《Wirrin and the Fiends》


 Finding Work

    Willamette¡¯s was a quiet little inn on the second highest level of Tellan. It was made of stone, like almost every building in Tellan. Once, when it had still belonged to Willamette, it had been painted in bright greens and yellows and whites after the flowers that grew far below in the Blavan Plains.


    Inside, a fire crackled against the chill of early autumn, staining the heavy stone fireplace with soot and ash. The fire glinted off old, pale, heavy tables and chairs and illuminated Arin, sitting behind the bar, reading a book.


    Arin owned and ran the inn, named after her late wife. She was pale and skinny and a little hunched, her hands shook a little as she leafed through her heavy book. In some ways, it was lucky that Willamette¡¯s wasn¡¯t busier: Arin wouldn¡¯t have had the patience for it.


    Willamette¡¯s single patron sat on the wide veranda out the front, which could only be reached by going through the taproom, in a pile of cushions. Wirrin lounged in the freezing morning air, sipping a steaming mug of marjoram, apricot, and honey tea.


    She gazed vacantly down the wide steps of Tellan at the Blavan Plains, where the last harvests were starting. She was tall and tan and muscular, wide and heavy, with round cheeks, a wide nose and piercing, brown, monolidded eyes.


    Terman could have been forgiven for thinking Wirrin didn¡¯t notice him as she didn¡¯t acknowledge his wave from the front door of Willamette¡¯s. He almost tripped on the steps up into the taproom in his hurry and waved dismissively at Arin, who hadn¡¯t been planning to get up from her seat.


    With a huff, Terman slouched into the cushions near Wirrin. Wirrin didn¡¯t look away from the view. ¡®What can I do for you, Terman?¡¯ she asked, in that quiet way that made Terman feel bad for interrupting her peace.


    ¡®Trio come down from Esbolva,¡¯ Terman huffed. He was trying not to pant from his run up from the caravanserai, he didn¡¯t want to embarrass himself in front of Wirrin. ¡®Got money, going into the mountains.¡¯


    Wirrin nodded slowly and sipped her tea. ¡®You thought I¡¯d be interested?¡¯


    ¡®Got money,¡¯ Terman said again. ¡®A lot of it. Reckon they¡¯ll be out a while. Immeran trying to talk to them. Gar and me got them held up for you.¡¯


    Wirrin finally looked at Terman. ¡®How long?¡¯


    ¡®They said months, maybe into winter.¡¯


    Wirrin nodded. ¡®Leaving?¡¯


    ¡®Today, if they can find someone.¡¯


    Wirrin sighed and gulped down the rest of her tea. ¡®Best get to it then.¡¯


    Wirrin left the mug on the counter as she hurriedly followed Terman out of Willamette¡¯s. Though she knew the way, she let Terman lead her down the backways and jumps down to the bottom north of Tellan, where the caravanserai was filling up with caravans heading north and south.


    The trio from Esbolva weren¡¯t hard to spot among all the morning chaos. They were straight-backed and well-dressed. Their boots looked new. And they were staring down their noses at Gar.


    Immeran, who was talking to a caravan leader heading north, threw up his hands when he saw Wirrin. ¡®Well fuck me then, I guess,¡¯ he loudly proclaimed before storming off.


    ¡®I got her, I got her,¡¯ Terman called to Gar.


    Gar turned with a graceful gesture and a wide smile. ¡®Here she is.¡¯


    The trio from Esbolva were young, that¡¯s what Wirrin noticed first. They weren¡¯t as young as Terman, but they were close. In their mid-twenties at the oldest. Two men and a woman, all with similar, smooth faces.


    ¡®Are you Wirrin, then?¡¯ the woman asked, voice strong.


    ¡®I am.¡¯


    ¡®This man has been regaling us with your achievements and credentials,¡¯ the woman said, nodding to Gar. ¡®We are in need of a guide, to take us into the mountains.¡¯


    ¡®Well that¡¯s very nice of you, Gar,¡¯ Wirrin said.


    Gar grinned his gap-toothed grin. He was not so young.


    ¡®We expect to take at least two months,¡¯ the woman said. ¡®Perhaps longer.¡¯


    ¡®We¡¯re searching for something,¡¯ the shorter of the two men said.


    ¡®So you¡¯ll be wanting someone to catch food for you,¡¯ Wirrin said. ¡®And find the safest path into the snow?¡¯


    ¡®That¡¯s right,¡¯ the woman said.


    ¡®And you haven¡¯t considered waiting for summer?¡¯ Wirrin asked.


    ¡®We can¡¯t wait that long,¡¯ the taller of the two men insisted.


    ¡®It¡¯s cheaper in summer, is all,¡¯ Wirrin said. She plastered a thoughtful look on her face. ¡®More than two months from the start of autumn, huh?¡¯


    ¡®We have plenty of money,¡¯ the woman said. ¡®We¡¯ll even pay you an advance, for supplies.¡¯


    ¡®Well that¡¯s very generous of you,¡¯ Wirrin said, pulling her face into more of a frown.


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    But before she could even think to barter, the shorter of the two men pulled a small, leather bag from his coat and offered it to Wirrin. Bemused, Wirrin took it and looked inside. It was a genuine struggle not to laugh.


    ¡®A hundred when we make it back alive,¡¯ the woman said.


    Wirrin managed to keep her mild frown and not start choking. ¡®Well, if it¡¯s so urgent, we¡¯d best be on our way. What are your names?¡¯ She tucked the bag into a pocket at her waist and began to circle the trio.


    The woman didn¡¯t so much as turn her head to watch Wirrin. ¡®I¡¯m Alina,¡¯ she said. ¡®And these are my brothers, Leran¡¯ ¨C the shorter ¨C ¡®and Hest.¡¯


    Leran followed Wirrin with his head, not straining himself to watch. Hest turned all the way around to keep facing her as she circled them. Their bags looked lightly used, but their ropes and picks and crampons looked shiny and new.


    ¡®You¡¯ll need more food,¡¯ Wirrin said. ¡®Pemmican. And warmer clothes.¡¯


    ¡®We have enough food for a month,¡¯ Alina said, as Wirrin stopped in front of her.


    ¡®You have enough for two weeks,¡¯ Wirrin said. ¡®You¡¯ll need more. We¡¯ll meet at the Church at noon and leave then.¡¯


    Alina nodded. Hest scowled.


    Wirrin turned on her heel and started back toward Willamette¡¯s. Terman and Gar followed her, leaving the trio to fend for themselves in the rapidly emptying caravanserai.


    Only once they were certainly out of sight of the caravanserai did Wirrin start chuckling.


    ¡®Well?¡¯ Terman asked, leaning in, excitable as ever.


    Wirrin pulled the purse out of her pocket and opened it wide enough to show the two of them. Gar joined in the chucking and Terman nearly choked.


    ¡®For an advance?¡¯ Terman coughed.


    Inside the purse were twelve shiny, gold coins, crisply stamped with crossed a flower upon crossed hammers. Wirrin pulled out two and handed one to Terman and one to Gar.


    ¡®Only seems fair, since you helped me get them,¡¯ she said. Ten gold coins would have paid her well enough for the whole trip, even a trip twice as long in the dead of winter.


    ¡®And they said a hundred more when they get back?¡¯ Terman¡¯s eyes were glittering. Normally he would get a silver or two for helping Wirrin land some work.


    ¡®Even if they¡¯re lying, I won¡¯t be too put out,¡¯ Wirrin chuckled.


    Gar tried to bend the coin in his hands. ¡®Pleasure as always, Wirrin,¡¯ he said. ¡®Good luck dying in the snow.¡¯


    Wirrin grinned, bringing out the wrinkles around her mouth and eyes and forehead. ¡®I appreciate that, Gar,¡¯ she smiled. ¡®Good luck feeding all your children through winter.¡¯


    Gar grinned back, his already wrinkled face folding itself into a map of a happy life. ¡®I won¡¯t need the luck now, will I?¡¯ He held up the gold coin as he split off on the second level with a wave to Terman.


    ¡®Mum¡¯ll be so pleased,¡¯ Terman said, smiling as they reached the next step. ¡®I¡¯ll tell her hello from you.¡¯


    ¡®Make sure she stays warm, alright?¡¯ Wirrin said, smiling. She¡¯d known Terman¡¯s mother when they were both teens, before she¡¯d left Tellan the first time. Terman had been six when she¡¯d finally gotten back.


    ¡®Will do,¡¯ Terman called, finally free to hurry again. He rushed off into the city.


    Tellan was built on wide, tall steps up the side of a small mountain. Seven steps in all, bridged by various staircases along its length. It defied expectations by not being a particularly stratified sort of place, though the top level was affectionately referred to as the Hermit¡¯s Step.


    Wirrin climbed back into Willamette¡¯s, where Arin was still reading her book.


    ¡®You¡¯re in a hurry,¡¯ Arin said, finally looking up.


    ¡®I¡¯m not in a hurry,¡¯ Wirrin smiled. ¡®I have work.¡¯


    ¡®Oh?¡¯


    Wirrin put a gold coin on the counter. ¡®Some spoiled rich kids want to go into the snow for a couple of months.¡¯


    Arin stood, stiffly, and took the coin. ¡®You planning on staying once you get back?¡¯ She made some notes in a ledger behind the bar. ¡®You know you¡¯re paid ahead for over a full year, right?¡¯


    Wirrin shrugged. ¡®What else am I going to use money for?¡¯


    ¡®Nice clothes?¡¯


    Wirrin chuckled as she made the short way up to her room to gather her things: bow, knife, rope, pitons, crampons, picks, shovel, hatchet, pans, sleeping rugs, a couple of sets of warmer clothes, and some soap. Once she would have travelled light, relying on her ability to hunt, but as she got older, she found she liked carrying cooking utensils more than she liked walking fast.


    ¡®May the Light guide your travels, Wirrin,¡¯ Arin said, still standing behind the bar. ¡®And Health keep you strong.¡¯


    Wirrin smiled, she could appreciate the thought, at least. ¡®Think how disappointed I¡¯d be if Light had been there first,¡¯ she said. ¡®Oulvegesi atev tebal.¡¯


    Arin¡¯s face pinched. Not only did she not like how flippant Wirrin was about the Gods¡¯ blessings, she didn¡¯t like when anyone spoke Estanen around her. ¡®For now,¡¯ she said, flatly.


    ¡®I¡¯ll see you in a couple of months, I¡¯m sure,¡¯ Wirrin said. ¡®Buy yourself some nice, new books or something.¡¯


    Arin¡¯s smile was more genuine this time, pulling soft wrinkles and crow¡¯s feet all over her face. ¡®Alright, fine,¡¯ she said. ¡®Try to be safe.¡¯


    ¡®I¡¯ll try.¡¯


    Next was a trip back down to the bottom step for food, dried tea and some spices and salt. Even when she was young, Wirrin would at least bring some spices and salt with her on her travels. What use was bland food, after all?


    She regretted telling Alina to meet at the Church building when she was early and had to wait nearby. At least no one came out to try to talk to her.


    The Church Building in Tellan was small and barely counted as being a part of the town, off the side of the steps as it was. Like all the Church buildings Wirrin had seen, it was pentagonal, stone, and grim. The chased copper signs either side of the door had been green longer than Wirrin had been alive. On top, a love-heart surrounded by wavy sun rays, below it a flower over a crossed sword and hammer.


    Wirrin had thought, many times, about possible redesigns for the Church¡¯s symbol. Having two levels to the design really made it look like some of the Gods were less important than the others.


    At the very least, the rose should be in the sun, not the heart.


    Wirrin¡¯s design musings were thankfully interrupted by the arrival of Alina and her brothers. They were wearing the same, dark red, dyed hide clothes they¡¯d been wearing in the caravanserai, but at least their packs looked significantly heavier.


    The only thing about getting out of the city that Wirrin wasn¡¯t looking forward to was eating pemmican for a month.


    ¡®All ready?¡¯ she asked, by way of acknowledgment.


    Alina nodded, followed shortly by Leran and Hest.


    ¡®Best get going then.¡¯

 Mountains and Riots

    Wirrin led the way out of town, past all the shrines that marked the best path out of Tellan. Most of them were suns, flowers, and hammers. A right turn about an hour out of town took them through a few more suns and flowers.


    Hest was scowling the whole time. Wirrin wasn¡¯t paying the trio much attention, but she didn¡¯t have to. None of them much liked walking past all the shrines, which Wirrin could appreciate, but Hest was least subtle about it.


    Oh, to be young again.


    Wirrin had a notion.


    It had been a few years since Wirrin had escorted any rich people anywhere. It had been years since Wirrin had escorted anyone anywhere, really. But she soon discovered that these three were of the slightly less annoying variety of rich people.


    Some of her wealthier clients had expected her to carry everything, to act like one of their servants. They wanted to stop often to rest, and simply chattered amongst themselves while Wirrin did all the work. It was like watching children.


    Alina, Leran, and Hest were of the other sort. They tried to keep their backs straight and noses pointed as they sweated and heaved under the autumn sun. They tried not to slow. Tried not to looked tired.


    Wirrin decided to do an experiment. She stopped by a stone that came up to her knee, with a symbol of a rose with sun rays. It was mid-afternoon and already starting to dim.


    ¡®You ought to rest,¡¯ she informed her charges.


    Alina frowned, but didn¡¯t say anything.


    ¡®We can keep going,¡¯ Leran said, trying to choke down his panting. ¡®Our journey is too important for rest.¡¯


    Hest scowled. ¡®At least until nightfall.¡¯


    ¡®Is your quest too important for you to freeze to death on your first night out of Tellan?¡¯ Wirrin asked, flatly. She was being dramatic, of course, but that was part of the experiment.


    Leran and Hest stared for a moment, identical scowls on their faces. They were brothers after all, Wirrin supposed.


    Wirrin lay out a rug she¡¯d had for almost fifteen years on the thin snow and sat down by the little shrine to Light and Growth. Alina was first to follow suit, laying out a thin blanket instead of a rug and doubling it over to sit just across the path from Wirrin.


    Still scowling, Alina¡¯s brothers set out their own mats. All three had blankets rather than rugs. Wirrin hadn¡¯t thought to mention it, so she hoped they had enough sense not to use their actual sleeping blankets or she might not have been as dramatic as she thought.


    Leran sat beside Alina and Hest sat further away from everyone and especially the shrine, sinking into the deeper snow away from the path and rest area that the shrine marked out.


    Her experiment complete, Wirrin pulled off her boots and sat cross-legged, feet up on her knees, to rub at her soles and make sure there were no holes in her socks. She didn¡¯t tell the trio to do the same, they were probably too young.


    All three of the siblings glared at her, doing their best not to appear like they were looking in her direction. Wirrin didn¡¯t bother to bring it up, it was to be expected, after all.


    When Wirrin put her boots back on and started rubbing at her legs and thighs, Alina finally piped up.


    ¡®How would we freeze to death from failing to rest?¡¯ she asked, her tone very neutral.


    Wirrin considered the woman for a moment, trying to work out if she were interested or annoyed, but Alina was good at the neutral expression. ¡®Oh, you wouldn¡¯t,¡¯ Wirrin said. ¡®At least probably not.¡¯


    Hest¡¯s scowl took over his whole face and he opened his mouth to say something, presumably something hostile. But Alina turned to look at him and he stopped.


    ¡®Why insist that we stop, then?¡¯ Alina asked, turned back.


    ¡®You were all getting pretty puffed,¡¯ Wirrin said. ¡®It¡¯s better to rest than to trip while climbing a mountain because you don¡¯t want to admit that you¡¯re tired.¡¯


    ¡®And to massage your legs?¡¯


    Wirrin shrugged. ¡®I¡¯m older than you lot,¡¯ she said. ¡®I get stiff and sore, as old people do.¡¯ Wirrin was only thirty-five, but she figured the trio in front of her were at least ten years younger and would have no idea.


    After about ten minutes of sitting and massaging her legs, Wirrin stood and folded up her rug, keeping the wet side facing out. All three of her charges followed her example and were about to head off when Wirrin started stretching.


    ¡®Are you so old that your legs can¡¯t keep up with this work?¡¯ Hest asked.


    Alina¡¯s head snapped around to look at him and the scowl disappeared in a second. She turned back and, after a moment of observation, joined Wirrin¡¯s stretches.


    ¡®I assume,¡¯ Alina said, carefully. ¡®That it¡¯s like any other sort of exercise. We wouldn¡¯t want to injure ourselves by being overzealous, would we?¡¯ Again she looked around at Hest, who shook his head meekly.


    Still the brothers didn¡¯t join in the stretching. But it was only another couple of minutes before Wirrin was ready to go again.


    The sun set slowly in the snow, and it was another few hours before Wirrin called the trio to camp by a tall, pentagonal stone with a sun carved into each side. On a small, rotting wooden table behind the stone was a large, canvas bag about half full of charcoal.


    Wirrin set about shovelling the snow out of a ring of stones that had been here since she was a teenager and piling some of the charcoal in. Sometimes there would be cooking stands or flints, but they tended not to last out here.


    She set out her rug again, which was still damp on the bottom, and sat down by the fire. The trio sat down to her right, across the fire from the shrine. Again, Hest sat furthest from the stone.


    As the fire rose, Wirrin took off her boots again, and her gloves. She warmed her hands and massaged her feet. Alina was first to follow Wirrin¡¯s example, sitting on her folded, thin blanket.


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    Wirrin didn¡¯t need to ask to know that none of them had brought any cooking utensils with them. On the one hand, she probably should have said something about it back in the caravanserai, but on the other it was funny. At least while they didn¡¯t know each other, she suspected no one was going to ask her to start cooking.


    ¡®I was born in Ettovica, did you know?¡¯ Wirrin said, hands stretched toward the fire, not looking at anyone. She wouldn¡¯t get a definitive answer, but it wasn¡¯t like the siblings were being subtle.


    ¡®That man said you grew up in Tellan,¡¯ Alina said. ¡®So you know the mountains better than anyone.¡¯


    Wirrin smiled. ¡®My mother moved us to Tellan after the five-hundred-year riots. It¡¯s essentially true that I grew up around here, exploring the mountains.¡¯ She shrugged. ¡®I don¡¯t think I know them best, mind. Of the people who¡¯d be willing to take a two-month trip at the start of autumn, I¡¯m probably your best option.¡¯


    ¡®I heard a lot of people left Ettovica after the riots,¡¯ Leran said, leaning in a little bit. ¡®A lot of the sailors were killed and jailed, weren¡¯t they?¡¯


    Wirrin looked at Leran for a moment. Calling them ¡®sailors¡¯ was an interestingly middle-ground sort of term that Wirrin wasn¡¯t used to hearing. ¡®I was young, still. I don¡¯t know how many people left. I don¡¯t know about jailed, but I remember a lot of people were killed.¡¯


    It was Hest¡¯s turn to lean in, of course, and even shuffle a little closer to the fire. ¡®You were there? What was it like?¡¯


    Wirrin shrugged again. ¡®It was a real novelty,¡¯ she said. ¡®My mother was so excited that there would be a Church parade in Ettovica. There hadn¡¯t been one for a hundred years, of course.¡¯


    Hest scowled.


    ¡®You weren¡¯t excited?¡¯ Alina asked. ¡®Just your mother?¡¯


    ¡®I was.¡¯ Wirrin finally pulled out her pan, the fire was about high enough now. ¡®It was a special event, wasn¡¯t it? I¡¯d been to watch the Sovticra down on the docks a few times, but compared to that, this was supposed to be huge.¡¯


    ¡®Sovticra?¡¯ Hest frowned. ¡®Blood?¡¯


    ¡®The dirge,¡¯ Wirrin said. ¡®The singers called themselves Sovtlan.¡¯


    ¡®Oh¡­¡¯ Hest said.


    ¡®Rayoula yan sovt,¡¯ Alina said. ¡®Rayoula lin fouticra hil va Etteranen.¡¯


    Wirrin didn¡¯t correct anyone, just frowned mildly like she had no idea what was being said. Technically Alina¡¯s explanation was correct anyway, and Alina probably didn¡¯t know she was insulting Estanen.


    ¡®Oh,¡¯ Hest said. ¡®So they were singing the old language?¡¯


    Wirrin nodded. ¡®They called themselves¡­¡¯ She pretended she couldn¡¯t remember. ¡®Old Worlders, I think. Heretics, according to the Church. But¡­ well¡­ it is Ettovica.¡¯ Wirrin shrugged. ¡®For the parade, though, Church people came from all over the South.¡¯


    ¡®They brought people in?¡¯ Hest asked. ¡®To keep the peace?¡¯


    ¡®Maybe. But I think mostly to join the parade,¡¯ Wirrin said. ¡®There would have been less than a hundred, I expect, if they¡¯d held a parade in Hirasica or Bitalen or Tellan. Instead, they told everyone to come to Ettovica.¡¯


    ¡®And these¡­ Old Worlders, was it? They weren¡¯t happy?¡¯ Leran asked.


    ¡®Of course they weren¡¯t,¡¯ Hest said. ¡®This is what I¡¯ve been¡­¡¯ He cut himself off, though, didn¡¯t get back into a familial argument.


    ¡®So they attacked the parade?¡¯ Adina asked.


    Wirrin cut open a bag of pemmican and dug half of it into her pan before she answered. ¡®I don¡¯t think so,¡¯ she said. ¡®I remember standing by the parade. It was incredible, to me. I don¡¯t know if you¡¯ve been to Ettovica, but it¡¯s a deeply quiet sort of place. There were people, coloured lights, painted floats. Such an air of fun. It was the first time I¡¯d ever seen a mage, the Light mages who made the coloured lights.


    ¡®It was all a bit much, really,¡¯ Wirrin continued. ¡®It was honestly comforting when I heard the Sovticra start up. I was too young to know what it meant, but it was still what I was used to.¡¯


    ¡®There must have been a lot of¡­ Sovtlan,¡¯ Hest said. ¡®I thought more than ten thousand marched in the parade.¡¯


    Wirrin frowned, though she¡¯d heard that number before. ¡®Oh, nowhere near that. No. My mother was quite disappointed by the turnout, as I recall.¡¯ She stirred the melting pemmican and added more, this time with a healthy pinch of salt and chilli.


    ¡®How many, do you think?¡¯ Hest asked.


    ¡®My guess at the time was maybe five hundred in the parade and a thousand to line the streets and watch it pass,¡¯ Wirrin said. ¡®Since I¡¯ve gone back to Ettovica, most of the people who were older at the time guessed something like two thousand.¡¯


    ¡®And the Sovtlan?¡¯


    Wirrin stirred the pemmican. ¡®It¡¯s hard to be sure, of course,¡¯ she said. ¡®They didn¡¯t want anyone to know the numbers, the Church doesn¡¯t want anyone to know the numbers. From how loud the Sovticra was, and how many people I saw fighting, my best estimate is at least five thousand.¡¯


    ¡®Wow.¡¯ Hest¡¯s eyes were shining, and both his siblings were leaning close to the fire to follow the story.


    ¡®What started the fighting?¡¯ Alina asked.


    ¡®I can only say what I saw near me,¡¯ Wirrin said. ¡®Though most people I¡¯ve talked to have said the same. That it was the Light mages who started fighting. Shouting and pushing and shoving, at first. The whole parade started to break up. And then there were flashes of light, burning flesh, screaming. My mother grabbed me and ran.¡¯


    Wirrin stared into her makeshift chilli fry, as if she were lost in thought. Mostly she was wishing she¡¯d thought to buy herbs earlier in the year so she had more northern spices.


    ¡®I heard that more than a hundred of the¡­ Sovtlan, I suppose, were killed,¡¯ Hest said, when it seemed like Wirrin wouldn¡¯t continue.


    Wirrin shrugged. ¡®I didn¡¯t see, at the time. The brawl lasted a long time, and you could hear it all through the city. People I¡¯ve talked to said that only maybe five or ten people were killed in the brawl. Lots of people blinded and burned, mind.¡¯


    Hest physically deflated. ¡®Oh.¡¯


    ¡®It was when they went to the Church that the fighting really got going,¡¯ Wirrin said, picking a little piece of meat out of the fry to taste. ¡®Must have been after midnight. And a lot of the people from out of town were staying in the Church.


    ¡®I got woken up by the shouting,¡¯ she continued. ¡®My mother and I didn¡¯t live so far from the Church. She was religious, I suppose. So I snuck out, before she could stop me, and went to have a look.¡¯


    ¡®Shouting?¡¯ Hest asked, straightening up, eyes immediately gleaming.


    ¡®We heard it was saboteurs, in the dark,¡¯ Alina said.


    All three of them shared that fierce, gleaming stare.


    ¡®Oh no.¡¯ Wirrin chuckled and found a bowl in her pack. ¡®Thousands and thousands of people were in the square outside the Church, shouting about restitution and justice for all the people the mages had attacked.¡¯


    ¡®How many?¡¯ Hest gushed.


    ¡®I¡¯ve heard it was up to fifteen thousand,¡¯ Wirrin said. ¡®I think that might be a tall tale, though. The population was only a little over twenty thousand at the time. But it was so many they couldn¡¯t all fit in the square.¡¯


    Wirrin served herself about a quarter of her little meal. ¡®I don¡¯t know how long they¡¯d been there when I arrived, but it wasn¡¯t long before the mages came out of the temple. Help yourselves, eat more than you think.¡¯


    ¡®And they attacked the crowd?¡¯ Hest asked. Wirrin was only slightly impressed that Alina and Leran had thought to bring their own bowls.


    ¡®Not immediately,¡¯ Wirrin said, blowing on her spiced pemican. ¡®They tried to talk to the crowd. But there weren¡¯t any leaders, and they didn¡¯t offer anything, of course. They just told everyone to calm down and go home.


    ¡®This time it was the crowd that started the fighting,¡¯ Wirrin continued, through a chewy bite. ¡®Everyone near the temple all tried to pile into the mages who had come out. Even though we all knew they were mages. Maybe a dozen of them.¡¯


    Hest served himself as he asked the next question. ¡®What happened?¡¯


    Wirrin remembered the screams, the blinding lights, the burning flesh. She remembered the way some of the mages moved, the way plants burst out of the frozen, paved ground. She shrugged. ¡®All the mages died,¡¯ she said. ¡®Enough people had brought weapons. Maybe half the people in the temple got out before it was brought down. Something like two thousand people in Ettovica were killed by the mages, and the few Church people who could fight.¡¯


    ¡®All killed, not arrested?¡¯ Alina asked.


    Wirrin shrugged. ¡®My mother moved us only two days later. I know more mages went to the city and there was more fighting. I think that¡¯s when people got arrested.¡¯


    ¡®Wow.¡¯ Hest¡¯s eyes glinted in the firelight, a huge grin on his face.


    They ate in silence for a minute.


    ¡®Why tell us all this?¡¯ Alina asked, eventually.


    Wirrin pointed her spoon at Hest. ¡®I understand not liking these shrines out here,¡¯ she said. ¡®But they mark the safe path for the next couple of days. It¡¯s important that we stick to them or risk sliding down the mountains for our pride. Trust me, I¡¯ve done it. It¡¯s not much fun.¡¯


    Alina burst out laughing.

 Interesting Mountains

    The siblings were still a bit stand-offish, but by the middle of the next day, Wirrin had all three of them doing stretches with her. On the second night, they ate more than the first, and they didn¡¯t pick the meat out of the fat this time.


    It was a week out of Tellan, past a high lookout decorated with shrines to all the different Gods, that they finally stopped spotting the stones by the side of the path. It was only a couple of days later that they stopped seeing the path at all.


    At which point, tension started to creep back into the relationship. It was cold, it was intermittently raining and snowing. There was no clear path, and the mountains were dangerous. Wirrin pulled back the pace noticeably.


    Alina and her brothers didn¡¯t like how much slower the going was. But if there was anything they could have done about it, they wouldn¡¯t have needed to hire Wirrin in the first place.


    The second time Hest nearly fell down a cliff over the course of three days, Wirrin called a stop. ¡®Hest,¡¯ she said. ¡®When I say to walk only where I walk, do you think I don¡¯t mean it?¡¯


    All three of them were panting, Leran¡¯s hand still balled into Hest¡¯s coat.


    Hest shook his head.


    ¡®Do you think I¡¯m taking in the sights?¡¯ Wirrin asked, taking a step closer to the three of them. ¡®Perhaps my bones are too old for this sort of thing?¡¯


    Hest shook his head.


    ¡®Do you want to die in a pile of snow at the bottom of a mountain?¡¯


    Hest shook his head.


    Only when the siblings followed instructions exactly could Wirrin pick up the pace at all. Only when she was confident Hest, in particular, wouldn¡¯t walk himself off a cliff and die, could she take them the direct, precarious routes west.


    Four days later, Wirrin was convinced enough that the siblings would do what she said that she decided to take them across the precipice she called Felgoss. They were far enough from civilisation by now that not all the mountains had names. Wirrin had named this one Felgoss because several ledge crossings made for very direct routes across it. Otherwise it would be at least two days of walking.


    As Wirrin led the way up the mountain, she explained why they were taking the route. She explained that if anyone failed to follow her instructions, she would cut them all loose to die in a pile of mangled limbs and slush.


    Alina looked at Hest, who looked at the ground.


    For the first time since she¡¯d left Tellan, Wirrin actually got out her bow. There were a few problems with crossing Felgoss, but when crossing in autumn or winter, the main problem was snow buildup.


    ¡®You want to see something stupid?¡¯ Wirrin asked. ¡®Last chance before we start crossing.¡¯ She was going to do it either way, so she pulled out a roll of cloth from her pack and started wrapping it around an arrow shaft, just below the barbed head.


    Hest looked up in time to see Wirrin smear the cloth in tallow.


    Alina was frowning.


    None of them said anything as Wirrin carefully lit her arrow and let the outside layer of the cloth catch as fully as it was going to. This particular trick was the main reason Wirrin carried a fairly long, recurved bow instead of the local style of flat hunting bow.


    She drew the arrow, aimed basically toward the biggest buildup of snow on the face of the mountain, and loosed. The arrow swooshed and the bowstring cracked loudly in the relative quiet of the snowy ranges. Some birds took off nearby.


    All four of them watched the arrow arch into the cliff face and disappear into the snow. Hest was certainly about to say something along the lines of ¡®that was pointless¡¯ where there was a much louder crack, a much louder split, and a loud rumbling.


    ¡®Technically, that may have been unnecessary,¡¯ Wirrin explained as a huge sheet of icy snow trundled its way down the mountain¡¯s face, breaking into smaller and smaller pieces against the many outcroppings, cliffs, and ledges.


    ¡®This time of year, the snow is usually quite hard,¡¯ Wirrin continued, unstringing her bow and wrapping it in its oiled cloth. ¡®But I always say it¡¯s better to have fun than to have regrets.¡¯ She strapped her bow back into her pack.


    ¡®What was that?¡¯ Alina asked.


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    Wirrin took her rope from her pack and handed it Alina. ¡®Tie yourselves together, leave enough at the end to tie me on,¡¯ she instructed. ¡®It¡¯s called black powder. I assume you¡¯ve heard of it? It¡¯s used mostly for mining.¡¯


    Alina nodded. ¡®But how did you make it do that?¡¯ She nodded to the mountain as she tied the rope around her waist.


    ¡®I¡¯ll refer you to some good books on mining demolition when we get back to Tellan,¡¯ Wirrin said. ¡®For the moment, we can cross.¡¯


    Crossing Felgoss with other people attached was a severe annoyance for Wirrin. Doing most things with other people attached was a severe annoyance for Wirrin. It slowed progress immensely. She couldn¡¯t leave any single step to chance or speed, if three more people had to do it after her.


    Her whole body was aching when, nearly four hours later, they finally reached the end of the ledge and could finally walk on solid ground. Wirrin called an immediate rest to stretch and warm up.


    Though they were less common in autumn and winter, the other thing that Wirrin liked about this crossing was the abundance of mountain sheep and goats. For nearly a half year quite some time ago, she¡¯d made a fair amount of money hunting mountain sheep for their hides.


    When she spotted a pair of them, leisurely scaling the near-vertical side of the mountain in just the right sort of place, Wirrin retrieved her bow again. Though there was at least another fortnight of food before she would actually need to start hunting, wouldn¡¯t it be a nice treat to have something fresh after the climb?


    The sheep paused at the crack of Wirrin¡¯s bowstring. One started bounding up the rocks as the other slipped and fell from the face of the mountain. It landed heavily in the snow only a few hundred metres from the four of them.


    ¡®This is a good enough place to camp,¡¯ Wirrin said, pulling her boots back on to go and retrieve the sheep.


    The siblings were just about competent enough to clear space for a fire by the time she got back. Though they certainly hadn¡¯t gotten the hang of starting a fire out in the snow.


    Wirrin was searing some of the mutton on her pan when Leran piped up, quite unexpectedly. Since their first night out in the snow, the four of them had talked very little, aside from what was necessary. The three had gotten more comfortable with Wirrin, but it hadn¡¯t gone further than a drastic reduction in glares.


    ¡®I thought I would get used to it,¡¯ Leran said. ¡®It¡¯s all so empty.¡¯


    Wirrin didn¡¯t ask why a sheep had made him think of it. She knew the issue of contrasts well enough. ¡®I prefer it,¡¯ she said.


    ¡®There¡¯s no one to talk to except the three of you,¡¯ Leran said. ¡®There¡¯s nothing to see but more snow, more rocks, more trees. It¡¯s just so empty.¡¯


    Wirrin shrugged. ¡®The first time I came out here, I was fully intending to never go back.¡¯


    ¡®It would be peaceful,¡¯ Alina said. ¡®If the rest of you weren¡¯t here.¡¯


    Wirrin smiled her whole-face smile.


    Wirrin left the bones for the birds, packed the meat with snow, tied it all in the hide of the sheep, and strapped it to her pack. The route west from Felgoss wasn¡¯t nearly so precipitous as the route there, at least it wouldn¡¯t be for about a week and a half.


    It was still early enough in autumn that a lot of the mountain passes would be basically safe enough. It didn¡¯t take much explaining to convince the siblings to be extremely quiet when she told them to.


    The four of them had been out of Tellan just shy of four weeks when Wirrin got her first look at the siblings¡¯ map. She¡¯d known they had it. She¡¯d seen them all hunched over their vellum during breaks and when they set camp in the sunlight.


    She¡¯d not cared enough to try to steal it and have a look, and after being shown the map, she felt validated in that decision. It was a small map, a double-spread in a bound vellum notebook only just bigger than her two hands, and showed a wide area.


    The only thing of much note was that it must have been quite an old map. Very near the edge of it was Tellan, clearly illustrated with only four steps and named Svelen. The notebook was new enough that the map was obviously copied from somewhere. Tellan had had four steps for only about the first eighty years of the Church¡¯s reign. Svelen was the Yovtavan name for Tellan.


    Quite over the other side of the map, where mountains were drawn with no regard for their actual locations, was a circle about a quarter the size of the page.


    ¡®What we¡¯re looking for is somewhere in here,¡¯ Alina explained. ¡®We have no idea where.¡¯


    Wirrin nodded. ¡®Mighty specific of you.¡¯


    Alina sighed. ¡®It¡¯s supposed to be a ruin of some sort,¡¯ she said. ¡®From before the Gods¡¯ War. Something they didn¡¯t completely destroy.¡¯


    ¡®It¡¯s supposed to be in a mountain peak,¡¯ Leran added.


    That got Wirrin¡¯s interest. She¡¯d explored a few pre-Gods¡¯ War ruins in her time, even discovered two that she knew of. She¡¯d never heard nor seen anything of the sort out in the snow.


    She dug her own vellum map from her pack. She¡¯d made the vellum herself in her brief stint of being a mountain sheep hunter. Over the years since then, she¡¯d filled in as much detail as she could.


    Unlike the siblings¡¯ map, hers started at the lookout. She had other maps of parts of the mountains nearer to Tellan, most of which she¡¯d sold to people in Tellan.


    ¡®If it¡¯s around here¡¯ ¨C Wirrin circled an area with her finger ¨C ¡®then we can rule out more than half of that area,¡¯ she said. ¡®I can tell you with complete certainty that it¡¯s not any of these¡¯ ¨C she circled a collection of four mountains ¨C ¡®and with good authority that it¡¯s not any of these.¡¯ She indicated a line of eight mountains around the first four. ¡®Which likely makes it one of these three.¡¯


    ¡®Not these two?¡¯ Alina pointed to two more peaks west of the three that Wirrin had indicated.


    ¡®Depends how accurate that circle of yours is,¡¯ Wirrin said. ¡®They¡¯re not inside it. Even this one¡¯ ¨C she pointed to the easternmost of the mountains Alina had suggested ¨C ¡®its peak isn¡¯t in the circle. But I suppose it¡¯s possible.¡¯


    Alina nodded. ¡®We have no idea how accurate the circle is,¡¯ she said. ¡®But we tried to over-estimate.¡¯


    Wirrin pointed to another mountain slightly south of the others. ¡®Then this might be a possibility. But we¡¯re coming from here¡¯ ¨C she traced their path from Tellan ¨C ¡®so we¡¯ll come to these two first.¡¯


    Alina nodded some more. Hest was actually smiling.


    ¡®Perfect,¡¯ Alina said. ¡®Then let¡¯s go.¡¯


    Wirrin looked at the darkening sky. ¡®In the morning, perhaps.¡¯


    Alina actually looked sheepish. ¡®Yes, in the morning.¡¯


    They were all very cute, Wirrin decided.

 Smooth mountain, carved mountain

    They arrived at the first of Wirrin¡¯s two candidates three days later in the mid-afternoon. The going had been slower than the siblings would have liked, and Wirrin had to keep reminding them that this was part of the ranges that she¡¯d explored very little, and she didn¡¯t know where the safe routes were.


    Wirrin was quite enjoying herself, despite the complaining. She was adding more details to her map, and seeing formations she¡¯d never seen before. Though this first mountain wasn¡¯t all too interesting. Even slopes of blue-white snow led to a round peak below the clouds.


    ¡®I don¡¯t see anything,¡¯ Hest grouched as they plodded their slow way up the slope. ¡®Maybe it¡¯s the next one.¡¯


    ¡®It could be under the snow,¡¯ Alina said. ¡®If no one¡¯s been here in five hundred years, we have no idea how deep it might be at the peak.¡¯


    ¡®Remember,¡¯ Leran said. ¡®It¡¯s supposed to be in the peak. If there¡¯s a cave, it could be packed full of snow.¡¯


    Apparently for emphasis, Wirrin¡¯s testing pole sank almost its full depth in front of her. It was just a branch she¡¯d cut from a tree a little over a week ago, about two-and-a-half metres long. But as they were making their way further from Wirrin¡¯s area of comfort, it had come in handy quite often.


    They paused while Wirrin searched around for a stable way to continue the ascent as Hest grumbled and his siblings looked around. It didn¡¯t take long and they were going again before he could work up to properly complaining again.


    It was lucky that they¡¯d started about half way up the smooth mountain, or Wirrin was sure Hest would be inconsolable with travel time. As it was, it took another two days of slow meandering to get to near the peak.


    Wirrin¡¯s testing pole caused two, minor, avalanches on the way up, revealing only more, smooth slope. Wirrin dubbed the mountain ¡®Tellinvosh¡¯ on her map and stopped keeping track of most of their progress on it.


    They didn¡¯t climb all the way to the peak, in the end. Once Alina decided they were high enough, she asked Wirrin to take them around in a spiral, so that they could test the mountaintop for caves or structures or anything.


    At least Hest didn¡¯t complain any more, as it took two full days of crawling, picking, hammering and two more snow-slides to spiral their way around the peak of Tellinvosh. Wirrin wondered idly about how much melt this mountain must experience to have been worn so featureless, and found nothing more than deep snow with her testing pole.


    Hest was back to complaining as they crept their slow way back down. ¡®I said there was nothing here,¡¯ he kept insisting.


    Everyone ignored him.


    The four of them were lucky that Wirrin had caught that snow sheep when she had, or their food would have completely run out before they got low enough for hunting to be a possibility again. As it was, they were all cranky and slow from missing dinner.


    It was late morning when Wirrin spotted the herd of hocsouben, goat-antelopes, and managed to hit one with an arrow. They weren¡¯t high on a slope, so it took another hour of trudging through the snow before the injured animal collapsed.


    They stopped before noon so that Wirrin could start butchering the hocsouben. She was fairly sure it was late enough in the year that bears would be hibernating, she didn¡¯t want to deal with that hassle even if Leran had brought a sword.


    It was mid-afternoon when they finished lunch and struck off again. They were only going another hour or so before Wirrin insisted they set up camp when she found a nice flat spot for it.


    So they lounged by a spluttering fire and ate more than any of them had in the journey up to this point and didn¡¯t really talk about anything other than how glad they were to find something tasty to eat. Wirrin had run out of spices days ago, though at least she still had a fair amount of salt.


    The hocsouben lasted the two days it took to reach the second of Wirrin¡¯s likely candidates. Immediately, Wirrin liked this mountain a lot more than Tellinvosh. She was quite sure this was their destination, though she didn¡¯t bother mentioning that to the siblings.


    A wide ledge, covered in snow, ran around and around the mountain, making for a very likely, easy, if slow way up. Tough brush and small trees, still holding onto some of their leaves, protruded from the snow almost all the way up the mountain and it was crawling with more hocsouben, mountain goats, and mountain sheep, getting in their nibbles before they presumably headed northeast soon.


    The only trouble, and it wasn¡¯t significant, was that they were starting much lower on this mountain than they had on the last. It would probably be more than a week to follow that wide ledge all the way to where it stopped a few hundred metres below the peak.


    After five weeks out in the snow, even Hest had enough sense not to predict failure. The siblings didn¡¯t even mind when Wirrin made them stop most of the day after shooting a mountain sheep.


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    Despite what looked from down here like an easy, abundant climb, Wirrin stopped to cook most of the meat before they slept the night and started up the winding ledge.


    If, as she suspected, the ledge had been carved into the mountain deliberately, it had been done more than five hundred years ago and there was no telling how stable it still was under all that snow.


    First indications were good, though. They kept to the edge, out of the deepest snow, and the stone didn¡¯t so much as crack under their weight other than a few times that they got too close to the edge. If water had damaged this path, it ought to have been worst at the bottom, Wirrin was fairly sure.


    It only occurred to her two days later, when, with a resounding crack, the stone slid under her feet and the whole side of the mountain seemed to shake free, that she didn¡¯t only need to worry about erosion.


    They rushed back the way they had come as tons and tons of snow rumbled and crashed down ahead of them. Wirrin and Hest had been in the lead. Wirrin had to grab the young man to stop him being pushed off the ledge as the snow buffeted them.


    It was near deafening, like hail during a lightning storm. The rumbling and crashing and the hail of splinters that pelted them as they ran back down the mountain.


    But whoever had built the path had clearly thought things through. And after a couple of minutes of scrambling and pulling Hest and then Leran and then Alina away from the precipice, Wirrin managed to drag them all out of the hail of ice and snow, back into peaceful air.


    She still pushed them further down the mountain, of course, as the avalanche pulled snow from all around it. But when it cleared, there had been very little chain reaction down the winding road.


    Worn stone blocks now protruded from the snow, tall triangles apparently cut right out of the stone of the mountain¡¯s side. It was these breaks that had kept the avalanche mostly localised to about a five-hundred metre stretch of the road.


    As she surveyed the cracked and broken road, the odd spikes of stone that protruded more and more the further up the mountain¡¯s face, the missing breaks in places, Wirrin remembered the other factor she needed to worry about.


    Wirrin liked to think that she knew more than most people about the events of the Gods¡¯ War. She¡¯d never met anyone who knew where the final battles had taken place. But her growing suspicion about the siblings¡¯ quest were all but confirmed by the state of this mountain.


    Not only did she need to worry about five hundred years of erosion, digging through this road up the mountain. She needed to worry about whatever had happened during some magical battle here more than five hundred years ago, and what damage this whole structure may have sustained.


    The siblings started ahead, up the cleared part of the road in front of them. Wirrin was about to call to them to stop and let her keep leading the way when they stopped on their own, surrounding one of those thin, triangular posts.


    Wirrin shook her head to try to clear the ringing in her ears, it didn¡¯t help. Slower, she followed the trio up to the stone. They were certainly in the right place.


    Despite the centuries of erosion, the stylised shape of a mountain was still basically clear, smoothed out as it was. And at the top of it was an oval carving that must have been very deep to have survived all this time.


    Though the iris had worn away, it was clearly a carving of an eye.


    All four of them, little cuts in their faces from the avalanche, stared at the post for several moments before anyone said anything.


    ¡®Just because it looks clear doesn¡¯t mean it¡¯s safe,¡¯ Wirrin said. ¡®It was the stone that cracked, not the ice.¡¯


    The siblings looked at her, all visibly deflating. But they¡¯d been at this together for long enough to listen to Wirrin when she said something wasn¡¯t safe.


    ¡®We can go a little faster, though, surely?¡¯ Alina asked.


    Wirrin looked out at the road ahead of them, wide and sturdy. But those tough plants that had been peaking from the snow had sunken their roots into solid stone. If anything, the problem was clearer now that the snow was gone.


    ¡®I doubt it,¡¯ Wirrin said. ¡®Did you know they had to pull out all the pavers in the square in Ettovica, after the battle? The Growth mages had cracked them all to pieces with those plants they grow.¡¯


    For a few moments, they all stared at the path. Alina nodded. ¡®Lead the way, I suppose,¡¯ she said.


    Wirrin didn¡¯t even try to increase their pace. Even on stretches of the ledge that looked unbroken and solid, the stone cracked and rumbled under their feet. Wirrin poked and prodded at everything, staying close to the side of the mountain where meltwater had dug a furrow.


    The siblings didn¡¯t object to the slow pace. Hest didn¡¯t even grumble. Maybe he had taken Wirrin¡¯s words to heart, all those weeks ago, and he didn¡¯t want to die before he reached whatever they were going to find in a cave near the peak.


    Or maybe they were distracted by the remains of carvings on the wall to their left, as they walked. Though it was heavily eroded, some detailed mural had once been carved into this mountain. Some pieces looked like people, some looked like more mountains, some like more eyes.


    Though it was hard to tell, the mural didn¡¯t seem to be repeating. Wirrin supposed it must once have told a story. But all she could have any confidence in was that it had been a story involving people and mountains. That sounded about right.


    The crack that had started the avalanche spread all the way up the wall and into the next level of the ledge above. But sticking close to the wall, where there was the most material below them, seemed to be working well enough and, despite more cracking, the ledge held as they hopped across the small gap.


    As the four of them slowly passed around to the eastern face of the mountain, the snow built up again. Wirrin brought them back toward the edge of the path and, this time, insisted they tie themselves together.


    She waded through deeper snow, keeping a bit more distance from the precipice. Her old, oiled leathers kept her dry enough, but her legs were stiff and freezing by the time she called a stop for the day.


    ¡®Can¡¯t we go a bit further?¡¯ Alina asked.


    Wirrin pulled her shovel from her pack and shook her head. ¡®We don¡¯t want to try climbing at night,¡¯ she said. ¡®The predominant wind has been coming from behind us the last couple of days, so the best place to stop is here, where the wind is blocked by the mountain.¡¯


    The siblings didn¡¯t protest much further, especially once Wirrin had cleared a space and set a fire. The trio went to look at some of the carvings Wirrin had dug up while she cooked dinner. Soon it was too dark to make out anything other than the fire.

 Fiends Mountain

    It took a full week to climb up the mountain. The going was slow, but it wasn¡¯t exactly hard. After that first day¡¯s avalanche, they caused at least three more in their circuitous trip, but none at anywhere near the same scale. None that forced them to run back down the mountain.


    It was clear to Wirrin, at least, that that first avalanche had knocked a lot of snow and stone loose all around the mountain. There was no avoiding looking over the precipice and seeing the fresh, fluffy piles.


    They may have reached the end of the path on the sixth day if Wirrin hadn¡¯t been so adamant about not camping on the south or east faces. The easterly wind was still blowing, and was bringing darker clouds with it. Thankfully the rain and snow held off.


    As they got higher and the snow thinner from the constant shifting and cracking, more and more of the mural along the wall could be made out. Wirrin had dismissed the siblings¡¯ efforts to decipher it as a lost cause, but she was glad for the outlet it gave their growing excitement.


    Despite the constant shifting of the snow and stone, some of the animals Wirrin had seen from below were still nibbling at the half-buried plants. It got her to wondering, vaguely, if plants created by magic were more robust than plants grown naturally. She doubted she would ever find out.


    A goat and a sheep were more than enough to feed the four of them on their spirally ascent and Wirrin still had about half of the sheep strapped to her back when they finally reached the end of the ledge.


    The path terminated into the side of the mountain just beyond a tall cave that was still almost completely packed with snow. The path itself had splintered and cracked over time, as it had everywhere else, and large chunks had fallen free, turning what Wirrin imagined had once been a smooth curve into more like the spokes of a cartwheel.


    It was only mid-morning when the four of them reached the cave. There was no doubting that this was what the siblings had been looking for. Wirrin sat down on her rug a couple of hundred metres away from the cave and handed Alina her shovel. Leran and Hest started digging with picks.


    While she left the siblings to their digging, with plenty of warnings about taking care, Wirrin finished off her map of this spiral mountain. By now the hide from the first sheep was cured enough to write on. So not only had she updated her regional map with Telposs, to contrast Felgoss, but she was drawing a new map that captured the specific route to get here.


    It was a good thing that the siblings hadn¡¯t taken much interest in Wirrin¡¯s maps as they climbed the mountain. They would have learned far more about Wirrin than she wanted them to know. Though perhaps it would be nice to share some of it with them, when the four of them got back to civilisation.


    Once she was done with her maps, Wirrin got up and went to check on the siblings¡¯ progress. She hadn¡¯t been at it for so long that they¡¯d completely cleared the cave, but she was still impressed by how far they¡¯d gotten.


    Nearly six metres of smooth, stone floor, interrupted by small piles of snow, greeted her at the cave¡¯s entrance. The cave itself was about three metres wide, the bottom corners still sharp right angles, and about twelve metres above, the walls met in a perfect arch.


    There was certainly no confusing this for a natural formation.


    The siblings had switched tools. Alina and Hest were pulling at the packed snow with picks, and Leran was shovelling it generally toward the entryway of the room.


    Alina and Hest paused so that Leran could, scraping the shovel loudly against the floor, push a mound of snow out the entry and down the mountain.


    ¡®You could help, you know,¡¯ Leran said, passing Wirrin.


    Wirrin nodded. ¡®You three have it under control,¡¯ she said, moving a little further into the room. ¡®I wouldn¡¯t want to get in your way.¡¯


    Alina went ¡®HA¡¯ loudly, and got back to pulling at the snow.


    After the next load Leran pushed out the door, he traded with Alina. The siblings gave the strong impression that they knew what they were doing. Wirrin supposed it wasn¡¯t that hard to work out.


    It was after another hour, three tool switches, and six metres of uncovered smooth stone floor, that Hest¡¯s pick struck sparks from something behind all that snow. With immediate vigour Leran and Hest, who had the picks, pulled at the remaining snow.


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    The statue was revealed from the top of the head down, snow cascading to reveal an odd lack of detail. It looked at first glance like a statue of a person that had been stretched to ten metres tall, but with a head big enough for a person of that height.


    It had long, smooth legs, long, smooth arms down to where it¡¯s knees would have been. A long, smooth torso with no features or details and a long, thin neck.


    Comparatively, its head seemed gigantic. It wasn¡¯t the head of a person. It had no ears or nose or hair. Instead it had three rings of symmetrical, exquisitely detailed eyes circling its head. Under its chin was a huge, wide, grinning mouth full of sharp teeth.


    Wirrin hadn¡¯t been expecting that. She hadn¡¯t thought she had any expectations. But after a week of passing those worn, triangular posts with eyes on the top, she realised she¡¯d been expecting another one of those.


    This was much better, of course.


    ¡®Speak to us,¡¯ Hest cried to the statue.


    Wirrin choked.


    Alina sighed and pulled out their book. She glanced at Wirrin, who was still near the entry, and huddled with her brothers to leaf through their notes. Wirrin slid closer, quiet enough that none of three of them looked back.


    ¡®It has to be someone,¡¯ Alina was saying.


    ¡®How will we get back without her?¡¯ Leran whispered.


    Hest pointed to the statue.


    ¡®And what it if doesn¡¯t work?¡¯ Leran asked.


    ¡®She has that map,¡¯ Alina was saying. ¡®Would you rather it be one of us?¡¯


    ¡®I suppose not.¡¯


    ¡®We have to get her up against the statue, right?¡¯ Hest said, flexing his hands.


    ¡®I think so,¡¯ Alina whispered. ¡®It says to drain the blood into the idol.¡¯


    ¡®Ok, fine,¡¯ Leran sighed. He was the one with the sword, after all.


    ¡®Leran, you¡¯ll have to fight her,¡¯ Alina said.


    ¡®Then me and Ally grab her,¡¯ Hest muttered, loud enough that Wirrin probably would have heard him without getting any closer.


    Alina shushed him.


    ¡®You two have to help me fight,¡¯ Leran said. ¡®She¡¯s been adventuring since she was like ten years old.¡¯


    ¡®Sure, but she¡¯s got to be like forty or something,¡¯ Hest said. ¡®Slow.¡¯


    It was a real struggle for Wirrin not to laugh. A struggle she lost, snorting quietly from barely a metre behind the huddled siblings. All three of them whipped around.


    ¡®I¡¯m thirty-five,¡¯ Wirrin said. ¡®By the way.¡¯


    Leran drew his sword, a smallsword at best. ¡®I¡¯m sorry Wirrin, but it¡¯s you or us.¡¯


    Wirrin frowned at them. ¡®I¡¯d have thought six weeks of spending every moment together would have meant more,¡¯ she said, hoping the deadpan tone wasn¡¯t as obvious as it felt. ¡®What¡¯s this all about anyway?¡¯


    Hest lunged at her and grabbed her by the arms. She didn¡¯t bother to struggle.


    ¡®I¡¯m sorry Wirrin,¡¯ Alina said. ¡®But we need to sacrifice someone against the statue to bring Mkaer back to the world.¡¯


    ¡®Surely you can understand?¡¯ Leran said.


    ¡®I suppose so,¡¯ Wirrin said, hoping she sounded more defeated than bored. ¡®There¡¯s no other way?¡¯ She took a deep breath.


    Leran¡¯s eyes were starting to get shiny.


    ¡®It¡¯s the only way, Wirrin,¡¯ Alina said.


    Wirrin sighed. ¡®Alright, fine,¡¯ she said. She pulled an arm easily out of Hest¡¯s bear hug, grabbed him by the scuff of his jacket, and flung him to the ground between her and Leran.


    She shrugged her pack off and drew her knife. ¡®I guess that makes sense,¡¯ Wirrin said. ¡®You did all seem to be making a point to keep your distance. I figured it was a class thing.


    Hest struggled to his feet on the damp, smooth stone.


    ¡®I was starting to like you, you know,¡¯ Wirrin continued, just standing there with the knife. ¡®I figured young revolutionaries, you know? Found some books and went for an adventure. Especially when it seemed likely that you were right.¡¯


    ¡®Shut up.¡¯ Hest grabbed the sword out of Leran¡¯s hand and lunged at Wirrin.


    She leaned out of the way, caught his arm under her own and stabbed him in the throat. She picked the sword from his limp hand as he collapsed. ¡®I figured I¡¯d take you back to Ettovica to meet the Sovtlan, that we¡¯d be able to get something started.¡¯


    ¡®We still could,¡¯ Alina insisted loudly, eyes stuck to her brother¡¯s bleeding body.


    ¡®And then you all decided to kill me.¡¯ Wirrin sighed. ¡®Doesn¡¯t seem like a good foundation for a relationship, you know?¡¯ She stepped forward and both of them stepped back.


    Wirrin stepped forward again and again Leran and Alina stepped back. Leran ran into the leg of Mkaer¡¯s statue. Wirrin stabbed him in the chest. ¡®I¡¯ve got to assume that two is better than one,¡¯ she said, and stabbed Alina in the neck.


    She kicked Hest¡¯s choking body into the feet of the statue before she stabbed him in the armpit. Then she leant down to pick up the book from Alina¡¯s hand. The double page was covered in notes with a few symbols that Wirrin had spotted on the way up this mountain. It was all written in Yovtavan, which Wirrin understood.


    Her reading was interrupted when she glanced at the siblings to make sure none of them were moving. None of them were, but their blood was. Where it flowed out of Alina¡¯s neck and Leran¡¯s chest and Hest¡¯s neck and armpit, it flowed back toward the statue.


    Immediately finding the statue, it flowed into the long, toe-less feet and was absorbed. It seemed that nothing was happening, though, once the blood was absorbed. Until Wirrin looked up.


    Where the body of the statue seemed unchanged by the blood, its open mouth was filling with colour. White teeth and red tongue. And when Wirrin stepped back to look at its eyes, they too were filling with colour.


    The longer she looked, the more certain she was that the eyes were filling with all the colours she had ever seen. White sclera, bloodshot, yellowed. With brown and blue and hazel and green eyes. All eyes that Wirrin couldn¡¯t help but recognise, sure that she had seen them in someone else¡¯s face. She just couldn¡¯t place where.


    She had picked up the book with the hopes of finding out what to do next, but she needn¡¯t have worried.


    The mouth under Mkaer¡¯s chin was the only part of it that seemed to move. But Wirrin was sure the voice came from inside her own head, not from the statue itself.


    A voice that was deep and resonant, that rumbled and cracked and hissed like the mountain it stood in.


    ¡®I am awoken.¡¯


    And that was it.

 A pause to rest her feet

    Wirrin stayed in the cave for five days. The rain had started in the late afternoon. So she sat by the statue on her rug, reading by the light of a little lamp she¡¯d found in Alina¡¯s pack.


    Even when the rain stopped, she stayed in the cave another day and a half, before getting too close to running out of food. But nothing happened. By the time the rain stopped, Wirrin had to admit to herself that she was staying mostly to see if something else happened.


    Mkaer, Fiend of the Mountains, didn¡¯t speak again. It didn¡¯t offer her great power when she put a hand to the statue, which the siblings¡¯ notes said it should. It didn¡¯t do anything.


    Thankfully, the notebook had more than just inaccurate instructions for how to deal with Mkaer¡¯s statue. It was full of notes about all of the Fiends, though much less detailed than the notes about Mkaer. It did give Wirrin an idea about where she wanted to go next.


    It was quite annoying, really.


    She¡¯d spent months in the library at Esbolva, and looking for books in the markets, over her life. She¡¯d found some information in that time, but nothing like this. It wasn¡¯t just the libraries, of course. It was family collections and expensive booksellers too.


    Money could get you anywhere, Wirrin supposed.


    The only other thing Wirrin considered trying from the notes was wiping blood on the statue. She was interested to find that the siblings¡¯ bodies, now completely frozen, had no blood left in them.


    She considered using her own blood, of course, but she was deep in the mountains in mid-autumn. And she wasn¡¯t convinced it would help anything. What the notebook was missing, what Wirrin figured she needed and would be vanishingly difficult to find, was information on how to be a mage.


    Only the Church would have that, of course.


    On the second day after the rain had cleared, Wirrin finally got up to leave Mkaer¡¯s room. She wasn¡¯t leaving the temple yet, she figured. The whole mountain was a temple to the Fiend.


    She only had one meal worth of food left, after breakfast. Nothing was going to happen. There was no reason to stay here any longer. She took the smallsword and scabbard from Leran¡¯s body and left everything else that remained of the siblings with Mkaer. She hadn¡¯t found any more money.


    It was bright outside, despite the thin clouds. She had to shield her eyes against the blue-white shine of the mountains glistening in the sun. She should have expected that, after five days in a cave.


    Wirrin went much faster without anyone else to consider the safety of. It wasn¡¯t exactly that she was careless, rather she had a very good sense for what was probably safe and what wasn¡¯t.


    Not to mention that she took fewer breaks for herself than she had taken for the siblings. Even after six weeks in the mountains, she hadn¡¯t trusted them to know how weary they were. But Wirrin had been doing this sort of thing for nearly twenty years. She knew what she was doing.


    In mid-afternoon, she spotted a little herd of mountain goats and shot one. That was enough for the rest of the trip down the mountain, which only took her two more days.


    Wirrin blamed it on the lateness in the year, but she didn¡¯t take her time getting back to Tellan. She didn¡¯t stop to appreciate the views or draw anything on her cured hides. She just walked.


    Where it had taken six weeks to reach Mkaer¡¯s mountain, it took her two weeks and a day to get back. The extra day was spent stashing the smallsword up the road from Tellan, so she could pick it up on her way north.


    She passed the Church again on her way back into Tellan and resisted the urge to try to use magic. She should, by all rights, be able to. And with stories she¡¯d heard from before the Gods¡¯ War, it would be the perfect magic to destroy a stone building.


    But she certainly didn¡¯t want to draw any attention, did she?


    This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.


    So she ploddingly climbed the stairs up to the top of Tellan and pushed open the door to Willamette¡¯s, where the fire was crackling merrily and Arin was sat behind the bar reading a different book.


    ¡®I see your blasphemy still hasn¡¯t gotten you killed,¡¯ Arin smiled, slowly getting up. ¡®I¡¯ll get you some tea.¡¯


    ¡®It was a near thing,¡¯ Wirrin said. ¡®Nearly killed by an avalanche.¡¯


    Arin rubbed under her left eye and smiled wider. ¡®A near thing¡¯s good for nothing, my dear.¡¯


    Wirrin had a scar under her right eye from where an avalanche had gotten her when she was fourteen. It hadn¡¯t been much of an avalanche, and she¡¯d been able to get herself out without any real trouble. But a stone had hit her just below the eye and she still had a scar.


    She sat down near the fireplace as Arin swung the kettle over the flames.


    ¡®You rest your young bones and I¡¯ll put on water for a bath,¡¯ Arin said, groaning a little as she straightened from the fire. ¡®You¡¯re not sleeping in one of my beds in that state.¡¯


    A bath sounded like exactly what Wirrin needed right now. She¡¯d bathed as much as was achievable while she was in the mountains, of course, but that was nothing to a tub full of hot water.


    Arin was still out when the kettle started to boil, so Wirrin let herself behind the bar to get two cups ready for tea. It was still steeping when Arin got back and lowered herself carefully into the chair across from Wirrin.


    ¡®Anything interesting, then? Other than avalanches?¡¯ the old innkeeper asked.


    Wirrin shrugged. ¡®It didn¡¯t feel very interesting,¡¯ she said. ¡®It¡¯s hard to be interesting when you¡¯ve got people to take care of.¡¯


    ¡®Oh?¡¯ Arin looked over. ¡®People can be interesting.¡¯


    ¡®Rich people.¡¯


    Arin chuckled.


    ¡®Truth is they weren¡¯t that bad,¡¯ Wirrin said, eyes glistening in the firelight. ¡®A little annoying, sure, but who isn¡¯t? They just¡­ they were so sure they¡¯d find something interesting. Never even told me what it was.¡¯


    Arin nodded and reached over to pat Wirrin on the shoulder. ¡®The avalanche?¡¯


    Wirrin nodded back and kept on staring into the fire.


    ¡®Other than some quest, what were they like?¡¯ Arin asked, after a minute.


    ¡®Oh, you wouldn¡¯t have liked them,¡¯ Wirrin smiled. ¡®Heretics. I mentioned in passing that I was from Ettovica and they were sure I was old enough to have fought in the five-hundred-year riots.¡¯


    Arin smiled. ¡®And had you been old enough, I¡¯m sure you would have.¡¯


    ¡®Probably.¡¯ Wirrin sipped her tea. ¡®They got really annoyed by all the shrines on the road, too.¡¯


    ¡®Just like you used to.¡¯


    ¡®Bunch of idiots, though,¡¯ Wirrin said. ¡®It wasn¡¯t the first avalanche we¡¯d seen, or the first one they caused by being too noisy. But they just wouldn¡¯t listen.¡¯


    Arin nodded sadly. ¡®Just like you used to.¡¯


    Wirrin finally relented with a choked little chuckle. ¡®Alright, alright. They were just like me, but richer and with higher expectations.¡¯


    Arin smiled. ¡®There you are. Have a bath and drink some tea. I¡¯ll make something up before you go off to bed.¡¯


    Wirrin left the last of her wild-caught food in Arin¡¯s cold-room and went to bathe and sip her tea. The hot water was wonderous. Arin had this ingenious, double-walled tub that never got too hot in any one spot.


    Wirrin let herself relax into the water, the warm copper of the tub smooth against her back. When she thought about it, she was pretty annoyed with the siblings. She was mostly playing it up because Arin was a gossip and she¡¯d rather people think she was upset about her clients dying than not. But they had reminded her of herself a bit.


    More driven, though. Wirrin had never been driven to any particular goal. She just did her utmost to avoid monotony. Maybe it would be nice to have a goal.


    She closed her eyes and slid under the water, her tea waiting on the little table beside the tub. She rubbed at her hair, which was getting longer than she liked. And at her face, which felt dry and cold.


    Eventually she had to surface to breathe. She relaxed against the tub again and sipped her tea. She was in there long enough for her fingers to start pruning before she actually bothered washing herself with Arin¡¯s soft soap.


    Wearing one of the clean sets of clothes she¡¯d left here, Wirrin emerged back into the main room of the inn to find Arin still sitting by the fire. A big bowl of fried meat and vegetables sat between her and where Wirrin had been sitting. A little bowl before each place.


    If nothing else could be said for the old innkeeper, Arin was a phenomenal cook. Especially if, like Wirrin, you¡¯d been eating almost nothing but salted meat for over two months.


    Wirrin was half way into her second little bowl of the perfectly spiced stir-fry when Arin asked: ¡®you staying the winter this year?¡¯


    Wirrin shook her head as she chewed. ¡®Headed north,¡¯ she said.


    That voice like a living mountain rumbled in her mind for the first time in nearly a month. ¡®We ought to go south, to find Finaer.¡¯


    Wirrin tried to think back. ¡®You should have mentioned that sooner.¡¯


    There was no response, no way to know if she¡¯d gotten the thought across.


    ¡®You have anywhere in mind?¡¯ Arin asked, eating much slower.


    Wirrin shook her head again. ¡®Just north, where it¡¯s warmer. Might go up to the desert again.¡¯


    Arin smiled mildly, the way she did. ¡®That sounds pleasant. A bit too hot for my blood.¡¯


    Wirrin shrugged. ¡®At least it¡¯s not Ogesiv.¡¯


    ¡®I could swear you¡¯ve spent a winter in the Snowy Mountains before.¡¯


    ¡®No need to do it again, then, I¡¯d say.¡¯


    Arin smiled. ¡®You planning to stay a bit first?¡¯


    ¡®Only a couple of days,¡¯ Wirrin said. ¡®Warm my feet and resupply.¡¯


    ¡®Well don¡¯t pay me this time.¡¯ Arin glared. ¡®You¡¯re still paid up to stay for more than a year, you know?¡¯


    Wirrin grinned. ¡®I¡¯ll forget.¡¯


    ¡®Not this time, you won¡¯t.¡¯

 Friends on the Road

    Wirrin spent a day sitting on the veranda at Willamette¡¯s, eating a lot of tasty food and staring vacantly down at the end of the last harvests in the Blavan Plains. Tellan¡¯s caravanserai was full-up with carts and wagons waiting to take the last shipments of crops north and south.


    Most of Wirrin¡¯s morning was spent composing a short letter and finishing out the map she¡¯d been making of how to get to Mkaer¡¯s mountain. It was, as always, made a hassle by the fact that people in the Church were allowed to know Estanen. Wirrin had been regaled with stories of the time when the Estanen was still banned and how easy it was to send secret messages. No one who¡¯d told her about that had been alive at the time, so she doubted the truth of it.


    Wirrin didn¡¯t visit Ettovica often enough to know what the current codes were, and what codes had been broken. So her letter was simply presented as an interesting new hiking route sent to a friend. If anyone tried to follow the route directly, they would get lost in the snow. Deciphering simply required knowledge of Wirrin¡¯s preferred route past Felgoss.


    Once she¡¯d had a few more meals of Arin¡¯s delicious food and slept another night in a nice soft bed, Wirrin was off again. She could have stayed another few weeks, if she¡¯d wanted to. The river up to Toravan wouldn¡¯t start freezing until late autumn at the earliest.


    But, apparently for the first time in her life, Wirrin had something to do. She wanted to get going. So she overpaid Arin again, despite the woman¡¯s protests. And haggled with a caravan headed south, paying only a gold sword for her letter to go south. Then it was north out of Tellan.


    Wirrin travelled alone whenever convenient, a habit that had returned from her youth. The walk from Tellan to Crossing was still dry and cold, though the snow was starting to come down from the mountains in some places.


    The hiding spot where Wirrin had stashed Leran¡¯s sword was completely snowed over after only three days. But it was a spot that Wirrin had used often, and it was just as easy to find as it had been to hide.


    Wirrin stopped for the first night at one of the little rest areas marked out by a stone carved with a pair of crossed hammers. As she foraged up some firewood, she thought of the siblings, their frozen corpses still laying at Mkaer¡¯s feet in that cave.


    It would have been annoying to still have them around, Wirrin was sure. She would still be on her way back to Tellan, and would have no idea where to go next.


    Not to mention she would be going through her food much quicker if they were all here. She''d bought a month¡¯s supply of pemmican and dried vegetables before she left Tellan, but hadn¡¯t bothered stocking up on herbs. She''d get better prices in Esbolva.


    Wirrin slept well, ate a nice breakfast, and headed off again.


    The road packers hadn¡¯t been through yet, and the rough sand of the road was starting to get loose with the influx of late autumn traffic. Wirrin could hear the next caravan before she saw it cresting the hilly road behind her.


    Krasta waved and smiled as her cart passed Wirrin, who was walking beside the road at a much more leisurely pace. Wirrin had met Krasta quite a few times over the years, often enough that none of Krasta¡¯s workers suggested Wirrin join them.


    Krasta¡¯s was only one of many caravans that interrupted Wirrin¡¯s pleasant stroll to Crossing. Everyone smiled and waved, some exchanged pleasantries. Only a couple of them invited Wirrin to join or travel with them.


    Caravans headed north didn''t need extra hands at this time of year anyway.


    Wirrin took her time, foraging for herbs and gazing out at the plains as she went. Part of it was that she didn''t want to accidentally keep up with any of the caravans. The rest of it was vague regret for not taking her time in the mountains.


    The plains weren''t as nice a view.


    Wirrin got to Crossing on the evening of the seventh day out of Tellan. It was a place with a strong identity. In the middle of the town was a big bridge across the Toravan river. Everything was made of wood, and there was vanishingly little permanent population.


    As she always did, Wirrin stayed in South Crossing for the night, staying in a bunkhouse with a bunch of caravan workers who recognised her as ¡®that woman who had been walking on the road¡¯.


    She ate with a lot of the same people on the dock in the early morning, then paid very little for a barge trip to Toravan. As much as she liked to travel alone, she¡¯d hurried back to Tellan specifically to be part of this rush north.


    The barge was packed to bursting with a full caravan and a gaggle of farmers headed home to Toravan for the winter. They were all pressed up against each other in the hold and even the deck at night.


    Wirrin felt like a veritable elder, the number of people who offered to let her sleep in the hold instead of them. But she stayed on the deck and spent most of the slow, two-day journey watching the plains turn into forest on the east side of the river.


    Wirrin had slept in the holds of barges when she was young, even a couple as cramped as this. She hadn¡¯t minded the smell or the press of people, she didn¡¯t much like the darkness. She preferred the view, no matter how many times she¡¯d seen it.


    Last time Wirrin had been this way, the river had been much faster. And she¡¯d taken the barge all the way through the Dividing Range. That had been about two years ago, and she¡¯d been headed west to Tolavsay in early spring, when the snow-melt off the mountains tore at the riverbanks.


    Even for it being mid-autumn, the barge was slower than usual. In some ways it was lucky to have so many people, they needed more poles to keep away from the banks. On the other hand, it was because there were so many people that the barge was riding low in the river.


    Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    They arrived at Toravan¡¯s dock in the mid-evening and, despite paying for her passage, Wirrin helped get everything unloaded so that the barge could take the caravan through the pass overnight.


    Wirrin nodded to the farmers and took the tall bridge over the river and into the woods. Even as late as it was, Wirrin didn¡¯t want to stop in Toravan. She¡¯d never liked the place, with its pentagonal wooden buildings and silent populous.


    Toravan was one of two towns that had been completely destroyed during the Gods¡¯ War. Sure the Church had built it back up, but there was no remnant of the original population left.


    Wirrin had only ever stayed there once, when she first left Tellan. She¡¯d arrived in the afternoon, stayed a full day, and then left before the sun rose to walk to Esbolva. Since then, she¡¯d never stopped in Toravan again.


    She walked through the logging camp on the eastern bank of the river and reached the old woods as the moon was rising in the early night. Once again, she stopped at a shrine to Labour to cook and sleep.


    Under the canopy of the Telenva Woods, Wirrin slept in later than she had for a while. Only waking a couple of hours after dawn to the feeling of carts rattling over the loosening road.


    She pushed herself up out of her bedding and paused there, feeling the vibrations of a caravan course through the palms of her hands. As she looked around, she could see no signs of a caravan near enough to be rattling the ground.


    In fact, Wirrin¡¯s whole camp was packed up by the time she even heard the caravan coming through the trees.


    ¡®Is that Wirrin?¡¯ a fuzzy blob of a man called from the front of one of the carts down the road.


    Wirrin had met a lot of people, especially other travellers, in her life. Too many to be able to recognise a voice with any precision. She supposed it could be someone she passed on the road to Toravan, taking logs or stones up to Esbolva.


    But she recognised Dartol soon enough, as the blob resolved into a fat, grinning, wrinkly, one-legged westerner. He was just as tanned as ever, his wide, monolidded eyes gleaming at her.


    ¡®Surely it is Wirrin,¡¯ Dartol called with the same volume he said everything. ¡®Looking just the same as she did twenty years ago.¡¯


    Wirrin smiled wide. ¡®Unlike some of us.¡¯


    ¡®Climb up, climb up,¡¯ Dartol called as his cart reached Wirrin. ¡®Can¡¯t be stopping, don¡¯t you know?¡¯


    Wirrin pulled herself onto the driver¡¯s seat beside Dartol with a dramatic sort of groan. Dartol grinned at her. She hadn¡¯t seen Dartol for about two years, since the last time she went west. But he¡¯d been one of the first caravaneers to hire her some nineteen years ago when she first left Tellan.


    ¡®How¡¯s your mother, Wirrin?¡¯ Dartol called from right next to her.


    Wirrin smiled. ¡®Still in the ground, Dartol. And your wife?¡¯


    Dartol laughed. ¡®Just as deep, I expect.¡¯


    He gave Wirrin a one-armed, soft hug. ¡®You escaping the winter, then?¡¯


    Wirrin groaned. ¡®I spent the last two months in the snow. I¡¯m going to the desert for the winter, I think.¡¯


    ¡®Are we not looking for Naertral?¡¯ Mkaer¡¯s mountainous voice thundered in her head.


    ¡®Should I tell everyone about it?¡¯ Wirrin thought back.


    Again, Mkaer didn¡¯t respond.


    ¡®You should stay with me, then,¡¯ Dartol grinned. ¡®I¡¯m off to Epatlok.¡¯


    Wirrin glanced back at the caravan, stocked with barrels of vegetables from the last harvests and boxes of stones from the mines near Toravan. Like any of the caravans going north, Dartol had more than enough staff.


    Wirrin¡¯s eyes lingered on a pair of people in the back of the third cart down. A young woman with the classic almond-shaped, monolidded eyes and light brown hair of a central-westerner. She wore a gleaming gold pendant on her chest. Sitting across from her was a figure in a heavy grey robe, hood covering their head, a golden symbol of crossed swords on their chest.


    Wirrin¡¯s blood ran cold as she turned back to Dartol. He widened his eyes at her and nodded. ¡®Stopping in Esbolva first, mind you,¡¯ he said. ¡®Switching food to take up the wide river.¡¯


    ¡®I was enjoying travelling by myself,¡¯ Wirrin mused. ¡®And it¡¯s not like you need the help.¡¯


    ¡®But I¡¯m so lonely, Wirrin,¡¯ Dartol ginned, not looking away from Wirrin as his horses took a corner too hard and the cart tipped a little. ¡®It¡¯s all young, excitable types and these boring Church types.¡¯


    From the corner of her eye, Wirrin saw the young woman look over. Dartol only had two volumes, loud and much louder.


    Wirring rolled her neck and pursed her lips. ¡®Alright, fine,¡¯ she said. ¡®I¡¯ll come to Esbolva. You¡¯ll probably leave before I do. I¡¯ve got some business.¡¯


    Dartol smiled. ¡®Oh, what¡¯s her name?¡¯


    Wirrin snorted. ¡®Actual business, Dartol,¡¯ she said. ¡®I won¡¯t know her name until I meet her, will I?¡¯


    Dartol chuckled. ¡®Alright, alright,¡¯ he said. ¡®At least I¡¯ll have company until I get to Esbolva.¡¯


    Dartol smiled to himself for a minute, but he was a talkative sort. ¡®What¡¯s Ogesiv like this time of year?¡¯


    ¡®It was nice,¡¯ Wirrin said. ¡®Peaceful.¡¯


    Dartol chuckled. ¡®Just having fun being alone, were you?¡¯


    ¡®Babysitting some rich kids,¡¯ Wirrin said. ¡®They thought they¡¯d find some old ruins or something.¡¯


    ¡®Didn¡¯t know you¡¯ve already found them all?¡¯


    Wirrin smiled and shrugged. ¡®I didn¡¯t need to tell them everything.¡¯


    ¡®They get eaten by the Snow, then?¡¯ Dartol asked, managing to quiet slightly below shouting for what was meant to be a sensitive question. ¡®That why you¡¯ve got the melancholy?¡¯


    Wirrin frowned at Dartol for a moment. She didn¡¯t think she had any melancholy. ¡®They did,¡¯ she said. ¡®Pack of idiots, really. I kept telling them to be careful and what did they do?¡¯


    Dartol nodded along. ¡®They get robbed by a pretty girl on the outskirts of the Swamp?¡¯


    Wirrin snorted. ¡®I didn¡¯t get robbed, if you recall,¡¯ she laughed. ¡®I gave her all my money voluntarily because she just seemed so desperate.¡¯


    The topic turned swiftly to all the foolish and dangerous things Wirrin had done in her teens in the west and how Dartol had ¡®saved¡¯ her from starving in the Verdant Plains so many times.


    He was the same as the last couple of times Wirrin had run into him. Much more interested in reminiscing about the past than talking about the present. He would have turned seventy-two just recently, so Wirrin supposed it was to be expected.


    So she spent the rest of the day in the driver¡¯s seat of Dartol¡¯s cart, gently disagreeing about how much trouble she¡¯d actually been in.


    ¡®Maybe that¡¯s so,¡¯ Dartol chucked. ¡®But how about that landslide near the pass? You would have ended up like me, at best, if I¡¯d not stumbled across you.¡¯


    Wirrin pursed her lips at him. ¡®Alright, I¡¯ll admit that was very good timing on your part. I did make it all the way to the Tertic river on my own, though.¡¯


    ¡®It¡¯s not called that,¡¯ a woman¡¯s voice called from behind them.


    Wirrin knew before she looked that it would be the woman sitting with the War mage. She was sat up on the cart, an open book in her lap, looking very serious. Wirrin struggled not to laugh. She didn¡¯t think she¡¯d ever been so earnest, even at that age.


    ¡®Oh, is that right?¡¯ Wirrin called back.


    The hooded head turned to look. The mage¡¯s face stayed obscured by shadow.


    ¡®It¡¯s called the Lasavay river,¡¯ the woman called. ¡®To call it the Tertic river is tantamount of blasphemy.¡¯


    Wirrin smiled and looked at Dartol, who was facing resolutely away, his wrinkled face scrunched up in a massive grin as he tried not to laugh.


    ¡®Blasphemy, is it?¡¯ Wirrin called back. ¡®Against whom do I blaspheme, holy one? The river is named after the swamp, is it not?¡¯


    The mage looked back at their own book.


    ¡®The Dividing Swamp is not named after a place the Gods smote from the face of Nesalan over five hundred years ago,¡¯ the woman shouted.


    ¡®She¡¯s too young for you, Wirrin,¡¯ Dartol said at a quite normal volume, his version of whispering.


    Wirrin could only burst out laughing.

 Friends in prison

    Wirrin was two days into travelling with Dartol before she even learned the name of the young woman from the Church. She was sitting with everyone else, helping to cook lunch, listening to the westerners complain about the cold and the four people who¡¯d come from Toravan make fun of them for it.


    Dartol had nine workers with him, five who¡¯d come from across the mountains and the four from Toravan who were headed north for the winter like Wirrin. The two people from the Church had come from across the mountains, but they weren¡¯t working.


    Having shared a couple of meals, Wirrin had gotten a closer look at the Church people. The woman wore fairly ordinary travel clothes, thick and good quality. Her gold pendant was a solid pentagon with the central symbols chased and silver-inlaid into it. She wore a rose over crossed swords. It was an intensely expensive thing, but Wirrin didn¡¯t see that it justified the presence of a War mage.


    Wirrin had gotten a look at the War mage¡¯s face by now, though he had yet to speak. He was probably about the same age as the woman, both of them likely late-twenties, though it was hard to say. Compared to the woman¡¯s smooth face and round cheeks, he was skinny and grizzled, multiple scars marring his whole face.


    It was something Wirrin had noticed about mages, and not just War mages. They all had significant scars on their faces. They all wore the same, heavy, grey robes. And they all wore low-karat, brass-gold symbols of only a single God. They were the only ones who wore only a single God.


    ¡®Clearly you all need to work for the Church,¡¯ Wirrin chuckled her way into the teasing. ¡®This lady here¡¯ ¨C she jerked her thumb at the lady in question ¨C ¡®looks very comfortable in her fancy winter clothes.¡¯


    The woman¡¯s jaw and mouth tightened noticeably, only making her look younger as her cheeks bulged out just a little. ¡®This lady?¡¯ she said. ¡®I have a name, you know?¡¯


    The group around cooking fire went dead quiet when the mage looked up from his book.


    ¡®Oh,¡¯ Wirrin said, in the same, teasing tone. ¡®What¡¯s your name then, holy one?¡¯


    ¡®Ketla,¡¯ the woman said.


    ¡®Nice to meet you, Ketla,¡¯ Wirrin said, offering her hand across the fire. ¡®I¡¯m Wirrin.¡¯


    Ketla frowned and shook Wirrin¡¯s hand lightly. ¡®A pleasure to be formally introduced,¡¯ she said after a moment¡¯s hesitation.


    The mage looked back at his book.


    ¡®So, you should all be like Ketla,¡¯ Wirrin said. ¡®Join the Church and get these nice winter clothes for your travels.¡¯


    Ketla was just as definitely from west of the Dividing range as Dartol was. She was tan, and much skinnier than most people from these parts, with a sharper nose and lighter hair. In the west, it was generally seen as distasteful to show off your wealth, as if it made you better than others.


    So, as the few people from Toravan chuckled nervously, Ketla stared daggers at Wirrin. The mage might have been smiling to himself under his heavy hood.


    ¡®Ignore her, miss Tassavolt,¡¯ Dartol chuckled. ¡®She¡¯s from Ettovica.¡¯


    Wirrin widened her eyes as far as she could. ¡®And she has a last name?¡¯


    Dartol smiled at Wirrin, eyebrows arched.


    Wirrin shrugged and didn¡¯t say what was on her mind. Eventually conversation started back up as they ate, Ketla and the mage excluding themselves as was their tendency.


    After that, Ketla avoided Wirrin for the fortnight it took the caravan to get to Telenva, as was only polite. A couple of the westerners in the caravan talked to Ketla occasionally, but Wirrin noticed that they all eyed-off the woman¡¯s clothes whenever they did.


    Telenva was not where Wirrin had been meaning to go, when she set out from Toravan. She¡¯d been planning to take the slightly quicker route through Getola and the plains. Not only was it more direct, but going across the plains avoided all the switch-backs across the foothills of the Dividing Range.


    She didn¡¯t mind going through Telenva, though. It felt more like home than she would find for a good while. On the road to Telenva, they had passed a couple of late caravans headed to the pass with wagons loaded down with stone.


    Telenva was a heavy, stone town. It was cut flat into the foothills of the Dividing range, where snow floated down from the mountains and had to be regularly shovelled out into big, slushy piles beside the quarries and mines.


    The only thing Wirrin didn¡¯t like about Telenva was the big Church right in the middle of town. Given that it was the main feature of the town, Wirrin would have had a hard time arguing that she liked Telenva, if pressed on the matter.


    Though Telenva wasn¡¯t nearly as religious a place as Teslauk, which gave Wirrin the same feeling when she was travelling west, the Church was bigger. It was one of the few Church buildings north of Bitalen to have a pointed roof to shed the nearly endless snow.


    It was the snow and stone that reminded Wirrin most of home.


    The Church building was so big, and hung with steel murals, because it doubled as a prison. It was only one of many, of course. Most town Churches doubled as gaols, most big cities had prisons, too.


    On the day of the 400<sup>th</sup> year parade, the Church prison in the Sovet valley had been destroyed and almost none of the prisoners had ever been re-captured. It was only since then that Telenva had been a town of any relevance.


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    Dartol¡¯s caravan drove into Telenva in the late morning, planning to stay until the next day so that Dartol could stock up on more stone and ores to sell in Esbolva. Wirrin, Ketla, and the Mage left the caravan to their work to wander the town.


    Ketla and the Mage apparently headed straight for the Church prison in the middle of town. Wirrin headed for the Tegaya tavern to see if anyone she knew was in town.


    As always, Wirrin immediately spotted the two people who were supposed to be inconspicuous, apparently minding their own business in the general vicinity. They looked just like normal people, wearing their winter clothes and with simple, copper pentagon necklaces.


    If it hadn¡¯t been for the third person, an elderly woman in thick furs, staring intently at the two ordinary people, the two Church observers would have blended in perfectly with their surrounds.


    Wirrin didn¡¯t have any concerns about her presence being noted by the Church, though, so she nodded to the woman on the roof and let herself through the thick, padded door.


    It was a sweltering din inside Tegaya, as it always was at this time of year. The padded doors and shutters were all closed against the cold. A fire burned merrily in the big fireplace against the west wall, and there were too many people.


    The only real space in the tavern was around a two-seater table near the fireplace, where two, ordinary-looking people sat. One had a bronze pentagon necklace, the other had a pentagon pattern sewn into his furs.


    Wirrin grinned at the barkeep, an elderly man married to the elderly woman on the roof. He grinned right back. ¡®Still alive, then?¡¯


    ¡®How much you owe Granny?¡¯ Wirrin asked, leaning on the bar and nearly shouting over the din of conversation and drinking.


    ¡®Not so much, not so much,¡¯ Granpa called back. ¡®Always a bad bet against you, Wirrin.¡¯


    Wirrin swore she heard someone in the crowd say ¡®oh, is that Wirrin?¡¯ but for all she knew it was just the random chance of crowd noises.


    ¡®I¡¯m after some of that blackberry cider,¡¯ Wirrin called across the bar. ¡®Is it too late in the year?¡¯


    Granpa nodded. ¡®I¡¯m not too sure, I¡¯ll give it a look.¡¯ And he trundled off down the bar to check a big cupboard against the north wall. It wasn¡¯t long before he was back with a wax-stoppered bottle that looked black in the dim light of the tavern. As he cut the wax seal off, he used the bottle to point to a table not too far from that same cupboard.


    Wirrin paid premium price for the bottle, as was the procedure, and looked around for a few moments. She recognised a fair number of people in the crowded tavern, but only by face. There were too many to see them all, of course.


    She didn¡¯t even need to give the little table¡¯s current occupants a significant look, they got up conveniently at the same time she approached. So she sat and sipped the cider.


    All of Tegaya¡¯s fruit ciders were good. The blackberry was deeply sour, which Wirrin liked. And she figured it was too early to drink anything with any substantial alcohol in it.


    Wirrin had been sitting alone at her two-seater for all of twenty seconds when a middle-aged, southern man draped his jacket over the other chair and sat down. Like Wirrin, he was wearing quite light clothes compared to the locals and westerners around the tavern.


    He smiled a wide, cracked smile at Wirrin.


    ¡®Oh, you¡¯re out of prison, are you?¡¯ Wirrin asked, smiling back.


    ¡®For now, I¡¯m out of prison,¡¯ Ensal said, his smile changing to more of a smirk that pulled at the faded scars around his mouth.


    Wirrin leaned in. ¡®Well, you¡¯re the perfect person, then.¡¯


    The crowd around them seemed to approximately double in volume, as was the procedure.


    ¡®Not even going to ask how I¡¯m doing?¡¯ Ensal asked, pulling a deep frown and putting a hand to his chest.


    ¡®You¡¯re out of prison and you¡¯re still in Telenva,¡¯ Wirrin said.


    Ensal choked. ¡®Alright.¡¯


    ¡®When did they let you out?¡¯ Wirrin asked, fairly shouting. ¡®All of you?¡¯


    ¡®All of us that are left,¡¯ Ensal said. ¡®End of winter. Same day as the festival.¡¯


    ¡®Are you all still here?¡¯ Wirrin asked, looking around like she would be able to see through the packed crowd. There was no chance the Church observers could still see her, but that didn¡¯t mean much.


    ¡®I¡¯m all in the Tegaya,¡¯ he said. ¡®Fifteen went north on whatever caravans would take them. Eleven more of us left in town. We just¡­ didn¡¯t know what to do with ourselves.¡¯


    Wirrin crooked a finger and leaned right across the table. ¡®I have an idea.¡¯


    Ensal¡¯s face smoothed over and most of his wrinkles and scars turned invisible again. He¡¯d put on a lot of weight since Wirrin had seen him last, it was good. He¡¯d been far too skinny in prison.


    ¡®I found Mkaer in the snow,¡¯ Wirrin muttered right into Ensal¡¯s ear. ¡®It¡¯s awoken.¡¯


    Mkaer rumbled in Wirrin¡¯s mind. ¡®What use is he?¡¯


    ¡®No one else is going to your statue,¡¯ Wirrin thought back.


    Mkaer didn¡¯t reply with any words, but the rumbling faded slowly this time.


    ¡®You¡­¡¯ Ensal spluttered for a moment. ¡®You¡¯re sure?¡¯


    ¡®Of course I¡¯m sure, Ensal,¡¯ Wirrin muttered. ¡®I sent word back to Ettovica, too. It¡¯s probably too late in the year already, but I¡¯m absolutely certain.¡¯


    ¡®I¡­¡¯ Ensal sighed and leaned back in his chair, eyes wide. ¡®You¡­¡¯ That massive grin spread over his face again, all those scars around his mouth becoming prominent against his brown skin. ¡®I¡­ that is¡­ something¡­ do you have anything to write on?¡¯


    Wirrin pulled some of her homemade vellum out of her pack, along with a pen, and handed them over.


    ¡®This is wonderful news, Wirrin,¡¯ Ensal said. ¡®I hope you¡¯re alright with me telling some of our friends. I just¡­¡¯ Ensal scribbled for a moment. ¡®I know your sister¡¯s been trying for a while and it¡¯s¡­¡¯ Ensal sniffed, not bothering to eye the loudly chattering crowd.


    ¡®I¡¯m sure she¡¯d appreciate it if you congratulated her in person,¡¯ Wirrin said, digging in her pack for a duplicate she¡¯d made of the map to Mkaer. ¡®I¡¯m going with a caravan up to Esbolva anyway, so I can¡¯t get back for a while.¡¯


    ¡®You left her all alone?¡¯ Ensal smiled to himself as he wrote. ¡®That¡¯s so callous of you.¡¯


    ¡®She¡¯s staying with Willamette,¡¯ Wirrin said. ¡®But I¡¯m sure she¡¯d appreciate the help through the winter.¡¯


    Ensal finished the note and slid it back across the table. ¡®I wouldn¡¯t want to impose on Willamette, would I?¡¯


    Wirrin cut off a piece of the velum and scrawled a quick note to Arin. ¡®Just let her know I sent you and it¡¯ll be no imposition at all.¡¯


    ¡®Even if I take more of our friends?¡¯


    Wirrin slid the note across and nodded. ¡®She¡¯ll let you stay, with a certainty.¡¯


    ¡®Now it¡¯s just a matter of getting there,¡¯ Ensal said.


    Wirrin slid two gold flowers across the table to Ensal.


    ¡®I would hate for my very own sister to be alone in such a trying time, Ensal,¡¯ Wirrin said. ¡®And I¡¯m already busy, aren¡¯t I?¡¯


    Ensal¡¯s eyes started to water and he stood across the table to hug Wirrin. ¡®After all this, it¡¯s finally here, sister.¡¯


    Wirrin patted him on the back a few times.


    ¡®I feel almost as if all this life wasted were worth it,¡¯ Ensal muttered. ¡®I¡­¡¯ He choked on his words and sat back down. He was earnestly crying. Somehow, Wirrin hadn¡¯t expected that.


    Ensal was one of the more than two hundred people who had been arrested in Ettovica after the 500-year riots. He had been only seventeen when he was locked up in Telenva, one of the youngest arrested. When she had last visited two years ago, there had been forty-six of them left.


    She awkwardly patted his hand a few times.


    Finally she tried to say something comforting. ¡®Even if it¡¯s been wasted,¡¯ she said, slowly. ¡®There¡¯s more life still, is there not?¡¯


    Ensal smiled through his tears for a moment. ¡®I suppose there is.¡¯

 The road to Esbolva

    Despite the fact that she had not drunk very much or gone to bed very late, Wirrin pretended to be hung over so that she could ride in one of the goods carts. As much as she liked Dartol, she didn¡¯t want to deal with his shouting after having eleven emotional people to deal with most of the previous day.


    She did end up napping, among the barrels of produce, for most of the morning. Then she walked right at the back of the caravan for the rest of the day¡¯s travel.


    Unfortunately, since Dartol had stocked up on stone, ore, and salt in Telenva, Ketla and the mage were now riding in the rear-most cart. And, for some unknowable reason, Ketla seemed to want to chat.


    The reason became fairly knowable, fairly quickly.


    ¡®Drank a bit too much, did we?¡¯ Ketla asked from where she was jostling in the back of the cart. Her book was open on her lap. It was the Church¡¯s holy book, which Wirrin couldn¡¯t help feeling that Ketla should have read already.


    Wirrin shrugged. ¡®Must have.¡¯ She regretted actually replying, since Ketla was a polite sort and would have left her alone if she didn¡¯t say anything.


    ¡®Catching up with old friends, was it?¡¯ Ketla asked.


    Wirrin supposed that that made sense. ¡®Old acquaintances, more like,¡¯ she said. ¡®Friendly acquaintances.¡¯


    Ketla nodded along, her eyes gleaming like she was about to get one over on Wirrin. ¡®Interesting that you¡¯re friendly with so many ex-inmates in Telenva.¡¯


    ¡®Interesting, is it?¡¯ Wirrin asked, bothering to look up at Ketla.


    ¡®Interesting,¡¯ Ketla repeated, her eyes widening just a little as if she¡¯d just had a realisation.


    ¡®Do you think your cousin Kesak would be in prison if your family wasn¡¯t so rich, Ketla?¡¯ Wirrin asked.


    The mage looked up from his book.


    Ketla scowled before she could stop herself. She gave the mage the side-eye before she said anything. ¡®Everyone deserves a second chance,¡¯ she said.


    ¡®Do they?¡¯ Wirrin asked, looking at the mage. ¡®Did I mention that I¡¯m from Ettovica?¡¯


    Ketla opened her mouth like she was about to say something. Then closed it again and turned away and picked up her book. She went ¡®hmph¡¯ and angrily pretended to read.


    The mage looked at Wirrin, face almost completely obscured in shadow. They were headed east toward Esbolva now, so the afternoon sun just barely illuminated the end of the mage¡¯s nose and chin, and reflected off his eyes.


    Then the mage, too, went back to his book.


    Wirrin drifted back from the caravan a bit, to avoid Ketla trying to talk to her again. And passed the rest of the day in peace.


    Wirrin woke in the middle of the night. She wasn¡¯t sure why she¡¯d woken until, a moment later, the ground moved again. Wirrin was laying just off the road with the rest of the caravan. It was cold and hard. But she wasn¡¯t hearing footsteps. She was feeling them.


    Wirrin sat up and looked at the mage, standing just to her left.


    For several seconds the two of them simply stared at each other.


    ¡®Oh,¡¯ muttered Wirrin. ¡®You want to read that note, don¡¯t you? That Ensal gave me in Tegaya.¡¯


    The mage stared for several more seconds, then nodded.


    Wirrin sighed and rolled over to reach for her pack. ¡®I don¡¯t know how many times I need to mention that I¡¯m from Ettovica before you get it through your thick skulls,¡¯ Wirrin complained as she fished in her pack for the vellum note.


    The mage just stared.


    Wirrin pulled out the note and offered it to him. ¡®If you talk to Ketla, mention that I¡¯m thirty-five and I lived right near the Church as a kid. See if she works it out then.¡¯


    The mage pinched the note between two fingers and the two of them held it for a moment. Then he shrugged, took the note, and walked off. Wirrin didn¡¯t see that the note would interest anyone who wasn¡¯t from Ettovica, anyway.


    Mkaer¡¯s voice rumbled into Wirrin¡¯s head. ¡®That man concerns me.¡¯


    ¡®He should do,¡¯ Wirrin thought back. ¡®He¡¯s a mage.¡¯


    There was rumbling quiet for a moment. ¡®And yet you antagonise him?¡¯


    ¡®Just because he could kill me doesn¡¯t mean I should be polite,¡¯ Wirrin thought. ¡®If anything, it means I should be less polite. It¡¯s his problem if he has no restraint.¡¯


    The rumbling faded as a memory drifted through Wirrin¡¯s mind. A woman in thick grey robes, wearing a golden sun, hood flung back, face twisted by anger and scars as she burned the eyes out of a young man still desperately trying to sing the dirge.


    ¡®Besides,¡¯ Wirrin thought at Mkaer. ¡®I mostly antagonise Ketla, not him.¡¯


    There was only a faint rumbling by way of response.


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    It was only a couple of minutes before the mage returned, handed Wirrin the note, and left again. She shoved it back into her pack. Then she unstrapped a few things from the outside of the pack and held it in her arms as she fell asleep again.


    Despite the interruption, Wirrin was feeling much better in the morning and went back to sitting with Dartol. As he had on the way to Telenva, Dartol regaled Wirrin with stories from his forty-odd years of being a caravaneer. Not only things that had happened to him, but things that had happened to people he¡¯d met.


    Many of the stories were a little disjointed, having happened decades ago, or to someone else. But it was a pleasant enough way to spend the day. Every so often Dartol would think to ask Wirrin if she had any stories and she would share something short, and he would get back to talking about his own life.


    Despite the increased load, it was much quicker going from Telenva to Esbolva. The road was flatter and the road packers had clearly been through ahead of them. Real night was just falling on the fifth day out of Telenva when they arrived at the western caravanserai.


    Esbolva was an unimpressive place as you approached from the west, and even more so if you approached at night. It was barely more than a weak line of wavering lamps. But there was something warm on the horizon.


    Wirrin hugged Dartol by way of goodbye. ¡®I¡¯ll come to Epatlok with you if you¡¯re still here when I leave, alright?¡¯ she said.


    Dartol gave her back a couple of good thumps and grinned. ¡®I won¡¯t wait for you. Until I inevitably stumble into you again in a couple of years.¡¯


    Wirrin gave him a couple of good thumps in return. ¡®Until we bump into each other again.¡¯


    Despite the darkness of the Esbolva docks, Wirrin headed for the actual city.


    There were more lamps beside the river to guide boats that might come in at night. And the bridge over the river was well lit. But that warm light on the horizon was getting closer.


    From the peak of the bridge over the Estelen River, you could finally see the whole city of Esbolva, warm and bright and sprawled across the marsh formed where the Esbolva river diverged into the Estelen and the Boclas. It was like a bowl of lights.


    Esbolva was warm like no other place in Nesalan. The steady light of the oil lamps glowed like weak sunlight on the yellowed concrete and stucco of the streets and foundations of the city. Even the pale, pine wood of the buildings seemed to glow.


    The streets were wider than most southern cities to allow carts and horses to pass anywhere they pleased. The buildings were rarely over two stories, and the whole city had a concave sort of shape that illuminated the horizons around it with a warm glow like gentle dawn.


    Partly because of the bright, diffusing lights of the city¡¯s lamps, it was much busier at night than most towns Wirrin had been to. The whole place felt like a caravanserai in the evening almost all the time.


    Wirrin nodded vaguely to the people she passed, who nodded back, as she made her way east across the city. Aside from previous visits to the libraries, she generally avoided the centre of town, where the older, bigger, heavier buildings were.


    She supposed she would be headed back to the libraries soon, to see if she could find anything about Naertral. Though she felt she had a pretty good lead already.


    For tonight, though, she headed for Outolt, the inn she tended to stay at while she was in Esbolva. It was a wide, pine building with a stuccoed concrete foundation like every building in Esbolva, with a first floor about half the size of the ground floor.


    Despite there being no one sat outside, the outside tables were still out. Worn, dark, resin-stained pine. They would be used very little for winter, Wirrin knew, but it was part of the image, so they were left in place.


    The taproom was almost empty, as expected for it being past midnight. Both fireplaces were lit, though the fires weren¡¯t banked high. The furniture inside was much like the furniture outside, though a bit less worn and with the addition of a few padded couches.


    A young man was leaning on the bar, chatting to an older man sitting across from him. Five other people were scattered around the room, two pairs and one older woman sitting by herself.


    ¡®A good night?¡¯ The young man leaning on the bar stood to wave at Wirrin.


    ¡®Good enough,¡¯ Wirrin said. ¡®I¡¯m after some leftovers and a single room.¡¯


    The young man smiled. ¡®Certainly. Have you already eaten?¡¯


    Wirrin nodded. Dartol had stopped the caravan for dinner, but had decided to push on and reach Esbolva rather than stop and arrive early in the morning.


    ¡®A few hours of travel ago,¡¯ Wirrin said.


    ¡®I won¡¯t be a moment.¡¯ He let himself out through a door behind the bar.


    The older man sitting at the bar smiled at Wirrin, pulling at smile lines and crows¡¯ feet. ¡®You look like a traveller, you know?¡¯ he said.


    ¡®I¡¯ve been told that,¡¯ Wirrin said, sitting down with an empty seat between herself and the man.


    He was probably in his early fifties, tan, and a bit skinnier than a southerner, with black hair, and the shoulders and rugged complexion of a barger. He gave another friendly smile and returned to his drink.


    The bartender was back shortly with a small plate of cold meat, bread, and roasted potatoes. ¡®I¡¯ve got a cup of soup heating for you in the kitchen,¡¯ he said, as he put the plate in front of Wirrin.


    ¡®Soup does sound good.¡¯


    ¡®Oh, it is,¡¯ the bartender said. ¡®Do you want a drink? Maybe some tea? It¡¯s pretty cold outside.¡¯


    Wirrin glanced down at her lap and her thinner, autumn leathers. ¡®It¡¯s not that cold,¡¯ she smiled. ¡®I would still like some tea, mind.¡¯


    ¡®Maybe you don¡¯t think it¡¯s that cold,¡¯ the bartender smiled, smooth-faced. He had the lighter skin of an urbanite, and the same black hair and middling build common to the east and northern-centre of Nesalan.


    The meat was cold and greasy with congealed fat, the bread was crusty and a bit stale, the potatoes were soft and gummy. It was all very tasty. The tea was actual tea with honey and ginger, and the soup was corn and potato. It was certainly good enough for a late-night snack.


    Wirrin gave the bartender a white-gold coin stamped with a crossed sword and hammer and meandered upstairs to find herself a room. The inn was filling up for the winter, but Wirrin¡¯s favourite room in the back corner was still free.


    In the morning, the taproom looked more like Wirrin was used to. It wasn¡¯t quite full, but it was bustling with all sorts of people. She vaguely recognised some of them by face, but no one paid her much mind.


    Gava was behind the bar with two young women. She smiled when Wirrin approached the bar. ¡®I¡¯m sure I¡¯ve seen you before,¡¯ Gava said.


    ¡®Oh, I¡¯ve been here a few times over the years,¡¯ Wirrin said.


    Gava tapped her nose. ¡®I thought so. We¡¯ve got berry porridge and honey toast for breakfast. What do you fancy?¡¯


    ¡®A bit of both, and some ginger tea,¡¯ Wirrin said.


    Gava looked at one of the young women, who nodded and passed through the door into the kitchen. Gava raised on her toes to look over Wirrin¡¯s shoulder. ¡®There¡¯s a couple of tables left,¡¯ she said. ¡®Or you can sit at the bar.¡¯


    Wirrin nodded.


    The young woman came back after only a few moments with a bowl that had a plate balanced on it like a lid, and a heavy, slightly chipped mug. Wirrin took her breakfast to a two-seater table near the door.


    The stale bread from last night was much improved by toasting and honey. The tea was fresh and nicely spicy. The porridge was thick and sweet and tart with berries. It was probably the best food Wirrin had had since she left Tellan.


    Once she was done, Wirrin gave Gava another sword. ¡®I¡¯m not sure how long I¡¯ll be staying,¡¯ she said. ¡®Back corner upstairs.¡¯


    Gava nodded and scanned an open log-book. ¡®I imagine you¡¯d be the southern traveller from last night,¡¯ she said, smiling. ¡®Looks like you¡¯re paid up for two weeks.¡¯


    Wirrin nodded.

 Looking at Maps

    Wirrin¡¯s first stop for the day, having left her pack and most of her stuff at Outolt, was to waste some money on some nicer clothes. As much as she preferred her travelling leathers and the lighter, summer clothes at the bottom of her pack, she would need something nicer to get into the library.


    Even though the library was technically open to the public, it was property of the university, which was very much not open to the public. The first time Wirrin had tried to get into the library, she¡¯d been told that she looked like the sort who would try to steal books and probably couldn¡¯t read anyway.


    Sadly, that librarian had had a serious fall on his way home that very evening and hadn¡¯t been able to return to work for nearly a full month.


    Wirrin had still had to buy herself nice clothes.


    She didn¡¯t want to travel with nice clothes, though. They took up too much room in her pack and they¡¯d inevitably get stained and scuffed and torn anyway. So when she left Esbolva, she always sold the clothes back to the same laundry she bought them from.


    Wirrin had always thought that the Oulvan Laundry had been lucky no one else took that name first. At least since she found out what the name meant, about ten years ago. The Clean Water Laundry was quite a big place, and fairly close to the centre of the city without being so close that Wirrin stood out badly by the time she arrived.


    It was the laundry of choice for the fairly wealthy, but not spectacularly wealthy, so they always had some nice, second-hand clothes for Wirrin to buy. Especially at this time of year.


    Wirrin went for a spring, linen-canvas outfit: thick ochre trousers, light cream shirt, thick red-ochre jacket. They were all a bit faded and the jacket¡¯s lining was fairly thin. But Wirrin had found that her autumn leathers were a little too warm in Esbolva.


    Really, the main thing was that they weren¡¯t travelling clothes and they weren¡¯t too expensive. On her way further into the city, Wirrin stopped to get her boot-heels resoled, and she figured that would have to be good enough.


    The Esbolva university was one of the most central buildings in the city, nearly two hours walk from Outolt. It was joined around the main square by the Church and the town hall


    Esbolva¡¯s Church was quite pretty compared to any of the Church buildings south of there. It was the smallest of the three buildings around the square. All five walls were carved with extensive murals, one for each God, and it was missing the typical chased hangings by the main door.


    Wirrin always noticed that the front wall, more than half of which was taken up by the large, open doors, was dedicated to Labour and decorated with hammers, buildings, and trades. Certainly it faced the square, but in meant that Labour¡¯s mural was barely half the size of any of the others.


    Wirrin took the outside path to the university¡¯s library, not bothering to try to go through the main teaching building. She took the wide street between the university and the town hall and climbed the wide, stone steps up to the open wicket.


    The university, town hall, and library had all once been Esbolva¡¯s fortress and palace. Unlike in Ettovica, the Church hadn¡¯t destroyed the palace, and so it was still here, five-hundred-odd years later.


    The wicket led into a large antechamber with high, vaulted ceilings, a long desk for whoever was stuck on reception, and a lot of empty space. The second set of doors that would once have blocked entrance to the rest of the palace had been removed so long ago the hinges had rusted to nothing in the interim.


    Wirrin approached the very long desk and the two, chatting librarians. Being a member of the public, she had to sign in and declare what sort of information she was looking for, just in case something went missing.


    Neither receptionist paid Wirrin any mind as she signed herself in, which was a distinct improvement from the last time she had visited. They didn¡¯t even check the logbook as Wirrin gave them a vague smile and wandered into the library.


    Wirrin had been to the library a few times over the years and she was fairly sure she knew where to find what she was looking for. She wasn¡¯t even completely sure that she needed to find it, but she supposed it was better to double-check than to aimlessly wander the wetlands.


    Besides, Wirrin liked the Esbolva library. Beyond the antechamber, the tall hallway has been neatly divided into two storeys. The wooden floor for the upper storey was three layers thick and sometimes wood dust drifted into the bottom level when someone walked over the wrong planks.


    The shelves were tall and thick and darkly stained. The paths through the books were wide and dim, with the occasional burst of warm sunshine through the massive windows.


    Wirrin¡¯s goal was fairly far into the old palace. Past the front hall had once been a throne room, as far as Wirrin was aware. The throne had been removed back when Esbolva had been taken over by the Church. Now it was a three-storey room with concentric rows of books.


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    Thick, wooden stairs spiralled around the outside of the room, leading Wirrin up to the top level where the bookshelves were largely replaced with racks and cases of maps.


    Wirrin had spent a lot of time reading the maps up here, back when she¡¯d first made it into the library. And even eighteen years later, she still remembered where the old maps of the region were kept.


    Despite having passed a few people on her way up here, Wirrin was still surprised to find someone else browsing the maps. The library was never crowded, in Wirrin¡¯s experience, but when it came to anything even a little bit niche, it tended to be close to deserted.


    A woman, probably in her early forties, pale and chubby like a lot of the local academics, had an arm-full of maps and was frowning intently at the scroll case in front of her. Her clothes, a knitted jumper and heavy trousers, were faded and patched, but at least they weren¡¯t travelling clothes.


    She turned when Wirrin rounded the corner and smiled, revealing smile lines around her eyes and mouth. She had the classic round face, almond, monolidded eyes and black hair of a local. Wirrin wondered if she looked reminiscent of the siblings, but she had a wider, flatter nose. It was probably just regional similarity.


    ¡®Sorry,¡¯ the woman said, still smiling. ¡®Were you¡­¡¯ She indicated the shelf with her arm-full of maps. ¡®I¡¯ve already got most of the old maps of the area.¡¯ She had a pleasant, deep voice.


    Her look and demeanour were too calm and pleasant for there to be any actual relation to the siblings, Wirrin decided.


    ¡®I was,¡¯ Wirrin said, smiling just a little. ¡®But that¡¯s alright, I¡¯m sure there¡¯s still something interesting left.¡¯


    The woman smiled wider and shook her head. ¡®Oh, no,¡¯ she said. ¡®I¡¯ve got all the interesting ones, I assure you.¡¯ She nodded over to one of the tables nearby. ¡®Why don¡¯t you join me, though? We can look through them at the same time, I¡¯m sure.¡¯


    Wirrin too, smiled wider. ¡®Sounds very pleasant.¡¯


    ¡®Oh good,¡¯ the woman sighed. ¡®Can you reach a couple more down for me? My hands are pretty full already.¡¯


    Wirrin approached to stand right by the woman and look at the scroll case with her. ¡®These ones?¡¯ Wirrin took down two that she remembered the labels for. ¡®Any others?¡¯


    ¡®Oh, we really are looking for the same thing,¡¯ the woman said. ¡®I¡¯m Bilar. I¡¯d shake your hands but, well¡­¡¯ She jostled her armful of maps.


    Wirrin chuckled. ¡®I¡¯m Wirrin,¡¯ she said. ¡®I¡¯m sure we can shake hands when you¡¯ve put all of those down.¡¯


    Bilar nodded along, still smiling her wonderful smile. ¡®Can you grab this one as well?¡¯ She bumped the scroll with her head to indicate it and Wirrin grabbed it.


    Once all the maps were down on the table, Bilar took both of Wirrin¡¯s hands to shake lightly. Her hands were smooth and warm, and they both held the shake for a little longer than was really necessary.


    ¡®Maybe I¡¯m making assumptions, Wirrin,¡¯ Bilar said, sitting and patting the chair beside her. ¡®But I don¡¯t think you¡¯re an academic.¡¯


    ¡®You¡¯re not wrong,¡¯ Wirrin said. ¡®And I think you, Bilar, an academic, would know.¡¯


    Bilar smiled and spread out one of the maps. It showed a much smaller Esbolva on the far left, beside the Boclas River. On the east side of the river was the wetland and forest, missing the current pine tree farms.


    ¡®Being an academic isn¡¯t a lucrative business, Wirrin,¡¯ Bilar smiled, smoothing a hand over the map. ¡®So I¡¯m looking for some old ruin that¡¯s supposed to be in the wetland around¡­ here.¡¯ With one finger, she circled the whole wetland.


    ¡®Looks like you were right then,¡¯ Wirrin said. ¡®We are looking for the same thing. My interest has nothing to do with money, mind you.¡¯


    ¡®Oh, how I yearn to be so free,¡¯ Bilar smiled. ¡®Are you some sort of adventurer, then, Wirrin? Scouring the land for interesting things?¡¯


    Wirrin chuckled. ¡®I suppose I am. But in this case, Bilar, I¡¯ve already scoured the land.¡¯


    ¡®So have my clients,¡¯ Bilar said. ¡®Or so they tell me. And they¡¯ve had no luck finding any ruins. So here I am, reading maps about a wetland, just to afford more patches for my jumper.¡¯


    Wirrin chuckled again. ¡®Surely the life of an academic isn¡¯t so poverty-stricken?¡¯


    Bilar grinned. ¡®Alright, it¡¯s not. But we need luxuries in life, Wirrin, don¡¯t you think? I think I¡¯ll go mad if I eat any more rice and mutton stews.¡¯


    ¡®All you need is good company,¡¯ Wirrin claimed. ¡®And any food suddenly tastes wonderous.¡¯


    Bilar snorted. ¡®Well you can buy me some of that wonderous, company food once I¡¯ve found where this ruin is supposed to be. With the two of us at it, I¡¯m sure we¡¯ll be done in time for lunch.¡¯


    Wirrin grinned. ¡®I¡¯ll take that deal.¡¯


    She spread one of the maps she¡¯d pulled down beside Bilar¡¯s map. This one was smaller and covered a larger area, from Telenva to Louyava. And it was an old map indeed. This map held most of the information that had led Wirrin to the ruins in the first place.


    ¡®Oh, you¡¯re a very smart woman,¡¯ Bilar said, leaning close to Wirrin to look at the map. ¡®Start with a much simpler question. How are ruins formed?¡¯


    Wirrin smiled and leaned in as well, her shoulder bumping Bilar¡¯s. The map she¡¯d picked showed the trail of the Church¡¯s armies during the Gods¡¯ War. And right beside the Boclas river, the Church had stopped in the wetland for some reason.


    Wirrin was quite sure she knew, now, why the Church had stopped there. Though when she¡¯d found the ruins in her late teens, there¡¯s been nothing interesting to see. Only broken stones with illegible carvings.


    She retrieved a scrap of vellum from her pocket. ¡®Did you take the¡­¡¯ She spotted it before she could finish the question and unrolled a much bigger map across most of the table.


    This was a surveyor¡¯s map of the wetland, and part of the forest and river.


    ¡®I¡¯m starting to think that your search was much more fruitful than my client¡¯s,¡¯ Bilar said, not breaking contact with Wirrin as she gazed at the map.


    ¡®It was,¡¯ Wirrin said. ¡®And I was recently reminded of it and decided to go and take another look.¡¯ She glanced from the map to Bilar¡¯s face. ¡®When I¡¯m finished with my luxury in the city.¡¯


    Bilar snorted. ¡®I¡¯m starting to think you don¡¯t have many opportunities to practice seduction as an adventurer.¡¯


    Wirrin cracked up, leaning away and covering her mouth lest a librarian come and shush her.


    ¡®Oh,¡¯ Bilar said, immediately sobering. ¡®I see it now. You are very smart, Wirrin, I must say.¡¯ She put a finger at the stopping point on the military history map and searched around on the surveyor¡¯s map.


    Wirrin coughed and tried to control herself. ¡®You found it much faster than I did.¡¯


    ¡®Only because you were so very helpful.¡¯


    Bilar produced a much neater sheet of vellum from a pocket and started drawing, shifting all the maps away so that she wouldn¡¯t accidentally stain them.


    Wirrin managed to recover enough to do the same. Though Bilar¡¯s map was much more detailed than Wirrin¡¯s.


    ¡®You can¡¯t assume that rich people know how to read maps, Wirrin,¡¯ Bilar said, when Wirrin tucked her own map back into her pocket.


    Wirrin snorted.

 Date with an academic

    ¡®Well, I wouldn¡¯t want them to think that I overcharged,¡¯ Bilar explained over tea. They¡¯d headed back out of the inner city to find somewhere to pass the rest of the morning before Bilar delivered her map.


    ¡®Of course,¡¯ Wirrin smiled. ¡®And you wouldn¡¯t want to give the impression that you¡¯ll get everything done ahead of time or they¡¯ll start to expect it from you.¡¯


    ¡®I knew you were smart, Wirrin.¡¯ Bilar smiled back and sipped her tea. ¡®That¡¯s what I like in a woman, brains.¡¯


    Wirrin nodded seriously. ¡®I mostly look for age and maturity, myself.¡¯


    ¡®Ah, is that why you¡¯ve no opportunities to practice seduction?¡¯ Bilar grinned. ¡®All the other adventurers are too young.¡¯


    Wirrin snorted. ¡®I practice my seduction plenty, thank you very much.¡¯


    ¡®I suppose it worked on me.¡¯ Bilar kept on grinning. ¡®All you had to say is ¡°food is better with company¡± and I swooned for your immeasurable charm.¡¯


    Wirrin chortled. ¡®My charm is very measurable.¡¯


    Bilar pressed her thumb and index finger together. ¡®Very measurable.¡¯


    Wirrin grinned and sipped her tea. ¡®So what do you actually study, if it¡¯s not maps of wetlands?¡¯


    ¡®Oh you certainly know the way to a woman¡¯s heart, Wirrin,¡¯ Bilar leaned in closer. ¡®My area of interest is so niche I barely ever get to talk to anyone about it.¡¯


    ¡®Take me for a fool and explain it, then,¡¯ Wirrin said, settling back in her chair.


    ¡®I¡¯ll make you regret that,¡¯ Bilar grinned.


    ¡®I doubt it,¡¯ Wirrin smiled, tapping herself on the sternum to indicate Bilar¡¯s lack of any Church pendant.


    ¡®Oh, a southerner who¡¯s not interested in theology, I¡¯m deeply shocked,¡¯ Bilar said, deadpan. ¡®My entire understanding of society is shaken to its very roots.¡¯


    Wirrin chuckled. ¡®Alright, fine. Tell me about your niche studies.¡¯


    ¡®How much do you know about the history of Toravan?¡¯ Bilar asked.


    ¡®Oh, not very much,¡¯ Wirrin said. ¡®Only that it was destroyed during the Gods¡¯ War because it was where Tevinan had holed up.¡¯


    Bilar smiled. ¡®I should have expected you to know about Tevinan, I suppose,¡¯ she said. ¡®But most people know about that much, yeah.¡¯


    Wirrin nodded. ¡®But you, not being like most people?¡¯


    ¡®Have you heard of Halvit?¡¯


    Wirrin shook her head.


    Bilar proceeded to explain the entire history of Toravan, from its founding by the Halvit family roughly eight hundred years ago to Tevinan taking over, to it being destroyed in the Gods¡¯ War.


    ¡®That doesn¡¯t feel too niche,¡¯ Wirrin said.


    ¡®Oh, that¡¯s just background,¡¯ Bilar said. ¡®I didn¡¯t even mention what happened to Halvit when Tevinan took over Toravan.¡¯


    ¡®Explain it, then.¡¯ Wirrin was quite enjoying both the new information and the look of glee on Bilar¡¯s face as she explained. It was always fun to listen to someone explain something that they were interested in.


    ¡®When Balleh said they wouldn¡¯t fight Tevinan, Halvit immediately surrendered Toravan to them,¡¯ Bilar said. ¡®And then fled here, rather than be ruled by Tevinan.¡¯


    ¡®Well, I have heard that Tevinan were evil, so you wouldn¡¯t want to stay somewhere they were in charge, surely,¡¯ Wirrin deadpanned.


    Bilar chuckled. ¡®Southerner,¡¯ she smiled. ¡®When they got here, Balleh put them in charge of administering the city, which had previously not been a noble position.¡¯


    Wirrin nodded along.


    ¡®Problem was that they were hilariously corrupt,¡¯ Bilar continued. ¡®They were removed from the position before the Gods¡¯ War even started.¡¯


    ¡®That¡¯s quick,¡¯ Wirrin agreed.


    ¡®Exactly,¡¯ Bilar gestured with her tea spoon. ¡®And then they, apparently, completely disappeared. There are a bunch of records to do with them being removed from the position. And then nothing.¡¯


    ¡®Surely they weren¡¯t relevant at that point?¡¯ Wirrin played along.


    ¡®Well you¡¯d think so.¡¯ Bilar waved the tea spoon some more. ¡®But then there are rumours, and nothing else, that they let the Church into the city.¡¯


    Wirrin nodded seriously. ¡®So you want to learn more about Esbolva¡¯s greatest heroes?¡¯


    Bilar chuckled. ¡®I suppose so,¡¯ she said. ¡®They didn¡¯t resurface after Esbolva was taken over, so they mustn¡¯t have been actual collaborators. But they founded and ran a fairly significant town for nearly three hundred years, before Tevinan took over.¡¯


    This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.


    ¡®So you want to know what happened to them?¡¯


    ¡®Oh, not exactly.¡¯


    Wirrin smiled. ¡®That¡¯s good. I was still thinking it wasn¡¯t very niche.¡¯


    ¡®The Halvit family is niche,¡¯ Bilar said. ¡®I promise. But you actually nailed it with that hilarious joke of yours.¡¯


    ¡®Learning about heroes?¡¯


    ¡®Outside of the South, people generally agree that the Church is good,¡¯ Bilar said. ¡®I would argue that that¡¯s true even in Tellen and Yantava, from my experiences there.¡¯


    Wirrin scrunched up her face a bit, dubious. ¡®Depends what you mean by a good thing. But I¡¯ll go with it.¡¯


    ¡®No wars, no famines, no standing armies,¡¯ Bilar said. ¡®I reckon if the battle over Bitalen hadn¡¯t been as long as it was, Bitalen would like the Church more.¡¯


    Wirrin¡¯s face stayed scrunched up. ¡®I¡¯ll go with it, but what¡¯s your point?¡¯


    ¡®Ok, let¡¯s go with something you¡¯ll accept more easily,¡¯ Bilar said. ¡®The whole West loves the Church. That¡¯s more their base than even Keredin in some ways, right?¡¯


    Wirrin smoothed her face out. ¡®That was my experience as well.¡¯


    ¡®This observation holds up quite well once you¡¯re north of Bitalen, is my point,¡¯ Bilar said. ¡®Even places that love the Church, aside from Keredin obviously, have stories somewhere about being betrayed during the Gods¡¯ War. And it¡¯s always someone like Halvit: corrupt, disgraced, or disreputable.¡¯


    ¡®Ok, now we¡¯re getting somewhere,¡¯ Wirrin said. ¡®And I¡¯m prepared to admit that you¡¯re right about Tellan. It¡¯s not a story I¡¯ve chased, though.¡¯


    Bilar nodded. ¡®It¡¯s a very difficult story to chase,¡¯ she said. ¡®Most records from the Gods¡¯ War and it¡¯s immediate aftermath are in the care of the Church, and they won¡¯t let me in to read them.¡¯


    It was Wirrin¡¯s turn to point with her teaspoon. ¡®So you do work for stupid rich people and hope they¡¯ll let you read their old family journals and see if anyone wrote about the traitors.¡¯ There was a rumbling in her head.


    ¡®Which is also why I don¡¯t go south anymore,¡¯ Bilar said, nodding enthusiastically. ¡®Everything down there is gone.¡¯


    ¡®We were not betrayed,¡¯ Mkaer rumbled into Wirrin¡¯s mind. ¡®We were overwhelmed. Even in Mountain Side.¡¯


    ¡®So you¡¯re interested because it doesn¡¯t seem like any of it¡¯s true?¡¯ Wirrin asked, as the rumbling started to fade.


    Bilar leaned across the table and beckoned to Wirrin. ¡®It¡¯s hard to research Church propaganda, Wirrin,¡¯ she whispered. ¡®But I still want to know if it was Church infiltrators covering up for themselves, or it was just a spontaneous sort of phenomenon.¡¯


    Wirrin smiled and whispered back. ¡®Should we give that map to your stupid rich people and find somewhere to get lunch?¡¯


    Bilar patted Wirrin on the cheek. ¡®See? Very smart.¡¯


    Wirrin and Bilar held hands on their way back into the city centre, where Bilar led the way through the old mansions, municipal buildings and what little of the old carvings and statues still existed, as well as the new Church buildings and statues and carvings.


    ¡®They¡¯re just so dull, in comparison,¡¯ Wirrin complained as they passed an old statue garden that was mostly taken over by Church sculptures. Like their omnipresent carvings, the sculptures were solid and blocky representations of plants, suns, weapons, organs, and tools.


    ¡®Depends what you¡¯re into, does it?¡¯ Bilar said. ¡®You make maps, I reckon.¡¯


    Wirrin smiled and let herself be pulled away from the statue garden. ¡®What connection have you spotted, Bilar?¡¯


    ¡®I warn you, it¡¯s spurious at best.¡¯


    ¡®Oh, even better.¡¯


    ¡®I reckon you¡¯ve made topographical maps of the mountains before, haven¡¯t you?¡¯ Bilar smiled. ¡®I¡¯m sure they¡¯re detailed and accurate. I¡¯m sure you put painstaking effort into making them useful.¡¯


    Wirrin shrugged. ¡®Depends on the map.¡¯


    ¡®What¡¯s the point of a map, Wirrin?¡¯


    ¡®To represent a place. And before you ask, I do know what the most accurate possible map is.¡¯


    ¡®Exactly. How about all this Church art, then? What¡¯s the point of it?¡¯


    Wirrin shrugged again. ¡®To remind us that they¡¯re there, I assume.¡¯


    Bilar laughed. ¡®I¡¯m sure I¡¯ve seen art even in Ettovica.¡¯


    ¡®As have I.¡¯


    ¡®So what¡¯s the point of art? Just to remind us that people were there?¡¯


    Wirrin thought about it as Bilar pulled her along. ¡®I think it might be, actually. Leave some pretty mark on the world.¡¯


    ¡®Absolutely a lost cause,¡¯ Bilar said. ¡®Alright, just wait here.¡¯


    They¡¯d come to a stop at a mansion toward the northern edge of the inner city. It wasn¡¯t quite the very edge, but it was the house a new family, not any remains from before the Gods¡¯ War.


    Bilar let go of Wirrin¡¯s hand and climbed three wide steps up to the front door, where she rang a bell. She pulled the map out of her pocket and smoothed it flat as the two of them waited for the door to be opened.


    When the door was opened, it was by a middle-aged man in a smart, dark suit and an expression somewhere between weariness and annoyance. He looked at Bilar for a couple of seconds before it became clear he wasn¡¯t going to say anything.


    ¡®Bilar,¡¯ Bilar said. ¡®For master Heran.¡¯ She offered the map to the man.


    He nodded once, took the map, handed over two coins, and closed the door.


    Bilar sighed her way back down the stairs and took Wirrin¡¯s hand again, leaning close to mutter. ¡®I hate that guy.¡¯


    Wirrin snorted. ¡®Looked mutual.¡¯


    ¡®Worth the trouble, though, them stupid rich people,¡¯ Bilar said, holding up two golden flowers, not nearly as freshly pressed as the ones remaining in Wirrin¡¯s purse.


    ¡®Maybe you can buy a poor adventurer some lunch,¡¯ Wirrin smiled. ¡®If you¡¯re so rich.¡¯


    ¡®Your purse is still bigger than mine.¡¯


    ¡®It¡¯s not always about size.¡¯


    Bilar chuckled as she led the way away from the mansion. ¡®I¡¯ll tell you what,¡¯ she smiled. ¡®I¡¯ll pick the place and you pay.¡¯


    ¡®A good deal if I¡¯ve ever heard one,¡¯ Wirrin said. ¡®As long as it¡¯s the sort of thing you¡¯d normally eat. This is about company, after all.¡¯


    ¡®How could I forget?¡¯


    Bilar led the way east, back past the university and library, and back out of the inner city. Wirrin hadn¡¯t been in this area of Esbolva for a long while, but the student quarter looked exactly as she remembered it.


    The university, like the library, was technically open to anyone. There was a cost to attend, though. So the less wealthy students lived, ate and often worked in a section of the city that had, over time, essentially become reserved for them.


    Bilar still picked one of the more expensive places to eat within the student quarter, but all that meant was that the drinks were an extra silver.


    ¡®You¡¯ll eat me out of house and home,¡¯ Wirrin joked as she paid. ¡®So far I¡¯ve spent the same on treating you to the luxuries of the city as I paid for all the food I needed to get here from Tellan.¡¯


    Bilar grinned. ¡®As if you¡¯ve got a house or home, adventurer.¡¯


    ¡®Balovt lin tellanen,¡¯ Wirrin grinned back.


    ¡®Tetal hir tetal,¡¯ Bilar smirked.


    Wirrin leaned over the counter. ¡®Young man, do you have any beds in the immediate vicinity? I need to ravish someone.¡¯


    Bilar snorted, the young man in question stuttered about how there weren¡¯t any beds here but there was an inn just up the street if they wanted.


    Wirrin dragged Bilar over to a table. They¡¯d spent a while drinking tea so that Bilar could tell Wirrin the history of Toravan, so lunch was a bit late and the covered eatery was fairly empty.


    ¡®San atic Sovtanen?¡¯ Wirrin asked.


    ¡®Sin toticra toc oullanen.¡¯ Bilar shrugged.


    ¡®Still better than nothing,¡¯ Wirrin said, switching back. ¡®Seems like I bother learning all these languages and no one bothers to learn mine.¡¯


    Bilar smiled. ¡®You want me to tell you why that is?¡¯


    ¡®Is it because Sovtanen was only spoken up to Bitalen except for maybe fifteen years before the Gods¡¯ War nearly wiped out all the speakers of it?¡¯


    Bilar frowned dramatically. ¡®And you said you weren¡¯t an academic.¡¯


    After lunch, they walked the short way to Bilar¡¯s apartment.

 Rumbling in the Swamp

    After three days in Esbolva, Wirrin was as relaxed as she¡¯d ever been and knew more about scapegoating as a historical phenomenon than she¡¯d thought there was to know. She would have stayed longer, but after two and half days of naps, food, and sex, Bilar had gotten more work.


    So, on the fourth morning after she¡¯d arrived in Esbolva, Wirrin crossed the bridge over the Boclas river and started south along the bank toward the wetlands. Technically, she was already at the wetlands, but for the first day of walking, Wirrin was passing the tree farms.


    She stopped early in the evening on the last of the good road along the riverbank. The road had been uphill all day and Wirrin¡¯s legs were tired. But mostly she stopped to watch the river divergence for a while before she went to sleep, now that she was above the dykes that kept the tree farms a bit dryer.


    In the morning, Wirrin followed the broken road past most of the trees before she started to look for a likely place to strike off into the wetland. The road along the western bank of the river was in much better condition, as that was how most people travelled to Yantava, if they were going south.


    Wirrin stopped for lunch before striking off into the wetland. She¡¯d found it much more difficult to actually cook once she was in the marshy land, so she treated herself to a well-spiced meal before setting out.


    The Esbolva wetland was much more properly called a swamp. The closest it got to drying out was when parts of it froze in winter, and despite the local logging industry it was dominated by spindly and partially submerged trees.


    That was even more true of the Yasagolk wetland near Louyava, and of the Toravan wetland. They were all more rightly called swamps. But they weren¡¯t the Tertic Swamp, the weren¡¯t The Swamp. So they were all called wetlands.


    Despite what Wirrin considered to be mild temperatures, she¡¯d worn her autumn leathers for her trip to the wetland. And she¡¯d stocked up on mint to stuff into her clothes against all the bugs in the pine-heavy wetland.


    The wetland was immediately humid compared even to the side of the river. Condensation dripped from the trees with a pleasant, omnipresent patter. This close to the pine farms, the mint was still fairly heavy on the ground. It was one of the easiest ways Wirrin knew of navigating the wetland.


    Where the wild mint still looked healthy, the ground was generally solid enough to walk. Everything was damp, of course, that was the nature of the place. The mint was brown and grey with fungus, but Wirrin knew what to look out for, at least this far north.


    Her boots were made for snow and mountain-climbing and kept her feet dry even where the ground was flooded, but not too deep. She¡¯d freshly oiled all of her travelling clothes before leaving Esbolva and other than the dripping in her hair, she stayed dry that first day, stamping through the mint.


    Wirrin woke to a feeling that was becoming familiar. There were no people walking about her, no cart coming up the road. It was little things like frogs and lizards and birds, crawling and hopping around before it was time to move north or hibernate. Their movements shook the ground, even as gentle as they were.


    Dawn was barely colouring the horizon through the masses of spindly trees. Something had woken Wirrin. She placed a palm on the ground and tried to concentrate. The ripples of nearby water moving, shook the ground under her hand.


    But there it was. Wirrin drew her knife and stabbed it through the head of a heavy, brown spider only a few centimetres from her leg. Most likely it had simply been curious about her body heat, but Wirrin didn¡¯t much like spiders.


    There was that rumbling in the back of her head, distant and quiet.


    Wirrin took a deep breath and pressed her other palm to the ground. She focused on that feeling of the earth shaking. The feeling came from anywhere her body touched the ground, but she found it easier to focus on her palms.


    Frogs and lizards and rats and birds shook the ground. Even fish, swimming lazily in the cold streams, shook the ground with their presence. Distantly, something big swished along one of the deeper streams. Wirrin couldn¡¯t feel any more spiders nearby.


    Breakfast tasted of mint, even though Wirrin hadn¡¯t added any.


    Wirrin walked slowly, watching the ground. She had been surprised by spiders before in swamps, but she wasn¡¯t exactly looking out for them. She was trying to feel the ground as she walked, trying to feel everything that moved around her.


    The sensation came in waves, as if every step sent out a ripple. Soon enough, Wirrin was barely paying attention to the skittering animals and bugs. She was admiring the hills and valleys of hard ground that hid under the soft surface of the swamp.


    The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.


    Wirrin almost tripped on nothing several times through the morning. This sense of the world around her was more than enough to warn her of obstacles. But reconciling what she saw with her eyes with what she felt in the ground was difficult.


    By the time she stopped for lunch, Wirrin felt as if she¡¯d been awake for days. Her head ached, she felt dry and nauseous. She took shallow, even breaths and kept her eyes closed, sitting in a particularly dense patch of the mint.


    She made a small fire and filled her kettle with water she¡¯d taken from the river. She¡¯d paid Outolt for a month in advance to leave most of her mountaineering gear and clothes there so that she could carry more water.


    She¡¯d drunk boiled swamp water before with minimal issues, but she wanted to avoid it if she could. A month was much longer than she expected to take, but it was better to be safe.


    After a couple of minutes rest, she got up to find a willow tree and chipped off a good double handful of bark to boil.


    By the time she added peppermint to the steeping willow bark, the nausea had all but subsided along with the headache. But she could still feel worms digging through the soil beneath her, despite her lack of focus. Better to be safe.


    Even with peppermint, the willow bark tea was bitter. But as she stayed seated, the rest of her nausea and headache faded away. She filled one of her smaller waterskins with the remains of the tea, diluting it by about half in the process, and finally had a small lunch.


    It was a very pleasant break, despite the headache. The ever-present dripping from the leaves and branches gave the rusting and rumbling of the small animals a nice ambiance. The evergreens and ground plants gave a nice, soft greenness to the bare branches at the end of autumn.


    This was what had attracted Wirrin into the Toravan wetlands when she was young. And with all the mint, as well as the cold, the insects were quiet and basically left Wirrin alone.


    After about an hour and a half, Wirrin got back up from her lovely spot and set off into the swamp again. She walked faster this time, not concentrating on the rumbling in the ground. She could still feel the little animals and the water and the roots of the plants, but that sense of hills and valleys buried under all this soft ground was gone, no longer distracting her from what she could see.


    Evening was pulling down when Wirrin spotted her first landmark. It was a rocky outcropping poking straight out of the ground, covered in moss. About as tall as she was. She had remembered it from when she¡¯d explored the wetland in her youth, and it was one of the only geographical features on the survey map she¡¯d been looking at.


    The rumbling of everything moving around seemed to intensify. Wirrin would have said it got louder, if it weren¡¯t so firmly in her own head. As it grew, she could feel the hard ground beneath the wetland again, a spike of it protruding in front of her.


    ¡®This was as far as we ever made it,¡¯ Mkaer rumbled through her bones. ¡®Naertral refused my help, when the so-called Gods came.¡¯


    As it never had before, Mkaer¡¯s voice brought that headache back with it, much milder than this morning.


    ¡®One of your mages made this?¡¯ Wirrin thought. She could feel the way it spiked through the hard dirt below, down deep to solid stone.


    ¡®A short fight,¡¯ Mkaer rumbled. ¡®That I lost.¡¯


    The rumbling and rattling started to fade. Wirrin concentrated on it. ¡®Why would Naertral refuse your help?¡¯


    The voice was no less deep, rumbling, thunderous, but it seemed strained. ¡®We were not¡­ firm allies,¡¯ Mkaer groaned and grumbled. ¡®We two were opposed in our power¡­ if not our interests by the time of the so-called Gods.¡¯


    Even with Wirrin concentrating, the rumbling faded. She let it go as the headache intensified again. She took deep breaths against the returning nausea and took her tea from her bag.


    Just that much was more concrete information about the Fiends than Wirrin had ever been able to find before. It had been a struggle even to know all six of their names.


    Despite how faint the rumbling was, Wirrin thought to it again. ¡®I doubt Naertral will oppose your presence this time.¡¯


    There was no response.


    There was enough light for Wirrin to keep going, but she set herself up in the lee of the outcropping, putting a cup of her tea on to reheat as she rested against the moss. It was pleasantly soft, and the first time since she¡¯d entered the wetland that the trees weren¡¯t dripping on her.


    Wirrin closed her eyes and felt the bugs lazily crawling through the moss and the rodents and lizards and snakes and fish waking up with dusk to hunt around for food. They were all keeping clear of her, so she didn¡¯t pay too much attention.


    The headache was already fading by the time the tea started to rattle in the cup. Wirrin just held the cup in her lap and stayed sitting with her eyes closed.


    Instead of concentrating on that feeling of the earth rumbling around her, Wirrin sat with her tea and let the feeling wash over her. She listened to the worms and bugs and animals and fish. She listened to the distant crocodiles.


    The headache continued to fade, slowly, as she sat there. The tea helped, when it was cool enough to start drinking. It started to come back, though, if Wirrin found herself concentrating on anything.


    She sat there until the tea was cold again before she banked her little fire and started cooking dinner: some pemmican, some dried vegetables, some rice.


    In the morning, Wirrin started heading south, deeper into the wetland. She swiftly left the crawling mint behind, wading into deeper mud and skirting streams and puddles.


    She tried to keep that open awareness of the rumbling in the ground, not focusing on it like she had the previous morning. It turned out to be a massive help, of course, in finding which parts of the wetland were more easily traversed. She couldn¡¯t avoid all the mud and water, but this sense of the ground made her travel much quicker.


    Even just a half-day into the wetland, it was much harder to find a good place to stop for lunch. But she had expected that, and she hadn¡¯t brought much food with her that needed to be cooked to be eaten, other than the rice.


    She sipped on her tea skin, though the headache thankfully hadn¡¯t returned, and ate cold meat and vegetables, seated in the low branches of a barren tree. She still got dripped on, despite there being no foliage above her.

 Building a Bridge

    Over the next two days, the range of Wirrin¡¯s new sensation through the ground expanded on its own, without her needing to concentrate. She could feel further and deeper, and those hills and valleys below the wetland were back.


    She wasn¡¯t struggling to keep track of what she was seeing, as she had on that first morning. The headache and nausea didn¡¯t return, though she kept sipping her tea so that it didn¡¯t go to waste.


    It was the morning of her fifth day in the wetlands when Wirrin came to her next landmark. This was a much less specific sort of landmark than that rocky outcropping had been. It was a slow, wide creek. She could see and feel the crocodiles floating like logs in the water.


    This creek was a problem. If she¡¯d been confident to ford the neck-deep water and continue as directly south as she could, she would reach her destination by the end of the day. But Wirrin had no confidence in her ability to deal with the crocodiles, with the buzzing, patchy, stagnant water.


    In her twenty years of exploring Nesalan, Wirrin had killed quite a number of predators who had thought she could serve for a meal or two. Compared to the number of wolves, cats, bears, birds, hyenas, snakes, and lizards, Wirrin had killed a single crocodile in her life. It had been hard and scary, more than she remembered any of the rest being.


    In the creek ahead, Wirrin could see and feel three crocodiles, floating lazily. It was late enough in the morning that she might hope they had eaten already and would leave her alone. But there was no kind of guarantee of that.


    Still Wirrin paused, several metres from the edge of the creek, and considered fording straight across. Though it had been a long time since she was here last, she knew that following the stream east to a much safer crossing and then back west would add an extra two days to her trip.


    Surely she wasn¡¯t in a hurry, or she¡¯d have left as soon as she had made her map. But, unlike two days spent with Bilar, Wirrin was not much enjoying the wetland. The insects were getting worse the deeper she got into the swamp, further from the mint and into wetter ground.


    If she could save herself four days, there and back, of travel, would that be worth the danger?


    But wasn¡¯t there a constant rumbling in the back of her head? Hadn¡¯t she already passed proof of what a mage of Mkaer should be able to do? Perhaps it would be tiring, and perhaps it would bring the headache back. She did still have a little tea.


    Wirrin closed her eyes and leaned against a tree, it rustled lightly and dripped onto her hair. She focused on her new sense of the ground. She ignored the wriggling worms and the skittering insects and the pleasant ripples of the stream.


    Beneath those hills and valleys of harder soil there ought to be stone, surely? Wirrin had lived in a mining town in the mountains for a lot of her life. She knew there was stone down there somewhere.


    The headache was already starting to come back when she felt what she thought must be stone. Deep, deep under the soil was something solid and big. Something that felt endless.


    ¡®You ought not strain yourself so soon,¡¯ Mkaer rumbled through the deep stone into her mind.


    ¡®Sin vecetir vana,¡¯ Wirrin thought back. She imagined a simple bridge into the endless-feeling stone, an arch with a central pillar. Her head almost split with the pain as she pulled at the shape she saw in the stone.


    That rumbling was deafening, and it drowned out Mkaer¡¯s voice, as that bridge-shaped piece of stone dug its way through the thick soil below the creek. It felt almost as if something popped in Wirrin¡¯s head, as if there were a release of pressure, but it didn¡¯t help the pain.


    The bridge shot up through the soft, water-logged soil of the wetland and dragged itself out of the water. Wirrin knew enough about engineering to pull the bridge too high and reach into the ground for that harder soil. She pulled it up like a geyser and packed it under the ends and centre pillar.


    Another pop in her head, another release of pressure and this time the pain did subside just a little as she felt something warm running down the side of her head. Wirrin lost her balance and slid to half lay, half sit at the base of the tree she¡¯d been leaning against.


    The rumbling of the world subsided and there was a moment of peace before the rumbling, clattering feeling of Mkaer¡¯s voice seemed to crush in against her skull. ¡®San opetic bisav ahir fegesav?¡¯


    Wirrin liked to think she was fluent in Estanen, and she was. But through the pain, the wobbling, the rumbling, the bleeding, she couldn¡¯t muster the energy to think of a reply in the same language.


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    ¡®I did not think you were taking in the view,¡¯ Wirrin thought back, and it hurt. ¡®I simply didn¡¯t care.¡¯


    ¡®Do you care, now?¡¯ Mkaer rumbled, quieter, softer.


    ¡®I don¡¯t regret,¡¯ Wirrin thought as she lay, panting on the ground.


    Mkaer¡¯s rumbling receded, too.


    It must have been at least an hour that Wirrin lay on the ground with her eyes closed. She was shivering, she felt like throwing up, her head throbbed. But the blood stopped flowing from her nose and left her ear.


    Eventually, she sat up against the tree and retrieved her tea skin. She sipped gingerly on the last of her tea, and soon enough the headache and the nausea were receding again. They didn¡¯t leave her, by any measure, but they were much improved.


    When, eventually, Wirrin opened her eyes, the world was too bright. But she had succeeded unequivocally. There was a smooth, arched, stone bridge across the creek, and the crocodiles had left.


    Moving slowly, Wirrin covered her right ear. She could still hear through her left, it seemed, so the bleeding didn¡¯t indicate any significant damage. The world swam as she moved to unsling her pack and retrieve more food. Her balance was still off.


    Slowly, gingerly, she ate until she stopped shivering, a much bigger meal than the breakfast she¡¯d already had. She listened to the animals and the bugs and the worms slowly return to the area and still didn¡¯t feel any crocodiles in the water.


    It had to have been more than two hours before she finally got up. She wavered and had to steady herself against the tree. But she kept her feet even as the headache washed over her again.


    When the lights had cleared from behind her eyes, Wirrin reached up into the tree for a long branch and pulled it down with a loud crack. It was straight enough, she supposed, to use for a walking stick until her balance returned.


    Carefully, slowly, Wirrin stood away from the tree, gently leaning on her stick. The world swam around her as she took slow steps, but the stick was enough to keep her balance down the bank to her marvellous bridge.


    Mkaer¡¯s shuddering, thundering voice returned. ¡®You could have simply compacted the dirt,¡¯ it rumbled. ¡®This was too much.¡¯


    Wirrin resisted the urge to shrug as she made her slow way across her bridge. ¡®That seems much less fun,¡¯ she thought.


    ¡®Much less dangerous, too,¡¯ Mkaer rumbled.


    ¡®I think you worry too much,¡¯ Wirrin thought, reaching the south bank of the creek. ¡®The world is a dangerous place, after all.¡¯


    ¡®Wirrin,¡¯ Mkaer rumbled. ¡®If you die, I will be lost again.¡¯


    Wirrin tried to remember if Mkaer had ever used her name before. ¡®Only for a few months,¡¯ she thought.


    Mkaer¡¯s rumbling did not recede quickly, but it said nothing else.


    Though Wirrin¡¯s condition improved as she walked, she was much slower than she¡¯d meant to be. She stopped for a long lunch as soon as she found a good spot for a fire, eating again much more than she had been for the past few weeks.


    She was honestly impressed with herself to be able to walk all the way through until night. With this new sense of the world around, she could have continued. But she was tired and the headache had not left her since that morning.


    Wirrin supposed she still wasn¡¯t in a hurry. It would be fine if she reached the ruin tomorrow. She brewed more willow bark and peppermint tea and ate most of the rest of her food. She would have to hunt on her way back, but she would worry about that when she needed to.


    Her head still throbbed and her stomach still clenched when she lay down to sleep in the dark night. But she didn¡¯t mind it in the slightest. Visions of that bridge played in her head when she closed her eyes.


    She smiled to herself at the thought that she was the first Fiend mage in five hundred years. Wasn¡¯t that something impressive?


    Wirrin felt much better when she woke in mid-morning. The headache and nausea was still there, waiting in the background, but as she sat up she found that the world no longer swam in her head.


    She drank more of her bitter tea, much stronger than the last batch, and cooked the rest of her food, leaving only dry rice to eat in her pack. When she got up, her balance stayed, but she decided to keep her walking stick just in case she needed it.


    There were a few more diversions on her path to the ruin that morning, but they were nothing compared to the one she had avoided with her bridge. It was only just coming up on noon when Wirrin felt people ahead, pacing and talking, through the ground.


    She stopped and tried to listen, but she could not hear them with her ears. When she tried to concentrate, her head ached, and it got her no closer to understanding what was being said.


    Wirrin debated stopping for lunch before she approached the people in the wetland, but plain rice didn¡¯t attract her. So she sipped her tea and leaned on her stick and wiped at the dried blood on her face as she continued.


    The range of her sense through the ground had expanded massively since yesterday, Wirrin realised only now. It was still several minutes before she could hear the voices with her own ears. Two men, one complaining and one sympathising.


    She was fairly good at moving quietly, but Wirrin made little effort to actually sneak up on what felt like a pair of people ahead. One of them noticed her before the other and stopped speaking, shushing the other one as he continued his complaints.


    The two men saw Wirrin at the same time she saw them. They stood in a round clearing, where the ground was solid and the grass tall. Both wore very familiar, red-dyed leathers and had very familiar faces.


    They had to be much older than the siblings had been, the older of the two looked perhaps fifty and the younger at least the same age as Wirrin. They both had the same, almond-shaped, large, monolidded eyes that the siblings had had, the same thin noses, the same pursed lips, and the same black hair.


    Wirrin was certain it wasn¡¯t simply regional resemblance. They had the same, condescending stare and their new leathers were dyed exactly as Wirrin remembered the siblings¡¯ clothes being. The younger of the two carried a thin sword at his hip, longer than the one Wirrin had taken from Leran.


    ¡®Oh,¡¯ said Wirrin. ¡®Fellow explorers.¡¯


    ¡®How fortuitous,¡¯ Mkaer rumbled. ¡®Sacrifices for Naertral.¡¯

 A meeting of explorers

    ¡®Are you bleeding from the ear?¡¯ was the first thing the older of the two men said.


    Wirrin dug in her ear and came away with blood and earwax. ¡®I think something bit me in my sleep,¡¯ she said, leaning down to wipe her finger on the grass. ¡®I thought the insects would be asleep this time of year.¡¯


    ¡®What are you doing here?¡¯ the younger of the two men asked.


    There was something big and solid in the ground beneath Wirrin¡¯s feet. She didn¡¯t mention it. ¡®That¡¯s a bit rude, don¡¯t you think?¡¯ Wirrin said, straightening her back. ¡®If you must know, when I looked at the survey map in the library, this seemed the likeliest place to set up camp.¡¯


    The older of the two relaxed slightly. ¡®Forgive my cousin,¡¯ he said. ¡®It¡¯s been quite a trek to get here. My name is Ayan, this is my cousin Veyoc.¡¯


    Wirrin nodded and didn¡¯t offer her hands. ¡®A pleasure, I¡¯m sure. I¡¯m Wirrin.¡¯ She knew for certain that the siblings had never written home about her. They hadn¡¯t so much as drafted a letter by the time she¡¯d had to kill them.


    Veyoc looked at Ayan for a moment and relaxed his shoulders slightly. ¡®A pleasure, Wirrin,¡¯ he said. ¡®I apologise for my harsh tone. As my cousin said, it was quite a trek to reach this spot.¡¯


    Wirrin nodded. ¡®Basavan va toc vitan, excuse my accent,¡¯ Wirrin said. ¡®If you don¡¯t mind my asking, though, what are you two doing here?¡¯


    Ayan relaxed even further, losing a lot of his straight-backed posture and the sense that he was looking down his nose at Wirrin. ¡®A fair question,¡¯ he said.


    Veyoc looked at him. ¡®Va lin epoulvoc?¡¯


    ¡®I¡¯ve no interesting business,¡¯ Wirrin said. ¡®Simply curiosity.¡¯


    Ayan gestured vaguely at Wirrin. ¡®It won¡¯t be a secret for very long,¡¯ he said. ¡®Is your curiosity urgent, Wirrin?¡¯


    Wirrin smiled. ¡®I had meant to stay perhaps two weeks,¡¯ she said. ¡®Until the water starts to freeze. And then I¡¯ll head further north.¡¯


    Ayan and Veyoc stared at each other for a second before Ayan spoke again. ¡®You could say that we¡¯re curious, too,¡¯ he said. ¡®Researchers, more than adventurers. A friend at the library thought this a likely place to find some old ruins.¡¯


    ¡®Oh that is interesting,¡¯ Wirrin said. ¡®It does seem as likely a place as any I¡¯ve passed getting here. Solid ground so far into the wetland.¡¯


    Ayan looked away from his cousin and nodded. ¡®Precisely,¡¯ he said. ¡®There was some other evidence our friend found, also.¡¯


    Wirrin nodded back. ¡®I won¡¯t pry,¡¯ she said. As if it had just now caught her eye, Wirrin crouched by a stone near her feet. It was just as she remembered, cracked and smooth, with the barest remains of something carved into it.


    ¡®Oh,¡¯ Wirrin said. ¡®That is quite interesting.¡¯


    Ayan¡¯s eyes flicked to Veyoc. ¡®Perhaps,¡¯ he said. ¡®If you¡¯re a curious sort, you wouldn¡¯t mind helping us excavate?¡¯


    Both of them carried full-sized spades on their packs, along with brushes and trowels and other tools for excavating ruins. They were, all around, much better supplied than the siblings had been.


    Veyoc was frowning, severely.


    ¡®I wouldn¡¯t want to intrude, if you wished for this to be a¡­ family effort,¡¯ Wirrin said. ¡®But I certainly am curious. And I promise you I wouldn¡¯t want any of the credit if you do find something.¡¯


    Ayan did that wave at Wirrin again, Veyoc didn¡¯t stop frowning.


    ¡®In that case, perhaps you¡¯d join us for lunch,¡¯ Ayan said. ¡®I don¡¯t mean to brag, but I¡¯m quite the cook.¡¯


    Wirrin smiled wide, much more genuine than any of her polite smiles up to this point. ¡®I would greatly appreciate it,¡¯ she said. ¡®Though I don¡¯t have much more than rice and spices to contribute.¡¯


    Ayan smiled back. ¡®That¡¯s quite alright, though I hope you¡¯ve not run out of food.¡¯


    Wirrin shrugged. ¡®Only with breakfast,¡¯ she said. ¡®That¡¯s why I¡¯ve brought my hunting bow, you see. I thought it would be a nice experience to hunt in the wetland.¡¯


    Ayan and Wirrin chattered inanely as the three of them cleared some of the tall grass and built up a fire. She complained of the river that had added two days to her hike down here, he complained of the treacherous water that he still couldn¡¯t get out of his boots. Veyoc was quiet, but for the odd nods and noises of agreement when Ayan tried to rope him into the conversation.


    The two of them had brought a good deal more food than Wirrin had: dried fish and mutton, vegetables, rice, and even some fruit. They had brought herbs of their own, but Wirrin volunteered hers for the meal, to contribute.


    As they sat and ate, Veyoc started to relax as Wirrin told some stories of her adventures in the mountains. It seemed like, of the two men, he was the one more used to travelling and exploring. Not thinking about it too much, Wirrin mentioned that she had been exploring the Ogesiv mountains recently.


    ¡®You know,¡¯ Ayan said. ¡®My niece and two nephews recently travelled south to explore the mountains around Tellan.¡¯


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    ¡®Oh,¡¯ Wirrin said, quite sure her amiable demeanour didn¡¯t shift at all. ¡®They¡¯re very pleasant mountains, I¡¯ve found. Though quite difficult this time of year.¡¯


    ¡®Perhaps you spotted them?¡¯ Ayan said. ¡®In your travels.¡¯


    Wirrin frowned. ¡®I couldn¡¯t say if I did,¡¯ she said. ¡®I¡¯ve passed quite a lot of people on my way north. Perhaps if you gave me some more details, I could tell you for certain.¡¯


    ¡®What was it, three months ago?¡¯ Ayan said, looking at Veyoc.


    ¡®Closer to four,¡¯ Veyoc said. ¡®Much younger than us two¡¯ he gave Ayan a look ¡®but wearing much the same clothes I suspect.¡¯


    Wirrin frowned some more. ¡®I don¡¯t believe I¡¯ve seen anyone like that,¡¯ she said. ¡®I passed through Tellan about a month ago, now. I was coming from Ousolen, in the valley.¡¯


    ¡®Oh.¡¯ Veyoc nodded a few times. ¡®You were in the Sovet mountains?¡¯


    Wirrin wobbled her head at him. ¡®Down there we still call them Ogesiv, from Ousolen up to Toravan.¡¯


    Veyoc quickly explained the confusion to Ayan.


    ¡®Oh, so there¡¯s very little chance you saw them,¡¯ Ayan said. ¡®A shame. Their father told them they should wait until spring to travel south, but they were very excited.¡¯


    Wirrin nodded along. ¡®Were they looking for some likely ruins as well? I don¡¯t recall any place in the Ogesiv that I would call likely, myself.¡¯


    ¡®Their father had found some old maps with a travelling bookseller,¡¯ Veyoc said. ¡®They were all quite certain they¡¯d found a likely spot.¡¯


    Wirrin pulled her tea skin from her pack and sipped it. ¡®Sounds like you were less convinced, Veyoc.¡¯


    Veyoc shrugged. ¡®It was worth investigating,¡¯ he said. ¡®But we all agreed with their father, that they should wait until spring.¡¯


    Wirrin nodded a few times. ¡®As I said, the mountains are very hard this time of year. But we¡¯re all excitable when we¡¯re young, I suppose.¡¯ She touched the scar under her right eye. ¡®I was nearly trapped in an avalanche in my youth, being too excitable in the mountains.¡¯


    Ayan and Veyoc frowned. ¡®I do hope they¡¯re alright,¡¯ Ayan said. ¡®They¡¯re not as experienced at this sort of thing as even I am.¡¯


    Wirrin nodded. ¡®Unfortunately I have no plans to go back south until at least spring, or I¡¯d offer to keep an eye out for them.¡¯


    ¡®I appreciate the thought, Wirrin,¡¯ Ayan said. ¡®Not much else that can be done, unfortunately.¡¯


    They were all quiet for a few moments. Wirrin looked at her crossed legs and concentrated on the ground. It was easy to feel that there was something solid below, something solid in the middle of the fractured remains of walls and arches.


    She had to concentrate to be able to get any detailed information, though. And the little pause to ponder the possible situation of the siblings gave her enough time to concentrate.


    What she suspected was another statue, though quite a different shape to Mkaer¡¯s, was at least fifteen metres down. None of the surrounding structure had held back the dirt in such a way as to make the digging easier.


    ¡®You could simply raise it, as you raised the bridge,¡¯ Mkaer rumbled.


    ¡®And then get immediately killed by these two,¡¯ Wirrin thought.


    ¡®Perhaps you could stab them first, not quite enough to kill, and then raise Naertral,¡¯ Mkaer rumbled. ¡®It seems you prioritise speed over safety, after all.¡¯


    ¡®Va toc vitan,¡¯ Wirrin thought back.


    ¡®Va lin vitan?¡¯ Mkaer hummed.


    Ayan huffed. ¡®Well, yes,¡¯ he said. ¡®Not much we can do now, is there?¡¯


    Veyoc sighed. ¡®Quite right.¡¯


    After another moment of thought, Ayan huffed again. ¡®Wirrin, I don¡¯t suppose you brought a spade with you? We don¡¯t have a spare.¡¯


    Wirrin shook her head, but opened her pack to dig out her folding snow shovel. ¡®The closest I have is this, I¡¯m afraid.¡¯ Folded open, it was longer than the spades, but Wirrin knew from experience that it was quite flimsy compared to anything with a solid handle.


    Veyoc pressed his lips together, but shrugged. ¡®Certainly better than nothing,¡¯ he said.


    ¡®Perhaps if the two of us dig,¡¯ Ayan suggested. ¡®You can heave the dirt away?¡¯


    Wirrin nodded. ¡®That¡¯s agreeable,¡¯ she said. ¡®And I¡¯m sure I wouldn¡¯t mind switching the roles from time to time.¡¯


    ¡®It¡¯s a shame you don¡¯t seem to have brought any mountaineering equipment,¡¯ Vayok said. ¡®A pick might come in handy.¡¯


    ¡®They¡¯re not very good for digging, I assure you,¡¯ Wirrin said.


    The three of them spent a little while deciding where best to start digging. They settled on the widest space between two of the stones, starting toward the edge of the little clearing so that they could dig diagonally down.


    It would still need to be fairly steep angle, Wirrin knew, to actually arrive at the base of the statue, but she obviously wasn¡¯t going to say anything.


    They started with digging out the long grass, Ayan and Veyoc breaking up the ground with the spades and Wirrin shovelling it out onto the wetter, lower ground to the side of the clearing.


    Unlike when the siblings had been clearing the room at the top of the mountain Wirrin had called Telposs, Ayan and Veyoc weren¡¯t in any particular hurry. They worked slowly and gently, chatting away all the while about other ruins they had seen, other interests of theirs.


    Ayan ended up explaining that the siblings¡¯ father, whose name turned out to be Heran, was pretty much the head of the whole extended family. He and his parents had managed to make quite a lot of money in barging goods up the Boclas river. Most of the cousins, siblings, nieces, and nephews relied on his money.


    Heran was no miser, Veyoc hurried to assure Wirrin. And most of the family had the same sorts of interests. And at least none of them were lazy, Ayan said.


    Wirrin and Veyoc talked more about their various explorations around Nesalan. Both of them had, at various points, found ruins of their own. Though Veyoc said that if they found one here, it would be the first he could be a proper discoverer of.


    They took a few breaks, trading the shovel between them, before they stopped in late afternoon to rest and eat and relax. Wirrin, politely insisting that she ought to bring something to the meal, meandered away from the little camp in the clearing to shoot a goose for dinner.


    ¡®It¡¯s hard work,¡¯ Ayan smiled, rubbing at his shoulders. ¡®I don¡¯t think I¡¯ve worked this hard in years.¡¯


    ¡®Quite a number of years,¡¯ Veyoc smiled.


    ¡®I¡¯m not ten years older than you two whipper-snappers,¡¯ Ayan complained. ¡®I¡¯m still in the prime of my youth.¡¯


    Wirrin chuckled as she plucked the goose. ¡®It¡¯s nice to be exploring with actual adults,¡¯ she ruminated. ¡®Everyone was so young on my way up here.¡¯


    Veyoc nodded. ¡®All the kids want to see the world,¡¯ he said. ¡®Travel on boats and barges and caravans. They¡¯re not really explorers, though, are they?¡¯


    ¡®I was never much of a traveller, when I was young,¡¯ Ayan said. ¡®I liked the library far too much. It¡¯s only now that I¡¯m older and a little wiser than I feel any need to see the world.¡¯


    ¡®That¡¯s the trouble,¡¯ Veyoc said. ¡®All these travellers and traders. They don¡¯t want to explore. They may as well read picture books.¡¯


    ¡®It¡¯s better exercise, at least,¡¯ Wirrin said.


    ¡®Says the only one not completely exhausted by a half day of digging,¡¯ Veyoc grinned. ¡®You must never stop exercising, Wirrin.¡¯


    Wirrin shook her head, smiling. ¡®That¡¯s the difference between an explorer and a traveller, I think,¡¯ she said. ¡®I walk all day and work on barges and farms and such, certainly, but I¡¯m in no hurry. I can stop to swim in rivers and watch the birds if I like.¡¯


    ¡®The difference between a real explorer and a researcher, I expect,¡¯ Ayan said. ¡®I spend weeks or months reading books and maps before my outings, it seems like you simply walk into the wilderness and see if something eventuates.¡¯


    Wirrin smiled. ¡®That¡¯d be it, I expect.¡¯

 A great deal of digging

    Ayan was true to his word, and the digging continued to be leisurely. Even Veyoc got puffed fairly quickly compared to Wirrin. She didn¡¯t mind, though, she was still in no hurry.


    They had to pause most of the next morning to cut some saplings for supports to keep the walls of the emerging tunnel from flooding in on the excavation. The tunnel face was just starting to get taller than the three of them, but Ayan and Veyoc were optimistic that they wouldn¡¯t be digging so very much further.


    Wirrin, of course, knew better.


    That day they dug from lunch till dusk, pushing the tunnel face another three metres across the clearing. They were just past half way, a tunnel more like a trench reaching about eight metres, about three metres deep. It didn¡¯t feel like much progress for how sore Wirrin¡¯s arms were.


    As Veyoc cooked, Ayan lit a lantern and held it above the tunnel for several moments. ¡®I think we need to dig steeper,¡¯ he said, to no one in particular. ¡®While I don¡¯t know precisely where the ruins are, we¡¯ve found the middle of the clearing with no evidence of it.¡¯


    ¡®I don¡¯t know much about wetlands,¡¯ Wirrin admitted, coming to stand beside Ayan. ¡®But if it¡¯s a Gods¡¯ War ruin, it will have been sinking for five hundred years, no?¡¯


    ¡®You said you¡¯d found some ruins in your time, Wirrin,¡¯ Ayan said. ¡®Were they so deep?¡¯


    ¡®I found them in the mountains,¡¯ Wirrin said. ¡®They had sunk some, but mostly been worn away by the snow. The ground is much harder in the mountains.¡¯


    Ayan nodded. ¡®I could not say how deep it may have sunk. But it would slow and then stop, not sink constantly for five hundred years.¡¯


    ¡®Not to mention this space is not so soft,¡¯ Veyoc called over.


    ¡®In the mountains, ruins get buried more by landslides than time,¡¯ Wirrin mused, wandering over to one of the stones. ¡®Would this have been washed away, or have sunk?¡¯


    Ayan licked his lips and scrunched his face. ¡®I expect it would have sunk much more than washed away.¡¯


    Wirrin walked back over to the end of the tunnel. ¡®Well, I suggest we change direction,¡¯ she said, pointing back to the stone. ¡®Curve around to that stone and see if it¡¯s above anything, or attached to anything.¡¯


    Ayan nodded a few times. ¡®You¡¯re quite clever, Wirrin,¡¯ he said. ¡®I think that is quite a good notion. Veyoc?¡¯


    Veyoc nodded. ¡®Any plan is better than no plan.¡¯


    They talked a little into the dark evening, mostly Wirrin and Veyoc listening to Ayan speculate about swamps and the rate at which things might sink. Of course it would be different if there were a floor, he pointed out, then went quiet.


    The next morning started with making the existing slope steeper. Then they started to curve toward the wall Wirrin knew was about five metres underground. They hadn¡¯t quite reached it by the time they stopped for lunch, but it seemed to Wirrin that they¡¯d made much more progress than they had the previous day.


    It was mid-afternoon when they reached the remains of the wall. Ayan produced a trowel to carefully excavate the stones as Wirrin and Veyoc dug the ramp to follow the curve of the wall.


    ¡®Come and look,¡¯ Ayan said, maybe half an hour later.


    Wirrin and Veyoc were sitting in the grass above, taking a break and watching Ayan¡¯s excavation efforts.


    ¡®It looks to me like water,¡¯ Ayan said, once Wirrin and Veyoc had joined him. He was tracing faint divots in the wall that could have been carvings or could have been simply erosion.


    If Wirrin assumed that the etchings in the wall were deliberate carvings, she could just about see what Ayan meant. Split between quite rounded bricks was something of a roiling, wavy pattern of parallel lines.


    ¡®That makes sense,¡¯ Veyoc said, then tensed up his whole body as if he¡¯d realised that he shouldn¡¯t finish that thought in front of Wirrin.


    ¡®I suppose it does,¡¯ Wirrin mused. ¡®If it¡¯s a carving and not just water damage, it doesn¡¯t look like the ocean. It could be rivers, or streams, or the like. The sort of thing I imagine the old Tovant would have carved.¡¯


    Veyoc unclenched and nodded a little too quickly. ¡®Which is what we were hoping to find,¡¯ he said, voice strained.


    ¡®Expecting to find, I should say,¡¯ Ayan said, much more relaxed. ¡®I¡¯ve read that people used to frequent this area, before the War.¡¯


    Wirrin nodded along. ¡®It¡¯s the same in the mountains around Sovet van Sellanen. Most of the smaller villages were abandoned during the War, a lot of them disappeared under the snow or the odd avalanche.¡¯


    Veyoc nodded too much again.


    Ayan considered the wall a few moments longer. ¡®Do you two need more rest, or shall we continue digging?¡¯


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    They kept on digging for about another hour before stopping early to go out into the wetland and cut more saplings and branches for bracing. They had quite the pile when they stopped for the night.


    Late the next afternoon, Wirrin and Ayan were digging, and Veyoc was shovelling, when they reached the half-broken remains of an old arch. They were nearly ten metres deep, by now, and the slope had reached nearly twenty-five metres from where they¡¯d started it.


    They¡¯d cut stairs into the side of the slope in a couple of places to make the shovelling easier. The ground was still too soft to dig an actual tunnel and shovelling was getting more and more difficult the deeper the ramp got.


    ¡®Wirrin, look at this,¡¯ Ayan said, crouching by the protruding stones. ¡®I think you¡¯ll agree this is certainly carving, not simply wear.¡¯


    Wirrin smiled to herself. The idea that this academic ruin hunter wanted to prove that they¡¯d found something interesting was quite funny. Dutifully, she crouched beside Ayan and examined the stone.


    Ayan was certainly right. Despite time and water and mud, carvings were still clear on the slightly curved, mostly round stone. The stone itself was about half a metre tall and about the same across and carving was evident all around it.


    Wirrin twisted her whole body to try to follow the images, though they were quite difficult to make out. They looked somewhere between barren trees and rotting animals. Much less straight-forward than the carvings on Mkaer¡¯s mountain had been. Images of decay were blended together and, even smoothed by centuries of submersion, still formed a deathly tableau.


    ¡®You¡¯re quite right, Ayan,¡¯ Wirrin said. ¡®Not to mention very impressive carving.¡¯


    Veyoc squeezed himself in to take a look. Wirrin got up to give him some space and kept up the digging until she¡¯d found the other side of the arch, which was a stone taller.


    The higher stone was carved similarly to the wall: wavy, parallel lines. But the carvings were more intricate, here, and it seemed clear from worn plants and what might have been animals that the top line was water and the bottom was soil. The stone under that was nearly identical to its partner on the other side of the arch.


    ¡®Oh, amazing.¡¯ Ayan came over to look at the stones Wirrin had uncovered. ¡®And that would mean¡­¡¯ He looked back up the ramp to the edge of where they¡¯d excavated part of the wall.


    ¡®We don¡¯t have the people for it, Ayan,¡¯ Veyoc said. ¡®Let us find the floor and come back with more people.¡¯


    ¡®Not that I object,¡¯ Wirrin said. ¡®But why find the floor first and not go and fetch more diggers now?¡¯


    Ayan and Veyoc looked at one another for a moment.


    ¡®If someone else were to find it before we return,¡¯ Ayan hurried to say. ¡®I doubt we would have enough evidence for an official claim without a more complete record of what¡¯s here.¡¯


    ¡®The alternative is digging out one of the walls completely,¡¯ Veyoc added, smoothly. ¡®Which would be quite a struggle with only the three of us.¡¯


    Wirrin nodded along. ¡®Ah, that makes sense,¡¯ she said. ¡®Though I doubt anyone will find it in the next two weeks.¡¯


    Ayan held up a finger. ¡®It¡¯s not a risk I wish to take,¡¯ he said, at a normal pace. ¡®It¡¯s not like the outpost you mentioned, where most of it was already above ground to be recorded.¡¯


    ¡®Quite right,¡¯ Wirrin said. ¡®I¡¯ll mention that I would be quite happy to mind the place for you, if you did want to go back to Esbolva for more diggers. But I¡¯m just as happy to keep digging right now.¡¯


    Ayan put a hand on Wirrin¡¯s shoulder. ¡®I do appreciate that, Wirrin,¡¯ he said. ¡®But you recall what I said about our cousin Heran? He would want just as much proof.¡¯


    ¡®Oh.¡¯ Wirrin nodded several times and put a hand over Ayan¡¯s. ¡®Of course. I hadn¡¯t thought of that. Well, might as well keep digging, in that case.¡¯


    Ayan smiled wide. ¡®We do appreciate all this help, Wirrin,¡¯ he said. ¡®At the very least, we¡¯ll make sure Heran pays you for all this work, if you don¡¯t want official recognition.¡¯


    Wirrin smiled back. ¡®I¡¯ll keep saying it, Ayan. I¡¯m curious and I¡¯m not busy.¡¯


    ¡®At the very least, we¡¯ll treat you to a nice meal when we all get back to Esbolva,¡¯ Veyoc said. ¡®Something to show our appreciation.¡¯


    Wirrin clapped the hand on her shoulder and hefted one of the spades. ¡®That¡¯s an offer I¡¯ll gladly accept.¡¯


    They all got back to digging, chattering happily about what sort of meal they would share when they got back to Esbolva. Wirrin was starting to genuinely wonder if these two knew how to awaken Naertral when they eventually unearthed the statue.


    Mid-morning, a day later, they reached the next stretch of wall. A stone nearly hit Ayan as it fell from the dirt above and they all stopped digging. They had to cut yet more braces and props to wedge the wall upright, so that removing the dirt in front of it didn¡¯t bring it crashing down.


    The second stretch of wall as about as tall as the first, except that they were just about fifteen metres deep now, and the wall protruded some eleven metres from the ramp, rather than only about one and a half.


    From what little they had seen of the first wall, this second one seemed to have at least a very similar design. Near the top were roiling, waving, parallel lines. Ayan seemed to have been right that they represented water, as below the waterline were fish and snakes and eels and crocodiles, all in various states of decomposition, but with lines around them as if they were still in motion.


    The stones, which Wirrin expected had once been basically square, were nearly round after the centuries of erosion, and any mortar that had once held the wall together was long gone.


    It took the rest of the day and part of the next morning to finish uncovering the wall and bracing it enough that no more stones fell. Another stone had almost fallen on Ayan in the late afternoon.


    The rest of the next day was taken up with digging through the start of the ramp that had gone through the middle of the curved space. They replaced it with stairs, but dealing with all the cascading dirt and having to go up and down to move the supports took far longer than digging that metre and a half should have done.


    All of them could feel it, from the moment they got up in the morning. This would be the last day of digging. The excavation site was a bit of a mess after the previous day, but there was nothing in their way for the next half of the circumference.


    And besides, Wirrin could feel they were barely more than three metres from the floor beneath. She wondered if she would miss this digging, this spending time with strangers in the wetlands, the way she still occasionally thought of the siblings and her month and a half with them in the mountains.


    They got to it with gusto. The stairs they¡¯d dug out of the ramp yesterday made shovelling much easier than it had been for at least three days. The dirt cascaded in controlled waves from the face of the ramp.


    It was such good progress that they almost resisted stopping for lunch as noon rolled overhead. But all three of them were panting and sweating in the humid cold. Ayan¡¯s arms were visibly shaking.


    As Wirrin lay in the grass, taking deep breaths and staring up at the clouds that thankfully hadn¡¯t rained on them this whole week, Mkaer¡¯s rumbling started up. It grew and grew in the back of her head.


    ¡®Think how fast you could have done this,¡¯ Mkaer rumbled. ¡®If you¡¯d simply used my power.¡¯


    Wirrin sighed. ¡®You didn¡¯t want me to die,¡¯ she thought. ¡®I¡¯m not dead.¡¯

 The temple floor

    The floor of Naertral¡¯s temple was smooth and uneven. Like the walls, once square stones had been eroded by time submerged in the swamp. Like the walls, the pavers were carved with intricate images of animals in various stages of decay, that parallel water tracing around and between then, neatly separating aquatic from terrestrial.


    It was less than an hour since Wirrin, Ayan, and Veyoc had eaten a quick lunch and climbed down into their pit. Ayan was sweating, red, and still shaking.


    ¡®We¡­¡¯ Ayan didn¡¯t have the energy to finish the thought. He simply knelt on the floor and started tracing the images with his fingers.


    Veyoc let out a massive sigh and dropped his spade with a loud clang. ¡®Finally.¡¯


    Wirrin leaned on her shovel and took deep breaths.


    For at least a minute, the three of them stayed there, panting.


    Ayan looked around and up the ramp, then pointed to the statue Wirrin still felt in the dirt. ¡®It must be that way, surely?¡¯


    Wirrin picked up Veyoc¡¯s dropped spade. ¡®Might as well see it then, I suppose.¡¯


    She jammed the spade into the dirt and dug at the wall until with a rushing, shushing sort of noise, it started to collapse over her. The statue was still several metres of dirt away from them.


    Veyoc, with a sigh, grabbed the shovel and started pushing dirt out of the way. Slowly, Ayan stood up and took the other spade. He joined Wirrin in digging through the soft dirt toward the statue.


    The two diggers pulled far too much dirt, far too quickly, for Veyoc to keep up with. He was using the spade more like a broom, just trying to get the dirt out of the way before more piled up.


    Covered in dirt, surrounded by dirt, it took only a few minutes for Wirrin and Ayan to dig their way to the statue of Naertral.


    Unlike Mkaer¡¯s statue, Naertral looked something like Wirrin expected from the carvings all around. Not exactly, but not as unlikely what she had half-expected as Mkaer had.


    Naertral¡¯s statue crouched on a plinth, a body of almost human proportions posed like a frog about to leap, with long webbed fingers and toes. Like a mantle over the figures shoulders were scales, like the shoulders of a lizard. The scaled shoulders extended into a long neck like a snake¡¯s body that flared into a cobra¡¯s crest, disintegrating to a snake¡¯s skull for a head.


    A stone broke with a crunch just behind Wirrin and she turned to face Ayan as Veyoc tripped between them and just managed to catch himself before he bashed his head into the plinth of the statue.


    In one hand, Veyoc held his sword.


    ¡®Are we back to being rude, then?¡¯ she asked, breathing heavy. That headache was coming back after a week of absence.


    Veyoc pushed himself up, trying to turn toward Wirrin. The stone that had cracked under him closed around his ankle and he slipped and fell against the statue¡¯s base again with a groan.


    ¡®It¡¯s the only way we¡¯ve found to bring the Fiends back,¡¯ Ayan puffed, trying to help Veyoc pull his foot from the broken stone.


    ¡®And why would you want to do that?¡¯ Wirrin asked. ¡®The Fiends are evil and their banishment was for the good of us all.¡¯ She absolutely didn¡¯t sell the feeling in the words.


    ¡®The Church controls everything,¡¯ Veyoc spat through gritted teeth. ¡®How is anyone supposed to have any power when they¡¯re everywhere?¡¯


    Mkaer was rumbling in the back of Wirrin¡¯s head, but at least it seemed to trust her to handle this herself.


    Wirrin drew her knife and stepped into Veyoc, grabbing the wrist that held the sword and pressing the knife into his armpit. ¡®Tell me, Ayan,¡¯ she said, looking over Veyoc¡¯s shoulder. ¡®Does the Church control shipping, perhaps?¡¯


    Ayan¡¯s whole face screwed up. ¡®Of course it does, Wirrin,¡¯ he said. ¡®But that hardly matters, does it? The Church controls everything. It controls knowledge so tightly you can only learn the Fiends names by tracking down the right people.¡¯


    Wirrin looked at Veyoc, this time. ¡®Tell me, Veyoc,¡¯ she said. ¡®Does the Church control shipping?¡¯


    He stared back, teeth gritted. Wirrin pressed the knife into his armpit and his whole body twisted, pulling on his trapped ankle, to try to stay away from the blade. His sturdy, dyed leathers wouldn¡¯t do him any good if he couldn¡¯t stay out of the way.


    ¡®Fine,¡¯ Veyoc shouted, reaching the end of his movement. ¡®Heran thinks that if we can awaken a Fiend, he¡¯ll be able to get out of paying the taxes on his shipping.¡¯


    Wirrin stabbed him in the side of the neck, pulling her knife around to pour his blood over the plinth of Naertral¡¯s statue. She took the sword from his limp hands.


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    Ayan turned and ran for the stairs. The walls of the stairs collapsed, blocking his way. ¡®If I let you live, Ayan, would you tell Heran about this?¡¯ Wirrin asked.


    Ayan scrambled at the dirt, which hardened into solid clay under his grasp.


    ¡®You¡­¡¯ Ayan stopped and turned. ¡®You¡¯ve found Mkaer¡­ in the mountains.¡¯ He stared at Wirrin for several seconds, brows mildly furrowed. ¡®You killed my cousin¡¯s children, did you?¡¯


    ¡®They did try to kill me,¡¯ Wirrin said. ¡®Much as your cousin just did.¡¯


    Ayan nodded. ¡®I swear to you I will not breathe a word of this to Heran.¡¯


    Wirrin dropped Veyoc¡¯s sword and stepped away from the altar, where Veyoc¡¯s blood was running up the stone into the scales of the cobra. ¡®Then touch the statue,¡¯ Wirrin said. ¡®Awaken Naertral.¡¯


    Just as Ayan was reaching out to touch the statue and Wirrin had started to move, Mkaer finally spoke. ¡®This is smart, Wirrin,¡¯ it rumbled. ¡®We will need new mages for each Fiend.¡¯


    Wirrin stabbed Ayan in the back of the head, pressing his forehead to the plinth of the statue. ¡®I wish you¡¯d said something a moment earlier,¡¯ she said aloud.


    Then she reached out to touch the arm of the human body. As the blood poured out of Ayan and Veyoc, it seemed to fill the statue. The human body of the statue filled in with tan, blushed skin before the colour bled into the scales. The cobra¡¯s scales filled in with glittering colour.


    The only acknowledgement of what a king cobra was supposed to look like were lighter stripes along the length of the statue¡¯s coils. Rather than the brown and cream of any cobra Wirrin had ever seen, the neck filled in with glittering, multicoloured scales, each one subtly different. Like the eyes of Mkaer¡¯s statue, Wirrin couldn¡¯t help the feeling that she¡¯d seen all these colours before somewhere. Somewhere in the skeletal mouth was a bright red tongue.


    And then the statue lashed out and bit her.


    It didn¡¯t hurt. It didn¡¯t draw blood. But Wirrin could feel something hot and nauseous spreading through her body from the bite near her shoulder. Something unpleasant and sweating. Something dripping and bubbling and slithering.


    ¡®Oh, oh,¡¯ a voice like swishing water, like swimming crocodiles, sounded in Wirrin¡¯s head. ¡®Am I awakened? A stranger in my swamp?¡¯


    Wirrin kept her hand on the statue, despite the shivering that spread with the sweating nausea. ¡®You are awakened, Naertral,¡¯ she said aloud. ¡®I am not so much a stranger to your swamp.¡¯


    ¡®You stink of the mountains,¡¯ Naertral swished and dripped in her mind. ¡®You are a stranger here. You are¡­ something very unpleasant and strange.¡¯


    Wirrin smiled vacantly. ¡®No one¡¯s said that since my mother died.¡¯


    ¡®Naertral,¡¯ Mkaer¡¯s voice boomed in Wirrin¡¯s head. ¡®We are awoken.¡¯


    Naertral¡¯s power dripped and burbled and shushed in Wirrin¡¯s head. ¡®How?¡¯


    Wirrin took a deep breath through her nose. ¡®Mkaer didn¡¯t tell me I needed someone else to wake you,¡¯ she said. ¡®So here we all are.¡¯


    Naertral rushed and snapped and grumbled. ¡®How could you do this? How could you trap me here with¡­ with the filthy Mountain?¡¯


    Wirrin chuckled breathily. ¡®I think you¡¯ll both find that you¡¯re trapped here with me.¡¯ She took a deep breath and the sweating, shivering nausea contracted toward her stomach. Another deep breath and it pushed up her throat.


    Wirrin spat on the flagstones and her spit sizzled.


    ¡®Oh, my, my,¡¯ Naertral burbled. ¡®Oh is that so?¡¯


    ¡®She¡¯s the only one,¡¯ Mkaer rumbled. ¡®No one else has found my statue. No one else has found yours.¡¯


    Naertral¡¯s laugh was like the howling of wind, like the crashing of water down from the mountains. ¡®Oh, that¡¯s wonderous. That¡¯s spectacular. I don¡¯t care for being trapped here with you, filthy Mountain, but I¡¯ll gladly be trapped here with someone who can trap us.¡¯


    Wirrin rolled her shoulder, where the cobra had bitten her. But there wasn¡¯t even a mark in the leather. It seemed as if nothing at all had happened. Her spit still sizzled on the ground.


    ¡®Answer me something, Fiend of Poison,¡¯ Wirrin said. ¡®Do you want to help someone avoid paying taxes on their shipping business?¡¯


    ¡®I care little what my power is used for,¡¯ Naertral hissed. ¡®I don¡¯t have such high standards as the filthy Mountain.¡¯


    ¡®Tell me, Poison,¡¯ Maker rumbled. ¡®Do you wish to be banished again by the so-called Gods?¡¯


    Wirrin almost spit compulsively at the question. Naertral¡¯s hissing, dripping, burbling turned again to howling winds and snapping jaws and crashing water. ¡®Of course I wish to stay awake, Mountain.¡¯


    ¡®If this Heran had succeeded in waking you, had succeeded in wielding you in aid of fortune, you would have been banished.¡¯


    ¡®I wonder if the siblings were planning the same thing with you, Mkaer,¡¯ Wirrin said, looking around the excavation. All the dirt was still here, after all.


    ¡®Could you have refused an awakening hand, Mountain?¡¯ Naertral hissed. ¡®Could you have stayed asleep for your morals?¡¯


    ¡®I do not think I could have,¡¯ Mkaer rumbled. ¡®I doubt I could have resisted being awakened.¡¯


    ¡®And what other options would you have had?¡¯ Wirrin asked, collapsing the wall of the ramp back into stairs. ¡®If only this family knew how to reach you.¡¯


    ¡®Unlike you and your revolutionaries?¡¯ Mkaer grumbled.


    ¡®Oh, I like the sound of revolutionaries,¡¯ Naertral burbled.


    ¡®I¡¯ll send more letters,¡¯ Wirrin thought. ¡®I doubt anyone will come until after winter.¡¯


    ¡®What hurdle will this Heran face in finding me again?¡¯ Naertral burbled.


    Wirrin started pulling all the loose dirt she¡¯d dug in the past week back into the pit she¡¯d opened up. ¡®Just have to hide you better, this time,¡¯ she thought. That headache was coming back, but she noticed that the nausea wasn¡¯t nearly so bad.


    It took only minutes to completely refill the hole she¡¯d spent a week digging with two other people. It wasn¡¯t hidden by any means, even if the stones that had once been poking out of the surface were gone. It was a big patch of muddy ground.


    As Wirrin started to shake and the rumbling started to become deafening in her bones, she pressed down on the whole clearing, forcing the ground under the water. She stopped before the dirt was level with the bottom of the water and took a deep breath.


    Naertral¡¯s power felt like standing under a waterfall, like standing in a hailstorm in the middle of winter. Like the rushing water would tear the flesh from her rattling bones.


    She pulled at the stagnant and gently flowing waters to push away at the loose dirt, to bring sediment from the rest of the wetland, to blend old with new. Something popped in her head again, blood dripped from her nose into the rushing water.


    ¡®For someone so clever, you¡¯re quite dense.¡¯ Naertral¡¯s voice was calmer this time, the swishing of a breeze and the burbling of a brook.


    Wirrin made it to the edge of the water to slump against a tree and slide to the ground, taking deep breaths. Once the pressure in her head had subsisted, she sipped at the remains of her week-old tea and gazed out at her newly created river.

 One of hers

    It was hard to call the way that Mkaer and Naertral spoke to each other in the back of Wirrin¡¯s head language. It didn¡¯t sound like any language Wirrin had ever heard, and she was fairly sure she had heard every language spoken in Nesalan.


    It was very like the feelings that Wirrin got when they talked to her, the rumbling and burbling and crashing and hissing. But that wasn¡¯t quite it either. It had to be something like language. She was sure she could feel patterns and systems to the feelings that niggled in the back of her mind.


    The Fiends seemed completely engrossed in whatever sort of conversation they were having as Wirrin began her trek back to Esbolva. As she walked, that feeling of the ground and water of the wetland seemed unchanged for having awakened Naertral.


    Around noon the next day, Wirrin reached the bridge she¡¯d made over the river. She could feel the crocodiles in the river nearby, floating idly in a different spot to where they¡¯d been before the bridge was there.


    ¡®You made this, Mountain?¡¯ Naertral burbled into Wirrin¡¯s mind.


    ¡®I made this,¡¯ Wirrin thought. Why would it bother speaking to her if only to ask Mkaer a question?


    ¡®Against my advice,¡¯ Mkaer rumbled.


    ¡®Against your advice?¡¯ Naertral hissed.


    ¡®I just did it,¡¯ Wirrin thought, stepping onto the bridge. ¡®It hurt quite a lot, mind.¡¯


    ¡®It would do,¡¯ Naertral burbled. ¡®But you did it even though the Mountain did not want you to?¡¯


    Wirrin frowned to herself. ¡®What of it?¡¯


    ¡®I am simply interested, Wirrin,¡¯ Naertral shushed.


    The Fiends returned to their strange speaking, niggling at the back of Wirrin¡¯s head as she tramped up the rise away from her bridge. Then she stopped and turned.


    Near the crocodiles, the water eddied very like a fish rushing away. All three swished their tails gently, redirecting themselves to follow the fish. Wirrin took a couple of steps back down the rise, to the bank.


    The fake fish seemed to get caught in the current, which was working against it, thrashing and wriggling to push itself upstream. The winding of the crocodiles, by comparison, was barely detectable.


    Before the leading crocodile could bite, the fake fish put on a burst of speed and swam under the bridge. In a barrage of sharp spikes, the bridge collapsed on top of the leading crocodile. The other two scattered and fled back the way they¡¯d come.


    ¡®Oh, I like you,¡¯ Naertral burbled.


    Wirrin waded into the water, head pounding, and dragged the crocodile onto the bank by the tail. As she did, the shards of stone shushed apart into tiny gravel and started to wash away in the rising stream.


    ¡®I¡¯m out of food,¡¯ Wirrin said. ¡®I buried everything that Ayan and Veyoc had with them.¡¯


    ¡®You could have shot another bird,¡¯ Mkaer rumbled.


    ¡®I had to get rid of the bridge either way,¡¯ Wirrin said. ¡®It¡¯s not on the survey map, is it?¡¯


    ¡®Oh, she really isn¡¯t one of yours, Mountain?¡¯ Naertral burbled.


    ¡®I¡¯m one of mine,¡¯ Wirrin said. ¡®I¡¯ve yet to decide if you two are, as well.¡¯


    Naertral laughed like the fighting of crocodiles.


    High on the rise, Wirrin set a fire and sat down. She finished off her tea as she built up the fire enough to start cooking. She¡¯d never skinned or cooked a crocodile. She¡¯d just left the last one she¡¯d killed in the water.


    As the Fiends niggled in the back of her head, she started with the belly and did her best to skin the crocodile the way she¡¯d skin any other animal. The skin was hard, but not as hard as she¡¯d expected, her knife seemed to mostly follow the gaps in the scales.


    ¡®Start with the tail,¡¯ Naertral burbled. ¡®People always said that was the best bit.¡¯


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    With a shrug, Wirrin reversed the knife to cut along the tail. She built up the fire some more and put on her pan to heat. She hadn¡¯t realised how hungry she was until she put a section of the tail in the pan.


    It immediately smelled good, like a combination of water fowl and fish. ¡®How long do you need to cook it?¡¯


    ¡®As much or as little as you would like,¡¯ Naertral hissed.


    That made sense, Wirrin figured. She sprinkled the tail segment with salt and turned it frequently until all sides were nice and brown. There was no chance it was cooked through, but Wirrin was starving.


    As soon as she took a bite, that warm, nauseous power of Naertral¡¯s suffused her, burbling and dripping and shushing in her head. She noticed it was much quieter than when she actively used the power. As with the sense of the ground she used Mkaer¡¯s power for, which she barely noticed the sound of anymore.


    Wirrin couldn¡¯t tell exactly what was happening, though she was fairly sure she had an idea. So she just kept chewing, just ate the meat. But something warm and nauseous stayed in her mouth.


    She spat it on the ground. It just looked like gristle. The meat was chewy and mild, more like fish than Wirrin had expected. She took another bite and put the rest back in the pan to keep cooking.


    Naertral¡¯s power engulphed the mouthful and again Wirrin spat something that looked like gristle onto the ground.


    ¡®What is that?¡¯ Wirrin asked, leaving the meat in the pan.


    ¡®An infection,¡¯ Naertral burbled. ¡®Nothing you need to worry about.¡¯


    ¡®What if I¡¯m curious?¡¯ Wirrin thought, as she chopped a couple more pieces of the tail, salted them, and added them to the pan.


    Despite how hungry she was, Wirrin moved the pan off the direct heat to cook the meat slower. She was hoping that cooking it longer would help the flavour. The first couple of bites had been quite bland.


    ¡®Surely you¡¯re not worried about infections and disease,¡¯ Naertral shushed. ¡®With the two of us in your head.¡¯


    Wirrin snorted. ¡®I¡¯m worried about taste.¡¯


    Though it was tougher, the tail did taste noticeably better when it was cooked more. And Naertral¡¯s power did not suffuse her as she ate it. Wirrin suspected it would taste better with some sort of marinade, but she didn¡¯t have the time, equipment, or ingredients for one.


    Gradually, as the afternoon drifted by, Wirrin ate almost the entire crocodile tail. Admittedly, she¡¯d only had fowl and rice for the last three meals. But she didn¡¯t think she should have been quite so hungry.


    Only once she was completely full did Wirrin make herself more tea, using the last of her peppermint. It was more bitter than the last two batches, but it helped with the headache. She supposed, since the nausea was gone, she didn¡¯t need the mint so much.


    As night was falling, Wirrin finished skinning the crocodile and started cutting it up. She had butchered a crocodile the same number of times as she¡¯d skinned one, but trying to treat it like any other animal still basically worked.


    Wirrin flushed the bones down the stream, and the gradually returning crocodiles chased them. It was interesting to feel the way they wriggled through the water a little like eels.


    Then she wrapped the remaining flesh up in the skin as tightly as she could and left it right near her rugs and blankets when she lay down to sleep. It didn¡¯t feel like much time had passed when she was woken by the rumbling of a small cat, investigating the crocodile bundle.


    Wirrin waved the cat off and it skittered away, but not so far. She wanted to get back to sleep, so rather than climb into a tree, where the meat probably wouldn¡¯t be safe, Wirrin reached into the ground and pulled a dome of compacted dirt over the crocodile.


    She wasn¡¯t woken again before morning.


    After a big breakfast, Wirrin strapped the crocodile to her pack and moved on. There was more than enough meat to accompany the last of her rice over the next three days out of the wetland.


    Though Wirrin didn¡¯t use the Fiends¡¯ power much for the rest of her trip back to Esbolva, she found she still much hungrier than expected, almost to the same level as when she¡¯d been travelling in the mountains.


    Certainly she could still feel the ground, feel the water, feel the rumbling of everything that moved. But it hadn¡¯t made her so hungry on her way into the wetland, so that wasn¡¯t the difference. It must have been the amount of magic she¡¯d used at Naertral¡¯s statue, and destroying the bridge.


    Wirrin reached Esbolva in the mid-afternoon, with a couple days¡¯ worth of rice and crocodile still in her pack. She¡¯d never tried to be a hunter around Esbolva, so she didn¡¯t know who to attempt to sell the crocodile skin to.


    She had considered treating the skin, but she wasn¡¯t confident she would have the time for it, and besides she still had most of a sheep skin in her room at Outolt.


    As she stopped by a market to pick up a lantern and some more rice, the proprietor of a nearby stall just asked directly if she wanted to sell the crocodile skin. Selling the skin and the rest of the meat for probably cheaper than it was worth, and trading the lamp she had taken from Alina¡¯s bag back in the mountains, she came away even from the market.


    Walking around the city was strange, almost overwhelming even as the evening started to get dark. The cement paths rumbled with hundreds of people all through Esbolva. Hundreds of conversations reverberated into a constant, unintelligible babbling.


    With each step Wirrin took, it was like a wave of detail spread around her. She could see people and buildings and outdoor furniture. She could hear words and snippets of speech.


    She was tempted to track down Bilar. Wirrin certainly felt in need of relaxation, but it was getting dark and she wanted to bathe and take off her pack and eat something good.


    Outolt had filled up even more in the weeks Wirrin had been away. More northerners arriving to get shipping and handling work during the winter. Wirrin may have even recognised some of them, but she wasn¡¯t in the mood to greet half-remembered travellers.


    The bath was warm and relaxing, the soap wasn¡¯t scented with mint. Her room was dim and the meal she had brought up to her didn¡¯t have any rice or water fowl.


    Wirrin fell asleep easily.

 A barge on the river

    Wirrin was not nearly as relaxed as she left Esbolva the second time.


    ¡®They¡¯re following you,¡¯ Mkaer rumbled.


    ¡®I can see that,¡¯ Wirrin thought.


    ¡®I smell fun,¡¯ Naertral hissed.


    Wirrin was on a barge headed north up the Boclas river. Since the swamp, the Fiends had been far more talkative than Mkaer had ever been alone. And their recollection of the Gods¡¯ War was sufficient that Wirrin hadn¡¯t bothered going to the library again, despite her desire to see Bilar before she left the city.


    Also on the, relatively sparsely populated barge were Ketla Tassavolt and the mage who travelled with her. Given that they were supposed to have arrived at Epatlok three days ago, their presence was conspicuous.


    ¡®Ketla,¡¯ Wirrin called, waving. ¡®I didn¡¯t expect to see you here.¡¯


    Ketla visibly flinched from the other side of the deck and did a meek little wave. When she didn¡¯t approach, Wirrin took it upon herself to wander over. The mage stepped slightly in front of Ketla, as if trying to block Wirrin from getting too close.


    ¡®Here I thought you were going to Epatlok with Dartol,¡¯ Wirrin said, smiling.


    ¡®Must you?¡¯ Mkaer rumbled.


    ¡®Oh, she must,¡¯ Naertral hissed.


    ¡®Change of plans, I suppose,¡¯ Ketla said, jaw clenched. ¡®I¡¯ve been asked to go to Hekaulseg to conduct training with the Church there.¡¯


    ¡®Conduct training?¡¯ Wirrin grinned, talking too loud. ¡®I forgot you¡¯re so important to the Church, Ketla.¡¯


    A couple of the bargers looked over, but no one was too interested.


    ¡®And you, Wirrin?¡¯ Ketla said. ¡®If you don¡¯t mind my asking, of course.¡¯


    ¡®I don¡¯t mind at all,¡¯ Wirrin said. ¡®Our destinations are the same, in fact. Though I don¡¯t plan to stay in Hekaulseg. I¡¯m off to spend the winter in the desert.¡¯


    ¡®It still gets cold in the desert, you know,¡¯ Ketla said.


    Wirrin nodded. ¡®I surely do know that, Ketla,¡¯ she said. ¡®It doesn¡¯t get cold compared to Ogesivanen, though.¡¯


    Ketla failed to completely conceal a scowl. ¡®You mean the Snowy Mountains?¡¯


    ¡®I do mean Ogesivanen, Ketla,¡¯ Wirrin said. ¡®Different names from different places.¡¯


    Ketla settled on frowning. ¡®They¡¯re officially called the Snowy Mountains.¡¯


    Wirrin shrugged. ¡®It has been a long time since I would have been forbidden by law to call them Ogesivanen, Ketla.¡¯


    Ketla kept on frowning.


    ¡®A pleasure as always, Ketla,¡¯ Wirrin said, with a smile. ¡®I expect we¡¯ll see a lot of each other on the way to Hekaulseg, so I¡¯m glad we¡¯ve got this misunderstanding out of the way early.¡¯


    ¡®Are you trying to bait them, Wirrin?¡¯ Mkaer rumbled.


    ¡®The Church claims to believe in discipline, Mkaer,¡¯ Wirrin thought. ¡®Simply speaking Estanen isn¡¯t enough for her to decide to kill me.¡¯


    ¡®And how do they know where you¡¯re going?¡¯ Naertral burbled.


    Wirrin explained about Dartol¡¯s caravan.


    The Boclas river was much wider and slower than the Toravan river. The barge was much less crowded. The sun was out and the air was cool. Wirrin watched to the west as the Esbolva basin swiftly transitioned from muddy greenery to pale, tufty grass, and sandy soil.


    Wirrin had spent the least of her time in the desert, compared to the rest of Nesalan. Less than a year, all told. Like the Verdant Plains in the West, or even the Blavan Plains near Tellan, it was all too flat for Wirrin¡¯s taste. Not to mention far too hot.


    That just increased the appeal, for Wirrin. Why not take the opportunity to explore somewhere she rarely visited? And certainly she¡¯d never been to the centre of the desert before.


    ¡®You could simply stay on the barge all the way to Ahepvalt,¡¯ Mkaer rumbled, interrupting Wirrin¡¯s appreciation of the view.


    ¡®Finding Haerst would make travelling in the desert much easier,¡¯ Naertral burbled. ¡®Not to mention, it would be more fun.¡¯


    ¡®You don¡¯t know it would be more fun,¡¯ Wirrin thought. ¡®And Ulvaer would be equally as useful finding Haerst as the other way around.¡¯


    ¡®What use could Ulvaer have in finding Haerst?¡¯ Mkaer rumbled.


    ¡®The Fiend of Drought? Finding a sunken island? Think about it,¡¯ Wirrin thought. ¡®And besides, I want to know why you dislike it so much.¡¯


    ¡®Ulvaer is unpleasant, as we have told you,¡¯ Mkaer rumbled.


    ¡®What does that mean, though?¡¯ Wirrin thought, smiling to herself as the edges of the desert drifted past. ¡®Unpleasant?¡¯


    The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.


    ¡®It is just as much the Scavenger as the Drought,¡¯ Naertral burbled. ¡®Its interests are unpalatable.¡¯


    ¡®Are you not the Fiend of Rot, Naertral? What ground do you have to call someone else unpalatable?¡¯


    ¡®Decay is a natural process,¡¯ Naertral shushed. ¡®All things decay.¡¯


    ¡®And I¡¯m sure no snake has ever eaten decaying meat.¡¯


    ¡®No mage of mine has ever eaten decaying meat,¡¯ Naertral shushed.


    Wirrin had to hold back a laugh. ¡®I have eaten decaying meat, in my time,¡¯ Wirrin thought back. ¡®So I can assure you that is not the case.¡¯


    ¡®And did you enjoy it, Wirrin? Did you savour it like a fine meal?¡¯ Mkaer rumbled.


    ¡®Oh certainly not,¡¯ Wirrin thought, still smiling. ¡®It was quite an unpleasant experience, all told.¡¯


    ¡®As we have said, Ulvaer is unpleasant,¡¯ Mkaer crashed.


    ¡®Had I been a mage of Ulvaer, I think I would have had a much better time,¡¯ Wirrin thought, still holding back a laugh. ¡®I would never have had to starve in the mountains, certainly.¡¯


    ¡®Starve? With your skill?¡¯ Mkaer rumbled, much quieter all of a sudden.


    ¡®We learn from our mistakes, Mkaer,¡¯ Wirrin thought. ¡®I have learned from my mistakes. And, perhaps, you should learn from yours.¡¯


    ¡®Ignoring Ulvaer was not a mistake,¡¯ Mkaer grumbled. ¡®It would have been no help to me when the so-called Gods came to my mountain.¡¯


    ¡®Would it not?¡¯ Naertral shushed. ¡®To have such hunters in my swamp would have been a great boon, I suspect.¡¯


    Wirrin resisted the urge to wave vaguely as if making a point. ¡®See, Mkaer?¡¯


    ¡®I still think we should go to the coast and look for Haerst,¡¯ Naertral burbled. ¡®Having the storm mages would have been a much greater boon.¡¯


    Wirrin resisted the urge to shrug. ¡®Ulvaer is closer, and warmer. If you can force me to go to the coast, do so.¡¯


    The rumbling and burbling of Mkaer and Naertral stayed as the Fiends did not speak.


    ¡®If only I had not missed the opportunity in my convalescence,¡¯ Mkaer grumbled, after a minute. ¡®There is something interesting about you, Wirrin.¡¯


    ¡®I¡¯m much older than most beginning mages,¡¯ Wirrin thought.


    ¡®You are not so much older,¡¯ Naertral burbled. ¡®We always sought adults. There is a hardiness that was required to be a mage that is rarely found in the young.¡¯


    ¡®Was required?¡¯


    ¡®What do you know of the Gods¡¯ War, Wirrin?¡¯ Mkaer rumbled.


    ¡®Quite a lot, I thought,¡¯ Wirrin said. ¡®Be more specific.¡¯


    ¡®Had the so-called Gods¡¯ mages been ordinary, Gnaer could have destroyed the Church with little effort,¡¯ Naertral shushed. ¡®They found some way, through Iltavaer, no doubt, to keep them going far beyond what had once been absolute limits.¡¯


    ¡®So no headaches? No need to eat so much?¡¯ Wirrin thought. ¡®That does sound quite useful.¡¯


    ¡®Despite great efforts, it proved to be insurmountable,¡¯ Mkaer rumbled.


    ¡®I was under the impression that the trouble was that the Gods worked together and you six didn¡¯t,¡¯ Wirrin thought.


    ¡®Is that what the Church of these so-called Gods told you?¡¯ Naertral hissed.


    ¡®The Church just tell it as Good triumphing over Evil,¡¯ Wirrin thought, resisting the urge to shrug. ¡®It¡¯s been five hundred years, they can say whatever they want.¡¯


    ¡®Five hundred years?¡¯ Naertral burbled.


    ¡®Your friends in Ettovica told you that we didn¡¯t work together?¡¯ Mkaer rumbled.


    ¡®Oh, of course,¡¯ Naertral shushed. ¡®Tevinan would say we didn¡¯t work together, wouldn¡¯t they? We were all too busy being banished for five hundred years to help poor Finaer fight the Church.¡¯


    ¡®In Finaer¡¯s defence, Tevinan did hold out longer than the rest of Nesalan combined,¡¯ Wirrin thought.


    ¡®They would, wouldn¡¯t they?¡¯ Naertral burbled. ¡®The only defensible geography in Nesalan, packed full of crazed Lentovt.¡¯


    Wirrin couldn¡¯t stop herself from frowning. ¡®Lentovt? I¡¯m Sovtanen, you know?¡¯ The landscape passing the barge was calm and basically uniform, certainly not worthy of Wirrin¡¯s severe frown.


    ¡®Valnentovt,¡¯ Naertral hissed. ¡®Remember how we met.¡¯


    Wirrin took a breath and relaxed her face. ¡®Tetalovt, thank you.¡¯


    Naertral¡¯s laugh was like a hundred frogs blowing bubbles in mud.


    ¡®I brought you into this world, I can take you back out,¡¯ Wirrin thought.


    ¡®Prove it,¡¯ Naertral shushed.


    ¡®The trouble was that we were unprepared,¡¯ Mkaer thundered into the conversation. ¡®We did as best we could, but we were limited.¡¯


    ¡®Surely if every one of all your mages had gone to Tertic, you could have stopped the Church,¡¯ Wirrin wondered.


    ¡®Not only were their mages much more resilient than ours, but they already outnumbered us by the time they reached Tertic,¡¯ Mkaer rumbled and cracked. ¡®It would have taken all the armies of Nesalan to defeat them, and even then I am not so sure.¡¯


    ¡®Tevinan held them outside Bitalen for nearly ten years,¡¯ Wirrin thought. ¡®Tertic held out for what, two years?¡¯


    ¡®Tertic was surrounded, and held for five years,¡¯ Mkaer rumbled.


    ¡®And in the process, we destroyed almost all of the West beyond the Dividing Range,¡¯ Naertral burbled. ¡®Reduced it to rotten swamp.¡¯


    ¡®Tertic is still like that,¡¯ Wirrin thought, fighting back a frown. ¡®Barging down the river next to the swamp is enough to get some people seriously ill, depending on the season.¡¯


    ¡®Raerna was still pushing back the swamp four years later when the Church reached me,¡¯ Naertral burbled. ¡®Its mages still weren¡¯t halfway done.¡¯


    Wirrin smiled, perhaps a bit more pointedly than was warranted by the first signs of cacti off in the distance. ¡®When I reached that rocky hill, Mkaer told me that you wouldn¡¯t let the others into your wetland.¡¯


    ¡®It¡¯s more complicated than that,¡¯ Naertral burbled. ¡®My swamp was full of dangers that only my mages could manage. All kinds of traps and poisons and psychedelics. We did not want to risk our allies.¡¯


    ¡®Psychedelics?¡¯ Wirrin thought.


    ¡®I was sometimes called the Fiend of Illusions,¡¯ Naertral shushed. ¡®All sorts of plants and frogs can have psychedelic effects. Some of my mages could replicate that, but more deliberately.¡¯


    Wirrin managed not to nod along. ¡®Alright, so the six of you simply weren¡¯t up to the challenge,¡¯ she thought. ¡®Has anything changed?¡¯


    ¡®We have but a single mage between us,¡¯ Mkaer rumbled. ¡®We once had more.¡¯


    ¡®I think that was a joke, Mountain,¡¯ Naertral burbled. ¡®My congratulations.¡¯


    ¡®It was difficult,¡¯ Mkaer rumbled.


    ¡®So we need to work out how the Gods¡¯ mages could just keep on going?¡¯ Wirrin thought. She resisted the urge to glance across the deck to where Ketla was sitting with her mage.


    ¡®Are they still like that?¡¯ Naertral burbled.


    ¡®I have no idea,¡¯ Wirrin thought. ¡®I¡¯ve never seen a mage do magic for an extended period of time. The closest would be perhaps half an hour of solid fighting during the riots.¡¯


    ¡®Riots?¡¯ Naertral shushed.


    Wirrin explained the 500 years riots to the two Fiends. ¡®And during the four-hundred-year riots, they tore down the big Church prison in the Sovet valley. That was when the ban on Estanen finally got completely lifted.¡¯


    ¡®What has actually happened in the last five hundred years?¡¯ Mkaer rumbled. ¡®No wars? No uprisings?¡¯


    Wirrin took a deep breath and resisted the urge to shrug. ¡®They¡¯re all called riots, aren¡¯t they?¡¯ she thought. ¡®Supposedly there were uprisings all through the first century in Ettovica, Bitalen, Esbolva, and Louyava. None of them worked, there were still too many mages. Since then it¡¯s riots, mostly in Ettovica.¡¯


    ¡®Not Toravan?¡¯ Naertral shushed.


    ¡®Toravan was wiped out during the war,¡¯ Mkaer rumbled. ¡®Completely destroyed.¡¯


    ¡®Supposedly there are clans in the desert that are separate from the Church,¡¯ Wirrin thought. ¡®I never found any, but I haven¡¯t spent as much time in the desert as the mountains.¡¯


    ¡®I think you¡¯re right, Wirrin,¡¯ Naertral burbled. ¡®We should find Ulvaer first.¡¯


    Wirrin smiled pre-emptively. ¡®Oh, what changed your mind?¡¯


    ¡®If there really are people in the desert who don¡¯t like the Church, it means our whole army won¡¯t just be Tetalovt.¡¯


    Wirrin clapped a hand over her mouth and hoped her burst of laughter looked like a sneeze.

 Church Types

    ¡®Surely there¡¯s some other way for you to reach the centre of the desert,¡¯ Mkaer rumbled.


    Wirrin walked leisurely up the bank of the Hekaulseg river, not far behind Ketla and her mage. It was already much warmer than it had been in Esbolva, with a pleasant cool breeze from the east.


    Ahead, Ketla was dressed in light leathers, her mage still in his thick grey robe. Wirrin had changed into her mid-weight linen spring clothes, and rolled up her sleeves. She smiled vaguely to herself as she walked, looking around at the river, and the grasses, bushes, and trees growing up around it.


    Wirrin was amusing herself seeing how slowly she could make Ketla and the mage go. They kept pulling away as she maintained her leisurely sight-seeing, and then slowing when they noticed that Wirrin wasn¡¯t keeping up.


    ¡®Hekaulseg is in the lateral centre of the desert. From there I can just walk north until we find something,¡¯ Wirrin thought.


    ¡®You don¡¯t have to accompany the mage to Hekaulseg,¡¯ Mkaer rumbled.


    ¡®They¡¯re accompanying me, Mkaer, not the other way around,¡¯ Wirrin thought. ¡®And fleeing wouldn¡¯t be very productive, would it?¡¯


    ¡®And it would be rather less entertaining,¡¯ Naertral shushed.


    ¡®And if I die, I¡¯ve already set up people to find the two of you again,¡¯ Wirrin thought. ¡®So I don¡¯t know why you¡¯re worrying.¡¯


    ¡®I¡¯m worrying because being banished is very unpleasant,¡¯ Mkaer grumbled. ¡®I have no wish to return to empty eternity, no matter how swiftly I may be recovered.¡¯


    ¡®And if I had gone south, instead of finding Naertral?¡¯ Wirrin thought. ¡®We may have fortified ourselves into the mountains again, and the Church would have crushed us just as surely.¡¯


    ¡®You said yourself that Tevinan held against the Church for ten years,¡¯ Mkaer rumbled. ¡®There are so few mages, now. You would have held longer.¡¯


    ¡®And no one would have cared,¡¯ Wirrin thought. ¡®Just the Southerners feuding with the Church again. And it would have been boring.¡¯


    ¡®It would have been so boring,¡¯ Naertral shushed.


    Mkaer rumbled and cracked and Naertral burbled and shushed. The Fiends retreated to that niggling at the back of Wirrin¡¯s mind as she kept on walking. She wished she could understand what they were saying to each other, but it still felt unlike language as she thought of it.


    As Ketla and the mage paused to look back at Wirrin, the sand rumbled just a touch and a bird took off from a nearby tree. Wirrin stopped to watch the honeyeater flutter across to another tree, trilling the whole way.


    ¡®You don¡¯t have to wait for me, if you¡¯re in a hurry,¡¯ Wirrin said, as she caught up with Ketla and the mage. ¡®I¡¯m an explorer, you know? I like to take in the views.¡¯


    In Wirrin¡¯s mind she could only have made herself clearer if she had said ¡®I like to eat snow¡¯, but she had the strong suspicion that Ketla would have no idea what either saying meant. She had the strong suspicion that Ketla would think it essentially heretical to know any language other than the Church¡¯s.


    ¡®If we were in a hurry, I would have hired a boat,¡¯ Ketla said, with a very forced smile. ¡®I¡¯m sure I should appreciate the scenery more, myself.¡¯


    Ketla failed to appreciate the scenery more as they kept on up the river. She kept having to pause to let Wirrin catch up. She reminded Wirrin of the siblings starting out in the mountains, the way they balked at resting.


    Except that Wirrin hadn¡¯t expected to have to kill the siblings. She had expected to have to keep them safe and comfort them through their inevitable failure. That still seemed unfair, if Wirrin thought about it.


    They walked later into the evening than Wirrin would have on her own, only stopping when Ketla found a little shrine by a stand of trees, decorated with carved flowers. Wirrin supposed they weren¡¯t likely to find rest-stops dedicated to War out here.


    As the mage went back and forth into the trees to collect fallen leaves and wood for the fire, Wirrin set up her pan to start cooking.


    ¡®Am I allowed to ask what sort of training you¡¯re doing in Hekaulseg?¡¯ Wirrin asked of Ketla, who was not participating in setting up camp.


    ¡®Oh, are you interested in the Church all of a sudden?¡¯ Ketla asked, with a little smile, looking up from that same book she was still reading.


    ¡®We don¡¯t have to talk to each other if you don¡¯t want to,¡¯ Wirrin said, starting to add ingredients to her pan.


    ¡®You have to promise not to poke fun, alright?¡¯ Ketla said, closing her book and straightening up so that she was facing Wirrin.


    Wirrin was struck again by just how earnest Ketla looked.


    ¡®I can only do my best,¡¯ Wirrin said.


    Ketla frowned cutely. ¡®Alright, I¡¯ll take it.¡¯


    The mage heaved down a big armful of wood next to the fire, nodded to Wirrin, and sat down next to Ketla.


    ¡®I¡¯m sure you know already,¡¯ Ketla started carefully. ¡®The Churches in the South, from Tellen to Ettovica, have quite a lot higher attrition rates than most places in Nesalan.¡¯


    You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.


    Wirrin nodded, and resisted the urge to explain why that might be.


    ¡®The Churches in the Desert don¡¯t have quite as high attrition, but¡­¡¯ Ketla paused and frowned. ¡®It¡¯s different, here, than it is in the South.¡¯


    ¡®Oh?¡¯


    ¡®In the South, most of the attrition is in attendance. As of two years ago, when I last read about it, attendance in Ettovica was down to only eighteen people a week.¡¯


    Wirrin nodded. ¡®I understand that¡¯s why they rebuilt the temple much smaller, after the five-hundred-year riots.¡¯


    Ketla¡¯s eyes widened. ¡®Oh, and you lived in Ettovica at that time, if I recall. Is that why you¡¯re set against the Church?¡¯


    Wirrin wobbled her head as she cooked. ¡®I¡¯ll say it¡¯s one of the reasons. The Church is very much viewed as being outsiders in the South.¡¯


    Ketla nodded. ¡®And the riot didn¡¯t help that. If I recall, attendance dropped from about three hundred to about one hundred over the change of that year.¡¯


    Wirrin resisted explaining it.


    ¡®In the desert it¡¯s¡­ the opposite, I suppose,¡¯ Ketla said. ¡®Attendance fluctuates with the seasons, as it does everywhere. Sometimes people are too busy to attend, and if they¡¯re working then it¡¯s just as good, really.


    ¡®But the consistent problem here,¡¯ Ketla continued. ¡®Is attrition of the clergy.¡¯


    ¡®And that¡¯s not so in the South?¡¯ Wirrin asked. ¡®Is that because most of the clergy come from outside the South?¡¯


    Ketla did that cute frown again. ¡®While that¡¯s true, I don¡¯t know that it makes much difference,¡¯ she said. ¡®Here, at least, most of the clergy are locals. Either from the coast or the desert.¡¯


    Wirrin nodded along. ¡®But they leave quickly?¡¯


    ¡®They do,¡¯ Ketla said. ¡®Not everyone¡­ once they¡¯ve been working in the Churches here for more than about five years, the attrition rate is probably lower than the rest of Nesalan, but so few people stay that long.¡¯


    ¡®And you¡¯re just coming up here now to try to do something about it?¡¯ Wirrin smiled.


    ¡®I think that was poking fun,¡¯ Ketla smiled back. ¡®We¡¯re not the first to come here, or to Hekaulget or Hestagal, to work with the Churches on the topic. We¡¯re just the ones doing it now.¡¯


    ¡®Is that your job, then?¡¯ Wirrin asked. ¡®Why you¡¯re important enough to travel with a War mage? Because you work in retention?¡¯


    Ketla smiled at the mage. ¡®I suppose so,¡¯ she said. ¡®I don¡¯t really think of it that way. I¡­ and don¡¯t make fun, please¡­¡¯


    Wirrin shrugged.


    ¡®I¡¯m mostly a researcher,¡¯ Ketla said. ¡®I write edicts and instructions for all the Churches outside the South about ways to try to increase retention and make sure all the clergy and feeling good about where they are.¡¯


    Wirrin nodded along. ¡®That sounds very dull to me,¡¯ she said, with another shrug. ¡®How often do you go out for training and the like?¡¯


    ¡®Oh, only twice since I¡¯ve been in this position,¡¯ Ketla said. ¡®I used to go out much more, and do research on the ground. But¡­ I don¡¯t mind staying in.¡¯


    ¡®To each her own,¡¯ Wirrin said. ¡®The rice is nearly ready.¡¯


    ¡®Thank you for cooking, Wirrin,¡¯ Ketla said. ¡®And after we haven¡¯t really gotten along until now.¡¯


    Wirrin shrugged again. ¡®I enjoy cooking, you know,¡¯ she said. ¡®I expect you two to cook for me tomorrow, mind you.¡¯


    Ketla smiled and nodded, glancing at the mage. ¡®At the very least, we¡¯ll share some wine tonight, if you¡¯d like some.¡¯


    ¡®After dinner, perhaps,¡¯ Wirrin said, smiling back.


    ¡®They¡¯ll poison the wine,¡¯ Naertral shushed.


    ¡®Almost certainly,¡¯ Wirrin thought. ¡®Or perhaps tomorrow¡¯s dinner. Depending how careful they¡¯re feeling.¡¯


    ¡®You said yourself, Wirrin,¡¯ Mkaer rumbled. ¡®They¡¯re the ones with the power.¡¯


    ¡®They were the ones with the power,¡¯ Naertral cackled like fish jumping up a waterfall.


    Wirrin served up three big meals of rice with spiced meat and vegetables.


    ¡®If we¡¯re asking personal questions,¡¯ Ketla said. ¡®Can I ask why you don¡¯t believe in the Gods?¡¯


    ¡®I asked about your work,¡¯ Wirrin said through a mouthful. ¡®But you¡¯ve got the question backward, as I see it. Why should I worship the Gods?¡¯


    ¡®I¡­¡¯ Ketla frowned her cute frown. She really did remind Wirrin of the siblings, young and earnest, and ultimately plotting to kill her.


    ¡®My mother was more religious, before the riots,¡¯ Wirrin said. ¡®We lived right near the Church.¡¯


    ¡®The Gods have done so much for us all,¡¯ Ketla burst out. ¡®There¡¯ve been no wars, no famines, no disasters, for five hundred years.¡¯


    ¡®But what do they need me for?¡¯ Wirrin asked.


    ¡®I¡­ well isn¡¯t it just nice to appreciate them? To seek their grace and live a good life?¡¯ Ketla kept on frowning. ¡®They may not need us, precisely, but isn¡¯t it only fair to appreciate the good they do for us?¡¯


    ¡®Why do you think the South is less religious?¡¯ Wirrin asked. ¡®So much less that almost all the clergy have to be sent in from the West or North.¡¯


    ¡®I¡­¡¯ Ketla frowned deeper, which was cuter. ¡®I understand the tensions that have been there since the war, I do.¡¯


    Wirrin shook her head. ¡®I didn¡¯t mean to be rhetorical,¡¯ she said. ¡®Think about it. As we see it, down there, the Church is only here to push us down. There have been no wars because the Church makes sure we¡¯re all too weak to fight.¡¯


    ¡®But¡­¡¯ Ketla shook her head furiously. ¡®No. There have been no wars because the Fiends¡¯ influence has been removed. There¡¯s no need for us to fight each other when helping each other is so much more productive.¡¯


    Wirrin shrugged. ¡®The first time I saw a mage was during the five-hundred-year parade,¡¯ she said. ¡®Before they attacked the crowd for chanting.¡¯


    Wirrin held up a hand when Ketla opened her mouth.


    ¡®It doesn¡¯t matter if the crowd attacked first,¡¯ Wirrin said. ¡®That¡¯s what I remember seeing. But when I went to the West, at sixteen years old, there were mages all over. They helped on the farms, and on building and repairs in small towns. They healed the sick and injured.¡¯


    Ketla pouted.


    ¡®My point is,¡¯ Wirrin said. ¡®In most of Nesalan, people don¡¯t see the Church as a helping hand. The Church is just there, doing nothing. When you add all the tension in the South from the war, and all the oppression afterwards, it just makes things worse.¡¯


    ¡®So you think the Church should send mages into the South?¡¯ Ketla frowned. ¡®Wouldn¡¯t that just set everyone off?¡¯


    Wirrin shrugged. ¡®If you think we should all be appreciative of the Gods, think that there are some places with no evidence that the Gods are doing anything worth appreciating.¡¯


    Ketla pouted. She turned and reached into her bag and produced a red bottle of wine. ¡®When there have been attempts to send more mages in, it always goes badly,¡¯ Ketla said, pouring the wine into two glasses resting on the ground between herself and the mage. ¡®Why wouldn¡¯t it go badly this time?¡¯


    Wirrin shrugged. ¡®The trouble is wanting to be in charge.¡¯


    The mage handed the wine over the fire to Wirrin as Ketla took a sip. Wirrin didn¡¯t see the mage put anything in it, but she supposed that was the point of a War mage.


    ¡®So the Church should leave and just give mages to whoever ends up in charge?¡¯ Ketla asked, frowning like it was a genuine question.


    Wirrin had never been much of a wine drinker, or an alcohol drinker at all. But even then, this was quite a nice, rich, fruity sort of wine. It was bitter and sour because wine is bitter and sour. Wirrin supposed it was probably a good way to deliver poison if the need arose.


    ¡®It¡¯s not poisoned,¡¯ Naertral burbled.


    ¡®I¡¯m not much of a wine drinker,¡¯ Wirrin said. ¡®But this is quite pleasant.¡¯


    She took another sip.


    ¡®It¡¯s from my family¡¯s vineyard,¡¯ Ketla said.


    ¡®Of course your family has a vineyard.¡¯


    ¡®Well? What do you think the Church should do, oh Wise Southern Elder?¡¯


    Wirrin took a third sip. ¡®Ideally you would all just go back to Keredin and leave everyone alone,¡¯ she said. ¡®But taking the Church¡¯s side. They should just turn up and be helpful. Don¡¯t try to take over, just help. Then people might see that there¡¯s something to be appreciative for.¡¯


    Ketla frowned. ¡®I suppose that makes sense.¡¯


    Wirrin toasted her. ¡®I¡¯m very smart.¡¯

 Difference in perspective

    The rest of the week passed quite pleasantly. Ketla and her mage did not, at any point, try to kill Wirrin. Wirrin did not, at any point, let up on taking in the scenery. But as they walked, Ketla pulled ahead less, and even deigned to look at the scenery with Wirrin.


    ¡®Not much for the natural world?¡¯ Wirrin had asked, as Ketla fidgeted and begrudgingly looked at some particularly round melon cacti. ¡®Why wear a flower, then?¡¯


    Ketla had frowned, as severely as she could, and had been very cute about it. ¡®Growth isn¡¯t only about plants,¡¯ she informed Wirrin. ¡®Growth can be about aging, about learning new things, about personal¡­ well¡­ growth.¡¯


    ¡®About growing the Church¡¯s congregation, perhaps?¡¯ Wirrin suggested.


    If she could have frowned harder, Ketla would have frowned harder. ¡®Yes, alright, that¡¯s why we wear it.¡¯


    ¡®We at the retention department?¡¯ Wirrin smiled.


    Ketla gave her a stormy look and didn¡¯t say anything.


    ¡®Why the swords?¡¯ Wirrin asked, still gazing vaguely at the impressively round melon cacti. ¡®To smite those who leave the Church?¡¯


    Ketla gave her the same stormy look.


    ¡®You¡¯re very cute, Ketla,¡¯ Wirrin said.


    Ketla blushed and her stormy look got very confused.


    On the third night, as Wirrin cooked, the mage gathered firewood, and Ketla didn¡¯t help, Wirrin had asked: ¡®Have you noticed, working in the retention department, that there¡¯s a difference in worship between the rich and ordinary people?¡¯


    Ketla had frowned thoughtfully and looked up from her book. ¡®It¡¯s not universal, but the trend seems to be that wealthy people are less likely to attend Churches,¡¯ she said. ¡®Those that do are more consistent, since they aren¡¯t so affected by the seasons.¡¯


    Wirrin had looked between her cooking meal and the mage¡¯s armful of firewood. Ketla had either not noticed or chosen to ignore the hint. Instead she put her holy book down and looked at Wirrin.


    ¡®I feel we¡¯ve talked enough about religion,¡¯ she said, not at all like she¡¯d been practicing the line in her head while pretending to read her holy book. ¡®Do you mind if I ask about you?¡¯


    Wirrin had smiled. ¡®Feel free, as long as you don¡¯t mind the same.¡¯


    Ketla nodded enthusiastically. ¡®Of course. You said your mother was religious, but you weren¡¯t?¡¯


    ¡®I thought we weren¡¯t talking about religion,¡¯ Wirrin smiled. ¡®She was quite enthusiastically religious, when we lived in Ettovica. She took me to the Church if I was at home at the right time, but I avoided being home at the right time whenever I could, as I got a little older.¡¯


    ¡®You didn¡¯t like going to the Church?¡¯


    ¡®It was boring. I¡¯d been there enough times to get the gist of it, and Ettovica is a big city, there¡¯s lots to do.¡¯


    ¡®And your father? Was he religious?¡¯ Ketla was leaning into the fire a bit, eyes glimmering in the firelight as if this was the most interesting thing she¡¯d ever heard.


    ¡®I wouldn¡¯t know.¡¯ Wirrin shrugged. ¡®I¡¯m told he drowned at sea while my mother was pregnant.¡¯


    Ketla¡¯s frown looked very sympathetic. ¡®Oh, I¡¯m sorry to hear that.¡¯


    Wirrin shrugged again. ¡®I never had a father, hard to be sorry about it. Though I suspected one of the reasons my mother was so enthusiastic about the Church was that it gave her community and comfort.¡¯


    Ketla had nodded, very enthusiastically. ¡®See, that¡¯s what I¡¯ve noticed quite a lot,¡¯ she said. ¡®And I think it¡¯s part of why the wealthy, who are generally urbanites, are less likely to go to Church.¡¯


    Wirrin had not reminded Ketla that they weren¡¯t supposed to be talking about religion. ¡®Do urbanites attend Church less?¡¯


    Ketla wobbled her head, somewhere between a nod and a shake. ¡®More people who live in the bigger towns and cities go to Church than people in smaller towns, villages, and farmsteads, just by the numbers. But proportionally far fewer people in cities attend Church.¡¯


    ¡®As I said, other things to do.¡¯


    ¡®Like listening to the dirge singers in Ettovica complain for the lack of emperors and wars?¡¯ Ketla had asked, very nearly making it sound like a genuine question.


    Wirrin winced. ¡®I couldn¡¯t understand the dirge when I was a kid,¡¯ she said. ¡®I liked it better than Church chants, though, possibly for that very reason.¡¯


    The mage, sitting beside Ketla, frowned under his hood.


    ¡®It¡¯s all a matter of taste, Baras,¡¯ Ketla said. ¡®Wirrin can have poor taste in music if she likes.¡¯


    Wirrin chuckled. ¡®Oh, is your name Baras, then?¡¯


    The mage looked at her.


    ¡®Oh.¡¯ Ketla started giggling. ¡®I completely forgot to introduce the two of you, didn¡¯t I?¡¯


    ¡®You certainly did,¡¯ Wirrin said. ¡®I imagine you often forget to introduce the help.¡¯


    Ketla fought down her giggles with great haste as Baras¡¯s steady gaze turned gradually into a scowl. ¡®Baras isn¡¯t the help,¡¯ Ketla managed. ¡®He¡¯s my esteemed companion.¡¯


    ¡®He does all your work for you,¡¯ Wirrin had pointed out.


    Ketla frowned. ¡®Oh.¡¯ She frowned harder. ¡®That¡¯s why you were asking about rich people. I get it.¡¯


    Wirrin shrugged.


    ¡®Baras has sworn a vow to assist the Church and the Gods in every way he can,¡¯ Ketla said. ¡®I¡¯m sure he doesn¡¯t mind the work. Work is good for us, after all. It brings us closer to grace.¡¯


    ¡®Says the one who¡¯s not working.¡¯


    Ketla¡¯s expression turned stormy.


    ¡®Still cute,¡¯ Wirrin had said, and started serving dinner.


    Ketla had blushed and spluttered.


    Wirrin had certainly noticed that, the next evening, Ketla helped with the cooking. Baras still did most of the work, but Ketla did something other than re-read her holy book.


    ¡®You asked about my family,¡¯ Wirrin had said. ¡®¡®How about yours? I¡¯ve heard that the Tassavolts are good, Church-going types.¡¯


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    ¡®Oh, they are.¡¯ Ketla shrugged. ¡®I wouldn¡¯t call any of them enthusiastic about it. It¡¯s seen as a duty, you know? A family tradition.¡¯


    ¡®Enthusiastic enough that you joined the Church.¡¯


    ¡®I¡¯m a third child, you know?¡¯ Ketla said. ¡®It was expected.¡¯


    ¡®I¡¯ve met plenty of third children who didn¡¯t join the Church,¡¯ Wirrin said.


    Ketla pressed her lips together. ¡®More common in the west, I think.¡¯


    ¡®I worked with a farming family that had nine children, when I was in the west. None of them had joined the Church,¡¯ Wirrin said. ¡®Did their utmost to go to Church every week, even during high harvest.¡¯


    ¡®Is that why they hired a heathen to work the fields? So someone would be working while they were at Church?¡¯ Ketla smiled.


    Wirrin arched an eyebrow. ¡®Must be.¡¯


    ¡®It¡¯s a little funny,¡¯ Ketla said, visibly changing the subject. ¡®When I first joined the Church, I didn¡¯t think of myself or my family as being particularly religious. But the more people I meet, the more wrong I realise I was.¡¯


    Baras started serving dinner into bowls.


    ¡®You didn¡¯t think of yourself as very religious, and yet you joined the Church?¡¯ Wirrin asked. ¡®Thank you, Baras.¡¯


    ¡®It¡¯s not poisoned,¡¯ Naertral burbled, as Wirrin took a bite.


    ¡®Oh, yes, thank you, Baras,¡¯ Ketla echoed, as if she hadn¡¯t thought to say it when Baras actually handed her the bowl.


    They ate quietly for a minute.


    ¡®What got you into this retention business?¡¯ Wirrin asked.


    Ketla finished chewing before she answered. ¡®I wasn¡¯t much good at writing sermons or public speaking,¡¯ she admitted with a little smile. ¡®I¡¯m certainly not dedicated enough to be a mage. I found hearing people¡¯s stories interesting, I suppose. I tried counselling at first, but I didn¡¯t feel qualified to give people advice, so I got into doing research.¡¯


    Wirrin glanced at Baras. ¡®You have to be very dedicated to be a mage, do you?¡¯


    Baras nodded.


    ¡®You wouldn¡¯t want just anyone to do it, would you?¡¯ Ketla smiled. ¡®And the Gods wouldn¡¯t pick just anyone.¡¯


    ¡®They can afford to be more discerning,¡¯ Mkaer rumbled. ¡®No shortage of candidates.¡¯


    ¡®We weren¡¯t so discerning, back in the day,¡¯ Naertral burbled.


    ¡®Yet another reason I couldn¡¯t be a mage,¡¯ Wirrin smiled.


    ¡®You¡¯re an adventurer, aren¡¯t you?¡¯ Ketla said, lighting up again. ¡®Surely that¡¯s a very interesting sort of work.¡¯


    ¡®I¡¯m an explorer. Not an adventurer,¡¯ Wirrin said, though a mouthful of fried rice.


    ¡®What¡¯s the difference?¡¯ Ketla asked, leaning in.


    ¡®I wander around, looking at things that interest me, and working if I need the money,¡¯ Wirrin said. ¡®Adventurers are rich sorts who get killed in landslides because they don¡¯t listen to the people they hired to keep them safe.¡¯


    Ketla frowned, deeply. ¡®Oh.¡¯


    Hekaulseg was reminiscent of Esbolva in being a wide town of low buildings. Sandstone and stucco gave the place a very bright feeling, and the lakes glowed in the early winter sun. It was sparser than Esbolva, and it was quiet and dim at night, the moon and stars glowing comfortingly off the water.


    The three of them had been on the road together for just shy of eight days since getting off the barge and Wirrin was feeling quite relaxed about the situation. Until Ketla suggested that Wirrin visit the Church with her.


    Wirrin did her best to stay relaxed. ¡®A heretic like me? Visiting a Church?¡¯


    ¡®You¡¯re barely a heretic,¡¯ Ketla said, already leading the way through the airy streets toward the big, solid Church building. ¡®A heathen at worst.¡¯


    ¡®To what end?¡¯ Wirrin asked. ¡®You won¡¯t convert me.¡¯


    ¡®I¡¯m sure I won¡¯t.¡¯ Ketla¡¯s smile was mischievous. ¡®I¡¯m sure there are pretty women your own age there.¡¯


    ¡®There¡¯s a cute woman my age right here, what difference does a few years make?¡¯


    Ketla blushed. ¡®Dartol said I was too young for you.¡¯


    ¡®Is that why you were so hostile?¡¯ Wirrin grinned.


    Ketla stopped to glare. ¡®You kept insulting me.¡¯


    ¡®And I have no intention of stopping,¡¯ Wirrin said.


    Ketla kept on glaring.


    ¡®Alright, fine.¡¯ Wirrin sighed dramatically. ¡®But it¡¯s not because of the women, there are plenty of women who aren¡¯t religious. And you can¡¯t blame me if the attrition rate goes up as a result.¡¯


    Ketla chuckled. ¡®I¡¯ll take it.¡¯


    ¡®Now you¡¯re going to a Church?¡¯ Mkaer grumbled. ¡®To what end?¡¯


    ¡®I¡¯m being nice,¡¯ Wirrin said. ¡®I¡¯m not going to leave until the morning anyway.¡¯


    ¡®And there might be pretty women in there,¡¯ Naertral burbled.


    Wirrin successfully turned a snort into another coughing fit.


    The Church building in Hekaulseg was exactly how Wirrin remembered it: big and solid and out of place. Like every other Church building, it was made from dark grey stone instead of whatever the rest of the local buildings were made from. It had only a small window on each of the six sides, and big, green-copper plates on either side of the doors with the Church¡¯s symbol chased into them.


    Until she¡¯d been to Keredin the first time, Wirrin had never understood why the Church¡¯s buildings stood out so much. The Church buildings in Keredin looked like they belonged. And as much as she was loathe to admit it, the Church buildings would have looked like they belonged in the south if they weren¡¯t always on the outskirts of town.


    The inside of the Church was much brighter than Wirrin remembered the inside of Churches being. Across from the door in the main room was a Light mage, pleasant globes of sunlight hanging in the air around him as he gave a resonant talk to the assembled worshippers: all four of them.


    In the Light mage¡¯s defence, it wasn¡¯t the day for Church going.


    That image of a woman with a scarred face burning the eyes out of a young man drifted through Wirrin¡¯s head. She let it pass, standing to the side of the door with Ketla and Baras, and looking around at all the carvings around the walls and vaulted ceiling.


    ¡®I do not recall the Ettovican Etopla being very pleasant,¡¯ Naertral burbled. ¡®But if these carvings are any indication, I expect I too would have preferred it to whatever they call singing.¡¯


    Wirrin smirked around at the solid lines and hard shapes that did nothing to stand out from the stone blocks of the wall. While it was the most common style of stone carving these days, Wirrin certainly preferred the more delicate, organic shapes found in old ruins and the older shrines.


    ¡®See, that woman looks like she¡¯s about your age,¡¯ Ketla whispered.


    Wirrin looked where Ketla was indicating and snorted. A local woman with thick corkscrew curls sat on the floor, facing away from them. Her hair was nearly completely white, her back hunched and her hands wrinkled.


    ¡®At least she¡¯s not too young,¡¯ Wirrin muttered back.


    Ketla clapped a hand over her mouth.


    The Light mage said something about respect and Wirrin went back to scrutinising the carvings. Aside from the simplicity of them, Wirrin always found Church-style carvings a little dull for their directness. The walls depicted suns, plants, people labouring in fields, people building houses. Direct images of those things intended to be associated with the Gods.


    Even old Church carvings of the more organic variety were more abstracted: moving tools, flowering leaves, wavy rays. The half-rotted animals and mountain shapes of the Fiends¡¯ temples hadn¡¯t been subtle, but even those had been more open to interpretation than the stark images of swords and hammers and suns.


    The Light mage finished his little sermon and those sunlight orbs drifted up to the faulted ceiling, casting a warm glow around the whole of the large room. As his small congregation started getting up, he strode across to Ketla, Baras, and Wirrin.


    His face was cast in shadows under his hood, but Wirrin could see the glimmering eyes looking Ketla and her up and down. He, correctly, settled on Ketla.


    ¡®You must be Ketla,¡¯ the Light mage said, in his deep, resonant voice. ¡®I¡¯m so glad you could change your plans to join us here. My name is Aulk.¡¯


    Wirrin noticed that he held out a hand for Ketla to shake.


    Ketla took his hand. ¡®A pleasure to meet you, Aulk,¡¯ she said. ¡®I¡¯m glad to be here.¡¯


    Aulk looked at Wirrin. ¡®And who is this? A friend?¡¯


    ¡®Wirrin.¡¯ Wirrin held out her left hand, palm up. ¡®More like a travelling companion.¡¯


    Ketla put her hands over her heart and gave Wirrin an extremely impressive, doe-eyed look. To the mage, she said. ¡®A travelling companion. A happy coincidence that we were headed in the same direction at the same time.¡¯


    Aulk put his right palm on Wirrin¡¯s hand. She wondered if that meant anything, or if he simply didn¡¯t know the tradition. From what she could see of Aulk, he didn¡¯t look much like a local.


    ¡®Not a worshipper, from the look of it, are you, Wirrin?¡¯ Aulk asked, pointedly.


    ¡®A fundamental difference in perspective,¡¯ Ketla said.


    ¡®I just don¡¯t see what the Gods could possibly need from me,¡¯ Wirrin said.


    ¡®Is it not enough to simply be grateful for their grace and kindness?¡¯ Aulk asked, voice dipping back into oration for a moment.


    ¡®Do they need me to be grateful?¡¯ Wirrin asked. ¡®Or am I simply expected to be, as I am expected to respect my elders?¡¯


    Aulk was quiet for a moment. ¡®I see,¡¯ he said, much less resonant and impressive. ¡®A fundamental difference in perspective.¡¯

 Into the desert

    Wirrin stayed the night at a little inn by the name of Itavat. The bed was comfortable, the food was pleasantly spicy. The people were mostly locals. Wirrin double-checked that her memory hadn¡¯t failed her and introduced herself to several of her fellow guests, holding out her left palm to them. All of them responded with their own left palm.


    As she was buying rice and chilli at the morning market, Wirrin was accosted by Ketla, who was without Baras for the first time in Wirrin¡¯s memory. Ketla was buying herself breakfast and having a look around the town.


    ¡®I¡¯m about to head into the desert,¡¯ Wirrin said, by way of agreeing to sit down with Ketla for breakfast. ¡®But I have a diagnosis for you, if you¡¯d like.¡¯


    Ketla snorted and took a bite of her, chilli-less breakfast. ¡®Certainly, Wirrin. What is your diagnosis? Are we being too pushy again?¡¯


    ¡®You noticed it too, did you?¡¯ Wirrin nodded. ¡®The disrespect is palpable.¡¯


    Ketla frowned through her mouthful. ¡®Disrespect? Aulk was nothing but pleasant to you, as I recall.¡¯


    Wirrin smiled. ¡®You ought to talk to the locals, in that case.¡¯


    ¡®Just tell me what he did wrong, so I know where to start.¡¯


    ¡®Hello, my name is Wirrin.¡¯ Wirrin held out her left palm to Ketla.


    ¡®And what should I do in response?¡¯ Ketla asked, putting down her food.


    ¡®You put your left palm on mine. To show that you don¡¯t think you¡¯re better than me.¡¯


    Ketla snorted again. ¡®He¡¯s a mage.¡¯ But she did it.


    ¡®Doesn¡¯t matter, does it?¡¯ Wirrin said. ¡®That¡¯s the trouble. No one¡¯s better than anyone around here. Only exception is if you¡¯re missing your left arm.¡¯


    Ketla nodded. ¡®The Church does have a hierarchy, Wirrin.¡¯


    ¡®Still doesn¡¯t matter,¡¯ Wirrin said. ¡®The most respected elder will still respond with their left palm. And still hold out their left palm. It¡¯s just the way it¡¯s done.¡¯


    Ketla sighed. ¡®Fine. I¡¯ll bear it in mind.¡¯


    ¡®No one I¡¯ve met around the desert cares much for hierarchy,¡¯ Wirrin said. ¡®Society is a thing we all participate in, you know?¡¯


    ¡®I know you¡¯ve spent time with the dirge singers, lamenting their fallen empire,¡¯ Ketla said. ¡®You think we all get to participate in a society ruled by an emperor?¡¯


    Wirrin tapped her right temple. ¡®Like I said, I liked it better when I couldn¡¯t understand them. Why do you think I¡¯m spending the winter here?¡¯


    Ketla sighed again and picked up her food. ¡®Like I said, I¡¯ll bear it in mind.¡¯


    ¡®Good.¡¯ Wirrin nodded seriously. ¡®In that case, I¡¯m off to be cold in the desert.¡¯


    ¡®Enjoy yourself, Wirrin,¡¯ Ketla said, then took a small bite of her cornbread, specifically so that she could speak through it. ¡®It was nice meeting you.¡¯


    ¡®And you. Good luck with your retention.¡¯


    The other way in which Hekaulseg reminded Wirrin of Esbolva was that there was a lot of nodding and waving to strangers as she wandered her way out of town to the shyavat. It was already empty, barely more than a week into the start of winter.


    A shyavat was unlike a caravanserai anywhere else in Nesalan. Instead of a cluster of warehouses and stables, and a constant stream of people, it was a large area of compacted sand with two, large, wheel-operated well pumps.


    Vanishingly little freight made its way across the desert. Everything the ektshyolg bought here was for themselves, for their travels into the desert and for selling to the shyolg clans that refused to leave the desert or interact with the rest of Nesalan.


    Wirrin had expected the shyavat to be empty. In her time in the desert, she¡¯d never heard of even the ektshyolg visiting the towns during winter. By now, most of the shyolg clans would be congregating for the yearly winter gathering at Fauvat Faulget, or camping out in the forests in the centre of the desert, if they were less social.


    Vaguely, Wirrin regretted getting herself involved in all this. If she hadn¡¯t had to go to the swamp on her way here, she¡¯d probably have been in time to meet up with whichever ektshyolg clan was doing their last minute shopping in Hekaulseg and she¡¯d have company on the walk up to the hetavatok.


    On the other hand, the only reason she was going there at all, rather than spending the winter alone in the mountains or something was because she was involved in all this.


    Wirrin smiled to herself on her walk out of Hekaulseg, imagining how excited Yolget would be when he found out she had found the Fiends. There was no question in Wirrin¡¯s mind that she would tell most of the shyolg about finding the Fiends.


    She¡¯d met quite a lot of people in passing in her time in the desert and, though she didn¡¯t much like the desert itself, the people had impressed her. It was the only place in Nesalan where everyone seemed to speak their own language most of the time, and Wirrin had quite liked the word they used for the Church.


    ¡®You were very nice to that young woman from the Church,¡¯ Mkaer rumbled.


    ¡®And see how alive I am?¡¯ Wirrin thought.


    ¡®Would you have killed her if you needed to?¡¯ Mkaer rumbled.


    ¡®Of course. See how alive I am?¡¯ Wirrin thought.


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    The Fiends hadn¡¯t talked to her very much over the last week that she¡¯d been travelling with Ketla. They¡¯d talked to each other from time to time but, for the most part, they¡¯d been quiet.


    ¡®Would you have preferred I not be nice to her?¡¯ Wirrin thought.


    ¡®Before the Gods¡¯ War, we would ask our mages to talk to each other, to communicate with the other Outsiders,¡¯ Naertral burbled. ¡®I cannot imagine that that practice has changed.¡¯


    ¡®Is that the purpose of mages, then?¡¯ Wirrin wondered. ¡®To talk to each other?¡¯


    ¡®As much as we had a purpose for our mages, it was to experience the world,¡¯ Naertral burbled. ¡®Without them, we are banished. Lost in the void.¡¯


    ¡®Senseless and unable to think,¡¯ Mkaer crashed.


    ¡®Is that all it takes to banish you, then?¡¯


    The Fiends took a moment to consider it.


    ¡®It must be,¡¯ Naertral burbled.


    ¡®We thought, when Haerst was banished, that it must have been more than that,¡¯ Mkaer rumbled. ¡®We could not see each other¡¯s mages, of course. Haerst was most widespread of us, we did not consider that all of its mages must have gone to defend it.¡¯


    ¡®Our mages feared the consequences of being elsewhere when we were banished,¡¯ Naertral burbled. ¡®They congregated to defend us.¡¯


    ¡®You figured it had to be more complicated than simply killing?¡¯ Wirrin wondered. ¡®Why?¡¯


    ¡®All of us Outsiders had been present in Nesalan for a very long time,¡¯ Mkaer rumbled. ¡®I think none of us could remember the void, anymore. We had been awake long enough to forget a time when we weren¡¯t.¡¯


    ¡®And now you remember?¡¯ Wirrin asked.


    ¡®It¡¯s not so much a matter of remembering, as a matter of knowing that this must have happened before,¡¯ Naertral burbled. ¡®Over decades, and certainly not by the same person. But we must have been awoken before. There was a time when no people dwelt on Nesalan.¡¯


    ¡®And what use were the people?¡¯ Wirrin asked. ¡®Aside from being mages?¡¯


    ¡®They weren¡¯t any use, really,¡¯ Naertral burbled. ¡®I never had any interest in worship, or in followers. Though it was hard to stop them.¡¯


    ¡®For most of us, it was unintentional,¡¯ Mkaer rumbled. ¡®Mages are very useful, and their power comes from us. In the early days, we swiftly became important parts of society. Over time, respect turned to deference, turned to worship.¡¯


    ¡®I cannot speak for all of us Outsiders, but I certainly did my best to discourage it,¡¯ Naertral burbled. ¡®Most of us were very clear that nothing came from us. We did not create the world, and we offered no relief from death.¡¯


    Wirrin had never thought of it. ¡®Did people think that?¡¯


    ¡®Some speculated, jumped to conclusions,¡¯ Mkaer rumbled. ¡®These statues of ours, they were there before people arrived in Nesalan. It seems they cannot be moved or destroyed, or I expect the so-called-Gods would have done so.¡¯


    ¡®Naertral would not have been found in a temple, before there were people to make one,¡¯ Wirrin said.


    ¡®I do recall the temple being built around me,¡¯ Naertral burbled. ¡®It is not a singular memory, mixed with other temples and shrines being built over the millennia.¡¯


    ¡®You remember from the perspective of the statues?¡¯ Wirrin asked.


    ¡®They are false memories,¡¯ Mkaer rumbled. ¡®Constructed by time and repetition and stories. We must have experienced them from the perspectives of our mages.¡¯


    ¡®What¡¯s the use of all these extra statues, then?¡¯ Wirrin asked. ¡®Did they only exist to be worshipped?¡¯


    ¡®Through many we could be contacted,¡¯ Naertral burbled. ¡®As we all spread throughout Nesalan, our people didn¡¯t need to find our statues to speak to us, or to become mages.¡¯


    Wirrin stopped in her tracks, alone in the green desert near Hekaulseg. Wasn¡¯t that interesting? ¡®Did the Gods have statues like that all through Nesalan, too?¡¯ she asked.


    ¡®We all did, with the exception of the desert,¡¯ Mkaer rumbled. ¡®The tolg did not settle. They carried images with them, but those were decorative.¡¯


    Wirrin got back to walking. ¡®Then why bother with the whole war?¡¯


    ¡®We do not know,¡¯ Mkaer rumbled.


    ¡®We assumed that they had discovered something, in Keredin,¡¯ Naertral burbled. ¡®This method of theirs to empower their mages. We assumed they had discovered something else to motivate them in this war.¡¯


    ¡®You weren¡¯t considered evil back then? Before the War?¡¯ Wirrin asked, frowning to herself as she walked. It felt like she was staring at a puzzle, trying to make sure she had all the pieces.


    ¡®Even Ulvaer wasn¡¯t considered evil,¡¯ Naertral hissed. ¡®Unpleasant, certainly, but not evil.¡¯


    ¡®Isolated,¡¯ Wirrin said.


    ¡®We mostly left it alone, yes,¡¯ Mkaer rumbled. ¡®But our mages were here. We did not shun any tolg who came to us. They were fewer, perhaps, but so were the people here.¡¯


    This wasn¡¯t a piece of the puzzle, Wirrin was sure. ¡®When people say that they can hear the Gods¡¯ when they worship, I assumed it was hyperbole. Whatever fervour motivated them to worship acting on their minds.¡¯


    ¡®Perhaps you were right,¡¯ Naertral shushed.


    ¡®I¡¯ll assume I wasn¡¯t entirely right,¡¯ Wirrin said. Then, a thought. ¡®Did you talk to everyone who touched these altars and statues?¡¯


    ¡®At least the majority of them,¡¯ Mkaer rumbled.


    ¡®Sometimes a person simply needs to express their thoughts to someone,¡¯ Naertral burbled. ¡®Not all of them need a response.¡¯


    ¡®This rumbling and burbling of your powers that I feel when you speak, though? You were present for everyone?¡¯ Wirrin asked.


    ¡®We did not have to be,¡¯ Mkaer rumbled. ¡®But we were.¡¯


    An unrelated thought. ¡®How many mages did you have? How many people speaking to these altars and statues?¡¯


    ¡®Having only your singular perspective is odd,¡¯ Naertral burbled. ¡®We were not limited by concentration. By the start of the war, I had thousands of mages, enough that I could not count them all for sure.¡¯


    ¡®Haerst and Gnaer must have had tens of thousands,¡¯ Mkaer rumbled. ¡®They were always most popular.¡¯


    ¡®Not by a wide enough margin, clearly.¡¯ Wirrin frowned to herself. She couldn¡¯t even conceptualise it. The idea of having more than one set of eyes was appealing, certainly, but it was beyond her imagination.


    ¡®As we have told you, the so-called-Gods could empower their mages far more than we could,¡¯ Mkaer rumbled. ¡®Iltavaer and Raerna were not far behind Haerst and Gnaer in their popularity.¡¯


    ¡®Health and Growth? That would make sense.¡¯


    ¡®Iltavaer was Flesh, back then,¡¯ Naertral burbled. ¡®Gnaer was Health.¡¯


    ¡®Iltavaer was, what? Fixing wounds? Compared to dealing with disease?¡¯


    ¡®There was more to it than that, but that is the shape of it,¡¯ Mkaer rumbled.


    ¡®If you weren¡¯t considered evil, did the Gods hate you all, before the War?¡¯ Wirrin asked.


    ¡®I would say we all got along well enough,¡¯ Naertral burbled. ¡®Perhaps I would have disagreements with Raerna from time to time. So, too, did Vonaer, who became one of these so-called-Gods.¡¯


    ¡®Which one is Vonaer?¡¯ Wirrin asked.


    ¡®It was called Shelter, before the War,¡¯ Mkaer rumbled. ¡®I expect that now it is Labour.¡¯


    ¡®Disagreements between building and growing things?¡¯ Wirrin mused.


    ¡®We all had disagreements,¡¯ Mkaer rumbled. ¡®We all got along well enough, and not simply for the sake of the people. Our disagreements were not so substantial, and it was always best for all of us to be able to work together.¡¯


    ¡®Except for Ulvaer?¡¯


    ¡®Ulvaer didn¡¯t spread, like the rest of us did,¡¯ Naertral shushed. ¡®Its people stayed in the desert, for the most part.¡¯


    That still wasn¡¯t a piece of the puzzle. ¡®Why, then, did they so want to erase you all?¡¯ Wirrin wondered. ¡®What did they get out of it?¡¯


    ¡®We have been contemplating it since you woke me,¡¯ Naertral shushed. ¡®We have just as little idea as we did when the War first started.¡¯


    ¡®You couldn¡¯t talk to each other directly before now, right? Only through your mages?¡¯ Wirrin asked. ¡®No shared altars where more than one of you could be found?¡¯


    ¡®We could only speak to each other through people,¡¯ Mkaer rumbled. ¡®We could not be reached through shared altars and statues, though shared temples were not so uncommon.¡¯


    Wirrin hated not to have all the information she needed. Part of her wanted to go back to Hekaulseg and interrogate Aulk and Baras until their Gods told her what the point of all this was. But she¡¯d had that feeling for a very long time. The only solution was to keep wandering, keep going to new places and learning new things. Even if she didn¡¯t learn what she wanted to know, she was sure to learn something interesting.

 People of the desert

    Wirrin stopped under a stand of trees for the night. It must not have rained recently, the fallen leaves and branches were nice and dry. She still had some travel food to go with her rice, but if she was headed directly north, she would have to spend a few days crossing what she thought of as the proper desert, where hunting would be difficult.


    With the sense of hers, she could feel birds roosting and hopping around in the treetops as she arrived. They were hard to see in the dimness, but she had no trouble shooting a medium-sized bird out of the canopy.


    Wirrin set up at the edge of the stand of trees, plucking the buzzard and bundling the feathers into her pack out of habit. One of the many crafts Wirrin had gotten the hang of during her extended stints in the wilderness was making her own arrows.


    She cut the bird into pieces, seasoned it with too much chilli, and stared vaguely at vastness of the night sky as she ate and sweated in the cold. One of the few things Wirrin liked better about the desert than the mountains was the unobstructed view of the stars.


    The desert was as flat as Wirrin remembered it. A seemingly endless stretch of yellowing savannah with the odd stand of trees, watering hole, and scrub to break up the monotony.


    From Hekaulseg to the woodland a couple more days north, the ground was loose and the hunting was good. Smaller herds of mostly gazelle and various antelope, or various antelope that weren¡¯t white, and the odd group of camels were the norm. Most of the larger grazing animals were found to the northeast or much further north, past the proper desert.


    Wirrin caught herself a grouse for lunch and sat down at a respectful distance from a watering hole where some gazelle and antelope were staring daggers at some spotted dogs. Everyone was drinking more or less peacefully, though.


    Some of the dogs, long-legged and spotted with big ears, came over to investigate when Wirrin started cooking. She sacrificed nearly half her lunch to make friends as she sat there with her boots off, letting her feet air out.


    Though the air was cool and there was a very pleasant breeze dragging fluffy clouds across the sky, Wirrin¡¯s boots were made for snow and her feet were getting sweaty. She¡¯d meant to stop in Hekaulseg for thinner boots, but she hadn¡¯t felt much like staying, what with all the attention from Ketla and the Church.


    After travelling more than a week with Ketla, Wirrin was looking forward to her solitude on the way to finding Ulvaer. Solitude other than the spotted dogs who trailed her for a couple of hours after lunch, presumably making sure she didn¡¯t have any more food to share with them.


    ¡®It¡¯s all very flat, isn¡¯t it?¡¯ Mkaer mumbled up into Wirrin¡¯s mind.


    ¡®And dry,¡¯ Naertral burbled.


    Wirrin shrugged to herself in the advancing afternoon. ¡®Gak tegalk.¡¯


    ¡®What is the use of people for you, Wirrin?¡¯ Naertral burbled. ¡®You interrogate us, we ought to interrogate you.¡¯


    Wirrin smiled out at the scrub and grass. ¡®Is this relationship mutual?¡¯


    Mkaer laughed like a mountain blasting apart. ¡®Sin eticra, san eticra.¡¯


    Wirrin snorted. ¡®Gak auktektegalktok.¡¯


    ¡®Gak tegalktok,¡¯ Naertral burbled.


    ¡®Gak tegalk vol gosya,¡¯ Wirrin said.


    ¡®You¡¯re disgusting,¡¯ Naertral burbled.


    Wirrin chuckled.


    ¡®We get it, you¡¯re not as good at speaking Kolgya,¡¯ Mkaer rumbled.


    ¡®Nesalan¡¯s interesting, isn¡¯t it?¡¯ Wirrin said. ¡®That includes the people, by and large. Not much more to it than that.¡¯


    ¡®I thought you were some sort of revolutionary,¡¯ Naertral hissed.


    ¡®Some sort, perhaps.¡¯ Wirrin shrugged. ¡®They¡¯re related, I¡¯m sure.¡¯


    ¡®So you come to look for Kolg because they¡¯re interesting, and likely to join your revolution?¡¯ Mkaer rumbled.


    Wirrin shrugged again. And sighed, for good measure. ¡®Shyolg, they¡¯re called now,¡¯ she thought. ¡®The people who travel, and stay away from the towns.¡¯


    ¡®The shyolg will join your revolution, then?¡¯ Mkaer rumbled.


    ¡®Am I doing a revolution?¡¯ Wirrin asked. ¡®I¡¯m just doing something interesting, surely? If I¡¯d found enough revolutionaries among the Tovant, I would have told them where Naertral was, not the Sovtanen.¡¯


    ¡®Are you not Sovtanen?¡¯ Mkaer rumbled.


    ¡®I¡¯ve only spent more time there because that¡¯s where I was raised,¡¯ Wirrin said. ¡®I am Sovtanen, but¡­ people know what they need more than I do, right? Better for them to have the power to free themselves than for me to do it for them.¡¯


    ¡®But they do need to be freed?¡¯ Naertral shushed. ¡®Or else you might have left me alone.¡¯


    ¡®Despite all the time I¡¯ve spent in Tolveya, I never found anyone who¡­ suited me, I suppose,¡¯ Wirrin said. ¡®This Heran and his family aren¡¯t the first people I¡¯ve met who were like that.¡¯


    ¡®Is wealth not the will of the people?¡¯ Naertral chuckled like a pond full of frogs.


    You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.


    ¡®Not sufficiently,¡¯ Wirrin said.


    ¡®You will find the same problem in Tolseyat, I expect,¡¯ Mkaer rumbled.


    ¡®I certainly will. And in Ahepvalt.¡¯


    ¡®Is that why you wanted to find Ulvaer first?¡¯ Naertral burbled.


    ¡®It¡¯s a contributing factor,¡¯ Wirrin said. ¡®But it¡¯s on the way, isn¡¯t it? From here I can simply go back to the Boclas, barge up to Ahepvalt, then take a ship across to Keredin, barge down to Pavatok, walk past the Tertic lake and into the swamp. And then probably die of diseases before I ever find Gnaer.¡¯


    Naertral did its pond full of frogs chuckle again.


    Wirrin stopped for the night near a watering hole that stank of death, decay, urine, and chalk. She had been upwind of it as she walked, and hadn¡¯t noticed the smell until it was getting too dark to find somewhere else.


    In the past, Wirrin might have just kept walking into the night to get away from the smell, and to find herself some clean water. But wasn¡¯t she supposed to be a mage? If Naertral and Vonaer could make entire rivers and lakes, couldn¡¯t she clean a little watering hole?


    Wirrin¡¯s sense of the ground told her that this watering hole had not been formed by a spring. While she hadn¡¯t experienced any rain since her stint in Mkaer¡¯s cave nearly two months ago, that certainly didn¡¯t mean there hadn¡¯t been any up here.


    Trying to concentrate on her sense of the ground, Wirrin took a deep breath. That was a mistake. The smell was nearly overwhelming, clogging up her nose and throat. She choked and took shallow breaths.


    ¡®Ulvaer¡¯s perfume,¡¯ Mkaer rumbled.


    Wirrin ignored the Fiend of the Mountains and tried to focus through shallow breaths and a taste like rotting chalk. Slow, dispersed water that Wirrin figured must be the water table was not so far below the ground. It was close enough that Wirrin could feel the roots of the nearby trees breaking into it and the roots of the grassland tickling across the surface.


    It was an effort not to take another deep breath as Wirrin reached her power into the ground and peeled open the water table. Nausea built in her throat like she was about to vomit as the old, stinking water of the pond filtered back through the sand and dirt and rocks to be replaced by clean and, importantly, non-stinking water.


    Rather than the pounding migraine of the swamp, Wirrin felt light-headed when she drew her attention back to the world around her. Sparkles rushed behind her eyes and she was a little wobbly, but a few deep breaths of the much more pleasant air and she was back to feeling like herself.


    Except that she was hungry.


    Since most animals with a sense of smell had sought water elsewhere, Wirrin had to dig into her travel food more than she liked for dinner. She figured worst case she would end up eating dried chilli and rice at some point in the proper desert. The alternative was small birds and rodents chewing on the nearby trees. Hardly worth the effort.


    It was quite dark by the time Wirrin had finished eating too much rice with dried meat and vegetables. The moon was thin in the sky, on its way to empty in a few days. Some bigger birds were returning, cautiously, to the stand of trees near the watering hole. At least it had worked.


    Wirrin was woken by some more spotted dogs sniffing around her little campsite. They danced away when she sat up, and gave her space when she got up to go to the toilet and have a stretch.


    She was fairly sure they were a different pack to the ones she¡¯d fed the day before, but they seemed essentially unconcerned by her. They just kept an eye on her as she went about her morning business.


    Wirrin was still hungry, and she had enjoyed making friends with the dogs yesterday, so she shot one of the antelope drinking at the watering hole. As she carefully skinned and butchered the antelope, she tossed bits and pieces out to the dogs, who seemed quite happy to pace around and be fed at a respectful distance.


    Out of the same habit that led to a bundle of feathers in her pack, Wirrin ground the brains with some white ash and smeared it over the skin, which she left out in the sun while she cooked herself breakfast and fed the dogs.


    Despite how patient and respectful the growing pack of spotted dogs was being, Wirrin paced herself tossing them pieces of the antelope. As she treated the hide, cooked, and ate, she made sure she didn¡¯t run out of meat to toss them. Only once she¡¯d packed up her little camp did she chuck the hind legs to the dogs.


    As with the pack from the previous day, the spotted dogs followed her for a little while after breakfast. They ran around and tussled and played with each other, they seemed to make a game of see who could get closest to Wirrin before she turned and looked. They were very cute, with their long legs and round ears.


    Wirrin smiled to herself as she felt them running around and creeping after her in their little game, until she turned suddenly and they yipped and danced away. Around mid-morning, the pack peeled away to follow a heard of gazelle.


    As noon rolled overhead, the edges of the woodland came into view over the horizon. Wirrin was hot and sweaty in the sun, despite the cool breeze, so she decided to delay lunch. She¡¯d had quite a large breakfast anyway.


    It took about two hours to reach the woodland and consistent shade, but Wirrin decided to keep going. Her first sight of big cats, a pride of lions who had a similar idea, lounging in the shade of the loose woods, was followed swiftly by a more worrying sighting of a leopard settled to wait in a tree. Wirrin felt it, first, but she liked to think she would have spotted it early enough to not walk under that tree.


    Deeper in the woods, small animals were going about their business, or sleeping in hollows and burrows, waiting for evening. The trees weren¡¯t nearly as close together as most forests Wirrin had been in. The dirt was still sandy, if much more solid than outside the woods.


    Wirrin was just considering shooting a bird or two and stopping early under the trees when she felt something on the edge of her sense through the ground. While she didn¡¯t know exactly how far the sense extended, it wasn¡¯t too far to keep going.


    ¡®Odd,¡¯ Wirrin said, mostly to herself. ¡®They should be at Fauvat Faulget by now.¡¯


    ¡®Is that where the gathering is?¡¯ Naertral burbled. ¡®It used to be at Hekaulget.¡¯


    ¡®Most of the shyolg keep away from the towns,¡¯ Wirrin said. ¡®So they don¡¯t have to deal with the Thaulgtok.¡¯


    Mkaer chuckled like melting snow rushing down the slopes. ¡®I like that.¡¯


    ¡®Was the first word Yolget taught me,¡¯ Wirrin said. ¡®Endeared me greatly.¡¯


    ¡®It would.¡¯ Naertral chuckled like a pond full of frogs.


    Wirrin shot herself a couple of birds on the way. It was always good manners to share, after all.


    On the far edge of the woodland, where the trees spread out and the going was easy, was a small clan of shyolg. About twenty carts and wagons sat in a loose semicircle around a large watering hole, camels and goats grazed on the green grass while a small family of elephants played in the water with some quiet, excited children and teenagers.


    Adults lounged around a few cooking fires or kept an eye on the grazing animals or played with the elephants themselves. A couple of huge barrels on carts sat by the watering hole, pump hoses rolled up and damp from recent use.


    Very like a spotted dog, a teenaged girl did her utmost to sneak up on Wirrin as she wandered out of the tree line. If not for the stifled giggles as the girl got close, she would have had quite a good chance of sneaking up on Wirrin before Wirrin could feel her footsteps through the sand.


    As it was, the girl was just reaching out a hand to touch Wirrin¡¯s arm when Wirrin turned around. The girl jumped back and clasped her hands behind her back like she hadn¡¯t been doing anything. She was lanky, with henna-orange corkscrew curls a little past her ears, a wide, flat nose, and deeply curious, monolidded brown eyes.


    Wirrin would have guessed the girl was about fifteen, given how tall she was. But the still-red scars tracing from under her lips and along her jawbones put her at no older than fourteen and likely not much past thirteen.


    ¡®I may be an idiot,¡¯ Wirrin thought.

 Secret adventure

    Chapter Twenty-three


    ¡®I¡¯m Yern,¡¯ the girl said, and held out her left hand. ¡®Who are you?¡¯


    Wirrin put her left hand on Yern¡¯s. ¡®I¡¯m Wirrin. Nice to meet you.¡¯


    Yern scrutinised her for a moment, before nodding to herself. ¡®Nice to meet you, too,¡¯ she said. ¡®Are you eaten?¡¯


    Wirrin managed to suppress a chuckle, that was a particular sort of mistake for a thirteen-year-old to make. ¡®I have not eaten,¡¯ she admitted. ¡®I was about to set up camp when I saw you.¡¯


    Yern nodded again. ¡®Good,¡¯ she said. ¡®Come and join us.¡¯


    Wirrin followed Yern into the camp, waving to the shepherds as she passed into the ring of wagons and carts. A couple of people who had left the cooking fires to start setting up tents stopped what they were doing and trailed Wirrin and Yern back out to where the adults were gathered.


    Lunch was most of the way finished, the fires banked down to coals for drying and curing leftovers. Taking relaxed turns, everyone around the fires got up or waved Wirrin over to introduce themselves and double check Yern¡¯s work, making sure that Wirrin hadn¡¯t eaten.


    None of them introduced themselves in Kolgya, which Wirrin supposed was technically polite, since they didn¡¯t know if she could speak it or not. Everyone offered their left hands. Even some of the older teenagers who had been playing with the kids in the water came over to introduce themselves.


    The clan was about a hundred strong, including the kids and a couple of unseasonable babies. Everyone Yern¡¯s age or older had the same scars from their bottom lips across their jawbones. The older teenagers and adults had more scars around their mouths and eyes, precise and decorative. A lot of the older adults, whose scars were fading, had traced over them in henna, which stood out bright orange against the shyolg¡¯s dark skin.


    ¡®In what way are you an idiot?¡¯ Mkaer rumbled, at some point during all the introductions.


    ¡®All the mages I¡¯ve seen have these scars, particularly around their mouths and eyes,¡¯ Wirrin thought. ¡®I hadn¡¯t made the connection.¡¯


    ¡®The kolg have always been fond of scarification,¡¯ Naertral burbled. ¡®Most marking themselves after Ulvaer and Azavaer.¡¯


    The ektshyolg that Wirrin had travelled with in her time in the desert had been far less universally scarred. Some had had little bits and pieces, some had had tattoos instead, more in the Tovant style. Still, Wirrin couldn¡¯t help but think she should have drawn the connection earlier.


    The most common designs drew attention to the mouth and extended like rays around the eyes. While everyone was different, everyone had both eyes and mouth scarred. While none of the adults were naked in the winter cool, Wirrin was sure the scars would continue under their clothes.


    ¡®The mages don¡¯t have the same scars,¡¯ Wirrin thought. ¡®And I¡¯ve not met any Kolg mages. But what are the chances it¡¯s a coincidence?¡¯


    ¡®Scarification was common in Keredin,¡¯ Naertral burbled. ¡®Not as common as in the desert, but common.¡¯


    ¡®These scars around the mouth,¡¯ Wirrin wondered. ¡®What do they represent?¡¯


    Mkaer laughed like one of Wirrin¡¯s explosive arrows.


    One of the cooking fires was banked back up to cook Wirrin¡¯s birds and, despite her insistence that she could cook, she was firmly encouraged into one of the lounge chairs nearby and told not to worry about it.


    To Wirrin¡¯s mild surprise, Yern sat in her lap. Not so much to Wirrin¡¯s surprise, the girl immediately started pelting her with questions. ¡®Why are you here?¡¯


    ¡®I¡¯m on my way to Fauvat Faulget,¡¯ Wirrin said.


    ¡®What for?¡¯


    ¡®I was hoping to meet some friends from a few years ago.¡¯


    ¡®What friends?¡¯


    ¡®I travelled with Koholshya for a while,¡¯ Wirrin said. ¡®One of the ektshyolg clans.¡¯


    Yern nodded. ¡®We know them. Cousins who want to see the world.¡¯


    A wave of muttering spread out to Wirrin¡¯s left.


    ¡®Why were you travelling with Koholshya?¡¯ Yern asked.


    ¡®I like to travel,¡¯ Wirrin said. ¡®They happened to be in Hestagal at the same time I was.¡¯


    ¡®How long did you travel with them?¡¯


    ¡®About eight months, I think,¡¯ Wirrin said. ¡®From mid-spring to the end of summer.¡¯


    ¡®Did you enjoy yourself?¡¯ Yern frowned, running out of questions.


    Wirrin smiled. ¡®I did, yes. I haven¡¯t been back for a while, though. It¡¯s not my favourite sort of climate.¡¯


    Yern looked down at Wirrin¡¯s clothes and then boots. ¡®You like the mountains.¡¯


    Wirrin smiled wider. ¡®I do like the mountains.¡¯


    A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.


    A young man with a wide smile, corkscrew curls down past his shoulders, and scars on the backs of his hands, approached Wirrin and Yern from the left. ¡®Are you being nice, Yern?¡¯


    Yern frowned up at him. ¡®I¡¯m being very nice, Taug.¡¯


    Wirrin nodded. ¡®Very nice indeed.¡¯


    Yern waved at Wirrin. ¡®See? Very nice indeed.¡¯


    Taug managed to smile wider. ¡®I¡¯m glad to hear it,¡¯ he said. ¡®Being nice is an important part of being a healer, you know?¡¯


    Yern frowned harder. ¡®I do know that, Taug. You keep telling me.¡¯


    ¡®And what did you tell Herdok yesterday?¡¯ Taug asked.


    Yern smiled for the first time since Wirrin had met her. ¡®Fautyalgtok vos¡¯havt ovt¡¯hogoll.¡¯


    Taug¡¯s quite sincere, disappointed frown was completely ruined by Wirrin''s snort and cackling.


    Yern looked at her, then back at Taug. ¡®Gol eshktek paulgek, holk.¡¯


    ¡®Gat Herdok fautyalg?¡¯ Wirrin asked.


    Yern shook her head. ¡®Vos vos.¡¯


    Wirrin looked at Taug. ¡®Olg eshtek paulgek.¡¯


    Yern looked from Wirrin to Taug again. Then back and forth again. ''Stop speaking Kolgya,¡¯ she instructed. ¡®I¡¯m trying to practice.¡¯


    Wirrin nodded. ¡®You¡¯re doing very well so far.¡¯


    Yern nodded back. ¡®Good.¡¯


    Taug managed to wrestle his face back under control. ¡®Someone said you¡¯d travelled with Koholshya, Wirrin?¡¯


    Wirrin nodded. ¡®For a few months, a few years ago.¡¯


    Taug nodded. ¡®Is Wirrin a common name in the South?¡¯


    Wirrin shook her head. ¡®Vos vos.¡¯


    Yern glared at her.


    Taug¡¯s grin returned. ¡®Paut pautegalk.¡¯ He dragged an unoccupied chair over and sat down. ¡®You¡¯re not Wirrin the Southern Adventurer, are you?¡¯


    Yern glared. ¡®You didn¡¯t say you were an adventurer.¡¯


    Wirrin smiled. ¡®I¡¯m not an adventurer,¡¯ she said. ¡®I¡¯m a traveller. Which I did tell you, if you recall.¡¯


    ¡®Yolget said you hated to be called an adventurer,¡¯ Taug grinned. ¡®But if you didn¡¯t want to be called an adventurer, you shouldn¡¯t have told him all your adventures.¡¯


    Wirrin grinned back. ¡®You know Yolget? A cousin?¡¯ She tried to scrutinise Taug, but whatever resemblance was in the same colour of hair and eyes and skin seemed only regional, and the scars made it hard to be sure.


    ¡®A cousin,¡¯ Taug nodded. ¡®Wait, no¡­ distant cousin, I suppose.¡¯


    ¡®What would that be? Aupt¡¯tholgtok?¡¯ Wirrin mused.


    Taug shrugged a couple of times, frowned mildly, and shrugged a couple more times. ¡®Sure. I don¡¯t like you saying it, though.¡¯


    Wirrin smiled. ¡®I won¡¯t say it again. Yolget told you about me, did he?¡¯


    ¡®He told anyone who would listen, for three winter meetings in a row. He was so disappointed you¡¯d left before everyone got to meet you.¡¯


    Yolget, who had been about fifteen at the time, had basically been Wirrin¡¯s shadow for the eight months she¡¯d spent travelling with Koholshya. He¡¯d loved all the stories she¡¯d told about her travels in Nesalan, and she had to admit that she might have exaggerated some of them for his entertainment.


    ¡®Maybe I¡¯ll get to meet them this time,¡¯ Wirrin said. ¡®I was on my way to the hetavatok when I ran into you. Are you not going?¡¯


    Yern reached out to put a finger on Taug¡¯s lips as he opened his mouth to reply. ¡®Winter meeting is the translation of hetavatok?¡¯


    Wirrin shrugged. ¡®It¡¯s close enough, yes.¡¯


    Yern nodded and removed her finger from Taug¡¯s face, then wiped it on Wirrin¡¯s shirt. Wirrin snorted.


    ¡®We were on our way,¡¯ Taug said. ¡®We were already running late. And then we ran into the Thaulgtok out in the sand.¡¯ He pointed in the direction of the proper desert. ¡®And they told us we had to go around.¡¯


    ¡®They¡¯re waiting for you,¡¯ Mkaer rumbled.


    Wirrin sighed. ¡®I was going to cut straight through,¡¯ she said. ¡®Could do it anyway, I suppose.¡¯


    ¡®Wouldn¡¯t be the first time you¡¯ve gotten on the Thaulgtok¡¯s bad side, from what I¡¯ve heard.¡¯ Taug frowned to himself. ¡®Vekthaulgtok? Thaulgtok¡¯s?¡¯


    ¡®Vekthaulgtok?¡¯ Naertral did that pond full of frogs chuckle again.


    ¡®Are you in a hurry?¡¯ Yern asked. ¡®Why cut through instead of go around with us?¡¯


    Wirrin¡¯s certainty that she would only benefit from telling the shyolg about the Fiends did internal battle with the broad concern that telling anyone about it would cause trouble. She had been hoping to wake Ulvaer before telling anyone about it, and that it would be safe.


    ¡®Are you on a secret adventure of some sort?¡¯ Yern demanded. She grabbed Wirrin¡¯s shirt front. ¡®I¡¯m great at keeping secrets and you can tell me anything.¡¯ She glared at Taug. ¡®Aushyavt.¡¯


    Wirrin almost choked. ¡®I¡¯m seeing why people might tell you to be nice, Yern.¡¯


    Yern turned the glare on Wirrin, it was quite a good glare. ¡®It¡¯s not a secret if you tell Taug, as well.¡¯


    Wirrin looked at Taug. ¡®Olg gat paulget.¡¯ Then she looked back at Yern. ¡®If I tell anyone, I might as well tell everyone.¡¯


    Yern leaned in very close, eyes very wide. ¡®You should tell me first, so that I can advise you on whether or not to tell everyone.¡¯


    Wirrin managed to sustain eye-contact for long enough to impress herself, but not long enough to impress Yern. ¡®Alright, sure.¡¯


    Yern¡¯s triumphant laugh was adorable. She hopped off Wirrin¡¯s lap and heaved her to her feet. ¡®Let us retreat to privacy.¡¯


    ¡®Osga is in the wagon with Herdok and Saush,¡¯ Taug called after them as Yern dragged Wirrin away from the lake.


    ¡®Secret meeting,¡¯ Yern said. ¡®We should eavesdrop to find out what they¡¯re planning.¡¯


    ¡®I can¡¯t talk if we¡¯re eavesdropping,¡¯ Wirrin said.


    ¡®You make a good point,¡¯ Yern was forced to admit. ¡®Surely they¡¯re planning to go around. Nothing interesting.¡¯


    The privacy that Yern dragged Wirrin off to was just off to the western side of the half-circle of carts and wagons. There was no one around, but it wasn¡¯t what Wirrin envisioned when she thought of privacy. They were out in the open.


    Yern was fairly vibrating. ¡®Secrets,¡¯ she insisted. ¡®Tell me secrets¡­ so that I can help you decide whether or not to share with the rest of us.¡¯ For a thirteen-year-old, that was a remarkable amount of restraint.


    Wirrin grinned. ¡®You sure you won¡¯t tell anyone, if we decide not to?¡¯


    Yern nodded furiously, her fists clenched. ¡®Og vosht thaulgh.¡¯


    Wirrin snorted. ¡®In that case.¡¯


    Mkaer interrupted. ¡®Are you sure about this, Wirrin?¡¯


    ¡®I¡¯ve found some of the Fiends,¡¯ Wirrin said, almost without pause. ¡®Two of them so far, and I know where Ulvaer is.¡¯


    Yern frowned, disappointed and frustrated. ¡®I don¡¯t know what that means.¡¯


    Wirrin frowned, disappointed and frustrated. ¡®I don¡¯t know the Kolgya words for it.¡¯


    They frowned at each other, disappointed and frustrated.


    ¡®The ones the Thaulgtok got rid of,¡¯ Wirrin said, at last. ¡®In the Gods¡¯ War.¡¯


    Yern¡¯s face lit up, she got taller. ¡®Tesholg? The¡­ people of nature?¡¯


    ¡®They were called Outsiders, I think,¡¯ Wirrin said. ¡®The Thaulgtok call them Fiends, now.¡¯


    Yern nodded along. ¡®You found some? Which ones? The good ones?¡¯


    Wirrin shrugged. ¡®Which ones are good?¡¯


    ¡®Which ones did you find?¡¯ Yern was bouncing on her heels, but true to her word she was looking around to make sure no one was listening.


    ¡®So far Mountain and Poison,¡¯ Wirrin said. ¡®And I am quite sure I know where the Desert is.¡¯


    Yern flailed her arms and almost fell over. ¡®Tegalk Tesholg? Ekvosh?¡¯ Then she froze, turned, and pointed into the sand. ¡®Where the Thaulgtok are?¡¯


    Wirrin nodded. ¡®It¡¯s supposed to be the centre of the desert. But before the war, the desert was much smaller. And doesn¡¯t it just make sense?¡¯


    Yern¡¯s frantic energy returned in a spasm of nodding and gesticulating. ¡®Of course it would be in the Sand. The centre is trees and stuff, nothing interesting. The old centre was in the Sand.¡¯


    Wirrin nodded along. ¡®So?¡¯


    Yern kept on nodding, gesticulating, bouncing from foot to foot. She paused, scrunched up her whole face like something disgusting had occurred to her, then resumed her frantic nodding and grabbed Wirrin¡¯s hand again.


    ¡®We¡¯ve got to tell them.¡¯

 Desert democracy

    Wirrin could have smelled out the healers¡¯ wagon, if she¡¯d needed to. There was a light breeze that wasn¡¯t enough to get through the half-circle of carts and wagons, and certainly wasn¡¯t enough to disperse the smell. As Yern dragged her back into the half-circle, the smells of myrrh, frankincense, dates, and alcohol was so strong as to be nearly overwhelming.


    The healers¡¯ wagon was one of the bigger wagons in the camp, a wooden house on wheels raised high off the ground. The huge yoke on the front was certainly for an elephant, and a long, shallow ramp led up to a door at the back.


    Wirrin likely could have tracked down the meeting by sound, too. The camp was largely quiet, except for the odd sounds of babies waking or going to sleep. Eavesdropping on the meeting would not have been hard. A loud, male voice carried through a good chunk of the half-circle of carts and wagons.


    ¡®Kot tholtya Thaulgtok?¡¯ that male voice was demanding. ¡®Kot vik ekog Thaulgtok hetsh? Goltok vosht vik ekog Thaulgtok hetsh.¡¯


    A much quieter, woman¡¯s voice said something. She sounded tired.


    ¡®That¡¯s Herdok and Osga,¡¯ Yern whispered. ¡®Saush is the sensible one.¡¯


    ¡®Goshogoll goltok? Thaulgtok ektvik vosgok hoget faufautya,¡¯ Herdok proclaimed.


    ¡®He¡¯s stuck in a loop, we should interrupt,¡¯ Yern whispered, dragging Wirrin toward the ramp.


    ¡®But if we tell them, Herdok will win the argument,¡¯ Wirrin whispered back.


    Yern stopped dead. She stared at Wirrin for several seconds. ¡®No helping it, sadly.¡¯


    A different woman¡¯s voice, slow and precise, just loud enough to be heard from the bottom of the ramp. ¡®Goltok vosgok vik voshavat tholgtok. Goltok ekikt vosovt ausholktok.¡¯


    Before anything else could be said, Yern let go of Wirrin¡¯s hand and sprinted up the ramp to bang on the door. Wirrin had to agree with Yern¡¯s decision, but she wasn¡¯t going to run up the ramp.


    ¡®Vos¡¯hetshya,¡¯ Osga said.


    Wirrin made it to the top of the ramp behind Yern, who was bouncing from foot to foot, by the time the door opened. That smell of myrrh and frankincense billowed out of the wagon, clogging Wirrin¡¯s eyes and nose and mouth.


    The woman who had opened the door was probably the same height as Wirrin, and probably about ten years older. She had a severe look, with her hair shaved close to her scalp and very dark eyes. She was skinny, her plain kaftan hung loosely around her. The wavy scars around her eyes had been made shapes like bigger eyes, and the scars on her hands gave the odd impression of too many bones.


    ¡®Yern,¡¯ Osga said. ¡®Goltok takyavt.¡¯


    ¡®Olg gat Wirrin,¡¯ Yern said, gesturing behind her. ¡®Olg ekt takholgok.¡¯


    Osga looked at Wirrin, then back at Yern. ¡®Takholgok?¡¯


    Yern nodded, quite a lot. ¡®Pautya. Olg ekt takholgok.¡¯


    Osga sighed, and finished opening the door so that she could extend her left palm out to Wirrin. ¡®Wirrin, is it? Yern here says you have important information.¡¯


    Wirrin put her left palm on Osga¡¯s. ¡®I think that¡¯s up to you to decide.¡¯


    Osga nodded and waved them in. Past the entryway was a large room stacked with thin mattresses, a small table, and the two other participants in the argument. The smell only got stronger.


    Herdok was older than Wirrin had expected, his long, corkscrew curls were white, the scars on his face were faded into the wrinkles. He was sat on a cushion, watching Yern with delight and Wirrin with interest.


    Saush was likely the youngest of the three, probably about the same age as Wirrin. She was sat in a cushioned, padded chair. Her mouth hung open slightly on the right, where a pattern of scars resembled a beak. Her left arm ended just beyond the elbow in a little thumb, and her right had only three fingers. Her legs were bowed, small feet sitting on rests on the front of the wheeled chair. The majority of her scarification, where it deviated from the norm, drew attention to her physical differences.


    ¡®Olg gat Wirrin,¡¯ Yern said.


    ¡®Yern promises she has important information to tell us.¡¯ Osga sounded tired, but not dubious.


    From his cushion on the floor, Herdok offered his left hand. ¡®Og eshk Herdok.¡¯


    Wirrin put her left hand on his.


    Saush offered her right hand. ¡®Og eshk Saush,¡¯ she said. ¡®Vos vostakfautya.¡¯


    Wirrin put her left hand on hers. ¡®Og ishoget vos vostakfautya.¡¯


    Saush pressed her lips together. ¡®You can just so ishoget, in future.¡¯


    Wirrin nodded.


    ¡®Wirrin,¡¯ Osga said. ¡®Would you mind telling us what Yern believes is so important?¡¯


    Wirrin had to stop herself from defending Yern. Likely Osga would have said ¡®Yern holktok vik takholgok¡¯ in Kolgya, which did not have the implied dismissiveness that the translated phrase did.


    ¡®I¡¯ve found¡­¡¯ Wirrin paused. She¡¯d learned Ulvaer¡¯s name in the desert, but that didn¡¯t mean the people here would know it. ¡®Povek Tesholg and Fogolk Teshold,¡¯ she said. ¡®And I¡¯m fairly sure I know where Tegalk Tesholg is.¡¯


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    Osga got it first, pointing out into the sand. ¡®Where the Thaulgtok are?¡¯


    Wirrin nodded.


    ¡®You say found?¡¯ Saush mused.


    ¡®I did wake them,¡¯ Wirrin said.


    ¡®Tetholgtok?¡¯ Herdok frowned at her. ¡®Og ehstvos¡¯holk¡­¡¯ Herdok frowned at her a little harder. ¡®I didn¡¯t know that was possible.¡¯


    ¡®I don¡¯t know tetholg,¡¯ Wirrin admitted.


    ¡®Mage,¡¯ Mkaer rumbled.


    ¡®Mage,¡¯ Yern blurted, just before Herdok said it.


    ¡®They didn¡¯t either,¡¯ Wirrin said. ¡®I expect it has something to do with waking them up.¡¯


    ¡®So the Thaulgtok are here for you?¡¯ Osga frowned.


    Wirrin shrugged. ¡®It would be quite a coincidence if they weren¡¯t.¡¯


    ¡®Are you a storyteller, Wirrin?¡¯ Saush asked.


    Wirrin choked. At least that was a polite way to ask if someone was lying. ¡®I am not,¡¯ she said. ¡®There are enough interesting things in the world without having to make anything up.¡¯


    ¡®So what do you propose we do with this knowledge?¡¯ Saush asked.


    Wirrin shrugged again. ¡®I had been hoping to actually find Ulvaer before I talked to anyone about it. I was headed to the hetavatok to talk to some friends about it.¡¯


    ¡®What were you expecting your friends to do with this knowledge?¡¯


    Wirrin frowned, what had she been expecting? ¡®I suppose I expected them to want to go and find Ulvaer themselves,¡¯ she said. ¡®The Church¡­ the Thaulgtok already being here complicates it, though.¡¯


    ¡®You wouldn¡¯t want anything from them, in exchange for telling them? Helping them find Tegalk Tesholg?¡¯


    ¡®I wasn¡¯t going to help them find it,¡¯ Wirrin said. ¡®I was just going to keep going. It¡¯s not my business what they want from Ulvaer.¡¯


    Saush scrutinised her.


    Wirrin tried to scrutinise herself. Though hadn¡¯t she already said it to the Fiends? ¡®It seems to me that people will have a better idea what¡¯s good for them than I will,¡¯ she said. ¡®My experience so far with the shyolg is that you all seem to have quite a good idea of what¡¯s good for you. I don¡¯t need to tell people what to do, just seek avenues for change.¡¯


    ¡®Directionless change?¡¯ Osga asked.


    ¡®I don¡¯t think you¡¯re directionless,¡¯ Wirrin said.


    ¡®If your experience had been different? If we, the shyolg, were different?¡¯ Osga asked.


    Wirrin shrugged. ¡®Maybe I wouldn¡¯t bother telling you. As it is, I¡¯m telling you.¡¯


    ¡®Only certain people know what¡¯s good for them, then?¡¯ Herdok grinned.


    ¡®That has been my experience, yes,¡¯ Wirrin said.


    ¡®It has been my experience as well,¡¯ Herdok said, looking at Saush. ¡®I met many who worshipped the Thausholg, in my travels outside the desert.¡¯


    ¡®I like that,¡¯ Mkaer rumbled.


    ¡®I ask out of interest,¡¯ Saush said, looking at Herdok. ¡®I have not had the privilege of travel that you have had.¡¯


    ¡®The question remains, Wirrin,¡¯ Osga said. ¡®What do you expect us to do with this information?¡¯


    Wirrin shrugged. ¡®Think about it, I suppose.¡¯ That didn¡¯t feel like enough. ¡®I¡¯m going to try to awaken Ulvaer either way. It¡¯s up to you what you do with that information.¡¯


    ¡®Olg vosesh gok pautesk,¡¯ Herdok said. ¡®Goltok gok takesk.¡¯


    ¡®Goltok vesh tekhetsh ogoltok,¡¯ Saush said.


    Yern nodded seriously.


    Herdok nodded seriously in exactly the same manner, a moment later. Saush joined in. Wirrin joined in.


    Osga looked around at them all and threw up her hands. ¡®Fine.¡¯


    It wasn¡¯t hard to gather the camp together, most of them were still lounging around the lake. Parents brought their sleeping children, shepherds brought their flocks. Decisions needed to be made and even if not everyone would participate, it was only fair that everyone be present.


    Wirrin was surprised that it took about half an hour of discussion before someone, a young woman who introduced herself as Theka, to pose the question. ¡®Vesh goltok holk olg vosfautya?¡¯ It was technically quite a rude question to ask, but it seemed like an obvious one, none the less.


    While Osga and Saush jumped to Wirrin¡¯s defence, which was very nice of them, Wirrin thought about it. What was something easy she could do that would demonstrate what she wanted to demonstrate?


    Off the edge of the watering hole where they were having this meeting, a sinkhole rapidly formed, sand sliding away into the ground. The water table was close, so it wasn¡¯t too difficult for Wirrin to crack open a small spring to bubble up out of the ground and trickle back into the lake.


    She felt sweaty and light-headed for doing it, but the cooking fires were in use again and no one minded her grabbing some food and sitting down to take deep breaths. The meeting took turns meandering over to examine the tiny spring.


    The water didn¡¯t last long, but it had the desired effect. People moved on from debating the merits of just doing nothing and letting Wirrin get on with her own life. Which had, admittedly, been the option that Wirrin proposed.


    The spring hadn¡¯t yet run dry by the time the meeting was discussing the exact manner in which they would follow Wirrin into the centre of the desert. There was a fairly even split between following her most of the way and letting her try to deal with the Church on her own, and taking up arms against the Thaulgtok.


    A couple of people, including Herdok, were suggesting they could go without Wirrin and awaken Ulvaer themselves. Saush was doing an admirable job of talking them down, though. They had spotted at least half a dozen mages in the Church¡¯s little camp, and the seventy-odd members of the clan who could fight probably wouldn¡¯t be enough to deal with that.


    Taug even told the story of the five-hundred-year-riots, almost exactly as Wirrin had told it to Yolget, to help strengthen the case against trying to fight the Church themselves.


    An older man, younger that Herdok, whose name had drifted out of Wirrin¡¯s head asked the obvious question. ¡®If it took twenty thousand people to kill a dozen mages, what hope do the seventy of us have against six?¡¯


    Taug frowned, his mouth opened, then closed.


    ¡®It was more like ten thousand, at most,¡¯ Wirrin said, before Taug could come up with an answer. ¡®And not everyone actually got involved, once all the killing started.¡¯


    ¡®Still, it must have been more than seventy,¡¯ the man said. ¡®Or even a hundred and forty.¡¯


    ¡®Oh, certainly,¡¯ Wirrin said. She remembered screams and shouts. Blinding lights and the smell of roasting meat drifting all the way to her rooftop. People in grey robes moving too fast to see. Climbing, thorny plants breaking through cobblestones. ¡®A few hundred, at least.¡¯


    Everyone was looking at her. Wirrin shrugged. ¡®Patolg,¡¯ she said. ¡®Most of them didn¡¯t have weapons.¡¯


    Herdok¡¯s eyes glistened very like Hest¡¯s had. ¡®They beat the mages to death?¡¯


    Wirrin remembered a struggling mass of people, bright flashes of light barely making it past the crush of bodies. Shouting and screaming and burning. A woman with a grey robe and a scarred face, battered and bloody and unmoving on the ground.


    ¡®More knives than swords or bows,¡¯ she said. ¡®A lot of the Sovtlan knew how to fight. But there were never that many of them. A lot of drunken brawlers trying to deal with dedicated killers. It took a lot of them to get the job done.¡¯ She shrugged again.


    Yern leaned in. ¡®What¡¯s Sovtlan?¡¯


    ¡®Singers, I suppose,¡¯ Wirrin said.


    ¡®You think we can¡¯t do better than a bunch of scared, unarmed patolg?¡¯ Herdok asked of the man, who sat back down rather than answer.


    It was Herdok and the few others who had wanted to fight for themselves who ended up swaying the meeting toward helping Wirrin to fight the Thaulgtok. It was good enough for them, if they weren¡¯t going to win what they really wanted.


    Wirrin spent most of the rest of the meeting explaining about the Sovtlan and the riots to Yern, who was equally more interested in that explanation than the meeting itself.


    The final count was sixty three in favour of joining Wirrin in battle against the Thaulgtok to thirty one against, eight abstentions, and a herd of goats who could not be convinced to vote.

 Fiend of the Desert

    What would have been a two-day walk for Wirrin was closer to a five-day meander as she travelled with the shyolg clan called Vaulgat. The elephants didn¡¯t like the loose sand of the proper desert and so the route they took wound between patches of firmer ground where the odd tufts of grass and trees grew.


    They stopped often to feed and water the animals and people, and stopped early to set up firm bedding so that the elephants didn¡¯t sink into the sand as they slept. Most of the clan took the opportunity of these early stops to practice with swords and bows, refreshing themselves for what seemed like an inevitable fight with the Church.


    Wirrin joined in the sword sparring. She¡¯d learned how to fight with the shyolg¡¯s forward-curved swords when she was last in the desert, and she preferred them to the thin swords favoured by the Church and, therefore, most of Nesalan.


    She¡¯d refused the gift of a sword last time she was in the desert because it would draw too much attention. Most of the swords were at least the length of Wirrin¡¯s arm and they were much bigger than any swords people outside the desert might carry. But when Taug suggested she take a spare on the third day into the sand, she agreed.


    Most of Wirrin¡¯s training and fighting experience thus far had been with her fists or with knives, which were favoured in Ettovica where it was still extremely difficult for the citizens to arm themselves.


    Though she still carried Leran¡¯s small sword, she had no more intention to use it than she ever had.


    Wirrin found that she remembered enough of her training from five years ago that she wasn¡¯t completely useless with the sosun pattah. But even the teenagers were reliably beating her by the late morning of the fourth day, when they spotted the Church¡¯s camp out in the sand.


    The Church¡¯s camp consisted of only two tents, but Wirrin could feel eight people moving around in the soft sand. When they spotted the camp, two mages in their heavy, grey robes were standing, waiting, between them and the tents.


    Under the camp, exactly between the two tents, was a statue.


    Ulvaer¡¯s statue was deeper than Naertral¡¯s had been, easily thirty metres deep in the soft sand, resting on the harder sand and soil of the water table. It would be much easier to lift, Wirrin thought, despite its size, since it was buried in sand rather than mud and dirt.


    ¡®If you alert the Church, it will make things much more difficult,¡¯ Mkaer rumbled.


    ¡®What else am I supposed to do?¡¯ Wirrin thought.


    ¡®I am simply stating the obvious.¡¯


    ¡®Try stating something helpful, Mountain,¡¯ Naertral burbled.


    ¡®The sand may be soft to walk on, but it could well become a flurry of knives at high enough speed,¡¯ Mkaer rumbled.


    Wirrin snorted.


    As Vaulgat and Wirrin approached the Church camp, the rest of its inhabitants wandered out of their tents to greet them. Wirrin wasn¡¯t so surprised to see Ketla was one of the two non-mages, wearing a big cane hat to keep the sun off her face.


    Saush called Vaulgat to stop a few hundred metres from the camp, and Osga approached with Wirrin. Herdok had been forbidden from coming in case he started a fight too soon.


    ¡®We already told you to go around,¡¯ a man with a solid gold symbol of a sun over swords told Osga the moment he reached speaking distance.


    ¡®I see you haven¡¯t taken my advice, Ketla,¡¯ Wirrin said.


    ¡®You know, if you weren¡¯t so suspicious, I would be in Epatlok writing reports about how to convince people that staying in the Church was good for them,¡¯ Ketla said.


    ¡®Suspicious, me?¡¯ Wirrin smiled.


    ¡®First you go into the mountains with Heran¡¯s three children,¡¯ Ketla said. ¡®You come back without them and the word is they died in an avalanche. Totally believable. If you hadn¡¯t gotten that map for Heran in Esbolva, we would have gone back to ignoring you, you know?¡¯


    Wirrin chuckled. ¡®That¡¯s what I get for trying to have sex with an academic.¡¯


    ¡®You follow Heran¡¯s cousins into the wetland, totally believable behaviour for you,¡¯ Ketla continued. ¡®But you¡¯re already suspicious, so I had to wait around for you to get back. I kept telling Baras that you were being honest, you know? Just coming to spend the winter in the desert where it¡¯s not so cold.¡¯


    ¡®And what makes you so sure I¡¯m not doing just that?¡¯ Wirrin smiled.


    ¡®Did you know some old ruins recently disappeared from the Esbolva wetland?¡¯ Ketla asked.


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    ¡®Hubris, is it?¡¯ Wirrin shrugged. ¡®Here I thought I was hiding it from more of Heran¡¯s kin.¡¯


    ¡®The problem is just how you hid it,¡¯ Ketla said.


    ¡®Vekt eshaug olgtok,¡¯ Herdok shouted from the camp.


    Wirrin snorted. She leaned over to Osga. ¡®Do you want to talk to him, perhaps?¡¯


    Osga turned on her heel and walked back to where Herdok was standing at the front of the assembled shyolg.


    ¡®What did he say?¡¯ the man asked, frowning. He looked around at the assembled mages: two War mages, including Baras, two Light mages, one Work mage, and one Growth mage. He was met with a round of shrugs.


    ¡®This is what I meant, Ketla,¡¯ Wirrin said. ¡®It¡¯s the lack of respect that gets to people. You propose to be part of people¡¯s lives, but you don¡¯t know the languages they speak.¡¯


    ¡®What did he say, Wirrin?¡¯ Ketla asked.


    Wirrin smiled.


    Ulvaer¡¯s statue burst from the ground in a blast of hot sand and rancid water.


    ¡®He said just kill them already.¡¯


    The Growth mage and one of the Light mages collapsed to the ground, writhing and groaning as poisoned water seeped through tiny cuts in their flesh. Behind the Work mage a perfect rectangle of sand, sharp corners and straight lines, had shielded him and the other Light mage from Ulvaer¡¯s arrival.


    Faster than Wirrin could see, Baras and the other War mage had grabbed up Ketla and the man and dashed them to the sides, out of the way of the eruption. The War mages both drew their thin swords as they put their charges down a good four hundred metres to either side of where they expected the fight to happen.


    Wirrin felt the sand gather in front of her as a shower of arrows left the shyolg¡¯s bows behind her. She pushed the sand back down and was honestly surprised when the Work mage and the second Light mage were skewered with arrows as the barrier failed to rise.


    Both War mages lunged from their four hundred metre distance and Wirrin ducked into an awkward forward roll, narrowly avoiding being stabbed through both kidneys.


    The simple followup was stymied by the first group of sword-wielding shyolg arriving to back Wirrin up. The War mages were too fast, and one woman was bleeding on the ground before Wirrin could do anything.


    While surrounding the War mages was probably the best strategy, it meant Wirrin couldn¡¯t blast them with sand for risk of hurting her allies. As the rest of the mages bled into the sand in front of her, an idea struck.


    Though the work mage was quite dead already, he was included in the wave of sand that flung the dying mages toward the statue of Ulvaer. Wirrin sprinted in that direction and still didn¡¯t have time to process what the statue looked like as the distraction worked and the War mages broke through the shyolg to chase her.


    Not one of the dying mages reached the statue of Ulvaer. The War mages were too fast. All four were quite certainly dead when they hit the sand at the feet of the War mages, swords and knives stained with blood.


    A torrent of sand and rancid water had the unexpected effect of carrying the War mages up into the air. Both landed almost immediately, cratering the soft desert with unreasonable weight.


    Wirrin¡¯s head was throbbing as sand blasted at the War mages from all sides. They were fast, but there was no escaping unscathed from traps they had created for themselves.


    Wounds bled through tattered robes as the War mages seemed to simply appear several hundred metres away.


    Those shyolg who had not abandoned their bows grasped the concept of the distraction, at least, and fired on Ketla and the man. The war mages were faster than the arrows and had their charges further to safety in the blink of an eye.


    There was a moment of peace. No one moved. The only sound was water bubbling from under Ulvaer¡¯s statue, where Wirrin had created a small spring. The War mages dripped blood onto the ground. A young man held pressure to the wounded woman¡¯s sternum. Lights pulsed behind Wirrin¡¯s eyes.


    Fast as they were, the war mages couldn¡¯t cross the kilometre they¡¯d put between their charges and the shyolg archers before Wirrin could react. Sand blasted them toward Wirrin and a thin blade stabbed through her chest for her trouble.


    Baras glared out from under his tattered hood. But he¡¯d missed. The hilt of his sword was pressed against Wirrin under her right breast, The blade stabbed through her right lung, missing her heart and her spine.


    ¡®I should have killed you sooner,¡¯ Baras rasped.


    Wirrin spat in his face. He was silent as his flesh boiled and his eyes melted out of his head. Wirrin grabbed him and, with a great deal of help from the damp sand, hurled him into the statue of Ulvaer.


    The other War mage, busy fending off a hail of swords, his own sword protruding from the mouth of the young man who had been attempting first aid, failed to reach the statue in time.


    Baras¡¯s sword stayed in his hand as he hit the statue and the blood started to flow from his body.


    The second War mage¡¯s knife was too short for a manoeuvre that would have very much killed Wirrin if he¡¯d done it with his sword. He stabbed from above Wirrin¡¯s shoulder blade and into her left lung, knife-point leaving a good couple of centimetres to Wirrin¡¯s heart.


    His grip failed on the knife in Wirrin¡¯s left lung as water seeped from the sand into the cuts on his legs. Wirrin just managed to make it to the statue as blood filled her lungs.


    She wondered how much faith she had in Taug and Osga. But she couldn¡¯t bring herself to worry about it. She had enough faith to ignore the blood in her lungs.


    Ulvaer sat with crossed legs. Massive and corpulent. Rolls and folds rendered in perfect detail. The head of a hyena, mouth open somewhere between a laugh and a snarl, exquisite fur ready to rustle in the breeze.


    The statue felt soft and warm under Wirrin¡¯s hands as she collapsed onto it.


    A voice like the rattling and thumping of vultures, like the yipping and cackling of hyenas, like the rasping of a sandstorm. ¡®Oh, you certainly are hungry.¡¯


    And Wirrin was hungry. She was starving. It filled her lungs like blood, turned her guts in knots. She had never been so hungry in her life. Starving in the snow, in the mountains, she¡¯d never been so hungry.


    At first, it seemed there was nothing to eat. Nothing to satiate her rattling, cackling, rasping hunger. Except that there was fresh meat right here, wasn¡¯t there? In Ulvaer¡¯s lap, a fresh body already drained of blood.


    Nothing had ever been so appetising.


    It wasn¡¯t the blood that filled Ulvaer with colour. It was the eating.


    The dark skin of a desert local spread from the statues legs, up into the heaving stomach and pectoral fat that could just have well have been breasts as not, up into the gently rustling fur of the hyena¡¯s head. Next came the spots and stripes until Wirrin could have reached up to pat the soft fur and grinning face of the statue.


    Last were the colours, veins and arteries in all sorts of colours so painfully familiar traced their way across and through the statue. Wirrin was so certain that she had seen those colours before. But she was far too hungry to remember were.

 Near death experiences

    Wirrin had been eighteen the first time she¡¯d been so close to death. It had been the first time someone was eaten by the mountains before her eyes. She had been eighteen and full of energy and wonder for the world. She¡¯d spent most of the last two years working in different caravans carting supplies around the West, and she¡¯d decided it was time to go and explore the Dividing Range.


    It was early summer and the lower slopes of the mountains were bare and bristling with grasses and brush. The ground had seemed to crack under Wirrin¡¯s feet in such a different way to exploring in the Snow.


    Wirrin had found herself a group of adventurers headed out of Teslauk. It was her first time travelling with the sorts of people who called themselves adventurers. She was not enjoying it.


    Being from the far south, Wirrin was bigger and broader than all of her travelling companions, but she¡¯d had nowhere near the strength displayed by the adventurers¡¯ porters and servants, who had been hauling huge packs full of useless luxuries up and down the slopes through the early summer mud.


    The adventurers themselves carried only small packs of food and navigation equipment that they barely seemed to know how to use. Not that Wirrin would have been any better at it.


    What the adventurers were actually looking for with all their map-making tools and navigation equipment as their servants trekked them broadly north along the Dividing Range was unclear. They seemed to be enjoying themselves, at least.


    The three adventurers, old to Wirrin¡¯s eyes but barely into their mid-twenties, had dubbed a particularly tall and picturesque mountain Tolakessen in a fit of creativity. And they were quite determined to climb all the way to the top to plant a little flag and leave a little plaque so that everyone would know of their discovery.


    Wirrin had told them not to climb that high. The servants and porters had absolutely refused to attempt scaling the peak. The adventurers had offered to triple everyone¡¯s pay if they climbed and only Wirrin had been foolish enough to accept.


    Almost since her mother had moved her to Tellen, Wirrin had been exploring Ogesivanen. She knew about mountains, even if these were warmer and muddier than what she was used to. But she was young and energetic and the prospect of getting three flowers for the trip was too enticing.


    She imagined all the pretty girls from here to Boltask fawning over her amazing wealth and good taste. Wirrin wasn¡¯t certain what had caused the landslide. She knew it had started near the peak and it had washed down over the adventurers ahead of her before they could make a noise.


    The roiling, black earth had dragged her down, dragged her through. It had battered and crushed and choked. It had screamed and shouted into her bones and, in the end, it had left her sprawled and choking and bloody several kilometres from the base of the mountain.


    The broken, unmoving bodies of the adventurers had been deposited nearby.


    Wirrin¡¯s journey from the mountains to the Tertic river was a haze of pain, mud and bleeding wounds. She walked some and crawled more. She was never sure how long it had taken her, but it must have been days.


    First a hook and then a number of hands had pulled her out of the Tertic river and a booming voice had sliced through the haze. ¡®Oh, Wirrin, adventure will be the death of you I¡¯m sure.¡¯


    Back then, Dartol had had more of his leg. It seemed to shrink every time Wirrin met him for nearly a decade of oozing, stinking pain. He had given her something hard to chew that stuck in her teeth and buried the haze of pain in a fog of loose wonder.


    She¡¯d only really woken again in Estauk, covered in splints and stitches with Dartol sitting near her bed in the hospital. He¡¯d been smiling, his own teeth stained with the same opium resin he must have given her.


    ¡®Looks like it won¡¯t be the death of you yet,¡¯ Dartol had said.


    Was her mind trying to tell her something? Was she making more foolish decisions? Was all this like climbing the Dividing Range in early summer?


    She hadn¡¯t known, then, how dangerous a job it was. Neither had anyone around her. Wirrin had always thought that you only learn by doing. Reading books and listening to preachers might work for some people, but if she couldn¡¯t feel it in her hands then what was the use?


    She couldn¡¯t bring the image to mind like the old memory, but she¡¯d climbed the Dividing Range several more times in early summer since then. Nothing anywhere as bad had happened.


    Wirrin had been twenty-two years old, she had been exploring the Yasagolk Mountains and decided to have a look through the wetlands. It ought to be quicker getting to Louyava this way, not that Wirrin had been worried about being quick.


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    She had seen the big mass of cobwebs, and even figured that she should keep her distance. But she¡¯d been interested. She wasn¡¯t very used to spiders, yet, being from the cold south where they weren¡¯t very active. And the odd, cone formation of the webs had been intriguing.


    The big, black spider that had burst out of the webs when she leaned too close had been a good fright. Wirrin had jumped back and the spider had jumped after her. So she¡¯d run. She knew enough about spiders and the wetland to know that she didn¡¯t want to get bitten.


    Very unlike any spiders Wirrin had encountered up to that point, the big black spider chased her. It even crossed two, shallow streams in its pursuit. When eventually Wirrin thought she had lost it, she paused for a breath against a tree.


    The experience was very like being stabbed in the back of the leg by a two-pronged fork. It hurt a great deal more than any other spider bite that Wirrin had gotten up to that point in her life. It hurt enough that she grabbed the spider in her hand and smashed it against the tree.


    As she wiped grey-brown ooze off her hands, she¡¯d started sweating. And then she¡¯d started shivering. And then her tongue had gone numb. Her eyes started to water. Her heart had thundered in her ears.


    Much too late, Wirrin wrapped her belt around her leg.


    Within a few minutes, the muscles in her neck and shoulders were twitching and she was struggling with the insurmountable urge to vomit. As she tried to hurry through the wetland, she had to stop several times to throw up.


    Walking had gotten harder and harder as her leg muscles started to twitch uncontrollably, until Wirrin was stumbling from tree to tree to avoid collapsing completely.


    She had felt blood oozing down the back of her leg.


    It had been hard to breathe.


    The sunlight had been blinding.


    Through a familiar haze of pain, stumbling and crawling in parts, Wirrin had made it to a pier on the banks of the Louyava river. They had wrapped her up and sent to her Louyava, where she¡¯d been stuck in a bed for nearly three weeks.


    What was this memory supposed to teach her? Don¡¯t go to the wetland? She¡¯d been back to Yasagolk plenty of times since then, and killed several funnel-web spiders and never been bitten again.


    Where were the fun memories? The dried frog she¡¯d eaten with a big farming family around a campfire just outside the wetland that had sent her into a colourful daze well into the next night?


    If she was supposed to see her whole life, where was the fun?


    Wirrin had been twenty-four, climbing through Oplalicanen, the Oplalica Mountains. She had been mountaineering on behalf of more adventurers, this time out of Ettovica. These adventurers hadn¡¯t been too bad, they¡¯d carried all their own supplies for one thing.


    It had been the middle of spring and the mountains had been blanketed in snow easily as thick as Ogesivanen in winter. They had been headed steadily south for over a month, starting from the origin of the Sovet River. Wirrin had been enjoying herself.


    For adventurers, these two, both men about her own age, had made for pleasant enough company. They had been more interested in her than she¡¯d liked, but they¡¯d gotten the message after a week or so of travel.


    Like most adventurers, they were educated types who were a bit too confident in their own abilities for Wirrin¡¯s comfort. But she¡¯d learned the lesson more than once that if they didn¡¯t listen to her, she could at least listen to herself.


    The avalanche didn¡¯t kill anyone, though one of the explorers, a man by the name of Oulet, had broken a leg and an arm. The other, by the name of Tebav, had badly cut his face and neck being rolled over the stones by the snow.


    Wirrin was unharmed, she¡¯d stayed out of the way. She knew what she was doing. And she¡¯d told Oulet and Tebav to stay clear, to come back down the slope, to at the very least be careful.


    She had slid down the side of the mountain on the wake of the avalanche, already digging in her pack for some bandages and looking around for something to use as splints, when Tebav had rounded on her with a knife.


    Wirrin had dropped her bag and frowned at him, not even bothering to raise her hands. ¡®What are you doing?¡¯ she¡¯d asked.


    ¡®You knew that would happen,¡¯ Tebav fairly shouted.


    ¡®Yes, that¡¯s why I told you not to go up there,¡¯ Wirrin had said, sensibly in her opinion.


    Tebav had lunged at her with the knife. ¡®You were trying to kill us.¡¯


    Wirrin had frowned harder. ¡®By warning you not to do that?¡¯


    Tebav had stepped closer and lunged again. Wirrin had dodged to the side, but she hadn¡¯t bothered learning how to fight up to this point in her life. The knife grazed the side of her winter leathers and didn¡¯t even slice through.


    ¡®What are you doing?¡¯ Wirrin had demanded. ¡®I didn¡¯t¡­¡¯


    ¡®You want to steal our money,¡¯ Tebav shouted, lunging at her again.


    He¡¯d lunged at her face, and she was taller than him. Wirrin had leaned back out of the way, completely avoiding the knife, and hit him in the throat. A move she¡¯d accidentally learned as a small child was a great way to incapacitate someone.


    Tebav had choked and spluttered.


    ¡®Calm down,¡¯ Wirrin had said. ¡®I didn¡¯t do anything. I don¡¯t care about your money.¡¯


    Holding his neck and coughing, Tebav had lunged again. Wirrin had stepped in close and swung her whole arm around to punch him in the side of the head. She hadn¡¯t expected it to kill him, but it certainly had.


    He¡¯d dropped like a rock and completely failed to ever get up again.


    Oulet had been unconscious at the time. Wirrin had hit Tebav in the same side of the head that the stones had cut through his skin. It wasn¡¯t hard to convince Oulet that he¡¯d been killed by the avalanche.


    Despite being barely able to walk, Oulet insisted that they carry Tebav¡¯s body back to Sovet to be buried. Wirrin had obliged. Oulet had paid her twice what they agreed on.


    Wirrin had left the money in the snow, trekking across Ogesivanen to near Tellan, where she¡¯d barely left the mountains for a year. Eventually, she¡¯d decided for sure that it wasn¡¯t really her fault, and gone to Ettovica to learn how to fight.


    And where had that gotten her? Drowning in her own blood in the middle of the desert. She wondered, as much as she could make her mind work at all, if none of this would have happened if she¡¯d not spent so much time with the Sovtlan learning to fight.


    Was all this because some rich kid couldn¡¯t handle the knowledge that he had been incredibly stupid?


    Did it matter?

 Grand ritual

    Wirrin noticed that her chest was tight almost before she noticed that she was awake at all. She had been injured a lot, in her life, but she¡¯d never been stabbed in the lungs. As she tried to breathe the only thing she could compare it to was having a flu in winter. It wasn¡¯t much like having a flu in winter.


    Wirrin opened her eyes. She was in the healer¡¯s wagon, on one of the mattresses that had been stacked along the wall last time she¡¯d been here. Yern was sitting cross-legged right next to her, leg jiggling.


    At about the same time, Wirrin was subject to a few too many voices.


    ¡®Oh, good,¡¯ Naertral burbled.


    ¡®Ogakt,¡¯ Yern shouted.


    ¡®Finally,¡¯ Ulvaer rattled.


    ¡®You¡¯re awake,¡¯ Mkaer rumbled.


    ¡®Yes, yes, I¡¯m awake,¡¯ Wirrin rasped.


    Yern jumped to her feet and dashed away.


    ¡®Tell them to become mages,¡¯ Ulvaer rasped. ¡®They¡¯ve been sitting around my statue for days.¡¯


    ¡®Days?¡¯ Wirrin said.


    Yern reappeared with a waterskin. ¡®Small sips, and be careful.¡¯


    The water was nicely refreshing. It had something of that mineral taste that some mountain springs have, which combined quite well with a little bit of myrrh and a lot of honey.


    ¡®I don¡¯t know,¡¯ Ulvaer cackled. ¡®It¡¯s been ages. They keep talking to me and not becoming mages.¡¯


    ¡®Why are there no more mages?¡¯ Wirrin rasped. She cleared her throat and her whole torso felt full of phlegm.


    ¡®Even Herdok said we had to wait for you to wake up,¡¯ Yern nodded. ¡®They all said it wouldn¡¯t be right without you.¡¯


    ¡®I kept telling them that you¡¯re already a mage,¡¯ Ulvaer rattled. ¡®They didn¡¯t need to wait.¡¯


    ¡®Some people have respect,¡¯ Mkaer rumbled.


    ¡®You want to lecture me on respect, filthy Mountain?¡¯ Ulvaer screeched like a flock of drowning ravens. ¡®After you left me alone in this desert to stand against the liars and their pious beasts? After you abandoned me?¡¯


    ¡®There was nothing we could have done,¡¯ Mkaer rumbled. ¡®There weren¡¯t enough mages after Tertic.¡¯


    ¡®We fought together for five years in Tertic,¡¯ Ulvaer rasped. ¡®I was just as weakened as any of you. We lasted months out here, alone and unfortified. Think of what we could have done if I was not alone.¡¯


    ¡®Stop shouting,¡¯ Wirrin rasped. She nodded for a confused Yern to give her more water.


    Yern gave her more water and it only made that feeling of a torso full of phlegm worse. Wirrin started choking. Yern leapt to her feet again. ¡®Roll onto your right side,¡¯ she said, and dashed away.


    It didn¡¯t hurt, exactly, for Wirrin to roll onto her right side. It was so distinctly uncomfortable that it seemed it must have hurt. But it wasn¡¯t exactly the same thing as pain.


    Yern appeared with a wide bowl. ¡®Spit in there.¡¯


    Wirrin hacked and spit. It felt more like throwing up. The result was a bowl unpleasantly full of bloody phlegm. Yern wiped around Wirrin¡¯s mouth with a damp rag.


    ¡®Lay back down for a while, breathe, but not too deep.¡¯ Yern disappeared with the bowl and Wirrin lay back down.


    Unpleasant as that had been, she felt much better for it.


    ¡®May I return to berating the Mountain and the Swamp?¡¯ Ulvaer rattled.


    Wirrin was impressed that it was asking. She was impressed that the Fiends had actually been quiet when she told them to. She took a breath and felt that tightness in her lungs like having the flu and breathing the winter air in Oplalicanen.


    ¡®You don¡¯t have to talk to me about it,¡¯ Wirrin rasped.


    Though Wirrin couldn¡¯t understand the Fiends any more than she normally could, when they spoke to each other in the back of her mind, it felt different. It wasn¡¯t just the rattling, cackling power of Ulvaer making for a sharp contrast to the rumbling and burbling of Mkaer and Naertral. She could read the anger, stubbornness and regret in the otherwise unchanged power.


    Yern came back with more water. ¡®Are you talking to them? The Tesholg? Are they in your head?¡¯ Despite the excitement in her eyes, she was steady and focused helping Wirrin drink.


    Wirrin nodded once, it pulled at her left shoulder and hurt. ¡®Yes,¡¯ she said. ¡®Ulvaer is berating Mkaer and Naertral about leaving it alone in the desert during the Gods¡¯ War.¡¯


    ¡®And it was shouting?¡¯ Yern nodded. ¡®I would shout too, I think.¡¯


    ¡®She seems sensible,¡¯ Ulvaer cackled, then returned to the argument.


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    Wirrin smiled. ¡®I might not shout,¡¯ Wirrin said. ¡®But I¡¯m not so loud in general.¡¯


    Yern sat back on her heels. ¡®Maybe not loud, but you¡¯re certainly dramatic.¡¯ She grinned. ¡®And amazing. But dramatic for certain.¡¯


    Wirrin resisted the urge to defend herself. ¡®What happened?¡¯


    ¡®You were all talking real quiet and then Herdok yelled to just kill them all,¡¯ Yern started, at speed. ¡®And you sent Osga back and everyone was looking confused because of course the Thaulgtok don¡¯t know what Herdok said and then you raised your arms like ¡°he said just kill them already¡± and that awesome statue burst out of the ground and then you were fighting them all with sand and magic and stuff and there were arrows and Tholsh got killed and then you killed them all and then you just started eating one of them and then you collapsed onto the body and we all ran over but there wasn¡¯t even any blood and you were still alive.¡¯


    Yern took a big breath. ¡®Since then me and Taug and sometimes Osga have been keeping an eye on you while everyone talks about what to do next and whether we should kill those Thaulgtok people. Herdok says we should kill them so that they don¡¯t tell anyone what happened. No one else is really convinced, but no one knows what to do with them either way.¡¯


    Wirrin nodded along, which hurt less than last time.


    ¡®But if you can just talk to the Tesholg any time, then so could the Thautholg and it doesn¡¯t matter if we kill the Thaultok people anyway.¡¯


    Wirrin nodded.


    ¡®Plus they weren¡¯t the ones who were trying to kill us, that was the Thautholg.¡¯


    ¡®Just tell them to become mages,¡¯ Ulvaer rasped. ¡®Who cares what they do with the idiots.¡¯


    ¡®Faut tholget?¡¯ Wirrin said.


    Yern nodded enthusiastically. ¡®That¡¯s good. Thaulget.¡¯


    ¡®It doesn¡¯t matter what you call them,¡¯ Ulvaer rattled. ¡®This is my only opportunity to have to more mages than Ocean and Disease.¡¯


    Wirrin shorted. To Yern, she asked: ¡®Am I allowed to get up?¡¯


    Yern pressed her lips together and furrowed her brow. Then her face lit up with an idea. ¡®Try taking deep breaths.¡¯ She leaned over to put an ear to Wirrin¡¯s sternum.


    Wirrin tried to take deeper breaths. She felt very congested, and it was uncomfortable in the same way rolling over had been uncomfortable. Technically, she could do it.


    Yern sat up, brow still furrowed. ¡®Osga said you should be alright to move,¡¯ she said. ¡®But I¡¯m going to get you a chair.¡¯ She dashed off again.


    It was painful and distinctly uncomfortable to get from supine on the floor to sitting in the cushioned, wheeled chair. Yern got her a cushion to hug as if she had pneumonia and it did help a bit.


    Wirrin found herself wearing something like a plain kaftan that buttoned almost all the way down. Presumably her shirt had been ruined by all the blood. It was similar to clothes she¡¯d ended up in at hospitals before.


    The sky was bright with fluffy white clouds and a pleasant breeze blew the cloying smell of frankincense from Wirrin¡¯s nose. She hadn¡¯t even noticed it until Yern opened the door.


    It felt like every member of Vaulgat came over to enthuse about her survival and success by the time Yern pushed her all the way to the statue of Ulvaer, which was the current centre of the camp. Most of the clan had followed them there, too, with the exception of a couple of shepherds and parents of small babies.


    The spring that Wirrin had broken open under the statue was still gently bubbling into a small pond in the sand. Osga and Herdok lounged near the statue, Saush was sat in her own wheeled chair. Ketla and the man were sat on the sand nearby, looking dour, not obviously restrained. A few more members of the clan lounged or hovered nearby, all armed.


    Ulvaer¡¯s statue was not disappointing. It was easily twice Wirrin¡¯s height, when she was standing. The bright colours of the veins shifted and glittered in the sunlight. The brown skin glistened, and the fur seemed to rustle in the breeze. And it was looking at Wirrin.


    ¡®Oh good, you¡¯re awake,¡¯ Herdok called, standing from his lounge chair. ¡®How are you feeling?¡¯


    ¡®Sore,¡¯ Wirrin said, as Yern wheeled her closer.


    Herdok grinned his bright, face-wrinkling grin. ¡®Better to be sore than dead.¡¯


    Osga got up and came over. ¡®Not too sore to be out of bed?¡¯ she asked, examining Wirrin¡¯s face and putting a hand to her sternum.


    ¡®I checked already,¡¯ Yern protested.


    ¡®I am well enough to be out of bed,¡¯ Wirrin said.


    ¡®I am simply satisfying myself, Yern,¡¯ Osga said. ¡®If you feel well enough to be out of bed, then you are well enough to be out of bed.¡¯


    ¡®Let us begin,¡¯ Herdok proclaimed, clapping his hands. ¡®Now that our guest of honour has arrived.¡¯


    The members of Vaulgat who had followed to the statue spread out in a half-circle to either side of Wirrin and Yern. Herdok, an unusual air of focus about him, approached and knelt in front of Wirrin.


    ¡®Tell us, Wirrin. What ritual must we perform to bring Tegalk Tesholg back to us?¡¯ Herdok intoned.


    ¡®I was always partial to hunters,¡¯ Ulvaer cackled. ¡®But it¡¯s hardly the time.¡¯


    ¡®Simply put your hands to the statue and ask,¡¯ Wirrin said.


    Herdok stood and raised his arms in the air, looking around at the assembled people. ¡®Gol gok ekt yekt,¡¯ he announced. ¡®Vesh ogtok vosaupk?¡¯


    The crowd was silent.


    Herdok held out his hands, palms up, and bowed. ¡®Aupkog, gokavtok.¡¯


    He turned on his heel and slowly approached the statue. The man from the Church stood from the sand. ¡®You can¡¯t do this,¡¯ he shouted. ¡®The Fiends were evil, you can¡¯t bring them back.¡¯


    ¡®Vosaupoll,¡¯ Herdok called. ¡®What is you weapon of choice, Touras?¡¯


    ¡®I¡­ what¡­ we don¡¯t need to fight,¡¯ Touras stuttered. ¡®You need to listen. They were the reason Nesalan was so divided, so violent. Only by removing their influence could we find peace.¡¯


    ¡®Thaulgtok,¡¯ Herdok called. ¡®Do you speak challenge, or only lies, Touras?¡¯


    ¡®Leave it Touras,¡¯ Ketla said, grabbing Touras¡¯s shirt to pull him back down. ¡®There¡¯s no point.¡¯


    Touras looked around at the crowd, then at the snarling, corpulent statue. Then he sat back down.


    ¡®Fautolg,¡¯ Herdok called. The crowd chuckled.


    Herdok resumed his slow approach. This time, everyone was silent. The air was excited, reverent. Yern was bouncing on her heels, shifting Wirrin¡¯s chair just enough to notice.


    Herdok, ankle deep in water, held out his hands to Ulvaer¡¯s statue, palms up, and placed them reverently on the Fiend¡¯s huge belly. Nothing happened. So faint she might not have noticed it without the silence, Wirrin felt that cackling, rattling, rasping power of Ulvaer somewhere in the back of her head.


    The feeling was difficult to describe. It was something like an arrow passing near Wirrin¡¯s head. Something like a distant mountain shifting just a little. Something like a lasso.


    Around Herdok¡¯s feet, the water dried up. He took his hands from Ulvaer¡¯s statue and turned to look at the crowd. His eyes glimmered with unshed tears. The bubbling spring left him untouched as he walked out of the water.


    Then he grinned, that big, gleaming grin of his, as tears started to trickle down his cheeks. ¡®Ulvaer says we ought to hurry up.¡¯


    That feeling at the edge of Wirrin¡¯s perception was drowned out by congratulations and chatter, excitement and questions. The crowd surged out of formation. No one else approached the statue alone.


    Of the eighty-odd adults and older teenagers in the clan, forty of them were mages within half an hour, including Saush but not Osga or Taug. At encouragement from the new mages, almost everyone in the clan, including the small children and some of the babies, touched the statue and spoke to Ulvaer.


    Cooking fires were lit, alcohol was produced. The feeling changed from that of a ritual to a bright festival. Yern, still holding the back of Wirrin¡¯s chair, was not the only one who didn¡¯t speak to Ulvaer, but she was one of very few.

 Hunting

    Wirrin was in the chair for three more days. Yern did all her walking for her. Vaulgat spent most of the time discussing what to do next. Despite Wirrin¡¯s explanation that the only way to banish a Fiend was to kill all of its mages, a lot of the clan wanted to stay with the statue to defend it in case the Church sent more people.


    ¡®If more of Tontaer¡¯s mages were coming, they¡¯d already be here,¡¯ Mkaer had rumbled. Wirrin had repeated the thought, but someone had pointed out that if more than just War mages were on their way, they would be much slower.


    By the time she could walk for more than a couple of minutes at a time, Wirrin was ready to leave on her own. Luckily, Vaulgat had decided to split up. The decision was entirely practical: the animals were getting bored of the sand.


    About a third of the clan, including Taug and ten of the new mages, decided to head for Fauvat Faulget to find better grazing for the animals and stock up on feed while the rest of Vaulgat stayed with Ulvaer and started irrigating the surrounds from the still-bubbling spring.


    ¡®She speaks to me, at last,¡¯ Ulvaer rasped into Wirrin¡¯s mind. She was alone in a small tent beside the healer¡¯s wagon, the night before they were supposed to leave.


    ¡®Yern?¡¯ Wirrin thought. ¡®Did she want privacy?¡¯


    When it was silent and Wirrin concentrated, she could feel that faint echo of Ulvaer¡¯s power in the back of her mind. After three days of conversations with Ulvaer, Wirrin was fairly sure she was hearing Ulvaer speak to the new mages. It was just as indecipherable as when the Fiends spoke to each other, but it was interesting.


    For the most part, Ulvaer didn¡¯t tell Wirrin what it spoke to the others about, and she wasn¡¯t expecting it to tell her what Yern wanted to talk about. But she lay on her rugs and thin mattress and let the faint feeling of Ulvaer¡¯s power drift through her.


    ¡®Oh, she is very sensible,¡¯ Ulvaer rasped. ¡®And quite enamoured.¡¯


    ¡®I¡¯ve noticed,¡¯ Wirrin thought.


    ¡®You ought to be very kind to her,¡¯ Ulvaer rattled.


    ¡®I am.¡¯


    As Wirrin listened, that feeling faded away to nothing. She let her mind wander.


    Yern¡¯s footsteps were very soft in the loose sand of the camp, but Wirrin heard them. She reached out and unlaced the flap of her tent just before tentative fingers tested it. Slowly, almost silently, Yern pushed the flap open just enough to see in.


    Wirrin looked back.


    The shyolg didn¡¯t have particularly strong family units, in Wirrin¡¯s experience. Once a child was done breastfeeding, they largely spent time with whoever they wished to. But in her time with Koholshya, Wirrin had noticed a lot of kids generally gravitated toward their mothers.


    Since Wirrin had arrived, Yern gravitated to her. She spent time with Taug and Osga, as an apprentice healer would, but it wasn¡¯t quite the same thing. There was certainly no one in the camp that Yern addressed as her mother.


    Yern crawled into Wirrin¡¯s little tent and laced the flap closed again. Wirrin rolled onto her right side and pulled Yern against her, Yern¡¯s face nestled into her neck. Yern sighed, but the tension stayed in her back and shoulders.


    ¡®I don¡¯t want you to leave me,¡¯ Yern whispered.


    Wirrin had never even thought about having children, the concept didn¡¯t interest her at all. She¡¯d always gotten along with children and teenagers, as she¡¯d travelled around and stayed on farms or with fellow workers. It had been hard to get the hang of how to be kind to someone so young.


    ¡®I don¡¯t want you to die,¡¯ Wirrin whispered.


    Yern sighed. ¡®Aut Vash, aut vash.¡¯


    The chief complaint of every teenager. ¡®Og eshk aut Vash,¡¯ Wirrin said. ¡®Okt yask shyavt.¡¯


    ¡®Aut yask.¡¯


    It didn¡¯t take long for Yern to fall asleep, relaxing in Wirrin¡¯s arms. Wirrin wasn¡¯t far behind.


    Even in her current state, Wirrin was quite sure she could have made it to Fauvat Faulget faster by herself. They left the sand faster than they¡¯d gotten to Ulvaer¡¯s statue, but once they were back into the savannah, they slowed down significantly to let the animals graze.


    Wirrin was just as sure that it was a more pleasant six days travel than three days on her own would have been. She couldn¡¯t begrudge the animals wanting some fresh food after more than a week of dry feed in the sand.


    The caravan moved as fast as the unhitched animals, slowing or stopping at times to let the shepherds catch up. Wirrin mostly rode on the healer¡¯s storage wagon, driven by Taug and sometimes Yern, but there was no risk of falling behind when she decided to walk a while instead.


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    On the second day out of the sand, Wirrin spotted a herd of wildebeest off to the northwest. A huge herd meandering across the scrub. She wouldn¡¯t have taken much notice of it if not for Ulvaer.


    ¡®That looks like a wonderful opportunity,¡¯ Ulvaer cackled. It¡¯s voice had an odd, reverberant quality to it.


    The other mages in the caravan looked over at the wildebeest from whatever they¡¯d been doing. Even with the creaking of the carts, the occasional animal noise, and the general chatter, Wirrin could hear that distant cackling and rattling and rasping.


    ¡®Are you in a fit state to hunt, Wirrin?¡¯ Ulvaer rasped.


    Wirrin sighed and got up from the bench of the cart. ¡®I doubt it,¡¯ she grumbled, stepping down into the grass. Still, she joined the other mages headed in the general direction of the herd.


    ¡®You could stay with the rest of them,¡¯ Ulvaer rattled.


    ¡®Could I?¡¯ Wirrin grabbed her bow and pulled the string onto it as she walked. She was already starting to sweat, already starting to breathe heavily. Why couldn¡¯t she just stay on the healer¡¯s cart and let all the new mages hunt for themselves?


    Wirrin didn¡¯t join in as the other mages started running. She stomped along, flexing her bow and trying to take deep breaths. She certainly didn¡¯t join the three mages who dropped onto their hands to lope like hyenas across the sand, spreading out to drive the herd closer to those still on their feet.


    Why couldn¡¯t she just leave them to their hunt? What did she care about showing off?


    Wirrin¡¯s arrow took a wildebeest just behind the shoulder, the back of the herd split away. One of the loping mages was already in position to start pushing the fragment of the herd toward the other mages.


    Ulvaer cackled and rattled in Wirrin¡¯s head, no reverberations this time. ¡®They¡¯re complaining about you.¡¯


    ¡®Good,¡¯ Wirrin grumbled.


    She ignored the rest of the mages and their oddly sharp teeth and nails, dragging the wildebeest down in shrieking and blood. She stomped all the way over to the wildebeest she¡¯d shot, grabbed it by one of the horns, and started dragging it back to the caravan.


    That was a mistake.


    Wirrin spat blood into the sand as she dragged the wildebeest.


    ¡®Now they praise you,¡¯ Ulvaer cackled.


    ¡®Weak convictions.¡¯


    Naertral laughed like a pond full of frogs.


    Wirrin was about ready to collapse onto the ground by the time she got the wildebeest back to the caravan, which had stopped and started setting up camp despite the early hour. It wasn¡¯t entirely the fault of the animals that they moved slowly.


    Yern made Wirrin ride on the cart all of the next day, and kept a close eye on her the day after that.


    ¡®They¡¯re not here, either,¡¯ Mkaer rumbled.


    Wirrin had left the desert before the hetavatok last time. She¡¯d only had Yolget¡¯s impassioned description to go by. He hadn¡¯t been too far off the mark. It was much bigger than Wirrin had expected, and louder.


    In her time with Koholshya, Wirrin had noticed that the shyolg tended to be quiet. It wasn¡¯t an etiquette that was rigidly enforced, but even young children picked up on it. There was a general subduedness to most of the people Wirrin had met in the desert.


    The hetavatok was clearly the exception.


    Hundreds of tents and carts and wagons were spread along the banks of the spring lakes, hung with lights and colourful banners of all sorts of designs. It clashed aggressively with the calm water and green desert. Instruments could be heard almost to the horizon, mixed with the chatter of people and animals.


    There was no singing. Even the ektshyolg, who were more relaxed about the traditions of the desert, didn¡¯t sing. The closest they got was rhythmic recitations of stories and poems, not quite as far as chanting.


    A cheer spiked through the hetavatok as the caravan from Vaulgat reached shouting distance in the mid-afternoon of the sixth day out from Ulvaer¡¯s statue. They started shuffling the wagons and animals into the general conglomeration, just enough separation that they could be located as an individual clan, but only just.


    Under Yern¡¯s severe frown, Wirrin collected her belongings from the healer¡¯s wagon and was on her way into the huge camp when someone caught her arm, lightly.


    Yern had turned her severe frown on Gotak, one of the mages, who¡¯s hand hovered near Wirrin¡¯s arm but not touching. ¡®Wirrin, are you going?¡¯


    ¡®That was the plan,¡¯ Wirrin said. ¡®Off to meet some friends.¡¯


    Gotak retracted his hand, glancing confusedly at Yern¡¯s impressive glare.


    ¡®From Koholshya?¡¯ Wirrin added, hoping she wouldn¡¯t have to actually explain.


    Gotak looked at her for a moment. ¡®Oh, yes, I recall,¡¯ he said. ¡®How long are you planning to stay at the hetavatok?¡¯


    Wirrin shrugged. ¡®I don¡¯t really make plans. But I¡¯m sure I¡¯ll need more time to recover completely.¡¯


    ¡®He doesn¡¯t know what¡¯s going on, but doesn¡¯t want to appear foolish,¡¯ Ulvaer rasped.


    ¡®I already told Herdok, at least,¡¯ Wirrin said. ¡®I¡¯m going to talk to Koholshya. Talking to one of the ektshyolgtok will be the best way to get the word around.¡¯


    Gotak nodded. ¡®Oh, yes. Sensible. Until next time I see you.¡¯ He held out his left hand and Wirrin put her left palm on his.


    Yern turned the glare back onto Wirrin.


    ¡®Didn¡¯t I say you could hang around until I leave?¡¯ Wirrin said.


    Yern kept on glaring.


    Wirrin had only met a few clans in her eight months in the desert, and though she exchanged hellos and the odd introduction as she meandered through the hetavatok, she didn¡¯t stop anywhere for more than an hour until she actually recognised something.


    What she recognised with the absolutely massive storage wagon with one wheel of a completely different design to the other five. The massive harnesses were nowhere to be seen, but the elephants that usually pulled the wagon were in the water nearby, enduring being splashed by a big gaggle of children and calves.


    ¡®As sure as the sun is high, that¡¯s Wirrin,¡¯ a man¡¯s voice boomed across the hubbub of the hetavatok.


    ¡®Ovt ishok ekshok, olg Yolget,¡¯ Wirrin said.


    Yolget, who was taller than Wirrin now, and solid with muscle, wrapped her in a too tight hug. ¡®You remember how to speak, I see,¡¯ he grinned. ¡®And I notice that you¡¯ve acquired an angry child.¡¯


    ¡®Yern, this is Yolget from Koholshya,¡¯ Wirrin said. ¡®Yolget, Yern from Vaulgat.¡¯


    Yern managed to smooth her face into a neutral expression as she held out her left hand to Yolget. ¡®Nice to meet you, Yolget from Koholshya.¡¯


    ¡®And nice to meet you, Yern from Vaulgat.¡¯ Yolget put his left palm on Yern¡¯s. ¡®Do you know my cousin, Taug?¡¯


    ¡®Oh, your aupt¡¯tholgtok, Taug?¡¯ Wirrin said.


    Yern snorted. Yolget winced.


    ¡®Yes, I know Taug,¡¯ Yern said. ¡®He¡¯s teaching me medicine and such.¡¯


    ¡®Ovt ishok eksholg, olg gat Wirrin,¡¯ a woman¡¯s voice proclaimed from behind Yolget.


    ¡®You remember how I said you could hang around until I leave?¡¯ Wirrin leaned down to Yern.


    ¡®Yes.¡¯ Yern prepared a glare.


    ¡®I may need some privacy, soon. Hopefully.¡¯


    Ishget, Yolget¡¯s mother, wrapped Wirrin in an equally tight, but much softer, hug. ¡®Wirrin it¡¯s been far too long.¡¯ She waggled her eyebrows.


    ¡®Gross,¡¯ Yern and Yolget said in unison.

 Alone again

    If she thought about it, Wirrin had been looking forward to attending the hetavatok for something like five years, since she¡¯d last been in the desert. Now that she was there, she was more annoyed than anything else.


    When Wirrin had found herself confined to bed at various times before, after her various severe injuries or illnesses, she¡¯d felt much the same. She was impatient to get going again.


    ¡®It¡¯s not like you¡¯re on a schedule,¡¯ Ishget said, in bed next to her.


    ¡®If anything, that¡¯s worse,¡¯ Wirrin said. ¡®I make my own time. And here I am.¡¯


    ¡®You understand how rude that sounds, yes?¡¯


    Wirrin nodded. ¡®I do.¡¯


    Ishget frowned at her. ¡®You want to get away, do you?¡¯


    ¡®I must.¡¯ Wirrin sighed. ¡®I feel like I shouldn¡¯t want that.¡¯


    ¡®Doesn¡¯t help, does it?¡¯ Ishget settled into her shoulder. ¡®Just relax.¡¯


    ¡®Doesn¡¯t help.¡¯ Wirrin smiled. ¡®I¡¯ll try.¡¯


    People started trickling away from the hetavatok a couple of days after Vaulgat arrived. Word spread quickly. Yern was getting increasingly bored, hanging around nearby while Wirrin tried to relax. The mages with Vaulgat had demonstrated their newfound powers a few times. Wirrin had talked to Auldok and left it at that.


    And yet Wirrin was stuck here. Short of breath just walking from Ishget¡¯s tent to the lakes¡¯ edge. Yern wasn¡¯t the only one getting bored. Yern wasn¡¯t the only one getting annoyed.


    Wirrin probably should have stayed at the hetavatok longer than she did, in the end. She only stayed as long as she did because it was a real struggle to say goodbye to Yern. But she was ready to start pulling her own hair out after three weeks.


    ¡®I know, I know,¡¯ Wirrin said, again. ¡®I promise I¡¯ll take it easy. Lots of breaks. I just want to get back to it.¡¯


    Yern, eyes red and puffy, glared. ¡®Get back to what? Fighting the Thaulgtok while you can still barely breathe?¡¯


    ¡®I can breathe.¡¯ Wirrin demonstrated and, to her credit, didn¡¯t start coughing. ¡®The longer I wait, the more time they have to prepare.¡¯


    ¡®Even in good health, you¡¯re not going to beat them to Ahepvalt,¡¯ Yern glared. ¡®What would it matter if you stayed until you were actually healthy?¡¯


    ¡®How long would that take?¡¯ Wirrin sighed. ¡®Months? Years? The longer I¡¯m here, the more danger the rest of you are in.¡¯


    ¡®If they come for us, they¡¯ll come either way,¡¯ Yern insisted. They¡¯d already had this argument.


    ¡®And if they find me somewhere else, they won¡¯t come in such force,¡¯ Wirrin said. ¡®They¡¯ll be busy.¡¯


    ¡®Busy killing you?¡¯ Yern demanded. ¡®You said you don¡¯t want me to die, that¡¯s why I can¡¯t come with you. Which is foolish enough on its own. But what¡¯s the point of it all if you die?¡¯


    ¡®People will be up in the mountains in a month or two,¡¯ Wirrin said. ¡®Same with the swamp. It¡¯s not like everything will be lost if I die.¡¯


    ¡®But you¡¯ll be dead,¡¯ Yern pointed out, reasonably.


    Wirrin rubbed her face, resisting the urge to say that she didn¡¯t care. ¡®And you¡¯ll all have more time to prepare. Ulvaer will have warning that they¡¯re coming. Even if I die, it won¡¯t be pointless.¡¯


    Yern¡¯s jaw clenched, her eyes went shiny again. ¡®But you¡¯ll be dead.¡¯


    Wirrin barely managed not to groan as she went down on one knee to look Yern in the face. ¡®Yern, I¡¯ll be fine. I know what I¡¯m doing.¡¯


    Yern wrapped herself around Wirrin. ¡®No you don¡¯t,¡¯ she spluttered. ¡®You¡­¡¯ sniff ¡®don¡¯t know anything.¡¯


    Wirrin rubbed her back and took deep breaths. This was the other difficulty of making friends with kids. Though she didn¡¯t think any of the children and young people she¡¯d met up until know how taken quite as much a shine to her as Yern had.


    ¡®Yern,¡¯ Wirrin murmured. ¡®I promise you. I¡¯ll be back before you know it.¡¯


    ¡®No¡­¡¯ sniff ¡®you won¡¯t¡­¡¯ sniff ¡®you¡¯ll be dead.¡¯


    Wirrin struggled to keep her face serious. ¡®I¡¯ll be back. I promise you.¡¯


    Yern couldn¡¯t get the words out to argue, her little body wracked with sobs. She held on tight. Wirrin was worried the girl would refuse to let go again. That¡¯s why she hadn¡¯t managed to leave the day before.


    Eventually, Yern let go, sniffing and wiping at her nose. ¡®If you don¡¯t come back¡­¡¯ sniff ¡®I¡¯ll dig you up and kill you myself.¡¯


    Wirrin smiled and held out her left hand. ¡®It¡¯s a deal.¡¯


    Yern put her right palm on Wirrin¡¯s hand and glared. ¡®Vosht tholgek.¡¯


    ¡®Maybe so,¡¯ Wirrin said.


    And finally, Wirrin managed to get away from the hetavatok.


    It didn¡¯t help, but that wasn¡¯t a surprise this time. Of course she felt bad about leaving Yern alone. Except that Yern wasn¡¯t alone. Wirrin was sure that Yern had been enjoying her life before she arrived. Yern would be fine.Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.


    Yern would be better off. She¡¯d probably live longer.


    Wirrin, on the other hand, had probably just shortened her own life significantly. Barely two hours away from the hetavatok, just long enough to put the whole camp over the horizon, Wirrin had to stop, panting, and sit down.


    That was annoying. But not surprising.


    ¡®The girl was right,¡¯ Ulvaer cackled.


    ¡®She was,¡¯ Wirrin thought, too busy panting to reply aloud.


    ¡®What hope do you have of dealing with a city, like this?¡¯ Naertral burbled.


    ¡®Will they destroy themselves?¡¯ Wirrin thought. ¡®Fight me in Ahepvalt? That would be a very bad look.¡¯


    ¡®Do they care about that?¡¯ Ulvaer rattled. ¡®Better to take advantage of your gentle nature, surely? Attack you when you don¡¯t want to fight.¡¯


    ¡®They will try to keep you away,¡¯ Mkaer rumbled. ¡®Is that not bad enough?¡¯


    ¡®When I was¡­ thirteen, I must have been. When I was thirteen, an acquaintance who had come climbing with me slipped down a cliff face,¡¯ Wirrin thought. ¡®He broke four ribs and his left leg. His ribs punctured his lung. It took three years before he could breathe normally again. You think I should wait that long?¡¯


    Mkaer rumbled.


    ¡®How long did it take the Church to come for Tertic? After they broke the siege?¡¯ Wirrin asked, aloud. ¡®How long did it take them to break the siege, after the rest of you were ejected?¡¯


    ¡®Three months after we were ejected,¡¯ Naertral burbled. ¡®Two months before they came for Tertic.¡¯


    ¡®A year between the desert and me,¡¯ Mkaer rumbled.


    ¡®Ten years between you and Ettovica,¡¯ Wirrin said.


    ¡®You are not Bitalen,¡¯ Mkaer rumbled. ¡®You are Ulvaer in the desert.¡¯


    ¡®What would you know about the desert?¡¯ Ulvaer rasped.


    ¡®You¡¯ve spent weeks telling us, Ulvaer,¡¯ Naertral burbled. ¡®We know.¡¯


    ¡®The filthy Mountain is right,¡¯ Ulvaer cackled. ¡®We will fight like cornered animals, and die like one.¡¯


    ¡®And the rest of them will have all the time it takes me,¡¯ Wirrin said, heaving herself to her feet. ¡®Yern was right, but I intend to prove myself right too.¡¯


    ¡®Such drama,¡¯ Ulvaer cackled. ¡®You will fight like a hetsholg.¡¯


    Wirrin snorted. ¡®It will be so drawn out, the Thaulgtok will fall asleep.¡¯


    ¡®Of course you don¡¯t like hethetshya,¡¯ Ulvaer rattled.


    ¡®Great way to fall asleep.¡¯


    Wirrin only made it about an hour this time before she needed another break. Had she made the decision herself to take a break, she wouldn¡¯t have minded in the slightest. She¡¯d enjoyed slowing Ketla down on the way to Hekaulseg.


    She tried to think of it like that. It wasn¡¯t just that her body was refusing to work properly, she was taking her time, enjoying the scenery. Somehow it was even more annoying that that worked.


    She couldn¡¯t help but be impatient. She was pointedly slowing herself down, the same way she¡¯d done to Ketla. Being impatient was part of the process. But walking slower, taking frequent short breaks to watch herds of animals, scrutinise cacti, look for birds; it worked. She didn¡¯t get so out of breath, she could go further at a time.


    Wirrin stopped for lunch to watch a cackle of hyenas hassle a herd of antelope.


    ¡®There¡¯s some sensible types,¡¯ Ulvaer rattled. ¡®Start with the slow and the weak.¡¯


    ¡®They¡¯ll feed those antelope to their own slow and weak,¡¯ Mkaer rumbled.


    ¡®They are different to antelopes,¡¯ Ulvaer rattled. ¡®See all this grass? Antelope do not struggle for food.¡¯


    ¡®I¡¯m not going to set Ahepvalt on fire,¡¯ Wirrin said.


    Ulvaer disappeared into cackling, screeching laughter.


    ¡®It wouldn¡¯t work, regardless,¡¯ Naertral hissed. ¡®Half built over the bay.¡¯


    ¡®It¡¯s still like that,¡¯ Wirrin agreed. ¡®Pick the right place, though. The whole place is mostly wooden.¡¯


    ¡®I¡¯m sure even the Thaulgtok would notice you walking around dousing a city with oil,¡¯ Ulvaer cackled.


    ¡®You¡¯re probably right.¡¯


    Wirrin stopped earlier than she might have usually. She defended the choice to herself by noting that it was barely past the middle of winter. The days were short. And besides, she was taking in the views.


    Vaulgat and Koholshya had donated some food and spices to Wirrin¡¯s effort, as well as some light spring clothes and a thinner blanket. Even sleeping in the sand for the first time in weeks, Wirrin was nice and comfortable on a pile of her bedding.


    It was a testament to just how tired Wirrin was from a day of walking that she went to bed not long after sunset and only woke when the sun rose to shine on her face. This being injured business was really, very dull.


    In a futile attempt to combat the feeling of weakness that was dug into Wirrin¡¯s mind, she shot a bird out of the sky. It was small, but tasted good enough with some spices. Wirrin added the feathers to the growing package in her pack.


    ¡®Oh, am I imagining that?¡¯ Wirrin thought, looking up from her breakfast.


    ¡®I don¡¯t think you are,¡¯ Mkaer rumbled.


    ¡®I¡¯d better be imagining that,¡¯ Wirrin muttered. ¡®I can¡¯t think of any consequences.¡¯


    ¡®You could be killed because you¡¯re distracted,¡¯ Naertral shushed.


    ¡®I meant consequences for her,¡¯ Wirrin snorted.


    ¡®She could be killed because you¡¯re distracted,¡¯ Ulvaer cackled.


    ¡®Which is why I was so insistent,¡¯ Wirrin grumbled.


    Wirrin decided to ignore it. She may not have been sure just how far this sense of hers extended, but it was at least three hours at her normal walking pace. Maybe if she just kept going, the problem would resolve itself.


    Except that she couldn¡¯t walk at her normal pace for more than an hour. She had to slow again, take frequent short breaks. Even if she wasn¡¯t taking in the views anymore, she was going faster than she would walking at a normal pace for an hour and then stopping for an hour to recover.


    Still, Wirrin had to stop for lunch to recover from the morning. Those little footsteps were getting closer.


    ¡®If she¡¯s not here because I forgot something, I am going to¡­¡¯


    ¡®You¡¯re going to do nothing,¡¯ Ulvaer rattled. ¡®You¡¯re going to be very kind natured and understanding.¡¯


    ¡®I am not,¡¯ Wirrin said. ¡®I am going to be upset with her. I am going to send her back so that she doesn¡¯t get killed.¡¯


    ¡®You¡¯re going to be very kind to her,¡¯ Ulvaer rattled.


    Wirrin frowned. Rather than ask the question, she closed her eyes and took deep breaths. She could feel that rattling, cackling, screeching of Ulvaer talking to the other mages at the back of her head. She had been wondering, since the first time she felt it, if there was something more she could do.


    ¡®Tes faulek vospaulgek,¡¯ Herdok was grousing. ¡®Shyolg vos hetollavat.¡¯


    ¡®Ogtok esvesh vog, Herdok,¡¯ Ulvaer rattled.


    ¡®Gol holk, Tegalk,¡¯ Herdok continued grousing, unphased. ¡®Tes faulek vospaulgek.¡¯


    That was certainly something. Not what Wirrin was looking for.


    ¡®Olg ekt eshaugoll aupt tegalk,¡¯ Ishget was telling someone. ¡®Goltok gauk yavt auptok olg.¡¯


    ¡®Tegalk es¡¯hetsh vos,¡¯ Gotak said. ¡®Olg gok vik aupt, goltok gauk gousolg.¡¯


    ¡®Tegalk vos¡¯holk yalg,¡¯ Ishget sighed. ¡®Wirrin vosgat¡­ vosyaskolgok. Olg vosvik vog.¡¯


    That was a little closer, if hurtful. Wirrin thought of herself as deeply sentimental, why else would she still care about Yolget and Ishget after all these years? Wasn¡¯t that sentimentality?


    ¡®Vesh og tholgek gol heg vog faulget?¡¯ Agesh was thinking, sitting with her feet in Fauvat Faulget.


    Wirrin was sweating and short of breath, when she got back to her own body. Technically, she hadn¡¯t found anything either way. She was back to being certain that Yern wasn¡¯t a mage.


    The Fiends were silent.


    ¡®How are you like this?¡¯ Mkaer thundered. ¡®How did you do that?¡¯


    ¡®You turned me inside out,¡¯ Ulvaer cackled. ¡®I saw myself from the inside, as if all these pieces are different.¡¯


    Wirrin coughed.


    ¡®Do it again,¡¯ Naertral hissed.


    Wirrin descended into a fit of coughing, flecks of blood joining the phlegm in the sand.


    ¡®Serves you right,¡¯ Ulvaer cackled. ¡®To violate another¡¯s privacy so.¡¯


    ¡®How much privacy do we have from each other?¡¯ Wirrin thought, trying to catch her breath. ¡®You¡¯ve seen me have sex.¡¯


    Naertral laughed like that pond full of frogs.

 Travelling companion

    Yern sank into the sand up to her neck with a squeak. It was very cute.


    ¡®You shouldn¡¯t try to sneak up on a mage, Yern,¡¯ Wirrin said.


    Night had fallen completely. Wirrin was sitting at the coals of her cooking fire, waiting for Yern to arrive. The girl had taken longer than Wirrin had expected, and she was struggling to keep her eyes open.


    Wirrin turned. ¡®I could have sworn I said you shouldn¡¯t come with me,¡¯ she said. ¡®That I didn¡¯t want you to die, which you probably will if you come with me. Does that sound right?¡¯


    Yern, with just her head poking out of the sand, pouted.


    ¡®And yet, here we both are,¡¯ Wirrin said. ¡®I recall that you don¡¯t want me to die. Are you less concerned about yourself?¡¯


    Yern took a deep breath, and looked like she¡¯d just noticed how loose the sand was around her. ¡®You know what you didn¡¯t say, even once?¡¯


    Wirrin hadn¡¯t been expecting that. ¡®What did I not say?¡¯


    ¡®Not a single time did you say you didn¡¯t want me to come with you,¡¯ Yern declared. ¡®Only that you thought it would be too dangerous. And you know what I got to thinking?¡¯


    ¡®You got to thinking ¡°who¡¯s this Wirrin person to decide what¡¯s too dangerous for me¡±,¡¯ Wirrin said. ¡®Which is why you¡¯re out here with your sword and bow, a water skin, and no supplies.¡¯


    Yern had the good sense to look embarrassed. ¡®No one wanted me to go with you,¡¯ Yern said. ¡®I couldn¡¯t get supplies or someone would have stopped me.¡¯


    ¡®Didn¡¯t make you reconsider the decision?¡¯ Wirrin smiled.


    Yern erupted back out of the sand with a very similar little squeak. She immediately launched herself at Wirrin. ¡®If you can promise not to die doing something foolish, so can I.¡¯


    Wirrin chuckled. ¡®Fine. Just don¡¯t slow me down.¡¯


    ¡®You can barely breathe, I¡¯ll be fine.¡¯


    Yern was right, of course. Wirrin kept up the slow pace and frequent breaks and the girl had no trouble keeping up. Especially when Wirrin decided to stop early and do some hunting. Yern was in need of a pack, and Wirrin felt like it had been a while since she made anything.


    ¡®You¡¯re taking this much better than you said you would,¡¯ Naertral burbled, as Wirrin and Yern dragged a dead antelope to the shade of some trees.


    ¡®It¡¯s her kind nature,¡¯ Ulvaer cackled.


    ¡®I told you I couldn¡¯t think of any consequences,¡¯ Wirrin thought. ¡®What am I supposed to do? Sending her back won¡¯t work, will it?¡¯


    ¡®You just need to be firmer,¡¯ Mkaer rumbled. ¡®Keep her out of danger.¡¯


    ¡®You could actually tell her you don¡¯t want her to travel with you, if you don¡¯t want her to travel with you,¡¯ Naertral shushed.


    Wirrin didn¡¯t say anything.


    Yern knew a bit about butchering, but not as much as Wirrin. So Wirrin explained and gave directions as they skinned the antelope and mixed its brains with ash to spread on the hide.


    Wirrin was a bit disappointed that no spotted dogs came looking for food, but they weren¡¯t as common out here where the bigger predators hung out. No one wanted to get into a scuffle with a hippopotamus if they could avoid it.


    Yern went to sleep on top of Wirrin again. She had a smile on her face. What was Wirrin supposed to do?


    ¡®Yern, how old are you?¡¯ Wirrin asked, over breakfast. She¡¯d hadn¡¯t bothered to ask yet, and it felt like a more pressing question than it had before.


    ¡®A hundred and six,¡¯ Yern glared.


    Wirrin smiled. ¡®I already know you¡¯re too young,¡¯ she said. ¡®That¡¯s not why I¡¯m asking.¡¯


    Ready to return to glaring, Yern scrutinised. ¡®Nearly fourteen.¡¯


    Wirrin nodded. ¡®And in nearly fourteen years, you¡¯ve not met anyone who you¡¯d rather travel with than me? After what, a month?¡¯


    Yern glared, and shook her head exactly hard enough to send her corkscrew curls whipping around her head.


    ¡®Not Osga, Taug, Herdok, Saush? No one?¡¯ Wirrin asked.


    Yern kept on shaking her head rhythmically, to keep her hair bouncing around her face. ¡®Nope. They¡¯re no good.¡¯


    ¡®But I¡¯m good?¡¯ Wirrin asked.


    Yern stopped shaking her head, so that she could return to glaring. ¡®I didn¡¯t say that.¡¯


    ¡®You implied it strongly.¡¯


    ¡®What¡¯s ¡°implied¡±?¡¯


    Wirrin frowned, she didn¡¯t know the word. ¡®Hetshya vosvog?¡¯ she tried. ¡®Saying something that means something else.¡¯


    ¡®Voltya,¡¯ Yern said. ¡®I didn¡¯t ¡°implied¡± anything, you¡¯re just different.¡¯


    ¡®Good different, though,¡¯ Wirrin said. ¡®A good enough sort of different that you want to abandon your whole life and risk dying to spend more time with me.¡¯


    Yern glared. ¡®That¡¯s one way to see it.¡¯


    ¡®Autholtya?¡¯ Wirrin suggested.


    ¡®Autholtya,¡¯ Yern agreed.


    Wirrin finished cooking in silence. She didn¡¯t know if she¡¯d expected that to be more fruitful, but she shouldn¡¯t have.


    ¡®Ishget said you don¡¯t really like people,¡¯ Yern said, accepting a bowl of rice and cooked antelope. ¡®That¡¯s why you didn¡¯t want me to come with you.¡¯


    ¡®She¡¯s so rude about me,¡¯ Wirrin said.


    Yern gestured with the bowl, very nearly spilling it. ¡®That¡¯s what I said. I said you cared too much, so you were putting my safety above your own desires.¡¯Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site.


    ¡®Autholtya,¡¯ Wirrin said. ¡®That doesn¡¯t sound right.¡¯


    ¡®Tell me you don¡¯t want me here and I¡¯ll go home,¡¯ Yern demanded.


    ¡®No you won¡¯t.¡¯


    ¡®Because you want me here,¡¯ Yern declared. ¡®And you¡¯re just too nice to say so.¡¯


    ¡®Didn¡¯t I tell you?¡¯ Naertral burbled.


    ¡®You keep out of it,¡¯ Wirrin said.


    Yern leaned over the little cooking fire. ¡®Which one was that? What did it say?¡¯


    ¡®That was Naertral, and it¡¯s none of your business what it said.¡¯


    Yern pouted. She was very good at pouting.


    Wirrin ate her breakfast.


    Travelling with Yern was not strange, and it was a bit strange. After a month of Yern being mostly attached to Wirrin¡¯s hip, it wasn¡¯t strange for her to be there. But it reminded Wirrin a little of some of the adventurers she¡¯d travelled with in her time.


    Yern was doing her best, she wanted to be helpful and fend for herself, but she just didn¡¯t quite know how to do it. And, of course, she hadn¡¯t brought any supplies with her from the hetavatok.


    Wirrin had to keep an eye on her, to make sure she wasn¡¯t about to fall in a hole because she wasn¡¯t paying attention, and had to hunt for extra food and dig for extra water.


    Despite the shortness of Wirrin¡¯s breath, she was continuing to find using magic easier and easier. Pulling water out of the ground wasn¡¯t much of a struggle anymore, and she was sure that sense of vibrations in the sand was continuing to expand.


    And yet she still couldn¡¯t walk at her normal pace, or go more than half an hour without stopping to take in the views. It was frustrating.


    ¡®Maybe you should look for Hogoll Tesholg first,¡¯ Yern said.


    Wirrin hadn¡¯t mentioned it. ¡®That would be¡­ Iltavaer,¡¯ Wirrin said. ¡®That¡¯s one of the Thausholg.¡¯


    Yern frowned to herself. ¡®You don¡¯t think you could make it do what you want? Like the Tesholg already in your head?¡¯


    ¡®You don¡¯t make us do anything,¡¯ Mkaer rumbled


    Naertral and Ulvaer laughed like a pond full of frogs being tortured to death.


    Wirrin smiled. ¡®I don¡¯t know,¡¯ she said. ¡®But I think if it¡¯s already awake, it can refuse to join them.¡¯


    Yern nodded. ¡®Hogettok Tesholg maybe,¡¯ she said, then frowned. ¡®That would be in the Tertic Swamp, wouldn¡¯t it? If you already can¡¯t breathe you don¡¯t want to get sick.¡¯


    ¡®Which is why I need to get Haerst,¡¯ Wirrin said. ¡®So I can blow all the sickness away or something.¡¯


    Yern nodded. ¡®I figured you had a plan.¡¯


    ¡®You¡¯re giving me too much credit.¡¯


    It took eight days from leaving the hetavatok to reach the divergence of the Boclas, Hekaulget, and Epatlok rivers. Wirrin was fairly sure it had been more like four and a half last time she¡¯d made this trip. But she supposed she wasn¡¯t in a hurry.


    Wirrin was feeling a bit better for the travelling. She wasn¡¯t trying to push herself, but she was starting to find the going a little easier. She didn¡¯t need to stop as often to admire the absolute roundness of the barrel cacti.


    ¡®You know,¡¯ Yern said. ¡®This is the first time I¡¯ve been away from home.¡¯


    Wirrin nodded.


    Yern stood there and stared at the river divergence for a while. ¡®It¡¯s pretty.¡¯


    Wirrin nodded again.


    ¡®Vonaer and I made that river, did you know,¡¯ Naertral burbled. ¡®Same as we made the Hekaulseg river.¡¯


    ¡®Why?¡¯ Wirrin thought. ¡®Not that I don¡¯t think it¡¯s a nice river.¡¯


    ¡®People wanted to live deeper into the desert,¡¯ Naertral burbled.


    ¡®People already lived deep in the desert,¡¯ Ulvaer rattled.


    ¡®When you say the two of you made the river, you mean that some of your mages made it, correct?¡¯ Wirrin thought. ¡®Like when Naertral said the Mountain made that bridge in the swamp.¡¯


    ¡®Correct,¡¯ Mkaer rumbled. ¡®It is the way we have always talked about it.¡¯


    ¡®A feature of being worshipped, is it?¡¯ Wirrin thought. ¡®People give you credit for their deeds.¡¯


    Ulvaer laughed like a wildebeest drowning in a mud pit.


    Yern was glaring at Wirrin. ¡®What are you all talking about?¡¯


    ¡®Apparently Naertral and Vonaer made the rivers to Hekaulget and Hekaulseg,¡¯ Wirrin said. ¡®Except of course it was their mages who made the rivers.¡¯


    Yern nodded. ¡®No mages without Tesholgtok,¡¯ she shrugged.


    ¡®That¡¯s the deference phase of worship,¡¯ Naertral burbled.


    ¡®She¡¯s right,¡¯ Mkaer rumbled. ¡®That¡¯s why people liked to worship us, after all.¡¯


    ¡®Goes both ways, doesn¡¯t it?¡¯ Wirrin said. ¡®No Tesholgtok without mages.¡¯


    ¡®That¡¯s what I always said,¡¯ Naertral hissed. ¡®People existed without us, we hardly exist without people.¡¯


    Yern nodded. ¡®No Thaulgtok without Tesholgtok.¡¯


    ¡®Exactly,¡¯ Wirrin said.


    ¡®Rude,¡¯ Mkaer rumbled.


    Wirrin and Yern took the bridge over the Hekaulget river to the barge dock. It was barely more than a warehouse and a bunkhouse, but of course there was a Church there. Wirrin struggled to imagine more than five people fitting into the little, pentagonal stone building at once, probably they didn¡¯t need to.


    ¡®That¡¯s a Church, is it?¡¯ Yern asked, walking around the bland, grey building. ¡®It¡¯s smaller than I expected.¡¯


    ¡®Oh, of course,¡¯ Wirrin said. ¡®You¡¯ve really never seen one before?¡¯


    Yern shook her head. ¡®From what Herdok used to say, they¡¯re supposed to be massive and intimidating. This is just¡­¡¯ She waved vaguely at it.


    ¡®Some of them are massive,¡¯ Wirrin said. ¡®It¡¯s not that they¡¯re intimidating, they¡¯re just everywhere.¡¯


    ¡®How else will people remember to worship?¡¯ Yern grinned.


    ¡®I told you she was sensible,¡¯ Ulvaer cackled.


    ¡®If she was sensible, she¡¯d still be at home,¡¯ Wirrin thought.


    The bunkhouse had a shared kitchen, a proprietor, and no guests. Like some of the other barge docks Wirrin had passed through repeatedly during her travels, the proprietor was a different person to the last time she¡¯d been here.


    ¡®Oh, at least a week,¡¯ was the proprietor¡¯s answer to how long it had been since the last barge. ¡®Unless you count the one from Epatlok three days ago. Didn¡¯t stop here, so I don¡¯t count it.¡¯


    ¡®How are we supposed to get to Ahepvalt then?¡¯ Yern whined.


    The proprietor, a young man with prematurely greying hair and the typical dark skin and skinny frame of a local, smiled. ¡®You¡¯d have better luck going to Epatlok and taking a ship, I¡¯m afraid.¡¯


    Yern¡¯s eyes gleamed. ¡®Oh, we could do that. I¡¯ve never been on a ship, you know?¡¯


    ¡®Neither have I,¡¯ the man smiled. ¡®Only barges. Ships seem a bit scary for my taste, all that rocking and roiling.¡¯


    ¡®Wirrin, have you been on a ship?¡¯ Yern demanded.


    ¡®A few,¡¯ Wirrin said. ¡®Don¡¯t much like the rocking and roiling myself.¡¯


    ¡®Smart woman, your big sister here,¡¯ the proprietor grinned at Yern.


    ¡®Not as smart as she looks,¡¯ Yern grinned back.


    ¡®Must run in the family,¡¯ Wirrin said, eyebrows raised.


    Yern pressed her hands to her heart. ¡®Oh sister, you wound me.¡¯


    They stayed the night in a room with a big, soft bed, cooked breakfast for the proprietor in the morning, and left to walk up the Boclas toward Ahepvalt.


    ¡®We could take a ship,¡¯ Yern whined. ¡®I bet ships aren¡¯t anywhere near as scary as that man thought. It could be fun.¡¯


    Wirrin shook her head. ¡®Ships aren¡¯t fun,¡¯ she said. ¡®And it¡¯s at least a week to Epatlok, then however long until the next ship to Ahepvalt, and then probably a week on the ship, maybe longer depending on the weather. At best it would only be a couple of days faster. And we¡¯d have to go on a ship.¡¯


    ¡®You¡¯re no fun,¡¯ Yern pouted. She was swiftly distracted by the Boclas, which she had spent most of the morning gazing at, in between trying to talk Wirrin into going to Epatlok to get on a ship.


    ¡®And there are mages in Epatlok, who would try to murder us,¡¯ Wirrin added, the next time Yern asked.


    ¡®No fun at all,¡¯ Yern whined, one hand gripping the hilt of her sword. ¡®You can take them.¡¯


    ¡®What if I can¡¯t?¡¯ Wirrin asked. ¡®I can barely breathe, remember?¡¯


    Yern glared. ¡®I¡¯m not going home.¡¯


    ¡®Just promising not to die doing something foolish?¡¯ Wirrin said.


    ¡®Same as you,¡¯ Yern glared. ¡®If I was still at home, you¡¯d still have promised me you¡¯d be back.¡¯


    Wirrin hadn¡¯t thought Yern would believe her. ¡®In that case, since you¡¯re here, I¡¯m under no obligation to survive. No need to return to you, you understand.¡¯


    Yern glared as hard as she could glare.

 Ocean breeze

    Wirrin missed the desert. As pretty as the plains between Epatlok and Ahepvalt were, with all their long grass and winter flowers, Wirrin wasn¡¯t enjoying the easterly breeze coming in off the ocean. If Wirrin wasn¡¯t enjoying the breeze Yern, who had brought no extra clothes, was having a terrible time.


    The rawhide backpack was done, not that there was much in it, but it certainly didn¡¯t do anything for the biting wind. Wirrin was thinking they should have crossed the Boclas back at the river divergence. There was a sheep farm on the far side of the river where Wirrin had worked for a while, more than a decade ago. They would probably have something warm to spare.


    They could have cut across the fields toward Hekaulget, where they would have some goat or alpaca leather for warm clothes. But Wirrin wanted to avoid anywhere there might be mages on the way to Ahepvalt.


    Yern, who was as hunched in on herself as she could get, wrapped in one of Wirrin¡¯s blankets, and walking directly to her left to try to get out of the wind, complained. ¡®Can¡¯t you just shoot a gazelle or something?¡¯


    ¡®It¡¯d take another few days to cure it,¡¯ Wirrin said. ¡®You¡¯re dragging the blanket on the ground.¡¯


    ¡®Yeah, well it¡¯s way too big,¡¯ Yern groused. ¡®Aren¡¯t you from the snow? Don¡¯t you have any warm clothes?¡¯


    Wirrin didn¡¯t think she¡¯d ever shared her clothes with anyone. It just hadn¡¯t occurred to her. Her winter jacket would be just about a dress on Yern, but it would probably be better than the blanket.


    Wirrin¡¯s winter jacket enveloped Yern more than the blanket had, hanging off her shoulders and drooping past her knees. But at least it didn¡¯t drag on the ground.


    ¡®Stop laughing,¡¯ Yern glowered.


    ¡®Stop being so small,¡¯ Wirrin smirked.


    ¡®I¡¯m working on it. It¡¯s a slow process.¡¯


    ¡®Just need to eat more,¡¯ Wirrin said.


    ¡®You would know,¡¯ Yern muttered. ¡®You eat like you¡¯ve never seen food before.¡¯


    ¡®Every day is a new day,¡¯ Wirrin smiled. ¡®I¡¯ve never eaten that meal before. Being stabbed in the lungs is hungry work.¡¯


    ¡®I haven¡¯t been stabbed in the lungs,¡¯ Yern pointed out.


    ¡®If you¡¯re cold, you should eat more,¡¯ Wirrin said. ¡®I used to only eat this much when I was in the mountains.¡¯


    ¡®Now you¡¯re a mage you have to eat more, is it?¡¯ Yern asked, a curious sort of frown taking over from the annoyance.


    ¡®Must do. I¡¯ve been hungry since I found Mkaer,¡¯ Wirrin said.


    ¡®All those new mages back home, they all started eating more,¡¯ Yern said.


    Wirrin hadn¡¯t noticed, but she expected Yern was right. ¡®Something to do with Ulvaer, no doubt,¡¯ she said. ¡®Fiend of Hunger and all.¡¯


    ¡®They¡¯re all so hungry,¡¯ Ulvaer rattled. ¡®They need to eat. Nothing wrong with that.¡¯


    ¡®Unless they eat everything at the hetavatok,¡¯ Wirrin thought. ¡®Or everything they had stored back at your statue.¡¯


    ¡®No fear of that,¡¯ Ulvaer cackled. ¡®There¡¯s always more food.¡¯


    Wirrin and Yern struck off the path to have lunch in a stand of trees. It didn¡¯t help the wind as much as Wirrin had hoped. Wirrin made Yern eat more than usual before they packed up and set off again.


    Even if she looked ridiculous in Wirrin¡¯s winter coat, Yern stopped complaining about the cold. It had really been her only complaint anyway. Yern was totally enamoured with the river, which was by far the biggest body of water she¡¯d ever seen. And all the winter flowers, green grasses, and crop fields were just as enchanting.


    Wirrin was quite enjoying watching Yern have all these new experiences. She was barely even annoyed at how slow she still had to go, since it gave Yern enough time to gaze in absolute wonder at the world around.


    Three days out from the river divergence, Wirrin and Yern were just passing the edges of Epatlok¡¯s farmland on the far side of the river, tame fields giving way to tall grassland undulating in the wind.


    Wirrin felt the barge coming down the river behind them. It felt very like something slithering over the ground, but less focused. Wirrin was just wondering if her range in water was the same as her range through the ground, when the barge started steering across the water, closer to the side she was on.


    There was nothing coming the other way.


    Wirrin pulled Yern off the road beside the river, into the drier plains on this side of the water. ¡®Someone¡¯s coming on that barge,¡¯ she said.


    The barge in question was only just over the horizon behind them, obvious in the overhead sun. It looked like an ordinary barge to Wirrin, but she could think of no reason for it to cross the river like that.


    Yern¡¯s hand gripped the hilt of her sword.This novel''s true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there.


    ¡®Don¡¯t do that,¡¯ Wirrin said. ¡®You¡¯re a threat if you have a weapon.¡¯


    ¡®I could be a threat,¡¯ Yern grumbled.


    ¡®If you¡¯re a threat, you¡¯re worth killing,¡¯ Wirrin said.


    Yern let go of her sword hilt, but her hand hovered around it.


    ¡®Try to keep out of it, please.¡¯ Wirrin made eye contact.


    Yern¡¯s eyes were wide, but her jaw was set. She looked very small in Wirrin¡¯s massive coat.


    The Boclas was slower here, past the divergences at Louyava and Epatlok, but the barge was still much faster than Wirrin and Yern. There was no chance of finding somewhere to hide before it reached them. Wirrin just wanted to get further from the edge of the water, try to make it harder for someone to jump on her.


    And jump was what someone did. Five mages, obvious in their thick robes, rode the barge down the river toward them. One put their hands on the shoulders of two others and they seemed to drift to the bank, like the way War mages moved. Another, separate, War mage drifted off the boat, landing closer to Wirrin. The last leapt, confident in their physical capacity.


    It was the last who shouted to Wirrin, a golden heart gleaming in the sunlight. ¡®Wirrin, we¡¯re not here to fight.¡¯


    The other use of moving away from the river was that it put all the mages close to the water. Where the barge was dropping anchor and slowing down.


    ¡®Stay here,¡¯ Wirrin instructed, staring down at Yern.


    ¡®Flesh is not trustworthy,¡¯ Ulvaer rattled.


    ¡®Be very careful, Wirrin,¡¯ Mkaer rumbled.


    Wirrin stared at Yern until the girl nodded and looked away.


    ¡®If you¡¯re not here to fight, what do you want?¡¯ Wirrin called back, moving closer, away from Yern. Her hand rested on the handle of her knife.


    ¡®We want to talk,¡¯ the Flesh mage called.


    Wirrin rolled her eyes. ¡®I got that much. What do you want to talk about?¡¯


    Aside from the two War mages, the other two wore flower pendants.


    ¡®Do you all want to talk?¡¯ Wirrin asked. ¡®Or do Vonaer and Azavaer have some reservations?¡¯


    The Flesh mage flinched. ¡®You shouldn¡¯t¡­¡¯ He took a deep breath. ¡®We all have reservations. But you have clearly achieved something previously unheard of. It is better to understand than not.¡¯


    Wirrin pressed her lips together. ¡®Have any of you tried?¡¯ she asked. ¡®Surely you can speak to one of your other Gods and ask?¡¯


    The Flesh mage clenched his jaw. ¡®None of us have tried,¡¯ he said. ¡®It¡¯s¡­¡¯


    ¡®It¡¯s not the done thing?¡¯ Wirrin smiled. ¡®You don¡¯t talk to the others? Pick one and that¡¯s it? I wonder why it was unheard of.¡¯


    ¡®Our mages would speak to the others at altars quite often,¡¯ Naertral burbled. ¡®It was often easier to find an altar than a mage, if we wished to communicate.¡¯


    ¡®Except for Ulvaer,¡¯ Mkaer rumbled.


    ¡®Symbols are so uninteresting,¡¯ Ulvaer rattled. ¡®My people are my symbols.¡¯


    ¡®You couldn¡¯t speak to each other at an altar?¡¯ Wirrin thought.


    ¡®No,¡¯ Mkaer rumbled. ¡®Only after we had been joined to you could we speak to each other.¡¯


    ¡®The others would not agree to it,¡¯ the Flesh mage said.


    ¡®Then I¡¯m not the one you need to talk to, am I?¡¯ Wirrin said. ¡®Either your Gods agree to disregard Vonaer and Azavaer or you speak to them, surely?¡¯


    The Flesh mage flinched again.


    Wirrin stepped closer.


    ¡®Careful,¡¯ Mkaer rumbled.


    ¡®Do you know your God¡¯s name?¡¯ Wirrin asked.


    ¡®It¡¯s not my place,¡¯ the Flesh mage said, through clenched teeth.


    ¡®Do you want me to tell you?¡¯ Wirrin asked.


    The Flesh mage grabbed her around the throat. A wave splashed over the two growth mages and splattered the robes of one of the War mages.


    ¡®Azavaer could save them,¡¯ Wirrin rasped. ¡®Will you?¡¯


    She could feel the blood beating through the mage¡¯s veins. Could feel his heart beating evenly. He was full of water. That was interesting.


    He let go.


    ¡®You two stop that,¡¯ Wirrin called, hoarsely.


    The plants stopped moving behind her.


    ¡®What can I do for you that you can¡¯t do for yourselves?¡¯ Wirrin asked. ¡®How I got to be here doesn¡¯t matter, surely?¡¯


    ¡®If it were so easy, you would not be the first,¡¯ the Flesh mage said.


    ¡®Ulvaer, do you think you could convince some of your mages to go to the swamp?¡¯ Wirrin thought.


    Aloud, she said: ¡®Even if I tell you how I did it, what use is that information? You won¡¯t do it, will you?¡¯


    ¡®A brand new phenomenon is interesting,¡¯ the Flesh mage said.


    ¡®It¡¯s better to know how to prevent it happening again, perhaps,¡¯ Wirrin said. ¡®If you don¡¯t know how it works, you¡¯ll be stuck with the fear it¡¯ll happen again. Maybe next time, it¡¯ll happen to someone more motivated.¡¯


    ¡®You seem motivated, Wirrin.¡¯


    ¡®Think what I could have done with the element of surprise, back in the south,¡¯ Wirrin said. ¡®If I really were motivated. Perhaps I¡¯m like you: interested.¡¯


    The Flesh mage stared at her, jaw working.


    ¡®Is it time to fight, do you think?¡¯ Wirrin asked.


    ¡®Have I said how much I like you, Wirrin?¡¯ Ulvaer cackled.


    The Flesh mage grabbed Wirrin by the throat. Water seeped through the skins of the three mages she¡¯d doused. Wirrin grabbed her knife and did her best to stab the Flesh mage in the neck.


    Instead of being stabbed, the mage¡¯s neck split before the point of the knife, opening to let the blade through suddenly empty space. The mage grabbed her arm and suddenly Wirrin couldn¡¯t move her hand.


    Sand blasted up between Yern and the remaining War mage. Wirrin couldn¡¯t speak to tell Yern to run, not that it would have done any good.


    The mage¡¯s flesh was solid in a way that none so far had felt. The water that lapped around his ankles could find no purchase. Ulvaer¡¯s magic felt like eating butter, unpleasantly soft and yielding. It could not press its way into the mage¡¯s flesh, reach all that water waiting to be dried up.


    A stone passed through a hole in the mage¡¯s forehead, completely missing his flesh. He stared at Wirrin. ¡®You will tell us, Wirrin.¡¯


    Wirrin¡¯s lungs stopped working. That may have a good thing. It meant she couldn¡¯t keep arguing with him. Her whole body flopped as if her bones had suddenly disappeared.


    Yern was doing her best to bite the mage who had grabbed her. Her sword was laying on the ground several metres away. The last thing Wirrin managed to do before she blacked out was send a shower of stone shards after the War mage. He was out of the way before they left the ground.


    ¡®That was fun,¡¯ Ulvaer cackled.


    ¡®Easy for you to say,¡¯ Mkaer rumbled. ¡®You have more mages.¡¯


    ¡®If he meant for her to be dead, she¡¯d be dead,¡¯ Naertral burbled.

 Back in gaol

    Wirrin woke to something heavy on her chest. That much was fine, expected even. Wirrin put her arms over Yern and opened her eyes. She was in a cell. That was nostalgic. She hoped she¡¯d ended up in Ahepvalt and not Epatlok. She wondered if she could tell the difference by feeling, but that sense through the ground didn¡¯t seem to extend past the walls of the cell.


    ¡®Vos tholgek,¡¯ Yern muttered.


    ¡®Were you awake?¡¯ Wirrin muttered. ¡®Did you see which way we went?¡¯


    ¡®I was under the ship,¡¯ Yern said. ¡®It was awful. I kept throwing up. That man was right about ships.¡¯


    ¡®Did we keep going up the river?¡¯ Wirrin asked.


    Yern looked at her with a frown. ¡®I think so. Not worth it. We should have walked.¡¯


    Wirrin was still dressed in her spring linens with her autumn coat over top. Yern was still hanging with Wirrin¡¯s winter coat. Yern¡¯s new backpack was gone. All of Wirrin¡¯s gear was gone.


    The bed in the cell was almost as comfortable as the bed in the bunkhouse had been. Wirrin was tempted to just go back to sleep. Her whole body felt heavy, weak, floppy like her bones hadn¡¯t all returned yet.


    ¡®Vonaer¡¯s mages stand guard outside,¡¯ Mkaer rumbled. ¡®Only they could block me like this.¡¯


    ¡®Has it been folded in, do we think?¡¯ Wirrin thought. ¡®Or do they not know what I¡¯m actually doing here?¡¯


    ¡®If we¡¯re really in Ahepvalt, Azavaer should be common here,¡¯ Ulvaer rattled. ¡®They could not keep it out of this.¡¯


    ¡®What are you talking about?¡¯ Yern whispered.


    Wirrin shook her head gently. ¡®Did they say why they hadn¡¯t killed me?¡¯


    ¡®Not that I heard,¡¯ Yern muttered, pouting.


    Wirrin had a thought. It wouldn¡¯t work.


    She put her hands on either side of Yern¡¯s face and closed her eyes. She took deep breaths and tried to concentrate on something that wasn¡¯t there.


    ''Wirrin aup Ahepvalt,'' Ulvaer was rattling.


    ''Ekt goltok taktakoget olg?'' Herdok wondered. ''Helgettok?''


    ''Aupk,'' Ulvaer rattled. ''Olg gok tholgtok shyavt fogalk. Vikt autakavat.¡¯


    ¡®Tholgtok vosgok shyavt golokt,¡¯ Herdok said.


    Wirrin came back to herself, breath ragged.


    ¡®I don¡¯t like that at all,¡¯ Ulvaer rasped.


    ¡®I think it¡¯s fun,¡¯ Naertral burbled.


    Yern was frowning down at Wirrin. Wirrin shrugged, then kissed Yern on the forehead. ¡®It¡¯ll be fine, probably.¡¯


    Yern rolled her eyes. ¡®Vos tholgek.¡¯ Then wiped her forehead.


    ¡®You¡¯re so rude to me,¡¯ Wirrin smiled. ¡®After I let you travel with me and everything.¡¯


    ¡®I¡¯m starting to think you were right the first time,¡¯ Yern announced. ¡®I should have stayed home and been bored.¡¯


    ¡®I thought the same thing, first time I ended up in gaol,¡¯ Wirrin said. ¡®Thought my life would be ruined. I¡¯d be sent to Telenva to die in the mines. They just let me out the next day. My mother was much more upset about it than I was.¡¯


    Yern managed to settle further into Wirrin. ¡®My mother wouldn¡¯t care, if she even remembers I exist.¡¯


    Wirrin put her arms around Yern again. ¡®My mother cared. She just didn¡¯t know what to do, I think. The world was too unstable for her.¡¯


    ¡®Mine just left,¡¯ Yern said. ¡®Popped me out and went about her business. She must have been shyolg, to stay with Vaulgat. But no one ever saw her again.¡¯


    Wirrin went ¡®hmmm¡¯.


    ¡®Is your mother still worried about you?¡¯ Yern asked.


    ¡®Oh, she¡¯s dead,¡¯ Wirrin said. ¡®About twenty years now.¡¯


    ¡®Right in the middle of winter?¡¯ Yern smirked. ¡®Did she freeze to death?¡¯


    ¡®It felt like she just gave up. Her heart stopped working, I¡¯m told.¡¯


    ¡®That was probably sad for you,¡¯ Yern said. ¡®Hoget tholget.¡¯


    ¡®It was nice, I think,¡¯ Wirrin said. ¡®I left as soon as she was buried, started exploring Nesalan. Haven¡¯t looked back since, really.¡¯


    Yern nodded. ¡®And that¡¯s how I ended up in prison.¡¯


    ¡®We¡¯re in gaol, not prison,¡¯ Wirrin smiled. ¡®I¡¯m not going to prison.¡¯


    ¡®You think when they kill you I¡¯ll get sent to Telenva to work in the mines?¡¯ Yern muttered. ¡®I could orchestrate a prison break, like the four hundred year parade.¡¯


    ¡®You might live to the six hundred year parade,¡¯ Wirrin said. ¡®Might be too old to start another riot by then.¡¯


    ¡®I don¡¯t¡­¡¯ Yern yawned. ¡®I don¡¯t have to wait that long.¡¯This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    ¡®I suppose not,¡¯ Wirrin said. ¡®The five hundred and twenty eight year riot doesn¡¯t have the same ring, though.¡¯


    Yern yawned again. ¡®Maybe five hundred and thirty. Got to¡­ ¡® yawn ¡®got to get strong first, working in the mines.¡¯


    Wirrin took deep breaths. It was easier than it had been before the Flesh mage. Had she been fixed? That seemed foolish.


    Wirrin resisted the urge to follow Yern into sleep. ¡®Tell me about the Gods,¡¯ she thought. ¡®What are they like? How could I manipulate them?¡¯


    ¡®What are they supposed to be like now?¡¯ Mkaer rumbled.


    ¡®Nothing,¡¯ Wirrin thought. ¡®They¡¯re just good and right. They know what¡¯s best for us and they care about our wellbeing.¡¯


    Naertral laughed like that pond full of frogs.


    ¡®It¡¯s interesting that they are less, now,¡¯ Ulvaer rasped. ¡®Once we were more like people. We had our own thoughts, our own interests. Our own disagreements.¡¯


    ¡®Mkaer and Naertral said that Vonaer and Raerna used to disagree often.¡¯


    ¡®Vonaer was disagreeable,¡¯ Ulvaer cackled.


    ¡®It considered itself the bringer of civilisation,¡¯ Mkaer rumbled.


    ¡®The rest of us represented the natural world,¡¯ Naertral burbled. ¡®Especially Ulvaer, Haerst, Finaer, and myself. Swamp, desert, mountains, ocean. All places in need of taming.¡¯


    ¡®It, most of all, did not like Finaer and myself,¡¯ Mkaer rumbled. ¡®That the people of the south had built so much without it.¡¯


    ¡®As much as we cared about civilisation, we thought of the humans as the bringers of it,¡¯ Naertral burbled.


    ¡®It liked none of us,¡¯ Ulvaer rattled. ¡®The filthy Mountain says it was hated most by Vonaer. I was included in that number.¡¯


    ¡®It liked us least of all of you. It liked you least of all of us,¡¯ Mkaer rumbled.


    ¡®My people had no interest in settling,¡¯ Ulvaer rattled. ¡®Vonaer hated it. That is why it and Poison built those rivers. To bring civilisation to the desert.¡¯


    ¡®It conflicted most often with Raerna, I think,¡¯ Mkaer rumbled. ¡®Even if it liked most of us less. Raerna was most openly opposed to its way of thinking. My mages could build, Finaer always stayed in the south. Raerna wanted a world of growing things, it preferred nomads.¡¯


    ¡®If any of you liked me, it was Raerna,¡¯ Ulvaer cackled. ¡®It did not like me, we were too opposed. But my people suited it.¡¯


    ¡®Raerna wanted freedom? Wildness?¡¯ Wirrin thought.


    ¡®It thought it should be the only one to intervene,¡¯ Naertral burbled. ¡®It wanted my swamps dry and flowering.¡¯


    ¡®It and Finaer got along well,¡¯ Mkaer rumbled. ¡®It needed Finaer to keep the ice out of the Shielded Valley.¡¯


    ¡®Were all the Gods like that, then? Certain of their own correctness?¡¯


    ¡®Only those two,¡¯ Ulvaer rattled. ¡®Tontaer was little, uninteresting. It was not war. It spread into the desert for its speed, but it was barely more popular than I.¡¯


    ¡®It was very popular in Keredin,¡¯ Mkaer rumbled. ¡®All sorts of sport and competition was held in its name.¡¯


    ¡®Keredin is still like that,¡¯ Wirrin thought. ¡®When I was there, there was always some kind of athletic competition going on.¡¯


    ¡®It spread all over Nesalan, for its utility. Its mages carried messages quicker than horses could. They worked without tiring, much stronger than anyone else,¡¯ Mkaer rumbled. ¡®But no, it was not popular.¡¯


    ¡®Iltavaer, too, was inferior,¡¯ Naertral burbled. ¡®It was in the west, near Gnaer, at first. Its mages could be strong, but not as strong as Tontaer¡¯s. They could heal, but not as well as Gnaer¡¯s, not as comprehensively. It¡¯s strangeness was off-putting, like Ulvaer.¡¯


    ¡®It was not so interesting,¡¯ Ulvaer cackled. ¡®Its mages were hardy, they were strong. They could fix wounds much more easily than Gnaer¡¯s mages could. But they could deform their flesh so severely, if they wished. Their medicine was useful, of course, but they were so strange.¡¯


    ¡®It must have been interesting enough, if it wasn¡¯t outcast like you were,¡¯ Wirrin thought.


    ¡®It was useful enough,¡¯ Ulvaer cackled. ¡®It was popular in the west, for its mages¡¯ strength and their ability to instantly close wounds. It made for a great farmer, if you could put up with its strangeness.¡¯


    ¡®What about Azavaer?¡¯ Wirrin thought. ¡®You haven¡¯t mentioned it once.¡¯


    ¡®Azavaer was inoffensive,¡¯ Naertral burbled.


    ¡®It offended me,¡¯ Ulvaer cackled. ¡®The Mountain quite liked it.¡¯


    ¡®Azavaer may have considered itself above all the rest of us,¡¯ Mkaer rumbled. ¡®It claimed always to be interested in peace, mindfulness, calmness. We got along well, but it got along well with everyone, bar Ulvaer.¡¯


    ¡®It was my contrast, though certainly it would have said the same of me,¡¯ Ulvaer cackled. ¡®We disagreed always, from the moment we met. It was near me, further north, but close. It did not like our hunger, our energy. It sought to be warm, and not burning.¡¯


    That image of a Light mage burning the eyes out of a young man meandered through Wirrin¡¯s head again. ¡®I wouldn¡¯t have guessed,¡¯ she thought.


    ¡®It must love this world,¡¯ Ulvaer rattled. ¡®It and Vonaer. They would have sought a world like this, filled with order and peace and control. It seemed, before the War, like we all stood in the way of that dream.¡¯


    Wirrin frowned to herself. ¡®If they want to know how I¡¯m like this, why would they exclude Vonaer and Azavaer? Those two would have just as much interest in knowing, surely?¡¯


    ¡®Unless you¡¯re wrong,¡¯ Mkaer rumbled. ¡®And they seek to understand you for a different reason. Not simply to prevent it from happening again.¡¯


    ¡®You¡¯re sure there¡¯s been no one like me before?¡¯ Wirrin thought. ¡®No one wanted to be a mage for more than one of you?¡¯


    ¡®Oh, many did,¡¯ Mkaer rumbled. ¡®The power appealed greatly, to some.¡¯


    ¡®And you denied them all? Or did it not work?¡¯


    ¡®I denied them all,¡¯ Mkaer rumbled. ¡®Someone seeking that sort of power did not interest me.¡¯


    ¡®That¡¯s the only reason they wanted more than one of you? I don¡¯t seek power.¡¯


    ¡®Yes you do,¡¯ Ulvaer cackled. ¡®You may not have much use for it, once you have it. But you seek it non-the-less.¡¯


    Wirrin frowned a little more. ¡®Even if that¡¯s true, surely seeking power isn¡¯t the only reason to want to be a mage of more than one of you¡­ Outsiders? Think, for example, how useful a medic a mage of Tontaer and Iltavaer might be. How proficient a farmer a mage of Raerna and Finaer might be.¡¯


    ¡®What combination would include any of us?¡¯ Mkaer rumbled. ¡®Perhaps we are simply the wrong ones to ask.¡¯


    ¡®A mage of Raerna and Naertral, too, could be a deeply useful farmer,¡¯ Wirrin thought.


    ¡®Raerna didn¡¯t like me,¡¯ Naertral burbled. ¡®Even if its mages were not so convinced, at times, none of them came to me with the request.¡¯


    ¡®No one came to me with the request at all,¡¯ Ulvaer cackled. ¡®I would have agreed. Think how interesting.¡¯


    ¡®Naertral, you said you didn¡¯t share Mkaer¡¯s morals,¡¯ Wirrin thought. ¡®You denied anyone who came to you?¡¯


    That burbling, shushing, hissing of Naertral¡¯s voice seemed to hang motionless in Wirrin¡¯s mind. She wondered if she¡¯d ever experienced one of the Fiends just thinking in her mind before. It was similar to the way they talked to each other, but it was only Naertral who did it.


    ¡®It seemed, then, a much more significant request than it seems now.¡¯ Naertral¡¯s voice was slow, measured. ¡®Even spread out as we had all become, we were all islands unto ourselves. Individual, separate from each other. I must have refused all who asked, none argued sufficiently to abandon that individuality. Now, it seems foolish to have refused.¡¯


    ¡®You¡¯d best not refuse when Ulvaer¡¯s mages come to the swamp,¡¯ Wirrin thought.


    Ulvaer and Naertral laughed like that pond full of frogs being tortured to death.


    ¡®I no longer fear for my individual nature,¡¯ Naertral burbled. ¡®It is retained here, despite the others.¡¯


    ¡®We would never have tolerated someone to speak to us so, before you,¡¯ Ulvaer rasped.

 Mutual interrogation

    Wirrin woke again when someone stepped into the cell. The vibrations of the step stopped abruptly at the doorway. Yern was still asleep on her chest. Wirrin opened her eyes.


    Despite the solid, face-covering grey robe, Wirrin was quite sure that this was a different Flesh mage. She supposed it made sense to send a Flesh mage, the only variety she had yet to kill.


    The mage stopped just inside the open door of the cell, hands clasped behind his back. ¡®Wirrin,¡¯ he said. ¡®My name is Rasak.¡¯


    ¡®Picked the wrong one, Rasak,¡¯ Wirrin said. ¡®Should¡¯ve picked Haerst with a name like that.¡¯


    Rasak had much better control of his face than the previous Flesh mage. ¡®I don¡¯t know which one that is, but I¡¯m very happy to have been accepted by Health.¡¯


    ¡®It interests me,¡¯ Wirrin said. ¡®That your God is called Health, now. Do you know what it was called before the War?¡¯


    Rasak had very good control over his face. ¡®Not my business.¡¯


    ¡®Vos tholgek,¡¯ Yern muttered. ¡®Vesh og gok vik eshaulgoll?¡¯


    Wirrin shrugged and waggled her eyebrows at Yern. To Rasak, she asked: ¡®What can I do for you, Rasak?¡¯


    ¡®You can come with me, Wirrin,¡¯ Rasak said. ¡®That we may speak.¡¯


    ¡®Somewhere Vonaer can¡¯t hear?¡¯ Wirrin asked, with a smile. ¡®Vostupik, Yern.¡¯


    Finally, Rasak twitched.


    Yern groaned and rolled off Wirrin. ¡®Vos vospaugoll,¡¯ she muttered.


    Wirrin shouldn¡¯t have been so surprised when Rasak put a hand on her shoulder. Nor should she have been surprised by two mages wearing copper crossed hammers standing outside the cell, frowning under their hoods. Wirrin waggled her eyebrows at them.


    As they walked, Wirrin felt more and more through the floor beneath her. Her and Rasak¡¯s footsteps sent waves out through the huge Church in the centre of Ahepvalt. She could feel hundreds of people, with the occasional dead spots where other mages of Vonaer must have been.


    ¡®It is not like this sense of ours,¡¯ Mkaer rumbled. ¡®They must do it consciously.¡¯


    ¡®Could Vonaer know that Azavaer had also been excluded?¡¯ Wirrin wondered.


    ¡®We can¡¯t know,¡¯ Mkaer rumbled.


    Wirrin could feel what were certainly other mages, in their heavy robes with hoods over their heads. She didn¡¯t have the precision to feel the little medallions they all wore, but there were easily a hundred of them, excluding however many were hidden by Vonaer.


    ¡®Did Vonaer know your mages could feel like this?¡¯ Wirrin thought.


    ¡®Yes,¡¯ Mkaer rumbled.


    ¡®Are they hiding something in particular from us, do you think?¡¯ Naertral burbled. ¡®Or is Vonaer behaving as expected.¡¯


    ¡®Only one way to find out,¡¯ Ulvaer cackled.


    Quite a ways from any of the dead-spots that marked Vonaer¡¯s mages, Wirrin was led into a small room lit by an oil lantern. Around a small table were three other mages: a War mage, a Growth mage, and the Flesh mage who had defeated Wirrin by the river.


    Rasak pushed Wirrin into one of two empty seats, next to the other Flesh mage, who put a hand on her other shoulder.


    ¡®Wirrin,¡¯ said the Growth mage. ¡®My name is Gelas.¡¯


    ¡®Another wrong God,¡¯ Wirrin said. ¡®Should¡¯ve picked Ulvaer.¡¯


    ¡®I forget,¡¯ Gelas said, face very blank. ¡®You¡¯re some kind of polyglot.¡¯


    ¡®If you¡¯re curious,¡¯ Wirrin smiled. ¡®Your name means dry land, or desert.¡¯


    ¡®Do me next,¡¯ said the other Flesh mage. ¡®My name is Aksov Wirrin tok bolrasak.¡¯


    Wirrin grinned. ¡®I¡¯ll call you Wirrin,¡¯ she said. ¡®And it will cause no confusion.¡¯


    ¡®His name is Olak,¡¯ said Rasak.


    ¡®I like Wirrin, better,¡¯ Olak said.


    ¡®At least one of you has some sense,¡¯ Wirrin said. ¡®And how about him¡¯ ¨C she nodded to the War mage ¨C ¡®or is he abiding by the rule about not speaking?¡¯


    ¡®Not speaking to outsiders,¡¯ Gelas said.


    Wirrin snorted. ¡®Must make being a mage difficult.¡¯


    ¡®I¡¯m starting to wonder if Yern was right,¡¯ Ulvaer cackled.


    ¡®She¡¯s very sensible,¡¯ Wirrin thought. ¡®We know this.¡¯


    ¡®So,¡¯ Wirrin said aloud. ¡®What can I do for the four of you, out of earshot of any mages of Vonaer and Azavaer?¡¯


    Olak¡¯s grip on Wirrin¡¯s shoulder tightened for just a moment.


    ¡®I believe Olak already asked you our question,¡¯ Gelas said.


    ¡®You mean Wirrin already asked your question?¡¯ Wirrin smiled.If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.


    Gelas¡¯s eyebrows were edging together, against his will from the look of it. ¡®Sure, Wirrin here asked our question.¡¯


    ¡®I didn¡¯t ask anything on your behalf,¡¯ Wirrin said. ¡®See how it¡¯s not confusing.¡¯


    Gelas¡¯s brows met in the middle, his mouth pulled down at the edges.


    ¡®And besides,¡¯ Wirrin continued. ¡®Aksov Wirrin tok bolrasak here didn¡¯t actually ask me anything, did he?¡¯


    Gelas rubbed his eyes. The War mage was almost certainly smiling.


    ¡®How did you do it, Wirrin?¡¯ Olak asked. ¡®Austovtak?¡¯


    ¡®What do you care?¡¯ Wirrin said. ¡®And why keep Vonaer and Azavaer out of it?¡¯


    Olak¡¯s hand clenched less, this time.


    ¡®You achieved something new, Wirrin,¡¯ Gelas said. ¡®We all want to know more about it.¡¯


    ¡®Wirrin, I have a suspicion,¡¯ Wirrin said, giving Olak a significant look. ¡®I suspect that Vonaer and Azavaer like the state of things as they are more than the rest of your Gods.¡¯


    Olak¡¯s hand stayed clenched, this time. Not quite painful, but getting there.


    ¡®Which strongly implies something to me,¡¯ Wirrin said, looking at Rasak on her other side. ¡®What do you think it implies, River?¡¯


    Rasak¡¯s grip did not tighten, his face managed to stay neutral.


    ¡®What I wonder,¡¯ Wirrin continued, looking back at Gelas. ¡®Is if it¡¯s something all of you know. Or I could be wrong, I suppose. There¡¯s precedent for that, you know?¡¯


    ¡®I heard you once fell down a whole mountain,¡¯ Gelas said. ¡®Because some rich people offered you three flowers to climb to the peak with them.¡¯


    ¡®I told Ketla and Baras about that in confidence,¡¯ Wirrin smiled. ¡®For War to spread that sort of thing around is very unprofessional.¡¯


    The War mage was certainly smiling.


    ¡®Wirrin, am I allowed to speculate?¡¯ Wirrin asked, looking back to Olak. ¡®I wouldn¡¯t want to upset you any further.¡¯


    Olak¡¯s grip finally relaxed.


    ¡®What I would say is strongly implied, by the possibility that not all the Gods are happy about the state of things, is that this wasn¡¯t the intention,¡¯ Wirrin said. ¡®That they were trying to achieve something else, something more interesting perhaps, by forming their Church and wiping out the worship of the others.¡¯


    ¡®And what would it matter if that were true?¡¯ Gelas asked.


    ¡®As I told Wirrin here, before the aksov tok bolrasak, I¡¯m interested,¡¯ Wirrin said. ¡®What could the Gods have wanted to achieve by getting rid of the others. And, had they been able to, would they have gotten rid of more?¡¯


    Olak and Rasak¡¯s grips tightened at the same time.


    ¡®The one called War, now, for example,¡¯ Wirrin said. ¡®A perfectly capable War, no doubt. But not exactly popular at the time, right? Or Work? No one else much liked Vonaer, right?¡¯


    Olak and Rasak¡¯s grips tightened again, getting close to painful now.


    ¡®I imagine you won¡¯t answer these questions,¡¯ Wirrin said. ¡®So I¡¯ll ask one that should be easier to answer in this room. Is this what Vonaer and Azavaer wanted? Or were they part of the plan, and are simply satisfied?¡¯


    ¡®You¡¯re not the one asking questions here, Wirrin,¡¯ Gelas said.


    ¡®I¡¯m the one answering them,¡¯ Wirrin said. ¡®And I won¡¯t answer any, unless you answer that.¡¯


    The room was silent. The mages looked at each other.


    ¡®Keep in mind that I am not asking about anyone represented in this room,¡¯ Wirrin said. ¡®I don¡¯t expect any of you to tell me if you were deceiving each other, as well as Work and Light.¡¯


    In a room halfway across the Church, three mages stood very close to each other, muttering. Wirrin wasn¡¯t much good at hearing people through the ground either way, but they were far too quiet for her to have any chance.


    ¡®Work sought civilisation,¡¯ Gelas said, eventually. ¡®Light is satisfied with peace and quiet.¡¯


    ¡®It should tell its mages that,¡¯ Wirrin smiled. ¡®We might not be here.¡¯


    Gelas¡¯s lip curled. ¡®Light will continue to claim that it was enforcing peace and quiet,¡¯ he said. ¡®If you ever have the opportunity to ask it of the riots.¡¯


    ¡®We¡¯ve answered your question, Wirrin,¡¯ Olak said. ¡®How did you do this?¡¯


    ¡®I appreciate your candour, Wirrin,¡¯ Wirrin said. ¡®I don¡¯t know the answer with complete certainty. It¡¯s never happened before, has it?¡¯


    The grips on her shoulders tightened painfully.


    ¡®Let me ask something of your God, Gelas,¡¯ Wirrin said, still smiling. ¡®I expect it was third, if what I¡¯ve heard about the first people landing where Ettovica is now, is true. How long ago was that?¡¯


    ¡®We already answered your question, Wirrin,¡¯ Olak said, teeth clenched.


    Wirrin kept looking at Gelas, still smiling.


    ¡®It must have been more than eight thousand years, now,¡¯ Gelas said, at length.


    ¡®It will be hard to remember, then,¡¯ Wirrin said. ¡®But could it have resisted being awakened, eight thousand years ago? The Outsiders I have found could not, it seems.¡¯


    One of those three, huddled mages swore loud enough for Wirrin to hear it.


    ¡®A question for all the Gods who hear me now,¡¯ Wirrin said. ¡®Did you ever try to join a mage? Join another Outsider already within someone? Or did you refuse every request like the other Outsiders did?¡¯


    The hands on Wirrin¡¯s shoulders relaxed enough to almost let go.


    ¡®I have no idea what would happen,¡¯ Wirrin admitted. ¡®And nor do any of you. If you do decide to try it, I¡¯d dearly like for you to tell me your results.¡¯


    All four mages were silent. In that room across the Church, those three mages were muttering furiously. Getting progressively louder, but still not loud enough for Wirrin to make out more than a syllable or two at a time.


    Wirrin was only slightly less certain that this would fail than she had been when she tried it with Yern. She put a hand over each of the Flesh mage¡¯s hands and tried to concentrate.


    There was a feeling like chewing, like a bone snapping.


    Wirrin woke, back in the cell.


    ¡®Not dead yet,¡¯ Yern said.


    ¡®Not dead yet,¡¯ Wirrin smiled. She was sore, tired, and laying on the floor as if she¡¯d just been chucked in there with no regard for comfort. Yern was sitting on the bed.


    ¡®Was it useful, then?¡¯ Yern asked.


    ¡®Not as useful as I might have hoped,¡¯ Wirrin said, sitting up slowly.


    ¡®Deeply useful,¡¯ Mkaer rumbled. ¡®The so-called-Gods had to lie to each other for their war to work last time. If we can sow doubt, it may be possible to avoid another war by turning them against each other.¡¯


    Wirrin frowned to herself. She would never have thought of it before. She¡¯d never had any interest in the Church. She cared about the things they¡¯d done to people, of course. But how they worked, what they were like? She couldn¡¯t have cared less.


    ¡®What does it matter if the Gods are lying to each other?¡¯ Wirrin asked, aloud. ¡®The Church has been together five hundred years. Something so minor isn¡¯t going to make a difference now, is it?¡¯


    Yern pointed to herself and mouthed something to Wirrin. Wirrin had no idea what Yern was trying to say. She shrugged.


    ¡®I thought all the Gods got along,¡¯ Yern said, a bit too loud. ¡®How else could they have won the War?¡¯


    Wirrin smiled, and shrugged. ¡®That¡¯s the point of the lies, presumably,¡¯ she said. ¡®To make sure Tavak Tesholg would participate.¡¯


    Yern frowned, her next question was much more sincere. ¡®Is that Work? Not the God of Flatulence?¡¯ she giggled.


    Wirrin chuckled. ¡®I always forget about that. It¡¯s Work, yes. The real word for flatulence is takavt, right?¡¯


    Yern, giggling, nodded. ¡®It¡¯s the same word, Wirrin.¡¯


    Wirrin couldn¡¯t feel the Work mages outside the door, so they must have still been there.

 Talking about lies

    Wirrin hadn¡¯t managed to get back to sleep when the door opened again. This time it was the quiet creaking of the hinges that caught Wirrin¡¯s ear. No movement through the ground, as a woman wearing a crossed hammer pendant stepped through the door.


    She closed the door behind her.


    ¡®Wirrin, my name is Tassa,¡¯ the Work mage said.


    ¡®Have we been talking too loud?¡¯ Yern grinned.


    ¡®Yes,¡¯ Tassa said.


    ¡®Do you think you could take her, Wirrin?¡¯ Yern kept on grinning.


    ¡®Maybe,¡¯ Wirrin said, not getting up. ¡®Her friends outside? I don¡¯t know.¡¯


    ¡®Perhaps we are overestimating you, Wirrin,¡¯ Tassa said. ¡®We expect that if you really wanted to leave, you would have done so when Rasak took you out of here.¡¯


    ¡®Without this small child who¡¯s attached to me?¡¯ Wirrin shook her head. ¡®How poorly people think of me.¡¯


    ¡®I¡¯m not that small,¡¯ Yern glared. ¡®I bet I¡¯m at least as tall as this lady here.¡¯


    ¡®You¡¯d have to get up to find out,¡¯ Wirrin said.


    Yern looked between Wirrin and Tassa for a moment. ¡®Alright, I¡¯m small. It¡¯s worth being comfortable if you ask me.¡¯


    ¡®Everyone keeps saying you¡¯re sensible,¡¯ Wirrin said. ¡®I¡¯m starting to think they¡¯re not too far off.¡¯


    ¡®Can¡¯t be that sensible,¡¯ Yern yawned. ¡®I ended up here, didn¡¯t I?¡¯


    Tassa had a lot more patience than Wirrin had expected of her. She waited until it was clear that Wirrin and Yern were done before she said anything more.


    ¡®It did not escape our attention that some of the others did not want us to hear their conversation with you,¡¯ Tassa said. ¡®And, of course, it did not escape our attention that you claim that they are lying to us.¡¯


    Wirrin nodded along. ¡®You know what I always figured,¡¯ she said. ¡®Never gave it any thought either. All five of you are basically the same thing, right? Pentumvirate. Just the Gods and their Church. I don¡¯t think that was accidental.¡¯


    Tassa didn¡¯t say anything, or react.


    ¡®And none of you have names,¡¯ Wirrin said. ¡®All these mages get upset when I say your names. Without names, you¡¯re all the one thing, surely? Nondescript.¡¯


    ¡®Aren¡¯t they only descript?¡¯ Yern mumbled. ¡®Just descriptions, no names.¡¯


    Wirrin snorted.


    ¡®What do you believe they are lying to us about, Wirrin,¡¯ Tassa said, after another pause to make sure that Wirrin was done.


    ¡®I¡¯ll make you the same deal I made them,¡¯ Wirrin said. ¡®You¡¯ll answer a question for me, and I¡¯ll answer a question for you.¡¯


    ¡®We could just kill you,¡¯ Tassa said. The bricks rattled in the walls.


    ¡®You might be able to kill me,¡¯ Wirrin corrected. ¡®But then who are you going to talk to? Iltavaer? Raerna? Tontaer?¡¯


    ¡®You don¡¯t believe Azavaer is lying to us,¡¯ Tassa said.


    Wirrin smiled. ¡®I know that no representative of Azavaer was in that room. It¡¯s not the same thing, is it?¡¯


    ¡®Ask us your question, Wirrin, and we will decide whether we will answer it.¡¯


    ¡®I have this suspicion,¡¯ Wirrin said. ¡®About why you don¡¯t like having names. I think that if all of you had names, it would have been harder to forget the Fiends. You all bear that similarity, as you know. What I wonder, what my question is: do your mages know where your statues are? The originals, I mean.¡¯


    Tassa just stood there and gazed at Wirrin for quite a while. Wirrin couldn¡¯t be certain of it, of course, since she couldn¡¯t feel anything beyond her comfortable bed, but she doubted that there was a huddle of mages anywhere debating answering the question.


    ¡®Very few,¡¯ Tassa said, eventually. ¡®I do not. There is one in this Church who does.¡¯


    ¡®That interests me,¡¯ Wirrin said. ¡®I already asked my question, of course. But I¡¯ll tell you my suspicion, Tassa. I suspect that mages are mostly not allowed to see the original statues because they, too, bear notable resemblance. If there were images of them around, the Fiends would have been very difficult to forget indeed.¡¯


    Tassa didn¡¯t say anything.


    ¡®This is my final speculation to you, Tassa,¡¯ Wirrin said. ¡®All you mages seem to have scarification around your mouths, like this small child here. I speculate that this is because of the main resemblance all of the old statues share.¡¯


    Tassa was perfectly still for several seconds. ¡®What do you suspect the others of lying about, Wirrin?¡¯


    ¡®I¡¯m told that before the War, before the Church, there was a feeling that everyone stood between you and your march toward civilisation,¡¯ Wirrin said. ¡®I think I would have been less trusting, in your place, that you all shared the same goal.¡¯


    Tassa nodded. Her brows furrowed just slightly, the most expression she¡¯d had since she arrived. ¡®Vonaer wishes you to know it expected that to be your answer,¡¯ she said, hesitantly. ¡®The Church has lasted five hundred years. It is, indeed, a minor thing.¡¯Love what you''re reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on.


    Wirrin smiled. ¡®You can just tell Azavaer the same thing, save one of its mages the trip.¡¯


    Tassa¡¯s face had gone back to its blank neutrality. ¡®Thank you for your time, Wirrin.¡¯ She turned and opened the door.


    ¡®A much less interesting question, if you don¡¯t mind, Tassa,¡¯ Wirrin said. ¡®Do you eat a lot, like me?¡¯


    Tassa closed the door behind her.


    ¡®I think she doesn¡¯t,¡¯ Yern murmured. ¡®She was too skinny.¡¯


    ¡®You know what else I always assumed but have never tried to check?¡¯ Wirrin said. ¡®I always assumed that each of the Gods have the same number of mages. Maybe the balance is a little off, now, since I killed a few. But it must be close enough.¡¯


    ¡®So if any of them tried to oppose the other four, it would be a lost cause,¡¯ Yern said. ¡®If Vonaer tried to oppose the other four, it would be a lost cause.¡¯


    ¡®Even if every single one of them is lying to the others about something, they would all have to be even thicker than I expect to have no balances within the Church.¡¯


    ¡®Iltavaer was never known for its intellect,¡¯ Mkaer rumbled.


    ¡®Nor I,¡¯ Ulvaer cackled.


    They were quiet for a few moments.


    ¡®What now?¡¯ Yern yawned.


    Wirrin shrugged. ¡®I doubt I can get out of here, with all these strong mages of Vonaer guarding me,¡¯ she smiled.


    ¡®Strong and skinny,¡¯ Yern murmured. ¡®Not at all the way it should be.¡¯


    The next meal that slid through the door was much bigger than the first two had been. No one visited, that day, but the meal after that was even bigger.


    ¡®Tassa probably thinks she¡¯s making fun of me,¡¯ Wirrin said.


    ¡®You have to eat a lot,¡¯ Yern said, pointing a fork at Wirrin. ¡®Because of the Tesholgtok. They don¡¯t.¡¯


    ¡®I also got stabbed through the lungs.¡¯ Wirrin pointed a fork back at Yern.


    Yern pointed her knife. ¡®Your breathing sounds fine now.¡¯


    Wirrin pointed her knife. ¡®Why don¡¯t they have to eat as much?¡¯


    Yern pointed her left foot. ¡®You ate almost half a person before you passed out.¡¯


    Wirrin pointed her left foot. ¡®You don¡¯t have to say that so loud.¡¯


    Yern pointed her right foot. ¡®Yasalok Tesholg and Holgetok Tesholg were the most popular before the War, right? Ocean and Sickness.¡¯


    ¡®By a wide margin,¡¯ Naertral burbled.


    ¡®By a wide margin,¡¯ Wirrin repeated, unpointing her knife and fork to keep eating.


    Yern unpointed herself as well, in preparation. ¡®So the Thausholg must have done something, or discovered something,¡¯ Yern said, pointing her fork again. ¡®Like back when the people discovered that you can make water safe by boiling it.¡¯


    ¡®Which is why it wasn¡¯t as useful as I would have liked,¡¯ Wirrin said. ¡®Whatever they discovered worked, obviously. But it convinced them of the need to get rid of everyone else.¡¯


    ¡®But there¡¯s still five of them,¡¯ Yern said, pointing her knife again.


    ¡®Is that the problem?¡¯ Wirrin pointed her right foot.


    ¡®So they hope that you with the Tesholgtok will help in some way? If they¡¯re only lying to Takavt Tesholg, why not include Ishok Tesholg? Unless it¡¯s both?¡¯ Yern pointed both feet again, then unpointed and got back to eating.


    ¡®Or¡­¡¯


    Yern cut Wirrin off. ¡®Or they think they can narrow it down again,¡¯ Yern proclaimed, pointing her whole body at Wirrin. ¡®They don¡¯t need all the Thausholg anymore. If they needed five for the Gods¡¯ War, maybe they only need three to deal with Tegalk Tesholg.¡¯


    ¡®Oh, she¡¯s very sensible,¡¯ Mkaer rumbled.


    ¡®Why do they need three?¡¯ Wirrin asked, smiling and arching her eyebrows.


    ¡®The first time, they needed Takavt Tesholg for Povek Tesholg¡­¡¯ Yern frowned to herself. ¡®And I bet they needed Ishok Tesholg for Yasalok Tesholg.¡¯


    ¡®Why all three for just Ulvaer?¡¯ Wirrin asked.


    Yern frowned some more, putting her fork down as she puzzled it out. ¡®Firstly, I bet there¡¯s a lot of mages by now, so they need numbers. Folgak Tesholg because Tegalk can kill plants easily. Shavt because of fighting. I¡¯m not sure about Hogoll Tesholg.¡¯


    ¡®Tegalk could dry a person out just as easily as a plant,¡¯ Wirrin said. ¡®Except for Iltavaer¡¯s mages.¡¯


    Yern nodded a bunch. ¡®There. They need three.¡¯


    ¡®How could they get rid of the other two?¡¯ Naertral burbled. ¡®Even before Wirrin talked to them, Vonaer and Azavaer wouldn¡¯t sacrifice their mages uselessly.¡¯


    ¡®It doesn¡¯t have to be useless,¡¯ Wirrin said. ¡®There must be ways for them to sabotage each other. If they decide it¡¯s worth doing.¡¯


    ¡®Wouldn¡¯t that be too obvious?¡¯ Yern said.


    ¡®It would now,¡¯ Mkaer rumbled. ¡®If it¡¯s already in Vonaer¡¯s mind.¡¯


    Wirrin shrugged. ¡®Now that they¡¯re thinking about it, it probably would be obvious,¡¯ she said. ¡®But if they weren¡¯t looking out for it, I expect that just the idea that it might happen would be too upsetting to consider.¡¯


    Yern nodded. ¡®Takavt Tesholg could keep it to itself, so Ishok Tesholg might still be surprised,¡¯ she suggested, eyeing the door.


    ¡®Doesn¡¯t seem like that would be much use,¡¯ Wirrin said. ¡®Vonaer couldn¡¯t beat the rest of the Church by itself, even following on my heels.¡¯ She grinned.


    The door opened and a different one of Vonaer¡¯s mages stuck his hooded head through. ¡®What did the others want to know from you?¡¯ he demanded, doing a poor job of concealing his anger.


    Wirrin frowned at him. If Vonaer thought the Church existed to bring civilisation, it wouldn¡¯t be able to answer her main question. And she doubted Vonaer would agree to answer her other question.


    ¡®I¡¯ll make you the same deal as Tassa,¡¯ Wirrin said. ¡®Are you going to talk to Azavaer?¡¯


    The man frowned. ¡®We haven¡¯t decided.¡¯


    Wirrin shrugged. ¡®A boring answer. The others wanted to know how I became a mage of multiple Outsiders.¡¯


    The man stared. ¡®Why?¡¯


    Wirrin shrugged again. Yern shrugged in support.


    ¡®I assume it¡¯s related to their actual aim in the Gods¡¯ War,¡¯ Wirrin said. ¡®They wouldn¡¯t tell me, of course.¡¯


    The door slammed shut.


    ¡®Is it weird that I¡¯m enjoying being in gaol more than I was enjoying the hetavatok?¡¯ Yern asked.


    Wirrin nodded. ¡®Yes.¡¯


    Yern snorted. ¡®You couldn¡¯t wait to leave. I¡¯m sure you¡¯re enjoying gaol.¡¯


    ¡®Who said I¡¯m not weird?¡¯


    Yern nodded. Then pointed her fork. ¡®What are you going to do tomorrow when they realise that you don¡¯t know anything and kill you?¡¯


    Wirrin picked up her fork and pointed it back. ¡®Hope your prison break goes well.¡¯


    Yern pouted.


    ¡®I can¡¯t tell you, can I?¡¯ Wirrin said. ¡®They can hear us.¡¯


    Wirrin did not have a plan. This was a completely novel situation for her. Sure she¡¯d been in gaol before, but only ever overnight. Sure, an increasing number of people had been trying to kill her recently, but out in the open, and in small enough numbers to be manageable.


    She didn¡¯t know for sure that she was to be executed, but Yern was probably right that she was. She had no idea how to deal with Vonaer¡¯s mages, or Iltavaer¡¯s. She had no idea how to deal with a huge Church building full of people.


    Wirrin had an idea. ¡®Can Vonaer¡¯s mages feel through the ground like I can?¡¯


    ¡®It is more difficult for them,¡¯ Mkaer rumbled. ¡®They feel best through their buildings.¡¯


    Wirrin went ¡®hmm¡¯.


    Naertral burbled: ¡®I¡¯ve always liked worms.¡¯

 Not a civil war

    The civil war that Wirrin had vaguely hoped for did not eventuate. That wasn¡¯t a surprise. Wirrin wasn¡¯t executed the next day. That wasn¡¯t a surprise either. What was a surprise was when Rasak stepped into the cell again.


    Wirrin couldn¡¯t think of anything else the Gods might want to know from her. She wasn¡¯t going to look a gift mage in the mouth.


    ¡®River, what can I do for you?¡¯


    ¡®Accompany me again,¡¯ Rasak said.


    ¡®If you kill her while I¡¯m stuck in here I¡¯ll be very upset.¡¯ Yern pointed at Rasak.


    Rasak looked at her. ¡®I¡¯ll bear that in mind.¡¯


    Again, Wirrin was led away from her cell and Vonaer¡¯s mages. The cells were quite near the centre of the Church. An outer wall would have been convenient, but too much to ask for, clearly.


    Wirrin was led to a different small room this time. A different War mage stood in the corner, and Olak was missing. Again, Rasak sat down beside her and put a hand on her shoulder.


    ¡®It is possible to injure a mage of Iltavaer, isn¡¯t it?¡¯ Wirrin thought.


    ¡®Oh, certainly,¡¯ Ulvaer cackled. ¡®We all move at the speed of thought, after all.¡¯


    ¡®You talked to Work,¡¯ Gelas said.


    ¡®I did,¡¯ Wirrin said.


    Gelas sighed. ¡®I suppose no one asked you not to.¡¯


    ¡®Unlikely that it would have helped,¡¯ Wirrin said. ¡®Was that all you wanted? Do you have results to report?¡¯


    Gelas rubbed his eyes. Rasak¡¯s grip tightened.


    ¡®We don¡¯t report to you, Wirrin,¡¯ Gelas said.


    ¡®What can I do for you, then, Desert?¡¯ Wirrin asked.


    The room was silent.


    Wirrin smiled.


    ¡®It didn¡¯t work,¡¯ Gelas said, eventually.


    ¡®Perhaps I¡¯m being too obvious,¡¯ Wirrin said. ¡®But do you know for sure it didn¡¯t work? Or was there too much fear of lies being revealed? Did someone back out?¡¯


    Rasak¡¯s grip tightened again. ¡®It didn¡¯t work.¡¯


    ¡®You can talk to the others, though?¡¯ Wirrin asked. ¡®You¡¯re sure you used the right altar?¡¯


    ¡®Yes,¡¯ Gelas said.


    ¡®The other Outsiders tell me that it was once common for mages to speak to the others through their altars,¡¯ Wirrin said. ¡®I think it is no longer common.¡¯


    None of them said anything.


    ¡®Given that it didn¡¯t work,¡¯ Wirrin said. ¡®What do you want from me? Surely not just to report your results?¡¯


    ¡®You¡¯re the only person like you,¡¯ Gelas said. ¡®You must know something more, even if you do not know that you know it.¡¯


    ¡®If I knew that I knew it, I don¡¯t think I would be the only one like me,¡¯ Wirrin said. ¡®Perhaps I¡¯m selfish.¡¯


    ¡®Perhaps you are,¡¯ Gelas said. ¡®But I think you don¡¯t want that girl to die.¡¯


    Wirrin frowned. ¡®Not a difficult guess.¡¯


    ¡®In that case, I¡¯d like you to think on the subject,¡¯ Gelas said, face blank.


    Wirrin rolled her head around on her neck. ¡®Each of the Outsiders feels different,¡¯ she said, slowly. ¡®They are individuals. Those feelings don¡¯t combine, they overlap.¡¯


    Gelas nodded along. Nearby, three other mages were scribbling furiously in notebooks.


    ¡®I think your Outsider feels like chewing and breaking bones,¡¯ Wirrin said, looking at Rasak. ¡®But, with more than one within, they speak to each other in such a way that I can¡¯t understand, but feels the same as the way they speak to me. When I looked for Flesh, it felt like that.¡¯


    A different three mages, in a different room to the writers, started muttering to each other. The Fiends started talking to each other in the back of Wirrin¡¯s head. She didn¡¯t think she was saying anything too interesting.


    ¡®Health felt it, when you looked,¡¯ Rasak said, grip still tight on Wirrin¡¯s shoulder. ¡®How did you do that?¡¯


    ¡®Which of you tried talking to another God?¡¯ Wirrin asked. ¡®Was it like what I¡¯m describing?¡¯


    Gelas looked at Rasak for a moment. ¡®Not precisely,¡¯ he said. ¡®The two¡­ feelings did not overlap. They excluded each other, when both spoke to me.¡¯


    ¡®Did one of them win?¡¯ Wirrin asked. ¡®Did you hear Growth over¡­ I¡¯m going to guess Health?¡¯


    ¡®Why Health and not War?¡¯ Gelas asked.


    ¡®For some reason, War¡¯s mages aren¡¯t allowed to speak,¡¯ Wirrin said. ¡®Which implies to me that it is more secretive than the others.¡¯This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    ¡®Or less trusting,¡¯ Ulvaer cackled.


    ¡®Same thing,¡¯ Naertral burbled.


    ¡®If both attempted to speak, I heard whichever interrupted,¡¯ Gelas said. ¡®Whoever spoke second.¡¯


    Wirrin didn¡¯t think the Fiends had ever spoken over each other in her head. They had interrupted each other occasionally, but she had never heard them speak over each other. She supposed her situation was different.


    ¡®I noticed, with Ulvaer,¡¯ Wirrin said, slowly, looking at Rasak.


    Rasak nodded slowly.


    The pens were poised, the muttering paused, waiting on whatever Wirrin would say next.


    ¡®I have another question I want you to answer,¡¯ Wirrin said. ¡®I suspect I know the answer to my other question. I think your Outsiders didn¡¯t get rid of Vonaer or Azavaer, or each other, after the War because of Tertic. I think you were all even, by the time Ettovica surrendered, and it would have been a failed effort.¡¯


    ¡®Not comradery, after a war?¡¯ Rasak asked.


    ¡®No, certainly not,¡¯ Wirrin said. ¡®The Church was simply too new to risk infighting. And since then, there has been no point.¡¯


    ¡®What is your question, Wirrin?¡¯ Gelas said.


    ¡®I¡¯m left with only one question,¡¯ Wirrin said. ¡®I don¡¯t know if your Outsiders will consider it worth my answer. What did they want to achieve, by the banishing of the others?¡¯


    Those three mages got back to muttering. They weren¡¯t at it very long.


    ¡®We will not tell you,¡¯ Gelas said.


    ¡®Alas,¡¯ Wirrin said.


    The pens stopped moving, the mages stopped muttering. All ten of them were silent for what felt like a very long time.


    It was the War mage who broke the silence, in the end. His voice quiet and hoarse. ¡®We sought power.¡¯


    Wirrin looked at him, waiting for him to say more. ¡®In that case,¡¯ Wirrin said. ¡®I heard Flesh by listening.¡¯


    Gelas¡¯s jaw clenched for just a moment before he composed himself again. ¡®In that case, I suppose the girl will die.¡¯


    ¡®Let me ask you something, Gelas,¡¯ Wirrin said. ¡®What¡¯s the worst injury you¡¯ve ever had? Have you ever broken bones? Ever been stabbed? Bitten by spiders? Stung by bees?¡¯


    Gelas did an admirable job of keeping his face blank. He was perfectly still. No one is perfectly still. ¡®Wirrin, I do not think you are in a position to threaten me.¡¯


    ¡®I know you think so, Gelas,¡¯ Wirrin said. ¡®Was it the scars on your face? Scarification on your body? What is the most pain you¡¯ve ever felt, Gelas?¡¯


    Rasak¡¯s grip tightened painfully on Wirrin¡¯s shoulder and, as when she¡¯d met Olak by the river, it suddenly felt as if she had no bones. Her body relaxed completely, she could make no muscle move. As much as she would have liked to maintain eye contact with Gelas, her head lolled.


    ¡®Don¡¯t do it, Wirrin,¡¯ Mkaer rumbled.


    ¡®Is it such a great secret?¡¯ Naertral burbled.


    Three walls of the room burst. The War mage was shredded, nowhere to go. Rasak was ravaged and bloody. Wirrin didn¡¯t take the chance. The blood that spattered the room dried in an instant, the water in Rasak¡¯s body evaporated and his flesh burst apart at the smallest level.


    Wirrin¡¯s bones were back.


    She reached over the table and tipped Gelas upright. ¡®Is it this, Gelas?¡¯ she asked. A brick behind Gelas fractured into large shards that dug themselves into his back.


    ¡®Here¡¯s something I know, Raerna,¡¯ Wirrin said. ¡®Vonaer stands guard at my cell. Will it simply let you past, when you run there in fear?


    Gelas choked. ¡®It will.¡¯


    ¡®Here¡¯s something I think, Raerna,¡¯ Wirrin said, standing up from the table and stretching her arms. ¡®I think none of you want quite the same thing. Whether it¡¯s as much as Vonaer seeking civilisation, or each of you wishing to be the only one left.¡¯


    ¡®It doesn¡¯t matter,¡¯ Gelas wheezed.


    ¡®Vonaer¡¯s mages have a skill that I don¡¯t,¡¯ Wirrin said. ¡®They hear what goes on in their buildings. And, I think, even if Vonaer were to let you kill the girl. Even if it will not fight you, it trusts you less than the last time I was here.¡¯


    Gelas coughed blood onto the table. Wirrin forced the shards of stone through him and into the table.


    ¡®Tassa?¡¯ Wirrin said. ¡®Could you come in here, please? I would like to speak to you.¡¯


    Immediately, Wirrin¡¯s sense of the building was gone. The whole room nothing but solid, silent stone around her. She didn¡¯t feel the mage who had been standing outside take the last few steps to the door. She heard it swing open.


    ¡®I know Work won¡¯t turn on the others,¡¯ Wirrin said. ¡®That would be absolutely foolish. I suspect Work would like to know what the others are up to.¡¯


    ¡®They are already rushing for your cell,¡¯ Tassa said.


    ¡®I doubt that Work has any regard for my opinion.¡¯ Wirrin took a deep breath and rolled her neck. ¡®It seems to me that civilisation and peace are, if not part of the process, a perfectly acceptable state of affairs from which to continue.¡¯


    Tassa just stared at Wirrin.


    ¡®I have a question for you. How much of a priority were all those altars and symbols, spread everywhere through Nesalan? And do you know why?¡¯ Wirrin asked.


    ¡®They are symbols of the Church,¡¯ Tassa said. ¡®Of our righteousness. Our presence. Our influence.¡¯


    ¡®When Ulvaer speaks to its other mages,¡¯ Wirrin said. ¡®I feel it at the very edge of my consciousness. I discovered that I can focus on that feeling and observe the other mages.¡¯


    Tassa stared.


    ¡®All of these altars, symbols, statues,¡¯ Wirrin frowned. ¡®I cannot observe through them. I don¡¯t think you Outsiders can do it either. I think that they only exist when interacted with.¡¯


    Tassa nodded.


    ¡®They do not fulfil a role the others had hoped that they would,¡¯ Wirrin said.


    Tassa¡¯s face dropped, her eyes glistened. ¡®Work, please,¡¯ she muttered. ¡®I don¡¯t have¡­ she doesn¡¯t...¡¯


    Wirrin smiled. ¡®If any of the Gods¡¯ mages could survive it, Vonaer¡¯s could.¡¯


    The floor cracked beneath them. Wirrin heaved at the split and the walls broke inward. Tassa tried to stop her. Wirrin had no idea how hard Tassa tried, but her effort was insufficient.


    Wirrin pushed at the floor, crushing it into the foundation, pulling the walls inward. ¡®Brace yourself,¡¯ she said. Tassa¡¯s whole body clenched, and the centre of the Church collapsed on top of them.


    Wirrin sank through the foundation as if it were water. She could feel the people scrambling through the collapsing building above. Could feel islands of peace around Vonaer¡¯s mages.


    Except that she could feel Yern, not far away. No sign of that pool of silence that marked Vonaer¡¯s mages. People certainly were rushing.


    ¡®Did you know that worms rejuvenate the earth?¡¯ Naertral burbled. ¡®As they eat their way through the dirt, the help to break it up, and help to recycle nutrients and minerals.¡¯


    ¡®I¡¯m not going to eat dirt,¡¯ Wirrin thought.


    She burst out of the floor of the cell just in time for a wedge of stone to hit a mage under the chin and take most of his head off. A War mage was faster than a shower of stone shards bursting out of the cell walls.


    As the War mage scooped Yern up, a Flesh mage made a grab for Wirrin. A chunk of stone bounced harmlessly off the back of his head. Wirrin stumbled back out of grabbing range. A burst of stone shards copied the chunk and bounced harmlessly off the Flesh mage, shredding his robe.


    ¡®You¡¯re not getting out of here, Wirrin,¡¯ the Flesh mage said.


    Three things happened very quickly.


    First, the floor under the Flesh mage and the ceiling above him met with great force, blocking the door. Second, Yern bit the War mage, drawing blood on his forearm as he pulled her off. Third, the War mage¡¯s blood dried solid in his veins.


    Wirrin and Yern looked at each other for a moment, panting. Yern threw herself on Wirrin.

 Gaol break

    Holding Yern to her chest with one arm, Wirrin picked up the desiccated War mage with the other. Like the War mages they had fought in the desert, this one war armed with a rapier and a knife that was really more like a dagger. Wirrin took the knife.


    She couldn¡¯t understand the words through the pounding in her head, but Wirrin could feel people talking outside. A gaggle of mages. Four of them talking to a pair standing either side of the blocked doorway into the cell.


    ¡®We¡¯re not done yet,¡¯ Wirrin muttered, putting Yern down. ¡®Please be as careful as you can.¡¯


    Yern took a very deep breath, and nodded.


    Outside the door, the floor erupted into a forest of spikes. What must have been a War mage rode the spikes up to the ceiling, where they failed to be impaled. The bloody pillar blocking the door exploded into the cage of spikes. The War mage couldn¡¯t move fast enough.


    The two Work mages outside the door were staring, wide eyed and unharmed.


    ¡®You can just tunnel out,¡¯ Mkaer rumbled. ¡®You don¡¯t need to stay.¡¯


    ¡®Where¡¯s my stuff?¡¯ Wirrin asked the Work mage who had stuck his head into the cell yesterday afternoon.


    ¡®You don¡¯t need it, Wirrin,¡¯ Mkaer thundered like an avalanche. ¡®It is a mistake to stay.¡¯


    The Work mage looked at Wirrin blearily. Wirrin grabbed him by the collar. ¡®Where¡¯s my stuff?¡¯


    The Work mage stared vaguely. Nearby, that pool of silence that marked one of Vonaer¡¯s mages winked out, revealing three mages. It was hard to be sure, but Wirrin thought only one of them was Vonaer¡¯s. It felt like they were arguing.


    ¡®Thank you, Vonaer.¡¯ Wirrin let go of the mage and dragged Yern down the corridor at a near run.


    Wirrin skidded around the second right turn just as a War mage passed behind her at great speed. The corridor closed around him like the jaws of a great beast. There were, indeed, three mages standing outside a doorway, their argument interrupted by the rumbling and crashing of Wirrin¡¯s power.


    One of them ducked behind the Work mage. The other started running at Wirrin. She ran very fast for an ordinary person, nowhere near the speed of a War mage.


    Thorny vines burst out of the thick stones of the floor and dried to brittle brown almost as soon as they arrived. Behind the Work mage, who was frowning severely, the wall grew more spikes into the Growth mage.


    A large chunk of the wall crushed the Flesh mage into the far wall at great speed.


    ¡®So there¡¯s a limit to how much they can reinforce themselves,¡¯ Ulvaer cackled. ¡®That¡¯s useful information.¡¯


    Wirrin dragged Yern around the chunk of wall and past the still-frowning Work mage.


    Here was another nostalgic room. Wirrin had been in rooms like this several times through her life. Rows of shelves with discrete piles of apparently arbitrary objects, clothes, equipment and the odd weapon.


    The shelves were largely bare, other than Wirrin¡¯s stuff. Nothing piqued her interest enough to pause any longer before she grabbed her pack, knife, and swords off the shelf.


    A high, wavering voice sounded from the doorway. ¡®We have one last question,¡¯ the Work mage said, struggling valiantly to relax despite the blood on his back.


    ¡®You have until we¡¯re ready to go,¡¯ Wirrin said, strapping on her sword belt.


    ¡®How did you become a mage of multiple Outsiders?¡¯ the Work mage asked. ¡®There must be something to the question.¡¯


    Before Wirrin could answer, more mages must have reached the sense range of the Work mage. Parts of the floor and wall made a feeble and unconvincing effort to attack Wirrin. She pushed them back into place.


    ¡®Brace yourself,¡¯ she said.


    Yern tensed.


    The Work mage tensed. He was launched out of the doorway by a slab of stone. He hit the far wall of the corridor with some force, where the stone bent and squished under him like a feather mattress.


    The slab sank back into the floor. The outer wall of the storeroom burst into another maze of spikes. Wirrin¡¯s head pounded. Haloes lit up behind her eyes.


    ¡®Just leave,¡¯ Mkaer rumbled.


    Wirrin ignored it. She stepped out of the room, dagger still in hand. A War mage did their best to jump and slide and somersault through the maze of spikes. More spikes stopped them dead.


    A Flesh mage moved like water, very nearly keeping up a full-speed sprint the whole way through as his body deformed and shifted around the spikes, flowing away from new ones.


    When a chunk of the floor tried to press him into the ceiling, he slithered like a snake, flowed like water out of the way before he could meet the ceiling.


    ¡®Wirrin, you need to get out of here,¡¯ Naertral burbled.


    Behind Wirrin, the corridor closed like a drop hammer on another group of mages. She could feel the Flesh mage with them pulse and slide out of the way, thankfully going back the way they¡¯d come.


    Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.


    As Wirrin¡¯s vision went black around the edges, more and more spikes burst out of the walls in front of her. Some, the Flesh mage slid out of the way of, flesh opening and flowing around the points. Some hit him and simply made it no further.


    He got more confident, quicker. More spikes, stone shards, entire bricks out of the heavy building, simply failed to piece his flesh or do him any harm. Wirrin wanted to do an experiment.


    ¡®Wirrin, you should leave,¡¯ Ulvaer rattled.


    ¡®It has been some five hundred and forty years since Flesh fought one of your mages, Ulvaer,¡¯ Wirrin managed to think though the near-blinding haloes.


    The Flesh mage made it through the maze of spikes. He lunged at Wirrin. Wirrin lunged at him. His chest opened right over his heart and accepted the dagger without contact.


    It had been some five hundred and forty years since a Flesh mage had fought one of Ulvaer¡¯s mages. Despite the solidity of his flesh, despite his impermeability. Wirrin¡¯s teeth cut through the side of his neck and came away with a chunk of flesh in her teeth.


    Three things happened in rapid succession. First, the bite that had taken most of the mage¡¯s neck from his body started to fill in with bright red strands of new flesh. Second, Wirrin¡¯s lips grew into a solid shield over her mouth. Third, the Flesh mage dried solid, let go of Wirrin, and collapsed to the ground.


    Her lips stayed fused shut. She chewed and swallowed.


    ¡®Gross,¡¯ Yern said.


    The haloes receded.


    Wirrin grabbed Yern in a big hug, took a deep breath through her nose, and crashed down through the floor and foundations of the Church. As she sank, she reached above to pull at the walls and ceiling.


    With the amount of Work mages in the Church, she doubted she could destroy the building, but there was no harm in trying. Except for her pounding headache and the blackness on the edges of her vision.


    She sank only as far as she needed to to reach the looser soil below the Church¡¯s massive foundations. It felt less populated to her left, so she burrowed her way in that direction, haloes reigniting behind her eyes.


    Wirrin and Yern burst from the floor of a furnished house. All Wirrin knew for sure about the building before bursting out of the floor was that it was empty and so were all of its neighbours. As she collapsed onto her back on the floor, she got a glimpse of a nicely furnished living room in a wooden house with a stone block foundation.


    Yern rolled off Wirrin, panting. ¡®Ekog¡­ vog¡­ kot¡­¡¯


    Wirrin couldn¡¯t put together enough words to say anything. Except that her lips were sealed shut anyway, so it didn¡¯t matter.


    Yern sat up, staring down at Wirrin. ¡®Wirrin, you¡­¡¯ She stopped, took several deep breaths and did her best to push the wide-eyed shock off her face. ¡®You have a first aid kit of some sort in your pack?¡¯


    Wirrin nodded. She tried to roll over, but only just managed to lift her left shoulder slightly off the ground.


    Yern took several more deep breaths. ¡®Deep breaths through your nose. I¡¯m going to roll you over.¡¯ Her arms shook, but she wedged her hands under Wirrin and managed to roll her onto her side.


    Wirrin could feel the tugging on the straps of her pack, could feel Yern digging around.


    ¡®Vek ekt vesh,¡¯ Yern muttered, dragging a few things out of Wirrin¡¯s pack. ¡®Ovt ovt.¡¯


    As gently as she could, arms still shaking, Yern rolled Wirrin back. The blackness at the edges of Wirrin¡¯s vision was receding slowly, the haloes were just about blinding.


    ¡®Gol¡­¡¯ Yern stopped and huffed. She held up the razor from Wirrin¡¯s first-aid kit. ¡®Ekt gol?¡¯


    Wirrin nodded blearily.


    Yern leaned in very close, taking deep breaths as her arms and hands shook. With two fingers, she spread Wirrin¡¯s lips to look at the problem. Wirrin could feel the connection pulling at her lips. It seemed like they were fused together by a tiny line of skin. It felt oddly similar to having dry lips.


    ¡®Gol ekt,¡¯ Yern said. She took another very deep breath and held it. Her hands stopped shaking as the razor disappeared from Wirrin¡¯s vision.


    Wirrin barely felt anything. It was very like having your dry lips stick together, and pulling them apart without drinking anything. A touch uncomfortable, but in no way painful. Barely a drop of warm blood dripped into Wirrin¡¯s mouth.


    ¡®Vos yav,¡¯ Yern muttered.


    Wirrin hadn¡¯t realised she¡¯d moved. It was hard to focus on anything, but she did her best not to move.


    Yern leaned back, barely a spot of blood on the razor, and sighed out a massive breath. Her hands trembled, she was breathing fast. Moving as purposefully as she could, she put the razor down and picked up one of Wirrin¡¯s waterskins.


    ¡®Drink, move your lips as little as possible.¡¯


    Wirrin felt like her arms were made of water as she took the waterskin and gently tipped it into her mouth. Her lips stung a little, but it was still only as bad as slightly dry lips.


    Yern took the waterskin back and handed Wirrin a scrap of bandage. ¡®Press that between your lips for a minute. I¡¯ve seen worse cuts from shaving.¡¯


    Before she did as instructed, Wirrin asked. ¡®Are you alright, Yern? I¡¯m sure that was a lot. I¡¯m sorry to¡­¡¯


    Yern interrupted her. ¡®Bandage.¡¯


    Wirrin followed instructions.


    ¡®I¡­¡¯ Yern sighed and picked up a wrapped piece of dried gazelle. She chewed it idly as she spoke. ¡®I knew something like that would happen, didn¡¯t I?¡¯ She sighed again. ¡®I shot one of the arrows that killed those mages. I don¡¯t think I hit, but¡­ I saw what you did to the War mages. What you did to those mages by the river. I¡­¡¯ She took a deep breath. ¡®That was much closer than I would have liked.¡¯


    Wirrin nodded.


    ¡®Much closer than it needed to be,¡¯ Mkaer grumbled.


    ¡®I needed by first aid kit,¡¯ Wirrin thought.


    ¡®It¡¯s a¡­¡¯ Yern sighed and took another bite of the gazelle. ¡®On one hand, if you hadn¡¯t gone for your stuff, you wouldn¡¯t have the first aid kit. On the other, if you hadn¡¯t gone for your stuff, you wouldn¡¯t have needed it.¡¯


    Wirrin frowned. ¡®Yern, can you read my mind?¡¯ she thought.


    Yern sighed and shook her head. ¡®You should carry more sweets around. I want something sweet, not just dried meat.¡¯


    ¡®She¡¯s still alive,¡¯ Ulvaer cackled. ¡®It¡¯s hardly that bad.¡¯


    ¡®We¡¯re both still alive,¡¯ Wirrin said. ¡®And since I got my stuff, I have my money. So we can go and buy you some sweets.¡¯


    ¡®If you could get up,¡¯ Yern said. ¡®Did¡­ why did you bite that mage?¡¯


    ¡®Why did I eat that mage?¡¯ Wirrin asked, gently peeling the bandage off her lips. ¡®I wanted to see if it would do something.¡¯


    ¡®Did it?¡¯


    Wirrin groaned and her head swam as she sat up. ¡®It did,¡¯ she said. She picked up the other pieces of dried meat Yern had already pulled from her pack. ¡®It¡­ refreshed me slightly, I suppose. Alleviated some of the pains that doing so much magic causes.¡¯


    Yern nodded. ¡®You should buy yourself some food, too, then.¡¯


    Wirrin unwrapped three pieces of dried gazelle and shoved them into her mouth. She chewed as briefly as she could manage and swallowed a whole clump of dry meat. She followed it up with a big swig from the water skin.


    Yern nodded again. ¡®You have sharp teeth sometimes.¡¯


    ¡®I¡¯m not the only one,¡¯ Wirrin said.


    Yern kept on nodding. ¡®Did that help at all?¡¯


    Wirrin was feeling a touch better, slightly less like her limbs were made of water. ¡®A little. Not as much.¡¯


    Yern kept on nodding. ¡®Time for some experiments.¡¯

 Escaping Ahepvalt

    Wirrin left a flower in the house, to pay for repairing the floor. She led the way down through Ahepvalt toward the boardwalks and the docks. About half the city was built up on the boardwalks over the shallower, marshier part of the bay.


    Wirrin wouldn¡¯t be able to feel the groups of mages moving around as easily, once she was on the boardwalks, but she would have much easier access to water. And she was fairly sure she knew a couple of people who might be able to help her track down Haerst¡¯s statue, even if they didn¡¯t know it.


    And it would help with the experiments.


    At one of the markets near the docks, Wirrin bought Yern a selection of sweets and bought herself a selection of meats. Though she was partial to some of the sweetened drinks that were popular in the desert, Wirrin had never had much of a sweet tooth. It would have meant carrying around too much stuff.


    They spent much more time in the market than Wirrin would have liked, slowly working through the selection of different meats. Wirrin couldn¡¯t have said why she was so sure that only meat would work, but she was sure.


    Whether the meat itself actually helped with the headaches and weakness, or it was simply the act of eating, was unclear. Wirrin ate a lot, as Yern nibbled on the selection of syrup-soaked pastries and little cakes.


    The food was fairly similar to what Wirrin had been eating at the hetavatok, aside from the amount of fish and seaweed and the lack of dates. Lots of smoked and dried meats, seasoned with chillis and other, harsher spices than were popular in the south or west.


    Wirrin was quite enjoying herself. She was getting some odd looks, as she kept getting up from the tables to buy more food. Yern was taking notes in Wirrin¡¯s notebook about which foods Wirrin was finding most refreshing. Unsurprising to Wirrin, the foods that were most helpful were the richer cuts of beef and goat.


    Finally, after what must have been more than an hour, a hoarse voice sounded across the market. ¡®Is that Wirrin?¡¯


    Wirrin smiled. As much as she couldn¡¯t be expected to remember the voices of everyone she had met in her twenty years of travels, she recognised Valok much more by his voice than by his face.


    Valok looked like a sailor in his late thirties, because he was a sailor in his late thirties. He was tall and skinny, dark skinned and light-haired, leathery, wiry, and grinning. His small, monolidded, brown eyes gleamed in the late afternoon sun.


    Wirrin had been hoping to run into Valok, who usually lived in a bunkhouse nearby when he was in Ahepvalt. He wasn¡¯t often in Ahepvalt. He was usually on the sea off the eastern coast, trading goods back and forth.


    Somewhat like Dartol, Valok was someone who Wirrin ran into every couple of years without warning. She hadn¡¯t worked with him nearly as much, she didn¡¯t like being on the ocean, but she¡¯d gotten to know him on a stormy trip from Epatlok to Votiv some fifteen years ago, back before he was captain of his own ship.


    Wirrin stood up.


    ¡®By the Gods, that certainly is Wirrin.¡¯ Valok drifted over to give Wirrin a big hug. ¡®And you seem to have acquired a child.¡¯


    ¡®Valok, Yern, Yern, Valok.¡¯ Wirrin did the introductions. ¡®Yern, Valok is the captain of a trading ship who I¡¯ve known for a good while.¡¯


    Yern nodded along, closed the notebook, and offered her left hand to Valok.


    To Wirrin¡¯s surprise, Valok put his left hand on Yern¡¯s. ¡®A pleasure, Yern,¡¯ Valok grinned. He was jovial, like Datol. To Wirrin, he asked: ¡®What are you doing in Ahepvalt, then? Looking for work?¡¯


    ¡®Sampling the local cuisine,¡¯ Wirrin smiled. She waved at him to sit down and dug the siblings¡¯ notebook out of her pack. She opened it to the pages on Haerst and slid it across the table. ¡®Exploring.¡¯


    Valok laughed. ¡®Dartol said you were up to something.¡¯


    ¡®Do you two talk about me?¡¯


    ¡®Dartol talks about you,¡¯ Valok grinned. ¡®Ran into him in Epatlok about a month ago. Said he ran into you on the way to Esbolva, but you stayed there with business.¡¯ Valok waggled his eyebrows. ¡®What was her name?¡¯


    ¡®Bilar, if you must know,¡¯ Wirrin smiled. ¡®Met her in the library. Had a very relaxing few days.¡¯


    ¡®And then went to do some heresy from the look of it,¡¯ Valok said, flipping back and forth through the notebook. ¡®These aren¡¯t yours.¡¯


    ¡®They are now.¡¯ Wirrin shrugged. ¡®So, any ideas?¡¯


    Valok frowned. ¡®More heresy, is it?¡¯


    ¡®What do you care?¡¯ Wirrin frowned back.


    ¡®Shyavt hikt terava,¡¯ Valok said. ¡®Kan vostoll Thaulgtok.¡¯


    Yern frowned.


    Wirrin rolled her eyes. ¡®Kan vostoll gol, og vosk.¡¯


    Yern frowned harder.


    ¡®Shyavt hikt terava,¡¯ Valok said, smiling. ¡®Fine. Northwest. Past the strait. The reefs. That¡¯s your best bet.¡¯


    ¡®I knew you were smart,¡¯ Wirrin said. ¡®We¡¯ll be down the docks, looking for a little boat or something.¡¯


    Valok sighed. ¡®Osgot has a sailboat,¡¯ he said. Then he hugged Wirrin again, and got up. ¡®Nice meeting you, Yern. Careful of this one, she¡¯s a problem.¡¯


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    ¡®Oh, I know,¡¯ Yern said, still frowning. She watched Valok buy himself a fish stew and leave the market before she rounded on Wirrin. ¡®What was that?¡¯


    Wirrin shrugged. ¡®It sort of doesn¡¯t have a name,¡¯ Wirrin said. ¡®I think I heard someone call it Ishok Yastavat. Presumably because of all the sailors back in the day, and being in the middle of things, I suppose, the language ended up being just a lot of everything else smashed together.¡¯


    Yern nodded a number of times, opened Wirrin¡¯s notebook, wrote something down, and closed it again. ¡®Olg vosk Thaulgtok?¡¯


    ¡®He¡¯s sensible,¡¯ Wirrin shrugged. ¡®Doesn¡¯t want to be on the Church¡¯s bad side. So he¡¯ll tell them where we are.¡¯


    Yern frowned. ¡®You don¡¯t seem concerned about that.¡¯


    Wirrin shrugged again. ¡®It¡¯ll be fine. We just need a boat.¡¯


    ¡®I¡¯ve heard that Osgot has a sailboat,¡¯ Yern said, sliding Wirrin¡¯s notebook into her pack. ¡®Should we pay them a visit?¡¯


    Wirrin nodded. ¡®I think we should.¡¯


    Osgot was a shipbuilder in her late middle age. Wirrin had heard of her a few times, but never met her before. Osgot¡¯s workshop was on the eastern side of the docks, where most of the shipbuilders were set up closer to the woods.


    Nearly eight years ago, Valok had said that Osgot looked like Wirrin if she were a sailor, and he hadn¡¯t been entirely wrong. Osgot was tall and broad, with thick arms and legs, and a soft gut. She was tan, with a broad, leathery face and bright, brown, monolidded eyes. She was unmistakably a northerner, taller and skinnier than Wirrin, with bigger eyes and a sharper nose.


    The sailboat in question had not been built by Osgot, it had been sold to her to be fixed. She explained to Wirrin and Yern that she¡¯d replaced a few boards, put in some new caulk, and replaced the sail and rigging. It had been sold to her very cheap, and most of the materials for repair had been leftovers from bigger projects, so she only wanted three swords for it.


    Wirrin, who knew about boats from her time in Esbolva and time spent with Valok, haggled down a little. Mostly she was just killing time, waiting for the Church to arrive, so she only haggled down two hammers. Two swords and three hammers changed hands.


    Mkaer complained the whole time that she should leave.


    It was just reaching early evening as Wirrin slowly showed Yern how to get the sailboat ready to sail. She would have preferred to leave a bit earlier in the day, or the next morning. But she didn¡¯t want to get anyone in trouble.


    Wirrin felt the vibrations of a group of people hurrying across the boardwalk toward Osgot¡¯s boathouse. She couldn¡¯t tell for sure that it was a group of mages, nor how many there were, but she hadn¡¯t felt anyone else really hurrying. It wasn¡¯t the time of day for it.


    Yern made a cute little ¡®eep¡¯ when the boat dropped in the water as the tide suddenly went out. It was a very localised wave. There was a localised flurry of activity as anyone on the few nearby boats scrambled for safety.


    The hurried group of mages, more than thirty of them, rushed onto the dock. Someone shouted: ¡®Wirrin! Stop!¡¯


    ¡®I wonder how much the Church really cares about the ocean, if they got rid of Haerst and Naertral,¡¯ Wirrin said. ¡®Hold your breath.¡¯


    Yern¡¯s cheeks bulged as she took a deep breath, clamped a hand over her nose, and grabbed the mast with the other.


    Like blurred figures in fog, Wirrin felt kelp and seaweed under the water growing up toward the hull of the boat.


    ¡®Oh, and close your eyes.¡¯ Wirrin followed her own instructions as a huge wave washed over the boat and onto the dock where the mages were in various stages of noticing or bracing themselves.


    The wave splashed over twenty-eight mages and no one else. It technically wasn¡¯t a tidal wave, but it was close enough for anyone who knew what to look for to have already gotten out of the way.


    Wirrin couldn¡¯t tell what pendants the individual mages were wearing through the water. She figured Vonaer wouldn¡¯t be too upset.


    Twenty-one mages silently collapsed to the ground. Far fewer than Wirrin would have liked. As her little boat started taking off, propelled by the water, a pair of War mages flashed across the deck and into the air. They drifted like dandelion seeds with perfect aim.


    Three more War mages were in the air before the first two landed on the stern without unsettling the boat in the slightest. As Wirrin¡¯s head started to throb again, the water that had settled into the boat blasted at the War mages.


    As gently as they¡¯d arrived, the boat nearly tipped over backward as they launched themselves out of the way. One of the airborne mages became very suddenly as heavy as a regular person when struck by an acid spout, and crashed into the water.


    The other two landed heavily on the back of the boat, sending the front up into the air again.


    This close, Wirrin had no chance to avoid being stabbed. The best she could do was be stabbed somewhere less important than the lungs. As a sword jabbed through her side, she grabbed one of the mages and sank her teeth into his shoulder.


    He grunted, stoically. Then he screamed, loudly, when Wirrin tore his right clavicle and part of his lung out of his body.


    Another sword stabbed through Wirrin¡¯s left trap. Wirrin swiped at the other mage and finally saw her own body change. Claws like a cat¡¯s growing from the ends of her fingers as she grabbed at empty space.


    Wirrin swallowed and her head stopped throbbing.


    A pillar of stone erupted from the water just off starboard. It was nice of Vonaer to miss like that. A mage moving only slightly faster than a peak human landed on the pillar and leapt at the boat.


    The top of the pillar hit the Flesh mage in the back and sent them hurtling into the water.


    One of the War mages landed heavily on the starboard railing, smashing it to pieces and lunging at Wirrin. Coincidentally, Wirrin was already in a good position to grab her. She made the unwise choice to follow through with the stab, cutting open Wirrin¡¯s left side along the ribs.


    Wirrin¡¯s claws sank into the mage¡¯s back, her teeth sank into the mage¡¯s neck. The mage managed to gurgle. Wirrin pulled out a chunk of her spine and didn¡¯t chew.


    The next War mage was far enough that Wirrin had time to draw her sword. Rather than fight, the mage blocked Wirrin¡¯s swing and launched themselves into the water below the boat. The water wasn¡¯t safe.


    No more mages landed on the boat. No more floated like dandelion seeds on the wind. As they were pulling out of the harbour, the Flesh mage hauled himself up the port rigging. Wirrin¡¯s sword sank into the top of his head like he was made from clay.


    Ever willing to experiment, Wirrin let herself be grabbed.


    This time, the skin that grew her mouth closed was much thicker. This time, it hurt. Wirrin tore her mouth open and sank her sharp teeth into the mage¡¯s flesh. His blood dried solid. She dragged the corpse onto the boat.


    Wirrin sat heavily at the rudder. Only now did she start to hurt. She took another bite out of the Flesh mage. It helped the throbbing in her head. It didn¡¯t help the pain.


    ¡®Yern,¡¯ Wirrin said. ¡®Do you want to help again?¡¯


    Yern was wrapped around the mast, hyperventilating. She nodded. ¡®Is¡­ is that¡­¡¯ She pointed to the smashed section of the deck railing.


    ¡®It should be fine,¡¯ Wirrin said, blood dripping into her mouth.


    Yern nodded some more and struggled to take deep breaths.


    Wirrin took another bite out of the mage and the boat sped up.


    Yern did her very best to sound like a not-completely-terrified-thirteen-year-old. ¡®You¡¯re so gross.¡¯


    ¡®Can¡¯t start a fire on a boat.¡¯ Wirrin shrugged.

 Into the reef

    It was difficult, unsurprisingly, to steer the boat over the dark ocean while being stitched closed. From time to time, Yern would mutter something about Wirrin being lucky: ¡®vos tholgek¡¯. Wirrin didn¡¯t feel lucky as the pain set in, Yern kept on stitching, and the smell of myrrh clogged her nose.


    From time to time, Wirrin would make Yern pause for a moment and take another bite out of one of the dead mages on the boat. Wirrin wasn¡¯t much of a sailor, so almost all of the boat¡¯s speed came from her magic rather than the inconvenient crosswind.


    Wirrin was once again missing her sense through the ground. By comparison what feeling she did have through the water felt like staring through dense fog, or the aftermath of forgetting to wear a mask in the snow. She had the sense of shapes, just about recognisable as dunes or rocks or plants, she had a sense of the current trying to pull the boat west into the strait. There was no detail, no precision.


    In an attempt to distract herself from the pain of what must have been dozens of stitches down her left side and around her mouth, Wirrin was kicking herself for not thinking of the strait of her own.


    Only an hour or two from the docks of Ahepvalt was the Northern Strait, a channel of high current that turned a day¡¯s sailing into only a few hours of struggling with the wheel or the rudder, if you were headed west. If you were headed east, it turned a day¡¯s sailing into three days of fighting the water.


    Wirrin didn¡¯t know for sure that it was why most shipping around Nesalan went counterclockwise, but, unlike similar straits near Yokassa and Vortiv, sailors didn¡¯t go around. To try to avoid the strait meant going all the way around the reefs, which turned a day¡¯s sailing into a week¡¯s painstaking avoidance of obstacles.


    Now that Valok had mentioned it, it seemed obvious. Wirrin didn¡¯t know all that much about the ocean, or the movement of water, or how these straits actually worked. But the rest of them that she was aware of were all between islands and the mainland, so surely it only made sense that this strait would be as well.


    Berating herself for not thinking of the strait did not help distract her once Yern started stitching the torn skin around her mouth closed.


    ¡®You¡¯re going have some scars,¡¯ Yern muttered from where she was sitting on Wirrin¡¯s lap and doing her best to brace herself against the movement of the boat on the waves.


    ¡®More scars are more scars,¡¯ Wirrin muttered.


    ¡®Vos yav.¡¯


    It was past midnight by the time Wirrin could no longer feel the current trying to pull the boat west. She thought she could feel some significant rise on the sea floor just off port, on the far side of the strait, but it was hard to tell for sure.


    Yern was already asleep in a pile of Wirrin¡¯s sleeping rugs and blankets, with her recently oiled autumn leathers over top to try to keep the occasional ocean spray off her.


    Most of the stitches had faded to a dull, myrrh-scented ache, and Wirrin was running out of dead mage at an astounding rapid rate. One of the few things Wirrin knew how to do with certainty was drop the anchor.


    Yern grumbled when Wirrin joined her under the covers, where it was slightly damp and slightly too hot. It got even more too hot when Yern grumbled some more and cuddled up against Wirrin before fully returning to sleep.


    Wirrin lay on her back and stared up at the stars. It felt like a while since she¡¯d had any trouble falling asleep, but if it was going to happen she supposed it would be now. Despite the hours of sitting at the rudder, it had certainly been a stressful day.


    A thought occurred to Wirrin, another one that she felt she should have had earlier. ¡®Did you have constellations?¡¯ she wondered.


    It was a clear night and Wirrin¡¯s eyes were drawn to the constellations she¡¯d learned as a child: the Spear, the Sickle, the Climbing Vine, the Sun¡¯s Rays, and the Medic, which had always been least convincing. Straight and curved lines that really could have been anything or, more likely if you asked Wirrin, could have been nothing.


    ¡®Those seven, just off to the left, a bit like a triangle,¡¯ Mkaer rumbled. ¡®That was the Mountain.¡¯


    ¡®I see the Sun¡¯s Rays and the Climbing Vine,¡¯ Ulvaer rattled. ¡®We always made it into an argument, Azavaer and I, about whether those rays might have been a vulture instead.¡¯


    ¡®Really anything could be a swimming fish,¡¯ Naertral burbled. ¡®There was supposed to be the Frog, not far from the Mountain.¡¯


    ¡®Those six, curved line and flat, that was the Medic,¡¯ Mkaer rumbled. ¡®That was Gnaer¡¯s.¡¯


    ¡®It¡¯s Iltavaer¡¯s now,¡¯ Wirrin thought. ¡®I don¡¯t see it.¡¯


    ¡®One of the less convincing ones,¡¯ Ulvaer rattled. ¡®Just below, those five in a wavy line, that was the Dunes. I could never decide which was less convincing.¡¯


    ¡®The Medic,¡¯ Wirrin thought.


    ¡®A wavy line could be anything,¡¯ Naertral burbled. ¡®Could be a river.¡¯


    ¡®At least it¡¯s a wavy line,¡¯ Wirrin thought. ¡®The Medic is supposed to be someone bent over a patient. Turn it around and it¡¯s another mountain.¡¯


    ¡®Could be a scythe,¡¯ Mkaer rumbled.


    Wirrin and her three Fiends spent some time coming up with new constellations before Wirrin did, finally, fall asleep. If she dreamed, she didn¡¯t remember what she dreamed of, but she liked to think it was constellations, and not ships.


    She woke to the sun, aching and sticky. Yern was laying on top of her, face pressed into her right shoulder. It wasn¡¯t long past dawn, and the sky was gradually filling with bumpy, light grey clouds. The cloud cover hadn¡¯t reached the eastern horizon, and the sunlight turned the inside of Wirrin¡¯s eyelids white.


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    The westerly breeze was cool on Wirrin¡¯s face and neck. Her sleeping rugs were soft and not too damp. She was strongly considering going back to sleep. Low tide should be in a few hours and that seemed to Wirrin like the best time to set off. Even if it would make the reefs more dangerous, she figured it would make them easier to feel.


    Unfortunately, someone and their ship weren¡¯t going to give Wirrin that much time. She dozed for a little while, just long enough for the sun to rise behind the spreading cloud cover, but not as long as she would have liked.


    Just as she didn¡¯t know how far her sense through the ground extended, Wirrin had no idea how far her sense through the water extended. It was clearly not as far.


    When she sat up, arms around Yern so that she didn¡¯t fall over, Wirrin was fairly sure she could see sails on the southern horizon. They, too, were resisting the western pull of the strait, and apparently headed for Wirrin¡¯s little boat.


    ¡®Vos vos,¡¯ Yern grumbled, putting her hands over her eyes.


    ¡®Someone¡¯s following us,¡¯ Wirrin said.


    Yern uncovered her eyes to first glare at Wirrin, then over her shoulder at the steadily growing sails. ¡®Fine.¡¯


    It seemed to take an age to get up and to winch up the anchor.


    As much as Wirrin didn¡¯t remember what Valok¡¯s ship looked like, she was pretty sure this wasn¡¯t it. It was narrow and tall, double masted, with a raised prow and aft. It was a messenger ship, not what Wirrin thought of as the sail-barge design of a trading ship like Valok¡¯s.


    ¡®Oh, that¡¯s silly,¡¯ Wirrin said, taking one last moment to frown at the oncoming ship before she pulled at the water under her and turned west toward the reefs.


    Yern was glaring at the horizon. ¡®What¡¯s silly?¡¯


    ¡®If I¡¯m remembering correctly, ships like that have a much deeper hull than trading ships. So it¡¯ll be much harder to navigate the reefs,¡¯ Wirrin said. ¡®They¡¯re faster, certainly, but¡­ not to mention the prevailing wind is still westerly.¡¯


    It was more like a breeze than a proper wind, but Wirrin had left the sail furled as she set to getting the boat ready to move. She¡¯d struggled enough to catch a sidewind that she certainly wasn¡¯t going to make any attempt to deal with a headwind.


    ¡®I don¡¯t know what any of that means,¡¯ Yern said, switching sides to continue glaring at the ship as they turned toward the reefs.


    ¡®Their ship is too tall and the wind is going the wrong way,¡¯ Wirrin said.


    ¡®They¡¯re gaining on us,¡¯ Yern said.


    ¡®I know,¡¯ Wirrin said.


    After a moment of Wirrin not saying any more, Yern turned to look at her. Wirrin continued not to elaborate.


    ¡®And what are you going to do about it?¡¯ Yern glared.


    ¡®Nothing,¡¯ Wirrin said. ¡®Are there holes down the sides?¡¯


    Yern returned to lookout position. ¡®I think so.¡¯


    ¡®That might be a problem,¡¯ Wirrin admitted.


    ¡®Elaborate.¡¯ Yern glared even harder.


    ¡®I already said,¡¯ Wirrin said. ¡®The ship is too tall and the wind is blowing the wrong way. Once they turn toward us, they¡¯ll slow down by a lot.¡¯


    ¡®And the holes down the side?¡¯


    ¡®Might be oars,¡¯ Wirrin said. ¡®If they have oars, they¡¯ll be able to switch over from the sails. I would still expect them to slow down¡­¡¯


    ¡®But if it¡¯s mages, they might even go faster,¡¯ Yern concluded.


    Wirrin shrugged. ¡®If they would go faster by rowing, I would expect them to already be rowing,¡¯ she said.


    ¡®Rowing isn¡¯t much fun,¡¯ Naertral burbled.


    ¡®If they¡¯re so feverishly devoted, they shouldn¡¯t be worried about fun,¡¯ Wirrin said.


    ¡®Hard to row if you¡¯re throwing up the whole time,¡¯ Yern said.


    ¡®Not everyone gets seasick,¡¯ Wirrin said.


    ¡®I got riversick, thank you,¡¯ Yern proclaimed.


    Wirrin took a bite out of one of the mages. It didn¡¯t help as much as it had even last night. It still helped a lot more than anything she¡¯d eaten at the market. It was enough to speed up.


    Yern gave periodic updates on the ship as it crossed the strait and turned into the wind to follow them. Oars were extended, but only three sets compared to the twelve holes. The ship slowed, and once Wirrin thought they¡¯d pulled away sufficiently, she slowed the boat down again to match the ship¡¯s speed.


    They were approaching the reefs and Wirrin didn¡¯t want to be going too fast, even if she could probably move the boat exactly how she wanted to. The less effort she used before they reached the statue, the better.


    Yern had the same thought. ¡®Why even bother following us? Aren¡¯t they waiting there, like with Tegalk Tesholg?¡¯


    ¡®They didn¡¯t have enough last time,¡¯ Mkaer rumbled.


    ¡®But they¡¯ve had more than a month to reinforce since then,¡¯ Wirrin said.


    ¡®Would they wait for more than a month?¡¯ Yern wondered.


    ¡®Or did they come home when you were captured?¡¯ Ulvaer rattled. ¡®Figured the problem was dealt with.¡¯


    ¡®You may well be right, Ulvaer,¡¯ Wirrin said. ¡®They might have left when we were in gaol.¡¯


    ¡®Oh, Tegalk is probably right,¡¯ Yern said.


    The reefs were interesting.


    Wirrin felt the reefs as isolated patches of nauseous, warm haze before she could feel the shape of them through the water. It was a completely new feeling to her, like washing blood in a pond or a sink, a haze of colour suspended in empty nothing.


    She had no idea how to interpret the feeling. Something rotting and sick and bursting with life. Something nebulous and concrete and porous. It was so strange Wirrin might have run the boat straight into it in her distraction. Except that the boat wasn¡¯t deep enough that the first reefs were a danger.


    Even within her sense through the water, Wirrin couldn¡¯t make any more sense of the conflicted, contrary haze of the reef. She could feel the fish more clearly, but the coral itself was nebulous and strange.


    She liked it.


    ¡®Is that a reef?¡¯ Yern asked.


    Wirrin had been so distracted by the feeling of the coral that she hadn¡¯t noticed Yern looking away from the ship behind them to stare into the water. She hadn¡¯t noticed the pounding building in her head.


    She took another bite of the remaining mage before she answered. ¡®Yes.¡¯


    ¡®It¡¯s pretty,¡¯ Yern said. She looked back toward the ship. ¡®They¡¯re slowing down again.¡¯


    Wirrin let the boat slow down slightly, not as much as the ship behind them. Though if there was no one waiting at Haerst¡¯s statue, there wasn¡¯t much point in beating the Church there.


    At a more leisurely pace, Wirrin could let herself experience that miasmic strangeness of the coral reefs. It had become so rare for her to have new experiences. This was interesting.


    What became clear, as they kept on west, was that the coral was growing on the bones of rotten buildings. Places where the reefs were closer to the surface weren¡¯t higher seafloor, they were elevated.


    It was almost midday before Wirrin actually had to change direction to avoid a reef ahead of them. This one felt like it might have been on the top of a lighthouse, by far the tallest building Wirrin had felt so far.


    It wasn¡¯t far past that lighthouse that the seafloor did begin to rise. A gentle slope punctuated by reefs slowly taking over the bones of what had probably once been houses.


    Before Wirrin could feel the ground sloping down again, she spotted the top of what had once been a large hill. Yern spotted it at the same time.


    ¡®Looks like Ulvaer was wrong,¡¯ Yern smirked.


    There waited another ship.

 Ship of mages

    On the far side of the waiting ship, the seabed didn¡¯t slope down as steeply as this side. As low tide approached, the coral reefs and old buildings from which they¡¯d grown were getting dangerously close to the surface. Below the ship, not far from where the anchor had dug into the soft seabed, was a reef that felt different to the rest.


    This reef had the same miasmic, hazy, nauseous and warm feeling that the others did, had the same soft, concrete, porous feeling that the others did. Below that was a feeling like high waves and lashing rain, a feeling like warm sun and a cool breeze.


    Wirrin smiled to herself. If the Church thought reinforcements were needed, then they didn¡¯t trust whoever was waiting to be able to fend for themselves. At the very least, it meant she wouldn¡¯t have to wait for the messenger ship that had disappeared over the horizon behind her to catch up.


    The ship that waited at Haerst¡¯s statue was a wide, shallow sail-barge, substantially bigger than the messenger ship that had chased Wirrin here. It had three masts, must have been a good ten metres across and perhaps thirty long, with a flat deck and a proportionally shallow hull.


    Wirrin doubted the ship would attempt to flee for just her, but if it had, it would certainly have torn itself up against the reefs barely a hundred metres to the west.


    ¡®They know you¡¯re coming,¡¯ Mkaer rumbled.


    ¡®They can see us,¡¯ Wirrin said.


    Yern, who had moved to the prow and was shielding her eyes, nodded. ¡®They¡¯re pointing at us,¡¯ she said. ¡®And there are mages on the deck.¡¯


    ¡®They know you¡¯re coming,¡¯ Mkaer rumbled. ¡®Everything you¡¯ve done to fight them so far.¡¯


    ¡®They didn¡¯t know any of it when they came out here,¡¯ Wirrin said. ¡®How many people can one Flesh mage protect?¡¯


    ¡®And why are there so few Flesh mages to begin with?¡¯ Yern mused. ¡®I reckon three or four out of nearly thirty that came to the dock.¡¯


    ¡®They were always concentrated in the west,¡¯ Naertral burbled. ¡®Near Iltavaer. Our mages stayed near us, even before the war, even as much as they spread out over time.¡¯


    ¡®Except for Haerst¡¯s,¡¯ Mkaer rumbled. ¡®There were always some here, certainly. But it¡¯s mages spread far and wide, always moving.¡¯


    ¡®My people were always moving,¡¯ Ulvaer rattled. ¡®I concede it wasn¡¯t the same. Mine were closest to me of all, I suspect.¡¯


    ¡®Hence assuming that it must have been more complicated than just killing all of your mages,¡¯ Wirrin said. ¡®If Haerst¡¯s were scattered all over, and it was first to be banished.¡¯


    ¡®How long was the fight, though?¡¯ Yern asked, still staring at the ship. ¡®Travelling by sea is supposed to be very fast.¡¯


    ¡®Even faster for Haerst¡¯s mages,¡¯ Naertral burbled.


    ¡®They held for about three months,¡¯ Mkaer rumbled. ¡®Enough time to prepare at Tertic.¡¯


    ¡®Haerst¡¯s mages at Tertic came here to join the fight,¡¯ Ulvaer rattled.


    ¡®About three months,¡¯ Wirrin said. ¡®And I expect Haerst¡¯s mages could control the wind. So they could have gotten here very quickly indeed.¡¯


    Yern nodded. ¡®More mages are coming out,¡¯ she said. ¡®They have very big bows.¡¯


    Wirrin frowned. ¡®Taller than them? With the top arm much longer than the bottom?¡¯


    Yern nodded. ¡®I¡¯ve never seen bows like that.¡¯


    ¡®They¡¯re competition bows,¡¯ Wirrin said. ¡®I¡¯ve only seen them used to tournaments and such in Keredin.¡¯


    ¡®Can they shoot far?¡¯ Yern carefully backed up to stand behind the mast, still shielding her eyes with one hand and keeping an eye on the rapidly approaching ship.


    ¡®I¡¯ve never seen one shoot this far,¡¯ Wirrin said. ¡®But yes. They¡¯re much heavier than any other bow I¡¯ve ever tried. Supposedly they were once used for fighting, back when that was more common.¡¯


    The second time Wirrin had been in Keredin, she¡¯d spent quite a lot of her time at the original Church, which had been largely converted into something like a museum to the Gods¡¯ War. These War bows, as they were called even in competition, had had quite a prominent display along with old sets of chain and plate armour with arrow holes in them.


    The first time Wirrin had been in Keredin, she¡¯d watched some of the endless sporting competitions that went on in the city, and had tried to draw one of the War bows. She¡¯d managed it, but only just. Compared to her hunting bows, they were astoundingly heavy.


    After her stay in Ettovica, as an adult, Wirrin had put a few things together. In particular, the mention that these War bows had been used very heavily in the Gods¡¯ War, but had mostly been relegated to sport shooting before and since.


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    Wirrin, who was not yet a mage of Haerst, could not control the wind. She wasn¡¯t sure what to do about bows that could reach her well before she could confidently do anything in return.


    Except that the seafloor was getting very close beneath the boat and, soft and sandy as it was, it was ground just like anywhere else.


    ¡®Swap with me,¡¯ Wirrin said.


    ¡®I don¡¯t know¡­¡¯ Yern frowned at the tiller, but came to sit with Wirrin.


    ¡®Just keep it straight,¡¯ Wirrin said. ¡®If we start aiming away from that ship, you move this in the opposite direction to the way we want to go. Got it?¡¯


    Yern grabbed the tiller and nodded. ¡®Got it.¡¯


    Wirrin was at least twice as heavy as Yern, the boat rocked around in the water a lot more as she shuffled forward to the prow. Even if she expected the War mages to target her instead of Yern, she didn¡¯t want to chance it just in case these competition bows were even stronger than the normal ones.


    When she was fourteen, Wirrin had participated in a target shooting competition in Tellan. She¡¯d come fourth out of seven, and she¡¯d decided she didn¡¯t care about winning. Since then, she¡¯d lost count of the number of animals she¡¯d hunted with a bow.


    When the first shots were loosed from ship, Wirrin could tell immediately that they weren¡¯t going to reach her. Yern went ¡®eep¡¯ and the boat wobbled on its course before Yern corrected. The arrows landed easily more than a hundred metres ahead.


    ¡®Are they trying to warn you off?¡¯ Yern asked, voice a little high.


    Wirrin shrugged. She was distracted by the reefs again as she tried to feel something in the water that might demonstrate the War mages¡¯ impressive accuracy. But they hadn¡¯t hit anything.


    ¡®Maybe they think I¡¯ve never seen competition bows like that,¡¯ Wirrin suggested. ¡®Certainly a hunting bow couldn¡¯t have shot that far.¡¯


    Only a couple of seconds later, the boat passed over the arrows, where they were sinking to the sea floor. The bows fired again. This time, Yern held the boat steady. A lump of sandy mud burst out of the water with more than enough time to be struck by the two arrows and splash back down.


    Wirrin took the second last bite out of the remains of the Flesh mage. The boat sped up, just a little. The next pair of arrows met exactly the same fate as the first, and the two War mages put their bows aside.


    It was almost a surprise that they had enough sense to not launch themselves at the boat, as Wirrin and Yern closed the distance.


    Just ahead of the little boat, water started to gather. A rapidly growing wave that, as Wirrin dragged the boat to a stop only a metre of so from the ship, washed over a dozen mages and what must have been nearly two dozen sailors.


    That was unfortunate.


    Sunlight tore through the bubbly grey clouds above, quick enough that only two mages collapsed to the deck. What must have been a couple of Flesh mages grabbed whichever colleagues were in reach and the scorching light dried the ship off in a matter of seconds.


    Wirrin supposed that sunburn was the least of anyone¡¯s worries right now.


    ¡®Stay out of the way of arrows,¡¯ Wirrin called to Yern. She stepped off the prow of the boat, onto the rigging down the side of the ship, and the boat pulled away, turning north without Yern¡¯s input.


    Another wave pushed Wirrin over the boat¡¯s railing and sent five War mages running as the Flesh mages grabbed whoever couldn¡¯t get out of the way in time. The sun burst down again, almost blinding.


    Before it could dry, the water ate through clothes and planks, sending up a cloud of rancid steam across the ship. Pools of calm excluded the sailors as they scattered across the deck, running for the hatch.


    Wirrin already had her curved sword ready when the first of the War mages dashed at her. A crosscut diverted the mage¡¯s course and a wad of sandy mud interrupted an attempt to stab Wirrin in the back.


    She hadn¡¯t noticed how much she already relied on her sense through the ground. But as the boat shifted and creaked, it was much harder to keep track of the ten mages and twenty-odd sailors than it would have been on land.


    The deck splintered as a wall of planks rose to block another wad of sandy mud hurled out of the water. Three War mages lunged at once, but Mkaer had been right. They were ready for Wirrin, and they were scared of her teeth.


    Another stab in the back turned into a tackle as Wirrin deflected a strike and opened her mouth wide, pulling at the stitches. Wirrin crashed to the ground out of the way of the third War mage just in time for a spray of sandy mud to tear into the mage on her back.


    That wall of planks, now floating completely free of the ship, blocked the next mudball, but could not stop the whole of the wave that followed it. Water splashed across the deck between Wirrin at two more War mages, halting their charges.


    The boards under Wirrin grew vines and branches to hold her down to the deck, pulling her sword from her hand. A stone spike erupted through the deck, launching another War mage into the air. The vines and branches cracked and crumbled as Wirrin grabbed her sword and pushed herself up.


    Stone shards exploded in all directions and one of the War mages made the mistake of leaping from the boat to avoid them. He was grabbed by the water at the same time Wirrin scooped up the dead mage who had tackled her and took a big bite.


    For a moment, everyone paused. Two Flesh mages had firm hold of three other mages. Three War mages were ragged and peppered with scratches. The sun was scorching.


    Wirrin took another bite.


    A Flesh mage let go of a Work mage. The floating planks only caught the edge of the next lump of sandy mud. A War mage scratched Wirrin across the left side, almost exactly where she already had stitches.


    The Flesh mage was engulphed by the lump of mud, the War mage dried solid. The lump of mud picked up the Flesh mage and launched over the side of the ship. One of the War mages almost leapt after it, but stopped short of the railing.


    A wave washed over the other side of the boat and that War mage, collapsed to the ground, foaming at the mouth. The last War mage dashed wide around Wirrin to join the huddle.


    Wirrin took another bite.


    The light that emanated from the Light mage was blinding, scorching, and had a single source. Wirrin felt the Flesh mage grab the War mage. She turned and started running, just about blind in one eye as she headed for the far side of the deck.


    Wearing the Flesh mage like a cape, the last War mage dashed at Wirrin. She dropped into a summersault far too early. The War mage adjusted. A ball of sandy mud exploded over the railing, showering the War mage and the Flesh mage, who didn¡¯t so much as flinch.


    Just as the War mage hit that last step into the thrust, the coating of mud wrenched him off his feet. Wirrin rolled back into her run and dove off the side of the ship.

 Fiend of the Ocean

    Under the water, Wirrin could feel the world much better than she had from the boat. She could feel the soft, sandy mud below her. She could feel the solid, rotting, wooden frames that supported the hive-like, miasmic strangeness of the coral growths.


    She could feel the Flesh mage, a strong swimmer, making good time back toward the ship. She could feel Yern wiggling the tiller back and forth, trying to make the boat move from where she¡¯d left it.


    Wirrin couldn¡¯t remember the last time she¡¯d been in the ocean, not clearly. It must have been before she moved to Tellan as a child. She had played in the ocean with some of the other kids who hung around the docks with the Sovtlan, but the memories were hazy at best.


    Even back then, Wirrin hadn¡¯t much liked the ocean. The most fun she remembered having in the bay was in winter, when it froze over and even the adults would go out on the ice to skate and slide, or go ice fishing if they were boring.


    The statue below felt oddly like those childhood memories of the Ettovica bay. A hazy miasma, strange and unclear. Some combination of decay and life, driving rain and sunny breeze. Some combination of concrete and unknown.


    Wirrin pulled herself down, toward the sea floor and the statue. Behind her, she grabbed the swimming Flesh mage and dragged them along. Ideally, she wouldn¡¯t have used a Flesh mage, she wasn¡¯t confident she could kill one if they were ready for her. But she had to take the opportunity as it presented itself.


    Another mage dove into the water after them. They swam in almost exactly the same way as the other Flesh mage. Wirrin ignored them. They wouldn¡¯t reach her in time, and her lungs were already starting to feel tight.


    The water was clear, the statue was not. A vaguely humanoid form with the tail of a fish and a strangely shaped head was buried under the porous, colourful miasma of coral growth.


    That coral growth was so distracting, Wirrin didn¡¯t even notice that she¡¯d let go of the Flesh mage she¡¯d been dragging down here. She didn¡¯t notice them pause so that the other Flesh mage could catch up.


    Had her lungs not been screaming for air, Wirrin might not have noticed the two Flesh mages almost reach her in unison. But despite the fascinating miasma of Haerst¡¯s statue, Wirrin still needed to breathe.


    Wirrin and the statue burst from the water in a shower of mud, fish and loose coral. She gasped in a breath. Before she could see the statue, coral suddenly shed, she was blinded by the burning sun.


    The Flesh mages were still far below.


    A ball of sandy mud swooped over the deck of the ship and scooped up the Light mage from where he leaned over the railing. The light faded just as suddenly as it had arrived when the ball of mud slammed into Haerst¡¯s statue with a loud crunch.


    The mud slid off the statue, leaving the shattered corpse of the Light mage. Wirrin finally got to see Haerst¡¯s statue.


    A shark¡¯s face protruded from a feathered head, neck, and shoulders, melding into the torso of a human, knees bent and arms upraised as if about to dive into the water. From the back of the torso grew a scaled fish tail long enough to rest on the ground.


    Much of the coral had been shaken free by the rapid rise to the surface, but some still clung around the statue, giving parts of the shark head, torso, and tail a mottled, porous look.


    As blood flowed from the Light mage and into the statue, colour spread across the grey stone, as with the other Fiends. Tanned flesh met glittering scales and bright feathers, grey, rough skin and brilliant, multicoloured teeth so reminiscent of something Wirrin had seen before as to be almost as distracting as the reefs had been.


    The coral that grew on the statue, by contrast, melded from strange, mottled colours to the solid grey of stone, fusing with the image of the Fiend as if carved and not grown.


    As the body of the Light mage slid into the mud, Wirrin put a hand on Haerst¡¯s statue.


    ¡®I am returned,¡¯ the voice boomed like thunder, crashed like waves. It whistled like a high wind, clattered like a ship¡¯s rigging. Below all that was the bubbling of surf on the beach, the shushing of a calm breeze, the gulping of the tide, and the gentle patter of rain on the roof.


    Grass was growing rapidly across the little platform of muddy ground that Wirrin had raised from the ocean. As vines curled up her ankles, a spout of water struck the Growth mage, still leaning over the ship¡¯s railing, full in the face. He shrieked, and collapsed into the ocean.


    ¡®Good,¡¯ Wirrin said. ¡®Nice to meet you, Haerst. Go talk to everyone else while I sort out these Flesh mages, would you?¡¯


    Wirrin¡¯s head pounded as a much wider swath of muddy ground burst out of the ocean, sending the Flesh mages flying into the air. Despite the increasing feeling like she could understand the Fiend¡¯s babbling if she only concentrated enough, they were easy to ignore.


    A hole opened in one of the Flesh mages as a spear of rock burst through the mud, tearing through his robe and missing his flesh completely. The other Flesh mage hit the mud like diving into water and disappeared.


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    The impaled Flesh mage rolled sideways, tearing his robe off as the hole in his gut closed back up. Expertly, he dug an elbow into the stone and shifted onto his feet to slide, elegantly, to the muddy platform Wirrin had raised.


    He opened his mouth to say something. Wirrin clapped her hands over her ears, and he must have thought she was ignoring him. The final expression on his face was earnest offence.


    Out of the blue sky where the Light mage had burned away the clouds, a lightning bolt struck the Flesh mage on the top of the head and he collapsed, twitching, into the mud.


    The little boat where Yern had stopped struggling with the tiller and was pretending not to be fascinated by the goings on started to drift toward the platform where Haerst¡¯s statue had emerged from the water.


    Wirrin waved at Yern to get her attention, and then positioned herself with legs apart, hands behind her back, body leaned over and mouth open. Yern frowned at her.


    The buried Flesh mage burst from the ground and met Wirrin¡¯s teeth neck-first.


    Yern spluttered and cackled.


    The boat butted up against the muddy platform Wirrin had made and Yern carefully climbed out. She showed a remarkable amount of restraint as she picked across the mud, glaring at Wirrin and crossing and uncrossing her arms.


    Once she got to the grass, she ran and jumped on Wirrin. ''Stop leaving me behind. I had no idea what was happening.''


    ''You''re alive and unharmed?'' Wirrin asked, holding Yern up.


    Yern leaned back to glare. ''Yes.''


    ''Then I will not,'' Wirrin said. ''I''d rather you survive than be perfectly informed.''


    Yern kept glaring. ''I''d rather be perfectly informed. You''re bleeding again.''


    Wirrin nodded and let Yern climb down. ¡®That does seem to keep happening, doesn¡¯t it?¡¯


    ¡®Hope your first aid kit is waterproof,¡¯ Yern said.


    Wirrin stood as still as she could while Yern added yet more stitches to her left side, smeared her in more of the myrrh salve, and wrapped some bandages around her middle.


    ¡®I would tell you to stay out of trouble,¡¯ Yern said, as she packed up the first aid kit. ¡®But I think I can see the other ship.¡¯


    Yern was right, as she usually was. That skinnier ship had almost reached the far side of the bigger ship that was still anchored and unmoving beside Haerst¡¯s ocean platform.


    ¡®You should leave, Wirrin,¡¯ Mkaer rumbled. ¡®There¡¯s no need to fight them.¡¯


    ¡®Still so cautious,¡¯ Haerst whistled like a high wind. ¡®I only saw two mages fall, but they fell easily, did they not?¡¯


    ¡®In two days, Wirrin has fifty-three stitches,¡¯ Mkaer rumbled. ¡®She does not need more in a useless fight.¡¯


    ¡®It could be useful,¡¯ Ulvaer cackled. ¡®There¡¯s more food to be had.¡¯


    Wirrin picked up the Flesh mage she¡¯d struck with lightning and took a bite. She wasn¡¯t feeling worn out at all. The headache had been kept at bay, no haloes played behind her eyes. She ached from all her stitches, of course, but that was hardly a problem.


    ¡®Wirrin hardly needs more food, does she?¡¯ Mkaer rumbled. ¡®It¡¯s hard to have fun when you¡¯re dead, I expect.¡¯


    ¡®I will be unaffected,¡¯ Ulvaer cackled. ¡®My fun unended.¡¯


    Overhead, dark clouds started to fill in the blue sky that had been opened by the Light mage.


    ¡®You wouldn¡¯t miss me?¡¯ Wirrin asked.


    Yern frowned at her. ¡®What are you going to die of?¡¯


    ¡®I would miss you, Wirrin,¡¯ Ulvaer rattled. ¡®I have hundreds to comfort me in my grief.¡¯


    Wirrin snorted.


    Yern escalated to a glare as the boat started to drift around the ocean platform.


    ¡®Mkaer thinks I should leave, not get into another fight,¡¯ Wirrin said. ¡®The others think it would be fun to stay.¡¯


    ¡®I am staying out of this,¡¯ Naertral burbled. ¡®The Mountain is right that it would be pointless to stay.¡¯


    ¡®Naertral is staying out of it,¡¯ Wirrin said.


    Yern returned to frowning. ¡®I always appreciate the opportunity to practice,¡¯ she said. ¡®So I¡¯m conflicted. If you die, I can¡¯t practice. And I don¡¯t know how to sail. If you survive, I get to practice more.¡¯


    ¡®There, the Mountain is outvoted,¡¯ Ulvaer cackled. ¡®We stay and give Yern more opportunities to practice her medicine.¡¯


    It started to rain.


    Wirrin hadn¡¯t noticed her sense of the world change, when she¡¯d awoken Haerst. She hadn¡¯t been focusing on it, but nothing had stood out to her as changed or improved. The rain was different.


    The rain was more distracting than the reefs had been. Vibrations emanated from each tiny drop, immediately painting a picture of the world around. The nearby ship went from a vague blob in the water to a pulsating image of flaccid sails, rattling chains and cautious sailors.


    On the far side of that was the messenger ship, sails furled, deck flexing with each stroke of the oars. Easily twenty mages moving around the ship, skirting around Work mages as the ship seemed to steer itself, carefully nosing between reefs to avoid the first ship. Wirrin could feel no sailors on this one.


    ¡®You¡¯re going to have to be out of the way again,¡¯ Wirrin told Yern, pointing to the boat. ¡®Do you remember how to open the sail?¡¯


    Yern nodded.


    ¡®Try not to worry if you start drifting away,¡¯ Wirrin said. ¡®If we need to leave in a hurry, it¡¯s better to have the sail already open.¡¯


    Yern frowned harder. But she climbed back into the boat and started unfurling the sail. The breeze was still westerly, and the boat was facing south, so Wirrin was fairly sure it wouldn¡¯t take off on its own.


    ¡®If it does start drifting, you can steer into the breeze and you should stop,¡¯ Wirrin said. ¡®But¡­ I¡¯d rather you be out of danger.¡¯


    Yern sighed. ¡®Fine. You better not die.¡¯


    ¡®You could always become a mage of Haerst here,¡¯ Wirrin said. ¡®Would make sailing much easier.¡¯


    Yern puffed out her cheeks. ¡®No, I¡¯d have to go back to Tegalk first, so I can wake them all up again and do it properly.¡¯


    ¡®She seems sensible,¡¯ Haerst bubbled.


    ¡®Everyone says so,¡¯ Wirrin said.


    ¡®And they¡¯re right,¡¯ Yern said. ¡®Someone has to be sensible around here.¡¯


    ¡®And apparently it¡¯s not going to be any of us,¡¯ Mkaer rumbled.


    ¡®Don¡¯t be a sore loser, Mountain,¡¯ Ulvaer cackled. ¡®We all get one vote.¡¯

 Prepared for battle

    Wirrin nudged the boat away from her little island as the rain intensified, painting the forms of twenty-three mages moving across the deck of the messenger ship. As it passed the stationary sail-barge, activity seemed to be dying down, just the rowers belowdecks and two, stationary Work mages steering the ship.


    In the heavy rain, Wirrin could even feel the medallions that the mages wore. They had come in even numbers, this time. Six of each, with the exception of one Light mage and all six War mages, who would have been below on the oars.


    Wirrin had never been on a messenger-style ship before, but she doubted there could be much more than the rowers belowdecks. She would have expected the Flesh mages to be below as well, but they were on deck, moving between the other mages, always in contact with at least two others.


    That wouldn¡¯t be enough. If, as it seemed, a Flesh mage could only protect two others from Wirrin¡¯s poison, they should have brought twice as many, at least. Thirty mages was quite a lot for Wirrin to try to fight, but somehow eighteen seemed much more manageable.


    Above the messenger ship, the rain got harder and the clouds darker.


    Mkaer had been right, they were ready for her.


    The sails pulled free of all three masts and suddenly Wirrin could no longer feel the mages on the ship. The wet canvas sizzled and steamed as the rain turned to acid, but the water did not burn through the thick material, it slid off and into the ocean.


    Wooden panels leapt out of the deck to intercept sandy wads of mud launched from the water. The oars stopped moving and in a moment, eighteen mages were airborne, drifting like leaves in the rain toward Wirrin¡¯s little island.


    Wirrin only wondered for a moment why they would bring Light mages to fight her. Lightning flashed from the dark clouds and water torrented from the ocean as the bolt bent in the sky and missed the drifting mages.


    Grass and brush grew under Wirrin¡¯s feet, tangling around her ankles. It dried quick and brittle and only made movement on the muddy platform easier. Wirrin drew her sword again.


    The first trio of mages landed on the island gentle as the rain. Here, Wirrin saw a vulnerability. With two mages hanging off him, the War mage was slower, more careful. A slash at the light mage forced all three to back off or lose their protection.


    Lightning struck down on the canvas shields over the ship, burning them dry for just a moment in the driving rain, but leaving the surface unscathed. More lightning bent in its path as a second trio landed on the island.


    The sandy mud stayed where it was in the ocean bed as a third trio landed on the island and Wirrin didn¡¯t have the concentration to keep up with all of her magic. Her head was pounding and she was sweating in the cold rain, keeping up a flurry of wide sweeps to force the War mages back.


    So far, Wirrin had found only one way to reliably pierce the Flesh mages¡¯ defences. The fourth trio landed into a lunge and Wirrin was once against stabbed on the left side. The point of the rapier sheared right through her collarbone, above her lung and heart.


    Then Wirrin did something even more foolish. She sunk her teeth into the War mage, clapped a hand onto the Flesh mage¡¯s neck, and struck herself with lightning.


    For what seemed and eternity, Wirrin was deaf and blind. Her body shuddered uncontrollably, blood leaked into her mouth.


    ¡®Oh, I like her,¡¯ Haerst bubbled.


    It had worked. All three mages lay smoking on the ground. The fifteen other mages now landed on the little island looked between their dead comrades and Wirrin.


    ¡®It will only work once,¡¯ Mkaer rumbled.


    Wirrin didn¡¯t have time to disagree. The War mages were so much faster than her. None of them had just been struck by lightning. The only thing keeping Wirrin from immediate death was that there wasn¡¯t enough space for fifteen people to stab her at the same time.


    Nine people was more than enough.


    Not all of them had swords or knives drawn in time to add more wounds, but five of them did. Despite the shin sword that emerged just under her right breast, the knife stabbed into her right shoulder, the sword that cut open the side of her neck, the knife that cut open her left triceps, and the sword that disappeared into her gut, Wirrin was lucky.


    She wasn¡¯t dead.


    If the last bolt had been blinding, afterimages still bright enough to blot out the haloes in Wirrin¡¯s eyes. If the last bolt had been loud, ringing in Wirrin¡¯s ears drowning out the pelting rain.


    This was something else.


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    Mkaer wasn¡¯t always right.


    What Wirrin had learned in her fights with the Gods¡¯ mages was that there was always an amount of force that they either couldn¡¯t manage or were unprepared to deal with. Enough lightning to turn the two swords stabbed through Wirrin into burning irons was too much for the Light mages to deal with. Was too much for the Flesh mages to deal with.


    It was also too much for Wirrin to deal with.


    Wirrin couldn¡¯t be sure that she actually did scream, as thunder sent out waves strong enough to rock the ships, but it felt like she screamed. It felt like her throat tried to tear itself from her body. It felt like being stabbed with several pieces of red-hot steel.


    Even her new senses of the world seemed blotted out by the shock of the lightning. She could only barely feel the mages around her, some collapsed, some reeling. Her sense of touch still worked, when she grabbed at one of them.


    Her sense of taste was unnecessary when her teeth sank into flesh.


    For a long moment, the only sensation in the world was the gentle tearing of meat and bone in Wirrin¡¯s mouth. For a moment, all there was, was the bleeding pain all through her body.


    Then someone stabbed her through the left lung.


    Wirrin couldn¡¯t see the trio of mages who had recovered sufficiently to stab her, she hadn¡¯t felt them move. She knew where they were. She knew that she was hungry. She knew that her teeth were strong.


    She didn¡¯t remember eating Baras. She had been assured repeatedly that she had done exactly that. She would remember eating these mages. She would remember the bare scraps of screams that made it past the ringing in her ears. She would remember the soft feeling in her teeth. She would remember strength enough to destroy the world insufficient to get away from her.


    Mkaer was right a lot of the time.


    Someone stabbed her in the back, not quite in the right lung but much closer than Wirrin liked. As her extra senses filtered back into her mind, she could feel the trio of mages still standing to her side. None of their weapons had been buried in her when the lightning struck.


    Wirrin had made a mistake. Her hands were full. Her mouth was full. She couldn¡¯t have helped herself.


    Her returned senses were blotted out by an impenetrable canvas sail above. The ground turned harder than stone, impossible to see through, impossible to move. But she could feel the plants growing up around her legs.


    She could smell the blood in the air.


    She could feel the precision in a wall of sandy mud just a little too short to stop the wave that washed over Wirrin¡¯s island, just in time.


    Wirrin did not need to move much. Wirrin did not need her melted sword.


    Wirrin¡¯s claws tore the throat out of the last Light mage.


    Water washed over the other Flesh mages at her feet, twitching and struggling and alive. Mkaer was right too often.


    Blood spat from her ears and nose and mouth. There was more than one way to move the earth.


    Even if she could not hear or see, Wirrin could feel the blast of lightning rumble through her bones, shattering that impenetrable canvas. Shattering that impenetrable, wriggling mud.


    The last of the War and Flesh mages did not fall. They were not Wirrin¡¯s target.


    Wirrin felt that solid, unyielding stone follow her into the ground. She felt it, slow and creeping and precise, fall short of her. She felt it leave her exit open.


    Wirrin¡¯s claws locked into the side of the boat. The water around her pushed. The wind thundered into the unfurled sail. The only comfort Wirrin had was imagining Yern jumping and yelping in adorable surprise as the water shoved Wirrin over the side of the boat.


    As far as she knew, Wirrin might never get to see or hear Yern again. That hardly mattered now. What mattered now was that Wirrin needed to stay awake long enough for the Church¡¯s ships to disappear from what remained of her senses. She needed to stay awake long enough to absolutely get out of here.


    Wirrin and Yern¡¯s little boat blasted across the reefs, bouncing over top on higher waves when the reefs were too close to the surface. The wind and water dragged them all the way to the strait, where the wind changed to push them up the coast as fast as Wirrin could still manage, blood leaking from all over her body.


    She tried to speak. Perhaps to reassure Yern, perhaps to ask something. She lost track of thought when only blood emerged from her mouth. At the very least, she could still feel through the water. She could still feel through the trailing rain.


    She needed to get away.


    Wirrin woke fitfully to stabbing and cutting and pinching. She woke fitfully to the stink of myrrh. She woke fitfully to blurred images and muffled sounds. She woke fitfully to the peaceful ocean all around.


    When she was six years old, Wirrin had conducted an experiment. It wasn¡¯t that she hadn¡¯t believed whoever had told her it was harder to hold your breath when the water was frozen. It was that she couldn¡¯t be certain without checking for herself.


    Water so cold it burned her skin drove the breath from her tiny lungs instantly. It gripped her around the middle and it dragged her down into the darkness to be frozen and crushed.


    A hand had reached into the water and grabbed the hood of Wirrin¡¯s coat. A little hand with strong fingers. A girl whose face and name were missing from the memory, the same age as Wirrin, had dragged her back onto the ice.


    ¡®Was it worth it?¡¯ the girl had panted.


    Wirrin had assured the girl that it was, indeed, worth it. Now she knew for sure.


    When Wirrin woke, her vision was grey and blurry in the centre. Her ears hummed into her aching mind. Her body refused to move. Everything hurt. She had a lot more stitches.


    Above her, the sail was furled. Below her, the water was smooth and the boat was motionless. Beside her, Yern was nodding off, sitting cross-legged on the deck, the contents of Wirrin¡¯s pack spread out around her.


    Further above, the sky was blue and clear. Far below, coral and fish leaked their fascinating miasma into the water.


    Somewhere, the Fiends rumbled and burbled and cackled and bubbled. They must have been speaking to her, but she could not understand them.


    The stitches in her neck pinched when Wirrin moved her head.


    Yern startled awake. ¡®Vos tholgek.¡¯