ancient technologies and intricate Starsoul-work, and the secrets of their construction were long lost. They were deeply rare, and many Shadows were devoted to hunting down rumours of them across the Galaxy, hoping to secure them for the Clan. Any that fell into other hands ran the risk of destruction by those who followed the Royal edict.

Suffice to say he had never held one before.

“The Screen is one of a pair which were recovered by one of your colleagues about ten years ago,” Kladyll said. “On them were a number of the usual runes, as we expected. But there were a few we’d never seen before. I’m told it took some time for us to work out what they were or how to use them.”

Goka nodded. “Good to hear about some benefits we’ve given the Clan,” he said, and smiled softly to take the sting out of it. Shadows didn’t tend to hear much of the Gitya’s news, except what they needed to know to motivate them on their assignments and anything reported about the Gitya by others. This was so they could give nothing away if captured. But every so often they got to find out about the impact they made.

“Oddly enough,” Kladyll said, “the twin of this Screen is now used in training. It was eventually discovered that it has a captivating, hypnotic effect. Actually we believe it’s a security measure; anyone who handles it incorrectly triggers the effect on the screen. The results are something like the Sorceresses of Ice and Flame used.”

Goka nodded, not because he understood what Kladyll was talking about fully but because he could always look up references later and every minute of briefing time was a minute of potential exposure. “And this is for my assignment?”

“You are to return it by dead drop at the usual place once the assignment is complete,” Kladyll said. “It was felt that the tools on the Screen will be necessary for your assignment.”

“And that is?”

Kladyll glanced over her shoulder, for the first time cautious of anyone who might be eavesdropping. If this was more secret than what she had already revealed, Goka thought, it would have to be the highest priority assignment he had ever been given.

She leaned forward across the table. “Princess Phamret,” she said. “A dossier is in the bag with the Screen, in case you’re not familiar.”

Goka nodded. He would read the dossier later, of course, but he had much more to do with life outside the Clan than Kladyll, and Phamret was a very famous figure - less so, in fact, for the noble title she held than for what she had done for herself as one of the Marshals, the organisation recently founded with the support of the intrepid human Captain Kody. Phamret was Marshal of the Atlar, and as such was the member of that aquatic race you were most likely to see on dry land, though even then it was more likely to be in connection with great events.

She was well known to be one of Kody’s close allies. Goka’s lips curled in distaste just thinking of them; while most hailed Kody as a saviour, the Gitya knew better. He was no friend of theirs, and had often interfered in affairs that otherwise would have gone to the benefit of the Clan.

If the Clan was moving against Phamret, it was likely as a way to hurt Kody. Goka was more than happy to play his part in making that happen.

“My orders?” he asked. It was always good to clarify.

“We need her activities against us stopped,” Kladyll said. “I am told that it would be best if no suspicion can fall on the Clan for this, so a Gitya blade should not be used as it might provoke questions we would find uncomfortable. We believe that anyone else stepping into her place will cause less trouble for the Clan unless given provocation, so avoid that provocation.” She smiled slightly. “My expectation, on a personal level, is that with the Screen in your possession you will be able to execute something… creative.”

Goka nodded again, otherwise silent. His mind was already thinking, inventing and exploring options, depending on where she might be when he ran her to ground. It was an old habit, visualising multiple different partial approaches to any assignment from the moment he received it.

There was a saying, old as time itself, that no plan ever survived the attempt to put it into place. Goka’s response had been to assemble dozens of fragmentary parts of plans, so that as each one failed he could flow to another which he had already considered.

“We can afford one month before this complete,” Kladyll said. “If at the end of that time you have failed, know that the Clan will be at much greater risk in a design that is to follow.”

She didn’t say this had anything to do with Kody or his sponsor and ally, Allysion of Kasvra, whose ancestor had been the one to outlaw the Kasvra technology the Gitya revered. If he were captured, he could not testify to the Gitya’s intent. But he was sure, all the same, that this confirmed his earlier speculation. His role in this design would be to make it easier to target the chosen hero.

He smiled thinly and nodded again.

Kladyll fell silent and ate the food and drank the drink that Marzen had served. At the end of the meal, as she mopped up the juices with some bread, she looked up at him and smiled. “The best part of my job,” she said, and with that she rose and left. Handlers did not wish Shadows luck, by ancient custom built on superstition.

Goka took a more leisurely time of it to finish his meal, giving her plenty of time to be gone before he rose and left himself. As he went, he lifted a sling bag from a peg by the door, and nobody paid it any heed.

*

To most people, Goka was just another Kasvra, and there were few places he’d encountered in his travels that he hadn’t been able to make friends. Over time, the friends whose ties to him felt strongest had been sounded out about providing information. Some had balked, citing their conscience; others had been happy to pass something along. Out of this he had constructed a small information network, most of which operated on the vague assumption that he was connected to royal intelligence organisations.

In any event, when he put the word about that he would like to know the whereabouts of Princess Phamret, word of her general location came back quickly enough and he was fast to book passage.

The planet Atlar is near the Core in a wormhole nexus, and Goka would have gone there in any event if he hadn’t been told where to find her. However, the information available made it much quicker for him to narrow down where to look. He made his way to Tolu Lake, stopping on the way for long enough to change the way he dressed.

Kasvra living with communities of other races often incorporate aspects of their fashions into the way they dress. Goka bought two or three small items of Atlar dress and incorporated them into the way he looked. Any little thing he could do to be less obviously Gitya, he reasoned, would buy him extra time. And time might be vital indeed.

When he saw the Princess Phamret for the first time, Goka stared for a long moment. Perhaps it was only that she was swimming in the lake, and as such she was closer to her natural habitat. Or perhaps the image provided with the dossier had simply not done her justice in the first place.

In any event, Goka was struck immediately by the woman’s beauty in a way he had not expected to be. It was the first time he had felt this way about a Atlar, but there was such an elegance to her that he couldn’t help it,

He watched for some time from a sheltered copse where he expected he would not be seen. It was not simply about acclimating himself to the way she looked, so that he would have no qualms when the time came; he also wanted to be sure she was alone.

At first glance it appeared so, but he was all too aware that nobility often had attendants with them, and on more than one assignment in the past, if he hadn’t taken the time to account for that, he firmly believed he wouldn’t have succeeded - or at least, if he had succeeded, he wouldn’t have escaped.

At length she swam back toward the lakeshore, and Goka collected himself. Patience was to be his watchword here; impatience would only see her worry that he had been watching for some time, and might have an ulterior motive.

She walked out onto the land, allowing the lakewater to sluice from her head-fins. Goka waited for her to dry herself, or to exchange the cloth garments she had worn in the lake for new ones, and because of that he nearly missed his chance; after a few moments, she simply started off along a dirt path.

Of course a Atlar would feel no need to dry off, he realised; and with the weather warm, there was no need to dry her clothes either. They would be dry soon enough.

With the feather-light silent step of a Shadow he slipped from the shelter he had been in. He covered the first fifty yards at a sprint, then slowed his pace until he was moving not much faster than he had seen her walk, covering the ground at a brisk pace that someone might believe a courier could maintain all day.

With the sprint to wind him and a little time to recover afterward, by the time he had her back in sight he was breathing audibly but not heavily - again, as might be expected if he had been walking all day.

When he came in sight, he adjusted the way he set his feet. It was difficult, once trained in silence, to make yourself make sounds at the same steady rate as any walker, but it was a vital skill and he had taken time over it.

A little later, when he was even closer, he raised his voice. “I say, excuse me!” he called, and he hastened his pace again. A good Shadow could disappear into their role so they could strike without warning; the method of striking was just different this time. “I’m sorry to interrupt!” he followed up.

Phamret had briefly checked her pace when he first called, but had then continued. At his second cry she stopped and turned. He could read resigned irritation in her body language and adjusted the way he stood himself to seem suitably cowed by it, but he had decided on his rough approach and the role it needed. She had stopped and was waiting for him to approach; being annoyed would not save her from the Kasvra Screen she carried.

With relief he pushed ahead with his plan. “It is you!” he exclaimed, and he broke into a sort of shuffling run, the way a man who wants not to waste anyone’s time but is also fearful for his own dignity might do. “Pardon me, your Highness. I thought I recognised you, or I shouldn’t have…” He let himself tail off artfully, then added. “I have been tasked to deliver a gift to the Hylian Princess,” he said.

“Unfortunately I have no contacts at the court. Living nearby, as I do, I remembered your own connection. I was hoping to prevail on you, just for a moment, so that I could plead my case to you?”

Goka played the part as well as he could, but he was hoping the simple fact of his apparent exhaustion would excuse any part of the role he might have forgotten to incorporate.

Princess Phamret regarded him with a certain suspicion. He had expected this; he was hoping that one of the hints he’d deliberately seeded into his explanation would catch her attention. He didn’t need it to hold up to examination. It just had to be plausible enough to give him an opportunity.

“Who would task someone who cannot send something to Kody?” she asked. “And what would such a person send?”

“I’m told it’s very special, your Highness,” Goka answered. “I don’t fully understand it myself. He feigned momentary doubt, before saying “Well, i can’t imagine there would be any problem with you taking a look at it first. I certainly don’t want to waste her time - your pardon, your Highness. I would not for the life of me waste your time, either, except that in this case…”

Phamret sighed, and the concerned frown was banished in favour of a gentle (if small) smile. She was, the dossier had suggested, extremely sweet-natured when not directly acting as Atlar’s Marshal; acknowledging the weight he was putting her under was, as he had expected, enough for her to (at least temporarily) forgive it.

“Alright,” she said. “You have it on you?”

He nodded, shrugging the sling bag from his shoulder and opening it up. “I don’t fully understand it,” he said, “although it clearly originally comes from my people.” He lifted the Screen out with the utmost care, making sure that his fingers were nowhere near any control studs or switches that might activate a rune, then passed it across to her.

He saw a soft intake of breath as she took it in hand. “Kody had one of these,” she breathed.

She ran her fingers over it gently, then turned it over looking for the display.

“Pardon me, Highness,” Goka asked, making sure to play his part until he could be certain it would no longer be necessary. “Do you know what this is?”

“It’s a Kasvra Screen,” she said, apparently paying him little attention. A moment later her gaze sharpened on him. “But you knew that much.”

He could only nod his admission. “I don’t know much about them,” she said. “I’m told this one could be useful to the Princess, that’s all.”

“Maybe,” Phamret replied. Her attention was back on the Screen. “I’ve never seen one of these this close up before,” she said. “I don’t know how - huh-”

Phamret was still studying the Screen, but after her voice cut off mid-sentence, it seemed to Goka that things were suddenly different. He stepped closer, taking care not to look too closely at the Screen himself (just in case) and peered at her face, trying to understand what was happening.

Something was obviously happening. Up close he could see that her eyes were tracking from one side to the other and back in slow, staccato arcs, pausing at each and and in the centre for around a second each. At the same time, a number of the muscles around her jaw, cheek, eyes and one temple were twitching.

There was no pattern to this, but there was a lot of activity. Goka was put in mind of a kitchen servant trying to ensure all the bowls in a cupboard remained where they should be while a cat wandered from point to point; there might at any time be a burst of sudden activity anywhere, and yet no progress was made.

Steadily, though, the rate at which those twitches came seemed to slow, while the pace at which her eyes swung from left to right to left again stayed the same; if anything, it seemed to be stabilising, getting steadier and steadier the longer he watched.

Goka wondered what that meant. Hypnotic induction was not a commonly seen thing among the Gitya Clan (or rather, he corrected himself, it hadn’t been when he set out beyond the Clan’s borders. From what Kladyll had said, possibly this was the way that loyalty was imbued these days, at least for Gitya who ventured out past the Clan strongholds.

The muscle twitches dwindled to nothing, and as they passed, Phamret’s face slackened, that expressive face becoming not unreadable but empty. A sense of utter stillness had settled on the woman.

He reached out and passed his hand between her eyes and the Screen, and saw no change in their swaying movement, no adjustment to focus. Nothing to indicate she had seen anything at all.

Reaching out, he took one of her hands off the Screen, lifting it and moving it to the side. He felt no resistance; the limb moved as easily as if she were unconscious. He opened his hand and stepped back to study the woman, still not quite believing the evidence of his own eyes.

The arm remained exactly where it had been when he released it, having not dropped even for a moment. Goka was astounded; in his experience, it was not possible for a limb to go from completely relaxed to the muscle tension needed to stop it from falling without a dip in between.

And yet he could not deny this was the case.

The Screen had clearly done its job. She could not move, could not act, seemed unaware of anything but the Screen itself, and possibly not even that - he was far from sure he believed that those steadily swinging eyes took in anything.

She was, in short, completely vulnerable.

He allowed himself a thin smile of satisfaction; the fragments of plan and visualisation he had assembled had come together with full effectiveness. So far, so good.

His hand stole around his back, where his knife was tucked into his belt, cunningly concealed. He drew it forth, scanning to the horizon in all directions along the path. He could see nobody; could there be a Atlar in the single shimmering strip of water still visible?

If there were, he eventually decided, there was at least no way that they could see him, certainly not in detail; but his flight would be much easier if nobody saw him until he was already well away.

He stepped closer to her, adjusting his grip on the knife. He had only to strike, and it would be done, and he could be on his way.

He tightened his grip again. He knew exactly where to cut. It would be painless and fast; she would know nothing.

He should have done it already. But he hesitated. Up close, her features relaxed and peaceful, not having to maintain a public persona as she had been when she turned to face him, there was a natural beauty to her that he had only glimpsed fleetingly when she was aware.

She had said something about the chosen hero, her attention entirely on the Screen, and for a moment Goka had seen what was likely the real Phamret, the person underneath the learned courtly manners and the guarded behaviour.

The real Phamret had a strange effect on Goka, or perhaps it was simply how vulnerable she was. There was no doubt in his mind that the Atlar Marshal would be a great combatant, and perhaps even trained by Kody into the bargain. He absolutely could not have made this kill without the Screen’s advantage.

But still he hesitated. Why did he not strike?

Once again he adjusted his grip on the knife, but did not bring it into action. He was wondering why when a flicker of motion caught the periphery of his eye.

Looking up, he saw three Atlar who had just come into sight on the path. Goka’s reflexes immediately sprang into work and his knife disappeared back about his person in less than a second. That still left a few other things that needed to change before they got close enough to see details.

He plucked the Screen from her hand, carefully avoiding even a glance at it, and plunged it back into his sling bag. Kasvra Screens are not a common sight, and three random Atlar almost certainly wouldn’t know what they were. But that had its own problem; while they might not identify it, they’d notice it, and them.

Princess Phamret was, on that day, dressed not unlike any other Atlar, at least to Goka’s eyes; that eliminated one worry. All the same, she would be extremely recognisable once they drew near.

He would never, afterwards, be able to account for the inspiration which struck him at that moment on that not-so-lonely path. Stepping in close against her, he rested one hand just above her hip, touching the still-wet fabric of her skirt. His other hand cupped her chin, slightly lifting a head that had been slumped forward. “Put your arm around me,” he said, quietly but with some urgency, and hoped that the Screen provided more than just paralysis.

The arm he had left hanging in the air moved gracefully across, bending at his shoulder, her hand resting between his shoulderblades. Had he not lifted it when he moved it, he wondered if instead her hand would have settled around his waist.

From the distance the other group were, they probably looked now like intimates. Atlar and Kasvra didn’t often get romantically involved together - few Atlar wanted to be with someone who wasn’t going to be at home underwater some of the time - but it wasn’t so unheard of as to be worth paying particular attention to.

“Very good,” he said softly. He wasn’t sure if the Screen’s influence wore off; it could pay to be polite. Her eyes had been glued to the Screen the entire time his blade had been out. She might not realise the danger she was in. Soft nothings and praise would cost him nothing, but they could mean the difference between her staying under or breaking free.

Or it might be enough the moment the Screen had worked its magic on her. Goka didn’t know, and he preferred always to err on the side of caution.

The others were coming closer - faster than he’d realised, in fact. “Kiss me,” he directed. Phamret gave a sigh, soft enough that it might simply have been breathing out ready for a deep breath, and stretched up on tiptoe. The angle of her elbow behind his neck tightened as she pulled herself closer to him.

He had a fleeting glimpse of her glazed eyes and then their lips met. Goka’s mouth opened and her tongue flickered inside, skipping along the tips of his teeth. Contact was startling, almost electric. The hand that had lifted her chin was trapped behind them as she pressed more tightly to him; her breasts cushioned around his forearm, and their warm softness meant he didn’t even mind one arm being caught.

The kiss lasted longer than he’d expected; Goka was lightheadedly short of breath before he dared break it, when he knew from the sound of the others passing that they had gone safely by. He lifted his head from her lips, and wondered whether he detected reluctance in the way her lips lingered, or whether she was simply still trying to fulfil the command she’d been given.

“Is there anywhere near here which is more private?” he asked in a low tone.

“Yes,” Phamret answered. Her voice was as quiet as his.

He straightened up and attempted to collect his dignity. His thoughts were a whirl. He hadn’t expected the kiss to resonate with him nearly as strongly as it did. He was conscious of the knife sheathed at his back in a way he usually wasn’t; usually it was a reassuring weight that he would only really notice if it vanished. Today it felt more like an omen.

“Lead me there,” he instructed. This time he spoke at a much more normal volume.

“Yes,” Phamret answered again, her voice still quiet and small. She removed her arm from around his neck, turned, and started to walk away from the path and from the river he had originally spotted her by. Up ahead was a wood; it seemed bright, light, and welcoming, but Goka expected it would turn out to be very deep.

It wasn’t so deep; or, he supposed, you could say that it was very deep indeed, but Phamret’s path took them in a matter of minutes to the shore of a body of water within the wood; a pool formed upstream of a waterfall, with large, heavy Screen pieces three times the size of a person clustered together near the falls. Goka suspected they had been placed there by industrious Atlar of the past to reduce the flow down the falls; they also had the effect of slowing the current within the pool.

The sun shone down on the Princess through the leaves, creating a dappled effect across the deep red of her skin and her teal garb.

Goka stood, staring at her glassy-eyed form, arms hanging limply by her side, contriving somehow to stand bolt upright and still seem slumped, and took a deep breath.

It should be the easiest decision in his life to kill this enemy of the Gitya Clan. And yet he had delayed, again and again, even to the point of risking discovery.

And he was not sure he was ready to admit why to himself.