ã€ŠThe Partisan Chroniclesã€‹


 [The First One] The Preface

    Andrei and Rhian

    For as long as there have been Partisans, our stories have been shared across the six territories of Auditoria. We recall Tristan Darrow¡ªthe Strachan whose inherent gifts empowered him in rescuing five, fifty, or five hundred orphans from a blaze. The details do vary and the circumstances do differ, but Tristan Darrow is remembered singularly for his bravery¡ªunwavering in the face of crisis.

    What the stories don¡¯t tell you is that Tristan was a bit of an arsehole, or that he spent most his life looking his nose down at the Barren folk we were blessed to serve. Those poor, regular children and their poor, regular parents. The stories don¡¯t tell you that grand, heroic rescue ought to be replaced with fat, juicy promotion. The man was just doing his job. Most of us were just doing our jobs.

    The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

    It is said Tristan Darrow passed away peacefully at Palisade¡ªhome to the Partisans and the institution he¡¯d served from breath until death. In reality, Tristan could never forget the screaming or the scent of burning flesh. For all those he did save, he couldn''t let go of the guilt for failing those he could not. He hated himself for wishing such terrible things on all those poor, regular people.

    Next time on the job, he froze in the face of crisis. Failed an operation and killed a dozen in the process. Last I¡¯d seen him, he¡¯d plucked out every single one of his hairs. Tristan Darrow died behind silver bars in that institution he served from breath until death.

    Our stories have been shared across the six territories of Auditoria.

    Most of them are three-quarters the way false. Around here, we prefer things three-quarters the way true.

    - Andrei Strauss

    - Rhian Sinclair

 [The First One] 1 - The Inevitable Beginning

    Andrei

    There are some who believe all things are inevitable, that choice is only an illusion. Then, there are those who believe all things are probable, that every action¡ªevery reaction¡ªis a matter of statistics. To those individuals, choice is paramount. I envied the latter, because the six women surrounding me held my destiny in their hands.

    That morning, I stood in the centre of the hexagonal chamber while six pairs of grey eyes may as well have drilled me into the floor. It was still before dawn, so the light coming through the glass roof was minimal, yet the torches on the wall remained cold and dark. I knew the reason¡ªthey expected me to lose my temper, to lose control over my power and accidentally set the room on fire. There was no need for light, anyhow. We all saw well in the dark.

    This was not the first time I stood before the Assembly. When I was eight, nine, and eleven, I stood trial for abuse of power and assault¡ªaccidental, but criminal nonetheless. At twelve, I stood before them once more. The ruling was not unanimous but it was decided: I was a hopeless risk to public safety, and was committed to solitary confinement where I studied theology until the age of seventeen.

    This was a lonely endeavour, most of which involved rote memorization and a suspension of disbelief.

    From seventeen to eighteen, I toured the world on my pilgrimage, and as much as I appreciated the chance to immerse myself in Auditoria¡¯s six distinct cultures, I didn¡¯t know what to do with the freedom after being held in a silver cell for so many years, and the majority of my interactions with the locals lacked in social grace. But, it was also where I first met the love of my life in person, and at eighteen, I stood before the Assembly again to speak in her testimony. Now, at nineteen¡ªall grown up yet still unsure of who I was, or what I¡¯d become¡ªI prepared to face their questions for what I hoped would be the last time.

    From behind her podium, Councilwoman Faust forced a smile as the ceremony began. What would otherwise be a passable gesture of reassurance from her, seemed almost sinister from the shadows in the northwestern corner of the room. The hook-nosed woman was domineering and poised in equal doses, and she was the closest thing to a mother I¡¯d known.

    ¡°Andrei Strauss, you stand unsheathed before those who act as hand, heart, eye, ear, mind, and voice. You will reveal all that is unsaid, all that is felt, and all that is both true and false. Do you have any requests for the Assembly before we begin?¡±

    I had plenty of requests: to proclaim affection for the woman I loved, to travel abroad with my friends without risk of senseless death, to grow old with my integrity intact, to believe in a faith of my choosing¡ªbe it in the Six, in a rock, or in nothing at all.

    ¡°I have no requests.¡±

    The Councilwoman nodded. ¡°Turn to the southwest.¡±

    I stalled half a second longer than I should have, distracted by the blue robes hanging from the corner of Faust¡¯s podium. At the very least, I thought the colour would complement my eyes. Bright grey, and the very trait which decided our fates as Partisans: blessed to serve, never to be served.

    ¡°I agree,¡± said the voice to the southwest. ¡°I think you will look lovely in blue.¡±

    My stomach churned, and the onset of anxiety triggered the twitch I¡¯d developed in my left upper cheek. We were off to a grand start.

    I was expecting the invasion of privacy from this particular Councilwoman, but it was unnerving nonetheless. I wondered when exactly she began perusing my thoughts, and then I wondered if she heard that, too. Finally, I turned to her and smiled. An awkward smile, given the circumstances, but the Councilwoman was a soothing presence¡ªfor a telepath, that is. Her freckled face was framed in bounds of curls in shades of fire, sunlight reflecting adornments of amethyst and diamond.

    She was stunning.

    ¡°Why do you petition us today?¡± she asked.

    Silly question, I thought.

    ¡°Perhaps, but I¡¯d still like to hear your silly answer.¡±

    There was no sense lying to a telepath. ¡°I should be dead like the other mixed-breeds, but for some inexplicable reason, here I am¡ªstill unpredictable, still torn between two races, two powers, and two leaders¡ªone of whom refuses to acknowledge me, let alone train me.¡± There was no point calling further attention to the Councilwoman in the northeast. She detested me, plain and simple. ¡°I petition because when deciding between this, a permanent cell, or execution, this seemed by far the most attractive option."

    The telepath responded with a smile, and I imagined the expressions of those behind me. From Councilwoman Faust in the northwest, I pictured her wrinkled eyes brimming with regret. From the statuesque woman in the northeast? Still and silent hatred. Fortunately, my response satisfied the fiery-haired one, and when I turned to the Councilwoman to the north, I came face to face with fascination of another variety.

    The towering woman¡¯s voice was deep and reverberant, her hair a forest of dreadlocks and braids, feathers and flowers.

    I couldn''t begin to tell you what exactly the empath extracted from our exchange, but as her brows pressed inward, I imagine she felt the confusion of a baby plucked from his mother¡¯s protection. Or maybe she felt the sorrow of a child sustaining years of abuse¡ªphysical, verbal, mental¡ªmost at the hands of other children. As her hands trembled, she may have felt the regret of my bittersweet retaliation. A boy, and I admit not the cruelest of the boys, permanently disfigured by a Partisan unable to control his rage¡ªthe agony of the unwanted. I¡¯d had years to come to terms with my pain; she was living it all at once.

    The gift of empathy was not one I envied.

    ¡°You worry more for those you leave behind than you do for yourself.¡±

    ¡°Of course,¡± I replied. ¡°I¡¯ll most likely never see them again before they die at an unfair age. What harm could possibly come to me where I''m going?¡±

    A sharp cough from the one who despised me, and sing-song laughter from the telepath. Through it all, the empath did not flinch. She gestured to the south.

    The dark-skinned Councilwoman known as Number Two remained still throughout our encounter. A thick, single braid was draped over her shoulder, and even though I couldn''t see the end, I knew it extended past her waist. Blessed with the gift of foresight, the 150-year-old woman demanded nothing but time.

    At the time, I couldn¡¯t imagine what she saw in my future other than sleeping, preaching, and reading books behind the walls of a church. Knowing what I know now, I¡¯m quite surprised her head didn¡¯t explode.

    Once the seer had seen all she needed to see, she gestured to the northeast.

    Whether by coincidence or divine intervention, a ray of sunlight poured through the glass roof, sparing me from having to look the spiteful Councilwoman in the eye. I¡¯d been prepared for all manners of slurs and vile interrogations. I¡¯d expected this one to come at me like a raven to a corpse. I¡¯d dreamed about it and terrorized my waking days with the anticipation of it. But as I stood there squinting, nothing happened¡ªnothing until a sharp whistle from the opposite corner demanded my attention.

    I¡¯d been looking forward to that encounter. For that encounter, I was entirely prepared to be unprepared.

    A woman of forty-odd years, the petite Councilwoman in the southeast hadn¡¯t thought to comb her hair¡ªchestnut in colour and cropped short. Several of her ceremonial armour pieces were unaccounted for, leaving me with the distinct impression she¡¯d rolled out of bed only moments before arriving.

    ¡°Councilwoman Kelly,¡± I said. ¡°A pleasure.¡±

    She snorted. ¡°Spare me the arse-kissing. You asked what could happen to you where you¡¯re heading? Tells me you¡¯re picturing quiet nights at the local tavern, casual sight-seeing, and a prayer here or there. Not a chance. Soon the only sights you¡¯ll be seeing are the bottom of boots as they¡¯re stomping all over you. You think that one¡¯s a nut-job?¡± Councilwoman Kelly swept a hand to the northeast.

    Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.

    I had not personally drummed up the term nut-job, but it would do.

    ¡°Well just you wait¡ªthere¡¯ll be nobody out there taking pity on you. There¡¯ll be nobody out there protecting you. They¡¯re all gonna know what you are, and they¡¯re all gonna fear you until they hate you enough to finally kill you.¡±

    ¡°Terrific,¡± I replied.

    Councilwoman Kelly clicked her tongue. ¡°Did you miss the part about us taking pity on your sorry arse? It¡¯s simple; I must¡¯ve been sleeping on the job the day we spared you, and the others must¡¯ve felt bad for being responsible for the death of your parents.¡±

    They were trying to get me to snap as I may have done in the past, but forgive me for not being moved. I never knew my parents, and was it not forever the fault of the Assembly when a fellow Partisan died without natural cause? My parents were no exception. They¡¯d once served as Consulates¡ªan elite position within the Palisadian ranks. My mother, born of Celestia. My father, Amalia. The poetry of their life and death has not escaped me. They devoted their lives to conscripting Partisan children for the cause only to be forced to give up their own son. Their interracial affair was a poorly kept secret, and I was the result of their blasphemy. Yet, on the sixth day of the eighth month in the year 824, I stood moments away from becoming a priest.

    <hr>

    That evening, I took solace for the final time in my Palisade chambers, pondering upon all I¡¯d be leaving behind: books which were never mine, furniture passed from Partisan to Partisan, a lumpy bed. As I packed away all that was my own¡ªa modest collection of quills, inks, and the journals of my pilgrimage¡ªI thought of all I stood to gain. Books which would not be mine. Furniture passed from Partisan to Partisan. Another lumpy bed. Nevertheless, the church in Oskari would eventually become home, and it would also become a purpose more than I¡¯d ever known.

    For a time as I brooded, I stood before the window, scowling at my transformation. Blue robes, full at the sleeves and trimmed with silver silk. My hair, long and black as pitch, was secured with a blue ribbon. It wouldn''t have been my first choice in accessory, but the ribbon was a gift. It was my most valuable possession.

    Often my appearance reminded me of my heritage. I had my mother¡¯s complexion, surely. Pale¡ªsickly, some might say¡ªand smooth as sanded stone. I had inherited the typical Celestian build as well. Tall, willowy, and under perpetual threat of being blown over. As for what had come from my father? I suspected the sharpness of my cheekbones and the prominent bridge of my nose. The pair had produced a compelling specimen. In retrospect, an attribute I regret not better using to my advantage. But as a young man of nineteen, I couldn¡¯t see my own beauty. I saw only red.

    A spattering of knocks interrupted the impulse to put my fist through the window, and the door swung open without so much as a call to make sure I was dressed. They barged in and, like untrained puppies, showered me with filth and noise. They¡ªMichael Reider, Feargus Finlay, and Rhian Sinclair. My friends had come to congratulate me. As if there¡¯d been any doubt.

    ¡°Nice dress,¡± Reider said.

    I sighed, ignoring the warrior who had risen fast through the ranks to attain the title of First Commander. We had little in common other than our mutual friends. Truth be told, I¡¯d always been jealous of the man. The perfect example of Amalia¡¯s design for Her divine servants¡ªstalwart, noble, competent.

    ¡°We waited outside your room all morning to say goodbye before we got bored and left,¡± Finlay remarked. ¡°I¡¯m glad we didn¡¯t miss you.¡±

    The entire affair was irritating when I¡¯d hoped to leave without a scene. Still, it was impossible to be angry with the fun-loving Strachan and the sandy mop atop his head. Agent Finlay was deceptively small, but I knew not to cross him. Underneath the quick grin, the pint-sized Strachan pulled a lot of weight as one of the Assembly¡¯s favourites.

    That day, the Commander and Finlay obeyed protocol in wearing their off-duty uniforms¡ªgrey pants, matching tunic, and armbands of blue and red respectively. On the other hand, Rhian Sinclair wore tattered black clothes beneath a black leather chest piece. A battered flask hung from her belt alongside a pair of daggers. I couldn¡¯t imagine her trousers being any tighter. Not that I hadn¡¯t made the effort, but of course, I couldn¡¯t tell that to anyone¡ªSinclair least of all.

    ¡°How¡¯s it feel knowing you¡¯re probably not gonna die afore the age of thirty?¡± Enforcer Rhian Sinclair was always the one who knew how best to strike. An assassin of lies and men. The biggest of women in the smallest of Strachan bodies.

    ¡°Underwhelming,¡± I replied. I took no pleasure in escaping the violent fates the majority of our brethren could not.

    Feargus Finlay flopped down on the bed I had painstakingly made that morning, raising an unmarked bottle to the pungent air. ¡°Reckon we ought to celebrate.¡±

    ¡°I think not,¡± I replied.

    Michael Reider clicked his tongue. ¡°Can¡¯t say I¡¯m surprised.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t be disappointed, Commander. We may very well see each other again.¡±

    ¡°Aye¡ªyou two might, with you both being Amali and all,¡± Finlay remarked. ¡°But what about us, Strauss? It could be twenty years or never.¡±

    ¡°Bloody hells. I¡¯d really hate for it to be twenty years,¡± Sinclair added, as if she would prefer forever. Frankly, forever would be best.

    ¡°And there we have it,¡± I said.

    ¡°What?¡± the three chorused.

    I smiled, tight-lipped. ¡°A cause for celebration.¡±

    This was untrue. I dreaded twenty years or never, and I had no interest in celebrating my grand accomplishment of absolutely nothing with the companions I¡¯d do best to forget. Still, the statement produced the intended effect when Sinclair flashed a chipped-tooth smile in my direction. An endearing feature¡ªa broken incisor said to have been earned in a tavern brawl at the age of eight. One should always take into account a Strachan¡¯s aptitude for spinning stories, but Sinclair had never been one for telling whole lies.

    And so it went. We reminisced while my three companions drank from the green bottle. It was as if nothing had changed while everything had, and as we fell short on memories, Michael Reider expressed his concern about the latest unrest in the northern territory of Endica. Much of what he knew was classified, so it was a rather vague conversation. Rhian Sinclair, ever restless, griped about the punishment for her latest indiscretions. I could not help feeling guilty. I was¡ªin equal part¡ªthe reason Sinclair had been landlocked and forbidden from working beyond the Isle of Palisade. It was a chance encounter turned disastrous and a tale for another time.

    The eventual departures of Michael Reider and Feargus Finlay did not go unmarked. From the Commander, I received the traditional fist-to-heart salute, something of an embrace, and three sets of long underwear intended to protect against the Amali winters.

    In turn, Feargus Finlay presented me with a knife unlike any I¡¯d seen before. It had a short handle, a black blade, and according to Finlay, was, ¡°Near as tough as diamonds, mate.¡± When I reminded him that I was no longer permitted to bear arms, he patted my back and insisted it was a utensil.

    And then, still seated on the corner of my desk, only Sinclair remained.

    ¡°Well, this is awkward on account of I didn¡¯t get you anything.¡±

    ¡°Fair enough,¡± I replied. ¡°I can¡¯t imagine where you¡¯d have found the time.¡±

    Sinclair smiled. I could always count on her to appreciate sarcasm. After all, she¡¯d had nothing but time over these last few months.

    ¡°You know, it isn¡¯t too late to change your mind.¡±

    ¡°Actually, Sinclair, it is.¡±

    ¡°Not if we find a way off this rock and hijack your embark on the way to the land that smells like shite. If you¡¯re gonna go on the lam last minute, we ought to go with you. Wouldn¡¯t want you dying suddenly seeing as I¡¯d probably be the one sent to kill you.¡±

    How I wished to lean forward and nibble upon those fast-talking lips. I refrained.

    ¡°If I had any desire to run, I¡¯d have devised a plan long ago. And if you and Finlay had any real desire to defect from Palisade, I¡¯m certain you¡¯d have done so already.¡±

    ¡°Maybe,¡± she conceded. ¡°On the other hand, you could just stay here.¡±

    ¡°So the Assembly can lock me away for eternity? No, I don¡¯t think so.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯d be just like old times, Strauss, getting myself thrown into solitaire for a chance at a chat with our resident fuck-up.¡±

    ¡°You know, Sinclair, there''s a saying about pots calling kettles black.¡±

    ¡°What kind of saying is that? It doesn¡¯t even make any sense.¡±

    ¡°Because pots are black, and kettles are also black.¡±

    Sinclair waved a hand dismissively, reaching for the green bottle Finlay left behind.

    ¡°I¡¯ll miss your face,¡± she said, followed by a swig.

    I''d miss her face, too. Her up-turned nose, freckled cheeks, and plump lower lip. Her features were pleasant, but they were hardened by thin, white scars, occasional bruises, and a perpetually furrowed brow. I''d miss her face, but more than that, I''d miss her. I¡¯d emerged from solitary a stronger person thanks to the maverick who often occupied the cell beside me. I knew the Strachan by name and voice alone for four years¡ªlistening and talking through walls, living vicariously through her deeds and wishing that one day I¡¯d have a story of my own to tell.

    But they say, "Be careful what you wish for," and I''d get everything I wished for. I''d get my story, and then my story would become our story, and on the sixth day of the eighth month in the year 824, it begins.

 [The First One] 2 - The Pain in the Arse

    Rhian

    Turns out, this storytelling business isn¡¯t as easy as beginning at the beginning. If anyone¡¯s ever told you so, they¡¯re liars and you can go ahead and quote Rhian Sinclair. I can¡¯t promise you pretty. I can¡¯t even promise you specific. But I¡¯m good for the story and that should be good enough.

    I would start on the day I was born, but I don¡¯t rightfully remember it. Also, I don¡¯t reckon it was all that interesting apart from it happening in the middle of the sea. Afore you get carried away, I¡¯m not some half-woman, half-fish. Just had a mum who couldn¡¯t hold me in any longer. Truth is, I don¡¯t remember much after that, neither.

    Greatest time of our bleeding lives and we haven¡¯t got a clue.

    ¡°There¡¯s something shiny in that there pile of shite,¡± we might have said, and it might have been the best something shiny we¡¯d ever seen until it happens and we stop seeing the shiny in all the shite.

    I only know that time exists on account of I¡¯ve been around a lot of kids. And Feargus.

    Right. After all the things I don¡¯t remember, there was the orphanage in Stracha. In case you¡¯ve been living under a rock, Stracha is one of Auditoria''s six territories. It produced the small folk like me and Gus¡ªand Gus is short for Feargus in case you hadn¡¯t sorted that out.

    Look, I''m trying to get this backstory horseshite out of the way so we can get to the good stuff, all right?

    Anyhow. Our caretaker at the orphanage treated us all right, even if the other kids didn¡¯t. She was a classy lady. Growing up, we knew we were different. Never mind we could run like the wind and jump six feet in the air, it was all about our eyes¡ªgrey and not green like the rest. ¡°The eye-pluckers are gonna pluck your eyes,¡± the other kids would say. We reckoned it was probably true, but being fast and springy couldn¡¯t possibly have anything to do with our eyes. Must¡¯ve been born lucky.

    Those eye-pluckers would have nothing on us.

    But then they came.

    A pair of fast, springy, grey-eyed heroes spared us from the eye-pluckers, and lo and behold, we weren¡¯t so different, were we? So, there was Palisade. But there was still Gus. And then there was training, and then there was work. Lots of bloody work. Bottom line: it was two against the goddess-be-damned world until we met Michael Reider along the way. Hit him in the face with a door on the way to class one day.

    He took it like a champ, and we were fast friends.

    Andrei Strauss came around a few years later. Kept each other company all those days and nights locked up in solitary. Pain in the arse. Sometimes he drove me mad most of the time. The rest of the time I imagined him naked.

    The truth is, I was relieved he was leaving Palisade for good. All those days and nights spent talking through walls, we might have accidentally fallen a bit in love. Of all the things we did talk about, we never talked about that.

    It was complicated.

    On the day Strauss took his vows, we stopped by his room to say goodbye. I held my place on the corner of his desk after everyone had gone, taking sips from the big green bottle of make-the-pain-go-away juice.

    What you don''t know is how the rest of our conversation went. Reckon I should pick up where he left off.

    The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

    ¡°Maybe one day I¡¯ll swing by that church of yours," I said.

    ¡°Do the Strachan often get deployed to Amalia?¡±

    In case you¡¯re a rock-person, Amalia¡¯s another of Auditoria''s six territories. Also, Strauss had a point. He knew we didn¡¯t, so I could¡¯ve said, ¡°No,¡± and he would¡¯ve said, ¡°Exactly,¡± and our chat would¡¯ve ended afore I wanted it to.

    ¡°Gus will make it happen,¡± I said instead. Gus was brilliant at making things happen.

    ¡°Then I¡¯ll look forward to seeing him while you remain here at Palisade,¡± Strauss replied. ¡°Landlocked.¡±

    ¡°Right,¡± I said. ¡°Landlocked on account of you.¡±

    ¡°Not exactly,¡± he lied.

    ¡°Aye, exactly,¡± I didn¡¯t.

    ¡°No.¡±

    ¡°Aye.¡±

    ¡°Sinclair, why are you still here?¡±

    Truth is, he knew why I was still there. But it''s like I said: we didn''t talk about it. Now, seeing as it might have been the last time we saw each other, I could''ve said something sweet, but I didn''t. The last time I did that, things got out of hand.

    ¡°Dinner is probably poisoned and I haven¡¯t got anything better to do?¡± I said instead.

    Strauss raised an eyebrow. He had the talent for it. Also, he had nice eyes. Not too round or big for the face like mine.

    ¡°What sane reason would the Assembly have to poison our meals?¡±

    ¡°Death is bad for business," I said. "I reckon it¡¯s some kind of undetectable mind control poison.¡±

    ¡°Undetectable mind control poison?¡±

    ¡°Aye.¡±

    ¡°You are deluded.¡±

    ¡°And are you aware I¡¯ve got a freckle shaped like an S on my big toe? See now that¡¯s just pure luck on account of my surname¡ª¡±

    ¡°Stop.¡± Strauss was annoyed. He was so bloody lovely when he was annoyed. ¡°Have you ever shown me your feet?¡±

    ¡°No.¡±

    ¡°Then there¡¯s absolutely no way I¡¯d know about the freckle.¡±

    ¡°What about the time we bunked in Delphia?" I asked. "I can¡¯t be entirely sure you didn¡¯t peek.¡±

    ¡°You can¡¯t be entirely sure I didn¡¯t peek at your feet?¡±

    ¡°Aye.¡±

    ¡°On the word of the Blessed Mother of Might, Sinclair, I did not peek at your feet. Point, please?¡±

    He¡¯d already proved the point, but I hopped down from the desk, trotted on forward, and tilted my head way the hells back. It¡¯d be tough to forget the way he smelled that day. Like cinnamon and musty books. It was the way he smelled on all the days.

    ¡°The point is, Strauss,¡± I hissed. (Go on, give it a try.) ¡°You. Don¡¯t. Know. Everything.¡±

    He did the eyebrow thing again.

    ¡°There¡¯s a good reason Councilwoman Kelly doesn¡¯t send us Strachan anywhere near Amalia. See, she prefers us alive and still sane. Soon you¡¯re gonna see it for yourself, and even then¡ªquestions after answers after more questions until death decides it was all for nothing¡ªyou still won¡¯t know the half of it. So stop pretending you already do. And if you¡¯re hungry, I¡¯ve got plenty of snacks in my satchel courtesy of anywhere but here.¡±

    I might have been exaggerating a little. Or a lot. Or not. Nobody could be halfway sure about any of the rumours around Amalia, only that a lot of us Partisans never came back. And as far as those who did? Palisade had the asylum for them.

    Strauss smiled because he knew I was right.

    And then I remembered I was gonna miss him, and then I felt sick like a punch to the gut.

    I¡¯ve taken enough to say so.

    Pain in the arse.

 [The First One] 3 - The Inevitable Arrival

    Andrei

    It had been a decade since I¡¯d last been home, and home is a term I use loosely. Amalia. A land of simple needs and dismal weather, and I quote Sinclair when I say, ¡°When it rains, it bloody pours. And when it doesn¡¯t rain, it snows.¡±

    As I stepped from the watercraft aboard which I¡¯d been seasick for three days, the distinct scents of smoke, mud, and urine did nothing to sooth my gut.

    Welcome home, indeed.

    ¡°Remind me,¡± I said to the raven-haired Partisan at the helm. ¡°Where would I find the outpost?

    The Navigator gestured vaguely to the north, speaking for the first time since I¡¯d boarded. ¡°I should warn you, the Administrator¡¯s an asshole. Mind yourself, and if you can avoid the bunks, I suggest you do. They tend to reek of rotten meat and bodily fluids.¡±

    ¡°Lovely,¡± I said.

    ¡°Oh, and I wouldn¡¯t take any chances with the forest at night.¡±

    ¡°Bandits?¡±

    The Celestian shook her head. ¡°You¡¯re thinking like a Jaskan.¡±

    ¡°I was raised in Jaska.¡±

    ¡°Well, you¡¯re headed for Oskari. Around there, there are far more dangerous beasts than its people. Plenty of critters. Nobody to hunt them. Any other questions? I¡¯m on a schedule.¡±

    I had no other questions. Not for her, anyhow.

    ¡°Then I pray your goddess protects you well, Brother Strauss.¡±

    I was relieved when the surrounding waters bubbled and whirled, directing the embark to the east. I had no particular love for the elite crew, nor did I envy the life of a Navigator¡ªa job reserved for the Celestian Partisans with an aptitude for manipulating the tides.

    Pick up, drop off, pick up, drop off, death. I digress.

    The Amali Base of Palisadian Operations¡ªaffectionately known as the Drop¡ªconsisted of unmarked buildings in pitiful shape, eight-foot fences, and wrought iron gates. When I arrived at the Outpost, mere steps to the north as it happened, I knocked and waited with soggy robes and dwindling patience. I had seen my share of Drops over the course of my pilgrimage. All had been properly serviced, even and especially throughout the night. All had been active with Legacy Partisans working their trades: blacksmiths, deckhands, stable-hands, cooks, and so it goes. Last I¡¯d seen of the Amali Drop, it was no exception.

    Much had changed.

    Equal parts bored and offended, I entered the outpost uninvited. Seated at his desk behind a set of iron bars, the Palisade Administrator greeted me with a greasy smile.

    ¡°I was wondering how long you¡¯d be knocking.¡±

    Pushing sixty, the Partisan had served in his position as Administrator of the Amali Drop for nearly three decades. More than daily operations and maintenance, he served as a filter between active, in-territory Partisans, and Palisade.

    I produced my permissions and slipped the pages between the bars.

    ¡°You¡¯ll be replacing Father Belaia when he croaks?¡±

    ¡°I suppose,¡± I said.

    ¡°Identification?¡±

    I sighed, turned 180 degrees, and swept my hair to the side. Like any other Partisan, my identification was tattooed on my neck in sapphire ink: ASTR12.

    ¡°I knew your father,¡± he said.

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    Feigning interest, I turned to face the grotesque man. More than his expression was sour, I suspected he¡¯d neglected to bathe in several weeks. ¡°Oh?¡±

    ¡°You look nothing like him. Amali men aren¡¯t often producing boys who look like girls.¡±

    ¡°Then perhaps I take after my mother,¡± I said, to which the man scowled. I¡¯d be hard-pressed to find anyone who approved of their relationship.

    ¡°Your parents were nothing but traitors.¡±

    ¡°And you, sir, are nothing but a rotting hog,¡± is what I wanted to reply.

    ¡°So I¡¯ve been told,¡± I said instead.

    The Administrator snorted. ¡°Staying until morning?¡±

    ¡°Actually, I thought I¡¯d see about a carriage and¡ª¡±

    ¡°No driver until morning.¡±

    ¡°Then a single horse would do.¡±

    ¡°No horses until morning.¡±

    I chose the most patient of smiles from my repertoire. I cannot say whether or not it was convincing. ¡°Do you have anything available before morning?¡±

    ¡°No.¡±

    ¡°Then with all due respect, Administrator, if there¡¯s no traveling to Oskari tonight, why pretend to give me a choice?¡±

    ¡°Because I was hoping you¡¯d be stupid enough to walk instead.¡±

    <hr>

    There was only one road to the village of Oskari from the Drop. That same road continued north toward the city of Jaska. Neither direction was commonly traveled, so I enjoyed the comfort of solitude as I walked.

    Yes, I¡¯d been stupid enough to walk. Stupid, but certain the wide outdoors would prove more comfortable than the acrid bunks.

    The late summer night was as warm as one could hope for in Amalia, but the recent rainfall brought a chilling humidity¡ªerratic to say the least. Inherent in a Celestian Partisan is the ability to regulate their own body temperature. Convenient but unpredictable¡ªfatal even¡ªwithout proper conditioning. Conditioning I did not have.

    For the better part of an hour, I walked the One Road slowly, steadily, and undisturbed.

    As I carried onward, I thought of my parents. They were traitors, but to what cause? I¡¯d always wondered. And if I had some great love interest with whom to rebel, would I choose a different path? I supposed I would, and in fact, I had. Rhian Sinclair presented me with the opportunity to escape fate and I rejected it. Was it that I didn¡¯t love her enough? Perhaps too much. My inexperience¡ªmy incompetence¡ªwould have only slowed us down.

    A horse whinnied from deep in the woods.

    Such fickle beasts, I thought. Distracted by the rigors of walk, it took me a moment to remember: there were no wild horses in Amalia. About the time I began considering the alternatives, I heard the footsteps crunching through the brush. With each step, the orange orb grew closer.

    ¡°Is there someone there?¡± I shouted.

    I felt the heat rise in my cheeks as the light grew closer and a figure emerged. The man who approached was middle-aged, bearded but balding, Barren, but most definitely not a bandit. He wore the attire of a well-kept servant¡ªsharp, white shirt, black trousers, and a tailed coat.

    ¡°Brother,¡± he said. ¡°It seems I¡¯ve found fortune in my misfortune tonight.¡±

    ¡°Do you require aid?¡±

    ¡°Better to say the need belongs to my horse.¡±

    ¡°I see. Do you often travel by night through the forest paths, Mister¡­?¡±

    The skin around the man¡¯s brown eyes wrinkled when he smiled. It betrayed his age, but it suited him. ¡°Peter,¡± he said. ¡°I understand you must find this suspicious.¡±

    I nodded.

    ¡°Much of the land to the west belongs to my employer.¡±

    I was not aware of any private land to the west, but I knew the records I¡¯d studied from were sorely outdated.

    ¡°Does your employer have a name?¡±

    ¡°Yes, and after two decades in his service, I should perhaps learn it.¡±

    The man may not have been particularly funny, but his demeanour put me at ease. A palette cleanse, if you will.

    With nothing more, he led the way to the troubled mare on the forest path.

    Behind her, the horse carted a mahogany carriage with a black metallic letter "R" stamped on the side. The problem was obvious. The leftmost front wheel was caught in the mud¡ªa side effect of the copious amounts of rain.

    It¡¯d be a simple fix.

    As Peter resumed his place at the reins, I secured my hand beneath the carriage and lifted it with ease. It had been a long time since I''d put my preternatural strength to good use.

    At the time, the encounter seemed an innocuous coincidence, but I would eventually realize the chance meeting in the forest hadn''t been chance at all, and I would soon learn the significance of the carriage with the golden "R".

    That night, however, I remained oblivious and graciously accepted the stranger''s ride the rest of the way to Oskari.

 [The First One] 4 - The Job Only We Could Do

    Rhian

    It¡¯d been about two days since Strauss made a huge mistake in taking his vows. Two days which might have been two weeks, come to think. It was tricky keeping time when every day felt the same. Around that time, I was still landlocked on account of some questionable choices. Made some choices. They were questioned. My real punishment? Teaching would-be Chasers to shoot bows. Look, that might have been all right for some. Palisade instructors had a cushy life as far as it went. But for a lass like me? Might as well have been trapped underwater in a cage full of them fishes with teeth.

    But never mind.

    On a day like every other day, I was lounging around the breakfast table with Gus¡ªshort for Feargus in case you¡¯d forgotten. There were about a thousand of us Partisans in the mess hall. Tall, short, fast, strong, blah, blah, blah. I couldn¡¯t be arsed with nine hundred and ninety-eight of them. We might have all had something in common, but I reckon you could find something in common with just about anybody.

    Nobody said you had to like them.

    Well, maybe somebody had. But not me.

    Take the Delphi for instance. Sitting around their tables, all prim and proper in their boring grey uniforms and stupid bloody hats looking like tiny rowboats. Their eyes were just like mine, but they saw something I didn¡¯t. They were all so goddess-be-damned eager playing their parts, happy going down for the cause as if they¡¯ll be the ones remembered for it. ¡®Course, there were exceptions. There always are, and I¡¯ll get to that later.

    At some point while I watched everybody else eat their poisoned breakfasts, I elbowed Gus in the ribs. ¡°Catch word of any jobs only we can do?¡±

    Feargus probably shrugged. He was a lot better at being lazy, so he wasn¡¯t too bothered by all the puttering around. Also, we¡¯d had that conversation about a hundred times.

    ¡°They can¡¯t keep us here forever,¡± is what he usually said.

    ¡°Reckon they can do whatever they want,¡± is what I usually said.

    But that morning was different. That morning we were being watched by a pair of Strachan lasses across the table. Twins and about sixteen. They were staring and it was annoying. I put on my best grumpy face.

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    ¡°What?¡± I asked.

    "Nothing,¡± they replied.

    ¡°What. Is. Your. Problem?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s only¡­¡± said one.

    ¡°¡­it¡¯s only nothing,¡± said the other.

    ¡°You''re both plucking at my last nerve.¡±

    ¡°We¡¯ve heard things about a Ghost Hunt,¡± said the one who dared to be daring. ¡°We¡¯ve got three weeks¡¯ allowance on Councilwoman Kelly sending the pair of you.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s a bloody shame the Assembly put the ax to those about five hundred years ago.¡±

    ¡°Five years ago,¡± Gus said.

    ¡°Whatever.¡± I shrugged. ¡°Councilwoman Kelly would never send us.¡±

    The twins seemed to be considering. ¡°But we thought you were the best?¡±

    I might have laughed a little. Gus definitely laughed a lot.

    We were good at what we did. Probably the best for a wee blip in time.

    But that wasn¡¯t the point.

    Rumour had it, the Ghost defected from Palisade around the same time I was born. Some believed he¡¯d died all on his own. Or maybe he''d already been caught, and was locked up in the asylum somewhere. Others said he¡¯d been put on trial, exiled, and hunted down by Strachan trained for the Chase¡ªthe thing that happened to naughty Partisans who¡¯d been booted from Palisade. Some say he was a hero. The Ghost had become such a goddess-be-damned legend, most couldn¡¯t be bothered learning his name.

    Rhydian Sinclair¡ªnuttiest tree in the garden.

    Councilwoman Kelly would never send us after the Ghost on account of the man was my father, but it wasn¡¯t a matter of scruples. Coming face-to-face with a man like him¡ªwith knowledge and connections like he had¡ªmight have made too much sense to me.

    The Assembly wasn¡¯t ready to deal with a family nut-tree.

    Either way, my time was coming to an end. Reckoned the Assembly had been trying to kill me for a while. The landlock? They were just biding their time, sorting out how best to do it while keeping their noses clean.

    They expected me to defect, so I didn¡¯t. Most of the time, I was curious to see what they¡¯d try next. Sometimes, I wanted them to do me a favour. Point is, the Assembly wanted me dead or alive on their terms. Reuniting me with the man who¡¯d evaded them for two decades was a bad idea.

    Look, that¡¯s all I¡¯ve got to say about that. And if you¡¯re itching to know what happened next: we stood up, walked away, waved to Michael, and then we left.

    I had class.

 [The First One] 5 - The Inevitable First Day

    Andrei

    The morning after arriving in Oskari, I woke to knocks on the door of my new chambers¡ªchambers similar to those I¡¯d left behind. A desk, a lumpy bed, an empty shelf. Riveting. My robes were still draped over the back of an oaken chair, unsightly from my travels and the messy encounter with Peter¡¯s carriage. After another series of knocks, I turned to the window to gauge the time¡ªsquinting to protect my eyes from the blaring light. Sensitivity to light is a trait all Partisans share, but it is a condition more serious in the Celestian. After all, Celestia is a territory where the night is night and the day is night.

    In Amalia, however, I was pleased to discover it wasn¡¯t raining. As I rushed to dress, I berated myself for having arrived hours early only to sleep hours late. Tardy and filthy.

    The man behind the door met me with the sort of warmth I imagined would come from a doting grandfather, and I would later learn the Partisan was, in fact, a grandfather¡ªa grandfather to four grandchildren he¡¯d never know, and a father to two daughters he¡¯d never met.

    ¡°It¡¯s wonderful to see you again, Father.¡±

    ¡°Likewise, Brother Strauss, and I¡¯m pleased to see you¡¯ve found your room.¡±

    To show his appreciation for helping with the carriage, Peter rode the rest of the way to Oskari. This meant an unexpected arrival in the middle of the night.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry for not waking you, and for sleeping through the morning.¡±

    Father Belaia didn¡¯t offer me the forgiveness I sought, but he didn¡¯t seem altogether concerned.

    ¡°It often feels as though a century has passed since I was your age¡ªwishing the time would come sooner while also praying for another day. Then, there are moments like this one, Brother Strauss, when it feels like only yesterday.¡±

    ¡°Do you have any advice?¡±

    The Father shook his head. ¡°As with most things, you¡¯ll learn by doing. Tonight, you¡¯ll be delivering the dusk sermon.¡±

    Dusk sermon so soon? I hadn¡¯t written a word in foresight, and what could I possibly know of the locals and their personal struggles? Of their individual beliefs or of the strength of their faith? As for what I did know, the village of Oskari had once been on the verge of something greater. There¡¯d been plans to expand toward the city of Jaska. The people were educated and healthy. By the time of my arrival, the pitiful population of a declining thousand struggled to remain on the map. Despite this, the people of Oskari referred of their home as Amalia¡¯s greatest historical wonder¡ªtoo ignorant to know the honour actually belonged to the walled-off city of Leberecht. All that said, I was familiar with Oskari¡¯s history, but I was certain neither history nor another lesson in theology would be enough to impress those who would immediately distrust me.

    After setting my freshly washed robes out to dry and mopping away the evidence of my muddy arrival, I made my way outside.

    <hr>

    Walking the village with a severe case of writer¡¯s block, I struggled to find inspiration in the rickety homes and chipped cobblestones. The people, while not entirely dismissive, were chilly to my presence in passing. In retrospect, I should have taken greater steps to socialize with those who stared. Instead, for fear of rushing into their lives headlong and uninvited, I trudged onward with a destination in mind; the only local establishment that was all but required to provide its patrons with conversation.

    The Widow¡¯s Peak Inn sat atop a hill on the northern side of the village. The hill, some said, was the reason behind the Inn¡¯s name. Others believed it was named for the curious design of its roof. Those with knowledge of the village history might say it was named for the widow who had donated her estate centuries ago.

    There were few still alive who knew the truth.

    On the opposite side of the seven-foot double doors, the Widow¡¯s Peak was a colorful contrast to the depressing browns and greys beyond. The chairs were draped with rich red upholstery and the walls were wood-paneled and lined with portraits of men and women throughout the ages. I recognized two of them¡ªCouncilwoman Faust and her predecessor. Despite the summer month, a fire burned from the hearth in the centre of the room, surrounded by circular tables.

    As I absorbed the atmosphere, I recalled once reading that the inn had been renovated a total of three times, however its design and d¨¦cor remained the same as if plucked from an ancient painting. In person, I found the result unnerving. To my immediate right, a brutish man stood expressionless as he guarded.

    Of course, I wondered what exactly he guarded.

    There were twenty tables and none were occupied.

    The woman behind the bar wore her brown hair in a thick knot at the nape of her neck. Her attire was modest, neutral, and altogether underwhelming. However, in a village laden with sickness and lacking in teeth, the proprietress of the Widow¡¯s Peak would have been considered a glorious sight to behold.

    I approached with what I''d hoped was an appropriate smile. ¡°Ivana, is it?¡±

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    ¡°That¡¯s it, and I know I haven¡¯t see you around here before. No offense, kid, but you don¡¯t look like a solider.¡±

    The conflating of Partisans with soldiers was common. I took no offense. ¡°That is because I am not a solider, madam. My name is Brother Andrei Strauss.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s always the handsome ones, isn¡¯t it?¡± Ivana wiped an already pristine surface, smiling a smile no more natural than my own. ¡°Why aren¡¯t you wearing your robes?¡±

    ¡°A long story,¡± I replied. ¡°Will you be attending tonight¡¯s worship?¡±

    ¡°Doubtful, Brother. Someone¡¯s got to be here to serve hope to the hopeless, right?¡±

    ¡°You take sole responsibility over the establishment?¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s a bit of an exaggeration.¡± Ivana nudged her head back toward the kitchen. ¡°There¡¯s the cook, and then there¡¯s my security.¡±

    ¡°Interesting,¡± I lied.

    ¡°Not really,¡± she replied. ¡°Hungry? Thirsty?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve only come to introduce myself.¡±

    ¡°Then why do I get the impression you¡¯re here for gossip?¡± Ivana adjusted a khaki sleeve where it had slipped off her shoulder. ¡°I appreciate the effort and all, but you¡¯re not getting anything from me. The people around here keep themselves isolated because they like it that way. If word gets around I¡¯ve been informing your kind, it wouldn¡¯t do much for business, would it?¡±

    It certainly couldn¡¯t do much worse, I thought.

    ¡°We don¡¯t get a lot of Partisans around here. They¡¯ve grown used to Father Belaia, but you? You¡¯re a strange one.¡±

    It wasn¡¯t the first time I¡¯d heard that.

    Fortunately, she¡¯d already informed me plenty.

    <hr>

    I took to the podium with fifteen pairs of eyes upon me. Those eyes were universally brown and equally perplexed. Father Belaia hadn¡¯t spared the time for introductions, so when a mysterious stranger appeared in his place, two parishioners opted to leave. Those who were curious enough to remain shared hushed remarks with one another. The Barrens tended to forget about a Partisan¡¯s heightened senses. I could hear everything. Namely that they were skeptical, and it was nothing new.

    The crowd silenced as I began.

    ¡°When our world was shattered in seven, She appeared before our ancestors to bestow them praise and a promise. ¡®Henceforth, our land shall be known as I am known¡ªAmalia¡ªconceived within me and birthed in stone. Through pride and perseverance, we survive. My gift¡ªmy apology¡ªsees children borne from you as if by me. They shall embody strength above all but unwavering resolve. Fierce protectors¡ªblessed to serve, never to be served.¡±

    ¡°Is he serious?¡± One local whispered to another. ¡°White as a sheet and skinny as a rake, saying he¡¯s our gift from Amalia?¡±

    The neighbour shrugged and I continued.

    ¡°With good intentions, I ask you to ponder the underlying message of those words while I make my introduction. As you may have heard from the gossips, my name is Brother Andrei Strauss. While I¡¯d expected to stand before you this evening and lecture, I have since concluded it is I who must learn from you. I arrived this morning anxious, as I imagine you are, too. I believe there is much we have to offer one another, and so in the spirit of exchange, I open the floor to questions and discourse.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t understand,¡± grumbled one man to his wife.

    ¡°He¡¯s giving us permission to ask questions, you big idiot.¡±

    ¡°Then why doesn¡¯t he just say that?¡±

    ¡°Shush,¡± said the wife, followed by a swat to the shoulder.

    The woman was the first to raise her hand.

    ¡°We worry that our children will grow up to live as we live,¡± she said. ¡°Our time has come and gone, but we want more for them.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯d prefer to see your children find work in the city?¡±

    ¡°Yes. Some of our children are not born for labour. We have one who can already read and count to one thousand. She¡¯s only four years old, but she is clumsy and often tired. When she¡¯s grown, she might survive, but she could do so much more. We know nothing about life outside our village, and truthfully I hope our village dies with us. Father Belaia has been with us for so long, but he is old and¡ª¡±

    ¡°We won¡¯t be speaking ill of our Father!¡± cried a man from the back.

    Before matters could escalate, I intercepted. ¡°Of course we will not be, but he is only one man, and I¡¯ve been sent for precisely this¡ªto address the needs he cannot. Do we all agree that education is a priority?¡±

    The majority nodded, and so did I. ¡°Then we will see it done.¡±

    For a quarter of an hour, I indulged their questions. Most were easily answered. Others, while not overly complicated, were strange. For instance, I was asked to resolve a bet: did Amalia have black hair or brown hair? My response was brown and a piece of advice about gambling when I learned it was a favourite pastime.

    ¡°It¡¯s something to do,¡± someone said. ¡°It can get boring.¡±

    ¡°I understand that all too well,¡± I responded truthfully. ¡°If you¡¯re going to continue betting, perhaps you could do it responsibly. Consider pooling your winnings into a fund for the village. Or better yet, a trade between townspeople for services. Otherwise, you¡¯re simply exchanging notes. Your farms are impressive but lacking in care and resources. If your land prospers, so will you.¡±

    ¡°We would need a new goat,¡± replied one of the younger women in attendance.

    ¡°It¡¯ll be a difficult winter without a shipment from Jaska,¡± said another.

    And on, and on, and by the half hour mark, the conversation degraded to inquiries about my age, my favourite colour, and the reason for my pallor compared to the darker tones of the Amali. I was honest in responding to all but the third¡ªa question I evaded with the assistance of Father Belaia.

    The reality of my half-Celestian heritage would be revealed another way.

    The meeting was over, and I had never been more relieved.

    There was no way I could have known the first day would be by far the easiest.

 [The First One] 6 - The Squeaky Lass

    Rhian

    The weeks changed but nothing else did.

    Bows were drawn. Arrows flew. Partisans squealed.

    ¡°Relax your arms,¡± I shouted. Some listened, some didn¡¯t.

    Round two, three, four, five.

    Some would come crying the next day with welts the size of their fists.

    Round six, seven, eight.

    ¡°Look, if at least two of you can go ahead and hit the goddess-be-damned target, I¡¯ll dismiss the lot of you for the afternoon.¡±

    Round nine, ten, thunk.

    Round eleven, twelve, thunk, thunk, thunk.

    ¡°Congratulations, you¡¯re all suckers. People are gonna bribe you. People are gonna trick you. Hit the target because it¡¯s your job to hit the bloody target, follow?¡±

    There were five twelve-year-old, grey-eyed Strachan all together. There were blondes, redheads, two boys, three girls¡ªbut what does it really matter? They were all disappointed they wouldn''t be getting out early.

    Look, it wasn¡¯t on me to be liked. It was on me to do my damnedest so they wouldn¡¯t grow up to do something stupid and die.

    Besides, I gave them their prize once they learned to fight for something they thought they lost.

    Round fifteen, four of five targets hit.

    I¡¯d have to work on the one with the lazy eye.

    After the little ones ran away from the range joyously and whatnot, I had a real problem on my hands.

    It wasn¡¯t as though the problem appeared out of nowhere. More like, I¡¯d been ignoring it for the past five minutes. Councilwoman Adelaide Blanchett. She wasn¡¯t the worst of the lot, let me be clear. But we had a history, and it was a messy one. Also, she hurt my eyes. What, with the bright purple dress and hair like a goddess-be-damned forest fire.

    ¡°What do you think you¡¯re doing?¡±

    ¡°Well, I was preparing the next generation to follow your orders for the rest of their sorry lives.¡± It was true, but she was probably referring to the fact I let the kids out early.

    Councilwoman Blanchett turned her nose up at me. No big feat¡ªshe was tall, I¡¯m short. At least she kept it clean. Meanwhile, I stared down the lass in a leather apron beside her. She was about seventeen and a dead ringer, only she was grinning ear to ear.

    ¡°I have not come to argue politics with you, Enforcer,¡± the Councilwoman said.

    Then I reckon I said something like, ¡°Splendid. Why¡¯d you start?¡±

    Whatever it was, the lass in the leather apron giggled and the Councilwoman clucked like a chicken in my imagination.

    ¡°I¡¯ve come to introduce you to my daughter, Adeline.¡±

    The one called Adeline squeaked. Reckon she meant, ¡°Hello.¡±

    ¡°Right,¡± I said. ¡°I feel my life changing. Now, how about you start telling me what this is actually about?¡±

    ¡°It is the Assembly¡¯s indubitably supreme and utterly urgent request that Adeline join you for your lessons henceforth, forthwith, and so on, and so help me," is not exactly how it went, but it¡¯ll do.

    ¡°Uh,¡± I replied, on account of I could be eloquent also. ¡°What for?¡±

    ¡°I will let the Squeaky Lass explain,¡± the Councilwoman sort of said.

    Then she was gone, and I was left alone on the range with a smile that was getting on my tits.

    It was quiet until it was uncomfortable.

    ¡°So, I¡¯m Rhian. And are you all right, lass?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m aware who you are, and truly, it¡¯s such a pleasure to finally meet you.¡±

    ¡°Uh huh.¡± Clearly, the lass wasn¡¯t all right. ¡°Why are you here?¡±

    ¡°To assist with your lessons, and while it should only be for about three weeks, I sincerely hope we¡¯ll learn to be friends. Is it true you saved my mother¡¯s life?¡±

    ¡°Why. Are. You. Here?¡± Maybe I hadn¡¯t been clear enough. Sometimes I wasn¡¯t clear enough on account of poor elocution and whatnot.

    ¡°Why? Well, to train the children with black powder of course.¡±

    <hr>

    After hearing the terrible news, I marched straight southeast across the grassy range in the direction of the Strachan spire. Which is exactly what it sounds like¡ªa spire full of Strachan. I¡¯d wager I scowled the whole way up all five flights of stairs.

    It took about a minute.

    Fire-weapons? Horse-shite. The perfect weapon for any half-wit with funny ideas and a pair of fingers. I¡¯d seen the effects of fire-weapons in Delphia (another territory, for all you rock-people), and I couldn¡¯t help thinking of a thousand new ways I might meet my maker. One cranky innkeeper and a bad day later, boom, afore you know it, you¡¯re dead and having your head mounted on a wall. No amount of Palisade training would save my freckled arse then.

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    After darting up the stairs, I barged into the Councilwoman¡¯s office faster than her secretary could look up from twiddling her thumbs.

    ¡°Weapons integration with Blanchett¡¯s spawn? Not happening.¡±

    Councilwoman Kelly never seemed to mind about the barging on account of she was a reasonable lady. She leaned back in her chair and kicked a leg up on her desk. I liked her office, all done up in wood and green.

    I liked her office, but I sure as shite didn¡¯t want it.

    ¡°We can¡¯t contain progress to Palisade,¡± she said.

    ¡°Then I¡¯ll have no part."

    ¡°You¡¯ve got no choice.¡±

    ¡°Truer words.¡±

    Kelly sighed, nudging her head for me to have a seat. I did.

    ¡°Look, Rhian, progress means production. Production means exposure. Exposure means Old Man What¡¯s-His-Nuts blows up Joe Partisan because it sounds like a bloody good time. The Assembly reckons it¡¯s too late to outlaw the weapons now that the Barrens know they exist. Think smugglers, extremists, martyrs¡ªa whole new brand of Barren and Partisan rebels with a steel-barreled leg to stand on. We can¡¯t beat them, so we join them.¡±

    ¡°Then why keep me landlocked? Put us on the job instead and we can sabotage production. Reckon me and Gus could run an operation to sniff out the worst of it. Cut the suppliers, slow it down a wee bit.¡±

    ¡°Aye, I hear you. Except there¡¯s basically zero chance of that happening. And even if I could sway the Assembly, Finlay¡¯s out on a job¡ªcan¡¯t say for sure how long.¡±

    I¡¯d been alive just about two decades. I could count the times me and Gus had been split up, and it¡¯d take about a second.

    ¡°What? Where?¡±

    ¡°Amalia. Something to do with Faust¡¯s new pet priest.¡±

    ¡°What? Why? And when did we start helping Faust?¡±

    ¡°When keeping you and Finlay landlocked together was costing me more than I could afford. It was Amalia or Endica for him. What would you have done?¡±

    As I said, not a single sane Partisan had much to say for certain about Amalia. We¡¯d all heard the stories. Beasts as big as houses. Rock-slides, mudslides, and trees with roots that¡¯ll eat you. Giant sinkholes, giant arseholes. Some are lies. But Endica? It was basically war. It was the uncertain versus the certain and neither was a brilliant place to be.

    Gus would have more fun with the trees.

    ¡°Fine,¡± I said. ¡°Why have I not gone with him?"

    ¡°Malicious intent, arson, destruction of Palisade property, fraud¡­¡±

    So, I might have been charged with all of those things, all at once.

    But it was for the best.

    And I didn¡¯t exactly do most of it.

    <hr>

    I was bored.

    It¡¯s not like I was the sentimental sort, but a person gets used to certain things after a while. It was Fifth-day, and Fifth-day was Catch-Up-With-Michael day. But seeing as Michael was about to be shipped off to Endica, and Feargus was off helping Strauss pick the grit out of his navel, I was on my own after leaving Kelly''s office. Which would have been fine if I¡¯d had anything interesting to do. I could have gone down to the mess hall to watch people eat supper, but I only had to go down one flight of stairs to get to my dorm.

    See, Palisade was designed to look a bit like the rest of the world. One big compound in the middle, six directions with six spires designed for six breeds. Each with¡ªyou guessed it, you terrific genius¡ªsix floors.

    The first floor was for all the impractical whatnots like lecture halls and libraries. I¡¯m sure they were lovely. The second was for the fresh Partisans and the non-violent special cases. The third floor was for those in training, the fourth for those in active duty. The fifth floor was for the ones who¡¯d seen enough to deserve a nice view and a fatal fall. Those dorms were bigger and the folks living in them didn¡¯t get bunkmates.

    I lived on the fifth. Gus lived in the room on the left of mine, and I couldn¡¯t be bothered to meet the person on the right. That dorm was cursed. There was a new occupant about ten times a year, so there was no sense making nice.

    That night, I raided the snacks I kept stashed with a bottle of Hocks. I played darts against myself and we tied, tossed knives up at the rafters until I got tired of pulling them out, went for a wee, and answered the door when there was a knock.

    For the fun of it, I saluted¡ªfist to heart. ¡°Commander, Sir, Michael, Sir.¡±

    ¡°Good to see you¡¯re still alive.¡±

    ¡°No big surprise. I haven¡¯t exactly been active lately.¡±

    ¡°I know, but I couldn¡¯t think of any other reason you¡¯d miss out on an evening with me.¡±

    Good old Michael. The man had an excellent smile. It worked for him on account of he was otherwise ordinary. Taller than the average Amali but shorter than the tallest. His hair was brown and boring when it wasn¡¯t just stubble. Everything in its proper place, like one of those man-sized dolls.

    ¡°Reckoned you¡¯d have your hands full getting ready.¡±

    Michael shrugged, and then he walked right in and made himself comfortable on the corner of the bed. I sat cross-legged on the floor looking up.

    ¡°I¡¯ll be leaving in the morning,¡± he said. ¡°I couldn¡¯t very well deploy without rubbing my favourite Strachan for luck.¡±

    That was a superstition. Not an innuendo. Dirty bastards.

    ¡°Reckon you¡¯ll be out long?¡± I asked. The truth is, there was no way of knowing if he¡¯d be back at all. I was being polite.

    ¡°No idea. Kelly¡¯s been sending scouts but we¡¯re not getting anything back.¡±

    ¡°She ought to stop sending them, then.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, I know. We¡¯re walking blind into a snowstorm. Literally. It¡¯s so fucking cold up there, Rhian¡ªnever go. Anyway, I hear Councilwoman Hall petitioned for Finlay¡¯s help.¡±

    ¡°Gus is gone," I said.

    ¡°Really? I¡¯m surprised Kelly agreed. He¡¯s an expensive asset.¡±

    ¡°Gus is gone to Amalia to be with Strauss.¡±

    ¡°Oh, that¡¯s strange. What¡¯s he doing with Strauss?¡±

    I shrugged. ¡°Uncovering the meaning of life? Helping him find his personality?¡±

    ¡°I like the second one.¡±

    ¡°Me, too," I said. "Wish I¡¯d thought of it first.¡±

    Michael smiled and there was a pause. The kind of pause that¡¯s a bit awkward, but a lot comfortable¡ªseeing as we were old friends and all. It was the pause before a favour.

    ¡°Any chance I could stay here tonight?¡± he asked.

    There was a chance. I understood.

    ¡°Too quiet in yours?¡±

    ¡°Yeah,¡± he said.

    ¡°Aye,¡± I said.

    And that was that.

 [The First One] 7 - The Inevitable New Quest

    Andrei

    Six weeks had passed since my first appearance before the people of Oskari, and it was six weeks filled with unexpected attention. The women in particular had taken a special interest in my counseling services, and I began to doubt it had anything to do with the content of my sermons.

    ¡°He¡¯s always dragging mud all over the floor. Is it really so difficult to put the shoes on the fur? No, it isn¡¯t. I should have said this in our wedding vows.¡±

    ¡°I understand your frustration, madam,¡± I replied, no longer able to conceal the rote of the phrase. ¡°If not on the fur, where does your husband place his shoes?¡±

    The woman blew aside a strand of hair while I resisted the urge to wipe the spittle from my face. ¡°On the left side of the door,¡± she said.

    ¡°And the pelt is¡­ in front of the door?¡±

    ¡°No, then he¡¯d always be tripping on it. The fur is to the right of the door.¡±

    ¡°I see, then I¡¯d perhaps suggest placing the pelt on the left side.¡±

    Like so many before, the woman neglected to think her concern all the way through, and like so many before, I offered obvious advice and some polite encouragement to leave my office. On the other side of the door, a line of twenty women¡ªand two men¡ªwaited.

    The next one entered and took her seat on the opposite side of my desk.

    ¡°What troubles you, madam?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s my husband.¡±

    Of course it is, I thought. ¡°What about your husband, madam?¡±

    The woman smiled, ineffectively coy as she adjusted her homespun dress at the bust. ¡°I¡¯m worried he no longer finds me attractive. We¡¯ve not made love in two moons.¡±

    ¡°Have you spoken to your husband on the matter?¡±

    The woman nodded. ¡°He always says he¡¯s tired.¡±

    ¡°If he shows affection in other ways, have you considered the possibility that he is simply tired? What does your husband do for a living?¡±

    ¡°Do you find me attractive, Brother Strauss? You must be so lonely,¡± she said.

    In fact, I was quite the opposite of lonely. I wanted nothing more than to be left alone.

    ¡°Well, no, actually, I¡ª¡±

    ¡°You must have desires. I¡¯d like to share mine with you.¡±

    While I''d already suspected the women were interested in my physical appearance moreso than my advice, none had been so brazen as this one. I wasn''t impressed. There were important matters to attend, and all the recent changes in my life, and the newfound attention I was getting was beginning to wear me down. While I struggled to find the proper words to say, or the correct way to behave, I extinguished the candle on my desk with my fingers to avoid any unfortunate accidents. I realize now this may have given the woman the wrong impression.

    ¡°My only desire, madam, is to see to the well-being of Oskari, so unless the fate of our village depends on whether or not you and your husband copulate...¡±

    ¡°Forget him.¡± The woman rose from the chair, leaning forward across the desk. A fantastic method of drawing attention to her bosom, if only I were interested. I winced when a stack of books toppled over in the process. Turning my face from the stench of her breath, I plotted my escape to the door. It would be narrow.

    ¡°You appear to be making your intentions rather clear, but I¡ª¡±

    The woman pressed a finger to my lips. This had to stop, and as if my rear had been set aflame by the goddess of elements herself, I leaped from my chair to the door in three determined strides. There was no advice, nor any polite encouragement.

    Across the threshold, those who waited did so with varying degrees of patience.

    ¡°If I could have your attention a moment.¡± I raised my voice above the rest. A sea of compliant brown eyes settled upon me. ¡°We are often guilty of creating our own distress. In cases like these, I urge you to take a step back in search of a new perspective. If you desire mediation, I¡¯m pleased to assist. Upon appointment. If you face an urgent crisis of faith or a matter of grief, I am glad to offer my counsel. To those who mourn the loss of livestock as a result of acts of nature, you should perhaps consider an initiative to produce higher quality stabling. Now please return to your homes. I¡¯ve seen as many as I can.¡±

    <hr>

    The Church of Oskari was the only building in the village funded by Palisade and serviced by Partisans. Once upon a time, the church housed a parish of thousands, but a decline over the last four centuries reduced it to a shadow of that. Once there had been tourists and pilgrims aplenty. Now there remained only residents without much reason to believe in miracles.

    However, instead of restoring their faith, I was gradually killing the parish plant life. I was a terrible gardener, and as I tended to that part of my daily duties, I dreamed of the day the Father would assign me a task less murderous. He never did.

    While I watered too frugally¡ªor too generously¡ªI thought of my companions back at Palisade. I wondered, with a vague sense of fear, what shenanigans Finlay and Sinclair were getting up to. I considered the outcome of the Commander¡¯s deployment to the northern territory of Endica¡ªa fate I was glad, while also feeling guilty, to have escaped. On that dreary autumn day, I pondered what I should write in a letter.

    Perhaps, ¡°Is everyone still alive?¡± Or, ¡°Why yes, I am doing well here in Oskari, where the only concern is that of being assaulted in the night by a herd of dissatisfied women.¡±

    I suspected Commander Reider would arrange a job in Oskari so the ladies would flock to him instead, and I considered how this could work in my favour. As for the others, Finlay would be unable to respond due to laughter, and Sinclair would be unable to respond due to illiteracy.

    This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

    Sinclair¡ªit was because of me she was trapped at Palisade. She never would have had to lie to the Assembly on my behalf if I¡¯d been able to control myself that day in Delphia. She was counting on me, and I let her down.

    But whose fault was that, actually? If I¡¯d have been accepted for who¡ªfor what¡ªI was, I would have been given the tools I needed to manage my power and understand my emotions. I wouldn¡¯t have been locked in a cage for half a decade. I wouldn¡¯t have had to wallow in the fear, the shame, and the guilt until I was forced to forget how to feel altogether.

    My cheeks burned as I paced the rooftop, considering the pitiful plants that wilted under my care. I clenched my jaw, resisting the urge to put them all out of their misery. The flower boxes would shatter so easily beneath the crushing weight of my fists. In a second, it would be over, and I might feel better afterward. Or I might fail at that too, and rather than soothing myself, I¡¯d only end up with painful splinters. That seemed more likely. My heart rate quickened, and I forced myself into the breathing exercise I¡¯d come to rely on. In, and out, and in, and out. I needed something to channel my energy.

    I looked around, and then I saw it. The ceramic watering pot. I would say it was an accident¡ªit would be believable. After all, everything I did was an accident. I was an accident. I picked it up by the handle and sent the pot crashing to the ground, sucking in a deep breath as it shattered into a thousand pieces. But it was a deep breath I should have held until I collapsed and died, because upon exhale, the temperature around me dropped and the puddle of water froze at my feet.

    Having been so consumed by self pity, I hadn¡¯t heard anyone climbing the ladder, and by the time the hatch creaked open, it was too late. When Father Belaia stepped out onto the rooftop, he slipped on the patch of ice and landed flat on his buttocks. I wasn¡¯t sure whether to laugh or throw myself off the roof, but it was the shock I needed to regain control. I never meant to hurt anyone. I didn''t want to hurt anyone.

    My heart rate steadied, and the temperature around us slowly returned to normal.

    I offered my hand and my deepest apologies.

    Once the Father recovered from the unexpected spill and the puzzling circumstances around it, he chuckled. ¡°Even if my frail old bottom doesn¡¯t have the padding it once did to withstand such an incident, it isn¡¯t me you should worry about. You have received an unprecedented reception from the locals, Brother Strauss, but I doubt if any of them have seen a Celestian Partisan, let alone what they are capable of. Your physical appearance intrigues them, but it cannot harm them. I simply do not wish for a similar, less isolated accident to spread fear.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not certain my positive reception is for the right reasons. My unique appearance might intrigue certain people, but has done little for my popularity with their partners.¡±

    The Father smiled. ¡°You have yet to be pelted with cow excrement. Believe me, this is a positive thing. The people of Oskari survive under difficult conditions. You open their minds and bring hope to those struggling to see forward. You provide a new perspective.¡±

    Using my own words against me was an effective tactic, and when there seemed to be nothing more to say on the subject, the Father continued.

    ¡°Now, for the reason I climbed all the way up here¡ªyou have a visitor.¡±

    <hr>

    Councilwoman Zelda Faust¡ªa woman with the strength to break a boulder beneath her late middle-aged fists, and I mean this quite literally. She was the one who risked her position as one of the most influential people in the world in order to advocate for my life. She¡¯d jeopardized her reputation and her faith, and she¡¯d done it all for a mongrel under unprecedented circumstances. I hadn¡¯t expected to see her again so soon.

    ¡°Father Belaia tells me you adjust well, does he exaggerate?¡±

    ¡°It might be more accurate to say I adjust.¡±

    She nodded once. ¡°Enough to relax my conscience.¡±

    The Councilwoman did not sit when I offered. She preferred to stand at ease by the window, looking out over the village. She¡¯d brought with her a large, unmarked crate.

    ¡°Has something happened at Palisade?¡± I asked.

    ¡°No, but it¡¯s time we speak on a topic that¡¯s been avoided for far too long.¡±

    As Sinclair would say, I did the eyebrow thing.

    ¡°Your father was one of my finest charges. He was a bit of an odd-looking man, but most would forget after he charmed their wits away. He was thoughtful, and he was a brave warrior. Far too kind, much too generous. Although he often indulged in the drink¡ªa Strachan influence, no doubt.¡±

    The Councilwoman was correct. We¡¯d never really spoken about my parents before that day. Everything I¡¯d learned had come from the rumour mill, and it was rarely encouraging.

    ¡°Your father broke loose of the reins I held too tightly.¡± The Councilwoman paused for a moment¡¯s thought. ¡°Had I cut him some slack, I often wonder if he might still be alive.¡±

    This might sound insensitive, but I''d never had an overwhelming desire to know about my mother and father. They¡¯d left me nothing but the legacy of an affair resulting in years of confinement¡ªan abomination now forced to hide behind the walls of a church.

    ¡°Your mother was second in line to Councilwoman Oranen, did you know?¡±

    I certainly did not know I was so closely related to the one who voted in favour of my execution.

    ¡°They were cousins, and this plays a part in her vitriolic disposition toward you. Your mother was beautiful, she was powerful, and she was envied. Despite this, she shielded her insecurities with false confidence¡ªher downfall, I¡¯ve often thought.¡±

    ¡°Why are you telling me this now? Are you ill?¡±

    The Councilwoman smiled. ¡°I¡¯ve never felt better.¡±

    While she may have been trying to reassure me, the surrounding circumstances did nothing but disturb me.

    Faust reached into her pocket and produced an intricate steel key, dangling from a sturdy chain. ¡°This key was recovered in your parents'' possession upon their deaths. We believe they were unsuccessful in locating the lock. Now I leave the key to you. Your instructions and a practical gift are in the crate. Lose the key and your best is hope is that you do not live to confess it. Are we understood?¡±

    Hardly, I thought.

    ¡°Yes,¡± I said.

    It was as if I¡¯d wandered on the set of a Delphi production, or as if I¡¯d fallen asleep while deeply engrossed in a fiction novel. The mighty hero¡¯s quest, and mighty I was not.

    Even after Councilwoman Faust was gone, I couldn¡¯t bring myself to open the box right away. I paced, and then I sat, and then I stood only to start pacing again.

    What would I stand to gain by investigating the origin of the key? If I failed, would I pay the same price my parents had? Perhaps there was no lock at all. I considered it could be nothing more than a clever distraction¡ªan impossible puzzle to channel my focus lest I accidentally set the village on fire.

    ¡°Hey, Strauss,¡± said the box. ¡°I¡¯m starting to feel a bit woozy in here. Reckon you could do me a solid and pop me open?¡±

    The voice was unmistakable. I rushed to the box and pried the lid off.

    Feargus Finlay emerged with a characteristic grin. His cheeks were flushed but his hair was no messier than any other day. ¡°It¡¯s been a while! How are you, mate?¡±

    I had no words, but it hardly mattered. My companion had plenty for the both of us.

    ¡°Wait, never mind,¡± he said. ¡°There¡¯s really only one way to be when you¡¯re about to go on a treasure hunt. Ready to get started?¡±

    A Strachan in a box. A practical gift, indeed.

 [The First One] 8 - The Goddess-be-damned Wolves

    Rhian

    Time has a spotty reputation. Heals all wounds, turns people grey. Whatever. For me, all it did was pass. I was still landlocked. Feargus and Michael were still gone. Strauss was probably still a pain in the arse, and Adeline Blanchett was still trying to enlist me as her personal hero. One afternoon a lot like the others, there was a knock at my door. On the other side of it, the Squeaky Lass squeaked.

    ¡°Good afternoon, Enforcer S! Are you hungry? You must be, because I¡¯ve never seen you eat.¡±

    She¡¯d finally resorted to bribery. Good on her. The food she brought was a nice touch. None of that straight-from-the-trough shite they usually fed us. Reckoned it came from the fancy kitchen. It was probably hers, and it probably wasn¡¯t poisoned.

    I waved her inside and shut the door. ¡°Enough with the Enforcer S horseshite, all right? Our work together is done. Children have learned to load pistols¡ªbrilliant. Now if you¡¯re gonna go ahead and presume we¡¯ve got some sort of relationship beyond that¡­¡±

    The look on her face was priceless.

    ¡°¡­so much as to prance all the way over here uninvited¡­"

    Her heart was racing. I could hear it.

    ¡°¡­then you should probably call me Rhian.¡±

    The poor thing relaxed, trotted over to my desk, and set down the platter.

    My dorm was dusty, the furniture was rickety, and I generally couldn¡¯t be bothered using the cupboard. I should have been embarrassed, but I wasn¡¯t. Adeline should have been disgusted, but she didn¡¯t seem to mind. We sat down.

    ¡°Do you think you could teach me how to do that?¡±

    I plucked a fruit from the platter. I had no clue what it was apart from it being round and purple. I took a bite and chewed. It was juicy. ¡°Be specific,¡± I said.

    ¡°You¡¯re so tiny, yet you really are quite intimidating. While observing your lessons, I noticed your students respect you, even if they are indifferent to you personally.¡±

    I needed a moment to think, so I pointed to the cheese. ¡°It¡¯s all yours. I can¡¯t eat cheese on account of it gives me gas.¡± I waited until Adeline had been nibbling for a while before I started yapping again. ¡°Look, you¡¯ve got your own things going for you, lass. Wanna learn to shoot a quarter-note off a man¡¯s head? I might be able to teach you that, but I¡¯m not about to start giving lessons on being me.¡±

    She was disappointed. I could tell.

    ¡°My mother always says, ¡®Adeline, when it''s your turn, you¡¯ll make a terrible Councilwoman. Your subordinates will walk all over you.¡¯ But you, Enforcer Rhian, I think you would make an excellent Councilwoman.¡±

    Reckoned she meant that as a compliment, but it wasn¡¯t. If I were a Councilwoman, I¡¯d set the whole place free and there¡¯d be no such thing anymore. Also, I felt bad for the lass. I didn¡¯t know many mothers, but that didn¡¯t seem like a thing a mother should say.

    I reached for a ratty book on the desk. A loose page fell to the floor when I tossed over, but I¡¯d put it back in its place later.

    Adeline browsed through the pages. I looked along with her.

    ¡°These are excellent. Are you an artist?¡±

    ¡°I draw sometimes if that¡¯s what you mean.¡±

    ¡°Like me, only I prefer to draw plans, and patterns, and¡ªoh? What are these numbers?¡±

    ¡°Dates.¡±

    ¡°And who are all these people?¡±

    ¡°They¡¯re dead.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m so sorry,¡± she said, and she looked sorry, too. ¡°Did you know them?¡±

    ¡°To the extent that I killed them.¡±

    Enforcer wasn¡¯t a nickname, it was my job. It¡¯s what I was bred and brought up to do. None of the people in the book were good people¡ªI made sure of that¡ªbut they were still people. Barren and Partisan alike. Call the whole thing morbid, but I never meant it like that. Everyone deserved to be remembered, I deserved to be reminded, and I sure as shite didn¡¯t deserve anyone¡¯s admiration. Michael, Gus, Strauss¡ªthey were all just as damaged as I was. It worked for us. But Adeline? She had her own shoes to fill, and they¡¯d be bigger, and better, and probably sparkly and whatnot. That seemed to be her thing.

    You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

    She was the shiny in all the shite, and I needed her to stay the hells away.

    Right up until the minute I needed something else more.

    <hr>

    The Assembly controlled just about everything around Palisade. Everyone had their role, everything had its place, and not a lot happened on its own. Needed rain? No problem. All you had to do was head over to the requisition office, make a request, and one of our Celestian rain-makers would make it rain.

    You might think I¡¯m kidding, but I¡¯m not.

    It just so happened on the day I needed something, the Partisan on duty had the sniffles. I stepped up to the desk, said my name, and hoped he wasn¡¯t contagious. After ages flipping through pages of the ledger, the quartermaster shook his head and said something long-winded about not finding my name in the list.

    Whatever he was sick with was probably blocking up his ears.

    This was about the only time I was grateful my Partisan identification was permanently stamped on the nape of my neck. STSIN7.

    I hoped the man wasn¡¯t blind as well as deaf.

    The quartermaster spent another six years or so dragging his finger down every page in the ledger until finally, he tapped twice.

    ¡°Ah, here we are¡ªI¡¯ve found you. What can I do for you?¡±

    ¡°I need wolves.¡±

    ¡°Have you completed a form?¡±

    ¡°I have not, but I¡¯m telling you now face-to-face¡ªI need wolves. So, if you can go ahead and jot that down, I¡¯ll give it a scribble with my initials and be on my jolly way.¡±

    The sickly Celestian wasn¡¯t having any of it. He slid the form across the desk and handed me a quill. Bloody hell. All those letters on the page looking nothing like they sounded. It didn¡¯t usually matter if I couldn¡¯t read or write all that well. I had Gus for that.

    If I wasn¡¯t already busy being irritated, I might have felt sorry for the folks waiting in line behind me. It took about ten hours to fill out the form. The requisition officer was predictable, gawking at me with the pity face the whole time. ¡®Course, it was no worse than when he started talking again. He told me I misspelled wolves. Then, after all that, he told me they had no wolves. He said there¡¯d be no wolves indefinitely. I needed wolves.

    ¡°I need wolves,¡± I said.

    ¡°Would deer suffice?¡±

    ¡°About as well as a basket full of crippled bunnies. My students need wolves.¡±

    ¡°I understand. Unfortunately, we have no wolves.¡±

    Tired of the word yet? Good. Me too. Bottom line: there were none, and my students needed live targets for practice.

    I was annoyed, but I felt like a bit of an arsehole while I was at it.

    Palisade imported its dangerous wildlife from Endica, and the folk up there were a touch busy at the minute. Goddess-be-damned war getting in the way. How dare it. But unless that wrapped up tomorrow, my kids weren''t getting real practice as far as I could see. You might not think that''s a big deal, but they were heading out into the big, bad world sooner than later, and the big, bad world was big and bad. I''d been handed the misfits, the ones who wouldn''t stand a chance against the Palisade defects I knew were running free out there. I''d be sitting at five funerals next year if I didn''t do something fast.

    That''s why I needed wolves.

    Now I know I haven¡¯t had much nice to say about Palisade so far, but I¡¯ll say I liked its land. No natural predators, and the weather was stable unless someone had recently filled out a form. There were leagues and leagues of forest, and seeing as I had nothing better to do that day, I took a trip up to the tree house.

    It had been a while since I¡¯d been back, and if anyone used the space besides me and Gus, they were polite about it. No one ever left a mess and nothing was ever taken. Except the once when the whole thing went missing. We rebuilt, but it was never the same.

    The tree house was a great place for a round of gossip, a quick snooze, or a sinister plot. We had about a thousand plans to defect from Palisade. Most of them might have even worked. Sometimes we¡¯d invite Michael, even if he¡¯d never climb the tree.

    ¡°What would the world do without me if I fell and broke my neck?¡± he¡¯d say.

    We never called him on his fear of heights. We never spoke about defecting with Michael, either. It wasn¡¯t that we didn¡¯t want him coming with us. It wasn¡¯t even that we thought he¡¯d snitch. Michael was our best mate and an honourable man. But Michael was happy with his lot in life, and that was fine by us.

    After meeting Strauss for the first time in Delphia, I brought him to the tree house once we got back to Palisade and I was released from solitary. For a clumsy bugger, he was a decent climber, like a goddess-be-damned monkey. We had a good view of the entire compound, so we¡¯d watch the Celestian-folk train from the roof. It was the only time he¡¯d been able to see them in action. I figured it might help him get his own abilities under control, and he learned what he could from a distance. I never told the others about that time we spent together. They¡¯d have made a stink about it. Frankly, I couldn¡¯t care less. But the teasing made Strauss uncomfortable and that was my job.

    Some days I missed that. Most days I missed him. Pain in the arse.

    The tree house not only overlooked the northeastern grounds, but it overlooked the madhouse. It probably wasn¡¯t a coincidence that they built the asylum near the Celestian spire. Sure, loads of Partisans were born without their wits¡ªthe odds were the same as any Barren I¡¯d wager. But I reckon every Celestian was born with a double dose of wits. Those big-headed bastards had extra wits and more than enough to lose. Compared to the Barren folk, us Partisans are a powerful lot. Faster, stronger, far-seeing, and so on. But only some of us could boil blood or freeze the air in a person¡¯s lungs. That kind of power is no joke.

    Anyhow, I liked watching the asylum best.

    I always wondered what it would be like inside.

 [The First One] 9 - The Inevitable Bar Fight

    Andrei

    An entire day came and went in the wake of Feargus Finlay¡¯s arrival in Oskari¡ªan entire day in which neither of us had come up with a modicum of a plan to locate the key¡¯s long-lost lock. The first obstacle was the reason Finlay had been packed in a box to begin with. We had to remain discreet. The people would question the arrival a Partisan even more exotic in appearance than I was. The conspiratorial would gossip, the ignorant would panic, and our snooping about searching for clues would do little to reassure them.

    The second obstacle was our own ignorance. Councilwoman Faust said the box contained instructions and a practical gift, and I was discouraged to hear that the instructions were little more than a riddle: at the highest point of the peak, the brother holds the key.

    On this particular afternoon, we banded together in my chambers for brainstorming.

    ¡°You know, Strauss, I¡¯ve been thinking.¡±

    ¡°Fantastic, Finlay. Well done.¡±

    The Strachan seemed entirely sincere when he thanked me for the compliment. After so many years in Sinclair¡¯s company, he¡¯d become immune to sarcasm.

    ¡°I¡¯ve been thinking about the riddle, and what if I said it like this instead?¡± The Strachan hopped to his feet for maximum effect. ¡°At the highest point of the Peak, the Brother holds the key.¡±

    ¡°You would be saying the exact same thing. Maniacally.¡±

    ¡°Come on, Strauss¡ªwhere¡¯s your sense of imagination?¡±

    ¡°Vanished along with your point.¡±

    Finlay flashed a quick grin. ¡°See, I got to thinking about mine and Rhian¡¯s favourite tavern¡ªthe Drunken Moon. Their cider is out of this world, so when one of us is in the mood for a quick drink or a natter, one of us looks to the other and says, ¡®We should go to the Moon!¡¯ Thing is, we don¡¯t go to the actual moon, follow?¡±

    ¡°You''re saying I should stand at the top of the Widow¡¯s Peak with the key, expecting the sky to open?¡±

    ¡°That''d be silly. I¡¯m suggesting that whatever we¡¯re looking for is probably upstairs, but I¡¯m glad you¡¯ve got your imagination back.¡±

    ¡°Something upstairs at the Widow¡¯s Peak¡ªthat could be one of a thousand things. The inn is enormous.¡±

    ¡°I know. That¡¯s why I¡¯m gonna go with you to search the place.¡±

    ¡°You can¡¯t be seen in public. I thought we discussed this already?¡±

    ¡°We have. That¡¯s why I¡¯m gonna dress like a hobo.¡±

    <hr>

    The village, demoralizing as it was by day, surpassed all expectations by night. Few vermin skittered through the alleys, no babies cried from within the homes, and the only firelight within radius came from the inn at the top of the hill.

    This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

    I''d always enjoyed an elaborate plot, but the truth is, we¡¯d only plotted this one as far as the door. It wasn''t long ago I¡¯d learned the hard way that wherever Sinclair and/or Finlay was involved, the concept of sticking to a plan did not exist.

    Pausing at the door to the Widow¡¯s Peak, I cradled the cowled figure. ¡°Remember to avoid eye-contact."

    It was na?ve to think the Strachan would need my advice.

    ¡°Here¡¯s a real tip, mate: if you¡¯re trying not to look suspicious, it¡¯s best you don¡¯t do anything suspicious. Oh, and don¡¯t sweat it. Literally, on account of otherwise you¡¯ll blow it. Also, has anybody ever said you smell like cinnamon? Wait, no¡ªhas anybody ever asked why you smell like cinnamon?¡±

    I rolled my eyes as we entered the inn.

    That night, all but three tables were occupied, and it wasn¡¯t long before the Strachan jabbed me with a pointy elbow, directing me to the one nearest the bar. He then coughed a few times into the crook of my arm, and as we approached, the stares from the locals were a blend of pity and annoyance. When we arrived at our table, Finlay sat¡ªor better yet, hunched¡ªwith his back to the bar.

    ¡°Is he catching?¡± Ivana asked.

    ¡°He suffers primarily from hunger and dehydration,¡± I said, loudly enough to satisfy the concerned patrons.

    ¡°That¡¯s something I can work with,¡± Ivana replied. ¡°What¡¯ll it be? On the house.¡±

    Given I¡¯d inherited the inability to digest meat from my Celestian mother, I chose the vegetable stock. Finlay opted for the smoked meat and roast potatoes.

    ¡°Couldn¡¯t have done it better myself,¡± the Strachan whispered. ¡°Free dinner, nice job. Say, is it always so busy in here?¡±

    On my previous visit to the inn, it hadn¡¯t been busy at all. I shrugged and appraised our surroundings, and I understood quickly why Finlay chose this particular table. From where he sat, he had a clear view of the door, the stairs, and everything in between. Unfortunately, as I was surveying the everything in between, I caught the attention of a man with a problem.

    ¡°What are you looking at, Partisan?¡±

    ¡°Nothing remarkable,¡± I replied, and immediately regretted.

    ¡°Maybe I could change that by putting my fist in your face,¡± the man said. ¡°Our woman are always saying how handsome you are. I see nothing but a wimpy boy.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m also a priest caring for an ailing child at the moment, so perhaps you and your fist, sir, could make an appointment.¡±

    Finlay sunk his face into his arms.

    It was then that the gentleman with too much hair and too few teeth challenged me to an arm-wrestle. It was a non-starter. Despite the underwhelming size of my biceps, I still had the remarkable strength of every other Amali Partisan. Therefore, I refused, at which point the vast majority of the Peak¡¯s patrons gathered around to apply peer pressure.

    In spite of my reluctance, I joined my challenger at his table and the match began. It would be my turn to apply pressure¡ªtoo much pressure, as it happened. And I never meant for it to happen. Perhaps it was the nerves, or a side-effect of my own incompetence, but...

    ...a loud snap and the challenger¡¯s hand dangled limp at the wrist. The screams followed, and then the communal fury, and then the fist to my face. While the bellows and curses echoed in my head, the mob attacked in such a blur I could hardly keep track of the blows.

    I knew I could withstand the pain. The question was, could they?

    For each punch to the gut I absorbed, my assailants gasped and wheezed as the air was sucked from their lungs in turn. Some doubled over and dropped to their knees. Somewhere¡ªsomehow¡ªthe Strachan, Ivana, and her dutiful guard disappeared. Another of my sharp inhales reached so far as the candles that flickered and finally extinguished. Those who moments ago had been assaulting me, stopped to make ironic pleas to a goddess they didn¡¯t believe in.

    I was faced with two options: hold my breath to the death, or exhale and¡­

    ¡­chairs crashed into men, mugs smashed into plates, and forks flew dangerously close to the townspeople''s eyes. The ancient inn encapsulated a whirlwind of furniture, and the single patron with enough sense to try and escape, tripped on a table with nothing to break his fall except the stained-glass window as he crashed through it.

 [The First One] 10 - The Random Man

    Rhian

    There¡¯d been no word from Michael, and none from Gus either. I still had no wolves, and the kids were getting restless. I had to enact a plan¡ªsomething to stop them going back to being less than average. After visiting the tree house the other day, I came up with an idea. The trouble was, I needed Adeline no matter which way I spun it around in my head. Lucky for me, she was still wide open to being my favourite friend.

    Adeline Blanchett liked dueling. I suddenly became interested in dueling.

    ¡°The rules are really quite simple. You may attack, you may defend, and you may not leave the field of play. You¡¯ll be fighting with your left hand, yes?¡±

    I would be, seeing as I was left-handed. It was kind of her to notice.

    "There will be no acrobatics, no rolling, no flipping.¡±

    ¡°Do what I¡¯d do if I had a death wish¡ªgot it.¡±

    For the fight, she handed me a rapier. It was heavier than I was used to.

    ¡°The rules are designed to be fair.¡±

    ¡°Would you be worried if they weren¡¯t?¡± I asked.

    Truth, I was stalling. I needed a bit more time to make acquaintance with the blade.

    Adeline laughed, and it was annoying. Her posture was perfect¡ªtoo perfect. She held her weapon like she¡¯d known it her whole life. ¡°Yes, but our aim today is not to kill. After all, that would be too easy for you, wouldn¡¯t it?¡±

    I¡¯m not above giving credit where it¡¯s due, and that was on point. Also, it presented an opportunity to see where the lass stood on a certain topic.

    ¡°Are you implying I haven''t got any morals?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve yet to decide.¡±

    Leaving it at that for now, we dueled. I¡¯ve never been so bored in my goddess-be-damned life. I¡¯m not saying we weren¡¯t properly matched. The lass had skills. Parry this, counter that. Jab, jab a bit too close to my eyes. She wasn¡¯t used to fighting someone a Strachan¡¯s size. I could tell. It was boring, but I played along, and I caught an opening when she was distracted. It would have gone straight through the squishy middle had I let it. She should have done something about her big hair¡ªit was a windy day. For the record, it wasn¡¯t as though we were standing in an empty field, but the other Partisans hustling and bustling around us couldn¡¯t be bothered with our antics. We kept on, and on, and on until it felt like forever. I took a few points, and so did she.

    ¡°I think you do,¡± she said.

    ¡°What?¡± Swing, clang.

    ¡°Have morals. You saved my mother¡¯s life at the risk of your own.¡±

    Swish, duck. ¡°So?¡±

    ¡°So?¡± Adeline paused the fight and set her weapon down. ¡°Did you know that there are many of us here at Palisade who consider you a hero? Why do you think I was so excited to meet you¡ªwhy I consider myself so lucky to get to know you? Heroes cannot exist without compassion or honour¡ªwithout ethics to guide them.¡±

    I remember trying to swallow a strange lump rising in my throat. It didn¡¯t work. ¡°I was just doing my job, lass. What¡¯s got to be done isn¡¯t always in line with our imagined sense of morality. It hardly ever is.¡±

    Adeline shook her curly, red head. ¡°Heroes are not heroes for doing what¡¯s necessary without consideration. Heroes are heroes for doing what¡¯s necessary while staying true to their supposed imagined sense of morality. I don¡¯t need to tell you that my mother isn¡¯t a nice lady, Enforcer Rhian. While I don¡¯t know exactly what happened that day in Delphia, you could have accidentally been a few minutes late. You could have forgotten to do what you needed to do. None would have been the wiser.¡±

    The event she was referring to wasn''t even that long ago, and it was also the first time I met Strauss face-to-face in person. The whole thing was a disaster. Maybe I''ll write a book about it later.

    ¡°You¡¯re missing the point. Heroes are for pretty stories. Nineteen Partisans died while your lunatic mother stayed around to enslave us. Wanna talk morals? I¡¯d have seen them all live instead of her. Your definition of honour is my dishonour.¡±

    ¡°But we are not slaves. It¡¯s our purpose to serve¡ªan eternal dedication to the people of Auditoria. The Assembly exists only to maintain order. Our legends will live on to inspire the world with courage and¡ª¡±

    I¡¯m fast and I¡¯m not boasting. Strachan Partisans are like goddess-be-damned kitty cats. One dash forward and I took out the back of her knee with the pommel of my weapon. The lass lost her footing, so I pushed her to the ground and pressed my boot to her back.

    So much for fair, but she needed to understand something important. She needed to know the reason why silence sounded so goddess-be-damned loud, and why most of us couldn''t sleep at night because of it. It wasn''t personal. I liked her.

    ¡°Ever hear those stories out of the mouth of someone who¡¯s lived them?¡±

    The Squeaky Lass squeaked out a quiet, ¡°No.¡±

    Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

    I couldn¡¯t see her face to know if she was angry, but I was annoyed, and when I was annoyed, I tended to say a lot of words in a little bit of time.

    ¡°Right. If you had, they wouldn¡¯t sound a thing like the shite you¡¯ve been fed. Throw in some fancy words and an inspiring message and suddenly someone¡¯s personal nightmare is a thousand-verse poem being recited on the streets for a half-note or a quick lay later.¡± I lifted my foot from her back.

    Big shocker¡ªshe didn¡¯t look angry when she stood. Just a bit dirty and a lot surprised. Another big shocker¡ªI still had her unblinking attention.

    ¡°You want your heroes to piss rainbows? Go read a book about it. You wanna see what really happens on the glittery road to justice and honour, and blah, blah, blah¡ªthen I¡¯ll be more than happy to show you.¡±

    She took about a minute to consider, and then she nodded. ¡°Yes, please.¡±

    It wasn¡¯t exactly how I imagined things going that day, but it would do.

    Most of the the time, no plan is the best plan. Sometimes.

    <hr>

    Professional tip: the key to a speedy break-in is the key.

    Adeline said her mother wouldn¡¯t miss it, and I believed her. That woman had an entire territory plotting to blow her to bits and she never knew it. They were her own goddess-be-damned people, too, and they weren¡¯t even all that smart about hiding it.

    Neither of us had been inside the asylum before, but I had a point to prove and a plan to adjust as necessary. For the first little while, we wandered the bright white corridors trying to look like we knew where we were going.

    ¡°Enforcer Rhian, what do you think it means to be devoured?¡±

    Whatever it was, it was a popular topic. Every few cells, someone had something to say about it. ¡°Why don¡¯t you ask one of them?¡±

    ¡°An excellent idea,¡± she practically shouted. ¡°I¡¯m here to learn, after all.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s the spirit,¡± I said. ¡°Just keep your voice down.¡±

    The asylum was square, and it was only two floors high and one floor deep. There were Strachan in cells next to Amali. There were Delphi Partisans all mixed up near the Celestian ones. It was a lot like solitary¡ªright down to the silver-plated cages keeping the inmates trapped and powerless. Silver had that effect on us.

    I expected we¡¯d run into workers at some point. I didn¡¯t know when, didn¡¯t know where, but when a lanky Celestian turned around the bend, I bolted around the opposite corner. Adeline didn¡¯t have the same reflex, but we¡¯d talked about what to do in this situation.

    ¡°Partisan Blanchett, state your purpose.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m here to conduct a psychological profile for Councilwoman Kelly.¡±

    ¡°Clearance papers?¡±

    ¡°Just the key.¡± Adeline probably held the key up for good measure. ¡°She insisted I return it by dusk and off she went like a busy little butterfly.¡±

    Councilwoman Kelly was a notorious flake. It was a likely story. Also, there was no real reason for the worker to question Councilwoman Blanchett¡¯s daughter, or any sensible reason to think Adeline stole the key and broke into the asylum for fun.

    ¡°This is acceptable,¡± the Celestian said.

    ¡°Actually, if you have a moment to spare, I have a few questions.¡±

    I didn¡¯t expect that. The worker did have a moment to spare, and the two wandered off in a direction that wasn¡¯t mine. I used the opportunity to carry on exploring.

    The cages looked like the ones in solitaire. Springing the place would be easy once I had the key, and I planned to ask Adeline to borrow it again in a few days. First, I had to have a look around. I had to find the inmates who were done being fucked on by the Assembly and were up for one last fight.

    ¡°Psst,¡± said someone, somewhere.

    I couldn¡¯t be bothered looking. There were a lot of people making strange noises, and chatting them up wasn¡¯t my aim at the minute.

    ¡°Psst, Sinclair,¡± that someone said again.

    That time, I was curious enough to oblige.

    The man trying to get my attention was a Strachan, and this one didn¡¯t seem especially witless in comparison. He wasn¡¯t talking about being devoured, and he hadn¡¯t plucked out any of his own eyebrows. He looked about sixty, sick, and tired. I stopped in front of his cell.

    ¡°Oi, Random Man. How do you know who I am?¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re Rhydian¡¯s girl. It¡¯s uncanny.¡±

    ¡°Is it actually uncanny, seeing as he¡¯s my father? I mean¡ªwhat¡¯s this actually about?¡±

    Random Man chuckled.

    ¡°What, is he dead? Right behind me?¡± I looked around and whatnot. ¡°I¡¯m not supposed to be here so make it quick.¡±

    ¡°If Rhydian Sinclair is dead, at least he died a free man. A good man.¡±

    ¡°How do I know you¡¯re not in here for making up stories about people¡¯s fathers?¡±

    Random Man started laughing again. He fit right in with the other ones crazy enough to sound happy. Meanwhile, I wasn¡¯t surprised when the Squeaky Lass scurried up beside me. I¡¯d heard her heels and smelled her metallic arse about a league away. At the time, I didn''t know the full extent as to why she always smelled like copper and iron. Figured it was all that fucking around with fire-weapons.

    ¡°While this has been highly educational and terribly sad, I think we should go.¡±

    Random Man shot Adeline a look that spoke a thousand words. He didn¡¯t seem to like her interrupting. Frankly, I didn¡¯t either. I wanted to hear what he had to say.

    ¡°It was their plan¡ªyour father¡¯s and Rick¡¯s. They made it out, but I was caught by the powers-that-be. Then they had the bollocks to tell me they killed Strauss and Laine. Those hypocritical bastards haven¡¯t even got it in them to do me the same justice.¡±

    I wondered where Strauss fit into the equation, but I¡¯d have to wait to find out.

    ¡°Are you saying you wish to die?¡± Adeline asked.

    ¡°Damnit,¡± Random Man shouted randomly. Spooked a drop of piss out of the poor girl by the looks of things. ¡°That¡¯s exactly what I¡¯m saying. Haven¡¯t felt the wind in nearly fifteen years. The day I was locked up was the day it should have ended.¡±

    Adeline¡¯s eyes basically fell out of her head. ¡°You¡¯re not permitted outdoors?¡±

    ¡°Take a minute to think about what would happen if we were.¡±

    Adeline would take a lot of minutes to think about it, but for now, she was right. With all the talking, the other inmates were starting to get too excited. It was time to go.

    Later that day, seven Partisans flew the loony tree.

    I didn¡¯t even have to do it myself.

 [The First One] 11 - The Inevitable Long Walk

    Andrei

    While recovering at the church, news of my otherworldly tantrum spread through Oskari like a case of the Waste. Those who were injured in the storm rallied for two days and two nights alongside others who¡¯d only heard the stories. No big surprise. I¡¯d expected the outpouring of fear and hatred. However, I hadn¡¯t expected the fear and hatred to take a positive turn. Inspired to protect their families and their egos, the villagers were driven by fear to take a stand. It was a long time coming, but together they founded the local guard with someone called Joseph Lobodin at the head.

    Moreover, twenty-eight babies were conceived in the wake.

    Once I¡¯d recuperated from my injuries, I stepped outside the church to find little else in the village had changed. The labourers perhaps worked longer hours to ensure their homes would be structurally sound for the winter, while the farmers spent their days gathering the last of their meager harvests. In tight-knit clusters, the village children came together with their unrealistic dreams of one day being as powerful as a Partisan.

    I couldn¡¯t fault the children for having fantasies, but I wouldn¡¯t extend my blessings to any one of them¡ªeven if I could. The strength and constitution equivalent to that of four men, thanks to my father. Element and particle manipulation, thanks to my mother.

    Gifts, but not toys¡ªespecially in the wrong hands.

    Councilwoman Oranen refused to include me in the curriculum with the other Celestian, so by the time I¡¯d had my tenth birthday, even the smallest emotional upsets would result in disaster. Combat classes with the other Amali were humiliating. I couldn¡¯t seem to get a handle on my own strength, and the lessons would often end with someone¡¯s hand frozen to their sword, or with my sparring partner stuck in the mud.

    This was the reason for nearly a decade spent in solitary confinement where I learned to repress emotion in favour of logic. Clearly, I hadn¡¯t mastered that, either.

    As I walked toward the Widow¡¯s Peak, I didn¡¯t utilize the back-alleys. Plenty of the locals may have wanted me dead, but none had the gumption to make it so. Besides, Oskari had enough of its own problems without bringing down the wrath of Palisade. That said, the walk was uneventful. There were only cold but distant stares from those who wandered outdoors, and curious noses pressed against windows from those indoors.

    The Widow¡¯s Peak was empty except for its staff. It was still early in the day, and there was an unfortunate draft coming in through the broken window. After fixing my hair and straightening my robes, I mustered the courage and approached the bar.

    Ivana looked up from her work¡ªaccounting, from what I could tell.

    ¡°That was some show you put on, Brother.¡±

    ¡°I never meant for any of it. I should have refused the man¡¯s challenge.¡±

    The proprietress of the Widow¡¯s Peak rolled her eyes and shook her head. ¡°That asshole would have found some other reason to start some shit. He¡¯s nothing but trouble on a good day, and it was about time somebody made it worth his while.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯d like to apologize nonetheless.¡±

    Ivana shrugged. ¡°Apology accepted.¡±

    I wasn¡¯t expecting forgiveness to come so easily, and I wasn¡¯t sure what more to say.

    ¡°Did everything work out with the vagrant boy?" she asked. "I went looking for him when things got rowdy, but one minute he was there, and the next he was gone.¡±

    I hadn¡¯t seen Finlay at all since that fateful night, so I was being truthful when I said, ¡°He must have slipped out before things got out of hand.¡±

    ¡°Well, if you see him again, give him my best.¡±

    Something about the conversation with Ivana didn¡¯t feel quite right. The nagging feeling persisted as she continued, but I couldn¡¯t put my finger on it.

    ¡°By the way, have you spoken with Captain Lobodin recently?¡± she asked.

    ¡°Except for Father Belaia, I haven¡¯t spoken to anyone recently.¡±

    ¡°Then you might not know anything about this yet, but two people have gone missing in as many days, and one of my portraits from the atrium upstairs has been stolen.¡±

    This was news to me. ¡°Who¡¯s gone missing?¡±

    ¡°One of your parishioners, and one of Captain Lobodin¡¯s recruits.¡±

    This was alarming, but it could also be explained in a number of ways. Yes, it was rare for anyone to leave the village on their own, but it wasn¡¯t impossible.

    ¡°Perhaps they were lovers who turned to theft in order to fund a new life in the city.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s a cute story, but somehow I doubt the events are related. Frankly, I¡¯m more interested in the portrait than the people. Just doing my part as far as they¡¯re concerned, so if you hear anything, pass it along to our new Captain.¡±

    ¡°Of course, and while I¡¯m here, is there anything else I can do? Anything whatsoever to repay you for the damages?¡±

    Ivana sighed. ¡°Fine, if you really want to do something¡ªhow about a new window?¡±

    <hr>

    As I walked the One Road from Oskari to Jaska, I mulled over the feeling I¡¯d been having since meeting with Ivana. I¡¯d spent enough time worrying to know it wasn¡¯t worry. I¡¯d spent enough time feeling anxious to know it wasn¡¯t anxiety. It wasn¡¯t fear or attraction. It wasn¡¯t shame or guilt. I simply couldn¡¯t place it, so for the time being, I stored it away and thought about Feargus Finlay instead.

    I suspected the Strachan had professional reasons for making himself scarce. He had been sent to help, and I was all but certain he would resurface when the time was right. As it happened, the time was right when Oskari was roughly one hour behind me. My elusive companion emerged from the forest, and in a split second, I had so many questions.

    ¡°Isn¡¯t this painting great?¡± he asked.

    Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more.

    As I said, I had so many questions.

    ¡°Where have you been? And why do you have that?¡±

    Rather than answer, Finlay had other plans. He hoisted the portrait up. ¡°I can¡¯t say I¡¯ve seen a purple suit afore, but this man wears it like a champion. I¡¯d buy whatever he¡¯s selling. Although it¡¯s strange, isn¡¯t it? He looks Amali but his hair is blonde like a Strachan. Or maybe an Endican.¡±

    The details Finlay pointed out were absolutely interesting, but it was the chain around the man¡¯s neck that intrigued me the most. It was identical to the chain around my neck, intricate key and all. I supposed this answered my second question.

    Feargus peeked his head around the side of the painting. ¡°Reckon you could connect the dots while we walk? It¡¯s a long way to Jaska.¡±

    My thoughts were spinning so fast I was unable to come up with a coherent argument as to why we shouldn¡¯t start walking, so we did.

    ¡°Couldn¡¯t you have just told me about the portrait? Did you have to steal it?¡±

    ¡°After that arm-wrestling stunt you pulled, I didn¡¯t think you¡¯d be going back to the Peak to see it for yourself any time soon. But look at you go, Mister Formal Apology. You¡¯ve got some steel berries under that dress, Strauss, I¡¯ll give you that. But I should also give you a piece of professional advice: misdirection doesn¡¯t have to be so violent.¡±

    I didn¡¯t even care to ask how Finlay knew about the apology at this point, but I assumed he¡¯d been waiting and watching from the wings this whole time.

    ¡°Misdirection?¡±

    The Strachan nodded. ¡°That was the plan, wasn¡¯t it?¡±

    ¡°Our plan was to search the premises for clues.¡±

    ¡°Right, and that¡¯s what I did. We had a plan, and you made it happen. No sense fretting over the how of the matter. It went perfectly, didn¡¯t it? I mean, apart from the screaming, and the blood, and the broken window, and that poor man with the wobbly hand.¡±

    What could I even say? ¡°We should return the portrait to Ivana.¡±

    ¡°Sometimes you make a lot of sense. This isn¡¯t one of those times.¡±

    ¡°It seemed important to her.¡±

    ¡°We¡¯ll only be gone a few days. When we get back, you can make amends with a new window and the man in the purple suit. It¡¯ll be great. For now, we should probably find out who this man is.¡±

    ¡°Are you planning to approach people on the streets of Jaska and ask?¡±

    ¡°Of course not. We¡¯ll take it to the library¡ªsomeone there ought to know.¡±

    It was becoming increasingly clear to me that resisting would only bring more pain. In a matter of days, I¡¯d gone from dreary theologian to dangerous art thief. Not exactly what I¡¯d envisioned when I started studying to become a priest.

    By dusk, we¡¯d traveled northbound a quarter the way to Jaska. At this point, we stopped to relax and replenish. While we ate and drank from our respective flasks, the topic turned to our friends back at Palisade.

    Last Finlay had seen him, Commander Reider was preparing his troops for Endica. Motivating others came naturally to the Commander¡ªhis diplomatic approach guaranteed his subordinates¡¯ loyalty. Michael could also be unrelenting. His patience was high, but his expectations were higher.

    While we gossiped, the Strachan kept his eyes peeled to the south. Our ears were tuned to the distant approach of a horse-drawn carriage.

    ¡°What about Sinclair?¡± As to not seem too eager, I¡¯d been holding out asking.

    ¡°Still landlocked.¡±

    ¡°What does the assembly have her doing?¡±

    ¡°Giving archery lessons.¡±

    ¡°They have Sinclair instructing children? I¡¯m not certain where my sympathy lies.¡±

    Finlay chuckled and sipped from his flask. ¡°Too right, too right.¡±

    The contents of his flask smelled of honey and cloves, and after two more sips of the notorious Strachan brew, Finlay stepped away to relieve himself in the bushes nearby. The rumbles in the distance grew closer.

    ¡°I¡¯m not sure if this helps or hurts, mate, but she misses you.¡±

    I wasn¡¯t sure either, and I wasn¡¯t prepared to talk about it.

    ¡°We should go,¡± I said. ¡°I feel rested enough to continue.¡±

    That may seem like a selfish thing to say, but the break was entirely for my benefit. By himself, the Strachan would have run the whole way without stopping.

    Finlay shook his head. ¡°Nah, mate. Why walk when we can ride?¡±

    The rhythmic thuds and splashes of hooves meeting the muddy road grew louder. From the shoulder, Finlay hopped up and down and waved above his head. It seemed over-the-top when an extended arm would have the same effect, but who was I to judge a man trying to live his best life? In due time, a familiar carriage the colour of red wine slowed and finally stopped. Sporting the same black and white attire as the night we¡¯d first met, the driver stepped down from his place at the reins and joined us on the side of the road.

    ¡°It seems our paths are destined to cross, Brother.¡±

    If only Sinclair were there that day, she¡¯d have reminded me there was no such thing as coincidence. She¡¯d have found the entire affair suspicious off the jump. On the other hand, Feargus Finlay was thrilled to make a new acquaintance in Peter, but I¡¯d soon come to learn that not everything was as it seemed where the fun-loving Strachan was concerned.

    We didn¡¯t immediately inquire as to Peter¡¯s destination. There only were few places one could be headed when traveling along the One Road, and Jaska was on the way to all of them. As anticipated, Peter offered to take us the rest of the way to the city, but he stopped us before boarding the carriage.

    ¡°Is that the portrait from the Widow¡¯s Peak?¡±

    ¡°Aye,¡± Finlay said before I could think. ¡°Ivana gave it to us.¡±

    ¡°She gave it to you?¡± Peter asked, and he sounded as surprised as I felt.

    ¡°We thought it was strange, but before we could ask why she gave it to us, the Peak broke out in a brawl. Sticking around for something like that isn¡¯t good for our image.¡±

    Peter¡¯s smile reached the wrinkles around his eyes. ¡°No, I don¡¯t suppose it would be.¡±

    If he questioned any part of Finlay¡¯s story, Peter didn¡¯t let on. He considered the portrait, and then the both of us.

    ¡°I can¡¯t imagine why Ivana would give you a portrait of Zacharias Vonsinfonie.¡±

    Feargus shrugged. ¡°Not ringing any bells.¡±

    The name rang my bells, and if the portrait were legitimate, then it might be a precious artifact. No wonder Ivana was so concerned. Zacharias Vonsinfonie¡ªlegendary composer and performance arts master said to have lived centuries before the Divide. The legends say he and his brother Sebastian traveled the once-connected lands, creating and performing music so enrapturing that none could compete with their pride still intact. Sebastian¡¯s untimely death was the catalyst for what was known as Sebastian¡¯s Law¡ªan offense punishable by death which forbade all musical indulgences. At the time, the anachronistic law held up in five of Auditoria¡¯s six territories.

    ¡°My employer would be very interested in this piece," Peter said. "Would you consider selling?¡±

    ¡°Who¡¯s your employer?¡± My companion asked. ¡°Wait, that was rude¡ªasking for names before giving you my own.¡± Feargus Finlay extended his hand. ¡°The name¡¯s Jack Finnegan.¡±

    A building pressure pulsated behind my eyes as I shook my head. I¡¯d have to put my foot down sometime. ¡°It would be insulting to Ivana¡¯s generosity if we sold the portrait. She wanted us to have it.¡±

    For a moment, I¡¯d almost forgotten Ivana hadn¡¯t actually given us the portrait.

    In the end, Peter did not tell us his employer¡¯s name, but he did ask that we take the time to think about meeting with him in the city later that night. And so, with the portrait of Zacharias Vonsinfonie at our feet, we traveled the rest of the way to Jaska aboard a carriage belonging to a mysterious man of wealth. It had been a long and infuriating day, and I could see nothing but long and infuriating days ahead.

    I feigned sleep until it came.

 [The First One] 12 - The One Who Came Out of Nowhere

    Rhian

    Avoiding the Delphi spire was an unwritten rule between Partisans. Then again, it might have been a written rule and I just couldn¡¯t read it. I wasn¡¯t all that worried about the telepathy when spending time with Adeline. I had excellent counter-training, and I trusted her not to browse my brain. But the spire was theirs. Hundreds of them roaming around, reading minds willy-nilly.

    The point is: I didn¡¯t like spending too much time in the Delphi spire.

    There are some words I¡¯d learned to see, even if I hadn¡¯t learned to read. Those words included the Assembly¡¯s names. I knew Adeline had the perks of being a Councilwoman¡¯s daughter, and I knew that included a room on the fifth floor. So I zipped up four flights of circular stairs, whizzed around the circular corridor, and knocked about a thousand times on the first door with a name I recognized.

    ¡°Open up, post-haste, lickety-split, right this goddess-be-damned second.¡±

    The door creaked open and an eyeball peeked through the crack.

    I also peeked through the crack. ¡°I¡¯m looking for Adeline.¡±

    The door creaked the rest of the way open.

    ¡°My sister lives next door,¡± Not-Adeline said.

    Wrong Blanchett, but I saw the resemblance. Tall, fiery, pointy. The only difference was, Adeline¡¯s brother seemed the sad, skeptical sort. It made sense, seeing as the poor bastard had probably spent his entire life playing last-best to his sisters: the all-mighty successors, future grand pretenders, and keepers of dark, dirty secrets.

    ¡°Right, well¡ªI¡¯m Rhian.¡±

    ¡°I know who you are,¡± Not-Adeline said. ¡°My sister often speaks of you.¡±

    ¡°Afraid I can¡¯t say the same, but it¡¯s nice to meet you.¡±

    Not-Adeline almost smiled. ¡°It¡¯s kind of you not to lie.¡±

    I was about to agree when the door to the left burst open.

    Without a single thing to say for herself, the Squeaky Lass dashed out into the corridor, waved to Not-Adeline, yanked me by the arm, and locked me in a room.

    We¡¯ll have to learn more about the sad, pointy one another day.

    Adeline pressed her precious back to the door, looking around with big, puffy eyes.

    ¡°You all right, lass?¡±

    ¡°No, Enforcer S, I am not all right.¡±

    It¡¯d been about an hour since she¡¯d broken into the asylum and set seven inmates free, so it wasn¡¯t too tricky sorting out why she was acting strangely. It didn¡¯t take long for the Assembly to catch on to what happened, although from what I¡¯d been told, they still didn¡¯t know who did it. There was a Chase scheduled for later that day.

    ¡°Did you know they are one and the same?¡± Hiccup. ¡°The locks on the doors¡ª¡± Hiccup. ¡°¡ªand the cells? This is both practical and lazy.¡±

    I did know that, and that¡¯s why I said springing the place would be easy. The thing is, Adeline had no way of knowing that until she sneaked back in there and tried.

    ¡°How were you planning to do it, if it weren¡¯t so simple?¡±

    ¡°I would have picked the locks.¡± Sniffle. ¡°It¡¯s a hobby.¡±

    Adeline Blanchett had a lot of hobbies apparently. Her room looked more like a workshop, what with all the cogs and springs and things likely to explode in my hand. Also, she had a lot of clothes, stacked in colourful piles next to a shelf full of shoes. If I¡¯d been the envious type, I might have been seeing everything in shades of green. The rest of us didn¡¯t get hobbies or clothes with colour on account of they were pointless.

    ¡°Would it have worked?¡± I asked.

    ¡°With my tools? Yes, of course.¡±

    ¡°Give ¡®em here,¡± I said. ¡°The tools.¡±

    The lass was obedient about it, tossing me a sack full of picks and jimmies. I stowed the sack away in my satchel.

    ¡°Enforcer S, I¡¯ve decided to turn myself in. I must pay the consequences.¡±

    Adeline had stopped crying, but her big hair still looked sad.

    ¡°Stracha¡¯s Steed and its mythical shite. Do not say a word, hear me?¡±

    ¡°Those men and women will die!¡±

    ¡°Aye, but they knew that when you let them loose, and you knew that heading in, didn¡¯t you? Your confession won¡¯t change anything, and at least they¡¯ll die in the wide-open air instead of in a puddle of their own miserable piss. You did good lass. I might have underestimated you a lot. Don¡¯t you dare confess.¡±

    I had about an hour to spare before I was supposed to meet with the Chasers assigned to hunt down the escapees. Also, I had a plan so the Assembly would stop searching for the culprit. But Adeline was still feeling guilty, and I couldn¡¯t trust she wouldn¡¯t ruin it while I wasn¡¯t looking. I glanced around the room again.

    ¡°Some of these doohickeys you¡¯ve got here¡ªthey look impressive. I haven¡¯t got the first clue what they are, but, they look impressive.¡±

    ¡°My mother believes my talents are irrelevant. She tells me, ¡®Adeline, you will not have time for frivolous hobbies when you are Councilwoman.¡¯ Take, for instance, this prototype.¡±

    We wandered over to the workbench and I took, for instance, the prototype.

    This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

    I peered over at two oval pieces of black glass held together with wire. ¡°What is it?¡±

    ¡°They are for your eyes. To conceal them and protect from the sun. Could you imagine, Enforcer Rhian? We could introduce these sun-goggles to the southern territories first to create a fashion trend. Then we could take advantage of this, and wear them amongst the locals to hide our eyes and more easily blend.¡±

    Seeing as no Barren was born with eyes like ours, and it wasn¡¯t always advantageous for us to stand out, the idea was genius. Also, and I reckon Strauss might have mentioned this already, but Partisan eyes are especially sensitive to sunlight. I put on the sun-goggles.

    ¡°I can¡¯t see a bloody thing.¡±

    ¡°This is why I called it a prototype.¡±

    I took off the sun-goggles. ¡°And your mum disapproves of this?¡±

    ¡°Yes, and this is why I called it a hobby. If only my brother had been a sister, or my sister had been born first. Then maybe I wouldn¡¯t have so many restrictions.¡±

    ¡°Is your mum dying?¡±

    ¡°No.¡±

    ¡°Sick?¡±

    ¡°No.¡±

    ¡°Then why all the pressure? You have decades to become the next Councilwoman. We could use your doohickeys now.¡±

    When Adeline Blanchett laughed, it was like a cold pillow on a hot night. Like it, hate it, ignore it¡ªwhatever suits your character best and whatnot.

    ¡°You know better than most how careful my mother truly is. You may have prevented one attempt on her life, but it was not the first, and there will surely be others.¡±

    Well, she had me there. But she was feeling better about herself, and that was the point.

    ¡°Look, I¡¯ve gotta go, mate. But it was nice spending some time on your side of the fence. We¡¯ll do it again some time. Just don¡¯t do anything stupid. We freckle-faced lasses have got to stick together, all right? I¡¯ve got this one.¡±

    Adeline chewed her lower lip a while, but eventually she nodded. After that, the strangest thing happened.

    I gave her a hug.

    <hr>

    The inmates knew they had no chance escaping Palisade, seeing as it was an island. We could stop a ship on account of they were slow, and an embark wouldn¡¯t go anywhere at all without a Celestian at the helm. They knew what they were in for when they were sprung.

    The inmates couldn¡¯t escape, but they could do some damage. The entire compound was locked down for the main event. Faust¡¯s soldiers held the doors and the docks. Blanchett¡¯s telepaths kept the guards company, just in case the escapees tried playing any mind-tricks.

    On the list of targets for the day: one Strachan, two Amali, three Delphi and a Senec.

    With everyone gathered ¡®round on the ground floor of the Strachan spire, I paired one of my students with one veteran Chaser until I ran out of matches. The decent lad went with the promising lass. The so-sos with the so-sos. The most talented Chaser was placed with the best of my class. The shittiest of both were paired with each other. Fifty-fifty chance they¡¯d pass or fail the hard way¡ªone weak team, no weak links.

    Next, Councilwoman Kelly gave out directives.

    Number one, kill on sight unless someone surrendered or it¡¯d be a clean capture.

    Number two, choose a timekeeper and keep it. The teams were ordered to swap locations with another group every fifteen minutes. What one pair didn¡¯t see, another might not miss.

    Number three, don¡¯t die.

    There were nods, salutes, and off everybody went. But if you¡¯re expecting details about the Chase, too bad. I couldn¡¯t be everywhere at once, and I never got to hear the reports. Besides, I had business of my own. I knew Random Man was out there, and I needed to find him afore someone put an arrow through his neck.

    I slipped out with the rest of the Strachan, but seeing as I wasn''t officially taking part, I didn¡¯t have much arsenal except the usual pair of daggers on my hips. I hadn¡¯t planned on getting too involved, but I couldn¡¯t be sure who I¡¯d run into out there. Good thing I kept some extra toys in the tree house, which also happened to be an excellent look-out point.

    It didn¡¯t take me long to get there. As I said, fast like a kitty-cat. But after climbing the tree, I had no way of knowing what I¡¯d find inside the cabin.

    Random Man was living up to his name. I hadn¡¯t expected to find him so quickly, let alone just sitting there, munching on a loaf of bread without a care in the world. He¡¯d found my snack stash, and that was quite all right. I tossed him my flask of Hocks.

    ¡°I seem to remember this place having a door," he said.

    ¡°Well, I¡¯ve never claimed to be a goddess-be-damned carpenter, have I?¡±

    Random Man chuckled. He was looking at me like he¡¯d known me for years, but I reckoned it was the family resemblance. I settled in on the floor.

    ¡°We rebuilt what we could after someone came ¡®round and busted it up.¡±

    ¡°That was my fault,¡± he said. ¡°We used to come here, back in the day. I told the Assembly about it when they offered me the Chase in return for information about your father. I reckoned all they¡¯d find were could-be-clues mixed up with decades worth of other people¡¯s rubbish. They didn¡¯t release me, but it shut them up for a solid week.¡±

    ¡°You mentioned your mates were killed¡ªStrauss and somebody called Laine? So why are they keeping you alive?¡±

    ¡°Couldn¡¯t tell you, but I wish they¡¯d stop. I was a nobody, just a random man under Rick and Rhydian¡¯s banner. Strauss and Laine, though? They were somebodies.¡±

    ¡°Tell me about Strauss.¡± Given the man¡¯s apparent age and the fact he knew my father, it stood to reason he wasn¡¯t talking about my Strauss.

    ¡°Reckoned you¡¯d be more interested in Rhydian.¡±

    ¡°Nah, I¡¯m not too interested in hearing about the man from whose loins I sprung or what have you. Tell me about Strauss.¡±

    Random Man considered me for a moment, poking his tongue through the hole where he was missing a tooth. ¡°Rhydian loved you very much, lass. He never wanted you to end up in this place, all right? You have to believe that. As far as Strauss goes¡ªAndreas Strauss was the best of us. No more, no less.¡±

    I wasn¡¯t ready to absorb what I was hearing about my father, mostly on account of it didn¡¯t matter, but also on account of it hurt. Moving along.

    ¡°Are you aware he¡¯s got a son?¡±

    Random Man paused mid-sip. ¡°You¡¯re telling me the boy¡¯s alive?¡±

    ¡°That or I¡¯ve been hallucinating.¡±

    Right about then was when things got a lot more complicated. There were only a few Celestian with the power or the permission to do this particular trick. Reckoned the ones who learned it on their own defected far, far away. They probably hopped an embark and went on living invisibly in some invisible village somewhere. Shudder to bloody think. The bottom line is: we weren¡¯t alone in that tree house. We probably never were.

    One minute she was air, and the next¡­

    ¡°Enforcer Sinclair, do you often dine with your prey?¡±

    Councilwoman Oranen was tall. The cabin was short. Slouching wasn¡¯t her best look.

    ¡°Aye, it¡¯s a thing I do. You ought to join us, Councilwoman. Might not be a bad idea to test out the view from down here.¡±

    ¡°Erika,¡± Random Man said. ¡°Finally come to kill me?¡±

    The Councilwoman had eyebrows like fuzzy, black caterpillars. They were distracting as all six hells. ¡°Death would be merciful. The Assembly would prefer to see you before them, although I must commend you on your role in this clever escapade. Whatever it may be.¡±

    ¡°He had nothing to do with it,¡± I said.

    ¡°Perhaps not, but he will tell us who did.¡±

    ¡°Isn¡¯t it obvious?¡± I stood, dusted off my bottom, and shrugged. ¡°I needed wolves.¡±

    After the three of us left the tree house, I shared a private moment with Random Man on the way back to the compound. It was only a second, but sometimes a look speaks louder than words. It had to be then, and it had to be me. Now, seeing as it was a private moment, I don¡¯t intend to share the rest. But I will tell you this much: three of us left the tree house for the compound that day.

    One of us didn¡¯t make it.

 [The First One] 13 - The Inevitable Twist

    Andrei

    We arrived in Jaska by the following afternoon, and Finlay had convinced me to meet with Peter¡¯s employer later that night. Was it really the worst idea to make another connection, and what could it hurt to hear the man out? For the time being, we dropped the portrait off in a guest room at the church where, like any other church across the six territories, we were promised free board and sanctuary.

    From there, we went our separate ways, making plans to meet up again later at the local tavern.

    The trip to the glassworks proved uninspiring. I placed the order for Ivana¡¯s window, and using my own allowance, covered the cost and delivery back to Oskari. At the time, the stipend for an active Partisan was fifteen notes per week. The vast majority of those earnings would typically be spent on provisions, information, safe-housing, and the occasional recreational activity. Most Partisans lived stipend-to-stipend. Unless, like myself, they led a modest existence, with a simple diet, free accommodations, and no social life.

    The Jaskan streets seemed dirtier than I remembered, the numbers seemed fewer, and the stone buildings seemed smaller. I considered the possibility this was only an illusion. I hadn¡¯t been back in almost a decade, and I¡¯d grown cynical and tall. From the glassworks, I carried on through the industrial compound, beyond the town centre, and northbound toward the market. Following Peter¡¯s directions, I located my next destination tucked in an alley behind the florist. The Steel Needle.

    It was a curious shop, not only for its fuchsia-coloured walls, or even the overpowering flowery scent. The most interesting aspect was the woman behind the counter. As a Legacy Partisan, she¡¯d have retired from active duty at the age of thirty and petitioned the Assembly to introduce her craft to one of five non-native territories. Success in such a petition was rare, approved as a way to promote culture.

    Shenanigans. The Assembly couldn¡¯t care less for cross-culture encouragement. They only cared if their pockets were overflowing. I hadn¡¯t met many Legacy Partisans while on my pilgrimage, so my curiosity was piqued. I approached the counter, smiled, and no sooner felt the cool, sharp edge of a blade against my neck.

    ¡°Your disguise is convincing,¡± the seamstress said. Her voice was sultry and carried the melodic rhythm of a Delphi. ¡°You, however, are not.¡±

    It had been an odd week, and in this moment, I came to full terms with my destiny. I would spend the rest of my life confused. ¡°My name is Brother Andrei Strauss, second to the church of Oskari under the tutelage of Konstantin Belaia¡­¡±

    The woman squinted.

    ¡°¡­and I¡¯d be pleased to show you my identification if you promise not to take my head.¡±

    Silence until the seamstress lowered the rapier.

    ¡°You are telling the truth.¡±

    ¡°Yes, I am. And I should report you both for threats against an unarmed clergy, and for what I assume was an unsanctioned use of telepathy.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t care.¡± The seamstress shrugged and set her weapon down behind the counter. She adjusted the big blue bow keeping her auburn hair restrained. ¡°I¡¯ve seen it all; from defects to thieves, drunks to murderers, and I¡¯ve dealt with my fair share of perverts to boot. My attack was a reflex. I did not intrude on your thoughts, Brother Strauss. You are telling the truth because I know who you are. You look just like her.¡±

    ¡°Like who?¡±

    ¡°Kaisa,¡± she said, and when she got no reaction from me, she tried again. ¡°Kaisa Laine¡ªyour mother.¡±

    It may be difficult to believe, but it was the first time learning her name. All that time, and I would¡¯ve sworn it was Traitorous Bitch.

    ¡°Did you know her¡ªKaisa¡ªwell?¡±

    ¡°No one knew Kaisa well, darling. Well¡ªthere was Andreas, of course¡ªyour father. They were an odd couple, but I was always secretly rooting for them.¡± The seamstress clicked her tongue, shaking her head as she seemed to reminisce. ¡°It really is such a pity.¡±

    Other than Councilwoman Faust¡¯s recent revelations, it was the nicest thing anyone had ever said about my parents.

    The seamstress shook her head again, only this time as if clearing negative thoughts. She then smiled, and asked if there was anything she could do to help. We¡¯d come a long way in the short time since she tried to kill me. I placed an order for a set of robes similar to my own, and was informed they¡¯d be ready for pick-up at dusk.

    I hadn¡¯t expected to leave the Steel Needle with anything right away, but I left with my parents¡¯ names and a new perspective on who they might have been. I considered whether I should have taken advantage of the opportunity to ask questions, and then I decided I wasn¡¯t sure what I¡¯d have asked anyway.

    As I made my way back to the church, I took a detour near the orphanage where I¡¯d spent the first eight years of my life. The most horrifying memories of my childhood were buried there, and part of me hoped the building would no longer be standing. When I approached, the three-storey house looked exactly the same. I recalled vividly the day the Consulates arrived to collect me and another Partisan. I remembered being frightened and still traumatized from accidentally injuring and almost killing one of my peers. I remembered being jealous of the other boy who seemed altogether thrilled. He spent the carriage ride to the Drop asking questions such as, ¡°Will I get to wear armour?¡± and, ¡°Do I get a sword?¡± and, ¡°What¡¯s a Strachan?¡± and, ¡°Are we there yet?¡±

    Being prone to motion-sickness, I hadn¡¯t slept well on the way to Jaska. When I arrived back at the church, I retreated to our room for a nap. My number one priority in that moment was getting some rest, because while I had no way of knowing what the night would bring, I had statistics and a grim outlook.

    <hr>

    After my nap, I scooped up the portrait of Zacharias Vonsinfonie and returned to the Steel Needle to collect my order. From there, it was a trip through the markets and beyond the slums where families may have scavenged over scraps, and thieves may have perfected their plots. Somewhere, a woman may have wept for a love she¡¯d yet to meet, while elsewhere, a woman sick of being loved may have been preparing for another night of it.

    In the Three Drinks tavern, a Strachan absolutely dangled upside down from the rafters.

    When he saw me enter, Feargus Finlay flipped twice in the air before landing with only the faintest thud against the floor. The crowd was loving it, but as we were already running late for our meeting with Peter¡¯s employer, there was no time for dallying. Much to the dismay of the locals, we left the smoke-filled tavern in favour of the city streets.

    When we arrived outside, I handed Finlay a bundle of crimson cloth.

    ¡°Put this on.¡±

    ¡°Why? What is it?¡±

    ¡°Your new reason for being.¡±

    The Strachan wrinkled his nose as he unfolded the bundle.

    ¡°I still don¡¯t get it.¡±

    ¡°These are your robes. Your new title is Petitioner Finlay¡ªor Finnegan. Whichever. I¡¯ll still be Andrei Strauss, but I¡¯ll be your escort on your pilgrimage through Amalia. Even in Oskari, your presence will no longer be in question. Problem solved.¡±

    For a long, drawn moment, Feargus Finlay was speechless. He slipped the robes over his casual tunic and trousers, and then he conceded with a simple, "Well played."

    For the meeting with Peter¡¯s employer, we traveled to the Jaskar¡ªan exclusive lounge in the city¡¯s eastern quarter. Everything in black and white, the stairs spiraled up three storeys and the floor was patterned in such a way it appeared as though the room was spinning. The Jaskar imposed strict regulations, not limited to mandatory hats and the condition that all patrons wear black. This would have been nice to know in advance.

    While I stood out against the other Amali in the room, the Strachan¡¯s freckled complexion and sandy blonde hair shone like the sun.

    The Patrons were too polite to gossip, but they were not too polite to stare.

    Our host was waiting in the lobby when we arrived. He was dressed for the occasion in a silk shirt, ruffled tie, and a tall black hat. Built much like the Commander, his dark brown eyes were set beneath thick, black brows¡ªAmali through and through. The man introduced himself as Alexander, and if not for his connections with the owner, I doubted I¡¯d have made it past security. I put nothing past Finlay.

    Ignoring our audience, Alexander directed us to a private section where he urged us to make ourselves comfortable on the black leather couches. Drinks had already been served atop the glass surface of an iron table. Peppermint tea for two, and for the Strachan, a pink drink aptly named the Piglet.

    ¡°I¡¯m prepared to offer you 3,500 notes for the portrait.¡±

    Finlay smiled and nodded. ¡°That¡¯s mighty generous of you¡­¡±

    Generous? It was utterly mad.

    ¡°¡­but I reckon we¡¯ll pass.¡±

    ¡°I see,¡± Alexander said. ¡°What will you do with the portrait otherwise?¡±

    The Strachan shrugged. ¡°It seemed Ivana wanted Palisade to have it. She said it was important to us, and by that, she probably meant the collective us. That¡¯s what people usually mean when they say that.¡±

    You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

    ¡°I see.¡± Alexander blew the steam from his tea, setting it down again. ¡°I was not aware your organization recognized the Vonsinfonie Brothers as anything but legend.¡±

    ¡°It does not,¡± I said.

    Alexander nodded. ¡°And what do you believe, Brother Strauss?¡±

    ¡°What I believe is unimportant. The important thing is¡ª¡±

    ¡°The important thing is, we¡¯d like the name of their tailor,¡± Finlay said.

    Alexander¡¯s laugh was short, but left no reason to think it was anything but sincere. ¡°Yes. As would I, Mister Finnegan.¡±

    ¡°Petitioner Finnegan, but please¡ªcall me Jack.¡±

    I imagined Alexander could have snapped his fingers and the entire establishment would have come calling. Instead, he smiled and excused himself in favour of the bar.

    The Strachan and I watched until we were certain the Barren had fallen out of range.

    ¡°He seems nice," Finlay said. "I think we should sell it.¡±

    ¡°I thought we agreed the portrait is a clue. What if we need it?¡±

    ¡°The portrait isn¡¯t important¡ªI promise. What¡¯s important is the message behind it.¡± The Strachan shook the last drop of his Piglet into his mouth. ¡°Do you trust me?¡±

    Feargus Finlay was an extension of my bond with Sinclair. I trusted him implicitly only because I trusted her implicitly, and the two were bonded since birth. I had only just taken my first sip of tea when Alexander returned with Finlay¡¯s second Piglet. He took his seat, sharing anticipatory glances between us.

    ¡°Have we come to a decision?¡±

    ¡°If I may ask, Alexander, what are your intentions for the portrait?¡±

    ¡°I would hang it in my library, but not before taking it for dinner." Our host shared a short laugh with Jack Finnegan while I suppressed a sigh. Alexander continued, "The real question should be: what would you do with 4,000 notes?¡±

    I shook my head. ¡°Excess doesn¡¯t exactly suit our line of work.¡±

    ¡°But wouldn¡¯t it? Your Oskari has seen better days.¡±

    Who did this strange, spoiled man think he was, playing on my moral obligation to a desperate population? I turned my attention to the Strachan who seemed to be leaving the decision to me. While he worked on his second Piglet, Alexander had yet to touch his tea.

    ¡°If you want to help the village, you are free to do so,¡± I said.

    ¡°Am I?¡± Alexander shrugged. ¡°The people of Oskari are prideful. They are fearful of those outside their prison, and they are envious of those who¡¯ve left it. The village will die waiting for its miracle, and you, Brother Strauss, could deliver it.¡±

    It was a manipulative play, but the benefits were undeniable. Alexander would have his portrait, and the Strachan and I would have one less possession to cart around on our travels. The funds would ensure the villagers stood a chance against the winter and then some. While the trade went against Palisade regulations, I was not about to believe Palisade would expend their resources on the village I¡¯d promised to protect. There was but one loss in the equation, and Ivana would never have to know.

    In the end, we were one portrait down and 4,000 notes richer. And as Finlay said his goodbyes to Zacharias Vonsinfonie, I shook hands with the mysterious man of wealth. It was not what I was expecting.

    I felt the proof of labour in his thick, calloused hands.

    <hr>

    Back in our room at the church, Feargus Finlay sat cross-legged on the floor with a map of Amalia sprawled out before him. He promised me he had some insight, and that he knew what he was looking for, but after what felt like a century watching him drag his finger in zigzags across the map, I was beginning to doubt.

    ¡°Well, I can¡¯t find it.¡±

    ¡°Can¡¯t find what?¡±

    ¡°Amsteg.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve studied Amalia extensively and I¡¯ve never seen or heard of a place called Amsteg," I said. "Why are you looking for it on the map?¡±

    ¡°Amsteg, 3215. That¡¯s what it said on the back of the canvas.¡±

    I finally understood what Finlay meant when he said the portrait wasn¡¯t as important as the message behind it. I hadn¡¯t even thought to take the portrait out of its frame.

    "I should have thought of that. I should have seen it myself."

    Finlay nodded. "You should have, but you didn''t. So, help me think."

    From the corner of the bed, I peered down at the map.

    ¡°If Amsteg is a place, then I suspect 3215 is a date.¡±

    ¡°There¡¯s our problem. We can¡¯t find Amsteg on the map because it doesn¡¯t exist yet. You really should have told me the Vonpurplesuit Brothers were from the future.¡±

    Suppressing the urge to scream, I sighed instead. ¡°If the Vonsinfonie Brothers truly existed, they existed pre-Divide.¡±

    ¡°You really should have told me that.¡±

    ¡°Quite certain I did.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sure I¡¯d remember if you had.¡±

    ¡°What difference does it make, Finlay? You know now, and if there were once a place called Amsteg, it no longer exists.¡±

    The Strachan scooted over to the bed and collected his satchel. ¡°The place might not exist, but I reckon the land still does. We could cross-reference.¡±

    ¡°As far as I know, there are no maps of Auditoria pre-Divide.¡±

    The Strachan searched the depths of his satchel until he produced a crumpled scroll bound with a dirty white ribbon. He waved it in front of my face.

    ¡°You must be kidding,¡± I said.

    ¡°Usually, but no. My folks gave this to me a few years back afore they were shipped out to Stracha. And afore you say, ¡®Why Feargus Barnabas Finlay, how dare you steal from your parents!¡¯ I mean, they actually gave it to me.¡±

    And perhaps they had, but what Finlay''s parents most certainly had not done, was name their son Feargus Barnabas.

    <hr>

    Post-Divide, the city of Amsteg appeared on the map as the township of Istok. After planning it out, we expected the journey from Jaska to take us three full days, including time spent at camp. We were able to afford a carriage and an experienced driver using a small portion of the funds from the portrait. I vowed to replace what I could. For the duration of the trip, Finlay was on his best behaviour, and if I weren¡¯t so grateful, I may have been suspicious.

    I should have been suspicious.

    At the beginning of our third day on the road, I decided to ask for some personal advice. Closing the notebook he¡¯d been scribbling in on and off since our departure, Finlay turned in his seat and gave me his undivided attention.

    ¡°If your parents died before you could meet them, would you want to know about their lives? Would you want to know what they were like?¡±

    Finlay replied easily. ¡°I¡¯d wanna know everything.¡±

    I dug my nails into the seat while we traversed a bumpy stretch of road. There were no doors on the carriage, and as I grew even more nauseated by the turbulence, I kept my attention turned away from the fast-moving trees outside.

    ¡°What if it turned out you were better off not knowing?¡±

    The Strachan shrugged. ¡°It sounds like you¡¯re making this about me when it¡¯s obviously about you. You should say what you mean, Strauss, so I can give you some sage advice and we can move on from talking about our feelings.¡±

    Reminded of Sinclair, I couldn¡¯t help but smile. ¡°The seamstress in Jaska let slip my parents¡¯ names, and in light of that¡ªand in light of this ridiculous quest¡ªI¡¯ve been wondering whether I should want to learn more.¡±

    Finlay huffed. ¡°That isn¡¯t something you¡¯re meant to decide. Either you do, or you don¡¯t. And seeing as you¡¯re asking, I reckon you do. Forget the outcome, mate. You can¡¯t control what you learn, but you can control what you learn from it.¡±

    The advice came at me fast and hard, throwing me into another of my notorious broods. Finlay was right. Whatever knowledge I ran from would not harm me unless I let it. By the onset of dusk, my nausea had subsided to a tolerable minimum. The Strachan had since returned to his notebook, scribbling with joyous enthusiasm.

    ¡°Finlay, what have you been writing this whole time?¡±

    ¡°A letter to Rhian. Wanna say something?¡±

    Absolutely I did. ¡°I can¡¯t think of anything,¡± I said. ¡°Besides, how will she read it?¡±

    ¡°She can¡¯t read, but she can see.¡± Finlay revealed a few pages of his journal, each of them filled with strange symbols and people composed of circles and lines.

    ¡°Lovely,¡± I said. ¡°I take it the frowning figure represents me?¡±

    ¡°Who else?¡±

    ¡°Fine work, Finlay. How do you intend to deliver it?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know, but I miss her. We haven¡¯t been separated this long since we were still spitting up on ourselves in our cribs.¡±

    ¡°I understand. The prelude to your spitting up on each other outside taverns.¡±

    ¡°Exactly.¡±

    For the first time in as long as I could remember, I felt happy. I might even have laughed if it weren¡¯t for what happened next. I clenched my teeth while the horses whinnied and the wagon wheels clattered around us. There was a sharp turn, and a curved turn, and we were traveling faster, and faster, and faster until¡­

    ¡°Go dead!¡± was the last thing I remember hearing before being shoved out the door. I reached for my satchel, and out the wagon I went¡ªhitting the dirt like a sack of meat. Rolling, rolling, rolling. All the while the man at the reins shouted and whipped at the horses who did anything but follow directions. The screams and neighs became nothing but echoes as the the horses and driver flew into the chasm. Down, down, down¡­

    That night, a man and two beasts were killed.

    We never did learn for certain what spooked the horses, but in time, we¡¯d have enough information to speculate.

    That night at camp, while I mourned a human life, the Strachan wept¡ªopenly and unashamed¡ªfor the horses.

    <hr>

    <div>

    The township of Istok was home to friendly people, a sustainable fishing industry, and a gruesome history. There stood a house within the town, and within the house, many families had lived and loved. Many families had, too, died tragically. Wives and children murdered in cold blood by their own patron¡ªtheir remains left behind to burn in a fire. The home was time after time rebuilt, the cycle repeating for centuries to come.

    We will eventually circle back around to Istok, learn more of its history, and experience the legendary house for ourselves. But for now, Finlay and I stopped at the Bountiful Blessing¡ªonce a brothel, it became the town¡¯s only inn. We were extended a warm and unexpected welcome, and for the better part of an hour, Finlay chatted with the proprietress while I ate bread, drank broth, and nursed a bruised body. When it came time to retire, we took separate rooms at my insistence.

    It was a peaceful sleep, unlike any I¡¯d had in recent weeks. In the morning, I felt well-rested if not a bit stiff and cotton-mouthed. My flask was exactly where I¡¯d left it on the bedside table, but the stack of parchment tucked underneath had not been there the night before. The first page was penned in a familiar hand, and the contents had me quickly forgetting about my thirst.

    Good morning, Strauss!

    I¡¯ve attached the permissions you¡¯ll need to get into Leberecht. That¡¯s where you¡¯ll need to go next. I suppose I could have told you that from the start, but that would have been boring. I had a lot more fun with the riddle. :) I can¡¯t go with you, but I hear it¡¯s a nice place. The folks at the church will be expecting you in a friendly way.

    Yours truly,

    Feargus Alistair Finlay

    P.S. Try smiling once in a while. But not too often. It might look suspicious.

    Certain that my semi-conscious state was impairing me, I cleared my eyes and read the letter again. And then again, and again. At first I was confused, and then I decided the smiley face was a nice touch, and then I was angry. If Finlay knew from the start where to go, had any of it been real? I thought back to the conversation with Councilwoman Faust and it occurred to me: she never said she didn¡¯t know what the key was for, or where the lock would be found. She only said my parents had been searching. The riddle was Finlay¡¯s flair, and her instructions were in my hand. Her instructions were the permissions to enter Leberecht.

    Curse that Strachan and his ever-changing name! What else hadn¡¯t he told me?

 [The First One] 14 - The Commander, Sir, Michael, Sir

    Rhian

    Being locked up in solitary felt a lot like being home.

    The corner was still uncomfortable. The ceiling still had twenty-four stones. The ¡°S¡± I¡¯d scratched in almost every cell was still on the wall in that one. The only thing missing was Strauss. Right about then, I¡¯d have shouted to see if he was awake. He¡¯d have lied and said he¡¯d been awake for hours. I¡¯d tell stories, and he¡¯d ask questions. Sometimes I¡¯d answer. Most of the time it was nice enough just knowing he was around.

    Back then, I¡¯d only get a few days at a time for boring things like assault and insubordination. Strauss on the other hand, that poor bastard had it bad. All those years locked up for being born, but it was still better than the alternative. Rumour had it, the other mixed-breed kids were sent to the frozen wastes of Endica to die.

    We¡¯ll have to wait and see if that¡¯s true or not.

    So, the Chase. My kids kicked arse, and there were no casualties on our side. Random Man was dead, and I felt terrible about it. Not guilt, but sad. He seemed like a nice man, and a family friend by the sounds of things. But it was for the best. He was tired of being locked up, and I¡¯d had a taste of what the Assembly had to offer as far as torture went. Merciless bastards. They¡¯d have the Delphi putting pictures in people¡¯s heads, making them see things that weren¡¯t even there¡ªthings out of a goddess-be-damned nightmare. If that didn¡¯t work, they¡¯d have the Celestian try suffocating folks, freezing off limbs and whatnots. Bottom line: Random Man was dead, and it was for the best, but it was still sad.

    Anyhow, I wasn¡¯t locked up for killing Random Man. I was locked up for confessing to something I didn¡¯t do. My trial with the Assembly was scheduled, but I wasn¡¯t worried.

    I had a plan.

    Two days before the big day, I had a visitor. He was able to come straight inside my cell on account of it wasn''t the first time he''d had to, and the man pulled a lot of weight.

    ¡°Rhian,¡± he said.

    ¡°Michael,¡± I said.

    Michael had a thing about not shaving while away on duty¡ªsome kind of ritual. But he¡¯d always clean up straightaway when he got back to Palisade. Seeing as he still looked like a man lost at sea, I reckoned he hadn¡¯t been back for long.

    Michael made himself uncomfortable in the opposite corner of the cell.

    ¡°So, why¡¯d you do it?¡±

    Good old Michael. He wasn¡¯t even judging, he was just asking.

    A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

    ¡°On account of the Assembly is cruel and I am merciful?¡±

    ¡°Okay, but why¡¯d you actually do it?¡±

    ¡°On account of I needed wolves?¡±

    ¡°Rhian,¡± he said.

    ¡°Michael,¡± I said. ¡°How was Endica?¡±

    ¡°Cold¡ªdon¡¯t change the subject.¡±

    I made a stink-face. Michael lowered his voice.

    ¡°You didn¡¯t do it, did you?¡±

    After all these years, I couldn¡¯t put one past him. ¡°In my defense, I was going to. On account of I needed¡ª¡±

    ¡°¡ªwolves. I get it. But if you didn¡¯t do it, who did? Anyone you¡¯d care enough to protect was gone at the time.¡±

    ¡°Are you saying I can¡¯t make new friends?¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s exactly what I¡¯m saying.¡±

    ¡°Fair enough,¡± I said. ¡°It was Blanchett.¡±

    ¡°Councilwoman Blanchett?¡±

    ¡°Six hells, Michael. No, not the Councilwoman¡ªher kid. You¡¯d like her. Also, she¡¯s part of the reason why I¡¯m not worried about the trial. I¡¯m pretty sure I¡¯ll have the votes.¡±

    See, Councilwoman Hall was opposed to the asylum on account of it was cruel and unusual and whatnot. Imagine being an empath in a place full of crazies. She chose death for her own people. Hard to figure she¡¯d feel any differently about anyone else.

    As far as Councilwoman Faust was concerned, all those inmates were taking up our time, our food, and our space. We needed a few dead to make room for a few more. It was all inevitable and whatnot. I¡¯ve stood enough trials to know how it¡¯d go.

    Councilwoman Kelly wasn¡¯t allowed to vote on account of it¡¯d be biased and all.

    ¡°You¡¯ll have Faust and Hall on your side if we argue mercy killing and a practical use of costly resources,¡± Michael said.

    I liked Michael. Hardly ever had to say what I was thinking.

    ¡°Aye, but what do you mean by ¡®we¡¯?¡±

    ¡°You haven¡¯t asked someone else to speak for you, have you?¡±

    ¡°¡¯Course not, but like I said, I¡¯m not worried.¡±

    ¡°I know, but for old time¡¯s sake? I really need things to feel normal right now.¡±

    ¡°Fair enough.¡± I had nothing more to say on the matter.

    Michael shifted around a bit, doing what he could to make himself more comfortable on the floor. ¡°Okay, we¡¯ve got Faust and Hall in the bag. Number Two won¡¯t be thrilled with the violence, and Councilwoman Oranen¡¯s unpredictable. I don¡¯t think we should even try appealing to either of them. That leaves us with Blanchett for the tiebreaker. No matter what you¡¯ve done for her, that woman still really hates you, Rhian.¡±

    ¡°I know, but I didn¡¯t spring the asylum.¡±

    It took a minute, but there it was¡ªthe moment of realization.

    ¡°Do you think she confessed to her mother?¡±

    ¡°They¡¯re not close, but it doesn¡¯t matter anyhow. I¡¯ll just think about it a lot when it¡¯s her turn to interrogate me. She¡¯s not gonna risk pissing me off when I can ruin her kid. Not that I would. Like I said, she''s all right. You''d like her.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know if you¡¯re a genius or really fucking lucky.¡±

    ¡°Lucky¡¯s my middle name,¡± I said.

    And it actually is.

 [The First One] 15 - The Inevitable Quest Item

    Andrei

    After coming to terms with Finlay¡¯s letter, I made my way down to the common room at the Bountiful Blessing. I was informed there was a carriage waiting for me outside, ready to take me the rest of the way to Leberecht. It was kind of Finlay to make arrangements, although I wondered how long ago he¡¯d made them, and if he¡¯d always known exactly when I¡¯d be needing the ride. Despite having had only a brief interaction, the proprietress at the Blessing seemed sorry to see me go. She insisted I stay for breakfast and provided me with a warm cloak and a change of clothing in the event of any other unfortunate accidents.

    Along with the letter, the permissions, and the notes from the portrait fund, Finlay traded my shoddy satchel for his more practical one. His was fashioned with an adjustable, diagonal strap designed to be worn close to the body¡ªeither at the front or the back. Much safer for carrying around thousands of notes. As I made sure, for the third time, that everything was secured inside, the frustration for my companion waned. Where had he gone, with little more than 200 notes and a set of Petitioner robes?

    While traveling, I revisited everything I¡¯d learned about the ancient city I was about to visit. I recalled reading about the hierarchy of Partisans and Barrens working the inner politics in tandem. The Iron Hand was a feature of the city that hadn¡¯t changed in thousands of years. Soldiers¡ªknights if you will¡ªrenowned for their faith and camaraderie.

    It was no secret the rest of Amalia recovered poorly from the Divide. To most of its citizens, Leberecht was a cruel reminder of the unattainable. The mountains enclosing the city ensured no one saw behind them. Some believed this was a natural phenomenon. Those of faith preached about divine intervention. They¡¯d tell you the city was spared by Amalia when she called upon the stone to protect it from the cataclysmic floods, that the mountains raised through the night, and in the morning, She appeared before the people and spoke, ¡°My gift¡ªmy apology¡ªsees children borne from you as if by me. They shall embody strength above all but unwavering resolve. Fierce protectors¡ªblessed to serve, never to be served.¡± The faithful would also tell you that the next evening, at the onset of dusk, the first of the Amali Partisans was born.

    Leberecht was truly Amalia¡¯s greatest historical wonder, and I would be one of the few outsiders permitted to see the riches, the beauty, and the legends hoarded behind its walls.

    We arrived on the outskirts of Leberecht in short time. The caravanner couldn¡¯t get any nearer without a license, but he promised to await my return.

    After debarking, it seemed the more quickly I walked, the more slowly the gates and their guardian approached. The man was armed with a spear, and I was certain I was about to encounter a member of the fabled Iron Hand. He watched and waited, motionless until I moved within range. The man donned a blue tabard over the finest plate I¡¯d ever seen. I was no expert, but I¡¯d seen some of Palisade¡¯s best in times of ceremony. Theirs had been excellent, and his was exemplary.

    The Iron Hand lifted his visor.

    ¡°Step no closer. Display your license at arm¡¯s length.¡±

    Not exactly a welcoming bunch, but I reasoned his demeanour would have been the same regardless of the colour of my eyes. This brought me comfort. Faust¡¯s permissions and my Partisan identification code were enough to satisfy the guard.

    Once I would have said the territory of Seneca was the most interesting place in the whole of Auditoria, and I¡¯d have said that until the day I stepped into the most interesting place in the whole of Auditoria. The rumours had so many things wrong. There were no diamond-paved roads, but there were regular roads circling the inside of a giant crater. Along the roads, there were layers of ramps and lifts, and the lifts seemed to be operated by pulleys, ascending and descending. The lifts carried people, who then wandered the perimeter of the crater above, and below, down, and around. There were no gold-plated buildings. In fact, there were no visible buildings at all. The people who wandered the roads and ramps disappeared straight into the mountain itself. If I returned to anyone outside the city with this information, I was certain no one would believe me.

    Leberecht¡¯s tiered, circular design reminded me of Palisade, leading me to wonder if it was organized similarly. It was a lot to digest, and I¡¯d have done anything for a guide. As I walked the main rampart, the people of Leberecht carried on. No one met my eyes only to look away like they did in Oskari or Jaska. There seemed to be no separation at all between Partisan and Barren.

    I stopped a colourful, frizzy-haired lady in passing. ¡°Pardon me, madam.¡±

    ¡°Yes, dear?¡±

    ¡°Sorry to disturb, but I wonder if you could direct me to any of the local attractions, educational resources, and finally, the church?¡±

    ¡°A new arrival? It¡¯s been so long. Well, let me be the first to welcome you.¡±

    I tried on a smile and hoped it was suitable. ¡°Thank you.¡±

    ¡°As per your inquiries, there are two libraries. But I think you¡¯re looking for the one on tier three. And that¡¯s tier three from the top, my dear. We always count from the top. Be sure to take the lift going up lest you end up going down. Up on the east, and down on the west, darling. Your church is found at the top, top, top¡ªtier one, my dear.¡±

    I seem to remember nodding along quite a bit.

    ¡°Now how do you feel about museums? We have plenty. There¡¯s the museum of archeology and history, the national archives, and of course the Vonsinfonie exhibit at the art museum is quite popular. After a small mishap, the museum of science and technology re-opens tomorrow if you are still with us. They can all be found on tier two, darling. Will you be staying a while?¡±

    I hardly knew why I was there at all, let alone for how long.

    ¡°A few days,¡± I said, and then I thanked her for her assistance, and we went our separate ways. A peculiar woman, but at least she was friendly.

    As for my next destination? Perhaps you can infer already.

    <hr>

    The art museum was located on the second tier from the top between an herbal remedy shop and the barber. I wasn¡¯t brave enough to ride the lift, so I walked the ramparts instead. It was a questionable decision, because not a single lift crashed while I would never regain the hour I¡¯d lost.

    Due to Sebastian¡¯s Law, music was outlawed across the vast majority of Auditoria, and Leberecht was no exception. While it was unsurprising, it was also ironic there was no music in the museum dedicated to the most celebrated patrons of the art.

    There was nothing but an eerie shuffling as people walked the atrium in silence.

    The atrium itself was a virtual shrine to the brothers¡ªdozens of portraits in all manners of sizes and shapes lined the walls. I recognized Zacharias, honey-eyed and dressed in all shades of flashy colours. Sebastian shared his brother¡¯s penchant for flair, but unlike his brother, Sebastian¡¯s face was never visible. His features, even his eyes, were concealed behind a series of elaborate masks. The colour of his hair reminded me of Sinclair¡¯s, blond bordering on white, almost as if lacking pigment.

    There were two corridors I planned to explore after checking in at the front desk.

    ¡°Welcome,¡± said the man behind the glass. ¡°A new face, I see?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯d like to tour your exhibits.¡± I reached into my satchel preemptively. ¡°Although I don¡¯t see a sign for the fees. What do I owe?¡±

    ¡°Hold your notes, my friend. There is no charge for worshiping here. We only ask that you sign the ledger.¡±

    I mused over the unusual word choice as I flipped through the overstuffed ledger, found the first available space, and signed my name.

    After being admitted, I followed the corridor to the left. The first adjoining chamber displayed dozens of orchestral instruments behind glass; from brass, to wind, to percussion, to strings. In the furthest corner there was a purple piano. I had to read the placards to learn the names of each of the instruments, and each placard also listed the dates and places of each instrument¡¯s first and final performance. Fascinating, but irrelevant. I found no reference to Amsteg or the year 3215.

    I entered the second chamber. This room held all the costumes and props. The northern wall was reserved for Sebastian Vonsinfonie¡¯s masks, and the southern wall for Zacharias Vonsinfonie¡¯s canes. In the corner, there stood a mannequin in a purple suit. I took a moment to inspect it, but it bore no obvious clues. Finlay would have liked to have seen it.

    Only one other person toured the third chamber. This room was filled with life-sized figures carved in wax. They¡¯d been painted, dressed, and positioned in a life-like scene. The Vonsinfonie Brothers, their wagon, and their cargo set in stasis, surrounded by their adoring fans. As for the other attendee, I hadn¡¯t given her a second glance until she came up beside me. She was shorter than I, but still tall. Her face was plain but pleasant.

    ¡°Creepy, aren¡¯t they?¡± she said.

    I nodded, but it was non-committal.

    ¡°Do you miss it?¡± she asked.

    ¡°Pardon?¡±

    ¡°Celestia,¡± she said. ¡°Your homeland, right? You look like them.¡±

    The wax figures surrounding the brothers were tall, willowy, and had fair complexions and black hair. The strange lady had an excellent eye. Terrible manners, though.

    ¡°I¡¯ve only been once, so no. And what about you? Your eyes are green¡ªvibrant, not muddied with brown. Your hair verges on blond. Both anomalies in Amalia. Am I to assume you¡¯ve traveled from elsewhere? And illegally?¡±

    I may have forgotten to mention that it was against the law for Barrens to travel outside their home territory. In any case, there was something familiar about the look of disapproval on the stranger¡¯s face¡ªa look I¡¯d seen on so many faces I hardly knew where to begin. Fortunately, the remark had been enough to repel her from the room altogether which allowed me the opportunity to investigate.

    I crossed the red velvet rope designed to discourage exactly that.

    It was unnerving¡ªto say the least¡ªstanding among legends. The wax figures were no more alive than the portrait, but they felt plenty more real. That said, I slipped the key into the hefty costume chest at their feet. It was a perfect fit.

    A perfect fit until it was not. There was no easy turn, and no satisfying click. There was only dread. I tugged, twisted, and wiggled to no avail. My heart thumped as I recalled Councilwoman Faust¡¯s threat. What was I thinking behaving so recklessly?

    Whatever this key belonged to was probably something much simpler. For all I knew, there was probably a box waiting for me at the church where I should have gone before anywhere else. One final tug and the key slipped out, but the moment of relief was quickly replaced with panic. Footsteps approached, and there would be no time to escape the display in any graceful way. I froze at Sebastian¡¯s feet, bowing as if in worship.

    ¡°Darling,¡± said one woman to another. ¡°Is that a new sculpture?¡±

    ¡°I believe it is,¡± said the other. ¡°And would you look at that nose?¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re one to talk,¡± said the first.

    I held my breath, wishing neither would talk about my nose.

    ¡°I think it moved.¡±

    ¡°Nonsense.¡±

    ¡°I swear it did.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t be ridiculous.¡±

    Long ago I¡¯d developed a twitch¡ªa tic affecting the muscles in my left cheek. It presented itself in times of stress, but I¡¯d learned to repress it by baring down on my tongue. Fortunately, the women lost interest after only a few more agonizing seconds. As they wandered the exhibit, they spoke of the weather, their dinner plans, and of their neighbour who couldn¡¯t be bothered to lift a chisel. I estimated nearly one quarter of an hour before they grew bored and left. I knew if I didn¡¯t act quickly, I risked another interruption.

    I hurdled over the rope, and straight into a trap.

    ¡°You¡¯ve got three seconds to tell me what you¡¯re up to.¡±

    With her arms outstretched and her hands secured on either side of the entryway, the nosy almost-blond woman blocked my only exit. I¡¯d seen that look before on Rhian¡¯s face. The stranger¡¯s nonchalance was built around a foundation of sheer confidence. My palms began to sweat as I considered ducking and running.

    ¡°Sorry,¡± I said. ¡°Could you elaborate?¡±

    ¡°With the key in the case. There¡¯s no sense playing dumb.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s ah¡ªofficial Palisade business.¡±

    ¡°Oh yeah? You have something in writing to prove you¡¯re supposed to be sneaking around sticking keys in our locks?¡±

    ¡°With all due respect, madam, I hardly think Palisade business is yours.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s Commander Madam to you, kid.¡±

    ¡°Commander?¡±

    ¡°Of the Iron Hand.¡±

    I arched an eyebrow, appraising the woman in her casual attire.

    ¡°It¡¯s my day off.¡±

    The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

    ¡°I see,¡± I said. ¡°Do you have any proof?¡±

    The woman craned her neck around back, watching the corridor until she stopped an unsuspecting local in passing.

    ¡°Hey.¡±

    ¡°Commander,¡± replied the man. ¡°What can I do for you?¡±

    ¡°Nothing you haven¡¯t already done,¡± she said. ¡°Have a nice day.¡±

    The man beamed and continued on, while the Commander of the Iron Hand turned to me and smiled.

    ¡°Good enough?¡±

    I supposed it would have to be, but it was too late.

    My three seconds had expired.

    <hr>

    ¡°Come on,¡± she said. ¡°There¡¯s nothing to it.¡±

    I shook my head ¡°I¡¯d prefer to walk.¡±

    The Commander jumped in place three times for good measure. The cage rattled and bobbled, but did not fall. The cage, which I might add, was suspended by precious little but cords and pulleys.

    ¡°See? Completely safe.¡±

    For a woman taking me into her custody, the Commander had been rather accommodating. She hadn¡¯t resorted to violence or threats, and she¡¯d agreed to a conversation in confidence. Moreover, she promised to hear my questions, although she guaranteed no answers.

    I stepped one foot onto the platform, testing my weight against it.

    Surely they would have discontinued the contraptions if they were dangerous.

    I took the final, tentative step¡­

    ¡­and the Commander pulled the lever. Gears ground and the gate slammed shut. Another grind, another clank, and down we went.

    One.

    Two.

    Three and it was over. The sensation was thrilling! A rush like I¡¯d never experienced before without dangerous consequences.

    ¡°Not bad,¡± the Commander said. ¡°No vomit.¡±

    The gate clanked open. ¡°That was¡ª¡° I hopped off the platform, following in the Commander¡¯s hurried steps. ¡°Actually, how do they¡ª¡±

    ¡°No idea. Next question.¡±

    ¡°Where are you taking me?¡±

    I walked one long stride for every two of the Commander¡¯s short, impatient ones. In place of business signs, family names marked the doors of each cavern we passed along the way. Rainer, Randal, Reed, Reich, and finally, we stopped. The sign above the door read Reider, and the more closely I examined her, the more I berated myself for not having noticed it sooner. This Reider may have been feistier, but it was undeniable. The perfect nose, the perfect width between the eyes, lips not too big, or not too small. Their colouring was different but¡ª

    ¡°You are Marta.¡±

    ¡°Yeah,¡± the Commander said at last. ¡°What¡¯s it to you?¡±

    ¡°You have a brother.¡±

    ¡°I have two.¡±

    ¡°Michael?¡±

    Years fell from the woman¡¯s face, leaving her vulnerable¡ªchildlike, if only for a moment.

    Like any Barren, all Partisans are born to one of several familial archetypes. For instance, Finlay¡¯s parents were Partisans themselves, Palisade loyalists who¡¯d lived to achieve their Legacy status. Then there¡¯s Sinclair¡ªone parent a Barren, the other a Partisan. In such cases, the Barren parent might choose to assume primary care until the child¡¯s conscription at the age of eight. Finally, there are the Partisans such as Commander Reider, born to Barren parents. The miracle babies¡ªfar less frequently discarded into orphanages. I¡¯d occasionally wondered what it would have been like for the parents of those children to have to say goodbye. I never considered their siblings.

    ¡°Yeah,¡± Marta repeated, unlocking the door. ¡°What¡¯s it to you?¡±

    ¡°He and I are relatively well acquainted. The Commander is celebrated among us, actually, he¡ª¡±

    ¡°Commander?¡±

    After I nodded, Marta shrugged and stepped inside.

    ¡°I guess that makes sense. He was always copying me.¡±

    ¡°Do you have questions?¡± I asked, still standing on the opposite side of the door.

    ¡°Good enough knowing he¡¯s alive.¡±

    At the time, I couldn¡¯t be sure that he was, but I simply nodded.

    ¡°So, you coming in? Or is this how you have private conversations back at Palisade?¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re inviting me into your home?¡± I was dubious. ¡°You¡¯re not locking me in a cell?¡±

    ¡°You? Give me a break. You don¡¯t need a cell, you need my help.¡±

    <hr>

    Meeting a fellow Partisan¡¯s family was rare. Lounging in their sitting room drinking cider was practically unheard of. While I waited for Marta to get changed, I studied the portrait above the fireplace. The full Reider family: matron, patron, two girls and two boys. Each of their eyes were of varying shades of brown and green, all but Michael¡¯s whose steel-coloured eyes resembled mine. There were irregularities in the painting, however. Faded colours in places where others were vibrant. There were even discrepancies in the style. It looked as though the original portrait was painted prior to Michael¡¯s conscription, and the two youngest Reider siblings had been painted in afterward.

    My stay in the Reider homestead was short-lived. I didn¡¯t have the opportunity to meet Michael¡¯s parents or his siblings¡ªtwo of which I wondered whether he even knew existed. The home was organized chaos and smelled distinctly of apples. I wondered if this explained Michael''s preference for the fruit.

    Marta returned, equipped with a satchel and a lantern.

    I stood from the couch. ¡°How old were you?¡±

    ¡°Yesterday I was twenty-three. Today I still am. What are you asking?¡±

    ¡°How old were you when Michael was conscripted?¡±

    ¡°Eleven,¡± she replied, and no sooner was the Commander out the door. I had little choice but to follow.

    ¡°Where are you taking me now?¡± I asked.

    ¡°To the keyhole in the mountain,¡± she said.

    Our second ride on the lift was much less thrilling than the first. The climb was slow, and the squeaks and creaks were unnerving and caused me anxiety. While we walked the ramp around the mountain, I struggled to keep pace.

    ¡°Why are we in such a hurry?¡±

    ¡°Because I¡¯m a DR,¡± she said.

    ¡°A wha¡ª¡± I caught my foot in one of the wooden slats, carrying on as if I hadn¡¯t.

    ¡°A diurnal resident. This is a twenty-four hour city, but not everyone can be out at the same time. There¡¯s some kind of structural reason behind it, something to do with all the weight and the ramps. Besides, there aren''t enough lifts to accommodate. So, some of us are nocturnal, and others are diurnal. DRs can¡¯t be out at night and vice versa.¡± She shrugged. ¡°It works for us, and some people just aren¡¯t morning people.¡±

    The Commander waved to a group of finely dressed locals, one of whom I nearly bowled over as I tried keeping up with my new guide. I apologized profusely.

    ¡°Visitors are always DR,¡± Marta said.

    ¡°Nobody told me that.¡±

    She shrugged again. ¡°We don¡¯t get a lot of visitors.¡±

    Eventually, we turned down an alley and stopped at a dead end.

    ¡°This is it?¡± I asked.

    ¡°Yeah.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s not what I expected.¡±

    ¡°So when I said, ¡®The keyhole in the mountain,¡¯ you expected to see something other than a keyhole in the mountain?¡±

    ¡°No, but¡­¡±

    There were no grand arches or golden gilding. It was just a stone door.

    ¡°¡­what makes you think this will work?¡±

    ¡°Well, there¡¯s the prophecy,¡± Marta said.

    ¡°The prophecy?¡± I asked.

    ¡°Yeah, we all believe a tall, skinny Partisan will come bearing the key to our salvation.¡±

    ¡°You must be kidding.¡±

    ¡°Obviously. But seriously, who else knows you¡¯re here?¡±

    ¡°My friend Feargus Finlay, and¡ª¡±

    Marta sighed. ¡°I meant the locals.¡±

    ¡°Oh, ah¡ªthe guard who admitted me into the city, the man at the art museum and the ledger I signed, those random individuals who saw me in the museum, oh, and a rather peculiar lady I asked for directions.¡±

    ¡°Did you show anyone the key?¡±

    ¡°No, why would I do that?¡±

    ¡°Well, it looked like you were about to start sticking it in every hole in the city, so I¡¯m not about to start making assumptions about what you would or wouldn¡¯t do.¡±

    When Marta didn¡¯t remind me of Michael, she reminded me of Sinclair. It was an important discovery, as I came to better understand the friendship between them.

    ¡°Given enough time, I like to think I¡¯d have learned of the keyhole in the mountain.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s probably true, but if you were as careless as you were in the museum, you¡¯d have half the city on your ass. It doesn¡¯t matter if you¡¯re here on Palisade business, some people will kill to see what happens when the lock¡¯s turned. Some people have.¡±

    ¡°Is that why you¡¯re helping me?¡±

    ¡°Sure,¡± Marta said. ¡°I¡¯m as interested as the next person. Maybe more. But I won¡¯t lie, trick you, or stab you in the back because of it. Besides, I feel like we¡¯re bonding.¡±

    ¡°If the keyhole is so important, why isn¡¯t it guarded?¡±

    ¡°Well, it¡¯s really more of a feature than an attraction. It¡¯s like hope. You can¡¯t live your life staring after it, but it¡¯s nice knowing it¡¯s there. It¡¯s just best nobody knows about this. I don¡¯t want to deal with the aftermath of a population whose expectations have been collectively shattered.¡±

    ¡°What about your expectations?¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s easy. I have no expectations.¡±

    The Commander ignited the lantern with a contraption she called a lighter. I¡¯d seen variations of such things in Delphia, but none had been so intricately crafted. This one, despite the metal casing, was lightweight, sleek, and easy to conceal.

    I decided Rhian would like it, and then I slid the key into the lock.

    <hr>

    Once we passed through the door in the mountain, closing it was our first priority. We then discovered, albeit too late, that there was no keyhole on the other side of the door. But, unless we¡¯d wandered into a trap, we decided not to panic. We agreed there must be another way out, or even another way to open the door. I considered some of the mystery novels I¡¯d read while in solitary and how there¡¯d often be a mechanism like a candelabra or a pressure plate. I¡¯d even seen something similar in Delphia with a trick bookcase.

    The Commander offered me the lantern, but I shook my head. Where I was concerned, direct contact with fire was never a good idea.

    ¡°That will not be necessary.¡± I said. ¡°I see well enough in the dark.¡±

    ¡°Suit yourself,¡± Marta replied, and together we treaded deeper into the cavern.

    Eventually we came to a set of stairs, and we descended them into a wider chamber. It was musty, cobwebbed, and long since lived in. But it most certainly had been lived in.

    ¡°This is amazing,¡± Marta said. ¡°I always imagined the keyhole had something to do with the brothers, but this¡ªI never imagined this.¡±

    The rich brown leather chairs in the centre of the room were old¡ªancient even¡ªbut I suspected they were comfortable. Each had its own side-table, and on each of the tables there was a single wineglass and a single bottle. Only one of the bottles was uncorked. The wall to our left held several dozens more bottles of wine, and it¡¯s possible they¡¯d been there collecting dust for centuries.

    ¡°When Sebastian died, they say Zacharias became a bit of a recluse. We¡¯ve never been sure where he went before we lost him, too. Maybe this is where he spent all his time.¡±

    ¡°You truly believe this cavern was theirs?¡±

    ¡°Sure, don¡¯t you?¡±

    The museum rendered the Vonsinfonie Brothers more real, but the museum was conceived by a third party. The room we stood in that day may very well have been theirs. But it could also have belonged to a mad hermit, or a musician forbidden from practicing his art in the open. Perhaps someone who idolized the brothers and had stolen all the portraits on the walls and the crystal-topped cane by the fireplace. I wondered how they smuggled a piano through an entrance too small to accommodate it.

    I stepped over to the instrument in the far right corner of the room and brushed my fingers against the sticky brown keys. I longed to play it, and to experience the feedback of the black notes, and to hear the sound of the white ones.

    I wanted to know what the pedals were for.

    ¡°Under the threat of dying in here, may I?¡±

    I glanced over to the Commander who¡¯d been traveling the room, handling each object she encountered. After hanging the painting of Sebastian back on the wall, she shrugged.

    ¡°Go for it.¡±

    I pressed a single, centre note.

    ¡°Good grief,¡± Marta said. ¡°No wonder that¡¯s illegal.¡±

    Although I hadn¡¯t known it then, the instrument was centuries out of tune.

    ¡°Maybe that was a bad example,¡± I said.

    Of the eighty-eight keys I counted, three of them stood out because of distinct fingermarks impressed in the grime. I hovered a finger over each of the notes: finger, skip, finger, skip, finger.

    The sound was atrocious, but the result was genius. A beam of light flooded into the room as the wall behind the fireplace rumbled open. Treated to the sound of crashing waves in the distance, the air whipping past our noses smelled of salt and stone.

    ¡°Are you thinking what I¡¯m thinking?¡± Marta asked.

    We looked to each other, and then to the chairs, and then back to each other.

    For a time, the Commander and I enjoyed the scenery on the other side of the fireplace. Having discovered what the levers on the side of the chairs were for, we relaxed with our backs reclined and our legs elevated. The chairs were comfortable and inspired.

    ¡°It¡¯s pretty,¡± Marta said. ¡°A lot nicer than the view on gate duty.¡±

    ¡°Is that all you¡¯ve seen of Amalia outside the city? On gate duty?¡±

    ¡°Yeah, but it¡¯s more than most.¡±

    At that time of year, the northern coast of Amalia was vibrant with the turn of the season. A blend of reds and oranges mixed in with the colourful greens from the untouched coniferous trees. For a time, we sat in silence. It had been a long day.

    ¡°I¡¯ve avoided asking this because you seemed legitimate and you know my brother well enough to have known my name, but do you think you could indulge me?¡±

    There was no doubt in my mind as to what the question would be.

    ¡°Where did you get the key?¡±

    I told her everything¡ªincluding that I¡¯d been bamboozled by a Strachan, and that I still had no idea why I¡¯d been sent to discover the keyhole in the mountain, or why I seemed to be trailing the Vonsinfonie Brothers.

    ¡°So, what will you do now?¡±

    ¡°Return to Oskari with an interesting story and nothing much to show for it.¡±

    ¡°You can¡¯t do that,¡± Marta said.

    ¡°Why not? I¡¯ve found the lock, unlocked the lock, seen the cave. Furthermore, I¡¯m neglecting an entire village while I chase my tail.¡±

    ¡°I found something you might like. I was going to take it for myself, but I''ll settle for a candlestick or something.¡± The Commander reached into her satchel and pulled out a faded, leather-bound book. ¡°It¡¯s the only book in the joint, oddly enough, and I don¡¯t know if it would be helpful at all. It¡¯s written in Symphonic.¡±

    Symphonic was an exotic pre-Divide language. It was impractical and could be difficult to grasp as it was never designed to be spoken. Numbers and symbols expressed sentiments and phrases without words. Few still knew it, even fewer still used it, and the Councilwoman had insisted I learn it. I¡¯d always assumed it was pointless busywork.

    I flipped through the pages of the book, but actually comprehending the text would require deeper concentration, and our time in the cavern was coming to a close.

    Ultimately, we did not find our exit the way we came, so we took our chances going through the hole in the fireplace. After stepping outside and taking a few steps forward, Marta triggered a plate hidden beneath the grass. The trap door closed behind us.

    We tested it, but found this method didn¡¯t function in reverse.

    ¡°Won¡¯t the gate-guards question your arrival from outside the city?¡±

    ¡°It might be my day off, but I¡¯m still the Commander. It¡¯ll be fine.¡±

    I nodded. ¡°I¡¯ve been thinking about writing my companions back at Palisade. Do you have a message for Michael?¡±

    ¡°No,¡± Marta said. ¡°It¡¯ll be hard on him. I¡¯d prefer if you didn¡¯t mention meeting me at all. And before you go, there¡¯s one more thing I¡¯d like you to have. I saw you eying it.¡±

    Marta slipped the lighter into the large pocket on the side of my robes. ¡°You¡¯ve been going through a lot. You never know when you might need some light.¡±

    I gave my word on the subject of Michael, and expressed my gratitude for the gift. We traveled around the mountain in silence until going our separate ways.

    The carriage from Istok was waiting for me where I¡¯d left it.

 [The First One] 16 - The Day Dreams Came True

    Rhian

    When I first met Michael, I decided straightaway I¡¯d like him. I could¡¯ve listened to the rumours calling him bossy and a bit of a whore. I could¡¯ve listened because they were true. But Michael was a charming son-of-a-bitch. Good-natured. Clever. He laughed when I nearly broke his nose. It was a safer time around when we first met. There wasn¡¯t a whole lot for Amali soldiers to do apart from train. Some were shipped around the territories as escorts and guards for the wealthy and whatnot. But the Assembly weren¡¯t about to waste a man like Michael on a bunch of nobles or some shady organizations. They gave him the best training, and the best education, raising him right up for something important and dangerous. I had no choice but to eventually come to terms with Michael dying. I¡¯d already dreamed up the ten thousand ways it could happen. I¡¯d already practiced living as though it had, but he was worth it. Michael Reider made life less boring.

    ¡°Michael, I¡¯m so bloody bored,¡± I said. ¡°What good is having my punishment revoked if I haven¡¯t got anywhere to go?¡±

    To set the record straight, having my landlock lifted was a surprising side-effect of winning the trial after that whole business with the asylum.

    ¡°You could clean your room. There¡¯s three days, at least.¡±

    Clean was a lot like silence. Fuck silence.

    ¡°So, I¡¯m not going back,¡± Michael said. ¡°To Endica.¡±

    ¡°Can¡¯t say I¡¯m disappointed, but why not?¡±

    Michael couldn¡¯t say much more than that. Our professional lives came with a lot of secrecy, and that was all right. ¡®Course, I¡¯d always ask. Bits and pieces, fodder for my conspiracies and all. But never mind.

    Knocks are a lot like footsteps. You can tell a lot about the way a person knocks, and this particular knocker had been standing around a while. Their raps were quick, quiet, almost like they were hoping they could take them back. (They couldn¡¯t.)

    I wasn¡¯t planning on opening the door, so Michael did it for me.

    It was Adeline, and she was looking a lot like the time I caught Michael with his hands in his pants.

    Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there.

    ¡°Goddess,¡± she said. ¡°It cannot be.¡±

    ¡°Oh, it is,¡± Michael said. ¡°But you can call me Michael.¡±

    I probably groaned.

    Michael stepped aside, and I waved Adeline inside.

    ¡°Good seeing you, lass. What can we do you for?¡±

    ¡°I wanted to thank you,¡± she said. ¡°And to give you something.¡±

    Adeline trotted her way across the room, random doohickey in hand. She dodged all my filthy whatnots along the way.

    I liked free things a lot more than I hated thank-yous.

    Turned out, the circular doohickey bestowed upon me was one helluva free thing. Timepiece on one side, compass on the other. When Adeline popped it open on its hinges, I looked back at myself in a pair of compact mirrors.

    She wasn¡¯t kidding around. It was practical. I like practical.

    ¡°Right,¡± I said, turning the doohickey over in my hands. ¡°That¡¯s thoughtful of you.¡±

    ¡°Wait, where¡¯s my present?¡± Michael asked.

    ¡°I wasn¡¯t aware you¡¯d be here, Commander Reider, Sir, otherwise I would have¡ª¡±

    ¡°Ignore him,¡± I said.

    ¡°No, no. Otherwise you would have what?¡± Michael winked, and the lass turned about six shades of pink.

    I remember feeling a bit embarrassed for the both of them.

    It wasn¡¯t long afore there were more knocks on the door¡ªlouder, more confident.

    I couldn¡¯t be bothered answering that time, either. Michael was more than happy to, and this time it was a messenger. He had a message. Imagine that.

    ¡°Rhian Sinclair?¡±

    ¡°Coming, coming.¡± I didn¡¯t bother dodging my filthy whatnots.

    I should have been nicer to the man who was about to make my dreams come true. Soon as I saw it, I knew what the messenger held in his hands. Orders. My chance to get off that stinking isle and back to work. I snatched the papers up right quick, squiggled an ¡°S¡± in the ledger, and closed the door.

    I¡¯d barely broken the seal on the envelope when it happened again.

    Knock, knock, knock.

    This time, I swung the door wide open. ¡°Amalia¡¯s ancient arsehole, what now?¡±

    It was still the messenger. He had another message.

    ¡°Michael Reider?¡±

    Look, I¡¯ve had a lot of time to think about it since I first started writing, and I reckon this is where the story really ought to start.

 [The First One] Interlude - His Story, Part One

    Andrei and Rhian

    Approximately four hundred years ago, the village of Oskari flourished around a house. The house was loved by those who lived in it, by those who had, and by those who would. There once was a brown-eyed boy who did. His mother was a teacher in the employ of the church, and his father was an architect contracted in the first renovation of the Widow¡¯s Peak Inn. They were a remarkable family. They were law-abiding and well-liked, but with time and with wisdom, the boy would come to think of his mother as too carnal, and his father as too rigid. At the age of ten, the boy had not yet considered his parents as people, and and their faults flew far above his head. He cared only for the ones who slept late through the morning¡ªhis sister and her daughter, Lidia and Victoria.

    Look, the kid was spoiled rotten by his sleeping sister, but he was touch meek. Didn¡¯t think it¡¯d be polite to just walk straight in. That, and his big sister had given him the what-for about a thousand times. ¡®Course, he was a bored little boy, wasn¡¯t he? Stomped around a bit, no doubt. Put on a terrific tragedy. Knock, knock, knock, and there was no answer. He eventually did what I would do. He whipped that door open and threw his tantrum in person.

    Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

    The room might have been like any other teenage girl¡¯s bedroom, if not for a few stark differences. There was the bed, four-post and pretty. There was the handcrafted cupboard, and in the corner, the cradle. The butter-yellow drapes served as the only decoration. Like any other day, the boy expected to see his sister and his niece sleeping soundly. He expected the familiar scent of wildflowers and burnt wood. But on that day, there was something different¡ªsomething the brown-eyed boy couldn¡¯t place until he saw it for himself. On that day, the air smelled of wildflowers, burnt wood, and death.

    Well, that was dramatic. I¡¯d have just said they croaked.

 [The First One] 17 - The Inevitable Reunion

    Andrei

    By the time I returned to Oskari, labourers no longer laboured, farmers no longer farmed, and the children were nowhere in sight. The village of Oskari had all but shut down in a state of paranoia. In my time away, another six villagers had vanished, making for a total of eight. Women, men, young, old¡ªwhoever lured them away did not discriminate. To make matters worse, a woman and her young daughter were found dead in their home. It was a story a lot like His Story, only centuries later. Father Belaia suspected the Waste in both cases, but I had my doubts.

    In the days following my return, there was little to do but calm those who panicked. The people had lost faith in their newly appointed Captain. Joseph Lobodin was a man of good intentions, but he was a man too cowardly to recognize his faults. He held his arrogance like a shield until all goodwill and every resource had been exhausted. Then, and only then, did the Captain send word to Palisade for Partisan intervention.

    On the eve of their arrival, those Partisans stormed the church and barged into my chambers uninvited. I could not have been more relieved.

    It had been a long time since I¡¯d seen Commander Reider in full uniform. Half-plate and chain beneath a pale blue tabard, marked by the symbol of the Six. His hand-and-a-half sword, Intrepidity, was holstered at his back. At his side, there was Enforcer Rhian Sinclair. Per usual, the Strachan¡¯s platinum hair was kept away from her face¡ªweaved in two braids along the sides of her head. Her freckled complexion was still spattered with faint scars, and her battered black leathers and tattered fabrics bound her petite frame like a second skin. A beautiful disaster.

    ¡°Sinclair,¡± I said. ¡°Aren¡¯t you going to say hello?¡±

    Sinclair shuffled her feet and shrugged. ¡°Hello.¡±

    I resisted the urge to smile under such grim circumstances. I resisted plenty of other urges, too. ¡°I¡¯m pleased to see you both looking well.¡±

    ¡°And you¡¯re looking extra pale and kind of sickly, Strauss," Sinclair said. "Are they feeding you enough around here?¡±

    ¡°Yes, and thank you for asking. I was beginning to long for your special breed of concern.¡±

    Sinclair flashed a chipped-tooth smile.

    ¡°Strauss,¡± said the Commander. ¡°Tell us why we¡¯re here?¡±

    I briefed them on the missing people and the suspicious deaths, pacing the room here and there as I spoke.

    ¡°Right, then.¡± Sinclair nodded to herself and looked around the room. ¡°Where¡¯s Gus?¡±

    ¡°I was under the impression he¡¯d returned to Palisade. Hasn¡¯t he?¡±

    ¡°Seeing as I¡¯m asking¡­¡±

    ¡°Rhian, I¡¯m sure Finlay¡¯s fine,¡± Michael said. ¡°Strauss, what else can you tell us?¡±

    ¡°Well, the locals reported a man they didn¡¯t recognize offering maintenance services for the winter. Of those questioned, none could afford the wages and none would accept his charity. The man made several appearances over the course of two weeks.¡±

    ¡°Did they provide a description?¡± The Commander asked, standing motionless with his back to the door.

    ¡°Grey hair, brown eyes, and a mustache. Some claim he was wearing a tan jacket, while others say it was black.¡±

    Sinclair plopped on the bed, lacing the air with the scent of leather, steel, and cloves. ¡°An old man with at least two jackets and mustache. Brilliant. I¡¯ll get right on it.¡±

    ¡°So we have eight people missing and two potentially suspicious deaths. What are the chances the cases are related?¡±

    ¡°There¡¯s no evidence to suggest violence in the missing persons¡¯ case. However, the deceased and her husband had a history of domestics. The man is a brute¡ªI¡¯ve seen it for myself. He once started an argument with me for looking in his general direction. We should consider the possibility of murder, suicide, or both.¡±

    ¡°Where is this man now?¡± Michael asked.

    ¡°Unknown. He and the family¡¯s eldest child, a boy called Ivan, are among the eight gone missing. It¡¯s difficult to say whether it¡¯s all related or merely a coincidence. Given they¡¯d just buried half their family, they may have simply left for somewhere less painful.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯d wager it¡¯s related,¡± Sinclair said. ¡°We¡¯ve got dead folk, missing folk, and something stinks like week-old fish. Hint: it¡¯s not coincidence.¡±

    ¡°There¡¯s something else you should know.¡± I stopped in the centre of the room, dividing my attention equally between Reider and Sinclair. ¡°Following their deaths, the woman and her child were laid to rest on the family property. Then, and not three days later, the neighbours found the woman¡¯s unburied, decapitated corpse in her potato garden.¡±

    This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

    <hr>

    The home of the deceased woman and child was backed by a generous plot of land. The house itself was cared for, the wood panels had been freshly stained, and the metal components were free of rust. The lawn had been recently trimmed and the gardens were tended. Considering this, the idea of suicide seemed less likely.

    At the back of the home, there were nine graves¡ªnames and dates scratched on the surfaces of their wooden markers.

    ¡°Maybe our killer is one of those trophy-types,¡± Sinclair said. ¡°Maybe they didn¡¯t think anyone would find the body straightaway after killing her, but they did. So, they waited until she was buried, dug her up, dragged her back home on account of they¡¯re twisted like that. Maybe they felt like slicing her up or shrinking a head. Maybe they were just getting started but then they got interrupted in the potato garden.¡±

    ¡°Well, that¡¯s disturbing,¡± the Commander said.

    ¡°I haven¡¯t even arrived at the disturbing bit yet.¡±

    ¡°Truly?¡± I asked. ¡°What more could you possibly say?¡±

    ¡°We¡¯re gonna need a shovel.¡±

    What a lady wants, a lady gets. We pilfered a shovel and coil of rope from the shed, and we took turns digging. When it was my turn, the two napped beneath a mangled maple tree. They sat back to back, relying on one another for protection. It was petty and misguided, but there it was¡ªI was jealous.

    I digged and digged until the casket was unearthed. Several notches louder than I had to, I announced, ¡°It¡¯s done.¡±

    The Commander bolted to his feet along with a chorus of clanks, and Sinclair fell flat on her back along with a chorus of curses. Then, after clearing the sleep from her eyes, she hopped up, trotted forward, and leaped into the open grave.

    Watching from my place beside the Commander, Sinclair searched along the edges of the casket until she found the handle.

    ¡°Michael,¡± she said.

    ¡°Rhian,¡± he said.

    ¡°Rope.¡±

    The Commander lowered the rope.

    ¡°Rhian,¡± he said.

    ¡°Michael,¡± she said.

    ¡°That¡¯s a good look for you.¡±

    Sinclair rolled her eyes, and after securing the rope around the handle, she sprung out of the grave. There was a certain something in a Strachan¡¯s effortless agility. Their short-stature figures were powerful and toned, but rarely bulky. If not for Palisade¡¯s suppression of the arts, I suspected many would have made stunning dancers.

    Above ground, the Commander tugged on the rope and revealed the contents of the casket. The women¡¯s remains were absent, but this was expected. The body had been cremated to avoid any further disturbances. Incidentally, the ashes were then scattered in the dirt we¡¯d just desecrated. That said, all that remained of the deceased were her fingernails. Some had broken off and fallen to the bottom of the casket, while the rest were embedded in the bloodstained wood.

    ¡°Well that was unexpected,¡± Michael said.

    The Strachan shrugged. ¡°Option two: the lass clawed herself out, dragged herself home, and whoever wanted her dead wanted her to stay that way. End of story.¡±

    We¡¯d all heard it coming, because we all had excellent hearing and blessed are the pitfalls of autumn. Crunch, crunch, crunch. The intruder rounded the corner with a sputtering torch. His brow was deeply furrowed, and his nostrils flared as if the mere sight of us produced an offensive stench.

    ¡°It might be your job to fiddle with the dead, Brother Strauss. But you two¡ª¡± he turned to Michael and Sinclair, waving his torch in their direction. ¡°You aren¡¯t going to find our missing people by digging up graves.¡±

    Michael stepped forward, introduced himself, and extended his hand. The gesture was ignored, and the Commander retracted his arm. ¡°I understand these are difficult times, and you must be under a lot of pressure. But we¡¯re here to help, and if we¡¯re going to do it effectively, we¡¯re going to need your cooperation.¡±

    The man who not too long ago worked as the village smith, coughed and spat a wad of phlegm to the side.

    ¡°Captain Joseph Lobodin,¡± he said. ¡°You should have reported to me.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s my fault,¡± I said. ¡°My comrades arrived at the church seeking rest from the road, and I was overzealous and have overstepped.¡±

    When the Captain coughed again, I began to suspect lung disease. I¡¯d counsel him on the matter later. For now, the fire crackled and spit when Lobodin flicked the torch in Sinclair¡¯s direction.

    ¡°You,¡± he said. ¡°Who the hell are you?¡±

    I¡¯d been watching Sinclair in my periphery¡ªher arms crossed, ever-so-slight shifts from foot to foot, and a droopy-eyed expression. I¡¯d seen this all before.

    The Commander stepped up to the job and introduced her. One might assume this was a matter of rank or protocol, but they¡¯d be incorrect. A Strachan Enforcer and an Amali Commander were different in practice, but they were parallel on paper. One might then think Sinclair¡¯s silence was some manner of defiance or intimation. Also incorrect.

    Rhian Sinclair was bored and didn''t feel like answering.

    ¡°This isn¡¯t going to work.¡± Captain Lobodin said.

    Michael raised his eyebrows. ¡°I¡¯m sorry?¡±

    ¡°The piss-head. She¡¯s going to make people uncomfortable.¡±

    I hadn¡¯t heard that exact terminology before, but I surmised that piss-head was the Captain¡¯s creative way of describing Sinclair''s hair.

    ¡°Okay¡ªso, I think now¡¯s a good time to talk about discrimination,¡± Michael said. ¡°It¡¯s a short speech and it goes something like, ¡®I won¡¯t tolerate it.¡¯ But, I do understand where you¡¯re coming from, and if you need time to educate people and spread the word around town, that¡¯s fine. I¡¯m sure we can find the Enforcer something to do in the meantime.¡±

    After wrapping things up with the Captain and shoveling the dirt back over the grave, it didn¡¯t take us long to come up with something for Sinclair to do for the next little while.

    One village¡¯s solution would become another city¡¯s problem.

 [The First One] 18 - The Brand New Trousers

    Rhian

    Years ago, I had a dream I was on holiday in Delphia with Councilwoman Oranen. The thing is, Partisans don¡¯t get holidays. Also, the man selling Sugared Moons on the street wasn¡¯t the lady who normally sold Sugared Moons. I bought a Moon anyway, and then I woke up feeling like I¡¯d been shopping for hats. Well, I didn¡¯t care for hats, and I didn¡¯t care for Councilwoman Oranen, but I basically lived for eating Moons in Delphia.

    The point is: I remembered only bits and pieces of that dream, and less than half of them made sense.

    My first night in Oskari, I dreamed I was in a house. Simple this, simple that. No useless shite laying about, but the furniture was fancy. Most of it was reddish-brownish. I couldn¡¯t tell you what it was on account of I¡¯m not a woodologist.

    Upstairs, there was a lad asleep in his bed. He was afraid of the dark and something else I didn¡¯t understand, but for some reason I still knew. The lad kept a bedside lantern, even if it did piss all to help. I wasn¡¯t sure how I knew that, either, but I did. The boy¡¯s parents slept in the room next door, back to back and touching trotters. I didn¡¯t spy long seeing as that would have been weird. Besides, there was still another room.

    Brunette and built to stomp the shite out of hearts and souls, the pretty lass stood at the window with the butter yellow drapes, her arms crossed and a face like thunder. I stared at her while she stared out the window, and I was ready to leave until she turned. She faced me head-on with those big amber eyes, and then she smiled bright like she knew me.

    The point is: when I woke up from that dream, I remembered all the bits and pieces, but not a single one of them made sense.

    My room at the Widow¡¯s Peak was big, about three times the size of my dorm at Palisade. Apart from the bed, there was a round table with four chairs, a chamber pot, a wooden washtub, and a bench for two beneath the window. It was a nice spot for a shindig, I reckoned. But it was a busy day planned, so I crawled out of bed and started with a stretch. Then I did a cartwheel on account of I could, and then I did another on account of the first was fun. I went for a wee, got myself dressed, strapped on my boots, and opened a letter that hadn¡¯t been there the night before. It¡¯d been slipped under the door. Smooth.

    Joke¡¯s on them¡ªcouldn¡¯t read it apart from a couple words like, ¡°we,¡± and ¡°soon.¡± It was probably a threat, but at least they''d been formal about it. The letter was written on crisp parchment with fancy lettering, sealed with red wax and the letter ¡°R¡±. I went looking for Michael in the room across the hall, but he wasn¡¯t there. He was probably at the church with Strauss, and seeing as I didn¡¯t want to be at the church with Strauss, I''d sort it out later.

    I headed downstairs and sat at the bar.

    ¡°Morning,¡± said the lady on the other side. ¡°Breakfast?¡±

    ¡°Is it free?¡±

    The woman shrugged. ¡°If you don¡¯t mind last night¡¯s scraps.¡±

    ¡°As a matter of fact, I do not.¡±

    Last night¡¯s scraps were delicious. I liked the tiny potatoes best.

    ¡°So,¡± the woman said. ¡°Think you¡¯ll catch him?¡±

    ¡°What makes you think there''s a him?¡±

    ¡°Rumours, I guess.¡±

    ¡°Right, and what makes you think all those people didn¡¯t just go missing on their own? I wouldn¡¯t be here either if I didn¡¯t have to be.¡±

    The woman laughed. ¡°All right, you¡¯ve made your point. Sorry¡ªwhat¡¯s your name?¡±

    ¡°Rhian,¡± I said.

    ¡°Ivana,¡± she said.

    As far as people in Oskari went, I liked her a lot better than the arseface Captain.

    ¡°Your friend, the one with the armour. Is he¡­¡±

    Surprise, another lass looking to get into Michael Reider¡¯s trousers.

    ¡°¡­always that arrogant?¡±

    What? It wasn¡¯t the first time I¡¯d been wrong.

    ¡°Sometimes,¡± I said.

    ¡°Huh. Is it justified?¡±

    ¡°Reckon you¡¯ll have to wait and see.¡±

    It was quiet while I ate, and after washing down the last of my cornbread with the last of my cider, I stood up, dusted myself off, and paid the lady a triple-note for not being an arseface.

    Onward and whatnot.

    <hr>

    The road to Jaska was about as interesting as church with Strauss.

    <hr>

    I haven¡¯t got much to say about Jaska, except to say there was stone everywhere. The people seemed miserable which was basically normal. But, if I had one nice thing to say about the city, it was full up on the most impressive glass-work I¡¯d ever seen. It reminded me of the window at the Widow¡¯s Peak¡ªall mixed up with colours and shapes and whatnot.

    Generally speaking, the people ignored me walking around among them. Meaning, I probably wasn¡¯t the first piss-head they¡¯d seen in recent times. All in all, the city had streets, and the streets had places. I made a mental note of the taverns, the inns, and the brothel I reckoned was supposed to be a secret. Then, I spotted something foreign like me.

    I stopped in front of the merchant stall set up outside a knickknack shop.

    ¡°That¡¯s a helluva piece.¡± I pointed at a knife with a short handle and a black blade.

    ¡°Yeah,¡± the merchant agreed. ¡°Isn¡¯t it though?¡±

    ¡°When did it come in?¡±

    ¡°Couple days ago. Some shaggy little twerp. Kind of looked like you¡ªyou related?¡±

    I could have been offended by that, but I wasn¡¯t. Strauss once said all Strachan had to be related somehow, even if it was a long time ago. But never mind. Only one person fitting that description could have hocked a black ceramic knife.

    I slipped the merchant a single-note for his troubles. ¡°I¡¯m looking for a seamstress.¡±

    ¡°Follow your nose two blocks that way.¡± He pointed that way. ¡°The one you¡¯re looking for is tucked around the flower shop.¡±

    Moral of the story: some people made life easier.

    Seamstress, shopkeep, deception expert. Same difference. Vivienne Delaterre was one hell of a nice lady when she wasn¡¯t putting you through hell. I should know. Once upon a time, she was my teacher.

    Remember that time I said I¡¯d had excellent counter-training against telepathy?

    ¡°Rhian Sinclair! What a strange surprise.¡±

    Talking about strange surprises, walking into the Steel Needle was a lot like wandering into a flower patch and getting punched in the face by a rainbow. It didn¡¯t do a whole lot for the headache I¡¯d been fighting.

    ¡°This place stinks,¡± I said. ¡°How do you stand it?¡±

    ¡°My nose has gone blind. Besides, the location limits my client¨¨le to those with tacky taste and the means to indulge. Retail, my dear. It¡¯s a dirty job.¡±

    Looking around, it was obvious the fancy fabric folded on the shelves had been imported from Delphia. That was the point of these Partisan-run operations, seeing as trade between the territories was illegal without Palisade support. Exporting Legacy Partisans with their exotic goods and services was the Assembly¡¯s shitty answer to people¡¯s curiosity about the world outside their bubble.

    Vivienne Delaterre stepped out from behind the counter wearing a showy blue number I¡¯d never be caught alive in. And I know I haven¡¯t got much say in what I¡¯m wearing when I¡¯m dead, but I hope it isn¡¯t that. She headed for the door and locked it.

    If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.

    ¡°I know you well enough to know this isn¡¯t a pleasure visit. What can I do for you?¡±

    ¡°Seen any suspicious old men with mustaches lately?¡±

    ¡°Only twelve this morning. What¡¯s this about?¡±

    I caught her up on everything happening in Oskari.

    ¡°You might want to speak with the Captain of the guard here in the city.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s actually why I¡¯m here,¡± I said. ¡°Tell me about him.¡±

    ¡°Captain Kavelin? He¡¯s harmless. Barren, but his parents were not.¡±

    ¡°How¡¯s that happen?¡±

    ¡°Rare and unfortunate odds.¡±

    I¡¯d have corrected her about the unfortunate bit, but I wasn¡¯t about to argue with the woman who could make me think I was a tree.

    ¡°He is sympathetic toward us because of his lineage. He won¡¯t give you a hard time.¡±

    ¡°Right,¡± I said. ¡°Anything else?¡±

    ¡°Two things, actually. First, the fool downs three drinks at dusk. Second, the present state of your attire is unspeakable. Allow me?¡±

    I allowed her. It was free. I like free things.

    Also, I needed new trousers.

    <hr>

    I did a lot of waiting in Jaska.

    I waited at the guardhouse while a hook-nosed man went and fetched the Captain. Then I waited on a burly lass who went to fetch the hook-nose man who¡¯d gone to fetch the Captain. Seemed just about everybody wanted to help. More like, everybody wanted to know who in the blazes I was and what in the blazes I wanted.

    After some more waiting, I shouted over at a random walking by. Nice enough looking chap, all suited up for duty. He had an arrogance about his walk, but his brown eyes were big and sweet like a goddess-be-damned puppy.

    ¡°Seeing as I¡¯ve been waiting about a month, reckon you could take me to your Captain?¡±

    The guard smiled. Up until that point, I hadn¡¯t realized Jaskan faces could do that.

    ¡°Must be my lucky day. Two Strachan in the same afternoon.¡±

    ¡°Er¡ªright.¡± No big shock, seeing we¡¯re all aware Gus was kicking around somewhere. ¡°I¡¯m looking for Captain Kavelin.¡±

    Turned out, I was already speaking with Captain Kavelin. I was a bit surprised, seeing as the man looked so young. He¡¯d done well for himself.

    The garrison was about half the size of one of Palisade¡¯s spires, and it had a couple of watchtowers on the outside that could¡¯ve done with some upkeep. The Captain had his office in a private building on the main grounds, so that¡¯s where we went. Good thing I wasn¡¯t there to kill him. It would¡¯ve been too easy.

    Once we were settled in at his desk, I cut to the chase.

    ¡°We¡¯ve got a host of folk gone missing from a village over yonder, and now we¡¯re looking for a mustached man in a haystack. The sands be bloody shifting, Captain.¡±

    The Captain leaned forward, propping his elbows on the desk.

    ¡°Missing? How many?¡±

    ¡°Forty-seven.¡±

    ¡°Good Goddess!¡±

    ¡°Relax. It¡¯s more like eight. We¡¯ve also got two dead.¡± I slid a crumpled list across the desk. ¡°These are their names. Some have got family in the city. Reckon you could post a notice? Make an announcement or something?¡±

    He didn¡¯t look up from the list, but he nodded.

    ¡°Five years ago,¡± he said.

    ¡°Five years ago you were¡­ twelve?¡±

    Turns out, he was sixteen and a new recruit. Around that time, something similar happened in Jaska. At least a dozen people up and vanished from the city, and the suspect at the time fit our description¡ªold and mustached.

    ¡°There were extensive searches and excavations. We turned over all the farms and abandoned properties within ten leagues of the city. The rumour at the time was that the perpetrator was consuming his victims¡¯ flesh, and that¡¯s why we couldn¡¯t find them.¡±

    ¡°What¡¯d he do with the bones?¡±

    ¡°Is that a serious question?¡±

    ¡°I mean, was that a serious theory?¡±

    The Captain shrugged.

    ¡°All right, anything else I should know?¡±

    Captain Kavelin whistled, and an old scribe hobbled in from the next room. Poor bastard looked like he hadn¡¯t seen the sun in about a thousand years. The two chatted in a language I didn¡¯t understand, so I watched a fly buzzing around out of the corner of my eye. Old Pale eventually hobbled off, and the Captain lifted a finger.

    So there was waiting, and more waiting, and more waiting on account it was my lot in life apparently. Old Pale hobbled back in after about a week, and it so happened all the waiting was for nothing. The case files he was looking for had already been shipped to the archives in Leberecht.

    Trouble was, a person needed permission from Councilwoman Faust to visit the city made of Amalia¡¯s golden excrement or some such thing. If there were any stealthy ways in, not even the best Strachan intelligence had found it as far as I knew.

    It didn¡¯t look like we¡¯d be getting our hands on those files.

    ¡°Is there someone else I can talk to?¡± I asked. ¡°Someone who worked the case?¡±

    ¡°Most of those men are dead, Partisan,¡± Old Pale said. ¡°Perished in the fire that put an end to the madness.¡±

    ¡°So the kidnapper-slash-killer-slash-cannibal died in a fire?¡±

    Old Pale shrugged his old shoulders, and I could¡¯ve sworn I heard them creak. ¡°There were only ashes to prove anything, but the disappearances stopped. Tell me, are the Partisan names Gregory Keller and Vincent Delestade familiar to you?¡±

    I didn¡¯t have a clue about Keller, but Delestade? That name meant six hells of a lot.

    ¡°They¡¯d know more than anyone. We never knew much about the Delphi, but Keller was clergy here in the city before he, too, disappeared. They may know something at the church.¡±

    I got all the information I needed, and it seemed just about everybody was trying to get me to go to church. Guess I¡¯d be going.

    On a hot day in Endica.

    <hr>

    The Three Drinks tavern wasn¡¯t a lie. Shitty ale, shittier ale, shittiest ale. I chose the latter seeing as I reckoned it was some sort of rite of passage.

    Also, I didn¡¯t have a lot of notes.

    Around me, the crowd was going mental. Cheering, laughing, clinking, and whatnot. It was only a few moments after taking my first sip that I was clobbered from behind. Spilled some of my shittiest ale, to boot.

    The fool downs three drinks at dusk¡ªgood old Vivienne Delaterre.

    After Feargus Finlay finished clobbering me, we squealed like pigs and hugged like mad. For a minute, we were Gus and Rhian again. It was nice, even if everybody and their half-in-the-bag brothers were watching.

    ¡°This is some coincidence!¡± said one man. He probably wasn¡¯t called Bob.

    ¡°Don¡¯t be so daft, Not-Bob,¡± said another. ¡°It was obviously planned.¡±

    I wasn¡¯t sure what to be more bothered about¡ªthe fact I was interesting, or the fact that Gus was wearing Petitioner¡¯s robes.

    ¡°I was just telling my new friends about that time when we were kids, and how we needed some notes to run away, so we spent the week filling up empties with piddle and sold them back to the tavern.¡±

    Not our finest moment, but what do you want? We were eight and there weren¡¯t any streams nearby. I was still confused about the robes.

    ¡°Anyhow, I¡¯ve been here holding sermons every night¡ªyou know, for practice. I¡¯ve been teaching everybody Stracha¡¯s tenants.¡±

    Stracha¡¯s tenants my arse.

    ¡°I¡¯d be going to church every day if they were all as entertaining as Petitioner Finnegan!¡± said some stranger.

    ¡°Here, here!¡± said Not-Bob.

    There I was, still confused. ¡°Aye, he¡¯s a real winner. But seeing as I¡¯ve come all this way to talk to Petitioner Finnegan, would you all mind turning around and entertaining yourselves for a while?¡±

    I shooed.

    Everybody turned, but most Barrens forgot we Partisans have got ears like goddess-be-damned bats.

    ¡°I thought she¡¯d have more knives,¡± said some man.

    ¡°I didn¡¯t think she¡¯d be so blonde,¡± said some woman.

    That¡¯s about when I stopped listening and Gus and I found a table toward the back of the tavern. My chair had a wobbly leg, and I remember on account of it was annoying. Gus couldn¡¯t say a lot about his own work, so he asked questions about mine. I told him all about Adeline and the asylum, Michael and our trial, Strauss and Oskari. All the way to the part about meeting with Captain Kavelin.

    ¡°Say, what have you got on Delestade these days?¡±

    Gus squinted. ¡°Vincent Delestade? As in Delestade, Delestade? Wait¡ªwhat¡¯s Delestade got to do with Captain Kavelin?¡±

    ¡°Nothing, but if you say Delestade one more time, I¡¯m gonna punch you in Delenose.¡±

    ¡°Delestade.¡±

    I probably rolled my eyes but I definitely didn¡¯t punch Gus. ¡°I need to ask him some questions. If I can weasel him out of his hole, the man still owes me a thing or twelve.¡±

    ¡°Is it really worth the trouble?¡±

    ¡°It might be. Reckon Strauss is up for the task?¡±

    ¡°Um¡ª¡± Gus shook his head, but then he changed his mind. ¡°Actually, it could work.¡±

    ¡°Good, we¡¯ll need a ride.¡±

    ¡°And I¡¯ll need a day or three. Two tops.¡±

    Most of the time, Feargus Finlay¡¯s words were about as true as the grass is purple. But we were twenty years partners in everything. Everything except that one thing you might be thinking. We were practically siblings.

    Bottom line: I wasn¡¯t worried about Gus not coming through for me.

    Seeing as it had been getting on my nerves, I poked around in my satchel for the fancy letter that was slipped under the door back in Oskari. Somehow it¡¯d gone from top to bottom on its own. It took about an hour to find. I slipped it across the table.

    ¡°What does it say?¡±

    Gus cleared his throat. ¡°It says, ¡®Cursed we roam, but our regret weakens our resolve.¡¯¡±

    ¡°¡­and we¡¯re off to a creepy start.¡±

    ¡°Aye, and the next line¡¯s even better, ¡®Soon, we¡¯ll have our introduction.¡¯¡±

    ¡°Brilliant.¡± I gulped down the last of my shittiest ale. ¡°I love meeting new people. Now read the next bit in a mysterious voice.¡±

    ¡°¡¯FeAr nOt tHe sHaDoW aT yOuR bAcK.¡¯¡±

    Gus had an excellent mysterious voice. ¡°What next?¡±

    ¡°¡¯Pleasant dreams,¡¯ and it isn¡¯t signed.¡±

    So, maybe the letter wasn¡¯t a threat. Or maybe it was.

    Whatever it was, it was annoying.

 [The First One] 19 - The Inevitable Amnesia

    Andrei

    After returning to Oskari with the book found in the presumed Vonsinfonie cavern, the translations from Symphonic consumed all my precious spare time. The language proved a continuous challenge. On the best days, my translations seemed inaccurate, impossible, and even comedic when the words didn''t appear to have any logical connection. On the worst days, I wanted nothing more than to accidentally light the forsaken thing on fire.

    In the interim, I remained vigilant in my duties at the church. The attendance for our dusk sermons had never been higher. This was most likely a result of desperation, although I feared I¡¯d soon run out of words to console the families of those who¡¯d disappeared.

    Fortunately, nothing out of the ordinary happened in or around the village since my companions¡¯ arrival from Palisade, and I suspected we had the Commander¡¯s mere presence to thank for that. In the garden, the plants still wilted under my care.

    I awaited Sinclair¡¯s return from Jaska with confused feelings, and on the day we expected her back, I was still awake to see the sun rise and the villagers gather in the courtyard outside my window. The script on the lesson plan I¡¯d been working on warped and bobbed¡ªa subtle reminder to sleep, or at the very least eat.

    Centuries ago, the church of Oskari was serviced by a full staff: cooks, maids, gardeners, and so on. Dozens of Partisans wandered its corridors: clergy, archivists, accountants. Now there were only two, and I¡¯d had to learn to cook for myself. Water and oats became an every day thing. As the Amali diet scaled toward carnivorous, my options for produce were severely limited. I had my mother to thank for the intolerance toward meat¡ªa trait shared by all Celestian. That said, I didn¡¯t enjoy my oats that morning. My cinnamon stash was in short supply, and the church ran a fruit deficit.

    In hindsight, if I¡¯d known what the day would bring, I would have savoured the simplicity of my breakfast.

    The overall day-to-day in Oskari had improved. The people were reassured by the arrival of Commander Reider. Perhaps it was the armour¡ªplate and pristine. Or perhaps it was the broadsword, Intrepidity. A Palisadian artifact given to him for his role in the Verena revolt. The villagers got the hero they¡¯d been praying for, and each morning, the Commander held defensive combat lessons in the church courtyard. This provided the people with both a purpose and a distraction. Women, men, children¡ªall were invited to participate.

    After finishing my breakfast, I joined them outside. It was a dismal day, a shocking contrast to the Commander¡¯s smile.

    ¡°Well, well¡ªlook who remembered how to walk.¡±

    ¡°Good morning, Commander.¡± I turned to the attendees. ¡°How go the lessons today?¡±

    ¡°We are feeling much safer,¡± said one of the adolescents.

    Another of the adolescents nodded. ¡°And since we¡¯re taking a break, I have a great idea. You and Commander Michael should arm-wrestle.¡±

    ¡°Oh, no,¡± Michael said. ¡°That wouldn¡¯t be a fair fight.¡±

    ¡°One note on the Brother!¡± one man said.

    ¡°Two notes on the Brother!¡± another added.

    It was an inside joke the Commander wasn¡¯t familiar with, so he chimed in with a bet of his own. ¡°Three notes on myself!¡±

    His confidence elicited giggles from a small group of women, and I was pleased they¡¯d found a new target for their affection. I was even more relieved when one of the guardsmen interrupted the boy¡¯s great idea, huffing and puffing his way across the courtyard.

    The relief was short-lived.

    ¡°Commander Reider, Brother Strauss¡ªyou¡¯re wanted at the garrison immediately," he shouted. "Your Strachan has been arrested.¡±

    <hr>

    When we arrived at the makeshift garrison, Rhian Sinclair had been confined to a cage, filthy and covered in blood. Not only that, but they¡¯d stripped her down to her small-pants and the layers of cloth which bound her breasts.

    ¡°Those were new you sons-of-bitches. Have you any idea what we¡¯ve gotta go through to get new things? Never mind the burden of proof, and the six thousand forms, you sorry, backwater lot haven¡¯t even got¡ª¡±

    ¡°Make her shut up! Why isn¡¯t she shutting up?¡± Captain Lobodin, red-faced and generous with his spittle, turned to the Commander.

    ¡°¡ªthe tiniest bit of appreciation for us looking after your incompetent arses, so LET ME THE HELLS OUT.¡±

    ¡°Rhian,¡± Michael said.

    Although she didn¡¯t look particularly thrilled, Sinclair released her white-knuckle grip on the iron bars and fell silent.

    ¡°Explanation?¡± I asked. ¡°Anyone?¡±

    Sinclair frowned, and for a few moments in suspended time, she was no longer dirty, imprisoned, or exposed against her will. We were together, alone, and exposed at our will. Almost as soon as it surfaced, I shook the image from my head.

    ¡°¡ªand then I woke up covered in blood with this ingrate hovering over me. Took my weapons, my armour, and my new trousers, too.¡±

    ¡°Wait¡ªwhose blood? Your blood?¡±

    The Commander shot me a look of incredulity. ¡°Weren¡¯t you listening? A man is dead, and Rhian was found at the scene where she doesn¡¯t seem to remember being.¡±

    ¡°How¡¯s that possible?¡±

    ¡°Well, as I was saying while you were off in la-la-land, one minute I was arriving in Oskari, and the next I woke up in a puddle of blood. So, I have no idea.¡±

    ¡°Were you intoxicated?¡± I asked.

    ¡°No more than usual.¡±

    ¡°Did anyone recognize the victim?¡±

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    Sinclair scoffed. ¡°Trusty Captain L chucked his breakfast before he could have a close enough look. And for the record, I didn¡¯t recognize the man¡ªbut why would I? A few of the other guards brought the body to the church, so you might wanna check in there.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sure this is all one big misunderstanding,¡± said the Commander.

    How could it be? A Palisade Enforcer was found at the scene of a murder, covered in the victim¡¯s blood. But if Sinclair had done it, she would have a good reason and she would explain herself. She never shied away from accepting personal responsibility, and she was known to take the blame even when she wasn¡¯t guilty. She¡¯d done it for me in the past.

    ¡°The punishment for murder in Amalia is death,¡± Captain Lobodin said.

    ¡°Which, in this case, has to be sanctioned by the Assembly first,¡± the Commander added. ¡°You could keep her locked up, but you¡¯ll be footing the bill keeping her alive until Councilwoman Faust arrives. It¡¯d be best to release her under my watch.¡±

    ¡°Shut up,¡± Lobodin sputtered. ¡°Why shouldn¡¯t we make an example out of her? And what¡¯s stopping me from locking you up, too?¡±

    ¡°Bad idea, Captain,¡± Sinclair said.

    Michael Reider could make quick work of the Captain who was a quarter as strong and entirely untrained. We could then free Sinclair, who would run as quickly as only a Strachan can. But we did none of those things. There were still people in danger, and it was our duty to see it resolved¡ªblessed to serve, never to be served.

    Commander Reider shook his head. ¡°There has to be an explanation for this.¡±

    Sighing, I rubbed my forehead as if it would do anything to help the onset of a splitting headache. ¡°While you all sort this out, I¡¯ll visit the mortuary and question the locals.¡±

    ¡°Go,¡± the Commander commanded.

    Before leaving the garrison, I saluted to Michael, glared at the Captain, and tried on a reassuring smile for Rhian¡¯s benefit. Michael was correct.

    There had to be an explanation and I was determined to discover it.

    <hr>

    There were two bodies in the mortuary. The first was concealed beneath heavy white linens and promised an individual of small stature. The second body¡ªour victim¡ªwas not concealed at all. He had been lain face down, and the cause of death was obvious. While I circled the stone slab and considered the stab wounds at either of the man¡¯s flanks, thousands of oats rallied in my stomach, threatening to make a dramatic exit.

    I wasn¡¯t particularly squeamish. I¡¯d enjoyed my work in the mortuary, and I¡¯d learned to view the body like another one of my texts. But on that day, it felt personal.

    I¡¯d memorized all of Rhian Sinclair¡¯s particulars. Her favourite colour was green. Her favourite drink was Hocks Spirits aged precisely seventeen-and-a-half years. Her favourite dessert was the Sugared Moon found on the Isles of Delphia. Her second favourite method of assassination? Kidney punctures.

    I¡¯d always known what Sinclair was¡ªwhat she was brought up to be. Her title spoke for itself. While it was never out of mind, it was out of sight. It had all been an illusion. The pain she could inflict on others had never been real. The people she¡¯d killed had never existed. But there I stood, examining the wounds from which a man bled out and died.

    Still, I couldn¡¯t hate her, and I continued to have doubts around the circumstances. Not only did Sinclair refuse responsibility, but how or why would a woman with notable skill and training murder a man in the middle of town, and then fall asleep in the evidence?

    I turned the deceased man to his front, and I recognized him immediately. It was the man who challenged me to an arm-wrestle in the Widow¡¯s Peak¡ªthe husband of the deceased woman found decapitated in her garden.

    As I paced the room, I caught movement out of the corner of my eye. The white sheet covering the second corpse had slipped to the side, exposing the individual¡¯s fingers. I wandered over to adjust the sheet, and then continued pacing. A few moments later, it happened again. The sheet slipped, and I adjusted it. Only this time, the exposed fingers closed around my wrist. The body on the slab sprung from a horizontal position to an upright one, and the sheet fell from its torso. In the same instant, my heart rate tripled, my stomach crumpled inward, and my breath became tight and tangled in my chest.

    Feargus Finlay''s grin was the last thing I remember before I hit the floor.

    <hr>

    Ultimately, the Captain agreed to release Sinclair under the Commander¡¯s close watch. This decision came after identifying the murdered man¡ªa man with a history of violence, public drunkenness, and aggression toward authority. Not to mention, he was at the centre of two suspicious deaths and a series of abductions. The decision may also have also been influenced by Sinclair¡¯s plans to travel out of territory.

    Later that afternoon, we gathered around the table in her room at the Widow¡¯s Peak.

    Finlay, who also had a spotty recollection of the night''s events, said he and Sinclair arrived in Oskari in the middle of the night.

    ¡°We were coming up on the Widow¡¯s Peak when the dead man stumbled out drunker than I¡¯ve ever been. He picked a fight with Rhian, and I ran for the trees in case she needed back-up from a distance. That¡¯s the last thing I remember before I woke up with dirt in my mouth and leaves in strange places.¡±

    ¡°Were there any other witnesses?¡± Michael asked.

    ¡°I thought I saw a lass, about a half league away,¡± Finlay said, considering. ¡°But I don¡¯t think she would have seen us. It was pretty dark.¡±

    ¡°What did she look like?¡± the Commander continued. ¡°What was she doing?¡±

    ¡°Pretty? Walking? I dunno, mate. It¡¯s still fuzzy up in here.¡± Finlay dragged a hand through his sandy curls. ¡°I hadn¡¯t planned on falling asleep. And when I woke up, everyone was gathered around the dead man. I really can¡¯t be involved in any big scenes at the minute, so I went to the church and played possum.¡±

    Eyeballing the Strachan, I replied, ¡°Is that what you¡¯re calling it?"

    Finlay grinned.

    The Commander turned to Sinclair. ¡°What did you learn in Jaska? Does this have anything to do with your travel plans?¡±

    Sinclair nodded. ¡°Turns out around a dozen people went missing from the city about five years ago. There might have been a kidnapper, and the kidnapper might have been a killer, and the killer might have been a cannibal, but he definitely had a mustache. They¡¯ve gone on believing the suspect died in a fire because the incidents stopped afterward, but the old archivist didn¡¯t seemed entirely convinced. Also, everyone involved in the case is dead¡ªalmost. So, our best bet now is to find the only two people in Auditoria who know a bleeding thing. Apparently.¡±

    I hadn¡¯t had the chance to tell Sinclair about my trip to Leberecht, and it was obvious Finlay hadn¡¯t either. If we had, this next part of our story may have played out much differently. But after knowing how things would unfold because of our lack of communication, I have no regrets.

    ¡°Didn¡¯t you think to retrieve the case files?¡± I questioned, and just as soon regretted.

    Sinclair¡¯s response came in the form of the stare. Obviously she had thought of it, and for whatever reason, was unable to get them.

    ¡°Anyone know anything about a Gregory Keller?¡± she asked.

    ¡°Yes, of course,¡± I said. ¡°Gregory Keller was Amali clergy¡ªa Partisan assigned to Jaska over two decades ago. I''ve read that he was quite creative, and he¡ª¡±

    ¡°Was a fascinating man, I¡¯m sure.¡± The Commander interrupted. But there was no offense taken, because I was about to go on a tangent.

    I nodded. ¡°Yes, but he is also dead.¡±

    ¡°All right, so that brings us back to Vincent Delestade,¡± Finlay said. ¡°He¡¯s the other one with information on the case, and I know where to find him. It¡¯s going to be a pain in the arse, but I know where to find him. I¡¯ve got an embark scheduled to leave for Delphia in the morning, and seeing as I have my own business on the Isles to take care of, Rhian could use a partner and Strauss could use some sunshine.¡±

    A terrible idea, I thought. Delphia is where Sinclair and I had first met in person. It was where we¡¯d first kissed, and where we¡¯d been responsible for a devastating series of unwitting catastrophes.

    ¡°That''s a terrible idea,¡± I said.

    Sinclair nodded. ¡°Not a single doubt about it. But we¡¯re looking for a slippery man in a place full of words and I need a person who can read. Michael has to stay here.¡±

    ¡°Well, that settles it,¡± the Commander said.

    And to protest would have been hopeless.

 [The First One] Interlude - His Story, Part Two

    Andrei and Rhian

    There was a time I believed death to be the only truth, and once upon a time, a youthful priest stood where I¡¯d stand centuries later¡ªbelieving all I¡¯d come to believe, saying all I¡¯d come to say. ¡°And let it be known as our Mother preached, ¡®For all who pass upon my land, all shall be received and a greater purpose found.¡¯¡± For the elderly whose time had passed, the priest may have felt peace. For the diseased, relief. For the victims, regret. But for the youth¡­

    Well it was a sunny day, so I reckon the holy-man would have raised his arms to the sky and said something like, ¡°Amalia shines her bright white-ish light for Lidia and Victoria as their reception commences.¡± And it would have been a load of horseshite. Reckon even he knew that as he¡¯d go on saying all the pretty somethings-to-say when nobody¡¯s got the words. See, none of it mattered to the folk who wanted them back. But he¡¯d remind them that Lidia was a pretty lass, that she was healthy and loved by all, and that she lit up the room with her smile and whatnot.

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    When the Ruza family succumbed to sleep¡ªon that night and for those nights to come¡ªthey remembered Lidia and Victoria again as they were. Pretty. Loved. Alive. And of those who mourned the loss, it was the brown-eyed boy who suffered the longest. In two weeks¡¯ time, he''ll attend another funeral.

 [The First One] 20 - The Inappropriate Alias

    Rhian

    After three days on the water, Strauss was looking a bit green by the time we arrived at the Drop in Delphia. In case you¡¯ve forgotten since chapter three, he gets seasick. He also might have told you, in a rather round-about way, that each territory has a Drop, and that¡¯s where Partisans go to check-in when they arrive from other places.

    Anyhow, working a job in Delphia took some adjusting. For one, two, and three: the isles were hot, loud, and small. They were also so goddess-be-damned bright most Partisans walked around half-blind for about an hour.

    Stepping off the embark, I thought about Adeline.

    I wondered how she¡¯d been getting on with her mother.

    I wondered how she¡¯d been getting on with her brother.

    I wondered how I could get my hands on a pair of those sun-goggles.

    Our first stop was the outpost. Seeing as Gus forged our orders and the reason for being there, getting past the Administrator might have been tricky. I say it might have been, on account of the man at the desk was too busy offering me free cake and a foot massage to look too closely.

    I¡¯m not boasting, but I was something of a celebrity on the Isle of Inspiration. I didn¡¯t like it, didn¡¯t want it, didn¡¯t need it, but that¡¯s just the way of things when a person saves a place from certain doom and whatnot.

    It came in handy sometimes.

    Anyhow. We weren¡¯t looking for Vincent Delestade on the Isle of Inspiration, so after leaving Gus at the Drop, we boarded another embark heading for the Isle of Pantomime. There, they might have heard my name, but it wasn¡¯t as though I¡¯d had the time to pose for any portraits.

    The trip from the Isle of Inspiration to the Isle of Pantomime took about half an hour.

    We saw a seagull. I fed the seagull. We saw forty seagulls. The end.

    <hr>

    The Isle of Pantomime was buzzing that day. If you¡¯re expecting fancier details than that, you¡¯ll have to wait for Strauss¡¯s chapter. As far as I''m concerned, it was a day like any other day on the isles. Hurray, Partisans. Gawk, gawk, cheer, cheer. Strauss was polite, so he pretended to like being stopped about a thousand times for autographs. I wasn''t polite, so I didn¡¯t pretend to like it, and I squiggled an ¡°S¡± on people¡¯s bits and bobs to make them go away.

    Unlike the people in Amalia, the people in Delphia were big on celebrating the so-called Blessed Ones.

    Once we got the hang of dodging the Delphi, we found a quiet corner tucked around back of a costume shop. There were about a thousand shops like that one on the isle, so that was just plain odds. We lowered our voices and stood six feet apart. Anything closer and we''d probably kiss again.

    ¡°All right,¡± I said. ¡°We need new names.¡±

    ¡°I anticipated we might, which is why I¡¯ve already chosen some.¡±

    ¡°You have? What are they?¡±

    ¡°You¡¯ll be Penelope.¡±

    The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.

    ¡°The hell?¡±

    Strauss shrugged. ¡°I like it.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve never even heard of it, but seeing as you took the time to think about it, and seeing as you look so bloody sad, Penelope it is.¡±

    ¡°Penelope Singer,¡± he said. ¡°And I¡¯ll be James Strider.¡±

    ¡°Why do you get an appropriate name like Strider, and I¡¯m stuck with Singer? You¡¯ve got those spidery legs and I can¡¯t even sing.¡±

    ¡°Have you ever tried?¡±

    ¡°No.¡±

    ¡°Then how do you know you can¡¯t sing?¡±

    ¡°Have you heard me talk?¡±

    Strauss had a bit of a chuckle, and then he peeked around the corner to make sure we weren¡¯t about to be interrupted. The man could sneeze and accidentally set someone''s hair on fire, so it wasn¡¯t often Strauss expressed anything much, let alone laughter. It was nice.

    ¡°What¡¯s next?¡± he asked.

    ¡°Well, I¡¯m not leaving this place without a bag of Moons.¡±

    ¡°I will overflow the forsaken embark with Moons if it means I don''t have to hear about Moons on this trip again.¡±

    What? It was a three day ride from Amalia, and there hadn¡¯t been much to talk about.

    ¡°What¡¯s next in our plan to locate Mister Delestade?¡± Strauss asked.

    The truth is, I was hoping he would come up with the plan. We were smack in the middle of the land of subtlety, and according to Gus, Vincent Delestade was hiding out with the thespians. The man defected from Palisade about five years afore, and keep in mind, it was my job to kill or capture Palisade defects. He knew this, and he also owed me a favour. Bottom line: leaving a friendly note at the theatre wasn¡¯t going to get us what we needed. There were only two ways to get Delestade¡¯s attention, and that was either to trick him, or impress him out of hiding.

    Nothing turned the man on more than an over-the-top plot.

    After catching Strauss up on the particulars, it didn¡¯t take him long to come up with something. All those years locked up with his dusty old storybooks and all.

    ¡°First, I suggest we get out of these clothes.¡±

    "Is that a proposition, Strauss?"

    ¡°Of course not."

    Strauss might have been a bit of a liar, but he was on to something. Looking like we did¡ªa mopey priest and a crabby assassin¡ªthe pair of us were a walking headline. Also, I was hungrier than I was stubborn, and the sooner we got done with our business, the sooner I¡¯d get my hands on that bag of Moons.

    The costume shop was packed that day, but that didn¡¯t stop the tailor dropping absolutely everything and coming at us in a flash of big, white teeth.

    ¡°How may I, a mere slave to fashion, be in service to the Blessed Ones?¡± he more or less asked.

    Strauss chose his best smile from all the ones he¡¯d stored up. The man had a knack¡ªa way of seeming polite and unassuming when he wasn¡¯t any of those things. He just didn¡¯t know it yet. It was a bit precious.

    ¡°Privacy," he said.

    The tailor scurried around the room, flapping and shooing and whatnot. A madman in goddess-be-damned tights.

    ¡°But I¡¯ve not yet decided between the definitely red, the sort of pink, and the slightly brown,¡± one lass protested.

    ¡°I¡¯d go bold with the definitely red,¡± I said.

    In the end, the lass chose the red scarf, thanked me about a thousand times, and suggested I stop by her shop about my hair.

    At the time, I wasn''t sure how Strauss could afford all the nice clothes we were about to buy. I supposed Palisade paid him well to be a liar. It wasn''t until a lot later that I''d find out about the brawl at the Peak, the portrait of the man in the purple suit, and the trip to Leberecht.

    By the time we were done shopping, I had a new appreciation for all the years I hadn¡¯t had to do any shopping. Too big, too small. Most things were too big on account of I was too small. (Still am, haven¡¯t grown.) Too fluffy, too pink, too blue. Also, by the time the entire affair was over, I had a new appreciation for Strauss. He¡¯d even taken down his hair and put on some pants. But never mind the way he looked, it seemed all his saddest internal bits were stripped away with those blue robes.

    James Strider was everything Andrei Strauss was but couldn¡¯t be.

    It was bloody brilliant.

 [The First One] 21 - The Inevitable Informer

    Andrei

    While I¡¯d stayed in Delphia for eight weeks during my pilgrimage, I hadn¡¯t traveled beyond the capital city. Five independent masses surrounded the centre Isle of Inspiration, each with its own theme. There was one dedicated to the visual arts, another to music, one to literature, one to scientific innovation, and Vincent Delestade was said to be hiding out on the isle dedicated to the performing arts¡ªthe Isle of Pantomime.

    It was a city where the masquerade was commonplace, where the people were partial to stage make-up and bouffant hair, and where the every day felt like fiction, in fact. According to Sinclair, Delestade was hiding among the thespians, working as a theatre producer under an assumed name and an assumed appearance. Elaborate, but not impossible for a Partisan with the ability to manipulate perception.

    For lunch, Sinclair and I dined outdoors beneath a canopy, and the weather was as lovely as one could hope for in the whole of Auditoria. The breeze smelled of salt and sand, the seabirds sang, and our entertainment came in the form of men and women juggling fruit while costumed as¡­ fruit.

    ¡°We ought to have fruit jugglers at Palisade,¡± Sinclair said.

    ¡°Which would you be?¡±

    ¡°The pineapple.¡±

    There were no performers juggling pineapples.

    ¡°They¡¯re armoured and make for excellent weapons. Also, have you tried it?¡±

    I had tried the pineapple and it was delicious. I¡¯d never been so desperate for a meal suited toward my biology as an obligate herbivore. Sinclair was the one to suggest the bizarre caf¨¦ after once again commenting on my low weight and excessive pallor.

    After spending the morning shopping, we came out of the experience looking rather striking¡ªshe and I dressed entirely in white. It was a colour typically reserved for Palisade Consulates, and the air of importance served as a way to keep the locals at bay.

    Sinclair selected the ripest apple from the bowl in front of us, ignoring the bruises. ¡°Remember, our man''s a weaselly one and a bloody good illusionist. Nabbing him for Palisade would be nothing to sneeze on.¡±

    ¡°Nothing to sneeze at,¡± I said. ¡°And we aren¡¯t apprehending him, are we?¡±

    ¡°Not unless we have to, or I decide to.¡±

    I was not reassured. I''d met Vincent Delestade once, but only briefly and under extreme circumstances.

    ¡°You know, Strider,¡± she said between bites. ¡°You¡¯d find good work on the Isle of Ocula, posing for those romance paintings and whatnot. Reckon all we¡¯d need is a bit of wind and you¡¯d make a killing.¡±

    Was that a compliment? I wondered.

    Should I return it? I panicked.

    ¡°If the wind also blows that ridiculous hat off your head, then I might consider it.¡±

    Coward! She looked beautiful and the hat was adorable.

    Sinclair flicked the brim of her floppy accessory. ¡°Strider, this hat is a dream come true.¡±

    I¡¯d later learn about the dream she once had¡ªthe one where she went on holiday with Councilwoman Oranen and woke up feeling as though she¡¯d been shopping for hats. It would all eventually come together, but at the time, I let the comment slide.

    ¡°Can I ask an unrelated question?¡±

    Sinclair shrugged.

    ¡°If there was no Palisade¡ªno separation between Partisan and Barren¡ªwhat would you do instead?¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s a strange question. But, let¡¯s for a second suppose I had a family, and that my mum was a baker. I might have learned to bake, and I might have even been brilliant at it. ¡®Course, the odds are even she might have been a prostitute, and then I might have never learned to bake. Or maybe I still would have¡ªreckon a person could do both. The point is: I can¡¯t answer that. I¡¯ve never even thought about it.¡±

    ¡°Why not?¡±

    ¡°It wouldn¡¯t do a whole lot of good for me, would it?¡±

    Stalling for a moment to think, I took a long sip of a thick, purple drink. ¡°No, I guess it wouldn''t.¡±

    In turn, Sinclair took a long sip of a thick, pink drink. ¡°What about you?¡±

    ¡°Well, I¡¯ve never thought of it in the context of a job¡ªwhether I¡¯d want to be a carpenter, or a journalist, or a teacher. I just¡­ imagine having the choice to do anything I¡¯d like, at any time, anywhere, with anyone. I often imagine what it¡¯d be like to be happy.¡±

    ¡°I reckon that explains why you¡¯re so miserable.¡±

    ¡°Yes, I suppose it does.¡±

    I hadn¡¯t intended to go so deep with Sinclair. Fortunately, at the theatre, duty called.

    We paid for our lunch and walked in silence.

    <hr>

    The Fool Moon theatre was the quintessential hub of the Isle of Pantomime. Brilliant white columns and circular chambers reflected the colourful city, while the path we walked to the door was lined with trees, and those trees showered an endless rain of white petals. The grounds were fantastic and the walk remains a cherished memory.

    We paused before entering the building.

    ¡°All set?¡± Sinclair asked.

    ¡°Yes, but no surprises.¡±

    ¡°Good, but no promises.¡±

    On the other side of the crown-molded double doors, the interior was, for the most part, as expected¡ªwhite marble walls, white marble floors, and the d¨¦cor was sparse and limited to a purple runner rug and humongous vases filled with giant purple roses.

    We walked the rest of the way to the counter.

    It took some schmoozing, but not overmuch, to convince the man at reception that we were there for a once-in-a-lifetime special occasion. That we, Penelope Singer and James Strider, had come to prove our talents didn¡¯t begin and end at the point of a sword. That we had come all the way from Palisade to perform a scene from one of Delphia¡¯s most popular plays. And once the rumor of this groundbreaking theatrical performance spread, we had no doubt Vincent Delestade would attend in disguise.

    Sinclair was confident she¡¯d see through his illusion.

    Ultimately, we were directed to an available preparation room, and allotted four hours to gather our wits, practice, and make use of what we needed from their plentiful resources. As for our material, I chose a play entitled Just Deserts¡ªa story first published and performed more than two centuries before.

    ¡°You¡¯ll play the role of Misses Delaciel¡ªa spoiled socialite from the Isle of Audio. I will play the role of her husband¡ªa banker carrying on a tired family tradition.¡±

    As she had done since we¡¯d been left alone, Sinclair paced the small room. It was a good plan, but not even she was above nerves.

    ¡°All right, and where¡¯s he from?¡± she asked.

    ¡°The script doesn¡¯t say.¡±

    ¡°Well, it might be important¡ªwait, how am I supposed to read my lines if I can¡¯t read my lines?¡± she asked. ¡°And even if I could, I haven¡¯t got an idiotic memory like you.¡±

    ¡°Eidetic.¡±

    ¡°Whatever.¡± Sinclair shrugged. ¡°I still haven¡¯t got one.¡±

    ¡°Even though we are only doing one scene, it will help if you understand the entire arc. The lines will absorb more easily with context, and we¡¯ll work together.¡±

    Sinclair shrugged again, still pacing.

    ¡°You should know, the Delaciel union is one of convenience and greed. There is no love between them.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s a bloody shame.¡± Sinclair stopped pacing, only to start rummaging through the costume chest. ¡°When does this get interesting?¡±

    ¡°Soon,¡± I said. ¡°The couple is unfaithful by their fourth year of wedlock. He sleeps with the local confectioner, and she sleeps with the caretaker of their estate.¡±

    ¡°Couldn¡¯t they just come up with some sort of agreement?¡±

    ¡°In those circles, something so scandalous could result in rumours, public embarrassment, and could even have an impact on their business.¡±

    ¡°Even if the whole affair were shook on, or shaken on?¡±

    The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

    ¡°Shaken,¡± I said. ¡°And yes, even if it were. Besides, neither knows the other is straying.¡±

    ¡°Then I¡¯d wager one of them is about to have an unfortunate accident.¡±

    It was my turn to start pacing. ¡°Yes, Misses Delaciel decides her husband must die.¡±

    ¡°Poison, I reckon.¡± Sinclair nodded to herself. ¡°Hope she¡¯s got an alibi. I don¡¯t fancy being the lass who hasn¡¯t got an alibi¡ªagain.¡±

    I stacked the pages of Just Deserts on the vanity. ¡°To prepare for said alibi, Misses Delaciel plans a trip back home to the Isle of Audio. All the while, Mister Delaciel has ideas of his own. He works secretly to ensure his wife does not survive the carriage ride.¡±

    Sinclair flashed a smile in my direction. ¡°Brilliant.¡±

    ¡°Yes, it is. But what Mister Delaciel doesn¡¯t know is that his wife isn¡¯t planning on traveling alone. Last minute, she invites the confectioner¡ªher very best childhood friend. As for Mister Delaciel? The night of his wife¡¯s departure, he pours two drinks from the poisoned cask. One for himself, and one for the caretaker whom he¡¯d given the night off.¡±

    Sinclair pulled a canary-yellow feathered boa from the costume chest. She wrapped it thrice around her waist.

    ¡°Are all the plays around here like that one?¡±

    ¡°Some are even better, but some are worse. Have you discovered a new appreciation?¡±

    The Strachan snorted.

    ¡°By the way, you¡¯re wearing that incorrectly.¡±

    ¡°What?¡±

    Stepping nearer to the Strachan, I unraveled the boa from around her waist. I considered handing it back to her, but then in one bold move, I placed the feathered accessory around her neck. Our eyes met, and for the first time since the last time we were in Delphia, neither of us looked away.

    ¡°So, Strauss..."

    "Hmm?"

    "I¡¯ve been thinking about it.¡±

    After letting go of the boa, I would have retracted my hands if it weren¡¯t for Sinclair¡¯s fingers now wrapped tightly around my wrists.

    There was a certain look in her eyes. Was it hope, or was it fear? The two are so closely related it was hard to tell.

    ¡°What have you been thinking about?¡± I asked.

    ¡°I''ve been thinking about what I would do if I could choose.¡±

    The shallowness of her breath, and the heaviness in the air around us said more than words ever could in that moment. And as my shoulders stooped and Sinclair¡¯s heels rose off the floor, the door opened wide without warning.

    <hr>

    There were no knocks. No, ¡°May I come in?¡± And if he¡¯d made any noise at all in his approach, we were far too distracted to notice.

    Vincent Delestade. One of only three faces I cannot recall with clarity. Perhaps he was bearded. Blonde? No. Brunet. Maybe. Short? Tall? Stocky? Whatever the case, his voice was smooth and rich¡ªDelphi accented and spun like a melody. You are no doubt familiar with the sort of tune that haunts your day, your dreams, and the waking thereafter. Vincent Delestade spoke a song that could drive a person mad.

    ¡°Rhian Sinclair! Of all the Strachan luck, it¡¯s been too long.¡±

    The Enforcer should have killed the renowned defect where he stood. Instead, I watched as predator and prey shook hands. Delestade turned to me and clapped, entwining his garishly ringed fingers.

    ¡°And the half-breed!¡± He pouted. ¡°How tragic.¡±

    I shook my head, still coming to my senses. ¡°Mister Delestade, we are pleased you are pleased, but we¡¯ve traveled all the way from Amalia with¡ª¡±

    Delestade scoffed. ¡°To the fieriest hells with that dreadful place.¡±

    ¡°As you say. We understand you were involved in a missing persons case five years ago.¡±

    ¡°How could a man forget? To the day it feels as though I¡¯ve not slept. Now I¡¯ll tell you this and only this¡ªrun! Remain and work for me. Find a seaside cavern and breed to your hearts¡¯ content. Either you will live, or you will die, but trail this case and you will never be the same again.¡±

    ¡°Solid advice, mate,¡± Sinclair said. ¡°But I reckon we¡¯ll take our chances. Look, I came to you for the story before tracking down that Gregory Keller fellow, but¡ª¡±

    Does she not listen when I speak? I thought. Father Keller is dead.

    Vincent Delestade rubbed his jaw where there may or may not have been a beard, and then he turned to me and smiled. ¡°Gregory Keller is not dead, half-breed. To the best of my knowledge, the man has simply gone insane.¡±

    It may not have been Sinclair¡¯s purpose, but the incident reminded me to keep my guard up around the talented telepath.

    Then again, what could I really do to counter a man like that?

    ¡°Where is Father Keller now?¡± I asked.

    ¡°So many questions.¡± Delestade sighed and claimed the only chair in the room for himself. ¡°But, I must admit your approach was inspired. Romance, drama, and deceit. Well done.¡±

    I was honoured, although I would have liked to have seen our plot through to the grand finale.

    ¡°Sit.¡± Delestade gestured to the floor at his feet. ¡°Let me tell you a story.¡±

    And it was a story much like our story. Vincent Delestade was convinced the Assembly was trying to kill him. He was certain they were stalling, waiting for the perfect opportunity. Or the perfect accident. He believed his time had finally come when he was deployed to Amalia. No fewer than ten people had gone missing from the city of Jaska, and the local investigators were stumped.

    ¡°Their prison was overrun with old mustached men. Using my special talents, I questioned them all, and the Guard-Captain insisted I question his men, too. Oh, the gossip was ripe, my friends. But we were no closer to a resolution.¡±

    ¡°Was Father Keller involved with the investigation?¡± I asked.

    Delestade laughed. ¡°Gregory Keller had become a friend. A lazy, idealistic one with his head up his own ass. So, no. He was not involved. He was too busy being in love. Bless him, but love does not suit all people. He became obsessed. Writing endlessly in that journal, he¡ª¡±

    Delestade looked straight at me then, but his eyes were emerald green when I would have sworn they were brown. ¡°Half-breed,¡± he said. ¡°Take her hand.¡±

    ¡°Sorry?¡± I said.

    ¡°You live one life. Most likely, a short one. Take her hand.¡±

    I did as I was told. My palm perspired, but then again, so did Sinclair¡¯s.

    Satisfied, Delestade carried on.

    ¡°As time went on, I saw less and less of my friend. And more and more, the Guard-Captain excluded me from the investigation. I was a Palisadian ornament while the Barrens in power pleasured themselves. I fed the people platitudes on pretty platters. And when the promises fell flat, I was the one who faced the consequences. You see, my friends, someone else was trying to kill me. Day after day, I felt I was being followed. Night after night, I cowered at the church¡ªtoo afraid to leave, too afraid to stay, all the while playing witness to a friend¡¯s rapid descent into madness.¡±

    ¡°Look, Vinny¡ªwe appreciate the free entertainment and whatnot, but was the man a kidnapper, a killer, a cannibal, or all of the above? Also, what do you know about a fire?¡±

    ¡°What rush, Enforcer? Are you not exactly where you wish to be? Here, in these wondrous lands, sharing stories with an old friend and a handsome lover? A pity, though, I was hoping this one might prefer the company of men.¡±

    ¡°Ah¡ªno.¡± I said. ¡°But I¡¯m flattered, Mister Delestade.¡±

    There was a pause when Vincent¡¯s attention fell to the vanity where my satchel lay open on the surface. ¡°What books are those, half-breed? May I see them?¡±

    ¡°See them?¡± I repeated. What could I say? Anything other than, ¡°Yes,¡± would be ridiculous.

    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t bother,¡± Sinclair said. ¡°Gus read them to me once. Good times. ¡®Yesterday I ate oats,¡¯ and, ¡®Tomorrow I shall eat oats,¡¯ and, ¡®Sadly, we are all out of oats.¡¯ Aye, those journals are brilliant¡ªif your aim is to sleep for a week.¡±

    Only one of the two books was a journal, and once upon a time, Finlay had read it. It was no secret I enjoyed oats. The second book was the one I guarded with my life. The Strachan had no knowledge of its importance, but she responded to my hesitation flawlessly. Vincent Delestade paid no further attention to the bag or the books, but he twirled the end of a mustache I wasn¡¯t even certain he had.

    ¡°Where were we?¡± he asked.

    Turning away from our storyteller was a challenge of wills, but when he paused for a moment of reflection, I used the opportunity to look at Sinclair. Our hands were still joined together. Hers: dexterous, freckled, and full of life. Mine: long, pale, and free of scars. I wished we could be closer, but then again, why not? Who was there to stop us?

    I inched toward her, and she leaned her head against my arm.

    ¡°The fire,¡± she said. ¡°I was asking about the fire.¡±

    ¡°Of course!¡± Delestade nodded. ¡°Celebrated for claiming the life of the madman, cursed for claiming the lives of three undoubtedly valiant men. The case was closed, and I had little to do with it.¡± The Faceless laced his fingers in his lap and smiled as if to say, ¡°The end.¡±

    ¡°Mister Delestade, if your first instinct was to advise us to run, then I hardly believe the case was closed.¡±

    ¡°Oh, but it was,¡± Delestade said. ¡°Witness reports were signed, the files were sealed and stored. The Guard-Captain signed my release papers faster than a Strachan on amphetamines. In return, I extracted a piece of valuable information. Now would you believe the fire was a lie? That the three valiant men were nothing but illusions?¡±

    Sinclair brushed against me when she shrugged. I¡¯d almost forgotten she were there. It was, as if for an instant, I became aware of my own heartbeat. She remained silent while Vincent Delestade explained the motivations for the cover-up. As the weeks went on without resolution, the Jaskan authorities felt the pressure of the population. Those who were not angry, were frightened. The disappearances had stopped, but so had the town.

    ¡°Did you expose the scheme?¡± I asked.

    ¡°Of course not. I wanted little more to do with that goddess-forsaken city.¡±

    ¡°And what of Gregory Keller?¡±

    ¡°By then, the man had vanished. But the authorities ignored this, too. ¡®He¡¯s insane,¡¯ they¡¯d say. And yes, he¡¯d gone quite mad. ¡®He¡¯s wandered off and got himself lost,¡¯ they¡¯d insist. And yes, in fact, he had. But the order of events was reversed, my friends, and I was unprepared to return to Palisade without my companion.¡±

    ¡°The Palisade records list Gregory Keller as deceased,¡± I said.

    But the Faceless carried on. ¡°I knew very little about the woman who¡¯d seduced his body and stolen his mind, only that she¡¯d come from a village to the south, so I traveled from the city in search until there it was.¡±

    ¡°The village?¡± Sinclair asked.

    ¡°No, a dilapidated building.¡±

    The Faceless stood and crouched before us. His eyes, no longer green, were the same shade as ours¡ªlight grey, almost as if without pigment.

    ¡°See it for yourselves, if you absolutely must. It stands roughly seventeen leagues south of Jaska. Or¡ªyou may run. Remain and work for me. Find a seaside cavern and breed to your hearts¡¯ content. As I say, either you will live or you will die. What will it take to convince you?¡± he looked to Sinclair. ¡°Enforcer?¡±

    ¡°What¡¯d you find in the building?¡± she asked.

    ¡°The truth,¡± he said.

    Sinclair¡¯s love affair with the truth was one of the many reasons I¡¯d come to respect her as I did. Just as often as she told it, her instincts compelled her to search for it.

    ¡°It was good seeing you again, Vinny.¡±

    Silence until Delestade conceded. ¡°Likewise.¡±

    I released Sinclair¡¯s hand, standing at the same time Delestade did. ¡°Wait, Gregory Keller¡ªwhy do the records say he¡¯s dead?¡±

    ¡°Because I did not find my friend, and because freeing him was the last thing I did before freeing myself.¡± Delestade adjusted the tails of his sapphire-blue jacket, and stepped toward the door. Part-way, he turned. ¡°Half-breed, you wonder why I don¡¯t simply tell you the truth? Because you will not believe me. Because you will only be more determined to see it for yourself. And because you will be no more prepared for what you will encounter. I commend you both for serving for the sake of service. You are stronger¡ªbetter people than I will ever be. Now, my final words, Enforcer? Half-breed?¡±

    Neither of us interrupted.

    ¡°Live, at least for tonight, as if you had accepted my offer.¡±

 [The First One] 22 - The Dark and Awkward

    Rhian

    Three post-coital days trapped on an embark with Strauss and Gus.

    This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

    What can I say?

    It was dark and awkward.

    ............................................................................................................................................................................................................................................

 [The First One] Interlude - His Story, Part Three

    Andrei and Rhian

    His sister, his niece, his mother, and his father¡ªeach had been taken by the Waste, and each night the brown-eyed boy prayed to be taken next. In his waking hours, he stomped on gardens and kicked over fences, he picked pockets and pilfered produce, he attacked children with rocks and words. But none of it was enough to earn the wrath of Amalia, so he begged, pleaded, and swore to starve himself straight into Her merciful arms.

    But life¡¯s a tricksy minx, isn¡¯t it? Ask for death, get torture instead. The boy got a him instead of a Her. The man came around with his promises of shelter, food, love. Horseshite. ¡°It¡¯ll be hard work,¡± he said. And the boy worked, and worked, and worked. Weeks, months, years.

    The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

    Weeks, months, years over which our boy grew stronger, more capable, but still obedient. It would never be enough for the man who demanded eternal gratitude through eternal servitude. The weeks, months, and years were marked by thick, jagged scars across the young man¡¯s back. A morbid work of abstract art.

    ''Course, the lad grew bigger while the old man shrunk, and at around his sixteenth birthday, our brown-eyed boy did what I would¡¯ve done. He whipped that door open and killed the bastard in his bed.

 [The First One] 23 - The Worst Tavern Ever

    Rhian

    We made it back to Amalia in three pieces, but with business of his own to take care of someplace else, Gus left me and Strauss at the Drop to travel back to Oskari together. We¡¯d barely spoken since we did the deed in Delphia, so the carriage ride to Oskari was not as dark but it was still awkward.

    It might have been against Partisan law for us to copulate, but it¡¯s not like what we did wasn¡¯t a grand old time. We just didn¡¯t know what to do with it.

    When we got back to the village, Strauss scurried off to catch up on things at the Church. I scurried off to catch up with Michael.

    I found him sitting at the bar at the Widow¡¯s Peak, chatting with Ivana.

    Neither of them seemed thrilled.

    ¡°Is it my hair?¡± he asked.

    ¡°I don¡¯t care about your hair.¡±

    ¡°Is it my irrepressible cheer?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t love it, but no.¡±

    It seemed like an interesting conversation, so I hopped up on the stool next to Michael.

    ¡°Is it because I say to-mah-to instead of to-may-to? Because if it is, you can blame this one for that.¡± Michael thumbed over in my direction.

    Ivana rolled her eyes at Michael, and then she smiled at me.

    ¡°Good to have you back, Rhian.¡±

    I wasn¡¯t sure it was good to be back, but it was nice of her to say.

    ¡°That¡¯s nice of you to say,¡± I said.

    It wasn¡¯t long before I was sipping from a mug of free cider.

    ¡°How was Delphia?¡± Michael asked.

    And that¡¯s when I told Michael most things. I told him what we learned from Vincent Delestade, but I kept it simple for Ivana¡¯s sake.

    Looking back, a lot of it sounded completely mental. I¡¯d catch him up in private later.

    The bottom line: the missing persons case in Oskari was most likely related to the missing persons case in Jaska, and there was a high likelihood that case was never actually solved. It wasn¡¯t a lot to go on, but we did have one clue.

    After she finished topping up my mug, I asked Ivana about it.

    ¡°What do you know about an abandoned building somewhere to the north of here?¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re talking about the old schoolhouse?¡± Ivana shrugged. ¡°I really don¡¯t know much. It hasn¡¯t been used in decades, but I think it¡¯s even older than that¡ªsome say even pre-Divide. Seems far-fetched if you ask me, but what do I know? I¡¯m not that old.¡±

    ¡°Old? You don¡¯t look a day over twenty,¡± Michael said.

    I¡¯d have said thirty. He was being generous on account of he was desperate.

    Ivana carried on. ¡°Anyway, the old place has been re-purposed a few times throughout the years. I think at one point, it was even a tavern¡ªa rest-stop between Oskari and Jaska.¡±

    The whole thing seemed strange, but seeing as strange was basically normal in those days, I didn¡¯t think too hard about it. Either way, we all agreed it was a good place for keeping people and Oskari was still missing some.

    It was time to investigate, so we thanked Ivana, packed some snacks, and hit the road.

    For the record, Michael will eventually find out why Ivana didn¡¯t like him.

    It¡¯s probably not whatever you¡¯re thinking.

    <hr>

    Before heading out, Michael and I stopped by the church and invited Strauss along to investigate the schoolhouse-slash-tavern. He said he was busy, but I wasn¡¯t buying it. I was sure he was avoiding me. There was no other reason he¡¯d miss out on something old and boring. But it was fair enough. I was also avoiding me at the moment, and it had been a while since I¡¯d spent quality time with Michael. He helped quiet the chatter in my head. I reckon that¡¯s what we did for each other when it came down to it. Quieted the goddess-be-damned chatter.

    On the way to the old building, Michael filled me in on what we missed in Oskari while we were away. (It wasn¡¯t much.) And we spent the rest of the trip going over all the loose Delphia details.

    All except for one detail, obviously.

    Toward the end of the trip, the conversation took a turn.

    ¡°Our parents used to tell us bedtime stories about the Vonsinfonie Brothers. They were always my sister Marta¡¯s favourite.¡±

    ¡°And these brothers ran a tavern?¡±

    ¡°No, I have no idea who ran the tavern. The Vonsinfonie Brothers were composers, but they ran a music school for children.¡±

    ¡°And you think this is it?¡±

    Michael shrugged. ¡°There aren¡¯t too many pre-Divide buildings still standing, and according to the legends, the brothers had a special relationship with Amalia. She may have gone out of her way to keep the place safe, like She did with Leberecht.¡±

    The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.

    Personally, I reckoned Leberecht just got lucky¡ªnone of that divine intervention horseshite. But I wasn¡¯t about to piss all over the man¡¯s childhood dreams. The state of the place was about to do that for me.

    When we arrived, the schoolhouse-slash-tavern was lopsided, most of the stone bricks were in a pile on the ground, and the air smelled like literal death.

    I took a moment to consider the building, and then Michael, and then the building again. ¡°Is it everything you¡¯ve ever imagined?¡±

    ¡°Well, I imagined it would be bigger.¡±

    What was left of the door wasn¡¯t locked¡ªsurprise. And in other news, Michael might have been on to something. The walls were lined with shredded up tapestries, but you could still see some of the pictures, and some of them showed distorted people doing faded musical things. If there¡¯d been books on the shelf once, I couldn¡¯t have read them anyhow.

    ¡°This is incredible," Michael said.

    ¡°I know I¡¯ve never been a prize-winning student, but I¡¯m not sure you know the definition of the word. What¡¯s incredible, Michael, is how those curtains are still standing.¡±

    The curtains were an off, purplish-grey colour. They might have been pretty once.

    We weaved our way through busted old desks, and wandered between several rows of rusted metal poking out of the floor. I reckoned they could have held books as well, but they looked like old music stands. I know on account of I¡¯ve spent a lot of time in Delphia, the only territory where music wasn''t outlawed.

    ¡°Rhian,¡± Michael said.

    ¡°Michael,¡± I said.

    ¡°Hungry?¡± he asked.

    ¡°Usually,¡± I answered.

    The stage at the back of the room hadn¡¯t collapsed yet. If there¡¯d been any stairs, we¡¯d have used them. But there weren¡¯t, so we climbed instead. No better place for a picnic. Bread, sausage, and boiled eggs courtesy of Ivana.

    We chatted casually as we ate, and then the conversation turned serious.

    ¡°I haven¡¯t forgotten about what you learned from Delestade, Rhian, but are you sure that man you don¡¯t remember killing wasn¡¯t our culprit? Nothing even remotely out of the ordinary has happened in Oskari since he turned up dead.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve been thinking about that, and what if that¡¯s what someone wants us to think? What if the drunk man was a set-up? Suddenly us Partisans arrive, and we¡¯re on the trail, right? What if this old kidnapper-slash-killer-and-or-cannibal made nice with an obvious suspect, and then somehow tricked him into assaulting me? I kill him, get caught, things go back to normal for a while, we leave, and he¡¯s free to start all over again.¡±

    ¡°Okay, I see what you''re saying. But let¡¯s say our culprit really is some old man¡ªhow¡¯s he luring people from the village? What¡¯s he saying to them?¡±

    ¡°¡¯Help, I¡¯ve fallen and it hurts and whatnot?¡¯¡± I shrugged. ¡°I''ve no idea, Michael. This old man is clearly some sort of genius. Or he¡¯s got allies. Or both. Either way, there¡¯s something not right about any of this.¡±

    ¡°Do you remember anything else from that night?¡±

    ¡°Nope.¡±

    ¡°If you do, you know you can talk to me about it and I won¡¯t judge, right?¡±

    ¡°Do you think I¡¯m lying?¡±

    ¡°No, I don¡¯t think you¡¯re lying, but like you said, something isn¡¯t right. If it was just you who lost your memory, or if it was just Finlay, I¡¯d be comfortable chalking it up to a bump on the head. But both of you? It¡¯s really strange.¡±

    ¡°It sure is.¡±

    We ate fast on account of most Partisans did, so I gathered my things and hopped off the stage. Michael needed a minute to strap his sword Intrepi-what-the-bloody-ever on his back.

    ¡°You know, Michael, spending all that time with Delestade did get me thinking¡ªwhat if there¡¯s a Palisade defect behind this? What if it¡¯s a Delphi, running around, wiping memories and controlling minds and whatnot? They could be using an old man decoy.¡±

    I¡¯d already started exploring the rest of the room when Michael jumped down after me.

    ¡°Yeah, I¡¯m following, but¡ª¡±

    There was a loud crack, followed by a crash and a whole lot of crumbling. And when I looked over my shoulder, Michael wasn¡¯t following at all.

    Turned out, he was too busy falling through the floor.

    <hr>

    When I joined Michael through the hole in the floor, we learned two things right quick. One, the schoolhouse was once a tavern¡ªjust like Ivana said. Two, there was a man tending the bar who reckoned it still was. The poor bastard had on a nice suit and everything, and there were dozens of dusty bottles scattered around crooked shelves.

    It was a bit sad and a lot peculiar.

    ¡°Patrons! Welcome!¡± he said. ¡°Please, have a seat.¡±

    Never mind I wasn¡¯t about to take orders from a madman, there wasn¡¯t actually anywhere to sit. The tavern was full up on patrons that day. Dead ones. Polished bones, sitting around the tables with their fancy clothes, and candles, and whatnot. Look, life got creepy fast and that¡¯s just the way of things.

    Michael curled his fingers around the hilt of Intrepi-what-the-bloody-ever. ¡°I don¡¯t see an immediate reason for violence¡ª¡±

    I saw about a dozen reasons.

    ¡°¡ªbut if you resist, consider this my only warning.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve heard that before,¡± Creepy Barman said. ¡°Do you see that couple there?¡± He pointed. I couldn¡¯t be bothered looking. ¡°Or that one? Or those three? They were all such perfect guests, and they all had such beautiful eyes. Just like¡ª¡±

    Thunk. My knife hit the man exactly where I aimed¡ªsmack in the special neck vein. It was about a second before he started sputtering. It was about another second before he reached for the blade, yanked it out, and chucked it back at me.

    I dodged, and Michael charged the bar.

    ¡°Get out!¡± he shouted.

    I should have listened sooner, because the Creepy Barman had other ideas.

    Bottles flew, bottles broke. Alcohol spilled. As far as I was concerned, it was a goddess-be-damned waste. About the same time as the first candle hit the floor, I took Michael¡¯s advice. The fire spread through the basement, creating a flaming wall between us. The last thing I saw was Michael climbing the bar before the heat chased my freckled arse straight up through the hole in the floor.

    But Michael was still trapped. Even if he took his chances running through the flame-wall, he wouldn¡¯t be able to get up through the hole so easily¡ªnot like I could, being a springy Strachan and all.

    Back in the schoolhouse area, I raced across the room and yanked one of the music stands out of the floor. Well, I tried. And then I tried. And again, and again, until I found one with corroded bolts.

    I listened.

    Thud.

    And I listened some more.

    Thud, thud, thud.

    I ran toward the sound and beat the piss out of the floor with my piece-of-shite metal rod. All I needed was a crack. Across the room, the fire was creeping up the stage. Meanwhile, Michael was coughing and still banging on the ceiling.

    ¡°This is fucking insane! What are you?¡±

    My feet were getting hot, and there wasn¡¯t much time. The piece-of-shite metal rod bent in half just as Michael''s fist bust through the second board.

    And then, lo and behold, I went flying through the air sideways and straight across the room into a bookshelf. Before it came crashing down on my head, I saw enough of the person who stormed into the room and tossed me aside like a rag doll to know he looked Barren.

    He had brown eyes, and a nice jacket.

 [The First One] Interlude - His Story, Part Four

    Andrei and Rhian

    The brown-eyed boy lived on for years without regret. The people believed him when he blamed his master¡¯s death on an intruder. A stranger, brown hair, about yea high with a nasty snarl. The villagers took pity on the twice-orphaned boy, now the sole inheritor of his abuser¡¯s estate. The house, the land, the memories¡ªit was all too much until the day he burned it to the ground. Seventeen and alone, he left Oskari for a new life to the north.

    The township of Istok. Fish, fish, and more bloody fish. There was also a lot of wood, which was good on account of our boy became a carpenter and not a fisherman. Like father, like son. And like his father, he grew a business from the ground up until his was the name around town. Must¡¯ve been twenty-three by the time he had it all. Success, admiration, all the women and whatnot.

    He spent his nights at the Bountiful Blessing brothel¡ªwhere the women would come and go and no longer be his at the end of a payment. He¡¯d patronize each night, and each night the barmaid would ask, ¡°The usual?¡± and each night it was. He¡¯d sit alone, toward the back of the room while the hopefuls fawned over the handsome man and the prospect of earnings. He¡¯d select one, and with at least two drinks downed, they¡¯d retreat to a room with nothing but a curtain for privacy.

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    But our brown-eyed boy didn¡¯t want sex, did he? He had plenty of that, and it never made him feel. What the poor man needed was a good lashing. One, two, six, fifty. Whip, crack went the belt against his back. None of it mattered. Reputation? It¡¯d fade like the memory of his parents. Money? It¡¯d be spoiled like his sister. Women? Gone at the end of the night.

    The drink and the abuse consumed our protagonist, all else around him failing in a self-fulfilling prophecy. His reputation may as well have never been, while the money disappeared, and the women along with it. Until he met her¡ªIsabella. Of all the women at the Blessing, he could never use her, and he pained inside when another man would. Our boy wanted her like he¡¯d wanted no other, but he didn¡¯t think he deserved a wife, or a family, or a decent life after what he¡¯d done. He was a murderer¡ªa fraud.

    He had no way of knowing Isabella would see his pain and know it like her own. Whip, crack went the belt against his back while she peeked through the hole in the curtain. She wondered how he¡¯d been damaged, and she wondered how she could fix it. In that moment, she felt like she knew him, and in that moment, she knew she¡¯d always love him.

 [The First One] 24 - The Inevitable Misunderstanding

    Andrei

    The three days aboard the embark from Delphia back to Amalia were productive. I¡¯d translated all fifty-six chapter titles in the ancient Vonsinfonie book, as I was intent on tackling the most intriguing ones first. The book, entitled Fables, Foibles, Facts, and Fallacies seemed to be a collection of memories, detailing the brothers¡¯ travels across the once-connected lands of Auditoria¡ªyears in search of stories, fiction or fact.

    The legendary bardic Vonsinfonie Brothers, fables no longer.

    My duties at the church in Oskari hadn¡¯t done themselves in my absence. Father Belaia was understanding, but he was growing impatient. I¡¯d taken to speaking my sermons on the fly, and I¡¯d fallen behind in my projects. Namely, the curriculum I¡¯d promised the villagers. Because of this, and because I was unsure how to behave around Sinclair after our romantic tryst in Delphia, when she and the Commander invited me to investigate the old building from Delestade¡¯s story, I politely declined.

    After concluding the dusk sermon that evening, I worked in the office through the night.

    Dawn had come and gone by the time I stopped for a break, and only due to the arrival of a guest in my office. An impressive specimen¡ªa raven-haired Partisan armoured in the likeness of an Amali solider. But where Commander Reider carried Intrepidity on his back, the stranger favoured a pair of short swords.

    ¡°Varis, Helena, reporting.¡±

    ¡°To me?¡± I asked.

    ¡°Absolutely not,¡± she said. ¡°Is the Commander present?¡±

    ¡°The Commander attends business elsewhere. Do you require my assistance or our accommodations until such a time as he returns?¡±

    ¡°Where would you have me stay elsewise, Brother Strauss?¡±

    I suspected the severity of the woman¡¯s topknot prevented any change in expression.

    ¡°The Widow¡¯s Peak Inn is lovely,¡± I said. ¡°The proprietress is generous and I understand the rooms are quite comfortable.¡±

    ¡°You would have me stay among the Barrens?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m simply providing options, Partisan Varis.¡±

    ¡°Legacy Varis.¡±

    A Legacy¡ªthose Partisans who had fulfilled their duty in the field and had reached the retirement age of thirty. Much was explained by this revelation.

    ¡°Pardon me. I¡¯m simply providing options, Legacy Varis.¡±

    ¡°Does the Commander stay among the Barrens?¡±

    ¡°Yes.¡±

    ¡°Then I would have you show me to his quarters.¡±

    As we crossed to the northern side of the village, I learned Helena Varis had not been sent simply to see the Commander, but to mate with the Commander. When we stepped through the double doors of the Widow¡¯s Peak, it was empty. The brutish man didn¡¯t stand beside his door, and Ivana was not behind the bar. We climbed the stairs toward the back in silence.

    Reider and Sinclair could have taken rooms at the church where they¡¯d have access to sanctuary and counsel, but the Commander believed they should be visible beyond the walls of a Palisade institution, and I suspected Sinclair didn¡¯t have much to say in the way of protest. Theirs were the largest, most luxurious rooms the Peak had to offer. They were also the closest to the stairs, one across the hall from the other.

    I wasn¡¯t even certain my companions had returned from their investigation, but I knocked thrice on Reider¡¯s door.

    There was no immediate answer, only a panicked rustling from within. Then came the confused cries, and then a shrill shriek.

    I tried the door and found it was unlocked.

    Behind the door, Rhian Sinclair and Michael Reider stood frozen in a state of undress. Sinclair, at the very least, had found time to put on pants. The Commander held his breastplate over his pelvis. There was a long, drawn silence and the expressions on their faces mirrored mine and the Legacy¡¯s perfectly.

    ¡°By the merciful goddess¡ªa pair of animals,¡± Varis exclaimed.

    ¡°This isn¡¯t what it looks like,¡± Sinclair said.

    ¡°Seriously,¡± Michael added. ¡°We didn¡¯t¡ªwe would never!¡±

    I clenched my tongue between my teeth and my fists in my over-sized pockets. My feelings for Sinclair were beyond inappropriate¡ªthey were not even legal. And while they may have been obvious and overlooked by those closest to us, the Legacy was not such a person. I had to maintain my composure.

    There was a similar helplessness in the Strachan who stood speechless for the second time in history. Once, I¡¯d almost mistaken hope for fear, but this time it was undeniable. She was terrified. My fists relaxed, and the Legacy stepped into the room.

    ¡°Enforcer Sinclair,¡± she said. ¡°Get out.¡±

    ¡°Aye¡ªnice seeing you, too, Varis.¡±

    Without gathering the remainder of her belongings, the Strachan scurried across the hall, brushing past me without a word. Two parallel doors slammed and locked simultaneously, and there I stood¡ªalone in the corridor with the blank space on the wall where the portrait of Zacharias Vonsinfonie once was.

    <hr>

    When facing a personal crisis back at Palisade, I¡¯d have nowhere to go but to a different corner of my cell. But as I¡¯d come to learn since arriving in Oskari, a stroll in the great outdoors proved an excellent method for clearing the mind. I walked the path I¡¯d come to favour, twice around the church grounds and south toward the farmlands. It was three quarters of an hour before I saw her. Her brown hair was cut to the chin and her pretty face was framed with feathery bangs. She wore a modest blue dress, faded with wear and pinned at the neck. Her complexion was fairer than the majority of our Amali brethren, and while she walked, she swept the ground in front of her with a sturdy branch. Her eyes were bound with a strip of blue cloth.

    ¡°Madam?¡± I said.

    The stranger turned toward the sound of my voice.

    ¡°Would you like an escort?¡± I asked.

    The stranger was younger than I¡¯d initially expected. She shuffled forth with an arm outstretched. ¡°Are you speaking to me, Brother?¡±

    ¡°Yes, how did you¡ª?¡±

    ¡°Your accent,¡± she said, crawling her hand up my chest until she found my face. I was grateful she couldn¡¯t see my surprise, but I was concerned she could feel it. ¡°I knew you were tall, but I didn¡¯t realize you were so tall.¡±

    ¡°Are you new to the village, madam?¡± I didn¡¯t recognize her from any sermon or service, then again, I¡¯d been distracted lately.

    ¡°Oskari is¡ªwell, it was¡ªmy home. I¡¯m back from the city for my sister.¡±

    You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

    ¡°Oh? Perhaps she and I are acquainted.¡±

    ¡°Well, you might have been, but now she¡¯s dead. I had a messenger tell me she and my niece passed away, and that my nephew has gone missing. I guess it¡¯s better than not knowing, but it felt a bit impersonal, you know?¡±

    ¡°Yes, I completely understand.¡±

    ¡°Anyway, what¡¯s done is done. I just know it was that wretched husband of hers. Always said he was trouble, I did. He¡¯s the one who sent me away, did you know?¡±

    ¡°No, I wasn¡¯t aware. I hadn¡¯t had the chance to get to know your sister well.¡±

    ¡°Well, he sent me away because he said I was trouble. Imagine that. I begged her to come with me to the city, but she wouldn''t leave him or that silly house. But I guess she loved him.¡± The young woman shrugged. ¡°Have you ever been in love, Brother Strauss?¡±

    ¡°We have all, but for Amalia Herself, suffered a loss in your sister¡¯s passing. She was a lovely woman. Please, allow me to escort you to the property?¡±

    The young woman linked her arm with mine. ¡°I¡¯ve been staying at the Widow¡¯s Peak so far, but yeah, I think I¡¯d like to go home. I¡¯m worried about seeing my brother-in-law, though. He might have liked my sister sometimes, but he never even pretended to like me.¡±

    ¡°Your brother-in-law was¡­ killed in an incident, madam.¡±

    ¡°Oh¡ªwell, that¡¯s good. It was only a matter of time before his mouth got him in trouble.¡± She nodded. ¡°You know, you keep calling me madam, but I¡¯m only sixteen.¡±

    ¡°What would you like me to call you?¡±

    ¡°Rose is fine,¡± she said. ¡°So, are you celibate?¡±

    ¡°Pardon me?¡±

    ¡°Celibate. I might not be able to see, but I hear things. Is it true?¡±

    ¡°Well, ah¡ªPartisans are expected to abstain unless called upon by the Assembly to contribute to our growth. Arranged pairings.¡±

    ¡°Wow, you must be looking forward to that. What¡¯s she like? Is she pretty?¡±

    Had it been anyone else in her place, I¡¯d have stalked off¡ªholy conduct be damned. But her questions were asked with such earnest, and it wasn¡¯t as though I felt she was interested in me romantically. I believed curiosity should be rewarded.

    ¡°I am an unsuitable contributor, actually.¡±

    ¡°Ouch. Are you ugly? You didn''t feel ugly.¡±

    ¡°Not exactly, but there¡¯s a quota for warrior contributions which surpasses that of the need for scholars.¡±

    While that was true, it wasn¡¯t the whole truth. There was no reason to talk about the fact I was a mixed-breed, and that if we were lucky enough to survive, we were forbidden from procreating. She hadn¡¯t been local long enough to hear the rumours, and she didn¡¯t have the sight to see what they saw.

    ¡°That¡¯s depressing,¡± she said.

    ¡°It is necessary.¡±

    ¡°I hear there are five of you Partisans running around here these days, are they unsuitable contributors, too?¡±

    They were not.

    The garden in front of the deceased woman¡¯s home had been put to bed in the weeks since her passing, and the neighbours had also taken it upon themselves to seal the windows for the coming winter. The young woman was relieved to be home. For a time, we sat beneath the same tree Reider and Sinclair sat under, and our chat was a welcomed distraction from what happened at the Peak earlier in the day. We spoke of her family, and her adventure to the city, and her efforts to secure a better income for herself. In return, she inquired about Palisade, my youth, and about the strength of my faith.

    The conversation continued for the better part of an hour.

    Through it all, I wondered if the blindness was the result of a childhood affliction, an accident, or if it was a condition from birth.

    To this day, I wonder what she would have said if I''d have asked.

    <hr>

    Since the time we''d first met, Michael Reider rarely sought out my company without Finlay or Sinclair at the helm. But in light of finding him and Sinclair in such a compromising position this morning at the Widow¡¯s Peak, I was unsurprised when he approached the door to my office later that evening.

    The Commander stopped at the threshold and peered inside.

    I gestured to the seat across from me, and he closed the door before sitting.

    ¡°Okay, Strauss, I need you to hear what I have to say, and more importantly, I need you to keep an open mind.¡±

    The man was asking a lot, but I nodded.

    As we know, Sinclair and Michael had gone to explore the dilapidated building from Delestade¡¯s story. I was disappointed to learn the old building was potentially linked to the Vonsinfonie Brothers, and I decided I¡¯d explore it on my own in the future. But after reliving his fall through the floor in full colour, Michael described a tavern straight from a Strachan¡¯s nightmares. The skeletons posed around all the tables, he said, were believed to have been Partisans.

    Then, if it were not already dramatic enough, he told me the tale of the barman¡ªa lunatic who appeared Barren but possessed the combined abilities of a Partisan. Namely, the flesh regeneration of a Senec, the strength of an Amali, and the speed of a Strachan.

    I shook my head. ¡°I trust you both saw the power of an individual unrestrained by fear or reason. The man was clearly insane.¡±

    ¡°Clearly, but he should have died when Rhian killed him.¡±

    ¡°Perhaps she missed?¡±

    The Commander raised his eyebrows.

    ¡°Fair enough,¡± I said. ¡°But the man could be killed?¡±

    ¡°Most things can when you take their heads off.¡±

    ¡°Amalia¡¯s grace, Reider.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, now picture it all again, but picture it with the tavern on fire.¡±

    As it turned out, I would not be exploring the schoolhouse for myself in the future. But for once, I was not the one to blame for reducing a historical building to ash.

    ¡°I see,¡± I said.

    ¡°That¡¯s all you have to say?¡±

    ¡°For now.¡±

    ¡°Okay, well¡ªat this point, I¡¯m standing on the bar, punching through the ceiling when a Barren man comes out of nowhere and starts ripping apart the boards. I don¡¯t know if he¡¯s there to help, or hurt, or what, but I tossed Intrepidity through the hole, and that¡¯s the last thing I remember before passing out.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s quite the story,¡± I said. ¡°And yet you¡¯re not injured at all, not even your hands which surely must have been bleeding after all that punching.¡±

    ¡°I can¡¯t explain it.¡± The Commander shook his head. ¡°Rhian and I woke up at the Drop in the middle of the night feeling fine and just as surprised as you are. We filed a report for Councilwoman Faust, bought a few supplies, and walked back to the village to get some sleep. In our own rooms. It couldn¡¯t have been an hour or two before you showed up and found us together. I know we¡¯re not all that close, but Strauss? This is Rhian¡¯s story, too.¡±

    ¡°Then why isn¡¯t she with you?¡±

    I hadn¡¯t meant to come off so cold with the Commander. Finding the two together like that stirred up something¡ªsomething I didn¡¯t yet have the wisdom or the confidence to overcome. As for his story, I believed him¡ªto an extent. It was too far-fetched to be a complete fabrication, but there had to be a simple explanation.

    ¡°Because she¡¯s embarrassed,¡± he said. ¡°Because she doesn¡¯t remember much about last night either¡ªagain. She won¡¯t say it, but she¡¯s freaking out, man. And what¡¯s going on between you two, anyway? I don¡¯t believe for a second you were too busy yesterday to join us.¡±

    The Commander narrowed his eyes.

    I blinked mine.

    The Commander narrowed his eyes even further.

    I bit down on my lower lip.

    ¡°Well, spank my chiseled ass and call me Tom. Strauss, you filthy dog.¡± Michael crossed his arms across his no doubt chiseled chest. ¡°So, how was it?¡±

    ¡°It isn¡¯t like that,¡± I said. ¡°We¡ª¡±

    ¡°You love each other and it¡¯s wrong, blah, blah¡ªthe question still stands, though.¡±

    ¡°Has it really been that obvious?¡±

    ¡°Pretty much. It¡¯s painful to watch.¡±

    I sighed, turning the conversation back to the original topic. I believed my companions experienced a trauma at the schoolhouse. They discovered the bones of several Partisans¡ªsome of which may have been acquaintances of theirs. I believed there was a man who was more than likely responsible for slaying said Partisans, and it was also possible that yet another man witnessed the fire from a distance and rushed to their rescue.

    But these were nothing more than ordinary men doing extraordinary things. The rest was merely a shared delusion¡ªa side-effect of psychological damage and bruised egos.

    ¡°Rhian thinks there might be a defect involved, and that we might be the real targets. She thinks this was all just a plot to get Partisans sent out here so we could be picked off. At first I thought she was paranoid, but what if she¡¯s not? Everything that¡¯s been happening since we¡¯ve arrived is happening to us. The murder Rhian doesn¡¯t remember committing, all the memory loss, everything I just told you about the schoolhouse. On the other hand, the vanishings, villagers dying, the old man sightings, it¡¯s all stopped.¡±

    I hadn¡¯t considered anything like that, and now perhaps you see why we all loved her so fiercely. She saw the world like few others.

    ¡°Delestade mentioned he thought someone was trying to kill him¡ªthat he felt as though he was being followed. Gregory Keller went insane along the way. When I asked Sinclair about the old case files from Jaska, she implied she couldn¡¯t get them. Do you know why?¡±

    ¡°Yeah,¡± Michael said. ¡°They were already sent to the national archives back home in Leberecht.¡±

 [The First One] 25 - The Time I Went to Church

    Rhian

    Reckoned I was in hell.

    It was only a matter of time, and I¡¯d always imagined I¡¯d go to the hell where nothing makes any goddess-be-damned sense.

    Never mind what happened at the old schoolhouse-slash-tavern, I might have been losing my mind. What with murdering random people, falling asleep in pools of blood, ending up in Michael¡¯s bed, and then forgetting all about it.

    The rumours about Amalia were turning out to be true. And a lot like Vincent Delestade, I was convinced the Assembly was trying to kill us. Strauss? That made sense. In their opinion, he was a liability and probably shouldn¡¯t have been left alive in the first place. Me? We¡¯ve been through this. But Michael? His record was spotless.

    I wondered what happened in Endica.

    Helena Varis¡ªI was not expecting that, but I see what they did there. Reckoned the Assembly wanted to pop a new Partisan out of Michael afore he met his cruel and unusual end. Seeing as I¡¯ve got nothing nice to say about Helena Varis at the minute, I won¡¯t say anything besides saying she was a twit.

    After Michael and I were caught doing goddess knows what in his room, I went back to mine across the hall. I didn¡¯t feel like seeing anyone I knew, especially not Strauss, so I got dressed, leaped out the window, and went for a run. I was gone for about a day.

    I know I haven¡¯t said much about creation or religion, mainly account of it¡¯s horseshite, but also I keep forgetting. So, here¡¯s how the story goes: Amalia, Delphia, Seneca, Stracha, Endica, and Celestia sat around sipping clouds in the cosmos for about a billion years, and life was peachy for us lowly mortals. Until one day, Celestia threw the tantrum that caused the Divide¡ªreckon they must have been arguing over politics, or colour-schemes, or who got the butt-end of the bread. So, bang, bang. The world split in seven and they turned to each other, talking in their echoey voices, ¡°Well, would you look at that? Now we each have one.¡± Only, they weren¡¯t all that creative about naming their territories, and they weren¡¯t all that sure what to do with the middle.

    ¡°We should whip up more children,¡± Delphia said, seeing as that¡¯s always a brilliant idea. ¡°And they¡¯ll be smarter, and prettier, and generally better than our first batch.¡±

    Well, Stracha wanted fast ones, and Amalia wanted strong ones. Celestia gave birth to a bunch of powerful pains in the arses. Endica¡ªlovely lass that she is¡ªwent and popped out a load of sensitive ones. Seneca wanted wise ones, and Delphia wanted clever ones. So, Partisans. I reckon it was Celestia who came up with the idea of hoarding us all in one place, having us do their dirty work. So, Palisade.

    Bottom line: I didn¡¯t care much for religion but I cared a lot for Strauss.

    I had to make things right, so I went to church.

    ¡°Brother Strauss is under the weather and asked not to be disturbed,¡± the Father said. ¡°I have very little practical experience in working with your kind, but is there anything I could do for you?¡±

    I wasn¡¯t sure whether he was referring to my race, or the fact I was an Enforcer, but I reckoned it was a bit of both. See, Stracha¡¯s tenants were lax and our code was simple. Win, or run. We also didn¡¯t have churches unless you count the taverns. Stracha¡¯s priests and priestesses traveled around the territory stealing from the rich and giving to the poor. It was considered an honour to have your precious whatnots stolen in the night.

    Anyhow, I couldn¡¯t be arsed having a conversation about race, religion, or what I did for a living¡ªif you could call it that. I asked for a tour instead.

    There had to be another way to see Strauss, and I was determined to find it.

    While I was at it, I learned a few things about him. For example, Strauss was an excellent maid. All the rooms were dead clean, even the bigger ones with furniture covered in sheets had been dusted and waxed. The larder in the kitchen had barely enough food for the folks who needed it, so I said, ¡°No thanks, just ate,¡± when the Father offered.

    ¡°What else does Strauss do around here?¡± I asked.

    ¡°Brother Strauss has lofty plans to reintroduce scholastics to the village. He also tends to the medicinal garden, and the mortuary.¡±

    ¡°Hells,¡± I said. Oops. ¡°Strauss gardens?¡±

    Much to my surprise, the Father smiled. He was all right. ¡°Brother Strauss gardens poorly, but I¡¯m no longer fit enough to climb ladders.¡±

    ¡°Right,¡± I said. ¡°What have ladders got to do with gardening?¡±

    ¡°We can¡¯t grow what¡¯s being stolen under our noses. We keep the garden on the roof.¡±

    I felt a bit guilty about finding opportunity in our chat. He seemed like a nice old man. But there it was¡ªmy way in.

    This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source.

    I finished up the tour to be polite, and then I walked laps around the village until nightfall.

    <hr>

    Climbing the church was easy. To make matters even easier, the hatch on the roof wasn¡¯t locked on account of it didn¡¯t have a lock. And for the record, Strauss¡¯s garden was the saddest bloody thing I¡¯d ever seen.

    I¡¯d offer to help him with it later.

    After shimmying down the ladder, I landed somewhere near the kitchen¡ªjust around the bend from the private rooms. For a minute, it felt like I was back at Palisade, checking random doors for names I couldn¡¯t read and whatnot. Unlike Palisade, there were only two doors with names and I knew how to see the word Strauss.

    When I opened the door, Strauss was asleep¡ªface down and snuggled right up.

    There was only one thing to do.

    I sat on the edge of the bed and gave him a gentle nudge.

    What? Were you expecting I¡¯d throw my flask at his head?

    If I knew anything for certain¡ªwhich wasn¡¯t much¡ªstartling Strauss was a bad idea. Besides, he really did look sick. I brushed a damp strand of hair away from his forehead, and I waited for him to open both eyes.

    The corner of his lips twitched like he was about to smile, and then he changed his mind.

    It was quiet for a minute.

    ¡°I didn¡¯t do it, Strauss. With Michael. We didn¡¯t do it. At least, it didn¡¯t feel like we did.¡±

    ¡°I know.¡±

    ¡°All right, then why do I get the impression you¡¯re not too thrilled with me? Is it the fact I¡¯ve been avoiding you?¡±

    ¡°No, that wouldn¡¯t be fair, Sinclair. I¡¯ve been avoiding you as well.¡±

    ¡°Then what is it? Is it the stubble¡ªare you itchy?¡±

    Funny thing about Palisade priests, they weren¡¯t allowed to snip a precious hair off their heads, but it was some sort of sin to grow a beard.

    Strauss was always clean-shaven¡ªsmooth as baby¡¯s bottom. But not that day.

    ¡°No, well¡ªyes, a little bit itchy. I haven¡¯t had the energy.¡±

    ¡°I could do it for you. I¡¯m known to have certain skills with a blade.¡±

    Strauss nodded and pointed over to the cupboard. Truth be told, I was expecting push-back. ¡°Afterward, do you promise to talk seriously with me?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m here, aren¡¯t I?¡±

    After lighting the lantern on the wall, I gathered what I needed from the cupboard and filled a bowl with water from my canteen.

    Strauss moped his way over to the chair.

    It wasn¡¯t the first time I¡¯d shaved a face. When Gus broke both his arms, someone had to do it. But I was feeling nervous anyhow.

    I¡¯m not sure I¡¯ve made this clear enough, but Andrei Strauss was a real nice looking lad. He might have been a bit too skinny. Most Celestian were, but he also wasn¡¯t given enough to eat growing up and it showed. His nose might have been too big¡ªdown-turned with a big old bump on the bridge, but he was the most handsome man I¡¯d ever seen.

    I knew what he wanted to talk about later, and what happened in Delphia never should have happened. The first time¡ªI¡¯d had sneezes more interesting. But by the second go, we¡¯d found the knack. ¡®Course, that time never should have happened, either. I wanted to blame Delestade, say that he played some kind of mind trick on us, and that it couldn''t be helped. But even if he had influenced us, a Delphi can¡¯t make a person do something too far outside the realm of what they¡¯d already do.

    Telepathy is tricky, and it¡¯s one of my favourite subjects.

    Maybe I¡¯ll write a brochure about it later.

    Strauss tilted his head back so I could work around his neck. He didn¡¯t speak until I''d finished the job. It was for the best unless he wanted an intimidating scar.

    I asked. He didn¡¯t.

    When I was done, I patted his face dry with a clean towel and, like old times, I hopped up on the corner of his desk.

    ¡°I wanted to talk about what happened in Delphia,¡± he said.

    ¡°What happened in Delphia never should have happened,¡± I replied. It was the wrong thing to say. I could tell, but I never meant to hurt him.

    ¡°Do you really mean that?¡±

    ¡°No¡ªit never should have happened, but that doesn¡¯t mean I regret it.¡±

    That seemed to do the trick.

    ¡°We owe it to ourselves to consider the future,¡± he said.

    ¡°What future? After I leave, there¡¯s a good chance I¡¯m gonna fall asleep in the forest, forget who I am, and get eaten by a bear.¡±

    If it weren¡¯t for the sudden arrival of the twit with the stick up her arse, I¡¯d have at least thrown us a bone and suggested we play house while we could.

    ¡°We could defect,¡± he said.

    ¡°And end up like your parents?¡±

    ¡°Yes, because I¡¯ve come to realize a few things about my parents recently, and the way things are going, we¡¯re likely to end up dead anyway¡ªisn¡¯t that what you said? Commander Reider told me your theory, and it isn¡¯t entirely implausible. If we¡¯re going to die anyway, why shouldn¡¯t we at least do what makes us happy?¡±

    ¡°On account of there are still people missing, and we still have a job to do. What does our little romance have anything to do with that? I might be opposed to Palisade as an institution, but I¡¯m not opposed to doing good things for good people.¡±

    Strauss nodded easily. ¡°I was speaking more or less rhetorically. I didn¡¯t have any expectations coming into this conversation, Sinclair. I only wanted to let you know what I¡¯ve been thinking¡ªwhat I¡¯ve been feeling. Let¡¯s focus on the case and try not to die, and maybe, if any part of you feels the same way, we¡¯ll see an opening to do something about it when¡ªor if¡ªwe¡¯re lucky enough.¡±

    What could I say? The man made sense. I like sense.

    Goddess-be-damned pain in the arse.

    We shook on it, and for the rest of the night I stuck around playing nurse-maid while he told me all about his time with Gus, the man in the purple suit, and the trip to Leberecht.

    Reckon you can sort out where we planned to go next.

 [The First One] Interlude - His Story, Part Five

    Andrei and Rhian

    The brown-eyed boy married Isabella two years later in a ceremony of three. He wished his sister and his parents could have seen him as he stood that day. He¡¯d been devastated and beaten, but he¡¯d beaten back and won. He¡¯d lost it all, and from nothing he rose. His success, his true love, all the things he¡¯d wanted and worked for.

    He built them a house in Istok. A kitchen downstairs, two bedrooms up. It wasn¡¯t big, but it was theirs, and it was beautiful and whatnot. Our boy and Isabella had it all, all except for one thing. They had a spot of trouble making a baby to keep. One, two, five times. Always the same. They¡¯d celebrate together, then they¡¯d mourn together. It went on and on for years until it happened. ¡°I¡¯d like to name her for my sister. I¡¯d like to call her Lidia.¡±

    You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

    Baby Lidia was born late autumn, three weeks prematurely but otherwise safely. She had her father¡¯s eyes, her mother¡¯s charm, and a set of lungs renowned throughout the town. Each night, after rocking his child and kissing his wife, our brown-eyed boy thanked Amalia for the second chance at life. He promised never to fail them, never to stray. In the Ruza household, everything was exactly as it was meant to be.

    It¡¯s just a goddess-be-damned shame it wouldn¡¯t last.

 [The First One] 26 - The Inevitable Realization

    Andrei

    I''d recovered quickly from the brunt of my illness, and I felt¡ªfor the most part¡ªbetter by the time of our departure. For our trip to Leberecht, the Commander commissioned a wagon and two horses from the Drop. Incidentally, the wagon was designed for transporting prisoners, and there I was, alone in a cell with an ancient book and my childhood trauma.

    All sardonicism aside, it wasn¡¯t so bad¡ªcertainly not glamorous, but it served its purpose.

    During the day, Sinclair took the reins while Reider napped in the front. At night, Sinclair joined me in the back. We had nothing to hide from the Commander anymore, and Helena Varis stayed in Oskari to keep an eye on the village.

    Along the way, I studied as well as I could through the nausea.

    Having already uncovered all chapter titles in the Vonsinfonie book, I focused my efforts on translating the one entitled Six Times Blessed. At first, I thought the chapter was an overview of the Partisan, until I remembered there was no way the Vonsinfonie Brothers could know we exist. Unless, as Feargus Finlay once joked, they were actually from the future.

    Before dusk, the Commander stopped the wagon near a clearing too inviting to bypass. There were a pair of fallen trees for us to sit and relax, and a river nearby with fresh water I nevertheless insisted we boil before drinking. With winter approaching, the evenings had grown colder and shorter, and while the Commander tended to the fire I cautiously avoided, Sinclair tended the horses. In her home territory of Stracha, the beasts roamed free, accepting riders¡ªor not¡ªas they saw fit. Never tethered, never bred, never bought or sold. Sinclair understood mine and Reider¡¯s need for transportation faster than our feet, so she made certain our captives were well-cared for.

    After we ate and exchanged casual chatter, we settled in for business.

    The Commander still poked at the fire with a stick. ¡°Okay, Strauss, what does the book say?¡±

    ¡°Most likely, the men at the schoolhouse were not Barren.¡±

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    ¡°Yeah,¡± Reider said. ¡°We know. We were there.¡±

    ¡°Yes, but the men were not Partisan either.¡±

    ¡°Yeah,¡± Reider said. ¡°We know.¡±

    ¡°Yes, but do you understand what this means? This book¡ªand your experience, of course¡ªare evidence of another species of human. A third species.¡±

    ¡°Yeah,¡± Reider said. ¡°We know.¡±

    By then, Sinclair had settled in on the log beside me.

    ¡°Oi, Michael¡ªlet the clever man speak now he¡¯s caught up with the rest of us.¡±

    The Commander had nothing more to say, so I continued. ¡°According to the book, and unlike our eyes which set us apart, there are no visual differences between these individuals and any Barren. The signs are biological and psychological. For instance, it seems they have an aversion to reflection.¡±

    ¡°Like, mirrors? Or like, introspection?¡± Reider asked.

    ¡°Both, I believe.¡±

    ¡°You believe?¡±

    ¡°Symphonic is a complex language, Commander. Would you care to review my work?¡±

    He didn¡¯t care to.

    ¡°Were there any windows in the abandoned schoolhouse? Any mirrors or other reflective surfaces?¡±

    Reider shrugged and smiled ruefully. ¡°The windows on the main floor were busted up if not boarded up, and I guess I forgot to look for mirrors in a room full of skeletons.¡±

    ¡°Fair,¡± I said. ¡°The text refers to the creatures as Givers, although I¡¯d initially thought it may have been Takers, the rhythm in which the line was written favours¡ª¡±

    ¡°Strauss,¡± the Commander said. ¡°Focus.¡±

    I peered over at Sinclair who seemed to have fallen asleep on my shoulder. I lowered my voice more or less as a courtesy. As I''ve said before, we have fantastic hearing. ¡°There¡¯s the implication that these creatures live¡ªor have lived¡ªtwo lives, although I¡¯m not sure yet what that means. We know they share most of our collective strengths. They are regenerative, immune to disease, and long-lived like the Senec, although there¡¯s nothing about prophecy. They are telepathic like the Delphi and empathetic like the Endican. Therefore, without the necessary defenses, our psychological and emotional weaknesses are theirs to exploit. You¡¯ve seen they are fast and they are strong. But the most alarming revelation of all, is that if this book predates the Divide, then these Givers predate the Partisan. I¡¯ve studied centuries of history, folklore, theology, and there hasn¡¯t been single mention of any of this¡ªwhy?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s like I said,¡± Sinclair replied, her eyes still closed and her head still pressed against my arm. ¡°We''re all here to die or go crazy.¡±

 [The First One] 27 - The Thing We Didnt Expect

    Rhian

    A town is a town, and the town had people, and the people had things. Point is: we arrived in Istok tired and irritated, and all I could think about was having a drink.

    I knew straightaway it was gonna be a long night. The locals weren¡¯t so much throwing a parade for us like they would in Delphia, but I¡¯d seen that look on Barren faces afore. The poor bastards in Istok were hopeful.

    ¡°Nondescript as it seems, the town of Istok has an interesting history,¡± Strauss said, climbing out of the wagon and stepping into the road.

    ¡°Yeah, that¡¯s amazing, man, thanks,¡± Michael said.

    Never mind how it seems, that¡¯s just how they jived. Michael wasn¡¯t an arsehole, and Strauss wasn¡¯t precious about banter. Not everything has to be a thing.

    Strauss smiled a bit and shrugged. ¡°Consider, Commander, the accumulation of knowledge not as a gain for the present, but as insurance for the future.¡±

    It was good advice, but the history lesson would have to wait.

    The Bountiful Blessing was a stupid name for an inn, and I reckon the town agreed seeing as the only other people inside were the fifty-something owners. Unhappily married in business and in bed, by the looks.

    ¡°Passing through town, Partisans?¡± Big Man asked.

    ¡°Yeah, we¡¯ll need a room for the night,¡± Michael said.

    ¡°Of course, of course.¡± Big Man nodded about a thousand times. ¡°But you should eat something first. My wife is famous for her stew. Ursula! Stew!¡±

    Truth, I needed sleep, not stew.

    The stew came with bread, and it smelled delicious. I might have said it tasted delicious, but I didn¡¯t get a chance to bloody taste it. According to Ursula, something had fallen somewhere in the kitchen, and I¡¯d be the only one nimble enough to reach it.

    Horseshite.

    When I got there, I kept my voice down on account of I got the impression she was keeping something from the Big Man. ¡°So, what¡¯s the actual problem?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s my husband.¡±

    ¡°Right¡ªwell. There¡¯s a priest in the party if you need counsel.¡±

    The old woman shook her head. ¡°About three weeks ago, my husband made a deal with a couple of strangers¡ªpeople from out of town, I guess.¡±

    The obvious question was, ¡°What kind of deal?¡± so I asked it.

    Apparently, some tourist couple started paying the Big Man loads of notes to rent out all the rooms upstairs.

    ¡°I don¡¯t want them here,¡± Ursula said.

    ¡°You could just stop taking their notes.¡±

    ¡°I would, but my husband is unmoving.¡± The woman shook her head. ¡°We can¡¯t continue arguing every day while our business¡ªour real business¡ªis also failing. One month ago, you would have walked into a packed house. Now, half the regulars are saying the strangers make them uncomfortable. The other half are sick.¡±

    ¡°Sick with what?¡±

    Ursula shook her head again.

    I wasn¡¯t a bloody doctor either so, ¡°All right,¡± I said. ¡°You¡¯ll have us go upstairs and what? Talk it out? Sort it out with violence? How far are you willing to go?¡±

    The woman shuffled over and plopped a wrinkled hand on my shoulder.

    It was so goddess-be-damned sincere, it was uncomfortable.

    ¡°It doesn¡¯t matter,¡± she said. ¡°If you help me, then I¡¯ll only have to argue about it with my husband one last time, and then it will be over.¡±

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    That was fair enough. I promised we¡¯d look into it.

    Back at the table, Strauss was still picking at his bread like a goddess-be-damned sparrow. Beside him, Michael already finished his stew. And mine.

    ¡°The hells?¡±

    ¡°Strauss said you could have his,¡± Michael said. ¡°It¡¯s beef.¡±

    ¡°Never mind.¡± I waved it off. ¡°All I wanna do is sleep.¡±

    ¡°Actually, we have no rooms available tonight,¡± Big Man said.

    ¡°Why didn¡¯t you say so before?¡± Michael asked.

    ¡°Don¡¯t be too hard on the man, it¡¯s not like we need a whole room.¡± I looked to the Big Man and smiled on account of it felt right at the minute. ¡°How about a closet?¡±

    ¡°There are no rooms, or closets, available tonight,¡± Big Man said.

    ¡°How about a floor?¡± I asked.

    Surprise, surprise. There were no floors either. Big Man wouldn¡¯t budge, and that¡¯s a game a person gets bored of quickly.

    I stomped around the table and walked straight into the Big Hand that tried to stop me.

    ¡°There¡¯s nothing for you upstairs, Partisan.¡±

    ¡°Strauss,¡± Michael said to the side. ¡°I''m getting the impression we need to be upstairs.¡±

    ¡°Indeed,¡± Strauss replied.

    And that¡¯s right about when First Commander Michael Reider stood up, turned around, and punched the Big Man in the side of the head.

    I chuckled at the same time Ursula screamed.

    And then, after a moment, she laughed.

    <hr>

    Of all the things I¡¯d imagined we¡¯d find upstairs, a naked man tied to a chair wasn¡¯t one of them. The poor bastard seemed about a hundred years old, and he¡¯d been clawed at, starved, and left for dead by the looks of it. You don¡¯t even want to imagine the smell of it.

    It only took about a second stepping inside the room afore we were assaulted from behind by another man straight out of nowhere¡ªjust like Councilwoman Oranen that one time in the tree house. Strauss took the worst of it, flicked out of the room like a stray fluff on a pair of clean trousers. If it weren¡¯t for Michael getting a quick grab on That Thing, I wouldn¡¯t have escaped out into the corridor.

    I had an advantage out there, but Michael still didn¡¯t have a proper place to fight¡ªthe room wasn¡¯t all that big and it was full of obstacles. I taunted That Thing by plunging a dagger into his back, and then I dodged out of the way while Michael turned the tides in his favour. Next thing I knew, Strauss was picking himself off the floor, and Michael had That Thing pinned to the wall in the corridor with Intrepi-bloody-ever stuck through his gut. It didn¡¯t kill him, but it hurt.

    I could tell.

    ¡°It¡¯s all inevitable,¡± Out of Nowhere man said.

    ¡°Yeah? Then so is this.¡± Michael pulled his sword out of That Thing¡¯s body, and then one step to the side, a wide swipe, and about ten pints of blood later, we were all staring at a man¡¯s head rolling on the floor.

    ¡°Holy shit,¡± Strauss said.

    I gave Michael a pat on the back.

    ¡°Holy shit,¡± Strauss repeated.

    Ten billion to one, nothing exactly like that had ever happened in his cell at Palisade.

    ¡°Michael, I reckon you broke him.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, well¡ªwe don¡¯t have time to fix him. Rhian, check the hostage while I search the other rooms. Strauss, snap out of it.¡±

    Believe it or not, the naked man wasn¡¯t the only interesting thing in the room. There were words written all over the walls in just about anything but ink.

    The man was breathing, but barely. I clapped my hands in front of his face.

    ¡°Oi, mate. We¡¯re probably here to rescue you, but it¡¯d help a lot if you¡¯d wake up and tell us who you are.¡±

    Out in the corridor, doors opened and closed, and then Michael said something like, ¡°Strauss, go do something about¡­ that.¡±

    Pitiful footsteps pitter-pattered through the door.

    The poor bastard was paler than pale and painted with blood.

    Strauss nudged me aside politely and then crouched in front of the naked man. ¡°If you can hear me, could you offer a sign? Wiggle your fingers.¡±

    The Naked Man wasn¡¯t responding, so I took the time to explore.

    ¡°Strauss, what do the walls say?¡±

    ¡°Predominately gibberish.¡±

    ¡°But it¡¯s not all gibberish?¡±

    ¡°The four letter frequently repeated word says, ¡®Lies,¡¯ and¡ª¡±

    ¡°They all lie to you,¡± Naked Man muttered, and then I reckon he opened his eyes seeing as Strauss said, ¡°Sinclair, Reider, this man is a Partisan.¡±

    The identification code tattooed on his neck explained the rest.

    Strauss stepped over to my side. ¡°Delestade was telling the truth.¡±

    So, we found Gregory Keller. About three minutes before he died.

    And if there were more of Those Things lurking about, I reckoned they¡¯d be holed up somewhere in line of sight to the Inn. They knew where we¡¯d be before we knew where we¡¯d be. They¡¯d be watching, and I wanted to know from where.

    I ran to the window and peeped through it.

    A person-shaped shadow darted to the north.

    By the time I pried the window open, the shadow was gone. Lucky for me, I had excellent ears and even faster feet, so I squeezed my freckled arse out the window, and into the night like a goddess-be-damned idiot.

    Those Things were starting to get on my nerves.

 [The First One] Interlude - His Story, Part Six

    Andrei and Rhian

    Baby Lidia lived to celebrate her first year, and the whole of Istok turned up to congratulate the beloved family. There were decorations, pastries, and all manners of overindulgences. The townspeople understood the importance of the child. They had seen the couple through their losses¡ªconsoled them when the other could not. Theirs was a classic love story. A bond to be envied.

    ¡°The two of you are just so darned lovely together. He¡¯s just so lovely, and you¡¯re just so¡­ lovely,¡± they might have said to Isabella¡¯s face. Behind her back, some swore she was the worst possible bitch, and plotted to seduce the nice man away. It never worked, and they¡¯d catch on eventually. They¡¯d know his devotion and know nothing but death could keep them apart. They¡¯d soon see it for themselves.

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    The blood soaked his clothes, stained his hands, shrouded his vision. The knife was still slick as he fell to the floor. He¡¯d done something to them, but why couldn¡¯t he remember?! The townspeople would soon come for him. They¡¯d surely heard the screams¡ªthe ones which would torment him for eternity.

    So our brown-eyed boy went and did what he did best. He set fire to the house with two bodies inside, and the townsfolk never did learn what happened to the nice man they once loved. Maybe he hadn¡¯t been so nice. ¡°Always knew there was something wrong about him,¡± they¡¯d say. ¡°He was too nice.¡±

    Every five years henceforth, the infamous home was rebuilt¡ªthe commissioner a mystery. Family after family lived and died inside, until it was deemed cursed and inhabitable. In time, as with most things morbid and misunderstood, the mysterious property drew curious tourists in droves. The Fire Fair became celebration of a tragedy¡ªeach generation¡¯s version of the story more elaborate, further distanced from the truth. And every five years, the people stood in the brisk Amali night with their hot beverages and symbolic torches, watching as the empty house seemed to set itself on fire.

 [The First One] 28 - The Inevitable Discovery

    Andrei

    How to handle Father Keller was a discussion between myself and the Commander. The man was a Partisan and one of Amalia¡¯s faithful, and I insisted his body be returned to Palisade intact. Reider suggested we take certain precautionary measures first. We recalled the deceased woman who somehow made it out of her own grave, and was found decapitated in her potato garden. We remembered what it took to kill the Givers we¡¯d faced so far, and we wondered what exactly the book passage meant when it implied they lived two lives.

    For a long, drawn moment, we stood side by side in the guest room, staring at the deceased priest as if expecting him to wake up and jump out at us.

    Nothing happened.

    There was also the matter of finding Sinclair. She¡¯d escaped through the window before I could stop her, and with speed like hers, she could be long gone.

    Before leaving the room, I prepared myself for the gruesome reality in the corridor, but when I stepped outside, the only evidence of a beheading was the blood on the walls. Where our assailant and his head had fallen, there were only two piles of ashes.

    As I knelt to inspect the strange remains, I paused at the sickening splat from the room behind me, followed by a hollow thud when Father Keller¡¯s head hit the floor.

    The Commander stepped out of the room, and his shoulders seemed to deflate beneath the weight of his armour. The light in his eyes was gone, but his voice was steady. ¡°Until we know better, I¡¯m not taking any chances,¡± he said. Then after a moment, he pointed to the ashes at our feet. ¡°That¡¯s really fucking weird.¡±

    I turned to my companion and frowned.

    ¡°Is this always how it is for you?¡±

    ¡°Yeah, now really isn''t the best time to start questioning me, Strauss. I know you¡¯re upset, and I understand it better than you think I do, but we need to find Rhian.¡±

    It could have been a projection of his own guilt, or it could have been because we weren''t especially close yet, but Michael Reider misunderstood. I disagreed with his choice, but it was a choice¡ªone he had to make whether or not I liked it, whether or not he liked it, and without knowing for certain what was actually best.

    I wasn¡¯t questioning. I was sympathizing, and for the first time understanding the weight of his responsibility. I¡¯d correct him one day later.

    Before we could make our way down, the proprietor of the Bountiful Blessing bolted up the stairs with a face full of fury. A bruise was already forming on the side of his head where Reider¡¯s fist connected earlier that night.

    ¡°Do you have any idea what you¡¯ve done? They''ll kill us all!¡±

    The enraged man leaped for the Commander. It was a bold maneuver, and it was a bold maneuver resulting in another impromptu nap.

    Ursula waited at the bottom of the stairs, and this time, she wasn¡¯t laughing.

    ¡°Is it over?¡± she asked. ¡°Are they gone?¡±

    They? I wondered.

    ¡°We¡¯re doing everything we can,¡± Reider said. ¡°But for now, you shouldn¡¯t come upstairs, and you probably don¡¯t want to be here when your husband wakes up. Is there somewhere you can go?¡±

    Ursula nodded. ¡°The tiny woman, is she safe?¡±

    ¡°Actually, we¡¯re not sure. She escaped out the window. Did you see anything?¡±

    ¡°Commander,¡± I said.

    ¡°Not now, Strauss.¡±

    ¡°But Commander, I¡ª¡±

    ¡°Rhian has no real offense against those things. We need to¡ª¡±

    ¡°Amalia¡¯s grace, Reider! Would you shut up and listen?¡±

    Around us, the flames in their sconces flickered in tandem with my frustration, casting ragged shadows across the walls until they extinguished altogether. The Commander did shut up and listen, and the proprietress departed in a fit of hysterical tears.

    Unfortunate, but it was nothing new.

    ¡°Sinclair,¡± I said. ¡°I know where she may have gone.¡±

    <hr>

    For each time it burned, the house from Istok¡¯s infamous legend rose again.

    The locals would agree each subsequent construction was never as grand as the last, never as warm or welcoming. And as we approached, more than three and a half centuries after it was first built, it seemed to me the house existed only to exist.

    ¡°Are you sure about this?¡± Reider asked.

    ¡°No, but if we connect the dots¡ªthe Vonsinfonie cavern where I found the book, the old schoolhouse where you found that Giver who seemed to be stuck in a bizarre time loop, this place¡ªeach with a tragic history or an ancient legend attached.¡±

    ¡°We could break it down,¡± Michael remarked, referring to the front door. ¡°Otherwise, there''s the window. But I won¡¯t fit in my armour,¡± the Commander said. ¡°You might have to squeeze through and let me in from the other side.¡±

    The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

    I suggested we look for another way inside before vandalizing the door or engaging in any complicated acrobatics, but we found no other way, and after circling the property and wrapping back around to where we first started, the front door creaked open.

    Sinclair peeked her head out. ¡°Professional tip; start with checking if the door''s even locked.¡±

    How about that? It had been a long day.

    As soon as we stepped inside the old house, we spotted four men tied to four chairs in the kitchen. Each of them was elderly, each of them had mustaches, and each had taken fatal wounds to the base of their skulls.

    The floor, Sinclair¡¯s fingers, and her dagger were all covered in blood.

    ¡°Didn¡¯t I say something about old man decoys? It was completely bloody mental, but here we are. Also, I¡¯m now entirely convinced we¡¯re actually in hell.¡±

    ¡°Okay, Rhian, I know we¡¯re all under a lot of stress.¡± The Commander paused, as if needing a moment to absorb the ghastly scene. "But what exactly were you thinking?¡±

    This struck me harder than expected, twisting my insides into knots as I rushed to her defense. ¡°After the choice you made at the inn, Commander, are you really in a position to question hers?¡±

    ¡°Gregory Keller was already dead, Strauss. These men were¡ª¡±

    ¡°There wasn¡¯t a bleeding thing left of what these men were.¡± Sinclair sneered. ¡°Whatever Those Things did to their minds, these men were nothing but a bunch of meat puppets in the end. I did what had to be done, and there¡¯s nothing about it that has me giddy with goddess-be-damned excitement. Now, if you¡¯ll both excuse me, I¡¯m going back upstairs.¡±

    Setting our differences aside for the moment, we followed Sinclair to the second floor. If not for the sake of our camaraderie, but because of the crying.

    Huddled in the corner of the smallest room, the boy¡¯s eyes were black around the sockets and devoid of life. I recognized him immediately as one of Oskari¡¯s villagers. Ivan¡ªthe blind woman¡¯s nephew, and the son of the deceased woman found decapitated in her garden.

    He would be going home to his sister, his mother, his father¡ªall dead.

    ¡°He¡¯s in better shape than the ones downstairs.¡± Sinclair offered the child a sip of water from her canteen, and when he complied, she said ¡°See? The others wouldn¡¯t listen.¡±

    The Commander sighed. ¡°Rhian, stay with the boy, and Strauss, come with me.¡±

    Following the Commander down the hall, we opened the door to the larger of the two bedrooms. The room was empty except for an oil painting of a brunette and small child. The golden plaque riveted to the base of the mahogany frame read: Isabella & Lidia.

    ¡°Why doesn¡¯t anybody ever look up?¡± said a voice from above.

    When we looked up, we faced a crooked-toothed Amali hanging from the rafter.

    Most certainly not the woman from the portrait, the Giver avoided the Commander¡¯s first lethal swing. She was fast. Faster than the last, and even faster than Sinclair.

    Sinclair. I spotted her then, peering through a crack in the wall between the rooms.

    Reider swung again, and the Giver laughed and laughed. The Commander attempted a third swing, and Intrepidity was knocked clean from his hand.

    The woman dropped from the ceiling, clobbering my unarmed companion.

    I rushed forward and grabbed the weapon from the floor.

    I¡¯d almost forgotten what it was like to hold a sword. All those years later, it was much the same as I remembered¡ªcold and impersonal. But, I recalled an instinct. When our assailant lunged at me, I raised the sword in a defensive stance. Turning the weapon horizontally, I gripped the blade, closed my eyes, and prayed for accuracy. The Giver¡¯s feral cries were cut short when her neck met Intrepidity¡¯s sharp edge.

    Unfortunately, the force behind the creature¡¯s lunge hadn¡¯t been enough to slice through the spine. Seeing this, the Commander picked himself off the ground, and with one deliberate body-check, shoved our enemy the rest of the way through the blade.

    From the other room, Sinclair cheered.

    As for me? I emptied the minimal contents of my stomach on the floor, and we were all equally relieved I hadn''t eaten the stew.

    <hr>

    We set fire to the legendary home with four dead bodies inside, and like thousands before, we gathered outside on the lawn and watched it burn.

    Dramatic, but we all agreed the locals would be more comfortable with that over anything else we''d struggle to explain.

    Needless to say, we canceled our trip to Leberecht, and we spent the night at the Bountiful Blessing. While the Commander watched over Ivan, Sinclair and I scrubbed the floors and walls for Ursula, as well as prepared Father Keller¡¯s remains for travel.

    The next morning, the Commander took the reins with the body wrapped in a canvas tarp at his side, and Sinclair chose to run alongside the horses. I cared for Ivan in the wagon, and as time went on, his vitals and his mental state diminished. I¡¯d seen the same symptoms before. I¡¯d buried several villagers who¡¯d succumbed to them: dehydration, disorientation, and debilitating night terrors to name a few. Ivan had contracted the Waste, and if I had to guess, he was in its final stages.

    Few victims of the Waste ultimately survived. Of those who did, some lived the rest of their lives in varying degrees of agony. Others became violent or went catatonic as their minds decayed. Ivan¡¯s young aunt Rose had already lost so many to the devastating illness.

    I dreaded our return to Oskari.

    My nerves were shot, and my anxiety diminished only after taking a sip from Sinclair¡¯s flask when she promised not to tell. Once we arrived at camp, my first order of business was to bathe. The river was cold, but it served the shock that brought me back to reality. My limbs no longer seemed illusory, and my heart rate steadied. By the time I adjusted to the temperature of the water, the world was no longer moving in slow motion.

    When I opened my eyes, Sinclair was approaching.

    ¡°How¡¯s your hand?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯ll heal. Gripping a broadsword by the blade was a rather foolish thing to do.¡±

    ¡°You had to think fast.¡± Sinclair shrugged. ¡°You still have all your body parts and That Thing lost her most important one. Just don¡¯t let it get to your head.¡±

    ¡°Of course not, Sinclair. I wouldn¡¯t even know what to do with a self-esteem.¡±

    Rhian Sinclair rarely laughed, and when she did, it was more closely related to a snicker. I thoroughly enjoyed all three seconds of it.

    ¡°Are you coming in?¡± I asked.

    ¡°Not a bloody chance. It¡¯s freezing.¡±

    Commander Reider approached the river next.

    Stark naked, he dropped his clothes on the nearby rocks and sauntered past Sinclair. Better yet¡ªalmost past Sinclair. Without skipping a beat, he scooped the Strachan with a single arm and walked her, fully-clothed, into the river.

    ¡°No offense, Rhian, but you smell.¡±

    Any dissension that may have been still lingering between us was quickly forgotten in that moment. In the morning, we continued the rest of the way to Oskari.

    We may not have been well rested, but at least we were clean.

 [The First One] 29 - The Crazy Bitch

    Rhian

    A lot happened in a few days. We learned there was a species even older and more powerful than a Partisan. We found Vincent Delestade''s old pal Gregory Keller, but then he died. We found the missing boy, Ivan, although Strauss said he was also going to die. I took out the old man decoys, and we burnt down a house.

    Which apparently was all right because it was going to burn down soon anyway.

    Back in Oskari, Michael got busy at the Widow¡¯s Peak getting down and dirty with That Varis, and Strauss was handling the business of returning Ivan to his aunt Rose. I¡¯d been feeling poorly, which might have been the fact I hadn¡¯t been sleeping all that well, or eating all that well, or doing my job all that well. ¡®Course, it might have also had something to do with the fact I¡¯d spent half a day running around soaking wet thanks to Michael.

    It was dusk by the time I woke up from my nap, and I was bored enough to go to church. Strauss was always so busy writing those sermons, and it all seemed so bloody dire. It had to be exciting when it was all said and done, right?

    Wrong. About the only thing fun about church was how charming he was up there, commanding the room like a champion. It was nice, but it wasn¡¯t enough to keep me there for long.

    West of the Widow¡¯s Peak, there was a pond. It was a stinky, grimy pond, but I liked sitting around tossing rocks into it.

    As far as I could tell, nobody lived in the house behind the pond. I¡¯d have snooped inside, but it was smack next to the shack the village called a garrison. That night, Captain Lobodin was asleep on his desk, so I could¡¯ve used the opportunity to satisfy my curiosity. But like I said, I felt terrible.

    It was about an hour before I saw her¡ªthe lass straight out of my actual dream. I remembered the way she stood with a face like thunder, looking out the window with the butter-yellow drapes. In real life, she walked right up to the pond, looking at me the same way with those big amber eyes. She smiled bright like she knew me.

    ¡°Hi, Rhian.¡±

    ¡°Hello.¡±

    ¡°I have a gift for you,¡± she said. ¡°It¡¯s your birthday soon, isn¡¯t it?¡±

    ¡°Right,¡± I said, and I had no idea how she knew that. ¡°You really shouldn¡¯t have.¡±

    The pretty lass smiled again, and if the whole affair weren¡¯t so bloody strange, I might have smiled back.

    There was something not right about her. Something missing from those big amber eyes. I¡¯d seen it before.

    Turned out, the gift was a map, and it seemed she¡¯d drawn it herself. Squiggly line here, squiggly line there. Big arrows pointing one way or another. There weren¡¯t any words, like she knew I couldn¡¯t read them. It was thoughtful of her.

    ¡°Ivan is going to die, but he doesn¡¯t have to," she said.

    The lass pointed where the ¡°X¡± marked the spot. It was the house with the pretty garden where it all started. The house where Ivan returned to live with his aunt Rose.

    This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

    It wasn¡¯t long after, I realized I was speaking to Ivan¡¯s aunt Rose. It wouldn¡¯t be much longer after that I¡¯d realize Ivan didn¡¯t even have an aunt Rose.

    I knew where I¡¯d seen that non-look in her eyes before. She was one of Those Things.

    ¡°I could make him better, Rhian, and all I ask in return is that you come over to our house for a visit. We could make it a girls night.¡±

    ¡°Uh¡ª¡±

    ¡°But wait¡ªbefore you agree to anything, it''s important you know your options.¡±

    The lass pointed on the map. Another ¡°X¡± marked the spot, leading us to a house on the outskirts of the village.

    ¡°You killed four already. There are actually five. You¡¯ll find him here tonight, and he¡¯s a very bad man, Rhian. They all were.¡± The Crazy Bitch tapped her temple a few times. ¡°That¡¯s why I had to neuter them. But here¡¯s where it gets interesting. You can only choose one. I¡¯ve decided I¡¯m not giving you enough time for both. Save Ivan, or kill the bad man holding all those nice people hostage. He has plans for them tonight. It won¡¯t be pretty.¡±

    I was about three-quarters the way sure I was screwed no matter what. Even if I wanted to, I couldn¡¯t turn on her. I couldn¡¯t kill Those Things. Only Strauss, and Michael, and Intrepi-what-the-bloody-ever could kill Those Things. I couldn¡¯t even do what I did best and run, on account of she slithered behind me and started petting my head.

    It was odd. I don''t know what more to say about that.

    ¡°You have pretty hair,¡± she said. ¡°Have you ever wanted a sister?¡±

    ¡°Not even once.¡±

    ¡°Why not? I''m told sisters share things. Like secrets, and men. Yours is very handsome.¡±

    ¡°Look, if you¡¯re going to kill me, just get on with it. I¡¯m getting bored now.¡±

    ¡°Kill you? Why would I want to do that?¡±

    ¡°I haven¡¯t the first clue what you want in life, lass.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t want to kill you, Rhian. I like you. That¡¯s why I invited you over for girls night. Have you made your decision?¡±

    Let me be clear about something: I had a strong suspicion the lass was full of shite about saving Ivan. Strauss said there was no cure for the Waste, and even if she could do something for him, I doubted it''d be without some kind of twist. There''d be regrets no matter what, and for all I knew, the captives were already dead.

    The bottom line: it was all just a game, and I wasn''t buying in. I knew where my morality stood and it was none of anyone¡¯s goddess-be-damned business¡ªleast of all the Crazy Bitch still petting my head.

    ¡°Aye, I have.¡± I crumpled the map and tossed it in the pond. ¡°Not playing.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s new," the Crazy Bitch said. "Nobody¡¯s ever chosen to do nothing before. I see why he likes you.¡±

    At the time, I thought she was referring to Strauss again. Turns out, she wasn¡¯t.

    ¡°Because of that, and because you¡¯re a nice girl, I¡¯m going to give you a third option.¡±

    Coming from her, I supposed I was a nice girl.

    ¡°Besides, you have a baby to think about now. That changes everything, Rhian. I should know, I was a mother once.¡±

    I could hear her heart pounding just as well as I could hear my own. If it were a race, I¡¯d have her beat by about a thousand per minute. The lass was completely crackers.

    ¡°Wait¡ªyou didn¡¯t know?" she asked. ¡°And I thought you were the perceptive one.¡±

    I certainly did not know.

    ¡°Oh well.¡± I felt her shrug. ¡°For your third option, I¡¯m going to give you a chance to leave all this behind. Go back to Palisade, or go find something else to do somewhere else. I don''t really care. Just leave me and my village alone, and I''ll leave your friends alone. Sound good?¡±

    ¡°Well, it¡¯s not the worst thing I¡¯ve ever heard.¡±

    The lass kept on petting my head, all the while I was starting to feel dizzy. Truth, the attention felt nice apart from the fact it was a maniac on the other side. If what she said was true, and I wasn¡¯t even sure it was, I couldn¡¯t stay in Oskari. Especially with That Varis lurking over our shoulder.

    So, we made a deal.

    But don¡¯t worry¡ªkeeping a promise to a Crazy Bitch wasn¡¯t part of it.

 [The First One] 30 - The Inevitable Villain

    Andrei

    Strange days in the village of Oskari.

    Not long after our return from Istok, the last of the missing villagers turned up miraculously and physically unscathed, although their minds were addled. They couldn¡¯t remember where they¡¯d been, or how they¡¯d be coerced from their homes, only that their rescue was facilitated by a mouthy blonde woman. Furthermore, Captain Lobodin found the body of an old mustached man outside the garrison. The cause of his death was obvious¡ªstab wounds at the flanks. Witnesses confirmed the identify of the elderly man as the one who¡¯d been offering his services for the winter.

    For all intents and purposes, the case was cracked and closed.

    Although I would eventually learn the truth, I was under the impression Sinclair had a busy night rescuing people without us, and was most likely sleeping in. Commander Reider and Helena Varis hadn¡¯t left their room at the Peak since our return from Istok, and I had no burning desire to interrupt. So, after tying up some loose ends with the Father and Captain Lobodin, I traveled to the farmlands to deliver the good news to Rose and check on Ivan.

    I knocked several times on the door, but there was no answer. When I peered in through the window, an oil lantern was still burning on the kitchen table, so I knocked again, and again, and again until I let myself in.

    Nobody seemed to be home, and I couldn¡¯t imagine where they would have gone with Ivan in such a state. I climbed the stairs, and checked the first room at the top¡ªempty. I checked the room next door. Sure enough, Ivan lay in his bed, but he hadn¡¯t survived the night. This was devastating, albeit unsurprising.

    I¡¯d expected to find Rose in the third room, but when she wasn¡¯t there either, I wondered if she¡¯d gone to the church to make arrangements for her nephew. When I returned to the church, however, it was the first Father Belaia had heard of Ivan¡¯s passing, and there was no sign of Rose.

    As I was on my way to the mortuary to gather some effects I¡¯d be needing later, I passed by my office and spotted the Commander who, incidentally, had commandeered my chair. When I approached the desk, he handed me a sealed envelope that had been left with Ivana at the Widow''s Peak.

    While in confinement at Palisade, I was often overloaded with busy-work. It was a method Councilwoman Faust employed to keep my hyperactive mind focused. It was not uncommon to be asked to translate or interpret all manners of materials. These jobs had been challenging at times, tedious at others, and sometimes even enjoyable. But of all the translations I¡¯ve made through the years, none had been especially heartbreaking until the contents of that envelope.

    got te go

    strauss am sore

    mikul mykel be gud luv ye bro

    -s

    ¡°Strauss, I¡¯m sore?¡± Michael asked. ¡°What have you two been doing?¡±

    ¡°Not sore,¡± I said. ¡°She means to say she¡¯s sorry.¡±

    ¡°No, I don¡¯t think so. I mean, I¡¯ve never heard Rhian say that.¡±

    On the bottom of the page, Sinclair had sketched a charcoal portrait. The portrait was of a young Amali woman whose hair had been cropped at the chin and trimmed shorter around the forehead. There was no mistaking a near perfect likeness to Rose, and along the bottom she added a decapitated stick figure, an arrow, and big crooked letters: BAD.

    It was a lot to digest, and there was a lot to subsequently unpack. The expression on Michael¡¯s face confirmed he was feeling as uncertain and helpless as I was in the moment.

    ¡°So, I guess Ivan¡¯s aunt Rose isn¡¯t Ivan¡¯s aunt Rose,¡± he said. ¡°He didn¡¯t react oddly when you brought him home to her?¡±

    ¡°He wasn¡¯t lucid enough to know where he was let alone who he was with, unfortunately. I¡­ had no way of knowing, and now he¡¯s dead. I found him this morning.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s not your fault, Strauss. It was only a matter of time.¡±

    I nodded, taking a seat across from the Commander. ¡°And where could Sinclair have gone?¡±

    ¡°Do you think Rose took her?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t think so,¡± I said. ¡°The note doesn¡¯t seem to have been written under duress, and I can¡¯t imagine she¡¯d have given Sinclair the opportunity to draw a portrait as well as provide a warning. It does make me wonder, though¡ªwhat did I miss?¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re the one who told us there¡¯s no physical way to tell these Givers apart from any Barren, so that¡¯s not your fault, either.¡±

    ¡°I know, but I just feel so¡­ stupid. The girl isn¡¯t even blind!¡±

    ¡°Maybe she is,¡± Reider said. ¡°Maybe¡­ I mean, maybe just not at night. If they¡¯re the same as we are, then they¡¯d also have a sensitivity to light. And if they¡¯re more powerful than we are, then maybe their weaknesses are more potent, too.¡±

    Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site.

    The Commander had a good point, and I made sure to let him know before it hit me. ¡°Do you remember when Finlay and Sinclair lost their memories? The night of the murder in front of the Widow¡¯s Peak?¡± They were rhetorical questions, so I didn¡¯t pause for a reply. ¡°Finlay mentioned he saw a woman walking about a league away.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, I didn¡¯t think anything of it at the time, but now that you mention it, it¡¯s strange considering it was the middle of the night.¡±

    I nodded. ¡°Exactly, and when I think back to my conversation with Rose, she mentioned there were five Partisans in town. You, me, Sinclair, and of course Varis had just arrived. How would she have known about Finlay? He never made himself visible while in Oskari. Even the night of the murder, he said he fell asleep in the trees.¡±

    ¡°Good work, my friend. Safe to say we know who¡¯s been behind everything.¡±

    ¡°Yes, but why?¡± I asked. ¡°Why are these Givers so volatile?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll leave the psychoanalyzing to you.¡± Michael raised his hands, conceding. He then started for the door, and turned before leaving. ¡°I have to get back to Helena for now, and so you know, I haven¡¯t shared any of this Giver information with her, and I don¡¯t plan to. She¡¯ll only get in the way. Let¡¯s get together tomorrow, okay? We¡¯ll see what we can do about tracking our runaway Strachan if she hasn¡¯t come back by then.¡±

    It was agreed upon, but there was something else that dawned on me during our conversation. After I¡¯d spent roughly an hour with Rose, I started feeling ill later that day. Although I¡¯d recovered quickly enough, Ivan and Father Keller spent extended periods of time in the company of Givers. If the species were at least one thousand years old, it stood to reason there were more, and that they¡¯d been lurking among the Barrens all this time. It was equally possible that Ivan¡¯s mother, and sister, and numerous other villagers throughout the years, had also come into contact with them.

    It was altogether possible the Waste wasn''t a disease at all.

    I recalled the Celestian healers back at Palisade. They were rare, because in order to heal another, they would sacrifice their own life force¡ªa transfer of energy from one source to another. Those healers would then go on to display symptoms nearly identical to those observed in patients of the Waste.

    Rushing back to my room for the Vonsinfonie book, I flipped through the pages until I arrived at the passage about living two lives. If looked at another way, it could just as easily mean they were living a second life, or another life.

    I thought back again to Ivan¡¯s mother. Had she died, been buried, and come back to life as one of these Givers? How else would she have clawed herself out of a coffin and dug herself out of a grave before dying of suffocation, if not for a newfound preternatural strength? Who was responsible for the decapitation? Was there someone else out there who knew what we knew? Did these Givers rely on the life force of others to sustain themselves?

    It seemed Commander Reider made the correct choice with Father Keller in Istok.

    There was so much to consider, but for the time being, I had a funeral to prepare.

    <hr>

    The Father and I began the service at dawn with the whole of Oskari gathered to witness. ¡°And let it be known, as our Mother once preached, ¡®For all who pass upon my land, all shall be received and a greater purpose found.¡¯¡±

    I¡¯d never spoken those words with such a bitter taste in my mouth before.

    In keeping with tradition, Ivan¡¯s remains were brought home and buried in the family plot. Later that night, the Commander I exhumed another grave. Judge if you are so inclined, but we understood better then. We did what had to be done.

    By mid-afternoon, preparations for our second ceremony were underway. The ritual burning of the old man¡¯s corpse. The people of Amalia believed evil was denied a connection to the cosmos if their ashes were sealed away in an urn. But if our theories were correct, how many good people had been buried out of love, only to then rise an abomination?

    It was a trying day for all those involved, and it was made no better by the arrival of an unexpected guest. The stench of burning flesh still lingering, Councilwoman Faust swept through the crowd¡ªprideful and stone-faced. Feargus Finlay tailed at her rear.

    At first, I thought, it made sense she¡¯d show up. After the event at the schoolhouse, Reider and Sinclair sent word back to Palisade about the numerous dead Partisans. It stood to reason she was there to address that, but also saw an opportunity to engage in some diplomacy with the villagers.

    The podium we¡¯d erected for the day¡¯s event was crowded. Father Belaia and I stood at the head, and the Commander at our flank. But when the Councilwoman of Amalia approached, we relinquished our positions and gathered behind her, and Feargus Finlay squeezed in back with the rest of us.

    ¡°I won¡¯t consume more time than is necessary, but a formal address is in due order,¡± the Councilwoman said. ¡°We have suffered losses, but we have found peace. Your children are free to be children, and your wives and husbands are free to be productive and feeling secure once again.¡±

    She must be joking, I thought. Either the Councilwoman had no idea about the Givers, or she was playing some sick game. I was inclined to think the latter. After all, she was the one who encouraged me to learn Symphonic, and she was the one who led me to the Vonsinfonie book.

    ¡°What good is freedom if we can¡¯t afford to eat?¡± shouted one of the attendees.

    ¡°We¡¯re not paying taxes so you Partisans can live in luxury!¡±

    Luxury? I thought. Hardly.

    The Councilwoman carried on undeterred. ¡°For a result worthy of celebration, we have three to thank. Andrei Strauss, a man whom you¡¯ve come to embrace as one of your own for his services at the church¡­¡±

    Silence.

    ¡°¡­and First Commander Michael Reider and Enforcer Rhian Sinclair, hand picked and delivered to you with Oskari¡¯s best interests in mind.¡±

    ¡°Best interests?¡± one man shouted.

    ¡°Why do we go hungry while Partisans sleep on silk?¡± added another.

    Evidently, I was missing out on those sheets.

    ¡°Rest assured, their presence will be felt in the coming months,¡± the Councilwoman continued without pause. ¡°People of Oskari¡ªwe are aware your concerns do not end here and now, and so I extend to you these hands of Palisade indefinitely. Tonight, you may return to your homes knowing tomorrow holds more promise than yesterday.¡±

    When the Councilwoman concluded, she and her unlikely sidekick worked their way around the crowd¡ªa crowd which had grown aggressive in light of their frustration. Rather than target Faust or Finlay, they shook their fists at those who were moments ago promised to them. The Commander and I¡ªnot without ample questions for our Councilwoman¡ªcould do nothing but watch as our answers disappeared into the distance.

 [The First One] 31 - The Shadow at My Back

    Rhian

    I lived in the forest between Oskari and the Drop for two days. By the third night, I¡¯d run out of snacks and squirrel wasn¡¯t all that appealing, quite bloody frankly. The Crazy Bitch had the advantage at the minute, but that was all right. I needed her to feel comfortable while I came up with a plan. Also, I needed some time alone with my leaky eyes.

    Strauss. Poor bastard. I could have gone to him, and I could have told him what the Crazy Bitch told me¡ªthat we might be expecting. Reckon he¡¯d have fainted, then we¡¯d have argued, then he¡¯d have wanted to hug me, and I¡¯d have wanted to let him. He¡¯d have suggested we run again, build a life nowhere and everywhere. A life on the lam with a child three times cursed? Bugger that. The man needed his security and all the comforts he¡¯d grown used to. He had a good thing going in Oskari for the most part. Bottom line: not telling Strauss right away might have been the wrong thing to do, but it seemed the best thing to do. Besides, I wasn¡¯t even sure it was true. Never trust a Crazy Bitch.

    So, by the time I ran out of snacks, I decided I¡¯d scout out the Drop, see if there was any gossip, and score myself something to eat. Also, I was hoping by some chance I¡¯d run into Feargus. I really needed him then. But as it turned out, there wasn¡¯t much activity coming in or out of Amalia, so the Drop was dead quiet when I got there.

    After burning some notes on a bowl of mashed potatoes and a sausage, I stepped out of the rest-house feeling fantastic. But with every bit of good comes a bit of bad. I spotted her, and she spotted me, and there was no going back. Councilwoman Faust¡ªwalking away from the ugliest carriage I¡¯d ever seen. Of all the people I could have bumped into at the time, Faust was up there with the worst. I remember she had on this feathery coat, and I remember it on account of it fit right in with that beak of hers.

    ¡°Enforcer Sinclair,¡± she said.

    I¡¯d have liked it if she called me Rhian instead. Then I might have called her Zelda, or Zelly. Or Zelly-Belly. Anything to cut the bleeding tension.

    ¡°Hello,¡± I said.

    ¡°I was sorry I missed you in Oskari¡­¡±

    Like hells she was.

    ¡°¡­but I¡¯ll be sure to inform Councilwoman Kelly of your efficiency in a job well done. You should return soon, however. Your work is far from over, and the townspeople wish to thank the Partisan responsible for finding and freeing their loved ones¡ªthe brave woman who put the madman down. Well done, Enforcer.¡±

    There I was, getting good credit for something I didn¡¯t do. Didn¡¯t kill the old man. Didn¡¯t know anything about the freedom of any loved ones. Must have been a gift from the Crazy Bitch for accepting her offer. The truth is, I preferred bad credit for somethings I didn¡¯t do. I might have been a bit of a masochist like that.

    ¡°Right,¡± I said. ¡°There¡¯s some strange shite going on in this goddess-forsaken territory, Councilwoman. We know it. You know it. It¡¯s wrong. What you¡¯re doing? Keeping all this from us? It¡¯s bloody wrong.¡±

    ¡°How many trials have you stood before Assembly? Ten? Twelve? Assault, murder, arson, heresy¡ªall things wrong but for the best, wouldn¡¯t you say? Or have you changed your position? Unfortunately, it''s too late for me to change my votes.¡±

    Councilwoman Faust might have been a miserable old woman, but she wasn¡¯t usually an arsehole. She¡¯d had my back in the past, so maybe she did have her reasons.

    I was still skeptical.

    ¡°Fine, but I generally do what I do to protect people from danger. You¡¯ve gone and thrown us deaf, blind, and dumb into some sort of hell.¡±

    ¡°Yet you all survive. You have been given enough knowledge, and between you, display enough talent. My orders are yours to follow, and your business in Oskari has not concluded. Unless, of course, you wish to join your comrades in Endica. I understand Councilwoman Kelly has suffered significant losses.¡±

    To be fair, she was a bit of an arsehole.

    ¡°What¡¯s stopping me from getting word to Kelly about all of this?¡± I asked.

    ¡°By all means.¡±

    I knew what that meant. That meant, ¡°Go ahead, Enforcer Sinclair. Send your words. You can¡¯t write them and I¡¯ll make sure Kelly won¡¯t see them.¡±

    The Councilwoman stabbed a crooked finger toward the ugly carriage. ¡°The gentleman inside awaits my instructions. Tell him my instructions are to transport you back to Oskari. Are we understood?¡±

    ¡°Whatever.¡±

    As I stomped off toward the carriage, the old man at the reigns started smiling. He seemed all right, but I reckoned once we got rolling, I¡¯d make a jump for it. Run like the wind and whatnot. It was a shitty plan. I knew it the moment the door to the carriage swung open, and a brown-eyed man popped his head out.

    ¡°Get in,¡± he said. Swanky bastard had on another nice jacket.

    ¡°Uh¡ªno?¡± I¡¯d changed my mind, Faust be damned.

    I remembered what That Thing was capable of at the schoolhouse-slash-tavern. I remembered him flipping me across the room and ripping apart floors like a goddess-be-damned grizzly bear. I wondered how he knew the Councilwoman. I wondered why he was with the Councilwoman. Maybe they were lovers. Maybe Those Things weren¡¯t all bad. Maybe Faust was all bad. I could¡¯ve come up with a thousand conspiracies.

    ¡°Look,¡± I said. ¡°I don¡¯t mean to be rude seeing as I¡¯m sure you¡¯re interesting and all, but who in the six hells are you? And what were you doing with Faust?¡±

    ¡°Common interests. Get in.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m fine thanks.¡±

    ¡°Rhian, why do you insist on biting the hand?¡±

    ¡°On account of I¡¯m done with your kind and all the horseshite that comes with. Piss off.¡±

    ¡°What have I done to upset you?¡±

    Apart from saving Michael¡¯s life that night at the schoolhouse-slash-tavern, the Mystery Man hadn¡¯t done much. I might have been feeling pricklier than normal.

    ¡°Were you not listening when I told you to piss off? Or is that not a term you folks use around here? It means: Go. Away.¡±

    ¡°I understand you¡¯ve finally met my sister,¡± he said.

    And there I was again, remembering the Crazy Bitch alone in her room with a face like thunder. I saw the lad asleep in his bed with the bedside lantern and whatnot. Then there was the big old ¡°R¡± stamped on the mysterious letter Gus read in a mysterious voice¡ªexactly like the big old ¡°R¡± stamped on the side of the ugly carriage.

    ¡°You¡¯re the shadow at my back,¡± I said.

    ¡°Yes, and I¡¯m offering you aid. What good will you be to the cause ignorant, exhausted, malnourished, and scavenging in the forests like a feral creature?¡±

    ¡°What makes you think I¡¯d be doing that?¡±

    ¡°These are my lands, Rhian. Run, I¡¯ll catch you. Hide, I¡¯ll find you. We have matters to discuss, and you need to recuperate. Please, get in.¡±

    So, I got in.

    What can I say? He said please and I was tired.

    <hr>

    ¡°And you¡¯re how old?¡± I asked.

    ¡°Three hundred and ninety-seven.¡±

    Three hundred and ninety-goddess-be-damned seven.

    ¡°Right-e-o,¡± I¡¯m sure I said, seeing as there wasn¡¯t much else to say. Oldest person I¡¯d met was Number Two on the Assembly, and she was about a hundred and fifty. It was late middle-aged by Senec standards, and she looked it, too. Mystery Man didn¡¯t look a day over thirty-five. I studied the latch on the door. The carriage was moving in a direction that wasn¡¯t Oskari, but I knew where we were going. It wasn¡¯t like I hadn¡¯t seen the path leading up to the giant house in the forest I was living in for two days. I just didn¡¯t take it.

    ¡°You have questions,¡± he said.

    Obviously I did, starting with, ¡°Have you got a name?¡±

    ¡°Alexander Ruza,¡± he replied. ¡°My elder sister is called Lidia.¡±

    ¡°Right. I¡¯m no mathologist, but how does that work?¡±

    ¡°Lidia was just shy of seventeen when she died.¡±

    ¡°Wait¡ªwhat?¡±

    ¡°We are lifelike, but we are not alive, Rhian.¡±

    The horses slowed when curving around a bend, and that¡¯s when I should have made my move. But there¡¯s that saying about curiosity and cats, or Strachan, or whichever. Point is: I was finally getting some answers, and there was something sincere about the brown-eyed man. The way he said my name didn¡¯t give me the willies.

    ¡°If you¡¯re not alive, then you¡¯re dead. But you don¡¯t smell dead. Can I touch you?¡±

    Alexander Ruza had one hell of a charm. I trusted him more and also less because of it. It was all too bloody easy, wasn¡¯t it? Coming out of nowhere to save the day with his fancy words and his ugly carriage.

    The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

    For the record, he didn¡¯t feel dead.

    ¡°We¡¯re not alive, but we¡¯re also not dead. It could be more accurate to say we are reanimated? Suspended in time?¡± Alexander shrugged.

    ¡°So you can really do it all¡ªthe mind tricks, the empathy¡ªeverything?¡±

    ¡°Technically we can do the collective sum of what Partisans can do¡ªeverything except precognition. I¡¯ve determined that because our lives have essentially ended, we are not able to perceive a future that doesn¡¯t exist. As for what we can do? Your warrior is stronger and far more physically capable than my sister. Lidia has always been lazy and impatient. We are only as strong as our greatest efforts, and hers is a game of the mind.¡±

    ¡°How about you?¡±

    ¡°I would annihilate your warrior, and while you may outrun me, I would outlast you. But mine is a game of heart.¡±

    ¡°So, what¡¯s the catch?¡±

    ¡°There¡¯s no catch to my offer of aid, Rhian. You have no love for Lidia and I have nothing but. Despite this, our end-game is the same. We must stop her.¡±

    Normally I wouldn¡¯t question why a person doesn¡¯t take out a target themselves¡ªespecially where there are family ties. Most people haven¡¯t got it in them. But this one? He¡¯d slain a few to survive. I could tell.

    ¡°Why not just take care of her yourself?¡±

    ¡°Because she made me what I am, and we cannot destroy our makers.¡±

    I imagined Alexander taking a swing at Lidia¡¯s neck and being stopped by an invisible wall, but then I reckoned the reason went a lot deeper than that.

    Odds were, Alexander actually did want his sister out of the picture, and he¡¯d keep me alive long enough to do it. Put yourself in the man¡¯s shiny shoes for a tick. Anyone who¡¯d lived three hundred and ninety-seven years without going mad or lopping their own head off had survival instincts leaking out their arsehole and whatnot. The Crazy Bitch was probably just as much a pain in his neck as she was in ours. She was fucking with his peace of mind. ¡®Course, odds were even the man was a menace of his own.

    What do you think? Place your bets.

    <hr>

    When we were little and we¡¯d have a minute, Gus and I would sit around wondering what it¡¯d be like to be one of the upper-class Barrens. ¡°May we offer you more tiny food, Sir? Madam?¡± we imagined we¡¯d be asked about thirty-three times a day. Then we¡¯d eat all the tiny food in the world, and drink enough wine to fill the sea. There¡¯d be parties, and people, and hoity-toity conversations about feathered hats and the state of affairs or something or other. Even in our imaginations, it was hell.

    Everything except the tiny food.

    Anyhow, it was fun to think about, and it was nothing like wandering around an old mansion with nobody to talk to except the butler. Peter was all right, though. He treated me like a person, which was nice because I am one. He¡¯d ask me loads of questions I¡¯ve never been asked like, ¡°How are you feeling, Miss Rhian?¡± and, ¡°How can I make your stay more comfortable, Miss Rhian?¡±

    The truth is, I was so bloody comfortable I was uncomfortable.

    ¡°Been working for Alexander long?¡± I asked. For all I new, Peter was three hundred and ninty-goddess-be-damned-seven also. (He wasn¡¯t.)

    ¡°For nearly three decades, Miss Rhian.¡±

    ¡°Is he good to you?¡±

    ¡°I would not be here if he weren¡¯t.¡±

    Somehow, I expected a different answer¡ªas if the man wouldn¡¯t have a choice, that Those Things would use mind tricks or power plays to keep people enslaved against their will. I mean, Palisade did it, and they were supposed to be the good guys.

    But never mind. Point is, Peter had a choice in life, and so did I. If you¡¯re wondering why I stayed, here it is: for the first time in my entire life, I wasn¡¯t thinking about survival. I wasn¡¯t thinking about the next poor sap I¡¯d run my blades through, or about Palisade, or what I was gonna eat if not the poisoned dinners in the mess hall. Also, I wasn¡¯t paranoid. There wasn¡¯t a thing threatening about Peter, or Alexander, or their pretty house in the middle of the forest. And a house is a house, but Alexander Ruza¡¯s was something else.

    Swirly stairs going up, arches and corridors leading this way and that. There was a cellar, and a kitchen, and whole rooms for proper baths, and there were even toilets. But of the seventy-five thousand rooms I explored, the library was my favourite.

    It had comfortable couches and a portrait of a honey-blonde man in a purple suit.

    <hr>

    On my third day as Miss Rhian, I woke up in the middle of the afternoon in a pile of pink pillows. Peter was standing over me with an apple and a mug of crisp, clean water. He apologized about fifteen times for waking me up, but he said there was something I ought to see in the attic¡ªsomething the Master reckoned I¡¯d be happy seeing. It was the only room I hadn¡¯t snooped around in. In my experience, nothing good ever came out of an attic, but the Master was a clever man, and the attic became my new favourite room.

    There were props, and costumes, and mannequins. Stacks of canvas in all shapes and sizes. There were paints¡ªred, blue, green, almost red, sort of blue, kind of green, white, black, I¡¯m tired of this now. As much as that was all really nice seeing as I loved making pictures, the real surprise jumped out at me like a thing that¡¯s fast.

    There was hugging, and squealing, and then there was me asking, ¡°What in the six hells are you doing here?¡±

    ¡°Visiting my best friends Alexander and Peter,¡± Feargus said.

    Peter, who was still lurking, smiled and rubbed his shiny head. He did that a lot. ¡°Master Jack, Miss Rhian, is there anything you need before I leave you to reacquaint?¡±

    ¡°How about lunch?¡± I asked.

    ¡°A sensible choice. Any requests?¡±

    ¡°Anything,¡± I said. ¡°As long as it¡¯s tiny.¡±

    Peter bowed and disappeared down the ladder, closing the hatch.

    ¡°All right, what are you actually doing here?¡± I asked.

    Gus had great hair. Curly but not too curly. Long, but not too long. Kept it flopped over his eyes most of the time. Anyhow, Gus ran his hand through his hair. That¡¯s all I¡¯m trying to bloody say.

    ¡°I¡¯m here because you need me,¡± he answered, as if I should have already known.

    ¡°That¡¯s a shite answer, but you¡¯re not wrong," I said. ¡°I¡¯ve really missed you, mate.¡±

    Gus snatched a prop rapier from the weapon rack and plopped a feathered hat on his head. ¡°Aye, me too. Most days it feels like I¡¯m missing my left arm, but eh¡ªreckon you ought to paint me while we¡¯re here,¡± he said, posing like a goddess-be-damned idiot.

    Seeing as there wasn¡¯t anything better to do, I chose a round canvas and a sharp pencil. Gus was an excellent model. He was great at speaking through his teeth.

    ¡°I was in Oskari the other day,¡± he said. ¡°Why weren¡¯t you?¡±

    ¡°On account of there¡¯s a Crazy Bitch,¡± I said, as if it would explain everything. ¡°Also, I might be pregnant, so¡ªthat¡¯s a thing.¡±

    ¡°Stracha¡¯s Steed. Strauss?¡±

    If I were confessing to anyone other than Gus, they¡¯d have stopped to remind me the thousand ways I¡¯d fucked up. There ought to be more people like Gus.

    ¡°Aye, and somehow the Crazy Bitch knows. She said if I meddle in her crazy business anymore, she¡¯ll seduce another old man into kidnapping the world and whatnot.¡±

    ¡°Huh,¡± Gus said. ¡°You don¡¯t look pregnant.¡±

    ¡°Am I supposed to look pregnant?¡±

    ¡°I mean, the Crazy Lady¡¯s got nothing on you if you don¡¯t look pregnant. Nobody would believe her if she tried using it against you. She¡¯s crazy.¡±

    ¡°Aye, but that won¡¯t work for long, and it won¡¯t stop her kidnapping the world if I go back to Oskari¡ªwhich, by the way, is where I¡¯m supposed to be according to Faust. Never mind she¡¯s got That Varis spying on our every piddle.¡±

    While we chatted, I carried on drawing. I¡¯d fill in the colours later.

    ¡°Just tell Varis it¡¯s ours. She¡¯ll get word back to Palisade, and Kelly will be thrilled.¡±

    ¡°What about Strauss?¡±

    ¡°Well, that¡¯s up to you, isn¡¯t it? From what I understand, loads could go wrong and he¡¯d never have to know. But, loads could go right and you¡¯ll sort it out because he¡¯s a good man and he loves you¡ªhe really does.¡±

    ¡°All right, but what about the Crazy Bitch and her crazy plans? Never mind kidnapping the world, she threatened to hurt everyone else, too. Michael, Strauss, even That Varis. She might be a twit, but I don¡¯t want her dead.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯ll just have to stop her, won¡¯t you?¡±

    ¡°What do you know about Those Things?¡±

    ¡°What things?¡±

    ¡°Not Barrens, and not Partisans, but¡ª¡±

    ¡°Oh, like Alexander?¡±

    ¡°Aye, the Crazy Bitch is one of Those Things. And get this¡ªthey¡¯re siblings.¡±

    ¡°Alexander and the Crazy Lady?¡±

    ¡°Aye.¡±

    ¡°Oh.¡± Gus frowned. ¡°That¡¯s sad.¡±

    ¡°How about you?¡± I finally asked. ¡°What have you been doing, anyhow?¡±

    Gus stalled for a minute, adjusting the feathered hat on his head. ¡°Soon, all right? I¡¯ll tell you everything¡ªpromise.¡±

    What can I say? He might have been Gus to me, but he was still Agent Finlay.

    It went quiet for a while, and it stayed that way until Peter called us down for lunch.

    <hr>

    The table had too many chairs.

    While Gus and I sat across from each other at one end, Alexander sat on the other side in the far northern reaches of Endica. I¡¯d find out later it wasn¡¯t that he didn¡¯t want to sit with the peasants, it was so that he didn¡¯t accidentally make us sick. But never mind. The food was delicious, and it was definitely tiny. There was tiny meat, and tiny potatoes, and tiny forks for tiny fishes. Tiny fruit, and tiny cheese, and I needed that tiny cheese more than I¡¯d ever needed anything. But I didn¡¯t eat it. I didn¡¯t want painful gas even more than I wanted the cheese. So, I forked a potato instead. I still wasn¡¯t sure how I felt about the child that may or may not exist. Then again, I was about three-quarters the way sure it did.

    Frankly, I don¡¯t really need to get into details about that.

    I forked another potato, and this time I imagined it was Councilwoman Blanchett¡¯s head. Never mind the shite they¡¯d put me through for all the years. Never mind the orders, the politics, or the stress. The truth is, I liked my job most of the time. But I was a grown goddess-be-damned woman with working parts, and what happened in Delphia was my goddess-be-damned right. I should have been allowed to rub up against whoever-the-bloody-hell I wanted, and I should have been allowed to feel how ever I wanted about the outcome.

    I ate Councilwoman Oranen next.

    ¡°Rhian, I hope you haven¡¯t found us overbearing,¡± Alexander said. Even though Peter had served him a plate, he still hadn''t eaten anything. Apparently Those Things can''t, but This One liked pretending. ¡°One can¡¯t be too cautious in your condition. I saw my late wife through several miscarriages and while it may be none of my business, I only wish to protect you from the pain.¡±

    I squinted across the table. The man was getting on my nerves more and more. Alexander Ruza hadn¡¯t said a thing out of order since I¡¯d met him. He didn¡¯t twitch, didn¡¯t flinch, didn¡¯t slip up with a single word. Then again, he¡¯d had centuries worth of practice.

    ¡°Say, Alex¡ªI didn¡¯t know you were married,¡± Gus said.

    Alex? Bloody hells.

    "Her name was Isabella." Alexander looked at me then. "You may have seen her portrait in our home in Istok, prior to your setting it on fire. Unfortunately, now I¡¯ll have to rush to have it rebuilt before the next Fire Fair. Much as I¡¯ve evolved over the years, I still cannot resist the compulsion to repeat the pattern.¡±

    ¡°Uh¡ª¡±

    I ate Councilwoman Faust.

    ¡°I will tell you everything after lunch. All about my childhood in Oskari, and my life in Istok, and about what happened to Isabella and our daughter. First, we should discuss my sister. While I cannot devote myself wholly to the cause, I have information about her that you cannot get elsewhere. To defeat my sister, you must understand my sister. For we, like a story, are cursed by our greatest blessing¡ªdoomed to repeat, an infallible example of immortality. The times do change, the circumstances do differ, and the details often vary. But there is no escaping the cycle. What we did in life¡ªwhat we were in life¡ªwe remain eternally.¡±

    ¡°Right,¡± I said. ¡°And what were you?¡±

    ¡°A talented carpenter, a successful business man, a devoted husband and father. Destined to have it all, destined to lose it all. I was not without flaws, but I was a good man¡ªa kind man.¡±

    ¡°What about Lidia?¡± I asked.

    As it turns out, that was a loaded question.

 [The First One] Interlude - Her Story, Part One

    Andrei & Rhian

    She was a beautiful girl. For sixteen years, they all told her so. The gentlemen, and the not so gentlemen. Mothers, brothers, fathers. Lidia Ruza knew it, too, but she grew tired of hearing it. That is, until he said it. Second to the church of Oskari, he was both confident and humble, bashful and bold. This was a time when preaching among the people was common, a time in Amalia when the faith was still strong and the naysayers were few. It was, too, a time when the memory of the Divide was just that¡ªtheir ancestors had already survived the worst, and lain the groundwork for the future.

    Some days, Lidia would stop and listen as he preached. Other days, she¡¯d wiggle past the church windows with a smile on her face, hoping to catch a glance. Most nights, she¡¯d wait by the big old tree beside her house. Her parents never noticed, even if she wanted them to. Her brother definitely noticed, even if she didn¡¯t want him to. He¡¯d peek out her window between those butter-yellow drapes, watching as a Partisan made promises he couldn¡¯t keep. They¡¯d swoon, they¡¯d kiss, they¡¯d fight, they¡¯d fuck. Wasn¡¯t long afore she became pregnant.

    Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

    When she could no longer conceal it, her parents threatened to send her to the city. Their daughter was an irrepressible tramp¡ªan embarrassment¡ªand they told her at every turn. The young woman begged, and pleaded, and when all failed, she cried assault. She blamed an old man with grey hair and a mustache, about yea high with the smell of booze on his breath. Her parents took pity. They apologized for their cruel accusations and hurtful implications. The Ruzas didn¡¯t send their eldest child away, for if not she, who else would take care of our brown-eyed boy?

    No one, that¡¯s who.

    Insightful as ever.

    Aye.

 [The First One] 32 - The Inevitable Answers

    Andrei

    Councilwoman Faust left Oskari without a word, but not without leaving us with anything at all. After evading the angry villagers, the Commander returned to the Peak where Ivana presented him with three keys and a note. To accommodate their stay, Sinclair, Reider, and Varis were granted access to one of Oskari¡¯s abandoned homes, and that¡¯s where some of us gathered one afternoon while the villagers continued their protests.

    They demanded tax relief. They demanded reliable trade with Jaska. They demanded restoration of their livestock which were often dinner for the wolves. Had there been enough pitchforks for everyone, surely they¡¯d have brandished them wildly.

    The house was modest, wholesome but touched by time, and the furniture was caked with a layer of dust and grime I¡¯d clean in the coming days. That day, Commander Reider was out searching for the Strachan, leaving me alone with Legacy Varis at the dining table beneath the window overlooking Sinclair¡¯s favourite pond. On the topic of recent events, she and I were going in circles.

    "The people ask only for what they should already have,¡± I said.

    ¡°I say, leave the politics to those suited,¡± Varis replied.

    ¡°Who, then? Captain Lobodin means well, but he¡¯s no more a leader than this table. Or are you recommending yourself?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve already spoken with the Captain, and we¡¯ve come to a decision. For those who continue to rebel, execution awaits.¡±

    I had just finished sipping from a mug of freshly poured tea, internalizing a reaction as the hot liquid poured down my throat. ¡°Legacy Varis, I beg you clarify¡ªquickly.¡±

    ¡°Certainly. We will ask all those who demand relief to stand upon their doorsteps tonight, and one by one, they are to be made an example.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re speaking madness.¡± I said. ¡°Setting aside the sheer brutality of your suggestion, the population can''t afford such losses.¡±

    ¡°Precisely.¡± The Legacy shrugged. ¡°One example should be enough for the people to realize they fight a fight they cannot win. And if they don¡¯t? Well, you could consider relocating your work elsewhere. Jaska, perhaps?¡±

    Unfortunately, Helena Varis¡¯s mindset was not the exception when it came to Palisade¡¯s disregard for the Barren people. But, I wondered how the Commander¡ªa man of integrity and optimism¡ªwent to bed with such a vile woman. I would have none of it.

    Later that afternoon, I walked the village among the fallen autumn leaves, knocking on doors until all were warned and advised to spread the word to those I may have missed. It was then I promised what remained of the portrait fund and my unspent allowances to the cause. It was not bottomless riches, but it was more than the people of Oskari had seen in their lifetimes, and it was more than enough for them to feel acknowledged.

    That night, when none stood on their doorsteps to protest, it was a small victory for the village I¡¯d come to love.

    <hr>

    It had been five days since we''d last seen Sinclair, and Commander Reider traveled all the way to the Drop to learn she''d passed through recently, and was last seen with Faust. The Administrator confirmed the Councilwoman left for Palisade, but that Sinclair hadn''t checked out in any official capacity. We determined it was quite likely she''d been given some special task, and could even be working with Finlay.

    In the village, the children still played, labourers still laboured, and the attendance at our dusk sermons had waned but had not altogether fizzled. Some found renewed hope and remained faithful¡ªeven without tragedy in the midst. The rest carried on as they ever would.

    The information I sought in the church library was easily located, and the volumes were leather-bound and letter-pressed by decade. Oskari¡¯s death records dated as far back as roughly four centuries, and I flipped through the pages looking for names and dates of those consumed by the Waste. For the most part, the cases were sporadic and singular, but a pattern of multiple deaths emerged within a century of searching, and it continued backward until I selected the oldest book from the shelf.

    There it was again¡ªthe first recorded instance of an entire family who¡¯d succumbed to the Waste within weeks of each other. Lidia Ruza, sixteen years old. Victoria Ruza, born and dead in the same year. Reveka and Valeri Ruza, thirty-three and thirty-five respectively. According to the records, the Ruzas were buried in the crypts beneath the church. However, there were no crypts beneath the church, behind the church, or anywhere in the vicinity of the church. There was a small cemetery for those without other options, but the villagers preferred to bury their loves ones on their personal land.

    While tending to chores the next morning, I approached the Father. I wondered if the records predating the ones I¡¯d found had been sent to the archives in Leberecht, but the Father informed me there were no earlier records. A fire, killing three Partisans and injuring several more, had destroyed the majority of the village¡¯s historical documents.

    ¡°To your knowledge, were there ever any crypts in or around the church?¡±

    ¡°Funny you should ask,¡± Father Belaia said. ¡°The catacombs beneath the church were sealed off not long after the fire. The locals believed the church was cursed, and that their loved ones were no longer safe in our grounds. This is when the people of Oskari started burying their dead with their homes.¡±

    ¡°I see, and where was the entrance to the crypt located?¡±

    The Father shook his head.

    ¡°Why haven¡¯t I read about any of this?¡± I asked.

    ¡°There are some things we can only learn by speaking to other people. You should not limit yourself to that which you are reading in books, Brother Strauss.¡±

    I went on to ask the Father about some of the names I¡¯d seen in the records, primarily the family names of those who¡¯d been marked as mass-victims of the Waste. As for those who¡¯d passed in the more recent decades, the Father shared what he could, but there was nothing especially remarkable about those families. Not to say they weren¡¯t worth remembering, but I was looking for names that might have had a significant history in the village¡ªones that may have been connected to a legend.

    Of all the names we discussed, there was only one name that fit the bill.

    ¡°What do you know of the Ruza family?¡± I asked.

    Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.

    ¡°Now that is a well-known name. The patron Ruza was known for his work on the Widow¡¯s Peak Inn. If you are interested in the village''s history, I would reach out to Ivana. Her family has been here, running the Widow¡¯s Peak for centuries.¡±

    <hr>

    I hadn¡¯t spoken to Ivana at the Widow¡¯s Peak since my apology for nearly destroying it. She hadn''t come to thank me for the new window, nor had she been present at any church services. I hadn¡¯t expected she would be. The woman owed me nothing for all the damage I¡¯d caused, and she''d seemed dismissive of religion the first time we met.

    ¡°Now there¡¯s a face I¡¯ve missed around here. Have you come to blow my bar to smithereens this time?¡±

    ¡°No, only to ask a question. This time, anyway.¡±

    The response earned me a smile¡ªalbeit a fleeting one¡ªfrom the proprietress of the Peak.

    ¡°Sure,¡± she said. ¡°What is it?¡±

    ¡°What can you tell me about the Ruza family?¡±

    ¡°Eh¡ªfather built the roof or something, but there are stories. Hungry? Thirsty?¡±

    ¡°Not particularly, but thank you.¡± I said. ¡°You mentioned there are stories?¡±

    ¡°Yeah, but they¡¯re just stories, so unless you like that sort of thing¡­¡± Ivana frowned, considering me for a moment. ¡°You like that sort of thing, don¡¯t you?¡±

    I nodded.

    Not without a dramatic sigh to kick things off, the proprietress shared her version of a four-hundred-year-old tale. It was believed Mister and Misses Ruza traveled from a far-away village to settle in Oskari with their daughter and newborn son. They were well-liked, well-groomed on the outside as they made certain to be, but in several years¡¯ time, a scandal was born.

    ¡°The girl got pregnant.¡± Ivana said. ¡°Big deal, right? Well, the stories say she was assaulted. I¡¯ve heard versions where it was the brother, or her father, or some old pervert. Just to put it into context, this was all around the same time a portion of the church all but burned to the ground. Anyway, the girl gave birth, and I guess nobody bothered to learn the baby¡¯s name because it¡¯s always just, ¡®the baby.¡¯¡±

    ¡°I see,¡± I said. If the records were correct, the baby was called Victoria.

    ¡°So, the baby didn¡¯t make it,¡± Ivana continued. ¡°And then the girl died, too. Some say it was a broken heart, but I don¡¯t know. People don¡¯t think the Waste is contagious, but when an entire family keels over? Well, except for the boy. Nobody knows what happened to him. Hungry? Thirsty?¡±

    ¡°No, still not. But thank you.¡±

    The four-hundred-year-old story didn¡¯t tell me much, but it was interesting. Ivana didn¡¯t have anything more to add, but we did get to talking. I discovered she was born in Oskari, but she lived her formative years in Jaska where she was fortunate enough to have had a formal education.

    ¡°I took over the inn when my sister died.¡±

    ¡°My condolences,¡± I said.

    ¡°Oh, this place isn¡¯t so bad. Besides, it¡¯s a family thing. It¡¯s what we do. Too bad this village is the shit-fly¡¯s dinner.¡±

    ¡°My condolences were for the loss of your sister.¡±

    ¡°Oh. Yeah, thanks. Hungry? Thirsty?¡±

    My answer hadn¡¯t changed. From behind me, heavy boot-steps beat against the stairs in a measured pace, with a familiar rhythm. There was the clinking of metal against metal, and I turned expecting to see the Commander.

    The man coming toward me was a Partisan, armoured in a combination of chain and plate, but he was most certainly not Michael. The middle-aged man wore his grey hair long and unrestrained, his features concealed by a great beard. I¡¯d never seen him before, but he looked at me with such familiarity, I¡¯d nearly convinced myself we were old friends. The elder Partisan did not smile, nor stop, he simply carried on toward the doors.

    ¡°Brother Strauss,¡± he said. ¡°Come.¡±

    <hr>

    The man¡¯s name was Emerich Bach¡ªa defected Partisan and former priest of Amalia. He¡¯d been evading the Assembly for just about two decades, but had been defected from Palisade long enough for the Assembly to call off the Chase. He remained discreet, because if an active Partisan encountered a suspected defect, they were still obligated to report the sighting to the Administrator of the Drop. The details would then be shipped to the appropriate Council, and subsequently issued to Councilwoman Kelly¡¯s Enforcers who would take the job themselves or delegate to their Chasers. All that said, Partisans were promised sanctuary at any church¡ªregardless of their status with Palisade, and the clergy were not required to report them. I kept the door to my office closed for this particular chat nevertheless.

    Once the conversation was underway, Emerich Bach revealed he''d been observing the village of Oskari from the sidelines for some time¡ªlong before we arrived, and especially while we were otherwise indisposed. This revelation would come to explain the potato garden incident, and I was informed the reason the woman hadn''t disintegrated the same way the man at the Bountiful Blessing had was a matter of freshness. Lovely.

    ¡°Does your being in Oskari have anything to do with Amalia¡¯s¡­ infestation?¡± I asked.

    ¡°Is that what you¡¯re calling it?¡±

    ¡°Not officially.¡±

    The man had the one telling physical feature of a Partisan, but for every shade of brown or green, there is a shade of grey. Emerich Bach¡¯s eyes were on the cusp of white, small and shocking beneath a substantial brow. Across the desk, the old man sat in silence far longer than was comfortable.

    ¡°Thirty-two years ago, I left Palisade for Istok. I studied my whole life for that day because I always knew, even as a boy, that I¡¯d serve in Amalia¡¯s name. It took eleven years¡ªeleven years, Brother Strauss¡ªto discover what you¡¯ve discovered in mere months.¡±

    ¡°If it makes you feel better, it has eluded Father Belaia for decades.¡±

    The middle-aged man chuckled. ¡°Perhaps you¡¯re more prepared than I thought.¡±

    ¡°Prepared for what?¡±

    ¡°For this conversation, for what is coming, and for what I¡¯ll be offering you.¡±

    As the man leaned forward across the desk, I settled back against the chair. ¡°The Devourer you are seeking is called Lidia Ruza.¡±

    The triumph I felt for being on the right track was insignificant when weighed against the implication that the most far-fetched of my theories hadn¡¯t been so far-fetched at all.

    ¡°Devourer?¡± I asked.

    Emerich Bach straightened and shrugged. ¡°They are known by many names, but I find this one most appropriate. While this may not be how they originated, these are now Barren men, women, and children who have been cursed in death as we are blessed in life. They are parasites who manipulate and feast upon the weak to sustain themselves.¡±

    ¡°Why does the Assembly keep this from us? Surely they must know, and if we¡¯d been prepared, it would have been safer for everyone.¡±

    ¡°It''s important to know the problem is contained within Amalia. I¡¯m certain you¡¯ve heard the stories, and perhaps you''ve witnessed the side-effects in those Partisans who''ve returned to Palisade after experiencing what we have. Why is it kept secret? The institute of Palisade is corrupt beyond repair. Focusing on the Assembly¡¯s motivations will only distract us from our own.¡±

    Having spent years listening to Sinclair gripe about the corruption and the futility of everything, none of this came as much of a surprise.

    ¡°What motivations? And how exactly did these Devourers originate?¡±

    Emerich Bach could only offer a theory, but it was a plausible theory.

    The creatures¡ªthe Devourers, the Givers, Those Things¡ªmay have been the goddesses¡¯ first attempt at creating divine servants who turned against their original purpose. Bach suggested that while the Devourers went on to dominate the world, they controlled the Barren people as their slaves and cattle. The Divide may have been the goddesses¡¯ first response to rectify their mistake, but not all Devourers were destroyed.

    I was all too familiar with the next part of the story: Partisans, blessed children promised to the Barrens as an apology, and if Emerich Bach¡¯s theory held true, we were the goddesses¡¯ second response to their mistake.

    ¡°We are not their friends, their subordinates, their superiors, or their equals,¡± he said. ¡°Brother Strauss, we are their destroyers.¡±

 [The First One] 33 - The Good Day, the Bad Day, and the Slightly Better Day

    Rhian

    Twenty-one years. Felt more like a hundred, but I was happy to be alive. Celebrated my birthday on the twenty-fourth day of the eleventh month, and we made it back to Oskari just in time. I wasn¡¯t too keen on celebrating, but Gus would have none of it. Reckon the conversation went a lot like:

    ¡°We¡¯ve got to do something.¡±

    ¡°What? So the Crazy Bitch can kill us all in one place?¡±

    ¡°At least we¡¯ll have had a few laughs first. Come on, there¡¯ll be free things.¡±

    ¡°I like free things.¡±

    ¡°You do.¡±

    ¡°Fine, but I¡¯m not celebrating at the church.¡±

    We didn¡¯t celebrate at the church.

    After catching up with Michael, the lot of us piled in The House¡ªthe one Faust left us by the stinky, grimy pond. At least I finally got to see inside, and it was all right. We crowded around on the couches in the living room I suspected Strauss recently had his way with. Smelled vinegary.

    Nobody bothered asking why I left, or what I was up to while I was gone. They didn¡¯t really have to when they saw me come back with Gus. For the celebrations that night, Michael was there, and Feargus, and Strauss, of course, and even That Varis which was strange seeing as I hardly knew her.

    Anyhow, Gus had just finished telling everybody about the time we caught Councilwoman Oranen bumping uglies with a Delphi in the woods back at Palisade. We leveraged that one as much as we could until the lad mysteriously disappeared one day.

    Everybody laughed¡ªalmost. But the trickiest part of the night wasn¡¯t dealing with an uptight Legacy. It was pretending to drink from my flask.

    ¡°How are you both not permanently incarcerated?¡± That Varis asked.

    ¡°I¡¯ve wondered the same thing,¡± I said. ¡°I¡¯ve also wondered if you sit around all day thinking up ways to be more boring.¡±

    Commander Sir Michael Sir to the rescue. ¡°I think now¡¯s a good time for presents.¡±

    Any time is a good time for presents, I say. Take what you can get, give what you can give, and to my surprise, even That Varis had something to give. It was a throwing star, which was nice on account of she was an excellent blacksmith and she didn¡¯t even like me.

    ¡°Incidentally, I crafted this whilst studying in Stracha,¡± she said.

    ¡°It¡¯s real nice, Varis. I¡¯ll think of you when it comes in handy.¡±

    That Varis might have smiled, or it might have been something she ate. I also might have felt bad for giving her such a hard time a minute ago.

    But never mind, the feeling wouldn¡¯t last long.

    Next up, Michael gave me a hug and a speech.

    ¡°Rhian, we¡¯ve been friends for almost a decade. But now that we¡¯re partners, I¡¯ve come to rely on you in a way I never imagined I would. Namely, to make me look better.¡±

    Nearly everybody laughed. Funny enough, the feeling was mutual.

    Strauss was quiet for most of the night. He might have been irritated with me for leaving without saying a proper goodbye, or he just didn¡¯t have much to say. That Varis kicking around made things a bit awkward, but I¡¯d get to him later.

    Feargus¡¯s gift was next, wrapped in about six thousand layers of blue silk so I wouldn¡¯t feel what it was straightaway. It was a pistol.

    ¡°Do you like it?¡± he asked.

    It was all right. The wood was brownish-blackish, and the metal bits were burnished so they wouldn¡¯t reflect much at night.

    ¡°Haven¡¯t got any love for fire-weapons or the means to use them, but otherwise, it¡¯s perfect. Thanks, mate.¡±

    Gus nodded sagely.

    So, free things. Better yet, those free things were things I might have been able to use¡ªoptions I didn¡¯t have afore. Maybe Those Things could be shot dead again. Or maybe it wouldn¡¯t matter, and they¡¯d regenerate around the bullet, or pluck it out and chuck it at my head. Either way, it¡¯d probably hurt. It¡¯s not like I had any ammunition anyhow.

    It was a few hours until morning by the time everybody went upstairs to bed¡ªeverybody except Strauss who had his own room to go back to at the church. Seeing as I reckoned we could use some time to talk, we made the walk together.

    There isn¡¯t a whole lot to say about the walk except that it was dark, and it was cold, and it was starting to smell like winter. Along the way, I told him all about how I¡¯d met the man he sold the portrait to, and that I¡¯d finally had the chance to see the purple suit for myself. I told him how that same man was the one who rescued us from the schoolhouse-slash-tavern, healed Michael, and brought us to the Drop. It took him a minute to come to terms with the fact Alexander was one of Those Things, seeing as he seemed so nice.

    ¡°He seemed so¡­ nice,¡± he said.

    ¡°Maybe on account of he is, or maybe on account of he¡¯s not. I haven¡¯t sorted it out yet, but he says he wants to help us, and the one causing all the trouble is his sister.¡±

    ¡°Lidia Ruza.¡±

    ¡°Aye¡ªwait, how do you know that?¡±

    To explain how he knew that, Strauss told me everything he¡¯d figured out about the Waste, what he¡¯d learned from the library records, and from Ivana. I was able to confirm the story about the Ruzas wasn¡¯t too far from the truth, only it wasn¡¯t an old man with a mustache, or her bloody ten-year-old brother, or her father that assaulted her.

    Lidia was having an affair with a Partisan.

    ¡°That could explain why she was asking me questions about my celibacy.¡±

    ¡°When was she doing that?¡±

    ¡°The day we met.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s a strange thing to talk about on the day you meet.¡±

    Strauss shrugged, looking altogether shamefaced. ¡°I just thought she was curious about Partisans. She seemed so sincere.¡±

    I couldn¡¯t help but chuckle.

    We were approaching the church when Strauss invited me back to his room. We still had a lot to talk about, so that¡¯s where we went. As usual, I made myself comfortable on the corner of his desk while he paced the room like legs were going out of style.

    ¡°There¡¯s something else,¡± he said. ¡°Someone else I met while you were gone.¡±

    ¡°Oh, aye? And did they ask you how often you tug the boat?¡±

    Strauss went from pasty-arse white to beet-red in about half a second. ¡°No, I¡ªI met an old man, a defected Partisan. His name is Emerich Bach.¡±

    I was still smirking, but Strauss carried on all the same.

    ¡°He told me about an organization made up of defects devoted to studying the creatures he calls Devourers, among other things. He said we would be welcome. I believe we could even be together there.¡±

    The truth is, I didn¡¯t know how to feel about the news, let alone how to react to the news. And when I wasn¡¯t sure how to react, I tended to under-react.

    ¡°Eh¡ªI don''t know.¡±

    Strauss knew me well enough to let my non-reaction slide. He stopped pacing, stepped in toward me, and took my hands. ¡°He¡¯s invited me to visit the compound, and I¡¯m going to go. I won¡¯t be gone long but it¡¯ll be soon. He seems legitimate, if annoyingly elusive, and we can use all the information and all the allies we can get¡ªeven Alexander, for now. And, if the place turns out to be some sort of utopia, then¡­¡±

    ¡°¡­then we have our out.¡±

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    Strauss nodded, and then I nodded. There was a lot of nodding.

    ¡°All right, fair enough,¡± I said.

    ¡°In the meantime, I have a theory and I need your help.¡±

    "What is it?"

    ¡°I¡¯d like you to find the entrance to the crypt.¡±

    ¡°What crypt?¡± I asked.

    ¡°The one beneath the church.¡±

    ¡°Uhh¡ª¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s been sealed off.¡±

    Reckoned I could work something out.

    After agreeing to help, Strauss shuffled over to Gus''s old satchel sitting on a chair in the corner of his room.

    ¡°I have presents,¡± he said, returning to my side with a flask and something else shiny. ¡°This came from Emerich Bach, when I mentioned it was your birthday.¡±

    It was a flask filled to the top with Strachan Hocks. Honey. Cloves. None of that copy-cat shite, aged at least a decade and straight from Hollyhock by the smell of it. Too bad I wasn¡¯t supposed to drink it. According to Alexander, it wouldn¡¯t be wise. Either way, the flask was a prize in itself. It was bigger than mine, but it was also engraved with the letters ¡°RS¡± which I found odd. I didn¡¯t even know That Bach, but he sure went out of his way. Then again, birthdays were a big deal for Partisans¡ªsignifying another year not dead.

    The doohickey was from Strauss. He said he found it in Leberecht, that he knew I¡¯d like it the moment he saw it. I¡¯d seen one similar in Delphia before, but not nearly as beautiful. The metal casing was filigreed with flowers and leaves, and the wheel didn¡¯t hurt when I spun it with my thumb. Most folks assumed I didn''t care for pretty things, on account of I didn''t have any. That''s why Strauss was different. He knew I liked pretty things, I just didn''t have any.

    I thanked him for being so goddess-be-damned thoughtful, and we spent around an hour staring at each other with hearts in our eyes and whatnot.

    As for the rest of the night?

    That¡¯s between us, his lumpy bed, and your imagination.

    It was a good day.

    <hr>

    Gus was gone again, and I was getting irritated. Whatever business he had with Faust, I didn¡¯t like it. I also didn¡¯t like how often I was randomly running into That Varis those days. I might have softened on account of the gift-giving and all, but in case you hadn¡¯t picked up on it, I took issue with most Legacies. Making it to thirty was an accomplishment, but it was no excuse for all the judging, and sauntering about like they¡¯d earned the right to be boring and rude.

    Anyhow, after spending the day looking for a hidden crypt at the church, I was on my way back to The House when it happened again.

    ¡°Good evening, Enforcer,¡± That Varis said.

    ¡°Hello,¡± I replied.

    ¡°There¡¯s something I¡¯d like to show you.¡±

    ¡°Is it your warm and fuzzy side?¡±

    ¡°No.¡±

    ¡°All right. Lead the way, then.¡±

    I thanked Stracha for every step we took without small-talk. The lass meant business and that was fine by me. We walked, and walked, and walked until we stopped in front of the old Ruza house, also known as Ivan¡¯s old house, also known as the Murder House.

    That Varis opened the door and stepped inside.

    ¡°Come,¡± she said. And it was a good thing she did, otherwise I might have stood outside like a nitwit wondering what to do.

    I followed her to the kitchen.

    ¡°See?¡± That Varis pointed to a rotting portion of the countertop. ¡°There.¡±

    I took a step forward.

    That Varis took a step backward.

    And then the Legacy lunatic wrapped her big Amali hands around my skinny Strachan neck. I could say I had seen it coming, but that¡¯d be a stupid thing to say. If I¡¯d seen it coming, I¡¯d have stopped it. But never mind. It¡¯s rarely too late to fix a mistake, and I had hands. Out came my knife, and I sliced her clean across the arm. It sure as shite wouldn¡¯t stop her, but it did the trick. The Varis loosened her grip around my neck. And I ducked and dodged out of range.

    The Legacy moved in after me. She was faster than I expected.

    ¡°Don¡¯t look so surprised," she said. "This is all your fault, Rhian.¡±

    I was caught off-guard, cornered, and by the time I plotted my escape, it was too late.

    That Varis readied up for the blow, and that¡¯s the last thing I remember before her fist made friends with my face.

    It was a bad day.

    <hr>

    The morning after I got my arse kicked by That Varis, Michael found me unconscious in an alley not far from the Widow¡¯s Peak. He brought me back to The House, and when I woke up, I was relieved I wasn¡¯t dead. My body ached in a way that didn¡¯t make sense for someone who¡¯d been punched in the face. I couldn¡¯t be sure how far she¡¯d taken things after I hit the floor, so I felt around for bruises, and I stopped counting at eight. To make matters worse, my face was burning, so I searched my satchel for the practical doohickey Adeline gave me all that time ago. I popped the timepiece-slash-compass open and peered at myself in the mirror only to find my face was bruised and scratched to the six unholy hells.

    I hoped for intimidating scars.

    The House was quiet, but I limped my way down from the bedroom to find That Varis and Michael sitting at the dining table having a cup of tea.

    ¡°Hey, sleepyhead,¡± Michael said. ¡°Good to see you up and about.¡±

    Ignoring Michael, I glared daggers over at That Varis. The squinting hurt, but it was worth it. ¡°What in the six hells was that about?¡±

    That Varis looked at me, then at Michael, then back at me.

    ¡°What¡ªare you speaking to me, Rhian?¡±

    ¡°You know bloody well I¡¯m speaking to you, Varis.¡±

    Michael glanced between us. ¡°Rhian? Helena? What¡¯s this about?¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s right, Michael,¡± I said. ¡°You should be asking her what happened to me.¡±

    ¡°Helena?¡± Michael repeated, looking a lot like he was the one who¡¯d been socked in the face. ¡°Did you see what happened?¡±

    ¡°Not exactly. I was out for my walk when I witnessed an argument between Rhian and some local peasant. Quite frankly, it was above my head and beneath my station.¡±

    If I weren¡¯t so angry, I¡¯d have laughed.

    ¡°Horseshite,¡± I said. ¡°She did this to me. Look at her arm, Michael.¡±

    ¡°My¡­ arm?¡± That Varis lifted her sleeves. There were a few old battle-scars, but no fresh wound. ¡°Michael, the woman is insane.¡±

    ¡°Horseshite,¡± I said again. ¡°But let¡¯s pretend for a second it isn¡¯t¡ªif you saw me getting my arse kicked by a Barren apparently, why didn¡¯t you help?¡±

    ¡°What should I have done, Rhian? Am I expected to fight your battles now? From what I understand, you¡¯ve been sentenced numerous times for assault. Stumbling innocently upon it is no anomaly.¡±

    ¡°Right,¡± I said. ¡°Never mind.¡±

    ¡°Never mind what?¡± Michael asked, still stupefied.

    ¡°She keeps calling me Rhian,¡± I said.

    ¡°So?¡±

    ¡°So? She never calls me Rhian, and there¡¯s only one other person who calls me Rhian in that same creepy way.¡±

    ¡°She¡¯s finally lost it,¡± That Varis decided.

    ¡°I think she¡¯s just confused.¡± Michael frowned, mussing up his brown hair. He was the one who was confused. ¡°Rhian, Strauss is on his way. Make sure he looks you over well¡ªyou might have head trauma.¡±

    Whatever. I got what was coming to me, didn¡¯t I? Consequences, kids. The Crazy Bitch wouldn¡¯t be happy I was back, and I was starting to suspect she used That Varis to make her point. I doubted she had very good training¡ªif any at all¡ªagainst telepathy.

    Once Michael and That Varis left The House, it wasn¡¯t long before Strauss showed up with his bag of tricks, fretting straightaway about infection. He organized all of his tools, bandages, and whatnots, and we settled in the living room while he plastered my face with an ointment that smelled a bit like Ivana¡¯s garlic potatoes.

    ¡°Won¡¯t be handling any covert operations like this. Wait¡ªdid you grow whatever you¡¯re smearing on my face? I¡¯ve seen that garden. That garden is the anti-garden.¡±

    ¡°Precious,¡± Strauss said tersely. It was the way he spoke when he was worried. ¡°Please tell me what happened.¡±

    Seeing as he said please, I told him everything I hadn¡¯t told him already¡ªwell, almost everything.

    ¡°You left because Lidia promised she¡¯d leave us alone?¡± he asked.

    ¡°Aye, but now she¡¯s raging, and Gus is gone, and on any other day, it¡¯d be strength over numbers but we haven¡¯t got shite for strength or numbers against Those Things. I can¡¯t kill them. You¡¯re, uh¡ªwell, you did all right that one time. I¡¯m starting to think That Varis is one of Lidia¡¯s meat puppets, and Michael can¡¯t shoulder it all.¡±

    ¡°What about Bach?¡± Strauss asked.

    ¡°What about Bach?¡± I returned. ¡°You said yourself he¡¯s elusive, and besides, he can¡¯t really show himself around That Varis.¡±

    Strauss dabbed some dried blood from my face with a rag and water from a clay pot. It might have hurt, but I only remember his company.

    ¡°You suspect the Legacy is somehow being used in Lidia¡¯s plot, but how or when would that have happened? She and the Commander have been inseparable.¡±

    ¡°For the most part, but what about when Michael went looking for me at the Drop? Or what about when we were in Istok? Michael hasn¡¯t told her anything about Those Things, and she wouldn¡¯t know to expect mind tricks from a Barren.¡±

    ¡°Can you prove it?¡±

    I¡¯d had experiences Michael and Strauss hadn¡¯t. I¡¯d spent about a decade training with that Delphi seamstress on the subject of telepathy. I might have been wrong about some things, but I wasn¡¯t usually wrong about those things.

    ¡°No, but if everyone would quit accusing me of being paranoid, it¡¯d save us a lot of time arguing about it.¡±

    Strauss shook his head. ¡°The proof isn''t for me, but for the Commander. He¡¯s requested a binding ceremony. I¡¯ve advised against it, but the man is rather invested.¡±

    That was some unidentifiable shite right there. Strauss will explain it better later, but binding to That Varis was the worst possible thing Michael could do. He¡¯d never get out of that pit of a village. Oskari, That Varis, the Crazy Bitch¡ªat least one of those things would suck the life out of him until there was nothing left but a puddle of armour.

    ¡°Well, that stinks,¡± I said.

    ¡°Yes, and he wishes to proceed posthaste.¡±

    ¡°All right, then proceed posthaste. We¡¯ve got work to do and arguing between us isn¡¯t it. Nothing¡¯s gonna change. We¡¯re all stuck here for now, and if I¡¯m right about That Varis, then at least we¡¯ve got eyes on the situation.¡±

    ¡°Rhian,¡± Strauss said.

    It was odd hearing my first name come out of his mouth like that, and if I didn¡¯t know any better, I¡¯d think the Crazy Bitch had gotten to him as well. But I knew what was coming, so I pretended there was something interesting to look at on the floor.

    ¡°Rhian,¡± he repeated, and he waited until I looked up again. ¡°I love you."

    "Aye," I said. "You''re all right, too.¡±

    Look, he was still a pain in the arse, but it was a slightly better day.

 [The First One] Interlude - Her Story, Part Two

    Andrei and Rhian

    Lidia Ruza no longer attended market, no longer took her brother to the park, and no longer stopped to watch her lover preach. Forbidden from leaving the house, she tended the chores and her aching back. Each night, her lover stood outside her window¡ªwaiting, watching. Days became weeks and weeks became months, and her lover¡¯s visits became fewer. She had girl friends, or so she thought, but none came to call. The brown-eyed boy became her entire world, and oh how she loved him.

    You should know, time is a tricky thing when you¡¯re expecting. One minute it¡¯s hardly sinking in, the next you can¡¯t see your toes. Then, time stalls to a halt until you¡¯re flat on your back begging for mercy. Lidia gave birth three weeks late. Poor lass. It was around then her lover stopped coming around. No more waiting or watching and whatnot. And it wasn¡¯t long after that, a fire at the church killed that same priest and many more. ¡°A sad, sad accident,¡± they¡¯d say, and the story stayed the same for centuries.

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    What none of the villagers knew, was that when baby Victoria entered the world, she''d inherited her father¡¯s traits. Not grey hair and a mustache, but the steel-coloured eyes and the iron grip of a Partisan. Lidia Ruza knew she could no longer hide the truth from her family. They would soon learn she had a taste for holy-men, and a few days after that, she''d learn her father had a taste for fire.

 [The First One] 34 - The Inevitable Mistake

    Andrei

    The binding ceremony between two Partisans of the same race guaranteed only one thing: the couple could not be separated by the call of duty. For instance, if one were deployed on a job, the Assembly was required to deploy the other as well. It was an uncommon practice, because most Partisans viewed romance as an unnecessary distraction. Most were content to procreate with their arranged partner, and were just as content to never have to see them again.

    The Assembly made certain this mindset was encouraged from an early age.

    After some consideration, I understood the Commander''s decision to bind with Helena Varis was not made without personal motivation. Due to her Legacy status, she could no longer be deployed into active service. In her retirement, she had other options. She could choose to raise her and Michael¡¯s children in the village until their conscription at the age of eight, practice her craft among the Barrens, or work as a smith at the Drop. Meanwhile, Oskari had become a personal project for Michael¡ªone he was reluctant to abandon.

    The binding was a simple service. Sinclair was our only witness, and the couple took their places before the lectern I hoped would not collapse beneath the weight of the Amali Charter. Due to its rarity, I hadn''t been inclined to memorize the speech, and it was a speech without flourish, without words of affection or true devotion.

    ¡°Today, on the twenty-ninth day of the eleventh month in the year 824, it is in the name of Amalia we gather to celebrate the joining of two divine servants under the watchful protection of the Six. Michael, first to the line of Reider, do you promise to abide the laws of Palisade and your gods-given duty to Amalia, eternally forsaking all else within the binds of eternal companionship?¡±

    From the audience, Sinclair¡¯s gaze was hard-focused straight ahead. At first, I thought she was looking at me, and I wondered if she was imagining what it would be like if we were the ones making promises to one another. It was wishful thinking, because I''d soon discover her attention was reserved for the wall behind me.

    ¡°I do,¡± the Commander said.

    The vows were repeated for Helena Varis, and there was no plot twist in her response.

    ¡°Thus, on the twenty-ninth day of the eleventh month in the year 824, I, Andrei Strauss, Second to the Church of Oskari and in the name of Amalia, declare you, Helena Varis, and you, Michael Reider bound by the Six.¡±

    <hr>

    Endless paperwork followed the ceremony, which is no more interesting than it sounds, I promise. We had our doubts he could do it, but Michael was successful in convincing the Legacy to travel alone to the Drop to deliver the news. We had matters to attend, and we needed her out of the way. You see, Sinclair was certain she¡¯d found the way into the hidden crypts, and it just so happened the way was straight through the wall directly behind where I stood for twelve hours a week on average.

    ¡°You sure this is it?¡± the Commander asked.

    ¡°I reckon,¡± Sinclair said. ¡°The stonework is different¡ªjust barely, but different.¡±

    The Commander and I stared at the wall until we gave up.

    ¡°We have no clear idea of their numbers,¡± I said. ¡°They walk among us, among the locals. Dozens of people die each year from an illness that never truly existed.¡±

    ¡°Our problems don¡¯t end with Lidia Ruza, I get it. But what do you actually expect we¡¯ll find down there?¡± the Commander asked.

    ¡°There is a possibility these Devourers choose not to live among the Barrens, but if not with them, then where? Emerich Bach confirmed they experience debilitating versions of our collective weaknesses, and a retinal intolerance to sunlight suggests they might choose to live underground.¡±

    ¡°Okay, but if the crypt¡¯s been sealed, we¡¯d have to assume there¡¯s another way in,¡± Reider said. ¡°They can¡¯t walk through walls.¡±

    ¡°True, I¡¯ve never heard of such an ability. Even if they can go invisible, this doesn¡¯t make them able to pass through solid objects¡ªI don¡¯t think. We may find nothing in the crypt besides dust and spiders, but something tells me there¡¯s a reason the people took such drastic measures when they sealed it off.¡±

    The stone wall was no match for Michael Reider and his sledgehammer, and it was pitch black through the hole in the wall, well past the range of our superior vision. Sinclair was tasked with carrying the lantern. We¡¯d learned the hard way to expect the unexpected, and our warrior would be best left uninhibited. For obvious reasons, I was never considered for the position.

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    At the bottom of the winding stairs, we faced a large chamber wherein four caskets were set upon stone slabs. Each of the caskets were carved from a different wood, and the walls around them were lined with drawers and plaques, inscribed with names and dates.

    ¡°Say, Strauss, are you aware there¡¯s a breed of flower that doesn¡¯t die?¡± Sinclair asked. ¡°Reckon you ought to plant some.¡±

    A few months earlier, I¡¯d have dismissed the idea of an immortal man. Who was I to rule out the possibility of an immortal flower? At the base of the mahogany casket, there lay a bouquet of white lilies, still vibrant and fresh. Much to Sinclair¡¯s dismay, this didn¡¯t confirm a new species of flower, but it did confirm the crypt was still being used, and that another entrance must exist.

    Clearing the first room, we headed down a corridor leading to another similar chamber. Michael and I were about to step inside to investigate when we realized our light source wasn¡¯t following. We waited, and waited, until a loud squeak sent us rushing back.

    Back in the first chamber, Sinclair was peeking into an open casket.

    ¡°This man doesn¡¯t even look dead,¡± she said. ¡°He also looks familiar.¡±

    ¡°Is it one of Those Things?¡± Reider asked. ¡°Should I cut off its head?¡±

    ¡°Absolutely not,¡± I said. ¡°My understanding is that destroying it would draw the attention of its creator.¡±

    The Commander furrowed his brow. ¡°Isn¡¯t that what we want?¡±

    No, it wasn¡¯t at all what we wanted. Not yet, anyway.

    I positioned myself beside Sinclair. The man in the casket was dressed exceptionally and had been lain to rest alongside a cane with an amethyst topper. There were insects among him, but all were dead. Strange, I thought¡ªwhat would have attracted them in the first place? And there was something very familiar about the man in the burgundy suit.

    ¡°Sinclair, I¡ªwhat are you doing?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m taking his rings,¡± she said, and then she did. The first ring was an emerald set in gold. The second was a band of pure, tarnished silver. The Strachan was cautious with the latter due to an allergy to Auditoria¡¯s rarest metal¡ªa bond all Partisans shared to some degree.

    ¡°Why are you taking his rings?¡±

    ¡°On account of his cane won¡¯t fit in my bag."

    I narrowed my eyes.

    Sinclair continued with a shrug. "It just felt right."

    "Graverobbing just... felt right?"

    "Aye."

    While that may have been true in the moment, something certainly didn''t feel right to me.

    The Commander stepped around the casket to see the man inside for himself, and then, it was as if time stopped for everything but the melody¡ªweaving through our minds as if it had always been there. Unsung memories of times long forgotten. The sorrow, the joy, the wonder and terror of everything we¡¯d ever lived and would ever come to live. The chamber fell still, silent while all those within were entranced by the awakening.

    I could not tell you how the others had been affected by the melody in that moment. While the dead man rose, nothing else mattered¡ªnothing but him. The man wandered the room, hobbling without the aid of his cane.

    ¡°The times,¡± he said. ¡°A cursed canticle. Or is it blessed? Yes, and yes. Bound to repeat, a paragon of immortality.¡±

    The man bowed to Sinclair, and then to the Commander.

    ¡°Good afternoon to you, Justice and Honour.¡±

    He then bowed and winked at me.

    ¡°And a good afternoon, Temperance, my darling. It¡¯s been far too long.¡±

    By the time we were pulled from our trance, the man and his cane were gone, and the flowers at the base of his casket were dead. Amali, Strachan, brave, cowardly¡ªno matter¡ªwe all flew for the stairs.

    When we emerged, Sinclair and the Commander hadn¡¯t broken a sweat while I sought desperately to catch my breath. Not for a lack of constitution, but in hindsight I realize I was having a panic attack. As much as we may have wanted, none of us could immediately speak about what we¡¯d seen, or what we¡¯d felt. It was a compulsion beyond our control. But we knew who we¡¯d seen, who we¡¯d heard, and that was enough.

    That day, we met Zacharias Vonsinfonie.

    ¡°Reider, Sinclair.¡± I pointed down the aisle.

    The Strachan groaned.

    The Commander sighed.

    Father Belaia, elderly but otherwise healthy, lay dead on the floor. Having been occupied in his office that day, he''d most likely emerged to investigate the noise when we broke down the wall. I should have felt remorse, and later I would grieve for my mentor. In the moment, my senses were still numb. Shock, perhaps. The fault of the melody, more likely. For a time¡ªand only for a time¡ªit was as though I''d never again feel anything better or worse. Others had survived lesser and greater tragedy. Others had experienced lesser or greater loves. Nothing was original.

    It was all inevitable.

    ¡°We¡¯re going to have some explaining to do,¡± Reider said.

    ¡°The man was old,¡± Sinclair added. ¡°End of story. We¡¯ve got bigger problems.¡±

    We absolutely did, and so it was decided. The Commander would travel to the Drop alongside the remains of our Father, while Sinclair would keep watch over the village. As for myself, I''d seek out Emerich Bach and prepare to leave for the compound.

    From that day forward, I''d be known as Father Andrei Strauss, First to the Church of Oskari, and for the first time in centuries, the church would close, lock, and barricade its doors to the public.

 [The First One] Interlude - Her Story, Part Three

    Andrei and Rhian

    A baby¡¯s cry¡¯ll cut you deeper than any knife. Day in, day out. Day in, and day bloody out. At first, Lidia felt sorry for the wee lass, doing everything she could to set it right. She remembered her brother when he was a baby, but he wasn¡¯t so goddess-be-damned fussy. All she wanted was sleep. All she wanted was death.

    The girl still bled from the womb, her temperature rising higher by the day. The brown-eyed boy only added to her stress, until each hour melted into the other. Days? Weeks? She couldn¡¯t remember the last time she¡¯d slept or held down a meal, and through it all, the cries never stopped. She¡¯d do anything to make it stop, and one terrible day it did. She shook and shook until the baby went still. She was horrified once for what she¡¯d done, and she was horrified twice for being relieved. She brought the child to the river where she planned to drown herself in her sorrow. ¡°A sad, sad accident,¡± they¡¯d say, if only it had happened that way.

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    That¡¯s how it might have looked if he hadn¡¯t come for her first. The one who understood the love for a sibling, the loss of a child, and the push and pull of death. Lidia Ruza was already dying. She knew it, the man in the emerald suit with the amethyst cane knew it. Hells, now even we all know it. He promised she could die at home in her pretty bed in the room with the butter-yellow drapes instead of out in the cold. He promised it wouldn¡¯t hurt, if only she¡¯d let him help her. It¡¯d be over, but then it would be new again. He should know, he¡¯d done it once already.

 [The First One] 35 - The Person I Didnt Expect

    Rhian

    They¡¯d all gone. Michael, That Varis, Strauss, Gus. They¡¯d all gone and it was bloody brilliant. I had The House to myself for a while, and it felt like I could breathe. Don¡¯t get me wrong, apart from just about everything, that time in Oskari with my friends was the best time I¡¯d had in ages. Thing is, I needed some space to feel sick without a single witness.

    Afore leaving for The Place with That Bach, Strauss shut down the church and we spent the rest of the day putting up barricades and boarding up the doors. We knew they¡¯d only hold up for so long against one of Those Things from the other side, but it seemed the right thing to do in order to keep the Barrens out. It was the talk around town, so when I wasn¡¯t lazing around The House, I stood guard in front of the doors. Some folks stopped by crying about Father Belaia, others stopped by asking after Strauss. Some wanted to know more about the barricades, asking if there was anything they could do. I might have said something about a fungus that may or may not have been deadly. Some of the locals were all right.

    The rest of them asked for advice.

    ¡°What¡¯s the problem? I asked.

    ¡°It¡¯s my husband.¡±

    ¡°Is he missing?¡±

    ¡°No.¡±

    ¡°Is he dead?¡±

    ¡°No.¡±

    ¡°Is he trying to kill you?¡±

    ¡°No.¡±

    ¡°Then I probably can¡¯t help you, lass.¡±

    ¡°The trouble is, Broth¡ªFather Strauss wishes to employ me as an educator, teaching practical life-skills to the children.¡±

    ¡°Sounds good, go for it.¡±

    ¡°I would, but my husband forbids it.¡±

    ¡°Want him taken care of, then?¡±

    ¡°Taken¡ªmy husband? No, no! I don¡¯t want him dead, Partisan. I want his blessing.¡±

    ¡°Your life, lass. Do it or don¡¯t.¡±

    ¡°But he¡ª¡±

    ¡°Will he hit you?¡±

    ¡°No, but we would¡ª¡±

    ¡°Will you stepping out of the house for a couple hours a day destroy your lives and those of everyone you love?¡±

    ¡°Well, no, but¡ª¡±

    ¡°Then seeing as you¡¯re not a slave or the saviour of the goddess-be-damned world by the sounds of it, do it. Argue about it. Seems nothing much would change save the weight of your purses. I reckon he¡¯ll forget he ever had a problem with it, and he¡¯ll carry on pretending it was his idea to begin with.¡±

    Give a person advice in Oskari, and you¡¯ll never hear the end of it. Look, I can¡¯t say I ever said the proper words to the folk who asked for them, but I said words, and they smiled and said thank you. The smiles were all right, but I hated thank-yous.

    The thing about cooking is, it¡¯s easier when someone else does it. I¡¯m not sure you know this, but Michael was an excellent cook, and he took good care of us during our time at The House. Trouble was, Michael was still at the Drop and I was hungry. Bright side, the Widow¡¯s Peak was always loads of fun. All those painted eyes following us around, faces of folks I¡¯d never know. Also, there was Ivana.

    ¡°Let me get this straight, half of Palisade shows up, and Oskari¡¯s riddled with murders, riots, and moldy mushrooms? Never thought I¡¯d see that church shut down. This is great, Rhian. Really great,¡± she said. And there wasn¡¯t a thing sarcastic about it.

    The village intrigue was good for business.

    ¡°Happy to help,¡± I said.

    ¡°Hungry? Thirsty?¡±

    I was, so I ordered the roast chicken, potatoes, and a tankard of apple juice. It was tasty enough to remember, and if I¡¯d had enough notes, I might have ordered seconds.

    At about dusk, the door to the Peak started opening and closing. I had to wee, and the cold air wasn¡¯t helping, but I wasn¡¯t about to give up my seat at the bar. Not for anything.

    Not for anything except for one thing.

    The door swung open again, but that time was different. That time, there was so much goddess-be-damned noise, I couldn¡¯t help but turn around.

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    Clink, clang, bang, thud.

    For all the Strachan luck, you¡¯ll never believe who walked in next.

    <hr>

    The folk in Oskari weren¡¯t ready for a lass looking like Adeline Blanchett, so the minute I saw her, I leaped from my stool and dragged her arse back outside.

    The Squeaky Lass squeaked, looking back at the Widow''s Peak all forlornly and whatnot. She was disappointed, but the mood turned around soon enough.

    ¡°It¡¯s so good to see you, Enforcer Rhian. I nearly fainted when my mother told me I¡¯d been requested. Requested! A pity I didn¡¯t have the chance to meet him in person. Say, would it be too much trouble to ask you to formally introduce us?¡±

    I set aside being overwhelmed and confused for the time being and asked, ¡°Who?¡±

    ¡°Why, Feargus Finlay, of course.¡±

    ¡°Gus did this?¡±

    ¡°Who else? And never in a million years did I think she would allow it, but here I am. Mother believes the practical experience will be essential to my succession.¡±

    Horseshite.

    A successor in active duty? Didn¡¯t happen. Didn¡¯t bloody happen unless a Councilwoman had a better pet waiting in the wings. By that time, I was ninety-nine-point-nine per cent sure the Assembly was trying to kill us, and Adeline Blanchett was added to the hit list. The lass wouldn¡¯t be succeeding a damned thing, I reckoned.

    Anyhow, there wasn¡¯t any sense pissing on her parade. Also, I might have tolerated the lass more than I pretended not to. I might have even been happy to see her.

    ¡°That there¡¯s the general store,¡± I said after passing the general store. Imagine that. ¡°We call it the general store on account of it generally has a store. You¡¯ll probably never get what you need, but the man behind the counter¡¯s all right for a natter.¡±

    ¡°It sounds wonderful,¡± Adeline replied, and she meant it, too.

    Dragging a massive trunk behind her, she was having a bit of trouble keeping up with my fast-walking, but she did what she could and occasionally adjusted the fuzzy hat she was wearing that day. It had ear flaps, and her big red hair was sticking out the sides. At least she¡¯d had the sense to dress for winter.

    ¡°It¡¯s a good thing I¡¯ve brought plenty of additional stock,¡± she added. ¡°Weapons, tools, clothing, and I hope you don¡¯t mind, but I let myself into your room. I thought you may prefer some of your own things.¡±

    I didn¡¯t mind.

    ¡°It¡¯s so lovely, isn¡¯t it? All these people, living in their little houses. It¡¯s all so lovely. It reminds me of what we fight for. Although, I never imagined it would be so dirty. Are the Amali opposed to bathing? I don¡¯t recall reading that.¡±

    ¡°You get used to it.¡±

    I¡¯d lived in Stracha afore being brought to Palisade, and I¡¯d been around the world enough times since then. I¡¯d seen villages and Barrens aplenty. Rich ones, dirty ones, angry ones, all the ones. Adeline Blanchett was Palisade bred, born, and polished all shiny. She¡¯d never seen anywhere but there.

    ¡°Well, that¡¯s about all there is,¡± I said. ¡°There¡¯s the church, but it¡¯s closed, and there¡¯s an old man living by the well who makes excellent pies. If anything needs stitching, see the lass in the crooked shack by the orchard. Any questions?¡±

    ¡°Yes,¡± she said. ¡°Where will I be sleeping? It¡¯s been a long trip.¡±

    ¡°At The House with the rest of us.¡±

    ¡°How exciting. And where will I be working? Agent Finlay insisted I pack my workshop.¡±

    It was a fair question. Gus could be back at any given time, Michael and That Varis wouldn''t be away much longer, and with Those Things lurking beneath the church, Strauss made five. The House would be cramped and the lass needed space. I had some ideas for what she could do with those special talents of hers.

    And I wasn¡¯t talking about walking in those ridiculous boots.

    ¡°You¡¯ve got two options, lass. On one hand, there¡¯s a pretty little house with a garden and whatnot. Loads of people have been murdered in it, and our enemy could show up at any time.¡±

    ¡°¡­and the second option?¡±

    ¡°Piece of shite shack on the north side, been abandoned a while.¡±

    ¡°And our enemy? Will they¡­?¡±

    ¡°Look, nowhere¡¯s safe, but knowing that means everywhere¡¯s a bit less dangerous. Follow?¡±

    ¡°I think I do,¡± she said. ¡°In that case, would you judge me terribly if I told you I¡¯d prefer the pretty house with all the murders?¡±

    I shrugged. To each their own.

    <hr>

    Adeline¡¯s new workshop was empty, but as we wandered about The Murder House, I saw folks and things not there. Like one of those dreams you know is a dream, so you eat cheese on account if it can¡¯t give you gas. But there wasn¡¯t any cheese, just a kitchen, a den, three bedrooms upstairs and a nightstand with a lantern lit through the night. Another bed, with a man and a woman sound asleep. A lass in the room with the butter-yellow drapes. Waiting, watching with those big amber eyes.

    ¡°Enforcer Rhian, is everything all right?¡±

    ¡°Fine,¡± I said. ¡°Can you make this place work?¡±

    Adeline nodded her bouncy red head.

    ¡°Good. Got any mirrors?¡±

    ¡°Yes, shards. But why?¡±

    ¡°Put them up all over the goddess-be-damned place. Got silver?¡±

    Poor pet had her brow all twisted up in a knot by then. ¡°Of course not. But why?¡±

    I fished around in my satchel until I found the silver ring I¡¯d stolen. I had gloves on, but I¡¯d sliced the fingers off every pair I owned. I¡¯d be itchy later.

    ¡°Reckon you could make a bullet out of this?¡±

    ¡°Yes, I think so, but I would have to¡ªwait, why?¡±

    ¡°Reckon you could teach me to shoot a pistol properly?¡±

    ¡°Yes! Of course, but¡ª¡±

    ¡°Why?¡±

    ¡°Yes, Enforcer Rhian. I mean no disrespect, but you¡¯re behaving rather strangely. Are you sure there¡¯s nothing wrong?¡±

    ¡°Look, none of what I¡¯m about to say is going to make a lick of sense, but that¡¯s too bad. Interrupt me and I¡¯ll cut your hair off in your sleep.¡±

    I made my point.

    ¡°All right, here goes¡ªthere are Barrens, and there are Partisans, and then there are these fuckers we¡¯re fighting. I call them Those Things on account of Devourerers is a stupid bloody name and I can¡¯t even say it properly. They can do almost anything we can do, but they can do it all at once. They¡¯ve died once already, so they¡¯re not afraid of much. As far as we know, the only sure way to kill them again is to lop off their heads, and unless they''re new, they¡¯ll disintegrate. They hate silver and sunlight more than we do, and you won¡¯t be able to tell them apart from Barrens save the fact that they scream at mirrors. Any questions?¡±

    She had a lot of questions.

 [The First One] 36 - The Inevitable Boiling Point

    Andrei

    After two days traveling southwest through endless forest, Emerich Bach and I skirted the city of Verena. While it would have been nice to sleep in a bed and eat something other than dry rations, we wouldn¡¯t be stopping there. This will be expanded upon later, but to make a long story short, Partisans were not welcome in the city since the events leading up to the Verena Revolt. This historical battle was where Commander Reider earned his sword, Intrepidity, as a reward for his bravery in freeing dozens of enslaved Partisans.

    Ultimately, the city surrendered, and in an unprecedented twist, was granted its full independence by Councilwoman Faust. Verena would be no safer for Emerich Bach than it was for me, as he reminded, ¡°Defected or not, they hate us all as long as our eyes are still in our heads.¡±

    Along the way, I caught Mister Bach up on the events at the church, how we¡¯d located the crypt and encountered who we suspected was Zacharias Vonsinfonie. I expected he¡¯d be more concerned, but other than, ¡°That¡¯s an old one,¡± and, ¡°That should be interesting,¡± the man didn¡¯t have much more to say on the subject.

    Apparently, some of the particularly long-lived Devourers chose to take extended naps.

    Our journey was otherwise uneventful, and upon reaching the Amali shore-side, we sloshed through the abundant corridors of a waterlogged cavern until we arrived at our destination on the opposite end. A defected Celestian Navigator waited for us at the edge of the inlet, urging us to hurry up and board the embark. We were late, and it would be another day and another night before we arrived on the island. A literal speck of dust on my map, which I brushed away. Other than the six territories and the Isle of Palisade, there were of course a number of smaller masses making up the whole of Auditoria. Some had been charted, some had not. Most had been discovered and were surveyed by the Assembly.

    ¡°How have Palisade forces not found you here?¡± I asked.

    ¡°Perhaps they have, Father Strauss, and perhaps our forces are better.¡±

    Father Strauss. How bizarre. ¡°Would you mind calling me Andrei?¡±

    ¡°Only if you start calling me Rick instead of Mister Bach.¡±

    Once we arrived on the island, we journeyed through another dense forest until Rick and the sleepy Celestian escorted me through yet another cavern. This one was concealed behind a gate fashioned from sticks and vines. I thought of Sinclair then¡ªalways looking for something in nothing. She¡¯d have seen the door.

    Down and around the initial corridor, the first chamber past the entryway was sprawling. There were upholstered couches and pelt rugs. There was fire, and laughter, and Partisans of all shapes and sizes.

    ¡°Enjoy your rest, Father.¡± The Navigator slipped off with no more than a nod.

    She hadn¡¯t been speaking to me.

    ¡°Father?¡± I asked. ¡°I didn¡¯t realize you were still serving.¡±

    ¡°I have abandoned Palisade, Andrei, not my faith in Amalia.¡±

    ¡°Why haven¡¯t we spoken on the matter?¡±

    The elder smiled. ¡°What is there to speak of?¡±

    A gruff voice emerged from the darkest corner of the chamber. ¡°I¡¯ll be damned,¡± the man said. ¡°Where was that attitude our entire lives?¡±

    The man who approached was without a doubt Strachan. He was blonde, bearded, and overall unkempt. His shoulder-length hair was matted, a fashion more commonly observed among the Endican. The air around him smelled of tobacco and cloves.

    ¡°There is always something to speak of with you, old friend,¡± Rick said.

    Those around us carried on uninterested. Pages turned, conversations were had. An Endican and an Amali stopped just short of fornicating in the corner.

    The Strachan flicked his head in my direction. ¡°You¡¯re the one, eh?¡±

    ¡°If you mean Rick¡¯s guest, then yes.¡±

    ¡°Right,¡± the Strachan said. ¡°You¡¯re pissing me off already.¡±

    A man in his forties, the Strachan was lean, well-muscled, and to the top of my chest in height. I knew he could hear my heart battering furiously, the same way I could hear his¡ªslow, steady. Unfamiliar yet so familiar. The mannerisms, the stance¡ªconfident, teetering on the border of arrogance. Always expecting. The eyes. Her eyes.

    ¡°By the goddesses,¡± I said. ¡°You¡¯re Sinclair¡¯s father.¡±

    ¡°Got a bloody genius on our hands, haven¡¯t we? Well, now we¡¯ve got that out of the way, there¡¯s something you need to know: this is our place. Mine and Rick¡¯s. Fuck with it, fuck with us. You don¡¯t want to fuck with us. Clear?¡±

    ¡°Yes, sir.¡± I said.

    The Strachan grunted. Satisfaction? Disgust?

    ¡°By the way,¡± Mister Sinclair addressed his comrade this time. ¡°I¡¯m missing a flask¡ªthe one engraved with my initials. Keep an eye out, will you?¡±

    ¡°Of course.¡± Emerich Bach dipped his head. ¡°I know it means a lot to you.¡±

    And with that, Rick bid us both our blessings and good evening, leaving me at the mercy of my lover¡¯s father.

    <hr>

    The lair housed fifty-four Partisans. Not staggering, but an impressive number in just over two decades.

    ¡°We¡¯re due for another expansion,¡± the senior Sinclair said. While we walked, he shouted at the curtains behind which I imagine there were bedrooms. ¡°Oi, got space for one more?¡± he¡¯d ask, and the response was universally, ¡°No.¡±

    ¡°Gonna have to stash your lanky arse under a goddess-be-damned table,¡± he said.

    Fortunately, we did eventually find a bed, and my guide spared no time unloading me into the company of a pair of colourful strangers. The curtain closed behind me.

    ¡°You¡¯re new,¡± said the girl. She couldn¡¯t have been more than fifteen years old. ¡°How do you know Rick and Rhydian?¡±

    ¡°I hardly do,¡± I said. ¡°Unusual circumstances.¡±

    ¡°Oh, well¡ªthey rescued most of us and raised almost all of us, but we¡¯ve picked up a few strays along the way, you know? I was wondering if you were one of them.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯ll have to forgive her,¡± said the boy.

    He was relatively the same age as the girl, but he was enormous. One head and a half taller than I was, with shoulders twice my width. He was Endican, but not quite. His hair was too red, and his face was too freckled.

    ¡°She was born annoying,¡± he added.

    ¡°Shut up.¡± The girl scowled, but her eyes were playful. ¡°So, are you staying long?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not sure,¡± I said.

    ¡°Right,¡± the girl replied. ¡°I can¡¯t take it anymore. It¡¯s driving me crazy.¡±

    ¡°Could you be more specific?¡±

    ¡°Celestian, definitely,¡± the boy said.

    The girl hesitated. ¡°Celestian and¡­ Delphi?¡±

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    What harm could there be indulging their game?

    ¡°Amali,¡± I said. ¡°Celestian and Amali.¡±

    ¡°Damn.¡± The boy snapped his fingers. ¡°I was gonna say that. We¡¯ve got a few like you.¡±

    The girl smiled. ¡°Care to have a go at us?¡±

    I was correct when I guessed the boy was Endican and Strachan. His mother was not the Strachan, thank the goddesses. A matter of logistics, as Endican babies were notoriously large and Strachan women notoriously small. The girl¡¯s heritage was a simple deduction. Petite and a built for acrobatics, but with the southern colouring of a Senec. Fast, flexible, precognitive, regenerative. It was fascinating, and it was most likely the reason I¡¯d been asked to accompany Rick to the lair. Not because I was special, or because I was different, but because there existed a place in which I was ordinary.

    <hr>

    The next morning, breakfast was not served. It was the organization¡¯s philosophy that its members be self-sufficient in all things, so I fell back on an old favourite¡ªoats with honey, cinnamon, and apples. Following that, I was punished with an in-depth tour of the lair by none other than Rhydian Sinclair. The facilities reminded me of Palisade in that there were chambers for training, for eating, and for sleeping. There was a library, and there were lesson halls. But the similarities ended there, and the differences were far more significant. The freedom to choose one¡¯s own mate and field of study, for example. Moreover, Palisade had never felt so inviting. There was no alternative to the Assembly, only Rick and Rhydian, and their respect seemed to have been earned rather than forced.

    ¡°Mister Sinclair, I¡¯ve noticed you¡¯re seen as a parental figure to many, but your own daughter, she¡ª¡±

    ¡°She¡¯s an egg best left unhatched. Reckon you¡¯re done talking now.¡±

    ¡°Forgive me, sir, but Rhian has long since hatched.¡±

    ¡°Prepared to keep your trap shut the rest of the way, lad?¡±

    In the interest of peacekeeping, I obliged.

    The final stop on our tour was the most interesting. A vast, rectangular chamber designed a lot like a crypt. There were plaques on the walls with names, but instead of drawers, there were silver cages, and in each of those cages, a miserable looking person.

    Those who worked in the laboratory continued without interruption.

    ¡°Repeat after me,¡± Rhydian said. ¡°Apart from now, I¡¯ve no clearance to be in the lab.¡±

    ¡°Apart from now, I¡¯ve no clearance to be in the lab.¡±

    ¡°We work an honour system,¡± he said. ¡°That means, no doors and no locks except on those cages. Now, repeat what I said afore.¡±

    ¡°Apart from now, I¡¯ve no clearance to be in the lab.¡±

    ¡°Again.¡±

    ¡°Apart from now, I¡¯ve no clearance to be in the lab.¡±

    ¡°Again.¡±

    ¡°Apart from now¡ª¡±

    ¡°Pissing hells, lad. When something stops making sense, stop doing it. Better yet, start questioning it.¡±

    The smirks on the faces of those around us told me they¡¯d all had a similar interaction. The lingering smile on the bright-eyed brunette, however¡­

    Well, she was beautiful, and intelligent I suspected, but she was not Sinclair.

    ¡°Some folk expect to feel satisfaction seeing those beasts behind bars,¡± Mister Sinclair said, his tone hoarse and without inflection. ¡°Word of advice? Fuck satisfaction. The abominations aren¡¯t getting the least of what they deserve.¡±

    A voice echoed from one of the cages. ¡°Tell us how you really feel, Rhydian.¡±

    ¡°That poor, poor man,¡± added another.

    ¡°Careful, one who smells of words and spice,¡± said a third. His tone recalled a familiar melody, but the voice was young¡ªat the cusp of maturity. According to the plaque, his name was Jakob Adler.

    Those who worked around us were unaffected by the noise, and the elder Strachan carried on smoking his tobacco.

    All in all, there were sixteen Devourers in twenty-four cages, and it wasn¡¯t satisfaction I felt. It was curiosity, and it was empathy.

    <hr>

    After first spotting the brunette in the laboratory, it seemed our paths were destined to cross. Coincidental meetings in the library, in the kitchen, in passing through the corridors. It wasn¡¯t until the second night we spoke, after another chance encounter on the way back to my bunk. I learned the Delphi¡¯s name was Maryse, and she was one of the pure-bred Partisan orphans apprehended prior to their conscription to Palisade. Like many Partisans, she¡¯d never met her parents.

    ¡°The way I see it, I¡¯ve got Rick and Rhydian and loads of brothers and sisters,¡± she said. ¡°I¡¯m doing what I love, and if my parents were any sort of decent people, they¡¯d be happy for me. And if they were assholes, then I¡¯m happy for me.¡±

    ¡°What precisely do you do?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m a psychologist.¡±

    ¡°You study the minds of these Devourers?¡±

    ¡°Around the lab, we prefer the term Anima.¡±

    ¡°And which do they prefer?¡±

    ¡°Their names.¡±

    ¡°Fair enough,¡± I said. ¡°What can you tell me about the one called Jakob?¡±

    Jakob Adler could not be so easily summarized, she said. I¡¯d have to see for myself, she insisted. And as the words, ¡°Apart from now, you¡¯ve no clearance to be in the lab,¡± repeated in my head, Maryse assured me I¡¯d be safe in her hands.

    By the time we arrived, those who worked the laboratory had gone to bed, but the torches around the room remained lit.

    ¡°Go on, then,¡± she said. ¡°It can¡¯t hurt you.¡±

    ¡°What if he¡ªit¡ªJakob¡ªis asleep?¡±

    ¡°What if I were?¡± Jakob asked. ¡°Would you watch me as they do?¡±

    I hadn¡¯t noticed Maryse slip out of the lab, but it would have made no difference if I had. There was nothing but the voice.

    I expected the Devourer to look young, and he did. But as we each closed in on the bars neither of us could touch without consequence, I was surprised by what I saw.

    Jakob¡¯s eyes were bound by a cutting of black cloth.

    ¡°Welcome, welcome,¡± he said. ¡°Let¡¯s chat.¡±

    The Devourer¡¯s skin was pale like mine, and his shoulder-length hair was just as black.

    ¡°Hello, Jakob,¡± I said. ¡°My name is Andrei.¡±

    ¡°Andrei, Andrei, son of Andreas. I knew I recognized that smell. Well, how is your father besides dead?¡±

    ¡°Spiteful one, are you?¡±

    ¡°So many things I¡¯ve just about lost track, Andrei, son of Andreas.¡±

    ¡°You knew my father, so did you know my mother?¡±

    ¡°Yes, she brought me books.¡±

    ¡°But you¡¯re blind?¡±

    ¡°Exactly! Your mother was a bitch.¡±

    I glanced over my shoulder, only then realizing I was alone.

    ¡°You seem to know a great deal about me, and here I know nothing about you. How old are you, Jakob?¡±

    ¡°One, one¡ªno, no¡ªone, zero, three and nine. 1039. How does that make you feel?¡±

    ¡°What happened to your eyes, Jakob?¡±

    ¡°Oh, I imagine by now they¡¯ve decomposed. Ha! It¡¯s really too bad. They were so pretty.¡±

    The way he said that struck me strangely, but there were no Partisans 1039 years ago¡ªor were there? What could I be sure of anymore?

    ¡°By the goddesses, were you¡ª¡±

    ¡°Shh.¡± Jakob held a finger to his lips. ¡°I liked you the moment I smelled you, Andrei, son of Andreas. We should be¡ªoh, goodnight.¡±

    Click. A bolt whizzed past my bicep and through the silver bars, striking Jakob in the shoulder. The immortal boy yelped and tugged the shaft out, before skittering backward. In those same short seconds, I prepared myself for the wrath of a Sinclair.

    Rhydian rushed at me as I turned, pulling me to his level by the collar.

    ¡°One. Simple. Rule.¡±

    ¡°Maryse said it would be¡ªthat Jakob could not¡ª¡±

    ¡°Easiest job Mary¡¯s had in a while, I reckon. Your folks died on account of they stopped for a sneeze. Prepared to make that condition hereditary?¡±

    Fear turned to anger, and mild irritation turned moderate. ¡°My parents¡ªwhat is with my parents? If not the Assembly, then the Administrator, and Faust, and the seamstress, and that ancient child, and now you. What has you all so excited?¡±

    ¡°They were good people, died doing good things. If the world were allowed to celebrate them, there¡¯d be a goddess-be-damned parade every year. But you?¡± Rhydian shook me three times before releasing me altogether. ¡°You¡¯re a disappointment.¡±

    My hands began sweating the way they did when it was about to happen. The Strachan blurred hypnotically with the torchlight around us. ¡°What about your comrades?¡± he said. ¡°Just gonna stand around, watch them have their heads yanked from their bodies, hearts still beating?¡± His voice phased in, and out, and in, and out as my temples throbbed. ¡°¡­gonna pray? Bloody that¡¯ll do¡­ coward? ¡­suicide? They¡¯ll tear your¡ª¡±

    I caught the man¡¯s throat in my hand. So delicate, and my strength so prodigious. The Strachan¡¯s warmth pulled from his body and coursed through mine. ¡°And what about you? The true coward accuses others only of that which he refuses to see in himself. You¡¯ll hide in your cavern as your own flesh and blood fights a fight she doesn¡¯t understand?¡±

    While I perspired, the Strachan turned pale, pale, blue. His teeth chattered, his hands trembled. If not for the eyes, so like hers¡ªso full of anger, guilt, passion. Sinclair.

    I tossed the man to the ground¡­

    ¡­and the caged audience exploded in applause while the room sped into sickening motion. I could hardly breathe, and the thirst was unbearable¡ªlike swallowing a mouthful of sand, while the laughs from the Anima around me were hollow and thick¡ªgarbled as though we were submurged underwater. I staggered through the laboratory, not another word exchanged.

    The next morning, I boarded the embark with a fever, a friend, and a massive pain in the rear. Emerich Bach and Rhydian Sinclair had accomplished all they¡¯d hoped to accomplish in my time at the lair. In giving into my rage, I¡¯d proved the potential of my power. More importantly, I¡¯d proved my restraint.

    That said, the topic of my parents did not resurface for the duration of our trip back to Oskari.

 [The First One] Interlude - Her Story, Part Four

    Andrei & Rhian

    Lidia and Victoria were found dead in their beds the next day. Alleged victims of the waste, they were given a service like any other. Mister and Misses Ruza valued tradition over their daughter¡¯s now irrelevant reputation, and nobody but they had seen the baby¡¯s eyes. In two days'' time, Lidia would return home as she would do for weeks, and each night, she wandered the house with soundless steps.

    Some nights she watched her parents in bed, letting the resentment bubble and boil. Other nights she stood staring out her window with the butter-yellow drapes, but she liked watching the brown-eyed boy sleep most of all. She thought about killing him. She could make it quick. Dying didn¡¯t hurt, not much anyhow. Nothing hurt more than living. ''Course, she couldn¡¯t bring herself to do it, even if it meant they¡¯d be together forever. He was just too darned special. Her brother was all the very best things she wasn¡¯t.

    The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

    Lidia Ruza was impatient, impulsive, so she reached out one night and touched her brother¡¯s cheek. But that night, the boy was feigning sleep. He kept a lantern lit through the night, still in denial as to the logistics of death. He¡¯d felt her, all those nights while she watched him, and he woke each morning to the lingering scent of wildflowers and burnt wood.

    You best believe our boy leaped straight out of his bed, let out a big old hoot and holler. Lidia was alive, and he reckoned his mum and dad would be happy to see her, too. But his sister pressed a finger to his lips, and said, ¡°This¡¯ll be our secret,¡± and it was too late. The door swung wide open, and the Ruzas weren''t happy to see their daughter at all. They were horrified.

    The resentment Lidia felt for her parents was inevitable. The anger was understandable, but now she was unstoppable. Resentment became entitlement and anger became satisfaction when she saw how she frightened them. She would trap them as they¡¯d trapped her. She¡¯d make them feel the way they deserved for being so neglectful, and selfish, and vain. She¡¯d siphon the life out of them as they had out of her, and in two days¡¯ time, her brother attends another funeral.

 [The First One] 37 - The Thing About Silver

    Rhian

    Days passed. No sign of Gus, and Strauss was still gone. To make matters worse, That Varis and Michael came back from the Drop stuck together like they¡¯d been that way their whole stupid lives. Look, I was still miffed about the way he¡¯d behaved after she roughed me up, but a person can be both understanding and miffed. Michael wasn¡¯t all muscle and charm. Michael was a thoughtful man, and a good friend. He¡¯d spent a lot of years giving me the benefit of the doubt, but he had an obligation to That Varis at the same time he had an obligation to me. It was tricky, and he knew I¡¯d forgive him faster than she would.

    Given the way things had been kicking off lately, and seeing as we suspected That Varis of being Lidia''s meat puppet, Michael had no choice but to tell her about what we¡¯d been up to, and everything we knew about Those Things. Trouble is, she wasn¡¯t having any of it. She insisted she could look after herself, and that she was content living out her retirement with as little to do with our business as possible. Can¡¯t say we didn¡¯t try.

    One night after That Varis and Adeline had gone to bed, Michael and I were lounging around The House, sharing a plate of Ivana¡¯s garlic potatoes. I had questions, and I was hoping he¡¯d have answers.

    ¡°Michael,¡± I said.

    ¡°Rhian,¡± he said.

    ¡°Know where we can get a boatload of silver?¡±

    It was a tall order, seeing as silver was the world¡¯s rarest and most precious metal. Adeline agreed to fashion a silver-plated bullet out of that ring I stole, but it was only one ring, and we couldn¡¯t be sure how many of Those Things we might be facing.

    Michael didn¡¯t answer straightaway, on account of he was busy licking his fingers. ¡°There are only two silver mines in Amalia as far as I know. One in Leberecht and the other within the borders of Verena.¡±

    Leberecht wasn¡¯t happening without Strauss, and we had no idea when he¡¯d be back.

    ¡°Have you got a map to Verena?¡±

    ¡°Even if I did, Councilwoman Faust granted the city their independence on the condition that no Partisan enters and no silver leaves. You can¡¯t go to Verena.¡±

    ¡°Reckon I¡¯ve squeezed into tighter places, but have you got a better idea?¡±

    ¡°Yes, I do. You can¡¯t go to Verena, but a Barren can. Or someone who looks like a Barren. If our mysterious hero really wants to prove his allegiance, here¡¯s his chance.¡±

    If you thought I hadn¡¯t told Michael about Alexander, think again. It just wasn''t worth its own chapter on account if it went a lot like, "Oi, Michael, I met the man who saved your life at the schoolhouse-slash-tavern. He wants to help us take out his Crazy Bitch Sister," and then Michael was all right with it.

    ¡°You realize I¡¯d be asking him to go around collecting bits of toxic trash that we could turn around and use against him, right?¡±

    ¡°Yeah, and if he wants to help, he¡¯ll take the risk. If he doesn¡¯t, he¡¯ll probably try to stop you. It could be a good opportunity to see where he really stands.¡±

    The man had a point.

    ¡°But Rhian?¡± Michael popped a tiny potato in his mouth, stuffing it in his cheek. ¡°Be ready to outsmart him, and if you can¡¯t outsmart him, be ready to outrun him.¡±

    <hr>

    Once I explained the plan, Alexander was eager to help out.

    We traveled southwest by foot, seeing as we were both fast runners and it was dark and gloomy more often those days. That''s important on account of we didn¡¯t have to worry too much about the sun blinding him. As far as traveling partners went, Alexander was all right. He kept the pace and didn¡¯t do a lot of talking.

    Apart from when he did.

    ¡°You should sleep,¡± he¡¯d say. ¡°You need to eat,¡± he¡¯d say.

    Lucky for me, Peter packed one hell of a hamper. Dried meats, bread, and loads of water that tasted like lemons. He¡¯d also packed up some dried dates, and apples, and a few of those purple-fruits I learned were called plums.

    The forest was a forest, and in case you hadn¡¯t sorted it out, Amalia was basically that. Otherwise, there were a few shitty villages, the Drop, Verena, Jaska, and Leberecht. It takes a lot of years rebuilding after the world splits apart and nearly everybody dies. Each territory did a different job of it. Better or worse? Well, that¡¯s a matter of opinion. The point is: the forest in Amalia reminded me of the forest at Palisade, apart from the fact it actually had wolves. Specifically, a half-dead wolf laying at the base of a tree. She¡¯d been badly maimed, and I could hardly stand the whimpering.

    I reached for my dagger, but Alexander stopped me.

    ¡°There¡¯s no mercy in death when life is still an option,¡± he said.

    ¡°What sort of life do you reckon she¡¯ll have while she¡¯s bleeding to death?¡±

    Alexander wasn¡¯t listening. He was too busy performing a miracle.

    After laying his hands on the wolf, she was still dirty, but she¡¯d stopped bleeding. On the other hand, Alexander¡¯s hair had gone grey at the temples, and he¡¯d gained a few lines around his eyes.

    ¡°Would you like to choose her name?¡± he asked.

    ¡°Look, you can¡¯t bring something back from the brink of death and carry on talking about names,¡± I said. ¡°It¡¯s rude. Also, why isn¡¯t she trying to eat you?¡±

    The wolf yipped and rolled around carefree in the leaves, exposing her belly.

    This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

    ¡°She and I have come to an understanding.¡±

    Goddess-be-damned heart tricks. I¡¯d seen the Endican Partisans do it from time to time¡ªcommunicating with the wild and whatnot. I¡¯d seen it, but I sure as shite didn¡¯t understand it. ¡°Couldn¡¯t you just ask her what her name is, then?¡±

    ¡°I cannot speak with her the same way you and I speak with each other. Would you like to choose her name?¡±

    After about a minute of knowing her personally, it turned out the wolf was a lovely lass, but she didn¡¯t give up a whole lot apart from some hot air, a snort, and six hells of a howl. ¡°Teeth,¡± I said. ¡°We ought to call her Teeth.¡±

    The whole thing was strange, but I wasn¡¯t about to throw a fit about it. Asides, Teeth made for an excellent scout and around that time, we were flanking the mine. But, seeing as we were prepared for just about anything, absolutely nothing happened along the way.

    It was sundown when we arrived.

    <hr>

    I hadn¡¯t seen lot of mines in my time, but thanks to Michael¡¯s intel, nothing about the place was a terrible surprise. I expected a few buildings, a tiny village, a crater, ramps, and an Oskari¡¯s worth of people buzzing about. When we arrived, there were guards patrolling without a pattern, plenty of slaves, and loads of precious silver¡ªripe for the taking and stacked in those big buckets with wheels.

    I¡¯d expected it would be shinier.

    Being a Partisan and all, I wasn¡¯t welcome in the city so I sure as shite wasn¡¯t welcome around the mines, but Alexander was pretending to be a buyer, and my job was to have his back and stay out of sight. After weaving my way through the shadows in the area, I found a perch on the roof of the outpost, watching over his conversation with The Boss.

    It didn¡¯t seem like I¡¯d missed much.

    ¡°I¡¯m not certain where you¡¯re getting your information, Mister Ruza, but we do not trade silver outside the city of Verena."

    I reckoned the city should be made entirely of silver if that were true, and if that were true, I wanted to see it.

    ¡°I understand,¡± Alexander said. ¡°Given the abundance within the city and the rarity outside the city, you should know I¡¯d be willing to offer a much larger sum than any one of your local buyers.¡±

    The Boss took a good, hard look at Alexander¡¯s big, fat, juicy rings and his expensive leathers and furs.

    ¡°And what would the proprietor of a glassworks want with silver?¡± The Boss asked.

    ¡°Ornamentations and accents, I understand silver is suitable for etching. We are in the midst of an expansion.¡±

    ¡°And how much would you need?¡±

    Alexander held up a juicy, jeweled finger. ¡°Before coming to any terms, I¡¯d like a tour of your facility.¡±

    ¡°Are you suggesting you have alternatives, Mister Ruza?¡±

    ¡°Yes.¡±

    There was a long pause, and I repositioned myself on the roof as Alexander and The Boss left the outpost and crossed the lot. It was dark in the places that weren¡¯t lit by torches, and the swarms of people down below were packing up for the night. But the ones in the pit kept on working. And working. And working. One hour, two hours. Beats me. I didn¡¯t bring my watch-slash-compass, or any of my other favourite possessions. If I died in Verena where my body would be unreachable, reckoned my mates would want my things. Point is: Alexander and The Boss had been gone for a while, and I was getting paranoid. What if they were on to us? What if this lot knew about Those Things? What if I¡¯d sent Alexander straight into a silver prison?

    I had to get inside.

    There were only three guards patrolling the ramps. I reckoned That Varis¡¯s throwing star would have come in handy if I hadn¡¯t left it back in Oskari, but no matter. Stealthy sleeper-holds would have to do, and they did. Dealing with the guards was one thing, but the slaves down below were another story. There were too many of them, the space was too wide-open, and there was only one way into the mines. I had only one option.

    I leaped from the rampart and landed in the middle of the crowd. The slaves stopped slaving.

    ¡°You¡¯re all free to go,¡± I said.

    It¡¯s what Michael would have done.

    The Barrens glanced between one another, and then looked at me as if I¡¯d sprouted six heads.

    ¡°Go?¡± said one.

    ¡°Go where?¡± said another.

    ¡°Just about anywhere is probably better than here. Down with slavery.¡±

    ¡°Slavery? This is our livelihood,¡± said someone. ¡°The conditions aren¡¯t the greatest, but what else would we do?¡±

    All right, so maybe they weren¡¯t slaves in the literal sense. I needed a new angle.

    ¡°All right, so maybe you¡¯re not slaves, but you¡¯re telling me this is what you¡¯ve chosen to do with your lives?¡±

    ¡°We have no choice,¡± said the same one as before.

    ¡°No choice? You lot aren¡¯t making any sense. Haven¡¯t you got skills? Hobbies? I mean, let¡¯s face it¡ªtwo or three of you might get off on working in this pit, but the rest of you can¡¯t in good bloody conscience tell me this is what you want to do with your lives.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve always enjoyed writing poetry,¡± said someone at the back.

    ¡°Brilliant,¡± I said. ¡°And how many poems do get you get done working your arse off, day in and day out? Have you got kids?¡±

    ¡°No.¡±

    ¡°Have you got a sickly wife or whatnot?¡±

    ¡°No.¡±

    ¡°Right, then. No excuse. Get out there and write some poems.¡±

    I made sense to one man, and then three, and then five, and then twelve.

    Twelve of about seventy-five still foaming at the mouth. Look, I might have been fast, but I wasn¡¯t a goddess-be-damned hummingbird. I was surrounded, and all I could do was dodge their attacks and stall for an opening. Fists and grabby hands came from all directions as they closed in on me. Duck, swipe, kick. I remember being knocked in the noggin by a nugget of silver ore, so I slapped a man in the face and was slapped right back.

    ¡°Enough!¡±

    The Boss and Alexander emerged from the mine, neither of them looking any worse for wear. I¡¯d just missed my chance to make a run for it when a big hand grabbed me around the back of my neck.

    ¡°You haven¡¯t got to squeeze so bloody hard,¡± I said. ¡°You¡¯ve got me.¡±

    ¡°A Partisan,¡± said The Boss. ¡°To what do we owe this pleasure?¡±

    ¡°Eh¡ªwell, ah¡ªI¡¯m a Palisade escort,¡± I said, gesturing to Alexander. ¡°I was ordered to ah¡ªwait outside the perimeter, but I panicked when-abouts my client took longer than expected.¡±

    Hells. I missed Gus. He was good at making up stories.

    ¡°You¡¯re trespassing on lands where Palisade can¡¯t protect you,¡± said The Boss. ¡°Your excuses are adorable, but they¡¯re also futile. You must be working with the other one they brought in recently.¡± The Boss turned to Alexander. ¡°Mister Ruza? What do you have to say?¡±

    Other one?

    Alexander shook his head, dumbfounded. ¡°I suspect my holding you indisposed provided this Partisan an opportunity to cause a disruption. She is, after all, one of those Strachoons. Notorious thieves and spies. I have never seen this woman before in my life.¡±

    Strachoon? Bloody hells. The Boss wanted Alexander and his oodles of notes to be telling the truth, I could tell.

    Goddess-be-damned pain in the arse betraying bastard piece-of-shite.

    So, jail.

    But at least I got to see the city.

 [The First One] 38 - The Inevitable Outcast

    Andrei

    By the time we returned to Oskari, I¡¯d recovered from the incident at the lair, and although there were no direct apologies involved, I¡¯d made amends with Rhydian Sinclair. We agreed to ignore our differences for the sake of our common interests, but we still didn¡¯t speak of my parents. There was no sense pressuring the man on the topic of his daughter, either. He¡¯d soon have no choice but to face reality.

    Because of Rick and Rhydian¡¯s defected status, staying at the house with Helena Varis wasn¡¯t an option, and with the church still shut down, and the Widow¡¯s Peak being too risky, I could only think of one place that was both comfortable and unoccupied. It came as no surprise when the door to the Murder House was unlocked. What did come as a surprise, were the dozens of mirror shards stuck to the walls and hanging from the ceiling by strands of silvery thread. The fiery-haired Partisan sitting at the table was a new addition as well, but there was no question in my mind as to who she was.

    It was too late to hide the defects, but considering Sinclair¡¯s opinion of the Squeaky Lass, I trusted the girl could be counted on. We stepped inside and closed the door, and Adeline Blanchett sat frozen, staring straight ahead with her mouth agape¡ªor at least it seemed she was staring straight ahead. It was difficult to tell behind the bug-like goggles.

    We hadn¡¯t had the chance to utter a greeting before the Successor came flying at us in a flurry of bouncy curls. She wrapped her arms tight around my torso and just as soon backed away, leaving me with little time to react.

    ¡°Father Strauss, it is so nice to finally meet you.¡±

    Clearly, I thought. ¡°Likewise, Successor.¡±

    ¡°You may call me Adeline, or Adel if you prefer short names.¡± I couldn¡¯t remember seeing a smile so genuine. ¡°Now, I must relay a message from Enforcer Rhian before I become distracted and forget. Are you ready?¡±

    Rhydian sighed.

    ¡°Go ahead,¡± I said.

    The Delphi cleared her throat and flipped a hand with a certain nonchalance. ¡°Tell him to stay put, protect you, and help out with the clever shite. I''ll be back soon.¡±

    The accent was impeccable, the intonation near perfect. A curious talent. I made no effort to suppress a smile. ¡°I¡¯ll be glad to keep you company.¡±

    Rhydian cleared his throat impatiently, and after sparing a pointed glance over my shoulder, I turned back to Adeline. ¡°I¡¯ve brought these men here because they are trusted and vital to our work. I realize you may feel obligated to report them, and I wouldn¡¯t dream of putting you in an uncomfortable position, so if there¡¯s a problem...¡±

    Adeline cheeks flushed red. ¡°A problem?¡±

    Fury? I wondered.

    ¡°I know exactly who these men are, Father Strauss, and I simply cannot believe it.¡±

    I couldn¡¯t help but wonder if Sinclair was mistaken as to the Successor¡¯s easy-going nature and trustworthiness. ¡°I know it¡¯s a lot to ask, but I urge you to consider the danger we face,¡± I said. "These men are¡ª¡±

    ¡°These men,¡± she replied, ¡°are legendary! Of course they can stay, and of course I won¡¯t be reporting them. That would be ridiculous, Father Strauss. Can I get you all some tea?¡±

    The collective tension in the room lifted, and Rick and Rhydian hauled their bags over to the stairs while Adeline scurried over to the stove.

    In the days to come, Adeline Blanchett shared everything she knew about the two elder Partisans¡ªespecially Rhydian Sinclair, with whom she seemed mildly infatuated. With our companions filling in the blanks, we learned some of the stories were true, some of them entirely false, and some fell somewhere in between. The stories were stirring, and worthy of their own volume. No mention of what an insufferable ass Rhydian was, however.

    That spoke for itself.

    Over the next few days, the time spent with Adeline Blanchett in her makeshift workshop was enlightening. The scientist¡¯s inquiries on the subject of the Anima were a change of pace from the rage-fueled, ¡°Barrage, behead,¡± mentality so far, and with Rick and Rhydian nearby, we were feeling more than ever prepared.

    Early one morning, while the elder Partisans still slept, I arrived at the Murder House to find Adeline in the kitchen, tinkering at her workstation.

    ¡°What are you working on?¡± I asked.

    The scientist turned and opened her hand, revealing a bauble that resembled a black cherry. ¡°I call this HNF, which stands for hope and fear. First we must hope it will work, and then we must fear it will not.¡±

    ¡°And what would this HNF do?¡±

    ¡°Why, it would be ignited and thrown at the Anima. Of course, it would only produce sparks and small flames, but we have you to make them bigger, no?¡±

    ¡°No,¡± I said. ¡°Genius, but it¡¯s far too dangerous.¡±

    ¡°Of course it¡¯s dangerous, Father S, we are discussing firepower.¡±

    ¡°I haven¡¯t been properly trained, and it wouldn¡¯t be sanctioned, and¡ª¡± I shook my head.

    ¡°Do you think this was sanctioned?¡± Adeline dangled the HNF between two fingers. A madwoman in bizarre spectacles, fiery curls abounding. ¡°No, Father S, it was not.¡±

    ¡°I see your point, but I don¡¯t have any books on the techniques I should have mastered years ago, and I¡¯ve had no one to learn from. I¡¯m much too unpredictable.¡±

    Adeline set the HNF down on the table and trotted across the room, heels clip-clopping. ¡°What you must understand is that your ability to control the elements is not in addition to you, it is a part of you. It begs your attention and you reject it. Of course it rebels. If you wish to ask a favour of someone¡ªor something¡ªyou must first get to know it.¡±

    Hidden away in one of the kitchen cupboards, Adeline revealed a stack of science textbooks which she offered up for my perusal.

    Sinclair was wise leaving me in her company. I¡¯d be sure not to thank her.

    <hr>

    In the interest of public safety, we hadn¡¯t reopened the church, so I skittered between the house and Blanchett¡¯s workshop like a thief in the night. Despite my efforts¡ªcautious but terribly unskilled¡ªthe townspeople spotted me sooner than I would have liked. They demanded to know more about the deadly fungus, and I perpetuated the fib by evading their questions with complex terminology and the appearance of busyness.

    Over the course of a week, we survived two Anima attacks in the night¡ªone at the workshop, and another on the way to the Widow¡¯s Peak. Rick made quick work of the attacker at the workshop, and the Commander dispatched the one outdoors. As usual, the Legacy wanted nothing to do with our business. Furthermore, she and the Commander suspected they¡¯d been successful in conceiving, as she¡¯d been suffering symptoms. In light of this, the Widow¡¯s Peak became our base of operations, and that¡¯s where we convened most nights. The den, a sectioned area on the ground floor of the Peak, suited our purpose.

    That night, Rick was absent while he guarded Adeline¡¯s workshop.

    ¡°We need to take action against Lidia, with or without Rhian,¡± Reider said.

    Adeline shook her head. ¡°I respectfully disagree, Commander Michael, Sir. If we are impetuous and fail, we are putting her in greater danger when she returns.¡±

    ¡°Then tell us where she went,¡± Rhydian said. ¡°I¡¯ll get the lass and bring her around,¡± he added, as if the lass were a runaway chicken and not his daughter.

    ¡°No offense, but this isn¡¯t the best time for a family reunion,¡± the Commander said. ¡°Rhian¡¯s always been difficult to factor, and we need to limit our variables.¡±

    ¡°You don¡¯t think I bloody know that?¡±

    The Commander shrugged. ¡°I really don¡¯t know what you think you know about Rhian, but we¡¯re her friends, and your being here is going to affect her.¡±

    The Commander had a point, and I suspected Rhydian¡¯s decision to exclude himself from our plans going forward was a rebellious response to Reider¡¯s authority. The Strachan didn¡¯t answer to Palisade, or to me, and most certainly not to Michael. Of course, he didn¡¯t leave the Peak that night without issuing a warning that if any of us tells his daughter we¡¯d seen him, he¡¯d kill us himself. In retrospect, if I¡¯d have known it would be the last time I¡¯d see the man, I¡¯d have appreciated the family resemblance one last time.

    Outside the Peak, a winter storm raged while we stayed warm by the fire in our cozy den. The inn was excellent at keeping out the weather, but not so much the people.

    Ivana poked her head past the curtain, ¡°Not too sorry to bother, but there¡¯s a couple here to see you. All of you.¡±

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    ¡°A couple of what?¡± Adeline asked.

    ¡°Lovers,¡± Ivana said.

    ¡°Romance? How exciting!¡±

    ¡°Why is there a couple here to see us?¡± Reider asked.

    ¡°What, am I working for you people now? I have no idea. It¡¯s busy. People are cold and hungry. Go see for yourselves.¡±

    Evidently, the proprietress still hadn¡¯t warmed to the Commander.

    The three of us emerged from the den while the couple in question waited patiently in the common room, each carrying a cloth-bound parcel. I recognized them as the first couple to have gone missing¡ªone of my parishioners, and one of the local guardsmen.

    ¡°This is all we could afford to repay you with, Partisans,¡± said the woman.

    ¡°While we appreciate the sentiment, we can¡¯t accept gifts in exchange for service,¡± I replied. ¡°But again, thank you.¡±

    ¡°Gifts?¡± said the man. ¡°She threatened to kill us. Us and the rest.¡±

    The Commander stepped forward. ¡°Sir, you¡¯ve lost me¡ªwho threatened to kill you?¡±

    ¡°The little blonde bitch with the spots on her face.¡±

    By then, a dozen pair of curious eyes burned holes in our backs.

    ¡°You mean the little blonde bitch you claim rescued you?¡±

    ¡°Yes, she rescued us from that awful man,¡± said the woman. ¡°We were all so frightened, and she was so brave. She would hear none of our thanks, Amalia knows we tried.¡±

    Adeline shuffled to the side and reached for my hand.

    ¡°Yeah, a real hero. Until she came knocking at our door, demanding we pay up. Clothes. Oil. Food.¡± The man tossed his parcel to the floor, spitting upon it for good measure. ¡°Disgraceful bastards. We never should have trusted you.¡±

    Wrong...Father¡­process¡­blocked, I thought.

    Or had I?

    No, I hadn¡¯t started fantasizing in the third person. The thoughts¡ªthe words¡ªthey were my own, but they were not of me. Simply put, Adeline Blanchett had something she wanted me to think. Unfortunately, the transmission was incomplete, disjointed and beyond me.

    The second message, however, was not.

    DANGER!

    The villager reached into his vest, and while the Commander was still distracted by the parcel at his feet, I grabbed the villager by the arm and shoved the Commander to the side.

    My role should have ended there. The Commander should have picked up from where I left off, and perhaps he would have, but I¡¯d grown impatient and annoyed. Making use of my abundant strength, I flung our would-be-assailant out of harm¡¯s way. He crashed, and I turned around expecting to see an overturned table and a few disgruntled patrons.

    Instead, I faced a man on fire.

    Aim was not my strong suit, and it was not my intention to send him sprawling into the hearth. The inn erupted with ear-bleeding screams. The Anima rushed at me with a sudden burst of speed, and when I raised my arms in defense, the inn fell silent.

    The man on fire was a man no longer.

    All that remained was ash.

    <hr>

    As you can imagine, we were no longer welcome at the Widow¡¯s Peak. You may even say we¡¯d outstayed our welcome in the village itself. The man I¡¯d thrown into the fire was one of the Anima, and if our suspicions were correct, so were the rest of the villagers who¡¯d returned seemingly unscathed. But, appearances were everything, and to those who¡¯d already seen my power in action, it appeared I¡¯d murdered an innocent Barren by way of disintegration. In addition, the rumors of Sinclair¡¯s shakedowns could not be disproved.

    It was a game well played, leaving us with nowhere else to go but the house. The parcels did not contain food, nor oil, but they did contain clothes. Two dresses, three sets of trousers, dress shirts, dinner jackets, a blouse, and a corset.

    ¡°On the bright side, at least we¡¯ll look good for each other,¡± Reider said, holding the jackets up to his body. ¡°I¡¯ll take the blue one.¡±

    ¡°You can have it all, Commander,¡± I said. ¡°I¡¯ll have nothing to do with whatever this is.¡±

    ¡°Surely not the dresses?¡± Adeline asked. ¡°The violet one is practically made for me.¡±

    The tailoring was exquisite and seemed to be designed with our tastes in mind. It was disturbing, but no more disturbing than the object we found hidden among the clothing. It was a tattered book, smelling old leather and Hocks spirits. The Commander opened the book toward the middle, turning the pages two at a time. Each of them revealed a portrait of notable skill, each of them labeled with a date.

    ¡°What is this? Reider asked.

    ¡°I¡¯ve seen this before,¡± Adeline said. ¡°It belongs to Enforcer Rhian.¡±

    The Commander flipped another page. ¡°Okay, and who are these people?¡±

    ¡°Oh, just people! She¡¯s quite talented, isn¡¯t she?¡±

    ¡°Wonderfully,¡± I said. ¡°Now why aren¡¯t we panicking?¡±

    ¡°Because I know where Rhian is,¡± Reider said. ¡°And she probably wouldn¡¯t have time to sit around and draw. I¡¯m betting she left a few things behind to lighten the load. It doesn''t mean she''s in danger, it just means Lidia wants us to think she is.¡±

    The Commander flipped to the most recent entry¡ªthe night the villagers returned, and the night of the madman¡¯s death. The accompanying sketch, however, was not the work of a talented artist. It was a childish caricature, complete with X-shaped eyes and a protruding tongue. While I was still processing what exactly we were looking at, my stomach lurched when there was a knock at the door.

    Standing on the other side, covered head to toe in fluffy snow, wasn¡¯t an Anima. It wasn¡¯t Sinclair either. It was a fair-haired, freckled Strachan, but not one I recognized.

    ¡°Erm¡ªI¡¯m looking for Rhian Sinclair,¡± said the visitor.

    ¡°And you are?¡±

    ¡°You can call us Bells if you like. So¡ªerm¡ªis she here?¡±

    Sinclair mentioned that Councilwoman Kelly might eventually send a scout to check on her. According to the Commander, we were to protect her and her whereabouts at all costs.

    ¡°She¡¯s asleep,¡± I said.

    ¡°Wake her, then?¡±

    ¡°She¡¯s asleep because she¡¯s ill.¡±

    Adeline shuffled toward the stairs, sniffling pitifully. ¡°Father Strauss,¡± she coughed. ¡°I¡¯ll inform the Enforcer of her guest.¡±

    The Strachan stared ahead, unblinking.

    ¡°What in the six hells is wrong with you lot?¡±

    I peered around the Strachan, looking outside. ¡°Winter.¡±

    Upstairs, one of the doors creaked open and slammed closed.

    ¡°So,¡± I said, barring the entry with my arm. ¡°Why Bells?¡±

    ¡°The name¡¯s Bellamy,¡± the Strachan said. ¡°Lucas Bellamy.¡±

    ¡°I see.¡± I reached for a smile which in hindsight I imagine appeared quite awkward. ¡°I thought there may have been a story.¡±

    Lucas Bellamy shook his head, squinting. ¡°So, about Sinclair¡­¡±

    ¡°Of course,¡± I said. ¡°Follow me.¡±

    Lucas Bellamy hesitated, but did eventually follow me upstairs where a hushed conversation had been taking place behind one of the doors.

    It wasn¡¯t the cleverest of plans, but it was a plan, and it was the only plan in our repertoire with a moderate chance of success.

    ¡°Whatever, just tell them to go away,¡± said one of the voices behind the door. ¡°I won''t be seeing anyone looking like this, what with all the vomit, and sweat, and whatnots coming out my nose.¡±

    I sucked in my cheeks, baring down.

    Bells shouted at the door. ¡°Oi, Rhian, it¡¯s Bells. Got a missive from CK that needs signing. How¡¯s about it I slip it under the door so I can get the hells out of here? This place is a goddess-be-damned death-trap.¡±

    Truer words.

    The plan proceeded perfectly. The message was exchanged under the door, was in the process of being read by Adeline, and all that remained was for her to squiggle an ¡°S¡±.

    The door to the bedroom opened wide, easily revealing that there had only ever been one person behind it.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, I cannot do this.¡± Adeline shook her head slowly, locking her wide, glistening eyes with mine. ¡°Rhian must see this for herself.¡±

    You see, the Strachan had not been sent by Councilwoman Kelly to confirm Sinclair¡¯s well-being. The missive was not a routine inquiry, either. The messenger, unaware of the grave news he carried, had been sent to inform us of Feargus Finlay¡¯s death.

    <hr>

    The news scarred us all, a deep and permanent etching. Lucas Bellamy was unable to leave until Sinclair returned and signed the missive, so he remained with us at the house¡ªannoyed but altogether relived we weren¡¯t sick. Adeline Blanchett, not having known Feargus Finlay personally, was sympathetic in our time of grief, tending to our every comfort when not tied up at the workshop. The Commander was the first to break and the last to recover from the news. Finlay was not the only of his friends to fall in combat, but he was the closest of his friends. The notice revealed he¡¯d died in Endica¡ªone of a number of Councilwoman Kelly¡¯s agents to have met a similar fate. Of those present, the Commander was also the only one to have experienced the dissent up north firsthand.

    ¡°She should have just signed the missive,¡± he said.

    ¡°Absolutely not,¡± I replied. ¡°Adeline made the correct choice.¡±

    ¡°I made the only choice! Are you suggesting we keep the news from her?¡±

    ¡°Yes, that¡¯s exactly what I¡¯m suggesting,¡± Reider said. ¡°I¡ªshe needs to stay focused. We all need to stay focused.¡±

    Bells spoke next. ¡°Funny story, but I lost both my bunkmates last year. It was utter shite, but I didn¡¯t go mucking up my next job. Commander, you should know better than to say something like that.¡±

    Not what I would call a funny story, but he''d made his point.

    ¡°Personally, I found their relationship quite disturbing,¡± the Legacy added. ¡°Borderline incestuous, I say.¡±

    Glaring to the left, I replied, ¡°Legacy Varis, you understand the two aren¡¯t actually siblings?¡±

    ¡°They may as well have been, and am I to believe they were innocent, all those nights sharing a bed?¡±

    I spared a glance toward the Commander whose jaw contracted and expanded.

    ¡°It seems I¡¯ve struck a nerve,¡± Varis continued. ¡°Why is that?¡±

    ¡°Right, I¡¯ve changed my mind,¡± Bells said. ¡°Someone sign the missive so I can leave.¡±

    In a flash of purple and fiery-red the Successor stood and slammed her first against the table. ¡°Enough! All of you are behaving like babies.¡± Adeline stabbed a gloved finger in Reider¡¯s direction. ¡°Commander, you are supposed to be her partner. You are supposed to be her friend. Rhian deserves the opportunity to face the truth even if you are not ready to do it yourself. And you¡ª¡± the finger targeted the Legacy next ¡°¡ªit¡¯s those like you who sully our names. I don¡¯t say this often, but I don¡¯t like you, Legacy Varis. Not one bit. And you¡ª¡± Adeline¡¯s next victim was a petrified Bells ¡°¡ªhave been an adequate messenger and have done nothing wrong. We appreciate your service.¡±

    I didn¡¯t wait for the finger of truth to accuse me of anything, instead I excused myself in favour of the Anima-infested night. For a time, I paced the perimeter of the pond, recalling my time with Feargus Finlay. He was a nuisance at times, but he was a rare breed. He was knowledgeable, wise, and intelligent leaps beyond us all. And somehow, he was happy. His ridiculous antics¡ªunnecessary but certainly never boring¡ªremain among my most cherished memories.

    Feargus Barnabas Alistair Jack Finnegan Finlay was the best of us.

    He would be missed.

 [The First One] Interlude - Her Story, Part Five

    Andrei and Rhian

    Lidia Ruza never meant for her brother to see her still pretty, still loved, but not alive. She never meant to murder their parents in front of his eyes. Oops. So she begged the man in the emerald suit to help him forget, and he promised he would, if only she''d promise to set her old life aside.

    Only, the lass couldn¡¯t help herself, could she? She interfered everywhere she could. Her brother was an orphan because of her, but she never meant to send him straight into the hands of an abuser. Oops. So she gave him the fight he needed to hold that pillow over that bastard¡¯s face, the idea he needed to set the house on fire, and the courage he needed to start a life in Istok.

    She watched as Alexander became so much like their father, if their father had been at all kind. She was right around the corner when he met Isabella. She watched as they grew their love, built a home, and tried for a family. She''d always known her brother would have all the things she wouldn¡¯t. Oops, she never meant to hurt them¡ªone time, two times, five. She hadn¡¯t counted on the jealousy. She¡¯d let them have the next one, and she¡¯d keep her distance for now.

    Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

    Around then, folks started going missing from their homes in Oskari. Women and little girls, grown-arse men. Boys. Lured away by an old man with a mustache offering his services for the winter. Time after time, she tried for what she wanted¡ªan immortal family and friends to replace the ones she¡¯d lost. But time after bloody time, the man in the emerald suit destroyed them all. The man in the emerald suit¡ªthe one with all the promises. The one who took all the blessings for himself and left her cursed and alone.

    Only when he was certain she¡¯d learned her lesson to leave her old life behind, he stepped into a burgundy suit, slipped a silver ring around his finger, and laid himself to rest. ¡°Wake me up in ten years, my dear,¡± he said, and she promised that she would. And once a week she visited his resting place, left flowers at his feet, and filled his casket with lives to sustain him. Once a week for ten years, and then one hundred years, and then two hundred, and then four until someone unsuspecting stole his ring and woke him from his long nap.

    Aye, and is this part where I say... oops?

 [The First One] 39 - The Other Person I Didnt Expect

    Rhian

    Verena wasn¡¯t made of silver, but it sure was everywhere. Around people¡¯s necks, utensils and baubles in shop windows, columns and etches, and doohickeys hanging outside buildings. The entire city smelled of sneeze and rash, and even the shackles itched my wrists like a sonofa while the local folk flooded out of their homes to ogle the Strachoon.

    I¡¯d seen the inside of a few jails in my time, and the cage in Oskari was nothing compared to the cell in Verena. It felt a lot like going home, seeing as it was just like the cells at Palisade. The facility itself was three-storeys underground, and the enclosures were made entirely of silver.

    The next morning, they brought me a hunk of stale bread, but if I was going to die in that place, I¡¯d starve myself to death afore I¡¯d let them get me. It was probably poisoned.

    If I were being held anyplace else, I¡¯d have an advantage by birthright. Most Barrens wouldn¡¯t punish a Partisan in any permanent way without first dealing with the Assembly. But Verena? I had to figure they¡¯d torture me a while before they¡¯d kill me. That gave me hope.

    As you know, keeping quiet isn¡¯t my strong suit, but I¡¯d done a decent job of it since they hauled me into that cell. I wasn¡¯t about to say anything those Partisan-hating bastards might trace back to the others in Oskari, but later that night, I¡¯d just about had it.

    ¡°Oi, where are the hot pokers? Whips? Limb stretchers? Reckon I could stand to be a bit taller. What sort of shitty operation are you people running?¡± I said, loudly and whatnot. It wasn¡¯t like I wanted torture. I didn¡¯t want to be any taller, neither. I needed someone to open the goddess-be-damned gate.

    ¡°That voice,¡± someone said, from somewhere.

    That voice, I thought, from inside my cell. Silky like a bunny¡¯s tongue. Vincent bloody Delestade. ¡°You¡¯ve got to be kidding me.¡±

    ¡°If only,¡± Delestade said. ¡°Last I traveled to Amalia, Verena wasn¡¯t so hostile.¡±

    It was worth a chuckle, imagining the poor bastard smuggling himself from Delphia to the coast of Amalia, thinking himself a traveling genius¡ªthat he''d stop by the city for a snack and a quick chat with a few nice people. For a second, I wondered why he hadn¡¯t used an illusion of a Barren, but then I reckoned he didn¡¯t think he¡¯d have to. News didn¡¯t spread much, if at all, between the territories. Hells, Barren folk weren¡¯t even allowed to travel outside their homeland.

    ¡°How long have you been here?¡± I asked.

    ¡°Two, three weeks.¡±

    ¡°Where are the guards?¡±

    ¡°How should I know?¡±

    ¡°Right, fair enough,¡± I said. ¡°What are you doing here?¡±

    As it turned out, Delestade came all the way from the Isles to see about our troubles. He said he felt like an arsehole sending us back to hell by ourselves. I told him we were doing just fine without him. The reality is, Vincent Delestade didn¡¯t come back to save the bloody day. He came back to Amalia for the story. But never mind. Nothing much mattered, what with us still locked up. Also, the silver was becoming a problem. I wasn¡¯t feeling so bad yet, but Delestade had just about fizzled.

    He¡¯d probably eaten the food.

    It wasn¡¯t until later that night when things got even more interesting. Footsteps clomp, clomping down the corridor. I was still curled up half asleep in my corner when they stopped.

    Keys jingled. ¡°Get up,¡± said the voice.

    The cell door scraped open while I rubbed the crud out of my eyes. So, maybe I¡¯d gone too far with the goddess-be-damned pain in the arse betraying bastard piece-of-shite thing.

    Alexander unlocked Delestade¡¯s cell next, which was nice on account of I didn¡¯t have to ask. It was one hell of a trek up to the garrison proper, and he helped poor Vinny make it to the top. It was quiet the whole way save our footsteps.

    This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

    At first I thought everyone was dead, but on closer inspection, the people upstairs were still breathing but barely. Guards and servants sprawled about every which way, and Alexander looked all the better for it. The grey had gone from his hair and his eyes weren¡¯t so tired. He said he did what he had to, and that most of them should recover. It was a goddess-be-damned shitshow and a miracle at the same time, but all I could think about was silver. I needed silver about as badly as I once needed wolves, so I grabbed a few baubles, a chalice, and a couple figurines. The scraps would be good enough for bullets, bolts, and coatings. While I was there, I grabbed a steel dagger for myself and a sword for Adeline.

    Absolutely nothing went according to plan, but that''s why no plan is the best plan, sometimes.

    Mission accomplished.

    <hr>

    Never thought I¡¯d see anything like it.

    Alexander Ruza carried Vincent Delestade on his back most of the way toward Oskari. For one, Vinny wasn¡¯t feeling so hot. For two, it was faster and easier, especially on account of it snowed since I was tossed in jail. But by the three-quarter mark, Delestade recovered enough of his strength and his dignity, and we walked the rest of the way with Alexander¡¯s new pet at our side. And no, I don¡¯t mean Vincent.

    Alexander decided his big house might feel less big with Teeth around.

    It only took about a minute for Delestade to come to terms with the truth about Alexander. He¡¯d had his own experience with Those Things back in the day, and it hadn¡¯t been all piggy-backs and puppy dogs. But it¡¯s like I said, Delestade came back for a story, and Alexander made the story a lot more interesting.

    Much as I was missing Strauss and Michael¡¯s cooking, after leaving Verena, we didn¡¯t head straight for the village. We had a new ally, and with that in mind, I¡¯d formulated half a plan to deal with Lidia and keep my friends safe at the same time. Alexander took us back to his mansion instead, and as was customary, gave Vinny a tour of the place.

    It was a lot like the tour I¡¯d been given, the only difference was, the portrait I¡¯d painted of Gus was hanging above Alexander¡¯s chair in the dining room. The man was a goddess-be-damned class-act, but I was disappointed to learn he hadn¡¯t seen ¡°Jack Finnegan¡± since the last time we were together.

    ¡°It would be nice to see Mister Fin¡ªFinnegan again,¡± Delestade said.

    Fin-Finnegan¡ªaye, real smooth, Vinny.

    ¡°You sure you¡¯re not stashing him somewhere again?¡± I asked.

    Alexander nodded, and I believed him.

    The last stop on the tour was the library, and Vinny couldn¡¯t take his eyes off the portrait above the fireplace. But who could blame him? That purple suit, let me tell you.

    ¡°Where have I seen that piece before?¡± he asked.

    ¡°It used to hang in the Widow¡¯s Peak,¡± Alexander answered.

    Delestade rubbed his stubble for a while. ¡°That must be it.¡±

    Seeing as it had been a rough week, we needed rest for what I had planned the next day. Vinny was shown his room, and I retired to the one with the fluffy pink pillows. After breakfast the next morning, we gathered around in the library.

    So far, I¡¯ve avoided going into detail about telepathy on account of it¡¯s complicated and this isn¡¯t a goddess-be-damned textbook. But I reckon I ought to cover the basics. Generally speaking, people¡¯s thoughts are chaotic without context, so just because a Delphi can read a mind, doesn¡¯t necessarily mean they can get anything valuable from it. A lot of it depends on skill. For example, all telepaths can intercept thoughts, but the good telepaths use psychology to make sense of the thoughts. The best ones intercept the thoughts, make sense of the thoughts, and then manipulate the thoughts. Most telepaths can see pictures in heads, but not all telepaths can put pictures in heads. It¡¯s tricky business, and not all of it comes natural. Obviously, I¡¯m not telepath, but I¡¯d built up a strong wall against them.

    For the purpose of our exercise, Vincent and Alexander sat side-by-side on the couch while I sat across from them in the puffy, leather chair. I put a few pictures in my head, and waited for Vinny to see them. We needed a baseline.

    ¡°Squirrels,¡± Delestade said.

    I gestured so-so. ¡°More specifically...¡±

    ¡°Red squirrels. No, wait¡ªblue squirrels?¡±

    I nodded.

    ¡°Blue squirrels, and now they are missing their tails,¡± he said.

    I nodded again.

    It wasn''t long afore he¡¯d knocked down all the bricks in my wall and became accustomed to perceiving things as I''d imagine them. See, Vincent Delestade was one of the best telepaths ever to have lived. Now I had a clear picture of the Crazy Bitch in my mind, but my memory of Lidia Ruza might have been a bit biased. I might have thought her uglier than she was, or I might have thought her taller, or drunker. Whatever. I¡¯d only seen her in my dreams and once in real life. Being her brother for about a thousand years, Alexander had a much clearer image. Trouble was, he and Delestade were immune to telepathy.

    It wasn¡¯t too much trouble though for Alexander to adjust my memory of Lidia, adding in all those small details in the way she talked, and the way she walked, and the way she smelled like wildflowers and burnt wood. Then, it wasn¡¯t all that difficult for Delestade to see her the way we did.

    Part one of the plan was ready. I told him I''d need about two days, and the last thing I did before heading back to Oskari was show him a mind-picture of the Murder House.

 [The First One] 40 - The Inevitable Return

    Andrei

    The days in Sinclair¡¯s absence passed under a cloud of tension and paranoia, but they were otherwise uneventful. There were no attacks on the house, no further taunts, and no sign of Lidia Ruza, but we were still ostracized by the whole of Oskari. If there were any exceptions, they didn¡¯t come forward. Meanwhile, Rhydian Sinclair hadn¡¯t returned, and we were under the assumption he¡¯d gone looking for his daughter.

    Despite my best efforts, Commander Reider refused to tell us where she went, but there was one other person who might have known Sinclair¡¯s secrets. That night, I found her in the farmlands, pacing the porch at the workshop.

    ¡°Father S, thank Delphia you are here.¡± Adeline rushed forward the second she saw me, and if she hadn¡¯t looked so distraught, I might have anticipated another hug. ¡°I didn¡¯t know what to do, and she¡ª¡± Catching her heel between the planks, the Delphi stumbled forward.

    Of all the things, I¡¯d failed to foresee, this wasn¡¯t one of them. Steadying the girl, I asked, ¡°Have you been crying?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s horrible. Truly horrible. And I¡ªand he¡ªbut she¡ª¡±

    ¡°Slow down,¡± I said. ¡°Stop. Breathe. Think, and then speak.¡±

    The Delphi puffed her cheeks out and managed a quick series of breaths through her nose. In and out, in and out. Not exactly how I would have done it, but it seemed to have worked.

    ¡°Do you promise to believe me?¡± she asked.

    ¡°I promise to hear what you have to say.¡±

    ¡°That will do,¡± she said, turning and walking¡ªcarefully¡ªtoward the door.

    When she opened it, Emerich Bach sat slumped over on the kitchen chair. The blood had already dried, but the cause of death was obvious¡ªhe¡¯d been slain by a throwing star to the temple. This was disturbing on multiple levels, for not only had the man been a friend and an ally, but a troubling pattern emerged. Father Keller, Father Belaia, Father Bach.

    ¡°When did this happen?¡± I asked. When my left upper cheek twitched, I stuffed my hands into my over-sized pockets and formed tight fists.

    ¡°Approximately one hour ago,¡± she replied. ¡°One minute we were discussing ethics in science, and then next¡ªI didn¡¯t want to leave him.¡±

    I stepped inside and considered the scene, the trajectory leading me to the fluttering curtains. The throwing star would have come in from the open window.

    ¡°It doesn¡¯t look good,¡± Adeline said. ¡°Enforcer Rhian has one just like it, no?¡±

    Taking into account the height of the window, and how deeply the weapon was embedded into Rick¡¯s skull, I found it difficult to believe a Strachan was responsible. They had excellent aim, but the force behind the throw would have required much greater strength. It wasn¡¯t as though I suspected Sinclair, but I was worried I might need to present a case.

    ¡°What motive would she have?¡± I asked.

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    ¡°None, Father S. None,¡± Adeline said. ¡°The true criminal here is the Legacy Varis.¡±

    ¡°Why do you suspect the Legacy?¡±

    ¡°Because I saw her.¡±

    ¡°Can you prove it?¡±

    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t be panicking if I could!¡±

    Yet another mind game designed to cause dissension, and our enemy was trying to frame our Enforcer. Again.

    Neither of us felt comfortable leaving the remains in the workshop. If Helena Varis was responsible for Emerich Bach''s death, things were escalating, and we had to get back to the house to check on the Commander and Bells. Unceremonious as it was, I hauled Rick over my shoulder, and we made our way back to the house in silence.

    When we arrived, however, nothing seemed out of place.

    Bypassing by the kitchen with Rick''s body, I ignored the initial questions from the Commander such as, ¡°What happened?¡± and, ¡°Are you okay?¡± and comments from the Legacy such as, ¡°You¡¯re tracking mud,¡± and, ¡°Please, not on the couch.¡±

    I set the body down on the couch, and returned to the kitchen where the Legacy and the Commander were seated over tea. Adeline hadn¡¯t moved from her place beside the table, staring them both down with the heat of a thousand fires.

    Following all the commotion, Bells stumbled down the stairs with a few unintelligible grunts. Judging by his hair and his state of semi-undress, he¡¯d been asleep.

    After Adeline and I explained the circumstances surrounding Rick''s death, the Legacy was quick to come to her own defense.

    ¡°That weapon is one of a kind,¡± she said. ¡°Never mind the woman is positively unstable. For the life of me, I cannot understand the fascination you all have with her. Now, I agreed to overlook Mister Bach¡¯s defected status as a favour to Michael, but need I remind you, Rhian Sinclair is an Enforcer. It is her duty to hunt the defected. I truly don¡¯t see the problem here.¡±

    ¡°The lady has a point,¡± Bells said. ¡°I don¡¯t think Rhian did it, but the lady has a point.¡±

    ¡°Okay, I hear what you''re all saying," Reider said. "But I have to admit, Rhian has been acting out more than usual lately.¡±

    Adeline stepped forward and swatted Michael across the back of the head.

    Despite the overall mood in recent months, I found myself feeling more easily amused than I would have in the past. To this day, I whole heartedly believe everyone needs an Adeline.

    Michael rubbed where it smarted. ¡°Ow.¡±

    Bells shuffled in place, eyeballing the Successor as if to make sure he wasn¡¯t about to be next.

    ¡°How dare you,¡± Adeline said. ¡°Enforcer Rhian is risking her life in Verena to protect you¡ªto protect all of us. And what have you done lately, Commander Michael, besides doubt her and canoodle with this awful woman?¡±

    ¡°Verena?¡± the Legacy and I asked in tandem.

    ¡°Canoodle?¡± Reider added.

    The revelation as to where Sinclair had gone was concerning. It didn¡¯t take long for me to conclude why she¡¯d gone to Verena¡ªtheir silver mine was no secret to most Amali. While knowing first-hand how dangerous it would be for a Partisan in Verena, I doubted the Commander could have stopped her even if he''d tried. When Sinclair had her sights set on something she needed, there was no telling the lengths she¡¯d go.

    ¡°Blanchett,¡± The Commander said. ¡°What are the chances Lidia tricked you into thinking you saw Helena outside the workshop?¡±

    Bells stepped up in her defense. ¡°Delphi, mate. Immune to telepathy, remember?¡±

    ¡°From another angle,¡± I said. ¡°What are the odds Lidia Ruza could trick any one of us into assaulting each other?¡±

    The Legacy brought her hand to her chest as if she¡¯d been deeply wounded. ¡°Brother Strauss, are you suggesting my mind has been tampered with?¡±

    ¡°Father Strauss,¡± I corrected, recalling the day we first met. It felt glorious.

    ¡°This scenario is far more likely,¡± Adeline said, turning her fiery gaze to Varis once more. ¡°Where were you, Legacy Varis, at approximately eight o¡¯clock this evening?¡±

    Fortunately for the Legacy, an unexpected arrival prevented the resurgence of the finger of truth. Unfortunately for Sinclair, she was about to get some terrible news.

 [The First One] 41 - The Plan That Was Better Than the Other Plan

    Rhian

    We must have been about ten years old.

    Every fourth day, it was our job to brush the horses. We¡¯d talk about our lessons, and about going back to Hollyhock someday. Feargus chatted about his folks, and how he¡¯d hoped he¡¯d see them again soon. He missed them. I didn¡¯t understand.

    ¡°Reckon we¡¯ll be bindeded like them one day?¡± I remember him asking.

    ¡°Naw,¡± I replied. ¡°It¡¯s bad luck. Remember the lass with the pointy nose that taught us tumblin¡¯?¡±

    Gus remembered.

    ¡°Aye, she got bindeded with that man with the big freckle on his face,¡± I said. "Have you seen the lass with the pointy nose lately?¡±

    Gus hadn¡¯t.

    ¡°What about the man with the big freckle?¡±

    Gus hadn¡¯t seen him, either.

    ¡°See?¡± I said. ¡°Bad. Luck.¡±

    That was the same day Gus bet I¡¯d outlive him, and I bet he¡¯d outlive me.

    ¡°How¡¯s about you¡¯ll owe me a note if I¡¯m right?¡± he said.

    ¡°All right,¡± I said. ¡°And how¡¯s about you¡¯ll owe me a note if I¡¯m right?¡±

    So it was decided, until we realized we couldn¡¯t make good on the bet if one of us were dead. Point is: I went back to Oskari with gifts and good news for my friends, and in return, I got a bunch of lies.

    Seated around the table at The House, everyone was staring at me as if I was about to lose my goddess-be-damned mind. Michael. Adeline. Strauss. Belly¡ªfor whatever random reason. Even That Varis was looking awkward.

    Strauss must have drawn the short stick. He¡¯d been given the honour of breaking the bad news, and I¡¯d never seen the man struggle so much to say a few words.

    Strauss bloody loves words.

    ¡°Right,¡± I said. ¡°Where¡¯s it say that?¡±

    ¡°The notice came from the Councilwoman,¡± he said. He hadn¡¯t changed at all while I was gone. He was still pretty as they come¡ªpretty tired, pretty pale, and pretty filthy. I also remember his eyes being a bit glassy. ¡°Would you like me to read it to you?¡±

    ¡°Naw, it¡¯s a load of horseshite anyhow,¡± I said. ¡°Where have I got to sign?¡±

    They all carried on staring. Adeline carried on crying.

    ¡°Right,¡± I said. ¡°Nice talking, then.¡±

    I dropped the weapons I¡¯d brought back from Verena. Cling, clang, bang and whatnot before I stomped out the door. Feargus Finlay dead? That was a good one. Couldn¡¯t be sure which was worse: the fact they all looked at me with the pity face, or the fact they all believed it. But never mind. It wasn¡¯t long afore the door cracked open behind me.

    ¡°Enforcer Rhian,¡± Adeline said. ¡°It¡¯s not safe out there. Will you please come back inside if we give you a quill and promise to speak?¡±

    Poor lass. Always trying so bloody hard.

    ¡°That¡¯s the trouble, isn¡¯t it?¡± I said. ¡°None of you have got a thing interesting to say.¡±

    ¡°Would you like something to eat?¡±

    ¡°Nope.¡±

    ¡°To drink?¡±

    ¡°Nope.¡±

    ¡°Would you like to sleep? You can have the bed.¡±

    ¡°Nope.¡±

    When Adeline closed the door, I padded over to the pond, plunked down in the snow, cracked open my fancy flask, and took a sip. Oi, don¡¯t judge¡ªthe Hocks was replaced with lemon water. What a waste, but whatever. That flask was a nice piece of work. It cheered me up using it, and the fact it was old made it all the more interesting.

    It had probably seen a lot of a things¡ªif it had eyes.

    Anyhow. Just like knocks, you can tell a lot by the way a door opens. This time it was slow, cautious, and about half-way wide. I gestured ¡°Come here,¡± and Strauss came around beside me and sat. He didn¡¯t even seem to mind the ground was cold and wet.

    We both turned to look through the window back into The House, and when we didn¡¯t see That Varis sitting at the table, we reached for each other¡¯s hand.

    ¡°Emerich Bach was murdered this evening and the evidence points to you,¡± Strauss said.

    It was thoughtful of him, acting normal and whatnot.

    ¡°Again?¡± I asked.

    ¡°Your throwing star. The one the Legacy crafted. Do you have it?¡±

    ¡°Nope,¡± I said.

    ¡°Then there might be tension with the Commander. He¡¯s in a difficult position.¡±

    Reckon I shrugged. ¡°How was The Place?¡±

    ¡°Save for one unexpected twist, it rather satisfies both our needs.¡±

    ¡°Only one?¡± I asked. ¡°When do we leave?¡±

    ¡°Well, it¡¯s a rather big twist.¡±

    ¡°Is it gonna change my life?¡±

    ¡°Yes.¡±

    ¡°Is it gonna change my life right this second?¡±

    ¡°Not exactly, but¡ª¡±

    ¡°Save it, then,¡± I said. ¡°I¡¯m tired.¡±

    Frankly, I was surprised I hadn¡¯t keeled over and died. I¡¯d been sleeping like shite lately, even with the help of Alexander¡¯s fluffy pink pillows.

    ¡°And what of your adventure?¡± Strauss asked.

    ¡°It was the exact opposite of fun, but I got what we needed.¡±

    ¡°You know what¡¯s fun about fun, Rhian?¡± said a voice from behind.

    Strauss turned around, but I couldn¡¯t be bothered.

    ¡°What¡¯s fun about fun, Rhian, is that we get to have it together,¡± the Crazy Bitch said. ¡°But before you panic, I¡¯m not here to fight. I really do like you people¡ªespecially you two¡ªand I¡¯m starting to think all this violence is unnecessary.¡±

    ¡°Right-e-o.¡± I waggled my fingers over my shoulder. ¡°Ta-ta Lidia.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t be silly, Rhian. I haven¡¯t had the chance to make my proposal.¡± There was a pause where I reckoned she was doing something like drumming her fingers together evilly. ¡°Speaking of proposals¡ªlook at you two! Holding hands in public. Have you told him yet?¡±

    It was a rough job keeping my mouth shut, but I wasn¡¯t about to play into her hand.

    ¡°Tell me what?¡± Strauss asked, looking from the Crazy Bitch, to me, and back again.

    ¡°That she loves you, of course. Despite what you might think, I¡¯ve been rooting for you this whole time. I hope you don¡¯t mind me saying, but you both look really good naked.¡±

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    The door opened again. This time, it was quick and all the way wide, no hesitation.

    Michael must have been listening, and I hoped he¡¯d brought Intrepi-what-the-bloody-ever with him. I could have done with a bit of head lopping around then.

    ¡°Commander Reider,¡± the Crazy Bitch said. I could practically hear the smile. ¡°It¡¯s good to finally meet you face-to-face.¡±

    ¡°Afraid I can¡¯t say the same,¡± Michael said.

    I glanced over at Strauss then. He had his brow all twisted up in knots.

    ¡°Well, I¡¯ve tried and I¡¯ve tried to be nice,¡± the Crazy Bitch said. ¡°But we all know what this is going to come down to, don¡¯t we? A big showdown where either all of you die, or I die¡ªagain. How boring of you. So, let¡¯s make it interesting for me. Three nights from tonight¡ªparty at the ruins of the old Vonsinfonie Academy? How¡¯s that sound? Too soon? Not soon enough? I already made sure you wouldn¡¯t have to go shopping for clothes.¡±

    Apparently, Michael thought a party sounded all right. They planned to meet after nightfall, two leagues west of the grove of the weepy trees or some such nonsense. All that goddess-be-damned fairness was going to be the death of us all. If it were me, I¡¯d have said sunrise. Let the fuckers fight blind. But Michael Reider was an honourable man, wasn¡¯t it?

    And that just wouldn¡¯t do.

    <hr>

    After meeting with the Crazy Bitch, Michael and Strauss agreed there wouldn¡¯t be any sense surprising her before the party. She¡¯d expect it from us the same way we expected it from her. ¡®Course, I had a pocket full of pieces and one of them went by the name of Vincent Delestade. Also, I had a plan of my own.

    I couldn¡¯t have assembled a better team myself.

    ¡°Enforcer Rhian, I urge you to consult the Commander,¡± Adeline said for about the hundredth time. She¡¯d done a decent job of the workshop since I¡¯d been gone. Light bounced about the place during the day, reflecting the mirrors she¡¯d mounted on the walls and strung from the ceiling. She¡¯d even gone ahead and built a workbench. ¡°He and I do not always see eye-to-eye, but¡ª¡±

    The front door burst open and a big Amali man wrapped in furs barged in. He stomped the snow off his boots and shook like a wet dog.

    ¡°The weather in this goddess-forsaken territory is as miserable as I remember,¡± he said.

    And then I saw him as I knew him. Average Delphi height. Average Delphi weight. There was nothing all that special about Vincent Delestade apart from the fact his hair was whiter than mine and his face was a sculptor¡¯s wet dream.

    ¡°Adeline,¡± I said. ¡°Meet Vincent. Vincent, Adeline.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s such an honour to finally meet you, mister Delestade,¡± she said, and then she handed him a cup of tea. We were expecting the company, and if you think the Squeaky Lass should have been impressed by Delestade¡¯s trick, well, she wasn¡¯t.

    She hadn¡¯t seen the illusion in the first place.

    ¡°Thank you, darling.¡± Delestade dusted the top of a barrel in the corner before he sat and started sipping his tea. ¡°Your scout, has he returned?¡±

    ¡°Bells is an excellent messenger,¡± I said. ¡°One of our fastest, and unless he¡¯s been cornered, I reckon we¡¯ve got¡ª¡±

    The door swung open and slammed shut again.

    ¡°We¡¯ve got a problem,¡± Bells said.

    And now it¡¯s time to pause for a story. See, all those years ago when Delestade was investigating the same way we were, he discovered something in the old schoolhouse-slash-tavern that we hadn¡¯t. It was a scene like our scene, only he hadn¡¯t fallen through the floor. Seeing as he had a thing about theatre, he poked around backstage instead. He was tickled pink imagining all the bits and bobs and pieces of time he¡¯d find, but all he got were some stairs leading underground, a tunnel, and one of Those Things coming straight at him. Long story short, Vinny didn¡¯t stick around long enough to find out where the tunnel went.

    Enter, Bells.

    ¡°It was a straight line for a good while,¡± he said. ¡°I didn''t stay to scout out any other exits, er¡ªI''ll be honest, I played it safe.¡±

    ¡°Fair enough,¡± I said. ¡°But I reckon it wasn¡¯t a straight line to nowhere.¡±

    ¡°Nope, it was a straight line into loads of corridors. A catacomb, breaking off into clusters of isolated chambers. Counted about thirty of those chambers. There were at least a dozen tracks along the way. Most of them led straight to those cupboards in the wall¡ªthe ones they shove the caskets in. Whatever they''re bloody called. If I had to guess, they''ve hollowed out the ground behind them and are living back there."

    ¡°Direction?¡± I asked.

    ¡°Southwest.¡±

    ¡°Brilliant,¡± I said. ¡°Distance?¡±

    ¡°About three leagues.¡±

    ¡°Brilliant,¡± I said again. ¡°All right. Well done, mate.¡±

    It''s what I was hoping for, that the tunnel under the old schoolhouse-slash-tavern led straight to the crypts under the church in Oskari. Of all the things Alexander knew, exactly where his sister lived wasn''t one of them. She kept a lot from him, and he was happy keeping away from her and the rest of Those Things. Bells was making sense, and if he was wrong¡ªwell, remember those times I said no plan is the best plan, sometimes?

    ¡°Bells, you¡¯re with Blanchett from now on,¡± I said. ¡°Do everything she says, and after she¡¯s done with you, get the hells out. Forget the rest of us. Head straight back to Palisade and tell Kelly everything, follow?¡±

    Bells nodded. ¡°Aye, aye.¡±

    ¡°How comfortable are you with black powder, mister Bells?¡± Adeline asked, and then she brought him a cup of tea, too.

    Bells motioned, ¡°So-so,¡± and then he tried taking a sip. But the Squeaky Lass had other ideas. She snatched the mug, grabbed his arm, and dragged him upstairs.

    Poor Belly. He¡¯d come for a signature and got whatever this was instead.

    Delestade traded his barrel for a chair at the table. ¡°Quite the enigmatic entourage you have, Enforcer,¡± he said. ¡°But where is the half-breed?¡±

    ¡°Studying at The House since this morning,¡± I said. ¡°Meaning, we¡¯ve got about three hours until he notices we¡¯re gone.¡±

    ¡°Why not include him? The man practically perspires power.¡±

    ¡°Number one, our target¡¯s got a priest kink. She¡¯s already killed three¡ªincluding your friend Keller. We found him in Istok. Condolences, by the way.¡±

    Delestade frowned. ¡°Thank you. I did start to wonder if this Lidia Ruza was the same woman I told you about at the theatre¡ªthe one who drove my friend mad.¡±

    ¡°Stands to reason,¡± I said.

    ¡°And number two?¡± Delestade asked.

    I understood in that moment why he might not want to have a conversation about his dead friend. ¡°Number two, Strauss has the knowledge and our Commander''s got the strength. If this goes sideways, they¡¯ll have another chance. I¡¯m the disposable one.¡±

    ¡°I beg to differ, Rhian Sinclair, but I see your point.¡±

    There was a knock at the door.

    ¡°Enter and whatnot.¡± I didn¡¯t even have to shout.

    In walked Alexander, dressed like a common man that day¡ªnone of those fancy furs and leathers. Teeth followed beside him. Clean, proud, and she didn¡¯t even seem bothered by the leash. A guide-wolf. Clever. But it was a sunny day, and the man could hardly see a bleeding thing for himself. I scurried around, flipping around as many mirrors as I could, and I closed the shutters. I didn¡¯t offer him anything to eat or drink.

    That would have been rude.

    After Alexander¡¯s eyes adjusted, he had a good look around. ¡°It feels strange to be home.¡±

    ¡°When was the last time you were here?¡± I asked.

    ¡°Not once since my parents died over three-hundred-fifty years ago.¡±

    ¡°How did they?¡± Delestade asked. ¡°If you don¡¯t mind my asking.¡±

    Alexander didn¡¯t seem to mind. He joined us at the table.

    ¡°Illness, I believed, until I discovered a few years ago it was my sister. She killed them while I watched, and had my memory wiped as a boy.¡±

    Delestade clicked his tongue. ¡°My word, I can hardly imagine.¡±

    While the gentlemen did gentlemanly things, I ran the plan over in my head about a thousand times. I trusted Alexander, I trusted Bells, I trusted Adeline, and for the purpose of getting revenge on Lidia and wrapping things up in a tidy way, I trusted Vincent Delestade. There was just one last thing he needed to do.

    ¡°All right, Vinny,¡± I said. ¡°Out you go. I¡¯ll get the others.¡±

    Delestade smiled, stood, and then he left.

    ¡°Story time?¡± I asked Alexander.

    ¡°Story time,¡± he said.

    ¡°Oi!¡± I shouted upstairs. ¡°Get your arses down here.¡±

    Adeline bounced down the stairs until she stopped at the third step from the bottom. ¡°There is a wolf in my shop.¡±

    Teeth yipped, and I gave her a pat on the head.

    The Squeaky Lass didn¡¯t move a goddess-be-damned muscle, except to ask, ¡°Why is there a wolf in my shop?¡±

    I explained, and Adeline joined us around the table.

    Bells wasn¡¯t too bothered by Teeth, but he sure as shite wasn¡¯t looking thrilled. ¡®Course, that might have had something to do with the fact he was being sent on a mission from hell. Lucas Bellamy was a good kid. I didn¡¯t like asking so much of him, but I also wouldn¡¯t have asked if I didn¡¯t think he¡¯d have it in the bag.

    Knock, knock.

    ¡°Belly,¡± I said. ¡°Mind getting that?¡±

    He didn¡¯t mind. At least not until he opened the door and slammed it shut again in the same breath. ¡°It¡¯s her,¡± he whispered. ¡°It¡¯s Lidia!¡±

    ¡°Go on,¡± I said. ¡°Invite her in.¡±

    Bells threw the door open and at the same time, leaped backward.

    On the other side, Vincent Delestade frowned. ¡°Is there a problem, mister Bellamy?¡±

    Shaking his head, Bells shrunk into the corner. ¡°She was just here, I swear¡ªI¡¯m not seeing things. I¡ªI think we need a new plan. I don¡¯t think I signed up for this.¡±

    ¡°None of us signed up for squat as far as I recall,¡± I said. ¡°Trouble is, I haven¡¯t got time to convince anyone of anything at the minute. I don¡¯t wanna pull rank on account of we¡¯re old pals, but I¡¯m not above it.¡±

    Delestade stepped inside and closed the door. The Squeaky Lass sighed. Alexander smiled. Nobody argued, and everybody settled.

    Vinny¡¯s illusion worked perfectly, and the man was an excellent actor. But if we were going to keep Strauss, Michael, and That Varis distracted while we did what we had to do, our Crazy Bitch had to be on point, right down to all the nitty-gritty details. Bells and Adeline also needed to know exactly who they might encounter while enacting The Plan, and that¡¯s where Alexander came in.

    ¡°Everybody, meet Alexander. He¡¯s one of Those Things, Lidia Ruza¡¯s brother, and generally a sharper dresser. You have questions, he¡¯s got answers. Make the best of it.¡±

    There were smiles, and waves, and names, and on, and on it went for goddess-be-damned weeks while I sat. Adeline wanted to know all about their abilities. Delestade wanted to know more about their lives. Look, there wasn¡¯t a whole lot going on that we haven¡¯t already covered in our interludes. All except one thing.

    ¡°I must know,¡± Delestade said. ¡°After surviving your sister¡¯s torment for so many years, how did it end?¡±

    ¡°It has not,¡± Alexander replied.

    ¡°Mister Ruza,¡± the Squeaky Lass squeaked. ¡°I believe he wishes to know how you died.¡±

    Aye, good on her. No time for tact.

 [The First One] Interlude - Their Story

    Andrei and Rhian

    It was a night like any other night in the Ruza household. Isabella and baby Lidia slept soundly while our brown-eyed boy worked. Painstakingly, he carved delicate flowers from wood. He¡¯d wanted to have the crib completed before the birth, but¡ªand much like her namesake¡ªbaby Lidia was impatient and arrived when he least expected it. Weeks, months, and then one year and it still wasn''t done. He thought of his sister while he worked, and he wished he could see her again¡ªthe way he saw her in his dreams.

    Knock, knock. Watch what you wish for and whatnot. Alexander wished he could see his sister again. Until he did, and then it went a lot like, ¡°Hello, brother,¡± and, ¡°L-L-Lidia? Impossible! I¡ªhow?¡± and there were smiles and slack jaws. Bottom line: they had a lot of catching up to do, and then she said, ¡°You¡¯ve done well for yourself,¡± and he said, ¡°You haven¡¯t aged a bit.¡±

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    It was a miracle. Alexander Ruza had been blessed threefold for reasons he couldn¡¯t comprehend. He could hardly wait to introduce his sister to the rest of his family. And when he opened his eyes, the blood stained his hands, soaked his clothes, and shrouded his vision¡ªthe knife still slick. Why couldn¡¯t he remember?! That night, Alexander walked and walked, leaving Istok and the blaze behind him. He took to the cliffs of the northern coast where he planned to take his own life. But time is a strange, circular thing. A cursed canticle, doomed to repeat. The air around him smelled of wildflowers and burnt wood. She promised it wouldn¡¯t hurt. She said it would be over, but then it would be new again. She should know, she¡¯d done it once already.

 [The First One] 42 - The Inevitable Loss

    Andrei

    My room was almost exactly as I¡¯d left it. Almost, only because it was dustier than I''d ever let it get. Meager possessions still organized. An uncomfortable bed, meticulously made. Returning to the church was dangerous, but I needed to complete the preparations for Emerich Bach¡¯s burial, and I needed to be alone. I wasn¡¯t prepared to fight the Commander¡¯s battle against Lidia at the Vonsinfonie ruins later that night. There was no telling the numbers we¡¯d face, how many allies she may have accumulated over centuries. Speculation varied from dozens to hundreds, but the thought of there being hundreds of Anima consorting beneath the village seemed absurd. Oskari would have ceased to exist. Its people¡ªtheir victims¡ªdriven mad if not altogether extinguished. Then again, perhaps it was only a matter of time.

    Moreover, I was convinced Sinclair was keeping something from me. I wasn¡¯t concerned about the stability of our affection. I knew with every bone in my body that I would love her forever, and I never once doubted she felt the same. The reality is, we sometimes hide things from those we love because we love them, and sometimes, it¡¯s best to let our loved ones have their secrets. I sat on the edge of the bed, considering whether or not to approach her.

    I couldn¡¯t tell you how much time had passed before I heard her voice.

    ¡°She¡¯s going to kill you,¡± she said.

    I wondered how long Lidia Ruza had been watching me from the doorway.

    ¡°Did you hear me?¡± she asked. ¡°She¡¯s going to kill you. First that rogue priest, and now she¡¯s after the bard, did you know? She killed her own father, and you¡¯re up next. She knows you plan to leave it all behind, and despite what she wants people to think, she¡¯s loyal to one thing and one thing only¡ªher job. They were all defects and aberrations, just like you. All numbers, and dates, and pretty pictures for her sick little book. I''m really sorry.¡±

    It was an inspired approach, but it was futile. ¡°Are you not exhausted?¡± I asked. ¡°Playing the same game for centuries?¡±

    ¡°It can be different this time. I want to help you.¡±

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    ¡°No, I don¡¯t think you do.¡±

    ¡°What is it about her, anyway?¡± Lidia darted forward with enough force to land me flat on my back. She lifted her skirts and straddled me.

    Several urges followed. First, the urge to run, and then the urge to separate her conniving head from her body. I doubted if either of those urges were the ones she was hoping for.

    ¡°Is it the eyes?¡± She brought her face closer to mine. ¡°They¡¯re captivating, aren¡¯t they?¡±

    Even as I looked away, I saw Sinclair¡¯s eyes as clearly as I¡¯d last seen them. Confident and unashamed. So much resolve hidden behind a wall of indifference.

    ¡°Is it the body? So tiny. Does she make you feel big and strong, Andrei Strauss?¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re disturbed,¡± I wanted to say. But there was only Sinclair. Lean, muscled, thin white scars forming a walking tapestry for the life she¡¯d lived. Her lips against mine. Traveling fingers, more forceful than I remembered, grasping at my robes, pulling me further and further into the illusion. For a moment, I wavered between reality and dream¡ªall things designed to be perfect, but not quite. The kiss was too desperate, the touch too experienced.

    I sucked in a deep breath, pulling the air from my assailant¡¯s lungs into my own. The devastating exhale I unleashed next sent her sprawling across the room.

    Seizing the opportunity, I retreated from my chambers.

    But all I¡¯d managed to do was poke the hive. Lidia was fast, and strong, and absolutely raging. What were gusts of wind against her?

    I¡¯d barely made it down the corridor when she came at me in a blaze of fury. I turned around just in time, catching her right across the midsection, and after flinging her back down the hallway, I bolted for the auditorium. I didn¡¯t wait around to see her crash into the wall, but the sound was sickening. It wouldn¡¯t stop her for long.

    The bile that was building in my gut erupted into into my throat, and I swallowed it down as I raced for the front doors. But it was too late.

    Lidia Ruza¡¯s smile was the last thing I remember before the pain, and it was the variety of pain that ceases your stomach and plays with your balance. Her face and the distinct scent of wildflowers and burnt wood were replaced by darkness and the smell of blood. Thick and metallic upon my lips, still warm when I pawed my face in horror. There was laughter¡ªgleeful and childlike¡ªmuted only by the pounding in my ears. It felt as though the room spun circles under my feet, while my knees gave out and my stomach gave in. Faster, and faster, and faster, and then¡­

    Nothing.

 [The First One] 43 - The Worst Possible Time for a Reunion

    Rhian

    I¡¯d avoided Strauss and Michael as much as I could leading up to The Plan That Was Better Than the Other Plan.

    They¡¯d both know I was up to something, and if they figured it out, they¡¯d have tried to stop me. They¡¯d have come up with good reasons, and I¡¯d have argued their good reasons with my good reasons. It would have gone nowhere slow and I was in a hurry.

    When I got to the church that night, the barricades and boards on the door had already been taken down. No big surprise. I knew Strauss planned on stopping by earlier, but I was surprised he left the door unlocked, and when I stepped inside, it seemed someone had misplaced their blood all over the floor.

    I reckoned I¡¯d do a quick sweep of the place.

    The corridor was clear, the mortuary was clear, the office was clear, everywhere was clear, and Strauss¡¯s room hadn¡¯t changed apart from a toppled chair and an arse print on the bed. Struck me funny. Strauss would never leave a toppled chair and an arse print on the bed.

    If something happened to him, he was probably bait and I was already baited.

    The stakes were risen, no time to panic.

    I left the room and headed for the hole in the wall leading to the crypts.

    ¡°Not as bright as I thought,¡± said a voice. ¡°Going down there alone.¡±

    I might have been planning a trip into the crypts by myself, but alone? Bugger that. I spun around to face a mess of a man with matted blonde hair held back with a strip of leather. He must have been hiding out someplace. Or he¡¯d just walked in. Or he was one of Those Things coming out of nowhere again. (He wasn¡¯t.)

    The man was a Partisan, and a Strachan. This explained the excellent sneaking.

    He smelled of Hocks and something else I couldn¡¯t place.

    ¡°Who the hell are you to say how bright I¡¯m not?¡±

    ¡°Someone who knows a lot better than you do, lass.¡±

    ¡°Right-e-o,¡± I said. ¡°Nice meeting you and so on. Now if you don¡¯t mind, I¡¯m gonna carry on doing what I was doing without making anymore goddess-be-damned noise.¡±

    The old man didn¡¯t stop me. The pain in the arse followed me to the hole in the wall instead.

    ¡°You sure about your equipment?¡± he asked.

    I looked down, checking to make sure I hadn¡¯t forgotten my trousers or whatnot, but the man was questioning my choice in arms. He carried a crossbow a lot like Gus¡¯s¡ªone-handed and decent in short range. I had daggers, a lantern, a satchel, and a couple of pouches. I was four-fifths the way sure, so I said as much.

    ¡°Your funeral.¡± Random Man #2 shrugged. ¡°The fuck did Rick teach you lot?¡±

    ¡°Who the hell¡¯s Rick?¡± I asked, and why was that name ringing bells?

    ¡°Emerich.¡±

    ¡°Oh,¡± I said. ¡°Well, the man didn¡¯t teach me anything, but to be fair, I was away. How is good old Rick these days, anyhow?¡±

    Random Man #2 stared a while. ¡°Dead.¡±

    ¡°All right.¡± I nodded. ¡°Wasn¡¯t sure if you knew.¡±

    Clearly the man had a staring problem.

    He spit a wad of brown filth to the side. Tobacco I reckoned. ¡°Clock¡¯s ticking, lass.¡±

    The first chamber through the hole in the wall was the same as we¡¯d left it. The four caskets were still there, and the one I¡¯d opened was still empty. The rest of the place was a goddess-be-damned maze apparently. All the rooms looked about the same, except the names on the plaques on the walls I couldn¡¯t read. Lucky for us, we didn¡¯t run into any of Those Things along the way. We didn¡¯t talk, neither. Even if I¡¯d known straightaway who Random Man #2 was, it wouldn¡¯t have made a lick of difference. We were both stubborn like that.

    So, the crypts were dull. I knew what I was looking for, but after about ten minutes searching, I started thinking about dying. Of boredom. Or dehydration. Whatever. It wasn¡¯t pretty in my imagination. While we walked through the catacombs, I compared the names on the plaques with the names written on a scrap of parchment.

    ¡°What, can¡¯t read?¡± Random Man #2 asked.

    I shook my head. He turned and spit.

    And that¡¯s when I saw it. STSIN6 on the back of his neck in blood-red ink.

    ST for Stracha. SE for Seneca. A for Amalia. Reckon you¡¯ve got the rest covered. The next part¡¯s a bit trickier, mind you. SIN might have stood for Singer all the same as it might have stood for Sinclair. When Palisade was brand new, this wasn¡¯t so much a problem. There weren¡¯t all that many bloodlines anyhow. By the time it became a bit of a problem, it wasn¡¯t enough of a problem to change a system already working fine.

    The generation number at the end usually helped in avoiding mix-ups.

    As it turned out, Random Man #2 was my Random Father. Any other person in my position might have been curious, happy, or confused or some such sensible thing. But I was annoyed. Who in the hells did Rhydian Sinclair think he was, coming around now, arrogant and free as a bare-naked willy? Of all the ways I¡¯d imagined I¡¯d find my father, lost in a crypt armed and ready to take down a four-hundred-year-old sixteen-year-old lass wasn¡¯t one of them. It was horseshite, and I wasn¡¯t in the mood for thinking about feelings.

    Besides, we¡¯d finally found it. Four drawers lined up like dead ducks in a row.

    The Ruzas¡ªLidia, her parents, and baby Victoria. I felt sorry for Alexander being left out of the family plot, but I felt a lot sorrier for his parents being buried with their killer.

    Lidia¡¯s drawer wasn¡¯t caked with dust around the edges like the rest, so I knew I was on the right track. I reached for the handle.

    Then, like a crazed maniac out of nowhere, Random Father lunged at me.

    I ducked, spun, and kicked him in the gut.

    ¡°The hell is your damage?¡± I asked.

    The man smiled a smile a lot like mine. ¡°Just checking your reflexes, lass.¡±

    ¡°Arsehole,¡± I said.

    And then I wondered what my mother was like.

    <hr>

    After opening Lidia¡¯s drawer, we slithered through the passage only to come out the other side through a portrait of Alexander hung on the wall like a door. Inside, the Crazy Bitch¡¯s bedroom looked the same as it had when she was alive. There was a bed, four-post and pretty. Looked comfortable. (It was.) And then there was the cabinet full of dresses, and the butter-yellow drapes on the wall where there wasn¡¯t even a window.

    The room had an opening at the opposite end, leading to a corridor.

    So, when I said I had a plan, I might have been exaggerating a lot. The crew had their roles. I had a goal. I had variables. I had odds. Adjust as necessary. Oskari needed Michael and Strauss, and any number of my dodgiest scenarios were better than putting those two out to slaughter.

    ¡®Course, any number of my dodgiest scenarios hadn¡¯t counted on Random Father showing up out of nowhere.

    ¡°Get in the cupboard,¡± I said. ¡°No¡ªwait, give me some of that shite you¡¯re chewing on.¡±

    Random Father didn¡¯t get in the cupboard. He didn¡¯t give me any of the shite he¡¯d been chewing on, neither.

    ¡°Look,¡± I said. ¡°We''re better off with her thinking I¡¯m alone.¡±

    ¡°Reckon a bit of tobacco¡¯s enough to stop the bitch sniffing out the man in the closet? You¡¯re dreaming, lass.¡±

    ¡°Whatever.¡± I shrugged. ¡°If she calls us out, we¡¯ll dance a merry jig and move on. At least we¡¯d be one man up. Get in the cupboard.¡±

    You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

    The tobacco tasted terrible, but it gave me a bit of a rush.

    The truth is, I had my own reasons for stuffing the old man away. I didn¡¯t figure Random Father was the sort to come clean while squatting in a cupboard. There¡¯d be no talking about feelings, or fathers, or anything else reminding me there were still things I hadn¡¯t done. Things I¡¯d never know and whatnot. All my life, it¡¯d always been about the minute. To the six hells with a future that didn¡¯t exist. I couldn¡¯t stop to think about the baby who I still wasn¡¯t convinced was a good idea. Or about Feargus who I still wasn¡¯t convinced was dead. Or about The Place. Or about Strauss being hurt, or the fact he¡¯d probably met my father afore I did.

    I had a mission to accomplish, and Lidia Ruza was my top priority.

    At the minute.

    Time passed, and once I got bored of standing around, I jumped on the bed for a while. Boing, boing, boing to my wee heart¡¯s content. I stopped when the portrait of Alexander swung wide open. The Crazy Bitch had on a blue dress. It would have been pretty if it weren¡¯t singed. Or missing buttons. Or all torn up at the hem.

    ¡°Amalia¡¯s ass, Rhian,¡± she said. ¡°That girl is really annoying.¡±

    Adeline. Even though we expected it might happen, I wondered where and when they¡¯d run into each other. At least she hadn¡¯t said, ¡°Was.¡±

    I hopped to the ground. ¡°By the by, have you seen Strauss?¡±

    The Crazy Bitch shrugged. ¡°Last I saw, he was curled up in a heap bleeding to death.¡±

    If that were true, I wondered where he¡¯d gone half-dead and bleeding from wherever. He might have gone back to The House. He might have been with Michael, and That Varis, and my Crazy Bitch decoy. Then I realized there would have been tracks leading out of the church. Why weren¡¯t there any tracks? Then again, I reckoned I¡¯d have heard about it if he¡¯d been found dead in the middle of the village or what have you.

    That was mostly comforting.

    Lidia sat on the edge of the bed and patted the spot beside her.

    ¡°Eh, what the hell,¡± I said. And then I sat.

    ¡°Thanks.¡± The Crazy Bitch smiled, and it was more sad than it was crazy. ¡°It¡¯s been a long time since I¡¯ve had visitors.¡±

    Even after everything she¡¯d done, I couldn¡¯t help feeling sorry for a second. ¡°I¡¯ve been thinking about what you said¡ªabout the violence.¡±

    ¡°And?¡±

    ¡°And I think you might be right," I said. "Ivan¡¯s death was on me, and you didn¡¯t actually kill most of the villagers, and¡ª¡±

    ¡°Well, technically I did, but only temporarily. Not the way you do it, right? Besides, they were already dying. I like to think I saved them.¡±

    ¡°From what?¡± I asked. ¡°Were they sick?¡±

    ¡°No, I never said they were sick. I said they were dying. You¡¯re all dying, Rhian.¡±

    I couldn¡¯t argue with that without opening a bag of worms.

    Besides, arguing wasn¡¯t my angle.

    ¡°Fair enough,¡± I said.

    The Crazy Bitch looked to the ceiling and smiled. ¡°I knew you¡¯d come around. We really do have so much in common.¡±

    I shouldn¡¯t have been stalling for so long. But there I was, still stalling.

    ¡°So, erm¡ªyour cavern. It¡¯s cozy. Ever thought about plants? Liven the place up some?¡±

    ¡°Is that a joke? If so, I don¡¯t like it.¡±

    ¡°What? No,¡± I said. ¡°I reckon a splash of green in the corner could do wonders.¡±

    The Crazy Bitch frowned. ¡°I tried keeping plants once but like everything else, they wither and die. I couldn¡¯t do anything to save them.¡±

    That was interesting. I couldn¡¯t remember seeing any plants in Alexander¡¯s house, either.

    Alexander¡ªwhere the hell was he? He was supposed to be following.

    Lidia sighed. ¡°I¡¯m so bored.¡±

    ¡°I mean, I know I haven¡¯t won any trophies in conversating, but¡ª¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve changed my mind, Rhian. You need to leave.¡±

    ¡°But I thought we were having a girls night?¡±

    ¡°No. You need to leave. Leave me alone, and I¡¯ll leave you and your friends alone.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯ve already gone after my friends,¡± I said.

    ¡°And whose fault is that? I¡¯ve been nothing but honest with you this whole time, or do I need to draw you another map? You think you have it all figured out, but my brother is using you. He¡¯s going to take you, and hold you hostage in that big house of his. He¡¯ll make sure nothing happens to you or that baby in your belly. And then your friends will look for you, because they love you, and then I¡¯ll be forced to kill them because I love him. But for some reason, you¡¯re still here! Why can¡¯t you leave well enough alone?¡±

    Cursed to repeat. Alexander had it all, and then he¡¯d lost it all. Somehow along the way, I might have become the lass that needed rescuing from the big, bad world. Knowing that, I still believed Alexander was on my side until his Crazy Bitch sister was out of the picture. He couldn''t lose anything if she wasn¡¯t there to take it.

    At least, I sincerely bloody hoped.

    ¡°I thought it would be different this time,¡± Lidia said. ¡°If I stopped him from getting what he needs, then I couldn¡¯t take it from him. As I said, I don¡¯t want to hurt you, Rhian. I like you.¡±

    The portrait-door squeaked open, and straight out of Alexander came Alexander. He¡¯d taken his sweet time showing up, but I reckoned he was just in time. And in other news, Random Father was doing a fine job hiding in the cupboard. The age old Strachan art of.

    ¡°Bragging about me again, Lidia?¡± he asked. His voice didn¡¯t give away much, but the look on his face sure as shite did. Stepping into his Crazy Bitch sister¡¯s room must have felt a lot like stumbling back in time.

    For about three seconds, it seemed Lidia couldn¡¯t work out how best to respond. First she seemed confused, and then she seemed uncertain. After that she frowned, and then she sniffed, and then I reckon she decided she didn¡¯t care how her brother knew where to find her.

    ¡°I¡¯m annoyed. I¡¯d like you to fix it, Alex.¡±

    ¡°What has you so bothered, my dear?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s her.¡± Lidia pointed at her. Me. Whatever.

    Alexander smiled. ¡°Hello, Rhian.¡±

    ¡°Hello.¡±

    ¡°I couldn¡¯t help overhearing your conversation,¡± he said. ¡°I believe I have a solution to suit us all. Are we interested?¡±

    ¡°Maybe.¡± I shrugged.

    ¡°Maybe.¡± Lidia shrugged.

    ¡°We could be a family again,¡± Alexander said. ¡°Me, you, and the baby. We¡¯ll leave Oskari and start new someplace else.¡±

    The Crazy Bitch squinted. ¡°What about her?¡±

    ¡°Once the baby is born, Rhian will be free to go wherever she pleases. She has no interest in being a mother, isn¡¯t that right?¡±

    ¡°On the nose,¡± I said. The truth is, I wasn''t sure how I felt about it. Once this was all over, I''d give it a think.

    Also, I wondered how Random Father felt about randomly finding out he was going to be a Random Grandfather.

    ¡°The child will be born blessed, Lidia. Just like your Victoria. Only, he or she will be more powerful than she ever would have been. He or she will be strong, fast, devastating, and so very beautiful. He or she will be¡ª¡±

    ¡°Like us?¡± Lidia asked hopefully.

    Alexander nodded. ¡°The child will be the one to end our curse.¡±

    Things got uncomfortable fast when Lidia stood from the bed and took Alexander¡¯s hands as if he were the lover she¡¯d loved her whole stupid long life. The pair ogled one another, all smiles and whatnot. It was odd, but it was perfect.

    I felt it bubbling in my gut, building in my tricky feet. Anxiety. Anticipation. The shite I lived for. Lidia turned from Alexander and looked to me.

    ¡°And you¡¯re okay with this?¡±

    ¡°Aye,¡± I said. ¡°I just want my life back.¡±

    ¡°You see?¡± Alexander said. ¡°A solution to suit us all.¡±

    Lidia turned from me and faced her brother again, wrapping her arms tight around his waist while I waited. One. Two. I whipped out my pistol¡ªpreloaded. Three, four, five. I took aim. Six, seven. Target acquired. Eight. Nine. Ten¡ª

    Bang!

    <hr>

    It was hell.

    The one where everything¡¯s quiet except a high-pitched ringing.

    Adeline warned me. She told me I should have used wax, but stuffing my ears with wax seemed counterproductive. I hadn¡¯t properly conceived how loud the goddess-be-damned fire-weapon would be in a tiny, underground cavern. The truth is, I¡¯ve never fully recovered from that. But as bad as it was for me, it was worse for Lidia. I was glad I couldn¡¯t hear the screams. It was enough I had to see it. The silver bullet lodged somewhere in her ribcage, eating away at her insides.

    Life was peachy, and it was drawn out and dramatic until the portrait of Alexander swung open again.

    It was Michael. Winded and half-naked, but it was Michael.

    Also, it was the worst possible thing that could have happened.

    ¡°Garble, garble, something quite bloody angry!¡± he said.

    ¡°Get the hell out of here,¡± I shouted. ¡°Please.¡±

    He¡¯d have to know I meant business if I was being polite.

    But he didn¡¯t leave, and Alexander was still clutching his wailing sister when Michael swooped in with Intrepi-what-the-bloody-ever.

    I kid you not, Commander, Sir, Michael, Sir was raging. He grabbed Lidia by the hair and tossed her to the ground.

    That was about the same time the first explosion went off.

    BOOM #1!

    ¡°Something¡ªHelena¡ªsomething, something¡ªcrazy bitch,¡± he said.

    One downward swing and it was off with her head.

    And that was about the same time everything went to shite.

    BOOM #2!

    The cupboard was swinging on its hinges. Random Father was gone, and Alexander had been speared through the back with a bolt. Bloody, bloody hells.

    BOOM #3!

    That Varis slid through the portrait-door, snatched Michael, and off she went down the corridor like a Strachan out of hell. Everything was happening too damned early and too damned late at the same time. I had about thirty seconds.

    Alexander. I reckoned I could save him. I reached for the bolt in his back, but he grabbed my wrist. His grip was weak. ¡°The estate¡ªsomething, something¡ª¡±

    BOOM #4!

    ¡°¡ªneeds you.¡±

    BOOM #5!

    ¡°¡ªfor Peter and Teeth, instructed¡ªsomething to¡ª¡±

    BOOM #6!

    ¡°¡ªand Rhian?¡±

    I felt it coming afore he said it.

    I bloody hated thank-yous.

    Almost as much as I hated the idea of being buried alive.

 [The First One] 44 - The Inevitable End

    Andrei

    I awoke to silence. A dead, distant silence.

    And then the footsteps. Soft, steady.

    This narrative has been purloined without the author''s approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

    They echoed, followed by a rhythmic thud.

    The space around me seemed empty.

    I felt the floor. Stone.

    ¡°Who are you? Why can¡¯t I¡ª¡±

    I felt a finger against my lips.

    And then the voice. Weaving through my thoughts.

    Familiar as if it had always been there.

 [The First One] The Epilogue

    Adeline

    From that distant, snowy hill, Oskari looked so small beneath the dust. The villagers¡ªlike ants¡ªclung to one another out of fear, but also out of love. They wept out of sadness, but also out of compassion. Terrible. Beautiful. Something in between.

    Click. Approximately one and one quarter hour. Click.

    Not even Palisade¡¯s simulations had prepared me for a true Amali winter. My feet ached and my boots were soaked through. Covered head to toe in ash, I looked a sorry sight, too. I brought two cases with me to the hill. Our most important possessions. And while searching for spare gloves, I found only a pair without fingers. They belonged to Enforcer Rhian. I thought of her as I slid them over my own.

    Click. Approximately one and one half hour. Click.

    Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

    The Anima made a single, grave mistake. Forgive the pun, but they bunched together in their crypts, living where they should have been dead. Mister Bells set and lit the explosives in their compound, but the flaws in the foundation of the church led to its downfall. It was a calculated risk. I felt a deep, dreadful remorse for the people¡¯s loss, but there was a certain thrill in seeing it collapse.

    Click. Approximately one and three quarter hours. Click.

    Commander Michael should have received my letter. He should have been standing beside me atop that distant, snowy hill. And Father Strauss. He should have been there, hurting my head with his panicked thoughts. We should have all been freezing and looking sorry together.

    Click. Approximately one minute past the hour. Click.

    And there, as if out of nowhere, a honey-blonde man in a crisp, white shirt and a suit the colour of red wine. I wanted so desperately to touch it. The suede would be ruined by the snow, but this was a man of beauty over compromise. And he was so beautiful.

    ¡°Tick, tock¡ªwhat a fine watch you¡¯ve got. My dear, I do believe your time has come. And what, I wonder, will your pretty story be? Romance? Yes, yes. Tragedy? Oh, yes. Close your eyes my darling, Adeline. It all begins with me.¡±

 [The First One] The Postface

    Andrei and Rhian

    For as long as there have been Partisans, our stories have been shared across the six territories of Auditoria. Recall Lucas Bellamy¡ªthe Strachan responsible for laying the explosives in the tunnels beneath the church of Oskari, slaying five to five hundred Anima in the process. We cannot be certain the numbers, but we can be certain Lucas Bellamy is remembered for his bravery¡ªwavering, but undeniable in the face of crisis.

    What Bells¡¯s official Palisade record says, is he was an excellent arbalist, a bit of a coward, and the speediest Strachan in the spire. It¡¯ll tell you he served his goddess-given institution from breath to death. But what the records won¡¯t tell you, is he followed his final orders perfectly¡ªup to the point about telling Councilwoman Kelly everything.

    This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

    Upon returning to Palisade, Lucas Bellamy spoke of the all-powerful Those Things to anyone who would listen. He¡¯d seen them, and he¡¯d been responsible for at least a dozen of their deaths. He¡¯d, too, seen the church collapse, and he was certain none could have survived¡ªnot even his comrades. His obedience changed him, and his pride was eclipsed by guilt.

    Bound, gagged, and carted off by who-the-bloody-hell-knows, Lucas Bellamy was brought to the asylum where he¡¯d sit and think about what he¡¯d done until we''d see him again sometime in the future.

    Our stories have been shared across the six territories of Auditoria, and we''re far from finished sharing.

 [That One Time in Delphia] 1 - The Thing About Beginning at the Beginning

    Rhian, Palisade

    There are some who believe all things are inevitable¡­

    Just fucking with you. This isn¡¯t The First One, and if you haven¡¯t read it, what the hell are you waiting for? And if you have read it, you¡¯ll soon realize this story is nothing like that one, except for most of the people in it, the fact I¡¯ll be telling some of it, the fact Andrei Strauss will be telling the rest of it, and the fact it starts exactly the same.

    Anyhow. It was about seven months before the events of The First One, and the six women surrounding me held my destiny in their hands and whatnot.

    As you might remember, I¡¯d landed myself in a pot of boiling water on account of something terrible that happened in Delphia. You might already know the result, but at the time, I reckoned there¡¯d only be three possible outcomes of the trial.

    The first, I¡¯d be absolved of all my sins and life would carry on as normal. Good stuff. The second, I¡¯d be tossed into the asylum until the end of time. Not so good stuff. And the third, I¡¯d be relieved from duty altogether and be sent on the Chase. You know, where I¡¯d be set free, hunted down, and killed by my own people. Frankly, that was the best case scenario and I was surprised it hadn¡¯t already happened. At the time, I hadn¡¯t even considered the fourth possibility¡ªthat is, being landlocked at Palisade indefinitely while being forced to teach tiny Partisans how not to die. Whatever.

    The first hour of my trial consisted of the six Councilwomen introducing themselves as we all didn¡¯t already know who they were, me introducing myself as if they all didn¡¯t already know who I was, and Michael introducing himself as if we all didn¡¯t already know who he was. All for the record and whatnot.

    Behind a small desk over by the door, a pasty Celestian scribbled away in a book.

    The Isle of Palisade was generally overcast, so there wasn¡¯t much light coming through the glass roof that day. Lucky for the scribe, Partisans can see in the dark, and the blazing torches in each of the corners were only there for vanity, I reckoned. Everybody looks better in firelight. The room was shaped like a hexagon, and in each corner there was a podium¡ªone for each Councilwoman.

    Of all the members of the Assembly, The Councilwoman of Delphia cared the most about her appearance. As long as I¡¯d known her, Adelaide Blanchett never went anywhere without her fancy clothes and a face full of makeup. I¡¯d always suspected it was on account of she had the most to hide. That day, her big, curly red hair was piled on top of her equally big head. It all clashed terrifically with her purple ceremonial robes.

    Somehow she made it work.

    ¡°Enforcer Rhian Sinclair, you stand before us today under accusation of theft, heresy, fraud, conspiracy, murder, malicious destruction of property, arson, negligence, and aiding and abetting the escape of several recorded defects. What do you have to say for yourself?¡±

    ¡°That sounds about right,¡± I replied.

    ¡°You¡¯re admitting guilt on all counts?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m agreeing those are things that happened, but no, I don¡¯t feel guilty.¡±

    To my left, one of my oldest and dearest mates, Michael Reider, stood ready to defend me if it seemed I was about to step in some shite. It wasn¡¯t the first time I¡¯d been in that position, and it wasn¡¯t the first time Michael was there to back me up. The side-eye told me he didn¡¯t like my answer, but there was nothing I could do to change it now. Besides, it was true.

    ¡°Let me speak plainly for you,¡± Councilwoman Blanchett continued. ¡°Are you responsible for the deaths of five Barren noblemen, including the Liaison himself?¡±

    This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

    ¡°Aye, I¡¯m taking full responsibility for what happened to those men. But look, I had to escape that mess just like everybody else. I¡¯m a lot of disgraceful things, but suicidal isn¡¯t one of them. Also, I can tell you¡¯re trying to fish around in my head, Councilwoman. I may not be able to read them myself, but I know my rights.¡±

    Goddess-be-damned telepaths. The Delphi Partisans tended to forget the extent of the training most Strachan Chasers and Enforcers had against their mind tricks.

    Out of the corner of my eye, I caught a smirk on Councilwoman Kelly¡¯s face. Seeing as she was my Councilwoman, she wasn¡¯t allowed to vote in the end, but she was still allowed to be there. It seemed she was having a blast already. Glad to be of service and whatnot.

    There were only two other members of the Assembly I could see from my place in the middle of the room. The first was the one-hundred-fifty year old Senec. She was a mute, and a stoic, and I wasn¡¯t getting much from her, so I didn¡¯t even try. The other was the Councilwoman of Amalia¡ªCouncilwoman Faust. She was old, and wrinkled, and her bird-like expression wasn¡¯t giving much away, either. She usually had my back in these situations, but I¡¯d always figured there¡¯d be a limit to her generosity. I wondered if this would be it.

    Back to the Councilwoman of Delphia¡ªthe one with the fiery red hair, and the one who had the most at stake in this trial. She didn¡¯t look impressed. ¡°Your rights? We like to think of these more like guidelines, as in, they are discretionary.¡±

    I rolled my eyes as far back into my head as they¡¯d go.

    ¡°Do you think I like having to accuse one of our own of such atrocities?¡± she asked.

    As a matter of fact, I did.

    ¡°As a matter of fact,¡± I said. ¡°I do.¡±

    ¡°Well, I do not¡ªnone of us do. And besides, Enforcer Sinclair, I¡¯ve seen enough to know you are being sincere. I¡¯m prepared to hear your story without further intrusion.¡±

    She didn''t need to know that she saw only what I wanted her to see.

    ¡°Praise Stracha.¡± I flashed her a big smile. I¡¯m told I have a charming one. Even with the chipped tooth and whatnot. ¡°It¡¯s my lucky day.¡±

    Councilwoman Blanchett¡¯s cheeks turned redder by the second.

    ¡°Does your Councilwoman Kelly accept such lip from you?¡±

    ¡°Naw,¡± I said. ¡°Kelly doesn¡¯t just accept it¡ªshe¡¯s grateful for it. See, the minute I stop yapping is the minute I¡¯m dead and no longer useful to her.¡±

    Glancing over my shoulder to the southeast, I winked.

    Councilwoman Kelly waggled her fingers.

    It was then the Celestian scribe piped up from the background. ¡°I should call attention to the time, Councilwomen. Lunch will be served in the lounge shortly.¡±

    Well, I could have used some lunch. Pity I didn''t get any.

    After agreeing to a recess, the Assembly all stepped away from their podiums and filed out the door with the scribe at their tail. That¡¯s when I took a moment to examine the two I couldn¡¯t see from where I stood¡ªthe Councilwoman of Celestia and the Councilwoman of Endica. The latter had always been fair, and I reasoned she might see my side of things when it was all said and done. The former, though¡ªyikes.

    Left alone in the chamber with Michael, he looked at me with his serious face.

    ¡°Okay, Rhian¡ªif I¡¯m going to be of any actual help to you today, I need you to tell me everything. Start at the beginning.¡±

    I plopped down on the floor and waited for Michael to do the same.

    The thing about Michael, he was a plain looking fellow but it worked for him. He had a nice build, being highly active and Amali and all, but as far as his features went, they were rather ordinary. Everything exactly where it ought to be, and everything exactly the right size. He kept his brown hair short, and his grey eyes were a shade darker than mine.

    ¡°All right, here goes,¡± I said. ¡°I was born on an embark on the twenty-fourth day of the eleventh month in the year 803.¡±

    Michael sighed, but I reckoned he was having fun anyhow. Beats whatever the hell else he¡¯d be doing at the minute.

    ¡°Rhian,¡± he said.

    ¡°Michael,¡± I said.

    ¡°I need you to start at the beginning of everything that happened in Delphia. The reason I¡¯m half-assed defending you in trial. Again.¡±

    ¡°All right, fair enough,¡± I said. ¡°I¡¯ll save the cheek for the Assembly.¡±

    Michael nodded.

    Knowing what was coming next, I crossed my legs and settled in. ¡°So, me and Gus had just arrived on the Isle of Inspiration, and you should know, we were a day ahead of schedule¡­¡±

 [That One Time in Delphia] 2 - The Thing About Having Excellent Hearing

    Rhian, Delphia

    We arrived in Delphia the day after Feargus¡¯s twentieth birthday, and I remember on account of it was the day I swore off drinking too much. Along the way, we¡¯d cracked open a bottle of Hocks. It was the one we¡¯d been saving for a special occasion, and that special occasion was coming back to haunt me. Never mind the rumbling in my tummy, but the isles were so goddess-be-damned bright, and our eyes were so goddess-be-damned sensitive, it felt like someone cracked open my head, scooped out my brain, and replaced it with the sun. Apart from that, there was nothing particularly interesting about that day.

    A day is a day, a job is a job, and as you know, Feargus Finlay and I were partners in almost everything. We were dropped off at the orphanage as babies around the same time. We learned to walk around the same time, and we learned to talk by talking to each other. We shared our snacks, our deep, dark childhood secrets, and when there weren¡¯t enough cribs or beds to go around, we shared those, too. We were inseparable, so when the Palisade Consulates scooped us up from our home in Stracha at the age of eight, the Assembly decided not to fight it.

    A solid partnership can make all the difference in getting a job done properly, and that¡¯s one of the few things the Assembly and I would ever agree on.

    Gus stepped off the embark that day with a goofy, lopsided smile. Hells, I¡¯ll save myself some future trouble. That¡¯s how he looked almost all the time.

    Also, I should get another thing out of the way in case you''ve forgotten since The First One: an embark is a small boat used to transport Partisans from here to there. They held no more than six to a cabin, and seeing as they had no manual steering, they could only be operated by a Celestian Navigator.

    That¡¯s all I¡¯m saying on the subject, so it¡¯ll have to do.

    While Gus took about twelve minutes to stretch his legs, I grew more irritated by the second. He was taking his sweet time getting moving that morning. It¡¯s not that I was impatient with other people. Other people weren¡¯t the problem. I was the problem. I didn¡¯t like stopping for too long. Stopping meant thinking, and thinking meant realizing, and there was no room for any of that in our lives. Well, not in my life, anyhow. Gus was a special case, and not in the least bit on account of he spent the better part of an hour stuffing his over-sized cloak into an under-sized bag.

    ¡°Nothing like the Isles, am I right?¡± he asked.

    He was right. The territory of Delphia was our favourite place to work. Not only were each of its six islands interesting in their own right, but the weather was fantastic.

    ¡°Since we¡¯re early, I reckon we ought to make a good time of today,¡± I said. ¡°Grab a bite to eat at the Moon, trot around the bazaar and swipe a few trinkets.¡± I narrowed my eyes. ¡°Get you a new bloody bag.¡± After snatching the cloak from Gus, I draped it over my shoulder.

    From the docks at the Drop, we made our way straight to the outpost. There¡¯s a Drop in every territory, and the Drop is where Partisans get dropped off. The outpost is where we¡¯d report for duty after being dropped off. We checked in at the outpost. The end.

    It was easy picking Partisans out of a crowd. The coloured armbands were one thing, but let¡¯s face it, they weren¡¯t glued to our goddess-be-damned skin. Our eyes, though¡ªcan¡¯t take those off. They were all more or less the same: bright, grey, and the reason we were out on a dangerous mission instead of lounging around the homestead in our comfy clothes.

    ¡°Mother, do you think there¡¯s trouble on the Isle?¡± a little boy asked.

    I glanced over my shoulder in time to catch a woman in a green dress shaking her head. ¡°No doubt they are here to celebrate the arrival of the Tear from Palisade.¡±

    For the record, that¡¯s not at all why we were there, but it was good to know.

    ¡°Could we speak to them?¡± the boy asked.

    There were upsides and downsides to having excellent hearing. On the upside, we got to hear everything everyone was saying about us everywhere. On the downside, we had to hear everything everyone was saying about us everywhere.

    ¡°Of course, but first you must catch them,¡± the woman said. ¡°Quickly, before they disappear into the crowd.¡±

    ¡°So you know, we¡¯re being pursued,¡± Feargus whispered.

    Glancing over my shoulder again, they¡¯d multiplied. The little boy ran hand-in-hand with a little girl. Their little footsteps were closing in on us.

    I picked up the pace. Feargus slowed it down.

    The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

    ¡°Come on, Rhian. What¡¯s a couple of minutes?¡±

    ¡°Aye, and a couple of minutes always turns into a couple of hours and one of us in deep shite for something or other. We ought to keep to ourselves.¡±

    ¡°Partisans, Partisans!¡± the little boy said. ¡°May we have a moment of your time?¡±

    We could¡¯ve pretended not to see them, but there¡¯s another downside to the excellent hearing¡ªwe couldn¡¯t pretend not to hear someone calling our names. We stopped in our tracks and turned.

    Even though we were full-grown adults, we weren¡¯t all that much taller than the kids, and when they finally caught up, it seemed to me they¡¯d dreamed up everything about the chase except for the catch itself. I could relate.

    After a minute shuffling their shoes, the boy was the first to speak.

    ¡°My sister would like to meet you,¡± he said.

    ¡°Is that right? Well, you can tell your sister that I¡¯m Feargus and this,¡± he gestured to this, ¡°is Rhian.¡± Feargus extended his hand.

    The handshake went on for about an hour.

    ¡°I am called Max Deville,¡± the boy said. ¡°And my sister is¡ª¡±

    ¡°Dominique!¡± The girl¡¯s hair was tied in two braids a lot like mine, and she twirled the end of a ribbon around her finger.

    Feargus bowed and reached for the girl¡¯s hand next, giving it dainty shake. ¡°It¡¯s a right honour to make your acquaintance, Dominique.¡±

    Dominique squealed.

    ¡°You know,¡± Gus said, turning to me. ¡°They kind of remind me of us. Don¡¯t you think they kind of remind you of us?¡±

    Seeing as the kids looked nothing like us with their dark hair, dark eyes, and dark skin, he must have been referring to the fact they seemed to love each other a lot.

    ¡°Aye, I reckon,¡± I said. ¡°Only they¡¯re much cuter than we were at their age. Also, I¡¯ve never worn ribbons in my hair.¡±

    Dominique¡¯s jaw dropped. ¡°Mother says all pretty girls should have ribbons.¡±

    I shrugged. Feargus chuckled.

    The girl¡¯s brows met in the middle, like she was working out something complicated in her head. She let go of her brother¡¯s hand, tugged on the tail of each blue ribbon, and then she handed them over with all the determination in the world.

    ¡°Therefore, I¡¯ve decided I must give you mine,¡± she said.

    Remember that thing I said about getting into deep shite? There it was. I might have been a bit of an arsehole, but I wasn¡¯t enough of an arsehole to refuse the ribbons, so¡ªribbons. I tied each around the end of my braids and smiled at the lass for being so thoughtful. We didn¡¯t have anything to give the kids in return, but they didn¡¯t seem to mind. They thanked us about a thousand times for sparing the time, and just as we were about to leave, Dominique had one last thing to say.

    She was the braver of the two, never mind how it seemed at the start.

    ¡°If you see our father, could you tell him to come home? Mother has been so sad.¡±

    Her brother gave her the look, but it was too late. Turns out, their father had gone missing several days before. He was a guardsman for the Liasion''s house, and they said it wasn¡¯t like him. He always came home after his shifts. Feargus promised we¡¯d look into it.

    The thing about Delphia, each of the five isles surrounding the main island represented something different. There was the Isle of Ocula, Audio, Pantomime, Littera, and the Isle of Tuition. Over the years, we¡¯d visited each of them at least once, but more often than not, our jobs took place on the biggest and most eclectic, the Isle of Inspiration. There, you could find all sorts of folk hawking their art, reciting poems on the side-streets, and putting together random performances in front of one of the fifty-thousand prop stores and costume shops throughout the market.

    Making our way through the daily festivities, I felt sorry for the lass posing for a portrait somewhere along the way. Her eyes were a bit puffy, and her knuckles were white where she clasped her hands in her lap. The corners of her upturned lips vibrated rapidly. I wondered how she¡¯d feel looking back at that painting. Would she remember she wasn¡¯t actually happy? Or was she was so bloody used to pretending, she¡¯d convince herself she was? Whatever. Not my problem.

    While we were still out and about, we stopped at the bazaar and picked up a new bag for Gus. I¡¯d been saving my notes so I could get him something nice for his birthday, and it wasn¡¯t long afore we found what we needed. It was a bag unlike any other bag, designed with an adjustable diagonal strap.

    ¡°Between us, I reckon we still have enough notes to stay at the inn,¡± he said.

    ¡°Or we could save our notes and stay at the church.¡±

    Feargus stopped dead. ¡°Are you feeling all right, Rhian?¡±

    ¡°Peachy,¡± I said, nudging him to keep moving.

    ¡°What do you want to stay at the church for?¡±

    ¡°No reason¡ªI mean, I reckon the inn will be packed, what with the arrival of the Tear from Palisade. Besides, it¡¯s free. I like free things.¡±

    Thank Stracha for that woman in the green dress for giving me a solid excuse. It was probably true, and I did like free things.

    Gus wasn¡¯t buying it, I could tell. But he went along with it anyhow.

    The church of Delphia was built on a massive incline, so it could be seen from any point in the city. It looked more like a grand estate than a church, but I don¡¯t have much else to say about it. There were about a million stairs, it was white, had a lot of columns, and we entered through the front door like normal people.

    Inside, there were rows of marble pews, pots filled with big purple flowers, and it wasn¡¯t long before I spotted the reason I wanted to stay there in first place. I¡¯d never met him before face-to-face, but I knew right away. Tall, lanky, jet black hair pulled back and tied with a strip of blue cloth. Too Amali to be all the way Celestian, and too Celestian to be all the way Amali. My heart leaped into my throat and my stomach dropped into my feet.

    Andrei Strauss was the most beautiful man I¡¯d ever seen.

 [That One Time in Delphia] 3 - The Thing About Direct Orders

    Rhian, Palisade

    By the time I¡¯m sitting down writing this story, everything that eventually happens with me and Strauss has already been said and done. There¡¯s no need for holding back on the nitty-gritty between us, right? But when going over the events with Michael on the day of my trial, I might have failed to mention a few of the finer details.

    One of those details was the bit about Strauss making my knees weak.

    Even though Michael was one of my best mates and wouldn¡¯t judge, it felt wrong sharing something so private when someone else¡¯s feelings were involved. Some things ought to be kept sacred under certain circumstances. Also, there were enough rumours circulating about Strauss, and I wasn¡¯t about to throw my hat in the pile. It¡¯s not like I thought Michael would gossip, but again, it didn¡¯t feel right. Not to mention, falling for an outcast priest-in-training wasn¡¯t the most brilliant idea I¡¯d ever had. Under Palisade law, nothing could come of it. We were expected to stick to our own race.

    Besides, it didn''t change anything about the outcome of the story.

    Anyhow. Michael was more interested in what happened on the job than why I wanted to stay at the church. We were given time to get our affairs in order before the trial. Michael was only there because like always, I refused to speak otherwise.

    I had my reasons.

    For one, Michael lived for attending my trials. There¡¯d been more than a few over the eight years we¡¯d known each other, and I¡¯d never hear the end of it if he wasn¡¯t invited to this one. For two, he made me look better. Michael Reider was a stand-up Partisan with a spotless record, and there was something to be said about our friendship. For three, certain people were less likely to act out of order if someone like him were watching.

    Councilwoman Blanchett was my number one concern that day. Never mind the fact she¡¯d been trying to take me down for years, everything I was about to explain took place in her territory, right under her nose, and I reckoned she¡¯d do anything to make sure the horseshite flying out her mouth came up smelling like fresh-cut roses.

    The reason me and Gus were in Delphia was simple. The Assembly caught wind of a band of Palisade defects hiding out on the Isle of Inspiration. We were warned to expect at least twenty, and seeing it was just me and Gus, we weren''t meant to kill them. We were only meant to find them.

    ¡°So basically, your job was to do your job,¡± Michael said.

    ¡°Aye, nothing we haven¡¯t done a thousand times afore."

    ¡°Other than locating the defects, did you have any other direct orders?¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s the difference between our kind of job and your kind of job, Commander, Sir, Michael, Sir. In our line of business, orders are a lot like my rights.¡±

    Michael chuckled. ¡°Discretionary?¡±

    ¡°Exactly.¡± I nodded. ¡°Bottom line, once we found their hideout, we were meant to notify Councilwoman Kelly so she could send a group of Chasers out after them.¡±

    "Did you have a plan?"

    "We weren''t given a lot to go on, so no, we didn''t have a plan. But we had some ideas. We thought about questioning some of the local shops¡ªmainly food stalls and whatnot. The defects had to be sustaining themselves somehow.¡±

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    ¡°Makes sense, but wouldn''t it be risky to put themselves out there like that?¡±

    ¡°Right,¡± I said. ¡°It¡¯s not like we figured they¡¯d be hanging around the market, shopping for snacks willy-nilly.¡±

    ¡°Speaking of snacks,¡± Michael said. ¡°What do you have?¡±

    I always kept something stashed away in my satchel for him. I tossed over a dusty red apple. Michael bloody loved apples. He took a big bite.

    ¡°Anyhow¡ªnever mind the shopping, we reckoned the theft patterns around town might give us a clue.¡±

    Michael nodded. ¡°Okay, that seems reasonable.¡±

    ¡°Aye, we¡¯re reasonable people. The thing is, after having a hard think on the matter, we knew there had to be another layer.¡±

    Michael Reider was a charming man with a lot of upsides. He also had a lot of downsides. One of them was talking with his mouth full.

    Crunch, chew, chew. ¡°What do you mean?¡±

    ¡°The defects on our list had been on the run for years,¡± I said. ¡°Some of them more than five. Partisans don¡¯t last long on the lam without making friends along the way. There had to be Barrens in their circle.¡±

    ¡°Okay, but I don¡¯t see how that¡¯s helpful.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s helpful so far as we realized questioning random people wouldn''t be our best approach. We couldn¡¯t trust the Barrens, and talking to the wrong one could unravel everything. The more defects involved in these sorts of jobs, the more complicated it gets. Unless the leader of the operation kept them under constant observation, they¡¯d all have their own connections, motivations, and their own shares in the game. Like a goddess-be-damned spiderweb. Anyhow, seeing as we were a day early¡ª¡±

    Of all the things that could have interrupted us in that exact moment, I doubt either of us expected it¡¯d be a knock at the door.

    ¡°Are we supposed to answer that?¡± Michael asked.

    I shrugged, and then Michael shrugged, and then he stood up and opened the door.

    Most Amali Partisans didn¡¯t need to know Andrei Strauss to recognize Andrei Strauss. He was a bit of a legend for being such an excellent fuck-up that he was tossed in a silver cell for half a decade. Also, he was the only mixed-breed Amali most of us had ever seen. He stood out against the full-breeds like a naked man in a snowstorm.

    On the other side of the door, Strauss peered over Michael¡¯s head. He was taller than most Amali, but he was still shorter than most Celestian. Ten to one, he was wondering where everyone was, and then I spotted him eying the torch in the corner dubiously and whatnot. It was tricky not laughing.

    "Am I late?¡± he asked.

    ¡°Well, I guess it depends why you¡¯re here,¡± Michael said. ¡°They¡¯re on lunch.¡±

    Strauss handed Michael a slip of paper. I chewed on my lip while he read it.

    ¡°That¡¯s weird.¡± Michael gave the paper back. ¡°But okay. Come on in.¡±

    Strauss and I had a lot more in common than it might seem straightaway. He had his own complicated history with the Assembly, so I reckoned he felt a lot less nervous stepping into that room than most Partisans would do. After closing the door behind him, he joined us on the floor in the middle of the room. I tried keeping things casual, but it was hard not to stare. I''d felt a certain way about him long afore I¡¯d seen him in person. I was still getting used to how much I liked his face.

    According to the letter I couldn¡¯t read anyhow, Councilwoman Kelly summoned Strauss to speak as a witness in my defense.

    ¡°You reckon they know?¡± I asked him.

    Michael looked between us. ¡°Know what?¡±

    Strauss shook his head. ¡°I think we both know where I¡¯d be if they knew.¡±

    ¡°Knew what?¡± Michael looked between us again.

    ¡°Eh¡ªI¡¯m tired of talking,¡± I said. ¡°Strauss can pick up where I left off.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯d love to, Sinclair, if only I knew where you left off.¡±

    ¡°Your timing couldn¡¯t be more perfect, actually. We¡¯d just arrived at the church¡­¡±

 [That One Time in Delphia] 4 - The Inevitable Life-Changing Day

    Andrei, Delphia

    It was the final week on my pilgrimage in preparation for taking my vows, and of the six territories I''d toured, Delphia was certainly the most outrageous. On the whole, the people were colourful in personality and in dress, and they were entirely enamoured by Partisans¡ªobnoxiously so, at least from the perspective of an introvert.

    Over the past few weeks, the excitement around the city was rampant and would only grow more fervent. The arrival of Delphia¡¯s Tear from Palisade was fast approaching, and preparations for the unveiling were well underway. The signage outside the local shops alerted their patrons of once-in-a-lifetime sales¡ªspecial discounts on everything purple¡ªwhile the performers outside those shops traded out their usual repertoire for inspired ballads and short-form stories celebrating the goddess of illusion.

    Of all the places of worship I¡¯d visited during my pilgrimage, the church in Delphia was also the most decadent. The estate-like exterior with its sprawling floral landscapes, topiaries in all shapes and sizes, and intricate hedge mazes was a sight in itself. Indoors, the floors, pews, and walls were marble. The banners and runners were woven with the finest cashmere and silk, and the large ceramic pots lining the aisles of the auditorium were filled to capacity with plump, purple roses. It wasn¡¯t long before Brother Delasalle¡ªmy guide and mentor while in Delphia¡ªdiscovered I had a black thumb when it came to handling plant life, and so I was henceforth forbidden from interacting with the flowers.

    The religious fortitude in the territory was almost universal, and one would be hard-pressed to find a local whose faith in Delphia was anything but steadfast. This, of course, meant there was always something to do around the church, although none of it was particularly interesting to me. I¡¯d only studied theology and petitioned for priesthood because it was the only thing other than death that would get me out of spending eternity in a cell. Not many Partisans were eager to give up their weapons or their life-long companionships for dusting, reading, and preaching. Furthermore, I knew, and the Assembly knew, there¡¯d be little room for me to misuse my power from behind the walls of a church.

    The day everything changed was the day I was left to my own devices. After five weeks, I was familiar enough with the ins and outs of the day-to-day. Brother Delasalle had enough on his plate without having to cater to my every need, so I kept myself busy mending the hems of the tapestries in the auditorium.

    Generally speaking, I ignored the sound of the front doors opening and closing, the footsteps that followed, and the quiet chatter amongst those who stopped by to worship. It was nothing new, and as I wasn¡¯t a Delphi, there wasn¡¯t much I could offer the locals in the way of religious counsel.

    As someone near and dear to us has been known to say, you can anticipate a lot by the way a door opens. There was something different about the way the door opened that morning¡ªsomething unusually energetic and uniquely fragrant about it. Leather, dirt, and cloves. Pausing mid-stitch, I glanced over my shoulder toward the door. In that same instant, my stomach collapsed in on itself, and my heart rate doubled.

    Her platinum hair was secured at the ends with a pair of blue ribbons, and while the braids themselves were skillfully woven, there were enough stray hairs poking out the sides to suggest they¡¯d been slept on more than once. Her tattered black clothes were tight-fit, and the crimson armband she wore accentuated a well-defined, freckled bicep.

    It took a moment to register the searing pain when the needle became red-hot under my touch. I dropped it, shook my hand, and rather unceremoniously stuffed my forefinger and thumb into my mouth. The most beautiful woman I¡¯d ever seen stepped into the church with the scraggliest man I¡¯d ever seen, and even though I¡¯d never met them face-to-face, there was no question in my mind as to who these individuals were the second they opened their mouths. Rhian Sinclair¡ªthe one who¡¯d taught me everything I knew about the outside world through the walls of our cells¡ªand her faithful companion, Feargus Finlay. The pair of Strachan approached.

    ¡°Wow,¡± Sinclair said. ¡°Did we catch you at a bad time, Strauss?¡±

    I pulled my throbbing fingers away from my lips and shoved my hand into the over-sized pocket of my robes. When I felt the twitch in my left cheek, I formed a tight fist.

    ¡°No, I was just¡ªhello,¡± I said. ¡°How, ah¡ª? I mean, what, ah¡ªit¡¯s nice to see you?¡±

    ¡°Was any of that supposed to be a question?¡± Finlay asked.

    ¡°I have no goddess-be-damned clue what that was,¡± Sinclair said. She then tilted her head back to address me directly. ¡°We¡¯ll be needing a room for a little while.¡±

    Apparently, formal introductions weren¡¯t on the table, but no matter. I¡¯d heard so much about their antics from Sinclair, I may as well have known Feargus Finlay my whole life.

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    ¡°Right, of course,¡± I said. ¡°Although, availability is rather limited at the moment.¡±

    The church was required to provide Partisans with shelter if requested, but between those who worked at the church, petitioners like myself on their pilgrimage, visiting clergy from the other isles, and tourists, we were running short on options.

    ¡°We¡¯ll take just about anything,¡± Finlay said. ¡°We¡¯ve probably slept in worse places.¡±

    Judging by the state of the pair, they¡¯d just crawled out of worse places.

    After gesturing them to follow, we made our way silently through the auditorium, down a corridor, and up three flights of stairs.

    Sinclair and I had never spoken about our feelings for each other. Our conversations while locked up took place in a public forum, and being loud about it would not only be futile but also against the law. Still, there was always a part of me that believed she felt the same way I did¡ªand that belief overshadowed the doubt that someone like her could feel anything for someone like me. She was the only one who had ever treated me like a whole person.

    That said, it was still surprising when they walked into the church that day. From Sinclair¡¯s stories of their work, I knew the pair were often assigned to Delphia, but that they preferred to stay at the inn. She knew my pilgrimage schedule, and that Delphia was the last stop, but she had no control over her own deployments. There had to have been some degree of luck or divine coincidence they¡¯d be in town at the same time I was.

    I opened the door to the room I had in mind for their stay.

    ¡°If there were anywhere else I could place you, trust that I would. It¡¯s not ideal, but¡­¡±

    The pair stepped inside and looked around. There was a bookshelf, packed to capacity. A nightstand. A desk. A bed, meticulously made. The velvet drapes on the arched window were pulled shut, and there were no lanterns anywhere in sight.

    ¡°This is a heck of a lot nicer than the places we normally stay,¡± Finlay said.

    ¡°You¡¯ve been spoiled lately if you think this isn''t ideal,¡± Sinclair added.

    ¡°Yes, it''s certainly a step up from a jail cell,¡± I said. ¡°However, I didn¡¯t hesitate to bring you here because of the quality of the accommodations. I hesitated to bring you here because the accommodations are mine.¡±

    I hadn¡¯t shared a room with anyone since I was a child at the orphanage, let alone two Strachan with a busy schedule and more energy than I had in my finger¡ªwhich, by the way, still hurt. Not to mention, I¡¯d be sharing the room with Sinclair.

    I winced when the companions tossed their bags on the bed. Finlay¡¯s, at least, appeared to be brand new. Sinclair hopped up on the corner of my desk, while he took the chair.

    "I suspect your business on the isle will see you frolicking about at night?¡± I asked.

    ¡°Most likely,¡± Sinclair said. ¡°Don¡¯t worry, Strauss. We¡¯ll be quiet as mouses.¡±

    ¡°Mice,¡± I corrected.

    ¡°Aye, we¡¯ll be quiet as mices.¡± She nodded. ¡°Say, Strauss, what do you know about that Tear coming in from Palisade?¡±

    ¡°Enough.¡± I shrugged. ¡°Not much more than any Partisan should. Haven¡¯t you paid attention during your history lessons?¡±

    The two started laughing, and if I hadn''t been so captivated by Sinclair¡¯s smile, I might have been confused by the reaction.

    ¡°History lessons,¡± she said between snickers. ¡°That¡¯s a good one, Strauss.¡±

    I wasn¡¯t aware I¡¯d said anything humorous, but whatever it was, I would say it for the rest of my life if it meant making her laugh.

    Shaking my head, I continued, ¡°They say the Tear was blessed by an avatar of Delphia Herself, and it¡¯s supposed to be arriving tomorrow night in the care of a band of Amali soldiers. It will be kept at the Museum of Our Blessed Mother, but the unveiling itself will take place in the city centre. What else would you like to know?¡±

    ¡°How much is it worth?¡±

    I raised an eyebrow. ¡°More than our combined lives.¡±

    The Strachan looked to each other, then back to me.

    ¡°What do you reckon would happen if it were to¡­ disappear?¡± Finlay asked.

    Squinting, I looked between the two. ¡°Chaos, no doubt. The Barrens would find some reason to blame Palisade¡¯s negligence, and then I expect Councilwoman Blanchett would have a lot to answer for. She¡¯s going to be here, by the way, for the ceremony. Does that have anything to do with why you¡¯re here?¡±

    ¡°Probably not,¡± Finlay said.

    ¡°Does it have anything to do with the Tear at all?¡±

    ¡°Probably not,¡± Finlay repeated.

    ¡°Does it have anything to do with the missing guardsman?¡±

    ¡°Probably not,¡± Finlay said again. ¡°But while we''re at it, what do you know about that?¡±

    ¡°Last I heard, the Deville family asked that the matter be kept private while insisting the search continue without interruption to the festivities. I thought perhaps they¡¯d have reached out to Palisade for help.¡±

    ¡°Why are you so bloody curious about why we¡¯re here, anyhow?¡± Sinclair asked.

    ¡°It''s only natural, and besides, I thought I could offer some assistance,¡± I said. ¡°I''ve been privy to plenty of gossip without being bound by confidentiality, and quite frankly, Sinclair, I¡¯m bored.¡±

    Sometime, somewhere, I believe those were someone''s famous last words.

 [That One Time in Delphia] 5 - The Thing About No Plan Being the Best Plan

    Rhian, Delphia

    The most important thing to consider when hunting defects wasn''t where they¡¯d be hiding. The possibilities could be endless. Maybe they¡¯d found a cave. Maybe they were holed up in a basement somewhere. Maybe they were living in a secret tunnel. Maybe they were all spread out, squatting in abandoned homes or living with allies. There¡¯s nothing subtle about snooping in random places, knocking on doors, and being wrong a bunch of times. There-bloody-fore, the most important thing to consider when hunting defects wasn''t where they¡¯d be hiding, it was what they¡¯d be doing.

    Most had a bone to pick with Palisade, so that was something we¡¯d use to our advantage where we could. Some would seize opportunities to sabotage our jobs. Others would look for the chance to pick one of us off where they could. When dealing with individuals or pairs, they tended to lay lower. They were trickier to track.

    On the other hand, multiples tended to feed off each other¡¯s bad blood with Palisade. The longer these groups were on the lam, the more restless they¡¯d get. The more restless they¡¯d get, the angrier they¡¯d get. The angrier they¡¯d get, the bigger sets of balls they¡¯d grow. It wasn¡¯t as if they could get jobs, paint the town red, and live normal lives and whatnot. The life of a defect was about doing a whole lot of nothing, and a whole lot of nothing gets boring fast.

    I could relate.

    It¡¯d been about three hours since we settled in on the roof at the bookshop. Thanks to Strauss, we knew the Tear would be arriving from Palisade in the middle of the night. We also knew if the defects were planning an ambush, they wouldn¡¯t do it right in front of the goddess-be-damned Drop. We chose the most likely location on the way to the church.

    When we were kids, Gus and I designed our own language. We had a written version¡ªmade up of symbols. We had a spoken one, which speaks for itself, and we had a silent one¡ªhand gestures and whatnot. We preferred keeping things private between us. The other kids at the orphanage weren''t friendly, and we learned early on we could only rely on each other. Also, we didn¡¯t want anyone overhearing our plans to run away.

    We had no way of knowing how often this would pay off as adults.

    While we waited, and waited, and chatted with our sign-language, we sipped a bit of Hocks from our flasks. Three hours is a long time, and a long time means a lot of sips. But whatever. I¡¯d swear off drinking too much again next year.

    When we were starting to think we were way too early or way too late, we got what we were waiting for. Our super-ears tuned into the sounds of heavy boot steps, clinking metal, and a few people speaking a language I didn¡¯t understand. I recognized it as Amali.

    ¡°Blah, blah, blah¡­ blah?¡± the man asked.

    ¡°Blah. Blah, blah, blah¡­ blah blah,¡± the woman replied.

    Gus had a better education than I did. The Assembly had their sights set on him for something special early on. They made sure he knew how to read, and write, and that he knew enough of every language to get by in any territory. Whatever was being said, it wasn¡¯t important enough for him to translate.

    When the third voice piped up, we each rolled our eyes. I didn''t understand the language, but I''d know that voice anywhere. Strauss.

    ¡°What¡¯s he doing here?¡± I signed.

    ¡°Escort,¡± Gus signed back.

    Most likely, the church thought they were doing a diplomatic favour by sending an Amali to meet the guards at the Drop. More likely, Strauss suggested it himself. Being bored makes people do strange shite. We¡¯ve basically gone over that already.

    I rolled my eyes again. There was no way we could change what was happening. We had to adapt.

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    When Strauss and the guards reached the crossroad, two Delphi Partisans stepped out from one of the side-streets. What can I say? We were good at our jobs, and even though we anticipated the ambush, we didn¡¯t expect the defects would send a pair of scrawny Delphi. We were expecting fighters.

    ¡°Thank Delphia,¡± said one of the defects. He put on a grand show, too, laying it on thick with a big old sigh.

    ¡°We were beginning to think we may have missed you,¡± the other added.

    The guards looked to each other, then to Strauss, then back to the defects.

    ¡°Missed us for what?¡± the female guard asked.

    The defect in the blue jacket handed her a sealed letter.

    I could tell Strauss was itching to peep. But from where he was standing, he couldn¡¯t pull it off without appearing nosy. After reading the letter, the guard showed it to her partner, and they both shrugged.

    ¡°Fine by us,¡± she said. ¡°It¡¯s been a long trip.¡±

    ¡°Exactly, exactly,¡± the defect in the blue jacket said. ¡°That¡¯s why we¡¯re here, of course. But, as much as it¡¯s been lovely chatting, we¡¯re already late, and the Liaison will be expecting us back at the estate. We wouldn¡¯t want him to worry.¡±

    The Liaison was a Barren, and Councilwoman Blanchett''s primary line of communication between the Barren people of Delphia and Palisade. It was interesting they were dropping his name.

    The two guards nodded, and the male traded the leather pouch around his neck to the defect in the green jacket.

    "Blah, blah. Blah... blah?" Strauss said.

    "Blah, blah, blah. Blah, blah," the woman answered.

    Strauss addressed the defects next. He was suspicious, I could tell. "Why the change of plans? My understanding is that the Tear was to be kept at the church under Partisan protection.¡±

    Seemed the defects hadn¡¯t bothered preparing for the most obvious question. I reckon they were expecting a pair of daft Amali soldiers who weren''t too concerned about a foreign trinket, and were none too pleased about being sent to froufrou-land to begin with. Had the defects been more capable, they might have tried using mind tricks. But they were outnumbered, and not all telepaths had the skill for mind control. It wasn''t exactly straightforward.

    ¡°Very well, the jig is up,¡± the defect in the blue jacket said. ¡°We are not actually here on behalf of the Liaison. We''re here to steal the Tear.¡±

    Hells. The defects were digging their own graves, and we needed them alive. If you hadn¡¯t sorted it out yet, we didn¡¯t give two shites about the Tear or where it ended up. We were trying to follow them home. We got into position. The Amali guards unsheathed their swords, and Strauss took a step back.

    "Ta, ta, ta¡ªput those away,¡± the defect in the green jacket said. ¡°You think we¡¯re foolish enough to come here alone? There are archers, my friends, situated all around the city. Move against us, and you will die. Let us go, and we pretend this never happened."

    See, in order to scout the most likely spot for an ambush, me and Gus had taken a grand tour of the city from the highest vantage points. Either these archers were invisible, they turned up some time conveniently after after we did, or the defects were bluffing. While Strauss and the two Amali guards seemed to be working out what to think, Gus and I exchanged a nod of solidarity. We leaped from the roof, somersaulted twice, and landed in the fray. Gus clobbered the defect in the green jacket. Meanwhile, I stepped in behind the defect in the blue jacket and pulled him into an arm-lock.

    ¡°You know, I didn¡¯t see any archers while we were up there,¡± Gus said. ¡°How about you, Rhian?¡±

    ¡°Nope, just a couple of Strachan half in the bag.¡± I pressed the point of my dagger against the defect''s flank when he wiggled. ¡°Also, I can think of about five ways to kill you right now, mate. So it¡¯s best you don¡¯t squirm. Or scream. Or piddle your pants. Tricky getting that smell out.¡±

    After snatching the leather pouch from the defect in the green jacket, Gus tossed it to the female Amali guard. "Don''t forget your trinket.¡±

    You might be wondering what the hell Strauss was doing this whole time. If you must know, he was standing there looking a lot like that time I caught Michael with his hands in his pants. I know I¡¯ve used that comparison afore, but it was too bloody funny, and I swore I¡¯d never let him live it down.

    Anyhow. I peered around the defect in my custody. ¡°All right¡ªhop to, shoo, piss off, go away, toodle-oo. We¡¯ll take it from here.¡±

    Look, they might not have known us personally, but we had a bit of a reputation around Palisade. The Amali saluted us each in turn, and without another word, the two guards and their wide-eyed escort shuffled off in the direction of the church. Now, seeing as we still didn¡¯t want to kill the defects, and we weren¡¯t in a position to follow them home anymore, we needed a new angle. Lucky for us, Gus was a goddess-be-damned genius. After letting go of the defect in the green jacket, he opened his hand for all to see.

    In his the centre of his palm, he held a giant, sparkly, tear-shaped diamond.

 [That One Time in Delphia] 6 - The Inevitable Plea for Help

    Andrei, Delphia

    It wasn¡¯t long after returning to the church when we realized the leather pouch once containing Delphia¡¯s Tear now contained nothing more than a rock. Naturally, we reported the theft, and we spent the rest of the evening being questioned by the local guard. As a consequence for their negligence, the Amali Partisans were escorted to the Liaison¡¯s estate where they were ordered to remain until Councilwoman Blanchett¡¯s arrival from Palisade. There was nothing I could do to stop them from mentioning Finlay and Sinclair, and I had no choice but to corroborate their story. Meanwhile, the Liaison practised damage control. He encouraged the clergy at the church to continue preparing for the unveiling, insisting his people would locate the thieves and the Tear before the ceremony.

    For obvious reasons, I was worried about my friends. Their opportune timing suggested they expected there¡¯d be an attempt to steal the Tear. It, too, explained Finlay¡¯s question about what would happen if it were to go missing. I''d given them the information about when it would arrive, with whom, and what the artifact meant to the people of Delphia. But if not from me, I was certain they¡¯d have found out some other way.

    The burning question remained: why hadn¡¯t they turned the would-be thieves in at the Drop, and why was the Tear still missing? According to the Liaison''s men, the Administrator hadn''t heard anything about any thieves, and he claimed to have not seen Finlay or Sinclair since they''d first arrived on the isle.

    I considered the possibility the thieves did have a back-up plan, and they¡¯d waited for me and the Amali guards to leave before enacting it. But when I returned to my room after a night of drama and intrigue, the concern subsided. The dirty clothing Finlay and Sinclair were using as a makeshift bed was no longer piled in the corner. There were no crumbs or empty bottles left on my desk. They''d tidied up as if they knew they wouldn¡¯t be returning. It was almost as if they¡¯d never been there at all. Almost, because there was one piece of evidence left behind.

    When I fluffed and rotated my pillow before turning in, I discovered a silky blue ribbon tucked underneath. Sinclair must have noticed my bedtime ritual the night before, and was counting on my being a creature of habit. I¡¯d never once attached value to an object until that moment, and so I untied the strip of blue cloth from around my ponytail and secured the ribbon in its place. Other than it being a pleasant reminder of our brief time together, the gesture also gave me hope that she and Finlay were fine, that they knew what they were getting into, and that they had a plan.

    The next day, I took my lunch of a peanut butter sandwich and an apple outside to a private area in the back garden. It was one of the few places in the city where the clergy could get some reprieve from the parishioners. I preferred to take my break later in the afternoon when I was more likely to be alone. Summer being the only season in Delphia, the flowers were in full-bloom, and the tall trees surrounding the garden were bushy and green. After a quick walkabout, I settled on my favourite bench and took one last bite of the yellow fruit.

    ¡°Pssst,¡± from above.

    Surely I was hearing things¡ªa rustle in the leaves¡ªso I ignored it and took a bite of my sandwich. You couldn¡¯t get peanut butter anywhere else in Auditioria, and it was the perfect answer for someone with an intolerance to meat protein. The other Celestian Partisans back at Palisade would have benefitted.

    ¡°Pssssst,¡± from above.

    Glancing upward, I glimpsed a long, blonde braid dangling between the leaves.

    ¡°Mother of Might,¡± I said. ¡°Sinclair?¡±

    ¡°Oi¡ªbe careful tossing my name around like that, Strauss. I¡¯m a fugitive now.¡±

    I sighed, tossing the apple core into the bushes nearby. Food for the birds.

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    ¡°What are you doing here?¡± I asked. ¡°How did you know where to find me?¡±

    ¡°On account of you wrote about it in your journal.¡±

    ¡°You read my journal?¡±

    ¡°Of course not,¡± Sinclair said. ¡°You know I can¡¯t read. Gus read your journal.¡±

    I never should have left it unattended, but no matter. I had an exceptional memory, so I flipped through the pages in my mind. There was nothing terribly incriminating, except¡ª

    ¡°Do you really think I¡¯m beautiful?¡± Sinclair asked.

    What could I say? ¡°I lied to my journal,¡± probably wouldn¡¯t cut it. Therefore, I took another bite of my sandwich, thought while I chewed, and went with, ¡°Have you never looked in a mirror?¡±

    ¡°Not lately.¡±

    ¡°Well...¡± I shrugged. ¡°You should try it sometime. Now, are we done talking about my journal?¡±

    ¡°We can be,¡± she said. ¡°Do you really wanna know the reason we¡¯re here?¡±

    ¡°Clearly not to apprehend those two thieves since you''re still in town. I doubt it''s to steal a thousand year old artifact, either, but to be quite honest, I¡¯m not sure I ever should have asked.¡±

    "Come on, Strauss." Sinclair leaped from the tree. ¡°Where''s your sense of adventure?¡±

    Even with a heavy pair of boots, she landed on the grass with barely a sound. Joining me on the bench, Sinclair threw her arm around my shoulders and gave me a squeeze. She smelled of alcohol, cloves, old leather, and sweat. Not the most flattering combination on paper, I realize, but it was utterly intoxicating. To me, she smelled of fearlessness and fun.

    ¡°You know," she said. "We¡¯re only in this mess because you couldn¡¯t keep your mouth shut.¡±

    ¡°You would have let those men get away with the Tear?¡±

    ¡°Why not? It¡¯s just a bloody gem. Them being killed would have been worse.¡±

    ¡°Wouldn¡¯t their being killed have made your job easier?¡±

    ¡°Aye, if only our job was to kill them. But there are about fifteen more defects just like them hiding out on the isle. We''re here to find their lair.¡±

    ¡°Oh.¡± I took another bite of my sandwich.

    Sinclair chuckled. ¡°Anyhow¡ªit''s no big deal. Gus did some quick thinking, traded out the gem last second, and we offered it up as a gesture of good faith.¡±

    ¡°What, why?¡±

    ¡°To convince them that we were looking for them only because we were planning on defecting. We told them we were hoping they¡¯d take us in. And now we know where they live.¡±

    ¡°Just like that?¡±

    ¡°Just like that.¡± After snapping her fingers, Sinclair flashed me a chipped-tooth smile. ¡°But that¡¯s why I can¡¯t hang around here much longer. Gus is still with them, and I told them I was coming up for air to get some intel on the fallout from last night. We might as well be a pair of cheeses in a pack of hungry rats. Can¡¯t have them getting suspicious already.¡±

    ¡°Already?¡± I asked. ¡°You¡¯ve found their hideout, isn¡¯t that enough?¡±

    ¡°No,¡± Sinclair said. ¡°It isn¡¯t. And I¡¯m only telling you any of this so you stop asking random people good questions and fucking shite up in the process. Also, I need your help.¡±

    ¡°Much as I value our friendship, Sinclair, forgive me if I don¡¯t feel particularly inclined to involve myself any further. As you know, me and ¡®fucking shite up¡¯ have a long history.¡±

    Sinclair¡¯s large eyes doubled in size, and for the first time in history, I¡¯d rendered her speechless. She snatched my sandwich, took a bite, and after a few uncertain chews, handed it back. ¡°Whatever that is, it¡¯s bloody strange." She washed the bite down with a sip of Hocks from her flask. ¡°And sticky.¡±

    I nodded and took another bite.

    ¡°All right¡ªlet me paint you a picture,¡± Sinclair continued. ¡°There are three ways this can go. One: we send word to Palisade with what we know, and a group of Kelly¡¯s Chasers will be sent to clear out the compound. Believe me when I say, the defects are prepared to fight back and it won¡¯t be pretty. Two: we go about this without your help, get caught, lose their trust and any information we might get to prevent a full-scale rebellion. Three: we do it the only way that makes sense, and unfortunately for all of us, that involves asking for help from your pain in the arse.¡±

    All those years locked up, listening to the Strachan¡¯s stories, and now I had the opportunity to take part. I may not have had much of a sense of adventure, but I did have an insatiable sense of curiosity. ¡°Very well, Sinclair,¡± I said. ¡°What do you need?¡±

 [That One Time in Delphia] 7 - The Thing About Making Friends

    Rhian

    After meeting with Strauss, I made my way back to the lair where I knocked on the front door, spoke the pass-phrase, ¡°VD¡ªit¡¯s not what it sounds like,¡± and once inside, I climbed down the hatch and into the cellar. The defects were holed up in an allied Barren¡¯s house across the street from the Liaison¡¯s estate. This is important, seeing as the Liaison was a crooked son-of-a-bitch. It wasn¡¯t too tricky working that out. The defects had access to his seal, which, let¡¯s face it, they could have stolen. But actually, on the night we were introduced to the lair, a pair of the Liaison¡¯s men paid the defects a visit. They came through a locked door in the cellar rather than down the hatch from the house upstairs. I reckoned that door would lead straight to the estate, but I¡¯d test that theory later.

    The Assembly¡¯s estimation of around twenty defects was accurate enough. On the first night, we counted fifteen. We couldn¡¯t be sure there weren¡¯t more.

    The base itself was cozy enough. There were landscapes hanging on the walls, throw pillows on the couches and the floor, and a handful of colourful carpets keeping people''s feet warm. Whoever put it all together had a good eye for design and whatnot. The place was bigger than expected. Bedrooms, workshops, and loads of space for eating and lounging around. Not too tricky sorting out how they¡¯d expanded the underground, seeing as it smelled like rotten eggs. I¡¯d know that smell anywhere.

    After being concocted over on the Isle of Tuition a few years before, the fire-powder problem was spreading across the territory like that horrible rash Michael forgot to make me promise never to speak of again. Considering the barrels stacked around the lair, and the fact there were folks manufacturing fire-weapons in those workshops I mentioned, it didn¡¯t bode well for our Chasers. Palisade hadn¡¯t caught up to the trend yet. Frankly, I¡¯d hoped they¡¯d never have to.

    Anyhow. Gus was better than I was at doing a lot of things. Spinning stories, playing pranks, sleight of hand, being bored. But the most important thing he was better at, was making friends. When I arrived in the cellar, he was gathered around a table with four others¡ªlaughing, drinking, and playing a game of cards.

    Based on the stacks of notes, the Senec was winning.

    Goddess-be-damned psychics.

    Gus waved me over.

    Taking stock of those around the table, there was the Senec, an Endican, and two Delphi. They smiled when they saw me. It was special on account of the Senec people were basically stoic and definitely mute. I¡¯d never seen one smile afore. This one had nice teeth. There weren''t any free chairs around the table, so I plopped down on Gus¡¯s knee.

    ¡°Rhian, I¡¯d like you to meet my new best friends.¡±

    Look, if I had a note for every time Gus had a new best friend, I¡¯d have four more notes.

    Going clockwise around the table, he introduced the first Delphi as Sheep. Strange name, but the man had style. He wore a camel-coloured suit and a fancy necktie. The tones did wonders against his dark complexion and neatly trimmed beard. The second Delphi was a flaxen-haired lady, looking smart in a grey blazer and a pair of wire spectacles. Gus introduced her as Turtle. Another weird bloody name, but whatever. I waggled my fingers.

    The Endican sat two heads taller than the others. It was tricky for the northern giants to find clothes outside Endica, but his were a perfect fit. Reckoned there was a tailor in the mix. Anyhow, this one seemed the most reserved of the lot, but his smile was the warmest¡ªeven if I could hardly see it behind his big old beard. I¡¯ll give you three guesses as to his name afore telling you it was Bear. I was sensing a theme.

    ¡°I¡¯m sensing a theme,¡± I said, looking at the Senec next.

    ¡°The one taking our notes today is Llama,¡± Gus said.

    The Senecs around Palisade tended to wear robes and walked around barefoot, but not this one. This one wore a pair of rubber boots, a plaid shirt, and a straw hat. Let me tell you: it was interesting to see what the defects did with their freedom. It often involved brave fashion choices.

    "Llama?" I asked. "Is that another animal?¡±

    Llama nodded. ¡°Only the finest.¡±

    A smiling, talking Senec. Imagine that. ¡°Uh huh¡ªwell, I¡¯ve never heard of it.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s like a small, woolly camel,¡± Bear added.

    Couldn¡¯t be sure if they were fucking with me or not. I squinted. ¡°What¡¯s with the animal names, anyhow?¡±

    ¡°We¡¯ve been together a while,¡± Sheep said. ¡°Long before this place.¡±

    There was something sarcastic about the way he said this place. Almost like that place was make-believe.

    Turtle nodded. ¡°It started with Bear because, well...¡± It went without saying. ¡°Then when the rest of us needed code names¡­¡±

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    ¡°Say, what would our animal names be?¡± Gus asked.

    The Animals considered Gus in silence for about five minutes.

    ¡°Rabbit,¡± Llama said. ¡°Definitely.¡±

    The others nodded matter-of-factly before targeting me.

    ¡°This one¡¯s even easier,¡± Bear said. ¡°Donkey.¡±

    Well, that''s all it took for Gus to break out in a fit of hysterical laughter. If it weren¡¯t for my Strachan reflexes, I¡¯d have fallen flat on my goddess-be-damned donkey.

    Turtle and Sheep smiled, Llama nodded sagely, and Bear seemed confused.

    ¡°What¡¯s funny about donkeys?¡± the Endican asked. ¡°They¡¯re honest creatures with a strong sense of personal responsibility, self-sacrifice, and service¡­¡±

    Gus breathed a few deep breaths.

    "¡­and sometimes they¡¯re asses,¡± Bear added.

    And there it was again. Rabbit? Hyena''s more bloody like it. Gus wiped the tears from his eyes.

    It wasn¡¯t as if I was fixing to argue with Bear. Empaths had a special relationship with animals, and frankly, he nailed it. Besides, donkeys are cute. ¡°Fine, fine¡ªI¡¯m a donkey. Moving on. What are we playing?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s a game we came up with.¡± Sheep motioned to the cards spread out on the table. ¡°It¡¯s called Barnyard Blitz.¡±

    ¡°All right, now you¡¯re fucking with me, aren¡¯t you?¡±

    "Yeah." He nodded.

    Turtle smiled and pushed her spectacles up when they slipped.

    I could see why Gus chose this lot to be his new best friends, but just as we were about to settle in for a game of who-the-bloody-hell-knows-what, a sharp-dressed man in a shiny blue suit stepped into view. At first, I¡¯d have sworn his hair was red and that his eyes were blue, and then they were brown, and then he was blond. And then his hair was black, and then his eyes were green. For a minute, he had a beard, and then it was gone. Goddess-be-damned mind tricks. I blinked a few times and shook my head. The man¡¯s hair stopped on white, and his eyes were the most striking shade of silver I¡¯d ever seen.

    ¡°It pleases me to see you settling in,¡± he said.

    ¡°We¡¯re just happy to be here,¡± Gus replied.

    The pretty man in the shiny suit nodded a few times slowly. ¡°Yes, well¡ªallow me to introduce myself. My name is Vincent Delestade. Welcome to my home.¡±

    VD¡ªit explained the pass-phrase. I also recognized the name. He¡¯d gone AWOL from Palisade about four years ago. Glancing around the table, the other defects seemed at ease around the leader of the pack, even if that Sheep fellow made it seem as though he didn¡¯t care for the place. That was interesting.

    ¡°It¡¯s wonderful to meet you, Vinny,¡± Gus said. ¡°You probably already know this about us, but I¡¯m Feargus, and this is Rhian.¡±

    Vincent Delestade stepped in toward the table, offering a handshake to the both of us. We obliged, obviously. The man''s nails were clean and carefully clipped. I felt sorry for him having to touch us.

    He turned to the other defects next. ¡°My friends, may I borrow our new arrivals?¡±

    Sheep shrugged. Bear shrugged. Llama shrugged. Turtle smiled and adjusted her spectacles.

    From the lounge, Delestade led us down a long corridor. He unlocked the door at the end, stepped inside, and ushered us into an office. It was nice and filled with office-like things and whatnot. Once the three of us were alone, he smiled warmly and clapped his hands together. ¡°Well¡ªAgent Finlay. Enforce Sinclair. Let me start by saying I know why you¡¯re really here, and it¡¯ll be easier for everyone if we set aside our pretenses and speak plainly.¡±

    Silence.

    ¡°Allow me to elaborate.¡± Delestade spun a sapphire ring around his finger a few times. ¡°I may know why you''re really here, but I don¡¯t care why you¡¯re really here. I trust you¡¯ll find me more agreeable than the defectors with whom you are accustomed.¡±

    Silence.

    ¡°Oh, for goodness sake.¡± The telepath clicked his tongue, shook his head, and took his seat behind a desk. It was also nice and whatnot. He motioned to the leather chairs opposite. ¡°If you¡¯re not going to speak, will you at least sit and listen?¡±

    Silence, but we took our seats.

    Vincent Delestade sighed. ¡°When I first conceived this project, the idea was to create a safe haven for those who¡¯d seen the light; a home for those who recognized the Assembly for what they are¡ªfor those who recognized our talents for what they are: gifts; not tools to be taken advantage of and utilized for our captors'' corrupt causes.¡±

    Silence.

    ¡°At first, everything was exactly as I imagined. I daresay we became like family¡ªa family to replace those of which we were so rudely robbed. But now, yet again, here we are¡ªpuppets and props for another unscrupulous institution. Those who were once my family have been twisted and turned against our peaceful purpose. The Liaison has filled their pots with honey, empowering them with falsehoods of freedom. And now? My family has fallen. They¡¯ve become angry and violent, and while the mere thought of it sickens me to the core, they are past the point of redemption. They must be stopped, and it must be soon, and I cannot do it without your help.¡±

    Silence, but Gus and I shared a side-eye.

    ¡°Please,¡± he said. ¡°Say something¡ªanything.¡±

    ¡°Angry and violent?¡± Gus said. ¡°Even the Animals?¡±

    ¡°No,¡± Delestade said. ¡°Your new best friends remain pure. They are looking for a way out, but there is none. They are trapped¡ªI am trapped.¡±

    Gus and I shared another side-eye.

    ¡°Did you have anything to do with that plan to steal the Tear?¡± I asked.

    ¡°Colourful cosmos, no.¡± Delestade raised his hands as if proving they were empty would also prove he was innocent.

    Silence, but we believed him.

    ¡°Enforcer Sinclair, Agent Finlay, if it¡¯s currency you need, or possessions, or¡ªwhatever it is, I will get it for you.¡±

    ¡°No,¡± I said. ¡°We don¡¯t need any of that.¡±

    ¡°What can I say or do to convince you?¡±

    Another side-eye.

    ¡°How about one future favour,¡± Gus said.

    ¡°Each,¡± I added.

    ¡°One future favour each?¡± Delestade repeated.

    ¡°Aye,¡± we said together.

    ¡°One future favour each.¡± The telepath smiled. ¡°We have a deal, my friends.¡±

 [That One Time in Delphia] 8 - The Thing About Running Errands

    Rhian, Delphia

    The next morning, four of us crammed into a tiny bedroom at the lair. Gus, Bear, and Llama crowded around me, peering at the drawing in my lap. I promised them a group portrait.

    ¡°A little less pointy,¡± Bear said.

    I rubbed out the snout and sketched another.

    Llama nodded. ¡°Better, but make it smile.¡±

    I made it smile.

    ¡°And it needs to be fluffier," Bear added.

    I made it fluffier.

    ¡°And give it eyelashes,¡± Llama suggested.

    I gave it eyelashes.

    ¡°I see what you mean,¡± Gus said. ¡°That''s one fine-looking creature.¡±

    The two Animals nodded. I knew how to draw a bear, and I knew what a turtle and a sheep looked like, but I¡¯d never seen a llama.

    ¡°Aren¡¯t you going to draw a rabbit and a donkey?¡± Bear asked.

    Gus giggled. Aye¡ªgiggled. That¡¯s what he gets for laughing at a donkey.

    ¡°You¡¯ve known us for two days.¡± I said. ¡°I wasn¡¯t about to presume.¡±

    Llama plucked the straw hat off his head and plopped it on Gus¡¯s. ¡°Maybe so, but I have a feeling we¡¯ll be friends for a long time.¡±

    ¡°A feeling, or a feeling?¡± Gus asked.

    ¡°In all potential futures where we make it out alive, I have a feeling.¡±

    Goddess-be-damned psychics. I didn''t know all that much about how precognition worked, on account of it was tricky holding a conversation with a mute. As far as what I did know about precognition, the future was ever-shifting and rarely set in stone.

    While we chit-chatted, I worked on the donkey and the rabbit.

    ¡°Say, Llama, how come you started smiling and talking?¡± Gus asked. ¡°We¡¯ve run into a few defected Senec in our time, but they¡¯ve all kept up the stoic mute thing.¡±

    ¡°That was our fault,¡± Bear said.

    Llama nodded. ¡°It¡¯s true. They wore me down, but I¡¯d always found the practice counterproductive to Seneca¡¯s message. A person can''t gain experience wholly by observing without partaking, and gaining whole wisdom without experiencing wholly is a silly notion.¡±

    That was fair enough.

    Just as I was working on Gus¡¯s whiskers, the door opened.

    Apparently, privacy was also a silly notion.

    It was one of the two defects from the night of the theft. We¡¯ll call him Blue Jacket, and the other one will be Green Jacket. Anyhow. Blue Jacket wanted to speak with me and Gus alone. What could we say? We had to be agreeable for the cause.

    I¡¯d almost finished sketching the group portrait, so I left it with Bear and Llama seeing as there was the chance we¡¯d never see them again.

    Gus tried returning Llama¡¯s hat, but the Senec wouldn¡¯t have it.

    If I had to place bets, it was for the same reason I left the portrait.

    These were the lives we led, and it was nothing new.

    <hr>

    Blue Jacket assigned me a topside shopping expedition.

    It was a lucky break, seeing as I was going to have to come up with a reason to leave for a while anyhow. Blue Jacket said they needed Gus for something else. We didn¡¯t like the idea of splitting up, let alone under these exact circumstances, but what could we do? In order to get them to trust us, we had to make it seem like we trusted them.

    It was the name of the game and whatnot.

    Before getting started on the shopping that day, I had plans of my own. On my way to the church, I kept to the side-streets and back-alleys. I couldn¡¯t be sure the defects didn¡¯t have someone tailing me, so confusing my direction and keeping my eye out for anyone suspicious was my top priority.

    Thanks to the Liaison covering up what happened to the Tear, I wasn¡¯t actually a fugitive at the minute, but I didn¡¯t want to waltz into the church willy-nilly, either. It wasn¡¯t in our best interests to be seen together. I needed Strauss¡¯s help, but I didn¡¯t want him implicated in anything. Poor bastard had it bad enough as it was.

    One more fuck-up and I reckoned he wouldn¡¯t be taking those vows in a few months.

    This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

    Anyhow. It was far too early for Strauss to be on lunch, but it was just early enough for him to still be sleeping. When I arrived outside his room, the drapes were shut.

    I knocked three times. The thick purple drape curled to the side.

    The second he spotted me, he cranked the window open, and I climbed through.

    ¡°Morning, Strauss,¡± I said.

    ¡°Good morning, Sinclair,¡± he said, shutting the window.

    Then we did an awkward little shuffle, as if we weren¡¯t sure whether we ought to hug. We settled on not.

    ¡°I can¡¯t stay long,¡± I said. ¡°I¡¯m not even sure I wasn¡¯t being followed, but¡ªwhatever. This entire job is going to shite. Do you have the things?¡±

    Strauss reached into his desk drawer, pulling out a stack of parchment. Some were more crumpled than others.

    ¡°This is all I could get without raising suspicions.¡±

    He handed me the pages. I looked them over.

    ¡°The first three pages are samples of Councilwoman Blanchett¡¯s handwriting, including an original seal, and the bottom two pages are those belonging to the Liaison.¡±

    I flashed a smile. ¡°Brilliant. And do you have all the details?¡±

    ¡°The Liaison and his entourage will receive the Councilwoman tomorrow morning at the Drop. She''ll be arriving in the morning, but the whole affair is likely to take several hours. They intend to parade her through the city, leaving enough time for special performances from various troupes, autographs, et cetera. It¡¯s safe enough to say the estate will be on skeleton staff.¡±

    ¡°Reckon they¡¯ll be bringing her back there?¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s my understanding,¡± Strauss said. ¡°As you know, the unveiling of the Tear is set for the following afternoon in the city centre. Do you think they¡¯re going to tell her what happened?¡±

    ¡°Naw,¡± I said. ¡°So far, their aim is to discredit her. It¡¯s the perfect opportunity to prove she¡¯s got her head so far up her own arse she doesn¡¯t even know where her own goddess-be-damned gem is, let alone what her people need from a Councilwoman. Reckon they¡¯re aiming for public humiliation¡ªat the least.¡±

    Strauss nodded. ¡°What are the samples for?¡±

    ¡°Contingency,¡± I said. ¡°Originally, anyhow. I reckoned we might need a quick way off the island at some point. There¡¯s a reason Gus is a talented forger, and it¡¯s not on account of a burning desire. It¡¯s a testament to how often it¡¯s come in handy.¡±

    ¡°Originally?¡±

    ¡°Let¡¯s just say, I¡¯m brewing a plan to help some friends. The less you know, the better.¡±

    Even though he said he understood, he was disappointed. I could tell.

    ¡°One more thing,¡± I said. ¡°Can you think of any reason you might need to visit the Liaison¡¯s office, say, tomorrow?"

    Strauss raised an eyebrow.

    I bloody loved it when he did that, and I hoped my cheeks weren¡¯t as red as they felt. But judging by the way he looked at me next, and the way he stuffed his fist in his pocket, and the adorable way he stumbled over his words, I wasn¡¯t fooling anyone.

    ¡°Well, I¡¯ll need him to¡ªah¡ªI suppose I¡¯ll need him to sign my release papers.¡±

    ¡°Perfect. I¡¯ll need you there at noon,¡± I said. ¡°And don¡¯t be late.¡±

    ¡°The Liaison won¡¯t be in his office at that hour; he¡¯ll still be escorting the Councilwoman.¡±

    ¡°Right,¡± I said. ¡°We don¡¯t want him to be there. We just need you to be there for a good reason. You¡¯re a smart man, Strauss. You¡¯ll find a way.¡±

    Strauss nodded, and we reviewed the two details one more time for good measure. Then, after going through the same old will we, won¡¯t we hug-dance, I slipped through the window and watched as he shut the drape behind me.

    My stomach knotted up and my eyes felt weird, and I didn¡¯t want to think about how I might never see him again after this job. I took a sip of Hocks from my flask.

    Goddess-be-damned pain in the arse.

    <hr>

    The shopping list Blue Jacket recited for me was straightforward¡ªfood and basic necessities. I hoped I hadn''t forgotten anything. It didn¡¯t take me long to get it all sorted, and I helped myself to a few cherries while I was at it. By the time I got finished at the market and was on my way back to the lair, I couldn¡¯t shake the feeling I was being watched. But every time I stopped to adjust the bags around my shoulders and consider my surroundings, I never spotted the same person twice. Whatever.

    Just like I had done before, I kept to the side-streets. It wasn¡¯t until I turned down the final back-alley that I realized I wasn¡¯t wrong. I was being followed.

    Out of nowhere, a pale hand grabbed my shoulder. I spun around and socked the son-of-a-bitch in the gut with one of the shopping bags.

    After coming to his senses, the creeper shook his head and muttered, ¡°Rude.¡±

    Dropping the bags, I reached for my daggers. If we were about to get into it, it wouldn''t be a toe-to-toe fight. Against a Celestian, a Strachan had to rely on gaining distance, being more agile, and using their melee weapons like projectiles.

    ¡°Hey now¡ªI come in peace.¡± The Celestian held his hands up, as if that would prove anything. For all I knew, he was about to set me on fire. Like all Celestian, he was tall, skinny, and generally ethereal looking.

    I narrowed my eyes. ¡°If you were coming in peace, you might have tried saying, ¡®Hey, Rhian,¡¯ instead of grabbing me like that.¡±

    My stalker shrugged. ¡°Sorry,¡± he said. ¡°Mister Delestade sent me.¡±

    ¡°A likely story,¡± I said. ¡°And how do I know you aren¡¯t being followed?¡±

    ¡°Do you see anyone else?¡±

    ¡°Uh¡ªno, but I didn¡¯t see you, either.¡±

    The stranger sighed. ¡°Besides the half-breed Petitioner, I¡¯m the only Celestian on the island.¡±

    He had a point. I¡¯d seen this one lurking around the lair, but I hadn¡¯t seen any others. Then again, goddess-be-damned invisibility.

    ¡°As far as you know,¡± I said.

    ¡°What can I say to put a stop to this circular conversation?¡± he asked.

    ¡°How about something interesting? You¡¯re not the only one getting bored.¡±

    ¡°Mister Delestade told me you''ve agreed to help us, and as far as I know, there¡¯s only one way off this island. So, you¡¯re going to need my assistance. Besides, I have information you can¡¯t get elsewhere.¡±

    ¡°Like?¡±

    ¡°Like what the other defects really have planned. This invisibility thing is useful for a lot more than spooking cute, unsuspecting Strachan.¡±

    ¡°Spare me,¡± I said. ¡°But all right¡ªI¡¯ll bite."

    The strange Celestian smiled. ¡°Good. I think we¡¯ll make a great team.¡±

    ¡°We¡¯ll see about that,¡± I said. ¡°What¡¯s your name, anyhow?¡±

    ¡°You can call me Riz.¡± He extended his hand.

    I slipped my daggers away and shook it.

    It was risky, but I believed him. And if we were going to help the Animals, Riz was our best shot.

 [That One Time in Delphia] 9 - The Thing About Happy People

    Rhian, Delphia

    The defects were happy.

    Their bellies were full, their shoes were shiny, and they were counting down the days until they¡¯d be standing at a safe distance watching Councilwoman Blanchett get blown to bits.

    If you were paying close attention during The First One, you might remember me mentioning this.

    Anyhow. According to Riz, that was their big plan. The Councilwoman would get up in front of everybody, embarrass herself by coming up with some pathetic excuse why the Tear was missing, and then, BAM. They knew there¡¯d be casualties, but they believed the Barrens who prayed to Delphia and put their faith in the institute of Palisade were equally guilty.

    Even the Liaison was in on it, and it was completely mental.

    When I got back from shopping, Gus still hadn¡¯t returned from his special task with Blue Jacket. I wasn¡¯t thrilled, but my hands were tied at the minute. I had no clue where they could have gone, and I wasn¡¯t in a position to go snooping around. Reckoned if he wasn¡¯t back by nightfall, I¡¯d figure something out. So, I spent the rest of the day concocting ideas while enjoying some quality time with Sheep and Turtle. It wasn¡¯t wise to introduce Riz to the other Animals yet. It wasn¡¯t even wise to act like we knew each other around the lair. Those introductions would have to wait.

    I¡¯ve said it afore but I¡¯ll say it again, Partisans have excellent hearing. And like I¡¯ve also already said, it¡¯s more a curse than a blessing in a lot of situations. One of them is when you¡¯re trying to share a secret in a place full of people with excellent hearing.

    I sketched a curly-haired stick figure standing in the middle of a crowd of other stick figures. Then I drew her head exploding.

    ¡°Seriously?¡± Sheep asked.

    I shrugged and nodded.

    ¡°That seems extreme,¡± Turtle whispered. ¡°There¡¯s no love lost between us, but¡­¡±

    I probably shrugged again, whispering back, ¡°There¡¯s nothing more dangerous than being bored.¡±

    Sheep plucked the pencil from my fingers and jotted down a few words.

    The only word I recognized was ¡°the¡±. Scrunching my nose, I looked from the page to Sheep and back again. ¡°So, the thing about that is, I can¡¯t actually read.¡±

    ¡°Seriously?¡± Sheep repeated.

    Turtle frowned, and Sheep shook his head. They both seemed concerned, but that was all right. Neither of them looked at me with the pity face.

    I hated the pity face.

    After sighing, I explained, ¡°Look, the Assembly left me out of most scholarly activities and whatnot. Michael¨Cone of my mates back at Palisade¨Creckons the reason for that is they didn¡¯t want me running around any more clever than I already am. Besides, every time I try learning, the letters swim around on the page, and just when I think I¡¯m getting something right, everything goes topsy-turvy again. But never mind. That¡¯s what I have Gus for.¡±

    ¡°Why do you stay?¡± Sheep asked, keeping his voice low.

    The night we met, Delestade said it would be safe to tell the Animals the truth about why we were there, and that he¡¯d asked us for help. It was a relief. I hated lying, especially to friends. And let me tell you, I was a few days away from doing enough lying for a lifetime.

    ¡°Eh¡ªI know it might seem I¡¯m the type of person who ought to have defected by now. Especially on account of my father and all. Everyone¡¯s waiting for me to do it, frankly. Truth is, I¡¯ve spent so long hunting defects that I''d never rest knowing what¡¯s coming for me. At least when I¡¯m done with my day, and I¡¯m back at Palisade, I can relax¡ªas far as someone like me can relax, anyhow. I¡¯ve got my room, and Michael, and Gus, and I reckon I depend on having some stability in my life.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s fair,¡± Turtle said. ¡°It¡¯s not easy out here. Your friends, though¡ªthey¡¯re happy?¡±

    ¡°Michael bloody loves being Michael. He¡¯s a Commander. The youngest the Amali have seen, plus he¡¯s an Immaculate. He¡¯d never leave. And Gus? Well¡ªhis parents are Legacies, so¡­¡±

    Sheep whistled. ¡°An Immaculate. Don¡¯t see many of those. Where from?¡±

    ¡°Leberecht,¡± I said.

    Turtle¡¯s eyes widened. She adjusted her spectacles when they slipped. ¡°I¡¯ve never met anyone from Leberecht. I¡¯ve always wanted to know if the rumours about the roads being paved in gold are true. Are they?¡±

    I shrugged. ¡°Michael doesn¡¯t talk much about home. He misses his family.¡±

    For the record, Michael was born to Barren parents. It¡¯s rare. End of story.

    ¡°Anyhow,¡± I said. ¡°Seeing as you asked why I stay, it¡¯s only fair I ask why you left.¡±

    ¡°We left together,¡± Turtle answered. ¡°Not for the same reasons, though. My story is much simpler¡ªI was tired of being held back, and I didn¡¯t exactly have an exciting life ahead. They assigned me to the Councilwoman¡¯s office. Paper-pusher. Most likely, I¡¯d have ended up as her secretary.¡±

    ¡°Aye, that sounds terrible.¡±

    Turtle nodded. ¡°I wanted to see the world.¡±

    ¡°Just out of curiosity,¡± I wondered. ¡°How much of the world have you seen?¡±

    ¡°There were the years we spent on the Isle of Audio¡ªthat¡¯s where we met Bear and Llama¡ªbut I¡¯ve still never been anywhere other than Delphia.¡±

    I thought about it for a moment. ¡°Where would you wanna go first?¡±

    ¡°Stracha. I¡¯ve heard it¡¯s really beautiful, and I love animals.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s bloody gorgeous," I said. "Nothing like it.¡± I paused for a moment and turned to Sheep. ¡°What about you?¡±

    Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more.

    ¡°Stracha sounds nice.¡±

    ¡°No, I mean¡ªwhy¡¯d you leave?¡±

    ¡°I was training to be a Consulate,¡± Sheep said. ¡°We were on a job here on the Isle of Inspiration, as usual, collecting a few Partisan conscripts from the orphanage. While on that job, I met a Barren woman¡ªAnnalise. We sparked quite the romance, and over the next two years, I did everything I could to be assigned back to the Isle so we could see each other. During that time, she became pregnant with my child. We named her Liliane, and she was born in her mother¡¯s likeness.¡±

    ¡°Barren?¡± I asked.

    ¡°Exactly,¡± he said. ¡°I¡¯d finally finished my training, and I was once more assigned to the Isle of Inspiration. As usual, I went to Annalise¡¯s home, but to my surprise, there was a new family living there. Over the next few days, I questioned everyone I could about what happened to Annalise and Liliane, but nobody would tell me anything. Considering how scared they all seemed, it didn¡¯t feel right. By chance, I ran into the former nanny one day, and I confess, I did something I¡¯m not proud of.¡±

    ¡°Peeked in her head?¡± I asked.

    ¡°Yes, exactly. Then I knew why everyone seemed so scared, and I learned what happened to Annalise and Liliane. I discovered the Councilwoman sent her people to collect them, but the nanny didn¡¯t know where they were taken. Nobody I subsequently read the minds of, or threatened for information, had any idea. If they are not dead, I assume they are still somewhere else in Delphia.¡±

    ¡°Hells,¡± I said. ¡°That¡¯s heavy, mate.¡±

    ¡°Well, I should have known, and I should have been more careful. I was so angry that I shot myself in the foot, as they say. I went to the Councilwoman, and I demanded she tell me where she¡¯d sent them. As a result, she assigned me to the Welcome Wagon.¡±

    For most Partisans, the Welcome Wagon was a decent gig. Safe, and most newcomers were excited to be there and were happy being shown around Palisade for the first time. The Welcome Wagon got to see most of us at our best.

    ¡°Basically, she landlocked you,¡± I said.

    Sheep nodded. ¡°Turtle and I became friends during that time, and eventually we shared our mutual desire to defect, and¡ªwell, here we are. I have two principled reasons to hate Adelaide Blanchett, but I don¡¯t want that.¡± He pointed to the stick-woman with the blown-up head. ¡°I don¡¯t want that, but I would give almost anything for a chance to speak with her again.¡±

    The whole time we were talking, I was still concocting ideas. I brought Turtle and Sheep into a deeper huddle. Kept my voice at half a whisper. ¡°What if we could make that happen?¡±

    ¡°How?¡± Turtle asked.

    To stop the Councilwoman from being blown to bits, all we had to do was stop the Councilwoman from being at the ceremony. And seeing as I knew where she¡¯d be the night before, and given the talents between the Animals, it wouldn¡¯t be too tricky staging a kidnapping. Now, you might be thinking, ¡°Why not just tell her everything?¡± and maybe we ought to have just told her everything. But you have to remember, the Councilwoman was a goddess-be-damned idiot. There was only a 20/80 chance she¡¯d believe me without proof, and my plan to get proof might fail. Also, when? And finally, she hated me. Now, you might be asking, ¡°Why does she hate you so much, Rhian?¡± and the truth is, I don¡¯t know¡ªbut if rumours were to be believed, she was fucking my father once upon a time. That shite gets complicated.

    Besides, Sheep needed to speak with her so he could find his daughter.

    Anyhow, we made a plan to kidnap the Councilwoman the night before the ceremony.

    But you know what I like to say about plans...

    <hr>

    Once Sheep and Turtle had gone, I worked on the group portrait of the Animals.

    About an hour later, there was a quiet knock at the door. I opened it, waited a little minute, and when I didn¡¯t see anyone on the other side, I closed it and rolled my eyes.

    A pale Celestian appeared beside the bed.

    ¡°Hello.¡± I kept my voice down on account of we¡¯ve gone over this a thousand times.

    ¡°Why don¡¯t you ever look happy to see me?¡± Riz whispered.

    ¡°The invisibility gives me the willies. And besides, you remind me of someone.¡±

    ¡°Who? The half-breed?¡± Riz snorted. ¡°Don¡¯t tell me you two are¡ª?¡±

    ¡°What? No¡ªwhat? What makes you say that? And how do you even know I know him?¡±

    ¡°Come on, Rhian. People only make that face when they hate-hate someone, or they love-hate someone. And people don¡¯t normally climb through the windows of people they hate-hate, unless they¡¯re sneaking in to kill them. Is he dead?¡±

    ¡°All right,¡± I said. ¡°You¡¯ve made your point. Now, how can I help you?¡±

    ¡°On the contrary; I¡¯m here to help you.¡± The Celestian brushed his inky hair out of his eyes. ¡°I brought you a present¡ªa few presents, actually. They¡¯ll be so busy in the next couple of days, I doubt they¡¯ll notice anything¡¯s missing, but be prepared. This could blow up in our faces at any moment.¡± There was a pause. ¡°Blow up¡­ faces¡­ see what I did there?¡±

    I narrowed my eyes.

    ¡°Okay, okay.¡± Riz handed over a mid-sized burlap sack.

    I poked around inside.

    ¡°One of those keys is for the secret passage. It''ll take you straight into the Liaison''s estate, and his office is immediately to the left,¡± he said. ¡°The other one¡ªwell, good luck finding the door. The clothes might help you or your friend fit in. And the rest speaks for itself, doesn¡¯t it?¡±

    It sure did.

    ¡°I¡¯m impressed,¡± I said. ¡°Say, any idea where Gus is?¡±

    ¡°No, sorry,¡± Riz replied.

    I believed him. ¡°All right¡ªwell, the plan to meet him near the Drop on the day of the ceremony is still the plan. But if everything goes to hell, you¡¯re gonna have to work it out along the way, like the rest of us.¡±

    Riz shrugged. ¡°It¡¯s better than nothing. By the way, thanks for helping.¡±

    ¡°Oi¡ªrelax with the thank-yous. We¡¯re not in the clear yet. Besides, I couldn¡¯t do it without you."

    The Celestian beamed. ¡°Is this where we become best friends?¡±

    If Gus could have a new best friend every five minutes, so could I.

    ¡°Sure," I said. "But before you go, new best friend, I have another favour to ask you.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know if I¡¯m comfortable with the way these scales are tipping.¡±

    I held up the parchment with the stick-woman and the blown-up head.

    ¡°Fine, one last favour.¡± Riz smirked, snapped his fingers, and the top left corner of the parchment caught on fire.

    Bloody show off.

    <hr>

    Just as I was actually starting to worry, Gus walked through the door.

    He had bags under his eyes, and his shaggy hair was droopier than usual.

    I set aside the portrait of the Animals and watched him drag his feet over to the bed. Patting the spot beside me, I waited for him to sit.

    ¡°All right, mate?¡± I asked. ¡°Where have you been?¡±

    It took about three seconds, but Gus put on a smile and nodded. ¡°Aye, I¡¯m all right¡ªdid you get the samples? I should get cracking on the papers.¡±

    ¡°Aye, I got the samples,¡± I said, turning to face him.

    I ran my fingers through his sandy curls a few times, resting my hand gently on the back of his head. Looking straight in those giant puppy-dog eyes, I wasn¡¯t buying what he was selling¡ªnot for a second.

    ¡°Where were you?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s all right, Rhian. They just wanted to ask me some questions.¡±

    There¡¯s nothing just about the way telepaths ask questions. Those goddess-be-damned mind-fuckers. I should have known. They always went for Gus.

    ¡°I didn¡¯t tell them anything¡ªthey didn¡¯t get anything out of me,¡± he said. ¡°We¡¯re safe.¡±

    I didn¡¯t give two sloppy shites about any stupid information, or what they did or didn¡¯t get out of my actual best friend. ¡°What did they do to you?¡± I repeated.

    Gus shook his head against my hand. His eyes had glassed over, and his throat apple bobbed when he swallowed. I pressed my forehead to his.

    ¡°Nothing I haven¡¯t seen or been through a thousand times before," he said. "It¡¯s all right, Rhian¡ªI¡¯m fine.¡±

    I pulled him in close for a hug. For the rest of the night, I held Feargus Finlay while he cried.

    And that¡¯s the thing about happy people.

 [That One Time in Delphia] 10 - The Inevitable Proposal

    Andrei, Delphia

    One hour until I was supposed to arrive at the Liaison¡¯s estate, and I knew next to nothing about my task. I had only sparse details and an unwavering trust in Sinclair. As for what I had learned, she and Finlay were in Delphia to discover the location of a group of defectors, and while they were successful, they¡¯d uncovered something much deeper. I¡¯d also learned that somewhere along the way, they¡¯d made friends, and they were intent on helping them with¡­ something. Rhian Sinclair didn¡¯t form friendships easily, but once she did, there were no limits to the lengths she¡¯d go to help those she cared for.

    Knowing Sinclair as well as I do now, I can say with certainty that understanding this about herself played a factor in her careful selection.

    I couldn¡¯t imagine what purpose I¡¯d serve later that day at the Liaison¡¯s estate, but whatever it was, I hoped I wouldn¡¯t disappoint.

    As I paced my room at the church¡ªa method I used to expel nervous energy¡ªthere was a knock at the window. And then another, and another.

    I pulled the drape open a crack, expecting to see my favourite face. Instead, an unfamiliar Celestian Partisan pressed his nose against the window.

    ¡°Open up¡ªquickly,¡± he said. ¡°I¡¯m a friend of Rhian¡¯s.¡±

    Who else but a friend of Sinclair¡¯s would know which room was mine and that she and I were acquainted?

    I cranked the window open for the Celestian.

    He was taller than I was, but slim enough to slip through without a struggle. I shut the window and the drape behind him.

    ¡°I¡¯m Riz,¡± he said, extending his hand for a shake.

    Curiously, I obliged. ¡°Andrei,¡± I replied.

    I hadn¡¯t interacted often with other Celestian¡ªneither Partisan nor Barren. Having grown up in Amalia, and denied formal training by Councilwoman Oranen, I rarely had the opportunity. Those I encountered along the way wanted little to do with a mutt, and my pilgrimage in Celestia was awkward.

    Riz chuckled. ¡°I might be a few years older than you, but I know who you are, and I remember when you arrived at Palisade¡ªyou were all anyone would talk about for an entire year. I¡¯m sorry for the way everyone treated you. It¡¯s nice to have the chance to meet in person.¡±

    It was the kindest thing anyone other than Sinclair had ever said to me, and it made me suspicious. ¡°Thank you¡ªI think. Why are you here?¡±

    ¡°I wanted to give you the opportunity to come with me,¡± Riz said.

    ¡°Come with you where?¡±

    Riz swept his jet black hair out of his eyes. ¡°I don¡¯t know about the Animals, but I¡¯m going southeast. Much like you, I find the Strachan ladies irresistible.¡±

    There was a lot to unpack in those two sentences. ¡°The¡­ animals?¡± I asked.

    The Celestian seemed to consider. ¡°It¡¯s probably for the best that you¡¯re out of the loop, but it wouldn¡¯t be right if I didn¡¯t extend the offer. Rhian and Feargus, they¡¯re helping us escape¡ªme and the Animals.¡±

    ¡°Which animals?¡±

    ¡°Bear, Llama, Sheep, and Turtle,¡± Riz said, as a matter of fact.

    ¡°Clearly, I¡¯m not getting anywhere with this line of questioning, so I¡¯ll change course¡ªwhy do you think I¡¯d want to go anywhere with someone I just met?¡±

    ¡°Because I could teach you everything I know. Don¡¯t tell me you actually want to do this for the rest of your life?¡± The Celestian gestured widely.

    Clergy wouldn¡¯t have been my first choice if the alternatives weren¡¯t life-imprisonment or death. ¡°Are Sinclair and Finlay going with you?¡±

    ¡°As far as I know, no. But you shouldn¡¯t let that affect your decision. You¡¯re not likely to see them again once you¡¯re assigned.¡±

    ¡°No less likely than if I were on the run,¡± I said.

    ¡°Maybe.¡± Riz shrugged, and when he pushed his hair out of his eyes again, I felt a powerful urge to find scissors and trim it. ¡°But like I said, you shouldn¡¯t let that affect your decision.¡±

    Of course, I¡¯d thought about defecting. I suspect most Partisans had considered it at one time, even if only as a passing thought. But, in every imagined scenario where I was abandoning Palisade, I pictured myself doing it with Sinclair¡ªcertainly not with some incidental Celestian I didn¡¯t know existed five minutes before.

    Stolen novel; please report.

    ¡°I don¡¯t expect you¡¯ll have an answer now,¡± Riz continued. ¡°But we¡¯re leaving tomorrow and there¡¯s only one space left on the embark. If you decide to join us, we¡¯ll be taking off from the Drop tomorrow¡ªright when Councilwoman Blanchett was supposed to be giving her speech. I¡¯ll be the navigator, obviously.¡±

    ¡°Supposed to be?¡± I asked.

    ¡°Supposed to be what?¡±

    ¡°You said, ¡®Right when Councilwoman Blanchett was supposed to be giving her speech.¡¯ What did you mean by that?¡±

    ¡°Hmm¨Cno, I don¡¯t think I said that.¡± The Celestian grinned. ¡°I think I said, ¡®Right when Councilwoman Blanchett is giving her speech.¡¯¡±

    I was certain of what I¡¯d heard, and I believed the Celestian was certain of what he¡¯d said. There''d be no sense prying further, but it was thoughtful of him to drop a hint, and I appreciated the inclusion and the trust. I wasn¡¯t sure what to make of it, however.

    ¡°I¡¯ll think about your offer,¡± I said. ¡°And if I don¡¯t show up tomorrow at the Drop¡ªthank you. You¡¯ve been kinder than most, and I won¡¯t forget it.¡±

    The Celestian shrugged a slender shoulder. ¡°Let¡¯s be honest. I know you won¡¯t be coming with us tomorrow. But if ever you need to learn a few tricks, you¡¯ll know where to find me. I¡¯m quite talented, and incredibly humble.¡±

    At the very least, I owed the man a smile. I hoped the one I attempted was convincing, because it was sincere. ¡°Stracha?¡±

    ¡°You know it.¡±

    Riz pulled back the drape, cranked open the window, and slipped through. Then, from my side of the glass, I watched in amazement as he vanished into thin air.

    <hr>

    Like most buildings of importance on the Isle of Inspiration, the estate¡¯s pure white design stood out against the colourful eccentricity of the city. No less ostentatious than the landscaping at the church, tall, neatly trimmed topiaries lined the pathway, while marble columns framed the exterior around the crown-molded doorway. To either side of the entrance, bunches of bright purple roses spilled out from the tops of ceramic hanging planters.

    I reached for the fish-shaped knocker, hesitating before placing my fingers in its open mouth. Not a design choice I¡¯d have made, but what did I know about such things?

    It wasn¡¯t long before the butler opened the door. Glancing me over from head to toe, his expression gave away little as to the value of his appraisal. ¡°How can I help you?¡±

    ¡°Good afternoon,¡± I said, holding a paper folder to my chest. ¡°My name is Petitioner Andrei Strauss, and I¡¯m here to meet with the Liaison regarding my release.¡±

    ¡°You have an appointment, Petitioner Stroos?¡±

    ¡°Ah¡ªno, I wasn¡¯t aware I¡¯d need one. It should only take a moment.¡±

    I was expecting the butler to tell me the Liaison wasn''t home, that he was escorting the Councilwoman through the city, and that I should come back later. Then I would suggest that I leave the papers in his office so I could return to collect them on the day of my departure. Frankly, I wasn''t certain if I needed to be alone in his office or not, and I couldn''t be sure the butler wouldn''t just offer to take the papers from me. Perhaps I could say something about wanting to leave a thank-you note...

    One thing at a time.

    ¡°The Liaison is enjoying his lunch at the moment. If you return in half an hour, he¡¯ll be ready to receive you.¡±

    Two minutes in, and things were already not going to plan.

    Was the butler lying, or had something changed? I wondered if I should abort the mission, but then again, what if that ruined everything? I supposed I''d find out once inside. If nothing interesting happened, then I''d have the Liaison sign the papers, and I¡¯d return to the church.

    ¡°If it isn¡¯t too much trouble, could I wait inside?¡± I asked. Shielding eyes with my hand, I tried on a smile and hoped the scene seemed desperate enough. ¡°There''s no sense walking all the way back to the church over half an hour, and the sun is quite bright today.¡±

    I wasn¡¯t sure how I was going to get into the Liaison¡¯s office once inside the building, but I was confident enough in my ability to improvise. I¡¯d consumed upwards of two thousand novels while confined, and I had an exceptional memory. Surely I could put something I¡¯d read to good use.

    The butler stepped aside, ushering me indoors.

    I¡¯d never been inside the estate, so while I was being led through the hollow atrium and down a series of corridors, I peeked into each room at every opportunity. There were, of course, offices, studies, and we walked past what I gathered was the kitchen¡ªjudging by the ruckus behind the double doors. I spotted the library. It was the largest of the rooms so far, spanning at least twelve of my chambers back at the church. If it were any other day, and if I were there for any other reason, I may have asked to see it. We turned down another corridor, and finally, we stopped at a dead end marked by an expansive bookshelf.

    The butler unlocked the door to its left, gesturing me inside.

    ¡°You will wait here, Petitioner Stroos,¡± he said. ¡°I will alert the Liaison.¡±

    As I stepped into what I presumed to be his office, I was equally disappointed and relieved I hadn¡¯t had to work out any elaborate schemes. Taking a moment to analyze my surroundings, I stopped at the portrait hanging above the fireplace of the Liaison in a cream-coloured poet''s shirt and purple tights.

    Not the attire I¡¯d have chosen, but what did I know about such things, either?

    The only other portrait in the room was one of Councilwoman Blanchett, and I had to admit, for a woman of forty-five odd years, the fiery-haired Delphi looked incredible. I suspected her naivety and nonchalance amounted to a stress-free life.

    It did little to compensate for her miserable personality, however.

    The office was otherwise typical¡ªa desk, a cloak closet, and a pair of bookcases. Why was I even there? Ultimately, I needed my release papers signed, but what was I waiting for? I worked my way toward the floral-print chair beneath the window, and as I was about to sit, there was a quiet rustle coming from inside the cloak closet.

    Following the noise, I took a few steps closer.

    ¡°Psssst,¡± from within. I¡¯d recognize that sound anywhere.

    I rushed to open the closet.

    Sinclair, carrying a burlap sack, flashed a chipped-tooth smile in my direction.

    The age old Strachan art of hiding in a cupboard. So far, so good.

 [That One Time in Delphia] 11 - The Inevitable Disaster

    Andrei, Delphia

    After playing a fun game of, ¡°Fancy meeting you here,¡± Sinclair opened the burlap bag and handed me the first of several objects¡ªa pair of black trousers. She insisted I put them on, along with a wrinkled white shirt and a purple cloak. Time was of the essence, so I slipped on the trousers underneath my robes. They were too loose around the waist and too short for my legs, but they would have to suffice¡ªfor whatever.

    Before disrobing, I closed the cupboard door.

    ¡°Really?¡± Sinclair said. ¡°Are we twelve?¡±

    ¡°What, were you hoping to watch?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s the little things in life, Strauss.¡±

    I was flattered, but I was also self-conscious. I¡¯d been malnourished for the majority of my life. I didn''t think she''d be missing much.

    The cupboard remained closed while I undressed and slipped the white shirt over my head. By the time she opened the door again, I was adjusting my ponytail. I didn¡¯t need to ask about the attire; everything was identical to the uniforms of those working for the Liaison.

    ¡°It might be important to know the Liaison is in the dining room enjoying lunch and not touring the Councilwoman through the city,¡± I said.

    Sinclair nibbled on her bottom lip for a moment, and I looked away because it was easier than trying not to stare.

    ¡°Eh¡ªit¡¯s not ideal, but it doesn¡¯t change much," she said. ¡°You¡¯ll just have to be even more careful.¡±

    ¡°Be even more careful while doing what?¡± I asked. ¡°I¡¯ve been patient so far, but shouldn¡¯t I know why I¡¯m here at this point?¡±

    ¡°Did they mention how long the Liaison would take to enjoy his lunch?¡±

    ¡°About half¡ª¡±

    ¡°Shush,¡± Sinclair interrupted.

    ¡°Would you like me to answer your question, or would you like me to shush?¡±

    ¡°Someone¡¯s coming,¡± she said, squirreling herself and the purple cloak away in the cupboard.

    Only once I was listening for them did I hear the footsteps coming down the corridor.

    It was too late to get changed, so I slid my robes over my disguise and did what I could to cover the evidence. Rushing for the floral-print chair, I settled into a casual sitting position and brushed back any flyaway hairs.

    The door opened, and the butler stepped inside, carrying a tray with a teapot, teacup, and an assortment of finger biscuits. I smiled politely¡ªI hoped.

    ¡°The Liaison apologizes for the delay, Petitioner Stroos. He is eager for the opportunity to thank you for your service in person, and he hopes these refreshments will be enough to keep you for just a little while longer.¡± He set the tray down on the table beside me.

    ¡°I¡¯m honoured,¡± I said. ¡°Please tell the Liaison I appreciate his generosity. I am feeling rather peckish.¡±

    ¡°We hope everything is to your taste. Is there anything else I can do for you?¡±

    There wasn¡¯t. The butler bowed, stepped outside, and closed the door behind him.

    Considering the snacks, the strawberry wafers looked especially appetizing.

    The cupboard door opened. ¡°Don¡¯t eat or drink any of that,¡± Sinclair whispered.

    ¡°Why not?¡± I asked, eying the wafer in my hand.

    ¡°On account of the Liaison is a traitorous nut-job. It¡¯s probably poisoned.¡±

    ¡°Sinclair, it¡¯s statistically unreasonable to believe everything has been poisoned.¡±

    ¡°Did you hear what I said about the man being a traitorous nut-job?¡±

    My stomach grumbled, but I placed the wafer back on the tray and returned to the closet. I handed Sinclair my robes in exchange for the cloak and the last few objects in the bag.

    ¡°The key is for a room somewhere in this place,¡± she said. ¡°I need you to find it and release the Amali guards. Give them this¡ª¡±

    Sinclair slipped something into my pants pocket. My posture stiffened.

    ¡°And this¡ª¡± She passed me two sheets of parchment next. Release papers, signed and sealed by the Liaison, and the permissions for an embark back to Palisade, signed and sealed by Councilwoman Blanchett. ¡°Tell them to return to the Drop, talk to absolutely no one, and get their arses back to Palisade. If they¡¯re already dead, or if you can¡¯t find them in a reasonable amount of time, I need you to hang on to everything, return to the church, and carry on business as usual. Questions?¡±

    I had so many questions, but none were about the steps she¡¯d given me. ¡°Find the room and the guards, give them the message and everything they¡¯ll need. If all fails, return to the church and act normal.¡±

    Sinclair nodded. ¡°If you¡¯re alone and it feels right, rely on your disguise to get the hells out as quickly, and as safely, as possible. I shouldn''t have to tell you this, but flip the hood up and don''t look at anyone.¡±

    On my brief tour of the estate, I¡¯d spotted at least two other exits besides the front door. There were, too, plenty of open doors and windows.

    ¡°Otherwise,¡± Sinclair continued. ¡°If the guards are with you, or if it¡¯ll be too risky to leave any other way, you¡¯ll have to escape through the secret passage.¡±

    ¡°Secret passage?¡±

    ¡°Behind the bookcase out in the hallway,¡± she said. ¡°Truth is, I expected to come out somewhere more creative than that, but some things never change. The passage will take you straight into the defects¡¯ lair, but if everything goes according to plan, nobody dangerous should be there.¡±

    ¡°Just like the Liaison wasn¡¯t supposed to be here?¡±

    ¡°Oi, let¡¯s not forget whose intel that was,¡± Sinclair said with a quiet chuckle.

    What could I say?

    ¡°There¡¯ll be a hatch leading up into a house across the street,¡± Sinclair continued. ¡°The man standing guard is a friend. He¡¯ll be expecting you.¡±

    ¡°The Celestian?¡± I asked.

    ¡°How do you know Riz? Actually, never mind¡ªno time. Not Riz. He¡¯ll look like a Barren.¡±

    If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.

    Look like? I couldn¡¯t help but wonder. ¡°Is that everything?¡±

    Sinclair nodded.

    ¡°The Liaison will return to his office and find me gone,¡± I said. ¡°What then?¡±

    ¡°You¡¯ll be gone, so¡­¡±

    ¡°Yes, but won¡¯t it seem suspicious?¡± I asked. ¡°I''m here to have my papers signed, and nobody will have seen me leave.¡±

    ¡°Uhh¡ª¡±

    Shaking my head, I made my way over to the Liaison¡¯s desk and found a blank sheet of parchment and a pen. It was a relatively recent invention from the Isle of Tuition, and I regretted not purchasing one for myself sooner. Given everything, I doubted I¡¯d have the chance to do so before returning to Palisade. But I digress. I set the paper folder down on the desk and began writing:

    Esteemed Liaison Delaire,

    Thank you for your hospitality, although I regret having been unable to wait. If you could, at your soonest convenience, apply your signature and seal to my release, I will see to collecting the documents before my departure.

    Palisade¡¯s in service,

    Petitioner Andrei Strauss

    ASTR13

    To make everything more believable, I poured half a cup of tea, selected a few biscuits from the tray, and stored them away in my pocket.

    Once I finished setting the scene, Sinclair beckoned me. ¡°One last thing before you go.¡±

    Sighing, I stepped in toward her. What more could there possibly be?

    Sinclair shuffled in place, glancing left before looking up at me. ¡°All right, look, Strauss. After all these years, I never thought I¡¯d get the chance to meet you in person, and now that I have, I¡¯ve realized I might never see you again. So, I just wanted to say that I¡¯ve been lucky to know you, and thanks for trusting me, and¡ª¡± she pressed her lips together, moistening them before swallowing heavily. Crooking her fingers, she beckoned me closer, as if she wanted to share a secret. I bent at the waist, and before I knew it, she tugged at the collar of my shirt, pulled me in toward her.

    It was the single greatest moment of my life up to that point. Not only because it marked the culmination of our affection for one another, but because it was a moment where nothing else mattered but the moment. Years of anxiety, self-doubt, and uncertainty melted away as I kissed her back. Neither of us had any idea what we were doing, but neither of us knew any better either way. My fingers grazed her cheek, memorizing the contours of her face until, as suddenly as it began, the moment was over.

    I¡¯d hardly wrapped my head around what was happening by the time we opened our eyes, and instead of gazing into hers, I stared straight into the woodgrain of the closet door.

    Even the bravest souls have their limits.

    <hr>

    If it weren¡¯t for the excellent hearing, I may not have heard the muffled sobs behind the door down the hall. The key was a perfect fit. I glanced over my shoulder and stepped into the room, closing the door behind me.

    The room itself was cold, undecorated, and lit by a single torch. A storage room, and I suspected the Liaison didn¡¯t have anywhere more suitable for holding secret prisoners. But where I¡¯d expected to see two Amali guards, there were only two empty chairs and a scared Barren man sitting in the third. Rushing forward, I lowered the gag from around his mouth and untied the restraints from around his arms and legs.

    ¡°Guardsman Deville?¡±

    The man sniffled, stretched his jaw, and nodded.

    ¡°There isn''t much time," I said. "But before we go, are you able to answer a few questions?¡±

    Deville nodded again. ¡°For a prisoner, they¡¯ve treated me well. Hoping to break me down¡ªhoping they could sway my loyalties. Not like the others.¡±

    ¡°Others?¡±

    ¡°Partisans¡ªAmali, I think.¡± Deville paused, looking me over. ¡°I¡¯m sorry if they were comrades of yours. I¡ªI don¡¯t know where they took them, but if we¡¯re being honest, I don¡¯t think they survived.¡±

    My left cheek twitched. I formed a tight fist and nodded. ¡°Why is the Liaison keeping you prisoner, and what did you mean by loyalties?¡±

    ¡°There was talk of rebellion,¡± Deville said. ¡°Whisperings of an underground operation being supported by the Liaison using siphoned funds. Most of the rumours were easy to believe¡ªit¡¯s no secret there is a subsect of conflicted people. But I couldn¡¯t believe the Liaison would be involved with them. It must have been an effort to smear his good name. I¡¯d devoted my entire career to him. I trusted him, so I went to him with what I¡¯d heard, and he confessed everything. But when I refused to have any part¡­¡±

    The rest went without saying. ¡°Thank you,¡± I said. ¡°I¡¯d like to get you home safely to your family, and some of what may happen next may seem unconventional. Are you prepared to follow my lead?¡±

    Deville nodded. ¡°I am indebted to you, Blessed One.¡±

    While I hadn¡¯t located the Amali guards, I had located a guard. Should we try escaping from one of the side exits, or was the secret passage still on the table? It seemed the safest bet. Anywhere else would require stealthy maneuvering, whereas the bookcase was just down the hall. Besides, I would have heard someone walking down the corridor. The Liaison hadn¡¯t returned to his office yet. There was still time.

    It wasn¡¯t until we arrived at the dead-end I realized I''d neglected to ask an important question. There were no handles, levers, or other obvious methods to trigger the passage. Careful not to over-extend my strength, I tried pulling on the bookcase. It shifted, but it didn''t open. Guardsman Deville remained silent and obedient as ordered, although he seemed understandably perplexed.

    In the near distance, a door opened and closed. Two sets of footsteps followed.

    ¡°Everything is in place?¡± said a man¡ªa Delphi, no doubt.

    ¡°They won¡¯t see it coming,¡± said the other. His voice was familiar, and while his accent wasn''t as obvious, I pegged him for a Delphi as well. "The underground is prepared to do what''s necessary."

    The first man laughed. ¡°Now, I must attend to the dead Petitioner in my office, and I will leave you to do whatever you desire with Deville.¡±

    As they approached, my heart began racing and my hands started sweating. I thought of the biscuits in my pocket, and how Sinclair¡¯s paranoia most likely saved my life. I imagined Deville felt a similar sense of relief somewhere beneath the panic.

    The men paused, while I honed in on the sound of jingling keys.

    ¡°Can I see him?¡± the second man asked.

    ¡°Yes, yes,¡± the Liaison said. ¡°As soon as I remember which key it is.¡±

    I tried the door opposite the Liaison¡¯s office. Locked. Sinclair was counting on me. Guardsman Deville was counting on me. By the sounds of things, I¡¯d found him just in time, but now what?

    ¡°Not Deville,¡± the unknown man said. ¡°I¡¯m referring to the dead mutt in your office. They should have drowned him the minute he was born, like all the other mixed-breed abominations. I want to see the look on his pathetic, pasty face.¡±

    The Liaison laughed again.

    My heart rate tripled, and my left cheek began twitching uncontrollably. I wiped my palms on my pants. They were closing in on us, and what could we do? I could cause a distraction. I glanced over my shoulder toward the bookcase and then around the corridor. The sconces, I thought. I could extinguish one. The confusion might buy us some time, and then we could turn into the Liaison¡¯s office and escape out the window.

    I recalled everything I¡¯d learned about elemental manipulation, which was next to nothing, and I directed my thoughts toward the flame at the end of the hallway. The fire sputtered, flickered, but it wasn¡¯t enough. The footsteps paused, but only for a moment, and I did everything I could to ignore my trembling hands and the sweat pouring past my brow and into my eyes. I had to concentrate, but not too much, or...

    ...the men turned the corner as the first sconce exploded, and then the other, and then another. The flames caught the starched, puffy sleeves of the Liaison¡¯s shirt and the thick purple tapestry on the wall. Guttural cries cut through the chaos, echoing through the corridor as the fire grew bigger and bigger, spreading from one man to the next. My panicking only made matters worse. I caught the horrified expression of the Liaison as the flames completely engulfed him and his companion who I now recognized as one of the defectors who''d tried to steal the Tear.

    So much for the dead mutt, I mused, my thoughts wavering between fear, vindication, and guilt. Guardsman Deville stood stunned by the surprising turn of events. Unconventional was putting it lightly.

    I tried the door to the Liaison''s office next. Locked. Had Sinclair done it from the other side? Did it lock automatically when I left? I banged on the door, but to no avail. I could have broken it down, but there are sayings about hindsight for a reason. "Fire!" I shouted a warning through the door. We were running out of time. Turning to the bookcase, I recalled something I¡¯d once read. Haphazardly, I pulled books from the shelves, tossing them to the ground. More kindling for the fire that was working its way toward us. Finally, a satisfying click when I triggered the mechanism, and the bookcase swung open¡ªclipping the guardsman in the back. It was enough to pull him from his trance.

    With little time to spare as the fire creeped in, we bolted through the secret passage, leaving the smell of burning flesh behind us.

 [That One Time in Delphia] 12 - The Thing About Happy Accidents

    Rhian, Delphia

    On the day of the fire, the defects were out preparing for the Councilwoman¡¯s speech the next day, so the lair was quiet. It wasn¡¯t often they got to stretch their legs topside, but with the Isle of Inspiration so packed full of people, it would be easy for them to get lost in the crowd. It was important for Riz to keep up appearances and learn everything he could about what more they had planned, so he was off helping Green Jacket with whatever he was up to.

    Little did they know, while they were enjoying their false freedom, we were cooking up ideas of our own.

    Firearms, barrels of fire-powder, everything they might need to put together more firearms and more barrels of fire-powder. Everything had to go, but we couldn¡¯t empty the place out straightaway. If the defects got back to find us and all their things gone, they¡¯d know we¡¯d betrayed them and we needed everybody acting normal.

    The plans we were making were for the next morning.

    Vinny helped us rent a wagon, and we located an abandoned warehouse on the slummy side of town to use for storage. Taking all their things wouldn¡¯t stop them from trying to blow up the Councilwoman and all those unsuspecting people. We were too late for that. But it would stop them doing anything else crazy if what we had planned for them went to shite.

    While we snooped around the lair, took stock, and worked out the best way to get everything out as quickly as possible, Vinny kept watch at the front door. He might have lost control over the defects, but we trusted his ability to keep them out or stall as long as possible. As for the allied Barren who owned the house? See page thirty-six in my sketchbook. He might have started out wanting to help, but he died corrupt like the rest.

    Just before noon, Gus and I used the key to open the secret passage in the lair. The exit was right beside the Liaison¡¯s office, so we listened carefully, making sure nobody was kicking around before stepping out the bookcase. After that, it was about as interesting as picking the lock. Not exactly groundbreaking, but there you have it. The Liaison was supposed to be out and about with the Councilwoman that day, so we weren¡¯t too worried about being caught. Turns out, we should have been.

    But never mind. For all the Strachan luck, it worked out.

    The thing about people like Strauss, they were always on time. So, seeing as the closet was big and Strachan are small, Gus and I took our places and waited. No sense getting into what happened next on account of Strauss nailed it. I''ll pick up right after we kissed, and I shut the cupboard in his face, and then he left.

    ¡°So, that was enlightening,¡± Gus said, stepping out of the closet. ¡°It explains why you wanted to stay at the church. That was going to bother me for the rest of my life.¡±

    ¡°Right,¡± I said. ¡°It¡¯s over, mate. We don¡¯t need to talk about it.¡±

    Grinning like an idiot, Gus opened the window in case we needed a quick escape, and made his way over to the Liaison¡¯s desk. If you hadn¡¯t sorted it out, we were there to search for evidence of his crooked-bastardness. ¡°Well, I think you make the perfect couple¡ªlike chocolate and pickles. It makes no sense until you taste it.¡±

    ¡°Let me guess, I¡¯m the pickle.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t be silly.¡± Gus said. ¡°Strauss is the pickle. Do we need to have the talk?¡±

    I rolled my eyes.

    Gus rifled through the desk for a good five minutes while I listened at the door for footsteps.

    ¡°I wonder what your kids would look like,¡± he asked.

    ¡°Because that¡¯s a reasonable thing to wonder,¡± I said. ¡°And why are you still thinking about it? It¡¯s weird.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s the little things in life, Rhian,¡± Gus said. Stealing my lines¡ªhow dare he.

    A few more minutes passed, searching through drawers until Gus announced, ¡°I found something.¡±

    ¡°What?¡± I asked.

    ¡°The ledger.¡± Gus said. ¡°We know the Liaison¡¯s been stealing from the people to fund the underground, so in theory, the numbers won¡¯t add up.¡±

    ¡°Makes sense. Trouble is, he¡¯s bound to notice it¡¯s gone sooner than later, not to mention the missing prisoners. It¡¯ll all point to Strauss, and he still has to come back to get his release papers.¡±

    Stepping over to the Liaison¡¯s desk, Gus stuffed Strauss¡¯s apology letter in his pocket and picked up the writing doohickey. ¡°When does he leave?¡±

    ¡°Day after tomorrow.¡±

    After squiggling the Liaison¡¯s signature and whatnot, Gus folded the release papers, applied the seal, and while we waited for the wax to dry, he said, ¡°What was the other problem again?¡±

    ¡°The prisoners.¡±

    ¡°Right, right.¡± Gus nodded slowly. ¡°That will look suspicious. We should have thought of that.¡±

    Look, we weren¡¯t used to having a third person to consider in our schemes.

    ¡°Wait,¡± I whispered. ¡°Someone¡¯s coming.¡±

    I listened for clues.

    You can tell a lot by the way a person opens doors and knocks, but also about the way they walk. I recognized Strauss¡¯s uncertain shuffle, and then another set of steps. They stopped at the dead-end. At that moment, I realized Strauss never asked how to open the secret passage, and then I realized I wouldn¡¯t have known how to answer the question, anyhow.

    ¡°Everything all set?¡± said a random man, further in the distance.

    ¡°They won¡¯t see it coming,¡± said another man. I knew that voice straightaway. Blue Jacket. ¡°The underground is ready to do what¡¯s necessary.¡±

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    The first man laughed. They were getting closer. ¡°Now I have to deal with the dead Petitioner in my office, and you can do whatever you want with Deville.¡±

    ¡°Not everything is poisoned,¡± he said. ¡°It¡¯s statistically unreasonable,¡± he said. Also, Deville¡ªwhy did I recognize that name?

    Keys jingled.

    ¡°Can I see him?¡± Blue Jacket asked.

    ¡°As soon as I remember which key it is.¡±

    ¡°Not Deville,¡± Blue Jacket said. ¡°The dead mutt in your office.¡±

    The men started laughing, and then¡­

    ¡­a roaring whoosh, and then another, and another, followed by the screaming.

    I reached for the door handle. But before I could open it, Gus dived across the room. He snagged me around the waist, dragged me to the window, and tossed me through.

    Following behind, he grabbed my hand as we ran across the street. Fast like kitty-cats. Bang, bang on the door. ¡°VD¡ªit¡¯s not what it sounds like,¡± and the door swung wide open. We rushed for the hatch, leaped into the basement, and darted for the secret door. After unlocking it, we dashed down the corridor. On the other side of the secret passage, books hit the floor. One by one. Strauss was panicking.

    Why doesn¡¯t he just turn into the office?

    I pulled the lever, and the secret door opened. Strauss and a man I didn¡¯t recognize came barreling through.

    There was only enough time to sneak a peek at what was happening before closing the door.

    On the other side, the estate was on fire, and two men had just about finished burning to death.

    <hr>

    Strauss was basically catatonic by the time we reached the lair. The Animals, not entirely sure what the hell was happening, gathered around us. Bear, being an empath and all, was especially concerned for Strauss. Frankly, so was I, but we were running out of time. It wouldn¡¯t be long before the fire spread like fire does, and it''d become obvious even to those outside the estate. It would only be a matter of time before the defects rushed back home looking for answers. We didn¡¯t want to be there when they did.

    While the rest of us worked out where to go next, Bear tended to our accidental arsonist, laying his massive hands on Strauss¡¯s sad, saggy shoulders. I didn¡¯t know all that much about Endican heart-tricks, but I knew enough about how empathy worked to know it was a lot like telepathy. Whatever Bear did was enough to soothe Strauss back to reality¡ªenough to get his feet moving when he had to, anyhow.

    Even though we were too late to rescue the Amali guards, freeing the Barren was an equal win. The man was eager to get home to his family, and seeing as we needed somewhere to be, Guardsman Deville invited us all back to his place. It wasn¡¯t far.

    Misses Deville was beside herself with joy seeing her husband come back in one piece, but when she noticed the panicked looks on our faces, she ushered us inside¡ªall eight of us. Good thing they had a fancy house. She offered us cold drinks, toilets and bathtubs, and ordered the servants to whip something up for everyone to eat. While the Animals and Vinny were busy getting cleaned up, Strauss, Gus and I joined the Devilles in the sitting room.

    After hugging their dad, Max squeezed in between me and Gus, and Dominique hopped on my lap.

    ¡°I knew you could help.¡± She looked at her brother, sternly and the way only a sister can. ¡°Max didn¡¯t think so. He said you¡¯d be too busy, but I just knew it. Thank you for bringing our father back home.¡±

    Gus gestured to Strauss. ¡°It was all him.¡±

    Misses Deville regarded Strauss with warm, teary eyes. She leaned into her husband as he pulled her close. ¡°We truly cannot thank you enough. If you ever need anything, anything at all, we are forever indebted.¡±

    He was still looking lost, so I encouraged Strauss with a smile.

    ¡°Seeing your family reunited and looking so happy is thanks enough,¡± he eventually said.

    Misses Deville addressed us all next. ¡°You must be eager for the unveiling tomorrow.¡±

    Awkward.

    ¡°Aye,¡± I said. ¡°About that. If you could all just not go, that¡¯d be great.¡±

    Misses Deville turned to her husband. He nodded.

    ¡°Say, Strauss,¡± I said. ¡°Pass me that thing in your pocket.¡±

    Strauss raised an eyebrow and reached into his pants pocket. He handed me a leather pouch.

    After pulling open the drawstring, I reached inside and plucked out the Tear.

    Oohs and ahhs all around.

    Well¡ªall except from Gus who smiled, and Strauss who frowned when he realized he¡¯d been carrying it around all afternoon.

    It was just a bloody gem, but to the Devilles, it meant something. I didn¡¯t understand, but I wasn¡¯t above respecting things I didn¡¯t understand. I passed the Tear to Dominique first, and I couldn¡¯t help feeling warm and fuzzy while it made its way around the room.

    For all the chaos it¡¯s caused, at least one nice family would get the chance to see it.

    <hr>

    While Gus took a bath, Strauss and I sat in silence on the bed in one of the spare bedrooms. Strauss had to get back to the church before long, and his mood wasn¡¯t doing him any favours.

    ¡°It was an accident,¡± I said. ¡°There¡¯s no sense beating yourself up over it. Asides, those men were terrorists, one of them was trying to kill you, and the other thought the Assembly should have drowned you as a baby. The world needs more of you and fewer of them. What would the alternative have been?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll concede to that¡ªthey weren¡¯t good men, and who knows how many more atrocities they¡¯d have committed? But how many innocents have been injured or killed while trying to save them? Or while trying to put the fires out? And was it really an accident? I could have broken down the door to the Liaison¡¯s office. We could have escaped out the window. I could have tried triggering the secret passage much sooner. Instead, even if only trying to buy us some time, I attempted something I should have known I¡¯d fail at.¡±

    ¡°If nobody attempted anything they might fail at, where would we be? Gus would definitely not be having a nice hot bath in a tub with running water. We¡¯d all still be shitting outdoors roasting rats on an open fire.¡±

    Strauss puckered the corners of his lips and side-eyed me.

    ¡°All right, no more talking about fire, but I¡¯ve made my point. You tried, you failed, big deal. It¡¯s not like I¡¯m saying you shouldn¡¯t feel bad about the consequences. I¡¯m saying consequences are a regular part of life and if you can¡¯t get used to dealing with them head-on, you¡¯ll spend the rest of your life too scared, too guilty, and too fucked up to live. You might as well just hang yourself. Do you want to hang yourself, Strauss?¡±

    ¡°Well, no¡ª¡±

    ¡°Right-e-o,¡± I said. ¡°Anyhow, I¡¯m the one who ought to be feeling like miserable pile of misery. It¡¯s my fault any of that happened. Do you think I ought to be feeling like a miserable pile of misery, Strauss?¡±

    ¡°No, of course not. It¡¯s not your fault, Sinclair. I wanted to help.¡±

    ¡°Uh huh, and I should have known you¡¯d accidentally set a bunch of people on fire.¡± I shrugged. ¡°We¡¯re even.¡±

    The corner of Strauss¡¯s lips twitched. It was almost a smile, and it was as good as it was going to get. ¡°I thought you said no more fire talk?¡±

    ¡°Look, it¡¯s tricky talking about fire without talking about fire.¡±

    Strauss nodded a few times slowly. ¡°You know, once the Assembly finds out¡­¡±

    ¡°Never mind that,¡± I said. ¡°Leave the Assembly to me, and just remember: it was all my fault.¡±

 [That One Time in Delphia] 13 - The Inevitable Doom

    Andrei, Delphia

    Sinclair had been successful in assuaging my guilt much more quickly than I would have on my own, but it¡¯s important to know that I would have come to terms on my own. After all, I had a laundry list of prior experiences in similar disasters. I had become rather adept at separating myself from my long-term feelings, but one can have thoughts without feelings, and I was hyperaware of what had happened, how many may have been affected, and what the consequences might be.

    Within minutes of leaving the Deville¡¯s, I learned that five men¡ªincluding the Liaison¡ªhad perished in the fire. On the isle, the celebrations around the Councilwoman¡¯s arrival from Palisade had come to a halt, but the chaos in the streets seemed to have nevertheless increased threefold. The rumours ran rampant. ¡°I¡¯ve heard there was foul play,¡± and, ¡°Who would want the Liaison dead? After everything he¡¯s done for us,¡± and, ¡°It was probably a careless servant. They just don¡¯t make them like they used to.¡±

    With the estate in shambles, Sinclair and I reasoned the Councilwoman wouldn¡¯t be spending the night there. After concluding she may instead choose to stay at the church, Sinclair prepared me for an eventual encounter with Adelaide Blanchett. We couldn¡¯t know who had survived or what they had discovered about the fire. We had to consider all the variables.

    My knowledge was limited on the topic of telepathy and how to circumvent it, but Sinclair was an expert on the subject. Before leaving the Deville''s, she briefed me as best she could, and as I weaved through the crowds on my way back to the church, I recalled the lessons.

    "You have surface thoughts and deep thoughts. We don''t have enough time to practice hiding your deep thoughts. The best we can hope for is getting your surface thoughts under control."

    This wasn''t exactly encouraging.

    ¡°The worst thing you can do is try confusing her. If she¡¯s questioning you about the fire and you¡¯re thinking about ponies, or the weather, or marshmallows, it¡¯ll seem suspicious. Unless you¡¯re thinking about roasting marshmallows¡ªthen maybe you¡¯re just a hungry opportunist."

    This wasn''t exactly comforting.

    "But on the flip side, not thinking about random things at all is equally suspicious. Most folks have multiple thoughts happening in their heads at one time. The key is to think about ponies or marshmallows here and there, but only for a second.¡±

    I wondered how best to prevent thinking about her lessons. We hadn¡¯t covered that.

    ¡°The second worst thing you can do is lie. If the Councilwoman already knows you were at the estate, thinking about how you weren¡¯t at the estate won¡¯t look good. The key to tricking a telepath is thinking in plausible half-truths. In order to know what she knows, you¡¯ll need to pay close attention and ask careful questions.¡±

    At this point, I hoped I could avoid her altogether.

    ¡°Last thing, it¡¯s no secret she¡¯s a telepath. Worrying about what she might find in your head is to be expected. Guilty of arson or not, everyone has things they¡¯re trying to hide. If you¡¯re not anxious around her, it¡¯ll seem suspicious. You can probably use that to your advantage.¡±

    Internalizing everything I¡¯d learned with a deep breath, I compiled her advice. In summation: be uncomfortable but not too uncomfortable. Ask questions, listen well, anticipate what she knows. Come up with plausible half-truths and think about them, but also think about random things sometimes, but not too often.

    In short, I was doomed.

    <hr>

    Stepping through the double doors of the church, I¡¯d expected it to look different somehow. But everything was just as I¡¯d left it: busy, bright, and bursting with purple flowers. There was no Councilwoman Blanchett as far as I could see, and Brother Delasalle greeted me with a warm¡ªalbeit distracted¡ªsmile. Perhaps if I just kept walking, I could make it to my chambers uninterrupted, and then it would only be a matter of hiding out until it was time to leave this cursed territory.

    ¡°Petitioner Strauss.¡±

    Well, so much for that.

    ¡°Brother Delasalle,¡± I replied, turning on my heel.

    ¡°I¡¯m glad to see you back safely. I know you were on your way to the estate to have your release papers signed this afternoon¡ªisn¡¯t it just awful?¡±

    I nodded, and those around us carried on their own conversations on the topic.

    ¡°They say it will take months, perhaps even years, to recover the damages,¡± Delasalle said.

    Again, I nodded. ¡°A tragedy all around.¡±

    ¡°Did you see it?¡± he asked.

    ¡°See what?¡±

    ¡°The fire.¡±

    ¡°Right, of course,¡± I said. ¡°No, I didn¡¯t see it.¡±

    But then where had I been all this time?

    ¡°After leaving the estate, I privileged myself to walkabout through the festivities," I added.

    The Brother nodded. ¡°Understandable. You are leaving soon, after all.¡±

    Fortunately.

    ¡°Unfortunately.¡±

    ¡°Well, I shouldn''t keep you any longer, Petitioner..."

    I nodded, preparing to turn on my heel once more.

    ¡°...but before you go, I should mention you have a visitor in your chambers.¡±

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    ¡°Oh?¡± I asked.

    ¡°She¡¯s quite shaken, as you can imagine. But she wanted to secure an opportunity to see how you¡¯ve enjoyed your stay in her territory.¡±

    ¡°Oh.¡± I said. ¡°That¡¯s very kind of¡­ the Councilwoman.¡±

    My mentor smiled.

    As clergy, Brother Delasalle was forbidden from using telepathy on anyone without their explicit permission. Therefore, I was confident I¡¯d passed this leg of the gauntlet. But as for what would come next?

    Well, I was doomed.

    <hr>

    Having faced several trials in front of the Assembly, I was no stranger to its members, and Councilwoman Blanchett was no exception. However, in the past, I was guilty, and it was obvious. Everybody knew it, and I wasn¡¯t trying to fool anyone.

    I took my time walking up the three flights of stairs to my chambers.

    Don¡¯t think too much, don¡¯t think too much, think just enough, think just enough. Ponies, marshmallows, fire, ponies¡­

    Sinclair¡¯s advice was no doubt valid, but I wondered if there was another method I could employ¡ªwhat if I took on a role? The role of a man who went to get his release papers signed, saw nothing out of the ordinary, left, and spent the rest of the afternoon among the revelers? What if I convinced myself it were true? Then perhaps I could convince her, too.

    Sinclair¡¯s voice echoed in my head. ¡°The second worst thing you can do is lie.¡±

    But then again, ¡°The key to tricking a telepath is thinking in plausible half-truths.¡±

    How was I supposed to think plausible half truths while not lying? Why hadn¡¯t I asked more questions? My heart battered against my chest as I passed a pair of sconces on the wall. As soon as I opened the door, there¡¯d be no hope of avoiding the encounter with the Councilwoman.

    Why stop with the estate? Perhaps I should set the church on fire, too.

    Steeling myself, I reached for the handle and turned. There was no going back.

    Behind the door, Councilwoman Blanchett seemed right at home¡ªseated at my desk while flipping through the pages of my journal.

    At this rate, I may as well publish it.

    If I were forced at gunpoint to say one thing positive about Adelaide Blanchett, it would be a shallow compliment to her beauty. There wasn¡¯t a curl out of place, and the fiery shades were a stunning contrast against her milky complexion. It was almost as though an artist had meticulously dotted each of the freckles sprinkled across her nose and cheeks.

    Beautiful, but she didn¡¯t appear particularly shaken. She smiled when she saw me.

    The door clicked shut at the same time she closed my journal.

    ¡°Your penmanship is lovely,¡± she said, patting the cover. ¡°If only I¡¯d known, I¡¯d have asked Zelda to borrow you. My secretaries are always so sloppy¡ªbless their well-meaning hearts.¡±

    ¡°Thank you for the compliment,¡± I said.

    Ponies.

    The Councilwoman cocked her head. ¡°So¡ªhow have you enjoyed your stay in Delphia, darling?¡±

    ¡°Well,¡± I said, all the while trying to decide what to do with my hands. I was certain that hiding them in my pockets would be poor etiquette. For the time being, I held my arms stiffly at my sides. ¡°The weather is wonderful and the people have been incredibly welcoming.¡±

    ¡°Fantastic,¡± she said. ¡°Although I¡¯m deeply sorry that you¡¯ll not be getting the celebratory ending to your pilgrimage you may have been hoping for. The people are in shock, the Liaison is dead, and the reason I¡¯m here¡ªthe one remaining drop of hope my people have¡ªhas gone missing. Have you heard?¡±

    ¡°Unfortunately,¡± I said. It wasn¡¯t a secret I was with the Amali guards the night of the theft, and with the Liaison no longer being around to cover anything up, there was no reason Brother Delasalle wouldn¡¯t have filled her in. ¡°I wish I could have done more to prevent it from happening. The Liaison was certain he would find it. My condolences, by the way.¡±

    The very fact she didn¡¯t question why or how I could have prevented a theft she wasn¡¯t even certain I knew about told me I¡¯d passed her first test.

    Why have I never noticed the cobwebs in the corner? I should clean before I go.

    ¡°Thank you for your kind words,¡± the Councilwoman said. ¡°The Liaison was a good man and a dear friend. He¡¯s worked with me for many years and was hand-picked for a reason.¡±

    Certainly not for his loyalty or his taste in fashion. I¡¯ll have to borrow a ladder for those cobwebs.

    ¡°From what I¡¯ve heard, the people held him in high regard as well," I said. "It has certainly been a blow.¡±

    The Councilwoman nodded. ¡°I understand you were there this afternoon. How eerie that must be for you, dodging a bullet like that."

    ¡°Fortuitous timing,¡± I agreed. Then, as though I''d suddenly remembered something, I slid my hand into the pocket where I carried my release papers¡ªthe ones Finlay forged. Casually, I set the sealed pages on the desk.

    The Councilwoman spared a glance, but seemed otherwise uninterested. ¡°Several witnesses report seeing two Strachan escaping out the window just before the fire broke loose. Did you see anything like that when you were there, Petitioner Strauss?¡±

    I thought of the journal on my desk, and the conversation I¡¯d had with Sinclair in the garden.

    Do you really think I¡¯m beautiful?

    ¡°The only Strachan I¡¯ve seen are Rhian Sinclair and Feargus Finlay,¡± I said. ¡°They stayed with me their first night on the isle.¡±

    ¡°Do you have any idea where they may have been staying since?¡±

    ¡°No, I¡ªI¡¯m afraid not.¡± I shook my head slowly.

    I wonder how many stone bricks it took to build this church.

    ¡°Our lines of business don¡¯t exactly meet in the middle,¡± I added.

    Once Finlay had read it, I¡¯d ceased writing anything about him or Sinclair in my journal. Another metaphorical bullet dodged.

    ¡°That¡¯s true, of course.¡± The Councilwoman nodded. ¡°And you wouldn¡¯t have any reason to cover for them, would you? Such as, oh¡ªinappropriate feelings for one of them?¡±

    ¡°Inappropriate¡­ feelings?¡±

    The Councilwoman patted my journal.

    Marshmallow ponies.

    I furrowed my brow. ¡°You couldn¡¯t possibly mean the comment about Sinclair being beautiful? I wouldn¡¯t call stating a fact inappropriate.¡±

    After holding her inquisitive stare for what felt like a century, the Councilwoman nodded and stood. ¡°I never intended to turn this encounter into an interrogation, Petitioner Strauss, so I apologize if I¡¯ve made you uncomfortable. I wasn¡¯t expecting any of this.¡±

    ¡°I can¡¯t imagine you were,¡± I said, stepping aside to allow her clear passage to the door. ¡°No apologies necessary. I understand.¡±

    Before leaving, she turned to me one last time. ¡°In light of everything that¡¯s happened, I¡¯ll be addressing the public tomorrow afternoon. I hope to see you there?¡±

    I nodded. ¡°Of course. I wouldn¡¯t miss it.¡±

    The Councilwoman smiled, flashing a full set of pearly whites. ¡°Excellent. I''ll be staying at the church tonight, and you¡¯ll have until tomorrow to tell me the truth about your Strachan friends. It was lovely seeing you again, Petitioner Strauss.¡±

    "Likewise," I said.

    Where had things gone wrong? Perhaps I should have asked careful questions.

 [That One Time in Delphia] 14 - The Thing About Pineapples

    Rhian, Palisade

    A person might think Michael would have a lot to say about our story as we told it, but he basically sat there looking more and more hopeless. We¡¯d covered almost everything, but the Assembly¡¯s lunch break wouldn¡¯t last forever, and there were still a few things to go over.

    ¡°This has been bothering me since chapter five,¡± Michael sort of said. All except the thing about the chapter. I¡¯m taking some liberties. ¡°If Finlay¡¯s the one who stole the Tear, why are you being charged with theft and he¡¯s¡­¡± Michael looked around the chamber as if expecting Gus to pop out behind a podium. ¡°Where is he?¡±

    ¡°This is how we do it, Michael. Gus does brilliant things, and when shite goes sideways, I take the blame. It¡¯s been that way since we were kids, and it¡¯s for the best. Gus would go crazy in solitaire. He needs fresh air, constant stimulation, and people.¡±

    ¡°Okay, but you talked to Strauss while you were in there,¡± Michael said.

    ¡°It¡¯s like I said: Gus needs constant stimulation and people.¡±

    If Strauss knew how to laugh, I reckon he would have. The best we got was a lip twitch and a twinkle in his eye that might have been a smile.

    ¡°Is that why you¡¯re being charged with fraud and arson, too?¡± Michael asked.

    ¡°For all they need to know, I¡¯m the one who copied the signatures on the license so the Animals could escape. Even though I can¡¯t read or write all that well, they know I can draw.¡±

    Michael pinched the bridge of his nose. ¡°If you¡¯re willing to accept responsibility for everything, why don¡¯t you plead guilty? It¡¯ll save everyone a lot of time.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s like I said: I don¡¯t feel guilty.¡±

    ¡°Then what exactly are you hoping for?¡±

    ¡°Mostly an opportunity for the Assembly to hear what I have to say afore deciding my punishment. Anyhow, I¡¯m about to pick up where Strauss left off.¡±

    ¡°With Councilwoman Blanchett threatening him?¡± Michael asked.

    Strauss and I nodded.

    ¡°The Devilles were kind enough to invite the rest of us to stay with them that night,¡± I said. ¡°We knew it would look suspicious if we were all gone, but we also knew the defects had enough to worry about, what with their attack planned for the next day, and with Blue Jacket and the Liaison being dead and all. But going back to the lair would have been even riskier. Later that evening, I paid Strauss one last visit.¡±

    ¡°As usual, she knocked three times on the window and I let her in,¡± Strauss said. ¡°I told her about the Councilwoman¡¯s threat, and that I had until the next day to tell her the truth.¡±

    ¡°After having a think on the matter, we decided she was baiting,¡± I said. ¡°See, if he¡¯d failed at protecting the truth about knowing what we were up to, odds are he¡¯d have failed at protecting the truth about more serious things as well¡ªlike the fire. If she suspected him of that, things would have gone a lot differently. Knowing Blanchett, she wouldn¡¯t pass up the opportunity to spank him and threaten to tell Councilwoman Faust what a naughty boy he¡¯d been.¡±

    Michael raised his eyebrows. ¡°Sounds like I should try lying to her sometime.¡±

    I shrugged. To each their own and whatnot. Turned out, Strauss was a natural at hiding his deep thoughts. Years of practice at hiding them from himself, I reckon.

    ¡°The point is,¡± I continued, ¡°I told Strauss to give her what she wanted¡ªto tell her that after he finished getting his papers signed, he was wandering around the grounds and saw me escape from the Liaison¡¯s office through the window. That I ran into a house across the street, and that earlier in the week, I came to him asking for help, and that he refused.¡±

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    Strauss added, ¡°She wanted me to tell the Councilwoman about the Liaison¡¯s suspected treachery, and that I was concerned Sinclair was in trouble¡ªthat she and Finlay had gotten in too deep with the defects, and were in danger.¡±

    ¡°Uh, why?¡± Michael asked.

    ¡°So that she¡¯d leave him alone," I said. "Also, to give her the chance to surprise us and act like she gave a shite about anything other than nailing me.¡±

    Michael turned to Strauss. ¡°Okay, and how¡¯d that work out for you?¡±

    ¡°She thanked me for coming clean and said that it was noble of me to protect my friends. But she insisted the Liaison was loyal to Palisade until the day he died, and that I was being manipulated¡ªthat Sinclair was using me. That, considering she hadn¡¯t even attempted to report any of this to the Drop, she and Finlay were most likely on the path to defecting, and that she¡¯d stolen the Tear to buy their way in.¡±

    ¡°So basically, she reacted exactly the way you expected,¡± Michael said.

    We nodded.

    ¡°By the time I left her room, she was seething,¡± Strauss continued. ¡°But she no longer had her sights set on me. She even promised to report back to Councilwoman Faust in my favour.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m impressed,¡± Michael said, and he looked impressed too. ¡°I was almost expecting you to say you accidentally set her on fire.¡±

    ¡°Oi.¡± I swatted Michael¡¯s shoulder. Seeing as he was built like a rock, he probably didn¡¯t even feel it. ¡°Only we get to say things like that.¡±

    Michael chuckled. ¡°I bet that hurt you more than it hurt me.¡±

    It did.

    ¡°All this hatred coming from the Councilwoman,¡± he said. ¡°Do you really think it was because she was sleeping with your father, what, twenty years ago?¡±

    ¡°If I had to guess, he was using her for something, and she¡¯s projecting on me or what have you. The pineapple doesn¡¯t fall far from the tree.¡±

    ¡°Apple,¡± Strauss corrected. ¡°The apple doesn¡¯t fall far from the tree.¡±

    ¡°Mine¡¯s better.¡±

    ¡°If only pineapples grew on trees. They grow from plants.¡±

    ¡°The pineapple doesn¡¯t fall far from the plant, then. Same goddess-be-damned difference.¡±

    ¡°If this is what you guys sounded like down in solitaire, I feel for the other inmates,¡± Michael said, considering. ¡°Actually, that¡¯s probably why the Assembly never put a stop to it. It''s like some form of weird torture.¡±

    We all took a moment to think about it and then we carried on.

    ¡°Anyway, what about the Animals?¡± Michael asked. ¡°Did they get around to kidnapping the Councilwoman?¡±

    ¡°They did, and the fact she was staying at the church made it even easier. But look, I wasn¡¯t there, so I can¡¯t tell you how it went, only that I knew where they¡¯d be taking her, and I had someone in mind to play the hero when the time came to rescue her.¡±

    ¡°Who?¡± Michael asked.

    ¡°Guardsman Deville,¡± I said. ¡°We told him everything, right down to the Animals kidnapping the Councilwoman to get information about Sheep¡¯s family. That none of us wanted to hurt her, that we were trying to keep her safe. We left him with the Tear and the ledger, and told him to show up at the warehouse two hours after she was supposed to give her speech. If all went according to plan, the Animals would be long gone by then.¡±

    Michael seemed uncertain, but he didn¡¯t interrupt.

    ¡°He told her that some anonymous person dropped the Tear off on his doorstep, along with a note explaining where she¡¯d be that day, and that he had the ledger because he¡¯d been investigating the Liaison¡¯s dirty dealings¡ªthat he trusted him the same way she trusted him and that he was planning to have her killed. The stockpile of gunpowder and whatnot in the back room of the warehouse we filled up that morning gave him an even stronger leg to stand on.¡±

    ¡°Did she believe him?¡± Michael asked.

    ¡°Considering he¡¯s the new Liaison, I reckon she did.¡±

    Michael nodded. ¡°Good. You did good, Rhian.¡±

    I shrugged, spotting another awkward lip-twitch from Strauss.

    ¡°What about Sheep?¡± Michael asked. ¡°Did he get the information he needed to find his family?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± I said. ¡°I¡¯d like to think so. All I know for sure is that they escaped safely¡ªthe Animals, Riz, and Vinny. And I know this on account of I saw the tail end of their embark drifting away in the distance at the same time the entire isle watched a Palisade ship explode.¡±

    Just as things were coming together and Michael was sure he had it all figured out, I had to say something like that. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, what?¡±

    After a great gigantic sigh, I took a sip of Hocks from my flask. ¡°Right, about that¡­¡±

 [That One Time in Delphia] 15 - The Thing About Public Speaking

    Rhian, Delphia

    By the time afternoon rolled around, everything and everyone was exactly where they needed to be.

    All the illicit whatnots from the lair were stocked in the warehouse where Councilwoman Blanchett was still being held captive. The Animals and the rest of our friends were heading to the Drop, while Gus and Guardsman Deville¡¯s most trusted allies were ready to do what they had to do.

    I¡¯d never seen so much purple in my goddess-be-damned life. The people wore purple, carried things that were purple, and later that night, they''d probably be shitting purple, seeing as everything they were eating was also purple. There were streamers, banners, balloons. The entire bloody island gathered in the city centre, expecting the Tear and a speech from the Councilwoman.

    Instead, they got me.

    I worked my way through all the people, climbed the stairs to the stage, and settled behind the podium set up in front of a massive statue of Delphia. Given how short I was (still am), I reckon I looked a bit ridiculous standing on my tippy-toes and whatnot. But whatever. The crowd hushed, save for a few confused whisperings like, ¡°She¡¯s changed since we last saw her,¡± and, ¡°She should have worn high-heels.¡±

    ¡°Good afternoon,¡± I said. And then I raised my voice and repeated, ¡°Good afternoon!¡± seeing as I could tell that everyone was straining. They didn¡¯t have excellent hearing. ¡°I know you¡¯re expecting Councilwoman Blanchett, but she¡¯s, uh¡ªindisposed at the minute.¡±

    I paused while the people wondered.

    ¡°This is probably disappointing to everyone for different reasons. For most of you, I reckon you were excited to see her¡ªI know it¡¯s been a while since she¡¯s paid you all a visit. Which, frankly, is unacceptable. I¡¯ll be sure she knows that. There¡¯s also the matter of the Tear, which I promise is safe, but also indisposed at the minute. For the rest of you¡ªyou know who you are¡ªI¡¯m sorry to say you won¡¯t be watching the Councilwoman die today.¡±

    I held my tongue while the people came to terms.

    ¡°I don¡¯t mean to alarm everyone, but what I¡¯m about to say, and what¡¯s about to happen, will probably alarm everyone. There are Palisade traitors among you,¡± I shouted, ¡°and they¡¯re about to try slipping away now that they¡¯ve realized their plan to blow up a bunch of people is a bust.¡±

    One defect did exactly that. He didn¡¯t get far. I waited while a guardsman caught and cuffed the attempted runaway.

    ¡°The good news is,¡± I carried on yelling, ¡°there are guards sprinkled in the crowd, ready to apprehend the bastards.¡±

    Another of the defects pulled out a pistol, waving it overhead like a goddess-be-damned showman. Almost everybody screamed, and just as he was about to turn the weapon on some poor lady, the defect took a bolt between the eyes.

    I shut up while the people cheered.

    ¡°The better news is, there¡¯s one hell of an arbalist somewhere up there waiting to make his move. If any of you fuckers try anything funny, I promise, my best friend is faster.¡±

    A few kids giggled. Their parents were too late covering their ears.

    Another three defects tried making a run for it, and another three guards didn¡¯t let it happen.

    Including Blue Jacket, that was six down and three to go.

    ¡°I know there are some in the crowd who¡¯ve lost faith in Palisade, and who can blame you?¡± I said, still shouting. ¡°Councilwoman Blanchett is basically useless, but she doesn¡¯t mean to be. She just doesn¡¯t know any better. See, the Liaison made certain she didn¡¯t. He made her think everybody was feeling peachy¡ªthat he had everything under control. Instead of doing something about your problems, he sat on his hands, gobbled up your hard-earned notes, and sacrificed your trust only to lose his goddess-be-damned mind and die in a fire.¡±

    This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

    Another defect made a run for it.

    There wasn¡¯t a guard nearby, so he took a bolt to the side of his head. Trust Gus wouldn¡¯t have made the shot if he didn¡¯t think it¡¯d land. Some people looked around, hoping to spot him. They wouldn¡¯t have seen him even if they tried. Which they did, like I said.

    Seven down, two to go.

    I didn¡¯t pause. The crowd was speechless.

    ¡°Look, while the Liaison was sitting in his fancy house, eating his fancy biscuits and daydreaming up ways to murder the Councilwoman, and while the Councilwoman was sitting in her fancy office, fluffing her hair and trying on fancy shoes, the ones who wear these stupid bloody armbands have, and always will have your backs. It¡¯s literally our only purpose in life.¡±

    ¡°We love you!¡± someone said from somewhere.

    I waggled my fingers in their general direction and carried on, ¡°Bottom line: next time someone tries convincing you that someone else doesn¡¯t have your best interest at heart, stop and think about who¡¯s involved¡ªabout what they stand to gain versus what they stand to lose.¡±

    According to the clock tower, I had less than three minutes to weed out the last two defects before having to make a run for it. Lucky for me, I didn¡¯t have to try very hard. From somewhere deep in the crowd, they rushed the stage and darted up the stairs.

    Random Defect Number Eight fell face first at my feet with a bolt through his back at the same time Green Jacket lunged at me. Either Gus didn¡¯t have a clear shot, or he was leaving the last one up to me.

    I¡¯d find out later it was the latter.

    Green Jacket came flying at me, so I grabbed for my daggers and dove them deep into his gut. The whole affair was a lot more violent than I was hoping for, but whatever. I withdrew my daggers, and the crowd went mental.

    ¡°We love you!¡± and, ¡°We¡¯re sorry!¡± and, ¡°Just tell Blanchett we want more imports!¡±

    I saluted the crowd and ducked underneath the statue of Delphia, reaching up into her skirt for the bundles of explosives strapped to her legs. A minute on the clock and I ran like hell. Dodging everyone I could, I leaped over the heads of those I couldn¡¯t, and bolted straight for the sea. With every bit of strength in my tiny Strachan body, I threw the bundles and breathed the biggest sigh of relief in all the twenty years of my tiny Strachan life.

    The explosions went off, but the water contained the blast.

    Job done, and no innocents died apart from some fish.

    Standing alone at the docks, I took a moment to think about what it would have felt like being blown to bits. And then I took another moment, and another, and another, until there were tens of dozens of people surrounding me. They clapped and cheered and wanted to know my name. I told them it was Rhian, squiggled a few S¡¯s, and asked them all to go home.

    I promised I¡¯d tell the Councilwoman they just wanted more imports.

    <hr>

    Around an hour later, long after almost everyone agreed to go about their business elsewhere, Gus and I waited at the docks. Guardsman Deville had instructions to escort the Councilwoman to the Drop after pretending to rescue her, so it wouldn¡¯t be long afore they arrived. It¡¯d been a busy few days, and I felt little like talking. Good thing Gus didn¡¯t need me to talk to know that. So, we stood around in silence, watching the sails on the ship in the distance ripple in the breeze. The Partisans above deck wandered around here and there, getting everything ready for the Councilwoman¡¯s trip back home.

    Another hour passed, and I returned Gus¡¯s side-hug with a side-hug.

    ¡°At least Kelly will be happy,¡± I said.

    ¡°Blanchett should be, too,¡± Gus added.

    I shrugged. ¡°Aye, but she won¡¯t be.¡±

    ¡°Reckon she¡¯ll take you to trial?¡±

    ¡°Of course she will,¡± I said.

    ¡°I¡¯m sure if we just explain¡ª¡±

    I shook my head. ¡°Naw.¡±

    ¡°Why?¡±

    I flashed my friend a cheeky smile. Another example of a time I didn¡¯t need to talk in order for Gus to know what I was thinking.

    Gus chuckled. ¡°All right, mate, but if they sentence you to the Chase, I¡¯m coming with you.¡±

    The embark carrying the Animals, Riz, and Vinny was a speck of dust in the distance by now. At least if I got sentenced to the Chase, I''d have friends, somewhere. I shrugged again, and that¡¯s when it happened.

    Nineteen Partisans aboard a Palisade ship died in a blast that afternoon while the Councilwoman lived another day to enslave us. If I hadn¡¯t been so goddess-be-damned intent on saving her stupid flaky arse, I¡¯d spend the rest of my life wondering if I¡¯d have known to save theirs instead.

    Fucking. Hell.

 [That One Time in Delphia] 16 - The Thing About Being Responsible

    Rhian, Palisade

    The Assembly and the scribe returned with their bellies full and in a better mood¡ªI hoped. They filed in behind their podiums while Michael and Strauss scrambled from their places on the floor. I took my time. It wasn''t like anybody was going anywhere. Unless they were about to get called for dinner. Which, frankly, wouldn¡¯t surprise me, seeing how long they took for lunch.

    Councilwoman Faust spoke first.

    We turned to the northwest corner.

    ¡°Enforcer Sinclair, on the charges of theft, heresy, conspiracy, fraud, murder, malicious destruction of property, arson, negligence, and aiding and abetting the escape of several recorded defects, what is your official stance?¡±

    ¡°Responsible but not guilty,¡± I said. ¡°Also, heresy? Really?¡±

    It looked like Councilwoman Faust was about to shrug when Blanchett interrupted from the opposite corner. ¡°The Tear is a holy artifact.¡±

    I glanced over my shoulder and rolled my eyes. ¡°It¡¯s just. A bloody. Gem. And from where I¡¯m standing, you ought to be more worried about how little faith your people have in you rather than how much faith they have in a rock.¡±

    A snicker from Councilwoman Kelly in the southeast corner.

    ¡°You see?¡± Blanchett said, as if it explained everything. ¡°Absolutely no regard.¡±

    Faust raised a wrinkly hand. ¡°Adelaide, I think you should abstain from speaking. You may have your vote, but we need the opinions of the Assembly to remain unbiased. All those in favor?¡±

    Councilwoman Oranen kept her hand down¡ªsurprise, surprise. But Councilwoman Hall and Number Two raised theirs. As I¡¯ve already said, Kelly couldn¡¯t vote for anything.

    Faust nodded and continued, ¡°Our understanding is that Councilwoman Kelly deployed you and Agent Finlay to Delphia to unearth the location of at least a dozen dangerous defectors, yes?¡±

    I nodded. ¡°Aye, and the most dangerous of which are now dead or captured. Just saying.¡±

    ¡°The Assembly will keep this in mind,¡± Faust said. ¡°Now, start from the beginning. What happened when you arrived on the Isle of Inspiration?¡±

    ¡°We went to the church for the night, and that¡¯s where we ran into Strauss.¡± I gestured to Strauss, who was standing stiff and straight, weirdly like he didn¡¯t know what to do with his hands. ¡°That¡¯s also when we learned about the Tear. And after having a think, we agreed the defects might use the opportunity to stick it to Palisade.¡±

    Councilwoman Faust nodded along. The only other Councilwoman I could see clearly from my position was Councilwoman Hall. The giant wasn¡¯t giving away much, but her hair looked fantastic that day¡ªall done up with dreadlocks and intricate braids, full up on feathers and flowers I couldn¡¯t identify on account of not being an expert on the subject.

    ¡°On the night the Tear arrived, we monitored the situation from a distance," I continued. "After a few hours waiting, a pair of your guards showed up with the Tear, and to our surprise, Strauss was with them. My condolences for your losses, by the way.¡±

    Faust nodded.

    ¡°As expected, the defects showed up with some half-arsed plan to steal the Tear,¡± I said. ¡°It would have gone smoothly if it weren¡¯t for Strauss picking up on their half-arsedness. Good on him, but it wasn¡¯t what we needed. We wanted them to get away with it so we could follow them, get the location of their hideout, and steal the Tear back.¡±

    Councilwoman Hall smiled a bit. She liked the plan, I could tell.

    ¡°The Amali guards would have made quick work of the defects¡ªno question,¡± I continued. ¡°But that would have been the opposite of helpful. We needed to seize the opportunity and whatnot. So we intervened, apprehended the defects, and in all the confusion, I replaced the Tear with a rock. Sent the Amali guards and Strauss on their merry ways, and offered the Tear to the defects. Told them we were hoping they¡¯d take us in.¡±

    ¡°Even I must commend the resourcefulness,¡± Councilwoman Oranen chimed in from the northeast.

    I gave her a thumbs-up.

    ¡°But,¡± she continued, because of course she did, ¡°this is where it should have ended. Once you had their location, your orders were to report back to Palisade.¡±

    I turned my thumb upside down.

    ¡°When we got to the lair, we found the place full up on firearms and enough explosive material to blow up a city," I said. "We¡¯d be sending our people into a firework factory armed with a wish in one hand and shite in the other. In the mood for telling Kelly how many of her Chasers you¡¯d be willing to sacrifice, Councilwoman Oranen?¡±

    Oranen pressed her big, black fuzzy caterpillar eyebrows together.

    ¡°That¡¯s what I thought,¡± I said. ¡°We¡¯d stumbled on something big. Where were they getting everything, and what did they need it for? It wasn¡¯t long afore I made some friends and discovered the Liaison was funding their operation, and that a handful of defects were planning to blow up the Councilwoman at the festival.¡±

    ¡°Are those friends the ones you¡¯re being accused of helping to escape?¡± Faust asked.

    I nodded. ¡°I don¡¯t know their real names, so there¡¯s no point in asking, but Councilwoman Blanchett should have recognized at least two of them when they kidnapped her.¡±

    Faust squinted, looking past me toward Blanchett. ¡°Kidnapped?¡±

    ¡°That¡¯d be the conspiracy charge, I reckon,¡± I said. ¡°But look, I had to keep the Councilwoman safe somehow.¡±

    Councilwoman Hall pressed her lips together. I couldn¡¯t be sure if she was suppressing a smile, but I liked to think so.

    ¡°The liberties this miscreant has taken are beyond absurd,¡± Councilwoman Oranen said.

    ¡°You¡¯d be so lucky as to have someone like Sinclair on your side, were it your life being threatened,¡± Strauss replied. That took balls, but I reckoned he had nothing to lose as far as a relationship with the Celestian nut-job went. I flashed him a quick smile.

    Michael sucked a breath through his teeth.

    ¡°Why is he even here?¡± Oranen asked.

    ¡°I invited him,¡± Kelly replied.

    ¡°Whatever for?¡±

    ¡°So he could say shite like that.¡±

    Faust lifted a hand. ¡°Where was Agent Finlay through everything?¡±

    ¡°The defects didn''t trust us all the way, so they kept him separate. Running interrogation sessions on him and whatnot.¡±

    Faust frowned, but she understood. I could tell. ¡°Why not warn Councilwoman Blanchett of the danger?¡±

    I turned to Strauss then.

    ¡°As per Sinclair¡¯s instructions, I tried,¡± Strauss said. ¡°She thought I would have a better chance at getting through to her, given their rocky history. But the Councilwoman wouldn¡¯t hear it. She insisted the Liaison was and always would be loyal, and that Sinclair was fabricating everything.¡±

    Faust peered in Blanchett¡¯s direction. ¡°Adelaide, is this true?¡±

    ¡°Yes, but it¡¯s no excuse for allowing a band of dangerous defectors to kidnap me from my bed, only to threaten me for information about something that happened half a decade ago.¡±

    ¡°Give me a break, Councilwoman.¡± I spun around on my heel. ¡°All Sheep wanted was to find his family¡ªa family you took from him. He was loyal, but he also had loved ones. If it weren¡¯t for your obsession with controlling everyone, he¡¯d still be working with us. And Turtle? All she wanted was to see the world. If you¡¯d bothered to learn anything about your people, you might have assigned her a job that suited her better than pushing papers and being bossed around by you all day.¡±

    ¡°What she means to say,¡± Michael interrupted, ¡°is that Sheep and Turtle aren¡¯t dangerous¡ªespecially not when compared to the terrorists running the underground operation.¡±

    Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site.

    Councilwoman Kelly¡¯s podium was the same height as everybody else''s, only she was shorter than everybody else. She propped her chin up on the surface. Meanwhile, Blanchett looked like she was about to blow up all on her own. For all the times she''d tried humiliating me over the years, it was a bit satisfying to have the opportunity to return the favour.

    This time, Councilwoman Hall stepped in to get us back on track. ¡°The other defectors you helped to escape. Were they involved in the kidnapping?¡±

    Turning to face the giant, I shrugged. ¡°I don¡¯t know how it all went down, or who did what. I wasn¡¯t there. But I know for a fact Bear and Llama aren¡¯t dangerous either.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s four,¡± Councilwoman Blanchett said. ¡°The Administrator at the Drop informed me there were six who boarded the embark.¡±

    ¡°Never mind that you¡¯re not supposed to be talking,¡± Kelly chimed. ¡°Are we really not gonna ask about the weird bloody names?¡±

    Councilwoman Hall¡¯s surprised laugh echoed off the walls. She snapped her mouth shut, found her serious face, and cleared her throat. ¡°The other two,¡± she said. ¡°Did they have animal names as well?¡±

    ¡°Aye,¡± I replied. ¡°One was called Kitty Cat, and the other was, uh¡ªChameleon.¡±

    ¡°They would have needed a Celestian to navigate the embark,¡± Oranen stepped in. ¡°I want to know their name¨Cnow. None of this Kitty Cat nonsense.¡±

    I caught a lip-twitch from Strauss out of the corner of my eye as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other. Reckon most Partisans would pay a year¡¯s allowance to hear Oranen say kitty cat. I shrugged. ¡°I really don¡¯t know.¡±

    Number Two must have given the others some kind of signal because Councilwoman Faust spoke next. ¡°Number Two is correct. What¡¯s done is done. We should move on. And before I make a proposal, I have a question: is the Tear safe?¡±

    ¡°I left it with Guardsman Deville, so I assume it is. He¡¯s a good man,¡± I said.

    ¡°Adelaide?¡± Faust asked.

    ¡°Yes, the Tear is safe.¡±

    ¡°Then let¡¯s take it to a vote. On the matter of theft and heresy, I believe the matter is closed in the Strachan¡¯s favour.¡±

    Councilwoman Faust raised her hand, and so did Councilwoman Hall. I glanced over my shoulder to see Number Two with her hand in the air, and much to my shock and amazement, Councilwoman Oranen also had her arm raised. Blanchett was the odd one out.

    ¡°And on the matter of conspiracy?¡± Faust asked, her hand still raised.

    Councilwoman Oranen dropped hers.

    ¡°Had she not tried to warn her, the affair may have been suspect,¡± Hall said, keeping her arm raised. ¡°The Councilwoman¡¯s safety was clearly the Enforcer¡¯s primary concern.¡±

    Number Two kept her arm raised as well.

    ¡°Cleared on theft, heresy, and conspiracy. On the charges of fraud and abetting the escape of six recorded defects¡ª¡± Councilwoman Faust paused, sighing as she lowered her arm. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Enforcer. This goes in direct violation of your duty, and I cannot condone forging a Councilwoman¡¯s signature.¡±

    I lost them all on that one. Whatever. It was worth it.

    ¡°That leaves us with destruction of property, arson, murder, and negligence,¡± Councilwoman Faust said. ¡°Tell us what happened at the Liaison¡¯s estate.¡±

    ¡°Right, well¡ªon the day the Councilwoman arrived from Palisade, I sneaked into the estate through the secret passage to rescue the Amali guards he was holding captive. He wasn¡¯t supposed to be there, according to the uh¡ªaccording to the gossip, he was supposed to be with the Councilwoman that day.¡±

    ¡°Thank you for trying,¡± Faust interjected.

    I might have flinched, but I let it slide. I bloody hated thank-yous, and besides, the real thanks ought to have gone to Strauss. ¡°No problem,¡± I said. ¡°Anyhow¡ªI didn¡¯t find the Amali guards, but I found Guardsman Deville locked up in a storage room. He said they¡¯d already killed the other prisoners, and that I was too late. That the reason he¡¯d been locked up was because he¡¯d discovered the truth about the Liaison and had confronted him about it.¡±

    ¡°Guardsman Deville said nothing about any of this,¡± Councilwoman Blanchett said.

    ¡°He was probably embarrassed about being taken captive,¡± I said over my shoulder. ¡°I¡¯m sure you understand. Also, I asked him not to say anything about it on account of what happened next. Seeing as he owed me his life and I didn¡¯t actually do anything wrong, he agreed.¡±

    Faust raised her eyebrows as if to say, ¡°What happened next?¡±

    ¡°We couldn¡¯t very well just waltz out the front door,¡± I said, ¡°so we had to escape through the secret passage. Thing is, the secret passage was pitch black, and Guardsman Deville was but a Barren with regular Barren eyes. So, before going through the bookcase, I slipped into what I presume was the Liaison¡¯s office, given the portrait on the wall, and I procured a candle which I lit with one of those whatchamacallits.¡±

    ¡°Lighters,¡± Strauss said.

    I nodded. ¡°I Iit the candle with one of those lighters. But once I stepped back out into the hallway, the Liaison and a defect were already coming down the corridor. Bottom line: we were caught, and the defect came rushing at me. Somewhere along the way, my flask got knocked from my belt, fell to the floor, and the top popped off on account of it¡¯s a piece of shite. Then I dropped the candle, and there was fire, and the flames caught one of those hanging whatchamacallits.¡±

    ¡°Tapestries,¡± Strauss suggested.

    I nodded again. ¡°The flames caught a tapestry. Then somewhere along the way, the Liaison also caught fire, and then the defect went up in flames. Guardsman Deville and I barely escaped through the secret passage by the time we sorted out how to use it. Point is: there was no arson or malicious anything. It was an accident. A terrible accident.¡±

    ¡°Half-breed,¡± Kelly said. ¡°You have anything else to add?¡±

    Strauss shoved his hands in his pockets and shook his head.

    The chamber fell dead silent until Faust piped up. ¡°On the matter of murder, arson, and malicious destruction of property, I vote in favour of the Enforcer,¡± she said, raising her arm.

    If I had to place bets, Faust knew I was lying. Just like Kelly knew I was lying. But she gave us a chance to come clean, and we didn''t take it. She respected that, and I respected her. Fact is, the outcome would be worse for Strauss. Considering how close he was to being let loose in the world, his pilgrimage was his last chance to prove he could handle himself. If he fucked up again, they¡¯d either execute him or sentence him to the Chase, and he wouldn¡¯t survive either of those things. Councilwoman Oranen, who probably also suspected the truth but had no proof, kept her arm down. Blanchett didn''t raise her arm in my favour, either.

    As usual, Number Two and Councilwoman Hall had my back.

    ¡°Cleared on the matter of murder, arson, and malicious destruction of property,¡± Councilwoman Faust declared.

    That would have been good news, except for the fact I was charged with a few counts of manslaughter instead. Accidental murder is still murder, even though they¡¯d raised me to be a murderer.

    I don¡¯t make the rules.

    For not stopping the boat explosion, the Assembly decided I couldn¡¯t help what I didn¡¯t know, and based on the lengths I¡¯d gone to protect the Councilwoman and all the people at the festival, if I¡¯d known about the boat, everybody¡ªeven Blanchett¡ªagreed I¡¯d have done something about it.

    Cleared of negligence.

    The irony is, it was the one thing I actually felt guilty about.

    That day, I faced nine charges and was convicted of three. And on the matter of fraud, manslaughter, and aiding and abetting the escape of The Animals, they tossed me in solitaire to await my sentence.

    <hr>

    I¡¯ve said it afore and I¡¯ll say it again: being locked up in solitary felt a lot like being home. I sat in the uncomfortable corner, counted the twenty-four stones in the ceiling, and didn¡¯t need to scratch an ¡°S¡± in the wall on account of it was already there. As usual, they let me have some of my things. I didn¡¯t need much. Just a couple pencils, my flask, and my sketchbook. The flask wouldn¡¯t get me far. It¡¯s not like they¡¯d be refilling it and whatnot.

    Anyhow. I had two portraits to add to the Murder Book, so I opened it. A pair of folded pages slipped out, and on the first was a letter. I couldn¡¯t read it, but I could tell six people had written it. ¡®Course, the beauty of sharing this story from the future is that in the future, I can read. Obviously. I¡¯ve written two bloody books. Anyhow, I still have the letter, so I¡¯ll copy it out:

    Hi, Donkey. I would have preferred to say this in person, but according to Llama, there''s a mid-to-high likelihood we''ll never see you again. I¡¯ve had the opportunity of knowing more about people¡¯s true feelings than anyone would dare dream¡ªif they knew what it really meant. Believe me when I say the world needs more people like you and Rabbit. I¡¯m sorry for what they¡¯ve done to you, but I¡¯ll take solace in knowing they¡¯ll never break you. Anyway, most of us agreed on Stracha, so if you end up going back home, look us up. Love, Bear.

    Llama here. Everything Bear said, and please take heed. There will soon come a time when you¡¯ll have to decide whether to make room for a new friend. You¡¯ll be reluctant, but you must keep your heart and your mind open. Not only will this person become a lifelong companion, but your survival depends on it. You have seen nothing yet. Warm winds.

    Because of you, I know where to find Annalise and Liliane. It means leaving my friends, but perhaps one day I will rejoin them. I don¡¯t know how I¡¯ll ever make it up to you, but I suspect that for you to accept repayment, it would have to be done in secret. We couldn¡¯t decide who should keep the portrait, so we¡¯ve left it with you to remember us by. Be safe. Signed, Sheep.

    Donkey, it¡¯s Turtle. I know better than most how unforgiving Blanchett can be, so I hope you¡¯re not in too much trouble. She may not be too bright, but I don¡¯t think it would take a genius to figure out you helped us. Llama, Bear, and the Celestian agreed to come with me to Stracha. I¡¯m not sure what we¡¯ll do once we¡¯re there, but anything has to be better than hiding out with terrorists. I think. If the Assembly exiles you, you¡¯ll always have a place with us.

    Did you know I used to be a Navigator before I jumped ship? Ha! I slay myself. I can¡¯t wait to get back on the water. Thanks for that. The Animals seem okay, too. It¡¯s been a while since I¡¯ve had friends. Maybe they¡¯ll work out. If you get bored with the half-breed, let me know. And you can tell him if he gets bored with church, my offer still stands. See you later, Rhian. From, Riz.

    It¡¯s been a privilege and a pleasure to know you, Rhian Sinclair. I look forward to fulfilling your favour. Extending my eternal gratitude, Vincent Delestade.

    After trying to read the letter and failing, I spent some time looking over the portrait. If I had to do everything all over again, I¡¯d have done it exactly the same. Well, except for one thing. But helping The Animals wasn¡¯t it. Helping The Animals remains one of my proudest accomplishments. I slipped the letter and the picture between the pages of my sketchbook and got started on portrait number thirty-six.

    About an hour later, two sets of footsteps approached. I recognized one of them straightaway. In the company of an Amali warden, Strauss paused in front of my silver bars.

    ¡°They¡¯re giving me my own room until I take my vows,¡± he said. ¡°I''m here to get my things.¡±

    It¡¯d been a long time since he¡¯d had his own room at Palisade¡ªwhat with a proper bed, a window, and a desk. I could tell he wanted to smile, so, I smiled for him. Later that day, I¡¯d get my sentence.

    And that, everybody, is how I got landlocked.

    Just in case you were wondering.

 [The Second One] The Preface

    Andrei and Rhian

    For as long as there have been Partisans, our stories have been shared across the six territories of Auditoria. We recall Eliza Wagner, the field medic whose goddess-given constitution was believed to be a cut above the rest. So much so, that when a mysterious illness rippled through the sleepy town of Istok, Palisade ordered her team out to investigate. The details vary, and the circumstances differ, but Eliza Wagner is remembered singularly for discovering and naming the Waste.

    But the Waste was a lie, and poor, poor Eliza wasn¡¯t immune to those. It started with the fever, then the sleepiness, and the light sensitivity, and finally the night-terrors. The stories don''t tell you about the one who came for her in the night. The one who fucked with her mind until there was nothing left but the insides of a baked potato.

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    Unsure what more they could do to help, Eliza''s comrades gathered what they could of her research, and they brought her back to Palisade. But not a single one of their ample resources, and not a single one of our goddess-given talents, could restore her health.

    Some said she couldn¡¯t come to terms with the fact that she was dying. Or that she couldn¡¯t make peace with the ones she couldn¡¯t save. Not long afore she slipped into a coma, she screamed all about Those Things. The ones who came for her in the night. Safe to say, they looked at her with the pity face, and they all agreed they should have sent someone else instead.

    Eliza Wagner died comatose and alone in the medical ward of the institution she¡¯d served from breath until death. Our stories have been shared across the six territories of Auditoria, so let¡¯s pick up where we left off¡­

    - Andrei Strauss

    - Rhian Sinclair

 [The Second One] 1 - The Terrible Start

    Rhian

    I hated thank-yous almost as much as I hated the thought of being buried alive. Good news is, I wasn¡¯t buried alive, and my ears were still ringing, so I didn¡¯t have to hear Alexander say thank you. His grip around my wrist was weak. No big deal. I pulled the bolt out of his back with the other hand, and the wound healed quickly.

    After everything he¡¯d done for us and after everything he¡¯d been through, he deserved a shot.

    And not the same kind of shot his Crazy Bitch sister deserved.

    ¡°Someone told me there¡¯s no mercy in death when life¡¯s still an option,¡± I said, loudly and whatnot. For the record, everything we¡¯re about to say was said loudly. Like I said, my ears were still ringing. Frankly, they haven¡¯t stopped.

    Alexander climbed to his feet and peeked through the portrait-door.

    That passageway to the church was sealed off with the last explosion. Good stuff, but opening the portrait-door let in a puff of dust. Seeing as it probably wouldn¡¯t be any better going forward, I repurposed my Palisade armband into a mask. Like a goddess-be-damned bandit.

    I gestured around the room. ¡°Do you want anything?¡±

    Alexander considered the portrait-door for a minute. To be fair, it was an excellent likeness.

    ¡°No,¡± he decided. ¡°We should go.¡±

    I pointed to the pile of ashes nearby. ¡°What about that?¡±

    Alexander shook his head. ¡°She¡¯s fine with our family.¡±

    Taking one last look around the cavern with the butter-yellow drapes but no window, I spotted the hilt of Intrep-what-the-bloody-ever poking out from under the bed. Michael¡¯s sword was nearly as tall as I was. Therefore, entirely useless to me.

    I passed the weapon to Alexander, and we left Lidia¡¯s room down the corridor at the back.

    If Bells¡¯s half-arsed mapping meant anything, the long-arsed tunnel would eventually lead us to the schoolhouse-slash-tavern. We¡¯d already agreed that he wouldn¡¯t blow up the only sure way out. Even if it meant some of Those Things might escape. Collapsing their crypts so they¡¯d have nowhere to skulk was the number one priority. Blocking the direct passage (again) to Oskari was number two.

    ¡°So, uh¡ªdo you feel different?¡±

    ¡°Relieved,¡± Alexander replied.

    There wasn¡¯t any point in asking if he was sad. The whole thing was sad. It wasn¡¯t as if Lidia knew what she was getting into when she agreed to become one of Those Things. She thought she''d be getting a fresh start. Basically, the exact opposite of an eternity reliving her trauma.

    ¡°Do you still feel compelled to build and burn down the Fire House?¡±

    Alexander shook his head. ¡°Not in the slightest.¡±

    I wondered what the people of Istok would think when the Fire Fair rolled around. Maybe they¡¯d remember the time it happened months earlier than it should have. Chalk it up to random change, and forget about it until the next one. By then, they¡¯d have to accept that the house was never coming back. I wondered what they¡¯d build in its place.

    We walked about an hour in silence, which gave me time to think about things like: where was Strauss, and was he all right? Where did Random Father go? Where had That Varis gone with Michael? Did Bells make it to the Drop? Did Adeline make it to the hill, and would she still be waiting by the time we got there? Was Vinny with her?

    And where the bloody hell was Gus? He sure as shite wasn¡¯t dead. It wasn¡¯t denial, all right?

    I''d have known if he were dead. It¡¯s just one of those things.

    ¡°Do you have anything to eat?¡± Alexander asked.

    I rummaged through my satchel and pulled out a giant, bruised apple.

    ¡°It¡¯s a start,¡± he said. ¡°Anything else?¡±

    I shook my head.

    ¡°I¡¯ll notify Peter¡ªinstruct him to pick us up near the ruins. You''ll need rest and a good meal sooner than later. And frankly, so do I. Your father¡¯s bolts are effective.¡±

    Seeing as Those Things don¡¯t eat food, I made a mental note to ask him later where he shops for people.

    ¡°What do you mean by notify Peter, and how did you know that man was my father?¡±

    ¡°Peter and I have a telepathic link,¡± Alexander said.

    ¡°All right,¡± I said. It was weird, but whatever.

    ¡°As for Rhydian?¡± he continued. ¡°I know him. And your mother.¡±

    ¡°All right,¡± I repeated. ¡°Why are we just talking about this now?¡±

    Alexander kicked up the pace. ¡°Because it didn''t matter until now.¡±

    The man had a point. The news might have been interesting, but it didn''t change much.

    Alexander carried on, "Approximately two decades ago, Emerich Bach was stationed in Istok when Rhydian and your lover¡¯s parents were deployed to help him deal with a threat. The threat was primarily my sister. Obviously, they failed.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯ve got to be kidding me.¡± Now, afore you start wondering if that¡¯s how Strauss¡¯s parents died, do the math. I wasn¡¯t even born yet, and he¡¯s younger than I am. I, too, kicked up the pace. ¡°Also, could you not call him my lover? It sounds so, uh¡ª¡±

    ¡°Salacious?¡±

    ¡°Aye,¡± I said. ¡°It sounds salacious.¡±

    ¡°What is he, if not your lover?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know, but I¡¯ve decided he¡¯s not that. And what about my mum? I¡¯m told she was a Barren. Why was she here?¡±

    ¡°Your father smuggled Evelyn into Amalia so they could be together while he worked,¡± Alexander said. ¡°She was about two-thirds the way through her pregnancy.¡±

    A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

    It was the first time hearing her name. I thought it was pretty. ¡°That¡¯s kind of romantic, isn¡¯t it?¡±

    Alexander picked up the pace. The conversation was putting him in a mood. I could tell.

    ¡°What¡ªdid you have the hots for my mum or something?¡±

    Alexander stopped a moment, but only long enough to glance over his shoulder.

    ¡°Holy hells,¡± I said. ¡°Did you know who I was straightaway then?¡±

    ¡°Yes.¡±

    ¡°Because I look like her?¡±

    ¡°Yes.¡±

    ¡°Do you have the hots for me?¡±

    ¡°No.¡±

    ¡°Well, good,¡± I said. ¡°That makes what I¡¯m about to say less awkward, but you¡¯ve had a bad day and it might be nice for you to hear. We haven¡¯t known each other for long, but you¡¯ve been more of a father to me than mine has been in twenty-one years.¡±

    ¡°That¡­ is nice to hear.¡± Alexander paused for another moment, and then picked up the pace again. ¡°To Rhydian¡¯s credit, he loved your mother, and I¡¯m certain if he¡¯d had any choice in the matter, Rhian, he would have been there for you.¡±

    ¡°You reckon? ¡®Cause about a minute ago, he tried killing my friend and then left me for dead.¡±

    Alexander shrugged. ¡°We don¡¯t see eye to eye.¡±

    That wasn¡¯t so hard to believe. ¡°All right,¡± I said. ¡°We both know daddy¡¯s a bit of a dick-head, but what''s mummy like?¡±

    ¡°One of a kind. Nothing I could say would do her justice.¡±

    ¡°Did you¡ª¡°

    ¡°No,¡± he said, and it was a hard no. ¡°We were acquaintances, insofar as I kept her safe from my sister.¡±

    ¡°Right, I get it,¡± I said. ¡°You were the shadow at her back.¡±

    Confirmed shadow at her back, and we carried on for another hour in silence. I ate my apple at some point, but not a lot else interesting happened apart from running into one of Those Things. ¡®Course, neither of us were particularly worried, seeing as he was stuck in the rock-wall. He flailed his one arm about wildly and begged us for help.

    Alexander lopped his head, and then there was dust. The end.

    So. Many. Heads. ¡°What if that one was less like Lidia and more like you?¡± I asked. ¡°Look, I¡¯m not judging¡ªI mean, I¡¯m basically a murderer¡ªI¡¯m just trying to understand these fucked up new rules.¡±

    ¡°The majority living in these catacombs would have been my sister¡¯s creations, and if they were more like me, they¡¯d be living more like me, and they''d be pretending to have tea with the others more like me. As for the answer to your real question¡ªyes, there are others out there who do only what¡¯s necessary to survive, and everything else to live their eternities graciously, and prosperously. We are few, and we don¡¯t know for certain what makes us different. Our backgrounds vary¡ªgood upbringings, bad upbringings, willing deaths, traumatic deaths. One thing we all share in common is a strong will and the ability to reflect upon our past lives and become better for it in our new lives.¡±

    ¡°All right,¡± I said. ¡°So, just like any other people.¡±

    Alexander nodded. ¡°Yes, just like.¡±

    ¡°So, uh¡ªlast you saw him, did Jack Finnegan say anything? Anything that might give us a clue where he went?¡±

    Alexander chuckled. ¡°You mean Feargus Finlay?¡±

    ¡°You¡¯ve known his real name this whole time, haven¡¯t you?¡±

    ¡°Yes,¡± he said. ¡°But Peter still has no idea.¡±

    The best thing about Alexander¡¯s smile was the way it spread to his eyes. The thing that was missing¡ªthe thing I didn¡¯t see in Lidia, or the crazy barman, or Those Things in Istok¡ªwas still there. Maybe it was the willpower. Maybe it was the bravery. Or maybe it had something to do with the fact he was the type of man to say nice things about someone who¡¯d just tried to kill him.

    Bottom line: Alexander didn¡¯t know anything more about Gus.

    <hr>

    The schoolhouse-slash-tavern still smelled like death, but it also smelled like ash and burnt wood. Just like Vinny said it would, the tunnel landed us backstage. There wasn¡¯t much left of the of the old building. What was caved in before, was caved in even more, and we were surprised the stage was still intact. The wood was black and ashy. We didn¡¯t want to take our chances standing on it for long, so we climbed down to the main floor¡ªcarefully, seeing as the last person who wasn¡¯t careful had a bad time.

    The hole was still there, but it was bigger.

    The schoolhouse-slash-tavern was everything we imagined, all except for one thing.

    By the look on That Varis¡¯s too-tight-ponytail face, she wasn¡¯t expecting us either.

    Michael was still half naked, lying on his back in the rubble. Judging by the fact he was breathing, he was either sleeping or unconscious. Strange place for a nap, though.

    ¡°What have you done?¡± Alexander asked, and That Varis scowled.

    I don¡¯t know how I didn¡¯t see it before. Maybe it was the fact her eyes had always been a bit lifeless, or that she was generally a piece of work. But there it was: That Varis was one of Those Things and she¡¯d done something to Michael.

    Alexander stopped me from running to him.

    ¡°Back the fuck off,¡± That Varis said.

    I shot Alexander a look and a promise I''d be good if he let go of my arm.

    ¡°What have you done?¡± Alexander repeated, letting go of my arm.

    While he tried making sense of the situation on the outside, I thought back to what I¡¯d missed on the inside. All that time, That Varis might have been acting batshite crazy all on her own. If Lidia wanted to hurt me, she¡¯d had about a thousand chances to make it happen. She wouldn¡¯t have had to send That Varis after me, That One Time in the Murder House. She liked lazing around with a cup of tea, but did she ever drink it? Had I ever seen her eat? I couldn¡¯t remember, but she was always feeling sick. According to her, a side-effect of making a baby with Michael.

    That Varis squeezed Michael¡¯s hand. ¡°I won¡¯t let her take him.¡±

    ¡°Lidia is gone,¡± Alexander said. ¡°She can¡¯t take anything from anyone anymore.¡±

    ¡°Not her.¡± That Varis pointed her crazy finger in my direction. ¡°Her.¡±

    ¡°Me?" That deserved a chuckle. "The hells have I done to you, Varis, other than not like you very much?¡±

    ¡°You can¡¯t have it all,¡± That Varis shouted. Then she took a few deep breaths, and lowered her voice. ¡°While the rest of us sacrificed any semblance of a normal life, you get away with running around with your friends, doing whatever you want, and whoever you want. Of course I know about the half-breed. Let¡¯s face it, Rhian, we all know about the half-breed. And Michael? He acts like you invented the alphabet, which is hilarious. You can¡¯t even read.¡±

    ¡°O¡­ kay,¡± I said. The whole thing was treading too far into villain speech territory and I wasn¡¯t in the mood. ¡°First of all, it¡¯s about making choices. You chose to conform. I didn¡¯t. Not my problem. Second of all, if you think Michael¡¯s got a torch in his pocket for me, you¡¯re wrong. We tried kissing once after having too much to drink. It went on about half a second afore we agreed it was like licking a cardboard box. The point is, Varis, if you want Michael to say nice things about you, try being a nice person.¡±

    ¡°Rhian,¡± Alexander said. ¡°Her feelings are amplified. Without guidance, she¡ª¡°

    That Varis lunged at me, reaching for one of the short swords strapped to her back. I dodged out of the way while Alexander put Intrepi-what-the-bloody-ever to work, swiping her clean across the neck. Her surprised-looking head fell to the floor about thirty seconds afore the rest of her body. The whole thing was unfortunate, and it was bloody, and I was tired of seeing people¡¯s heads getting lopped off.

    I rushed to Michael¡¯s side. He was still unresponsive, even after tapping his cheeks a few times.

    ¡°What¡¯s the matter with him?¡±

    Alexander set the weapon down, and crouched beside us. He lifted Michael¡¯s eyelids one at a time, and then pressed his hands to his chest for a minute. And then two minutes, and three minutes, and I was getting impatient. I hoped it¡¯d be like that time in the forest¡ªthe time he healed Teeth. But this time, nothing changed other than the colour of Alexander''s beard from brown to grey.

    ¡°I believe she was trying to turn him.¡±

    ¡°Good,¡± I said. ¡°That means she failed, so how do we fix it?¡±

    Alexander stared at Michael for about six hours.

    ¡°I... I don¡¯t have the faintest idea.¡±

    ¡°Well, at least we found him,¡± I said.

    ¡°Yes, at least there¡¯s that,¡± Alexander agreed. ¡°Peter should be here shortly.¡±

    Look, it wouldn¡¯t do any good thinking too hard about what was wrong with Michael. I''ll remind, I''m not a bloody doctor. Wondering whether we could save his life wouldn¡¯t save his life. There was only one thing we knew for sure: worrying about him in the burned down ruins of a schoolhouse-slash-tavern wasn¡¯t going to cure him.

    Two people down, five to go.

    We were off to a terrible start.

 [The Second One] 2 - The Things I Left Behind in Case I Died

    Rhian

    We were off to a terrible start, but we were on a roll as far as leveling old, important buildings went. What, with the schoolhouse-slash-tavern burning down, and the church falling over, and the time we set fire to Alexander¡¯s home in Istok. I considered trying my hand at the Widow¡¯s Peak, but then I remembered I liked Ivana, and that Strauss already tried when he summoned a tornado inside. After that, I thought about that one time in Delphia. Our destruction knew no bounds, and I¡¯d been trying not to think about Strauss.

    The memories weren¡¯t helping.

    We got to Oskari just before dawn, and we checked the hill for traces of the others. It hadn¡¯t snowed since the last time it snowed, so it didn¡¯t take a master-tracker to sort out what to look for first.

    Adeline¡¯s footprints were obvious. Those dainty feet and the high-bloody-heels. There was a set of larger prints beside hers, but they were too small and too pointy to belong to Strauss. Reckoned they were Vinny¡¯s fancy shoes.

    We followed their tracks to the main road.

    There were only two directions out of Oskari: the way to the Drop, and the way to Jaska.

    A few weeks afore, the villagers managed to get their hands on a couple of new wagons and some horses. Thanks to Strauss for donating around a million notes to the village, and thanks to Alexander for donating around a million notes to Strauss. All I¡¯m trying to say is it seemed Adeline and Vinny hitched a ride toward Jaska.

    ¡°I¡¯ll have my contacts look into it," Alexander said.

    ¡°The lass doesn¡¯t know her front bits from her arse outside Palisade, but she¡¯s bright. And Delestade, well¡ªI¡¯m surprised he¡¯s sticking around. Then again, he still owes us our favours.¡±

    Alexander stared down the road toward Jaska. ¡°Which favours?¡±

    I also stared down the road toward Jaska. ¡°A while back, we helped him out of a situation and he promised us each a favour. See something?¡±

    Alexander shook his head. ¡°I thought I did,¡± he said, and then he agreed to explore the ruins of the church for signs of Strauss.

    Meanwhile, I hitched a ride with Peter. He smiled when he saw me, and didn¡¯t seem to mind when I tossed him a two-finger salute, but didn¡¯t smile back. What a guy.

    Rather than climb in the cabin, I sat up front.

    Destination: The Murder House.

    I wasn¡¯t sure what to expect from the people in Oskari, but I reckoned they still hated us. Lucky for me, most folks were still tucked away while we drove through the village, but one of the early-risers ran inside when he saw me. They didn¡¯t trust us, and who could blame them? As far as the eye could see, I¡¯d extorted someone right before Strauss murdered someone, and then we all blew up the church. Repairs like those take time.

    I rolled my eyes when a lady dashed inside and slammed the door.

    Adeline had already taken the most important things from the workshop, so I packed whatever was left up into the wagon¡ªbits and bobs from her workstation and a pair of goggles. After I¡¯d finished packing, I took one last look around The Murder House. Which, in case you¡¯d forgotten, was Alexander¡¯s childhood home. I stepped into his old bedroom, where there was no lantern by the bed. I stood in front of the window where there were no butter-yellow drapes, and I looked out over the giant oak where Lidia Ruza used to go, where baby Victoria was conceived, where Michael and I once sat, where Strauss and the Crazy Bitch once sat.

    I still think about her sometimes, apart from when I¡¯m telling this story.

    After finishing up at the workshop, Peter drove me to The House.

    It was eerie stepping inside to silence, but I didn¡¯t have the desire to stop and think about it. I found an empty box in the kitchen and gave it a sniff. It smelled like old potatoes, but it would do. The only thing worth saving from the main floor was the jar of tea Michael and Strauss liked so much.

    I made my way upstairs.

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    The room I shared with Adeline was my first stop. I opened the nightstand drawer and collected my belongings. Namely, The Murder Book. I¡¯d eventually add a sketch of Lidia Ruza, right after the face with the tongue and the x¡¯s for eyes.

    Crazy, but she had a helluva sense of humour.

    There were a few more things I left behind in case I died: the flask engraved with the letters ¡°RS¡± which I finally realized stood for Rhydian Sinclair. The lighter Strauss gave me for my birthday. The watch-slash-compass Adeline gave me for saving her arse. And the mysterious note Gus read in a mYsTeRiOuS vOiCe¡ªthe one Alexander slipped under my door the first night in Oskari.

    I stuffed everything into my satchel.

    Michael and That Varis¡¯s room was next, and it smelled funkier than the box I loaded up with their stuff. I wasn¡¯t sure what to do with any of her whatnots¡ªincluding the short swords already packed into the wagon. It wasn¡¯t my place. Once we had Michael back, it¡¯d be his place.

    When I opened their nightstand, I found a book full of flowery writing I knew wasn¡¯t Michael¡¯s. I¡¯d have Alexander read That Varis¡¯s journal to me later, but as a matter of filling in a few blanks, I¡¯ll summarize for you now:

    That Varis wanted friends, but didn¡¯t know how not to be shitty. Lidia Ruza also wanted friends, and also didn¡¯t know how not to be shitty. While we were in Istok, they bonded over being shitty, and then Lidia did The Thing. It all happened afore we had a chance to do anything about it, but I¡¯m not sure if it would have gone much differently, anyhow. I¡¯d known That Varis for a while, and she wasn¡¯t ever pleasant.

    Look, nobody socialized us properly, or taught us how to deal with our feelings. Some did like me and drank. Some did like Michael and pretended everything was a-okay. Some did like That Varis and acted like an arseface.

    People be people.

    I tossed the journal into the box.

    After bringing Michael a blanket so he wouldn''t freeze to goddess-be-damned death in the wagon, I carried their armour downstairs two pieces at a time, and I climbed the stairs one step at a time. Seeing as I was perfectly capable of carrying more than two pieces of armour at a time, and seeing as I preferred climbing the stairs two steps at a time, I¡¯m trying to illustrate that I was stalling.

    I entered the final room in The House.

    The only evidence of my old pal Bells was the crumpled up blanket and the pillow on the floor in the corner. Other than that, the room he shared with Strauss was the cleanest room in The House. No dust, no dirt, and the floor was shiny from a fresh polish. It broke my heart.

    The space smelled like old paper and cinnamon¡ªcinnamon I reckon Strauss got from the lair where he first met my father. It sure as shite wasn¡¯t growing willy-nilly in Oskari.

    I followed my nose to the table beneath the window and opened the skinny drawer at the front.

    A pouch full of cinnamon.

    There wasn¡¯t a whole lot else to collect. A few pairs of long underwear¡ªthe ones Michael gave him before he left. The outfits we bought in Delphia. His and hers, and the hat included. Some other random pair of pants and a tunic I¡¯d never seen afore. The journal from his pilgrimage, and the Vonsinfonie book.

    The satchel I bought Gus for his birthday sat sad and saggy-looking on the chair. I tucked everything inside and swung it around my shoulder. I was about to leave, but then I remembered I was forgetting something.

    I turned around, snatched up Strauss¡¯s pillow, stomped out, and slammed the door behind me.

    <hr>

    Alexander waited outside, leaning against the wagon until he saw me. He hadn¡¯t found anything helpful at the church, and nobody at the Widow''s Peak knew anything either.

    ¡°When you found your lover¡¯s blood, did you notice anything else?¡± he asked.

    "Considering how much blood there was, it struck me funny that there weren''t any tracks. Lidia said he was bleeding out on the floor where she left him, but even if he made it out on his own, why wouldn''t he go back to The House or somewhere else sensible? He''s a sensible fellow. So, I reckon he was taken. I''m just not sure by who. There''s even the possibility it was Vinny and Adeline. Does Jaska have a hospital? Also, I thought we had an understanding about the lover thing.¡±

    ¡°Jaska has a hospital, and ''lover'' stands until you come up with something better for us to call him.¡±

    ¡°You could call him Andrei,¡± I said.

    ¡°I could,¡± he replied. ¡°But why don¡¯t you?¡±

    Michael was still knocked out cold when I hopped into the wagon beside him. ¡°It¡¯s a thing we do.¡±

    ¡°A thing you do to deny your intimacy?¡± Alexander boarded the wagon on the other side. ¡°You don¡¯t do that with your other friends, but your relationships with them are permitted, whereas your relationship with the half-breed is not. You¡¯ve created a rule which denies your intimacy.¡±

    ¡°If we were denying our intimacy, I¡¯d be enjoying a barrel of whisky right now instead of sitting here with too-tight pants, a craving for carrots, and a pull in my lower back.¡±

    Alexander laughed.

    ¡°Besides,¡± I said. ¡°You¡¯re only half right. It might have started that way, but we created the rule together, didn''t we? It''s become our way of acknowledging our intimacy, if you really must bloody know.¡±

    Alexander nodded, gazing out the window and whatnot.

    ¡°We¡¯ll find him,¡± he said.

    It was nice of him to say, but I wasn¡¯t so sure.

    Gus, Strauss, Adeline, Vinny, and poor, poor Michael¡ªone way or another, they were all missing, and if I was going to find them, I needed a nap first.

    So, seeing as I couldn¡¯t drink the pain away, I snuggled up with Strauss¡¯s pillow and slept the pain away.

 [The Second One] 3 - The Mesmerizing Melody and the Perfect Picture

    Adeline

    I slept for nearly two days while the melody played, and I dreamed I stood centre on the most magnificent stage. The audience clapped and cheered, and the song played and played. Each time I opened my eyes, I glimpsed the beautiful man in the burgundy suit, sitting at my bedside, strumming away on his¡­

    ¡­well, I couldn¡¯t remember what it was called.

    I tried to stay awake, but it was as if weights were attached to my eyelids. I tried willing myself to speak, but it was of no use. The words were lost and insignificant against the melody. I wasn¡¯t certain what the musician wanted with me, only I was certain I was never in danger.

    It had been a long week, and I recall thinking I could use the sleep.

    At one time, I woke to his lips pressed against my forehead. Not in any perverse sort of way. I¡¯d only felt love like that once. I remembered when she came to my room, and I was crying. She said all the right things, and squeezed me tight. She said she would take care of me, and she did.

    Enforcer Rhian. I had to find her.

    I remained awake only long enough to make sense of my surroundings, and I found myself in some sort of tiny house. There was a single room, a lamp by the bedside, and a crimson garment draped over the back of the chair where the man in the burgundy suit sat, still strumming.

    I dozed off again.

    It was dawn when I woke to warm tickles on my face and the sensation of someone staring. It took a moment for my ears to catch up with my brain. When they did, I realized the music had stopped, but the feeling of being stared at was still there, and so were the tickles on my face.

    I opened my eyes to a pair of silvery eyes peering down at me, and so I screamed, and he screamed, and I screamed louder, and he screamed even more loudly. Well, I was officially awake, so I scrambled into a sitting position and pulled the blankets up to my chin.

    We needed a moment to catch our breaths.

    ¡°Hiya,¡± he said. ¡°Whatcha doing in my cabin?¡±

    I wanted to say, ¡°What are you doing in my cabin?¡± But the cabin wasn¡¯t mine, and I had other, more important questions. Even though we¡¯d never met, I knew the identity of the scrumptiously scruffy man at my bedside.

    I patted my hair. It all seemed to be there. ¡°Am I dead, too?¡±

    ¡°Uh¡ªno?¡± Feargus Finlay replied.

    ¡°You don''t sound certain,¡± I said. ¡°Why don¡¯t you sound certain?¡±

    ¡°I mean, I¡¯m pretty sure I¡¯m not dead. Just a bit confused as to why you thought we were.¡±

    ¡°Because everybody thinks you¡¯re dead.¡±

    Feargus Finlay sat down on the edge of the bed. Feargus Finlay. On the bed. With me!

    I pulled the blankets closer.

    ¡°Why does everybody think I¡¯m dead?¡± he asked.

    ¡°Because Enforcer Rhian received a missive from Palisade saying you¡¯re dead.¡±

    ¡°Oh, boy.¡± Feargus Finlay ran his fingers through his curls. He had fantastic hair, and a great smile, and such piercing eyes, and big, luscious lips as if they¡¯d been stung by a bee. He was still laughing. ¡°I guess I should explain.¡±

    ¡°Yes!¡± I nodded. ¡°You absolutely should. And where¡¯s the man with the music?¡±

    ¡°Which man with what music?¡±

    ¡°The man in the burgundy suit with the, ah¡ªI can¡¯t remember what it¡¯s called, but it sounds like, scree, scree, and it¡¯s played like this.¡± I raised both arms in the air and mimed using a bow.

    ¡°Wow,¡± Feargus Finlay said. ¡°Rhian said you were eccentric, but just¡­ wow.¡±

    It wasn''t my turn to explain myself, so I raised my eyebrows and waited for him to explain himself.

    ¡°Right, so the majority of the Assembly thinks I¡¯m dead," he said. "It wasn¡¯t supposed to get around, so there must have been a mix-up. Rhian¡¯s my Receiver. You know, the person who gets the notice when we die.¡±

    ¡°I know what a Receiver is,¡± I said.

    Feargus Finlay held his hands up in defense, but he was still smiling. ¡°About thirty seconds ago, you couldn¡¯t remember what a violin was. I was just being thorough. Wait¡ªyou¡¯re not going to tell your mum I¡¯m alive, are you?¡±

    ¡°Of course not. I won¡¯t be speaking with my mother ever again because she and the Assembly will think I¡¯m dead. But why does the Assembly think you¡¯re dead?¡±

    ¡°I can¡¯t really talk about it.¡±

    Who was I to pry? Agent Finlay was notorious in his field, and I was in the presence of a practical celebrity.

    I was in the presence¡­ of a practical¡­ celebrity!

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry if I¡¯ve been at all rude, Agent Finlay. It¡¯s been a strange couple of weeks, and I¡¯m hungry.¡±

    ¡°Top drawer,¡± he said.

    I opened the top drawer of the nightstand, and it was packed to the brim with a delectable array of cookies, hard candies, chewy candies, and, to my delight, a brown paper bag filled with one of my favourite snacks. Of course, the peanuts back at Palisade hadn''t been quite so bitter, but those peanuts hadn''t come from Feargus Finlay''s personal stash, either. It was an acceptable trade-off as far as I was concerned, and I adapted to the new and interesting flavour after the first four or five.

    Feargus Finlay reached for a cookie. ¡°So, why does your mother think you¡¯re dead?¡±

    ¡°Because Enforcer Rhian instructed Mister Bells to tell the Assembly we''re all dead. By the way, do you know if she¡¯s all right?¡±

    ¡°I think so. I mean, I haven¡¯t seen her, but I¡¯d know if something terrible happened to her.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s what she said about you, too. She never believed it¡ªnot for a second.¡±

    Feargus Finlay nodded sagely. ¡°It¡¯s a shame I missed Bells, though. Good kid. But hey, if the Assembly thinks we¡¯re all dead, we¡¯re free. Well, technically, I¡¯m still working.¡±

    ¡°Doing what?¡±

    This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

    ¡°I can¡¯t really talk about it.¡±

    ¡°Of course, of course,¡± I said, and after a moment, I asked, ¡°Are you sure you don¡¯t know anything about the man with the music?¡±

    Feargus Finlay hummed. ¡°Did he have blonde hair?¡±

    ¡°Yes!¡± I said. ¡°The colour of honey. Quite fetching, actually.¡±

    ¡°And you¡¯re sure it was a burgundy suit and not a purple suit?¡±

    ¡°Yes, absolutely. It wasn¡¯t purple, or plum, or maroon. It was burgundy.¡±

    ¡°I guess he could own more than one suit.¡±

    ¡°Who?¡± I asked.

    ¡°Zacharias Vonsinfonie.¡±

    ¡°Legendary composer and performance arts master said to have lived pre-Divide, and the one who created an Anima out of Lidia Ruza? The very same Zacharias Vonsinfonie who was recently released back into the world?¡±

    ¡°Yup.¡±

    ¡°By the goddess,¡± I said. ¡°You¡¯re sharing a tiny house with Zacharias Vonsinfonie?¡±

    ¡°I don''t think so, but I¡¯ve been away for a while. I just got back to find you sleeping in my bed. Hence the ¡®Whatcha doing in my cabin¡¯ thing.¡±

    I blew a spiral strand of hair out of my eyes.

    Feargus Finlay passed me his flask. ¡°Here¡ªit''ll warm you up, and it''ll help with the stale peanut breath.¡±

    Earlier that year, my mother had given me and my brother permission to try a glass of sparkling wine with dinner. I didn''t like it¡ªnot at all. In fact, I remain convinced no one truly does. But the bubbles were an inspired element, and as I took my second sip of Hocks Spirits, I wondered what it would take to introduce them into the spicy, Strachan brew.

    Feargus Finlay chuckled. ¡°Careful, now. Hocks are known to do strange things to non-Strachan folk. Bad time for them, great time for the rest of us.¡±

    My insides were already beginning to settle, and I felt myself relax. I could still hardly believe I was sleeping in Feargus Finlay¡¯s bed! It was a literal dream come true. But why was I sleeping in Feargus Finlay¡¯s bed? Why had the beautiful man in the burgundy suit brought me here?

    ¡°Where are we?¡± I asked.

    ¡°Closer to Jaska than Oskari, if that means anything to you.¡±

    ¡°A little.¡±

    Feargus Finlay reached for another cookie. ¡°Say, what happened in Oskari, anyhow?¡±

    I answered the question by telling him everything I knew about the Legacy Varis: that she was a murderer, that I suspected her of being one of the Anima, but that I hadn''t told the others because things were already quite tense with the Commander, and that I''d hoped to find proof. The Strachan said he understood, and so I filled him in on our plan to collapse the tunnels, and I told him about the people who''d shown up in town most unexpectedly: Mister Bells, Mister Sinclair, and Vincent Delestade.

    ¡°Vinny, really? How is that son-of-a-gun?¡±

    ¡°Well, he¡¯s quite charming, isn¡¯t he? But other than that, I don¡¯t know. I waited, and waited, and waited on the hill where we all planned to meet, but nobody showed. That¡¯s when the man in the burgundy suit appeared, complimented my watch, told me to close my eyes, and, well¡­ here I am.¡±

    ¡°Sounds like everything went swimmingly,¡± Feargus Finlay said.

    ¡°Yes, I suppose it did,¡± I said. ¡°But now that I¡¯m rested, I should get back to Oskari.¡±

    ¡°Whatcha gonna do in Oskari?¡±

    ¡°Make certain everyone¡¯s safe, for starters. And then, I¡¯m not so sure. If I¡¯m dead, I can do anything I want, and I haven¡¯t had the chance to decide what that is yet. I¡¯m rather curious about Mister Vonsinfonie and why he brought me here.¡±

    ¡°That''s a bit of a head-scratcher,¡± Feargus Finlay said. ¡°It¡¯s almost like he knew I¡¯d need you.¡±

    ¡°Need me?¡± I asked. ¡°Whatever for?¡±

    Feargus Finlay scooted closer, leaning in with a teasing smile. It was chilly in the tiny house, and I hoped this meant he couldn¡¯t tell I was blushing.

    ¡°How would you feel about a job?¡±

    <hr>

    Before discussing the job, Feargus Finlay slipped outside into the cold so I could have a moment of privacy.

    A week ago, I would have been uncontrollably excited. Another opportunity to work for a celebrated hero and to live my life beyond what my mother expected of me. An opportunity to see more of this strange, smelly territory. All true and wonderful. But that day, I was still groggy from my long nap, still confused by the unanswered questions, and even though Feargus Finlay insisted I shouldn¡¯t worry about Enforcer Rhian, I was still concerned for our other friends. Father Strauss, Commander Reider¡ªneither of them appeared on the hill, and I didn¡¯t trust the Legacy Varis¡ªnot one bit.

    I climbed out of bed, cleared the sleep from my eyes, and stretched high above my head.

    My trunk, packed with our most practical possessions, stood in the corner. The chair, the bed, a nightstand, and a table with an empty drawer were the only other assets in the room.

    There was no evidence of the man in the burgundy suit.

    My clothes were wrinkled, and rather odorous, and I was in no condition to go out in public, so I changed into something more suitable for the day. After which, I examined the crimson cloth draped over the back of the chair. A set of Strachan Petitioner¡¯s robes¡ªhow peculiar, I thought. They smelled like sugar and Hocks Spirits, and when I explored them further, I found a half-eaten cookie in one of the pockets. I set them back exactly as they were.

    Leaning in across the table, I reached for my hat. The one with the ear-flaps Enforcer Rhian found so funny. I put it on, fluffed my tangled hair, and stepped into my favourite pair of high-heeled, fur-trimmed boots. My coat dangled from a hook by the door, so I put that on, too, and my gloves, and the spare fingerless set belonging to Enforcer Rhian.

    After taking one last look around the tiny house, I stepped out into the wide, white outdoors.

    The blaring sun reflected off the snow, burning my eyes and impairing my vision. The skies at Palisade tended to be overcast, and because I¡¯d never left Palisade, I hadn¡¯t grown as accustomed to full daylight the way some other Partisans had. Thankfully, I¡¯d had the foresight to bring my sun-goggles with me. Having had ample time to work on them before coming to Amalia, they were no longer a prototype. I fished them from my jacket pocket, and the tinted lenses shielded my eyes from the harsh rays.

    Feargus Finlay smiled when he saw me. His beautiful curls were hidden under a brown knit hat with an odd, fuzzy ball on top, and he sported a hip-length leather jacket with a fur trim around the collar. It was unbuttoned, appeared brand new, and it fit perfectly.

    ¡°Nice hat,¡± he said.

    I returned the smile. ¡°I like yours as well! Are you sure I won¡¯t need anything else?¡±

    ¡°I don''t think so, but if anything changes, let me know. I''ll take good care of your things in the meantime.¡±

    ¡°What about clothes?¡± I asked.

    ¡°Don¡¯t worry about clothes,¡± he said. ¡°We can always get you new clothes."

    ¡°You¡¯re going to buy me clothes?¡±

    ¡°Something like that."

    We set across what seemed to be an endless field. There was nothing around us but trees in any direction as far as the eye could see. My boots, while exceptionally warm and quite pretty, were not especially practical for walking through fresh snow. I wobbled here and there, and Feargus Finlay linked his arm with mine.

    ¡°You¡¯ll get used to it,¡± he said. ¡°And if you don¡¯t, we¡¯ll get you some new boots.¡±

    I''d had at least twelve pairs of boots back at Palisade, so the idea of having more than one again was appealing. "So," I said. "Tell me, tell me¡ªwhat''s the scoop?¡±

    ¡°Oh, right. The job.¡± Feargus Finlay tucked a section of hair into his hat. ¡°What do you know about bartending?¡±

    ¡°I know nothing about bartending.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re a scientist, right?¡±

    ¡°Yes, but¡ª¡°

    ¡°It¡¯s basically the same thing," he said.

    ¡°Well, if you say so. Why are you asking?¡±

    ¡°Because you''re going to get a job as a barkeep.¡±

    ¡°Wait¡ªwhen you asked if I was interested in a job, you meant an actual job?¡±

    ¡°What did you think I meant?¡± Feargus Finlay asked.

    ¡°You know, a job job.¡±

    ¡°This one happens to be a job, and a job job. Just, while you''re there, promise me you won''t agree to any jobs.¡±

    While I found the emphasis on the word ''jobs'' an odd choice, I knew that Feargus Finlay, much like myself, was an eccentric. We were cut from the same sheet, two gears in a cog. If I was working for him now, it seemed the responsible thing not to create any conflicts of interest or spread myself too thin.

    ¡°I promise not to agree to any jobs while on the job job job.¡±

    "So, you¡¯re still interested?" he asked.

    ¡°Of course,¡± I said. ¡°You are Feargus Finlay and I trust you. Where will I be tending bar?¡±

    Feargus Finlay swept a mittened hand through the air, as if this and his imagination together would paint the perfect picture.

    ¡°At the brothel," he said.

    And just like that, I no longer found the emphasis odd.

 [The Second One] 4 - The Inevitable Last Laugh

    Andrei

    I woke up in a sitting position to no light, no colour, no shapes, no visual inputs whatsoever, and it wasn¡¯t long before I became aware of the bandages tightly spun around my head. I rubbed the side of my face, and judging by the length of my facial hair, I¡¯d been asleep for approximately two days. I felt around me for something to empty my stomach into, but I came up short and vomited into my lap.

    ¡°Bloody hells, lad,¡± said a voice. Rhydian Sinclair.

    Thud, thud against the wooden floor as he made his way closer. He patted my mouth clean with a dry, scratchy fabric.

    ¡°Thank you,¡± I said.

    ¡°Right, well¡ªI don¡¯t have a change of clothes for you, so.¡±

    Mister Sinclair handed me whatever it was we were using as a spit rag. I cleaned up what I could and swallowed another mouthful of bile.

    Back and forth, back and forth. My head thudded in time.

    ¡°Are we on an embark?¡±

    ¡°I was hoping you¡¯d stay down until we got there,¡± Rhydian replied. ¡°But we¡¯re nearly home. Do you remember what happened to you?¡±

    Even though I couldn¡¯t see anything in front of me, the memories behind me were sharper than ever. I saw her the way she looked on the day we met¡ªher eyes concealed by a strip of cloth in the same shade of blue as my robes. Very funny, Lidia. But then the memory blinked, and her smile was the last thing I remembered before the pain.

    ¡°Lidia happened,¡± I said, not yet ready to talk about how she''d attempted to seduce me, or how she caught up to me when I tried to escape the church. ¡°Were you in Oskari the whole time?¡±

    I received no reply.

    ¡°Are you ignoring my question?¡± I asked.

    ¡°I¡¯m not ignoring your bloody anything. I just forgot you can¡¯t see.¡± The sound of a lighter sparking, followed by the smell of tobacco and smoke. ¡°Aye, I was in Oskari the whole time.¡±

    ¡°Is she all right? Sinclair?¡±

    The Strachan took another drag of his cigarette, exhaling through his nose. ¡°Seemed she had it in the bag.¡±

    ¡°Seemed?¡±

    A subtle shift in the air, and the sound of leather rubbing against itself.

    ¡°Did you just shrug?¡±

    ¡°Right,¡± Rhydian replied.

    ¡°How did I end up here? Last I recall, I was in a room with Zacharias Vonsinfonie.¡±

    ¡°Pardon?¡±

    ¡°Zacharias Vonsinfonie,¡± I repeated. ¡°Let''s say he exudes a certain aura and walks with a cane."

    ¡°Well, I¡¯ll be damned,¡± Rhydian said. ¡°Rick wasted a few good years looking for that one.¡±

    ¡°He didn¡¯t seem too interested when I mentioned the name.¡±

    ¡°He wasted even better years hunting the Ruza bitch. One thing at a time, follow?¡±

    The man took another drag of his cigarette, which was followed by the sound of metal turning against metal. The scent of honey and cloves met the smell of smoke in the air. Rhydian sipped his drink. ¡°Pity he didn¡¯t get to see it.¡±

    ¡°So, is she finally¡­?¡±

    ¡°Dust?¡± Rhydian took my hand and curled my fingers around the flask. ¡°Aye.¡±

    Vindication, and a comfort in knowing that if Sinclair was still in Oskari, the threat of Lidia Ruza was no longer looming. I lifted the flask to my lips and took a sip.

    ¡°My condolences,¡± I said. ¡°For what happened to Rick.¡±

    ¡°It was just a matter of time, wasn¡¯t it? I¡¯m not looking forward to sharing the news.¡±

    Considering those at the lair viewed Rick and Rhydian as father figures, what followed was a spell of silence where things went without saying. Rhydian smoked his cigarette.

    Eventually, I asked. ¡°Where did you find me?¡±

    ¡°The Nav found you sleeping on her shoulder this morning, not long afore I arrived.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s awkward.¡±

    ¡°Awkward? You¡¯re lucky she recognized you from the last trip, otherwise you¡¯d be dead.¡±

    My stomach gurgled, joined by another putrid wave. ¡°Yes, lucky me.¡±

    Rhydian recovered his flask. ¡°Don''t worry so much, lad. We¡¯re gonna crack you back into shape.¡±

    ¡°As though I were in shape to begin with.¡±

    Rhydian¡¯s laugh reminded me of hers¡ªshort, more like a snicker. Her father seemed to believe Sinclair was safe. But she¡¯d be worried about me, and wondering where I went, and Amalia wasn''t the ideal¡ªor the correct¡ªplace to go looking for answers.

    ¡°How did it happen? With Lidia," I asked. ¡°Did everyone make it to the party?¡±

    This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

    The man took one last pull from his cigarette before putting it out on the floor between us.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know what the hell party you''re talking about, but your favourite little lassie inherited more of my personality than is recommended.¡±

    ¡°You realize avoiding saying her name out loud doesn¡¯t deny her existence, right?¡±

    ¡°All right, then. Rhian tracked the Ruza bitch to her crypts. Putting two and two together after the fact, she and a few others had a plan to blow up the catacombs, but I wasn¡¯t at their family-bloody-meetings, so. Reckon she was working with Blanchett''s girl and the Ruza son-of-a-bitch.¡±

    ¡°Alexander?¡± I asked.

    Rhydian grunted.

    ¡°Other than his... age, what do you have against Alexander?¡±

    ¡°Doesn¡¯t fucking matter now,¡± Rhydian said. ¡°That one¡¯s dust, too.¡±

    The muscles in my abdomen tightened. I¡¯d only met the man once, but he was kind, and he was Sinclair¡¯s friend. I brought my hand to the bandages around my head.

    ¡°Can I take this off?¡±

    The liquid in Rhydian¡¯s flask sloshed in time with the surrounding water.

    ¡°Haven¡¯t the foggiest what¡¯s underneath there. Won¡¯t be long and we¡¯ll get you looked at.¡±

    I had an idea what was¡ªor wasn¡¯t¡ªunderneath the bandages. The conversation with Rhydian was keeping me adequately distracted while I came to terms with what I already knew.

    ¡°Why isn¡¯t she with us?¡± I asked.

    ¡°Who?¡±

    ¡°Rhian,¡± I said. ¡°Why wouldn¡¯t you have invited her along, and the others, if they wanted?¡±

    ¡°Because Rhian and her merry band of misfits have done more about the problems in Amalia in a matter of months than most have in decades.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯ve sacrificed her safety and an opportunity to build a relationship with her for the greater good?¡±

    ¡°Something like that.¡±

    I had mixed feelings, but I couldn¡¯t deny it¡¯s what Sinclair would have chosen for herself, and that¡¯s all there was to say. The embark slowed, jerked to a halt, and the Navigator announced our arrival.

    <hr>

    While crossing the island, the Celestian took the lead as Rhydian guided me by the sleeve, warning me at every stretch of uneven ground or at any trace of a twig, or a rock, or at any unsubstantiated sign that I may suddenly and inexplicably forget how to walk. He promised he''d find me a suitable room once we arrived, even if it meant evicting someone from theirs. Frankly, I was suspicious.

    He was being considerate, and I was appreciative, but the last time I''d visited the lair, he''d threatened to have me sleep under a table, then tricked me into breaking the rules, after which I attempted to both freeze and strangle him to death. Given my condition, there was the possibility he was taking pity, or showing me the softer side to Rhydian Sinclair, but my instincts informed me I was missing a piece of the puzzle.

    Upon arrival at the lair, we passed through the hidden doorway, and led ourselves down the corridor and into the common room. Judging by the tantalizing scent of mixed roast vegetables, and the less appealing scent of cooked meat, it was evening. The Navigator slipped off without ceremony, and those who noticed Rhydian¡¯s return welcomed him back. Someone approached.

    ¡°It¡¯s good to have you back, Rhydian.¡± The individual was at least part Endican, considering his height.

    Rhydian grunted. ¡°Call a family meeting after dinner.¡±

    There was a pause in the exchange. Someone, somewhere ahead, asked someone to a friendly duel, and the other agreed.

    ¡°J.D. sent us some fresh blood,¡± the Endican said next. ¡°He¡¯s been well-behaved¡ªstaying in the twins¡¯ room while they¡¯re away. You could bunk this one with that one.¡±

    There was another grunt, and Rhydian tugged me forward by the sleeve. It was time to go.

    After a series of dizzying turns down what felt like dozens of corridors, Rhydian directed me into a room on my left, but¡­ left of what? My memory was exceptional, but by the time we arrived at the medic¡¯s office, I was completely, without a doubt, disoriented. The room smelled crisp, cool, and clean, however, and knowing the lair observed adequate sanitation processes put me at ease.

    They led me to the examination table and asked, ¡°Are you ready?¡± to which I replied, ¡°Sure.¡±

    The medic had no identifying accent, and based on the trajectory of her voice, she seemed to stand at an average height, only slightly taller than Rhydian. Every turn of the bandage was met with a cheerful jingle. A bracelet¡ªperhaps like those worn by the Senec, where each charm represented a decade of life.

    The bandage spiraled around and around, and the medic smelled like saffron. It was time for us to come to terms with what I already knew. There was no miracle, and there was no medicine that would cure the complete loss of both eyes. They spoke the obvious around me, about me, in front of me as if I wasn¡¯t even there. Things like, ¡°He¡¯ll need time to adjust," and, "Whoever cleaned him up did a marvelous job," and, "Holy fucking hell, what the fucking fuck?¡± Can''t see me, can''t see you¡ªlike a macabre game of peek-a-boo. I was relieved I couldn''t see their faces. All the same, I was relieved I¡¯d never have to see my own.

    Drowning out the rest, I focused on the deeply satisfying smell. Cleanliness, order, everything was going to be just fine. I counted the charms. Three, four? Three or four charms jingled while the medic poked and prodded. I tuned into the laughter in the distance. It helped until I remembered the laughter would be short-lived.

    ¡°All things considered, he appears to be in good health and at no risk of infection,¡± the medic said. ¡°He¡¯s perfectly healed.¡±

    ¡°Fantastic,¡± I said, cautious as to sound sincere and not sarcastic. Other than the anxiety I was longing to suffer through in solitude, and the warm, fuzzy sensation coursing through the front of my face, I felt physically fine since I''d recovered from the seasickness. ¡°If we''ve all agreed I¡¯m not going to die, could someone show me to my room?¡±

    ¡°Should we fetch Maryse?¡± the medic asked.

    I formed my hands into sweaty fists on the insides of my oversized pockets.

    ¡°I don¡¯t need to see a psychologist,¡± I said, recalling the Delphi from my first visit, and how she¡¯d convinced me to go into the lab without clearance.

    "He does understand what''s happened, doesn''t he?"

    Rhydian grunted. "I reckon so."

    "Why isn''t he¡ª?"

    "Reacting?" I snapped¡ªto the medic, to Rhydian, to nobody. "I am having a reaction. I have been reacting.¡± Catching the edge in my tone, I took a deep breath through my nose. "I understand that I''ll never see again. I understand that it''ll be an adjustment. But unless you have developed a method by which to travel back in time, there is nothing I can do about it. I will be fine, like all those before me who have lost their sight and have been fine. I appreciate you both for taking the time to look me over, but could someone please show me to my room?¡±

    Having been a victim of my temper in the past, Rhydian Sinclair didn¡¯t require any convincing. Before we left, the medic replaced the bandage around my head, and to this day, the smell of saffron makes me sick.

    <hr>

    The room I¡¯d share with the lair''s latest recruit was three doors down from the medic¡¯s office. I didn''t have any reason to think I''d need to return, but I took comfort in knowing that if I did, my odds at finding it again were decent.

    Rhydian opened the door, speaking into the room. ¡°Oi, new guy. I brought you a roomie.¡±

    ¡°Fine,¡± the voice inside returned. ¡°They promised me the top bunk, though.¡±

    There wouldn¡¯t have been a contest about the beds, but there was something familiar about the voice.

    ¡°All right¡ªso, what the fuck¡¯s your name, new guy?¡±

    ¡°Matteus,¡± said the familiar voice. ¡°Matteus Rizik.¡±

    Matteus Rizik, known to us as Riz¡ªthe Celestian with the showy personality I¡¯d encountered while in Delphia on my pilgrimage. During that time, he¡¯d become a friend of Sinclair¡¯s, asked us to run away with him, and offered to teach me everything he knew. In the spirit of evoking Sinclair, it was a small goddess-be-damned world. And in the spirit of acknowledging bitter regrets, I should have accepted his offer.

 [The Second One] 5 - The Thing About Thinking For Someone Else

    Rhian

    I woke up.

    Lucky for me, it wasn¡¯t on a smelly embark in the middle of the sea or in a random cabin in the middle of nowhere. Despite all my troubles, I¡¯d had the best sleep I¡¯d ever had, and it went on for so long my eyes wouldn¡¯t open until I mined the crud out of the corners. The fluffy pillows were still piled up around me, under me, on top of me, all over the place. Exactly as I''d left them. Teeth, the Wolf, snorted and bopped my elbow with her nose.

    I scratched her head, and she jumped off the bed.

    The pink and gold room was one of about two dozen other rooms in The Estate. I once asked Alexander why he needed so many rooms. He told me the house wasn¡¯t always so big, but that every decade or so, he¡¯d get bored of sitting around in the same rooms and he¡¯d build another two or three.

    I asked why he didn¡¯t just redecorate.

    He said he tried at first, but then he was left with too much extra furniture.

    I asked why he didn¡¯t just donate it to the village.

    He said he did at first, but then the village was left with too much extra furniture.

    ¡°Besides,¡± he said, ¡°it all attracted too much attention.¡±

    So, I asked how being an ancient, ageless man living in the forest didn¡¯t already attract too much attention.

    He said that''s why he had a Peter to face the public. And before the Peter, there was a man called Henrik. And before the Henrik, there was a list of other names I don¡¯t recall.

    I wasn¡¯t taking notes.

    After a quick stop at the loo, I stumbled my way out of the pink and gold room. Teeth, the Wolf, followed.

    While making my way downstairs, the light from the chandelier reflected a copy of the atrium in the windows by the door. This is important on account of it tells us it was dark outside, but also I remember thinking it was strange seeing myself in real-time, wearing silk pajamas, walking against that exact backdrop with a goddess-be-damned wolf at my heels and a butler smiling up at me.

    ¡°Good to see you, Miss Rhian. Ready for breakfast?¡±

    Teeth whined and wagged her bushy tail.

    ¡°The both of us, I reckon. How¡¯s Michael?¡±

    Peter started walking, ushering me along.

    ¡°The Commander¡¯s condition is the same,¡± he said. ¡°Alexander left on foot not too long ago to meet with someone he thinks may be able to help. He asked me to remind you to relax, make yourself at home, and let him take care of the preliminaries. He¡¯ll be back before dawn.¡±

    ¡°All right,¡± I said. ¡°Next time, would you mind telling him to wake me up?¡±

    ¡°If you insist.¡±

    We passed the library.

    ¡°You know, Miss Rhian, he only steps out of isolation once every twenty years or so, and only for a few years at a time.¡±

    ¡°All right.¡± We passed a closed door. ¡°Long enough for people to forget who he was, and not long enough for anyone to realize he¡¯s not getting any older?¡±

    ¡°Exactly.¡±

    We passed another closed door and then turned down the corridor.

    After having a think, I shrugged. ¡°Nothing surprises me anymore.¡±

    ¡°Tell me about it.¡± Peter chuckled and rubbed his bald head. ¡°But what I mean to say is, go easy on him. You need food, rest, and basic comforts, and Alexander needs to feel useful. It would benefit you both to help each other where you can.¡±

    We passed the dining room and turned into the kitchen. I hopped up on the corner of the counter. ¡°I see your point.¡±

    ¡°I thought you might,¡± Peter said, and then he patted my knee and made us breakfast.

    Right before he made me another breakfast.

    <hr>

    Alexander returned before dawn, but he didn''t return alone.

    Sitting with my legs pulled up, cross-legged behind the desk in his study, I squinted across at him and his guest. Basically, I wasn¡¯t thrilled. ¡°You could have told me. Seriously. What¡¯s with everybody leaving out interesting but not important bits of information? You don¡¯t think I like interesting bits of information?¡±

    I¡¯d never seen Ivana outside the Widow¡¯s Peak, or while wearing anything other than her peasant garb or whatnot. Even though I was feeling spicy at the minute, I had to admit she made this other look work. Her hair was the same, braided and in a bun. But she¡¯d traded in her uniform for practical black trousers, a silky blue blouse, striped vest, and a necktie.

    ¡°You can probably imagine why staying discreet matters so much,¡± Ivana answered.

    Aye, I could imagine. Only, I didn''t particularly care.

    ¡°But actually,¡± Ivana continued, "I''m sorry, Rhian. I think of you as an ally, and maybe even a friend. I should have told you sooner.¡±

    Alexander leaned back in the chair, crossing his leg.

    Considering the pair as if they were Barren, Ivana looked a lot more tired than Alexander, but she also looked about five years younger. ''Course, they weren''t Barren, and you just never bloody know with Those Things.

    ¡°So, which one of you is older?¡± I asked.

    Ivana raised her hand. ¡°By about a century.¡±

    ¡°Huh,¡± I said. ¡°You''ve run the Peak for half a millennium and nobody thinks it¡¯s strange?¡±

    ¡°Okay, so¡ªno. Even the people in Oskari aren¡¯t that dense,¡± Ivana replied. ¡°But that¡¯s not the reason I¡¯m here, Rhian. It¡¯s about your friend¡ªThat Michael Guy.¡±

    That Michael Guy. I didn¡¯t hate it. ¡°Do you know how we can help him?¡±

    ¡°There¡¯s one obvious way to help him,¡± Ivana said.

    The pair shared a side-glance. The moment was more pregnant than I was.

    This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.

    ¡°Nope,¡± I said. ¡°Abso-bloody-lutely not. We¡¯re not doing whatever the fuck this is to Michael.¡± I flicked my hand in their direction. ¡°Just nope.¡±

    Ivana smirked.

    Alexander lowered his leg and leaned forward. ¡°We¡¯ve danced around reality long enough, Rhian. Michael¡¯s going to die. If not from whatever Helena Varis has done to him, then from starvation.¡±

    I thought back to Gregory Keller, and how we¡¯d found him at the Bountiful Blessing with his skin dripping off his bones like pancake batter. But then, I thought about how he woke up before he died.

    ¡°We¡¯ll take him to the hospital,¡± I said.

    Alexander shook his head. ¡°The Barrens can¡¯t fix this.¡±

    ¡°Right, but can¡¯t they help him while we think of something?¡±

    The pair shared another side-glance.

    ¡°Maybe,¡± Ivana said. ¡°But they¡¯ll notify Palisade, and Palisade would send people to take him away, wouldn¡¯t they?¡±

    They would.

    ¡°And I don¡¯t know what Palisade facilities are like, technologically speaking,¡± she continued, ¡°but I¡¯ve seen what the doctors around here do to people in these conditions, and what typically happens to them. He won¡¯t be able to do anything for himself, and there are tubes, Rhian.¡± Ivana opened her mouth, pointed inside, and then shook her head. ¡°The whole thing isn¡¯t pretty. You should think about what Michael would want.¡±

    I thought back to the time in Istok, when I chose mercy for the old man decoys.

    Michael wasn¡¯t thrilled with my decision. Then again, he wouldn¡¯t want the tubes, either.

    I looked from Ivana to Alexander. ¡°You could have told me this yourself. What¡¯s with the mommy-daddy thing?¡±

    ¡°Because,¡± Ivana answered, ¡°if you decide your friend would want whatever the fuck this is, Alexander brought me here to guide him. He¡¯s never done it before.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯ve never done The Thing?¡± I asked.

    Alexander shook his head. ¡°Never.¡±

    I looked toward Ivana. ¡°And you have?¡±

    She shrugged. ¡°A few times.¡±

    ¡°But you don¡¯t even like Michael,¡± I said. ¡°Why would you help?¡±

    ¡°Like I said, I consider you a friend.¡±

    Alexander sighed. ¡°Whatever you decide, Rhian¡ªand the options do include taking him to the hospital in Jaska¡ªit¡¯s important you know we¡¯re here for you.¡±

    Searching the surface of the desk¡ªand it was just a bloody a desk, nothing else to report¡ªI picked up the letter-opener and pressed the point of the tiny sword to my index finger. I spun it around, and around, and around. When we Partisans made friends with other Partisans, we had no choice but to come to terms with the fact they might die more suddenly, or more violently, or more strangely than the average sack of meat. I''d known Michael for nearly a decade. I''d imagined the million ways I''d find out he was dead or dying, and I was ready. Not for him to die, obviously, but to keep it together in a situation like that one.

    After about an hour staring at Alexander and Ivana, I stopped the spinning.

    ¡°All right,¡± I said. ¡°Nobody¡¯s killing Michael. Not permanently, and not whatever the fuck this is, either.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re sure?¡± Ivana asked.

    ¡°Sure,¡± I said. ¡°He wouldn¡¯t want to risk coming back sideways like Lidia or That Varis, and he wouldn''t want mercy at our expense. He''d want to leave it up to Amalia, but we¡¯re not going to let him waste away and die in The Estate, either.¡±

    Alexander nodded. ¡°I¡¯ll help Peter prepare for travel.¡±

    ¡°Aye,¡± I said. ¡°Do that. But we¡¯re not taking him to the hospital in Jaska.¡±

    Ivana raised her eyebrows. Alexander shifted in his chair.

    I knew exactly what Michael would want. Not the Commander, Sir, Michael, Sir, but the actual Michael. The one who laughed when I nearly broke his nose. The one who came to my room at night when sitting in the silence with all his troubles would get to be too loud. The one who was scared of heights. The arrogant, bossy, big brother in my life who ate an apple every day because it reminded him of the thing he loved more than anything.

    We were taking Michael home to his family, and after announcing my plans, Alexander stepped out of the office to let Peter know.

    I squinted across the desk.

    ¡°So, Leberecht,¡± Ivana said. ¡°They¡¯re not going to just let you walk in.¡±

    I carried on squinting. ¡°I¡¯m delivering precious cargo, not planning on asking for a grand bloody tour. I¡¯m not exactly worried.¡±

    Ivana sighed. ¡°I hope you don¡¯t stay mad at me forever, Rhian. Forever¡¯s a long time where I¡¯m from, and I am sorry I didn¡¯t tell you sooner.¡±

    ¡°I''m not mad at you, seeing as we''re not six, but I''m starting to wonder: why didn¡¯t you do it instead of us? Why didn¡¯t the others like you and Alexander do it?¡±

    ¡°Do what?¡±

    ¡°Take out Lidia.¡±

    ¡°Oh, right, well¡ªthere aren''t many of us, the ones like me and Alexander. But when it comes down to it? Politics, and we try not to meddle or judge the others in our community. We all work through our damage¡ªor not¡ªin our own time. Alexander¡¯s issue with his sister was personal, and I get it, but it didn¡¯t involve me.¡±

    ¡°Fine,¡± I said. ¡°I understand your position as a neutral party in whatever the fuck this is. So, you¡¯re what¡ªfive hundred? That means, if you were around before they sealed the crypts at the church, did you know about them? Did you know Lidia was living down there?¡±

    ¡°I mean, sure. Yeah.¡±

    ¡°Why didn¡¯t you tell us?¡±

    Looking confused, Ivana leaned forward in the chair, resting her elbows on her knees. ¡°Why would you need me to tell you where Lidia lived? You were working with Alexander.¡±

    ¡°Alexander said he didn¡¯t know.¡±

    Ivana threw her hands up in dismay, flopping back against the chair. ¡°Well, frankly, Rhian, I never really questioned whether he knew where his sister lived. But if he¡¯d have asked me, I¡¯d have told him. Nobody ever asked me.¡±

    ¡°All right," I said. "Strauss asked you for information.¡±

    ¡°The priest came by asking about the Ruza name, but I don¡¯t generally take enough interest in other people¡¯s crap to question their questions. Not my business, Rhian, and he¡¯s lucky I told him anything at all. It¡¯s strange, but the first time we met, I only hated him a little, and even less after the arm-wrestling incident. Shit, that was funny. I wish he¡¯d told me the truth about the portrait, though.¡±

    ¡°Why do you hate him at all? And Michael?¡±

    ¡°I hate all men,¡± she said, tugging at her necktie. ¡°It¡¯s not personal, it''s just the way it is, and it stinks because they¡¯re nice to look at. Anyway, we all have our thing and I¡¯m working through mine. At least I don''t murder them anymore, right?"

    Narrowing my eyes, I spun the letter-opener against my finger again, this time wondering if there was any way to murder the whole goddess-be-damned day. ¡°Right. What about Alexander?¡±

    ¡°He¡¯s hardly considered a man,¡± Ivana said.

    From somewhere outside the office, Alexander shouted back, ¡°Rude!¡±

    Ivana laughed, standing from the chair. ¡°It''s getting light outside, and it''s almost breakfast, so that''s it for me. But once you''re back from Leberecht, drop by the Peak, okay? I promise I''ll answer all your questions.¡±

    I nodded and tossed her a two-finger salute.

    And then, seeing as I couldn''t murder the whole goddess-be-damned day, I murdered the corner of the goddess-be-damned desk instead.

    <hr>

    Once Peter and I finished packing the wagon, I climbed the stairs two at a time, hustled down the hall, and stepped back into the pink and gold room for my satchel.

    I''d once said something about Amalia, about how nobody seemed to know for sure what went on over there, but that most Partisans wouldn¡¯t come back, or if they did, they were never the same. Something about mudslides and man-eating trees.

    It all sounded completely insane.

    I reached for my bag sitting on the vanity, but something more interesting caught my eye. The key to the Keyhole in the Mountain¡ªStrauss¡¯s key to the Keyhole in the Mountain. Underneath the key, I spotted a fancy card with my name on it. Look, I knew how to see my name, but I didn''t recognize the handwriting, so I turned the card over, hoping I could identify a few words on the back. It was blank.

    And then, as was becoming annoyingly common, time stopped for everything but the bloody song. The strings, the drums, that owl-sounding flute thing. It held me tight around the middle like a hug, snaring me in place where I stood. My body wouldn¡¯t listen when I told it to move because as I said, there was nothing but the song. But that was all right.

    The song filled me with the feeling of a thousand victories.

    ¡°What a choice you''ve had to make tonight," said a voice from behind, or under, or over. When I think back, it''s almost like it came from inside. ¡°I confess, as I surveyed the scene, I stood as you stand: utterly and indubitably bedazzled. What will she do? What will she do? Have mercy? Have faith? Have hope? But she chose love. Well, I approve, and my approval affords an elusive answer to an obvious question: daddy''s with daddy, so don''t you worry. Enjoy your stay in the city, my dear, and be gentle with the rugs.¡±

    The voice stopped, and so did the song. I could move again, but I was still alone in the room as far as I could tell.

    I slipped the key around my neck and stuffed the card, which now had a golden "Z" on the back, into my satchel.

    Bottom line: none of the stories about Amalia said anything about whatever the fuck that was.

 [The Second One] 6 - The Goose in the Glass and the Multiple Murders

    Adeline

    The night before leaving Palisade for Amalia, my mother came to see me. Not to say goodbye, but to tell me she wouldn¡¯t be at the docks the next morning to say goodbye. There was no way she could miss a meeting with her Consulates for that, so I smiled and said it was fine, and while I agonized over which boots to bring with me, she stood around and said things like, ¡°Aren¡¯t you worried you¡¯ll only get in the way?¡± and, ¡°What could they possibly want with you?¡±

    Well, I was certain Enforcer Rhian would be happy to see me even if she wouldn''t show it, and Councilwoman Adelaide Blanchett wasn¡¯t qualified to judge anyone. She couldn''t see anything past her own feet.

    Other than what we''d learned in class about the weather in Amalia, I didn''t know much about my exotic new destination, so while I had the chance, I asked my mother for information. She clicked her tongue and said, ¡°In the upper echelon, Adeline, Amalia is known for its backwater villages full of superstitious people who believe Partisans are cursed and unholy. You¡¯ll be begging to come home within a week.¡±

    If I didn¡¯t already think she was hoping I''d never return home, I may have thought she was trying to get me to stay. My sister was a more suitable successor, anyway. Not to mention¡ªsuperstitions? Curses? It all sounded so wonderful, and I couldn¡¯t wait to prove my mother and the people of Amalia wrong.

    It was mid-afternoon on that frosty walk with Feargus Finlay, and the city of Jaska was finally in sight. The outer walls were grey, the roads were grey, the peaks of the buildings were grey, and it was nothing like I¡¯d imagined. Cities represented progress, and they were supposed to be vibrant and packed with productive, cheerful people. They were supposed to be filled with cute curio shops and bakeries with their goods on display. I considered the possibility that my perception was being influenced by the sun-goggles, so I raised them, but when that only made things worse, I lowered them again.

    ¡°It¡¯s so¡­ functional,¡± I said. ¡°And all that stone? Well, I¡¯ll bet the architecture is lovely.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t worry. It¡¯s a lot more interesting on the inside.¡± Feargus Finlay patted my shoulder. ¡°Promise.¡±

    ¡°I believe you, but I¡¯m curious: did you mean that literally or figuratively?¡±

    Feargus Finlay nodded, and when we finally stepped through the city gates, I couldn¡¯t believe my eyes.

    I lifted my sun-goggles and rested them against my forehead. I¡¯d trade pain for pleasure, because the walls were grey, the streets were grey, and the buildings were grey, but the windows were stained in more colours than I could name. Everywhere I turned, there were glass paintings of birds, and flowers, and the occasional olive-skinned woman with brown hair. I squinted through the sunlight at all of them.

    ¡°The stained glass was Alexander''s idea a long, long time ago,¡± Feargus Finlay said. ¡°I thought you might find that interesting.¡±

    ¡°I find it fascinating,¡± I replied, and then I wondered, ¡°Would you want to live forever? Not tortured like the Anima, but just forever?¡±

    ¡°Aye, sure. I¡¯d get a lot done in forever.¡±

    ¡°I was thinking the same.¡±

    Entering into large groups of people as a telepath was aggravating for most of us, and enough to drive some straight to the asylum. Imagine each individual''s thoughts as a bee buzzing around in each ear, and imagine each of those bees buzzing to a different rhythm. The more advanced noise control techniques involved drawing each buzz into the other. The collective buzz was constant, quiet, and there was only one.

    I felt better after approximately five minutes, and as we continued our journey through Jaska, I was invigorated by the idea of living in the city. I¡¯d never been shopping, and even though many of the merchants in the market had their signs tucked away somewhere and their stalls covered in unappealing brown tarps, we passed an apothecary, a bookshop, and a store with knick-knacks in the window that seemed interesting. I wasn¡¯t given much allowance to consider spending it on luxuries already, so as we navigated a labyrinth of alleys not too far from the Three Drinks Tavern, I fantasized about simply browsing until I realized¡ª

    ¡°Will I be getting paid?¡± I asked.

    ¡°Better than most,¡± Agent Finlay kept his voice low. ¡°But unless you plan on using my, ¡®There must have been a mix-up,¡¯ line the next time you run into a loyalist, you¡¯re technically defected from Palisade now. You have to be careful, my new best friend. Faust has people in all sorts of places. Do you remember everything else we talked about?¡±

    ¡°I think so,¡± I said.

    ¡°Good.¡± Feargus Finlay grinned. ¡°Because we¡¯re here.¡±

    We stopped in front of a lonely door with a stained-glass goose on the window.

    The bees in my head, the butterflies in my belly, the ants in my pants¡ªI was an emotional mess, and it was all so exciting. Feargus Finlay promised he''d be in touch soon, so I waved goodbye to my new best friend, smiled at the goose on the door, and reached for the handle.

    This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

    <hr>

    Through the door with the goose on the window, I hurried down a short corridor until I reached another door with a goose on the window. According to Feargus Finlay, the second door would be locked, so I stored my sun-goggles away in my pocket, and because it was the polite thing to do, I took my hat off, too. The instructions were clear, so I knocked once on the window, paused, knocked twice on the door, paused, and then I knocked once more on the window.

    There was a click, and the door opened to a candlelit foyer with two sets of leather chairs on either side and an Amali man in a perfectly tailored pinstripe suit behind the desk ahead. I wondered what his name was, and if he grew up in the city, and if he came from a big family.

    The door closed and clicked behind me, and I made a mental note to examine that mechanism more closely at another time.

    I approached the desk, smiled, and spoke the pass-phrase according to Feargus Finlay. ¡°What¡¯s good for the goose is good for the gander and vice versa. I¡¯m looking for a job.¡±

    There was a pause while the handsome man appraised me. He quirked an eyebrow. ¡°They¡¯re going to like you.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s wonderful to hear, but how could you possibly know that? We¡¯ve only just met.¡±

    ¡°We don''t have any redheads right now,¡± he replied. ¡°And you''re gorgeous.¡±

    "Thank you.¡± I flashed the man a Blanchett family smile. "And I think you have a symmetrical face and a lovely complexion, but I¡¯m not here to entertain people with my above average physical appearance. I¡¯m here to work as a bartender.¡±

    After a moment, the man smiled. ¡°Yeah, this should be interesting. Wait here.¡±

    The receptionist disappeared down the corridor to the right.

    As the time went on, the insects in my body settled down. The velvety atmosphere was soothing, and my new co-worker seemed so nice. I was eager to get inside. While I waited, I reached into my pocket and pulled out my multi-purpose compact mirror¡ªmuch like the one I¡¯d given Enforcer Rhian. I peered up my nose for any unwanted guests, checked my teeth, adjusted a few curls, and at the sound of footsteps, closed the compact.

    The receptionist turned the corner and returned to his desk. The woman that followed was short and round, and she wore her chestnut hair piled on her head, a pair of wire spectacles, black trousers with suspenders, and a black-and-white checkered blouse. She smiled when she saw me, and I found her rosy cheeks becoming, especially as she didn¡¯t appear to be wearing any makeup.

    The woman introduced herself as Tanis, and I introduced myself as Abigail Blaise.

    ¡°Blaze?¡±

    ¡°Almost,¡± I said. ¡°Only, it''s with an ¡®i¡¯ and an ¡®s¡¯. Blaise¡ªit¡¯s Delphi.¡±

    ¡°Is that right?¡± Tanis replied. ¡°Well, with hair like that, it¡¯s Blaze. Come on, dear, let¡¯s get comfortable.¡±

    Before turning the corner with Tanis, I waved goodbye to the receptionist.

    The floor in the lounge was shinier than the one in the lobby, the leather chairs looked more comfortable, and the tables had clear glass surfaces with winding wrought iron bases. There was, of course, the beautiful mahogany bar, where I assumed I¡¯d be working, and in the centre of it all, a circular platform. Growing up, I¡¯d sneak into my mother¡¯s bedroom and borrow her risqu¨¦ romance novels. I understood on a rudimentary level what a brothel was, but I was quickly learning I couldn¡¯t depend on the stories. I¡¯m not ashamed to admit, I was disappointed when there weren¡¯t any naked people. In fact, there weren¡¯t any people at all, but there were several doors around the room, and Tanis took me through the first one to the left.

    After hanging my coat, we settled in the office where there was an organized desk, three potted plants, and the glowing opportunity to enjoy one of those chairs from the lounge. It was an agonizing walk through the snow from the cabin, and I¡¯d finally come to terms with the fact that I¡¯d selected the incorrect pair of boots. I breathed a sigh of relief when I sank into the cushion. My feet throbbed and my legs were numb, and even though I longed to stretch them out, I sat with a straight posture and my knees together, and I smiled through the pain.

    Tanis, ignoring her desk, chose the chair beside mine, and she placed her spectacles on her head.

    ¡°All right, Miss Blaze. Do you know anything about mixing drinks? Honestly, I was expecting a Strachan.¡±

    ¡°I know almost nothing about mixing drinks,¡± I said. ¡°But I have a knack for combining substances to achieve desired effects, and I don¡¯t believe mixing beverages is much more complicated than that. Overall, it would be less dangerous.¡±

    ¡°Sounds good,¡± Tanis said. ¡°We¡¯ll figure it out as we go. Your can-do attitude and sunny disposition will make up for the rest.¡±

    I beamed. ¡°That¡¯s kind of you to say.¡±

    ¡°Sure.¡± Tanis chuckled. ¡°Anyway, the real reason you¡¯re here¡ªthe murders.¡±

    ¡°There have been murders?¡± I asked. ¡°Here?¡±

    ¡°Not here, but the guards have been investigating a string of suspicious deaths around the city.¡±

    ¡°What makes the deaths suspicious?¡±

    ¡°The victims were strangled with a belt.¡±

    ¡°Oh.¡± I nodded. ¡°I see.¡±

    ¡°Normally it¡¯d be none of my business,¡± Tanis continued. ¡°But the victims are all clients.¡±

    ¡°There¡¯s no chance it could be a coincidence, statistically speaking? Given the delightful nature of your business, I¡¯m certain you have plenty of clients. Unless, do you think the murderer is an employee?¡±

    ¡°It could be a coincidence; it could be an employee; it could be another client. I don¡¯t have time to think about it, Abby Blaze. But if there is a connection, or if there¡¯s a reason for the city to think there¡¯s a connection, we need to know before they do.¡±

    ¡°I understand perfectly, and I will do everything I can to learn about the other employees, the victims, and our clients while also mastering the art of bar service.¡±

    It seemed as if Tanis was about to stand. ¡°Wait¡ªDelphi? We¡¯ve never had a Delphi around here. You¡¯re the ones who read minds, right?¡±

    ¡°Well, in a sense, yes. But¡ª¡°

    ¡°Have you been reading mine?¡±

    ¡°Of course not,¡± I said. ¡°That would be rude.¡±

    It was a misconception that all telepaths had access to all thoughts, at all times. It was far more complicated than that, and besides, most of us had common courtesy and respect for personal boundaries.

    Tanis smiled, offered me her hand, and like Feargus Finlay suggested, I matched her strength when we shook. ¡°Welcome to the Goose and the Gander, Abby Blaze. Let''s go meet the others.¡±

 Update

    Hey friends!

    A quick note to say I won''t be posting any new chapters for a while. I''m not too sure for how long, but the idea is to have a more substantial chunk of The Second One finished first. This means publishing content I''m super confident in and (hopefully) delivering a story you''ll enjoy as much, if not more, than The First One. This project is important to me and your readership means the world. I''m excited to come back with more frequent chapter updates.

    If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

    ''Cause this once a week thing sucks.

    Endless love and appreciation,

    ~Classy