《Bloodshard: Stolen Magic》


 1: Bloodshard

    <hr>


    Eirn: a general form of respect, as well as a title denoting noble lineage. If one is uncertain of an individual''s precise rank, Eirn is generally the safest honorific to use.


    -Etiquette for Children, third edition


    <hr>


    ''Twas dark and overcast one winter day as I searched the forest for dead wood or live plants. I¡¯d undertaken this task on behalf of my mother, who¡¯d taken ill this last week and, though she tried to insist otherwise, shouldn¡¯t brave the cold to do it herself. That had been an argument and a half, but in the end I prevailed. Mostly by helping myself to her cart and furs and sneaking out before she could stop me.


    Even she wouldn¡¯t dare the winter forest without any of her furs, though I could well imagine her ire upon discovering my ploy. The thought did make me smile. Dear old mother, too prideful and stubborn for her own good. I daren¡¯t imagine what might¡¯ve befallen had I not been here to stop her.


    Snow dusted the ground, leaving bare patches where the damp had eaten it up, obscuring the leaves and wood beneath but not concealing them completely. The warmer air that for a few days graced us with milder weather had been smothered beneath the heavy clouds rolling by. Snowflakes drifted down at a slow but steady rate that would only increase as the storm continued on.


    I moved slowly and carefully, searching for anything I could bring back, but with an underlying urgency to my steps. By tomorrow¡¯s morn, I knew, the ground would no longer be as freely accessible. Evening drew on, and I did not turn around toward home. I pressed on, recklessly, desperate to justify my trip. I hesitated when I passed my furthest marker, but I¡¯d found only two days¡¯ worth of wood and less of food. The storm, if experience were any indicator, would last longer than that.


    I pulled my snow-covered furs closer against the evening chill, and pressed on. Perhaps by searching virgin ground I could discover unknown bounty.


    As, of course, I would. But not in the way I¡¯d hoped.


    Some hours later, I¡¯d finally decided to give up the search and turn around. The snow blanketed the ground quite thickly now, and fell heavier than ever. If I didn¡¯t turn around now, I¡¯d be wading in it before I reached home. The cart of my plunder behind me looked more like a mobile snowdrift now than a pile of branches, and the damp chill had soaked through my gloves and slithered down into my boots. It would have to do. Any longer and I risked my life.


    I turned to leave, and it was then I saw the light. A circle of gleaming red, away off to the left, deeper in the forest. I picked up the sturdiest of my branches, which was not very sturdy but made me feel a little better, and crept toward the glow.


    Two people stood in midair, the glowing red dome surrounding them and casting a sinister light over the world around them. Falling snowflakes gleamed like blood as they fell to join their fellows on the ground.


    I held my breath, unsure of what I¡¯d happened upon. Some evil ritual? But these people must be nobles, if they could fly and use magic. For that had to be what this was, I could imagine nothing else that could create a solid dome of light. And what use had nobles for secret evil rituals in the dark of night? They already had all the power a person could ever want.


    I wondered for a brief moment if I shouldn¡¯t simply turn and flee, get as far away as possible as fast as could be, but I felt that any movement would only serve to draw attention to me. I remained where I crouched and watched the scene unfold.


    ¡°Eirn Fylen,¡± proclaimed the man on the opposite side of the dome from where I observed. He had a squared face, hair just long enough to tie back, and the typical robes of a noble. The red light washed out any colour, so I couldn¡¯t discern his ranking or house. ¡°I challenge you for the light you bear.¡± And he raised one hand, clenched into a fist, straight between him and his opponent.


    Eirn Fylen, whose back was not quite exactly toward me but very nearly so, reached out his own fist in answer. ¡°Eirn Desten, I accept your challenge and your terms.¡± And then he sneered. ¡°May you die well, though you have never lived so.¡±


    Eirn Desten nodded once, but made no retort. The redness of the light intensified. It seemed almost as though a curtain were drawn across the dome, turning it from transparent to sheer. A haze, a fogginess, a sense of solidity now permeated it.


    Snowflakes that hit the dome slid down it rather than passing through.


    And in a flash of blue and yellow, the two attacked.


    A scythe of cerulean light splashed against the dome, missing Desten by no more than a finger¡¯s breadth. A lance of golden fire seared through Fylen¡¯s robe, leaving him unharmed but with a scorched patch to show for his near-miss. Fylen dove downward, hands glowing blue. He slammed into the snow, sending up a burst of water in every direction. Before he could finish whatever he was trying to do, Desten blasted another spear of golden flame right where Fylen¡¯s hand braced against the ground.


    I winced, but Fylen didn¡¯t scream. Indeed, he seemed almost too intent to even notice, though the blue-glowing droplets of water around him trembled violently. Then the water coalesced together and froze instantly into an ornate shield, taller than Fylen¡¯s entire body, curved to provide greater protection, and it settled in place beside him.


    Desten fired a rain of tiny suns into the air, where they swooped up and over the shield to strike at the man behind, but Fylen darted aside from the attack and the shield followed, keeping itself between him and his opponent.


    Desten flew forward, striking down at Fylen again with a trio of fiery bolts, but the shield wasn¡¯t limited to rotating around Fylen¡¯s sides, and slid up above him in flawless interception.


    Fylen crouched low to the ground, drawing something in the snow. Blue light flared around him, and the shield began to glow. Desten¡¯s next attack did not disappear into it, but bounced off and back toward Desten¡¯s face in a flash of white.


    Desten didn¡¯t have time to react. He thrust out a hand, as though to catch the incoming attack, but the flame didn¡¯t stop. It speared straight through his hand and into his chest. He screamed, and yellow light gathered around him. Fire flickered in his eyes, and around his arms, and the snow on the ground within the dome began to sizzle and hiss. Fylen¡¯s shield melted, the water holding its shape for a moment until the growing heat hissed it away into steam. And still Desten¡¯s scream went on and on.


    Fylen backed up right to the edge of the dome. For the first time he seemed uncertain. He flashed out two more scythes of light, but Desten didn¡¯t even try to dodge them. They splashed against his face and chest and were extinguished by the growing aura of flames surrounding him.


    Fylen dropped back to the ground and began frantically scrabbling in the rapidly-drying ground. I couldn¡¯t tell if he was drawing again or trying to hide, but whatever it was it did not save him.


    The dome itself began to shift, its red hue bleeding to a fiery orange, then the brilliant yellow of Desten¡¯s flames. He was so fully obscured by his own glow now that he couldn¡¯t be distinguished from the light of the dome. Like a tiny sun.


    Fylen raised one hand and blue light coalesced into a shield, smaller than the icy one from before, but not as prone to evaporation, then fired another volley of blue scythe blades.


    Desten¡¯s aura exploded. The dome exploded. Something flared out with a boom like thunder, then crackled back inward centered on Fylen. He didn¡¯t have time to react before all the fire and yellow light converged on him and then he exploded.


    I flinched involuntarily as something wet-red and gleaming landed in the snow near me, glinting in the faint light of Desten¡¯s aura. The dome was gone, and Desten¡¯s glow greatly diminished, but he stepped slowly down from the air and approached his vanquished foe.


    He laughed, madly, brokenly, one hand clutched protectively against his chest. In his other hand, a brilliant goldflame sword slowly materialized, and still Eirn Desten laughed.


    He laughed as he reached Fylen¡¯s broken body, and began to slash at it wildly with his flaming sword, sending pieces of bloody flesh flying in every direction.


    I wanted to flee, acid burning my throat as I struggled not to vomit, but fear held me frozen. The madman was far too close, far too powerful, far too dangerous. If he noticed me, I would die. I knew that with cold, terrifying certainty.


    I made a terrible mistake coming here. I should have run the other way as fast as I could the moment I saw the light.


    My breath sounded too loud, too fast, I was sure he would hear the beating of my heart.


    But if he noticed me, he gave no sign. He laughed one final time, reached into his opponent¡¯s destroyed chest, yanked free something that glowed blue, then disappeared in a flash of yellow light.This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.


    I didn¡¯t move. I knew nothing about magic. Was this invisibility? Teleportation? It could be anything.


    Snow sizzled as it landed on the bare scorched patch of earth that had once been covered by the dome. Eirn Fylen¡¯s remains lay fully visible for far too long, until it finally cooled enough and snow began to conceal the scattered pieces of his torn-apart body.


    I shouldn¡¯t have thought about it. This time I did throw up. But at least that broke me from my paralysis. I shakily swallowed some snow to wash away the taste of vomit, carefully not looking at or thinking about the circle burned into the ground or what had taken place there.


    As I turned away, something gleamed at me from the corner of my eye. I froze, wondering if Eirn Desten had come back for me, but it wasn¡¯t a deadly yellow flame. A tiny white glow, only visible in the near-complete darkness. I reached for it, hesitated, then picked it up with numb fingers.


    A tiny white crystal lay in my gloved hand, like ice, but warm and bright and unmelting. I could feel the beginning of warmth tingling back into my cold hand. When I held it out in front of me it illuminated my way, just a little, but enough. I wasn¡¯t going to question my good fortune. I grabbed the cart and trudged back toward home, the tiny crystal lighting my way.


    ¡°What took you so long? Where have you been? I swear, if you¡¯d gotten yourself lost, I would have torn the forest apart. You idiot!¡±


    I deposited the armload of branches beside the fireplace so they could dry out and silently turned to retrieve another.


    ¡°Don¡¯t turn your back on me! Do you know how worried I was when you didn¡¯t return?¡± Her rant was interrupted by a coughing fit, but that didn¡¯t deter her. The moment she caught her breath again, she continued on as though she¡¯d never stopped. ¡°I thought you¡¯d stumbled upon a bear and gotten yourself mauled! What were you thinking, staying out so long?¡±


    I would ordinarily have smiled at Mother¡¯s exaggerations. But after encountering something far worse than a bear, witnessing something far beyond wrong, I had no strength for smiling.


    The crystal, I¡¯d slipped down my boot. Not to conceal its existence, but because I needed my hands free and my feet were very cold.


    By the third load of wood, my mother had clearly noticed something amiss. Her criticisms ceased and she fell silent, watching me with obvious concern.


    I brought in the final pile, then wordlessly began to take off the damp furs. Mother hung them by the fire, watching me with those quiet not-quite-watching glances, but I was too tired to care. I wanted nothing more than to lie down and fall asleep beside the fireplace myself, dignity be damned, but I knew Mother cared more about appearances than I did. What if someone visited in the morning and saw me curled up on the floor like a stray cat? No, she¡¯d have a fit. So I gathered my coat and started doggedly toward the door.


    ¡°No you don¡¯t. No child of mine is going to wander off into the storm at midnight! You¡¯ll stay the night in the guest bedroom and no argument.¡±


    I didn¡¯t argue. I stumbled to the designated room, divested myself of my remaining wet clothing, crawled into the bed, and fell asleep with the warm crystal clutched against my chest.


    I didn¡¯t wake until afternoon, the smell of soup wafting under the door. My stomach grumbled eagerly; I¡¯d missed dinner the night before in all the excitement, and soup sounded incredibly wonderful right now.


    Mother had laid out some of my old clothes on the chair. Some a bit tight, but warm and dry. I smiled as I dressed, then paused as a memory tickled at my mind. Where had I put the crystal? I glanced at my hands, which I¡¯d been using both of to dress. Had I left it in the bed? I tore the blankets off, patting the sheet down for any lumps, but there was no sign of it.


    I shook out each blanket, crawled about on the floor, but found no sign of it.


    Had I imagined it? Was it just my mind broken under the strain, imagining something bright and comforting to get me home without going crazy?


    No, I was sure it had been real. Maybe it was ice after all, and it had melted. It didn¡¯t make sense, but nothing made sense.


    My stomach rumbled again, and I abandoned the search in favour of obtaining a bowl or three of soup as quickly as possible.


    Five bowls later, I leaned back in my chair and smiled. Mother hadn¡¯t lost her touch. Though I¡¯d occasionally tried to replicate her recipes, no one could truly duplicate her cooking prowess.


    ¡°Feeling better?¡± she asked.


    ¡°I should be asking you that.¡±


    She waved off the concern. ¡°I¡¯ll be fine. You¡¯re the idiot who stayed out all night. What were you thinking?¡±


    ¡°I needed more wood, and you¡¯d already got all the good stuff nearby. So I had to go farther.¡± I did not mention the duel I¡¯d witnessed, and tried very hard to put it out of my mind entirely. A comforting warmth pulsed through me, and my agitation disappeared. I pointed to the soup pot. ¡°Mind if I have some more?¡±


    She laughed and ladled it up for me, then started coughing as her laughter subsided. I stood, concerned, but when I reached out to her she shook her head. ¡°I¡¯m¡ª¡± she coughed twice more, then took a deep breath and straightened. ¡°I¡¯m fine. Really.¡±


    I glanced at the sky. The snow continued to fall, though it had evened off sometime during the night and was once again drifting lazily down rather than the heavier snowfall. I should probably head back to the inn before traveling became any more difficult, but I hesitated to leave my mother alone in her state.


    Knowing her, she¡¯d keel over before sending for a doctor.


    ¡°I know that look. Don¡¯t even think about delaying your plans for my sake. You have an obligation to your customers as much as anyone else.¡±


    ¡°And they won¡¯t die if I delay work for a few days. Besides, I doubt I could make it back to the city in this weather.¡±


    I glanced over at the fire. It burned low, suffusing the house with warmth. By my guess, we had enough wood left for another three days. Not as much as I¡¯d hoped, but there was little chance of finding more near enough to matter.


    ¡°You¡¯ve done enough, dear. Thank you. I do appreciate it. But you really mustn¡¯t think your life needs to revolve around me. You know, there are some nice single people about your age I could introduce¡ª¡±


    ¡°No. Thank you, but no. I am perfectly content on my own. I barely have the time to keep up with my own life, let alone try to fit someone else into it.¡±


    She gave me that same disapproving look she always did when this topic came up. Despite the fact that it was always her own fault for bringing it up in the first place. ¡°You know, you don¡¯t have to do everything on your own.¡±


    ¡°Not everything, no. But I am quite confident in my own abilities and what I can, in fact, do on my own. Please, Mother, let it be.¡±


    I knew she did this intentionally, to make me sufficiently annoyed with her to leave, and I won¡¯t deny the thought tempted me. After all, the room I¡¯d paid for in advance, all my papers and tools awaited me. And while the house was fairly comfortable right now, I well knew the tendency of this particular home to be drafty and chilly at unexpected times. The inn had no such drafts, as well as upholstered chairs and a fine desk for working at. It hadn¡¯t been cheap, but I could afford it these days. Business was good.


    I absently helped myself to another bowl of soup.


    ¡°My, I don¡¯t think I¡¯ve seen you eat this much since you were a teenager,¡± Mother commented.


    I shrugged. ¡°It was very cold last night, and I missed dinner.¡±


    ¡°If you end up hanging around, will you at least start paying for your food?¡±


    I knew she didn¡¯t mean it, she would never actually charge me, but it was a valid point. I stared at my nearly empty bowl and sighed. ¡°If you¡¯re that desperate to be rid of me, I suppose I should be getting back.¡±


    ¡°Finally. I thought I would have to shove you out the door myself.¡±


    I finished off the soup and stood, but hesitated. ¡°You¡¯re absolutely sure you¡¯ll be alright alone?¡±


    She nodded. ¡°I know how these things go. I¡¯ll be perfectly well in another day or two. Not that worrying my head off for your safety helps matters, but what can a mother do.¡±


    I gave her a gentle hug, pecked her cheek once, then collected my damp coat and less damp clothing from beside the fire.


    The snow drifted down steadily, probably three or four inches on the ground, but Woodedge wasn¡¯t a long walk. Maybe a half hour. Mother lived on the outskirts of town, true, though there were others who lived further distant.


    I arrived safely without encountering any difficulties, handed off yesterday¡¯s dirty clothes to the attendant, and closeted myself in my room to work. As a traveling scribe, I had every type of consignment, from validating contracts to composing poetry and everything in between. Today¡¯s list included much more of the latter than the former, as apparently cold weather made people less eager to gad about conducting business affairs and more inclined to commission epics.


    It wasn¡¯t my favourite part of my occupation, stories being notoriously tricky to get ¡®right¡¯ and of course what counts as ¡®right¡¯ depended as much on the customer as on the execution of the work. I almost wished I could spend another night gathering branches But no. This was what paid my expenses. Mother was right, I did have a reputation to maintain.


    I spent the rest of the afternoon on the composition, working late into the evening before I finally relaxed to do another check of the particulars, the bulk of the work completed.


    And then it occurred to me that I never lit the lantern.


    I glanced out the window. Full darkness, only the occasional snowflake drifting near enough to be illuminated. Then back at my pages. Clearly visible in the dim light.


    I jumped to my feet, glaring around my clearly-illuminated room. The light was dim, more like bright moonlight than a fireglow, and I couldn¡¯t see where it was coming from. I moved about the room, and the light followed. I looked above me, behind me; the light shone everywhere, but from nowhere.


    Or ¡­ from me?


    For a moment, I nearly panicked. Then calm insinuated itself forcibly within me, and I relaxed involuntarily.


    This was fine. Entirely natural. Of course I could glow in the dark.


    What?


    I glanced down at my hands, which weren¡¯t really emitting a glow, but which illuminated everything nearby them with that sourceless light. If I looked closely, I could see my veins as though the very blood within them glowed. I shook my hand and shuddered, trying not to think about it.


    It was then I realized the fire in the hearth had long since gone out. I hadn¡¯t even noticed. The comfortable warmth I¡¯d felt all day never diminished. I glanced back at my hand, fear and dread seeping back through me, so this time I saw the moment when the emotions were repressed. A pulse of light flowed down my arm like a ripple of a waterfall, and in the same moment my fear subsided.


    I had to figure out what was happening to me. I took off my clothes and stared into the mirror, where a pulsing light glowed from my chest, roughly where my heart should be. The glow evened out as it traced my veins down my body, the pulses less obvious, the light steadier the further it traveled.


    My breath quickened, and the pulses flicked faster to match my heartbeat.


    This was wrong. This was so wrong. I couldn¡¯t be stoned. Only nobility could be stoned. And stones showed themselves at three months of age. There was no way to just become stoned as an adult!


    At least, no legal way. Renegade stoned appeared from time to time, accompanied by dark rumors and swift retribution from the nobility if the stories were to be believed. But how could this happen to me? Why!


    Calm pulsed through me, white light spreading out through my blood from the traitorous dangerous glow in my chest. I took slow deep breaths to try and relax.


    Pieces began to fall into place. The crystal from last night. It had landed near me during the carnage. I¡¯d thought it was just a light. But ¡­ what if it had been a powerstone? It was bright, it was warm, and now ¡­ it was inside me?


    I''d somehow become renegade stoned, without even realizing it.


    This is bad, I thought, quite calmly. This is very, very bad.


    <hr>

 2: Inkling

    Reirn is the highest position within a house. Almost always passed on in a direct line from the purest, oldest family, the title cannot be held by anyone not directly related to the house.


    Outside spouses take instead the title of Heirn or Heirna, since they do enjoy a special position above ordinary Eirn, but even in the event of a Reirn''s death, they cannot claim the position which will instead pass directly to their children.


    If there is no Reirna, upon the death of the Reirn the position passes to the reirn''s oldest child. If there are no children, the position passes to the next eldest member of the closest family branch to the deceased.


    -Titles, Ranking, and Structure of the Noble Houses


    <hr>


    The way I saw it, there were two main things I had to do.


    First, hide this power. Hide it so thoroughly that no one even thinks ¡®powerstone¡¯ and ¡®traveling scribe¡¯ in the same week.


    Second, research powerstones, the nobility, inheritance, and if it was possible to remove the stupid thing without dying in the process.


    The uncomfortable proximity of the glow to my heart made me doubt the possibility, but even if I couldn¡¯t be rid of it there were other questions I needed answered. How could Eirn Fylen have had a second stone? They were inborn, innate. And, from what I¡¯d witnessed the previous night, big, round and colourful. The blue stone Eirn Desten had taken away filled his hand completely and glowed far brighter. Whatever this tiny crystal shard was which I¡¯d somehow obtained, it wasn¡¯t the same.


    I had to get back to my main office. There were resources in the city that a little town like Woodedge couldn''t provide. Contacts I could call upon. The library for reference materials. But travel would be difficult for the next couple days, even more so closer to the lakes.


    I spent some time in restless contemplation, trying to think of a good way to hide this. Having your blood glow was not the sort of thing one usually has to conceal. Thankfully, clothing seemed sufficient to cover it, and with the winter weather no one would question if I chose to wear heavy gloves and a scarf.


    It might seem odd if I continued to wear full winter gear indoors at all times, but not nearly as noteworthy as if I went around glowing like a lantern. Or, should it be, glowing like a noble? I shuddered at the thought.


    Thankfully, no one in Woodedge would have seen nobles up close. The streaks of colour as they flew by far overhead didn''t count. I hadn¡¯t ever really seen them, even in the city, not until the fateful duel in the night. That was the closest I¡¯d ever been to nobility, the clearest view I¡¯d ever had of their magic. Even if a small amount of glow was visible, people would probably discount it as a trick of the light rather than jump to insane conclusions.


    So I was probably safe here for the moment, as long as I didn¡¯t do anything too crazy. I could bundle up for the trip to Midpeak, and once safe in my own office I could begin to conduct research. Not too blatantly. Probably I should fabricate a commission to provide reasons for my sudden interest. The library staff would never question me, they knew me. But if I had to send others instead of visiting in person, they¡¯d need to provide an explanation.


    I should find someone else to actually write it. I could alter my own hand as necessary to accommodate the style of the work I¡¯d been hired to draft, firmer and clearer for contracts, softer and elegant for love poems, ornate and antiquely tilted for epics and so forth, but I wasn¡¯t confident I could manufacture a completely distinct handwriting style. And, ideally, someone else should choose the wording. My own vocabulary was by necessity rather more advanced than the average, and it would be stupid to give away the subterfuge with something like misplaced phraseology.


    It may be excessive, but I had nothing else to do but plan out every detail. It made me feel a tiny bit better, having something to focus on besides the chances of my own doom.


    My stomach growled loudly, reminding me that I¡¯d eaten nothing all day besides Mother¡¯s excellent soup many hours previous. I dressed, donned my coat and hat and gloves and wrapped a scarf around my face, so the only light was from my faint-glowing eyes. Not quite enough to see by, but more than enough to give me away in the dark.


    No, this was stupid. I had a perfectly valid alternative.


    I divested myself of the outer layers, but kept the gloves and wrapped the scarf around my neck, then lit the lantern. Checking in the mirror, I nodded. Yes, unless one looked very closely, the lantern masked the source of illumination perfectly. If I held it close in front of me, it concealed the faint glow completely.


    I exhaled in relief, then crept out of my room and down to the kitchens. The front room had closed some time previously, which meant it must be closer to morning than midnight. The kitchen lay empty, the fire banked for the night. It took me a while to find the coldbox, but I located the leftovers from the previous day and helped myself to several plates, leaving a brief note with my name and room number enumerating what I¡¯d taken so they could charge it to my account properly. Then I hastily retreated back upstairs.


    I felt the faint weariness of staying awake too long, but I knew I would never be able to sleep. Too much worry and too many plans chased themselves around in my mind.


    I finished off the last plate of food before realizing that it may have been prudent to save some for the morning.


    My breath frosted in the air, and I blinked in surprise. Well, I suppose I shouldn¡¯t have been surprised. The fire had been out practically all day. I¡¯d locked the door, so no one had been able to come build it back up.


    It would be endlessly suspicious if I went to sleep in a room barely warmer than the outdoors. And most particularly if I then didn¡¯t complain about it. With a sigh, I collected the lantern and made another foray downstairs to collect wood. I may not have started a fire in years, but I did it enough as a child it came back to me quickly. Start small, with kindling and sticks, then work up to the bigger logs. It wasn¡¯t entirely up to professional standards, but it was a fire, and would take the chill off the room in time for the attendant to fix it in the morning.


    I wrote another missive, explaining that I¡¯d worked late into the night on an epic and would appreciate food brought around noon, at which time they could also fix up the fire properly.


    I glanced out the window, but the snow hadn¡¯t stopped. And then I groaned and pulled the curtains closed. I¡¯d overlooked the fact that anyone looking in could have seen me at any time in the past several hours. True, the window looked out over the hillside and pastures beyond, and no one was out there tonight. But it was the principle of the thing. I¡¯d neglected to consider a very possible threat at all.


    I had to be more careful.


    I felt the panic threatening to overtake me, then that pulse of calm radiated out from the shard in my chest and I tried my best to accept the peace instead of fighting it. I put the future out of my mind for the moment and returned to checking over my most recent composition. If I were to throw myself into a new project upon my return to the city, it would be best to get all the current outstanding requests done before then.


    Two days later, the storm finally left us firmly in its wake, the clouds broke up and sunlight graced the town with its light. Though its warmth lacked somewhat in the face of a brisk wind that blew the snow into drifts.


    But I wasn¡¯t complaining. A perfect day to wear a scarf or three, leaving no skin exposed, seemed just perfect to me.


    I paid my remaining bill for the extended stay, gathered my papers, and retrieved the horse I¡¯d rented for the trip.


    It was a beautiful morning, glittering snow brilliant in the sunlight, giving the entire town a crisp clean feel. People shoveled their walks, and the town plow team had already come through to make the main street passable by foot and horse. A shovel crew came behind, more slowly, to clear the way for carriages.


    As much as I wanted to gallop straight for Midpeak at top speed, I detoured back to my mother¡¯s house to check on her. She stood on her back porch, arguing vehemently with a woodsman as he unloaded his cart, no sign of a cough remaining. Good.


    She glowered at me when she noticed my presence, then made a shooing motion with her hand at me before returning to her tirade.


    Yep, she¡¯d be fine.This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.


    I turned the horse and set off up the road.


    The trip to the city wasn¡¯t as straightforward and easy as I¡¯d have hoped. Several times I outpaced the plow and shovel teams, forced to slow our pace as the horse struggled through knee-deep snow.


    Before we¡¯d traversed half the distance, a small cavalry of House Sarosa guardsmen in full regalia galloped past in a great hurry, even their horses decked out in the blue, white, and yellow of Sarosa. I respectfully cleared the road and waited with head bowed as they passed, then watched them go with a strange mixture of relief and dread. They didn¡¯t even glance twice at me. But if Sarosa got involved, if they were searching for Eirn Fylen whoever he may have been, things could get complicated.


    I suddenly was very glad I had forgotten to show Mother the crystal I¡¯d found and neglected to mention anything about the duel. If Sarosa guardsmen came questioning, she could honestly tell them everything she knew and betray nothing.


    I watched them until they were out of sight, then spurred the horse on toward Midpeak.


    By the time we arrived, evening had fallen. I hastily ignited my lantern to conceal any signs of glow from my eyes, returned the horse to the rental company and paid my bill, then walked briskly to my building.


    It was a small building, modest in comparison to those around it, but I¡¯m a scribe. I didn¡¯t need anything flashy. The people who needed me knew where to find me, and I was out of town regularly enough that more local work would only be detrimental past a certain point.


    The front, where customers could come in, I shared with an illustrator/illuminator couple. We had a standing arrangement where they took down any orders given in my absence, and I let them the space at a discounted rate. We also collaborated on more expensive projects, though those were few and far between.


    The back contained my office and their workroom, with our living quarters upstairs. I stopped by the front to collect the stack of scrolled requests from my box, sighing at the quantity of them. Well, it would keep me busy at least.


    I retired to my bedroom, pulled all the curtains, and collapsed into sleep.


    I woke in familiar dim light, which brightened as I climbed out of bed. It was very convenient, I thought, not needing to fumble for the lantern or curtains. If not for the threat of, well, mysterious doom, I could get used to this.


    But, mysterious doom still hung over me, and would until I discovered the precise nature of said doom. To which end, I must to the library. The mirror in my room didn''t compare to that in the inn, but it was sufficient to discern that my faint glow became practically unnoticeable in bright daylight.


    I took a lantern with me anyway. I couldn¡¯t wear all my layers in the library without attracting notice, and it would hinder my ability to move freely besides.


    I did stop by a clothing shop to buy a thinner pair of gloves, so I could turn pages easily without exposing my glowing-veined hands which seemed the most likely to give me away. At least the glow of my eyes was faint enough that they only really became obvious at night. Like a cat.


    The shopkeeper looked at me oddly when I insisted on buying the gloves without trying them on, but was more interested in my money than my reasons. He did assure me that, if they didn¡¯t fit, it was my own fault and he would not be making modifications without additional fees. I thanked him and left.


    I hadn¡¯t found the right person to feign interest in the nobility yet, so I restrained myself to mostly ordinary types of books, adding only a handful of the thick ornate tomes dealing with lineages, power inheritance, and the territories of the respective noble houses.


    I knew all the houses by name, reputation, and could recognize their colours by sight. Everyone could. You had to be able to treat Sarosa with the right kind of respect, which was not the same kind of respect as the Novarot demanded. But I wouldn¡¯t know any individual Sarosa from any other. Their colours were what mattered, not their face or name. You see Sarosa colours, you bow and get out of the way.


    Sarosa, Varon, Metako, Novarot, Utrenad, Raysh, Oros, Leetan, Wightok, and Teshron. The ten noble houses, each with their main lineages and branches, divergent sub-houses, scandals and betrayals, secret loves and defiant youth, old fools and great masters.


    Sarosa and Varon were the two most involved in this region, with a long history of alliances between them. And it didn¡¯t take long searching genealogies before I found Fylen. Eirn Fylen Sarosa, sixth of that name, first son and only heir of Reirn Ovnon Sarosa and Heirn Eytra Sarosa.


    This was so much worse than I¡¯d imagined. And there was a childline inscribed but without a name, so he was going to have a child.


    This was beyond terrible.


    No wonder Sarosa troops were searching everywhere. His wife was probably going crazy, not to mention his parents!


    I didn¡¯t feel any better when I looked into Desten. Apparently, Desten was an old Varon family name, because there were about a dozen of them. And even ruling out anyone younger than twelve or older than fifty, that left me with eight potential Eirn Desten Varon candidates. And, worse, sometimes the Varon line had married into other lines, so I also had to deal with a Desten Metako, a Desten Utrenad, and for some reason two different Desten Oros, though the Varon and Oros families didn¡¯t have any links that I could find, even looking back over a hundred years.


    Even if I were inclined to risk my safety and security by informing the Sarosa about the identity of their heir¡¯s murderer, my word wouldn¡¯t be enough to actually track down the culprit. He¡¯d surely learn about the investigation in plenty of time to frame someone else with the same name.


    Or simply remove the sole witness.


    Maybe I¡¯d read too many unlikely stories, written one too many story of success against unlikely odds, but I was starting to get an incredibly stupid idea.


    I called over a librarian I¡¯d worked with in the past.


    ¡°I have a rather unusual commission to research today,¡± I told her. ¡°A silly thing, really, but I¡¯m supposed to come up with a way a commoner could be discovered as a secret child of nobility. I was under the impression that all nobility are identified at birth by their stone, and there¡¯s no way to forge that. Is there any way that such a person could possibly go unnoticed until adulthood?¡±


    ¡°Not at birth, no.¡±


    I waved away the correction. ¡°Three months, basically the same thing. Still too young to be the focus of an epic.¡±


    She stared at the ceiling for a moment in thought. ¡°I suppose your hero could find a stone, perhaps from a family member who died, and it calls out. I don¡¯t know how historically accurate that is, but it sounds right for a fantasy.¡±


    ¡°Would that even work?¡±


    ¡°Oh yes. There are stories of lost heirs. Not many, but they do happen on occasion. Childstones can be misplaced or stolen before they can be used.¡±


    I wasn¡¯t familiar with the term ¡®childstone¡¯. I¡¯d have to look it up.


    ¡°Thank you. I think you¡¯re right, this will work.¡±


    We spent another moment exchanging pleasantries, then she departed to return to work and I made my way back to the table I¡¯d appropriated.


    The stupid idea kept getting stupider, and more alluring.


    But first I had to do some more research.


    I spent the next weeks reading everything I could possibly find about stones, nobility, and inheritance. There wasn¡¯t much, that particular topic wasn¡¯t readily available to commoners. Stones were inherited through some unknown process. Childstones would just show up at the proper time, and where or how was never written anywhere I could discover.


    Disappointed, I switched focus and delved into history, reading political maps from the past hundred years, building up a patchy timeline for the division of districts and territories.


    While for us the past century had been one of peace and relative prosperity, I was astonished to learn that the upheaval between houses had actually been fairly violent, cutthroat, and ongoing. The territory maps I compared painted a dramatic picture of shifting alliances, betrayal and deception.


    Sarosa wasn¡¯t always this powerful. Until about two hundred years ago, Varon and Sarosa had been rivals instead of allies. Eventually ¡®The Great Alliance¡¯ was agreed upon and later formalized with a union between the young Sarosa Reirn at the time, Reirn Jayosh Sarosa, and the second daughter of the Varon Reirn and Reirna, who became Heirna Anrya Sarosa. This unheard-of marriage between the purest house lines tied the families together in an unprecedented way.


    From then on, intermarriage between Sarosa and Varon became nearly as common as unions between branches of the same house. There did remain the occasional Novarot, Metako, or Utrenad in the mix. One notable Whightok actually managed to become a Varon Heirna, after something of a scandal prevented any Varon minor lines from being willing to partner with Derend, the young Reirn-in-waiting.


    Perhaps I got a bit sidetracked by gossip and rumors, dramatic retellings of intrigues and scandal. But then, deep in a dusty collection of legends, I found the opening I needed.


    Asnon Varon. Born one hundred and sixty years ago, the fourth child of the reigning Reirn and Reirna, but first in line to become Reirn due to various happenstance. His eldest sister had no interest in becoming Reirna, and his two other siblings both died in childhood during the Great Plague that swept through the north a few years before he was born.


    Alas, Asnon didn¡¯t survive even long enough to be affirmed as Reirn-in-waiting, disappearing at the age of seventeen. He was never seen again, his body and stone never recovered.


    Speculation died down after a few generations, but the disappearance of Asnon Varon remained a persistent mystery.


    Who¡¯s to say he didn¡¯t run off with a nice young lady from an enemy house? Say, Teshron, they hardly had anything to do with either Sarosa or Varon, operating mainly in the southeast, about as far from Sarosa¡¯s seat of power as possible without crossing an ocean.


    Teshron would hardly advertise the fact that they¡¯d lost one of their own to run off with the enemy. So Asnon and Miss Teshron could easily have set up a nice quiet home for themselves in the middle of nowhere. Their children would have gone unstoned to hide them from any house members who might try hunting them down, and for the next several generations Asnon¡¯s heirs lived as commoners.


    Until now. When one of their great grandchildren discovered one of the unused childstones meant for his grandparents, and accidentally ended up stoned.


    What an entirely plausible story!


    I couldn¡¯t believe I was considering this.


    But the fact remained, no matter how careful I may be, there was no way I could really hide my status as stoned for the rest of my life.


    ¡°Astesh,¡± I muttered, writing it down in my most elegant handwriting. Chances were good the surnames would have been lost to time long ago, so I flipped through another book of commoner family lines until I found one I liked the sound of.


    ¡°Astesh Myen.¡±


    My heart sped up just thinking about this stupid insane plan, but this time the pulse of light that flowed through my blood felt encouraging rather than suppressive, as though even the renegade magic itself wanted me to act.


    I would infiltrate the nobility, track down which Desten had been the actual murderer, and use that information as leverage to get the Sarosa to verify my identity as someone who shouldn¡¯t be killed on sight or taken away for use in dark rituals.


    My hand trembled as I tried to write my new name, but I persisted. If this was going to work, I had to be absolutely confident in this cover identity, in my story, in my lineage.


    But if there¡¯s one thing I was good at, by the lost god, it was making up stories. Acting them out in high-stakes reality situations couldn¡¯t be that much harder.


    I buried my face in the arm resting on the table.


    This was going to get me killed, wasn¡¯t it?


    <hr>

 3: Varon

    While assassination has occasionally been attempted by outside forces, it is a point of pride to House Varon that never once has any scion of ours lowered himself to turn his hand against another of his own house.


    -House Varon: A Legacy of Honour


    <hr>


    The next month disappeared beneath a frantic scurry of preparation. Writing, researching, traveling. I closed my shop, turning it over to the illustrators entirely as I devoted my full attention to this plan.


    I ordered clothing in the style of the nobility, and some in the southern Teshron style, though both were exorbitantly expensive. My savings dwindled at an alarming rate, but I had only one chance. If I was going to do this thing, I would do it right.


    I wrote in a journal I carried everywhere, building up a history of ¡®my¡¯ life as Astesh Myen, and was sure to leave it out in the weather a few times to add authentic age to it.


    I drew up official documents, some of which I was able to get validated by means of slipping them in with a batch of actual documents of like kind, but most of which were blatant forgeries. At some point, I had to simply hope that no one would travel for weeks merely to verify an obscure certificate of parentage.


    I spent weeks in various small towns getting a feel for their mindset and accent.


    An excuse had to be formulated for why no one in the towns local to the region I¡¯d chosen for the Myen family¡¯s home would remember Astesh. My backstory grew increasingly elaborate as I realized how many gaps the original plan had contained.


    No matter. I could do this.


    Astesh¡¯s family had always been on the move, I decided. We never stayed in one place long enough to be known, and there was still some degree of wariness even now generations later. But I was a rebel. I didn¡¯t want to stay unknown, hide in the shadows just because my great grandfather married outside his house.


    I¡¯d have spent my free time wandering the lands, exploring and searching for something I knew not what. And then, when my parents died within a year of each other, leaving me the forgotten childstone that Asnon never used for his own children, I decided I wouldn¡¯t hide our family legacy any longer.


    However distantly, Astesh Myen was still a Varon. And I would find a way to reunite with my ancestral line.


    Or at least, that was the plan.


    The month became two, then three. Winter passed into spring, then summer teased at its edges, drying out the ground which spring had left overly damp and mucky. Still I couldn¡¯t call my charade complete. I continued to travel, introducing myself always as Astesh Myen, asking everyone how I could contact my family, testing out my story, working on my affect.


    The best part about this was having a built-in answer for anyone who noticed me glowing. Which did happen, embarrassingly frequently at first as I continued to travel into the night without noticing I¡¯d forgotten a lantern and other mistakes of that ilk.


    These mistakes grew less frequent as I learned to better conceal my power, but never went away entirely. That fact alone served to fully justify my ruse, as if I¡¯d been doing anything but posing as a lost noble scion the glow would have given me away many times over.


    So long as I presented myself as a fact, my power as something which they should respect and my person as inviolate, they never questioned it. Most commoners seemed a bit in awe, and became incredibly helpful.


    I still didn¡¯t feel fully prepared. I knew where to find Varon strongholds, how to discern rank within family members. But while a great deal of general information could be found among commoners, the deeper subtleties of noble life escaped me. I knew what to do in casual interaction, if I met someone on the street, I knew the proper addresses and niceties. But the intricacies of how to be a Varon rather than simply interact with them? Impossible to discover.


    I searched long and hard, but in the end, my best attempts at preparation for the approach came to nothing. The nobility came to me.


    ¡®Twas a glorious summer afternoon, and I sat beneath a tree in a public garden in downcity Varonhold, a stack of books by my side, testing myself on the various rankings of stoned within houses. Varon¡¯s ranking was simple enough. Tay, Soe, Ebi, Laht, Jek, Moy, Shesh; tay being the lowest and shesh highest. The rank could be discerned by the ordering of colours on their clothing, which colour is emphasized, and in what proportion their distribution. Varon colours being red, yellow, and green.


    Tay, the lowest, is mostly green with yellow sections and red trim. Soe has red and yellow equal, and Ebi has more red than yellow. In the next tier, Laht is mainly yellow with green sections and red trim, while Jek is mainly yellow with equal sections of red and green. Moy is red with equal amounts of yellow and green, while Shesh gets them in their official proper proportion, of three parts red, two parts yellow, and one part green, as on the flag.


    Did I mention that this was one of the more simple systems? Most houses weren¡¯t nearly this straightforward. And I still mixed up Laht and Moy half the time. Every time I thought I was getting close to enough information, I¡¯d uncover something new to complicate my life.


    I would barely rate as tay, from what little I could gather, which meant that my assigned outfit would be entirely different from the clothing I¡¯d commissioned.


    Such a stupid, careless mistake. I¡¯d trusted the tailor to know what he was doing, but he¡¯d actually made me something more akin to a guardsman tunic than anything a true scion would deign to wear. Its colours were in the wrong proportions as well, though not really adhering to any particular tier, intimating that its wearer was at least of ebi rank. Which I most emphatically was not.


    Properly, one could insert the ranking of a person after their title and before their name, if feeling particularly formal. So, if Fylen had been at the highest power level, which I doubted given his defeat, but hypothetically his title would have become Eirn-shesh Fylen Sarosa. Or, once he took on the leadership role, Reirn-shesh Fylen Sarosa.


    ¡°Astesh Myen?¡±


    I started and nearly dropped my book. So absorbed had I been in its pages, I had somehow neglected to notice the approach of a very formally-dressed Varon delegation. The man in the lead wore yellow with red and green accents, making him at least ¡­


    My mind failed to make the connection. Halfway up the power ranking, at least.


    Way too powerful. Way too important.


    Hastily, I stood, then remembered that the proper obeisance for someone of this rank and this family was to kneel, so I did that. Very quickly. Probably clumsily.


    Then I remembered that he¡¯d said my name, so I nodded quickly, keeping my eyes downcast. ¡°Yes, I am Astesh Myen.¡± My voice trembled a bit, and I glanced at the stack of books, desperately hoping that none of them would give me away. But it was too late to second guess my preparations. If this failed, I was exactly as doomed as I would have been had I been discovered in any other way. I would be no worse off, I just had to remember my role.


    ¡°I understand you¡¯ve been looking for us.¡±


    ¡°Yes, Eirn, I have.¡±


    ¡°And yet you haven¡¯t approached any of us?¡±


    ¡°I ¡­ I was afraid, Eirn. I wanted to be better prepared. I feel ignorant and backwards and wish to become worthy of the house of my ancestor.¡± Strange, how truthful it felt to say.


    ¡°Stand up. Let me see you.¡±


    I stood and steadied myself against the tree trunk. I didn¡¯t dare look up at the Eirn and his entourage.


    ¡°And what makes you believe you belong to our house?¡±


    I shakily removed my glove and held out my light-veined hand for his inspection. ¡°I discovered a childstone my parents had been keeping for who knows how many generations. When I looked back into our history, I found a great deal of deception and concealment, but I believe that our family is descended from Asnon Varon. It is the only thing that makes sense to me. I believe he ran away and was eventually married, his children taking commoner names to hide their connection. I don¡¯t know why.¡±


    ¡°If he had a childstone, that means he married another noble,¡± the eirn said. ¡°So I wonder how your family name ended up as Myen? Traditionally, the highest ranked surname is the one which is adopted by the children.¡±


    Oh lost god, already a question I hadn¡¯t considered! I shrugged helplessly. ¡°It was a long time ago, Eirn. If there was a reason to my ancestors¡¯ decisions, it was not shared with me.¡±


    ¡°Hm.¡±


    He didn¡¯t speak for a long moment, and I didn¡¯t dare glance up to see his expression.


    ¡°Eirn? What is to be done with me?¡± I asked, my voice faint.


    ¡°For now? Nothing has been decided. First, you have been summoned to an audience with the Reirn.¡±


    ¡°Oh. Very well. Lead on.¡±The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.


    What followed was perhaps the most stressful journey of my life. I sat in a carriage opposite the highest ranked noble I¡¯d ever seen, much less spoken to. Apart from a faint gleam around his eyes, he did not glow. I did, lighting up the interior like a torchbug stuck with its light on.


    I wanted to ask how he could control the power and keep it from just flowing everywhere, but I had read nothing in etiquette books about how much talking with an escort on the way to an audience with the Reirn should be done by a long lost heir distantly descended from an ancient forbidden love affair.


    The situation wasn¡¯t covered sufficiently in any manual I¡¯d read. Very inadequate. I should correct the oversight at the first opportunity.


    The eirn didn¡¯t speak, but looked past me into the middle distance. I didn¡¯t speak, but staring calmly was not within my capacity at the moment. I could stare, I could fret, but I could not think passively about anything but the upcoming meeting.


    Or what if it weren¡¯t a meeting at all. What if they¡¯d told me that to gain my cooperation, and this was where I disappeared? Where Astesh Myen¡¯s existence ceased, and my own former life vanished along with it.


    I didn¡¯t know what was worse. Imagining that I¡¯d soon be thrown into a dungeon and subjected to who-knew-what, or that I¡¯d soon be face to face with the most powerful man in house Varon, with the authority to do anything he wished with me up to and including said dungeon-throwing, and whom I had exactly one opportunity to impress.


    I could not scratch out faulty lines and start over. I would have no recourse if the Reirn decided against me.


    It was a relief when we entered the front gate of House Varon¡¯s western bastion, winter home to the Reirn. Once the weather grew too hot, he would move to his summer stronghold farther north.


    Why did I know that, and not things like what to actually say in an audience?


    Reirn Ushan Varon had never married, though he was nearing his sixtieth year. If I hadn¡¯t known his birthday, I wouldn¡¯t have guessed. He looked more like a well-built man of forty, though with hair perhaps a bit thin and beginning to grey in places, by no means did he appear old.


    He dismissed my escort with a wave of his hand, and I dropped to my knees in proper respect.


    ¡°I am told you claim lineage with Asnon?¡±


    Wow, way to dispense with the pleasantries. I nodded wordlessly, unable to speak.


    ¡°And you found a childstone? Speak.¡±


    ¡°I believe so,¡± I replied, my voice faint. ¡°I found something. It was bright and warm, and then somehow went inside me and now I glow. I¡¯m sorry I can¡¯t be more helpful. My parents told me nothing of this lineage. It was my own research that led me to believe it likely.¡±


    ¡°Hmm.¡± Reirn Ushan leaned back in his throne, a faint nimbus of green light flickering around him for a moment before it vanished. He continued to watch me silently.


    ¡°Truly, I didn¡¯t intend to use the stone. I didn¡¯t even know it was possible to become stoned as an adult. But once it happened, I began to research my family to find out how and why.¡± I was talking too much, too fast. I took a breath to try and calm myself and closed my mouth before I caused a major upset.


    ¡°This stone you found, it was this past winter?¡±


    I stiffened. The timing of my story was one thing I hadn¡¯t finalized. It would be bad to admit that I¡¯d just happened to gain mine when the Sarosa heir died, especially if no one knew what had happened to his. But what if there were a way to tell how long a stone had been in someone? If the glow got stronger with time, or something? Then lying would be an even worse idea.


    ¡°Speak,¡± Reirn Ushan said with cold firmness.


    ¡°Yes, winter,¡± I blurted out. Then hastily added, ¡°My parents died of a sickness, and I was searching through their belongings.¡±


    Reirn Ushan leaned forward. ¡°And how was the stone preserved? How had it been kept for so long without evaporating?¡±


    Oh lost god why? If there were more information available, I could have prepared for these sorts of things! How was I supposed to know stones could evaporate?


    I shrugged helplessly. ¡°It was in a box. A fancy box, a bit out of place for simple people like us. The stone was warm so I kept it to use as a heating stone, and I sold the box to finance their burial. I don¡¯t know where it is now.¡±


    Stupid, dangerous, excessive, why? But I had to keep going. There was no way back. All in, lie or die. Or whatever was done to renegade stoned. I still had never found a solid answer to that.


    ¡°I wish you knew who Asnon had married,¡± Reirn Ushan said. ¡°Which family could have crafted something so stable? And why have they not used it since?¡±


    ¡°I wish I had an answer,¡± I managed helplessly. Well, I¡¯m dead. This was too much. No amount of research could possibly be sufficient. I couldn¡¯t do this.


    ¡°Did you discover anything of the other family you believe Asnon might have married?¡±


    ¡°I think Teshron. After all, my name is Astesh. A bit unconventional, from what I¡¯ve read.¡±


    ¡°Very unconventional. Completely bizarre. Some might say foolishly inappropriate.¡±


    I had to suppress a wince. I¡¯d come up with the name based on commoner naming conventions, and later research into nobility showed they had very different ideas of what a proper name was. But by then I¡¯d already started introducing myself, and it was too late to change it.


    ¡°I assume you are an only child?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡± True, for once.


    ¡°Your grandparents are dead as well?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°What were their names?¡±


    Aaaah, why did he keep asking things I hadn¡¯t gotten to yet? I had already been trying to reconstruct an entire lifetime from nothing, let alone fit in a complete family tree! It was on my list, but his men interrupted at a very inconvenient time!


    Calm pulsed through me.


    I shook my head. ¡°I don¡¯t remember.¡±


    ¡°Hmm.¡±


    I waited in silence for him to continue.


    ¡°You have arrived at a very unfortunate time.¡±


    ¡°I know.¡±


    His eyebrows went up. ¡°You know?¡±


    Oh bad bad bad, why did I admit that? ¡°I¡¯ve seen Sarosa patrols around, more than is normal. Something has obviously happened to upset the house.¡±


    ¡°And where exactly have you been that you¡¯ve seen these Sarosa patrols?¡±


    Aaaaaaaah, of course, I was supposed to be from the south! The Sarosa had no presence in Teshron territories. I shrugged again, unable to speak.


    ¡°Were you visiting the town of Woodedge, by any chance?¡±


    Oh, bad bad bad. I opened my mouth, but couldn¡¯t speak.


    ¡°Come here.¡±


    I froze.


    ¡°Come.¡± He held out a hand, and I hesitantly approached the throne. ¡°Give me your hand.¡±


    I did, and he held it between both of his. Warmth, then heat, then a brilliant green light emanated from his hands. It didn¡¯t hurt, but it felt very odd. I didn¡¯t know how I should react, so I only stared at his hands sandwiching mine.


    The room brightened. Green washed over everything, then ¡­ pink? A bright fuchsia light warred with the green, clashing into a muddy brilliance at the edges.


    Then Reirn Ushan released me and the glows immediately vanished.


    ¡°Pink is the secondary colour of House Teshron,¡± Reirn Ushan said. ¡°It is not widely known among commoners, but our house colours originated from the types of power we can manifest. Not every Varon is going to be red, yellow, or green, but the majority of them are.¡±


    I frowned uncertainly.


    ¡°Pink is also the primary colour of House Raysh, and the tertiary colour of House Metako. Unfortunately for you, it so happens that the Sarosa Heirna-in-waiting is of House Metako.¡±


    Oh. No.


    ¡°While it is possible that a childstone from over a hundred and fifty years ago somehow survived untouched for generations, it is far more likely that it was obtained from a more recent source.¡±


    No no no no¡­


    I felt on the verge of panic, the urge to say something building in the tense silence. I waited for the power to calm me, return me to sense before I did something else stupid, but it lay quiet and cool. As though whatever Reirn Ushan had done wore it out and it needed rest.


    ¡°Like Reirn-in-waiting Fylen Sarosa, for example,¡± Reirn Ushan finally said, each word falling against my deception like hammer blows to a glass window.


    ¡°It wasn¡¯t me! I swear!¡± The denial burst out before I could stop it.


    ¡°What wasn¡¯t you?¡±


    ¡°I didn¡¯t kill Eirn Fylen. I couldn¡¯t have. He was too powerful.¡± I put a hand over my mouth to stop my fearful rambling before I gave away anything more.


    Not soon enough. Reirn Ushan smiled. ¡°Who said anything about killing? His childstone was stolen, the stone intended for his unborn heir. No one said anything about him being dead.¡±


    Lost god, lost god, lost god! I couldn¡¯t do this. I wasn¡¯t a spy, wasn¡¯t a detective. I was just a scribe! Why had it come to this? How? I was trembling and couldn¡¯t stop. Why abandon me now, stupid calming stone? You cause all this trouble and then leave me when I most need you?


    I had to think. I couldn¡¯t think.


    It was over. I sighed and closed my eyes, resigned. No point in lying any longer.


    ¡°I ¡­ I saw it happen. It was another eirn, with yellow fire for power. I was hiding, I didn¡¯t¡ª there was nothing I could do. I didn¡¯t touch Eirn Fylen, I swear. The ¡­ childstone, it landed near me in the chaos, and I was cold, so I took it to use as a light. The next morning, it was gone and my blood was glowing. I started researching, and that eventually ended me here.¡±


    The silence felt like an eternity. I could hardly breathe through the tension.


    ¡°You witnessed the event personally?¡± Reirn Ushan said finally.


    I nodded helplessly. ¡°Eirn Desten challenged Eirn Fylen ''for the light he bore'', and Eirn Fylen said something about Eirn Desten never having lived well, and they fought. Eirn Fylen created a shield of ice, but Eirn Desten melted it and exploded all the power in on Eirn Fylen. Then ¡ª¡± I trailed off as memory burned in my throat, the unthinkable violence as Eirn Desten tore his foe in pieces for the blue stone at his heart. I shuddered, unable to speak, and focused on breathing and not losing control of myself.


    ¡°Eirn Desten,¡± Reirn Ushan said coldly. ¡°Are you absolutely sure of this? Not Desran, Derend, Dastri?¡±


    ¡°I ¡­ I can¡¯t be completely sure. I was some distance away. I heard Desten, but I suppose it could have been any of those.¡±


    Reirn Ushan made a sound half sigh, half growl.


    ¡°So why are you here?¡± Reirn Ushan finally demanded.


    ¡°You summoned me.¡±


    ¡°Before that, you were already making plans to infiltrate my house. Why?¡±


    ¡°Oh, that. I thought, well, it sounds stupid now. But I was thinking I could try to figure out which Desten was the killer. And I had to do it without him finding out, because a nobody like me from an obscure branch of the family that may not even be close enough to count as Varon anymore, well, if he had no qualms about killing the Sarosa Reirn-in-waiting, he wouldn¡¯t think twice before offing me.¡±


    ¡°Would you know the killer again if you saw him?¡±


    I shook my head. ¡°I never got a clear look at him. His hair was about the same length as yours, tied back like all the guards. I never saw the colours of his robes, or anything distinguishing about him except the yellow fire.¡±


    ¡°A great many Varon have yellow fire,¡± Reirn Ushan said, then fell silent.


    I waited, unsure. He was entertaining my story far more seriously than I¡¯d expected. And he hadn¡¯t ordered me executed yet, so that was good.


    ¡°Very well,¡± Reirn Ushan said. ¡°You have my blessing to act as a scion of House Varon, in search of the killer of Eirn Fylen. My nephew will be your official guide and tutor until you are capable of acting as a proper noble. Until such a time as he is satisfied with your progress, I suggest you remain out of the public eye.


    ¡°In regards to this investigation of yours, I will not impair your progress. Neither will I make excuses for you or cover for any mistakes or blunders you make. If you are discovered to be anything but what you¡¯ve told me, if any part of your history is proven false, I will have no choice but to denounce you fully and have you dealt with as befits traitors and liars. If, for instance, it were to come out that you are a Teshron plant spying on my family. However, I will not personally investigate your background at this time, as I have a great many important matters that demand my attention.¡±


    I exhaled slowly. It sounded terrifying, but I couldn¡¯t really expect anything more. I had freedom of action, of a sort, and just had to be sure my backstory held up to casual perusal from the rest of the Varon court.


    ¡°Thank you, Reirn. I will do my best to act for the honour of House Varon.¡±


    ¡°Hmm.¡± Again, that quiet growl in his sigh. ¡°If what you witnessed were not distorted in some way, I fear the honour of House Varon is already irreparably tarnished. But it would do none of us a service to allow such treachery to go undiscovered and unpunished. If you are the agent fate has decreed to act for my house in this case, then so it shall be.¡±


    He rang a small bell. After a moment, the eirn-jek from the garden opened the door and stuck his head in.


    ¡°Yes, my Reirn?¡±


    ¡°Desten, come in here a moment. I have a special task for you. Tay Astesh here is in need of a guide and tutor to adapt to life as our newest member of House Varon. I leave the task of this preparation to you.¡±


    And then Reirn Ushan waved a hand in dismissal, and I had no choice but to follow Desten Varon from the room.


    <hr>

 4: Desten One

    The transfer of a childstone must occur between two and four months after a child''s birth. In the event that the stone is not released at the proper time, its resonance will begin to permanently degrade both itself and its fatherstone until they are both destroyed.


    If the child is unable to receive the stone, it is possible to instead surgically remove it, but this usually results in irreparable damage and at the very least a very obvious scar. While this author does not believe such tragic circumstances should be held against the parents, it still carries old stigmas of superstition and misfortune.


    -On Heartstones, vol 4: Resonance


    <hr>


    And here I''d imagined a simple carriage ride with him to be intimidating.


    That was before I knew he could very well be the Eirn Desten. He was, at the very least, an Eirn Desten. And that made the short trip through the halls and down the streets and up some stairs and into another building far, far more terrifying.


    I should have been making small talk, try to learn something, anything about him that could help me determine his guilt or innocence, but I couldn¡¯t speak, and he seemed disinclined to start up a conversation.


    I covertly examined Eirn Desten¡¯s face as we walked toward what would become my quarters, trying to see if there were any resemblance to the nightmare man in my memory, but he seemed utterly calm and controlled, nothing like the violent maniac I recalled. The angles of his face were vaguely similar to those of Reirn Ushan, and my memory wasn¡¯t clear enough to match them against the murderer. I hadn¡¯t been close enough, and the red light of the dome hadn¡¯t helped with clarity.


    He had the right length and style of hair, but shoulder length hair tied up in the back appeared to be the prevailing style. That is, every single one of the guardsmen also had some variation of the same. Even Reirn Ushan had the same length, though not tied up. It might be of use in narrowing the Destens, but if it were as widespread as it seemed, it wouldn¡¯t be much help.


    So occupied by my thoughts, I barely even looked around. My first real visit to the upcity and I couldn¡¯t even enjoy it properly.


    Desten didn¡¯t speak until we reached the house that would become my new home, a huge mansion set amid sprawling grounds, fronted by a tree-lined walk and bordered on the rear by a magnificent walled garden.


    Once we were inside, he turned to me with cold disapproval, his voice low and demanding. ¡°Astesh Varon, who are you?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Eirn Desten, I don¡¯t follow.¡±


    ¡°Who. Are you. You come out of nowhere, claiming to be a lost Varon descendant, and not only does Reirn Ushan entertain your story, he orders you trained and inducted into our family as though you were close line?¡±


    I shrugged. What could I possibly say to an accusation like that?


    He exhaled slowly, his glare losing its edge. ¡°Well, Astesh, if you are to be trained as a family member, as your first lesson, I should point out that ¡®Eirn¡¯ is only used in great formality, or when a commoner is speaking to a superior. As we are ¡­¡± he sighed, ¡°family, it could be seen as rude or mocking for you to address me as such in casual conversation. In general, I should be simply Desten, as you are simply Astesh.¡±


    ¡°Yes. Of course, eirn¡ª I mean, simply Desten. Yes. Desten. Good day, Desten, nice to meet you, Desten.¡± Nervous laughter bubbled out of me before I clamped it down. My stone still hadn¡¯t recovered from whatever strain Reirn Ushan had caused it, and continued to be no help in calming my unease.


    Desten sighed once more. ¡°I do have other duties, so we will have to postpone any further instructions until this evening. I will make arrangements so I can better accommodate Reirn Ushan¡¯s command in future. In the meanwhile ¡­¡± he glanced around the room, as though trying to find something. ¡°Make yourself at home, I suppose. Don¡¯t interfere with my staff. I¡¯ll inform them that you¡¯re to be left alone, but if you make a spectacle of yourself I guarantee you¡¯ll regret it. Those sorts of rumors don¡¯t die easily.¡± He hesitated. ¡°You can read?¡±


    ¡°Yes, of course.¡±


    ¡°Not everyone can, downcity or outland. This way.¡± He led me through the halls of what I gradually realized was his own home, and into a well-appointed private library. He selected three books from different places around the room. ¡°You should get started on these while I¡¯m away. It will help begin to correct your hopelessly skewed perspective. I¡¯ll be back before dinnertime.¡±


    He handed me the books, then turned and left me, standing helplessly, alone in an unfamiliar house.


    I don¡¯t think my heart had stopped its frantic racing since before my audience with Reirn Ushan, and it was all I could do not to crumple to the floor in a trembling heap. But I set down the books gingerly on a small table, and lowered myself in a more controlled collapse into one of the thick, cushioned chairs, and only then did I force myself to relax.


    For a very long time, I stared up at the ceiling, trying to concentrate on the rhythm of my breathing and counting my heartbeats and not thinking not thinking not thinking anything at all.


    I pushed aside the teasing hints of panic at living inside Desten¡¯s house. I did not relentlessly imagine murder rooms hidden behind bookshelves and underneath floorboards.


    I listened to my heartbeat, and I stared at the excessively ornate chandelier on the ceiling, and I slowly, slowly, slowly brought my hopeless mass of nerves back under control. More or less.


    I looked down at my hand. For the first time in months, my blood had stopped glowing. At least until I made a tent with my jacket and hand to examine it in proper darkness, then I could make out the faint lines of light. Forcing it to show its colour seemed to have taxed it severely. If I¡¯d been at home, I would have checked my chest to see how the main stone was doing, but I¡¯d feel incredibly awkward removing my shirt while in someone else¡¯s library.


    The stack of books sat waiting untouched. Even my best attempts at calm were insufficient for the proper mindset to read. Instead I crossed to the huge windows and looked out over the city. I¡¯d been too distracted to look properly before, but now it left me breathless.Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site.


    Roughly half the size of the downcity, the upcity still spread out in all directions, rising toward the peak of the hill and falling on the other side. Beyond, a distant white haze blurred out the downcity entirely, the commoners and their affairs casually erased from sight. It also lent the upcity a surreal feeling, as though we floated among fog or clouds, rather than simply perched on a hillside.


    The buildings themselves were not much different from those in the downcity, at least not individually, but there was a different air to them. They were all slightly bigger, for one thing. This house was easily twice the size of my downcity building, and an extra story taller as well. The stone walls seemed more smoothly fitted, and the wooden beams deeper and richer in colour. Like someone took all the nicest pieces of downcity architecture and accentuated them.


    Light was everywhere. Even in the middle of the day, and not just because people were glowing in every direction as they flew about their business. Solid light painted doorways, pathways, walls, windows. Not garishly, as a rule, but in discrete accents on everything. Most of it was in House Varon colours, greens, reds, and yellows most prominent, but there was no shortage of other colours either.


    Not everyone flew, but nearly everyone at least hovered or glided just above the ground, and a few flew high overhead at incredible speeds. After a few minutes of watching, I realized that the height at which they flew determined their speed; they would slow as they descended and rise as they accelerated.


    I couldn''t keep my eyes off them. We occasionally saw nobles fly overhead back in the downcity, but never more than one or two, and always too distant to make out clearly. Here, people dove and soared in every direction, on straight direct course, going about their business as though leaping into the sky were as natural as stepping out your front door.


    They were beautiful and terrible, so much deadly power in each and every one of them, but so much beauty too. And in me, now, as well. I wondered if I''d have to learn to fly, and realized I preferred to keep my feet firmly on the ground. But one didn''t have to desire to emulate a bird to admire its passing, and as I watched the men and women and children soaring past, I couldn''t help but admire their flawless control.


    I don¡¯t know how long I stood watching, but I gradually forgot that the same power which lifted them through the sky could be used to tear a man apart in seconds. That dark, violent, bloody night was distant memory; this was reality, and it was beautiful and pure and clean.


    Then a brilliant streak of yellow fire dove from the sky and dissolved to reveal Desten striding up the steps to his front door. His appearance brought it all rushing back, and for a moment the same paralyzing terror overcame me as when I''d watched the two nobles battle to the death.


    I had to get used to this. This was normal. I¡¯d seen hundreds of people with yellow fire go by in every direction all afternoon. It was incredibly common.


    However rational the excuses, my terror refused to listen.


    ¡°Astesh?¡±


    I jumped, whirling to face Desten, eyes wide, fuchsia power flaring around my hands in instinctive reaction. Something between calm and adrenaline overtook me. I stood entirely prepared to fight or act at an instant¡¯s notice, but with a detached clarity that felt totally foreign.


    The sharp-edged pink glow limned my wrists and extended beyond my fists like tiny blades, and then they winked out and my power retreated, gone as unexpectedly as it had appeared.


    ¡°Pink?¡± Desten asked, surprised.


    I shrugged. ¡°Got some Teshren in there, I think.¡±


    For a moment I thought he¡¯d comment further, but instead he immediately changed the subject. ¡°How far did you get in the books I assigned you?¡±


    I glanced guiltily at the table with the unopened books. ¡°I didn¡¯t start. I¡¯m still a little out of sorts. This all happened very suddenly.¡± I gestured vaguely out the window. ¡°I was admiring the view.¡±


    He gave me a look that very clearly conveyed his displeasure. ¡°Then we shall begin now. Sit down, pick a book, and read. If you have any questions or if they¡¯re too advanced for you, I will be here to assist.¡±


    I bristled at the implication that any text could be too difficult for my comprehension. Words were my life! How dare he cast aspersions upon my literacy?


    But I crossed to the table, picked up the top book from the stack, and began reading.


    The Ten Houses: A Primer.


    Its contents were just as boring as its title, but enduring tedious research had never stopped me before.


    The vast majority of it was commonplace information I already knew, such as the major exports of the regions controlled by each of the houses and their general status in relation to each other. But in some cases my commoner knowledge was off by just enough to be inaccurate, and in other instances so completely erroneous as to be embarrassing.


    And every time I glanced up, Desten sat across from me with a book of his own, watching me without seeming to watch; but closing the book and looking questioning every time our eyes met.


    I didn¡¯t ask any questions. I continued to read, hoping that the gaps in my knowledge could be filled with the least possible humiliation.


    After all, if he turned out to be one of the eleven innocent Destens, I¡¯d still have to live with his impressions of me for the rest of my life.


    I set the book in my lap and leaned back as that hit me.


    This wasn¡¯t a quick trip, not an extended research journey from which I could return home upon its completion. I was in this for good. Either I¡¯d be exposed and lose my life and/or freedom, or I¡¯d maintain my cover. Those were the only outcomes. And the binary didn¡¯t end when I found the right Desten; it only gave me a slight bit less chance of being brutally killed and more chance of living a natural life.


    But as a noble. Never as myself, never again.


    I would live as Astesh, and I would die as Astesh.


    I really should have said a better goodbye to my mother. But that, like so much else on my long list of preparations, House Varon had interrupted before its completion.


    ¡°Are you done?¡± Desten¡¯s voice startled me.


    Pink light flowed again over my hands into tiny blades, then vanished just as suddenly.


    Desten shook his head at me. ¡°You must get that under control. It¡¯s one thing to leave your power on all the time, but to flare it at every interruption? Unacceptable.¡±


    I was immediately on the defensive. ¡°Well, it¡¯s not like I know anything about magic! This was all very sudden and unexpected.¡±


    Desten laughed harshly.


    I frowned. ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°Everything since the start of the year has been sudden and unexpected. Not a single week has gone by without some new upheaval. And now I have you dumped in my lap, an ignorant child from nowhere.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m older than you are!¡±


    ¡°And your power hisses like a frightened cat, without any control on your part.¡± Desten¡¯s irritation grew with every word. ¡°You¡¯re right, child is too generous a term. Infant is closer to correct.¡±


    ¡°What did I ever do to you?¡±


    ¡°You are one more pointless distraction which I do not need!¡± Desten snarled. Then he held up a hand before I could respond.


    I waited, trying to contain my own irritation. I may be ignorant, but I wasn''t stupid. And I wasn''t a child, aside from the new to magic thing.


    Desten visibly calmed himself, then shook his head. ¡°I should not lash out at you. It is not your fault the Reirn saw fit to inflict you upon me specifically. We must get through this as best we can, and that starts with you becoming less ignorant of the world.¡±


    ¡°Not that I have anything against research, but could I read these on my own, another time? I¡¯m having a hard time focusing right now. With you sitting and watching me.¡±


    ¡°You didn¡¯t make any progress without me sitting and watching.¡±


    I set the books aside and stood. ¡°I¡¯m tired. I haven¡¯t eaten all day. Forgive me if it¡¯s hard to focus on memorizing minutia about trade agreements and the varied intricacies of courting rituals between houses. I¡¯m in an unfamiliar home, with this power I can¡¯t control, and honestly courting is the least of my concerns at the moment!¡±


    The pink light beneath my skin pulsed in time with my heartbeat, warm and calming. I realized I¡¯d been shouting, and sat back down. I needed to learn this. I needed to be able to blend in. I couldn¡¯t stand out. I had to get this right.


    ¡°Sorry.¡± I muttered. ¡°It¡¯s been a long day.¡±


    Desten sighed. ¡°Indeed. Bring the books. I¡¯ll show you to your room and have food sent up to you. We will begin in the morning.¡±


    <hr>

 5: Flickers

    Watch the skies, brave warden. For the land lies subdued and the oceans keep to themselves, but the sky cannot be tamed.


    -A Warden''s Duty, revised edition


    <hr>


    Eirn Desten¡¯s idea of ¡®morning¡¯ differed greatly from my own. I awakened with the dawn, washed up and dressed in the tay-styled clothing provided for me, (though that was a job in itself, figuring out how the overlapping layers were aligned, ensuring the house crest was on the outermost triangle, and the tay stripes still visible,) and started back on The Ten Houses: A Primer. When two hours and five chapters later there was still no sign of Eirn Desten, I began to feel neglected. And hungry, my stomach reminded me, extremely hungry.


    The Ten Houses: A Primer grew harder and harder to read. So much of it was repetition, I¡¯d start skimming, then snag on something different than what I knew from my other reading and subsequently have to back up to find where the true knowledge and my incorrect assumptions diverged. It was exhausting, tedious, and even more boring than yesterday. At least then I¡¯d been stressed and tired enough that reading kind of helped. Now, I wanted nothing more than to throw the book across the room. Well. I would never throw a book. Maybe slide it aggressively across the floor. Or hide it under the mattress and pretend it didn¡¯t exist.


    Giving up, I set the primer aside and selected a different volume. This proved more interesting, a history of House Varon specifically. It came with a whole set of assumptions and histories buried behind casual sentences, a history I¡¯d never heard of. I ended up in the library, flitting from book to book as I tried to make sense of the background here. Before long, I had a stack to rival any research project for a client.


    Dragonfalls, starclouds, soul-eaters, flashstone, bladewings, windwarpers? Each was treated almost like a major disaster, given the same weight as when a merchant would whisper of a volcano or hurricane, except that House Varon was apparently the front line of fighting them.


    Turns out, the nobility actually had other jobs beside taking the results of everyone else¡¯s work and making sure the paperwork for it all got filled out correctly.


    I crossed to the window and stared out at the distant white haze that obscured the downcity. That wasn¡¯t simply an unnatural fog, wasn¡¯t a way to hide the plight and grunge of the commoners. It was a shield. The upcities were actually fortresses, built above the rest of us so they could stop threats like starclouds and dragons from decimating the countryside.


    Suddenly, the world felt a lot bigger, and a whole lot more threatening.


    Before House Varon took up this joint venture with House Sarosa, each had fought alone. Sarosa, with their shields and illusions, was singularly ill suited to facing dragonfalls or starclouds but exceptionally effective against things like soul-eaters that relied on guile and infiltration to consume their victims. Varon, on the other hand, was a blade of pure force. The strongest and most aggressive of the ten houses, Varon could eliminate a dragonfall in under a week single-handedly. But they were constantly weakened by their failure against subtler threats.


    Personally, I thought the solution was obvious, but apparently allying two major houses was not done lightly. Even if not for the fact that they¡¯d been rivals and enemies for centuries, there were major concessions demanded by five of the other eight houses before the alliance was accepted.


    Somewhere in the midst of all my research, the door opened and a scent of food filled the room, to which my stomach responded loudly and immediately. I lost no time in following a somewhat bemused Desten Varon to the dining room for a brunch that could have been considerably less fancy and would still have tasted just as amazing to me.


    ¡°I see you¡¯re taking your studies seriously,¡± Desten commented, once the majority of ravenous breakfast consumption was out of the way.


    ¡°I never knew how dangerous the skies were. Have you seen a dragon before?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Not personally. My father fought a dragonfall but I was too young to watch.¡±


    ¡°Why is this kept from the commoners? Why don¡¯t they know what you do?¡±


    Desten¡¯s face twitched, faint confusion creasing his forehead. ¡°What do you mean? We do our jobs and they do theirs.¡±


    ¡°Yes, but you¡¯re just the scary enforcers with magic who¡¯ll steal their crops and tax our businesses, not the heroic shield protecting us from danger.¡±


    Desten snorted into his hand. ¡°Ah. You¡¯ve been reading those kind of books. You should know that disasters like that don¡¯t happen every day. Not every decade. We have to be prepared in case they do occur, but the vast majority of the time we have nothing that dramatic to deal with. I¡¯ve personally faced a single windwarper incursion in nearly twenty years of service, and to my knowledge that¡¯s the only incursion since my father¡¯s dragonfall.¡±


    ¡°Oh. So, if you¡¯re not fighting off monsters on a weekly basis, what do you all do with your time?¡±


    ¡°Go to work, attend social events, sleep, eat. Pursue our interests.¡±


    ¡°What are your interests?¡±


    He glanced at me, and I thought for a moment he wouldn¡¯t reply, but he shrugged. ¡°I¡¯m in the patrol corps for the next six years, hoping to upgrade my power rank. If I can hit Moy by then, I¡¯ll trade out into reserves and focus on raising a family.¡± He got a faint smile as he said that, clearly involuntary. It faded as soon as he focused back on me. ¡°But I¡¯m the exception. For the most part, highborn nobility don¡¯t choose fighting as a career.¡±Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.


    ¡°Then what do they do?¡±


    ¡°Some like to fancy themselves artists. A lot are into sports. But most just play their games and try to one-up each other.¡± He snorted derisively. ¡°You¡¯d be surprised how much of our time is spent trying to impress one another and prove superiority.¡±


    We continued talking for a few minutes, but then he had to depart for his patrol, and assigned me some more books to add to my growing pile once he realized that I actually learned quite well from written works.


    I returned to my studies, feeling surprisingly young and eager again. The heat-pulse of power in my veins invigorated me, though it seemed to have proportionally increased my appetite in equal measure. Even considering how late breakfast had been, I¡¯d eaten an exceptional quantity of food. Which, come to think of it, had been more than sufficiently supplied, and Desten had eaten just as much.


    Perhaps it was simply normal for nobles to need more food. It certainly put the relative population numbers in proportion. I¡¯d always thought it strange that over half the food went to the nobility, when they had less than a quarter as many people. Hm. One more thing to look into.


    Before I knew it, Desten had returned home again, interrupting my reading. This time we had dinner together before he led me out into the back gardens.


    I¡¯d somehow managed to lose track of the fact that he was one of twelve suspects I had for Fylen¡¯s death, until the two of us stood alone in a dark courtyard, and he flared his golden-fire power around himself.


    Pink light flared up around me in response, as I tensed to run or fight for my life.


    ¡°Go ahead, pull on your stone unti¡ª¡± Desten began, then laughed. ¡°That was fast. Very good. But try to hold it more loosely, when you keep it compressed like that, it won¡¯t be as flexible. Especially for you, keeping your stone loose is going to be important.¡±


    He held his hands out to either side, gradually shifting the yellow light from a full-body glow into a sword and shield that formed piece by piece, then flared once as they fused into solid pieces.


    I couldn¡¯t move. Pink light surrounded my hands, in blades that extended maybe three inches from my fists, barbed and jagged, like the most deadly brass knuckles imaginable. But made of solid light.


    ¡°Astesh, you need to relax,¡± Desten said, speaking very slowly. ¡°I understand this feels unnatural to you, but you can¡¯t keep fighting your power. It¡¯s part of you. It¡¯s natural. You need to accept it.¡±


    A laugh burst out before I could stop it, though nothing about this was funny. What could I say? That I was more terrified of him than I could ever be of something silly like a power that apparently settled itself next to my heart and all through my blood? Yeah. That would make things awkward really fast.


    Still, he hadn¡¯t approached, made no move to attack. I just had to force my body to relax, and my mind to accept that yellow power did not necessarily mean murderer. I hadn¡¯t even seen another Desten yet, there was every possibility that this one was innocent.


    Relax. Let the power spread wider, don¡¯t hold it so tight.


    It flickered out completely.


    ¡°Take your time. I don¡¯t know very much about your ability set, and there aren¡¯t any pinks in my groups. But it¡¯s supposed to be best at motion and stillness, particularly when focused internally. My fire is a very external power, so I can''t show you the specifics. But if we can at least get you to stop flaring at the wrong moments and teach you to pull at will, that¡¯ll be good enough.¡±


    I agreed with the principle of the thing, but in practice it turned out to be much harder than either of us anticipated.


    By the time we stopped for bed, I was utterly exhausted, and hadn¡¯t managed to consciously summon my glow once.


    The days slipped into routine. Gradually I slept later and later, as our evening practice sessions stretched further and further into the night. I began to feel out of sync, then weirdly normalized as I adapted to waking around noon and staying up far into the night.


    I made great progress on history and culture, though I could have used a proper etiquette teacher. I was sure I misused a lot of the subtle movements and gestures that were second nature to the nobility, but as a soldier first and partygoer distant fifth, Desten was not the right person to instruct me in such minutia.


    Desten insisted this wouldn¡¯t be a problem. As long as I made it clear I was from a distant branch, which would be immediately obvious, no one would expect me to act like a highborn.


    By the end of the first month, he decreed that I could leave the house if I wanted. I still hadn¡¯t gotten a good handle on my power. I could prevent it from manifesting, but could not pull it out at will. It seemed to have a mind of its own, almost as though it enjoyed taunting my inability to understand or control it.


    Desten¡¯s desire to teach me power sparring hadn¡¯t survived long. He reluctantly admitted that basic control would be the best we could hope for.


    But aside from that, everything was going very well.


    Too well. I was becoming complacent, falling into familiar patterns of near-obsessive research, retreating into worlds of knowledge and potential, pushing reality off for later.


    I couldn¡¯t afford to get too comfortable. The longer I went without making any progress on my investigation, the more anxious and fidgety I began to feel.


    I''d worried at first that anyone who saw me would know I''d stolen my power, being pink in a Varon area made me feel terribly self-conscious. If Reirn Ushan could take one look at me and immediately jump to the correct conclusion, who else would?


    But a few days of reading and watching out the window assuaged my fears. Varon may be mostly red and yellow, but I saw people with every power colour fly past. And my reading confirmed it. The house lines had been mixed so much that anyone of any power colour could be born in any region. I may be in the slight minority, but my power colour wasn''t going to give me away.


    Meanwhile, the court tour season was fast approaching. Nobility from every house would soon be flooding Varon cities, and that would add a whole extra layer of chaos to trying to find anyone.


    I started to venture into the city on my own while Desten was at work, scouting for libraries or clerk¡¯s offices, or anything of that sort which I could use to track down the other Destens. Their births were public record, but their current location was less simple to obtain.


    Turns out, not a lot of records kept in the upcities were available to the public, even the noble public. I was directed to visit the downcity if I really had to know, but the looks and tone of voice accompanying this advice made it clear just how out of place this sort of behavior would be.


    Visiting the downcity would be unwise. Now that I was in, I couldn¡¯t afford to risk being recognized by anyone who knew me before.


    Maybe asking around would work. Just simple person-to-person chats, looking for my friend Desten who I¡¯d lost track of. I know the Desten who¡¯s the Reirn¡¯s nephew lives right over there, that¡¯s not the Desten I¡¯m looking for. Funny how many there are. Yes, it¡¯s a popular name. Probably some in other cities, true.


    Finally, after several fruitless days spent wandering further and further from Desten¡¯s home, I found Desten Varon number 2. He was very easy to find, once I got on his trail. He was a moderately well-known verdis player, and an infamous playboy with two dissolved marriages and no current official connections, but everyone knew he was anything but unconnected.


    People kept giving me that kind of look when they heard I wanted to find that Desten, but I did my best to ignore it.


    It didn¡¯t matter what they thought. Because now I had his address.


    <hr>

 6: Desten Two

    Of the five patterns, three of them share the same eight opening moves, while the other two diverge after four. Nearly every game ends in one of the three open-core patterns. Only the very easiest and very hardest of routes can be played once the center is full, so it is a strategy reserved for the most daring and most foolish of players.


    -A Verdis Player''s Handbook


    <hr>


    Desten Varon 2 (though only I appended numbers to their names) lived far across the city well away from my home base with Desten 1. I underestimated the time it would take to get there, forgetting that this far from the downcity there were no horses, no carriages. Everyone flew. If they wanted to go further, they flew faster and higher, and if there were a system for being flown by someone else I didn¡¯t know how to access it.


    So I walked. It took hours.


    Compared to the downcity, the Varon capital wasn¡¯t particularly large, but you could still fit Woodedge inside it eight times over and still have room left.


    Desten 2 was a verdis player, and thus spent hours every day either working out or training with his team.


    I¡¯d never heard of verdis in the downcity, but it was one of many power-enabled sports that the upcity folk put great stock in. It consisted of three teams who acted in rotation, one on offense, one on defense, and one on interference. There were very complicated rules, but it boiled down to trying to construct a particular pattern in the scoring area with thrown power, which was incredibly easy to disrupt as long as someone could get between you and your target. So there was a lot of running, flying, fighting, and other excitement. Very popular. Not my thing.


    I found Desten 2 at his family¡¯s private verdis training arena in the northern quarter of the city. He was flying between glowing obstacles in the air painted of solid light, all in red, yellow, or blue. His own power was so tightly controlled, I couldn¡¯t even see it as he ran through the air, sliding beneath, flipping over, and twisting around the ever-shifting field of obstacles.


    An impressive level of ability, and one that made me less inclined to suspect him. Killer Desten used his power very flashily. Desten 2 gave off a vibe of such incredible control, I had a hard time imagining him hacking wildly at a body instead of simply slicing it apart cleanly without a sign.


    Ugh. Horrible mental image. My stomach squirmed, but I focused on the arena.


    ¡°Hey, what are you doing here?¡± demanded one of the other onlookers, glaring as he noticed me walk in.


    Several of the blue obstacles flickered, shifting position, and Desten hit one before he could swerve.


    ¡°Kavist!¡± Desten growled, and the man hastily refocused on the training arena. The rogue obstacles solidified and resumed their normal movements.


    ¡°Who is that?¡± a woman asked. She was lying reclined in the center of the arena, floating on a cyan disc with a bubble of the same colour around her, but after the brief commotion she drifted down through the maze of obstacles and landed in front of me. ¡°Who are you?¡± she demanded.


    ¡°Astesh Varon. I need to talk to Eirn Desten.¡±


    She snorted, eying me unhappily. ¡°Lots of people want to talk to Desten. I don¡¯t see any reason you should be special. Who let you in?¡±


    ¡°Uh, no one? I just walked in.¡±


    She snorted. ¡°Walked? Hah.¡± She floated nearer, flipped onto her stomach, and poked me in the chest.


    ¡°Hey!¡±


    ¡°Yeah, you¡¯re well below the household danger threshold, that¡¯s why. But at least you¡¯re politer than most obsessed fans. So I¡¯ll tell you nicely to go away.¡±


    ¡°I am not a fan. I¡¯ve never even seen a verdis game. I just need to talk to Eirn Desten about something unrelated.¡±


    ¡°No, you don¡¯t. As far as I¡¯m concerned, there is no unrelated. If you¡¯re not here about verdis, you¡¯re not welcome. Shoo.¡±


    I was beginning to really dislike her condescending attitude. ¡°I need to talk to him.¡±


    ¡°About what?¡±


    ¡°Eh.¡± I couldn¡¯t very well say ¡®his whereabouts on the night of snowfall 18th,¡¯ without it becoming immediately obvious what I was doing. Honestly, I didn¡¯t have a very good plan. Just, feel him out, try to see if I could find any way to narrow down the suspects.


    I was close to ruling him out by sheer power control alone. But if I could at least see him up close, hear his voice, see what colour his power actually was.


    ¡°Eishen? What¡¯s the matter?¡± Desten shouted, and the woman turned, blushing. The blue obstacles which matched her own power in shade had started to drift. ¡°Why is everyone so distracted today?¡±


    He flew towards us, but I already knew he wasn¡¯t the one I was after. His voice was very deep, rough and accented in a way the killer¡¯s had not been. His short hair only added certainty to my initial impressions.


    ¡°I¡¯m Astesh Varon, sorry to bother you. I¡¯m trying to find a particular Desten, but I¡¯m pretty sure it isn¡¯t you. My apologies, eirn, I should not have intruded. But, if I might ask, what colour is your magic?¡±


    Desten 2 huffed. ¡°Didn¡¯t the name give it away?¡±


    I shook my head, puzzled.


    ¡°Reirn Desten. Look him up. Kids these days.¡± Then Desten 2 flared his power in a quick flash that covered his entire body like a skin-tight outfit. Yellow, matching the majority of the obstacles that hadn¡¯t drifted while we conversed. It vanished just as quickly as he turned to the woman in her cyan bubble. ¡°Eishen, be helpful if you can. Kavist, stop fooling around.¡± And with that, he turned and jumped back into the obstacle course.


    Eishen scowled at me. ¡°So, you need a list of all the Desten Varons in the area, huh?¡±


    ¡°That would be incredibly helpful, thank you.¡±


    She scoffed. ¡°I don¡¯t have such a list, moron. Why would anyone need a list like that?¡±Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there.


    I shrugged.


    ¡°Where are you from, anyway? I don¡¯t recognize your name.¡±


    ¡°Ah, well, I¡¯m from a remote branch that mostly went into hiding several generations ago. It¡¯s a long complicated story, and not really relevant to my purpose here. I need to find Eirn Desten. But, not this one. Obviously.¡±


    ¡°Eishen, I know you can do better,¡± Desten shouted.


    Eishen turned back toward the arena, waving a hand dismissively. Her cyan obstacles began acting more aggressively, and Desten nodded once before continuing to weave his way between them. She spoke without turning away from the arena. ¡°So, a bit of context would really help. Obviously, you didn¡¯t see Desten in a verdis match. I¡¯ve heard of a few other Destens around, but no one¡¯s really been in the verdis scene lately. There was one visiting a year or two back, but he¡¯s from Bluemont. In this city?¡± She shrugged. ¡°Can¡¯t help.¡±


    I couldn¡¯t offer any context clues, since I didn¡¯t know what Desten did apart from murder fellow nobility in the middle of the night far from any cities. But at least I could rule out Desten 2. That made me feel better about my chances.


    I took my leave and started for home, thinking as I walked.


    The upcoming touring could either be a good thing or a problem, but it was still a time limit pressing down on me. I wanted to get any local Destens out of the way before it began, in case they decided to travel for the season.


    I began to worry I''d already waited too long.


    I still didn¡¯t know any solid potential motives for killing the Sarosa heir, especially for a Varon. They were close allies. Maybe I¡¯d be better served investigating the Utrenad or Oros Destens. Or even Desten Metako. He was Fylen¡¯s wife¡¯s brother, which I really shouldn¡¯t assume meant he would be innocent. Families could be contentious. Families in high power? That had to only make things more complicated.


    The local political situation was actually very stable. While houses in general did a lot of backstabbing and shifting alliances, Sarosa and Varon stayed at the top because of their stable alliance. Which made them a lot more of a target to outsiders than from within.


    Fylen¡¯s death really served no political purpose, unless one had a grudge against the Sarosa reirn and reirna in particular. As Fylen had been their only child, and they were considered far too old to have a replacement heir, this was an attack on their legacy more than anything. But his wife and soon-to-be-born child survived, and there had been no whisper of an attack upon them. So his legacy was intact, even if there would be a period of internal chaos if the reirn and reirna died before their grandchild could come of age, it would be largely an inconsequential blip in history.


    ¡®Die well; you never lived well.¡¯ That retort from Fylen was my biggest potential clue. They knew each other. It had sounded personal. Which made more sense than anything else.


    But I had no way to get close to the Sarosa. Trying to infiltrate them while they already searched for their heir¡¯s murderer would be beyond idiotic. My half-finished backstory wouldn¡¯t hold up to a serious investigation. If I started making major splashes, someone would look into it and I¡¯d lose any protection from Reirn Ushan.


    I should have just abandoned civilization entirely and become a glowing hermit. No one hunts down glowing hermits. Sure, it would be a pointless waste of my life, but this whole venture was beginning to seem equally pointless. I was too inconsequential to really learn anything of import. I couldn¡¯t just approach Fylen¡¯s widow and start interrogating her about his friends and enemies. Besides, any normal connections would already be under inquiry by the Sarosa guard and their own internal investigators.


    I had the advantage of personally witnessing the fight. And that was it. Every other advantage lay with them.


    I half hoped they could solve it themselves, but the fact that months had passed with no whisper of news gave me no confidence in their progress. I tried to imagine what they could possibly learn from the scene. And, honestly, the most likely outcome of a proper investigation would lead them to me. When people could fly and disappear, something like a cart track in the soft earth would be far easier to find.


    I shuddered and abandoned that line of thought.


    I really should have brought a book or something with me. This walk was interminable.


    Darkness had fallen by the time I arrived back to Desten 1¡¯s house, which really did feel like home to me now. I¡¯d missed both lunch and dinner, but was familiar enough with the staff by now that the cook had set aside some for me. Desten himself was out, as he was about half the nights, presumably with his lady friend.


    ¡°I don¡¯t suppose you know how I could find the other Destens in the city?¡± I asked the kitchen assistant, who was busy scrubbing dishes.


    ¡°There were a couple of them on the circuit last year,¡± she said, sounding positively gleeful. ¡°I remember, because their seating was mixed up, and one ended up next to the other¡¯s mother. It was a whole disaster. The planner was in disgrace for months.¡±


    ¡°Do you know where I can find them?¡±


    She shook her head. ¡°I have no idea. They might be from anywhere.¡±


    ¡°Any chance you could track them down for me? It¡¯s important.¡±


    She turned to me, eagerness glinting in her eyes. ¡°Oh? Important? How so?¡±


    Nooo, no. Maybe setting the town gossip on the job would be the wrong move. ¡°You know, nevermind. I just remembered, it should be easy to find the Desten I¡¯m looking for, since he¡¯s a versan player.¡±


    ¡°Verdis, you mean?¡±


    ¡°Yeah. That.¡±


    She turned back to her work, clearly disappointed. ¡°Let me know if you need my help. I know plenty of people, I¡¯m sure I can find out what you need to know.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll keep that in mind. Thanks. But I¡¯ve got lots of reading to do, I¡¯ll just leave you to it.¡±


    I collected my remaining food and evacuated as quickly as was polite. Perhaps a tad bit quicker.


    I had to think this over. If I was going to bring anyone else into this, I had to do it with care. Not as a whim. The moment I started asking real questions, other people could also ask questions about me. And unfortunately it would be a lot easier to track down one Astesh Varon hiding out with the Reirn¡¯s nephew than to find every Desten in the world.


    I pushed aside the dread that hovered over me, the certainty of eventual doom if I didn¡¯t move both quickly and very carefully, and refocused my efforts on what I could do right here and now.


    First, I set aside my other reading long enough to look up Reirn Desten Varon, who had lived perhaps four hundred years ago. At the time, their house colours had been red, green, and orange. But Desten was born with a rare mutation, at the time, which warped his orange stone into yellow. And which manifested as fairly dominant. Every generation of the head branch for the next century had at least half their children¡¯s power come out yellow instead of orange. The house colours would eventually be changed as a result, the orange traded to Novarot.


    But that was only the start of it. Reirn Desten Varon the 2nd, his great grandson, made an even larger splash. Varon hadn¡¯t been that powerful, and this was long before their alliance with Sarosa, until Reirn Desten single-handedly annihilated a flashstone that nearly impacted a Raysh city. After negotiating extreme concessions from Raysh in return.


    The mutation for yellow power gradually became less common, and the rarer it became the more of a status symbol it became. And since two famous reirns, both named Desten, had been famous for that specific colour? If a child¡¯s stone manifested early signs of mutating to yellow, he was practically guaranteed to be named Desten as a result.


    Which explained a lot, but also made my search that much harder. Thanks so much, history. But at least I could worry a little less about my host. If 100% of Destens had yellow power, that did give me one fewer way to narrow them down, but it also lessened the probability that I was living in the house of a killer.


    I continued reading until Desten returned from his evening out, then we spent an hour trying to pull my power to the surface before bedtime.


    Days continued to pass, and I continued to succeed at increasing my knowledge and fail at manifesting my stolen power.


    I¡¯d all but forgotten the brief interaction downstairs, when one morning a piece of paper appeared on my floor as though slipped beneath the door while I slept.


    A list of every Desten Varon in the territory, city of occupancy, workplace, and home address. Desten 2 had a star next to his name, while the others were included ¡®just in case¡¯.


    It wasn¡¯t signed, but the cheap paper and blocky handwriting narrowed it down to non-nobility, and the rest was fairly easy to guess.


    I wasn¡¯t sure if I should be grateful or worried. But I had the information I needed. Three more Destens lived locally, and I had the addresses of two others in nearby cities.


    I just had to trust the inquiries had been made discretely.


    Time to meet some more neighbors.


    <hr>

 7: Desten Three

    There is one major drawback in an alliance based upon a common enemy. What happens once the enemy is defeated?


    -Shoring Up a Crumbling Future


    <hr>


    Desten 3 lived in the district directly to the east of Desten 1¡¯s house, making him actually closer than Desten 2 had been.


    I brought a book with me anyway. Perhaps I would look odd, but if I was going to spend half the day in transit I wanted something to do besides brood.


    Desten Varon 3 had a small house only a little bigger than my building downcity. Downright modest by nobility standards. (Though I was beginning to see that there were tiers of nobility; while to a commoner all nobles were a single thing, there was a definite class distinction between people like Desten 1 who were close line to the Reirn, Desten 2 and his ilk, and Desten 3.)


    I knocked on his door, not sure what to expect. He might not even be at home. But a minute later, a man neither young nor quite yet middle aged answered the door.


    ¡°Hello?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m looking for eirn Desten Varon?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s me. Unless you¡¯re looking for the alchemist; that¡¯s not me. Or the verdis player. That¡¯s very much not me.¡±


    I blinked, taken aback by his casual manner and the fact that he apparently didn¡¯t have any servants, then reassessed him.


    Not particularly tall, not particularly fit. He appeared pretty nondescript in most ways, the sort of person you would walk past in the street without even noticing. His dark hair was a bit longer than shoulder length, roughly in line with current fashion, half tied back so it wouldn¡¯t fall in his face.


    ¡°I¡¯m not looking for the verdis player,¡± I answered, smiling to cover my perplexity. ¡°I just want to talk to you, get to know you a little. If you don¡¯t mind.¡±


    I still didn¡¯t have a reason to give. Why hadn¡¯t I come up with a better reason than¡ª


    Oh, hmm, that could work.


    I continued with barely a pause, ¡°I¡¯m working on a research project about Reirn Desten, and his impact on later generations, and the fact that so many different people have the same name, I thought it would be interesting to interview them all and see what impact being named after so famous a leader might have on you.¡±


    Eirn Desten¡¯s expression brightened. ¡°A fellow scholar! Wonderful to meet you! I would love to give you an interview. Do you have time right now? Come on in!¡±


    For a moment I hesitated. His voice had a lightness to it, but inviting strangers into your home with no notice still felt like a strange thing to do. Was it a trap? Had he realized what I was doing?


    ¡°It¡¯s alright, don¡¯t mind the clutter. Just, here, let me move this out of the way for you, just a moment.¡±


    I couldn¡¯t keep letting myself freeze up. I stepped inside, to a scene of absolute chaos. The front room looked like someone was in the middle of packing up to move. Half-full boxes covered the furniture, stacks of books on the floor and table, piles of papers haphazardly strewn about. One chair and a corner of the table were clear enough to eat at, but the rest of the room looked like a maze of unfinished research projects.


    Desten 3 hastily cleared off a second chair, unceremoniously piling pages higher on an already precarious stack by his feet.


    ¡°Go ahead. What are your questions?¡±


    I blanked. I hadn¡¯t thought this through that far. ¡°I seem to have forgotten a pen and paper,¡± I said to buy time. ¡°I don¡¯t suppose you have some I could borrow?¡±


    ¡°Certainly.¡± He jumped up and went rummaging, then paused and turned back. ¡°I don¡¯t think I got your name?¡±


    ¡°Ah, sorry. Astesh Varon.¡±


    He hummed thoughtfully as he searched for a working pen. ¡°Astesh. I¡¯m not familiar with your work. Is this your first research project?¡±


    ¡°No, but I haven¡¯t published any of my past works to the public. I suspect this may be my breakthrough.¡±


    ¡°Have you read mine?¡±


    ¡°Oh, I haven¡¯t. I didn¡¯t realize you were a writer.¡± I frowned, beginning to wish I¡¯d done more thorough investigation myself rather than just rushing off to an address that showed up on my floor without any preparation.


    ¡°I¡¯m not surprised. My work is, well, controversial to say the least.¡±


    ¡°Oh?¡±


    ¡°Just a moment. Here. Let me know when you¡¯re ready.¡± He passed me a stack of blank pages and two pens.


    ¡°Well, since we¡¯re on the topic, why don¡¯t you start with an overview of these controversial opinions of yours?¡±


    Desten 3 smiled. ¡°Certainly. I have been a student of history and politics since my youth, and I believe that this political structure we¡¯ve built up is, to put it bluntly, a haphazard mess that will never stand up to the tides of history.¡±


    ¡°Wow. Yes, I can see how that would be a controversial stance.¡±


    ¡°Indeed. My first book is a study of other cultures, both historical and modern, and provides a foundation for how this sort of disseminated but controlled power is only viable so long as the rest of the factors remain stable. I never state it outright, but the idea is to get people to think. You can already see how our ruling structure is crumbling at the edges.¡±


    ¡°Is it?¡±


    ¡°Very much so. You know the sort of petty power plays, the constant attempts to one-up each other that go on? They don¡¯t matter so much in the long run, so long as we remain united when it counts. But the frequent disasters which once brought us together have grown weaker and less frequent even as we grew stronger. Now, there would be no need for the houses to band together against even a major incursion from the skies. One house, two at most, would suffice to deal with it. Do you see the problem?¡±


    ¡°Not really.¡±


    ¡°In a few more generations, we¡¯ll no longer have any reason to remain allies. The strengths of each house have surpassed their weaknesses to the point where cooperation is hardly necessary any longer. Most haven¡¯t realized this, but this erosion of purpose will eventually split the houses apart. And when that happens, all the little injustices, all the past grievances, all the minor land squabbles of the past, will ignite into an actual war the likes of which we¡¯ve never witnessed. If we do not find a reason to truly unite, beyond the convenience of mutual defence, we are doomed to destruction.¡±


    ¡°Wow. That¡¯s a pretty bleak outlook.¡±


    ¡°Not at all. It¡¯s a realistic one. Bleak would be far worse. Bleak would be this dissolution actually occurring, and the commoners taking advantage of the chaos to form their own coalitions. A ten-part war is bad enough, add another two or three commoner factions into the mix? We might never recover. Certainly some houses would be utterly annihilated before the end, and possibly all of them.¡±Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.


    ¡°Do you think there¡¯s potential for a commoner revolt?¡±


    He leaned forward, extremely serious. ¡°I think it¡¯s all but inevitable if we do not head it off soon. Which brings us to my second major controversy. I have proposed that the solution to our disunity problem is to simply integrate into commoner society. They do not see us as ten regions loosely allied, they see us as a single unified state. No one has border checks between Varon territory and Raysh districts. There¡¯s not even an indication on commoner maps of the delineations we nobles are so particular over. If instead of holdings and territories, we could simply integrate into the existing united society? Our problems could be left behind.¡±


    ¡°Hah.¡± I¡¯d stopped even pretending to take notes, drawn into the conversation fully. ¡°You oversimplify the matter if you think people will give up generations of grievances so easily. Not that I¡¯d expect nobles to care about commoner unity anyway. Do you really expect to dissolve territory boundaries without a fight?¡±


    ¡°Without a fight, no. Without a pointless war? Yes.¡±


    ¡°But where¡¯s the benefit for the nobility? If they give up their status and their high cities and their claims over territories, that¡¯s all well and good for the cause of unity, but you¡¯ll find very few people willing to surrender what they see as theirs for so vague a cause. What can you actually, concretely offer in return? Keep in mind, avoiding a potential war isn¡¯t a great motivator either, since you¡¯re basically asking them to accept the same consequence as losing that war, but without even trying to defend what¡¯s theirs. I think it¡¯ll be a lot harder than you seem to think.¡±


    ¡°Which is why we need to start now, before it¡¯s too late.¡± Desten 3 hesitated. ¡°I think we need to encourage unions between nobility and commoners. I think we need to do away with antiquated customs and allow mixed-union children to inherit heartstones. Allow full power adoption of outsiders into noble families, and refrain from ostracizing those who choose not to do so. The nature of our power naturally lends itself to this divide, but it doesn¡¯t have to. If we could do away with the wasteful customs of the past, we could change the world.¡±


    ¡°Sounds grand and all, but I¡¯m still not seeing an incentive for nobles to dilute their lines and give up their long-held territories.¡±


    ¡°We can start small. Allow commoners to visit our cities, and lift the restrictions on visits to their towns. If we can begin to treat them as equals, and see them as part of our communities instead of separate entities to be ruled from a distance, that would be a start.¡±


    I snorted. ¡°If you really think they¡¯ll consider that incentive, you don¡¯t know people very well at all.¡±


    ¡°But, I¡¯m trying to stop a disaster here. Surely, once they understand the magnitude of this downhill path, they¡¯ll want to divert it before we go too far?¡±


    ¡°And I¡¯m sure if that solution involved something like annexing a nearby state, or finding a way to expand into the ocean, they¡¯d be all for it. But giving up power that they¡¯ve held for centuries, on the promise of some nebulous threat not materializing? Not going to be enough.¡±


    ¡°But there are countless benefits of remaining united. The freedom of travel, the security, trade, and protection against any outside threat. Surely there must be a way to prove that it is better to continue as a unified alliance.¡±


    ¡°And that¡¯s true. It¡¯s better for everyone if they all stay together. But is it better for each individual house? Is there no one who could benefit from the downfall of a neighbor? You can¡¯t pretend that there¡¯s no attempts made to undermine or weaken the other houses. You can¡¯t contest that there aren¡¯t cities over which multiple houses would lay claim if the alliance fractured.¡±


    Desten 3 frowned unhappily. ¡°But if everyone goes after each other, we¡¯ll end up with things even worse than they were before the alliance! Everyone¡¯s more powerful now, the resulting clash would be deadly on a whole other level. We could do so much more damage to ourselves than any incursion ever has managed.¡±


    I considered a moment before replying. ¡°Is any one house strong enough to unite the others? Sarosa, or Varon perhaps?¡±


    ¡°No. Even Sarosa and Varon together couldn¡¯t stand up to the other eight if they came into conflict.¡± Desten hesitated. ¡°If anything were to happen to throw those two into conflict, I¡¯m afraid the entire alliance would fracture down the middle.¡±


    My breath caught. I was in the middle of investigating House Varon. For the violent slaughter of the Sarosa heir. Was this part of a conspiracy to tear the alliance apart? Which house would benefit most from the Varon-Sarosa alliance splitting?


    Any one of them. It didn¡¯t take much to see that the combination of the two most powerful houses benefited no one more than they themselves. Any of the smaller houses could profit from a private arrangement with one or the other of the duo, were they no longer so closely tied together.


    But if the attack were meant to destroy the Varon-Sarosa pacts, then that meant it was part of a wider conspiracy. It meant they intended for Desten to be caught and outed. It meant they¡¯d known I was there and staged the whole thing for my benefit.


    Which was just too far-fetched. There was no way they could predict my actions so perfectly. And if they were counting on my revealing their Varon pawn, they were probably overestimating me anyway.


    No, I told myself firmly. This whole mess had not been intended as a political move. It was a personal matter between Fylen and his killer.


    ¡°Are you alright?¡± Desten asked.


    ¡°Oh. Yes, just thinking. I would hate to see the fallout of a rift between Sarosa and Varon.¡±


    We continued to discuss related matters for another hour, until Desten heard my stomach growling and I excused myself to find lunch. He¡¯d ended up taking more notes on our discussion than I had, and asked if he could invite me back sometime to continue our discourse.


    I gave him my address at Desten 1¡¯s house, and only when I was halfway home did I pause to consider that it may not have been wise.


    Desten 1 was shouting at the housekeeper again when I returned, which meant that he¡¯d probably had a bad day on patrol. I avoided him and slipped down to the kitchens, and he¡¯d calmed down again by the time he joined me in the library. We spent the evening trying to bring my power under my conscious control, which continued to go about as well as it had before.


    I could make the pink light flare up into weapons at will, by imagining the Desten across from me as a monster at night, but I couldn¡¯t make the power do anything particular and the flare would end the moment I stopped actively thinking about it. The rest of the time, the power rested within me quiescent, or surged in brief flashes when it felt I needed adjusting.


    Try as we might, I simply could not pull it to focus the proper way.


    Desten seemed equally frustrated and resigned. If I¡¯d only received my stone recently, it made sense that I¡¯d be so childishly far behind. But it also wasted his time. He wanted me grown up and out of his house, and as the month dragged on he grew increasingly irritable at my presence.


    I tried to keep out of the way, but at a certain point I could only do so much. He knew I was around, I knew he was around and unhappy with me. I started having nightmares, twisted things half memory and half fearful imagining, which never stayed the same but always left me shaken. They didn¡¯t happen every night, but they happened more often than I was comfortable with. Sometimes Desten 1 came for me, shouting and flaring his power. Sometimes it was Desten 2, slicing me apart with calm control. Or Desten 3, telling me the whole time that this was the only way to prevent the alliance from collapsing, and it was a good cause to die for.


    Most of the time, it was the other Desten. The faceless shape of darkness and death. I knew him, and I fled, and I never ever escaped.


    Twice my power flared so hard it sliced through the bedding before I woke.


    Once, I broke the window in a half-awake daze, jumped out and flew to the ground before coming to my senses. I couldn¡¯t pay for the window, and felt increasingly like a useless drain on Desten¡¯s resources.


    He assured me the Reirn personally covered any costs I incurred, but said it with a look of disapproval that made me want to get a job.


    But I had a more important job to do, and now that I had my list of Destens, I had no excuses to delay.


    The week after my visit to Desten 3, I made the trip across the city to the final local Destens. Desten 4 and Desten 5 were father and son, with the same address listed. Neither had an occupation or workplace, so I simply walked to their front door and knocked.


    A few moments passed before a harried-looking middle-aged woman answered the door. I gave her my story about researching Destens for a project about the past Reirns and their impact on their namesakes.


    ¡°Oh, that sounds very interesting. I¡¯m afraid my husband isn¡¯t available right now, and Desten is out with Talish, and he¡¯s very busy.¡±


    ¡°When would be a good time?¡±


    ¡°Well, I don¡¯t know. I can talk to him for you if you like. What were the questions you had?¡±


    ¡°I prefer to conduct the interviews in person. I want to get a feel for who they are, and it¡¯s easier for conversations to flow naturally in person.¡±


    ¡°Oh, I agree. There¡¯s something special about letters, but they¡¯ll never replace a real conversation.¡±


    I reluctantly gave her my address, and she promised to arrange a time when I could come conduct the interviews, with the warning that they really had a lot going on right now and it might be some time.


    Which was fine, because midsummer was almost upon us and party season was about to begin. Destens 4 and 5 weren¡¯t going anywhere, and I could visit them any time. From what I¡¯d heard, there was a good chance Desten 6 would be visiting for the official start-of-season gala.


    So would Desten 1, with me in tow, as my first official introduction to the courts.


    <hr>

 8: Midsummer

    <div>


    Midsummer! That magical time, when all the houses unite to celebrate our diversity and exchange news. For the next two months, each house opens its doors to the touring visitors from all the others as we participate in the grand traditions of our ancient heritage! Let there be no ill will, as we begin the year anew.


    -A Time To Celebrate!


    <hr>


    The Midsummer Gala took place in a private arena owned by the Varon Reirn. Tables were hung around the edges of the room, staircases of rainbow light painted on the air leading up and down from them. (Most people eschewed the stairs in favor of simply flying to their chosen table, but the stairs were beautiful.) The center of the hall was for dancing, which took place in four tiers, from the ground level to the pale yellow and faint red at the top.


    Varon¡¯s house colours were very much on display, reds prominent, yellows and greens frequent, but all ten powers featured prominently throughout the decorations.


    And then there were the people. I¡¯d grown used to the general casual outfits of House Varon, the different power levels declared openly and prominently. But no such convention applied to the gala attendees.


    Desten wore an extravagant outfit of deep red in four complementary shades, with gleaming accents of power drawn around the edges between layers in his yellow fire. He very quickly abandoned me, politely dismissing himself to go dance with a woman in a sweeping blue gown held in elaborate drapes by tiny knots of silver light. Desten quickly accented these with his own yellow, to the woman¡¯s obvious pleasure. She traced lines of silver light across the front of his jacket, and they walked off arm in arm.


    So this is the person he¡¯s been courting. Hm. Sarosa, almost certainly.


    I meandered through the hall, keeping an eye out for any glint of yellow power. It wasn¡¯t rare, but it was less commonplace than others. Thankfully, the gala seemed to encourage as much showing off of one¡¯s power as possible while maintaining polite decorum.


    I found three people with yellow power who were not named Desten, whose names were thankfully nothing close. Ever since talking with the reirn, I had a vague disquiet about that. What if I¡¯d mis-heard, and it was a Desrin, or a Destar? In this case, the trend toward naming children Desten to match their yellow power actually helped me. No one I met had a name that was close-but-not-quite. It was either decidedly Desten, or decidedly not.


    An hour or so into my search I stumbled upon Desten 3, sitting and debating with an older man in Novarot green and orange.


    I turned to leave, but he saw me before I¡¯d taken two steps.


    ¡°Astesh! Come over here a moment. I need your insights.¡±


    I reluctantly joined his conversation, in which he seemed to be trying to convince Eirn Veyt Novarot that they must establish stronger assurances between the houses before they inevitably collapsed into petty squabbles, while Eirn Veyt insisted the only possible solution was to insist that any lessening of the incursions must be a deliberate holding-back in precursor to a single, final, devastating future attack for which we must remain ever vigilant. Whether this claim was true or not, it would unite the houses.


    Desten was unconvinced by this deception, and I had to side with him. ¡°Any attempt to force an alliance through deception will inevitably be discovered, and things will be even worse for the fact that we lied.¡±


    ¡°It may not be a lie,¡± Veyt said. ¡°For all we know, that truly is what is happening.¡±


    ¡°It seems more likely we¡¯ve simply killed enough of them that there are fewer left to send, and weaker when they arrive,¡± Desten insisted.


    ¡°Or they¡¯re taking over the rest of the world, while we sit by and do nothing.¡± Veyt wasn¡¯t backing down. ¡°We have no way to know they aren¡¯t simply establishing a foothold on a distant island before unleashing their full power against us.¡±


    ¡°Hold on,¡± I interrupted when Veyt finally paused. ¡°I was under the impression these incursions were largely unintelligent or at least non-sentient beasts? Have they displayed any evidence of that sort of long-term planning?¡±


    Desten 3 jumped on my question eagerly. ¡°No, there¡¯s been no indication of a guiding intellect behind any of the incursions. We don¡¯t even know if they¡¯re independent of each other or from the same source, only that an incursion is often preceded by a particularly bright star as it approaches.¡±


    ¡°But they might be.¡± Veyt wasn¡¯t going to let it go. ¡°It would be just like them to lull us into a false sense of security, watch until we started fighting among ourselves, then descend upon us in an unprecedented slaughter.¡±


    ¡°So you¡¯re in agreement that we need to find a way to prevent the collapse of the alliance,¡± Desten pressed.


    ¡°We need to ensure that we remain strong enough to fight off even an extra large incursion force. Of course, in the interests of such an end, some houses are clearly more essential than others.¡±


    ¡°And, I suppose Novarot is one of the most important ones?¡±


    ¡°Of course. Our animata are unrivaled. Teshron, though, what do they actually offer? Taking all the most fertile areas in that corner of the land, and squandering it on their ¡­¡± Veyt made a disgusted face, ¡°gardens and mazes and landscaping. We could feed half the alliance with the fields they¡¯ve turned into decorations.¡±


    ¡°What practical use are your animata, again?¡± I interjected. ¡°I can¡¯t say I¡¯ve seen or heard of them.¡±


    Desten gave me a faint smile, while Veyt narrowed his eyes in disapproval. ¡°And who are you again?¡±


    ¡°Astesh Varon is a fellow scholar,¡± Desten said at once. "Who has my utmost respect.¡±


    I inadvertently raised my eyebrows at that. I hadn¡¯t realized our previous discussion had that much of an impact on him.


    Veyt seemed to agree with my assessment. ¡°Pah. Some scholar. If you don¡¯t even know what animata are, you hardly deserve the title.¡±


    ¡°I had very limited reference materials to work with until recently. And one would almost think you didn¡¯t want to tell us about your animata after all? If it¡¯s too complicated a subject for you, I can always look them up independently. I¡¯m sure there¡¯s some Novarot scholars who actually know their house¡¯s specialties.¡±


    Veyt gave me the disdainful look of someone who picked up on every bit of my insincerity and false politeness, but was making a point of not mentioning it out of an equal measure of insincere false politeness. Perhaps a greater measure, in his eyes. ¡°Animata is the general term for an independent device that has been animated. Novarot¡¯s specialized animata are constructed for fighting incursions, providing armor and cover for the defenders. Thanks to the constant improvements of our combat animata, casualties from recent incursions have been significantly lower than in previous generations.¡±


    Veyt sketched out a half-bubble mounted over a reclined seat upon a curved platform, a miniature sculpture of green light that overall vaguely resembled a clam shell.


    ¡°Complete protection from attacks from above or the front, with open sides to launch counter-attacks, and the back clear to provide an easy escape route should the animata be too damaged to continue flying,¡± Veyt explained proudly, pointing out the parts of the image.Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.


    ¡°Can¡¯t Varon create shields that surround them completely without needing to lug a heavy thing like that around?¡± I asked.


    Veyt¡¯s eyes narrowed. ¡°Yes, Varon does think itself above the rest of us, doesn¡¯t it. No wonder you see no hubris in trying to single-handedly hold the alliance in stasis forever. If you allow no change, you allow no growth.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯ve strayed far from our topic,¡± Desten said.


    ¡°And your topic is one I have no interest in pursuing further.¡± Veyt stood, the light image fracturing and vanishing as he did so. ¡°I have offered my thoughts on the matter, and you insist on your childish naivete. I won¡¯t waste everyone¡¯s time trying to convince you of your own idiocy any longer. Good day, Varon. Varon.¡± He gave us each a nod with the exact right amount of deference to not be impolite, then walked firmly away.


    ¡°Nice seeing you again,¡± I said, then turned to depart.


    Desten stopped me. ¡°Wait a moment, please.¡±


    I turned back.


    ¡°Do you have your itinerary planned already for the tour season?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll probably be staying here.¡±


    ¡°No! And waste an intellect like yours? You should come with me! I¡¯ll arrange everything. It would be splendid to have an ally by my side. I admit I am not best suited for this sort of discourse.¡±


    ¡°And I am?¡±


    ¡°Better two together than each alone. What do you say?¡±


    I hesitated. I did rather like Desten 3, but there was still the question of if he might be a secret killer. His ideas for unity didn¡¯t scream ¡®murderer¡¯ to me. If he were going to kill anyone, it probably wouldn¡¯t be me, so long as he saw me as an ally. He had no reason to think I was even aware of his existence, if he were the killer.


    But I had already been living in the power of one Desten. Did I really want to jump under the jurisdiction of another? Especially one who had no particular reason to shelter me if any hints of my true background were to come to light? At least Desten 1 had the reirn¡¯s command to teach me. Desten 3 had nothing but his own self-interest in mind.


    While on the other hand, Desten 1 did only his duty. Desten 3 was offering from his own free desires.


    Desten 3 laughed. ¡°I see you need some time to think about it. No need to rush into a decision. We¡¯ve got all week before it¡¯s time to move on. I¡¯ll be visiting Sarosa next and heading around the coast, so if you decide to come along after I leave you¡¯re welcome to catch up halfway.¡±


    We parted, him to immediately enter another debate with a couple in the glittering purple and cyan of Utrenad, myself to continue wandering the party in hopes of spotting someone with the right colour of power. I didn¡¯t hold out much hope that every Desten would be easily located, but it would be foolish to be anything but thorough.


    ¡°Desten, don¡¯t be like this,¡± someone said nearby, and I spun to face them. A group of women sat together at a small table, half-eaten plates before them as the rest of them burst into laughter.


    ¡°I just don¡¯t see any point to it,¡± another woman said, deliberately placing a grape in her mouth.


    ¡°Come on, you can tell us,¡± put in a third.


    I frowned at the group, thinking I must have misheard.


    ¡°Desteennnn, please?¡±


    Hm. There was no one else near enough to be involved in their conversation, so it must be one of them. Well, I could confidently say that the killer was in fact male, so if one of them is a Desten it¡¯s one fewer to be worried about.


    They all wore Varon colours, so I tentatively labeled her as Desten Varon 8, and not a suspect. Progress, of a sort.


    I continued my wandering, and no one seemed to notice me. Even my extravagant outfit was cut in Varon tay colours, making it clear that I was low powered. Though the fact that I was one of only a handful of people actually walking instead of flying everywhere also drove home the fact that I was very out of place.


    ¡°And they stole his stone!¡± someone said in a carrying whisper, eliciting gasps from her audience. I wandered closer, curious to see if they were talking about Fylen. I¡¯d have thought that would be old news by now, but it wouldn¡¯t hurt to know what everyone else knew about the whole thing.


    ¡°But, that¡¯s cruel!¡± put in a second woman in Sarosa blue. ¡°How will his family mourn him properly if they don¡¯t have his stone?¡±


    ¡°And worse, with his body all torn apart like that. It¡¯s utterly distasteful. If stupid idiots have to go around killing each other, can¡¯t they at least do it with some civility?¡±


    Murmurs of agreement.


    I frowned. They seemed more concerned by the treatment of the body than the fact that someone was dead.


    ¡°Children and their duels,¡± muttered someone else, a man in Teshron teal and pink. ¡°You should ban death fights if you don¡¯t want them killing each other.¡±


    A woman in Leetan yellow and green tittered. ¡°Oh, no, that would be a terrible solution. Then they¡¯d lose and grow bitter and drag everyone down into their petty squabbles. No, far better to have a simple winner and loser.¡±


    ¡°Spoken like someone who never cared for anyone but herself,¡± the Teshron man murmured.


    ¡°I care a great deal for my people,¡± the Leetan woman replied haughtily. ¡°Typical Teshron, resorting to personal attacks whenever anyone disagrees with you.¡± She waved a hand. ¡°You, Varon, you agree with me, don¡¯t you?¡±


    It took a moment to realize she was talking to me. ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s far better to settle serious conflicts with a permanent outcome, rather than let them build up into idiocy.¡±


    ¡°I, don¡¯t, um,¡± I fumbled, trying to put my thoughts in order. ¡°Killing each other seems excessive and pointless. Not that it¡¯ll stop people from doing it, but why encourage it?¡±


    ¡°Tch, so Varon is finally giving in to that weak-willed nonsense? How are we supposed to make the next generation stronger if we don¡¯t let them do anything that matters?¡±


    ¡°Killing other children over stupid slights is hardly something that matters,¡± the Teshron man replied. ¡°Far better to teach them how to deal with their emotions and move on rather than encouraging them to flare up at the slightest provocation. If we encouraged more civil discussion over disagreements, they wouldn¡¯t escalate to such an extent that the winner saw fit to desecrate the loser so disgracefully.¡±


    They seemed to have forgotten me, so I slowly backed away.


    ¡°Nonsense. We simply need to put clearer boundaries in place. Eltas fought well, if the arena is any indication, but he had obviously underestimated his opponent.¡±


    I stopped short. Eltas? So they weren¡¯t talking about Fylen? Was this kind of thing commonplace?


    ¡°If that were all it was, why is this happening?¡±


    ¡°Once news got out about Arish, everyone wanted to get in on it,¡± said the first speaker derisively.


    ¡°Yes, it¡¯s become one of those stupid copycat fads. It¡¯s honestly sickening. You¡¯d think someone should put a stop to it.¡±


    I couldn¡¯t agree more.


    How many people had been killed and desecrated? Was it really just some stupid kids getting up to no good?


    One more question to ask killer Desten when I finally caught up to him.


    I ventured back toward them. ¡°Who were Arish and Eltas? I hadn¡¯t heard about them.¡±


    ¡°Oh, haven¡¯t you?¡± The Leetan woman asked. ¡°I thought everyone would have. Well, Eltas, may he rest lightly, was some disgruntled offspring of that ill-conceived Utrenad-Leetan trend that was so popular in the ¡®60s. Thank the heights my own children were too young to be caught up in that idiocy, it had imploded on itself well before they could get involved.¡±


    ¡°Which side?¡± asked another woman.


    ¡°Eltas? He was Utrenad, naturally. If he were in my circles, this would never have been allowed.¡±


    ¡°Then how do you know about it?¡±


    ¡°Well, it¡¯s not as though a couple hours is enough to stop news like this from getting around. He may not be family but he¡¯s still related. And to hear he got himself in too far and butchered like that is simply shocking.¡±


    I began to doubt the sincerity of these protests. It felt almost like they were trying to sensationalize the story as much as possible, at this point. The crowd around them had certainly continued to grow, and I doubted I¡¯d get any clear answers out of them at this point.


    I excused myself and went to find a nice balcony to stand on away from everyone else. Which was harder than it sounded, since climbing a lot of steps was no deterrent to those who could simply fly. So really, the best spots for avoiding others were closer to the ground floor.


    I tucked myself away and spent a long time just breathing. I wasn¡¯t built for this kind of people-everywhere politics and mingling and gossiping and what have you. I felt like I needed to retreat to a library for a week to recover, but these parties would be going on every evening for the rest of the week and if I wanted to find other Destens I should try to attend as many as possible. Desten 1 would be at all of them, as close line to the reirn he had little choice in the matter, even if he¡¯d chosen a life of military service over playing the political games.


    At times like these, I found myself more empathetic toward Desten 1. He may be stern, gruff, and have an erratic temper, but for the most part he was calm and steady and got things done. If I¡¯d asked him what was going on with these killings, I¡¯m sure his answer would have been straightforward and not part of an elaborate attempt to put down another house and show off how great he was.


    Hmm. There¡¯s a thought. Now that it wasn¡¯t just the political time bomb that was the Sarosa heir¡¯s murder, now that there were other deaths with the same method going on, apparently pretty widespread in geography as well, there was no reason to assume he¡¯d be suspicious of my inquiry.


    Would it be a risk? Perhaps. Well, definitely yes. He was still terrifying, even if he wasn¡¯t a killer. But if I wanted a straight answer, clearly gossiping with the visitors wasn¡¯t the ideal way to go about obtaining it.


    I had to take some risks, or I¡¯d never learn anything. Tonight, then. After the party was over, when we returned home, I¡¯d find out what he had to say.


    <hr>

 9: Invitations

    ''I care not what the rumors say,'' quoth the Heirna with burning defiance. ''I know the man I have chosen and the line that is our duty to shepherd. I will not abandon that destiny, nor shall he. And every Reirn from hence forward shall be proof of my devotion and my honour.''


    -Line''s Legacy: Heirna Heraha


    <hr>


    ¡°Desten,¡± I said casually, as we practiced with my still-uncooperative power in his back garden. ¡°I heard people talking at the gala. Something about a new dueling fad, wherein the loser''s body is aggressively torn apart?¡±


    I was watching closely, so I saw his expression tighten into distaste. ¡°Yes. I have heard that as well.¡±


    ¡°So, what do you think about it?¡±


    ¡°I think it¡¯s what happens when you give idiot children the power of life and death over one another. Taking heartstones as trophies is new.¡±


    ¡°So, this sort of duel-to-the-death is a normal thing?¡±


    ¡°It is discouraged, but not disallowed. Legally, such a duel is a binding agreement to bear responsibility for your own demise. It¡¯s incredibly stupid to accept a duel with someone you aren¡¯t certain you can defeat.¡±


    Oh. Wait. ¡°So, if two nobles fought and one of them died, it wouldn¡¯t be an actual murder if they were in a duel at the time?¡±


    ¡°Correct. So while this rash of violent and uncivilized death is worrying, it is not actually something we can forbid without overturning centuries-old laws shared among all the houses. It has been proven time and again that people don¡¯t like ancestral laws overturned for any reason, however sensible.¡±


    ¡°Even if one of those involved is of much higher rank than the other?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ve stopped practicing.¡±


    With a sigh, I refocused on pulling my power up out of my body and into the world around me. It worked just as badly as usual, with no visible indication of progress, but somehow Desten could tell when I was slacking.


    ¡°And, yes," he answered. "Even if you challenged the reirn, if you both agreed to the duel, it would not matter if you killed him. No reprisals could be brought against you as a result.¡± He smiled grimly. ¡°Officially, that is. I would personally do everything in my considerable power to destroy your life, so don¡¯t go killing Reirn Ushan unless you want me as an enemy.¡±


    ¡°I have no such intentions, I promise.¡±


    I sighed. So, maybe I had messed up by not making it very clear that the fight between Desten and Fylen was a full on duel. It would seem that I was investigating a non-issue. The Sarosa may be upset by it ¡®personally¡¯ but there would and could not be any official repercussions for the killer Desten even if I found him.


    It¡¯s not like I¡¯d set out to lie to Reirn Ushan, but the way my story jumbled over itself it¡¯s not surprising some details got lost in translation.


    But now he had a false idea of the situation, because of me and no one else. Would he be less eager to protect my secrets if he knew Fylen¡¯s death was technically legal? Or would he be one of the parties to pursue justice ¡®personally¡¯?


    I couldn¡¯t worry about that. I had nothing else going for me. If I couldn¡¯t even solve this one tiny mystery, of even less importance than I¡¯d originally assumed, what use would I be to anyone?


    ¡°You¡¯re not focusing.¡±


    I growled in muted frustration and yanked hard on my power. For a moment, everything blurred with a pink overlay across the world, then I felt the pulse of calm wash through me and my power subsided, retreating into its center.


    ¡°Enough for tonight. It¡¯s been a long day.¡±


    ¡°Is this why you keep such a late-skewed schedule?¡± I wondered aloud as we walked back to the house. ¡°Because half the year is full of midnight partying?¡±


    ¡°Not the reason,¡± Desten replied.


    ¡°Are you attending the other parties?¡±


    ¡°Yes." He sounded resigned.


    ¡°Am I?¡±


    ¡°Only if you want to.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll get back to you.¡± I hesitated. ¡°Someone invited me to go touring with him this season.¡±


    ¡°If you need funding you¡¯ll need to talk to the reirn. I¡¯m only authorized for my own expenditures on your behalf, not third parties.¡±


    ¡°No, that¡¯s not¡ª am I allowed to?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re here to learn from me. If you¡¯ve decided you¡¯re done learning, I can strongly urge you to reconsider, but I can¡¯t disallow you from doing anything. You¡¯re officially an adult, even if your power control is awful.¡±


    ¡°So, I can, but you think I shouldn¡¯t?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll think about it.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not going to be your personal flier,¡± he warned. ¡°If you want to go traipsing about to other cities, that¡¯s your decision. But I¡¯ve yet to see you hover, let alone manage sustained flight. It takes about an hour to get from one city to the next, and most party hubs are generally at least two cities apart.¡±


    I tried to imagine living in a world where cities were only an hour apart. The trip from my home city to this one had taken over a week and a half, stopping in towns and villages along the way each night before riding on in the morning. My sojourn to Teshron territory had required nearly a month of travel, each way.


    I¡¯d sometimes seen nobles fly overhead in colourful blurs of speed, but never tried to figure out just how insanely fast they were moving.


    ¡°How long would it take to reach Teshron from here?¡± I asked, curious.


    ¡°Straight without stopping? I could do it in, mm, four to five hours. Less if I¡¯m cleared for priority flight.¡±


    Four to five hours. Less than half a day¡¯s travel, to get from one corner of the continent to the other. I tried to imagine it, but couldn¡¯t.


    I lay awake a long time that night, as time and distance and speed tried to reorient themselves into something that made sense, but which I couldn¡¯t accept as reality.


    A knock on my door woke me far too early in the afternoon.


    ¡°Hrng, wha?¡± I asked, coherently.


    ¡°A message has arrived for you,¡± said a voice I couldn¡¯t quite place. One of our servants? Yes, probably that.


    ¡°Yehh, okay,¡± I responded, rolling over to shield my face from the sunlight trying to stubbornly slip through the cracks in the curtains.


    ¡°It is an invitation to lunch today, which might require you to be awake.¡±


    Lunch? Who would be inviting me to lunch? Was it Desten 3, wanting my opinion on some more of his naive theories about unity or cooperation?


    ¡°Desten?¡±


    ¡°Yes, Desten Varon, 87 Drell street.¡±


    Drell street? That wasn¡¯t 3. He was on Farren road. I sighed and sat up, trying to drag my groggy brain into something resembling wakefulness. Drell street? Which one ¡­


    I rummaged at the pages stacked on my bedside table until I found the Desten list that had appeared under my door. I¡¯d since numbered them all, and was using it to take notes. 2 was crossed off with ¡®hair/power control¡¯ as reason for disregarding him as a suspect, with the hasty note ¡®8? - female¡¯ at the bottom from last night. I hadn¡¯t figured out her home address, but she was one of the two I didn¡¯t have info on. 6 was never at home, 4 and 5 were father and son, 7 lived in another city entirely.


    Right. So, Drell street? That was 4 and 5¡¯s family residence. Lunch. Lovely.


    Wait.


    Lunch?


    ¡°What time?¡± I asked, suddenly awake. ¡°I mean, when do I need to be there?¡±


    I couldn¡¯t just fly there in a minute or two, so I¡¯d need to start out well before the assigned time if I were going to not be late.


    ¡°Two thirty.¡±


    I glanced at the clock, and groaned. If I started right now, I might make it. More likely, I¡¯d need to run.


    ¡°Why is there no such thing as public transportation around here?¡± I grumbled. At least downcity I could rent a horse for the day to get around faster. Here, everyone assumed that each person was faster than a horse. Which, okay, was probably completely accurate, but still! For the 0% of the population that was me, stuck at infant level power usage, it made getting around very inconvenient.


    I hastily changed out of my night clothes and into a more formal Varon outfit. Desten had ordered them for me when I first arrived, so I hadn¡¯t needed to worry about making complicated class or cut or colour decisions. They were all tay-styled, with greens predominant. Which was fine. There was a clear distinction between Varon green and Novarot green, aside from the red and yellow accents to fully clarify. (Novarot¡¯s accents would be orange and teal.)


    I rushed out the door and ran the first several minutes to give myself a bit of buffer time, then slowed to a fast walk. I worried even that wouldn¡¯t be enough, then I worried about showing up out of breath and sweaty. But there was nothing I could do about that at this point. I needed to get a feel for who all the Destens were so I could narrow them down. And ignoring an invitation after I¡¯d made a point of seeking them out would be rude.


    Tension built as I pushed myself to move faster. So far, all the Destens I¡¯d met had seemed pretty normal, which only increased the chance that the next one would be the crazy one. This had begun to feel more futile, more like a pointless risk that would benefit nothing, but I couldn¡¯t turn back.Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit.


    The world shifted, a faint pink haze covered everything, and each step slipped me further forward without resistance. The anxiety faded away as I moved with sudden calm confidence, gliding at a fast jog, then faster.


    I didn¡¯t know what was happening, and I didn¡¯t care. As long as I got to my appointment on time, that was all that mattered.


    So it was a surprise when I reached my destination and discovered, upon checking my pocketwatch, that I still had nearly an hour until the designated lunch.


    How fast had I been moving? Could I still do it?


    I glanced down at the ground beneath me, further away than usual. It only took that moment of noticing I was no longer touching the ground for the effect to shatter. The pink tint I''d become accustomed to broke and vanished, I dropped several inches to land unsteadily on the ground, and I stared around in uncertainty at the world. Everything looked oddly green now, the contrast confusing my eyes for a minute until they readjusted.


    Then I picked myself up and laughed. I''d been flying! I hadn''t even noticed at the time, but I''d actually been doing it! Not very high, not nearly as quickly as most, but I''d made it here in record time. I couldn''t have gotten here this quickly even if I could have been running flat out the entire time.


    Now, I just had to figure out how I''d done it so I could do it again. I''d tried wanting my power before, but this was the first time I''d ever felt like I needed it. Was that the difference? It had to be deeper than just desire, deeper than convenience, a pressing urgent necessity?


    Probably not in the end. For the moment, though, that seemed the obvious angle to approach from. After all, I had nearly an hour to practice with before my appointment, and I wasn''t even out of breath.


    What could I convince myself I needed? Well, I needed to get to a library and find something to do with myself while I waited. I would die of boredom if I just stood here for an hour.


    I focused in on that desire, tried to amplify it to urgency, to necessity. I didn''t just want a book to occupy my mind while I waited, I absolutely had to have one. And that meant I needed to get to a library as quickly as possible.


    Was it working? I couldn''t tell. There was no obvious pink aura around me, but I wasn''t sure if I''d be able to see it clearly any longer. I set out toward the nearest library at a quick pace, focused on the urgency of my mission. Alas, it seemed my power wouldn''t be so easily tricked. When I''d walked for five minutes with no sign of the attempt succeeding, I gave up. I relaxed my intense focus and continued at a more sedate pace.


    Desten 4 lived in a very convenient location, local to a great many library and record-keeping buildings. It wasn''t quite as administrative as the district where Desten 1 lived, but it was a close second. The Varon capital city was considerably larger than most, according to what I''d read, but it still felt odd to me. The downcity portion of the capital was so much bigger. It wouldn''t be possible to walk the full circumference of the downcity in a day, while even far distant locations in the upcity were within walking distance, even though the buildings were spread much further apart.


    All that to say, I reached the library within ten minutes, sat for a while reading a book selected at random. (Which turned out to be a sensationalized biography of Heirna Heraha Varon, formerly Wightok, whose marriage into the dwindling Varon close line near the end of the fourth century catalyzed a significant shift in internal Varon politics, accompanied by a great deal of suspicion and scandal due to some uncertainty about her husband''s right to the Reirn title at all. She would eventually end up as the mother of the entire close line in what could be styled either a complete usurpation of Varon upper nobility, or a perfect underdog story. But since it all happened a hundred years ago, modern writers could spin it any direction they wanted as anyone involved was dead by now.)


    I did get a little caught up in the story, and ended up rushing to make my appointment on time after all.


    Despite my urgency, my power did not make itself known and I arrived two minutes later than the stated arrival time. A girl opened the door this time, seeming alternately shy and curious, but she followed form perfectly as she greeted me and led me to their dining room. Through a house which bore evidence of recent frantic tidying.


    A young man who must be Desten 5 sat awaiting me with the expression of one who would rather be anywhere else doing anything else. He was by far the youngest of the Destens, barely sixteen if I remembered the genealogies correctly. His mother, the woman I''d met on my initial visit, bustled about with food. She smiled and motioned for me to sit, and the girl sat on the other side of Desten.


    "I hope this isn''t too much," she said. "I know you probably just wanted an interview, but I do believe in hospitality."


    "This is fine, thank you." I hesitated, not sure of her name.


    "Retti," she said, pouring a pale yellow drink for each of us. "And you''ve met Talish, and this is Desten."


    Desten nodded at his name.


    "Will Desten Sr. be joining us?" I asked, and the family immediately went ... still, quiet, neither of those but something intangible and heavy inserted itself into the atmosphere of the room. It was the wrong question, I knew at once.


    "My father is unavailable," Desten said, with the sound of someone trying very hard to be responsible with obvious effort. "I will do my best to answer your questions."


    "Well. Ah. Good. Thank you for inviting me." I realized that I should have prepared a list of questions, or at least brought a notebook or something, but I''d rushed off in such a hurry that I hadn''t even considered what would actually happen once I got here.


    My earlier worries about putting myself in Desten''s home and under his power seemed ridiculous now. Even if Desten 5 were the killer, he''d hardly slaughter me in front of his mother and little sister! I nearly laughed at the thought, but managed to focus on sipping my drink instead. It had a faint cherry flavor and a slightly bitter tang, but smooth and with a pleasant aftertaste.


    "Well, I suppose my first question is, do you have the infamous yellow Desten power?" I asked into the waiting silence.


    "I do."


    "And your father does as well?"


    Desten looked at his mother. She gave a faint shrug and nodded, and he turned back to me. "He did."


    Past tense. Oops. What had happened? Clearly my information was out of date. I reassessed my impressions of the family in that light, and suddenly the weariness of Retti, Desten''s attempts to seem more responsible, and Talish''s uncertainty fell into a different prism.


    Desten was trying to fill his father''s place and take care of his family in his stead. They were all lost in a new paradigm, trying to find their way forward with everything disrupted.


    I lost the thread of my interview for a moment, trying not to let the heavy feeling of kinship distract me from properly assessing his potential as the killer.


    Retti brought out plates of food for us all, then sat down herself after topping up all the drinks. I allowed the feeble attempts at conversation to die down as we all ate in silence, trying to consider the situation and plan my next words more discretely.


    First, was there anything that could disqualify him from consideration? Not allowing my bias to seep in, I thought it through. He had the right hair; it was tied back right now in the same style as the guards and half the population of Varonhold. His voice wasn''t obviously too high or too deep, but on that specific point my memory was pretty hazy.


    There was always the possibility it had been his father. Maybe Desten 4 had killed Fylen, and then either run off or been killed in vengeance by an unofficial Sarosa retaliation. Maybe I was wasting time investigating something that had already been resolved.


    Or it could have been any of the other Destens I hadn''t gotten to yet. I didn''t have enough information. I couldn''t start jumping to conclusions so soon.


    I tried to imagine the weary teen across from me as the cackling madman who''d torn Fylen apart, and I couldn''t. It was far easier to picture Desten 1, with his unpredictable rages, than this unassuming boy picking at his lunch. Then again, I also couldn''t quite picture it being Desten 3 either.


    Perhaps it was a failure of my own imagination, or perhaps it had actually been one of the others. But for now, I had to assume it could be anyone and gather as much information as possible.


    "Have you ever been interested in political maneuvering? Has being a Desten made you want more from life?" Clumsy, awkward question, but I had to break the increasingly uncomfortable silence somehow.


    "I actually always wanted to be an artist," Desten said quietly, almost reluctantly. "I don''t think hearing about how great Reirn Desten had been really changed me much. It could be a bit intimidating actually. But also freeing, once I figured it out."


    "Figured what out?"


    "That it didn''t matter. That I wasn''t going to be Reirn, that I didn''t have to worry about trying to live up to something so far in the past. That I could excel at just being Desten Varon."


    "So you''d say the name did have an impact on you?"


    "Well, a little. Not as much as that makes it sound like, really." He glanced uncomfortably at his mother, who seemed not to notice.


    "Would you mind walking with me?" I asked, setting my fork aside. "This has been lovely, but I''d like some fresh air."


    Desten looked uncertain, but after a moment he nodded. "Sure. Okay." He turned to his mother. "We''ll be back for dessert?"


    "Okay." She smiled at me warmly.


    I wasn''t sure how to respond to that, so I smiled briefly without saying anything and followed Desten outside and into the street. He instinctively pulled up his power the moment we were clear of his home, yellow glowing around him as he lifted a few inches from the ground.


    "Where did you want to go?" he asked.


    "Nowhere in particular. I just wanted to talk to you alone. I understand that this could get a bit personal, and I didn''t want you to feel awkward about your family listening in."


    He shrugged, drifting a little lower. "They know what I''d rather be doing. It''s not like it''s a secret."


    I started walking and he fell into place beside me.


    "I''m sorry. Whatever happened with your father, I know how that can be. When everything changes without warning and you just have to keep going even if it''s the hardest thing you''ll ever do."


    "No you don''t," he snapped. "You don''t know anything." Then he looked away, voice dropping. "It doesn''t matter."


    "What were you going to say, before? When I asked about the impact the name Desten has had, it seemed like you were thinking of something other than Reirn Desten."


    "It''s nothing," he muttered, still not looking at me.


    "Is it the verdis player, being so popular and acclaimed? Doing what he obviously loves, while getting everything he could want?"


    "No, of course not. I know how hard verdis is to play well." He drifted higher, yellow light growing stronger beneath his feet as he walked.


    I had to hurry to keep up.


    "Who, then?" I pressed.


    "Why does it matter? It doesn''t change anything."


    "It might."


    We walked for a time, neither speaking.


    "It was my father, okay?" The words seemed to flare out, edged with years of desperation locked away until now. "He was a genius, and he could make anything, and when I tried it always came out like misshapen garbage. And I''ve tried so hard, and come so far, and now he''s gone and I''m still not good enough, and everything he built is going to fall apart if I can''t do something, but I can''t afford to take the time to figure it all out because I have to keep us from starving or losing the house and it''s all too much and¡ª"


    Desten broke off, breathing heavily, as he drifted lower, his yellow light dragging against the ground in sparking trails.


    I wished I had any sort of true position, any wealth or connections I could leverage to help this family, but I was little better than a freeloader myself at the moment. I technically had a small sum still saved back in downcity Midpeak, if I returned to reclaim my old life. But none of that would be any help here.


    "And I know I''m not enough, and I can''t do it, because I''m not him." Desten abruptly dropped to the ground in a puff of yellow light that surrounded him for a moment, then vanished entirely, leaving him looking dim and diminished. "And I never will be, no matter how much I want to, no matter how hard I try to. Whatever I do, it''ll never be enough."


    "You don''t have to be," I said quietly.


    "What do you know?"


    "I know that what you said earlier is still true. If you don''t have to try to be Reirn Desten, you don''t have to be your father either. You can just be you."


    Desten laughed harshly, but didn''t say anything.


    We continued to walk in silence.


    "It''s not that easy," Desten finally mumbled.


    "Nothing is ever easy. But it''s still worth doing."


    Desten sighed. "But when you''ve spent your whole life working on one thing, it''s stupid to just think you can change on a whim."


    "Hah. If you''d told me six months ago I''d be in upcity Varonhold, I''d have said it was impossible. It doesn''t take much to change the entire trajectory of your life. And you''re still so young. You can become whoever you want to, your future isn''t set in steel just because you were focused on one particular route up until now."


    "But it is what I want to do. I''m just no good at it."


    "It''s too early to say that for sure either."


    He shrugged. "I wish there were an easier way to fix things."


    "Life isn''t easy."


    "I''ve noticed."


    We walked without speaking for a while longer, then Desten sighed. "Did you have any normal questions, or is this my mom''s idea of sneaking life lessons on me with subtlety?"


    I stared at him, at the confused, frustrated, overwhelmed young man whose path would only be difficult no matter what, and that I could do nothing to ease.


    "The only way out is through," I said, quoting an old saying that felt utterly inadequate. "Let''s go have dessert."


    Desten 5 remained quiet as we returned to his family home. While we politely ate a dessert of fluffy pastries covered in thick fruit sauce, Retti picked up the conversation and proceeded to make small talk until it became possible to reasonably extricate myself and bid them farewell.


    My trip home took longer than I''d hoped, but I was in no hurry. I had a lot to think about.


    If there were a group of disgruntled teens going around violently dueling each other? I could easily imagine Desten 5, alone and lost, getting caught up in that as a way to vent his frustrations.


    But I couldn''t figure out a connection to Fylen. The Sarosa capital would be an odd place for such a group to be active, and there was no obvious motive for Fylen traveling so far for a simple duel. Especially one that could end in his death. Especially when he was about to have a child.


    Nothing about Fylen''s side of the event made sense from that perspective. I had to figure out the personal connection.


    And for that, I needed to get out of this Varon circle and investigate the other houses.


    Guess I''d be taking Desten 3 up on his invitation after all.


    <hr>

 10: Another Day, Another Party

    The -a appended to titles such as Reirn, Heirn, or even the more commonplace Eirn can be understood to mean, roughly, ''nearly so'' or ''but not quite''. The reirn is the leader; the reirna is married to the reirn, and eligible to become the reirn, but is not. The heirn is an out familiy spouse of the reirn, and eligible to act in advisory and parental roles to an heir if the reirn dies; the heirna is out family and not elegible to carry on any potentially political roles after the reirn''s death.


    While in designating slight variations to the gradient of authority among those in high power the addition of such an -a is simply a statement of fact, its use in commoplace titles merely transform the show of respect into a mockery. Reirna is nearly always used honestly and respectfully. Eirna is never anything but an insult.


    -But Why Not? A guide to avoiding common social missteps


    <hr>


    The second Varon party wasn''t held in the capital. It took place at a coastal city I''d never been to before, which necessitated an hour-long flight across the hills that separated the two. Fortunately, it turned out that transit between cities was available in the form of crystal platforms which could be flown with a moderate expenditure of power by two people and carried up to twenty in surprisingly comfortable seating. An elongated sphere of power surrounded the platform, cutting through the wind and leaving us passengers in a comfortably warm bubble undisturbed by the chill ocean breeze rushing by.


    Desten 1 dropped me off at the departure station, then flew on ahead himself, surrounded in a perfect sphere of yellow light. He vanished into the distance before the platform had even lifted from the ground, and by the time we arrived he was already sitting at a corner table with his Sarosa lady and half-eaten dinner.


    This ballroom was appointed much differently from the one in the capital, half as high, less glass and light, walls draped in rich tapestries, rooms and halls created by three-story curtains of heavy fabric in deep reds woven with mesmerizing patterns of yellow and green, doors and windows somehow folded from the cloth without rippling the surrounding drapery.


    Lines of light glowed across the floor and ceiling, providing a cozy atmosphere without being exactly dim. The curtain-formed rooms were each large enough for a half-dozen tables scattered about, or if there were no tables, for people walking, standing, or dancing. And there were dozens of these rooms, laid out in a grid, with the light in each a slightly different hue. It was all Varon colours still, reds and yellows and greens, but the combination of the lines across the floor and ceiling was different in each room.


    I began to see that what I''d heard about houses constantly showing off to each other must be entirely true.


    This city had no Destens to speak of - it was overseen by a branch family who didn''t use the same naming conventions. Or at least was more interested in naming their children after recent ancestors rather than a long-dead reirn. (Technically, there was one, but he was in his 80s and I definitely would have noticed if the killer had been that old.)


    So there was no urgent priorities that I needed to be pursuing outside of finding Desten 3 and informing him of my decision to go touring with him.


    Which was feeling like a better and worse idea all the time. A chance to visit other cities and meet other people from other houses! Advance the investigation! But I''d have to go to strange cities and meet strange people, any of whom could be less tolerant of my commoner accent and stilted manner. The more widely known I became, the more at risk my exceptionally flimsy cover story became.


    I had to take risks. I couldn''t let my fears talk me out of it.


    So when I found Desten 3 once again sitting in heated discussion, I only hesitated a few minutes before approaching. It quickly became obvious that if I waited for his conversation to finish I''d be waiting all night.


    "Which doesn''t answer the main problem at all, but--" he broke off and stood as he noticed me. "Astesh! Wonderful to see you again."


    "Greetings, Desten. And, um..."


    "Yes, Astesh, may I introduce Lirsh Utrenad, a good friend and fellow reasonable person. Lirsh, Astesh Varon."


    Lirsh and I exchanged pleasantries, then Desten smiled. "Lovely! Now, Astesh, I can''t help but notice you''ve abandoned your home city to come talk with me. Does this mean you''ve reconsidered my offer?"


    "Yes. I will gladly accompany you. I do have several people I''d like to visit along the way, so I can''t promise I''ll always be able to shore up your crumbling arguments, but I will do what I can. Also I have no money."Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.


    "I understand that problem all too well." Desten leaned back, a slight frown twisting his lips. "I mostly planned to stay with friends and fellow scholars, I''m sure it won''t be much of a problem to arrange for your lodging as well. Will you be flying, or taking transit?"


    "I''m definitely not confident in my abilities to fly for that long."


    "Then transit it is. Why does my family have to be such misers? If my allotment were just a little larger, this wouldn''t be a problem." He turned to his Utrenad friend. "Can you front me for Astesh''s transit fees? I swear, I can repay it after tour season."


    Lirsh shrugged in assent. "As long as you find me a bottle of 421."


    "I will, if I have to tear the city apart. Thank you."


    "Is transit that expensive?" I asked hesitantly.


    "It''s tour season," Lirsh replied. "Everything is expensive."


    "You needn''t worry about it," Desten said firmly. "I have it in hand and we will get by."


    I suddenly felt very alone and very lost. I''d just committed to a tour of the world with someone I barely knew. It had the same desperate flailing feeling as when I''d agreed to go live with Desten 1 at the reirn''s command.


    "You alright, Astesh?"


    "Ah, yes. I''ll be fine. It''s only, I''ve never been touring before. I''m not entirely sure I was prepared. How do we go about it?"


    Desten laughed good-naturedly. "No different than you''d do here today. That''s all. Just more conversations, more dinners, dancing and gossip if you''re into that kind of thing."


    "Duels," put in Lirsh. "That''s something you won''t see in Varon so often."


    I seized on the opportunity. "But in, say, Sarosa? Is there often dueling there?"


    "Well, naturally. Sarosa and Varon are the widely-acknowledged frontrunners in contests of power, and Varon are simply unstoppable on the field." Lirsh looked a little annoyed by this, but continued with hardly a pause. "So if one wanted to prove their credentials, the fastest way to establishing yourself as serious is to duel a Sarosa in public. They require a particular sort of tack to actually beat, so it isn''t as hard or as impressive as people often think. But that''s not to say they''re easy. There''s still plenty of prestige to be had."


    "Who would be fighting? Particular people, or do they issue a general challenge?" There hadn''t been any information on noble dueling in the downcity, and since my arrival upcity I''d been skipping between topics too fast to take any of them in fully, and still hadn''t gotten around to the duel-specific information.


    "Either. It depends on the person."


    I could tell Desten was growing bored of my side conversation, fidgeting with his notepages, so I graciously excused myself and left them to resume their debate.


    I wandered the curtained rooms for a time, nibbling on whatever snacks were available and looked good to me. Most of it was variations on the same sort of thing you''d get at fancy parties downcity, but there were some exclusive dishes that I''d never seen or heard of before. I didn''t find them quite to my liking, but it seemed prudent to try to cultivate an appreciation for them if I were to blend in properly.


    "Excuse me," a woman''s voice asked from right behind me.


    I turned. "Yes?" She wasn''t anyone I recognized.


    "I couldn''t help but notice you''re alone."


    "True."


    She giggled. "I am too."


    "Okay?"


    "Want to play regals?"


    A common card game, but not one I''d expect nobility to play. Particularly not at an event like this. "Don''t you need four players for that?"


    "Oh, right." She giggled again. "I''m sure we can find some more players."


    "No thank you." I couldn''t tell if she were drunk, or up to something untoward, but either way I wanted nothing to do with it.


    She pouted and leaned on my shoulder. "I''m pretty good. You can be on my team."


    It took self-control to gently extricate myself instead of slapping her away, but I reminded myself that this was in public, and I was supposed to be a noble, and nobles did not go about smacking one another over such trifles. At least not publicly. In private, they would absolutely plot revenge and probably go to excessive lengths to ... what, deny her a position in any house of my alliance or something? I wasn''t sure what a noble would consider commensurate punishment for overt familiarity.


    "I must be going, good day, Eirn Leetan," I said, and fled with as much dignity as I could maintain.


    Her giggles followed me, but thankfully I was able to evade her. Surprisingly easily. So, probably drunk then.


    I found myself a quiet corner after that, a neglected table in one of the yellow-tinted rooms well away from the bulk of the dancing and goings-on, and wished I''d brought a book. Between the late event last night and the lunch with Desten 5 this afternoon, I had had enough of socializing for a long time. Yet I''d just signed up for a full two months of whirlwind parties across the world.


    It exhausted me just to think about it. Another city, another party, every single night. All. Summer.


    I would die. Death by excessive partying.


    Who would have imagined? No one who knew me, for sure. Maybe I should come clean to the Sarosa and let them kill me. That would be an easier way to go.


    A few people approached me throughout the night, either in attempts to draw me into activities or just to inquire about who I was. I politely declined the former and did my best to deflect the latter, though at a certain point deflection becomes more suspicious than revelation. I stuck with my ¡®distant cousin¡¯ story without going into detail about my whole Asnon and Teshron facade as much as possible, which seemed to satisfy most non-Varons.


    Varons, on the other hand, took the pride of their family very seriously. By the third attempt to quietly harangue me into being less standoffish, I began to see that acting antisocial in a social event was attracting unwanted attention to myself.


    Idly, I wondered if my burning need to be away from everyone would be enough to fuel a flight back to the capital. Not that I knew which direction it was from here. I was half tempted to go outside and try it anyway.


    <hr>

 11: Sarosa

    There have historically been attempts to sell or trade childstones, but this has proven to be unwise at best and deadly at worst.


    The resonance of an individual''s power with that of a foreign stone meant for another usually results in stunted power and lifelong mental strain, even in a best case where the stone''s donor and recipient are highly compatible. If the compatibility is less than almost perfect, the stone will shatter and leave the recipient powerless or dead.


    The danger increases exponentially along with the recipient''s age. While the common age of implantation is between two and five months, if something goes wrong with the childstone''s formation they can still accept a compatible replacement stone within the first year with only a 4% chance of dangerous side effects.


    After age 2, the survival rate drops very very quickly. At four years of age, a late transfer can still be undertaken with around one in three surviving the attempt. Any older than five, and you''re better off trying for a new heir.


    -Between the Lines: Inheritance and power on the fringes of advancement


    <hr>


    I sat out the rest of the Varon parties, instead focusing my full effort on reading as much about Sarosa courts as possible. They used a different ranking system from Varon¡¯s, none of the tay/ebi/shesh business, instead opting for a simple system based on numerical ranking. Sarosa could be ranked 1st through 5th, with 5th being the highest. I couldn¡¯t guess what the difference would be between a 3rd and a 4th, but the Sarosa knew, and would defend their position fiercely.


    Varon salutations were highly formalized for non-family, but hardly used at all internally. Sarosa were nearly the opposite, demanding increased formality from those within their family but much more forgiving toward outsiders. Which was good for me, being a Varon insider and Sarosa outsider. I''d have been in serious trouble if the circumstances were reversed.


    You¡¯d think that a few months of obsessive research would help, but at a certain point it became difficult to absorb the information and apply it correctly. Even things I¡¯d been learning before the Varon came for me had begun to run together. Was it Leetan or Wightok that specialized in textiles? Did Raysh have the best farmland, or the most productive mines? Oros and Novarot ¡­ close allies, or fierce rivals?


    Trying to sort out the sometimes-inaccurate information from before against the corrections and new information I¡¯d been reading since coming to live with Desten 1, while also searching for information on Sarosa, began to strain my desire to even look at a book. Let alone perform serious research.


    I needed a break, needed a pause, some way to actually relax between social obligations, and the strain of trying to prepare didn¡¯t help. The constant knowledge that I could be found out at any slip-up and executed or disappeared or whatever they did with renegade stoned added an uncomfortable tension to my every waking moment, along with a mounting sense of futility, a growing certainty that even if I could figure out the answer to this mystery it wouldn¡¯t be enough to save me.


    Desten¡¯s increasingly poor temper didn¡¯t help matters. He disliked the social events as much as I did, but while I could skive off and stay in bed, he had no such freedom.


    He pushed me harder than ever in our back garden training sessions every night, and to everyone¡¯s surprise this seemed to actually help. By the end of Varon Week, I could levitate myself on command. It wasn¡¯t stable enough for sustained flight, and my power would slip away if I lost concentration, but I could hover or glide at will. A minor victory perhaps, but one that I felt warranted celebration.


    Desten disagreed. He immediately started pushing me toward more specialized utilization of my power: forming a hardened aura shell, drawing solid light into reality, and inverting my pull to force power out from my person. None of these progressed to anyone¡¯s satisfaction.


    Aside from trying to bully my power into cooperation, he spent an unreasonable amount of time shouting at the staff. They seemed largely used to it, though one kitchen girl did burst into silent tears, but I found myself quietly relieved each afternoon when he finally departed for the evening¡¯s events.


    I would miss his library, but I looked forward to being able to leave him behind.


    The irony of trading one Desten¡¯s care for that of another did cross my mind more than once. But, from what I¡¯d seen, Desten 3 ranked considerably lower on my scale of likely-to-be-a-killer than Desten 1. And even with his erratic temper, Desten 1 didn¡¯t rank that highly on the list either. By my assessment, he was too blunt and straightforward to do something underhanded like lure Fylen out into a deserted patch of forest far from the cities.


    Though, what did I really know about nobles? For all I could tell, they very well may be perfectly civil by day and murderous madmen by night. None of which speculation helped my deteriorating grasp on sanity.


    Were it not for my power¡¯s constant warm presence and its frequent pulses of enforced calm, I would probably be running away screaming long ago. But I did have my power, and it did help push back the anxiety and calm my fears and allow me to rest easy at night living in the same house as a potential murderer. Or, no, legally-permitted killer.


    And so here I was, bags stowed by servants, riding the overpriced flying platform with Desten 3, away from Varon City and toward Sarosa Ridge.


    The clear platform provided a good view of the forest below. I easily picked out Woodedge as we moved past the woods and toward the mountains, though my mother¡¯s cottage would be hidden by the nearby foliage. I tried to see the site of the fight, but evening shadows blurred the forest together into a deep green.


    It felt surreal, to be flying over such a distant town so soon after leaving, less than two hours had passed and we were already nearly home.


    No, I reminded myself. Not home. Not any longer. We wouldn¡¯t be visiting the downcity, my shop wouldn¡¯t be on the itinerary. Though, maybe I should stop by and make sure I haven¡¯t missed too many commissions ¡­


    I had to force my mind away from the thought, habit screaming that I¡¯d been away from work for too long, and really shouldn¡¯t keep people waiting. I¡¯d disappeared without warning, and though I¡¯d fulfilled all active outstanding orders at the time, there may be new ones since then.


    Astesh. I¡¯m Astesh Varon. A downcity scribe? Who? Certainly not me.


    I missed my shop.


    I could admire the grand sweeping architecture of the upcities, the avenues wide enough for a half-dozen carriages, the vast grounds and courtyards and gardens of each house, but it didn¡¯t feel the same. Even Desten 1¡¯s house, which had come to feel like a home base, for all its comfort and familiarity couldn¡¯t rival my cramped little building with its creaky steps and cozy wooden interior. All the marble and lights and glass and stone of the upcity was magnificent. But it wasn¡¯t me. Not yet.This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source.


    I wasn¡¯t sure whether to look forward to a time when I truly changed, becoming Astesh instead of merely acting as Astesh, or to dread it. When the downcity began to appear cramped and quaint, the stone and light familiar and comforting, it would be a boon to my ongoing survival amid my deception. But also a loss; perhaps even a kind of death.


    Maybe who I used to be was dead already. Did my mother mourn me? Or had she gone on with her life, assuming I¡¯d simply become too busy and would stop by sooner or later? Often months went by between my visits, so she may not have considered it important yet. But as midsummer had come and gone, she might worry. I¡¯d had no chance to say farewell properly, no time to explain the complicated deception which I¡¯d undertaken. She would be fine. She had to be. She was too stubborn and brash to be too upset by something as trivial as this.


    I hoped she¡¯d be alright without me. She always says she doesn¡¯t need me to try to look after her, but I prefer to be sure she¡¯s well than leave it to chance. One more task I couldn¡¯t accomplish.


    Pink light pulsed through me, alleviating the growing gloom. We were closing in on Midpeak, the city I¡¯d called home for nearly all of my adult life, and I had to admit it was beautiful. The white haze that separated the upcity from downcity gleamed with the light of the many lines of power drawn across every building. It painted a stark contrast; the natural yellows and firelight orange of the downcity on one side; the Sarosa colours of brilliant cobalt and gleaming silver and pale gold predominant, accented with the full rainbow of other lights above.


    I¡¯d grown so used to Varon reds dominating the lighting scheme of the cities, I felt a bit awkward and out of place stepping into the blue glow of the Sarosa city.


    It was hard to remember this was still Midpeak, the same city in which I¡¯d lived and worked for so many years. It felt like any other unfamiliar city. It was even harder to imagine that my shop lay less than an hour¡¯s walk away.


    ¡°Astesh, come on!¡± Desten 3 called, and I stopped staring around and levitated after him. I almost surprised myself with how natural it felt to step into the air and float forward at a quick pace. I did need to learn the solid aura thing though, the wind chill made the trip less than comfortable.


    ¡°Where will we be staying?¡± I asked. Desten had arranged for us to share space at a local house for Sarosa week, but I wasn¡¯t sure where exactly it was located.


    ¡°Lirndyn Cottage, not far from the Towers.¡±


    The Towers were one of Midpeak¡¯s claims to fame, three towers braided together into a complex pattern, each twist highlighted with Sarosa blue light showing off its contours. And, typical of the nobility, this marvel of architecture would be the location for tonight¡¯s opening festivities.


    People of all houses flew by overhead, many disembarking from platforms like ours, some coming in alone or in smaller groups, all converging toward the Towers.


    Desten led the way down a side street, away from the press of new arrivals. ¡°There¡¯s no point in getting caught up in the early rush,¡± he said quietly. ¡°We can unpack and settle in before heading over.¡±


    I heartily concurred with this assessment, and followed him to our new temporary base of operations.


    Lirndyn Cottage was bigger than Desten 1¡¯s house, and Desten 1¡¯s house was not small.


    ¡°Cottage?¡± I asked incredulously.


    ¡°We¡¯ll be sharing it with Myrett and Avys, so don¡¯t get too excited, we won¡¯t have it to ourselves.¡±


    A quarter of this mansion was still easily three times the size of my entire building back downcity. We were greeted at the door by the cottage staff, who already had collected our luggage from the sky platform and led us to a pair of well-appointed bedroom suites. Desten offered me my pick, and I shrugged and took the one on the right.


    ¡°We¡¯ll leave in a half hour,¡± he said, then disappeared into his room.


    I spent several minutes walking around my new suite, trying to accustom myself to the sheer grandeur. For all his wealth, Desten 1 had lived a somewhat simple life for a noble. There hadn¡¯t been nearly as much culture shock as I¡¯d expected.


    This was more what I¡¯d thought of when I envisioned the lives of the nobility.


    I couldn¡¯t even identify half the furniture. Everything was polished wood inlaid with blue and silver and gold; the carpets were beautiful vibrant sapphire, the curtains silver with gold patterns, the sitting room more richly appointed than any room I¡¯d ever set foot in.


    I was rather timid about walking around at first; everything looked so pristine, I didn¡¯t want to ruin any of it. But then I remembered that Desten was paying probably a substantial sum for this place, even with his friends chipping in for their part, and decided it would be ungrateful and wasteful to tiptoe around like an intruder.


    I walked around every room in the suite, examining all the furniture and trying to convince myself to feel like I belonged.


    It didn¡¯t work very well. I changed out of my standard outfit into one of the more ornate Varon-tay formal tunic with its triangular cut, and immediately felt even more out of place. The green and red looked wrong amid the blue elegance around me, making me feel like an outsider in yet another way.


    It was a relief when Desten knocked to remind me that we would be late if we continued to dawdle, and I could join him in flying toward the Towers.


    He had to slow his pace to allow me to keep up, and I nearly lost control of my power twice, but we made it.


    If Sarosa were officially in mourning, I saw no indication of it.


    For that matter, I wasn¡¯t entirely sure if the public even knew what had happened to Fylen. Reirn Ushan Varon knew, but what house heads shared between themselves and what was common knowledge may not be the same thing.


    While the exterior of the Towers appeared to be three separate entities twisted together, the interior was wide open. High ceilings, crystal stairs tiled in lapis lazuli leading up in a sweeping curve around the outer edge of the structure from floor to floor, a gradient of blue tiles across the floor, the Towers showed the same extravagant expense and unquestionable beauty as the two Varon party locations I¡¯d attended, but with its own character. Sarosa decorations employed a lot more curves and zigs, while Varon remained straightforward with mostly square or triangular patterns.


    ¡°I thought Desten was going to be here,¡± pouted a female voice, startling me from my observations.


    Desten turned to her as well, frowned, then continued walking toward a group of scholarly-looking individuals from several different houses.


    I hung back.


    ¡°He might be going reverse this year,¡± said another young woman soothingly.


    ¡°But he promised to be here!¡± whined the first girl.


    ¡°Desten makes a lot of promises to a lot of people, and you wouldn¡¯t be the first he¡¯s disappointed,¡± said the second woman with a faint edge to her voice.


    I edged closer, trying to be subtle about it, but the two girls noticed me and shut up at once, turning to watch me.


    ¡°I couldn¡¯t help but hear you¡¯re looking for Desten,¡± I said. ¡°Which Desten would that be? I¡¯m traveling with one.¡±


    The first girl perked up. ¡°Desten Varon?¡±


    ¡°Eh, one of them. There are eight.¡±


    ¡°Eight? I only know of two ¡­¡±


    ¡°Can you describe the one you¡¯re looking for? I¡¯ll let you know if I see him.¡±


    The first girl sighed dreamily. ¡°Tall, dark hair, beautiful brown eyes, and the most perfect nose ¡­¡±


    The second woman exhaled with an expression of longsuffering patience, then pretended to smile. ¡°He¡¯s fairly well-known. If he shows up, we¡¯ll hear about it.¡±


    ¡°But he hasn¡¯t written since the end of leafdown!¡± wailed the first girl. ¡°I¡¯m so afraid something happened to him.¡±


    Another woman walking past paused to add, ¡°My best suggestion is to get over him. He¡¯s obviously over you.¡± She narrowed her eyes at the emotionally-fickle girl. ¡°Trust me. Desten Varon? Not worth the tears.¡± She gave a disdainful huff and stalked off, looking slightly more irritated at the world.


    ¡°I¡¯ll keep an eye out,¡± I told the duo at the table, then hurried after the third girl.


    She was easy to find, tall and wearing a trailing silver dress that sparkled in the light, ringed with red bands and ornamented with Wightok¡¯s purple raindrops.


    ¡°Excuse me, do you know Desten personally?¡±


    She laughed dismissively. ¡°You must be new. Everyone on the circuit knows Desten. He¡¯s the biggest moron this side of the ocean.¡±


    ¡°I am new, yes. Could you fill me in?¡±


    ¡°He thinks he¡¯s special, and so does everyone else. Until he moves on and leaves them behind like no one is worth his time. If you¡¯re hoping to be the exception, be prepared for disappointment.¡±


    ¡°I take it he travels a lot?¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s a staple on the circuit. Even runs in the off season. I don¡¯t know how he keeps finding new idiots to take in, but every time I¡¯ve seen him he¡¯s got another bunch of ¡®em.¡± She sniffed and shook her head. ¡°Charisma is wasted on fools.¡±


    ¡°But what does he do?¡±


    ¡°Aside from talk big and promise what he can¡¯t deliver? Not very much.¡± A faint smile crossed her face. ¡°He does have some good qualities, don¡¯t mistake me. But on the whole, he¡¯s just someone with too much power who never grew up.¡±


    She snagged a glass of wine, raised it toward me in a mocking gesture, then took a sip as she turned and continued walking. This time I didn''t chase after her.


    So Desten 6 was a charismatic good-for-nothing, who hadn''t been seen for half a year? Very interesting.


    <hr>

 12: Changed

    There are four established circuits for those seeking to engage in the summer touring season.


    Verdis, by far the most popular, follows a progressive tournament through a rotating bracket hosted each week by a different house. Ryshglide, also known as Reverse, follows a similar tournament structure but with a schedule arranged not to overlap with those progressing along the Verdis route to avoid overcrowding any one territory.


    Third is known as Rotation or Sequential, moving around the continent, starting at a different territory capital each year and progressing from there. Finally, Abridged selects only a single city for each territory and remains there for several days, to more fully explore that one space with events scheduled throughout the host city.


    -A Newcomer¡¯s Guide to Touring


    <hr>


    ¡°Hello, Eirn-tay Varon, welcome,¡± said yet another young Sarosan woman, smiling. ¡°I¡¯m Athyn, may I know your name?¡±


    ¡°I am Astesh, Eirn-second Athyn. Nice to meet you.¡±


    Every few minutes I was stopped for another introduction, to the point where I¡¯d already begun mixing up people¡¯s names and faces. Nearly all were Sarosa, all very friendly, all curious to know who I was. Apparently, newcomers to the circuit were something of a rarity.


    Even Desten was surrounded by people trying to welcome him, which suited him just fine as he engaged them all in discussion. I personally didn¡¯t know how to feel about his attempts to rally the houses together. I had a vague notion that the further he spread his ¡®we¡¯re going to fall apart for these reasons¡¯ speech, the more chance there was of him becoming the catalyst that caused said collapse. I really didn¡¯t want to see what would happen to the world if the houses abandoned their ancient ceasefire and started fighting in earnest.


    ¡°A group of friends and I are planning to slip out early to catch the verdis game tonight," Athyn said. "I don¡¯t suppose you¡¯d care to join us?¡±


    I sighed. It seemed half the city would be going to the verdis tournament. I¡¯d already turned down a half dozen invitations, preferring to focus on trying to find a way to get information on Fylen or his family. But from all I could tell, none of them were in attendance today.


    ¡°Do you happen to know if the Reirn or any of the high family will be around this week?¡±


    Athyn¡¯s smile slipped a bit. ¡°The Reirn and his family are in seclusion.¡± She lowered her voice. ¡°Have you not heard? There were complications with his granddaughter¡¯s birth, and they are desperately trying to ensure her survival.¡±


    The shard of power in my chest pulsed calmly against my instinctive panic. This was my fault. If I¡¯d just walked away, if I¡¯d never been stupid enough to grab the shiny sparkle, Fylen¡¯s childstone could have gone to its rightful owner.


    Now, the entire family struggled to save the life of the new heir. I wished there were some way to tear this power free, to give it back to its rightful owner. I would gladly give up all the trappings of nobility, all my stolen prestige and effortless lifestyle, simply to return things to the way they used to be. The way they ought to be.


    ¡°I see you didn¡¯t know,¡± Athyn said softly. She touched my shoulder gently. ¡°If you decide you want to go to the game, the offer stands.¡±


    ¡°Thanks,¡± I answered reflexively, my mind far from the present moment. I unconsciously drifted upward, lost in thought. Mostly guilty self-recriminations.


    What was I doing? How was this supposed to help anything? If Fylen¡¯s death was legal, if the duel was binding; if the only real crime was my theft of his childstone, however accidental, then this whole attempted investigation was one giant exercise in futility.


    I had to get out.This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.


    A nearby balcony door allowed me to slip outside, leaving the party behind. I wasn¡¯t in the mood any longer. Three minutes later, I flew high over the blue city, completely lost. I had no idea where the house Desten had arranged for was from here, and I wouldn¡¯t recognize it from the air anyway.


    So I kept going, out past the city boundaries, through the fog, and down to where reality didn¡¯t include any thought of power or rulership or anything but living.


    It took two minutes to reach my old shop. The scribe sign had been taken down, but the building itself hadn¡¯t changed. So why did it look so alien? A tiny building crammed in next to other tiny buildings, all illuminated by the pink light surrounding me.


    Drifting down the once-familiar streets, trying to outrun the feeling of alienation, everything felt different. Not just because I could outrace a horse now without even trying. Even if I wanted to, I couldn¡¯t come back. I wished I¡¯d never left.


    But had there ever been any other choice? Everything I did now was an act of desperation. I had somehow forgotten that, distracted by the softness of the facade, but how long could I go on pretending I belonged among the nobility without beginning to believe it myself? I didn¡¯t belong there; I never would.


    Did I belong anywhere, now?


    I flew faster, out of the city, toward the little town by the edge of the forest. Woodedge lay quiet, small firelight visible through some windows, providing a beacon to aim for. Wind stung my face as I flew faster and faster. Within minutes, I floated down to the little cottage set apart by the very edge of the forest, then dropped to the ground. Helpless tears traced familiar tracks down my cheeks. I couldn¡¯t do this.


    So I didn¡¯t. I walked into the forest, letting the fuscia glow light my way, and spent the next several hours searching out plants and herbs that could be useful to my mother, until the evening cold and familiar work numbed the hopelessness.


    As the moon began to rise, I dropped the bundles on her porch, then started back toward the city.


    Only then did my power falter, dropping me from the sky less than halfway to Midpeak. Thankfully, I¡¯d been flying low to follow the road so I escaped any major injuries, but it left me shaken and unsteady. I was so tired. I couldn¡¯t keep the power focused any longer.


    I trudged on until I reached the town that marked the rough midpoint between Midpeak and Woodedge, intending to find an inn to rest for the night until my power recovered and I could return upcity. No other way out. I knew that. I needed to see this through, one way or the other.


    ¡­ I had no money.


    I stood outside the inn in my Varon formalwear, trying to reconcile the absurdity. I could simply walk in and demand space, no one would deny me. But that felt wrong, like a betrayal. I didn¡¯t know this town well, but it was still a familiar waypoint I¡¯d traveled through countless times.


    ¡°Astesh? What¡¯s wrong?¡± someone asked, startling me. I spun, to find Desten 3 hovering in a globe of yellow light.


    ¡°How did you¡ª¡±


    He laughed, sounding a bit forced. ¡°You made quite a stir, actually, flying off like that. I didn¡¯t realize you cared so deeply about the Sarosa reirn.¡±


    ¡°I spent a lot of time around here when I was younger,¡± I answered faintly. ¡°I heard about Fylen, and now to hear that his daughter might not survive ¡­ and there¡¯s nothing I can do to help ¡­¡±


    Desten held out his hand. ¡°It¡¯s freezing out here. Come on, let¡¯s get you home.¡±


    I shivered, only now realizing how thoroughly chilled I¡¯d become. I hadn''t felt this cold since before I found my power shard. I took his hand and let his fiery yellow power carry us away. His flawless shell of light blocked the wind, leaving us in a bubble of calm warm air that disregarded the speed at which we moved.


    ¡°I was never part of Fylen¡¯s circles,¡± I said carefully. ¡°I never saw him in person until shortly before his death, but I¡¯d like to know more about who he really was. Do you know anyone who I could talk to?¡±


    Desten shook his head. ¡°I¡¯ve never been outside of Varonhold on my own before. This is all very new to me.¡± He gave a short laugh. ¡°Here I was feeling neglected with you off chatting with everyone, and you were worrying about Fylen¡¯s family. I feel like I should apologize. I was all set to give you a hard time for abandoning me, but then you weren¡¯t at home and no one had seen you since you flew off downcity.¡±


    ¡°I had to get away. I don¡¯t¡ª I¡¯m not sure how much you¡¯ve heard about my background, but I never¡ª¡± I shook my head. ¡°Events like that, they¡¯re so big and bright, I¡¯m still not used to it.¡±


    ¡°And I¡¯ve signed you up for a full season of them,¡± Desten said, shaking his head. ¡°If you want to go back, I won¡¯t hold you to it. I didn¡¯t realize¡ª¡±


    ¡°No, it¡¯s fine. I want to. It¡¯s a perfect chance to visit people all across the world, and I¡¯m not ungrateful. I¡¯ll try not to neglect you in future.¡±


    We came in for a graceful landing to the balcony outside my suite and Desten¡¯s power flickered off to let me out.


    ¡°See you in the morning,¡± Desten said, somewhat awkwardly. He stood for a moment, then nodded and flew off.


    I let myself in. The warm air hit me like a smog, feeling close and stifling, so I left the balcony door open to let a breeze in as I sluggishly undressed and crawled into bed. Even my deepest concerns couldn''t keep me from falling soundly asleep practically the moment I lay down.


    <hr>

 13: Pelys

    There have been instances of twin childstones manifesting, but this happens extremely infrequently, about 85% less often than twin children, and only very rarely corresponds with twin births. Thus, in the event of twins, one child must be left powerless unless exceptional circumstances allow otherwise. If you suspect a twin childstone is developing, contact a surgeon IMMEDIATELY, before it becomes too large to safely remove.


    -On Preparing for Family Development


    <hr>


    Desten had already left when I woke up well into the afternoon. I did run into one of the others with whom we shared the house, Myrett. He was a local, heir to the sizable estate which included Lirndyn Cottage where we were staying, but hoped to move across the mountains to Leetan with a woman he was currently courting. Avys, his brother, disagreed vehemently with Myrett¡¯s decision to abandon him, and refused to accept responsibility for the estate. So, they were renting it out in hopes of finding the right person to take it off their hands.


    He was very friendly, and liked to talk. When I tried to excuse myself to find breakfast, he led the way to the kitchens and continued to talk the entire way.


    I got the impression he was very stressed and a bit lonely. His beloved Jashor Leetan wouldn¡¯t be able to leave home for another six weeks, which to Myrett felt like an eternity. He didn¡¯t come right out and beg me to buy his family home, but he certainly dropped enough subtle and less than subtle hints that it would be his ideal outcome.


    My protests that I had no money whatsoever did little to dissuade him, as though he thought that talking more about it might change my circumstances as well as my decision not to purchase.


    But I did get a hearty breakfast, and he knew the city. I managed to ask after anyone who would know Fylen, and he said Fylen had been through often enough in the later months, but he didn¡¯t know who he was meeting or why he spent so much time away from the capital.


    And, by the way, had he mentioned that he had a lovely house for sale?


    I wanted to ask how people got money around here anyway, when so few of them had anything approaching a normal job from what I could see, but I also wanted to escape Third Myrett as quickly as possible before any more hours vanished in extensive discussion of the house¡¯s many good points. It could be rented easily to touring circuit attendees! It included substantial grounds, three outbuildings, and a part-ownership in a popular and profitable local workshop.


    ¡°Yes, I¡¯d love to buy the place, but I really can¡¯t afford it and I have things to take care of,¡± I said firmly for probably the eighth time, this time backing up my insistence with turning my back on the beleaguered heir and walking away. He followed, but only until I left the house and started toward the Towers. I wasn¡¯t sure if they¡¯d even be open today, considering the mess the party probably left in its wake, but I didn¡¯t know where else to go and I had to get away.


    It suddenly hit me how very alone I was here. Desten 3 was my only lifeline. I had no friends, no resources, no acquaintances, and not even the shallow protection of being a Varon in a Varon city.


    I wandered the city for a while, then returned to Lirndyn Cottage by way of my balcony and sat on my extravagant bed.


    I pulled out the fake diary I¡¯d created for Astesh, flipping through the worn pages of fabricated childhood memories. I¡¯d done my best to adapt true circumstances, keeping the emotion and meaning behind them while changing the events themselves to fit Astesh¡¯s fictional background.


    I added a few more entries about the parties through the past days, careful to avoid writing anything that could give me away, focusing on the feeling of them more than the exact details.


    I was still working when someone knocked at my balcony door. I looked up; it was Desten, so I motioned for him to come in.


    ¡°We have an appointment in an hour with Eirn-Fourth Pelys. Do you need help with anything before we go?¡±


    ¡°Not that I can think of. Who¡¯s Eirn-Fourth Pelys?¡±


    ¡°One of Fylen¡¯s closest friends.¡±


    I stared, speechless.


    Desten shrugged. ¡°I¡¯m not entirely caught up in my crusade to save the world.¡±


    ¡°How?¡±


    ¡°I asked around. Here, your crest is askew, you can''t go out in public like this.¡± He carefully adjusted my clothing, straightening it from where I¡¯d thrown it on carelessly, then offered a hand. ¡°Ready?¡±


    ¡°Now? I thought we had an hour.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not the fastest flier, and there¡¯s no scheduled trips to Northpoint today. Everyone¡¯s heading south to today¡¯s main circuit event.¡±


    I took his hand, and his power encircled us.


    And then once again I was rushing toward an interview with no time to prepare.


    Desten didn¡¯t speak, his full attention on moving us as quickly as possible. I stared down at the ground beneath us, astonished at our speed. We raced up the mountain range, the lakes soon disappearing behind us.


    We paused halfway for Desten to rest, landing near the top of a convenient mountain for several minutes before resuming our trip north. Then the ocean appearing ahead in the distance. I¡¯d never seen the ocean, not really. Yes, I¡¯ve always known it surrounds us on every side, but it¡¯s all the way to the far edges of the world.


    At first, I thought it was just another lake, but the closer we got, as the mountains blocked less of the view, I realized its true magnitude. Vast, spreading out in every direction, as though the whole world were just a boat drifting on its surface. It was rather dizzying to imagine. My world kept feeling smaller and smaller. If the entire world could be flown across in hours, and endless water surrounded us, where was there to go? What was there to do? Nothing but stand our ground, fight off the incursions, and survive as best we could.


    Wait, why was I including myself in ¡®fight off the incursions¡¯ now?


    And then, there it was. Northpoint. The Sarosa capital, and Fylen¡¯s home city. All too soon, we swooped down into normal traffic. I wouldn¡¯t have known how to get around in the busy daytime, I¡¯d so far only spent one night actually flying around, and completely ignored height lane conventions in the process.


    I wasn¡¯t ready, but opportunity has to be seized or abandoned, and I couldn¡¯t afford to throw away any opportunity right now.


    Desten landed us on a gold-plated balcony with only minor trepidation, hesitated a moment after dispelling his aura while he breathed slowly and deeply, then tapped on the attached door.


    After a minute, a young man with long brown hair and pale green eyes opened the door and gestured for us to enter.


    Desten hung back. "I''ll wait at the plaza," he said, pointing so I''d know which direction to head. "I''m sure this is none of my business."


    "Thank you," I said, truly impressed by the effort and time he must have spent on arranging this for me, and his willingness to adjust his plans around it while not insisting on prying.


    Desten nodded, flared yellow, and flew off.


    "Eirn-Fourth Pelys?" I asked.


    "You can just call me Pel." He sat on a very elegant sofa, exhaled heavily, then motioned for me to sit when I made no move. "I thought I''d already met all Fylen''s friends. Every time I hear of another, it brings everything back."


    "I''m so sorry," I said, feeling like even more of an impostor than I already was. "Is there anything we can do for his family? The daughter, is she ...?"


    "Fyless. She''ll live. From everything I''ve heard. They''re not announcing anything publicly until it''s absolutely certain, but they believe they''ve resolved as much as can be resolved." He hesitated. "I''m not sure how much you''ve heard about Fylen''s death?"


    The memory of his destroyed body filled my mind, and I shuddered.


    Pel looked away. "Yeah. It was not a good end. A terrible situation. I have no idea who would be so brash. But we''re going to find out."


    "We?"


    He smiled sharply. "You''re not the only one who doesn''t know how to help. There are a lot of us who want justice for Fylen. He deserved better. And we''re going to ensure he isn''t forgotten."


    I couldn''t stop a relieved smile. So my information could be useful after all! It might matter to something. After disappointment after discouragement, this was exactly what I needed to hear. "Where do we start?" I asked, momentarily forgetting that my goal was to learn about Fylen, not get started avenging him just yet.


    "Well, you were one of the last to see him, from what Eirn Desten said?"


    "Yes, probably. He was around Midpeak the day before he disappeared, right? I was in the area and that''s when I saw him."


    "That''s what I''ve heard too. What did he say?"


    "Oh, we didn''t speak. I only knew him by reputation. I wouldn''t have dared just walk up and start talking to him."


    "Ah." Pel looked a little disappointed. "As far as we can tell, he didn''t talk to anyone that last day. At least, not anyone who''s willing to speak up. Which doesn''t make sense. He was very determined, in the weeks leading up to then, very focused on some project. But he didn''t share it with anyone. Not me, not Vess, not even Aneeyha."Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings.


    "What kind of project would be so secret even his wife couldn''t know about it?" I wondered aloud.


    "The kind that could get him killed," Pel said darkly. "Obviously, he didn''t want to risk worrying her, and he was trying to resolve whatever it was quickly so he could be done with it before he had to settle down and worry about his family. I fear he rushed things too much, pushed too hard, and got in over his head."


    "Did he ever mention Desten?" I asked impulsively.


    Pel frowned in concentration. "Not that I recall, no," he said. "But he knew a lot of people from a lot of places. It may have just never come up."


    I sat up straighter. "But isn''t Aneeyha''s brother named Desten? Fylen never mentioned him?"


    Pel shook his head slowly. "No, he hasn''t. That''s interesting. I didn''t even know Aneeyha had a brother."


    "Really? He hasn''t visited or anything?"


    "Not to my knowledge."


    "And you know her family pretty well, other than Desten?"


    "Yes. I''ve met both Fylen''s and Aneeyha''s parents multiple times. None of them ever mentioned a brother."


    "I could be mistaken, I was going off a genealogy, and I might be mis-remembering," I said, but I didn''t think I was. I''d taken great care in selecting the Destens for my suspect list, and Desten Metako was definitely listed next to Aneeyha Metako Sarosa. The only way I could be incorrect would be if the record itself were incorrect. I''d memorized it precisely.


    "So you''re in, I assume?" Pel said after a moment''s silence. "You seem enthusiastic."


    "I was already conducting my own investigation, honestly. I''m just glad to have allies. Since I never even officially met Fylen, it was getting hard for me to learn things like who he would have met, anyone he had disagreements with, anyone who might benefit from his removal, that sort of thing." A thought struck me. "I don''t suppose there''s anyone else with designs on Aneeyha? Any past relationships, or people who might feel they deserve her more than Fylen?"


    "No, nothing like that. She was betrothed to Fylen for years before they were old enough to marry, and they''ve always known they were meant for each other and no one else. Once they were old enough to decide if they wanted to follow through on their families'' arrangement or break it off, neither had any objection so it became official."


    For a moment, I envied their clear place in the world. Wouldn''t it be nice to know exactly where you were meant to be, who you should marry, what your occupation would be? No uncertainty about whether you could beat out the competition, no fears of not making enough to survive, no constant struggle for balance. Just a plain, obvious path which required nothing of you but to follow it. I sighed and forced my attention back to the conversation.


    "And no one else objected?" I pressed.


    "No one else has a right to object."


    "But, privately? Was no one angry, or anything?"


    Pel shrugged. "I didn''t know Fylen that well back then. I only met him in focus school, maybe five years ago. They were already together by then, I never knew him before Anneyha. They always seemed perfect for each other. I can''t imagine who would want to tear them apart."


    "Well, sometimes people do crazy things," I said, trying not to fall any further into depression. Things were going well, looking up. This was a time to be positive, not wallow in the past. The present and the future were stressful enough without dragging the darkest pieces of my history up with them.


    "Yes, but why?" Pel sighed. "The more I look into this, the less sense it makes. Everyone loved Fylen. He was friendly, responsible, dedicated, skilled. Everything we would want in a future reirn."


    "So you think it was someone from outside the house?"


    Pel shook his head. "We don''t know enough to think anything, one way or another. He died in Sarosa lands, and there was enough residue around to make it seem like he probably was ambushed by two or three people. Why he would be out there all by himself, why they would know to wait for him, we don''t know. Whatever his secret project was, it seems he was involved with some unsavory types who finally ended up taking him out of the equation."


    ¡°Are there unsavory types in Sarosa cities?¡±


    ¡°Are there none in Varon?¡±


    ¡°Um, I haven¡¯t seen any, but I suppose there must be." I sighed, feeling suddenly stupid. "Of course there are unsavory types everywhere, aren¡¯t there? An unavoidable fact of life, however powerful one may be?¡±


    Pel nodded. ¡°It can be easy to forget. When life seems to go well.¡±


    ¡°Are you sure it was more than one person?"


    "Fairly sure. There were traces of at least three distinct power signatures in the area aside from Fylen''s own. One was very faint, so it might have been historical rather than relevant, but the others were definitely of equivalent strength and equal decay rates."


    "Can you trace the people involved from their power signatures?"


    Pel shook his head. "That''s not how it works. There are ranges of power, it''s enough to tell if there was someone with a vastly different power, but not to discern individuals. You can tell someone with force and someone with fire fought someone with water, and there was also someone whose signature is too weak to spectrum in the area. But it could have been three force and eight fire verses twenty water and we wouldn''t know. Well, the quantity makes it clear that one force and one fire is the most likely scenario, though there may have been a second force."


    "Uh." I hesitated. "Force is red, and fire is yellow, right?"


    Wait. That''s right. Fylen and Desten had fought in a dome of power. Red power, not either of theirs. Who had made it? The dome was part of the whole official dueling thing that made Fylen''s death legal. So who had enabled it?


    Pel was right. A third person was involved. That made things more complicated. We didn''t even have a name. Half the Varon population had red power, and dozens or even hundreds in each of the other territories.


    I sighed. Why was it that the moment things advanced, they also had to get more complicated.


    "Right," Pel answered. "And Fylen''s water would have been blue."


    "That one''s easy," I said, trying not to sound discouraged. "So we have the fire guy who actually killed him, and the force user who enabled it."


    "We don''t know who did what."


    "But, would the fire guy be able to make a force barrier himself?"


    "What force barrier?"


    Oh. There I went again, dropping information I didn''t need to. Why was I so bad at this? "Um, to keep Fylen from escaping?"


    Pel hesitated, frowning.


    For a moment, I considered if I should trust Pel. If he knew I''d been a witness, but I left out anything about the childstone, what would it hurt?


    "Can I tell you something very secret that could get me killed if anyone else knows about it, and trust you not to spread it to anyone?" I asked, very seriously.


    "What have you gotten yourself into?" Pel asked, shaking his head. "No, I don''t want to know. I should have seen this coming. Why else would you take so long to come to me?"


    "No, it''s not like that. It''s related to his secret project."


    "I thought you said you''d never spoken to him."


    "No. But I saw and heard him speaking to someone else."


    Pel stood and paced for a moment, scowling, then returned and sat abruptly opposite me. "Alright. Talk. What did you see?"


    "Promise you won''t tell anyone. I''m serious. If the killers find out what I know, they could get rid of me far easier than they got rid of Fylen."


    "Yes, you have my word. I won''t tell anyone who doesn''t need to know."


    I didn''t like that evasion, not at all, but I needed allies. I couldn''t keep fumbling around hoping to somehow do this all on my own. So, an abridgment perhaps. I could tell him something without giving away my own role.


    I considered a long moment before answering carefully. "Fylen was arguing with someone he called Eirn Desten. Desten was angry, I could tell he wanted to hurt Fylen. And the last thing I heard Fylen say to him was, ''you never lived well''. Do you know of anyone to whom Fylen would say something like that?"


    Pel¡¯s frown deepened. ¡°You never lived well?¡± He shook his head. ¡°I don¡¯t know of anyone he would say that about. And I don¡¯t know anyone named Desten who he would have interacted with more than superficially.¡±


    ¡°Then maybe it wasn¡¯t personal? Is there anyone else in your circles who had a grudge against Desten? Or, could Fylen have gone after him on behalf of someone else Desten hurt?¡±


    ¡°Can you describe him?¡±


    ¡°Not really. The lighting was bad, I only knew it was Fylen because that¡¯s what Desten called him.¡±


    ¡°And you¡¯re sure it¡¯s not the guy you¡¯re traveling with?¡±


    ¡°Pretty sure. Desten 3 is convinced we have to unite the houses more closely to prevent another continental war from breaking out. I can¡¯t picture him violently slaughtering Fylen.¡±


    ¡°You mean Eirn-Third Desten?¡±


    I was confused by his question for a minute, until I realized he¡¯d misunderstood. ¡°No, I numbered them. They¡¯re my primary suspect list. Most are Varon, for obvious historical reasons. Desten 1 is the nephew of Reirn Ushan Varon. He¡¯s strict and has a temper, but he¡¯s also very lawful. Desten 2 is the verdis player, and while he has a bit of a reputation he has the wrong hairstyle and his voice is too deep. Desten 3, I¡¯ve been traveling with, and he¡¯s way too soft and naive to be a killer. Desten 4 and Desten 6 are missing. Desten 5 is young and frustrated, but I can¡¯t figure out any connection to Fylen. I haven¡¯t tracked down Desten 7, because he lives in a different city, and Desten 8 is a woman. Then there¡¯s Desten Metako - Fylen¡¯s mysteriously unmentioned brother-in-law. And Desten Utrenad and two Desten Oros who I haven¡¯t met yet.¡±


    Pel laughed, without much humor. ¡°I apologize for doubting you. I see you¡¯re taking this very seriously. What do you mean when you say Desten 4 and 6 are missing?¡±


    ¡°Four, I¡¯m not sure. Something happened with his family, they talk about him in the past tense, and there is obviously something painful there. I don¡¯t know them well enough to feel comfortable interrogating them about him too much, but it is something I¡¯ll have to do sooner or later. Unless I get lucky and one of the others is obviously the one.


    ¡°Six, I¡¯ve heard he¡¯s a charismatic no-good, apparently a staple on the circuit, but hasn¡¯t shown up yet and stopped answering letters a few months before Fylen¡¯s death. All I know personally is that his home was dark and empty every time I showed up to try and talk to him.¡±


    Pel nodded. ¡°So you¡¯ve absolutely ruled out 2 and 8, tentatively ruled out 3, and haven¡¯t met most of the others?¡±


    ¡°Yes. I¡¯m using this touring season as a chance to track down the ones in other territories, then I¡¯ll go back to Varon and see about 4, 6, and 7. I was hoping to find out more about Desten Metako while I¡¯m here, since the personal connection seems the strongest there, but if you haven¡¯t even heard of him ¡­¡±


    ¡°And what if you investigate all of them, and it turns out to be just a tiff over something minor, and Desten had nothing to do with it?¡±


    ¡°He did. I¡¯m sure of it.¡±


    ¡°Is there anything I can do to help?¡±


    ¡°Just, ask around. Carefully. Quietly. We don¡¯t want Desten to realize we¡¯re onto him. At least, this way, if something happens to either of us, the information won¡¯t be lost. Find out if anyone you know, or anyone Fylen knows had any sort of connection to any of the Destens. It¡¯s probably safest if we investigate individually, and only convene once we know something for sure.¡±


    Pel nodded slowly. ¡°Agreed. But keep me updated on your progress. If you do end up stumbling upon the right one, and he kills you before you can report back, I¡¯d have to duplicate your progress anyway. If I don¡¯t hear from you for over a week, I¡¯ll assume the worst.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know that I could afford the trip back, I¡¯m technically moneyless and living on the good graces of Desten 3 at present.¡±


    Pel frowned slightly. ¡°But you¡¯re a Varon.¡±


    ¡°Um. Yes ¡­¡±


    ¡°Do you not trust the messenger service?¡±


    ¡°Oh. I ¡­ uh didn¡¯t know about it. I had a non-traditional upbringing.¡±


    ¡°Is that also why you¡¯re still only tay at your age? I haven¡¯t seen anyone older than ten still in tay colours for a long time.¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°You know, I could help you there. I¡¯m one of the best rated Sarosa duelists. If you don¡¯t think it¡¯s too much of a risk to be seen together, I¡¯m sure we could get you up to soe at least, maybe ebi if you¡¯re willing to take it seriously.¡±


    ¡°Thank you for the offer, but¡ª¡± I began, then stopped. There was actually a very good chance that Desten wouldn¡¯t come quietly. And if he found out about me, being able to do more than run away might be essential to my survival. I may as well use this power, as long as I¡¯d be stuck with it for the rest of my life. ¡°You know what, yes please.¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s your circuit schedule?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know. Varon, then Sarosa.¡±


    ¡°Varon was the gala host, practically everyone started there this year. But reverse headed off to Teshron and I believe abridged is in Wightok right now. So either verdis or rotation. Rotation goes to Leetan next, while verdis heads down to Utrenad.¡±


    I shook my head. ¡°I don¡¯t know where we¡¯re going next.¡±


    ¡°How long are you in Sarosa? The full week, or are you leaving after the last event?¡±


    I shrugged. ¡°Desten planned our itinerary, I¡¯m just along to investigate Destens and provide a foil for his idiotic ideas about world peace.¡± I remembered something else and shook my head. ¡°And, apparently, keep him company on his first trip away from home.¡±


    Pel raised his eyebrows. ¡°Yes. I can see why you¡¯d rule him out as a suspect.¡±


    <hr>

 14: Power Training

    While to outsiders, the simple ranking of first through fifth suffices to understand the approximate power of an individual, there are in reality countless gradiations of ability. Also, the specific interactions between their power and ability with their specific position and rank necessitate a far more complicated system for addressing and respecting those around you.


    -House Sarosa: Secrets Revealed


    <hr>


    I should never have imagined Desten 1 as being strict. Pelys¡¯s teaching methods made Desten look like an indulgent grandparent.


    That is to say, Pelys¡¯s idea of instruction primarily involved taking me to the top of a cliff and dropping me off. He then followed me down, actively disrupting my frantic attempts to fly back up, my power dissolving to nothing each time.


    ¡°Aura bubble, now! Once you can manifest it on command, I¡¯ll let you fly back up, not before.¡±


    Despite my desperate attempts, I didn¡¯t form the bubble on time. I splashed painfully into the river far below, coughing as I tried to stay above the rushing water carrying me downstream and avoid being slammed into the cliffs to either side.


    Pelys didn¡¯t give me time to recover, but swooped down in a burst of blue light, dragged me at top speed back to the top of the cliff.


    ¡°Aura bubble. It¡¯s the simplest most basic thing you can possibly do. I have no idea how you manage to fly without it. Go.¡±


    And with that, he shoved me off again.


    I wasn¡¯t sure whether to be thankful it was an insanely tall cliff - I had enough time to try several times before hitting the water - or if that made it worse.


    I spent most of my time that evening either falling, or sinking and choking and sputtering as I tried frantically to reach the surface, and none of it warm and dry.


    By the time we stopped for the night, several hours later, I was reliably forming a bubble just in time to hit the water, protecting me from the impact before it shattered and dropped me into the freezing, rushing water. I still couldn¡¯t form it at will, only when I knew I was about to hit the river, but it felt like significant progress.


    Pelys finally declared us done. He flared his blue power to draw off any water clinging to me or my clothes, leaving me slightly chilled but no longer soaked, then we went to the plaza to reunite with Desten 3. He smiled when he saw us, and asked how it went. Pelys called my progress abysmal, demanded that I be allowed to return every day until we left the Sarosa territory, and insisted in knowing what our upcoming schedule would be so he could follow me.


    I tried to protest, but I had underestimated Pel¡¯s stubbornness. I would rather spend all night in forced social situations, trying to somehow educate Desten on the realities of life, than go through another session like tonight¡¯s.


    Desten, ignoring my attempts at subtle hints and blatant ¡®no please no¡¯ gestures, disclosed our entire schedule - Leetan next, we were traveling sequentially - and agreed to surrender me for training. He seemed happy for me, as though being subjected to this kind of suffering was worth celebrating.


    Pel instructed me to return tomorrow evening, then disappeared in a flare of blue light.


    ¡°Do you think he¡¯d give me lessons too?¡± Desten asked, staring after him.


    ¡°Trust me, you don¡¯t want his kind of lessons.¡±


    ¡°No, really, do you have any idea the kind of waiting lists there are to be trained by a Sarosa Fourth? There are only about thirty certified fourths, and most of them don¡¯t even accept students. You are so lucky.¡±


    ¡°I guess so,¡± I said, dubious. ¡°I can ask him.¡±


    Desten formed his bubble so we could start off back to Midpeak. ¡°Maybe after touring season is over. Without your help, I¡¯m going to be swamped trying to talk to everyone.¡±


    ¡°You know I disagree with most of your theories, yes?¡±


    ¡°But you are at least willing to discuss them reasonably. With you to set the baseline for the discussion, we can bring people in without them feeling like they have to come up with wild nonsense to refute my claims, or just go along with it because they want to get me to move on. If there is an actual debate happening, they can join in whichever side they prefer and we¡¯ll be able to work on convincing them properly.¡±


    ¡°I would be happy to tell Pelys I¡¯m unavailable,¡± I insisted.


    ¡°No, no. This is an extremely valuable opportunity for you. What kind of a friend would I be if I forced you to give it up?¡±


    I hadn¡¯t realized he considered us friends. I wasn¡¯t sure what to say. Even if I still didn''t necessarily agree with his assessment of Pel''s training methodology, I was touched by his concern for my wellbeing, and the effort he¡¯d put into arranging our meeting in the first place.


    It made me really, really hope I was right about him not being the killer, because I was actually starting to like him.


    We arrived back at Lirndyn Cottage far too late for Desten to attend tonight¡¯s event, which was taking place in the southern city today. I felt another rush of gratitude for his unhesitating sacrifice, his willingness to help to such an extent even though he knew nothing about me.


    And I quietly wondered, what was going on with Desten Metako?


    The next day, it rained. Desten dropped me off at Pel¡¯s balcony before continuing on to his next party, which took place in Northpoint this time. I very nearly begged him to take me with him, but the knowledge that I would likely require the ability to protect myself just barely edged out my instinctive desire to avoid being thrown off a cliff.Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.


    I swallowed my fear and allowed Pelys¡¯s bubble to surround us and fly out away from the city deeper into the mountains. This would all be worth it, I kept telling myself. It got harder and harder to believe as we neared the cliffs and I knew the ordeal was about to begin again. I already ached all over from the previous day¡¯s training. I did not want to do any more.


    But then I remembered how killer Desten had collapsed the entire duel barrier into a fiery explosion of death, how he¡¯d torn through Fylen¡¯s shields and burned down everything to the ground, and my long-term desire for self-preservation took over.


    If I found Desten, and if it came to a confrontation, as I was right now ¡­ I would die. Without even putting up a fight. I¡¯d be dead the moment he turned his power on me.


    Pelys¡¯s bubble dissolved, and the rain immediately set about soaking through my clothing. No point in delaying the inevitable. Without waiting for him to push me, I stepped off the cliff, heart pounding, and pulled on my power to slow my descent. Pelys flashed out a burst of blue light that broke my feeble attempt at flight apart, but as long as I kept pushing out pulses of lift it slowed my fall and kept me upright.


    My power didn¡¯t want to leave contact with my body. It would be happy to make me faster, or stronger, or able to fly, but it didn¡¯t want to go out away from me into the sphere of protection that everyone else could bring into being at will. Second nature to them, utterly foreign to me.


    Trying to simultaneously pull the power from within me into tangible existence and also push it out away from me into the air proved disconcerting, an odd sensation that I couldn''t quite grasp. They were very distinct actions.


    Pulling it up was something akin to inhaling, like trying to inflate myself with the power as it grew to fill me. Kind of.


    Pushing it out felt utterly unlike continuing to inflate the power until it grew beyond my body; the more I tried to stretch it, the more strongly it clung to me. To continue with the same flawed metaphor, pushing the power out was more like trying to force air out through my chest while still inhaling, and build a shell from it once it was out. I may be able to somehow manage it in extreme circumstances, but it was such a counter-intuitive sensation that I couldn¡¯t figure out how to do it on command.


    I hit the water, shattering my tenuous hold over the power as I flailed against the rushing river, clawing to the surface to gasp for air, waiting for Pelys to drag me out and back up. I looked around, but didn¡¯t see him anywhere. The water hurled me toward the stone of the cliffs that lined either side of the chasm; I pulled my power together to lift me into the air in a frantic bid to escape, but suddenly Pel was there, blocking my way.


    ¡°I¡¯ve decided to adjust your scenario a bit,¡± Pelys shouted over the sound of the water. Lightning flashed in the distance; thunder boomed. ¡°You seem to have adapted too readily to falling. Maybe this will provide sufficient incentive.¡±


    With that, he sent out another disrupting flash of light, breaking my flight and dropping me back into the raging water.


    The river smashed me against the stone, then dragged me away and around, pulling down. It took all my strength just to surface long enough to gasp for air, using low power flight to stay up before Pel noticed what I was doing and shattered the power again.


    How was he doing that, anyway? I had to learn that trick.


    No time to figure it out now. The water swallowed me. I was slammed into stone again, and I knew I¡¯d be bruised and aching tonight. If I survived. I pushed toward the surface and gasped for air, getting a mouthful of water instead. I coughed helplessly, then I was underwater again, choking on too much water and suddenly sure I was about to die.


    I pulsed flight in a rapid series of desperate flares, building on each others¡¯ momentum, never holding one long enough for Pel to disrupt, another on the heels of the last, and burst above the surface. I kept going in a panic, up and up and up, coughing and gasping and pulsing my power in pure desperation. I¡¯d ascended probably twice the height of the cliff before Pel caught me.


    ¡°Nice try, but you¡¯re supposed to be practicing your aura bubble.¡± A wave of water condensed from the air and pushed me down, my flight insufficient to hold me up. I screamed, but the water didn¡¯t care. I crashed back into the river, pushed almost to the bottom by the force of the wave.


    I really should have opted for the party.


    I couldn¡¯t say how long I spent in the river, but it felt like an eternity. The storm passed, but still the river raged; and still Pelys refused to let up. I¡¯d never been so battered, so weak, so entirely worn out in body and mind. And still he kept pushing me harder.


    Then, afterwards, we sat at the top of the cliff, clean and dry in a space he¡¯d arranged beside a boiling cauldron. He¡¯d wrapped me fully in his blue power, which was doing something to ease the pain of being battered by a river for hours on end.


    ¡°What power rank was Fylen?¡± I asked, once I was able to think and speak coherently again. Maybe he¡¯d been a first, and I didn¡¯t really need to worry so much. Maybe I could give up this extreme training, and go back to Desten 1 with his nice simple shouting.


    But Pel answered, ¡°Third. In another year, he¡¯d have reached fourth. If I were two years younger, we¡¯d have been evenly matched.¡±


    ¡°How much more power does it take to overcome a higher ranked noble?¡±


    ¡°It depends. There is no true barrier upon what powers can be used, but there are ... inclinations to them. It is easier for me to use water than fire, for instance. But not impossible to use both." He gestured to the boiling pot. "That is made with my fire, otherwise it would be cold."


    I glanced at it, and sure enough, it did not have a fire under it; the pot simply boiled of its own volition. And, now I looked closer, a rim of blue light around its base.


    "Fylen believed that there was no need to branch out too far. He focused on what came naturally, and honing it to its best. He could out-shield me any day, but my attacks were always stronger. He could hold out longer, but never win."


    Fylen''s defences were stronger than Pel''s. And Fylen had been taken down so easily.


    Who was this Desten? I didn''t know much about the Destens I''d met or what their power levels were, but surely it couldn''t be so extreme. Maybe Desten 2, he seemed pretty competent, but it wasn''t him, that was the one thing I was surest of.


    "So what''s the point?" I asked dejectedly. "If Fylen''s defences were so much better, what chance do either of us stand?"


    "We won''t be walking into this blind. We won''t be alone. We have other allies, this isn''t just me and you."


    I nodded, but my confidence was shaken. Everything I did felt like it always turned out to be pointless. Why was I even bothering? What was the point of going on, putting in so much effort, enduring so much stress and pain?


    "If you want to give up, I won''t try to stop you," Pel said quietly. "We barely know each other. This is my crusade. It doesn''t have to be yours."


    "It does. It''s the only purpose I have left."


    Pel nodded in understanding and stared into the bubbling cauldron.


    "I know I may seem overly demanding, but you''re badly behind the curve. Once you develop mental blocks like yours, it can take years to break them down without drastic action. Already, you''d started to accept being shoved off a cliff, your power didn''t do anything when you landed. Until you can keep doing what you did yesterday, or better, I''m going to have to find more and more dangerous situations for you."


    I wanted to back out then and there. I may no longer be wet, he may be slowly repairing my battered body, but being swept helplessly down the steep ravine by a flooding river was one of the most tortuous experiences I''d ever encountered. Agreeing to undergo it or worse, again and again? I had to be crazy.


    But then again, being crazy was what got me into this mess in the first place. It wasn''t like sanity was going to get me out of this predicament.


    "I''ll do my best," I said instead, and Pelys smiled.


    "Good. I''ll try to make sure you survive. I won''t drop you in a volcano until you''re ready for it."


    ¡°I can assure you, I will never be ready for that.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t sell yourself short. I bet that by this time next year you¡¯ll be as at home in the lava as underwater.¡±


    ¡°Nope. Neither one going to happen.¡±


    ¡°Huh.¡± Pel leaned back and stretched, somehow ominously. ¡°We¡¯ll see.¡±


    <hr>

 15: Ancient Conflicts

    Ask those of every house why we spent so many generations mired in conflict, and you will receive ten different answers. Ask those of every house why we yet live with disunity and gently-veiled conflicts, and you will receive ten different answers.


    Yet all those answers are at heart a single reason.


    ''We were wronged. We deserve better.'' This family, that individual; this land, that city. Always some reason to hold a grudge, to blame others, to justify carrying on ancient feuds.


    There can be no unity until we are willing to forgive the past.


    -Beyond a Broken History


    <hr>


    I woke in the middle of the night, sweating and gasping for breath. Vague nightmares of drowning and falling had added themselves to the usual Desten-related ones, merging and warping into a general impression of despair before fading slowly from clarity.


    Laying in the darkness, I stared at the unfamiliar shapes of shadows and wondered how my life had come to this.


    It felt as though ever since the Varon Reirn had first summoned me, I¡¯d lost all control over my own life. Go live with this Desten; come touring with that Desten; show up to be thrown off cliffs by Pelys. And for what?


    Why should I go on with this? There was no point. I couldn¡¯t learn enough to save me if I ended up in a straight fight with killer Desten, and at least if I stopped now I wouldn¡¯t have to endure any more days of being thrown off cliffs into the river.


    I could pursue my investigation just as well without needing to master my stupid glowing powers. I could fly, more or less, and I at least knew what the aura bubble felt like so I could practice it on my own.


    I¡¯m not meant for this sort of thing! I belong behind a desk, or at the very most traveling on horseback.


    The potential of being found out was quite enough danger for me. Even Pel¡¯s healing power hadn¡¯t been enough to completely erase the aches and bruises from his lesson, and I had no desire to undergo something that horrible again. It had been bad enough the first day, but the flooded river was so much more violent and everything I¡¯d seen about him indicated that he¡¯d only continue pushing harder and harder.


    Desten would probably say I was throwing away a great opportunity, but if he wanted it so bad he could go be thrown off cliffs. I¡¯d had more than enough. I was taking back control of my life.


    My priority was finding Desten, not getting distracted by everyone I met.


    I hadn¡¯t had the time to search out any other of Fylen¡¯s friends, and that had been my primary reason for coming to Sarosa. I could say Pel was good enough, but that made my researcher soul flinch away. One single source would not suffice.


    I needed to know more. Not just about Fylen, but about the people he associated with. Pel was a good start, but it wasn¡¯t enough to stop there and let him dictate my future.


    With that resolve, I closed my eyes, rolled over, and tried my best to return to sleep.


    It took a long time.


    Lirndyn Cottage didn¡¯t have the same well-stocked library as Desten 1¡¯s house had, but it was located conveniently close to a public library. About a half-hour¡¯s walk, or five minutes¡¯ flight, depending on whether my power felt like cooperating or if my sensible desire to remain on the ground won out.


    So I wasn¡¯t at home when Pelys stormed in, demanding to know where I was and why I¡¯d ignored our scheduled meeting. Desten was. He told me about it at great length upon my return.


    ¡°You¡¯d better stop putting him off,¡± he concluded. ¡°That guy¡¯s scary.¡±


    ¡°I thought you wanted to have him teach you?¡± I asked, somewhat gleeful to have gotten the best of him.


    ¡°That was before he flew through my window and started shouting like I¡¯d stolen his childstone. Where were you, anyway? It took nearly an hour before he accepted that I couldn¡¯t satisfy him and left.¡±


    ¡°Better you don¡¯t know.¡±


    He eyed me suspiciously, and I quickly changed the subject.


    ¡°So, childstone theft is a serious taboo or something?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s more than that,¡± Desten said. Though he surely noticed my attempt to divert attention, he was too much a scholar to refuse a chance to discuss something. ¡°Take Fylen Sarosa for example. He was an only child. When he was killed, the position of future-reirn would pass naturally to his daughter. But without his childstone, she¡¯ll be a commoner. She can never inherit anything. Fylen¡¯s line, and thus his parents¡¯, has ended. Four hundred years of Sarosa reirns has come to a dead end. For the first time since before the alliance, a different branch of the family will be taking control.¡±


    Why had I ever assumed I knew the furthest depths of the trouble I was in? Now I was single-handedly responsible for a dynasty-ending regime change? Gahh.


    ¡°Who¡¯s next in line now that Fylen¡¯s gone and Fyless is powerless?¡± I asked, once I was sure I had my voice under control.


    ¡°Well, that¡¯s where it gets complicated. Reirn Ovnon has one sister, Lucyn, who would ordinarily be the obvious choice in this situation. But she outmarried into a Varon family and hasn¡¯t been involved with Sarosa in decades, so it''s uncertain if she''s even eligible. Going back further, Reirn Mythar and Reirna Fylen had one other son, Nylran, but he never married and would be a poor choice for continuing on the line. It¡¯s also entirely likely that he won¡¯t outlive Reirn Ovnon, he¡¯s never been the healthiest of individuals. While some have proposed trying to convince Nylran to form a hasty alliance with some respectable young woman in hopes of creating a new proper line, there are multiple factions hoping for different outcomes.¡±


    I tried to pay attention to all the names, but I hadn¡¯t spent much time in Sarosa genealogies aside from a quick scan for any Destens, and they were all basically meaningless to me. I did remember Reirn Mythar¡¯s death, maybe fifteen years back. News that significant had filtered through the downcities pretty quickly. But I hadn¡¯t known her husband was also named Fylen, nor any of the rest about her family line.


    ¡°So there¡¯s going to be a succession crisis,¡± I concluded.


    ¡°Probably. Unless we can¡ª¡± Desten cut himself off abruptly, looking uncomfortable for a moment. He glanced around the room, blinking rapidly, then continued hurriedly. ¡°Um, identify an appropriate and eligible candidate from elsewhere.¡±


    I wanted to ask him what he¡¯d been about to say, but since he¡¯d let me change the subject I felt it would be in poor taste to push him too much. At least not right now.


    ¡°Going back further still,¡± he added hastily, ¡°Reirn Mythar had a younger brother, Vyrlon, and his line continues quite strongly to this day. Reirna Fylen ¡ª Reirn Mythar¡¯s husband ¡ª unfortunately predeceased her, but he also had both an older and younger sister, either of whose children or grandchildren could tenuously lay claim to the position. From everything I¡¯ve heard,it sounds like it¡¯ll be a contest between whether Lucyn Varon is still eligible despite her distance, if Nylran can get his affairs together and outlive his healthier brother, or Vyrlon can claim enough support with his promise of a stable future line. Nylran has the strongest claim, but the worst circumstances.¡±


    "Is there any reason for House Varon to care about the outcome of this succession crisis?" I asked. If killing Fylen had triggered all this, and a disproportional number of Destens were from Varon ¡­ if any of them had allied with Lucyn or her husband ¡­? I had no idea how that would work, but it was possible. "Is there any chance Varon is pushing for it to be Lucyn? Do we know anything about Lucyn''s husband? Any connection to the Varon Reirns?"Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.


    Desten laughed. "I see you''ve immediately assumed the worst. I''m sure it''s nothing like that. Varon won''t have any say in whether Lucyn is recalled or if she''s left to Varon. She can refuse the reirnship if it''s offered to her, but she cannot request it or seek it. The conversant will deal with her appointment or that of Nylran or Vyrlon."


    "But she is close line, she¡¯s the next possible candidate," I pressed. "Varon would know that." Reirn Ushan seemed to know my secret, but had as much as said he didn¡¯t plan to unmask me. Why would he hide the truth from his oldest allies? Unless he had some ulterior motives.


    "So?¡± Desten asked. ¡°What would that benefit us? We''re already deeply allied with Sarosa, beyond anything between any of the other houses. Why would we want to interfere in their politics?"


    "I don''t know, but I don''t like the possibility." I hoped I was jumping to conclusions. I wouldn''t say I liked Desten 1, but I had come to respect him, and he''d certainly done his duty to the best of his ability despite his personal feelings. I could definitely see him acting as an agent for Reirn Ushan if it was decided that Fylen¡¯s death would be politically expedient.


    I''d been assuming Fylen¡¯s death was personal, but what if it had been political? Desten 1 and Fylen were close enough in age, close enough in position, it wouldn''t be unreasonable for them to meet each other.


    What colour power did Desten 1¡¯s father have? I knew Reirn Ushan''s was green, so he couldn¡¯t be the killer¡¯s ally. Breth Varon would be next in line upon Reirn Ushan¡¯s death, followed naturally by Desten 1 himself. If anyone in their immediate circles were the red power contributor, it would be trivial for them to arrange the meeting with Fylen.


    But the duel, that ''you never lived well''.


    No, Desten 1 still didn''t fit. He was the definition of living well. He was utterly responsible, doing everything correctly. Even if he had a temper, that didn''t mean he never lived well. Given his circumstances, he would be well within his rights to exhibit a little stress.


    I still couldn''t picture it. I could easily imagine Desten 1 fighting, killing, but not as the maniac who tore Fylen apart. There was no reason to steal his stone, not for a respectable political duel. If it were Desten 1, I''d expect a very different endgame.


    "Astesh?"


    "Mmm?"


    "You should get some more sleep. You don''t look well."


    "Pel''s training is not fun," I answered in deflection.


    "It''s not supposed to be fun, it''s supposed to be useful."


    "It''s not useful enough to be worth undergoing this kind of torture."


    "But he''s a fourth! I can only imagine what awe-inspiring feats he''s capable of."


    I glanced over at Desten. An ebi-rank, he was only two tiers higher than myself. On the Sarosa scale, he''d barely rate as a second. "You could always ask him to teach you."


    "No, no, I''d be much too intimidated. Besides, it''s you he likes."


    I laughed hollowly. "Yes, he''s so eager to help."


    "What have you been learning so far?" Desten asked, somewhat hesitantly, as though afraid he was overstepping his bounds.


    "How to not quite die in a river."


    "Fly out of it?"


    "You''d think so." I sighed. "Can I just tell him I''m done? I have other things to do. You still need me to help with your crusade for unity. I need to track down other friends of Fylen''s. I don''t have time for being thrown off cliffs today. Or ever again."


    "Then why''d you agree to it in the first place?"


    "I didn''t realize ''training'' meant ''chuck off cliff into river'', or I wouldn''t have. I can accept not being an expert, but there''s something to be said for not expecting perfection from day one."


    Desten smiled hesitantly. "If you''d rather help me, I''d certainly welcome it. I haven''t been making much progress on my own."


    "Yes. Let''s do that."


    "You should send Pelys a letter, or he''ll come back."


    I contemplated, and decided sending a letter was a fine compromise. And I wouldn''t have to face either his wrath or his disappointment in my giving up. "Yes, a letter sounds perfect."


    I spent the next half-hour composing said letter, using my best Astesh handwriting to inform Pelys that I greatly appreciated his help in attempting to prepare me, but that I would not be continuing his lessons. I would practice on my own, and if he had any tips that did not include near-death experiences, I''d be glad to receive them.


    I listed our itinerary for the next several cities, just in case he wanted to know where we''d be, and as an afterthought added that I''d like to get in touch with other friends of Fylen if possible.


    I spent a further hour correcting, adjusting, and rewording it to perfection, then rewrote it on a more expensive stationary and asked Avys to have it sent for me. Much less talkative than his brother, Avys agreed to the request with minimal interaction required. He didn''t try to sell me the house either, which I greatly appreciated.


    Then I returned to research, with Desten''s project to convert house disunity into a new harmony as its subject.


    I quickly found that there were myriad reasons for the houses to quietly loath each other, everything from battles and assassinations to the ownership of certain cities and control of resources and territories.


    There were a handful of contested cities whose status had been ''locked'' around the time of the current alliances creation, but those who did not end up maintaining control of those did not take kindly to their longtime rivals obtaining full and legal control of them.


    Teshron had come out particularly well by the cessation of hostilities, as they''d held three cities, contested by Raysh, Wightok, Metako, and Novarot. Raysh felt themselves particularly shortchanged, as Metako took two cities they¡¯d presumed ownership of, and Teshron a third. Utrenad lost a city to Varon; Varon lost a city to Oros. Wightok lost one to Teshron and one to Novarot, while Teshron lost one to Wightok; only Leetan and Sarosa had no major city claim grudges, and in Sarosa¡¯s case that was largely because they¡¯d amicably divided up the northern mountains between themselves and Varon.


    All this added up to a general dissatisfaction with affairs between the houses, which festered quietly beneath the surface and led to the sort of bickering, power plays, assassinations, ¡®legal duels¡¯, and backstabbing of supposed allies that went on to this day.


    Aside from those relatively simple border disputes, there were also the instances in which an incursion occurred and one house or another happened to show up a little bit later to the aid of their so-called allies than to others. When Teshron had to fight for hours alone before their near neighbors managed to reach them, or when Oros conveniently failed to show up to assist Utrenad, or when Sarosa and Varon sent their massive combined force halfway across the world, yet still arrived to the incursion over Raysh before anyone else made any effort to help whatsoever.


    It led to increased bitterness, a greater chance that such tactics would be repeated, and that those who actually came to the aid of anyone would bear the brunt of the incursions'' damage in place of anyone who should have been allied with the target location.


    These had slowed down in recent years; everything had slowed down. Life was at its most peaceful, its most profitable, its most secure for generations. People were working on advancing technology, making better alchemical and medicinal supplies, exploring potential solutions to crossing the vast ocean in hopes of finding new lands safe from the threat of incursions or, at the least, where the houses could gain a little breathing room without the constant influx of citizens leading to the potential overcrowding that was always projected to be just a few decades away.


    So far, the cities were large enough and open enough that new buildings could be expanded upwards and outward, perhaps pushing the downtcity further down in the process, or compressing the protective shielding, but that wouldn''t be a solution forever.


    There were various plans in place, various suggestions by various factions for how to deal with the problem, but so far it was not so much in anyone''s direct interest to attack the issue.


    This all added up to a very complicated, ever shifting set of sub-alliances within the greater alliance that I couldn''t begin to follow.


    I had no idea what made Desten think he could actually change anything. His calls for peace and unity were feeble things in the face of generational grudges.


    It was doomed from the start.


    ¡°You¡¯re right about the problem,¡± I told him after a two-day crash course in inter-house politics, ¡°but not about the solution. The moment the incursions actually stop, or the houses realize that they''ve increased enough in number and power to be able to fight on their own without relying only on the entire group, the whole tense ceasefire will shatter.¡±


    ¡°I know the problem,¡± Desten said irritably. ¡°The solution is what we need to work on.¡±


    ¡°But I don¡¯t see that there is a solution. And once the alliance shatters, there¡¯ll be no rebuilding afterwards either. Once the houses splinter apart, old feuds will ignite into all-out war. I don''t see any way to prevent a new faction war as the houses ally in blocs to destroy those who opposed them.¡±


    Sarosa and Varon already posed a potent problem to any potential aggressors, and together they could probably overrun Oros and Utrenad before anyone could stop them. Leetan had the fewest enemies, and if they could be convinced to join the Varon-Sarosa unit, the entire north would be united and impenetrable. Even if Oros and Utrenad united against their potential aggressors, neither was known for a strong military presence, and none of the other houses were close enough to care much about ensuring their survival.


    Meanwhile, the south already stood on the verge of fracture. Teshron held too much of a monopoly over the arable farmland and Metako, Raysh, Wightok, and Novarot all wanted a piece of it for themselves. It wouldn¡¯t take much to turn them into a five-way bloodbath. Or for the other four to divide Teshron amongst themselves in a southern alliance to form a strong face against the potential northern conquerors of Varon and Sarosa.


    Desten refused to give up as easily as me. ¡°There has to be a solution. If we divide Greenbrook territory between Wightok and Raysh, and split Oceanwatch between Wightok and Novarot ¡­¡±


    ¡°No one would say ''yes, you stole two of our cities, left us to fight alone and caused the death of thousands of our best fighters, but of course, let''s just be friends and you can keep the cities while we''re at it''. While on the other side, no one would say, ''oh, you refused to help us in retaliation for our claiming cities we rightfully owned, and then when we did the same to you you only went about killing our best fighters in secrecy, but certainly, you may have one of your cities back and we''ll live in peace and harmony¡¯. There¡¯s too much history in each of those cities for anyone to be content no matter who you gave them to.¡±


    <hr>

 16: Aneeyha

    ¡°Show me your hand right now!¡± His wife stood with one hand extended and such a scowl upon her face that he nearly fled on the instant.


    ¡°Why?¡± Leryn tremulously allowed her to take his hand. He feared he knew but to admit it was as bad as being found out.


    Alas his fears proved true. She wrenched off his glove to reveal the traitorous gleam of the nascent childstone upon his palm.


    ¡°I knew it! You uncouth charlatan! You treacherous betrayer! Get out of my house and never come back! May the conversant curse you and your filthy mistress too!¡±


    And thus with his secret revealed Leryn fled into the night to the waiting arms of his true beloved with her blade-sharp smile. He mourned the loss of his station and regretted the enemy he had made; yet he could not deny the truth of the passion he held for her who now welcomed him home.


    -Leryn of Bellstone, a modern retelling


    <hr>


    In the evenings, Desten went off to the events to talk to other influential people, while I returned to the library or wandered the city on my own.


    I''d decided to stop accepting Desten''s help to fly me from city to city. Now that I technically could fly by myself, self-respect demanded that I learn do it on my own. I couldn''t keep letting Desten carry me about like a child. Besides, if anyone saw us, it would raise more questions than I wanted raised.


    I spent some time working on the weird dichotomy of intake and outward pressure of my power in an attempt to create my aura bubble without the threat of imminent drowning, but those attempts came to nothing. I wasn''t going to admit defeat and go crawling back to Pel''s horrifying lessons though. I would figure this out on my own. Somehow. Eventually.


    I developed a mutant flight style that was more like enhanced walking than anything, striding through the air as I pushed myself upward with my power, so that I never felt out of control even when far away from the ground. It helped, though I still faltered any time my focus wavered, and the rush of wind against my face and in my ears made for a highly unpleasant experience. I had to wear layers of clothing and wrap scarves around my face if I were to attempt anything but the briefest of trips.


    In this manner, I could make my way around the city, but not from one city to another.


    As the end of Sarosa week drew nearer and nearer, I worried that I''d failed to meet my own goals. Yes, I was progressing in multiple areas, but none of them were important. Helping Desten? Irrelevant. Flight? Incidental.


    I hadn''t seen Pelys since sending my letter. He sent a prompt, brief reply, berated me for my cowardice in evading him and breaking off our practice sessions over the mail instead of in person, and promised that if I changed my mind he wouldn''t hold it against me. He urged me to continue checking in regularly, and if I failed to do so he would be concerned.


    He did not include contact information for any other of Fylen''s acquaintances. For that, it seemed, I''d need to undertake the project on my own. Desten had done what he could, Pelys had done what he was willing. The rest was up to me.


    I had to make the trip to the capital, and I had to do it soon. There were only a few days left until we''d be leaving Lirndyn Cottage and Sarosa behind, heading down to Leetan for the next week of festivities, and I didn''t want to leave Sarosa without making at least one other contact.


    So, maybe flight wasn''t so incidental after all. But at high speeds the wind was unforgiving. I really wished there were a better way to learn aura bubble besides Pel¡¯s extreme methods.


    I spent the next-to-last day of the week running as high and as fast as I could, around and around Midpeak so I''d always be close enough to land safely if I lost power and focus. I didn''t lose focus nearly as much as usual, my mind completely set on this task. I knew I had to get this right.


    With a proper night''s sleep and a hearty breakfast, bundled in enough layers to survive a blizzard, I set out for Northpoint first thing in the morning.


    I¡¯d never before realized it was possible for my power to feel exhausted. It had seemed to vanish that once, after Reirn Ushan forced its colour to manifest, and it had stopped working the night I fled the party in Sarosa, but now it felt like an active emptiness, sucking at my spirit like a warped psychic hunger.


    I was midway between cities, alone in the middle of nowhere. I touched down to rest for a few minutes, but the emptiness never improved, and I began to fear I¡¯d never be able to get back if I didn¡¯t keep going now. I climbed back into the air, pulling at my power with desperate focus. It continued to drag at my psyche, cold and empty and demanding, the inner chill adding itself to the chill of the wind, but I didn¡¯t dare stop.


    Far too many experiences in my life had become nightmarish. Running through the sky, frantic to reach the town before my overstrained power gave out altogether, seemed poised to join Fylen¡¯s murder and Pelys¡¯s training as one of my worst memories.


    It took far longer for me flying alone than it had when I was carried by Desten or Pelys. I was glad I¡¯d left in the early morning, because it was after midday by the time I reached Northpoint.


    And then I encountered my second problem.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, this is a no-fly zone for the next 48 hours,¡± said an armored Sarosa guardian who appeared before me in midair, bringing my flight to a dead stop as easily as raising her hand. ¡°I¡¯m going to need you to stop your approach.¡±


    ¡°But I have people to visit.¡±


    ¡°Not today you don¡¯t. We¡¯re closed in preparation for the Ryshglide tournament.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s not for two days yet! Please, I have to get in.¡±


    ¡°And who are you that¡¯s so important?¡±


    ¡°Astesh Varon, I¡¯m here to visit some friends of Fylen.¡±


    The guardian hesitated before answering. ¡°Eirn Fylen is greatly missed,¡± she said slowly. ¡°I suppose I could make an exception for his friends.¡± She waved a hand in the air, tracing out bright blue lines in the sky. ¡°Follow this trajectory. If you must, fly somewhat to the west of the line. Do not under any circumstances cross it to the east. Understood?¡±


    ¡°Yes, absolutely. Thank you.¡±


    I flew on, power aching, stomach rumbling at having missed lunch. Pelys¡¯s house wasn¡¯t near the trajectory I¡¯d been assigned, but I reached the city and landed with only minimal incident. I ¡­ may have collided with a pair of slightly drunken teens flying ever so slightly off lane, but they wouldn¡¯t remember me for long. One spat a curse at my back as I landed unsteadily, but they rambled off back into the air and were gone before I could think of how to reply.


    Probably for the best. My reply would have been unkind.


    Well. Here I was. Northpoint. The Sarosa capital. Fylen¡¯s home city.


    Now what?


    First, I had no money and hadn¡¯t packed a lunch. My soul ached and I was chilled through, to the extent that I stood shivering on a bright summer afternoon despite my full winter gear.


    People were staring. The few that were around looked at me with deep concern, but thankfully were busy enough not to stop and gawk for long.


    I shivered and wondered if there were such things as soup kitchens for nobility. Then again, I¡¯d never actually seen money change hands. I didn¡¯t even know if the nobility used the same currency as the rest of the population. That felt like a rather glaring oversight, now I thought of it.


    How could I have so overprepared only for things that didn¡¯t end up mattering? My entirely faulty view of the nobility was an ongoing problem, and one that no amount of crammed reading in a week or month could remedy.


    Sure, I may have no idea about the economic structure of the people I¡¯m infiltrating, but at least I had a complete journal of Astesh¡¯s life up to the present. No one had ever tried to steal or read it, but I had it and still wrote in it faithfully. I may not know what height to fly at going north or south in a street, but at least I knew every gradation of Varon greeting.This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author''s work.


    No, self-recrimination didn¡¯t help. I needed to focus.


    And for that, I might as well start with Pelys. However much I may want to avoid facing him, I knew where he lived, and even if he wasn''t willing to talk about Fylen''s friends over a message, he might be able to tell me more in person. And I could apologize for dropping his classes in person, and maybe convince him I''m not as stupid as I must seem.


    Well, socially I probably was exactly as stupid as I seemed, but I couldn''t let that stop me. Everyone''s stupid until they learn better, right?


    I had a harder time tracking down his building from the ground level, but it was a very fancy one and very obvious once I spotted it.


    I flew up to his balcony and knocked timidly on his door.


    He didn''t answer.


    I waited a few minutes, pacing anxiously, then knocked again more forcefully.


    "Yes?" asked a young woman, poking her head out the door.


    "Oh. Um. Sorry. I thought this was Pelys''s house. Eirn Pelys, that is. I''m sorry. Do you know where he lives?"


    "This is his house. He isn''t at home right now. Do you have a message for him?"


    "Oh, just that I stopped by. That is, Astesh stopped by, and I''d like to ask him about Fylen."


    Her eyes widened just a bit. "Astesh? But that''s who he went to visit. Something about missing reports and you were probably dead?"


    I wanted to smack myself. Of course. He''d said first time around that I should keep sending messages. I''d been avoiding him because of his potential wrath, but it seems I was too evasive.


    "Great. Then I''ll be sure to avoid him upon his return."


    She glowered at me, then sighed. "May as well come in to wait. He obviously is concerned about you."


    "Why? We barely know each other."


    She laughed lightly. "He''s a very intense person, our Pel. If he likes you, he considers you a friend from the start. If he hates you, you''ll never have a chance of changing his mind."


    "And which am I?" I asked, almost dreading the answer.


    "Friend, of course. You don''t think he frets so over the wellbeing of enemies, did you?"


    "I honestly don''t know what to expect. He''s ... different."


    "That too." She found a seat by the window and sat down, elegantly. It drew attention to the sleek folds of her gleaming iridescent blue dress, flashing a deeper blue lining underneath.


    "So, why are you here?"


    "Waiting for his return, hopefully with you in tow. You said you wanted to meet me, didn''t you?"


    "Oh, well, I must confess, I don''t know who you are."


    "Aneeyha Sarosa."


    Oh. Fylen''s wife. Right there.


    My stomach tightened painfully and I quickly looked away, clenching my hand against sudden panic. I wasn''t sure if I could bring myself to lie to her face.


    "I''m so sorry for your loss," I choked out. "I didn''t-- I didn''t realize it was you."


    "Thank you. I understand you have questions for me?"


    "Oh. Yes. Sorry, I wasn''t prepared, I didn''t realize you''d be here."


    "It''s alright. I have time."


    "Wait, why are you here? Is Fyless--"


    "She is fine. She is with doctors and alchemists, and there is nothing more I can do."


    She recited the words with a casual emptiness that seemed to reach right into my soul, somehow exacerbating the ache of my over-strained power. The power that should have been Fyless''s. I shivered, wishing for it to grant me its usual calm, but nothing happened.


    I stared at Fylen''s widow, speechless.


    "It''s alright. Please, sit. I understand you were one of the last to see Fylen?"


    "Yes, I was," I said, glad I didn''t need to lie about that at least. I sat on the sofa in the center of the room, facing Aneeyha but not directly so. "Do you know if he was acquainted with anyone named Desten?"


    She hesitated a long moment before answering. "Yes. There are a couple different Destens he may have known, actually."


    "Was your brother one of them?" I asked, then winced at how insensitive that probably sounded. I should be less demanding of the grieving woman, however composed she seemed.


    But she didn''t seem to mind, simply replied without hesitance. "No. To my knowledge, Fylen and Des never met."


    "Why is that?"


    "Des left the family. He was much older than me, and I was quite young when it happened. Ran off with some merchant''s daughter and never came back. We don''t speak about him much. He ... didn''t have a good parting."


    I waited a moment, trying to allow enough time for politeness. ¡°So which Destens did Fylen know?¡±


    ¡°He was quite well acquainted with Desten Utrenad. He can¡¯t travel, so we made a point of visiting him any time we were in the area.¡±


    ¡°Friendly acquaintances?¡±


    ¡°Very much so. Desten has a unique outlook on life. I¡¯ve never met anyone else like him.¡±


    ¡°So, there¡¯s no chance Fylen would say he¡¯d never lived well?¡±


    Aneeyha¡¯s lips turned downward in a slight frown. ¡°Certainly not. Desten Varon, on the other hand, I would say he lived quite poorly.¡±


    I sat up straighter. ¡°Desten Varon? Which one?¡±


    Aneeyha waved a hand. ¡°Not the verdis player. The other one.¡±


    ¡°There are eight.¡±


    ¡°Oh. Really? Then I don¡¯t know. I¡¯ve only seen the two.¡±


    ¡°So, one was the verdis player, and the other wasn¡¯t?¡±


    ¡°Yes. Both rather full of themselves, if you ask me.¡±


    ¡°Can you describe him?¡±


    ¡°He looks like a Varon. What can I say? I never spoke with him myself. Fylen complained about him once or twice, that¡¯s the most I know."


    Every time I started to think I¡¯d get real answers, they slipped away. So unfair.


    Though if I could rule out Metako and Utrenad, that was a huge help already. We were down to just Varon or Oros.


    ¡°What about Desten Oros? Did he know either of them?¡±


    Aneeyha shrugged. ¡°If so, I wasn¡¯t aware of it. He does ¡ª did spend a lot of time in Oros though. I¡¯d say he visited almost as regularly as Varon.¡±


    Well, every little bit helped.


    I was tempted to cut my touring short. With only Varon and Oros Destens left to actually investigate, it seemed like a waste to spend months wandering the other territories when I knew I¡¯d find nothing. Though Desten 6 was known to be heavily involved in touring, so I might run into him.


    And there was the fact that I¡¯d promised Desten 3 my help.


    I sighed. He really had been good to me. I shouldn¡¯t leave him in the lurch, even if I wanted nothing more than to rush back to Varon and Oros and find the last few Destens.


    Though, perhaps I shouldn¡¯t be so quick to write off Desten Metako. Whoever killed Fylen had stolen his power stone. If Desten Metako had a commoner wife? He might be trying to find a way to turn her into a noble. If not for the fact that the childstone had ended up landing next to me, he might even have succeeded.


    That was another thing I needed to investigate, but thus far I¡¯d found no sources that mentioned uses for adult power stones in any way similar to childstones. Childstones were blank, unbound, ready to absorb into anyone who happened along. But from everything I¡¯d read, using adult stones in a similar way wasn¡¯t even mentioned. It was as though it was completely unthinkable.


    Maybe it was just my commoner ignorance, but that seemed like a pretty significant oversight.


    ¡°How does it feel knowing you¡¯ll never become Reirna?¡±


    She smiled sadly and shook her head. ¡°I could never be reirna. Metako, remember? Outfamily. I¡¯d be heirn at best. But to answer your question, I don¡¯t mind. Sateirna is more than enough for me. I never wanted power and influence. I want to raise Fyless well. That¡¯s my only priority right now.¡±


    I tried to remember what the title Sateirn and its counterpart Sateirna signified, but I¡¯d crammed so many titles and ranks in my rush to prepare for this infiltration that now they were all muddled together. Something about voting power in ¡­ financial matters, perhaps? One more thing I needed to re-learn. I didn¡¯t have enough time in the day! At this rate, Desten would die of old age before I found him.


    ¡°YOU IDIOT!¡±


    I jumped up, instinct screaming for me to run, but Pelys crossed the room in a split-second blur of blue, crashing into me with the force of a flooded river. If not for the fact that his aura flared up around us as we collided I¡¯d have been smashed through the wall and into the next room, but instead his power absorbed the momentum of our sudden brief flight and left us standing close against the wall but not through it.


    ¡°Uh, hi, Pel. Nice to see you. What¡¯s up?¡±


    ¡°You,¡± he growled. ¡°You send a stupid formal note canceling our practice sessions, and then I don¡¯t hear from you again for three days!"


    "I haven''t left Sarosa," I protested. "There''s no danger here! I''ll start checking in once I actually--"


    "Then," he continued, "when I sent you a message this morning, you were nowhere to be found. I was absolutely convinced that you¡¯d gotten yourself killed! And, how are you shivering?¡±


    ¡°I, uh¡­¡± I stammered, unsure if it would be better to admit he¡¯d terrified me, or confess that I¡¯d overstrained myself from stubborn pride. Neither one sounded particularly good.


    ¡°Aura bubble, now!¡± Pelys snapped, then stepped back and threw a punch at my face.


    I screamed and dropped to the ground. ¡°Hey! I told you, I¡¯m done¡ª¡±


    His foot moved lightning-fast, coming up to smash into my chest. I sucked in a pained breath and strained as he pulled back for another blow, but my power remained nothing but an aching emptiness. Even panicked instinct couldn¡¯t force it into action.


    ¡°Stop, it won¡¯t work!¡±


    He sighed, draped me with a comfortably-warm wrapping of his healing power, then offered a hand to help me to my feet. ¡°I was hoping.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t like your training methods,¡± I mumbled, though I accepted his hand and let him help me to the sofa. Even through the warmth of the blue power, I felt the dull ache of his attacks. I sighed. This couldn¡¯t be a normal training regimen. No way ordinary nobles went through this kind of nonsense.


    ¡°When I say I want you to check in every day or two, I mean it,¡± Pel insisted, his voice tense with genuine concern. ¡°Every. Day. Two at most. I swear, it¡¯s like you think I don¡¯t care at all.¡±


    ¡°I tried to explain that,¡± Aneeyha put in. I¡¯d almost forgotten she was present, and my cheeks immediately heated with shame. She was watching me, witness to how easily I¡¯d been beaten to the ground.


    Pelys bowed politely. ¡°Thank you, Sateirna Aneeyha, for gracing us with your presence. I apologize for my absence.¡±


    ¡°Forgiven, Eirn Pelys,¡± she said formally, inclining her head. ¡°Now, if you¡¯re quite done terrorizing poor Astesh here, we should continue our discussion.¡±


    ¡°Of course.¡± Pel took a slow calming breath, then pushed another chair so it faced us both and looked back and forth expectantly. ¡°What have you decided?¡±


    ¡°I need to check the Varon and Oros Destens. It probably isn¡¯t Utrenad. It might not be Metako. Any progress on your end?¡±


    ¡°We''ve found your Desten¡­ 4? Yes four, easily enough. He¡¯s in a private hospital, been in a coma for almost a year now. They have no idea what caused it, but he¡¯s showing no signs of improvement.¡±


    ¡°Desten 4, that was Desten 5¡¯s father, the past tense one,¡± I mused. ¡°So he wasn¡¯t dead or estranged, just ¡­ unconscious. Since long before Fylen¡¯s death. Well, that¡¯s good. Rules another one out. We¡¯re really making progress here.¡±


    ¡°I also invited Lan and Let to join us,¡± Aneeyha said. ¡°They should be here soon. They were busy with preparations of the arena when I talked to them. I don¡¯t know if they¡¯ll have any new information, but Vess and Let were Fylen¡¯s closest friends. Current company excepted.¡±


    My stomach chose that moment to growl loudly, and the others both stared at me. Pelys jumped to his feet. ¡°Well, then. Let¡¯s adjourn for lunch. We can continue once our other guests arrive.¡±


    ¡°I am quite hungry as well,¡± Aneeyha said gracefully, rising as well. ¡°Thank you, Pel.¡±


    I stood and gratefully followed them to the dining room. I felt like I could eat a ten-course meal and come back for seconds.


    Thankfully, Pel¡¯s cooks had no shortage of supplies.


    <hr>

 17: Leetan

    There are three primary forms for initiating a duel between equals. The first and most common is ¡®for the honour of my house¡¯. This is the sort of contest which ends in defeat for one and some minor concession to the other.


    *Translator¡¯s note: Modern honour duels largely take place for ranking. They have been formalized to such an extent the initial text is no longer accurate. Still, ''for the honour of my house'' is commonly used, or sometimes ¡®for our mutual honour.¡¯


    Second, ¡®for justice and recompense¡¯ can be either to defeat or death. It can only be invoked against the wrongdoer, and must be witnessed by no less than three others.


    *Translator¡¯s note: There are other variations currently in use which are not recorded by the original text, such as ¡®for the wrongs I have suffered.'' or ¡®for the vengeance of another''s harm¡¯, which further clarify the intent of the specific duel, though the more archaic original form is still accepted in most circumstances.


    Third and least common of all, the ultimate final option. For duels of war and conquest. Any challenge ¡®for the light you bear¡¯ can only end in death.


    *Translator¡¯s note: This is a literal translation of the phrase, but whatever its deeper meaning or purpose was in ancient times has since been lost. This duel form is no longer used.


    -On Dueling: The Original Guide (423 translation)


    <hr>


    Hylet (Let) and Lanyss (Lan) were every bit as dedicated and serious about my investigation - our investigation now, it seemed - as Pel and myself. Lan was fiery tempered and seemed the sort to try and out-punch Pel if she got the opportunity. Hylet was much more even-tempered by comparison, but his quiet enthusiasm was no lesser for its calmer presentation.


    After a fine, leisurely and entirely satisfactory lunch, we went over what I¡¯d brought - Pel had already informed them, but they had questions about details - and what Vess had discovered in his trip to Varon. It was he, Pelys said, who¡¯d discovered Desten 4¡¯s whereabouts, and this discovery what had prompted his invitation for today¡¯s meeting.


    ¡°Though I wasn¡¯t expecting you to make things quite this complicated for me.¡± Pel laughed.


    I enjoyed the afternoon, almost surprisingly, and by the time Aneeyha departed I no longer felt any awkwardness around Pelys. I looked forward to meeting Vess, and gained a solid appreciation for the sort of people Fylen chose to surround himself with.


    I could easily see the camaraderie between them, the quiet places where Fylen ordinarily would fit in, the awkward moment as they fumbled around the gap in their unit, but instead of sitting around they were all trying to find the truth.


    It was nice to forget, for a few hours, just how much of my life was built on deception.


    Pelys offered to fly me back. I didn¡¯t want to depend on him so much, and said so, but he gave me a stern look.


    ¡°I know what stonedrain looks like. You pushed yourself too hard. And that¡¯s probably partly my fault, I didn¡¯t realize quite how weak you are. But I¡¯m not going to watch you kill yourself.¡±


    I acquiesced, and we arrived back to Lirndyn Cottage safe, warm, and significantly faster than my flight going the other way.


    Desten 3, clearly unhappy, handed me a letter when I entered. It was from Pelys, and basically said the same as we¡¯d discussed in person: he was worried about my safety since I hadn¡¯t kept my promise to update him, he had arranged for several of Fylen¡¯s other friends to come over to his house for the afternoon, and would I be available to attend.


    Well. At least it had all worked out. I tucked the letter into Astesh¡¯s journal with its previous counterpart.


    ¡°You have got to stop upsetting that guy,¡± Desten said.


    ¡°It¡¯s called taking control of my life,¡± I said with more bravado than I felt. ¡°And right now I¡¯m going to bed. I¡¯m exhausted.¡±


    ¡°Tomorrow is the finale. You coming?¡±


    ¡°No.¡±


    Desten looked up at me pleadingly, and I sighed. ¡°Where is it?¡±


    ¡°The Towers, of course.¡±


    ¡°Oh.¡± Same city as we were in. Practically next door. ¡°Well, I suppose.¡±


    ¡°Yes! Thank you. I swear, I have no idea how to handle these sort of conversations without you. They always end up baffling me.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m leaving early,¡± I warned. ¡°And there¡¯s only so much that logic can do for your position. We fundamentally disagree on your methodology here.¡±


    He regarded me flatly. ¡°Really? I wouldn¡¯t have guessed.¡±


    I laughed and shook my head at him. ¡°I suppose I deserved that. See you tomorrow.¡±


    It had been some time since I last had to decide on the proper formalwear to attend an event in. Desten was dressed in his best, which wasn¡¯t close to the quality of the items Desten 1 and the Varon reirn had provided to me. This made me feel awkward about outshining him, though in every possible way I ought to be considered his inferior. In the end I grabbed something vaguely fancy looking at random and set out.


    As this would be a very short flight, I didn¡¯t need to rush or wrap up in excessive layers. I could fly at my leisure without risking extreme wind chill or overstraining my power stone. It had recovered overnight, my usual glow returned to its usual strength, but I was wary of pushing too far again. Stonedrain had not been fun, and it made falling asleep an exercise in frustration.


    I arrived before the press of arrivals had fully died down, but well past its chaotic peak. Fashionably late. Desten had already claimed a table on the third floor, where he sat sipping a pale rose-coloured drink and looking over his notes.


    Apparently, there¡¯d been another verdis match earlier in the day. I caught sight of Desten 2 with his usual entourage, looking unreasonably smug about himself, which made me strongly suspect who¡¯d come out on top.


    The Sarosa finale event wasn¡¯t quite as crowded as Varon¡¯s opening gala, but it was far busier than I¡¯d remembered from the opening days.


    ¡°People trickle in,¡± Desten said, when I commented aloud. ¡°Some come in a day or two early to beat the crowds, some stay a day or two afterwards to catch up with friends. But by the end of the week, everyone will be here. And there are no further verdis games in the area to prepare for, in the case of that crowd. Don¡¯t worry, Leetan will be much emptier. Verdis is heading off to Utrenad next, and I don¡¯t think there¡¯s much more overlap between routes.¡±


    ¡°Metako,¡± someone said, overhearing. ¡°And you¡¯ll be able to catch a reverse match in Raysh.¡±


    Desten smiled. ¡°And are you interested in discussing the future fate of the world?¡±


    She shook her head at him. ¡°You either haven¡¯t had enough to drink yet, or you¡¯ve had way too much. Cheers.¡± She turned her attention back to her own table, which had grown somewhat crowded in the minutes since I¡¯d made my way up here.


    People still trickled in, but most were already present. Eating, standing and talking in small clumps, slowly wandering from tier to tier. I could hear the faint beat of the music drifting down from further up where the dancing took place. That was rather considerate, I thought, having the dancing take place where you could go downstairs to fetch a drink, rather than having to ascend higher still.


    To my surprise, I recognized Hylet and Lanyss walking by arm in arm. They hadn¡¯t mentioned touring or attending the Sarosa final ball, but after some consideration I supposed it was only natural that they¡¯d be here. If there were a major event in one¡¯s home territory, and possible friends or acquaintances visiting, why wouldn¡¯t they attend?


    I may be an asocial loner who preferred history to reality, but that wasn¡¯t true for everyone.


    Once this investigation was over and killer Desten dealt with, I was going to need a long vacation. Is that a thing nobles do? Or is, shudder, touring season considered the vacation?


    On second thought, I¡¯d rather not know. It wasn¡¯t a priority at the moment to discover whether vacations existed.


    I forced my attention back to Desten 3 and his papers.


    We spent some time in quiet argument, going over the same general topics as we always did, until someone wandered by who seemed interested by the discussion. Most of these went nowhere. Toward the end of the evening one fellow with a particularly rotund shape and slightly more than socially acceptable level of drunkenness stumped over and slammed his fist on our table.


    ¡°I heard you been talkin¡¯ this all night and you keep ignoring the answer. Just pay them. All of ¡®em. Just give ¡®em money. Land. New inventions. Special considerables. Tha¡¯s it. Just pay ¡®em. Teshy think they own the city, Whiten has it now? Just pay ¡®em both. Then it¡¯s not contested, it¡¯s yours. Done. No more squibbling.¡±


    He nodded firmly as though that were settled, then grabbed another glass of wine from a nearly-empty table nearby and wandered off.


    ¡°He raises an interesting point,¡± Desten said thoughtfully.Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit.


    I sighed and shook my head. ¡°You clearly don¡¯t understand the scope of these things. It may be a fine concept, but how is anyone going to raise enough capital to buy out an entire city? Let alone twice over? Not even counting the adjoined territory under its control. I don¡¯t know much about your economy at all, and even I know it¡¯s completely impractical. Who would have enough money lying around to buy out entire cities? And if they could, why haven¡¯t they yet?¡±


    ¡°So what we really need is an eleventh house. They could become the boundaries between those most likely to hold grudges. Once we get a few generations of people who know there¡¯s no point in holding feuds against those who aren¡¯t even nearby any longer, everyone can live in peace!¡±


    I slumped my head onto the table. ¡°I don¡¯t even know where to start with how wrong that idea is. Even if you could create an eleventh house, where would they get the money?¡±


    ¡°We ¡­ could ¡­¡± he trailed off, looking around as though for inspiration. ¡°Oh! Maybe we could make the new house out of the contested cities? Then the inhabitants get higher rank and privilege, and the people who wanted to take them over won¡¯t have the reason to fight the new house because they¡¯re new.¡±


    ¡°Ugh. No, that¡¯s not going to work. If you take a city full of Teshrons and tell them they¡¯re, whatever, Borderite now, that may be just fine for them, but Wightok is not going to give up the city they¡¯ve wanted back for hundreds of years just because you change the name.¡± I stood. ¡°And it¡¯s getting late. I¡¯m leaving. Good luck.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m starting to think you were right.¡± Desten stood as well. ¡°This is too big for us to solve on our own.¡±


    ¡°Desten Varon, giving way in the face of logic? Never thought I¡¯d see the day.¡±


    He laughed hollowly, and we flew back to Lirndyn Cottage side by side.


    The next day, we departed Lirndyn Cottage for the last time, with a final appeal from Myrett that we really should consider buying his lovely home. I would have considered it, if I¡¯d had any money. It was a lovely home. But Desten 3 was so far below whatever class line would be required to afford such a fancy house so close to the Towers, neither of us had much chance of ever seeing the inside of it again, let alone owning it.


    Desten confided in me that he¡¯d only been able to rent it because a friend of his had an existing arrangement with the owners, and when he found himself unable to go touring this year he¡¯d offered it to Desten at a substantial discount.


    We boarded the shuttle platform to Leetan. I couldn¡¯t help shivering as we passed over the river chasm deep in the mountains where Pelys had spent two days throwing me into the water. It still haunted my dreams.


    There was something wrong with that man, his ideas of acceptable training methods are questionable at best. I couldn¡¯t help liking him, but at the same time, I was very glad there would be a territory worth of space between us. And I desperately hoped that he wouldn¡¯t abuse our itinerary to hunt me down. It was far too easy to imagine him hauling me out of bed at the crack of dawn, insisting that I¡¯d had enough time to practice on my own and we¡¯d be doing volcanoes next.


    But, thankfully, Pelys did not appear, either during the trip across the mountains or after our safe arrival in Leetan''s initial location.


    I¡¯d grown quite accustomed to Sarosa''s upcity architecture, so Leetan''s was a jarring change. While Sarosa built up in arcs and spirals, Leetan was very flat and sprawling. Well, as flat as it could be, built around the top of a mountain. But there was nothing utilitarian about their buildings; indeed, they seemed almost to be a painting or tapestry intended to be viewed from above. Buildings each had a distinctive form, many painted in vibrant colours, often highlighted with lines of coloured light to further accent the intended look.


    Some were extensive and intricate, like a group of buildings that together resembled a bouquet of roses, while others simplified the intended form without explicitly detailing it; a house that curved like a sleeping cat, featureless, but clear in intent.


    I felt like I could spend hours flying over Leetan, just trying to figure out what each building represented. Many were not so obvious; a rough L shape with jagged edges and a curved interior, two half-circles with cloud shapes on the interior, and more.


    Few of their buildings were above two stories high, though a few looked to be three or four.


    It was to one of these four-story buildings that we headed, with the accompanying crowd from the platform. I recognized several faces, people who¡¯d traveled with us from Varon, and been around in Sarosa. Though I¡¯d never spoken to most of them, I began to feel a sort of comfortable familiarity. These were our group, the people sharing in this relatively unpopular rotation.


    We arrived at the location, a vaguely bird-shaped building from above, with triangular wings spreading out to either side of the main body of the building. The whole thing was decorated with more lights and carvings than anywhere else in the city, it would be hard to miss it.


    Yellows, greens, and blues were everywhere, but even the blue had a different character to it than Sarosa¡¯s clear cobalt. A faint nod toward green, just a tint, but noticeable in everything from decor to fashion. Speaking of fashion, I was surprised to see that most Leetan attendees wore a lot of black, with the ever-present green and yellow accents.


    The actual party was disappointingly similar to those in Sarosa. Food, people, drinks, people, dancing, people, games, people, the occasional conversation, and yet more people. At least it wasn¡¯t nearly as crowded - I doubted the bird hall would have held anywhere close to the quantity we¡¯d had in Sarosa that last night.


    I followed Desten around as he toured the place, introducing himself (and me) to various Leetan nobles in positions of authority. He didn¡¯t gain a lot of momentum. Most seemed completely uninterested in talking about politics or the fate of the world and just wanted to relax. A couple gave him their address with an offer to visit them at a later date once touring was over.


    Turns out, the sort of people who run events are less likely to have time to sit down and spend hours in deep conversation with one or two individuals. Surprisingly enough Desten didn¡¯t see that coming.


    Perhaps I should have tried to steer him away, but at a certain point I had to step back and let him make his own mistakes. It wasn¡¯t my job to babysit him, and I doubt he¡¯d have appreciated it had I attempted to do so. Our debates were one thing, since we were trying to reach a mutually beneficial conclusion, but trying to correct his behavior in public would go way over the line.


    I could still make fun of him for it afterwards though.


    And so our first day in Leetan was, in so far as any major event can be, uneventful. There were, it turned out, smaller events spread throughout the city, to which people could disperse, but Desten didn¡¯t want to go without me, and I wanted to go to bed.


    Our Leetan lodging was significantly less well-appointed than Lirndyn Cottage had been, a simple apartment with sparse furnishings. Sufficient, even extravagant by downcity standards, but far from the elegance and opulence I¡¯d somehow come to expect.


    Desten and I each had our own room, so that wasn¡¯t an issue. But there was only one bathroom, which felt downright austere compared to having our own attached to each room.


    After a mild argument about who should shower first, we sorted ourselves out and retired to our respective rooms. I¡¯d just become used to sleeping on the Sarosa mattress, and now this one was different. What a terrible hardship, having to adapt to a different mattress every week.


    I glowered at myself in the mirror. Since my infiltration of the nobility, my priorities had become very strangely skewed. What happened to the scribe who spent weeks on the road, sleeping at a different inn every night? Had Astesh utterly consumed any traces of my former self? Was this what I would be from now on, with only brief glimpses remaining of the person I¡¯d once been?


    Sometimes, I found myself rereading Astesh¡¯s journal to verify whether my memories of the past were true or fictional. Some of the lies I¡¯d invented, I¡¯d repeated to myself so many times I¡¯d started to believe them myself.


    Was that really okay? Could I go on this way indefinitely? Keep pretending forever that this was always me and I¡¯d never been that scribe accustomed to travel and hardship? That I¡¯d never come close to starving, that I¡¯d never fought and clawed my way into barely making a decent honest living, that I¡¯d always been provided for and pampered and could expect such treatment to go on indefinitely without a care?


    The Astesh staring back at me was well-groomed, clean and neat, in clothing perfectly sized. I hardly noticed anymore how everything had been tailored so specifically for me. I took the soaps and perfumes for granted; I¡¯d never walk into a party smelling like sweat and road dust, only crisp and clean.


    Who was I becoming?


    I knew I had no choice, that there was no going back, but I¡¯d finally started to make it on my own. I had my own business, and it was working well. I had finally paid off my debts, finally established myself, attained levels of skill to match anyone in the territory. And yet all that amounted to less than the cheapest apartment that Desten casually rented for a weeklong vacation in a territory a week¡¯s journey away, that we could reach in less than three hours by air.


    I began to think I hated Astesh. The stranger in the mirror regarded me with cold indifference, examining me with a passionless disconnect that should have terrified me. Instead, I stared back with the same indifference.


    I was so tired. Tired of people, tired of lies, tired of Desten and his naive ignorance. Tired of myself.


    Desten began snoring softly in the other room. I¡¯d never noticed before, as our suites in Lirndyn had sufficient insulation to block out any such interruptions.


    I should sleep. Everything would be better in the morning. I was just overtired. That was it.


    My reflection stared at me, clearly unconvinced.


    I sighed, and turned away.


    No Destens in Leetan. I did keep an eye out at parties in case any of the Varon or Oros Destens were touring, but we¡¯d been with the same group for some time now and none of the other three tour cycles were in Leetan at the same time as us. Which was good, because people with yellow power were the clear majority here. It would have taken months to narrow it down.


    I continued to spend the days researching, sparing a few hours for practice of my aura bubble and to write a brief ¡®we¡¯re alive, don¡¯t come storming in today¡¯ message to Pelys.


    I ended up backtracking on my resolve to fly myself from city to city; Desten was faster, stronger, and had his bubble to protect us from wind and cold. My one experience with flying from one city to another convinced me that I was trying to push too hard too soon. I shouldn¡¯t be internalizing Pel¡¯s unreasonable expectations. Even when he had to stop to rest from carrying both of us, we still got there faster and more securely than I could have done alone.


    Leetan week passed quickly, as I got into a rhythm of research, boring event, sleep, repeat. I¡¯d begun to connect the various territorial holdings to the cities that controlled them, and things like ¡®Leetan controls 40% of all manufacturies¡¯ began to translate more clearly to specific cities and products. I could confidently say that over half the furniture in most upcities would be manufactured in Leetan, while nearly all windows and a good portion of metalworks would be imported from Utrenad.


    Progress.


    I was all set to mark Leetan off as an entirely unimportant stop on our tour, just one necessary step between Sarosa and Metako, when everything changed.


    The final day, the Leetan grand finale, came to an abrupt and dramatic halt.


    For some time, it seemed, a mixed group of bored men and women had been standing on a balcony, watching the light show being performed in the distance, when something much closer distracted their attention. Flares of fire, uncontrolled, blasting in every direction from a single spot. They¡¯d pointed and gossiped for a while, thinking it might be part of the show, but a distant scream alerted them to the possibility that something untoward was happening.


    Then there was an explosion, the sound shaking the walls even at this distance. That was the first indication to the rest of us that something was happening. A few people laughed and clapped; a few took off to get well away in case the building collapsed. (Most of these were from Metako, who had the most frequent experience with earthquakes.)


    Several people flew out to the site of the explosion to see what had happened.


    I shouldn¡¯t have been surprised.


    Mateirn Envas Leetan, a prominent and respected man in the community, had been brutally killed. And his powerstone was missing.


    Fear slithered into my chest.


    I tried to convince myself that it could be anyone else, anything else, but the more I heard about the event the more convinced I became.


    Yellow fire. A sudden explosion at the end.


    It had to have been him.


    No more than a minute¡¯s flight away.


    Any sense of security, of complacency, of investigating at a safe distance, vanished in an instant.


    Killer Desten was here.


    <hr>

 18: Reaction

    By marrying into a main line, the Reirna accepts responsibility for leadership of the house in the event of the Reirn¡¯s death. Thus, any of close line who may be eligible for the reirnship must take the utmost care in choosing their spouses, lest someone incapable of acting properly were to come to power.


    -Duties of the Reirna


    <hr>


    The first thing I did was look around for Desten 3, cursing myself for letting him out of my sight.


    We¡¯d split up to mingle ¡ªwell, him to mingle, me to find something more filling than the average appetizers served at these sort of event¡ª as we¡¯d already spoken to anyone remotely interested in discourse on Desten¡¯s agenda. I¡¯d even contemplated leaving early, but according to my research into social customs, it would be rude to leave without staying at least an hour and a half, unless I truly had some pressing appointment.


    I¡¯d been in the process of trying to invent a pressing enough appointment, when the hubbub had begun. And by the time I found Desten 3, sitting in intense discussion with a pair of older women, it¡¯d been nearly a half hour since the actual murder.


    I tried to casually ask how long their conversation had been going on for, and they all answered some variety of ¡®Oh, since the news reached us, isn¡¯t it terrible? Now, about the potential fallout of a sudden change in ownership of the Westrift manufacturies¡­¡¯


    Panic was doing its very best to drown me, and I wasn¡¯t doing a great job keeping afloat. There weren¡¯t any other Destens in the area. Either¡ª either someone had flown in from another city specifically to kill this one individual, or I was sharing a bathroom with a murderer.


    No. It couldn¡¯t be Desten 3. Right? I¡¯d already ruled him out. He ¡­ he was ¡­


    I couldn¡¯t remember. Whatever reasons I¡¯d had suddenly seemed unconvincing in the face of a Desten who sat right here, a minute away from where another person had been torn apart.


    Power flared around me, my aura bubble popping effortlessly into existence without conscious thought, putting a shield between us. I was breathing too fast, everything seemed blurry, but I couldn¡¯t let on that I knew or at least suspected.


    ¡°I need,¡± I started unsteadily.


    Desten leapt to his feet at once, waving off the others. ¡°Astesh! Are you alright? You look terrible. Excuse us. Another time perhaps. Come on, let¡¯s get you home.¡±


    He took a step forward, and I stepped back. ¡°Ah. I¡¯ll ¡­ I¡¯ll be fine.¡±


    ¡°Are you sure? Here, have a seat, at least.¡±


    I sat, my bubble molding itself around the chair instinctively. My hands trembled violently and power flickered visibly across my skin. Not calming, for once, but rather sparking into pink lightning with eager energy.


    I wanted nothing more than to jump into the sky and run away until my power gave out and I was left somewhere safely far far away.


    ¡°Astesh?¡± Desten asked hesitantly. All three of them were staring at me now.


    I waved a hand at him and shook my head. ¡°Go on. I¡¯ll ¡­ be fine.¡±


    He nodded slowly, but sat down nearby instead of leaving, glancing at me with concern. The other two continued gossiping, but I could tell Desten wasn¡¯t paying any attention to them. He was watching me.


    I had to get out of here. Had to get away. Far, near; inconsequential. Just away. Anywhere was better than here.


    If I could think, if I could calmly consider, I could re-examine my assumptions. I could decide if Desten 3 was the killer or if this was just me overreacting. But I couldn¡¯t do any of that here, with him watching.


    I jumped up and walked away as quickly as I could, the pink aura bubble around me blurring out the world as it pulsed and flickered with thick layers of power.


    Some people exclaimed, others glared, a few shouted. My bubble was too big, pushing through groups sent them scattering, but I didn¡¯t care. I just had to get away.


    ¡°Stop,¡± someone ordered firmly, and a wall of power flickered into existence before me, blocking my way. ¡°No one is leaving. Please remain calm and stay inside.¡±


    ¡°I have to get out. I have to.¡± I threw myself against the wall again. My bubble deformed against it, flattening out instead of pushing through.


    I slammed myself bodily into the light, but its solidity would put stone walls to shame. It neither flickered nor moved in the slightest at the impact. I bounced off and landed hard on the ground, tears leaking down my face unnoticed.


    ¡°Astesh!¡± Desten shouted from somewhere behind me. ¡°Astesh, where are you?¡±


    My aura shrank, clinging down tight against my skin, hidden under my clothing except where my hands glowed a vibrant fuchsia, and I hastily tucked those against my chest as I ducked to the ground. There were enough people between us, he might not see me.


    ¡°Having some sort of panic attack, I think,¡± someone said nearby, and then a hand closed around my upper arm and tried to pull me to my feet.


    I lashed out at the stranger, screaming, ¡°No!¡± Power flared out and pink flames licked at the carpet around me, leaving a scorched patch before they died away.


    I ran, ducking into the nearest side corridor, but even that was full of people.


    I needed to get away, to somewhere alone, somewhere I could calm down and think this through. The constant pressure of everyone looking at me only exacerbated my inability to think straight.


    There was no thinking, no reasoning. Impulse and reaction. Terrified adrenaline combined with the lightning power and I ran faster. The world seemed almost to move in pictures, shifting slowly. As though I ran unimpeded through a mire in which everyone else labored.


    I didn¡¯t question my good fortune, in truth I barely noticed it. I ran from room to room, seeking somewhere isolated, somewhere empty of strangers staring. At last I found a small hallway on the upper level, unlit and empty, and a flare of pink built walls across both ends of it.Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.


    At last, I was safe. I leaned against the wall, exhaling between frantic gasps, and tried to calm myself. The aura clinging to my skin flickered and vanished, the lightning running through my blood faded away. A faint pulse of gentle pink warmth ran through me, finally washing away the panic and the terror and the desperation.


    It took another long minute to recover physically, but I immediately felt more stable.


    I realized at once that I¡¯d overreacted. Massively. Even if Desten 3 were the killer, he¡¯d have no reason to suspect that I knew anything about him. Pelys and Fylen¡¯s friends were the only ones who knew anything about me, and they were all back in Sarosa.


    I breathed carefully and slowly. Think it through, Astesh. Desten 3. What did I really know about him?


    He wanted to change the world. He believed in people being good for no better reason than that they ought to. Or he always had, before he met me. He was beginning to understand that change required incentive and impetus, and didn¡¯t simply occur naturally or because someone pointed out it would be a good idea.


    But even if I was slowly shifting his naive outlook to something more closely resembling reality, he still didn¡¯t strike me as a murderer. I¡¯d never seen him use his power once, let alone in anger.


    I really should find him and apologize.


    I slumped down to sit on the floor, covering my face with my arms. I should apologize to a lot of people. I had probably caused a dreadful scene.


    The more I thought about it, the more humiliated I felt about the whole mess. There was no way to excuse my behavior that didn¡¯t make me sound either pathetic or deranged. Everyone was tense; no one else was throwing power around so carelessly.


    Oh, lost god. I actually burned the floor, didn¡¯t I? I didn¡¯t hurt anyone, did I? Did the fire go out, or was the building burning down?


    I sighed, dried my tears, and got to my feet. Another comforting pulse of pink light, and I felt able to face the repercussions of my brief insanity.


    To my surprise, the pink walls I¡¯d erected to either side of my sanctuary still stood. I only then noticed that someone stood on the other side.


    ¡°Sorry,¡± I said sheepishly. ¡°I don¡¯t know how to take these down.¡±


    ¡°Pull them back until they collapse back inward.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know how.¡± I could barely control this power enough to do things I was well practiced in, and this was something completely unknown.


    ¡°With the amount of power you put into these, unless you collapse them they¡¯ll last for weeks.¡±


    Oh.


    It took another hour of increasingly frustrated attempts before I somehow drew the walls back inward. They rippled, distorted, then vanished.


    Pelys stepped into my previous sanctuary. I hadn¡¯t quite recognized his voice or silhouette from inside the barriers, and my first instinct was to flinch back.


    Pel stopped advancing. ¡°What happened?¡±


    ¡°Someone else was killed. Yellow fire, sudden explosion. I¡¯d lost track of Desten 3, and I panicked.¡± I shook my head. ¡°I can¡¯t explain it. I just had to get away, and ¡­¡± I shook my head. ¡°I don¡¯t know, I¡¯ve never felt that way before.¡±


    The more time passed, the more surreal the entire affair felt. Moments stood out with vivid clarity; others faded into a blur.


    I straightened abruptly as I remembered. ¡°The fire! Did anyone get hurt?¡±


    ¡°I didn¡¯t hear anything about a fire.¡±


    I relaxed fractionally. ¡°No one¡¯s hurt?¡±


    ¡°If they were, I haven¡¯t heard about it.¡±


    I exhaled with relief, then frowned. "Wait. What are you doing here?"


    "Desten sent for me when you refused to come out."


    "But, the barriers ..."


    "They weren''t going to refuse me entry.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t think it was him, Desten 3, I don¡¯t think. But I know killer Desten was here. It had to be him.¡±


    ¡°Unfortunately, as you¡¯re a Varon and I¡¯m a Sarosa, neither of us has the authority to access any information beyond what¡¯s released publicly. Even if I were to make a formal request for the spectrums, they would have no reason to give them to me.¡±


    That¡¯s right. Leetan residents had primarily yellow-power as it was. It could have been any random mugging, as far as they knew.


    I knew better. It wasn¡¯t random. This may have started as some stupid dueling fad, but whatever killer Desten was up to, it was something beyond that now. Personal, political; perhaps both.


    ¡°I won¡¯t even be able to leave until they lift the restrictions,¡± Pelys continued. ¡°It was hard enough to get in.¡±


    I regarded him curiously. ¡°Why are you here? I thought you had a lot of other obligations besides running around after me?¡±


    Pel sighed and shook his head. ¡°I really should be mediating a meeting of the metalworking and weavers¡¯ associations right now. But to be honest, they¡¯ve been stalling each other for months and I¡¯m kind of okay with making them both wait for once.¡±


    ¡°Sounds painfully boring. I don¡¯t blame you for skipping it.¡±


    Pelys hesitated. ¡°Should I tell Desten you¡¯re doing better?¡±


    ¡°¡­ Yes. I am doing better.¡±


    ¡°Are you sure?¡±


    I nodded. ¡°My power was going all sparkly and lightningy. I wasn¡¯t thinking straight. I¡¯m not sure I was thinking at all, honestly.¡±


    Pelys smiled, in a way that made me immediately back up another step. ¡°So being in a stressful situation of imminent danger allowed you to strongly access your powers in a way you formerly could not accomplish?¡±


    I groaned. ¡°Pel¡­¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m just pointing out the obvious precedent being set here. For someone as poorly-practiced as you to manage a wall that strong, while in your bubble, and with a full personal enhancement at the same time? It¡¯s not unheard-of, but it¡¯s hardly commonplace. Running more than two power strains at once is a requirement for reaching third. From what I¡¯d seen before today, you¡¯d barely rate first.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t like painful, stressful situations! I very much despise them.¡±


    ¡°Would you rather die?¡±


    I recoiled. ¡°But we determined that no amount of training would be enough¡ª¡±


    ¡°Listen. If it had been Desten 3. Think. If he¡¯d realized that you knew. What would have happened? Do you think he¡¯d have come to me for help? No. He¡¯d have come after you immediately. He''d have smashed through your wall, and right now you¡¯d be dead. But if you knew how to break walls and fully utilize your speed affinity? You could be away from here and halfway across the world before he even realized you were onto him.¡±


    ¡°I couldn¡¯t. I¡¯m not that strong.¡±


    ¡°That lightning around you, when it was happening, did you feel different at all? Like everything had slowed down?¡±


    I thought back. It was hazy, but ¡­ ¡°Yes, actually, I think it was like that.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s what power innately attuned to motion can do. It''s what pink, like yours, is best at. Flame can give temporary boosts, but it¡¯s much more adept at destruction. And nothing beats a Raysh in a marathon. And even if you overpulled and ended up with stonedrain again, it''s better than dying.¡±


    ¡°I do see your point. But does it have to include such ¡­ realistic perils?¡±


    ¡°The best way to learn is by doing. And if you try to meditate your way into unlocking your full powerset, well, that¡¯s what you¡¯ve been doing your whole life and look how far it¡¯s gotten you. It¡¯s obvious that a change in tactics is in order.¡±


    ¡°Is this the whole reason you came? To coerce me into accepting your training again?¡±


    Pel shook his head. ¡°I told you I¡¯d respect your decision. But I strongly believe that it would be in your best interests to continue.¡± He paused. ¡°And, mine as well. If you do find Desten, and end up in a solo confrontation, you have to be able to escape and call the rest of us. None of us can beat him on our own. Enabling you to survive and training your innate affinity to a sufficient level that you can survive that is of paramount importance. We¡¯ll continue investigating, but you¡¯re the one who might recognize a face or a voice. You¡¯re the one on the front line here. As much as I want justice for Fylen, I don¡¯t want to see you die for it.¡±


    I thought back over the past week. Boring, uneventful. Safe.


    I liked boring and uneventful. I hated chaos and terror. I even found myself resenting Desten for calling Pelys in. If he weren¡¯t here, I could go on pretending that I¡¯d be fine. I could ignore this power and convince myself that information alone could make everything better. That training to fight would be an unnecessary waste of time.


    But Pel was right. And he was standing, watching me. Calm, smug, eager, and right.


    ¡°Alright. You win. I¡¯ll continue training. But not every day. I can¡¯t do that, and I still need time to research. One day a week. Maybe two.¡±


    ¡°Then let¡¯s begin.¡±


    I backed up another step. ¡°What, now? Here? Are you crazy?¡±


    ¡°Relax.¡± Pelys drew a cube of blue light around the corridor, sealing the two of us in the small enclosed space. ¡°This won¡¯t be dangerous at all.¡±


    <hr>

 19: Last Night in Leetan

    It is the job of the conversant to ratify the leadership of each successive reirn over each house. Who exactly are the conversant? Why do they hold such a powerful position over the entirety of world governance? These questions cannot be answered by research alone. Only reirns have the dubious privilege of interacting with the conversant, and they have refused to do more than acknowledge their existence.


    There have long been rumors regarding their secret power over every house, or conspiracy theories about their hidden agendas, but they have never acted in any way but with the highest and most impeccable honour. No reirnship has been usurped, no lines lost under their direction.


    If the conversant indeed have some other duty, it is known only to them and has no impact upon the lives of those beneath their notice.


    -Making of a Leader


    <hr>


    I should have realized Pel¡¯s idea of ¡®not dangerous¡¯ was skewed much like his idea of ¡®reasonable training methods¡¯ and gotten out of there fast.


    Alas, his facade of reason and calm seduced me into a false sense of security. I naively believed his claims.


    ¡°Aura bubble, now!¡±


    The cube he¡¯d drawn slowly shrank around us. Pel had his own bubble up in an instant, blue light calm and steady.


    ¡°It¡¯ll stop advancing when it reaches your bubble,¡± he explained. ¡°Hurry!¡±


    His bubble held the walls away from him, but I had no such protection to halt the walls¡¯ inexorable approach.


    Just produce an aura bubble on command. That was all I had to do to avoid being crushed. But it¡¯s not dangerous.


    Once this was over, if I survived, Pel and I would have words. And I would never again trust his assessment of a dangerous activity.


    The blue gleam obscuring his eyes only made the whole situation feel all the more sinister.


    I regretted my decision already, but I couldn¡¯t back out a second time. Survival was more important than safety. And right now, I¡¯d already wasted several seconds thinking instead of pushing my bubble out around me.


    The ceiling brushed the top of my head. The wall behind Pelys distorted, stretching around his bubble as it closed in toward me.


    Aura bubble, aura bubble. Come on Astesh, this was trivially simple a couple hours ago.


    But on some level, I must still truly believe Pel wouldn¡¯t let me come to harm, because my power refused to slip into hyperactive insanity mode. No instinctive power use for me. Yes, I was afraid, but not to the same extent.


    I dropped to a crouch as the top of the cube pressed steadily downward. I glanced over at Pel, safe in his bubble, and scowled.


    ¡°Stop. Stop.¡± The walls immediately sprang back outward to their initial configuration, and Pel dropped his bubble. He shook his head. ¡°You¡¯re not engaging. This isn¡¯t an intellectual exercise. It¡¯s a challenge. Stop staring and thinking. You need to act. We have to break your slow, careless mindset so you can be prepared at any time. Aura, now!¡±


    ¡°But I¡ª¡±


    The cube pressed down, knocking me to the ground as it closed in, way too fast. It knocked Pel off his feet when the wall right behind him pressed forward, and he made a faint surprised sound before immediately crouching and flashing his own aura around himself.


    This time, instead of distorting around the bubble, the wall sparked and hissed where the two solid light constructs met, then the bubble thinned and vanished entirely.


    Something had gone wrong. Pel flashed another aura, thicker this time, and it lasted almost twice as long before being dispelled as well.


    He wasn¡¯t watching me any more, his full attention on the tightening cube around us. He¡¯d started painting new walls, trying to create a static cube inside the compressing one, but those walls fared no better than his bubbles had.


    We had to get out. I had to get us out.


    But, if Pelys didn¡¯t stand a chance, what use would I be?


    Come on, power. Do something!


    In. Pull it up. Out. Aura bubble, stretch out, protect us both ¡­


    Nothing. Nothing.


    Pel¡¯s fourth bubble dissolved, and the space around us was almost gone. We had maybe two feet on my side before the walls started pushing us into each other.


    ¡°What did you do? Give this thing a mind of its own?¡±


    ¡°I should perhaps have specified for it not to include me.¡± There was no sound of panic in Pel¡¯s voice, but something about his tone sounded off. Forced. ¡°Just, focus on your bubble. I¡¯ll figure this out.¡±


    Not reassuring.


    His bubble fell faster now, appearing and disappearing within a second of itself. The wall slid closer every time.


    Do something.


    My power flickered across my skin, the inner glow joined by an outward layer of lightning.


    Everything slowed. I could see each pulse of Pel¡¯s aura as it cycled up to full power, then flared against the wall and went out. I saw the faintest ripple of red flowing across the outer blue cube, like a second layer on the outside, pushing the cube to compress faster.


    Concern quickly ramped up to true fear.The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.


    We didn¡¯t know anything about killer Desten¡¯s accomplice, except their red power. I should have realized. If Desten were nearby, the other might be too.


    How had they found us?


    Well. Pelys and I had each made a bit of a scene. It would be hard not to notice. And then here we were, talking about what we knew in a public building! Why hadn¡¯t I realized how stupid that was?


    Pink lightning flickered faster and to my perception everything slowed further still.


    Pelys¡¯s bubble went out again, and this time I could see how its power all diverted to the point where it contacted the walls, strengthening that point at the expense of the stability of the remainder, until too much of its power was exhausted and it vanished completely.


    Another replaced it almost immediately; Pel¡¯s focus was incredible. If I had to be stuck in a death trap with anyone, he was a good choice.


    But it wasn¡¯t enough. I had to do something.


    I hadn¡¯t noticed before, but with it happening in delayed speed, I watched Pel¡¯s aura bubble form, like a single arc of light that spun around him faster and faster, leaving solid light in its wake until the original line and the solid bubble were indistinguishable.


    Something shifted as my understanding of the power¡¯s application changed, and instead of trying to inflate a bubble outside of myself, I drew it there. I couldn¡¯t explain the difference, but it worked. My own bubble spun into existence, and where the blue and pink lights collided it was the blue wall that sizzled and faded.


    I laughed aloud, as the wall and ceiling pressed against my bubble and then collapsed into nothing. I grabbed Pel by the arm and dragged him clear. Just in time. The three remaining walls continued to compress, until they drew in on themselves completely and vanished.


    ¡°You pulled me into your bubble while it was up,¡± Pel said, sounding surprised. ¡°Most people can¡¯t do that without training.¡±


    ¡°Oh?¡± I was still laughing, relief overpowering my usual pessimism. ¡°I didn¡¯t realize.¡± I let go of Pel, then allowed the bubble to disappear as the lightning across my hands slowed and faded.


    Pel waited while I calmed down and caught my breath before asking, ¡°Can you bring up your bubble now?¡±


    I did so, pulling my power up, then drawing it in a quick sweeping motion. The aura spun and solidified into a perfect sphere.


    Pel applauded. ¡°And you thought we couldn¡¯t train indoors.¡±


    ¡°Wait.¡± I glanced around, but no one was nearby. ¡°Why are you so calm? We have to find whoever tried to kill us.¡±


    ¡°It was a practice exercise. You did well.¡±


    ¡°No, there was red power on the outside of your box, when it was trying to crush us.¡±


    Pel¡¯s brow furrowed. ¡°No, there¡¯s no one else around.¡± He paused, and for a moment I thought he¡¯d say something more, but he shook his head and remained silent.


    ¡°I know what I saw. And, you know! You were inside, it wasn¡¯t acting like before.¡±


    Pel smiled. ¡°Well, if it motivates you to focus. Aura now!¡±


    I wanted to hit him, but I did as requested. A few seconds of concentration and I drew my bubble into existence around myself.


    Pel shook his head. ¡°Too slow. If I attacked, you would never have survived.¡±


    I sighed. It may take longer than Pelys wanted, but I personally thought that going from ¡®never¡¯ to ¡®three seconds¡¯ was significant improvement. The man was never satisfied.


    ¡°Mm. Let¡¯s try something different.¡± Pelys turned around so he was facing away from me and spread his arms. ¡°Try to hit me. Any way you like, fast, slow, just try to reach me.¡±


    I hesitated, suspecting a trap, but he didn¡¯t move. I gave in and kicked him, perhaps a bit more forcefully than was warranted, but he was truly aggravating. The moment my foot came close, it bounced off the bubble that suddenly surrounded him and I staggered at the sudden change. The bubble flickered into existence just long enough to knock my foot back before vanishing again.


    ¡°How? Your back was turned!¡±


    ¡°A combination of awareness and instinct. You¡¯d need to develop similar reflexes if you ever want to be competitive in dueling. But for now, try again. As many times as you want. I need you to get a feel for power not your own.¡±


    I didn¡¯t see the point, but I did as he requested. I spent the next several minutes punching, kicking, slapping, and generally failing to reach him.


    After some time, I began to more easily recover my balance whenever his shield flared and knocked me away, but apart from that I saw no improvement.


    Pelys talked the whole time while I attacked hopelessly, taking on a lecturing tone. ¡°In competitive fighting, shielding is the most basic of basics. Aura bubbles are the fastest type of shield, but also one of the weakest. It can be increased in power, but that takes time. If you¡¯re deflecting an attack that can come at any time from any direction, it¡¯s invaluable. But you can¡¯t rely on it for everything. It won¡¯t hold up to a determined attack.¡±


    ¡°Is that why¡ª¡± I began, then cut myself off. I¡¯d almost asked about Fylen using a water/ice shield instead of his bubble. That would be a mistake. ¡°¡­ Fylen could hold out longer against you?¡± I asked instead. ¡°You said he was good at defence.¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡± Pelys looked around, then shook his head. ¡°I can¡¯t make a good demonstration here, but once you learn to break basic power constructs I¡¯ll start using more exotic defences.¡±


    Oh joy.


    ¡°So, how do I go about breaking basic power constructs?¡± I asked hopelessly. I wasn¡¯t sure how this would end up being painful and miserable, but I knew it would get there soon enough.


    As it turned out, I was right.


    Unfortunately.


    By the time the Leetan authorities released the field over the building and allowed everyone to leave, I was very glad we would soon be another territory away from Pel and his home in Sarosa.


    I had not attained any mastery over, or even basic understanding of, his power disruption techniques. I did end up with a cloak of his blue healing power to aid my recovery from the many aches and injuries accrued throughout our seemingly endless training session. He assured me it would last a few hours before dissolving, no matter how far away he traveled.


    Pelys liked his slowly (or less slowly toward the end) compressing boxes far too much for my happiness. They grew predictable, and frustrating, very quickly. I couldn''t break them. Past the very earliest and weakest ones I couldn''t resist them. It felt the same as being thrown into the river over and over, the same helplessness, the same frustration. Only the specific circumstances had changed.


    Though I had to admit, however reluctantly, that it seemed to be helping. My aura bubble did become easier and easier to form; though I never managed the split-second timing Pel wanted from me, I could form it within three seconds nearly every time I tried.


    When the time came for us to part ways, he re-iterated his insistence that I message him at least every second night (but every day would be better), set a schedule for when he¡¯d next be able to fly out and continue our lessons, and departed in a streak of blue light that faded into the distance within seconds.


    I was utterly exhausted, physically and emotionally. The lockdown had lasted most of the night, and Pel hadn¡¯t let me rest more than a few minutes. I wanted nothing more than to go straight to bed, but our lease on the apartment technically ended in less than two hours. They had new customers coming in, and we were supposed to be away well before then. We would have, if not for the murder.


    I found Desten 3, who observed me warily without speaking. I was too tired to explain myself, I¡¯d probably end up slipping up and mentioning something I shouldn¡¯t if I tried, so I fell into step beside him without breaking the silence. He seemed content with this arrangement, and led the way to our apartment to pick up our few possessions before hurrying to catch a sky shuttle to the first Metako city on our schedule.


    As we took off, I couldn¡¯t help glancing back at the area of the city blocked off by a huge yellow cube of power. Whatever I¡¯d tried to assure myself with at the time, this was no random mugging. They were taking it very seriously. I wished there were some way to gain access to their findings, but if even Pelys couldn¡¯t convince them to share I wouldn¡¯t stand a chance.


    We passed other shuttles just arriving for the incoming Ryshglide event. I hadn¡¯t ever seen a Ryshglide game, or Verdis for that matter. We¡¯d be overlapping with each of those cycles once in coming weeks, and I decided I¡¯d try to go to at least one of each game just to see.


    I saw quite a few people reclining or producing pillows of light, and realized that they had a very good idea. I wasn¡¯t sure how well I¡¯d be able to sleep on the flying platform, but within seconds of closing my eyes I woke with Desten poking my shoulder to wake me.


    We''d arrived in Metako.


    <hr>

 20: Metako

    When seeking a representative for one¡¯s trade pursuits, few options can be found who do not claim roots to the western mountains.


    It may be an old adage, but it holds true. No one outbargains a Metako.


    -Houses Throughout History


    <hr>


    A faint scent of smoke drifted in from the downcity mines and manufacturies, but apart from that there was little to distinguish Metako from Varon or Sarosa. The buildings themselves were all very heavily stone and metal, hardly any wood to be seen. The details were different, but the overall impression remained similar. The streets were still wide, gardens and courtyards abounded, and if the flora was slightly different it wasn¡¯t significant enough to be noticeable.


    The main thing to set Metako apart from the other houses was the statues. On street corners, on door frames, even sections of the road, ornate carvings of everything from depictions of people or animals to abstract ornamentation could be seen, some stone, but most metal. I found myself staring at the intricate banding and patterns of different metals weaving together. It looked almost painted, rather than carved. I couldn¡¯t imagine how hard it would be to interlace so many different types of metal together with such perfect precision, but the intricate shading on the pair of turtle warriors standing guard outside our apartment bore silent testament to Metako¡¯s mastery of their technique. And our turtle warriors were far from the only example of perfect artistry; nor were they even close to the best.


    I could have stared at them for hours, just trying to understand how the patterns on their shells and the detailing of their leathery skin was possible. I¡¯d lived alongside illuminators for many years, so I understood the basics of colour and design, but this was something else entirely. Was it possible to paint with metal?


    ¡°You coming?¡± Desten asked warily.


    I nodded and followed him indoors. Our lodging here ended up being similar to Leetan''s in content, though the layout more closely resembled a Varon interior than Leetan''s more unconventional shapes.


    Of greatest interest to me at the moment was my bedroom. I had slept for a few hours on the trip over, but that left me only groggier than before. I waited long enough for Desten to hesitantly select one room for himself before laying claim to the other and promptly employing it to its fullest extent.


    I didn¡¯t wake again until Desten tapped on my door in the evening for our first day of Metako week.


    Not everyone had arrived yet, and I didn¡¯t blame them for spending a day of downtime before jumping right back into the social chaos. I very nearly called it off myself. But I did feel obliged to Desten, after he¡¯d been so worried about me he actually sent for Pelys to come snap me out of it. Even if I wished he hadn¡¯t, it had been the right choice.


    The weather wasn''t ideal, with a slow drizzle of rain and heavy clouds obscuring the stars. But when we arrived inside the courtyard, I saw that all the rain was collected and routed into channels, turned into sparkling waterfalls by a huge cyan barrier that arced overhead in a fair representation of a clear blue sky. It made for a startling first impression, almost as though I¡¯d stepped into a garden on a clear day, rather than an overcast evening.


    Cobbled paths wound around trees and past ponds to countless small seating areas in various well-designed picturesque locations, each with some unique statue or fountain to distinguish it from the others. It was a loosely-organized event, more a casual picnic than anything tightly scheduled, and I actually enjoyed this event significantly more than I had any of those in Leetan, as it allowed me to have plenty of space and enjoy the atmosphere without the constant pressure of interacting with others.


    Desten wasn''t as aggressive in trying to speak to others about his stupid theories either, seeming content to rest and drink at a quiet corner table.


    I¡¯d slept through the trip over, so I hadn¡¯t realized to what extent news of the events in Leetan were spreading.


    Unfortunately, no one seemed to care about the actual murder. It was only mentioned in vague details that didn''t match with what I''d heard at all. They were all talking about me. Someone dying wasn''t a big deal. Someone freaking out, shoving people around while running around screaming, setting the ballroom on fire, and spending hours locked in a barrier in the servants¡¯ hallway? That was much more interesting.


    People recognized me. They pointed, and they whispered, and they smiled pityingly.


    I hated it.


    I should have realized that such a dramatic scene wouldn¡¯t go unnoticed and unremarked upon, but I¡¯d tried to put it out of my mind. Hearing it so excitably bandied about at every turn, people staring and giggling and pointing when they thought I wouldn¡¯t notice? Not fun. I should have stayed home.


    I ended up sitting with Desten. He was the only reasonably sane person with whom I was well acquainted, and he had selected a nicely out of the way table.


    We sat in silence for a time as he slowly sipped his drink and I fiddled with my own empty glass, entirely unmotivated to refill it.Find this and other great novels on the author''s preferred platform. Support original creators!


    ¡°You alright?¡± he asked, carefully, as though ready to backtrack and flee at a moment¡¯s notice.


    Wimp.


    ¡°Yes, I¡¯m fine. Sorry I worried you.¡±


    ¡°Good.¡± He fidgeted a moment, then shook his head. ¡°Are you ¡­ alright though?¡±


    ¡°Why wouldn¡¯t I be?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ve been louder than usual since Leetan.¡±


    I frowned. ¡°I don¡¯t think we¡¯ve spoken once.¡±


    ¡°No, at night. Your dreams. What happened?¡±


    ¡°Oh. Well, I saw something happen once, a duel that went terribly wrong, and I guess it stuck in my head ever since.¡±


    ¡°Is that why your power is so weak? Is eirn Pelys helping to break your mental block?¡±


    I laughed. Why not? If being traumatized by a deadly duel was a normal reason to have poor power control, then at least no one would suspect me of secretly being a downcity scribe.


    Desten edged away, subtly, then froze when he saw I¡¯d noticed.


    I sighed. ¡°It¡¯s fine, I¡¯m not going to explode again. I ¡ª something about you reminded me of the incident, and I was already on edge after I heard about the accident. I lost my head. That¡¯s all. It shouldn¡¯t happen again. Pel is helping me to take control of my power so it doesn¡¯t get away from me again. I thought I could handle it without him, but ¡­ this recent incident convinced me I shouldn¡¯t give up so easily.¡±


    ¡°You know they¡¯re all going to judge me by association,¡± he said, trying to conceal the accusation in his voice.


    ¡°You want me to leave? I can go back to bed and pretend none of this happened.¡±


    ¡°Not now, that would make a scene in and of itself. But perhaps you could sit out a few of the other events this week. Help me prepare my arguments ahead of time, instead?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, sounds good. I never really wanted to be in these social events anyway.¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t? But you¡¯re so confident.¡±


    ¡°Me? Confident? Hah.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re daring. Most people wouldn¡¯t dream of putting aside convention so thoroughly, but you don¡¯t even seem to care. It¡¯s inspiring.¡±


    Oh. This was about my utter ignorance of social custom. Well, better to be seen as a confident rebel than an ignorant commoner I suppose.


    ¡°Except the part where you ran around throwing power in every direction and screaming. That was less inspiring than terrifying. You¡¯re sure it won¡¯t happen again?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m doing my best to ensure it won¡¯t,¡± I said, which was as good a promise as I could give. It shouldn¡¯t happen again, but if we happened to cross paths with killer Desten again, I couldn¡¯t be sure how I¡¯d react. This kind of perilous, imminently-deadly stuff, it just wasn¡¯t part of my nature. I doubted I¡¯d ever be able to treat dangerous situations with as much composure as Pelys wanted of me.


    Desten fell silent, and I made no attempt to restart the conversation. We sat awkwardly for a long time, until the second part of the night¡¯s festivities began and everyone started filing out to the main attraction: a majestic orchestral arrangement of some very famous play that I¡¯d never heard of. Despite myself, I actually enjoyed it quite a bit, but not nearly as much as everyone else. It was met with massive approbation, and the event organizers looked quite smug about themselves.


    And paying attention to the show meant I didn¡¯t have to think about Desten, or Pelys, or anything but the music and poetry playing itself out on stage.


    Maybe I didn¡¯t give fiction enough credit.


    By the end of the night, I was even more exhausted than the day before. I hadn¡¯t recovered sufficiently from our adventure in Leetan and Pel¡¯s subsequent training session had only exacerbated the problem. Today¡¯s events were fine, enjoyable even, and I ordinarily wouldn¡¯t mind, but by the end of the play I felt ready to collapse right then and there. It was long past midnight by the time we returned home to sleep, and I knew I¡¯d be utterly useless in the morning. Even if I tried to help Desten with his ill-informed crusade, I doubted we¡¯d make any progress.


    So I gave myself permission to sleep in, told Desten not to bother me, and disappeared into my bedroom. I woke a few times, but ignored them and rolled over instead of giving them the courtesy of noticing. By the time I emerged, Desten had already departed for the second city¡¯s event.


    Good. I wouldn¡¯t have to deal with the awkwardness that had appeared between us, and I could focus on what was important.


    Desten Metako may have disappeared, but if I didn¡¯t at least try to look for him while I was here than I¡¯d be the most useless investigator ever.


    I pilfered the coldbox for a late breakfast, then set out to find the local library and government offices. It was evening, but I hoped not so late that everything would be closed. I marveled at how liberating it was to fly with my aura up, no more wind biting at my skin or roaring in my ears, no more embarrassing collisions with insects and birds. No wonder everyone flew everywhere. With the proper tools, it was effortless and convenient. Who needed horses? For that matter, who needed roads? The sky was open to me.


    After spending perhaps a half hour playing around in the upper lanes of the sky, I remembered my purpose and descended. The libraries were still open, so I set right to work, sending one librarian in search of any available documents.


    Alas, our best efforts turned up no information about Desten Metako. Well, I learned that his wife''s name was Rinett Lesari, an obvious commoner name if ever I heard one. I learned that he''d purchased a house in downcity Shaleridge eight years ago, then sold it four years later. But that was it. No further record of his existence. No clues as to his present whereabouts.


    I looked up the location of the house, which was close enough that I could fly out and check it myself in case he was lurking about, but it seemed highly unlikely. That would be a trip for another time, though. Showing up on a stranger''s door at midnight seemed unwise.


    Desten wasn¡¯t home by the time I returned, so I put him out of my mind.


    As I showered, I couldn¡¯t help but think over that last day in Leetan again. Something nagged at me, unfulfilled. Pel had been far too quick to dismiss my notice of someone¡¯s interference in our training. He took everything else I¡¯d learned and said so seriously, but then when I tell him someone tried to kill us he brushed it off without a care? That wasn¡¯t like him.


    The sort of person who¡¯d fly an hour away with no notice to check on someone he¡¯d only met a handful of times? He wouldn¡¯t disregard something like that.


    So it had to be something he knew about.


    I sighed and closed my eyes. It would be just like Pel to rope a random stranger into pretending to attack him, just to motivate me. It had all been part of his exercise, hadn¡¯t it? He was pretending to be in danger so I would push harder, since he knew I knew he wouldn¡¯t hurt me - or rather he¡¯d hurt me no matter what, but I would survive. But it wouldn¡¯t be hard to make me believe someone else was trying to hurt us both.


    That sneak. I think I hate him.


    And that reminded me he¡¯d be coming around tomorrow for another lesson. Ugh. I was not ready. Maybe I could ask him to cancel?


    I briefly considered fleeing the city, but that would only make him angrier when he finally caught up to me. Besides, I had questions.


    It took a long time to fall asleep, and I dreamed of fire and water closing in on me.


    <hr>

 21: Metako Finale

    One question that is a constant source of debate among the religious: is it that the god has been lost? Or is it the god who has lost interest in us?


    -Lost: An Examination of Sarosi Religion


    <hr>


    ¡°Any news?¡± Pel asked, as we rested between practice bouts. We were still on the ¡®break foreign power to escape increasingly dangerous situations¡¯ portion of the training, and I wasn¡¯t sure if the fact that I only had to do this once a week was a benefit, or if it made the buildup of dread all the worse.


    ¡°No sign of Desten Metako,¡± I answered. ¡°I¡¯ve asked around about him, but he went downcity after his departure from the family. He could be anywhere. Gossip is helpful for the big things, not so useful for finding him years later.¡±


    ¡°You still think he¡¯s a probability?¡±


    I shrugged. ¡°Could be. Unlikely, though. From what I¡¯ve heard, that entire branch of Metako all have pink power like Aneeyha. Does people¡¯s power change colour as they get older?¡±


    Pel shook his head. ¡°Not usually. It can shift slightly, like the difference between mine and Fylen''s, but most of the time it remains stable.¡±


    ¡°Could you verify his power colour with Anneyha next time you see her? I think we might be able to cross Desten Metako off the list, but I want to make sure.¡±


    Pelys nodded. ¡°Sure.¡±


    ¡°Anything more on the Varon Destens?¡±


    ¡°Vess is trying to track down Desten 7. He¡¯s a trader, and spends a lot of time traveling. From what we¡¯ve found, he has a wife and young child, and is traveling even more than usual.¡±


    I frowned. ¡°He¡¯s spending less time at home now?¡±


    ¡°It seems so.¡±


    ¡°Is it a financial problem? Is he barely getting by?¡±


    ¡°Vess didn¡¯t mention anything about that. He''s going to try approaching the wife and see if she knows where he might be this time of year. He''s not touring, but aside from that we haven''t found much."


    "So for Varon that leaves 6 and 7 as the only ones we haven''t met. I don¡¯t suppose you know any locals we could set on Desten Metako¡¯s trail?"


    ¡°No, I¡¯ve never been the one to befriend everyone in every city we visit. That¡¯s more Let and Lan¡¯s thing.¡±


    ¡°I found a house he owned for several years. Want to come see if the new owners know anything about him?¡±


    Pel laughed. ¡°Are you trying to distract me from our lessons?¡±


    ¡°No, but I do think that figuring out whether Fylen¡¯s brother-in-law is the one who killed him is a bit more important.¡±


    ¡°Alright, but once we get back we are going to continue where we left off."


    "And what if I can never manage it?"


    "You will. It''s not as hard as you think."


    "Says the one who regularly makes everything harder than it has to be."


    Pel only smiled.


    ¡°You find anything else about Leetan?¡± I asked. ¡°Like who tried to kill us with your cube thing?¡±


    He shook his head. ¡°I¡¯m the only one who was there. Just you and me.¡±


    ¡°I know what I saw. Someone was pushing on the outside of the box with red power. You hired someone to scare me.¡±


    ¡°Just me.¡±


    ¡°But your power is blue!¡±


    ¡°Yes it is.¡±


    ¡°I saw something red.¡±


    ¡°There was no red. No one interfered. I changed the way my walls worked to scare you, yes, but I didn¡¯t need to hire a third party for that.¡±


    ¡°So what was the red?!¡±


    Pelys sighed. ¡°I didn¡¯t see any red. You were probably just imagining it. It had been a long stressful day, and I know you¡¯re not used to this sort of danger. If you want to go back to touring and leave the investigating to me, you¡¯ve been a big help setting us on the right track with Desten. I think we can take it from here.¡±


    ¡°No. I need to do this.¡± For Fylen if nothing else. Even if I get nothing out of it in the end, I couldn¡¯t steal his daughter¡¯s power and future and pretend everything was fine. If the only thing I could do was bring Desten to justice, then that¡¯s what I would do.


    ¡°Alright.¡± Pelys stood. ¡°Then lead on.¡±


    I loved being able to fly on my own. It felt like I¡¯d matured or advanced in some fundamental way; the independence of not relying on others to get around was empowering and freeing. I thought back to my early weeks wandering around in Varon, trying to figure out why no one had carriages, and shook my head at the memory. Carriages would be worse than useless here.


    We arrived at the house. It was a pretty impressive one by downcity standards, but I felt a little uncomfortable landing outside it. It had tiny narrow pathways leading to it, no wide porch or balconies for easy arrival and departure. Dust from the cracked mud of the walk puffed into the air with each step I took. Pel was suppressing any dust with a faint blue shimmer by his feet, but I had no idea how to replicate his feat.


    Pel didn¡¯t hesitate. He strode up to the door and knocked firmly.


    A moment later, a woman opened the door, then took a step back and bowed deeply. ¡°Apologies, eirns. How may I serve you?¡±


    Something about her looked strange, flat, unreal. It took me a moment to realize it was the dimness of her skin, the eyes with no glow, the utter lack of casual illumination emanating from her. I¡¯d grown so used to the glow of power around everyone I interacted with that she looked unnatural, almost inhuman. The realization made me distinctly uncomfortable.


    Pel had no such problem. ¡°We need to find the previous owners of this house, Desten Metako and Rinett Lesari.¡±


    The woman didn¡¯t look up as she answered. ¡°Yes, eirn. If I can help in any way, I will.¡±


    ¡°Do you know where they went?¡±


    ¡°No, eirn, apologies, I do not.¡±


    ¡°Did you ever meet them?¡±


    ¡°No, eirn. My father bought the house for me and my sister. I do not know who sold it to him.¡±


    Pelys nodded, and turned to leave. The woman bowed again, looking relieved.


    ¡°Is your father still alive?¡± I asked. ¡°Do you know where we could find him?¡± It was a long shot, but it was the only potential lead we had.


    ¡°No, eirn. He is dead. Apologies.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s alright. I¡¯m sorry we scared you. You¡¯ve done nothing wrong. Have a good day.¡±


    I stepped into the sky, power beginning to draw the protective sphere around me, Pelys a blue light hanging in the air waiting for me to catch up.


    ¡°Well, now you¡¯ve had a nice rest,¡± he said, as soon as I was close, ¡°I have an idea for a new exercise we can try on the way back.¡±


    ¡°Please no. It¡¯s hard enough flying this far as it is.¡±The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.


    ¡°No excuses. You still haven¡¯t disrupted even a single speck of my power yet. You haven''t even been able to form your power into a burst at all. This is the most basic attack you¡¯ll ever encounter and forms a foundation for everything that comes later. So I want you to drop your own aura and fly with mine instead.¡±


    ¡°No. You¡¯ll do something horrible to me in midair, and I do not want to fall.¡±


    ¡°I get the feeling you don¡¯t trust me,¡± Pel said, but he was grinning.


    ¡°That¡¯s because I don¡¯t. You¡¯ve made my life miserable one too many times for me to ever trust you again.¡±


    ¡°But you can¡¯t deny you¡¯re making more progress now than in your whole safe comfortable life so far. The problem with scholarly pursuits is that it can blind you to the alternative options that would benefit you more. You can only meditate so far before the benefits begin to decline. My training methods guarantee full returns on time invested. Would you really rather spend years slowly focusing on how to create a disruption pulse? Or spend a week being frustrated and then have it out of the way for good?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯d rather go to bed.¡±


    ¡°Not an option. Besides, we¡¯ve hardly gotten started!¡±


    I tried to ignore him and fly on, but he was faster.


    ¡°If you don¡¯t bring down your bubble voluntarily, I¡¯ll do it myself,¡± he warned.


    I tried to fly faster.


    ¡°Ah, well.¡± He popped my bubble with the same pulse he¡¯d used to disrupt my flying back at the chasm, then surrounded me with a sphere of his own blue power almost in the same instant.


    ¡°Why does it have to be yours?¡±


    ¡°Because I had an idea,¡± Pelys said.


    I did not like the look on his face.


    The bubble began to fog up, hampering my ability to see through it clearly. Then the fog became droplets of water, that ran down the interior surface and began pooling at the bottom.


    ¡°Pel? What are you doing?¡±


    ¡°Simple. You pop the bubble, and the water will fall out. If you don¡¯t, it¡¯ll keep accumulating and fill it up long before we reach the city. Your choice.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know how to pop it!¡±


    ¡°Push the power out in a spike until you contact something you want destroyed, then use the contact to disperse it. It¡¯s simple.¡±


    So he¡¯d said. Many times. I could barely even imagine a spike of power, let alone use it to disperse someone else¡¯s.


    The water reached my toes, soaking through my shoe.


    ¡°I hate you.¡±


    ¡°No time for emotion. Action! Break it now!¡±


    I tried flying faster, but Pel was always right beside me, keeping up the water generation. In fact, he seemed to be making it appear faster the further I flew.


    The city was a good twenty minutes away, and at this rate the water would reach my face in less than half that. It crept up my ankles, a personal puddle I couldn¡¯t escape.


    ¡°Pell¡­¡±


    ¡°I believe in you,¡± he called cheerfully, but did nothing to help.


    I sighed. And here I¡¯d hoped to avoid almost drowning today.


    It took three hours to reach the city. I did not drown, but I did not manage to break his bubble either. I did spend a great deal of time choking and dying and panicking and cursing Pelys¡¯s name. We parted ways shortly after returning, him to attend to some duties he¡¯d been conveniently neglecting all morning, myself to anyplace not occupied by Pel.


    I spent the afternoon recovering, and avoiding Desten. He seemed on edge, more than usual, and I wondered if he¡¯d been trying to spread his message of joy and hope and been rebuffed, or if something else had happened. Maybe he was just anxious being in the same house as unstable me.


    I didn¡¯t offer to help him prepare arguments, and he didn¡¯t ask. He seemed to have switched focus, performing some sort of research project with lots of cross-referencing in obscure tomes and sending out for new books on an almost hourly basis. Whatever it was, he seemed fully absorbed in it, and I left him to it.


    The remainder of Metako week passed strangely quickly, and almost enjoyably. I didn¡¯t end up getting to a verdis game. I¡¯d been distracted and preoccupied and didn¡¯t have the emotional energy for a gathering of that many people. By the time I mustered the energy to care, the final Metako game had already ended. It would be fine. We were going to overlap with Ryshglide next week in Raysh, and there would plenty of opportunities for me to get to a sport event if the inclination struck me again.


    I did attend the final event of the week, as I hoped the rumors would have run their course and died down, and Desten mentioned they¡¯d be doing a live carving exhibition at the end. That, I very much wanted to see.


    The rumors had not died down. Perhaps that¡¯s why Desten seemed so withdrawn and irritable. But I avoided hanging around him too closely, and he avoided attracting attention, and we got through the socializing portion of the night without further incident.


    I spent some time wandering around, listening to snatches of conversation. At least half of it was no longer about me, and the ones that were about me seemed to have morphed into something so unlike reality as to be barely recognizable. I wondered if they¡¯d even recognize me from the stories at this rate. I had apparently grown glowing pink fangs, a thousand tentacles, and kidnapped three important nobles before retreating with them into my dark lair. Until, three hours later, I emerged and there was no sign of my victims.


    Yeahhhh. Sounds plausible. I¡¯d never written anything so stupidly fanciful even in my most extreme commissions. Sure, there were some weird ones, but honestly the vast majority included fictionalized versions of the commissioner performing unrealistic feats of heroism, destruction, or romance.


    I wondered what my downcity customers would think if I wrote up a record of my adventures as a fake noble? Would it be seen as too dull? Or would the realism make them believe it? Maybe if I was ever outed and had to flee for my life, that¡¯s what I would do. Make an underground tell-all about the boring lives of the nobles and their tedious partying.


    This couple, for instance: they stood by a window, complaining to each other.


    ¡°Why have they been so lax with their lightshows this year? Two years ago they were everywhere. Now, hardly one a week if we¡¯re so fortunate. What have they been doing?¡±


    ¡°I know,¡± bemoaned her partner. ¡°It¡¯s as though they think that making us wait between displays makes them better somehow. If they¡¯d put their effort into improving the quality rather than decreasing the quantity, maybe they¡¯d see better results.¡±


    ¡°And what about the poor light artists? This used to be a big chance for them to show their stuff, get out there. But no, one stupid over-reacher setting half of one city on fire, and they¡¯re forced to go small. It¡¯s not like anyone was hurt.¡±


    ¡°Right? They were just mad because they had to reschedule their reverse match, I¡¯m sure. The leagues put up a big fuss about it, and they were major supporters of this stupid law. Sellouts.¡±


    I wandered on, leaving them to their well-trodden discussion.


    The next group was discussing me. Or, rather, one woman was telling a story to an enraptured crowd.


    ¡°¡ªand a warrior from Sarosa had to come in to put a stop to it! You should have seen it, pink and blue magic clashing, sparks flying everywhere. I had to hide behind a curtain, it was so bright I could scarcely look!¡±


    I shook my head and continued my meandering.


    Finally, the main event arrived, and we all filed into the theatre. The stage was dominated by a massive block of stone on an elevated platform, slowly rotating, illuminated by lines of light painted around the ceiling in shades of orange and yellow.


    Four artists emerged onto the stage, each taking position at one corner of the block. They bowed to the audience, then whipped their power into scythes of red, orange, or yellow light that began spinning around them with expert control, two blades to each artist.


    Chips of stone flew as they began to carve off pieces. Music pulsed in the background in time to their movements. It was almost a dance as they moved back and forth, crossing in front and behind each other as they each focused on their own task but never colliding either with their bodies or power.


    Slowly, the block began to take shape. Mountains appeared, then were refined into an ever sharper picture. Ravines were carved, rivers cut through the lower areas and off the edge of the section. One whole edge became a river ravine, uneven and somehow familiar.


    As they continued to move around the rotating scene, I felt almost dizzy at the realization. This was Metako itself. The entire territory, carved out with unbelievable precision. A waist-high mountain range that perfectly echoed the reality outside.


    And they didn¡¯t stop there. Cities began to take shape, tiny buildings casting tiny shadows as the carving rotated in the light of the false sun overhead. Mines, downcity towns and roads, tiny individual trees. I was watching them do it right in front of me, and I still hardly believed it.


    Then the two artists with orange power stopped carving and left for a moment, returning with a smaller box of stones. They stood to the side, out of the spotlight. Each selected a stone, then held it in front of them with their power, rotating it faster and faster. The stones began to distort, crumbling to powder, but before I could figure out what they were doing my attention was drawn back to the main central carving.


    The fire user had begun to heat up the entire thing. It glowed at the edges as he ran an unshaped mass of yellow-flame power over it, and then the two others stepped forward. Their stones had disintegrated completely, leaving them with a floating collection of dust. They funneled it onto the glowing sections with perfect precision, and it immediately melted into the glowing whole. They continued in this way for some time, moving their way across the carving just behind the fire artist.


    I hadn¡¯t been paying attention to the red-power user, but now realized that he stood at the back of the carving, doing something with a dozen quick tiny blades that darted in and out of the air before him. I couldn¡¯t see from this angle what exactly it was.


    Then, the early portions of the work began to cool, and there was an audible gasp as we realized what they¡¯d been doing.


    The rivers were blue and silver, rippled as though by true waves. The mountains¡¯ surface had changed, from the flat uniform grey to a richly textured imitation of reality. Instead of merely shaped like Metako, now it looked like Metako. Exactly. I could fly up right now and, looking down, I swear it would¡¯ve matched the carving perfectly.


    The colorists finished their work, and all four stepped back. The lights brightened, revealing the full finished carving in all its glory.


    If I hadn¡¯t watched the entire procedure, I¡¯d have sworn they¡¯d simply shrunk down a piece of reality to place in front of us.


    The applause was deafening. I heard someone in the back say, ¡°That¡¯s how we do it!¡± and someone else joined in with ¡°METAKO!¡±


    I applauded as hard as anyone, feeling more at home than I had at any of the other events. Something about Metako spoke to me in a way the other houses hadn¡¯t. The mastery of creation and performance was something laudable, something I yearned to replicate.


    Once I finished with this Desten crusade, I hadn¡¯t had a plan for what to do next. But now, I thought, I might want to move here. Find someone to teach me. The sheer beauty of creating something so magnificent was something I wanted.


    I barely paid attention as they auctioned off the finished model, only vaguely noting that it sold for more than I¡¯d have earned in decades. I was lost in the sudden clarity that had overtaken me.


    For the first time, being Astesh no longer felt like a burden. Perhaps, it could also be a new beginning. A second chance at defining who I wanted to be.


    For the first time since I¡¯d realized the depth of the trouble I was in, I felt truly hopeful for the future.


    <hr>

 22: Raysh

    Teirn: a person without occupation whose rank is only circumstantial. Unless you are absolutely certain this is the individual¡¯s true position, in nearly all situations it is best to simply use Eirn, even if that may impart more respect than is due. It is unconscionably rude to address anyone of higher position as such.


    -Etiquette for Children, third edition


    <hr>


    After Metako ended on such a high note, I was optimistic heading into Raysh. Sure, I had the imminent threat of Pelys showing up in two days for another training session, but on the other hand I still had two days until then. Two days of not even worrying about trying to find Desten Metako, two days of not being the center of attention, two days of just sitting in Desten 3¡¯s latest apartment talking about the fate of the world.


    All in all, a relaxing and enjoyable prospect.


    There would be a reverse game the second day, which I decided to attend. I hadn¡¯t particularly cared for sporting events in my past life, but after seeing Metako¡¯s power artists and their incredible creation, I was eager to see what other constructive uses this power could be put to.


    For too long, my impression of power had been coloured by the violence and fear of my initial exposure. Sure, it could also be used to fly and protect one from insects and cold, but such mundane uses didn¡¯t have the same impact as talk of war and death and incursions and potential destruction of houses over city disputes. And Pel¡¯s idea of training didn¡¯t help anything.


    Maybe a nice relaxing day spent in observing a popular pastime would help further diversify my mental associations away from violence.


    Desten declined to join me, opting to stay home and focus on his research project instead. I made my way to the arena without difficulty. Raysh seemed to be quite proud of their ryshglide arena, and it was clearly labeled and brightly lit with a full spectral rainbow. Though naturally the rainbow was more heavily tinted in pinks and blues to match their house colours.


    I was surprised to find the arena itself was a maze of hundreds of shifting walls that slowly rose or fell, moved from side to side, or rotated in place. Any individual wall would be easy enough to anticipate, but with all of them moving at once it became nearly impossible to predict. Every few seconds, one of the walls changed its behavior, switching from one type of movement to another.


    It made for a fascinating tableau. I could have watched it for hours.


    But this was just the arena. The actual game took place within its shifting depths, where five players from each team tried to force dozens of floating discs either upward toward the ceiling or down to the floor.


    Each disc changed colour the moment it touched the team¡¯s designated surface and became impossible to move for that team. One strategy was to clump multiple discs together and keep them all near enough to each other that you could defend them, though that also meant if you lost control of the point or the walls shifted unfavorably you also had more to lose. Another strategy involved trying to push the discs into the most inaccessible places without actually claiming them, so they could be redirected quickly if necessary; a disc on the floor or ceiling could only be moved by the opposing team, but a floating disc could be pushed by anyone.


    It was ¡­ surprisingly exciting, actually. The level of control exhibited by the players was astonishing. The floor and ceiling were about two stories apart, giving enough room for people to fly safely above and below each other, and plenty of space for fighting over the discs.


    The constant awareness of the way the walls around them were shifting, the constant clashes of light, brief sharp attacks that I knew would go right through a basic shield. No one bothered with solidifying their auras, and I could see why Pelys said they were next to useless. It was like a ball of glass; useful to a point, but fragile and vulnerable.


    There was an intermission midway through the match, and I stood to stretch my legs. It was then I noticed a familiar face over a Varon formal robe. Desten 5? He was walking toward the food stands, looking as unimpressed with the world as ever. What was he doing in Raysh?


    I made my way toward him, curious.


    ¡°Desten?¡± I called, and he looked up.


    ¡°Oh, eirn Astesh. Hi.¡±


    ¡°No need for titles, just Astesh is fine. I didn¡¯t know you were touring this year.¡±


    He shrugged, not meeting my eyes. ¡°Yeah, not my idea. I¡¯m just along to look after Tali. My mom¡¯s convinced she can find¡ª¡± he trailed off into an unintelligible mumble, but I thought I caught the words ¡®fix Dad¡¯.


    I decided not to press the issue. ¡°So she¡¯d rather have you attending an expensive worldwide tour than at home?¡±


    He shrugged. ¡°Tali loves Ryshglide. But I think Mom wanted us to get out of the house. I¡¯m just the designated escort.¡± Then he grinned, just a little. ¡°But it is pretty exciting.¡±


    We reached the nearest food cart and he loaded up two plates, then nodded to me, standing a bit awkwardly as though unsure of the social convention here.


    ¡°I¡¯ll let you get back to it. Nice seeing you.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, uh. You too.¡± He nodded and headed back to his seat. I noticed his sister sitting there, bouncing impatiently before jumping up to grab her plate from him. He shook his head and shoved her out of his place so he could sit.You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.


    I couldn¡¯t help worrying about them a little. Sure, Desten 5 was old enough to handle things, but he shouldn¡¯t have to. It was a lot of pressure to put on someone at that age. I wasn¡¯t sure I¡¯d have held up in such a circumstance.


    The game continued a few minutes later, with the ceiling team claiming the advantage and holding it for nearly the entire duration. Then, in the last ten minutes, two members of the floor team ran a surprise raid far behind the main conflict over a horde of eight discs and started quietly picking off those left undefended. It ended up in a tie, which was broken by resetting the arena and sending the teams after a single disc, first point decisive.


    Ceiling ended up winning in the end, but it was far closer than anyone had anticipated. The crowd was buzzing with interest as we dispersed for the night.


    No one was talking about Leetan, all attention on the game, and I slipped away without being noticed. It felt good.


    Pel showed up on schedule as usual. I didn¡¯t manage the disruption pulse, no matter what he tried. He kept trying, until it was well past midnight and I felt like I was about to die. Or maybe already had. Or at least wanted to.


    ¡°Keep practicing. You need to learn this. If you can¡¯t get it by next time, I¡¯ll stop going easy on you.¡±


    I didn¡¯t have the energy to curse him, but I thought it.


    Were his healing constructs getting less effective? Or was I just ending each session even more battered than before?


    ¡°Oh, he was here! Not five days ago. He said he was married, can you believe it?¡±


    ¡°No way. Desten Varon? Settled down? I¡¯ll believe that when I see it.¡±


    I stopped sharply and glanced over. This was our third night in Raysh, my first attending the evening social events, and I¡¯d been trying to keep a low profile and assess whether I was truly safe from the rumors that had hounded me after Leetan.


    ¡°That¡¯s what I said, but he all but ignored everyone all week! It was all Trancy this and Trancy that. Ugh. The ungrateful! Do you know how many people he¡¯s disappointed?¡±


    ¡°Well, you must admit, he couldn¡¯t possibly satisfy everyone.¡±


    ¡°But Trancy? She¡¯s so dull. I¡¯ve never heard such an uninspired conversationalist in all my days. Ugh. I¡¯m glad he¡¯s touring abridged so I only had to see his stupid face once this year.¡±


    ¡°I am disappointed. I was hoping it was something more interesting than simply marrying.¡±


    ¡°Oh, it is. But come, if I¡¯m to speak of it I definitely need a drink first.¡±


    The way they were talking, it had to be either Desten 2 or Desten 6. They both had that sort of reputation. I¡¯d have to check the verdis schedule, since I knew that¡¯s where Desten 2 would be. But, no. Raysh was prepping for a verdis game next week, so it couldn¡¯t have been 2.


    The elusive Desten 6 had been here. Touring abridged. Where were they going next? Could I perhaps skip out on Teshron to go hunt him down? I had to tell Pelys when I sent tonight¡¯s letter.


    I tried to find more, but most people were talking about the upcoming reverse game, and the exciting ending of the first. I took the risk of asking around more, since there were plenty of reverse circuit attendees who might not have heard about my Leetan incident.


    Abridged would be in Leetan next. I couldn¡¯t help an internal flinch at the name. But if I wanted to find Desten 6, that¡¯s where I had to go. I¡¯d need to talk to Pel and Desten 3 about transport and lodging. I still had no money to my name.


    I really should get a job or something, but most positions in the nobility were either inherited or apprenticed. As an outsider with no training or real connections, Astesh could count on no such pre-ordained position being available. Many times a particular family would hold full control over a particular industry for generations without any outsiders ever being involved.


    I would always be an outsider, by every definition of the word. Unless I made some political marriage? Ugh. I had no interest in any such relationship, let alone for such a banal reason as money.


    No, better to continue being a leech on Desten and Pelys than sell my future away entirely. I could repay Desten 3 eventually, and Pelys didn¡¯t seem the type to keep track of debts. And the way I saw it, he owed me for the misery he insisted on putting me through every week.


    As soon as we returned home, I penned a quick missive to Pelys explaining what I¡¯d heard and asking for his help financing my returning to Leetan.


    Pel wrote back the next morning that he would be overjoyed to help. He just happened to have friends in Leetan. He could get me a place very local, and a guide to the Abridged tour¡¯s events. He included a map.


    He also said that this proximity meant we could meet in person more frequently. Wouldn¡¯t that be convenient?


    I barely resisted the temptation to destroy his letter in a fit of pique, and read on.


    By the way, Aneeyha confirmed that her brother did have pink power, same as her. Wasn¡¯t that interesting?


    Well, at least that was one more Desten off the list.


    When I told Desten 3 my plan, he seemed more relieved than anything. I couldn¡¯t help but notice he didn¡¯t ask when I¡¯d return. I wondered if he had decided my dubious assistance wasn¡¯t worth the embarrassment of being seen with me anymore.


    It was fine. I didn¡¯t need him anyway. Now that I had Pel and Vess and Let and Lan, it would probably be best to avoid entangling myself further with one of our suspects. Not that I really believed it could be him.


    I left the last Raysh event early and started flying north. Abridged was conveniently taking place in the southernmost Leetan city, which I could reach in about two and a half hours of flight. Without the need to overburden myself with heavy winter gear against the wind, I even managed the trip with only one rest and without straining my power beyond its limits.


    This time I brought food, as well. Lots of it. I wouldn¡¯t make that mistake again. I¡¯d begun to realize that my increased appetite was tied directly to my power usage: the more I pulled on my power, the hungrier I¡¯d be thereafter. Not sure why it happened, but no one commented on it and nobles seemed to simply consume food at a far more regular rate than we did downcity. Fact of life, accept it and move on.


    So I found myself back in Leetan, mere weeks after I fled. Though not at the same city, thankfully.


    Hillmount was situated by the edge of the same sprawling forest that covered most of the center of the continent, about a two-week journey from Midpeak by horse, or three hours by air. I shook my head as I remembered the amount of time I¡¯d spent traveling from city to city in my old life, the amount of wasted effort that would be completely unnecessary to a noble.


    Hmm. That was a thought. Did I have to make my money from jobs within the nobility? I knew that some nobles interacted with commoners, at least in major cities. I personally had avoided them like the plague, even before my fateful run-in with Fylen¡¯s childstone, but not everyone did.


    Could I act as some sort of air courier? If I could deliver messages and parcels within hours instead of weeks, surely that would be enough to finance a sustainable existence. It would be unconventional, and I may attract attention by doing so, but at this point I¡¯d rather given up on remaining unnoticed. I wouldn¡¯t try to make a spectacle of myself intentionally, but if what Desten implied about my lack of social graces was true, I was already noticeable whether I wanted to be or not.


    Well, that was all a problem for another time. For now, it was time to find Desten 6.


    <hr>

 23: Desten Six

    It has long been claimed that another land may lie across the seas. Many expeditions have set out to discover if this is true. Those who return have stories of nothing but water and monsters even after flying at top speed for days on end.


    But most simply never return.


    -An Explorer¡¯s Journey


    <hr>


    Desten 6 was not hard to find. While the rumors of scandal surrounding him had lessened somewhat with his reappearance, they hadn¡¯t died down entirely. And the fact that he left a bevy of scorned lovers in his wake meant that a great many people had reason to dislike him.


    Quite intensely, in some cases. I found him by following the sound of a furious tirade being leveled at him. Though, to be fair, he was screaming back with the best of them. A very unexceptional-looking woman sat beside him, her expression stony as she watched but did not interact with the shouting duo.


    ¡°Dare you deny it to my face? After everything you¡¯ve promised, you liar?¡±


    ¡°I never make promises I can¡¯t keep! Never! Not once in my life have I promised that which I could not and did not deliver. If you are so mis-informed as to truly believe the slander you¡¯re so repetitiously spewing in my direction, then you are truly pitiable!¡±


    ¡°My daughter has your letters, your own words in your own hand, and yet you still deny your promises?¡±


    ¡°I make no promises! Do you think me an idiot? I know the game better than you, old woman, and I¡¯ve certainly played it with skill far in excess of anything you could bring to the table.¡±


    She slapped him across the face, prompting a brief golden glow as his power pulsed to heal the irritant. ¡°You are a charlatan and a thief. If you have not returned to my family what is ours by the time you depart this city, I will demand satisfaction.¡±


    ¡°Gladly,¡± Desten snarled. ¡°I would not touch anything of your stupid daughter¡¯s inheritance were it not forced upon me by her own insistence. If I were you, I would take a firmer hand in her discipline. She clearly does not understand how to carry out her family¡¯s honour.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll expect my heirlooms returned, then.¡±


    ¡°Send a list to my servants. I¡¯ve better things to do than handle shipping.¡±


    The woman raised her chin. ¡°Typical Varon. Thinking you¡¯re above the rest of us.¡±


    ¡°Only, in my case, I actually am. Significantly so. In fact, I¡¯d very nearly suspect you of pushing your daughter at me deliberately in order to grasp at some fraction of my glory, were it not that such a scheme would require you to have at least a modicum of intellect and forethought,¡± hissed Desten 6, rising from his seat. ¡°Now be gone.¡± His power rose around him in a flickering yellow halo, not quite an aura bubble, not quite flames, but something in between.


    The woman took a hasty step back, but couldn¡¯t resist trying to get in the last word. ¡°Curse you, Desten Varon. Curse you and your family.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll be sure to relay the salutation, teirna.¡±


    The woman¡¯s breath hissed in sharply and for a moment I thought she¡¯d slap him again, fire aura or no fire aura, but she thought better of it and settled for simply a muttered, ¡°Varon slime,¡± before she spun and stalked away.


    Desten exhaled slowly, his ring of light fading away, then smiled with a wicked glint in his eyes. ¡°Next?¡±


    I stepped forward before anyone else could, and the people around began whispering at once. I swore I heard my name mentioned, which probably meant they¡¯d heard about my escapade. Oh, well. I had a reputation now, whether I wanted it or not, but that wasn¡¯t going to stop me.


    ¡°Excuse me, Eirn Desten. We haven¡¯t met, but I¡¯m conducting a study on the impact of¡ª¡±


    ¡°No thank you. Next!¡±


    ¡°Please, I simply wish to know if you¡ª¡±


    His eyes glowed yellow as he glared at me. ¡°Go. Away.¡±


    I went, heart suddenly racing. The menace of his glare brought back every memory, every nightmare, every thought of being hunted and killed like Fylen.


    I retreated to a quiet corner and considered.


    Desten 6¡¯s hair was a bit longer than I¡¯d remembered from the forest, wavy and unbound around his shoulders. His voice carried a strident tone now which killer Desten¡¯s had lacked, but that could well be attributed to the context. Here, he was in his element, toying with those he¡¯d wronged. There, he¡¯d been about to fight for his life.


    If it was him. It might not be. I couldn¡¯t jump to conclusions, just because he was angry and scary and never lived well by anyone¡¯s standards at all, let alone the careful responsible Fylen¡¯s. It still could have been any of them. Well, not any.


    I was actually finally getting close to checking off all the Destens in one way or another. I at least knew something about them all. Except those two randomly in Oros, despite having no family ties to Varon. That was weird enough. I couldn¡¯t write them off. I¡¯d need to head to Oros as soon as reasonable and figure out their deal. But in the meantime¡­


    1: plausible. He has a temper, and the power to be capable of it. Motive, though, kept snagging on motive. Political reasons? But why would Reirn Ushan set me on the killer¡¯s trail if it was his own nephew? Unless Desten 1 was acting alone? But he was already third in line for the throne, what would he have to gain? Potential, but I felt it unlikely.


    2: wrong voice, wrong hair, too controlled. I stood by my decision to rule him out.


    3: political motivations, possibly? But unless Fylen¡¯s definition of ¡®living well¡¯ meant ¡®getting out of the house more than once a decade¡¯ I didn¡¯t feel like Desten 3 fit. Plus, I¡¯d never seen him exhibit any particular ability to utilize power beyond its absolute basic applications. He had to rest halfway just flying between local cities! I was pretty sure he had neither the temperament nor capability of carrying out the attack in the forest.


    4: still in a coma. Had been since months before Fylen¡¯s death. Easy one to rule out, there.


    5: young, lost. I couldn¡¯t say whether he was powerful enough to do it, or why he might want Fylen dead. And the ¡®never living well¡¯ thing seemed a bit harsh to level at someone so young who hadn¡¯t had a chance to decide if he¡¯d live well or poorly yet. Still, I also couldn¡¯t rule him out. I had no strong evidence either for or against him. I¡¯d have to stop by his house again sometime once they were back from touring, see if he¡¯d open up a bit more. I didn¡¯t want it to be him, but my personal feelings weren¡¯t enough to declare it fact.


    6: total jerk. Unknown motives, but of all the Destens I¡¯d met he certainly met the ¡®didn¡¯t live well¡¯ requirement. And he threw his power around causally. And scared me half to death. But, again, personal feelings shouldn¡¯t be making the calls. I should ask around, find out more about him from others if he wouldn¡¯t speak to me himself.


    7: had a wife and child, yet was traveling more than usual. That was suspicious right there. I wondered if Vess had found anything more yet.


    8 was a woman. Metako was pink. Utrenad didn¡¯t travel and was a good friend according to Aneeyha. I should ask her what colour his power was, just to be sure, but it probably wasn¡¯t him.


    So that left me with Varon 1, 3, 5, 6, 7, Oros 1, or Oros 2 as possible suspects. I¡¯d eliminated almost half of the Destens from consideration, and nearly half of those remaining were iffy.If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.


    I hoped it would be easily and obviously one of those I hadn¡¯t met. I didn¡¯t want it to be any of them. Even Desten 6, now that I wasn¡¯t staring into his terrifying angry eyes, didn¡¯t seem like a murderer. Sure, he played around with people¡¯s affections, broke hearts, ran off with heirlooms, was the subject of countless scandals. But killer Desten, there was something wrong with him. He¡¯d been acting decidedly abnormal, and I¡¯d seen no hint of insanity in Desten 6.


    I glanced back at where he held court, this time arguing silkily with another young man. The woman beside him, presumably Trancy if the rumors I¡¯d heard were correct, seemed to be growing agitated far more than either of the men. The second man slammed a hand on the table, and a pulse of red light pushed him and Desten 6 away from each other. He continued gesturing for a few minutes, then stalked away.


    Desten 6 seemed to be very good at making people angry.


    Fylen had been angry.


    But I didn¡¯t want to let an intense personal dislike interfere with my judgment, and I was none too impressed with Desten 6¡¯s personality myself.


    So, now that I was here, how to go about finding more about him without approaching him directly?


    Fortunately, and somewhat to my surprise, Abridged wasn¡¯t made up of the usual boring parties. All the events took place in a single city, instead of being spread across a house¡¯s territory. Only the first - tonight¡¯s - and final events would involve the usual wandering around socializing. Those in between would be visits to local attractions or shows put on specifically for those touring.


    That would undoubtedly make it easier for me to maintain my own sanity, at least. But whether it would make asking others about Desten 6 easier or harder I couldn¡¯t say.


    In the end, Trancy left to find food while Desten continued his ongoing arguments with everyone and sundry, so I slipped after her.


    I waited until she was a safe distance away, then caught her eye and bowed slightly. ¡°Eirn Trancy?¡±


    ¡°If you think I¡¯m going to help you get Ten¡¯s attention, you¡¯re mistaken,¡± she said flatly, annoyance clear in everything from her tone of voice to her stance. ¡°I swear, this year has been nothing but morons trying to get something out of him.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not trying to get anything out of him. I just want to know more about him without relying entirely on rumor and gossip. I¡¯m researching the impact of a famous influence on people, and Reirn Desten is a pretty significant person to be named after.¡±


    She laughed unkindly. ¡°Really. You think some long-dead reirn meant anything to that man? I don¡¯t think even a live reirn could change him.¡±


    ¡°But perhaps unconsciously, subtly. What is he like when he isn¡¯t wheedling or shouting? What are his interests, who does he befriend?¡±


    She sighed and gestured for me to follow. ¡°I still need a drink. If you must bother me, at least you¡¯ll keep the others off. Pack of dragonspawn the lot of them.¡±


    She set off toward the bar, and I followed, unsure if I should keep asking questions or if she needed her drink first. But about halfway there, she started talking again.


    ¡°You know, of everyone who approached me with their personal agendas, no one else has really asked what he cares about. It was all either accusations or warnings or straight jealous inanity. A year ago, I¡¯d have thrown you out for being presumptuous. Is it strange that I find it refreshing now?¡±


    I shrugged. ¡°It can¡¯t be easy. I¡¯ve only been here a few hours, and I¡¯ve already heard more than I care to about his private affairs.¡±


    Trancy grimaced. ¡°Yes. He has had a great many of those.¡±


    ¡°How long have you¡ª¡±


    ¡°Been the chosen one?¡± She smiled, and there was something of a glint in her eye. She went from appearing weary and uninterested to suddenly dangerous in a heartbeat. ¡°Since around the end of last touring season. If he¡¯d had his way, we¡¯d still be in seclusion, but I wanted to have one last chance to dispel any rumors about us before we disappear for good.¡±


    ¡°Is that what this is supposed to be? Dispelling rumors?¡±


    We reached the bar and she spent a moment picking out the drink she wanted, a pale forest green liquid that was almost transparent. She downed it in one gulp, set the glass down, and picked up another. ¡°At least give people some closure. I¡¯m not the first one he¡¯s tried to take advantage of, just the first one to outplay him at his own game. And I want everyone to know he¡¯s mine now, and they¡¯ve no choice but to put their own schemes aside.¡±


    Wow. That was not the direction I¡¯d thought this was going.


    ¡°So, what is he like? When he¡¯s not being a schemer and breaking hearts?¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s always a schemer. If you don¡¯t know him, you may think he isn¡¯t, that he¡¯s transparent and moody, but that¡¯s all his game. Entirely. He¡¯s charming one minute, sad the next, domineering the next, and it¡¯s all because he¡¯s playing his emotions just as much as he¡¯s playing you. That¡¯s the first thing you have to understand about my Ten, he is never out of control. Never.¡±


    She emptied the second glass and selected a third.


    ¡°I, on the other hand, am completely transparent. I think that¡¯s what threw him, in the end. He tried so hard to trip me up, put so much on his interpretation being right, on me being just like him, and then when I turned out to be simply stubborn and straightforward it threw off all his calculations. IS that his one weakness? His assumption that everyone around him must be either stupid or exactly as brilliant as himself? So when you turn out to be neither of those, it throws him off his game? I think that¡¯s it.¡±


    ¡°So, if you¡¯ve been in seclusion all year, where were you?¡±


    She gestured in a circle with the glass. ¡°Around. I kept him at my estate for a while until his disappearance wasn¡¯t major news any more. Then we spent some time in a cottage away from the cities.¡± She smiled again. ¡°But I can¡¯t keep him isolated forever. That would drive him mad, I think. He needs people. As much as I despise them.¡±


    She drained the third glass and took a fourth, this time switching from the clear green to a murky red. She did not drink this, but set out back toward where Desten was arguing intently with an older woman. I could see what Trancy meant. He seemed to approach each argument as a different individual. While in the first he¡¯d been ranting as though on the edge of losing his temper, the second he¡¯d approached like a debate, and this he spoke in a low voice with quiet intensity.


    The seeming genuineness of it threw me. I¡¯d never observed such an expert in deception, in changing his persona to fit the mood effortlessly.


    I almost envied him.


    ¡°Have you been to Sarosa?¡± I asked before I could think better of it. ¡°I know a lot of Varons spend time in Sarosa.¡±


    ¡°Me? Of course. I do tour.¡±


    ¡°No, I mean, with Desten, er, ¡®Ten¡¯, after leaving the public scrutiny for your retreat.¡±


    ¡°No, we stayed mostly in Wightok. I own a great deal of land there. Plenty of privacy, and it wouldn¡¯t be associated with him.¡±


    ¡°So you can safely say that he was not in or near Sarosa at all this winter?¡±


    She stopped walking and narrowed her eyes at me. ¡°Why do you ask?¡±


    ¡°Well, only, I was in Sarosa this winter, and I thought I saw him. But if you say he was nowhere near there, then I must have been mistaken.¡±


    ¡°I can assure you, whoever you saw, it wasn¡¯t Ten. He took my orders to stay away from any cities very seriously.¡±


    I wanted to press further, that wasn¡¯t enough of a denial to rule out downcity rural areas, but before I could think how to approach the question we¡¯d reached Desten¡¯s table. She passed him the drink, whispered something in his ear, then resumed her seat.


    When I hesitated, she waved a hand at me. ¡°You can go.¡±


    ¡°Could I talk to you again another time?¡±


    She ignored me.


    I hung around another two hours, watching. Desten continued to work his way through everyone who had a grievance against him - seemingly half the Leetan population - and his handling of them remained flawless. Some he sent away satisfied, or at least no longer angry, others he whipped into rages and made to look foolish; some he spoke to calmly, others he engaged with their fury as though he were the one wronged.


    It was fascinating to watch, and terrifying. I could no longer so easily assume he was simply a social player. With such complete emotional control over himself, I couldn¡¯t assume anything about him.


    Trancy had resumed her blank-faced observation, deflecting or waving off anyone who tried to approach her directly. A few times, she spent a minute or two conversing before dismissing her interlocutor, but most of the time she simply ignored them if they didn¡¯t leave at her first insistence.


    And then the evening came to an end. Desten and Trancy linked arms and walked away, their bodies moving in perfect sync as though they¡¯d spent weeks practicing exactly how to walk together for maximum impact, her silver and his gold both adorned with tiny red sequins as accents, matching and yet each unique.


    They were a stunning couple, at a distance. No amount of adornment could fully conceal the blandness of her face, but when seen at a distance it didn¡¯t matter.


    I returned to my apartment, unsatisfied. Trancy¡¯s answers had been just vague enough not to truly rule him out. She had only insisted he¡¯d stayed away from Sarosa cities, not the territory as a whole. Wightok was a good distance away from Sarosa, though, so if that¡¯s where they were staying chances were good they wouldn¡¯t have happened to stop up for a murder. There was no obvious connection to Fylen. But, then again, none of the Destens had an obvious connection. Whatever Fylen had been doing in secret, that could have been with anyone.


    Sometimes it felt like everything I learned only made things more uncertain.


    As I prepared to sleep, I realized that I missed Desten 3. Of everyone I¡¯d met since coming upcity on this desperate venture, he was the most like me in temperament and interests. Even after our falling-out in Leetan, even when not speaking to each other for days, there was a sort of camaraderie in being a pair of scholars, together against the madness of touring season. He wanted to change the world, I wanted to bring a killer to justice. We were similar on a deep level.


    If I was going to stick with being Astesh forever, I should put in some effort to repairing our relationship. I could easily see myself hanging out in his library talking about politics or whatever new topic he came up with in years to come. Even if he was a naive fool, there was an endearing genuineness to him. He truly thought he could make a change, and if we could find a way to actually make it happen, that drive of his could prove truly valuable.


    I really hoped it wasn¡¯t him.


    <hr>

 24: Desten Oros

    ¡®By the heights!¡¯ or ¡®Thank the heights;¡¯ you may hear these spoken casually, particularly in the western mountain regions of Metako, Raysh, and Leetan. It is easy to assume one is referring to their mountainous homelands, but that is not truly the case.


    By its oft-forgotten traditional meaning in this context, ¡®Heights¡¯ actually refers to the land above the sky. Many of the houses maintain that the existence of incursions from above mean that any greater power or other beings living in the Heights must be inherently antagonistic. Contrariwise, Highla believe that the incursions are as infrequent as they are because their purpose is not to destroy us but to test us.


    -Light of the Heights: An Examination of Highla Religion


    <hr>


    I wasn¡¯t able to pin down either Desten 6 or Trancy throughout the entire remainder of the week. I did survive two uselessly horrifying training sessions with Pel, and barely talked my way out of a third. No progress there. My flight and shield grew incrementally faster and less fragile, but I still had no idea how to form the dispersal attack he insisted I learn.


    As Abridged moved on to Utrenad, Pel arranged for me to switch to the Verdis circuit heading to Oros. I silently wished I could detour to Wightok to check on Desten 3. I missed his company, but refrained from saying anything. The sooner I could wrap up this investigation the sooner we could get back to being a simple scholarly duo out to see the world.


    And then we arrived in the first Oros city and I realized how truly unprepared I was for the reality of the touring season. I began to see why Verdis and Reverse needed to be kept separate. The crowd at the ryshglide event had been huge. But this was far beyond that.


    Verdis¡¯s touring group was massive. Some of them had attended various events when they overlapped with Rotational, but the number of people present easily doubled or tripled that quantity. The player arena itself was half the size of the ryshglide arena, but the building sprawled out with seating for three times as many people.


    Thankfully, I wasn¡¯t here to watch the games. I was here to find Desten Oros. Both of them.


    I reviewed my remembered information about the pair of them. They were cousins, both with the same name, born six years apart. Desten Oros 1, the elder, was the son of Laerth Oros (formerly Novarot) and Laund Oros, whose sister Nalour Oros was Desten Oros 2¡¯s mother. Out of nowhere, after only a handful of Destens ever recorded in Oros, and none of whom were related to the duo.


    It was weird, but then again, Oros was positioned just south of Varon. Maybe Laund and Nalour just had an obsession with history, found out about Reirn Desten, and decided to name their kids after him. Who knew.


    That did leave me with the problem of actually locating them. Since I had no convenient contacts here to make me lists of addresses, I had to go to the governance offices and trawl through records. Thankfully, if there¡¯s one thing I was good at, it was looking up information. I¡¯d gotten a feel for how these places worked over the months I¡¯d spent so far working on this project, and locating the Destens was the simple task of a day and a half.


    I found the elder Desten¡¯s address, though I suppose ¡®elder¡¯ made him sound older than his 24 years of age. Desten Oros 2 was only 18 and did not yet own his own land or have any job on record. But, hopefully Oros 1 could point me in his direction.


    I made the trip to his house easily enough, careful of the high traffic volume. The verdis tour really made things far more crowded than they should have been, but it would be weird for me to show up on my own in the middle of touring season on an off week when they were busy preparing without having a very good excuse. Verdis happened to be in the area, and it provided a convenient cover.


    On the way over, I tried to refine my pitch a bit so I wouldn¡¯t come across like a desperate salesperson. I think that¡¯s what soured Desten 6. I needed to somehow excuse being a nosy busybody without coming across creepy or suspicious. Hm. Easier said than done. Maybe my research project was still the best cover story.Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.


    Long before I had time to fully think through the probabilities and possibilities, I arrived. So I knocked on the door, and waited.


    ¡°Yes?¡± asked a servant in Oros colours.


    ¡°I¡¯m looking for Desten. Is he available?¡±


    ¡°Eirn Desten is not here right now. May I take your card?¡±


    Oh, cards. I didn¡¯t have a card. I should make some, I have all the necessary expertise. How did I never think of this?


    ¡°I¡¯ll just write a note,¡± I said. ¡°Have you any paper?¡±


    He returned a moment later with paper. I wrote a quick message explaining that I wanted to interview Desten and his cousin at their earliest convenience, my name and the address of the room I¡¯d be staying at, then passed it back to him.


    Well. That didn¡¯t take very much time. It felt like a letdown, flying all this way only to find he wasn¡¯t home.


    ¡°Actually, I¡¯d like to speak with his cousin, the younger Desten, as well. Do you know where I could find him?¡±


    ¡°I believe young eirn Desten is at the verdis game today.¡±


    ¡°Ah, perfect. I shall seek him out there. Thank you.¡±


    He nodded, went inside, and closed the door.


    I stepped into the sky and headed for the verdis arena.


    Attendance was high; halfway through the tournament, stakes were rising as the weaker teams dropped toward the bottom and the best teams vied for the top spots.


    Oros played against Teshron today, and the speed and ferocity of the players was breathtaking. While the reverse game relied a lot on moving and adapting to changing terrain and strategic positioning, verdis was more like a game of towerstones. Except instead of two players alternating tiles on a board, it was two teams fighting each other in midair over who placed which tile where.


    Coming in mid-game, it was chaotic enough that I had no idea what was happening or who held the advantage. But I could see the incredible precision with which the players blocked each other, boosted themselves or their team-mates, blocked, dispelled, all in seconds, while maintaining their concentration on positioning the blocks in the scoring area.


    It was enough to make me wonder if Desten 2 was even that good. From what I¡¯d seen of his power, his speed didn¡¯t come close. But Sarosa was doing well in the overall rankings, so he couldn¡¯t be bad.


    I pushed my way through the stands, asking people if they¡¯d seen Desten Oros or where he was sitting. Most ignored me or brushed me off impatiently, but I persevered and eventually was pointed to a boy I knew immediately could not possibly be killer Desten.


    Desten Oros 2 was soft-faced and short, with a wide-eyed intentness about him that bespoke sheltered childhood and thorough innocence. He stood on his bench, shouting and cheering and waving a ribbon of yellow power in the air. The proportions of his silhouette were far too unique. If it had been him, I¡¯d have recognized him in an instant.


    As I looked around at the vast swaths of teals and blues, I realized that he was one of only a handful of Oros attendees to have yellow power. That could explain the name. The visitors from across the world were their usual rainbow, but Oros seemed as strongly teal and cyan as Sarosa had been blue and silver. Desten Oros 2 didn¡¯t seem to mind being the odd one. I approved. There¡¯s strength in accepting yourself as different and not caring what the people around you thought.


    But as glad as I was to be able to cross him off the list, I couldn¡¯t help worrying. The closer I got to the end of the list, the harder it became to keep my composure. Pel¡¯s insistence that I had to learn things I seemed completely incapable of learning if I were to even have a chance of escaping an encounter with killer Desten nagged at me. All he¡¯d have to do was put up a basic shield and I¡¯d be trapped.


    It was one thing to casually investigate people who turned out to not be Fylen¡¯s murderer, but when I actually came face to face with the person who was capable and willing to kill?


    I just had to ensure things never escalated that far. As long as I could get away and bring Pel and Let and Lan, and Vess if he was around, we could deal with him together. Or, rather, they could deal with him; I¡¯d just get in the way.


    I didn''t bother approaching him. He seemed to be enjoying the game, and I''d seen enough.


    The afternoon passed peacefully enough, with most of my time spent making name cards in case I needed them again. There wasn¡¯t much else I could do. I didn¡¯t have access to any of the remaining Destens, and I¡¯d already done as much research into them as I could with publicly available documentation. For anything more, I¡¯d need to attain at least a miteirn position.


    It still felt weird having an apartment to myself. I missed the presence of Desten 3. Even when we never actually interacted, there was a sort of familiarity to it. Alone, I had way too much time to think about how out of place and useless I was.


    Honestly, if I turned the investigation over to Pelys and Vess entirely they could probably get more done. Why did I even bother? At this point, even the gnawing sense of guilt over stealing Fyless¡¯s legacy felt like a weak excuse.


    What was I doing?


    I knew these dark moods all too well, and forced myself not to let it influence me too deeply. I ate dinner and went to bed early.


    The following morning, a messenger arrived with a letter for me from Desten Oros.


    I know who you are, Astesh Myen.


    Unless you want your lies exposed, leave my family alone.


    <hr>

 25: Desperate Times

    Sateirn denotes those in a high position of authority and responsibility for more than their own specific sphere of interest, while a Luteirn is one whose primary occupation is in governance, but who is not in a position of authority.


    -Titles, Ranking, and Structure of the Noble Houses


    <hr>


    I¡¯d never been the recipient of a threatening letter before. It was honestly rather thrilling, while also worthy of concern. I didn¡¯t realize such things actually happened. Though, of course, they¡¯d have to. In a society as secretive and insular as the nobility, where even their grand gestures of peace were little but glorified chances to show off to each other, why wouldn¡¯t threatening notes be a thing?


    But still. Now I actually had one of my own.


    Desten Oros had certainly done his research. I¡¯d stopped calling myself Myen after being taken in by Reirn Ushan and Desten Varon 1. It was slightly terrifying that within less than a day of learning of my existence Desten Oros had managed to dig up something months in the past, with such accuracy.


    It felt entirely plausible that he knew about my power as well.


    But what could he possibly actually know? I had to think this through calmly.


    No one at all knew that I¡¯d physically witnessed Fylen¡¯s last duel. Not killer Desten, not Pelys, not Rerin Ushan.


    Reirn Ushan knew, or strongly suspected, that the power I held was Fylen¡¯s missing childstone. But as far as I knew, he¡¯d told no one else his suspicions.


    Desten Oros couldn¡¯t know either of those. So unless Reirn Ushan had decided to turn on me, my most important secrets remained secure. If he had decided I¡¯d outlived my potential usefulness nothing could save me. I had to assume that wasn¡¯t the case.


    But he¡¯d mentioned lies. That couldn¡¯t be about my going by Varon instead of Myen; if he knew anything about me at all, he¡¯d know that I had been living in Varon and traveling as and with Varons. It wasn¡¯t my name that was a lie; of anything in my whole maze of deception, the Varon was the most easily verified. The reirn himself allowed, even encouraged, my use of the house name; no one outside the family could hope to gain anything by denouncing me for that.


    So what could it be?


    What could Desten Oros possibly know that would make him believe he could scare me off? I hadn¡¯t grown up noble, so I had no history. No childhood indiscretions, no youthful scandals.


    I couldn¡¯t think of anything. It had to be a bluff.


    He just didn¡¯t want anyone poking around in his business. Which made me all the more eager to poke around in his business. His cousin may be innocent, but I hadn¡¯t even seen him yet. He could very well be the Desten I¡¯ve been after all this time. He certainly jumped on the threats without hesitation.


    But if he were killer Desten, wouldn¡¯t he have just murdered me in my sleep? Why bother making himself sound suspicious by sending vague threats against my secrecy, when he was willing to kill someone as highly ranked as Fylen? There was no way a nobody like me, even with the minor protection of the Varon house name, would give killer Desten pause.


    I had to meet him in person. I was more confused by his threats the longer I thought about it, and that couldn¡¯t be what he intended. He thought he would succeed in scaring me away, that was the clear intention. I just didn¡¯t understand why.


    I flew out to his home again, and this time when his servant told me he wasn¡¯t home I left my card and said I¡¯d wait.


    I waited. I hung around in the area for hours in case he came home, but no one landed at his porch or balconies. The afternoon was so dull, I almost wished Pel would show up.


    Almost.


    The thought did motivate me to spend some time practicing my aura bubble and precise flight. The former still took nearly three seconds to activate, and the latter simply required a vast amount of practice to attain mastery over. Pel wasn¡¯t satisfied with my progress in either discipline, but he was very demanding. Any ordinary teacher would be pleased with my progress. I imagined even Desten 1 would be impressed at least a little.


    By the time Desten Oros finally showed up, night was falling. I¡¯d eaten through all the food I¡¯d brought along while practicing my powers. He landed in a flare of golden-orange light which disappeared at once. Beautiful control, stopping a full speed dive with such perfect precision.


    ¡°Hello, Desten?¡± I called.


    He turned to look down at me. ¡°Yes?¡± His voice had an imperious note to it, as though he were addressing an inferior.


    ¡°I¡¯m conducting a research project into the long-term legacy of Reirn Desten Varon. Could I trouble you for an interview? I have a few questions prepared.¡±


    His aura flickered into life. ¡°Astesh,¡± he said, disdainfully. ¡°I warned you to leave me alone.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, about that. I honestly have no idea what secrets you¡¯re threatening to expose? Everyone knows my parents weren¡¯t full line Varon, but the reirn accepted me into the family, so it¡¯s not even a scandal.¡±


    Desten Oros laughed. ¡°Varon? No. You were accepted under false pretenses. If I tell the world what I know, you¡¯ll lose any hope of maintaining your lifestyle. Your sponsorship within house Varon will disintegrate. Your allies will see you for the scheming, grubbing, out-born that you are.¡±


    He said it as though I should be direly offended by this attempted insult. Unfortunately for him, as I grew up far from nobility, slights against my lineage had no impact on me whatsoever.


    ¡°That doesn¡¯t matter. I didn¡¯t come to Oros to mess with your cousin, so your threats are pointless and unnecessary. I want to interview you. What do you do, what do you care about, what are your personal ambitions?¡±You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.


    He frowned. ¡°You care so little for your noble facade that you would cast it aside at a whim?¡±


    That gives me pause. But only for a moment. ¡°I promise, I only want to talk with you. I don¡¯t intend any harm against you or your family.¡±


    ¡°The promise of a liar means little. If you leave and never return, I will not need to destroy your fragile facade.¡±


    I didn¡¯t want to give up, but if he refused to talk what could I do? I¡¯d have to gather information about him from outside sources.


    Or set Pel and Vess on him, let them sort it out. Apparently I¡¯d approached things the wrong way here, somehow setting him off before we ever met.


    ¡°It might interest you to know,¡± Desten added almost casually, as I turned to leave, ¡°there¡¯s a commoner woman raising quite a fuss in Sarosa. Something about her missing child, whose description seems to match yours perfectly. I wonder where a commoner would get such a fanciful notion.¡±


    I froze, power tingling on the edge of readiness. Mother. Of course she was stubbornly searching for me. I¡¯d gone weeks without checking in on her before, but never so many months. She must be worried dreadfully. Why didn¡¯t I think she might investigate Midpeak? She¡¯d have found my office closed, no sign of me for half a year.


    And Desten Oros had found her.


    ¡°Leave my family alone,¡± he said again, ¡°and I¡¯ll leave yours alone.¡± With that, he turned and entered his home, leaving me standing stunned in the street.


    I couldn¡¯t tell if it was him. It shouldn¡¯t be. I wanted to rule him out. His hair was neatly trimmed to around the vicinity of his ears, shorter than any of the other Destens still in consideration. His power was amber-orange, rather than pure yellow. But, it was possible to cut one¡¯s hair. And his orange power might look yellow if seen through a red filter like the barrier that had protected the forest from Fylen and killer Desten¡¯s duel.


    I hated having no feel of who he was. Unless being willing to threaten my mother so I¡¯d back off counted.


    Pink lightning played across my hands. No one threatened my mother. She may be stubborn and embarrassing and not know what¡¯s good for her, but she¡¯s also the most wonderful, caring person I¡¯ve ever known. She didn¡¯t know anything about the mess that my life had become, and I would not allow my mistakes to hurt her.


    Not Desten Oros, not killer Desten, not Reirn Ushan. No one would touch my mother.


    But how could I protect her without endangering everything I¡¯d built here? If I took her to Pelys or Desten 3 for safekeeping, they¡¯d surely want to know why I was guarding some no-account commoner. After all, I¡¯d insisted my own parents were dead. Could I pass her off as my older sister? I¡¯d have to convince her to lie about herself too, and something told me she wouldn¡¯t be as concerned with maintaining her facade as I was.


    For the first time, I stopped to consider exactly how vast the difference was between her and myself now. I could cross the continent in less than a day; she¡¯d have to travel for weeks to traverse the same distance. And so could any other noble. There was no distance that could protect her. I couldn¡¯t entrust her safety to anyone in the nobility without compromising her own.


    So maybe I¡¯d follow Trancy¡¯s example. I could move her somewhere inconspicuous, away from any cities, and let obscurity do the job of concealment.


    Assuming she lets me.


    Urhhh. Mother is stubborn. I just know the moment I get near her, she¡¯ll not give up until she has the whole story out of me. And I honestly couldn¡¯t imagine whether she¡¯ be willing to go along with it, or insist I come into hiding too.


    Would it be possible to do that?


    I could always run away. Leaving aside the crushing guilt of destroying the Sarosa reirn line, and of Fyless growing up powerless as well as fatherless; leaving aside all the Destens and their potential murderousness, if my stupidity got my mother hurt, I¡¯d never forgive myself.


    It may already be too late. I should have gone into hiding immediately, instead of trying to find a way to live with this power. Of course, without Desten 1 helping me restrain it and Pelys teaching me to use it, my power would probably still be constantly glowing like I had at the beginning.


    I glanced down at my hand. The faint light running through my veins was hardly visible any longer, now that I could exert active control over the power. If I focused, I could withdraw it almost completely, but it didn¡¯t like being held in and I could never maintain complete control over it long enough to pretend to still be a commoner. I may not light up a room like a bonfire any more, but I¡¯d still look off just enough to never fit in.


    It always came back to this. My old life was over. And maybe it would be for the best if I cut all ties with my past.


    If I never acknowledged my mother¡¯s search, if I let her believe I was dead, then she¡¯d go back to her quiet existence and disappear from the notice of the nobility. If I refused to engage with Desten Oros and his threats, maybe he¡¯d realize that I wasn¡¯t a threat to his family.


    I couldn¡¯t decide. The question tore at my heart. Either way, part of myself would be lost. It was one thing to go off and ignore my family ties when I could imagine that no one really noticed, but now that she was making enough of a ruckus that even another house entirely took notice, I couldn¡¯t ignore the question.


    If I couldn¡¯t go back, how would I choose to move forward?


    Who did I want to become?


    And yet ¡­ I could not make the choice. How could I abandon my only family? Even if she didn¡¯t really rely on me, insisted she would be fine without my help, would that always be the truth? Could I just walk away and leave her to fend for herself, even as she grew older and weaker and less able to do so?


    But how could I drag her into the nobility¡¯s schemes? I would not allow my enemies to use her as a weapon against me. I¡¯d rather abandon any attempt at deception and throw myself at Reirn Ushan¡¯s mercy than be the cause of her ruin.


    Which, I supposed, was exactly what Desten Oros was counting on. Turned out he had found a threat to use against me after all.


    I might have been able to interrogate his neighbors, or at least observe his comings and goings, but I had no heart for it. I flew back to my apartment, distracted enough I nearly caused a midair pileup when I accidentally dropped too low. Even that wasn¡¯t enough to break me out of my mood.


    Here I was, at the end of the list. One Desten left, and I still didn¡¯t know enough about any of them. I¡¯d come all this way, put in so much effort, and what did I have to show for it in the end? It could be any of them. Sure, I eliminated a handful of the obvious ones, but when it came right down to it, I¡¯d learned nothing that mattered.


    Desten 1 could have done it. Desten 3 could have. Or Desten 5, or 6 - easily 6 - or Oros. It might be 7. Or it might just as well be someone whose name just sounded passably close to Desten and lived in Teshron or something. I¡¯d spent so much time, so much of everyone else¡¯s resources, and for what?


    In the end, I¡¯m just a fool. A scribe who read a few too many heroic stories, written a few too many epics, and thought I could do the impossible. Even with everyone who¡¯s helped me, even with all the incredibly fortunate coincidences that played out in my favor, it can¡¯t make up for me only being me.


    I didn¡¯t stop when I reached the apartment district. I kept going, higher and faster, as my mind chased itself around in darker and emptier circles. The sky dimmed toward evening as I flew on.


    Who did I think I was?


    I was nobody. One stupid coincidence, and my life was over. I was dead the moment I touched the childstone. I just hadn¡¯t been willing to admit it. Why keep trying to prolong the inevitable? Why drag anyone else down with me?


    I wasn¡¯t sure exactly what I would do, as I flew faster still, north and west toward the familiar Sarosa heartlands. But I was done pretending. I¡¯d gone too far. I¡¯d been so caught up in the moment, every moment building on itself and those behind, that I hadn¡¯t seen how far I¡¯d lost my way.


    I passed Midpeak and continued north until the gleam of Northpoint glowed on the horizon, reflecting off the endless ocean beyond, the light growing stronger and clearer every second.


    It was time to end this.


    <hr>

 26: Desperate Measures

    For eight months we¡¯d flown on, seeing nothing but ocean. Many fell ill; some died to monsters or misfortune, but in the end we three pressed on. The ocean was merciless, the sky dangerous, but at last we saw a light in the distance. We shifted our course, daring to hope we¡¯d finally found another land. But to our dismay, it was only our own homeland from which we¡¯d departed so long ago.


    It was then we concluded that there is nothing beyond. Nothing but ocean in every direction. We are the sole beacon of light in an endless sea of darkness and monsters.


    -An Explorer¡¯s Journey


    <hr>


    I landed on Pelys¡¯s balcony in a crash of pink lightning. I hadn¡¯t realized how fast I¡¯d been moving until the power flared and faded, leaving me worn and ravenous. I stumbled to the door and knocked. Aneeyha wasn¡¯t here to open the door this time, and his sitting room was dark and empty.


    My power ached, the empty strain of being stretched beyond its limits for too long. I leaned against the door for support, then slid down until I sat with my back against it. I couldn¡¯t fly down and there was no external stairway.


    That was fine. I could wait for Pel here. Just ¡­ rest a minute ¡­


    ¡°Astesh? What are you doing here?¡±


    I snapped awake, instantly alert, pulling my power up into an aura bubble before I¡¯d even consciously recognized my surroundings. Pel¡¯s voice had that effect on me. The power grated, taking a whole extra second before whipping around me and settling into place. My head felt like I¡¯d been smacked around the river a few times and left without Pel¡¯s healing. It was still dark out, but the blue and rainbow glow of the city provided sufficient light to figure out my surroundings.


    ¡°Astesh? You alright?¡±


    I exhaled and leaned back against the door, my power dissipating with a feeling of relief as I let it fade. Pel wasn¡¯t attacking, which was better than I¡¯d hoped.


    ¡°What¡¯s wrong?¡±


    I shook my head, not sure where to start.


    ¡°You look terrible. Come inside.¡±


    He pulled the door open, and I followed him in. I wordlessly fished out Desten Oros¡¯s threatening note and passed it to him before collapsing into the nearest chair.


    He read it with a frown. ¡°Myen. Huh. I didn¡¯t know you were out-family. Is this going to be a problem?¡±


    I shook my head. ¡°It¡¯s not that. It¡¯s everything. Only, I can¡¯t¡ª¡±


    ¡°Here, wait. Take a minute, relax. I¡¯ll have some food brought up. You don¡¯t need to rush through anything.¡±


    I nodded gratefully, wondering at how Pel could sometimes be so brutal and yet so caring. He¡¯d make a good parent someday. Or a good brother, perhaps. Yes, that was it, wasn¡¯t it? He¡¯d considered himself Fylen¡¯s big brother, or as close as. That was why he had fixated on this investigation.


    And I¡¯d lied to him. I shared just enough information to make him trust me, to convince him to help me, and held back everything that actually mattered.


    So when he returned, I told him everything. Haltingly, brokenly at times, my mind instinctively trying to skitter away from reliving what I¡¯d seen, but I told him. About my false lineage, about Reirn Ushan¡¯s suspicion, and about exactly what I¡¯d witnessed the night Fylen was killed.


    The first day we¡¯d met, it had been reasonable to hold back. I hadn¡¯t known him back then, didn¡¯t know if I could trust him. But he¡¯d proven himself time and again since then. I had no one else to turn to and I was in so far over my head. I couldn¡¯t do this alone.


    Pelys listened, his face growing grimmer and his scowl more pronounced, but I pressed on. I told him everything I could remember, my notes on the Destens from Varon and my trip to Oros. Desten Oros¡¯s threats, my mother, all of it.


    It was such a relief, to hand that burden over to someone else, instead of trying to carry it all myself. I wasn¡¯t sure what part I could have left to play in this farcical affair, but I was done trying to play the hero. One person couldn¡¯t do everything alone. I should have realized that from the outset.


    When I finished, he sat in silence. I turned my attention to the neglected tray of sandwiches and began awkwardly working my way through them while I waited.


    I couldn¡¯t look at him. Couldn¡¯t bear to imagine what he¡¯d be thinking, feeling about me now. But I was hungry, and that problem I could deal with.


    The tray was half empty before Pelys spoke.


    ¡°Astesh Myen, I challenge you; for the vengeance of one you¡¯ve wronged, on behalf of Fyless Sarosa.¡± Pelys¡¯s voice was strained, I could hear the pain in it, the anger. Only then did I notice the dome of blue power that surrounded us. I slowly swallowed what may well be the final thing I ate in my life, heart suddenly racing.Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation.


    ¡°Can I say no?¡± I asked, hesitantly climbing to my feet.


    ¡°You have confessed. There can be no refusal.¡± There was no note of lightness in his tone, no hint of compassion; no echo of our friendship remained.


    ¡°Then, uh, Pelys Sarosa, I accept your challenge. Um. What are the terms of this fight?¡±


    He was within his rights to kill me. Tear out my power stone in case there¡¯s any way to return it to Fyless. Or simply crush me into the ground.


    ¡°No terms.¡± His aura bubble sprang into existence, so thick it distorted his form like water.


    My own power felt sluggish, drained and weak. Try as I might to pull it into action, the power did not slide effortlessly through my body to lend me its lightning. I¡¯d flown too far, used too much. I was in no shape to fight.


    Then Pelys slammed himself into me, so fast and hard I never saw him move before the impact with his outer shell sent me flying across the room. I crashed through a table and into the solid blue dome beyond before I could even think to bring up my own shield. I fell to the carpet, dizzied by the impact.


    ¡°You lied to me. Lied to us all.¡±


    I tried to get to my feet, but a sudden deluge of water pressed me back down, slamming me against the floor before I could stand.


    ¡°Fyless nearly died,¡± Pelys snarled. ¡°Even if she continues to live, you have stolen her future.¡±


    The water pressed me down and held me in place, unable to speak. Then it began to solidify, shifting to ice.


    ¡°You¡¯ve done just as much harm as Desten ever did.¡± The cold fury in his voice sounded wrong, verging on madness. I couldn¡¯t help but recall the way killer Desten had sounded as he tore Fylen apart.


    I wanted to refute his words, to protest that if Desten hadn¡¯t started this, none of it would have happened. I¡¯d only been there by accident! I didn¡¯t ask for any of this!


    This was all a terrible mistake. I should have trusted him from the beginning, or else hidden the truth forever. But it was far too late to start second guessing my decisions.


    I¡¯d seen Pelys in training enough times to know how he used his power. Always before it had been to push, to teach, even at its most extreme.


    This was different. If I didn¡¯t think of some way out of this, he¡¯d really kill me.


    Come on stupid power, if I¡¯m going to live, I need you now!


    Pink flickered into the air before me, scything through the blue of Pelys¡¯s ice block and melting me free as my own aura spun into a sphere around me. I gasped for air, trying to think of any way to stop him.


    Before I could do anything more my bubble vanished as Pelys spiked it with his disruption, like so many times before. Only this time he didn¡¯t retreat and allow me to recover my breath. He pressed forward as I frantically tried to spin my bubble back into place. Water gathered behind him into a half-dozen deadly spikes of ice, each thicker than my forearm, narrowing to jagged points; all aimed straight at me.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry!¡± I shouted desperately. I scrambled to my feet and backed away from him, following the inside edge of the barrier. ¡°Do you think I wanted any of this? I would never ever have touched it if I¡¯d known! If there were any way to give it back, I swear I would. I want Fyless to be safe and happy as much as you do!¡±


    ¡°No. You. Don¡¯t.¡± A spike of ice slammed into my aura bubble. The attack shattered into watery splinters without reaching me, but my bubble vanished, completely expended by the collision.


    I flinched away; that had been pointed right at my face. An instant later another spike shattered against the outer barrier just where my head had been a split second before.


    Desperation turned to full panic. Lightning flickered along my body as my power finally decided to show up, and I did what Pelys had always told me I should do if I ended up fighting a superior foe. I ran.


    The world slowed and blurred around me just in time; the remaining four spikes of ice were already in the air, flying directly at me. Even with my power running, I barely managed to dodge them.


    Pelys never moved this fast in our training. I hadn¡¯t even realized how much he was holding back.


    I ran for the balcony doors, hoping that the barrier didn¡¯t extend into the outside. If I could slip away, gain enough distance, maybe think of something to say¡ª


    Pelys flung himself forward faster than I could react. He smashed into me bodily, his bubble deforming as we collided, and we hit the doors with the full force of his charge. The frames splintered, the hinges buckled, and we exploded out onto the balcony. To my dismay, the opaque blue duel barrier continued outside as though the wall were no obstacle, forming a complete circle around us. There was no way out.


    ¡°Pel, stop, please.¡± My voice shook; I knew I was about to die.


    Pelys pressed me against the balcony railing, the metal behind me digging into my back, the force of his aura pressing in on me from the front. For a moment we stood unmoving, then he raised one hand. Water began crystallizing from thin air, a deadly blade forming drop by drop.


    ¡°P-please don¡¯t. We¡¯re both on the same side here. We both want justice for Fylen. I¡ª I can help.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t need your help.¡±


    My power flickered faster as Pelys began to stab downwards, his icy sword perfectly in line with my heart. I couldn¡¯t move, crushed between his power and the solid railing behind me.


    I don¡¯t want to die.


    I don¡¯t want to die!


    Orange flickered in my peripheral vision. Without warning the railing behind me collapsed, dropping me off the balcony. I fell backwards, slowly enough to watch Pel¡¯s expression shifting slowly to surprise and the tip of his blade dissolved into mist. The railing had melted; I felt the searing heat of it across my back where I¡¯d been in contact with the suddenly-hot metal, but I¡¯d rather spend weeks recovering from burns than have Pel carve my heart out on the spot.


    Water chased me down, but my power was flowing faster now. My bubble spun into place in time to deflect the wave; it flowed around me and downward, splashing harmlessly against the street below.


    Then I hit the ground. My bubble shattered into nothingness and I slammed hard against the stone.


    I must have blacked out for a second, because next thing I knew Pelys stood above me, flying in midair, his bubble still pristine and undamaged. I bitterly wished I¡¯d been able to learn his disruption technique, but it was too late now.


    ¡°Give up,¡± he said, water rising to reform the crystal blade in his hand. He leveled the blade at my throat. ¡°Go on. Run away. It¡¯s the only thing you¡¯re good at.¡±


    ¡°I¡ª I can do that?¡±


    ¡°Concede your defeat and dishonor, and you may flee.¡±


    If I were braver, if I were stronger, maybe I could have stood up. Maybe I could have defied his derision, faced him down, and forced him to acknowledge that my honour was as true as his own. Perhaps he would kill me, but perhaps I would earn back his respect.


    But I¡¯m no brave warrior.


    ¡°I concede,¡± I whimpered.


    The duel barrier immediately drifted apart into glittering dust, then evaporated entirely. Without its barrier, the evening wind gusted in on us. I shivered in the sudden chill.


    Pelys snorted derisively, his blade and bubble dissipating in an instant. ¡°You¡¯ve never belonged here. Leave.¡±


    Without another word, he flickered with blue light and flew upward and out of sight.


    <hr>

 27: Recovery

    In rare circumstances when a noble mother behaves particularly wantonly during the initial days of her pregnancy, it has happened that multiple individuals develop childstones simultaneously as a result.


    Such scandals have split houses and families, and even led to countless deaths. It is therefore considered a societal imperative that one ensure at least three days pass between any change in partner.


    -But Why Not? A guide to avoiding common social missteps


    <hr>


    I lay trembling in the cold, soaked through, my power too drained and weak to keep up the warmth it usually exuded. The slightest motion sent flickers of agony through the line of heat across my back where the melting railing had burned straight through my clothing.


    I knew I had to get to a healer. Find herbs. No one was coming to save me. I had to move before I was too weak to do even that much.


    I stumbled to my feet and started walking downhill, flinching at every step. After several minutes, my power had recovered enough that I could lift into the air. My bubble flickered in and out, but the cool wind felt soothing against my back.


    I walked sometimes, I floated sometimes. I stumbled through the barrier into the downcity, and wondered why everything looked so unfamiliar. The buildings were so tiny, crammed together so close, with barely room for two or three people to fly between. The roads were muddy and uneven and the whole place smelled off.


    Pale light illuminated my way, a faint pinkish glow that lit the ground around me. I needed a healer, an herbalist, someone. Anyone.


    I found a sign that seemed promising and knocked on the door, hissing with pain at the movement. It was the middle of the night. No one answered. I knocked again, louder, and this time the upstairs window opened and a young man poked his head out.


    ¡°I need healing. Please.¡±


    His eyes widened at the sight of me, but he nodded and disappeared back inside. After two minutes of standing and trying to breathe without screaming in pain, the door opened. The young man was accompanied by another, older man, who already knelt by a fire attempting to coax it back to life.


    ¡°It will be some time,¡± the older man said. ¡°We have little prepared for an injury this extensive.¡±


    The younger man led me to a cot, and I lay on my stomach while he pulled away the melted fabric. I was half delirious by then, the emotional strain coupled with the physical agony to destroy any semblance of sanity. They worked, Pelys never came to finish me off, and I survived.


    I couldn¡¯t remember anything specific about the days that followed, they were nothing but a hazy nightmare which made Pelys¡¯s most merciless training seem gentle.


    Absently, I wondered if I would ever stop accumulating new awful experiences to haunt me, then the thought slipped away in the murk of pain and regret that formed the entirety of my current existence.


    After the first several days had passed, my recovery progressed quickly. My power apparently helped the process along significantly, even if it felt like an eternity to me. I missed all of Wightok week and half of Novarot.


    By the time I could walk freely again, Desten 3 would be heading to Utrenad for the next-to-last week of the touring season. I wondered if he would accept my company if I showed up there, or if he was still spooked by my overreaction in Leetan.


    Besides Pelys, he was the closest thing to a friend I had in the nobility. Even if Aneeyha vouched for Desten Utrenad, I could go see for myself¡ª


    What was the point? Pelys knew everything I knew, now. He could carry on without me. I could no longer offer any benefit to the search for Fylen¡¯s killer. Besides, as Fylen¡¯s death had been a legal duel, the only thing that could be actually done against killer Desten would be unlawful retribution. Pelys could handle that. I would be worse than useless.


    I should have gone to the Sarosa authorities in the first place. If I¡¯d told Fylen¡¯s parents then what I knew, they could have¡ª well. Executed me for stealing a childstone, most likely. Self-preservation had been a driving factor in my deception at the time. Now, it no longer seemed that important.


    I wasn¡¯t sure where I could go once I left the two healers¡¯ home, but it was becoming increasingly obvious that procrastination was my only reason to stay.


    The healers hadn¡¯t broached the subject of payment, and I never brought it up, but I knew I owed them more than I could repay. My meager savings from before leaving the downcity would hardly cover so extensive a recovery. If I weren¡¯t obviously a noble, they might have turned me away long ago, but they didn¡¯t dare.


    The irony of it could have been amusing, but it was only sad. After so long trying so hard to pretend to be a noble, once I give up on it entirely is when I¡¯m accepted without question.


    I felt awful. Even once the physical pain faded, I¡¯d lost all motivation to go on. I¡¯d been on the verge of giving up as it was, talking to Pel was my last desperate gamble. And it had failed utterly.


    The only way it could have gone worse was if I¡¯d ended up dead, and honestly I wasn¡¯t sure. That might have been a better outcome. At least then they could take back Fyless¡¯s stone and try to fix it somehow. The longer it remained inside me, the less compatible it would become with anyone else. It was probably too late by now, but the way I was feeling it seemed a minor enough risk. Worst case, Astesh Myen isn¡¯t a problem any more; best case the Sarosa family isn¡¯t thrown into a potential succession war.


    I often wondered darkly if Pelys had some other motive behind letting me live; if he thought simply killing me would let me off too easily. If he wanted me to live and suffer, he¡¯d certainly done a good job of it.


    But even I couldn¡¯t wallow in misery forever. I couldn¡¯t in good conscience continue to demand the healers provide me with everything and offer them nothing in return. It may be what they expect from a noble, but I wasn¡¯t a noble. I swore to myself I¡¯d find a way to pay them back, somehow, and I left.


    Skimming along the road, I headed south toward Midpeak. If I belonged anywhere, it was there. But when I arrived, as I drifted down the familiar, forgotten streets, everything felt so wrong. I found my tiny shop, any sign of my presence long since expunged, and felt nothing. I stared at the door and counter I¡¯d once been so intimately acquainted with, that now felt like distant strangers.


    I wanted to go home, but this wasn¡¯t my home any more. Did I even have a home any longer? Would I ever again?


    Weariness pressed in on me and I drifted nearer the ground. People bowed and skittered out of my way, making me feel even more out of place.


    I didn¡¯t belong here any more. This had been another life, one I could never reclaim.


    I continued down the street, out of Midpeak and across the river until I reached Woodedge, ignoring the flurry of whispers and speculation left in my wake.


    I bypassed the town. That wasn¡¯t where I needed to go.


    By the edge of the forest that gave Woodedge its name, a small cozy cottage sat nestled by the ancient trees. Smoke rose in faint wisps from its chimney, and I caught the faint scent of a familiar soup recipe that immediately set my stomach to growling in eager anticipation.Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more.


    I landed just outside the porch, then hesitated. Should I knock? Just walk in like nothing was wrong? I settled for knocking.


    The door opened.


    ¡°Yes, ho¡ª¡± she cut off uncertainly.


    For a moment, she stood frozen with shock. I tried to smile, but it had been a long time since I felt able to smile.


    ¡°Yo¡ªyou¡¯re here,¡± she said, her voice choked. ¡°I thought you were dead.¡±


    And then she stepped forward, and it was like I¡¯d never been gone. I let her fold me into her embrace, and suddenly all the tears I¡¯d held back for so long came pouring out as I sobbed helplessly into her shoulder.


    For an endless minute, there was no nobility, no stolen magic, no mysterious deaths, no broken friendships, no lost past. Only my mother, her arms warm and real around me, her body trembling with her own emotion at our reunion.


    ¡°I missed you,¡± I mumbled, once I could speak again.


    She drew back and looked me over critically. ¡°Where have you been? And what happened to your clothing?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s a very, very long story. Mind if we go indoors?¡±


    She scoffed as though the mere idea that I¡¯d ever be unwelcome was ludicrous, and I followed her inside.


    I wanted to hold back, to try and protect her from the mess I¡¯d created, but it felt wrong to be more honest with Pel than with my own mother. It took much longer this time to get the story out. I felt awkward and stupid as I described my plan to infiltrate the nobility, what I now realized to be a doomed idea from the beginning.


    She listened, asking questions about things I¡¯d long since become familiar with, and refilling my soup bowl every time it ran empty. I was able to relax more and more as the retelling went on. With Pel, he¡¯d hardly said anything, and the tension had been unbearable. This time, it felt almost unreal. As though I were describing distant events that happened to someone else.


    ¡°So, that¡¯s what I¡¯ve been doing,¡± I concluded. ¡°I don¡¯t know what to do next, or how to do it. Whether I should go into hiding, or keep trying to find killer Desten; if I should stay here or¡ª or return to the upcity.¡± I sighed. ¡°It¡¯s been a long time since I felt this lost.¡±


    Mother snorted. ¡°You¡¯ve had your life overturned and your plans disrupted time and again. Anyone would feel a little unmoored.¡±


    ¡°What should I do now?¡±


    ¡°When have you ever listened to me? Stubborn child.¡±


    ¡°Like you¡¯re any better.¡±


    ¡°Then at least we know we¡¯re related.¡± She paused for a moment and I leaned forward. ¡°Have you considered dating?¡±


    ¡°Mother! I¡¯ve told you, I¡¯m not interested.¡±


    ¡°Because I think what you really need¡ª¡±


    ¡°No! Lost god, why do you always try to twist it around to that? I¡¯m fine. You don¡¯t need to push me at everyone you see who might be roughly the right age!¡±


    She smirked, and I realized she¡¯d deliberately riled me.


    I put my face in my hands. ¡°You know me too well,¡± I grumbled.


    ¡°That¡¯s my job. You¡¯ll never stop being mine, no matter how much magic you steal.¡±


    She said it so casually it caught me off guard, and I laughed despite myself. ¡°Come on, one time. It was an accident.¡±


    ¡°I still can¡¯t believe you smuggled stolen magic into my house. Right under my nose. What kind of a person must have raised you?¡±


    I shook my head and held out my bowl. ¡°The kind who makes amazing soup.¡±


    She ladled more, then we sat in silence as I ate.


    ¡°So what should you do now?¡± she eventually asked, mirroring my own question back at me.


    ¡°Pelys kicked me out of the investigation. Desten Oros threatened you to make me back off. It¡¯s obvious no one wants me involved any longer. Maybe I¡¯ll just move to Metako and learn to carve stone.¡±


    ¡°Is that what you want?¡±


    I didn¡¯t have an answer.


    ¡°What do you want?¡±


    What did I want? To travel with Desten 3 and find a way to unite nobles and commoners like he hoped to unite the houses? To retire to the mountains and become an artist?


    A year ago, I¡¯d have said if I could do anything, if I didn¡¯t have to struggle to get by day to day, I wanted to make things better. I wanted to leave the world a better place than the way I¡¯d found it. But though vague grand sentiments may have been motivation enough to get me through stacks of commissions, it didn¡¯t hold up against the reality of who I¡¯d become. It¡¯s easy to believe ¡®doing this thing I¡¯m already doing will help the world be a tiny bit brighter¡¯ and a whole lot harder to decide which thing to do next out of endless options.


    I shook my head. ¡°I honestly don¡¯t know any more.¡±


    It¡¯s easy to say ¡®I want to help fix things¡¯ when you have no ability to do so. But now that I actually had the power to transcend the limitations of my birth, what could I actually do? Had everything I told myself in the past been anything more than a comforting lie? What should I do? Did I have an obligation to be more than someone simply going about my life, or could I pretend this didn¡¯t change anything?


    I knew I couldn¡¯t disappear into the downcities, however much I wanted to. The power within me wouldn¡¯t go away, and if I didn¡¯t somehow gain protection from one of the noble houses, I¡¯d quickly become a target for anyone hunting renegades.


    I¡¯d still never found a satisfactory answer to what the nobility did with the rare individuals who ended up with magic outside of their family lines. It was incredibly uncommon, more legend than fact, but I surely couldn¡¯t be the first.


    My mother¡¯s voice broke me out of my musing. ¡°If you found out that your power would overpower and kill you in a month, what would you do?¡±


    ¡°Is that what will happen? Lost god, I¡¯m an idiot. Of course there are reasons why adults aren¡¯t turned into nobles willy-nilly¡ª¡±


    ¡°Tesh, relax.¡±


    It sounded so absurd, I burst out laughing. ¡°Tesh? Really?¡±


    ¡°If you¡¯re going to call yourself Astesh now, that¡¯s your decision,¡± she said mischievously. ¡°But if I want to call you my little Tesh, you can¡¯t stop me.¡±


    ¡°No, ugh, that sounds even worse. Tesh is fine, I suppose, but drop the little.¡±


    ¡°Of course, Tesh darling. Anything you want.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll believe that when I see it.¡±


    She refilled my bowl, grinning evilly at me.


    ¡°And what if all I want is advice?¡±


    ¡°Then you can have it.¡±


    ¡°Your idea of advice is turning my questions around on me.¡±


    ¡°And your idea of taking advice is to sit in the dark muttering about it for days.¡±


    Well. That may be true.


    ¡°You¡¯re looking at this wrong. Yes, this ¡­¡± she waved a hand, encompassing my faintly-glowing self, ¡°nobility thing was unexpected. Undesired. But even if it is a burden, that¡¯s not all it is. It¡¯s also an opportunity. A gift. You have the chance to elevate yourself beyond simple survival, to actually do what so many others wish they could.¡±


    I sighed. Her words echoed my own musings too closely. She knew me so well. ¡°But what if I don¡¯t really want to do anything grand any longer? What if simplicity and peace are my only desires now?¡±


    ¡°Are they?¡±


    I considered it, then reluctantly shook my head. ¡°No. But ¡­¡± Tears started gathering in my eyes, and I wanted to turn away, retreat, hide. I wiped them away and took a deep breath. ¡°I don¡¯t want to keep doing this. It¡¯s hard, and it hurts, and I don¡¯t think a day has passed since this all began where I wasn¡¯t afraid. And even with my best effort, even when things go as close to perfectly as I could plan, it¡¯s still all useless and pointless.¡±


    ¡°Is it? Or does it only feel that way to you?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know. But ¡­ I didn¡¯t learn anything that really mattered. I only wandered around and made a fool of myself.¡±


    ¡°How many suspects did you have at the beginning?¡±


    ¡°Twelve? I told you¡ª¡±


    ¡°And how many do you have now?¡±


    ¡°Two main ones, but possibly any of ¡­ six at most. I still haven¡¯t met Desten Varon 7, so maybe three main ones.¡±


    ¡°What could you do with your magic noble powers at the beginning?¡±


    ¡°Well, nothing, I just glowed uncontrollably¡ª¡± I broke off, scowling. I saw what she was doing.


    ¡°And now?¡± she prompted.


    I sighed. ¡°I can fly between cities almost effortlessly, and cross half the continent overnight if I push myself. And my shield is strong enough to break one strike from even a very angry Sarosa fourth.¡±


    ¡°Now. Answer my question. If you knew you would die in a month, no matter how you tried to prevent it, what would you do with your life?¡±


    It was all too easy to imagine. Honestly, a month was a pretty high estimate for my survival without the protection of a reirn.


    ¡°I want to know why.¡± The answer spilled out easily, as though I¡¯d known a long time ago. ¡°Every Desten has something that I could stretch into a motive, but none of it lines up with what I saw that night. I want to know what happened between killer Desten and Fylen that escalated things so far. I want Fyless to grow up without having to worry about her father¡¯s past causing any more damage than it already has. I want ¡­ to make things right.¡± With Fyless and Aneeyha; with Pelys. With Desten 3. ¡°And maybe, once this is behind us, we can get started on actually fixing things.¡±


    It sounded so small, so insignificant when I said it aloud. Petty, almost meaningless. Solve one conflict, mainly because of the personal trauma it had caused to me and out of an obligatory sense of guilt over my part in it. And even something so small, it would be so hard. Painful emotionally at the very least, and quite probably physically if Pelys got involved. But I knew if I tried to ignore it, it would nag at me the rest of my life.


    ¡°I don¡¯t want to go,¡± I whispered. ¡°Can I just stay here?¡±


    She smiled. ¡°Of course you can. But you won¡¯t. I know you.¡±


    She was right. As much as I wanted to run away, I knew I never could. Maybe for a few days, maybe in the heat of the moment, but not for good. My mother wasn¡¯t the only stubborn one in the family.


    Pelys was wrong when he called me a coward. He didn¡¯t know me as well as he thought. He¡¯d only ever seen me at my worst.


    ¡°You should find somewhere safer to hide,¡± I told her. ¡°If I start poking around again, there could be retribution against you.¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t have to worry about me. I can take care of myself.¡± She smiled fondly. ¡°I¡¯ll be fine. And if you happen to find anyone nice you want me to meet¡ª¡±


    My cheeks burned in sudden embarrassment. ¡°Mom! No! Drop it.¡±


    She laughed. ¡°Same old¡ª Tesh. That feels weird to say. Are you sure this is what you¡¯re going with? Astesh?¡±


    ¡°Too late to change it now.¡±


    ¡°Then Astesh it is. I¡¯ll try not to be too offended.¡±


    ¡°If there were any other way¡ª¡±


    She shook her head. ¡°The days when I could dictate every part of your life are long, long past. Find your answers. If you need me, you¡¯ll know where to find me.¡±


    I stood and hugged her, tight. ¡°I¡¯ll always need you.¡±


    She laughed and shook her head. ¡°Not always. But I¡¯ll be here when you do.¡±


    <hr>

 28: Moving On

    While it is impossible to falsify a stone¡¯s power without access to one, it is startlingly simple to fake a stone¡¯s presence in another so completely that it''s impossible to discern from simple observation. So long as the individuals involved maintain their facade without faltering, it is possible for such a deception to continue for years without ever being found out.


    In nearly all such cases, their ultimate downfall comes with the birth of their child. For however skilled their deception, coupling with an unstoned cannot produce a childstone.


    -Deceptions Unmasked


    <hr>


    Desten 3 was not waiting for me in the arrival area of the Utrenad touring zone. He wasn''t waiting for me at all. I didn''t even see him. He had to be somewhere around, but if so I lost him in the collective press of arrivals and departures.


    I didn''t know where he''d be staying. I didn''t know if he''d show up to any of the events. I wasn''t sure if I could continue attending them. I had left the circuit for some weeks, but if there were restrictions that required attendance then I didn''t know what they were. I might be kicked out, but that would be my own fault.


    My clothing was long gone, left behind in Oros when I flew off without a plan. I doubted they''d have held it for me, and I didn''t want to go back there anyway. It had been fairly expensive, provided by Desten 1 and Reirn Ushan. I felt incredibly out of place in my commoner outfit. But I couldn''t hire a tailor to have anything ready soon enough even if I could afford to do so. I needed to find Desten 3, not make a favourable impression on the other nobility.


    After all, they already had one Astesh scandal to gossip about. What was one more?


    I spent the afternoon wandering around the city, admiring the Utrenad architecture. They had a similar style to Varon, but with the inclusion of wave and sunlight motifs. I passed an unreasonable number of shops with goods I''d have gladly purchased had I any money. Even knowing my incredibly insufficient funds, I entered several just to look around and pick out which objects I''d have taken home if I had a home to take them to. I found a lovely hardbound journal with sea monster scales for ornamentation and thought it would make a perfect gift for Desten 3.


    Apparently, Utrenad was heavily involved in trade. Perhaps not as heavily as the Metako were, but they were a marketplace like none I''d ever seen before.


    I managed to continue distracting myself for long enough that I didn''t start truly worrying about my upcoming encounter with Desten 3 until an hour before the opening party was scheduled to begin. But the moment I realized it was getting close, my worry flicked into a full gallop. What if he never wanted to see me again, like Pel? I hadn''t done anything to Desten directly, from all I could tel the only thing that changed was my total breakdown in Leetan. But he could forgive me for that, right? One instance of absolute panic didn''t really mean we had to never be friends again, did it?


    I worried, and I paced, and I wished I had money. Once this was over, I needed to see about finding a position that could at least cover basic necessities. I may be out-line, out-family, houseless if Varon stopped protecting me, but surely there was something I could do to earn a living. Not every noble sat around all day. I didn''t actually know any who did. Desten 1 was always off being in charge of soldiers or whatever, training for potential future incursions. Desten 2 practiced verdis like it was his own personal crusade. Desten 3 was probably the closest to doing-nothing of anyone I''d met, and he wrote and sold books that would put my longest commissions to shame.


    I could only put it off so long. I approached the gates, and no one seemed inclined to stop me. I heard whispers and knew they''d be pointing out my rugged clothing without any house affiliation, perhaps putting together this Astesh with the one who''d run around like a crazy person at a skylights display, perhaps wondering if that disgraceful behavior had gotten me kicked out of Varon.


    I ignored them and searched for an isolated table within easy distance of the food and people to talk to. There were several such tables scattered around, and I checked each for Desten 3. But he wasn''t there. At least he wasn''t sitting with his books and papers spread around him like I''d expected. He might be standing, walking around, or coming in later. Still, I couldn''t help feeling lonely and purposeless. If Desten weren''t even here, what could--


    Someone walked in, glowing entirely with lines of light that crisscrossed over him as though he''d painted his entire body in cyan light. I turned and stared, the absolute brilliance of his appearance attracting attention irresistibly. A few others were staring as well, but most of the Utrenad seemed to completely ignore the glowing newcomer. I knew it was fashionable to accent one''s outfit with careful patterns of power, but this felt like too much. I couldn''t even see his face, he looked like nothing but a light construct given physical form and stability.


    One of the other new touring attendees subtly poked at his back as he walked past, appearing surprised when he paused to sigh before continuing on his way.


    "Who is that?" I heard someone whisper.


    "Desten. Haven''t you heard of him? He''s rather famous."


    I sidled closer to the conversation. I did see how Desten Utrenad could be ruled out as a suspect. There was nothing yellow about his power, nothing subtle at all.


    "Why is he--"


    "He''s been physically paralyzed since he was born. Without his power, he wouldn''t be able to do anything."


    I stared, my confusion turning to awe. He was moving his entire body with his power? That was incredible. I couldn''t imagine how to use my power to physically move my body, let alone so smoothly it looked indiscernible from normal. I did see why he wouldn''t be able to travel well. That much constant strain on his power would all but preclude any other use of it.


    Well. He''d already been off the list, but now he was definitely absolutely off the list.


    But where was Desten 3? I wanted to ask around, but everyone I approached sidled away as though I were contagious. I considered trying to draw some Metako symbols on my tunic or something, but I didn''t know how to use my power in that way. Instead, I found a quiet corner and lurked by the entrance in case Desten 3 showed up late.The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.


    He didn''t show up at all. I stayed until the very last guests departed and servants started clearing away the detritus, and still no sign of him.


    Maybe he''d taken a break. Gone home. I should check in Varonhold. I knew his address, I could find him easily enough.


    Yes. That''s what I''d do.


    I slipped away and oriented myself northward, slipping into the higher lanes and pushing my speed up higher and higher as I raced toward the first city I''d lived in as a noble.


    It felt strange entering by air. Even stranger to effortlessly shift between lanes as I flew in minutes what had taken me most of an hour to walk. Mother was right. I hadn''t gained nothing from my time here after all.


    I landed outside Desten 3''s door and stopped, trying to figure out what to say. I''d agonized over it the whole trip over and still hadn''t settled on anything. Should I apologize? Act as though nothing had changed? Treat him as an old friend?


    I stood a bit straighter, then knocked. He might not even be home, but I had to try.


    "One minute," he called from inside, and his voice made me smile. I''d missed him.


    Then he opened the door and froze uncertainly.


    "Hi, Desten. Been a while. Do you have a few minutes? I have some things I wanted to discuss with you."


    "Astesh! Where have you been? What are you wearing?"


    "Well, you know I was researching Destens for a project; well, I decided I also wanted to research commoners, so," I gestured at myself. "I went undercover."


    I wasn''t sure why I said it, but I''d been lying for so long that adding one more to the pile seemed to hardly matter. I wasn''t going to risk telling the truth ever again. I was lucky to escape Pel with my life, and I had no desire to go through anything like that ever again.


    To my surprise, Desten''s face lit up. "Wonderful! I, well, honestly I hesitated to bring up the subject with you, but I''ve been thinking for a long time that we need to be more inclusive of commoners in our policies. I''ve been working with Desten Varon, eh, the alchemist, I mean, not the verdis player. Well, obviously our progress is a bit stalled at the moment. But, I think there might be a way to solve the marriage problem."


    I smiled, wondering why I''d been so worried. That was Desten, just diving right into whatever topic interested him at the moment. He wouldn''t hold a grudge; of course he wouldn''t. He''d just be glad to have someone to talk to again.


    "Want to come in? Do you have time?"


    "I have nothing scheduled whatsoever. I was surprised not to see you in Utrenad. You decided to quit touring early?"


    He shrugged. "It wasn''t the same without you, and I wanted to check on Desten."


    "Which Desten? You say alchemist, I''ve been through several Destens, but I haven''t met an alchemist. Is he the one who''s always traveling?"


    "No. He''s, well, indisposed at the moment. I''d love to introduce you. To be honest, he''s the main driving force behind our commoner project."


    "Indisposed ... like, unwell?" I asked. Could he be talking about Desten 4?


    "Yes," he said, and hesitated. "I suppose you remind me of him. I hope you don''t feel like I''ve been too, well, pushy. He promised to come touring with me to feel people out before we decided on how much I''d put out publicly in my next book. It''s very hard to introduce societal change without the society pushing back, you know? But, obviously, that fell through, so ..." he shrugged. "I may have used you as a replacement."


    "That''s fine. I actually had fun. I wouldn''t be opposed to touring with you again sometime. If you''d have me."


    "We should all go, once Desten''s better. I''m sure he''d love to hear your ideas about commoners." He grabbed a random sheet of paper. "What are your ideas about commoners, for the record?"


    "Well, mostly that we need to stop dismissing them, and maybe provide things like mass transportation more publicly. We can transport dozens of people in a few hours the distance it takes them days or weeks to ride. Message services could be expanded to include commoners as well, which would make the territories that much closer knit. When there are mountains that take a week to cross between one city and the next, it''s hard to maintain relationships. But for us, that''s a simple hour''s flight."


    Desten looked shocked. "They travel that slowly? Really?"


    "What do you expect them to do? They don''t have power, they can''t fly."


    "But¡ª" he broke off. "I guess you''re right. There are plenty of ways we can integrate ourselves deeper into their lives. But ... well, there is a problem with that too."


    "What problem is that?"


    "Proximity. As long as we stay separate, we''ve been able to mitigate the power loss, but until we actually solve the marriage problem, any integration of nobility with commoners is fraught with danger."


    "What is the marriage problem? I''ve not heard of it."


    "Well, you know how it is. People fall in love with each other even when they shouldn''t. It has happened historically between warring houses, and you can be sure it''ll happen between nobles and commoners if there''s the slightest opportunity. It already happens on occasion, and every time that''s one fewer line for the future. We can only lose so many before our blood ends up too closely linked and everything will fall apart."


    "So wouldn''t bringing commoners in be a good thing, then?"


    "It should be. But it isn''t. That''s the marriage problem. If two nobles have a child together, their power will combine to manifest a childstone. Only when it''s two nobles. If either one is unstoned, their child will be unstoned."


    "Okay. That does sound like a problem."


    "So much of what we do is set to keep our lines from being lost, and it''s not healthy for the relations between nobles and commoners. But most people tend to see them as, you know, a dangerous problem that we should stay as far from as possible. They do their jobs, provide food and raw materials, and we leave them alone."


    "So, you say Desten 4¡ª I mean, your alchemist Desten, is working to solve this problem? How?"


    "I have no idea, truly. He''s the alchemist. I only know he''s traveled a lot, spoken with experts in Oros and Utrenad. He said he was getting close, but then ... well, progress has stalled."


    "Is there any chance of him continuing soon?"


    Desten shrugged. "I''ve checked on him every month, and they always say the same thing. He''s alive, his power is active, but he''s unresponsive. Do you want to see for yourself? I don''t really remember all the terms they use about him, if you have questions you should ask them in person."


    "Sure, that would be very helpful, thank you."


    "Well, you''re in this with us, I''m sure he''d want to meet you as soon as he''s better. And if there''s any chance you know anything that could help..."


    "Unlikely, but you never know. I am passably well acquainted with healing herbs."


    "Perfect! Then I''ll set up an appointment for later this week. Where are you staying? Still in the Reirn''s complex?"


    "Oh, I don''t even know. I¡ª maybe? I''ll check."


    "Get kicked out for hanging around with too many commoners?" he asked sympathetically.


    "Maybe. I haven''t been back since before we went touring together."


    "Really? So you were downcity the whole time? That''s dedication."


    I laughed mirthlessly at that. Yes, dedication. Getting beaten to the edge of my life by Pelys, bedridden for weeks; dedication. But I would leave Desten 3 his assumptions. I''d learned my lesson about honesty. Nobles did not appreciate it.


    "You could stay here with me. I''ll have to move a few things, the guest bedroom is a little full of books at the moment, but I can make space."


    "I can''t ask you to do that."


    "Come on. Don''t be stubborn about this. We''re going to be working together again, right? Why waste time traveling back and forth when you can stay right here?"


    "Well, alright." I didn''t really want to prompt a confrontation with Desten 1 or Reirn Ushan. Bringing myself to their attention seemed unwise. The longer I let them forget I existed, the safer I would be. "Thank you."


    "Any time. Though..." He grinned. "Want to help me move some boxes?"


    <hr>

 29: Desten Four

    The biggest problem in power-based construction is that there is no way to sustain a construct without its original creator returning to do so. Layering can help, but even that is subject to decay and instability over time. Power constructs can be used to great effect in one''s own home, so long as you''re always there to maintain them, but the more complicated the construct the harder it is to ensure it is created perfectly and the shorter duration its manifestation will last.


    As nice as it sounds to conjure advanced mechanisms in their entirety from nothing, it has proven far more economically sound to instead use that power to reinforce and repair physical constructions which can outlive their initial creators.


    -Breaking Dreams, Building Futures


    <hr>


    Desten 4 lay unmoving, floating about three inches above a bed in a well-appointed hospital room. Several tubes connected him to small machines stacked along the wall by the head of the bed. He was thin, frail from long inaction, eyes half-open but completely unmoving. If not for his steady breath and the power pulsing through him I¡¯d have thought he was dead.


    His aura clung close to his body, a thick layer of flickering golden light shot through with iridescent glimmers of blue and red and silver that flashed and faded. The core of power beside his heart pulsed a different hue each second, yellow, blue, yellow, red, silver, yellow, red, yellow, yellow, blue, silver, yellow ¡­ patternless, each flicker threatening to destabilize his aura. It thinned in places, bulged in others, fluctuating like a gelatinous liquid across his body with each pulse of his unstable power.


    ¡°His aura and power seem to have been corrupted, somehow. He¡¯s strong enough that it hasn¡¯t been able to kill him, but it seems to be getting worse. At first the fluctuations stayed fairly close to his own, now it¡¯s manifesting distant hue ranges and with greater frequency. I¡¯m not sure how long he¡¯ll survive.¡±


    ¡°But he might wake up?¡± Desten 3 asked. ¡°It¡¯s possible. Right?¡±


    ¡°We don¡¯t know. This is a unique case as far as we can tell. There are no records of a malady matching this description ever existing in the recorded past.¡±


    "What about unrecorded past?" I asked. "Or, distant, buried recorded past? Desten and I are both well acquainted with researching. Is there anything we could do to help?"


    "Well, it is true that we haven''t had the time to scour deep archives for a solution. It''s possible you could find something we''ve missed. Our medical records only go back about three hundred years with any reliability."


    I turned to Desten 3. ¡°Sounds like we have a research project to work on.¡±


    ¡°If there¡¯s anything to find, we¡¯ll find it,¡± he assured the healer, then smiled at me. ¡°See, Astesh? I knew you were a good one to join the team.¡± He stepped closer to the bed. ¡°Don¡¯t worry, Desten. We¡¯ll figure this out.¡±


    I spent another hour discussing Desten 4¡¯s condition with the healers while Desten 3 took notes about everything they could tell us regarding his symptoms and their progression.


    The fluctuations in his power were strengthening at a disturbing rate. They predicted that within another year his power would reach a deadly intensity level. ¡°He¡¯s already burning through food almost as fast as we can pump it into him, if the consumption keeps increasing his body will be unable to keep up.¡±


    The increase in strength also came with an increased hue range, stretching further and further from his initial innate yellow. I¡¯d heard about hue shifting slightly with time and practice, but nothing like this. The healers said much the same. It was unheard-of, yet it had happened.


    Whatever Desten 4 had managed to do, he seemed to have broken whatever limiter kept nobles¡¯ power within their control. Maybe. I still didn''t know enough about power, alchemy, or Desten 4 to guess exactly what he¡¯d done to himself.


    Once I¡¯d asked every question I could think of that might be relevant, I thanked the healers and we left.


    ¡°You said he¡¯s an alchemist?¡± I asked once Desten 3 and I were alone. ¡°I¡¯d imagine he must have been doing some fairly extreme tinkering to figure out this thing, right? So whatever happened, it¡¯s likely that it¡¯s a side-effect of his research and something went wrong. Have you been to his lab or workshop to investigate?¡±


    Desten shook his head. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t have the first clue what I was looking at.¡±


    ¡°Well, me neither, but he might have left notes. Do you know where he worked?¡±


    ¡°From his house. I ¡­ I haven¡¯t been over there since ¡­¡± he trailed off uncomfortably.


    I nodded in understanding. ¡°I can go check it out, if you want to get started at the library and record offices.¡±


    Desten nodded gratefully. ¡°It wouldn¡¯t be the same without him there,¡± he said apologetically. ¡°You can tell Retti that you¡¯re a friend of mine, she knows we work together.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve actually been over there for lunch before, when I was interviewing Desten 5¡ª I mean, er, you know, Jr, their son, uh¡ª¡±


    Desten raised his eyebrows at me. ¡°Five, huh?¡±


    I laughed nervously. ¡°It¡¯s just how I keep track, I¡¯ve talked to a lot of Destens.¡±


    ¡°How many Destens have you interviewed?¡± He grinned. ¡°And more importantly, what number am I?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re three.¡±


    ¡°So what do I have to do to get promoted to number one?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not like that, it¡¯s the order in which I met them. Well, except 4¡ª your alchemist, I mean, I met his son but since he was older, even if he wasn¡¯t there¡ª¡±


    ¡°Are you making excuses for your internal Desten numbering?¡±This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    ¡°Maybe?¡±


    Desten laughed.


    ¡°Come on, let¡¯s get to it.¡± I stepped into the air, but Desten didn¡¯t follow me. I glanced back, to find him watching me with a thoughtful expression. ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°Are you ¡­ alright?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, I think so.¡± I drifted back down. ¡°Why wouldn¡¯t I be?¡±


    ¡°I should ask you that. You seem ¡­ different.¡±


    ¡°Really? How so?¡±


    ¡°More ¡­ focused? Engaged? Before, it often felt like you were only half paying attention.¡±


    ¡°Oh. Well, I recently had a long time to think about what¡¯s really important to me. And, I realized, that I haven¡¯t been a very good friend to you even after everything you¡¯ve done for me. So ¡­¡± I trailed off awkwardly, uncertain.


    ¡°Hmm. You did abandon me for weeks with no news. I almost thought you were the one who¡¯d been killed, when I first heard about it.¡±


    ¡°Someone else got killed?¡±


    ¡°You hadn¡¯t heard? That¡¯s one of the main reasons I¡¯m back here, apart from you abandoning me. Wightok canceled everything they had scheduled, closed their borders completely. The last verdis game had to be moved to Sarosa. It was a huge disruption.¡±


    ¡°Who died?¡±


    ¡°Evein Wightok.¡±


    I¡¯d never heard of him. But that didn¡¯t mean much; Wightok was small, insignificant, and far from the Sarosa and Varon region where I¡¯d spent most of my life. I¡¯d never even visited Wightok territory. ¡°Someone important?¡±


    ¡°No. He was a kid. Not even old enough to duel. Went missing on his way home from volunteering with the preparation committee. They knew something was wrong when all his constructs went out at once. By the time they found him, he was dead and torn apart.¡±


    My heart sank. While I was convalescing, killer Desten had struck again. There was no way this was the usual young idiots following a stupid dueling fad. ¡°Do we know anything about Evein¡¯s family?¡±


    Desten shrugged. ¡°I haven¡¯t been following the story, to be honest. I only know that much because Wightok canceling was such big news. It¡¯s been decades since any house canceled touring completely, and the verdis circuit had to scramble to find a replacement host for the semifinals.¡±


    ¡°Over one kid? But haven¡¯t people been turning up dead regularly? Why start paying attention now?¡±


    ¡°Because this wasn¡¯t a duel, this was murder. Not even subtle.¡±


    ¡°Were there any spectrum traces? If they found him soon enough¡ª¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know. You¡¯d have to ask someone in Wightok, and they¡¯re closed to visitors. This isn¡¯t the sort of thing we can solve, Astesh. We need to work on the societal issues that we can address. The thinking and the planning are our forte. Leave the spectrums to the investigators.¡±


    I sighed. He was right, whatever happened in Wightok wasn¡¯t within my power to solve.


    Wait.


    ¡°Where¡¯s abridged right now?¡± I asked, struck by an idea.


    Desten thought a moment. ¡°Novarot, alongside reverse. Why?¡±


    ¡°I need to find Trancy.¡±


    ¡°Who?¡±


    ¡°Trancy Wightok, Desten 6¡¯s girlfriend. She might be able to find out more.¡± She¡¯d seemed reasonable enough, though she had avoided me after the first day. But I¡¯m sure once I explained things to her, she¡¯d be receptive. And by ¡®explain things¡¯ I meant come up with a very convincing story.


    Desten shook his head. ¡°You can¡¯t fix every problem in the world by yourself. How about we focus on one at a time?¡±


    ¡°Desten 4 can wait. He¡¯s got months to live even if we don¡¯t find the solution right now. But these people are being killed while I stand by and do nothing. I have to move faster.¡±


    ¡°Astesh, calm down. It¡¯s tragic, but there¡¯s nothing you or I can do about it.¡±


    ¡°I can. I know I can. I just need more information ¡­¡± I sighed as reality caught up with me.


    The chances were good that I wouldn¡¯t be able to find Trancy; chances were even higher that she¡¯d refuse to talk to me. Even if I could convince her to drop everything and rush back to Wightok, what would she be able to learn? If they find spectrum traces of yellow and red, if they don''t, what would that even change?


    ¡°Maybe you¡¯re right,¡± I conceded. ¡°Maybe I need to focus on one thing at a time.¡±


    ¡°Research Desten¡¯s condition first, solve global political tensions tomorrow?¡±


    ¡°And stop a killer in between if we have the time,¡± I agreed.


    ¡°I¡¯ll start collecting a list of archives with documents from before the current era," Desten said. "You still willing to check his workshop?"


    ¡°Yep. We¡¯ll meet back at your place in a few hours?¡±


    We spent another few minutes discussing logistics, then parted to go our separate ways. I remembered where Desten 5¡¯s house was, and it was the matter of but moments to fly over. I knocked, but no one answered. I peered through the window, but the interior was dark. Oh, right. I¡¯d forgotten his family was touring on the reverse circuit. They¡¯d be in Novarot now.


    Was there another way in? I circled the house looking for a back door to the workshop, and located it in the back garden. It was closed, but not locked. I pushed the door open, then hesitated. This felt weird, but I wasn¡¯t going to steal anything or cause any harm, so I stepped inside. My power gently increased its glow until I could see everything clearly.


    It looked more like a lab than a workshop, vials of brightly-hued liquids and powders carefully labeled with sequential numbers and letters lined the shelves across the walls, metal and glass contraptions whose use I couldn¡¯t begin to guess set carefully on tables through the space. By the far wall, a bookcase held dozens of books, while a desk to the right held neat stacks of pages.


    But something felt off. The room seemed dead, empty, lifeless. It took me a moment to realize why; there was no powerlight painted in the corners for illumination, none of the ubiquitous little support constructs glowing anywhere. Indeed, now I was looking, I saw how some of the contraptions of glass and metal lay crooked or uneven, one had fallen and shattered on the table, another lay in a disassembled pile.


    I could easily imagine everything when it had been held together with power constructs, the stability and brilliance, but now it lay dead and cold. I could see why Desten 3 wouldn¡¯t want to come back here with Desten 4 gone. It was hard enough for me to see it in this state, I couldn¡¯t imagine how it would feel for someone who was used to it bright and alive and occupied.


    I shook aside the melancholy thoughts and crossed to the desk. The pages were stacked in neat piles, but each pile was as haphazard as anything. Most were single paragraphs or lines, sometimes quotes, most with a hasty notation of a book title and date, some with a location or a person¡¯s name.


    So, his research was a bit less organized than my own, and considerably more so than Desten 3¡¯s. I flipped through the stacks to get a feel for what each contained. The first was about powerstones: classifications of the colours, training regimens for increasing power, methods for repairing a damaged stone before it destabilized enough to kill its host, speculation on how inheritance of colours worked, anecdotes about instances when an incompatible childstone had been used due to deception on the part of the parents, and more in that vein.


    I found a handful that seemed useful, particularly those about attempting repair to a damaged stone without harming the person. I hesitated uncertainly, but we were trying to save his life, so I pushed down the impulse to never tamper with someone else¡¯s documents and slipped them from the stack to show Desten 3.


    The second stack was incomprehensible for the most part, a lot of math formulas and recipes, probably related to the potions on the walls, but none of which I could understand. The third contained several pages from various Sarosi religious texts, most related to the Lost God. Many I was familiar with, which I found interesting. I hadn¡¯t realized the nobility believed the same things we did. Or maybe it was related to his quest to understand commoners. I scowled, vaguely disquieted at the thought, and moved on to the last stack.


    This last contained a lot of details about the body, diagrams complete with squiggles and focus points and enough descriptions that I began to feel mildly disturbed about how anyone had learned this much. If not for the fact that Desten 4 had been unconscious for almost a year now, he might well have jumped to the top of my suspect list. Why would anyone need to know this much about what people looked like on the inside? It just felt wrong.


    I flipped through them quickly, but found nothing of particular note. Feeling weird and mildly disturbed, I took the pages I¡¯d selected to show to Desten 3 and left, carefully closing the workshop door behind me.


    <hr>

 30: Vaerport

    Then were chosen the conversant to stand between, and to ensure power would ever remain bound in its proper courses. Never again can a reirn claim supremacy by might, but only by blood and proper appointment.


    -Children of Kytras: A History of Sarosa''s Reirns


    <hr>


    Desten 3 didn¡¯t seem surprised by my findings. ¡°He said stuff like this a lot,¡± he murmured, then shook his head. ¡°But I don¡¯t see how it helps us. These are incomplete.¡±


    ¡°They¡¯re excerpts he copied down. Do you know his sources? If we could find the originals, read the context around these sections, we might find something that could help.¡±


    Desten perused the pages more slowly, then nodded. ¡°Here, this refers to, I believe, the Vaerport Historical Archive. I know Desten traveled to Vaerport a time or two, he probably copied down whatever particular pieces he thought relevant to his work.¡± He flipped through several more, nodding. ¡°Yes, all of these have what I assume to be the Vaerport shorthand.¡±


    Vaerport. The northeastern-most city on the continent. We¡¯d visited once during the initial Varon phase of our touring, but I¡¯d never been there outside of that. The name felt familiar, like I¡¯d read it somewhere recently.


    I pulled my, by now quite honestly battered, journal from my pouch and unfolded the original Desten list I¡¯d gotten from the kitchen girl in Desten 1¡¯s house. Varonhold, Varonhold, Varonhold, ah, yes. Desten 7 lived in Vaerport. Pelys had reported that his friend Vess had stopped by and found Desten 7 away, but I could at least talk to his family.


    ¡°What¡¯s that?¡± Desten asked.


    ¡°My list of Destens. I¡¯ve visited most of them, but there is one living in Vaerport I haven¡¯t gotten around to yet. I¡¯d like to stop by his house on our way back.¡±


    I folded the page and tucked it back between the pages. I hadn¡¯t added anything to the journal since Metako. It felt surreal, catching a glimpse of my awestruck notes about the stoneshaping artists there. I¡¯d been so hopeful then, imagining that I could make a place for myself here, that I wouldn¡¯t have to hide and lie forever.


    I knew better now. If my life were to continue, I couldn¡¯t let my deception slip again. I¡¯d barely survived Pel¡¯s wrath, and I still wasn¡¯t sure if he would change his mind about letting me live and come to finish me. Or perhaps he¡¯d set Aneeyha and Vess and Let and Lan on me, let the whole team get their chance to beat me into the ground before reclaiming Fylen¡¯s last legacy.


    ¡°Astesh?¡±


    I snapped the book closed and put it away. ¡°Sorry. Caught up in my thoughts. What were you saying?¡±


    ¡°You really need to get new clothing. Have you advanced, or still tay? You may be willing to traipse around Varonhold in those commoner rags, but if we¡¯re going to seek admittance to the Vaerport Archives you need to look respectable.¡±


    ¡°Oh.¡± I glanced down at myself. I¡¯d completely forgotten what I was wearing. ¡°Right. I haven¡¯t any money.¡±


    ¡°But you were staying in the Reirn¡¯s district, doesn¡¯t that mean you¡¯re close line?¡±


    ¡°Not at all. I was being tutored by the reirn¡¯s nephew, another Desten actually, but there¡¯s a reason I never advanced past tay.¡±


    ¡°Oh.¡± He was silent a long moment. ¡°I suppose you could borrow one of my robes,¡± he finally said, sounding uncomfortable. ¡°It won¡¯t fit perfectly, and you¡¯ll technically be lying about your rank, but it¡¯s better than causing a scene in that.¡±


    I wanted to retort something defiant, perhaps insist that there was nothing wrong with commoners¡¯ clothing, or that I¡¯d rather make a scene as myself than pretend to be someone else. But however I was feeling, stubbornness for its own sake was no better than stupidity.


    So, I thanked him and accepted his offer. Then spent nearly a half hour trying to figure out the stupid things. It wasn¡¯t enough for each power level to have its own colours and patterns, they had to design the robes to be layered differently too. I¡¯d long since learned how the tay robes overlapped, but these had an extra rectangular piece that had to be buttoned in at some point in the process. Did it go over the green layer, or the yellow layer? Did it matter? Was I making some deep political statement of rebellion if I just put it underneath them both and called it good enough?


    Finally I managed some semblance of a proper fit, after which Desten helped me adjust it correctly, and we set out toward Vaerport.


    Vaerport sat atop a cliff, extending out over the ocean in a way that looked precarious from a distance, as though the entire city might break off and tumble into the water at the slightest provocation. Unlike the rest of the Varon and Sarosa cities, Vaerport was not built into the natural mountain ranges, but on a shelf-like pillar of stone that had been drawn up out of the ground by a group of nobles working in sync.


    I couldn¡¯t imagine how many it would take to actually artificially create a mountain. But they¡¯d done it. Again and again, throughout the world, creating bastions in the sky in an even arrangement throughout the land so no incursion could escape the skies unseen and unopposed.


    By now, the mountains they¡¯d created had settled into their surrounding terrain; in Oros with forests creeping halfway up their base, Leetan with rivers winding at their feet, and in Teshron with exotic plants cultivated in tiers up their sides. And in Vaerport, with the ocean ceaselessly wearing it away from beneath.


    The downcity towns were not built up the mountain¡¯s sides like most of the other cities, due to its relatively sheer and precarious nature. Instead they spread out along the shoreline, some with docks like fingers grasping at the edges of the ocean, boats dotting the water as they fished within the safety of the reef. Beyond, I could make out dark shapes in the water, unsettlingly large at this distance, many times larger than the fishing boats.Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.


    Then we reached the city itself, and all thoughts of sea monsters faded as the day¡¯s purpose came into focus. Archive, and Desten 7.


    The Vaerport Historical Archive was situated toward the center of the city, in a silver-covered dome. It looked small and unimpressive next to all the governance buildings and sateirn homes, but once we entered it I was pleasantly surprised by its expansive interior. The archive was built into the heart of the mountain, down into a hollow cube far beneath. The top level, that showed above the ground, was only for displays and tourist information. The actual stacks were situated in a vault beneath a layer of stone thick enough to protect them against any incursion, even if the city itself should be completely destroyed.


    But for all the security, they didn¡¯t hesitate when Desten presented our request. He even showed the guide the pages we¡¯d obtained from Desten 4, and the guide directed us to the area where those specific books could be found.


    It felt strange, knowing I was deep inside a mountain. I wasn¡¯t sure I liked it. There were no windows, and the doors only led to more stone and metal hallways and storage vaults. I suddenly missed the sky, the knowledge that at any moment I could step up into the air and fly away. Down here, I couldn¡¯t escape.


    For a moment the idea flashed that Desten 3 could have lured me here to kill me, but I forced it away. If I still suspected Desten 3, I¡¯d never have come with him this far. There was nothing more unsafe about visiting an archive vault than sleeping in his house.


    My imagination didn¡¯t quite cooperate with me on that one. Being stuck underground was playing havoc with my nerves. I kept glancing anxiously at Desten every time he flicked out his power to grab a book, or moved without sufficient warning.


    But between imagining that I was about to be murdered, I did manage to search out some of the books Desten 4 had been researching with, and some connected to them besides.


    It turned out lost ancient history was a lot less clear than modern history, and did not include convenient ¡®how to cure an overpowered hue-fluctuating stone that¡¯s going to kill its owner and quite possibly explode the entire hospital along with him¡¯ instructions.


    There were cryptic hints, mentions of people known as ¡®prismatic¡¯ who were born with multiple hues of power they could shift between at will, but if they had unique maladies it was not recorded anywhere easily found. They seemed to be treated as heroes, great and powerful, usually with tragic ends.


    Then, a little less than five hundred years ago, all mention of them ceased. Very suddenly. Not even fictional representations of them remained. As though they were a myth disproven to such an extent that no one cared to even think about them any longer.


    Still, we persevered. Neither of us was a stranger to long days spent in libraries, and even if the historical archive were a bit bigger, a bit more underground, and a bit older than most, the research process didn¡¯t change. We spoke little, mainly recording our own thoughts, occasionally asking the other for confirmation or to cross-reference something.


    We built up a picture of the state of the world 500 years ago, and it was very different from what we currently had. I¡¯d known from my own research that the relatively stable peace between the ten houses was only a few generations old, but I hadn¡¯t realized how much of their history was outright brutal. No wonder there were longstanding feuds! Some of the historical treatment of rival houses - enemy houses at the time - was downright disturbing.


    But war and brutality aside, every house had a handful of champion prismatics who could effortlessly use multiple hues of power to their fullest extent. Everyone could use every power, in theory. I could use water just as much as Pelys could use enhancement, but the innate draw toward your own particular hue¡¯s specialty made any specialization outside that you were innately born with - or ended up with by other means in my case - require extra effort and stronger focus. Not so for prismatics. They could shift their hue with a thought, transitioning from flawless defence to devastating attacks without any need for extensive training, using each power as strongly as if it was their sole focus.


    Was Desten 4 a modern prismatic? Had he discovered some lost key to switching his power from its locked state to a wider one? None of the books mentioned how prismatics were made, or where they came from. They simply appeared. And then, on year zero, they disappeared just as mysteriously.


    ¡°What happened in year zero?¡± I asked aloud. ¡°Why did we change calendars?¡±


    ¡°It was just a new era. Things were changing, so we started over. You know.¡±


    I shook my head. ¡°I don¡¯t. Was there any particular event that prompted this change?¡±


    ¡°Hmm. I¡¯ve studied society more than history, but I think there was a battle?¡±


    ¡°There are a lot of battles up until the Great Alliance.¡±


    ¡°Right. But a particularly nasty one. I think ¡­ I think a starcloud incursion got through? I don¡¯t remember, there were a lot of battles.¡± He waved a hand toward the shafts connecting us to the higher levels. ¡°You could ask, I¡¯m sure they have lots of books dedicated to it.¡±


    I wanted to chase after it, but would learning more about the history of the calendar really help Desten 4? From everything I¡¯d read, prismatics were only around prior to the change, so any information on the final battle and the transition to year zero would take place further on than what we needed to learn.


    It was a tangent, an interesting one, but one I couldn¡¯t afford to chase after right now. While preparing for my infiltration in the first place I¡¯d spent too much of my research time chasing digressions, and that had hurt me in the end. I wouldn¡¯t let it hurt someone else. We may have a long time limit, but it was still a limit. Every day Desten 4¡¯s power slipped closer and closer to its volatile end.


    We stayed late into the night, then flew home without once thinking of Desten 7. I only realized it as I lay awake in bed, thinking over the day.


    Part of me felt guilty for setting aside the search for Fylen¡¯s killer for something easier, but this was something I could actually do. This was what I was good at. Talking to people, weaseling out their secrets, figuring out who they are? That¡¯s more Desten 6¡¯s purview. I¡¯m a scribe, one who¡¯s willing to put in the work to find answers.


    Pelys can continue the investigation just fine without me. But no one else is going to save Desten 4. No one else even has a clue where to start.


    My desire to understand was ultimately selfish in nature. Yes, it would be nice to bring Fylen¡¯s killer to justice, to see Fyless safe. Yes, I wanted those things. But the truest deepest reason for my whole investigation was just my terrified self screaming why.


    Desten 4 was more important. He was one of the few nobles who actually cared enough about others to make an effort at understanding and integrating them. He and Desten 3 were quite possibly the only nobles truly worthy of my time and friendship. I wasn¡¯t going to stand by and watch him die without ever meeting him properly.


    Desten 3 may be going about it all wrong, but he had a good heart. His ideas were naive, but good. If Desten 4 were anything like him, then saving him may well have a greater impact on the future of the world than anything else I could do in my life.


    That¡¯s what I¡¯d thought, as I worked my way through book after ancient book. But as I lay awake in the darkness, all I could hear was my fear screaming why.


    Maybe if I knew the answer I could stop being so afraid.


    <hr>

 31: Uninvited

    There¡¯s one thing Astesh missed, one thing that could never be understood by a newborn with less than a month of proper tutoring.


    I need to assess their power levels personally. Desten may be able to hide his strength from a commoner with a stolen childstone, but he cannot conceal it from me.


    -Personal notes of Pelys Sarosa, Treeglow 39th, 493.


    <hr>


    We returned to the archives again the next day, and the day after. With so much to look through, we couldn''t possibly explore it all in one visit.


    The fourth day, as we stepped out of the descent shafts into the room we¡¯d all but taken over, someone stood waiting for us. She wore a black robe that seemed to absorb every colour from the area, as though she stood in a pool of grey emptiness.


    ¡°Stop,¡± she said, her voice resonating. My body immediately stopped moving without me having any say in the matter. Desten 3 froze beside me, equally powerless. ¡°This is forbidden.¡±


    ¡°What is?¡± I asked. ¡°This room?¡±


    ¡°You pore over ancient stories that ought never to have been preserved. They will bring you no benefit. Stop.¡±


    I felt her voice again, suddenly and uncomfortably aware that some part of myself had shifted. I couldn¡¯t say what it was, but I knew I¡¯d been changed.


    ¡°We are watching.¡± Without waiting for a reply, she stepped past us and out of sight.


    ¡°That was weird,¡± Desten said, shivering as the power she¡¯d exerted faded, allowing us to continue walking forward as though we¡¯d never stopped.


    ¡°Who was she?¡± I asked, glancing uneasily behind us. She''d disappeared entirely, no sign of her presence remaining.


    Desten shook his head. ¡°No idea.¡± He crossed to the shelves and began looking through titles again.


    I moved to the nearest table to organize his notes. Most of them were useless. Whatever he¡¯d been writing down yesterday had no relevance to us. Nothing here would help Desten 4.


    I could no longer pretend that rearranging the pages was helping. ¡°I think we¡¯re looking in the wrong place. We¡¯ve already got anything remotely relevant out of here.¡± And whatever forbidden knowledge we weren¡¯t supposed to uncover, I¡¯d rather stay well away from.


    Desten 3 didn¡¯t argue. He¡¯d been retracing the same route, reading titles but not picking out a single volume. I got the feeling he was as spooked as I was by our mysterious encounter.


    We collected our notes, replaced all the books in their proper places, and returned to the surface level.


    ¡°Now what?¡± Desten asked, and I heard defeat in his voice. He¡¯d given up on having anything useful to do a long time ago. I¡¯d managed to briefly rekindle his hope, and now it had been torn out from under us.


    ¡°We¡¯ll think of something,¡± I said with forced optimism. ¡°Are there other archives? Other places we can search for old maladies that might have been overlooked?¡±


    Desten nodded and started listing off the major historical institutions across the world. Apart from Wightok and Raysh, every house had at least one major library or archive available as resources. Raysh had some private collections, but none open to the general public. It would take more pull than either Desten or I could exert to gain access to the Raysh collections.


    Wightok was so small, insignificant, and generally useless that neither of us believed they¡¯d have anything worth our time. They provided transit services, running the sky platforms and piloting Novarot¡¯s animata, nothing artistic. Even their sports teams were consistent failures.


    I didn¡¯t want to return to Sarosa or Oros. Desten agreed to take those, if I¡¯d go to Teshron and Novarot. He hadn¡¯t fared well in either place without me, and didn¡¯t want to go back. I agreed to the compromise, and we set out.


    ¡°Ah, weren¡¯t you going to visit someone here?¡± Desten asked as we flew out from Vaerport.


    ¡°Oh, Desten 7. I almost forgot.¡± I still had his address written down, so it was a simple matter to adjust our course to head to his house.


    Desten laughed when I said ¡®seven¡¯, and I thought he sounded almost smug. But he didn¡¯t say anything and followed my lead.


    Desten 7¡¯s house was significantly fancier than Desten 3¡¯s or Desten 4¡¯s, but not quite up to the same standards as Desten 1. I heard faint voices from inside, so I approached and knocked firmly.


    A servant opened the door, but seemed confused by our presence. ¡°If you¡¯re here to speak with Lerast, he isn¡¯t at home right now.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯re looking for Desten Varon, is this not his house?¡±


    This seemed to only cause more confusion. ¡°Wait here.¡± The door closed.


    I glanced at Desten 3, who shook his head.


    After a few minutes the servant returned, with a woman in tow. She was tall, her power a brilliant yellow that glowed with the most steady control I¡¯d ever seen. No flickers, no pulses, just steady light. She held a very young child asleep against her shoulder, swaying gently back and forth as she walked.The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.


    ¡°You are looking for Desten?¡± she asked, her voice low but clear. ¡°Why?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯d like to interview him for a research paper I¡¯m composing,¡± I said. ¡°He¡¯s one of the only eligible individuals in Vaerport.¡±


    ¡°Except he isn¡¯t in Vaerport right now, nor has he been recently, nor will he be any time soon,¡± she said, still quietly, but with an edge of annoyance in her tone.


    ¡°Who¡¯s Lerast?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s his business name. He wouldn¡¯t want to be mistaken for the other Destens. They¡¯re not known for their business acumen and it would be a mark against him to be associated with them.¡±


    ¡°Hey, not all Destens are irresponsible,¡± Desten 3 protested.


    ¡°Perhaps,¡± she said, noncommittally. ¡°If that¡¯s all, just leave your card and I¡¯ll be sure he gets it if he ever returns.¡±


    ¡°If?¡± I pulled out one of my cards, quickly scribbled in Desten 3¡¯s address in the space I left blank, and passed it to the servant. ¡°Do you think he won¡¯t?¡±


    She sighed. ¡°I can¡¯t say. And even if I knew, I see no particular reason to tell you. Scholars. Did you ever stop to consider that living is more important than documenting it?¡±


    Desten 3 looked hurt, but I shrugged. I¡¯d heard worse. It wasn¡¯t offensive. As a blanket statement it held some truth, perhaps particularly in Desten 3¡¯s case. Though after having been forced to experience life outside of researching and composing documents I couldn¡¯t say I¡¯d choose it in future.


    ¡°Thank you. I¡¯ll give your words some thought,¡± I said, as blandly and noncommittally as I could. ¡°Could you tell me anything about Desten¡¯s personality? Does he seem unusually driven, or¡ª¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not interested. I¡¯ll deliver your request, and that¡¯s all. Good day.¡± She stepped back, still rocking the child, and the servant closed the door in our faces.


    ¡°Doesn¡¯t look like you¡¯ll get much out of them,¡± Desten said. ¡°That¡¯s fine. You don¡¯t need to interview every single Desten to get an idea of the common themes.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯d really like to.¡± I sighed and stepped into the air. I couldn¡¯t tell him why, so I left it at that as we flew back toward Varonhold.


    When we returned, there was a letter waiting for him. Ornately addressed, sealed with the Sarosa crest. He stared at it for a long moment, either shocked or in awe, then gently broke the seal and pulled out the invitation inside.


    ¡°A private gala,¡± he whispered. ¡°In eight days. A final party to celebrate the end of touring season. For a handful of the most powerful people across the world, and ¡­ they¡¯re inviting me.¡±


    He sat down on a pile of books which wobbled precariously under his weight, mistaking it for a chair in his wonder. He stared at the page, reading it again, then broke into a wide grin. ¡°This is wonderful! Astesh, can you believe it? They have been listening! Here I thought we were shouting into a void, but I was right. People do want to change things! This invitation is proof. If the most important people are all going to be there, there¡¯s no reason to send for me unless they¡¯re ready to talk through our suggestions for the future!¡±


    ¡°That sounds great.¡± I tried not to seem unimpressed. ¡°Will you be able to handle the pressure?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯ll be fine.¡± He passed me the page. ¡°See? It says I can bring you along! It¡¯ll be the perfect chance to push for real change.¡±


    I nodded, not really listening as I read the invitation. It did say he could bring one or two others if he desired. But the location bothered me. It wasn¡¯t any of the official major event locations, even the private ones we couldn¡¯t enter, just a regular house number.


    And then I read the signature at the bottom, and my unease grew.


    Pelys Sarosa.


    I had a pretty good idea what this was about, and I seriously doubted it was to discuss creating societal change.


    Pel was impatient, tired of waiting and playing it slow. He would gather all the Destens together for one last party, where he could use the pieces we¡¯d gathered and push them until the killer broke.


    It was a good idea, if not for the fact that no killer would ever put himself in a private Sarosa gathering after what he¡¯d done to Fylen. He¡¯d escaped detection or notice by anyone this long, he certainly wasn¡¯t going to fall for something as simple as a party invitation, however fancy.


    So Pelys would have a houseful of innocent Destens, and probably do his Pel thing to force them into cooperating. Cause an interhouse incident and ultimately gain nothing but alert killer Desten that his name was out, negating the one advantage we had.


    At least we had some time to formulate a response. I didn¡¯t doubt Pel¡¯s party would give me some insight into the Destens, maybe enough to rule out a few more of them for good, but it felt like a rash move.


    ¡°I can¡¯t,¡± I said, paper dropping from my hand. It settled on the floor, out of place in its extravagance among the normal books and papers. I couldn¡¯t stop staring at it. ¡°I can¡¯t go back.¡±


    ¡°What? But you must! I can¡¯t do this alone, you know I can¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°Then don¡¯t go.¡±


    ¡°I can¡¯t let an opportunity like this go by. Pelys is a Sarosa fourth! This is the kind of exclusive invitation people go their whole lives without receiving! You wouldn¡¯t believe the favors I had to promise just to arrange a meeting with him.¡± He looked up, happy and eager. ¡°This is because of you, isn¡¯t it?¡±


    Right. Desten didn¡¯t know about our falling out. Still ¡­ ¡°Yeah, I suppose it is.¡± In a way. If I hadn¡¯t heard the name Desten so long ago, then this particular Desten would have remained safely obscure. A harmless eccentric.


    ¡°People like him never tour on the circuit with the rest of us,¡± Desten continued, his enthusiasm undiminished. ¡°I never imagined I¡¯d have a chance to talk to him directly. Who else do you think is coming? You must help me prepare a solid argument for our theories.¡±


    I shook my head and sighed. ¡°I don¡¯t think it¡¯ll be that kind of party. I really think you should stay home.¡±


    ¡°What? No! I can¡¯t turn it down. Don¡¯t you understand? This is an invitation from a Sarosa fourth. It¡¯s¡­ it¡¯s barely a step beneath a summons from the reirn. You don¡¯t just ignore something like this. Even if I wanted to, I couldn¡¯t.¡±


    Oh. Maybe killer Desten would show up after all, if it was such a social imperative. If not attending would be a complete giveaway, if no one else would dare refuse.


    I suddenly didn¡¯t want to be anywhere near that party. If Pelys fought killer Desten, they¡¯d probably level the building entirely. And I couldn¡¯t guess who would win. Both were so far beyond my own level that I didn¡¯t even know what they were capable of.


    And then there was another thing. What would Pel¡¯s reaction be if I showed up at his fancy suspect party? Would he duel me again on the spot? Kick me out? Tell everyone my secrets? Or just watch me with quiet hatred and plot vengeance for another time?


    I took a deep breath. No, I couldn''t allow my fear to control me. I¡¯d decided to see this investigation through to the end, and that¡¯s what I would do. My life was over. I had to remember that. I was already living on borrowed time, doubly so now that Pelys could have me executed or disappeared for what I¡¯d done. All that remained was to do something worthwhile with what time I had left.


    I knew I¡¯d regret it the moment I said it, but if I were going to act as a true friend to Desten 3, I couldn¡¯t abandon him. If I really truly wanted to know the truth, this was my best chance to find it out.


    ¡°Then, yes. Of course I¡¯ll come with you and keep you company,¡± I said, sealing my fate.


    <hr>

 32: Return to Sarosa

    There are things which should be neither written nor spoken. Too many have been lost, too much potential destroyed by the unquestioning rigidity imposed on those who question openly and share their discoveries too freely.


    If you seek the deeper truth, you can only rely on yourself. Every word spoken aloud is a risk better not taken. You may think you''ve escaped notice, but it only takes a moment to lose everything.


    -Eyes Unseen, Truths Unspoken


    <hr>


    We didn¡¯t make much progress on our search for Desten 4¡¯s cure. I ended up discarding most of what I¡¯d copied down as completely useless. So much nonsense about prismatics, none of which could possibly apply. But in the moments between sorting through notes and listening to Desten mutter about his writing, my mind kept slipping back to the upcoming party.


    I wanted it, needed it, but at the same time it terrified me in a way I''d never imagined possible. What if it didn''t provide the answers I needed? What if it did? Would knowing the answers truly set me free, or would it prove to be as futile as everything else I¡¯d done so far?


    Then there was the very real fear that I might end up stuck between an angry Pelys and a killer Desten as they destroyed everything in sight. Not an appealing prospect.


    Desten 3 remained oblivious to my inner turmoil, and focused much of his effort on clearly organizing his theories about societal change and unity. I tried to curb his high hopes, but couldn¡¯t come up with anything persuasive enough without outright admitting he was a useless piece in a completely different game. Ah, well. It wasn''t my job. Pelys would have to be the one to inform his guests that he''d manipulated them all.


    I stubbornly tried to stay focused on the Desten 4 project, but we had so little to work with and I didn¡¯t understand any of the theory involved. I returned to his workshop several times over the next week, trying to figure out exactly what he¡¯d been working on when everything went wrong, but my knowledge of alchemy was basically non-existent. Shorthand he could take for granted required hours of searching through textbooks before I could even begin to grasp it.


    Replicating Desten 4¡¯s knowledge would take decades of study. And we didn¡¯t have decades.


    Desten 3 seemed to have accepted that his friend was a lost cause. I didn¡¯t want to admit he was right.


    And still the fateful party lingered in my imagination. I dreamed about it a thousand different ways; Pelys slamming me through the earth into the deep ocean beneath, killer Desten screaming as he slashed me to pieces, Desten 3 laughing and revealing that he had only been using me to get to Pelys so he could finish what he¡¯d begun with Fylen. Desten 6 calmly dismembering me while Desten Oros set fire to my mother¡¯s house.


    I didn¡¯t sleep well that week, and my focus only continued to degrade the closer we came to the party. Eventually even his own obliviousness wasn¡¯t enough to blind him to my condition and Desten 3 started asking if I was alright. I insisted I was fine, but wasn¡¯t sure if he believed me.


    The day before the party, I tried to think of every possible excuse to get out of it. I felt distinctly unwell, dread a tense knot that lingered even though my power pulsed calm through me time and again. I began to think I¡¯d somehow built up an immunity to its power, or perhaps my fear had grown to be too much for it to handle.


    Desten presented me with my Varon formal robes; he¡¯d somehow retrieved them from Oros while I wasn¡¯t paying attention, and they¡¯d been cleaned and pressed to perfect brilliance. Somehow that only made me feel worse.


    Then, too soon, after an eternity of dreading it, the night arrived. I wanted a mask, needed to hide. I couldn¡¯t do this. Why had I agreed to this?


    Desten 3 scurried about, worrying over which books he might need to use to demonstrate his points, and I felt my power shifting from stable to aggressive.


    I wanted more time. Pink lightning flickered across my skin; everything slowed. But with the speed came a bright clarity. It wouldn¡¯t be enough. This wasn¡¯t something I could escape from by running faster.


    Desten glanced up, misunderstood my action, and nodded. ¡°You¡¯re right. Time to go.¡± He stashed his books in a satchel and stepped into the air, glowing brilliant yellow. His actions seemed slow, giving me a full slideshow of the power springing to life beneath his feet and the bubble whipping into a sphere around him. It occurred to me that this would be useful for trying to learn power-based abilities in future, if I ever had opportunity to observe new ones.


    I watched him go, heart racing, power humming, then reluctantly stepped into the air myself. I easily passed him, but pulled back my speed to fall in behind him. The lightning died away, leaving me tired and defeated. I tried to remind myself this was what I wanted, what I needed. I might even be able to reconcile with Pel, if he didn¡¯t kill me on sight.


    My stomach clenched at the thought of him instead announcing all my secrets to everyone. It might even be a good strategy to get Desten to crack. If everyone thought I¡¯d seen the killer, he might not be so likely to hide. If the killer even bothered to show up.


    I didn¡¯t know the societal weight of this invitation. Varon and Sarosa were closely allied, so it made sense for Desten 3 to be honored by the inclusion. But what about the ones that actually mattered? Desten 6 has switched his allegiance to Wightok; Desten 7 hadn¡¯t been home to Varon in weeks; Desten Oros, well, Oros was always a pretty independent place. Would Pelys have invited everyone, or only the ones I hadn¡¯t eliminated? How much did he trust my judgment?


    Worry and uncertainty chased each other around my mind the whole way. When we paused midway for Desten to rest and eat some quick snack bars, I paced anxiously, my power¡¯s calming effect only marginally successful. It was good for quelling brief bursts of emotion, but not capable of eliminatng such a deep anxiety.This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    We closed in on Northpoint as the sun began to cast shadows across the valley between the mountains. Though where we flew the day was still bright, it was closing in on evening below.


    Right on schedule.


    Pel''s home was lit with as much ornamentation as any of the major venues, one of which was visible from his balcony. As we descended I could see hundreds of people coming and going in the distance, little sparks of light heading to their completely ordinary final gala, and wished I were going to something as innocent.


    Desten''s anxious muttering as he double checked that he''d brought everything he thought he''d need made me really wish he were right, that this were simply a chance for Desten to meet important people and share his naive ideas. For a moment, I let myself imagine it. Pel could be open to the ideas, we could impact someone who was a close friend of ... well, of no one important any longer. Aneeyha wouldn''t even become Heirna, since Fylen''s parents were still alive. And Fyless would be even more of a nobody.


    I felt my power pulsing through my veins with gentle comforting warmth, and tried not to hate myself any more than I already did.


    Desten landed gently, waited a moment to catch his breath, and stepped forward to knock at the door.


    For a second I was almost overwhelmed with the impulse to grab him, stop him, run away. I shouldn''t be here. This was a bad place to be. I glanced back at the railing, but the patch I''d accidentally melted through in my desperation to escape had been repaired so perfectly I couldn''t even tell where the damage had once been.


    The door opened, and Desten handed the doorman his invitation. My power flickered into action, lightning slowing the world as I caught a glimpse of Pel standing inside. He was talking to someone whose back was to me, someone wearing moy-styled Varon robes denoting near-peak strength, decorated with lines of intricate yellow power woven all across his robes.


    Pel looked up at Desten''s entrance, with a smile that froze when he caught sight of me standing behind. I tried not to react, tried to step forward, but as fast as I could move I couldn''t make myself advance.


    For a long moment that stretched out far longer than necessary, Pelys and I stared at each other, neither moving, neither reacting. Then he slid his gaze away to Desten 3 and laughed softly before turning back to whoever he was talking to. I couldn''t tell who it was from this distance. But he hadn''t killed me on sight, so that was good.


    I stepped inside, looking around and marveling at the transformation. What had once been his quiet little sitting room had been transformed into an expansive welcoming hall. It looked as though he''d removed the ceiling and interior walls, opening the whole thing out into a broad open room. The carpets had been either removed or replaced with a heavily polished pattern of wood and stone tiles, each carved with unique designs, but all similar enough that the overall effect was fully consistent at first glance. The browns and greys of the floor were set off by thin lines of silver power drawn between them, so subtle and perfectly controlled that I almost didn''t notice at first. The walls were covered with intricate murals in shades of blue, the ceiling hung with silver chandelier constructs with gentle yellow lights to provide a cozy atmosphere.


    It should have been beautiful, but instead it felt alien and threatening. I''d somewhat prepared myself for Pel''s usual sitting room, but this felt far too much like an open arena to me.


    I found a seat in the corner and sat, eyes closed against the reality that I was definitely in the same room as Pelys, and very likely in the same room as killer Desten as well. I spent several minutes breathing as slowly and calmly as I could, trying very hard to overcome the instinct to flee at top speed.


    I had to know the answers. I had to stay to support Desten 3. And if there were any way to reconcile with Pelys, I had to at least try. I had to stay. Everything I needed was here.


    The panic didn''t leave, but it settled into a steady knot of distress in my chest. I could pretend. I could smile and speak and breathe, and mostly ignore the fear. It was there, but I wouldn''t let it control me.


    One last deep breath, and I opened my eyes and stood. Desten 3 had settled next to me, spreading out his books and papers as though this were just another ordinary event we were attending.


    He glanced over and smiled encouragingly. "It''s alright, I told Pelys you were tired from the trip. It''s hard enough for me, I can''t imagine how you kept up the whole way at your level."


    I looked down at my tay-style robe, marking me as the only person in the room of such a low power rank, and shrugged. "Thanks."


    His smile faltered. "Is something wrong? He didn''t seem to even care that you''d come. I thought you were friends, or at least teacher and student?"


    "We had a ... violent disagreement. Don''t worry about it, I''ll be fine." And if not, there was nothing Desten 3 could do to save me.


    He nodded, still unconvinced, but I turned away and started walking around the too-large, too-open room. There were power-construct tables set around the room covered in the most expensive and extravagant foods yet. I knew it must have taken hours to craft all the tiny decorated cakes and perfect sandwiches and excessively detailed carved vegetables and fruits. What purpose was served by this sort of thing? Just showing off how much effort and expense one could afford to pay for?


    I was starving after the flight here on top of the constant strain of my power attempting to regulate my uneven mental state, so I loaded up my plate without concern for the expense.


    Then, having expended every reasonable delay I could think of, I turned my attention to the gathered Destens. I''d been right, they made up the bulk of the group in attendance.


    I saw Pel''s friends Let and Lan talking with Retti, Desten 5''s mother. Desten 5 himself sat at a table with his sister, playing a game something like miniaturized ryshglide with a maze they constructed on the tabletop. Desten 1 was present, his Sarosa girl on his arm, standing by the entrance talking with a Sarosa man I didn''t know.


    Desten 6 was not present, as far as I could see, nor was Desten Oros. Desten 2 was, to my surprise. He stood talking with Aneeyha, waving his hands enthusiastically. A few more people in Sarosa colours sat or stood talking, but this really was an extremely exclusive event. I recognized Desten 7''s wife, and looked around for any unidentified Varon. There, standing by the drinks table, that had to be him. Jek-ranked, by his robes, making him the fourth most powerful man in the room.


    Pelys and his interlocutor were the top, as Sarosa''s rank of fourth was somewhere between jek and moy on the Varon scale, making the moy-ranked individual technically the strongest person present. I looked at him more closely. He was older, someone I hadn''t met, but he was clearly Varon.


    Nearby, an older Sarosa man talked with a young Varon woman in laht-rank robes with green power accents. She looked vaguely familiar, as though I''d seen her in passing during touring, but never spoken with her in person.


    No one seemed to care about my presence, or Desten 3 sitting in his corner, so I brought my plate back and focused on talking through our approach to convincing the next person we spoke to to take our ideas seriously. It wasn''t much of a distraction, the constant presence of Pelys and probably killer Desten nagged at me and kept the tightness in my chest at a steady discomfort level.


    I ate because I needed the energy, but couldn''t taste any of it.


    <hr>

 33: Challenge

    This isn''t what I wanted. I had no other choice.


    -Snowfall 20th, 493


    <hr>


    Desten Oros and his pudgy young cousin Desten Oros 2 arrived a half hour later. I stared in surprise, and Desten Oros glared when he saw me watching him, but then turned as Pelys greeted him and didn''t glance my way again.


    An hour later, Desten 6 arrived with Trancy.


    I was watching for it, so I saw the moment Pelys excused himself and flashed up a barrier around the entire building, deep blue that almost matched the evening sky outside, but visible if I knew what to look for. I tensed, ignoring Desten 3¡¯s concerned query beside me.


    Pel stepped up onto a raised platform that hadn¡¯t been there a moment before, painted of blue light, and tapped his glass to send an echoing ring across the room. Conversations fell silent as everyone turned to face him.


    ¡°Thank you all for coming. The time has come to disclose the reason for my rather unusual choice of party guests. You are all here to bear witness.¡± Pel¡¯s casual tone turned abruptly sharp and demanding. ¡°Eirn Desten!¡± Half the people in the room snapped to full attention. ¡°I challenge you for the light you bear, as you once challenged Eirn Fylen.¡±


    Yellow light flickered across the room as half the Destens immediately shifted into readiness positions. Desten 3, sitting beside me, did not summon his own power but simply stared, his face pale and eyes wide. Desten 5 half stood, before his mother shook her head and gestured for him to stay seated. Desten Oros was surrounded by his own orange light as he backed toward his cousin, keeping himself between Pelys and the younger man. Desten Oros 2, for his part, simply continued playing with his power, seemingly oblivious to the sudden tension in the room.


    If Pel had hoped the guilty one would simply step forward to face him, he was disappointed. No one seemed sure how to react, until the older Sarosa man laughed, breaking the tense silence.


    ¡°Hah, what kind of antiquated mummery are you putting on now, Pel? ¡®For the light you bear?¡¯ I¡¯ve never even heard that challenge used. Is it even legal any longer?¡± He shook his head, holding up his glass. ¡°Besides, who issues a challenge at a party? It¡¯s very poor taste.¡±


    ¡°I am entirely serious.¡± Pelys paced slowly across the platform, gaze drifting across the assembled Destens.


    ¡°You want to challenge me, challenge me on the Verdis pitch,¡± Desten 2 shouted. ¡°I don''t duel.¡±


    After a moment Pelys nodded. He pointed to Desten 2 and the Varon woman, who must be Desten 8 as she¡¯d reacted to the name. ¡°Not you then. Over there.¡± He waved them toward where Desten 3 and I sat frozen.


    Desten 2 snorted derisively but did as indicated, eyeing Desten 8 as they walked over, earning a cold glare from his current girl - a different one than when I saw him last.


    ¡°You, over with him,¡± Pel ordered, pointing Desten 7 toward where the old Sarosa man stood. Desten 7 complied, grabbing a full glass on his way over and downing it in two gulps.


    ¡°Well?¡± Pelys demanded, continuing to pace. ¡°I know it was you, Eirn Desten. I saw it. I bet you didn¡¯t realize you weren¡¯t alone did you? In the forest that night, with the snow falling, conserving your fire in a red dome woven by your accomplice, you thought you had Fylen by himself. Did you really think I wouldn¡¯t hunt you to the ends of the world?¡±


    ¡°Excuse me, what the heights are you talking about?¡± Desten Oros spoke up sharply. ¡°I demand that you release us immediately. I do not appreciate being lured here under false pretenses.¡± He glowered in my direction, and I half expected him to start accusing me of deception on the spot.


    ¡°Quiet!¡± Pelys snapped. ¡°I¡¯ve waited this long to get justice and no one leaves here until I¡¯m satisfied!¡±


    ¡°Um, can I go?¡± asked Desten 5¡¯s little sister, holding up her hand tentatively. ¡°I¡¯m not Desten.¡± She glanced anxiously around, seeming uncertain.


    ¡°Ssh, wait, Tali,¡± Retti hushed her. ¡°We¡¯ll all leave together or not at all.¡± She stood, looking up at Pelys defiantly. ¡°If you wish to instigate violence, at least let my children leave first.¡±


    For the first time, Pel seemed to falter. He stared at Desten 5 and Tali, their obvious fear, and their angry mother facing him down. His eyes glanced toward Aneeyha, and I mentally urged him to do the compassionate thing and let them leave.


    But his expression hardened, and he shook his head. ¡°No one leaves until this is decided.¡±


    Retti didn¡¯t back down. She took another step forward. ¡°Then I challenge you, Eirn Sarosa. I challenge you for my family¡¯s honour.¡±


    Pelys seemed taken aback, again he faltered, speechless for a moment.


    ¡°Mom, no,¡± Desten 5 said, standing. His voice trembled. ¡°It¡¯s fine, we can wait, see what¡ª¡±


    She gave him a look, and he stopped talking. He sat back down, hunching in on himself.


    ¡°I have gathered you all to seek justice for Fylen, not¡ª¡±


    ¡°Didn¡¯t you just say he fought within a duel enclosure?¡± Retti demanded. ¡°There is no justice to be sought. Duels exist for a reason, Eirn Sarosa. Not for petty vengeance. For true wrongs, and for settling what honour demands. If eirn Fylen was killed in a duel, you should have either challenged his opponent at the time or let it lie. Your obsession does you no favors.¡±


    Murmurs of agreement rippled across the room.


    ¡°Now, either accept my challenge or let us go.¡±


    ¡°Clear the floor,¡± Pelys ordered, dissolving the platform he stood on as he hopped down to the floor. There wasn¡¯t much furniture in the center of the room, probably intentionally, but there had been people standing about. They quickly vacated the space, leaving Pel and Retti facing each other.


    I couldn¡¯t help feeling this was a stupid waste of energy. Why not just let her take her kids and go? He''d be revealing his power and style to killer Desten. There was no benefit to doing this.


    But he was Pel, and he didn''t hesitate. ¡°I accept your challenge, eirn Retti. What terms would you set?¡±


    ¡°We fight to concession, for honour and my freedom from your deceitful trap.¡±


    ¡°Agreed.¡± Red and blue light flared together, forming a dome around the combatants. The power twisted and locked together, lines of red creeping through the blue and blue sprawled into the red.


    They¡¯d both created the barrier in the same moment. I could see Pel¡¯s surprise; he hadn¡¯t expected Retti to be as strong or fast as she was. But he shouldn¡¯t have underestimated an angry mother. I could have told him that.


    Pel shot forward, faster than I¡¯d ever seen him move, and slammed Retti off her feet and up against the inner wall of the barrier. He¡¯d collided with her physically, pushing out his dissipation pulse ahead of him perfectly timed to break through her initial shield.


    Before she could react, Pelys had her pinned, knee against her chest, forearm across her throat, pressed into the red glow of the dome.


    ¡°Concede.¡±


    She coughed, shook her head, and red light flared. Pelys was pushed back as Retti¡¯s bubble slid back into place around her. Except this wasn¡¯t a solid shield bubble, it was five spinning planes of force, and when Pelys stepped back there was blood across his chest, his robes torn in three perfectly parallel lines.


    I wasn¡¯t the only one who gasped.


    Retti stepped forward, her spinning blades aura expanding as she moved, the expression on her face set in cold determination.


    Pelys wasn¡¯t going to give up that easily. He began dispelling her scything blades before she could reach him, dissolving them as rapidly as they reformed. At the same time, he was spreading blue power across the floor as he slowly backed up. Retti continued advancing. The moment she stepped onto the blue power, Pelys stopped his retreat and leapt forward. She tried to turn, but her feet had frozen in place.


    Pelys jumped into the air, blue light pulsing out from him as frost gathered across Retti¡¯s entire body. She broke free a second later, but Pel had created a horizontal wall of ice between them, himself above, Retti below. She replaced her blade aura just before Pel dropped onto the ice wall. He slammed down atop her, power flaring out to dispel her blades. She fell to the floor, power flickering as she tried and failed to re-establish her blades. Pelys''s power flared out in tiny bursts that disrupted them before they could even manifest.


    ¡°Concede,¡± he said again, not unkindly, but without wavering.


    ¡°No,¡± she gasped, her voice faint against the weight pressing down on her. ¡°At least let Tali and Desten go.¡±


    ¡°I can''t let anyone leave. Just concede, wait in the corner and bear witness.¡±


    Retti''s eyes narrowed, then her power flashed out in a sudden pulse. Pelys stumbled and fell forward as his ice wall melted away. I caught a flash of surprise across his face, then Retti was back on her feet and sprinting across the barrier.


    Pelys recovered quickly, and then they stood opposite each other, both breathing heavily, surrounded by their power.


    ¡°Let us go,¡± Retti said.


    ¡°I can''t. Not until I know for sure.¡±


    Retti''s blades spun into being around her and she dove forward. Pelys''s bubble flashed and dissipated the moment before she connected, and that''s when I realized she''d figured out how to replicate his dispersal technique. Mid-duel.


    Not good. If Retti could figure it out so quickly, killer Desten would surely not be far behind. The last thing we needed was for him to have another advantage!


    I wanted to yell at Pelys to stop, but my voice was stuck in my throat. And he probably wouldn''t listen anyway.


    Why did he have to rush into things? This was stupid, a pointless waste of time and energy. And why was Retti so eager to throw herself into danger? Even for an over-protective mother this seemed a bit on the extreme side. They were both hot-headed fools.Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation.


    The two disengaged and returned to their respective edges of the duel circle. Pelys¡¯s robe had a few new slashes and he stood draped in his blue healing power. Retti¡¯s simple dress remained untouched.


    Desten 2 applauded loudly. With a grin, Desten 6 joined in.


    I narrowed my eyes at Desten 6. Was this the behavior of a killer? Laughing as his nemesis expended his energy needlessly? Or just a jerk who enjoyed manipulating emotions?


    Desten 7 seemed to be on his fourth drink, judging by the empty glasses beside him. Was he feeling guilty, desperate, trying to figure out a way to escape without his identity being revealed as the killer?


    Flashes of red and blue tried to draw my attention back to the spectacle, but I had a more important job now. I may not be able to gather any more information about the Destens directly, but I could watch their reactions.


    Desten 1 stood quietly talking to the Sarosa stranger who was probably Vess, his own bubble up and almost too opaque to see through.


    Desten 2 watched with a grin, clapping every time either combatant got in a particularly good hit. He¡¯d dropped his bubble the moment it became obvious he wasn¡¯t being targeted. And he kept stealing glances at Desten 8, who seemed torn between watching the show and watching him. The older Varon man watched both of them with obvious disapproval.


    Desten 3 sat frozen, staring with the kind of horrified fascination of someone who¡¯d never seen a duel before and couldn¡¯t look away.


    Desten 5 stood gripping the tablecloth in front of him, eyes riveted on the deadly battle his mother fought for his freedom. Tali sat across from him, her face hidden in the overlay of her robe which she¡¯d pulled up over her eyes, flinching at every sound.


    Desten 6 grinned as he watched, his bubble thin but still active, its yellow interwoven with Trancy¡¯s red beside him. Trancy watched the fight with a faint half smile.


    Desten Oros had herded his cousin into the corner and built a triangular fortress of his orange power, thick walls to easily rival anything Pelys had created in our training.


    Desten 7 seemed determined to drink his way through Pelys¡¯s entire stock. I couldn¡¯t remember if he¡¯d reacted with a shield when Pel issued his challenge, but if so he¡¯d dropped it by now.


    Let, Lan, and Aneeyha had spread out into a rough triangle, positioning themselves toward the outside of the room, each close to one cluster of people. Aneeyha stood closest to us, between Desten 2 and 3. Let stood by the tables near Destens 5 and 7, while Lan had positioned herself between the fight and the Oros duo.


    The older Sarosa man watched the fight with tight-lipped disapproval.


    My breath huffed out in irritation. My intuition was failing me again. I couldn¡¯t tell if any of them looked guilty. Honestly, of all the people in the room Pelys seemed the most unhinged at the moment. I couldn¡¯t really fault Retti for wanting to get her family away, or Oros for bunkering up in the corner. If I didn¡¯t know Pel was just a weirdly violent person in general, I¡¯d probably be hiding too.


    I turned my attention back to the fight, which was surprisingly still going on. I would never have guessed Retti had the strength to hold Pel off for minutes. But, then, I¡¯d never seen her in rank-depicting clothing, so I didn¡¯t know where she rated.


    Pelys and Retti flew around each other in tight circles, exchanging flares of power too fast for me to make out any individual attack. They seemed remarkably evenly matched, though I knew Pel must be holding back so as not to hurt her. He¡¯d gone this long without landing a single injuring strike. That had to be intentional; his every move focused on controlling her movement and forcing her to concede, rather than on causing damage.


    They''d moved on to stronger attacks now, giving each a vibrant clarity that normal power usage lacked, a vivid sharpness that made their power look less like painted light and more like splintered glass. These more focused attacks pinged off the interior of the barrier in a rapid staccato as the combatants evaded or smacked away strikes too powerful to be dispersed.


    I was glad for the barrier. Without it, everyone in the room would probably be dead by now.


    Then Pel twisted underneath and pulsed up his disruption, knocking Retti¡¯s flight out from under her while her attention was elsewhere. She tumbled from the air, and Pelys followed up with a cloud of ice that crashed down, freezing Retti to the floor and trapping her arms and torso against the ground.


    ¡°Concede,¡± he growled, and I could hear the impatience in his voice. He was getting tired of the delay.


    Just do it, I silently urged her. You don¡¯t want to make Pel angry.


    Red power surged, and the ice dissipated. She pushed herself to the side and in a moment was back on her feet, a blade forming in her hand once more.


    This could go on indefinitely if Retti refused to back down and Pel continued to toy with her, and all we were doing was giving killer Desten more time to assess, more time to recover from the shock of being outed, more time to plan how to escape.


    I jumped to my feet. ¡°Stop!¡±


    Both Pel and Retti turned in surprise.


    ¡°Please, this is pointless.¡± I gestured around at the others. ¡°We¡¯re here to find killer Desten, not fight each other! Retti, please, I promise Pel isn¡¯t going to do anything to hurt you or your family if you cooperate. Just stand down, hide in the corner like the Oros guys if it makes you feel better, and as soon as we¡¯ve sorted this out you can go.¡±


    Retti slammed a spear of sharp-edged red through Pelys¡¯s chest.


    Pelys gasped and stumbled. Distracted by my plea, he had lowered his guard. Retti hadn¡¯t.


    ¡°No,¡± she growled. Another spear of red force appeared in her hand and she pointed it at Pel¡¯s throat. ¡°Concede. Let my family out.¡±


    Desten 2 applauded.


    Pelys roared. The duel enclosure flickered as his entire body emanated blue energy, tearing apart the red spear through him, shattering the one in Retti¡¯s hand into fragments that dissolved into nothing. Before she could react, his power slammed down onto her like an angry river, throwing her violently to the ground.


    She didn¡¯t move. Her half of the duel barrier began to dissipate, red energy melting away, then Pel¡¯s blue followed.


    The duel had ended.


    ¡°NO!¡±


    Yellow fire flared in a sudden brilliance. I blinked and looked away, the blinding light and sudden heat hitting me with unbearable intensity. I backed away as far as I could, but still the fire was too much.


    ¡°MOM, NO!¡±


    Desten 5, I vaguely thought. Poor kid. Already walking the balance-edge with his father absent, how would he cope now?


    I squinted and just made out the wall of white-yellow fire splitting the room in half, separating Pelys from Retti. Desten 5 had moved, kneeling by his mother¡¯s side.


    ¡°Someone save her, please!¡±


    I couldn¡¯t tell what had happened exactly, but as my eyes adjusted to the brightness I thought she seemed to be still breathing. That was good. I would hate to imagine poor Desten 5 losing both his parents.


    ¡°Let me,¡± said the person I assumed to be Vess, stepping forward. He placed his hands on Retti¡¯s chest and forehead, then silver light gleamed from his hands before slowly spreading across her body.


    Desten 5 stood, fists clenched at his sides, yellow fire licking across his hands and up his arms and glowing from his eyes. ¡°I accept your challenge, eirn Pelys.¡±


    The wall of fire dissipated as Pel spiked it. I wasn¡¯t sure if he¡¯d be shocked or angry, but he only shook his head. ¡°It was not meant for you, boy,¡± he said, his voice calm.


    ¡°Your challenge said Desten. And you refused to let us leave. That means¡ª¡± he swallowed and glanced away, then clenched his fists and glared back at Pelys. ¡°You¡¯ve already hurt my mom. I¡¯m going to stop you before you hurt anyone else.¡±


    Then Retti groaned faintly, and Desten¡¯s attention dropped, his fires vanishing in an instant as he knelt by his mother¡¯s side again. ¡°Mom?¡±


    She shook her head. I saw her mouth move, and Desten stiffened. ¡°No,¡± he said faintly. She took hold of his sleeve and continued speaking, too low for me to make out.


    Pelys stood still, waiting for Desten to recant, not making a move. A bit late for sensible behavior, but better late than never I supposed.


    ¡°Nevermind, I don¡¯t want to fight,¡± Desten mumbled. He straightened, eyes downcast. ¡°I¡¯ll go sit with Tali.¡±


    Pel let him go, and I exhaled in relief. That could have been very bad.


    ¡°I told you this would be more fun than the standard party,¡± Desten 6 told Trancy in a carrying whisper.


    I still couldn¡¯t tell if he were the killer or just a terrible person, but either way I wanted to punch him. It was probably for the best that I didn¡¯t have either the power or temperament to carry through on such idle thoughts.


    Vess helped Retti to her feet, then stepped back.


    She stood facing Pelys across the open space, the tiles of the floor scored and melted by their fight, a perfect circle of destruction.


    ¡°Your duel ended,¡± Pelys said. ¡°Go sit with your children until this is over.¡±


    Desten 5 held his sister¡¯s hand and they were backing away from Pelys toward the edge of the outer barrier which still surrounded the building.


    ¡°Our business is not concluded until my family is safe,¡± Retti hissed. ¡°You of all people should understand this.¡±


    ¡°I do understand. But I cannot risk opening an exit until this is settled.¡±


    Retti smiled. ¡°If an answer is what you seek, then I can help. But only once you promise to let my children leave in peace.¡±


    Pelys shook his head. ¡°What could you know?¡±


    ¡°I know exactly who killed Fylen Sarosa, and why. If that is truly what this whole charade is about, then simply promise your protection to my family, and I will tell you everything you want to know.¡±


    What.


    What??


    How?


    If Pelys and I hadn¡¯t been able to solve this with months of independent investigation, and then more months of further investigation after joining forces, how could Retti know anything? She was a housewife holding a crumbling family together while running all over the world searching for a cure for her husband¡¯s condition.


    Though ¡­ housewives did hear things. Rumors could spread just as fast through lower channels as through high. The gossip of the servants could be as insightful as the debates of the nobility.


    But still. How?


    If she knew, shouldn¡¯t everyone?


    Pelys hesitated a long moment, then slowly nodded. ¡°I will do my best to shield your family from coming to any harm. Speak.¡±


    ¡°Take down your wall and let them leave. I swear, the one you want will not escape, and I do not want them to watch this.¡±


    Pel shook his head. ¡°Not until I¡¯m satisfied.¡±


    ¡°Very well.¡± She straightened and took a step forward. ¡°Regardless of what you think you saw, I, and I alone, am fully responsible for Fylen Sarosa¡¯s death.¡±


    Tali started crying. Desten shushed her, backing them right up to the edge of the barrier.


    Desten 2 applauded. Desten 7 helped himself to another drink.


    I sat down hard, stunned by the admission. She had to be lying. Fylen had said ¡®Desten¡¯ distinctly. Maybe, possibly, Resten or Desrin. But not Retti.


    Desten 1 looked directly at me, gesturing with his head. I couldn¡¯t tell what he wanted. I shrugged.


    This didn¡¯t make any sense.


    ¡°Now let my family out.¡±


    ¡°You would say and do anything if you thought it would get them out of here,¡± Pelys said. ¡°Not until this is over.¡±


    ¡°Why?¡± I asked faintly, but Retti heard.


    She turned to me, and a look of distaste crossed her face. ¡°You wouldn¡¯t possibly understand. You¡¯ve no family, no ties, no one. Fylen was going to ruin everything.¡± She turned back to Pel. ¡°And now you want to get in my way too.¡±


    ¡°What are you saying,¡± he asked, voice low.


    She shook her head. ¡°I can¡¯t tell you. No one can know. No one can speak of it. You have no idea how important this is! Without complete secrecy, we¡¯ll lose everything. I told Fylen that, but he insisted on bringing others in. If I hadn¡¯t stopped him in time, he would have brought the conversant down on us all.¡±


    What.


    ¡°But he knew the risk,¡± Retti continued. ¡°He chose to accept the challenge, though he could have walked away.¡± She faced Pelys squarely. ¡°If you must seek vengeance, here I am. But know that I will fight you to my last breath. No wrong has been done. Fylen''s death broke neither law nor tradition. Everything I have done, I would do again to protect my family.¡±


    What.


    But¡ª


    No. She couldn¡¯t be killer Desten. That didn¡¯t make sense.


    Fylen¡¯s killer had been definitely male. Hadn¡¯t he? My nightmares and memory had become so jumbled up over each other, I couldn¡¯t tell any more. But it was Desten. I was so sure. Fylen had said Desten. I had no reason to fabricate the name.


    Here we were, with all the Destens.


    And then it clicked.


    She never said ¡®I killed Fylen.¡¯


    She said ¡®I¡¯m responsible for Fylen¡¯s death.¡¯


    It was Desten 5.


    I glanced back to where he stood, his flickering yellow barrier of fire separating him and his sister from the room at large, so afraid, backed against a wall, but still letting his mother take over. If she told him to kill, if he was trapped in a fight with no way out ¡­


    I could see it. I¡¯d always been able to see it. My intuition had been right from the start. Of all the Destens, he was the only one whose temperament could possibly be matched to killer Desten¡¯s particular brand of madness. Because it wasn¡¯t madness, it was the desperation of one pushed beyond their breaking point, the sound of a child forced to kill, who didn¡¯t know when to stop.


    My heart ached in empathy for him as I glared at Retti. How could she say she cared about her family when she¡¯d forced her own son to do something so terrible? How could she stand there and pretend she had some greater cause?


    I¡¯d never wished so badly that I had the power to stand on the same level as everyone else. If I could, I¡¯d challenge her myself.


    Desten 1 was still watching me.


    ¡°What¡ª¡± my voice cracked. ¡°What about the boy in Wightok? That couldn¡¯t possibly be legal. He wasn¡¯t old enough.¡±


    Retti looked my way haughtily. ¡°I am not a murderer. If I take what is no longer needed, that is no crime. Yes, it flies in the face of tradition, but where¡¯s the benefit in letting such power disappear when it can instead be used beneficially?¡±


    The image flashed across my memory, Desten 4 lying unconscious with his power so strong, so unstable, flickering through colours.


    Yellow; his own. Blue; Fylen¡¯s. Silver; Wightok. Where she¡¯d gotten the others, I didn¡¯t know.


    ¡°But it¡¯s not working," I said. "No matter how much power you force into him, it isn¡¯t going to fix whatever went wrong.¡±


    ¡°Stop talking!¡± Red power flared and snapped into place around me, holding me completely still. I couldn¡¯t speak if I wanted to. ¡°You know too much. I¡¯m sorry, Eirn Astesh. I¡¯d hoped you could continue to be a friend to my family. But if you insist on interfering, then I will do what I must. I challenge you for the light you bear.¡±


    <hr>

 34: Red and Yellow, Blue and Pink

    For all its straightforward simplicity, Flashstone incursions are among the most difficult to defend against. Its ability to burn straight through every type of power with impunity requires far more complicated preparations to prevent massive damage to the lands beneath.


    The difficulty of working it afterwards, along with its extreme scarcity, has also made it one of the most expensive and prized resources in the world.


    -A Guide to Uncommon Minerals


    <hr>


    ¡°No.¡± Pelys stepped forward. ¡°No more duels. This is a Sarosa matter now, and Astesh is no part of it. You have confessed. The right of challenge lies with Reirn Ovnon. He will decide your fate from here.¡±


    ¡°This is between Varons, eirn Sarosa. You have no part in it.¡± Retti turned to me, eyes pleading. ¡°Eirn Astesh. You have seen Desten¡¯s condition. You know what happens when you try to correct things in public. I know you were trying to help. What happened? Why did you stop?¡±


    Because there was nothing to find. She had to know that. All the nonsense about prismatics had no bearing on reality. It was just fanciful fiction. Nothing worth thinking about.


    My confusion must have shown, though I still couldn¡¯t move, and Retti shook her head. ¡°They¡¯ve gotten to you already. I¡¯m sorry. Nod if you accept my challenge; I cannot let you speak. The danger to my family is too great if anyone knows.¡±


    ¡°Astesh, don¡¯t!¡± Pelys ordered.


    But I had no choice. Retti was controlling my body with her power in the same way Desten Utrenad controlled his own. I felt myself nod.


    I strained at my power, trying to somehow slide it into the patterns Pel had tried so hard to teach me. Break free and run. I could run, if only I could break free; I could do something, anything but stand here and die.


    Something deep within me rebelled at the idea of Fyless¡¯s pink being added to Desten 4¡¯s chaotic rainbow. It was wrong. No one should have that much power, that many hues. It was unthinkable.


    Though my power flared and strained, though pink glinted in lightning-tracks across my skin, though time slowed to where I could watch every tiny motion as Retti drew the dueling circle around us, I still couldn¡¯t move.


    The power flooding me broke my mental paralysis. I couldn¡¯t move, but I wasn¡¯t quite entirely helpless. Power didn¡¯t require movement, only thought. I spun a shield around myself, reinforcing it with everything I could pour in. I¡¯d never practiced flying without physical movements, without feeling like I was striding through the sky, but I had nothing else left.


    I could see her moves, slowly, deliberately, watch the exact direction she struck and where she would land seconds before it actually hit. She started with a simple spear, like the one she¡¯d skewered Pelys on, that hurtled toward my throat. This was nothing like the exhibition she and Pel had just put on, there was no testing, no defence. She would simply kill me. That¡¯s all.


    I desperately pushed myself to the side, flying out of the way just in time. Without control over my limbs, any hope of balance was destroyed and I toppled to the ground. My bubble absorbed some of the impact, then puffed away. I spun a new one into place, heart racing. I couldn¡¯t get enough air, my lungs constricted to shallow breaths by the rigid force shell holding me still.


    The second attack came closer, as I scooted myself away across the floor. The spear hit the edge of my bubble, dissipating it entirely. I had to fight back somehow. I couldn¡¯t keep dodging forever, and Retti was aiming to kill. But I¡¯d never figured out how to make attack spikes, even without the dissipation effect.


    Well, I did have one weapon. Between my own bubble shield and the layer of force surrounding me, I was a fairly solid object at the moment. I could take a page from Pel¡¯s book.


    I oriented myself and flew at her, a bit wobbly until I got the hang of it. With my power running at full strength I moved too fast for her to react. My aim was a bit off, clipping her shoulder instead of ramming fully into her, and then I bounced off the interior of the duel barrier. It was a bit convenient, actually, this full-body shield around me.


    Lights flickered around me and for a moment I thought I¡¯d collided too hard. Or maybe it was the lack of air.


    Then I realized what it was. The whole duel shield had started to glow and warp.


    I¡¯d seen this before. When Fylen died, Desten 5 had collapsed the dome in onto him, killing him instantly.


    I couldn¡¯t do anything. I could fly around inside the barrier all I wanted, but there was no way to evade this.


    It felt oddly fitting, that this would end the same way it had begun. I knew the truth, and Pelys knew, and that would have to be enough.


    Tiny fractures appeared in the barrier as it distorted, turning from a smooth sphere into a jagged collection of spikes and bulges and stretched-thin patches. For a moment I dared to hope that I could find a hole, reorient myself and slip free before it closed in on me, but it shifted far too quickly and the rips opened and closed too unpredictably.


    I had seconds. Less than seconds. Even if I could think of a way out, I wouldn¡¯t have time to move myself.


    I didn¡¯t want to die.


    I didn¡¯t care how fitting it would be, it would be stupid to die now. I strained, desperately trying to stretch my power into the dispersal, into something¡ªUnauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.


    Blue power flashed into the red, mixing and slicing and spreading. For a moment, the very tips of the spikes of red power speared into me, puffing my bubble into nothing and passing through the red shell encasing me as though it didn¡¯t exist.


    I didn¡¯t even feel their impact, though I could see them slicing into my body, then the entire thing puffed away. Pelys stepped forward, and with another quick burst of blue - I watched it slowly stretch toward me, a jumbled cloud of power that held no particular shape - popped the force holding me still.


    I gasped for air, and that¡¯s when the pain hit. I almost passed out, but I held on. I had to move. This wasn¡¯t safe. My power still raced, slowing the world, keeping me just lucid enough.


    Retti and Pelys slashed at each other again, this time with no pretense of non-lethality. Retti¡¯s blade sphere had expanded, and I now saw it was made of eight jagged triangular blades that tilted and spun in irregular arcs, scything through anything that came near. Pelys had dispensed with any bubble, erecting a series of small rectangular shields between himself and Retti, relying on his own agility and speed to evade any but the most perfectly-aimed attack. He wasn¡¯t attacking, only defending.


    Silver flared into Retti from behind, cracking her bubble but not destroying it as Vess joined the fray.


    Retti half turned, saw him, and stopped attacking. Her bubble inflated, crackling as it pushed outward larger and larger, then she dropped out of sight.


    For a moment, Pel and Vess continued attacking, before Retti¡¯s bubble vanished and they realized she¡¯d cut through the floor.


    Then yellow light surrounded me. I lurched upright in sudden panic, but it was only Desten 3. He¡¯d crawled out to me, his own bubble flickering and unsteady, but growing stronger by the moment.


    ¡°It¡¯s alright,¡± Desten said as I swayed unsteadily. Darkness assailed my vision, and I felt him catch me as I toppled over.


    Red light flared in the distance, and I saw a burst of yellow fire that seemed to grow more and more distant as I finally lost consciousness.


    I woke in sunlight.


    No, that was just Desten¡¯s power. It was still night.


    Or was it a different night? I didn¡¯t know. Everything ached and my skin itched dreadfully. How long had it been?


    ¡°Astesh, you¡¯re alive!¡± Desten 3 said, which was simultaneously reassuring and concerning. I hadn¡¯t realized it would be in question.


    ¡°Retti?¡± I asked. I didn¡¯t hear any sounds of fighting. ¡°Is she still¡ª¡±


    Desten shook his head. ¡°I don''t know." He leaned back, tension beginning to fade from his expression. "She went down into the floor below, and the Sarosa went after her. Then the barrier went down, and everyone ran. I didn''t know what to do, so I focused on keeping you stable."


    "Thank you." I glanced down at the myriad bloody gashes in my robe, testament to just how close Retti had come to finishing me with her collapse-the-duel-barrier trick. "I think I owe you my life. And Pelys. I owe him twice over, now."


    "This is not how I expected the night to go," Desten said faintly.


    I laughed weakly. "If you knew Pel, you¡¯d be less shocked. I''m honestly more surprised the building is still standing than anything. I didn''t really believe I''d survive."


    Desten gaped. "You ... you knew this would happen?"


    I shrugged. "Not this exactly, but ... well, like I said. I know Pel. He''s not one for tea and parties. He''s more the kind to smash you through the wall and into the ground, then offer you a drink after."


    "But, you came anyway."


    "I promised I would, and I promised myself I wouldn''t be a coward. So, well, I had to."


    "Even thinking you could die?"


    "I did try to convince you not to come."


    "But you could have mentioned your Sarosa friend was insane! If I''d known this would end up with you bleeding out on the floor in front of me, I''d never have come."


    "I needed to know," I said quietly. "So I didn''t try too hard to dissuade you."


    "Know what? Nothing that happened tonight makes any sense!"


    I sighed. "It does to me." Then forced myself to stop before spilling everything. As much as I might like Desten 3, I wasn''t about to trust a noble with my secrets. Never again.


    "What part of any of this makes sense?"


    "Pelys knew that someone here was responsible for killing Fylen, the Sarosa reirn and heirn''s only son, but not who exactly. He brought anyone who could possibly be involved here, determined not to let anyone go until he knew the truth."


    "That''s crazy. What if it hadn''t been anyone here?"


    "It was, so he was right."


    "But would he have kept us hostage forever? That''s just wrong."


    "I''m sure he would have released us once it became obvious neither of us were the killer," I assured him. "I know him. He can be hotheaded and he doesn''t respect rules much, but he''s a good man. One I do think you should ally with if you ever get your book off the ground."


    "My book?"


    I glanced sideways at him. "You think I didn''t notice? You''ve been researching a lot more than usual, ever since Leetan. You''ve had an idea for a second book. That''s what you''ve been working on so diligently."


    Desten looked embarrassed. "I know you didn''t think much of the first one. I wanted to wait until it was done to show you, and I hope maybe you could help me with the revisions?"


    "I understand. And I''ll be happy to help when you are ready to move forward."


    "For now, can we go?"


    I nodded. "It''s probably a good idea to be gone when Pel gets back. He''s bound to be a bit upset."


    "Can you fly?"


    I pulled tentatively at my power, and it pulsed readily to life. ¡°Yes, I think so.¡±


    ¡°Then let¡¯s go home. We can sort this out on the way.¡±


    We flew out through the destroyed balcony doors, and I noticed another hole in the wall a story lower down. Pel and Retti were not holding back, wherever they¡¯d ended up. I looked around in case I could pick out a flash of red and blue light where they fought, but there was no sign of them. And I felt strangely relieved, glad I didn¡¯t know what had become of her. She was crazy, obsessed with saving her husband and willing to kill anyone who she imagined to be in her way, but with Pel and Vess attacking together she wouldn¡¯t stand a chance. Perhaps she¡¯d tried to flee, breaking that hole in the wall so she could escape. Perhaps they were still chasing her even now.


    I didn¡¯t feel the need to search for more answers. I¡¯d followed my obsession this far, and it only left me feeling emptier. I¡¯d liked Retti. I felt sorry for Desten 5. And poor Tali¡¯s life would be utter chaos now.


    I couldn¡¯t do anything for them. Whatever happened now was out of my hands.


    I followed Desten south, and tried not to worry.


    I still worried. Even safe at home in Desten 3¡¯s spare bedroom, I worried until exhaustion overtook me and I finally slept.


    I spent the next day distracted and unfocused, unable to shake the memory of the night before. As much as I wanted to move past it, I couldn¡¯t stop contemplating Retti and Desten and Tali¡¯s fate. Hadn¡¯t their family suffered enough? If only Retti had come up with any other solution than turning her own son into a killer in her madness. Nothing Fylen could possibly have known or said would be worth this.


    So when an invitation arrived from Pelys to join him for breakfast the following morning, it came as something of a relief. I didn¡¯t want to know, I wanted to forget any of this had ever happened. But I couldn¡¯t forget, and I¡¯d come this far. I had to see this through.


    I didn¡¯t mention it to Desten. He was distracted by his project, and I didn¡¯t want him to try to accompany me. This would be horrible and awkward enough without witnesses. If Desten tried to protect me it would only get him hurt. He wouldn¡¯t stand a chance. So I would go alone.


    True, there was a good chance I¡¯d end up thrown off a balcony again, regardless of whether I remained on Pel¡¯s enemy list or he decided we were friends again. But at least I would know. And maybe that would be enough to put this all behind me.


    <hr>

 35: Reunion

    There have been attempts made to combine multiple powerstones into one, in order to gain multiple affinities. DO NOT DO THIS. It will not work. You will die. With time and practice, you can expand your innate affinity, and no power is closed to those with enough determination.


    Tales of the distant past are fanciful exaggerations and should never be treated as fact. Acting on stupid fantasies of attaining full mastery over all powers is nothing but suicidal idiocy.


    -Between the Lines: Inheritance and power on the fringes of advancement


    <hr>


    As I approached the tower I could see Pel pacing his balcony, blue light sparking off in random directions, forming into jagged shards of ice that fell to the ground and shattered. His feet splashed through slushy puddles, the dropped ice melting in the late summer sun almost as fast as he could form it, but he didn¡¯t even seem aware of what he was doing.


    I knew this mood. Something was wrong.


    I timidly touched down on the balcony across from him, bubble instinctively spinning into place as Pel whirled to face me.


    I couldn¡¯t speak. Words escaped me. Was he angry at me? Or at something else?


    For a long moment we stared at each other. Then Pel looked away, staring up at the sky, before gesturing for me to come inside. He opened the door for me, then followed me in.


    The sitting room had been restored to its former cozy state, the walls and ceiling back in their usual configuration and the carpet replaced. Any trace of the grand ballroom from the party had been removed.


    A fine breakfast lay ready for us, much like those Desten 1 could have provided, only with considerably more fish. Which I supposed made sense, with Northpoint being located right by the ocean. I wasn¡¯t hungry, my stomach too occupied with tying itself together in dread, but I mechanically ate because I knew that I¡¯d need the energy. For the flight home, if nothing else.


    Pel didn¡¯t eat more than a few bites, pushing food from one side of the plate to the other as he stared blankly.


    ¡°I¡¯m glad you survived,¡± I finally said when it became obvious he wasn¡¯t going to speak. ¡°What¡¯s this about?¡±


    Pel scowled, focusing on me. ¡°You.¡±


    ¡°What about me?¡±


    ¡°You came back.¡±


    I shrugged helplessly. ¡°What else was I supposed to do?¡±


    ¡°Run off, leave me to sort things.¡±


    ¡°I started this. You think I wouldn¡¯t finish it?¡±


    ¡°I wasn¡¯t sure. You¡¯re very ¡­ inconsistent.¡±


    ¡°How so?¡±


    Pel looked at me but didn¡¯t answer. ¡°You once told me you care as much about Fyless¡¯s wellbeing as I do. That you had no purpose left but to avenge Fylen.¡±


    ¡°Yes?¡± I swallowed nervously, remembering our last encounter before the party.


    ¡°Was that the truth?¡±


    ¡°It wasn¡¯t a lie. I ¡­ didn¡¯t know what I wanted. I still don¡¯t. But I¡¯d come this far, it seemed silly to stop so close to the end.¡±


    ¡°So you came back. Again and again. Forcing yourself into affairs that would have progressed perfectly smoothly without you.¡±


    ¡°I thought I could do something to help,¡± I said faintly. Last time I¡¯d interfered my distraction had allowed Retti to stab him. ¡°I never wanted to cause complications.¡±


    ¡°Your very existence is a complication.¡± Frost condensed out of the air and fell into a slushy puddle around Pel¡¯s chair, soaking into the carpet as it melted.


    I wilted a bit under his glower.


    Pel leapt to his feet. ¡°Come on, Astesh! Don¡¯t just sit there looking sad! Who do you think you are?¡±


    I tensed, pink lightning flicking along my hands as I slowly stood. ¡°No one in particular.¡±


    ¡°NO! Wrong.¡±


    He strode toward me, and I stumbled backward over the chair. I spun up a shield as I fell, trying to force it into something more solid than its usual flimsy form. ¡°Please, Pel ¡­ I don¡¯t want to do this again.¡± My voice shook, despite my best attempts to hold steady. ¡°I¡¯m sorry.¡±


    ¡°No,¡± he growled, then spun and paced away, wet carpet squelching beneath his feet. ¡°You have nothing to apologize for.¡±


    I carefully got to my feet. ¡°Um. What?¡± I must have misheard that.


    Pel sighed deeply. The water solidified into ice beneath his feet, then hissed away into mist. Finally he spoke, still facing away from me. ¡°You may be a misguided fool blundering about in affairs that you have no part in ¡­¡±


    I waited, tense, ready for his inevitable attack.


    ¡°¡­ but I couldn¡¯t have come this far without you.¡±


    I laughed aloud at that, a startled bitter sound that slipped out unasked-for. ¡°I contributed exactly one piece of useful information to this whole affair, and if I¡¯d just given you that from the beginning we could have avoided all the¡ª¡±


    But Pel shook his head. ¡°I¡¯d all but given up. When you came, you had the drive, the energy, the focus to continue pursuing this that I was beginning to lose. You brought hope when I was close to giving up. Even though you had no part in this, even when it would be absolutely in your best interests to walk away and pretend you¡¯d seen nothing. That¡¯s the sort of person you are, Astesh Myen Varon. And now I need your help again.¡±This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it


    I faltered. ¡°What could you possibly need me for?¡±


    Pelys turned to face me, arms crossed. ¡°You knew Desten and his family. Where would they go?¡±


    I shook my head. ¡°I don¡¯t know.¡± And I¡¯m not sure I¡¯d tell him if I did. I still couldn¡¯t convince myself Desten deserved to die for what had happened, and I knew that if Pelys caught up to him in this kind of mood only one of them would come back alive. ¡°He escaped?¡±


    Pel caught the note of hope in my voice and his frown deepened. ¡°He killed Let.¡±


    Any brief hope I¡¯d been feeling shriveled to nothing, constricting my chest. Even though I¡¯d hardly known Let and Lan, I¡¯d seen enough to know how much they cared for each other, and how close they were to Aneeyha and Fylen and Pel.


    ¡°Lanyss?¡± I asked faintly.


    ¡°We barely saved her. She¡¯s with Vess in recovery.¡±


    My voice caught on my throat, and I had to swallow several times. ¡°You¡¯re sure it wasn¡¯t Retti?¡±


    ¡°Yes. I was fighting her at the time. We stopped chasing her to save Lan. They got away.¡±


    My hopes plummeted even further. Desten on his own, we might be able to talk him down. He might not be willing to carry on his mother¡¯s mad crusade with her out of the picture. But if they¡¯d all escaped ¡­


    ¡°Has anyone else been killed?¡± I asked faintly.


    ¡°Not that we know of. Not yet.¡±


    ¡°Desten 4?¡±


    Pel¡¯s frown deepened. ¡°What about him?¡±


    Oh, right. We¡¯d been so busy fighting, I¡¯d never gotten around to explaining what I¡¯d figured out.


    I quickly summarized Retti¡¯s plan, how she thought that stealing powerstones from the dead could somehow stabilize her husband¡¯s ailment though it was only making things worse, and that whatever happened with Fylen she¡¯d basically forced Desten into it because of her paranoia about anyone knowing what she was doing.


    ¡°I honestly believe Desten would stop if given the chance,¡± I said, a note of pleading in my voice. ¡°He¡¯s so young, has so much potential.¡±


    ¡°Too much,¡± Pel said shortly. ¡°Too much power, too much anger. I cannot trust him.¡± I could hear the tightness in his voice, the too-recent pain of Let¡¯s death.


    He¡¯d been there when it happened. I hadn¡¯t. I could still see Desten as a confused child more easily than a ruthless killer.


    ¡°He¡¯s strong. Unreasonably so. I could tell the moment he stepped into the room that with even halfway adequate training he could equal me within a year or two. You personally witnessed what he did to Fylen. You know better than anyone how powerful he is.¡±


    ¡°But he¡¯s so young.¡±


    He sighed, looking pensive.


    ¡°What?¡± I asked.


    ¡°If they¡¯ve discovered how to safely bond additional stones ¡­¡± he said with concern, ¡°that explains a lot.¡±


    ¡°They haven¡¯t, that¡¯s the whole point, something went wrong with Desten 4 and he¡¯s been unconscious for a year now¡ª¡±


    ¡°No. The son. He¡¯s too powerful. I see talented students all the time, watch their progression and growth. Desten¡¯s case isn¡¯t normal. People don¡¯t just show up with this kind of power. Everyone hears about it when someone has that kind of potential. If he¡¯d been anywhere close to this level a year ago, I would know. It¡¯s like the stories you hear about secret training regimens that can grant insane power boosts, but none of them actually work. Whatever he¡¯s been doing, worked. If not for that, I would have let them leave. I don¡¯t like destroying families. If there were any other option ¡­ but I had to be sure. He¡¯s too strong, out of nowhere. Impossibly strong. If she hadn¡¯t forced the issue, I would have.¡±


    ¡°You think they tried whatever messed up his father on Desten 5, but it worked?¡± I asked faintly.


    ¡°It¡¯s far-fetched and fantastical to imagine, but I don¡¯t have any reasonable explanation for his sudden increase in power. He took out Fylen in under a minute. He nearly killed Let and Lan both together, would have if we hadn¡¯t intervened. He¡¯s too strong.¡±


    I wasn¡¯t sure what was worse, Retti forcing Desten to kill to protect her secrets, or the fact that she¡¯d apparently used him as a test subject to increase his power. Did he ever get a choice in the matter? Well, he was young enough, if she¡¯d offered a power increase he may have agreed without knowing what he was risking.


    ¡°So now what?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Now we find them and finish this.¡±


    ¡°We?¡±


    Pel met my eyes. ¡°We.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t you have anyone else? What about Reirn Ovnon? Now that we know who was responsible for his son''s death, surely he''ll want to help.¡±


    Pel grimaced. "Yes, I have spoken with Reirn Ovnon at length. But as this was a Varon transgression, any official action must be sanctioned by a joint council of Reirn Ovnon and Reirn Ushan. It will be months before anything happens from that direction."


    I nodded. It made sense for Pel to go after them unofficially. That''s what he''d been doing all along, after all. "The rest of your friends?"


    ¡°Vess is with Lan, and there¡¯s no way I¡¯m letting Aneeyha anywhere near Desten. But if Let and Lan couldn¡¯t bring him down, I can¡¯t do this alone. I need you, Astesh. You¡¯re the only other person I can trust.¡±


    My power flickered out, the bubble puffing into nothing. ¡°No way. I can¡¯t.¡± Memories of Desten crushing Fylen, who was so much further along than me, who could build shields a thousand times stronger, filled my mind. Of the feeling of helplessness as Retti almost did the same to me.


    I sat hard, suddenly unable to remain standing.


    ¡°I know you¡¯re stronger than that.¡± Pel¡¯s voice was low and earnest. ¡°I know what went wrong last time. I can teach you everything you need. We can finish this together.¡±


    I shook my head. ¡°I can¡¯t. You know that. I¡¯m just a commoner, just a scribe. Not a fighter. Not a noble. Nothing. Nobody.¡±


    ¡°WRONG!¡± Pelys bellowed, making me jump. ¡°You are my student, and you are my friend.¡±


    ¡°Yeah right. A couple weeks ago you were ready to kill me.¡±


    ¡°I only pushed you that hard to see your inner strength. If I wanted you dead, you¡¯d be dead.¡±


    ¡°And if Retti ever sees me again, I will be dead! What¡¯s the difference?¡±


    ¡°The difference is this time I know why you couldn¡¯t progress. I was trying to train you like an adult, but your power is underdeveloped. At less than a year old, it couldn¡¯t possibly manage the techniques I demanded of you. Now that I know the truth, I can adapt your training. You have strength, Astesh, you just need to learn to use it. Stop cowering. Stop apologizing. Stop giving in. If you¡¯re willing to stand up for me, for Fylen, even for Desten, why aren¡¯t you willing to stand up for yourself?¡±


    I shook my head. I didn¡¯t have an answer.


    ¡°Will you help me?¡±


    ¡°How?!¡± Frustration that had been building for days burst out in a torrent of words. ¡°Even if we trained for the next year, Retti and Desten could be anywhere. I only met them a handful of times. I don¡¯t know where they could possibly be!¡±


    ¡°Tell me everything you know about their family.¡±


    I sighed, but began talking. Most of it was nothing new. I¡¯d been to lunch at their house before touring season, I¡¯d run into Desten 5 at a ryshglide tournament, I¡¯d visited their house a couple times to look through Desten 4¡¯s research.


    Pel stopped me there. ¡°Research?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, something about solving the marriage problem with commoners.¡±


    Pel looked at me, his eyes widening. ¡°That¡¯s¡ª¡± he seemed unable to breathe. ¡°You¡¯re a proof of concept.¡±


    ¡°Huh?¡±


    ¡°You. You¡¯re a commoner. It¡ª it worked. You¡¯re not dead. Your stone, Fyless¡¯s stone that was never meant for you, it integrated properly and didn¡¯t shatter. There¡¯s no resonance. Heights, they actually did it.¡±


    I shook my head. ¡°No, that¡¯s not¡ª I have nothing to do with any of this. It was an accident.¡±


    ¡°Perhaps.¡±


    ¡°But, that doesn¡¯t have anything to do with anything. They didn¡¯t even touch the childstone. All they wanted was Fylen¡¯s stone for Desten 4.¡±


    Pel suddenly stood straighter. ¡°Fylen¡¯s stone. Desten 4 has it?¡±


    ¡°I assume so. He has blue in his aura, I don¡¯t know why else they¡¯d have taken it.¡±


    ¡°And you know where he is?¡±


    I nodded, uncertain. ¡°He¡¯s in a special care room in the Varonhold hospital. They¡¯re keeping him alive but he¡¯s completely unresponsive.¡±


    ¡°We need to go see him.¡± He started toward the balcony doors.


    ¡°Why?¡±


    ¡°To see if Desten 4 can lead us to his wayward son.¡±


    ¡°How? He hasn¡¯t woken up in almost a year.¡±


    Pelys shook his head. ¡°He doesn¡¯t have to. All we need is to be in the same room.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re going to have to explain, because I have no idea what you¡¯re talking about.¡±


    ¡°Just follow me.¡± He jumped off the balcony and shot away in a blur of blue light.


    I stepped into the air and ran after him. I could hardly believe I was doing this, but at the same time it felt completely natural. He¡¯d seen me at my worst, and somehow, even after everything, Pel still considered me a friend. Still thought I had something to contribute.


    I didn¡¯t quite believe he wasn¡¯t being overly optimistic, but I wanted to. I wanted to be able to prove him right to put his trust in me.


    Maybe I was being overly optimistic too.


    <hr>

 36: Searching

    Raysh holds a particularly unusual position in history, having once been near rival in power and influence to the modern houses of Sarosa or Varon. Its current relegation to insignificance is largely due to the coalition wars before the formation of the Alliance forced an end to the fighting.


    Though Raysh would have us believe that it could have regained its footing given the chance, a closer examination of the history indicates otherwise. It is almost certain that the house would have been eliminated entirely if the Alliance had not stepped in.


    -Houses Throughout History


    <hr>


    Desten 4 was missing.


    We arrived at the hospital without incident, but when we asked after him we were told that he¡¯d been taken home by his family. They¡¯d later heard the rumors about Retti, as well as being interrogated by the Reirn¡¯s investigators, and now deeply regretted allowing him to be removed from the safety of their care, but at the time they¡¯d seen no reason not to permit her to take him home. After all, his condition may be unstable, but it had been almost a year with no sign of it becoming volatile, and it would be cruel to refuse his family the chance to care for him in the way they saw fit.


    I sighed. Of course Retti got here first. I didn¡¯t know why we expected otherwise.


    Pel, on the other hand, looked downright excited by the news. ¡°This is perfect. They won¡¯t be able to move fast or freely with an invalid to drag along. They won¡¯t be able to escape notice. Wherever they set up, it¡¯ll have to be semi-permanent. We have them.¡±


    ¡°No, we don¡¯t. We have even less now. At least if he were still here there¡¯s a chance we could catch her slipping in to do whatever stone-implanting nonsense she¡¯s been doing. Without him, they could be anywhere.¡±


    ¡°Not anywhere. We know they¡¯ll have to have fled Varon and Sarosa. Most likely they¡¯ve taken refuge in Raysh or Novarot, unless they have contacts in Oros. Until the reirns have permission to cross boundaries, pursuing them could become an interhouse incident if they¡¯ve played their tiles right.¡±


    ¡°So, not only are we going after them alone, we¡¯re doing it in direct violation of interhouse treaties?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t want to leave them to their own devices any longer than necessary. You saw the power they managed to pack into Desten already. Imagine what happens if they do the same to Retti. She¡¯s a highly skilled third, more versatile than me and incredibly driven. Desten is an untrained youth who hasn¡¯t even attended academy, and he¡¯s already more than we could handle.¡±


    I shivered. Retti may be weaker than Pel, but not by a lot, and already very dangerous. If she were to double in strength? I doubted anyone but the reirns could handle her then.


    I asked, ¡°What¡¯s to say we¡¯ll be able to stop them as it is? I¡¯m not going to be much help no matter how much training you put me through, and you¡¯ve already admitted you can¡¯t deal with them alone.¡±


    ¡°Let me worry about that. I¡¯m in negotiation with Reirn Ovnon, I think I can convince him to let me borrow the Sarosa flashmail. If we can get that, our chances go way up.¡±


    ¡°And we¡¯re back to causing an interhouse incident.¡±


    ¡°That doesn¡¯t matter. I¡¯ll handle the fallout.¡±


    ¡°It does matter!¡± I lowered my voice. ¡°You know I can¡¯t have people looking too closely at my history. Bad enough that Desten Oros knows about my mother, I don¡¯t want to give more people reason to investigate me.¡±


    ¡°It won¡¯t come to that. As long as we¡¯re careful, it won¡¯t be a problem.¡±


    ¡°You say that, but you also consider it normal to throw people off cliffs.¡±


    ¡°That is normal. You¡¯re far from the first person I¡¯ve trained. And when you¡¯re a little older, we¡¯ll try it again.¡±


    I groaned. ¡°Do we have to?¡±


    ¡°No. But I think it would be a good idea. Especially for someone in your position. You have a lot of potential. If you put in the effort and prove to the world that you¡¯re worth the effort, you¡¯ll be able to find allies much more readily.¡±


    ¡°And if I just want to quietly go about my business and not fight anyone?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s your decision. But being more capable is never a bad idea.¡± Pel took one last look around the empty room and nodded. ¡°Do you want to try this here, or wait until we¡¯re back at my place?¡±


    ¡°Try what?¡± I asked. ¡°You still haven¡¯t explained why you think we can find them when everyone else is out looking and finding nothing.¡±


    ¡°We have something they don¡¯t. You.¡±


    I sighed. ¡°This again? I¡¯m not some secret weapon¡ª¡±


    Pel cut me off. ¡°Yes you are.¡± He dropped his voice even further. ¡°Fyless¡¯s stone will recognize Fylen¡¯s as family. We can use that connection to power a tracer construct and lead us to Four. I planned to use your connection to trick his power into tracing Desten¡¯s, but this will be even better.¡±


    My hand went to my chest, touching the small lump beside my heart where Fyless¡¯s stone rested. ¡°You can do that?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s a simple construct. People use them all the time to find missing relatives. Or, more often, to prove whether or not their alleged offspring really belong to them.¡±


    I sighed. If I¡¯d known this was possible, I could have tracked down Desten Metako easily with Aneeyha¡¯s help. Every time I thought I¡¯d figured out how many ways I¡¯d been an ignorant fool during this whole pointless investigation, something new came to my attention.


    ¡°And it¡¯s safe?¡± I asked. ¡°If you¡¯re going to be connecting me to Desten 4, there¡¯s no chance his condition will infect me?¡±


    ¡°It won¡¯t. You¡¯d need to physically implant an incompatible - well, semi-compatible - stone in order to reach his state. Everyone knows it¡¯s stupid to go messing with foreign stones. Being permanently unconscious is the least dangerous outcome. It¡¯s honestly impressive that he¡¯s managed to get, what, five different colours without anything exploding. Usually any attempts at crossing different stones results in a quick and messy end.¡±Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.


    ¡°Well, at least we¡¯re far enough away not to worry about that.¡± I considered, then shrugged. ¡°Okay, I¡¯ll give it a try. What do you need from me?¡±


    ¡°Your power isn¡¯t mature enough to manage the construct¡¯s complexity on your own, so I¡¯ll build a framework for you. All you need to do is fill it. It¡¯s going to feel weird, and it won¡¯t be easy, but just keep pushing power out into it until it clicks.¡±


    Blue light painted the air as he spoke, a complicated configuration of lines and reservoirs and spirals. He paced around it as he worked, checking it from all angles, before he stepped back and nodded.


    ¡°Ready. Go ahead.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know how.¡±


    ¡°The input is here.¡± Pel guided my hand to a protruding section of the construct.


    I could feel the power resonating in my mind like a wire pulled tight too quickly, an unpleasant vibration that pulsed and built instead of fading away.


    I had never managed any external power manifestation apart from the bubble shield, but I pulled my power up and tried to direct it into the construction hovering in the air.


    Pel stood patiently waiting. I felt decidedly odd about that. Shouldn¡¯t he be trying to drown me or crush me or something to force me to move faster? But he just stood and watched, waiting, quietly believing in me. It was disconcerting.


    The blue light held steady, unmoving, unflickering, perfectly formed and simply waiting for my input.


    And waiting¡­


    And waiting.


    The resonance hadn¡¯t faded, and I hadn¡¯t managed to push a single drop of pink power into the construct. I pulled my hand away, frustrated.


    ¡°Is there any other way?¡±


    Pel shook his head. ¡°Not that I know of. If I had any other way to find him I would have already done so. It has to be you.¡±


    I turned my attention back to actually charging the thing, but to no avail. I tried everything I could think of, but ¡®push power out into this construct¡¯ was easier said than done. Even simplifying this as much as possible, it still seemed outside my grasp.


    ¡°And there¡¯s nothing you can do to help?¡± I demanded, after another half hour of fruitless frustration.


    Pel hesitated, then shook his head. ¡°I could drag the power out of you myself, but that¡¯s a very drastic option. I¡¯m told it¡¯s quite unpleasant.¡±


    I tensed at the thought of something even Pel would consider unpleasant. Enough so that he hadn¡¯t even mentioned it as an option until now. But my growing frustration at my inability to even do this simple thing was stronger than my aversion to discomfort.


    I really could be reckless sometimes.


    I nodded. ¡°I don¡¯t think I can do it on my own.¡±


    He stood a moment, looking uncomfortable. ¡°Are you sure? It¡¯s, well, a pretty extreme measure.¡±


    I should definitely back out. If Pel thought it was extreme, I did not want to try it. I should just keep trying the same thing until it stopped not working.


    But I didn¡¯t want to keep throwing myself uselessly at this task. I was tired of making no progress.


    ¡°What exactly does that entail?¡± I asked. ¡°I¡¯ve never heard of this.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s very uncommon due to its disconcerting effects, but it¡¯s possible to forcibly divert power flow from its internal channels through another. In this case, I¡¯d be transferring your power through my own and into the construct.¡±


    ¡°That sounds useful.¡±


    ¡°It is. But, well, unpleasant.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t want to know what it takes for you to consider something unpleasant.¡±


    ¡°I ordinarily would never consider it. Only if you¡¯re sure you can¡¯t do this on your own.¡±


    ¡°You absolutely can¡¯t power it yourself?¡±


    He shook his head. ¡°It has to be your power. That¡¯s the only link we have.¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± I said, before I could talk myself out of it. ¡°Do it.¡±


    Pel nodded slowly. ¡°Alright. Keep trying. We¡¯ll need to file an authorization for this. I¡¯ll be back.¡±


    Somehow, the fact that this required paperwork made it even more terrifying. I began to hope Pel was only trying to scare my power into working - and redoubled my efforts in case he wasn¡¯t. In all the time I¡¯d known him, Pel never overstated a risk. He tended to underestimate everything, which made me all the more concerned.


    I should not have agreed to this.


    My power flickered as I pulled it up through my body, then tried to direct it out through my hand and into the construct of blue light. I strained, but had no concept for what exactly I should do. The power clung to me, tight and close, unwilling to detach. Even my aura bubble always remained anchored to me, spinning around but connected. Pushing power out and away was an utterly foreign concept.


    This was why I¡¯d never managed Pel¡¯s dispersal attack. Or any attack, for that matter. There had to be some trick to it, something simple I was missing.


    Then Pelys returned, with two hospital attendants.


    ¡°Please state your names,¡± asked one of them.


    ¡°Pelys Sarosa.¡±


    ¡°Astesh ¡­ Varon.¡± As far as I knew, my Varon status hadn¡¯t been revoked.


    The second attendant wrote.


    ¡°Pelys has informed us that you require an invasive power extraction in order to proceed. Do you consent to this?¡±


    I glanced between them, suddenly very worried. ¡°Uh, yes?¡±


    The first attendant passed me a page, basically stating that I agreed to the procedure of my own free will and under no coercion. There was a small checkbox I could mark if I was being threatened or blackmailed, and another larger box for my signature. I signed Astesh¡¯s name, my hand trembling just a little, then handed it back.


    Pelys signed something of his own, which he then passed to the attendants as well.


    ¡°You may proceed,¡± said the first attendant. They didn¡¯t leave.


    Pel glanced at me questioningly, and I desperately tried to shove my power out into the construct one last time. I¡¯d done ¡­ something with it, back in Leetan, when I was running around in a panic. My power could do what I needed it to, it just wasn¡¯t cooperating.


    Nothing. I sighed and reluctantly nodded.


    Pel hesitantly put one hand over my chest, the spot in the center where my powerstone resided, the other hand atop my own at the input of his construct. ¡°You¡¯re sure?¡±


    I knew I should definitely refuse. This felt way too ominous. Hadn¡¯t I just insisted that I loved avoiding discomfort?


    ¡°If we find them, we will do everything we can to help Desten 5,¡± I said quietly. ¡°And unless absolutely necessary, we won¡¯t hurt him. And you¡¯ll make sure Tali is taken care of well, so she can recover from all this as much as possible.¡±


    Pel smiled faintly. ¡°It won¡¯t kill you, you don¡¯t need to worry about last words.¡±


    ¡°You say that, but¡ª¡± I lowered my voice to a whisper, ¡°my circumstances are hardly ordinary.¡±


    He withdrew his hand. ¡°You¡¯re right. We shouldn¡¯t risk it.¡±


    I took his hand and put it back. ¡°No. Whatever happens, we have to stop Retti and save her children before she turns them into monsters. This is important. I trust you to handle things, and I¡¯m willing to take the risk.¡±


    ¡°Okay,¡± Pel said, then tore my mind apart.


    I couldn¡¯t think, couldn¡¯t focus, couldn¡¯t concentrate on anything. Something echoed, something high and sharp, but there were connections missing between the sensation and its meaning. I saw nothing and everything, flashes of meaningless light and colour. Mostly I felt panic. Instinctive understanding that there was something wrong with me, that something ought to be there but wasn¡¯t.


    Sensation flickered in and out, cold and empty and sharp. So sharp. But mostly empty. I couldn¡¯t grasp just how the missing pieces were supposed to fit into me, but I knew there was something gone.


    It felt familiar, and terrifyingly foreign all at once.


    And I couldn¡¯t think.


    I existed, a being of confusion and panic, unable to comprehend. Something was broken. Something was gone.


    I didn¡¯t understand. I couldn¡¯t possibly find the answers, however desperately I needed to know.


    And then, slowly, my pieces fit back together. I hadn¡¯t felt any pain during the interminable chaos, but now it all hit me at once.


    My stone burned ice-cold, its usual comforting warmth inverted into a harsh chill that seemed to suck all the heat from my body. Like stonedrain but deeper and harsher, permeating and all-consuming. I heard myself screaming before I realized what it was.


    Pelys¡¯s concerned face blurred in front of me.


    ¡°Astesh?¡±


    I closed my mouth, shivering and panting, biting down on the scream that wanted to continue. ¡°Did¡ª¡±


    ¡°Yes. It worked.¡± I¡¯d never heard Pel¡¯s voice so gentle.


    I managed to gasp, ¡°Good,¡± then passed out.


    I woke briefly, caught a hazy glimpse of an unfamiliar bedroom, and sat up in sudden confusion.


    ¡°Sssh, it¡¯s alright,¡± Aneeyha whispered. I recognized her voice, though her face was an unfocused blur. ¡°You¡¯re safe here.¡±


    I nodded agreement, and collapsed back into darkness.


    <hr>

 37: Objective

    Miveirn denotes a person of any rank but with no particular authority, usually those whose occupation is in production or upkeep. Creation of utility power constructs, managing transit platforms, or crafting goods to be sold are common occupations of a miveirn.


    Celeirn is sometimes considered a derivative title of miveirn, but a celeirn is a person contracted to perform a service directly for another noble, while miveirn serve as part of the overall structure of the city and not for any one individual. One who removes excess water from the streets would be a miveirn; one who removes it from your gardens would be celeirn.


    Like the related title aveirn, miveirn and celeirn are almost never used as honorifics.


    -Titles, Ranking, and Structure of the Noble Houses


    <hr>


    I woke in a different unfamiliar bedroom. There was no one here now, and I wondered if I¡¯d only imagined Aneeyha¡¯s presence.


    I got to my feet, a faint headache the only remaining aftereffect of the forceful extraction. Trying to remember it resulted in a jumble of non-sensation, mostly an overwhelming feeling of confused panic, followed by intense cold.


    But everything seemed back to normal now. I could think, I could feel, my power hummed gently in my chest, warm and familiar.


    Lately I¡¯d spent far too much time doing stupidly dangerous things that resulted in my incapacitation. I really had to stop letting Pelys do horrifying things to me. But ¡­ at the same time, most of his horrifying things did end up helping in the long run.


    I sighed and paced, feeling restless and uncertain. He¡¯d said it worked. So we had Desten 4¡¯s location. Would that be the same place as the rest of his family? Or did Retti stash him somewhere out of the way while she went on about her work?


    Had they killed anyone else yet? Did Desten 5 retain any innocence, or had he been destroyed already? I didn¡¯t want to learn that he¡¯d bought fully into his mother¡¯s madness, but I knew that every day they remained at large the chance only grew that she would corrupt him further.


    I couldn¡¯t accomplish anything from here.


    A few brisk strides carried me to the door. It opened readily and I peered out at an unfamiliar hallway. I didn¡¯t recognize anything, and let the door fall closed again. I crossed to the window instead and threw the curtains aside.


    Blues dominated the view. I was somewhere in Sarosa. That seemed odd to me. Why would I be back in Sarosa? I could have just gone to Desten 3¡¯s house to recover, since we were already in Varonhold. Why would anyone fly me all this way?


    Hm. Pelys didn¡¯t know where I was living, must be. Or he wanted me somewhere he could check on me readily. I pushed the window open, intending to step out, then realized I was only wearing a thin nightrobe. Nope. I pulled the curtains closed again, found a bundled Sarosa robe by the bed, and got dressed properly. I found I preferred the Sarosa robes to my usual Varon ones, from a strictly practical standpoint. All one piece, without the extra triangles to be buttoned on. The extra weight of the heavily ornamented collar was a reasonable tradeoff for the convenience.


    I stepped out of the window and into the air, hovering long enough to get a feel for my surroundings, and quickly realized that I¡¯d exited Pel¡¯s tower two floors down from his entry balcony and around to the side. I flew up to the balcony, but the room inside was empty. Then I stopped, not sure what to do next.


    The sun was setting. Was it evening of the same day, or had I been out for longer? I felt fine, fully recovered apart from the occasional mental glitch; brief flashes of confused panic, but they were nothing new. I¡¯d spent half a year confused and having panicked flashbacks of Desten¡¯s slaughter of Fylen, nightmares of Pelys¡¯s training. This felt hardly worth mentioning, compared to all that.


    I paced the balcony, feeling small and insignificant. Around me the city glowed with nobles going about their business, and I stood unmoored.


    Pelys wanted me to fight. To go against the laws and conventions and hunt down Retti and her family before they could do any further harm.


    It made sense, from his perspective. The reirns would take their time about it, and in the meantime Retti was free, desperate, and knew retribution wouldn¡¯t be far behind. Our only advantage was, once again, information only I could provide. There was an odd sort of symmetry to it, but the thought only made me feel ill.


    The middle of it? That was the last place I wanted to be. I¡¯d much rather be studying with Desten 3 than fighting. But I still felt an obligation. To Fylen and Fyless, to Pelys, to Desten and Tali. I couldn¡¯t back out. Couldn¡¯t run away again. Hadn¡¯t I decided that I was done running? That there was a time to be stubborn and do what mattered?


    Perhaps at one point I¡¯d truly had noble intentions. Right now, I just wanted it to be over.


    I first set out on this path out of mixed desperation and curiosity, with no real purpose but to survive the chaos and try to understand why something so terrible had happened. I had survived, and I had discovered why. True, some questions remained, but the reason had been clarified. I understood Desten 5 now, I could empathize with him in more ways than one. In a way, that made this all so much harder. I¡¯d learned what I set out to learn, and the understanding brought no peace. Only more questions.This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.


    How could anyone do this? How could Retti force her own son to become a killer? Even if I understood why, I couldn¡¯t understand why. There was something broken in Retti, and I only hoped she hadn¡¯t broken Desten irreparably. Tragic enough that she¡¯d destroyed Fylen¡¯s family; it would be so much worse if she¡¯d also destroyed her own in the process.


    Then Pelys arrived, finally distracting me from the downward spiral of my thoughts.


    ¡°Where are they?¡± I asked, as he landed on the balcony.


    ¡°A village between Metako and Raysh. I¡¯ve ordered the locals to keep an eye on the place. So far, no one¡¯s come in or out all day. They might be away, or they might be lying low for the moment. I didn¡¯t dare go too close.¡± He frowned, then shook his head and turned to me. ¡°Ready to begin?¡±


    I suppose it was too much to hope he¡¯d forgotten his threat to train me. ¡°Alright,¡± I said reluctantly. ¡°Ready when you are.¡±


    He threw me off the balcony. I hadn¡¯t been expecting it, and found myself falling backwards through the air before I quite realized what was happening. I spun up a shield, pulling my power into hasty motion, and almost managed to activate my flight before colliding with the ground.


    Almost. My shield flashed and vanished, absorbing part of the momentum. I tumbled to the ground, gracelessly but unharmed. I groaned and got to my feet.


    ¡°I thought you said you¡¯d be using different techniques now?¡± I spun a new shield as I spoke.


    ¡°I am.¡± Pel stepped out into the air, his own bubble sliding into place around him as he descended to the street beside me. ¡°But you still need to remain situationally aware of your surroundings. It¡¯s not exactly commonplace to be jumped by assassins from a rival house, but it¡¯s not unheard-of. And without serious backing, you would be an easy target.¡±


    ¡°Why would anyone bother with a nobody like me?¡±


    ¡°Unknowns are a potential threat. Dead unknowns are not.¡±


    I sighed. He had a point. Desten 5 was an unknown, and he¡¯d definitely become a threat. ¡°But I do have backing, I was adopted by Reirn Ushan. Kind of.¡± I hadn¡¯t been back there since the start of touring, so I couldn¡¯t be sure of my standing in Varon.


    Pel shook his head. ¡°That¡¯s not going to be worth much if you can¡¯t back it up. From what you told me, it sounds more like he wanted to exploit the free resource that showed up, without risking anything. He could disavow you at any time, and you were acting as a free agent. Basically all he said was ¡®you can call yourself a Varon, and I won¡¯t look too hard into where you came from. Go do your thing and let me know what happens. If you get out of line, I¡¯ll have you dealt with.¡¯¡±


    ¡°Well, yes. But he let me stay with his nephew.¡±


    ¡°One of your primary suspects, who you were able to rule out fairly quickly.¡±


    ¡°I didn¡¯t ever completely rule him out. He could be scary.¡±


    ¡°You didn¡¯t seriously suspect him. So Reirn Ushan got his family in the clear early, laid a claim on you if you turn out to be valuable, and has an easy out if you prove worthless. I wouldn¡¯t put too much trust in him supporting you in future.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re probably right¡ª¡±


    Pel stepped forward, our bubble shields touching, and mine puffed away into nothing.


    ¡°Hey! Wait, how did you do that? I didn¡¯t see any pulse.¡±


    Pel smiled. ¡°Exactly.¡±


    I frowned at him.


    ¡°This is what I¡¯m going to teach you. It¡¯s a rare variation on the standard shield. It takes a lot of power compared to most shields, a lot of power compared to equivalent attacks, and is slow to fully form. In duels or unexpected fights it¡¯s practically useless. But if you have a lot of untrained power and nothing to use it on, if you have time to prepare ahead of time, and your primary concern is survival, it¡¯s the perfect shield to use. Come look at it closer, but don¡¯t touch. It¡¯s very dangerous.¡±


    I stepped nearer. At first glance, it appeared no different than a standard basic shield: a bit thicker perhaps, a bit more solid.


    Then I pulled my power up through me, slowing everything in my perception, and the texture of the shield became clear. Tiny barbs spread out across its entire surface, flickering in and out of nebulous formation as they vibrated asynchronously. It took me a moment to figure out what I was seeing.


    ¡°The whole shield is putting out dispelling attacks constantly?¡±


    Pel smiled and nodded. ¡°It¡¯s not as impenetrable as flashmail, but it¡¯s the next best thing. The main drawbacks are that it takes a lot of time to create, a lot of focus to maintain, and it¡¯s very inflexible. You can¡¯t use it while sending attacks out, for instance, as it dissipates both internal and external power. In a one on one fight, it¡¯s the equivalent of hiding behind a locked door and hoping the other person can¡¯t break it down. Which they always can, given enough time.¡± His grin widened. ¡°But you won¡¯t be alone. With you to hold attention and me to back you up, we can do this.¡±


    ¡°So, if the goal is a shield that can dispel attacks, I guess that means you¡¯ll be attacking me a lot?¡± I asked, resigned.


    Pel shrugged. ¡°The best way to learn is by doing.¡±


    ¡°We doing this here? In the middle of the street?¡±


    ¡°This particular skill doesn¡¯t require any particular props or obstacles. But, you¡¯re probably right. We should return to my balcony.¡±


    I guess expecting a reprieve of more than a few seconds would be too much to ask for. I followed him back up.


    To my surprise, and immense relief, training this particular shield was the least horrifying and most relaxed practice time I¡¯d ever experienced under Pel¡¯s tutelage. He demonstrated the shape of a single ¡®node¡¯ of the shield, which was supposed to be duplicated all across its surface, and coaxed me through the creation process.


    It was something like creating the first slash of power that would spin into a bubble shield, only instead of a curved line that spun it would be a tiny fuzzy barb that duplicated a thousand times. So, not much resemblance from a visual standpoint, or in the theory behind it either, but it did have a certain core similarity. Instead of duplicating it out into a single arc, it would need to be multiple rings going both directions at once.


    But I could do it. It started the same way; energy pulled up through my body and into my hand, drawn into a shape. I could do that.


    Just¡­ not on day one.


    By the time we stopped for the night, I¡¯d managed a blobby hemisphere about the size of my head. Too large, immobile, and without any of the dissipating spikes, but it was a start. Pel didn¡¯t try to drown me or crush me or even throw me off of tall places, so that was a welcome surprise. He did spend a lot of time dissipating my poor blob, and I never really got better at sustaining it against his attacks. But he said that it seemed a little more solid toward the end of the session than it had at the start, and seemed surprisingly optimistic about my progress.


    I wasn¡¯t going to complain.


    <hr>

 38: Patterns

    Direct oversight is rarely necessary, but there have been rare instances of attempted rebellion which necessitated a strong response. Oversight requires repeated and direct contact, but is of undeniable value as a corrective measure when necessary.


    Though affairs seem to have reached an equilibrium in recent years, we must not allow this essential skill to vanish. If the day comes when we must again enforce the decrees long set in place we must not be unprepared.


    -A Technical Guide to Oversight


    <hr>


    At first, I worried that Desten 3 would be upset by my extended absence. As I flew wearily back toward Varonhold, I wondered why I hadn¡¯t at least left a note or something. Why hadn¡¯t I anticipated things going wrong? It was Pelys. Things always went wrong!


    How long had I been out of commission after the scan? I remembered waking up once, kind of, though maybe that was a dream? It had been at least all day, if not two days or more. I shouldn¡¯t have forgotten Desten so callously.


    It was still the middle of the night when I reached Varonhold. I tried the door quietly, unsure if he locked it or not. As it turned out, he did not. The interior was as cluttered as ever, making me feel the familiar anxiety of wishing I could reorder everything. Pel¡¯s home was so tidy I¡¯d almost forgotten the state of Desten 3¡¯s house.


    I crept through the front room as stealthily as possible and quietly slipped into my room.


    I lay awake for some time, feeling a strange mixture of wakefulness and exhaustion. I wanted to do something, felt an urge to pace or write or continue practicing magic. But pacing might wake Desten, I had no commissions to work on, and my power lay strained and uncooperative. I worried that pulling any more from it today would be detrimental in the long term. Even flying over here had worried me.


    Eventually, I slept.


    ¡°Astesh, you¡¯re back! I don¡¯t suppose you brought any food?¡± Desten asked, glancing up as I exited my room. Then he blinked in confusion. ¡°Why are you dressed as a Sarosa?¡±


    ¡°No, I didn¡¯t bring any food.¡± I glanced down at myself. I¡¯d forgotten to change, my routines all gone to chaos, superseded by more pressing concerns. ¡°Pel lent it to me.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know why you continue to associate with that madman.¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s not actually crazy, just very focused and tends to disregard convention a bit.¡±


    ¡°A bit?¡±


    ¡°A lot, perhaps.¡±


    ¡°Not that I¡¯d turn down lessons from a fourth either, but are you sure it¡¯s safe?¡±


    ¡°Yes. He¡¯s actually a qualified teacher. I¡¯ll be fine.¡± It was past noon, but I didn¡¯t want to rush out on Desten. And I should probably get changed before someone noticed I was impersonating a Sarosa. ¡°I¡¯m sorry I disappeared without telling you. I wasn¡¯t anticipating it being such a long visit.¡±


    Desten shrugged. ¡°I¡¯m letting you stay here, not demanding you share everything about your business with me. If you have secret rendezvous to attend, don¡¯t let me stop you.¡±


    ¡°Still, I feel bad for worrying you.¡±


    ¡°Should I be worried?¡±


    I hesitated. I hadn¡¯t actually mentioned that I¡¯d been involved in anything dangerous, or my brush with incapacitation. Probably better for Desten to continue to believe everything was fine. ¡°I don¡¯t think so. Pel is a bit extreme in his methods, but he¡¯s never done anything unsafe.¡±


    ¡°Good luck, then. Could you pick up some groceries on your way back?¡±


    In all the time I¡¯d been living and traveling among the nobility, I¡¯d never had reason or opportunity to go shopping. I¡¯d never so much as visited a market. The closest would be the sculpting display in Metako, where they¡¯d auctioned the finished piece at the end. It had sold for around 800 lines, but what exactly that translated to I couldn¡¯t have guessed.


    I didn¡¯t know exactly where the commerce districts might be. Downcity, they always sprang up around delivery points where goods were transferred to the nobility. Or, more accurately, demanded and seized by the nobility. But what happened after the transfer, I had no idea. My lessons with Desten 1 were all centered around how to look and act like I belonged. We hadn¡¯t discussed anything about economics before I left with Desten 3.


    It felt surreal. Desten 5 and Retti were out there somewhere. Even if they hadn¡¯t done anything yet, they might at any moment. But Pel still had his administrative tasks to do and meetings to attend. He couldn¡¯t commit all his time and energy to our chase and training me couldn¡¯t take precedence over his existing obligations. Hopefully he could find other allies and my participation would prove extraneous.


    And here I was, doing Desten 3¡¯s grocery shopping.


    Thankfully, once I started looking it wasn¡¯t hard to find shops. Wide glass front windows showed off the goods within, often highlighted with outlines of colourful light. The perfect clarity made me wish I¡¯d invested in noble glass for my own shop back in downcity Midpeak, rather than the rather murky (but much cheaper) glass that came with the building. Many windows throughout the upcities were frosted or coloured with intricate patterns, though most left the center clear to look through. These display windows were perfectly transparent. It would be easy to imagine they didn¡¯t even exist but for the reflection of the street outside.


    I glanced at the money Desten 3 gave me, a pouch with three flat rectangles of crystal or glass, each with metal lines inlaid into it and around the outer edge. I pulled one out and ran a finger along it, marveling at the seamless integration. It felt completely smooth, no break between the clear surface and the silver. This would be very difficult to duplicate or falsify.Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author''s preferred platform and support their work!


    Each of the tiles had a different pattern; a single line, two lines at an angle from each other, and an X shape with a line across the top. He seemed confident this would be sufficient, so I hadn¡¯t argued.


    As it turned out, their denominations were 1, 2, and 4, for a total of seven.


    I did wonder how one paid for anything in such low denominations. If seven lines was enough to buy the rather large quantity of food he¡¯d requested - writing it out on a form for me to deliver - then how did anyone buy anything smaller?


    Perhaps nobles didn¡¯t do small? Everything was expensive, regardless of quantity?


    A question for another day.


    I had to stop in and ask a shopkeeper for directions after a half hour of wandering didn¡¯t locate any sort of grocer. There was a baker and an eatery, but no marketplace with general food goods.


    She looked at me like I was stupid, and directed me to the intercity gates.


    I¡¯d never actually visited the upcity through the official gate, nor had I bothered to use it when leaving, but there was an actual gate separating the upcity from the downcity, along with the ever-present faint white fog of the shield. Though as I drew nearer, I caught glimpses of purple and red within the fog, refracting like a broken rainbow. It reminded me uncomfortably of Desten 4.


    The gates weren¡¯t the reason I¡¯d come here, though. There were a collection of offices spread throughout the area right around them, the roads spreading out from just beyond. Several people stopped to watch me approach, and one flew over to greet me.


    ¡°Good day, eirn. What do you require today?¡±


    I handed over Desten¡¯s list, and she glanced down it with a practiced eye. ¡°We don¡¯t have all these items in stock at the moment, but I can get most of them for you. Please wait here.¡±


    She flew off to consult with two others, disappeared into one of the larger buildings, then returned several minutes later with a small wagon of goods. A pink glow outlined the wagon as it rolled forward readily at the slightest prompting, despite having no horses or oxen to pull it, and seemed unaware of the fact that it was rolling itself uphill.


    ¡°The other items will be available tomorrow. Is there anything else?¡±


    I offered her the three tiles Desten had sent with me.


    ¡°What are your special instructions? I can¡¯t accept prior payment.¡±


    ¡°Oh, uh. For the food and paper and everything?¡±


    ¡°We won¡¯t have the other items available until tomorrow no matter how much you pay,¡± she said, eying the money in my hand.


    ¡°How much is the normal cost, then?¡±


    ¡°That depends on what you¡¯re trying to buy.¡± She watched me uncertainly. ¡°Do you want us to deliver it for you?¡±


    ¡°No, just the supplies, nothing extra. I can carry it myself.¡±


    She raised an eyebrow. ¡°Are you sure?¡±


    I suddenly felt very much not sure. ¡°Should I not be?¡±


    ¡°I won¡¯t turn it away if you¡¯re offering, but you might want to reconsider.¡±


    I took the 4-tile back, watching to see if she was offended by my stinginess, but she continued to look mildly concerned.


    ¡°Is this a confidential order?¡±


    I shook my head.


    ¡°Please, just tell me what you want.¡±


    ¡°I already gave you the list. That¡¯s all I need.¡±


    She frowned, but took the tiles and nodded as she slipped them into a pocket. ¡°Come by tomorrow to collect the rest of your order. We¡¯ll be sure it¡¯s ready first thing.¡± She handed me the list back, with a black stamp beside the items that were already loaded onto the cart.


    I thanked her and left. The cart turned out to be too heavy to carry, but it had a lead so I could tow it behind me while still flying at low near-ground speeds. It moved easily and before long I was delivering it to Desten along with his remaining 4-tile.


    ¡°They said the rest will be ready tomorrow.¡±


    He nodded as though this were expected, and began unloading the goods. I helped him move them into his storage room and coldboxes. Yes, coldboxes plural. He had three, each set to a different chill level, the sort of luxury I¡¯d never have believed possible back in my commoner days. Even having one coldbox in the entire town wasn¡¯t something to take for granted, especially in towns further from the cities. Yet here Desten, who had little income and a relatively small house with no servants, had three of them.


    ¡°What did you get?¡± Desten asked when we finished. ¡°I didn¡¯t see anything.¡±


    ¡°Uh, what?¡±


    ¡°You said you needed money. What did you get?¡±


    I blinked at him. ¡°The things on your list?¡±


    ¡°Right, that was a requisition. What did you need the tiles for?¡±


    ¡°I, um¡­¡±


    Desten¡¯s expression shifted, and he tilted his head, a slow smile crossing his face. ¡°Who is it?¡±


    ¡°Who¡¯s what?¡±


    He just smiled.


    It took me a moment to realize what he was implying, then I laughed. ¡°No! Nothing like that!¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s fine, I won¡¯t pry,¡± he said, still grinning at me.


    I wanted to argue, but I had the uncomfortable feeling that I¡¯d done something wrong with this whole transaction. It would be easier to let him believe what he wanted, so I shrugged and changed the subject. Hopefully, he would drop it. I had more important things to worry about.


    Somehow, life fell into a pattern. I spent the early afternoons with Desten 3 or on my own, Pel and I trained from when he returned home late into the night, and through it all we waited with growing tension for any news.


    Desten 5 and Retti weren''t doing anything dramatic. They came and went, discretely observed by the locals when possible. Sometimes they¡¯d be away for days on end, but they always returned to the small town where they¡¯d stashed Desten 4.


    But though much of their doings took place away from our watchers, there were no more mysterious deaths, no more deadly duels of exceptional violence. Which made a bit of sense on a normal level - the touring season was ostensibly intended to celebrate the Alliance and peace but it also tended to spark old rivalries and tensions.


    Still, I couldn¡¯t help but feel there had to be something more going on.


    As winter drew nearer most people were occupied with their own affairs. A miveirn came by laying out heating grids of yellow light around houses; Desten 3 paid a single-line tile to add his house¡¯s interior to the regional grid, guaranteeing us steady warmth even as the weather cooled.


    I hardly noticed. More and more, the fight to master this stupid shield technique became my obsession as much as it was Pelys¡¯s. As hard as he pushed me sometimes, I pushed myself more. Part of it was obligation, part fear, part just the only thing I knew to do. If I wore myself and my power out completely, then sometimes the past would leave me alone.


    Only sometimes.


    The tenor of my nightmares had shifted. The imaginary ¡®killer Desten¡¯ who¡¯d haunted me for so long had disappeared, replaced by a woman I knew to be Retti though they barely resembled each other. Tonight she ran through an unfamiliar city, pursued by nebulous figures of darkness. She fought anyone who crossed her path, screaming for Desten 5 and I to fight with her.


    He looked at me pleadingly as he fought desperately to defend her, and I only hesitated a moment before running to his aid. The dark figures clarified into Fylen and Pelys and Aneeyha, just as we finally struck them down.


    I woke abruptly, confused and gasping, my power glowing brightly enough to cast shadows on the walls. I tried to calm myself, to dispel the mixed feelings of guilt and dread. I knew rationally that I would never do what my dream self had, that it was just the twisted illogic of a nightmare, but the memory of fighting and killing lingered, the emotion of it outlasting the vague imagery.


    I stared into the darkness, trying to convince myself that the dream didn¡¯t matter. I wasn¡¯t that sort of person. I would never do something like that. I may feel bad for Desten 5, but I wasn¡¯t going to join Retti!


    I tried to push away the memory, but it remained seared into my soul. The sudden feeling of betrayal as I understood what I¡¯d done.


    I knew it wasn¡¯t real. It could never be real.


    I wouldn¡¯t turn on Pelys, would never join Retti, no matter how pleadingly Desten 5 looked at me.


    Would I?


    <hr>

 39: Likening

    MYTRAN: Hast thou never found thyself in error? Hast thou not once spoken of what thou knew not for a truth?


    VOTHES: Never.


    MYTRAN: Then I shall teach thee, for of a surety that answer betrays thine ignorance more truly than aught else thou hast said this day.


    -The Learning of Vothes


    <hr>


    I sat at Desten 3¡¯s kitchen table, trying unsuccessfully to formulate a second copy of my shield section. Pelys grew more impatient by the day and if I didn¡¯t begin making progress soon I feared he¡¯d take drastic action.


    ¡°What are you working on today?¡± Desten asked as he wandered in with a plate of food.


    ¡°Advanced disruption shield.¡± I demonstrated my one small section, the result of weeks of focused practice. ¡°I¡¯m supposed to be multiplying this section into a full sphere, but I can¡¯t figure out how to do that.¡±


    ¡°You never went to academy, did you?¡± Desten asked, taking a seat opposite me. He set down the plate and put a hand out, crafting a quick cube of yellow light in the air between us.


    I shook my head, but it seemed the question was rhetorical, as he didn¡¯t wait for a reply before continuing.


    ¡°There¡¯s a conceptual barrier between a base form and a full construct. It¡¯s one thing to alter the form of an existing creation¡­¡± the cube before him stretched out, elongating without damage to its integrity, maintaining the same solidity and clarity, ¡°but to duplicate it is another operation entirely.¡± The cube replicated up and down, making a solid wall of identical light bricks.


    ¡°Yes, Pel has said as much. He said I needed to visualize the extrapolation while feeding power into the construct. But whenever I try, it only expands the section, not duplicating it.¡±


    ¡°Start with something easier, then. How do you make your basic shield?¡±


    ¡°A line that spins. Isn¡¯t that what everyone does?¡±


    ¡°No. It¡¯s all conceptual.¡± He hadn¡¯t touched his food, but he stood and gestured for me to follow him outside.


    His gardens were nowhere near as expansive as Desten 1¡¯s, and honestly bore little resemblance to the well-kept courtyards and mazes of the close-line nobility. They were overgrown nearly to the point of being called wild, with only cursory attempts made to tame their brambles and weeds.


    Desten grimaced when he saw the state of them and flared out his power in a quick slash of brilliant yellow, cutting off the grass underfoot to a reasonable length before sweeping the cuttings off to the side where they joined an existing mound of dry brown cuttings.


    He stepped into the center of the cleared ground and nodded in satisfaction. ¡°Here, watch. I¡¯ll do this as slowly as I can.¡±


    Desten¡¯s yellow fire burst up around him, beginning in a circle at his feet, then climbing until it formed a complete solid sphere around him. The light danced like flames for a second before settling into the steady clarity of a perfect shield.


    ¡°Oh.¡± I hadn¡¯t ever tried building it from the bottom up. Before doing the spinning arc, I¡¯d always imagined inflating it into shape. ¡°Pel spins his,¡± I added, a bit defensive.


    ¡°That¡¯s not important.¡± Desten waved his hand dismissively. ¡°The point is that it doesn¡¯t matter how you do it as long as it works. Like writing.¡±


    I frowned. ¡°You¡¯ve lost me.¡±


    ¡°The standard method is what you¡¯ve seen, to treat your power like a lathe until it merges together. But! If you stop and think about it, it really doesn¡¯t make sense. A single line of power no matter how fast you rotate it shouldn¡¯t ever make a solid form.¡±


    ¡°But it works.¡±


    ¡°Because it can be accepted conceptually by the majority of individuals. But for me, it never clicked. I couldn¡¯t quite believe that¡¯s how it worked, so it didn¡¯t. Until I imagined it as growing flames.¡±


    ¡°What does that have to do with writing?¡±


    Desten smiled. ¡°It¡¯s exactly like writing. More so for you than me, honestly, since you write poetry and I write non-fiction. You don¡¯t start with a perfect sentence or a perfect rhythm. You add words, remove words, until in the end it works. Just like power constructs. It doesn¡¯t matter the process - if you think about the sentence until you can write it perfectly on the first try, or if you write it one word at a time, or if you scribble it all out and revise on the page. And you can do the same with your power. It doesn¡¯t have to be perfect on the first try.¡±


    I blinked. ¡°But, once you create it, it¡¯s going to be solid.¡±


    Desten raised his eyebrows at me and his bubble stretched out, becoming longer and thinner, without any of the warping or disruption I¡¯d witnessed with Retti¡¯s compression of the duel shield. ¡°Only if you make it solid,¡± he said.


    ¡°But ¡­ it is solid.¡±


    ¡°Only if you make it solid,¡± Desten repeated. He brought the shield in closer to himself, waved a hand through it, then rapped on its interior surface with his hand. ¡°You can¡¯t think of them as a permanent thing, a real thing.¡±


    ¡°But it is real! You just tapped on it.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s a construct. It can be as physical or non-physical as you want.¡± He frowned slightly. ¡°Did you pay no attention in school?¡±


    I shrugged, uncomfortable, and tried to come up with some way to avoid outright lying. ¡°I ¡­ didn¡¯t attend regularly.¡±


    ¡°That why you¡¯re still only tay?¡±


    ¡°Maybe. I¡¯ve never cared to take the advancement tests.¡±


    ¡°You should consider it, especially with all this advanced training. If you attain a higher rank, you¡¯ll be considered more eligible for better positions.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t want a position in governance or administration.¡±


    ¡°If you¡¯re going to stay here, one of us is going to have to get a job soon,¡± Desten said resignedly. ¡°I was hoping our tour would help my book sales pick up, but things aren¡¯t looking good. If neither of us publishes anything big within the next couple months, we¡¯ll have to start looking for alternatives.¡±


    I hadn¡¯t given much thought to Desten¡¯s financial situation. I¡¯d always assumed all nobles were solvent, and until now none of my interactions with him had indicated otherwise. But he was only ebi rank, and I¡¯d never heard him mention his family. It seemed he was in worse fiscal condition than I¡¯d assumed.Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation.


    I shook my head and waved off the thought. ¡°My rank isn¡¯t important right now. We can figure out finances another time. Do you know how to help with this shield, or not?¡± It came out a bit more snappish than I¡¯d intended. But right now, Retti and Desten could be out murdering and stealing and desecrating, and the sooner I mastered this stupid shield the sooner we could put a stop to them.


    Even if the thought terrified me for more reasons than one.


    Desten inhaled sharply, blinked, and nodded. ¡°I ¡­ yes. I apologize for the digression. My own zeal as a student doesn¡¯t minimize your achievements, especially if undertaken later in life. It¡¯s admirable.¡±


    I narrowed my eyes at him, disliking the patronizing feel of his words.


    ¡°Okay. New exercise. You can make a line, correct?¡± Desten demonstrated with a short line of light, about a handspan tall, that hovered in the air between us.


    I replicated his feat, though my own line hovered right beside my hand, unwilling to be pushed out any further from my body.


    ¡°Is it solid, or not?¡± Desten asked.


    ¡°Yes. It¡¯s solid.¡±


    ¡°Make it non-solid.¡±


    I released the construct, encouraging it to dissolve, and created another identical line but to give light without substance.


    ¡°No, don¡¯t make a new one. Change the one you have. Turn that line solid.¡±


    ¡°How? That doesn¡¯t make sense. It¡¯s light. You can¡¯t switch from light to solid and back.¡±


    ¡°It never stops being light even when it¡¯s solid. Light is just a word. Reality isn¡¯t so inflexible as language.¡±


    I sighed. ¡°Weren¡¯t you just trying to convince me that power is like language?¡±


    ¡°Like sentences which can be built of different words. Like rhythms. You can rhyme Fire with Pyre, or Mire with Dire, and it still works the same. But that¡¯s not to say a dire mire is anything like a pyre fire.¡±


    I shook my head. While I appreciated Desten¡¯s attempt to help, his explanations made even less sense than Pelys¡¯s had.


    ¡°Or,¡± Desten said slowly, ¡°like words which sound the same but are different.¡±


    I let the line dissipate. ¡°This isn¡¯t working. I need to get back to practicing the shield.¡±


    ¡°Wait, please. One more thing. Just close your eyes and listen. Right. Correct, not wrong. Rite. A ritual or ceremonial observation. Write. Putting words together. But when taken on their own, you can¡¯t tell them apart. That¡¯s power. It¡¯s me saying ¡®rite¡¯ without context. If I say we¡¯ll be attending it, you¡¯ll know what I mean, or if I say you¡¯re correct, you¡¯ll know a different meaning. But the sounds I said are the same.¡±


    ¡°So?¡±


    ¡°So, power is the same. You give it a form, and you give it a shape, and you give it a purpose. But if I add the ¡®w¡¯ before the ¡®rite¡¯ it stays the same in one dimension - it still sounds the same - yet changes the meaning. It¡¯s the same with changing the solidity of your constructs.¡±


    I sighed. ¡°I don¡¯t need to be able to change the solidity. I need to be able to duplicate this section into a complete protective sphere.¡±


    ¡°And you can do that. It¡¯s all in your mindset.¡±


    ¡°No!¡± I snapped, opening my eyes. ¡°No it isn¡¯t. I¡¯ve been twisting my mindset every which way for weeks, and nothing helps. If all I had to do was wish it into existence, I¡¯d already be there. But I¡¯m not, because there¡¯s more to it. There¡¯s something else, something deeper I¡¯m missing.¡±


    ¡°And if you couldn¡¯t make anything manifest at all, I might agree with you. But you¡¯ve already done the complicated part! You can make the pattern correctly. Now all you need to do is replicate it into a broader form.¡±


    ¡°HOW?!¡± I shouted, then tensed, immediately expecting retaliation, ready to spin up my basic shield at a moment¡¯s notice. Pelys would have immediately slammed some devastating attack into me in the attempt to force my power to manifest.


    Desten wasn¡¯t Pel. He backed down, shoulders slumping. Then he turned without another word and went back into the house.


    I felt oddly like I should apologize, but frustration and anger drove me on. I wouldn¡¯t slink back in, not yet.


    I built up the shield section, slowly, precisely, until it sat fully formed beyond my outstretched hand. One tiny, perfect piece. Too small to be of any use on its own. It was so taxing to form even this small piece, I couldn¡¯t fathom the focus required for a full shield.


    But Pel needed me. Every day I failed to master this was another chance for Retti and Desten to do something terrible. I had to get this. It was important. Essential.


    I tried spinning it out, making a vertical sweep of it, imagining all the little sections built up into an arc like the one that made up my basic shield. The piece stretched and cracked instead, twisting itself into a shape utterly unlike what I¡¯d envisioned.


    I relaxed the power back into myself, letting the construct dissolve. But though most of what Desten had said was nonsense, I¡¯d seen for myself that his power could be used differently. I changed focus, switching back to the basic shield. Could I replicate his growing-flames method? The shield was as basic a construct as they came. It shouldn¡¯t matter what method I used to create it.


    I focused on pulling my power up through my body, ready to be used, then concentrated on the ground beneath my feet. A disc of power there, licking up like flames until it formed a complete sphere. It shouldn¡¯t be too hard to replicate.


    Except that for all the time I¡¯d spent practicing how to push power out through my hands, the only thing I knew how to do from my feet was flight. Hmm. I could hover, but starting a shield there felt weird.


    I considered pressing on, but shook the thought away. That was a digression I didn¡¯t need. Instead I knelt and placed my hand on the ground by my feet, drawing the circle manually. The disc appeared and filled in, but when I tried to make it grow with flickering flames up the sides, it instead twisted and cracked.


    I was missing something. Desten¡¯s analogy might be nonsense, but it worked for him. It just didn¡¯t work for me. Perhaps because he loved words, cared about them for more purposes than simply surviving. For me, writing was a task I performed because I was hired to do it, not because I had any particular affinity for it. For Desten, it was something akin to his purpose for existing. He had a cause, a goal, and writing his stupidly naive manifestos about people getting along was his way of pursuing that cause.


    What did I have? What could I equate power to in a way I¡¯d intuitively understand it? It wasn¡¯t light, because it could be solid, but it wasn¡¯t not-light either. I needed a way to stop thinking of it as two separate things, and instead as a single thing that could shift into different forms.


    I stared up at the sky, watching heavy clouds drift by. Yellow lines of heat painted all along Desten 3¡¯s garden walls kept the interior from freezing so his plants could flourish regardless of the weather outside, but there had been the occasional snowfall over the past week. It always melted to rain before reaching the streets or roofs, but beyond the artificial heat it drifted down in lazy flakes.


    Snow¡­


    It was solid. But when you held it in your hand, it became liquid. If you dropped that water on a frozen stone, it became solid again.


    I shouldn¡¯t be imagining my power as a wall of force or light, but like water that happens to glow. Water held in shape by the power of my will, freezing solid or melting at my command. Impermeable or liquid at my whim.


    I spun up my shield, deliberately oblong so I could reach the interior, and tapped on it. Solid. Now melt it without destroying it. Liquify the construct without changing its shape.


    I focused, concentrating on what I wanted to have happen, until I felt something shift just a little.


    I tapped the shield again, and it felt like pressing against damp moss. My hand sank into it, then out the other side as I pressed harder. I quickly pulled my hand back, not wanting to imagine what would happen if I solidified it while I was part in and part out. Too late; I¡¯d imagined it. Nope. I flicked my hand a few times to rid it of phantom pain, then returned my focus to where it belonged.


    I¡¯d managed a liquid form of my barrier. It wasn¡¯t as transparent as the light version or as solid as the original version, which I decided to think of as ice from now on. It didn¡¯t seem particularly useful, but it did prove that Desten hadn¡¯t been completely wrong after all. I did need to change my mindset, just not in the ways he or Pel used.


    And if my shield was liquid now ¡­


    I imagined my little section of dispersal shield, spread all across my bubble. Ten thousand little barbs ready to strike back at any attackers and rip their constructs apart. I knew what each should look like and how it should operate, down to the exact vibration speed. All I needed was to push the liquid shield into the right shape.


    It resisted, trying to hold onto the oblong bubble shape I¡¯d initially given it. No, I had to stop thinking of it as a separate entity. The thread of pink light connecting it to me meant it was part of me. It was a construct, it didn¡¯t have a mind of its own. The only purpose it had was my purpose.


    The power I currently held to the shape of a bubble around me began to ripple. I coaxed it to stretch, flowing smoothly without any twisting or cracks, back into a standard sphere. Then, holding my breath in anticipation, I pushed further. Thousands of tiny lumps puckered its surface, like shoots of grass trying to push out of the earth in spring. The mental image helped further, and the lumps sprouted barbs, uncoiling like fresh flower stems. They didn¡¯t all move in unison, but in an uneven staggered flow as my focus drifted across the surface. Some grew to full clarity, others remained simple bumps until I turned my attention to them.


    Half an hour later, I stood in the completed shield, joy and accomplishment swooping through my chest.


    Finally, I¡¯d done it! If Retti tried to control me again, this would tear her power to pieces before she got close.


    I wouldn¡¯t be useless any longer.


    <hr>

 40: Preparation

    When resting unused for long periods of time, an internal pressure begins to accrue within one¡¯s heartstone. This can be seen in children by the sudden onset of obvious discomfort around their third to fifth year, and it is at this time that their abilities tend to begin manifesting themselves.


    -On Heartstones, vol 2


    <hr>


    The first time I demonstrated my beautiful new shield to Pelys, he considered it for three seconds, then shook his head.


    ¡°The barbs are too far apart,¡± he said. ¡°They need to be packed tight enough that nothing can slip through. The way you have them now, I could reach my hand in safely, let alone a disruption attack.¡±


    He demonstrated, effortlessly spiking it into nothingness.


    I deflated, my grand triumph of the morning feeling long ago and far away. I¡¯d flown slowly on the way over, trying to practice as much as possible, but I still couldn¡¯t bring it into shape in less than half an hour. Pel¡¯s took about five minutes when he did it seriously, though he could put together a demonstration version more quickly that wouldn¡¯t be stable enough to use in an actual fight.


    I began the laborious time-consuming process of reforming the shield.


    ¡°Don¡¯t look so discouraged, this is still great progress.¡± Pel sounded obligatory, though, and I knew he was only trying to cheer me up.


    He¡¯d grown increasingly tense throughout the past weeks, as the reirns refused to come to an agreement regarding the renegades. But this felt different. In recent days, Pel¡¯s attitude had been slipping faster than usual. Rather than impatience, a sort of resigned apathy seemed to be taking over. I¡¯d been focused on my own lack of progress, assuming my slowness caused his discouragement, but now that I¡¯d actually made a breakthrough it seemed to have no impact on his mood.


    ¡°What¡¯s wrong?¡± I asked, as I slowly built up my shield again. ¡°Raysh still refusing to help?¡±


    ¡°Reirn Anadeen refuses to permit anyone across her borders ¡®with intent to harass my citizens, regardless of alleged misdeeds.¡¯¡±


    Reirns Mennan Metako and Ushan Varon had eventually committed to join Ovnon Sarosa with enough trained fighters to overpower Retti and Desten with ease. But since Retti and Desten had legally purchased their hideout within Raysh jurisdiction, if Reirn Ovnon attacked without authorization from Reirn Anadeen it would shatter the Alliance and open the door to Raysh aggression anywhere in the world.


    Not that it stopped various ¡®independent individuals¡¯ from trying, but no attempt at assassinating or extracting Retti and Desten had succeeded. I tried to hope ours would be different, but so far no one had returned who¡¯d done more than observe at a safe distance.


    Pel continued, ¡°Since the last few strike attempts, she¡¯s assigned several Aylin to watch the area around the village for foreign interference.¡±


    ¡°Aylin, that¡¯s roughly equivalent to Sarosa¡¯s fourth ranking?¡±


    ¡°A little higher, yeah. It¡¯s what I would be ranked if I were Raysh.¡±


    ¡°Shouldn¡¯t Reirn Anadeen be more concerned about sheltering two Varon murderers who¡¯ve killed multiple close-line Sarosa nobles?¡±


    Pelys growled. ¡°That¡¯s the problem. They¡¯re too valuable.¡±


    In the past we¡¯d discussed the theory that Raysh liked the idea of keeping such powerful individuals for themselves, but mostly as a bonus to the fact that they were causing trouble for the other houses. But he¡¯d never seemed this obviously bothered by the idea before.


    ¡°What happened?¡±


    ¡°If our intelligence isn¡¯t mistaken, Utrenad and Wightok have both made offers on them.¡±


    I blinked uncertainly. ¡°Offers?¡±


    ¡°Bribes. Offering payment in addition to protection if they¡¯ll agree to come integrate. Desten is young and unattached, with the kind of power that makes reirns take note. If they keep playing their tiles right, they¡¯ll end up as very influential people.¡±


    I shivered, imagining Desten 5 as an heirna, Retti in the shadows to guide him where she wanted. She was dangerous enough on her own. I did not want to see what she could do with an entire house¡¯s resources at her command.


    Distracted, my control slipped and the shield relaxed back into its default smooth sphere, setting me back several minutes. I sighed and refocused on shaping the power.


    ¡°That¡¯s not the worst of it.¡±


    I froze, shield quivering in place.


    ¡°People have been disappearing. Not killed flashily, no remains left to attract attention, just gone. Which would ordinarily be of no concern; people decide to leave or go on trips without warning all the time. But the longer they don¡¯t come back, the longer there¡¯s no word¡­ the more likely something untoward has happened.¡±


    ¡°Kidnapping?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s what I suspect. Multiple individuals last known to be visiting Raysh have disappeared without leaving word.¡±


    ¡°Children?¡±


    ¡°Adults.¡±


    I frowned. ¡°Couldn¡¯t they fight back?¡±


    Pel nodded. ¡°Which is what makes this all the more concerning. Without overwhelming power, it shouldn¡¯t be possible to thoroughly subdue someone who knows what they¡¯re doing. And even then, there¡¯s no way to keep them under control forever. There¡¯s no way to restrain power like you can restrain someone physically. Even disruption can be disrupted, as I just proved.¡±


    ¡°But it might not be Retti? It might be innocent travel or personal reasons for disappearing?¡±


    Pel met my eyes without looking away. ¡°Do you believe that?¡±


    ¡°No.¡± My stomach felt all twisted up on itself. We¡¯d waited too long. Whatever her plans, she¡¯d been free to pursue them unobstructed - worse, in collusion with Raysh authorities. "What can we do?"


    "Train you, prepare Vess and Lan, and go after them ourselves." He smiled tightly. ¡°I¡¯ve been in contact with a few other independent groups, and I think we can coordinate a joint attack of our own. It won¡¯t be official, won¡¯t have any reirn¡¯s support, and it¡¯ll destroy our credibility, but I refuse to sit by again.¡±Stolen novel; please report.


    "That seems dangerous."


    "It is dangerous. But if Raysh doesn''t care that she''s kidnapping people right under their noses? Do we wait until her project is finished? Let her carry on with impunity?"


    ¡°Well, what about the conversant? She was terrified of them finding out, have you talked to them? If anyone can ignore the dictates of individual houses¡­¡± I trailed off as Pel gave a weak laugh.


    ¡°The conversant? Me? I wouldn¡¯t even know how to find them, even if I did have the authority to approach them. Lost god, Astesh! Half the time they don¡¯t even show up when the reirns ask them to. Do you really think they¡¯d deign to answer to someone like me?¡±


    ¡°Well, what do they actually do normal days? Ratifying a new reirn happens, what, once every forty years or so? That alone certainly can¡¯t be enough to occupy their lives.¡±


    ¡°Perhaps when they¡¯re not acting in official capacity they go about their business as ordinary nobles. Or perhaps they have a secret mountain somewhere. Or they live in the sea. It¡¯s impossible to guess, and pointless to try.¡±


    My mind skipped over something, snagging on a fragment of memory I¡¯d mostly forgotten.


    ¡°None of the houses wears black, do they?¡± I asked slowly.


    ¡°Not as more than decoration. Only the conversant.¡±


    ¡°So that was one of them,¡± I murmured. Suddenly, Retti¡¯s fears made a lot more sense, having witnessed the unbelievable strength of a conversant firsthand. ¡°I know how to get their attention.¡±


    ¡°Right now I¡¯ll take any help I can get. But if they smite us for interfering, don¡¯t say I didn¡¯t try to warn you.¡±


    ¡°Really Pel? I thought you weren¡¯t worried about anything.¡±


    He sighed, looking away. ¡°Then you don¡¯t know me as well as I thought.¡±


    ¡°I¡ª no, that¡¯s not what I meant. I know you worry about¡ª I was thinking about dangerous circumstances, not¡ª¡± I forced myself to stop, and an awkward silence hovered between us.


    ¡°So, what¡¯s your plan?¡± he finally asked.


    ¡°We need to transgress into the study of useless histories with no application to our present lives. Last time I spent a week studying scraps of ancient history, an insanely powerful woman in black robes showed up to order me to drop it.¡±


    ¡°Is that what the conversant do with their free time? Harass scholars?¡±


    ¡°As long as they actually show up, I won¡¯t complain. We just need to tell them what Retti¡¯s up to, and they should swoop in and put a stop to it.¡±


    "Do you think they would?"


    I shrugged. "She seemed afraid that they would. I don''t know what they concern themselves with apart from safeguarding historical documents. It''s at least worth a try."


    Pel nodded. "Good. Let''s go. And keep practicing. You need to be able to hold that shield no matter how distracted you are."


    Oh, right, I¡¯d forgotten to reshape the shield, leaving it at its base smoothness this whole time. I sighed. ¡°I¡¯ll work on it on the flight over.¡±


    Pel and I visited the Vaerport archive every day for the next two weeks. I asked after the same documents Desten 3 and I had been studying, and he pretended to peruse the shelves while I stood at a safe distance and practiced my shield.


    No one tried to stop us. No mysterious black-robed figure appeared, not even a threatening note or sly whisper.


    In desperation, I wrote out everything we knew about Retti¡¯s scheme that might be relevant to the conversant - where she was, what she¡¯d done, what we suspected she was continuing to do - and slipped a copy into every book Desten 3 and I had used while researching Desten 4¡¯s condition. Even the useless ones with nothing but tall tales about prismatics. If the conversant were monitoring the usage of any of them, they¡¯d find the note and could act if they saw fit.


    But it did make me wonder. Why was Retti so set on secrecy? What specific piece of her madness did she imagine the conversant would care about, when they interfered so little in anyone¡¯s lives?


    I didn¡¯t have time to ponder the question too long, as my biggest focus remained on strengthening and sustaining the dispersal shield. Pelys seemed pleased with my progress, but I couldn''t help feeling that I was progressing too slowly. I''d dropped two minutes off the creation time and increased the number of spines threefold, but still they were too spread out and too weak to survive more than a single dispersion attack.


    It frustrated us both, how much time we were forced to waste. Leetan was in negotiation with Metako to add their influence to the attempt to persuade Raysh to stop being stubborn, but Pel was pessimistic about that going anywhere.


    "Even if Leetan did join us, Raysh would dig in their heels deeper. They''ve never forgiven the Alliance for refusing their claim on cities they believe are rightfully theirs. The more houses unite against them, the more stubborn they''ll get. Besides, I bet you anything Leetan is trying to think of a convincing offer to get hold of Desten themselves."


    This wasn''t an encouraging sort of thing to hear.


    I couldn''t keep worrying about everything, but I couldn''t stop.


    The days passed with more and more reports of missing people, almost predictable. Roughly every three days, two or three more people would be missing. Even people with legitimate business in Raysh had begun avoiding the place as its reputation for safety diminished.


    And yet Raysh continued to ignore it. Almost stubbornly so. Why would they do this? I didn¡¯t care how powerful or valuable Desten 5 might be, no attempt to recruit one individual was worth burning this much of a house¡¯s reputation on.


    I could sort of understand the desire to protect Retti and her family simply to spite Sarosa and Varon, but this had gone way beyond mere protection. As far as I was concerned, Reirn Anadeen and her court were complicit in the loss of dozens of visiting nobles and Raysh citizens alike.


    My mind kept circling back to that question. Why?


    If I knew, I couldn''t bring it to mind.


    But ultimately their reasons didn¡¯t matter.


    "We can''t keep waiting," I heard myself say, as I arrived at the conclusion.


    Pel looked at me, surprised.


    "I mean it. We''re sitting around and delaying on me. But why? Is this shield really going to be the breaking point between success and failure?"


    "Yes."


    "I don''t see how! It''s been months and we''re still letting them go on. Whatever horrible things they''re doing, we can''t just let them."


    "I agree, but you''re not ready. If we go now, we won''t be guaranteed to take them down."


    "And if we wait, we are guaranteed to lose more innocents to this madness!"


    Pel sighed. "Show me your shield."


    Pull it together, push it out into its angry pink spikes. I managed it in twenty-seven minutes. Once created, I could hold it for up to four hours if I didn''t get completely distracted.


    I kept my focus on maintaining its strength, so when Pelys snapped out his disruption attack it didn¡¯t fade away. He struck again, breaking a hole the size of my head through the shield before I pulled the power back together. That left a smooth defenceless patch, which he attacked with a power-assisted punch. His fist glowed blue as his power flared out one final time and my shield collapsed into nothing.


    He shook his head. ¡°You¡¯re not ready.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll never be ready! I¡¯m not made for this kind of thing, Pel. I belong at a desk, or on a horse, not in a fight. But this is important. We have to act before it¡¯s too late. If there are three houses already hoping to recruit them, then there¡¯s every probability that they¡¯ll end up out of our reach.¡±


    It would be bad enough to assassinate or capture them from Raysh territory now, but if they were more explicitly allied with any house then even if the Alliance remained intact it might initiate a shadow war the likes of which hadn¡¯t been seen in generations.


    ¡°Trust me,¡± I insisted. ¡°I¡¯ve tried waiting and over-preparing. It doesn¡¯t work. If we don¡¯t act, someone else will.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re right. I¡¯ll see what can be arranged. Keep practicing. You need to get those barbs closer together, and more of them.¡±


    We practiced long into the night, longer than usual, until dawn began to appear. I didn¡¯t even try to fly home to Varonhold, falling wearily to sleep in Pelys¡¯s sitting room nearly the moment I relaxed. I had been hovering at the edge of stonedrain for hours as I pushed myself and my power to the limits, and his chairs were plenty comfortable enough to sleep in.


    Three days later, we had our plans settled.


    Of the four unofficial groups Pelys contacted, three agreed to a joint assault on Retti¡¯s cottage. One would strike at dawn, drawing away the Raysh guards, then the rest of us would converge and take over the place.


    If Retti and Desten were present, we¡¯d fight them on the spot. If not, we¡¯d take Desten 4 and Tali hostage and confront them when they returned. It seemed a bit extreme to me, but if anything would convince Retti to stand down, it would be knowing she risked the rest of her family.


    It would take our allies a further week to covertly relocate into Raysh in order to be in position when we needed them, so that was our target date.


    The reckoning would be delayed no further.


    <hr>

 41: Approach

    In all documentation of bloodline and lineage, there shall be no mention nor record made of the powerhue of an individual. There shall be no discrimination made by hue of power, nor by those of parents, nor shall it be any factor in any undertaking. Judge each by skill, not by presumption, and set aside utterly any considerations of innate hue.


    -The Third Decree, as given by the First Conversant Conclave in the Eighth Year


    <hr>


    Pelys and I entered Raysh the evening before our planned assault, posing as negotiators for a fictional import company from Oros.


    It felt very odd wearing the stiff Oros uniform robes, which turned out to be much tighter than the more casual Varon and Sarosa styles. We had plain blue battle robes to change into for the actual attack, as Pel would be claiming credit for the entire affair if we were noticed and questioned. As a man who¡¯d lost multiple friends, he had the strongest claim to individual action, and could be safely disavowed by the Sarosa reirn and reirna regardless of how they may personally feel about his actions.


    We spent the night in the city nearest Retti¡¯s hideout, sharing a flat in one of the available buildings with Lan and Vess. They¡¯d been in the city for nearly two weeks now and arranged everything from here.


    The place was surprisingly full, given the decline in Raysh¡¯s reputation of late, I¡¯d have expected more people to stay away. But, no, apparently disappearances and murders weren¡¯t worth noticing unless they took place right in front of you.


    It made me reconsider every kind thought I¡¯d ever had toward the nobility. True, a few individuals may be decent people, but on a whole the entire strata was pretty much horrifying. I¡¯d known it before, but after living among them for so long I¡¯d begun to forget. Begun to overlook the things swept to the side.


    It made me question the purpose of our whole crusade. What was the point of stopping one murderer if the world would continue to defend the rest? Maybe, for all his naivete, Desten 3 actually had the right idea. Maybe solving one problem wasn¡¯t enough.


    I couldn¡¯t sleep. I worried and wondered and drove myself in circles trying to find the right thing to do, the right path that would lead to true justice and not simply vengeance upon one individual.


    Why didn¡¯t they care? How could anyone go about their day and ignore people¡¯s lives being destroyed around them, caring more about the potential power they could gain by recruiting killers than the ultimate cost of encouraging such acts?


    If someone had suggested that it would be better to break the Alliance and destroy Raysh for good, I may well have agreed with them.


    But that was not our problem. I could no more change the world than Desten 3 with his naive scribblings, than Pel with his power and rage. We could only change our little pieces of it. And if that meant putting a stop to Retti and Desten, it would have to be enough.


    I stopped even trying to sleep and began pacing, practicing my shield. I¡¯d dropped another minute off the creation time and increased the complexity yet again. Pel could still destroy it in half a minute, but hopefully in the chaos I¡¯d be able to avoid anyone engaging me directly with full focus.


    I could also disrupt power directly, by forming a section of the shield in my palm. It wouldn¡¯t be very useful as an offensive attack, but it would be enough to escape if Retti tried to control me again with the physical shell of force like she¡¯d used in our duel.


    Which ¡­ technically, was still legally underway? Since neither of us had died, the light we bore hadn¡¯t been decided.


    Nope. Not going to think about that.


    I paced and pressed my power harder, until Lan stepped out from her room. She paused, as though surprised to see me, then walked toward me. I relaxed my control, letting the shield stabilize but not advancing it.


    ¡°Astesh, you should be resting.¡± She spoke softly so as not to wake the others. ¡°Now is not the time to wear yourself out.¡±


    ¡°I can¡¯t rest.¡±


    ¡°Lie down at least. Let your body recover its strength, even if your mind cannot be at peace.¡±


    In her eyes I saw a similar sleeplessness reflected, and knew she understood. More than understood. In her face weariness layered atop a deep sorrow that I wasn¡¯t sure would ever fade.


    However harrowing my own experiences had been, at least I¡¯d never watched someone I cared about be killed right in front of me. Fylen¡¯s death haunted me still, though I¡¯d never even met him. My own fight with Retti would be enough to scar my mind for years. And still, I¡¯d gotten off lightly compared to Lan and Pel and Vess.


    I swallowed. ¡°Please, if¡ª if there¡¯s any way we can stop Retti without hurting Desten 5 ¡­¡± I couldn¡¯t finish. The anger in her eyes, in the tightness of her jaw, I had no right to ask this of her. It was as stupidly naive a notion as any Desten 3 might put down.


    ¡°You don¡¯t know what you¡¯re asking,¡± Lanyss said coldly.


    ¡°I do. I understand that it¡¯s unreasonable to request. But he¡¯s young, and frightened, and only doing what he¡¯s been told to. He doesn¡¯t want to fight, doesn¡¯t want to kill. He¡¯s just lashing out. We can help him.¡±


    ¡°No. It¡¯s too late for that.¡± Any softness in her voice had vanished, replaced with anger and loathing. ¡°We are here to end this, not postpone judgment.¡±


    ¡°And I think we can end this without killing Desten. Please, let me try to talk to him at least. If he agrees to stand down without fighting, please.¡±


    ¡°He won¡¯t. He¡¯s too far gone. You can¡¯t change him. He¡¯s a killer now and that isn¡¯t going to change no matter what you say.¡±


    ¡°But let me try.¡±


    ¡°Fine. You can try. And then I¡¯ll avenge you as well as Let and Fylen.¡±


    I felt a chill as Lan turned her back and walked away toward the kitchen. I wasn¡¯t sure how to feel. She¡¯d agreed to let me face Desten, yes, but fully expecting me to die in the process. Well, I just had to prove her wrong.


    I finished the shield I¡¯d been working on, then dismissed it and returned to my room. My mind was no quieter, but my power and body were exhausted, and resting would be a good idea tactically.


    I lay awake for hours, staring into the unfamiliar shadows, and never noticed when I finally slipped into true sleep.


    All too early, the time had come. Pel woke me before dawn and I stumbled through the motions of changing and washing before joining him and the others in the front room. Lan was wearing armor over her robes, an odd mix of chain and plate linked together with straps, all of an unfamiliar blue metal. Pel and Vess wore the same simple robes as had been set out for me.


    Aneeyha sat in the corner, Fyless sleeping in her lap. She looked like she hadn¡¯t slept nearly enough either.


    I blinked. When had she come in? I glanced at Pel questioningly.


    ¡°I won¡¯t be joining you,¡± Aneeyha said softly. ¡°I¡¯m only here to deliver that.¡± She nodded toward Lan.


    ¡°You¡¯re sure no one will find out?¡± Lan asked, fingering the delicate chain that extended halfway down her hand, looped around her thumb to hold it in place.


    Aneeyha raised her chin. ¡°If they do, I do not care. I have chosen how I will act, and would do the same again. I will be waiting here for your return.¡±


    Pel nodded. ¡°Thank you.¡±


    Aneeyha smiled sadly. ¡°May the heights watch over you.¡±


    We reached the cottage on schedule. Glitters of blue, red, teal, and orange showed our allies spread out around the area as planned. Pel flared his own blue light in a quick signal, and received two orange pulses back in response.


    ¡°They¡¯re still inside,¡± he whispered. ¡°We¡¯ll try to take them by surprise.¡±


    Vess flicked his own aura into three quick silver bursts, which was answered by a single pulse from each of the others.


    I focused on holding my shield in place, as everyone else went dim. They still glowed faintly in the darkness, but compared to me they¡¯d be practically invisible. There was no helping it; I had to be prepared in advance. I couldn¡¯t possibly bring the shield up during a fight. It was obvious glow or nothing.


    I hung back as they advanced, then followed at the prescribed distance. If we could catch them sleeping and unaware, I may be unnecessary. But if it turned into a fight, I had to be ready to block any unfriendly attacks and divert attention away from the more vulnerable members. Pel and Vess would be focusing on offence, along with most of our unknown allies.


    The house was low and wide, single-story but easily large enough to contain my mother¡¯s house four times over, sturdily constructed with sheets of stone and metal beams. Plain windows looked out over the descent on three sides, the back built mostly into the side of the low hill atop which it perched so only a few feet of the back wall showed above the ground.


    The house had two exits, one in the front, another at the right side, but most of the windows looked large enough to be flown out of if necessary.


    Red and yellow light glowed across every door and windowframe, solid sheets that rippled oddly between the hues. It made the whole house look sinister and evil.


    Fortunately, any fields were situated further downhill and away from the lone house on the hilltop, so our battle shouldn''t cause much collateral damage to the commoners living nearby. I still instinctively identified with them more than with any of the nobility, especially after seeing how few people were willing to fight with us. The fact that Raysh had blatantly refused to hand Retti over was really shaking what little faith in humanity remained to me.


    Dawn began to light the sky, though the sun wasn''t yet visible past the mountains. I held my shield. Pelys and Vess followed Lan in a tight wedge, the two other groups advancing similarly.Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site.


    Pel''s blue power flashed out, dispelling the power across the front door. At almost the same moment, the two other teams erected secondary barriers across the exterior walls. An extra layer of power, outside of the house''s defences, to prevent any easy escape.


    We all knew it couldn''t hold Retti or Desten for long, but the hope was that they''d be less inclined to run with Desten 4 and Tali still trapped inside.


    The door stuck. Pel threw his weight against it, and it slammed open in a screech of metal on stone.


    ¡°So much for surprise. Go.¡±


    Lan led the way into the building, her armor glinting in the light of yellow and red lighting constructs along the walls and ceiling as she hurried through the entry and down the only hall. I followed next. My bubble brushed the edges of the wall and I had to consciously restrain it from damaging the structure, but at least that meant I could block the entire hallway.


    I heard Pel and Vess hurrying in behind me, along with three others from the other groups. The hall split, one branch continuing forward, the other splitting off to the left.


    ¡°Keep going straight,¡± one of our allies said. ¡°We¡¯ll check the side.¡±


    Lan nodded and strode onward. I followed as closely as I dared without letting my bubble get too close to her armor. I¡¯d seen what that strange metal did to constructs and I had no desire to be caught vulnerable here of all places.


    I heard the other group¡¯s footsteps as they split off, then we reached a second branching. Lan hesitated, then continued straight.


    It was completely quiet apart from our footsteps.


    The first room was sealed with red power; Lan simply touched her armored hand against it and the construct slowly destabilized and fell apart. It wasn¡¯t as fast as one of Pel¡¯s spikes or my shield, more like melting an ice cube with hot water, but it still cleared the door.


    Lan opened the door onto a meeting room or dining hall, a large table with chairs set around it. Pristine. Untouched. We continued past. Beyond the meeting room, the hall turned, a half-dozen doors lining it, each sealed with a sheet of red power.


    How big was this place?


    I felt lost, my heartbeat urgent. There were too many rooms to search. Every moment we spent trying to find them was another moment for them to recover from the surprise of being invaded.


    And the way the halls wound around through the building felt odd, as though trying to separate the rooms from each other rather than bring them closer.


    The first door was an empty bedroom. The next door was the same. Then a bathroom, then more bedrooms. How many people were supposed to live here? This was just one small section of the house overall, and it seemed set up to host a whole family.


    The hall turned another corner, ending in one last bedroom door.


    Still no one.


    Lan gestured for me to go back, but that required Pel and Vess to slip off into a side room while I passed, my always-active shield too big to allow them past in the hall. And that put me firmly in the lead as we reversed course and headed down the other branching.


    Another turn in the hall. I headed straight for the end, letting my bubble disperse all the barriers along the way. I smiled faintly. At least one good thing was coming of the oversized shield I had to wear; it would save time getting into those rooms.


    Pel and Vess each opened another door, while I poked into the last. Another empty bedroom. Lan strode past, turning the corner again and into the last hallway we hadn¡¯t searched yet.


    I started to follow, but before I could take more than a few steps, Lan returned. She shook her head. ¡°Empty.¡±


    I led the way back up the hall and we took another branching. My bubble dispelled any lighting lines it brushed up against, adding darkness to the eerily silent atmosphere.


    Soon the other team rejoined us, quietly informing Pel and I that their wing of the building had been abandoned as well.


    The passages wound around the building, splitting too many times for sense. From all the bedrooms and extra sitting rooms, my best guess was that this place was built to rent out to multiple families.


    Four sections of rooms, each distinct from the others. An impressive kitchen, three sparsely-stocked storage rooms, and a large dining area.


    And it was all empty.


    The second team split off again, searching the further corridors, but we were beginning to return through the same halls that we¡¯d already checked.


    The others glowed only faintly in the dimness, my heavy pink shield nearly the only real light now that I¡¯d inadvertently dispelled so many of the wall lights.


    We retraced our steps, slower, more cautiously, checking every door in case we¡¯d missed something.


    Nothing. The building was completely empty.


    Pel and Lan exited through the kitchen side door to quietly converse with the team watching that side. The edge of the sun was just beginning to peek above the mountains, scattered clouds casting patches of shadow across the frosted grass.


    ¡°No one has left since they returned yesterday. I swear it.¡±


    ¡°Well, no one is inside. Is there any other exit? Any way they could have concealed themselves?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t think they know they¡¯re being watched, but why would they pretend to return only to sneak off in the night?" The other man shrugged. "If you can¡¯t find them, then you take a turn watching out here while we find them.¡±


    I bristled at the implied insult, as though Pelys wasn¡¯t capable of looking through empty rooms and determining if they had occupants, but to my surprise Pel didn¡¯t punch the man for his insolence. He shrugged instead. ¡°Be my guest. Call if you find anything.¡±


    So we stood outside as the sun slowly rose into the sky, waiting in silence until the other team finally returned with obvious perplexity. ¡°You¡¯re right,¡± the leader reluctantly conceded. ¡°No one in there.¡±


    ¡°How did they slip past us?¡± one of the others on the team who¡¯d accompanied us inside asked. ¡°We were watching constantly.¡±


    "I don''t know, but this is a problem. If they knew to get out, maybe we''ve been worse at keeping ourselves hidden than we thought. If they can come and go without us seeing, who knows what else they''ve been up to?"


    "They could be anywhere," a woman on the other team agreed. "We need to find them."


    "Does anyone have access to a spectrum reader?" Vess asked. ¡°They¡¯re very strong, it¡¯s possible we could trace them, if they left recently enough.¡±


    Pel glanced at me. ¡°No, but we have something better.¡±


    I flinched back instinctively, memory of the last time he¡¯d used me as a search focus. ¡°No, I can¡¯t¡ª not¡ª¡± Last time he yanked out my power to fuel the search construct I¡¯d been out for a day; if we planned to chase them and risk a fight, I would be useless.


    ¡°It won¡¯t be like last time. You¡¯ve gained a lot of control. I promise, you can do this yourself.¡±


    ¡°Should I drop the shield?¡±


    He nodded. ¡°Lan, keep watch. Vess, shield us both.¡± Then he started painting the complex series of lines and reservoirs that somehow made up the tracing construct. A rough arrowhead shape, narrowest at its input and widening as it spread out and away. A minute later, it was complete. He rested my hand on the input. ¡°Go ahead. Just push your power out into it.¡±


    I hesitantly did so, encouraging liquid light to flow out from my hand and fill the construct. It didn¡¯t want to, trying to stay close to my body, but to my surprise I was able to overcome that reluctance without difficulty. Months spent shaping it to my will had done more for my control than I¡¯d realized.


    As it neared completion, the construct began to glow and vibrate, the pink light clashing against the blue which contained it.


    ¡°This is a lot easier to maintain with you handling the input,¡± Pel commented. ¡°Last time was, ah, exciting.¡±


    Then the construct snapped into place, disengaging from me as it began to rotate wildly in place, like a leaf fluttering on its branch in a heavy wind.


    It finally stilled, hovering between Pelys and me, its light dimmed except for three vividly glowing points. It had reoriented itself so the widest part was upright, as though balancing on the input point.


    ¡°Astesh, get your shield back up now,¡± Pel said with quiet intensity.


    I began the process at once, instinctively, but it would take nearly a half hour. I glanced at Pel questioningly.


    ¡°We missed something,¡± he whispered, pointing to the tip of the arrow. ¡°Desten 4 is downstairs.¡±


    ¡°There are no stairs down.¡±


    ¡°There must be. And that''s probably where Desten and Retti are. We didn''t miss them after all. They¡¯re still in there. Follow me. We need to triangulate.¡±


    I followed Pel around the other side of the house, where we repeated the search construct. Then a third time, at the front. The effort of powering the construct dragged my attention away from the slowly-forming shield and strained my focus to its limits, but I felt the urgency that had infected the group. Every moment we delayed gave Retti and Desten more time to prepare.


    Pelys frowned. ¡°He¡¯s deep. According to this, probably three or four floors down. There¡¯s no way of knowing where the entrance is from this. I hoped it would be a simple bunker. I wish we had a way to track anyone but the unconscious one.¡± He sighed and shook his head. ¡°Keep working on your shield.¡±


    ¡°Should you go without me?¡±


    ¡°Your shield is the strongest protection we have, aside from Lan¡¯s flashmail.¡±


    I had to admit he was right. With a forewarned enemy, we¡¯d need every advantage we could muster. I understood the necessity, but any composure I''d had this morning had vanished. Between the relaxing of tension of assuming we¡¯d have to resume the assault another day and the realization that we had just lost our only advantage yet had to continue, I¡¯d lost my edge. It was like realizing I still had work to finish right after lying down to sleep. Disorienting, leaving me far from my prime.


    My control over the partly-formed shield quivered, ripples crossing its liquid-light surface. I gritted my teeth and clamped down hard on my trepidation. This was no time for fear.


    Weeks of practice came to my aid as I fell into the practiced mindset and steadily built the shield, focusing my mind on the task and nothing else. I vaguely noticed our allies moving about, sometimes speaking to Pel or each other, but I couldn¡¯t have said what they spoke of.


    Still, no amount of familiarity could do away with my growing anxiety. Twice more I nearly lost control of the shield, but each time I was able to catch the error and continue. I had to grudgingly admit that Pelys¡¯s rather strenuous training methods did indeed translate to better control and faster recovery in a high-stress situation.


    Then my shield was finished, and no more excuses for delay presented themselves. The sun had risen fully now, its light reflecting golden off low clouds.


    ¡°I¡¯m ready.¡±


    Pelys nodded. ¡°Then let¡¯s go.¡±


    Lan led the way back inside, followed by Pel, Vess, and three others I didn¡¯t know. I brought up the rear, holding my shield steady and watching for any sudden movement.


    The hallways were dark now, only a few lines of light having survived my passage the first time. Sunlight spilled through the wide bedroom windows of the outer rooms, but most of the complex had no access to sunlight.


    Lan drew a point of light in the air and pushed it ahead of her to show the way, her blue-tinted armor glinting even deeper blue with the reflected glow.


    We went back over every bedroom, every hallway, every meeting room with a completely thorough search. In several of the rooms we discovered concealed doorways, but they only led to more bedrooms or hallways or meeting rooms which we''d already seen.


    No sign of a stairway down.


    ¡°Perhaps there¡¯s an external entrance downhill?¡± Vess whispered as we neared the kitchen. ¡°It looks like a housing complex more than anything else.¡±


    ¡°All those secret doors between rooms are suspicious,¡± Lan pointed out, also in a whisper. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t make any assumptions at this point.¡±


    ¡°We know they¡¯ve gone inside up here and haven''t left,¡± one of our allies added. ¡°It¡¯s pretty obvious they¡¯re using this place as a base. It¡¯s possible there is a secondary exit, but there also has to be a way down in from up here.¡±


    Twice I jumped at nothing. When Lan¡¯s light passed behind one of the others at just the wrong angle, it sent shadows flickering in my peripheral vision, and I was so on edge that it felt like an impending attack.


    The longer we spent searching the house with no interruption, the more unbearable the silence and uncertainty became. Any room could hold the secret descent; any door we opened could lead straight to our enemies.


    The kitchen and its attached dining hall were empty of secret doors, apart from one at the back of the dining hall providing access to the meeting room beyond - a room which could normally only be reached by traversing several corridors. Perhaps they were servant access? But then why would they be concealed?


    The whole place was too dark and quiet. I wanted someone to shout or laugh or scream - anything to break the quiet - but I didn¡¯t dare make a sound. I¡¯d have almost welcomed an ambush from Desten; at least it would put a stop to this interminable waiting.


    No attack came.


    We discovered hidden passages through easily half the rooms, but none led anywhere but to more rooms. And then we were finished, every room searched and no stairs down.


    ¡°Alright, we¡¯re doing this the hard way,¡± Pel said. He shook his head. ¡°Probably should have started with this.¡± He led the way confidently to the meeting room most central to the structure overall, then created another search construct. ¡°Astesh?¡±


    It took a bit of finagling to figure out how to shift my shield around so I could reach the input without the shield dispelling the whole thing, and I didn¡¯t dare risk the shield. My steadily increasing anxiety did nothing to aid in concentrating. But somehow I managed it. The construct swung about, finally coming to a stop pointing downward and a little to the left.


    ¡°Stand back.¡± Pel waited for us to obey, then launched a scything attack at the floor, tearing into the carpet and floorboards beneath.


    Vess and two of the others moved to help, clearing away the detritus as he continued smashing further down. Lan stood by the door and our third helper joined Pel in digging our impromptu tunnel.


    Even if Desten and Retti had somehow overlooked our presence they wouldn¡¯t be able to miss this.


    Less than five minutes later, Pel broke through into the room beneath: another bedroom much like those in every direction. Lan stepped forward and dropped down, motioning for me to follow.


    I followed.


    <hr>

 42: Descent

    We are ten. Not because we are of all houses, but because we are of none. Anlioh is our house, truth is our creed, and secrecy is our only shield.


    -Recovered from a partially burned letter, circa year 82.


    <hr>


    The hallways down here seemed nearly identical to the upstairs. Too many turns, too many rooms, no clarity. It sprawled in every direction and we had no frame of reference.


    It would be very easy to get lost down here.


    Lan stood by the hallway door until everyone had entered, though it became increasingly crowded in the bedroom as they dropped down. I hung back to bring up the rear, careful to keep my shield away from anyone.


    Once we were all safely descended, Lan advanced through the hallway in a random direction, roughly northward if I remembered our orientation correctly. Each time we reached a turning, she headed left. Every door we came to, we opened.


    Like the floor above, the place seemed empty and deserted. The lights were brighter here, stripes of red and yellow along the ceilings just out of reach of my destructive bubble.


    No one spoke. I watched the three strangers in our group, wanting to at least ask their names to break the tension of our slow progress, but we continue to move as quietly as possible. I will refused to be the one who got us all killed.


    "I don''t know who you are or why you invaded my home. Please go now. I don''t want to have to hurt you."


    Desten 5.


    I snapped my attention up at the sound of his voice. He stood defiantly blocking Lan¡¯s route forward, surrounded by a dozen orbiting pyramids of fiery yellow light.


    His aura smoothly faded from his natural yellow through steady fluctuations of silver and cyan; nothing like his father¡¯s erratic power, but just as horrifying. Pel¡¯s guess had been right. Whatever idiocy they¡¯d attempted, it had worked.


    Then Lan charged, screaming inarticulately. Desten waved a hand, sending a half-dozen of his floating pyramids streaking toward her, elongating into silver-edged blades as they flew.


    I watched, helpless, too far away to interfere, unable to reach them without pushing through everyone on our team and breaking all their defences in the process.


    ¡°Lan, stop! Wait! You promised I could talk to him.¡±


    She didn¡¯t stop. Either she¡¯d forgotten her promise or just didn¡¯t care.


    Desten¡¯s projectiles splashed against her armor and disappeared.


    He hesitated, taken off guard, and Lan tackled him physically to the ground. His shield puffed out of existence and he instinctively sent his remaining constructs slamming - uselessly - into his assailant¡¯s back.


    Lan roughly grabbed his arms and held them flat against her side, keeping the flashmail in direct contact with his skin.


    ¡°If you have anything to say to him, say it,¡± she growled.


    ¡°Uh, I feel like this might work better if he weren¡¯t¡ª¡±


    Desten¡¯s power flared out in every direction, melting into the floor and splashing up the walls. Any that contacted Lan¡¯s armor hissed away to nothing, but that wasn¡¯t enough to stop him.


    Vess and the soldier at the front backed away several steps as the air shimmered with heat. Lan remained in the center of the inferno for only a few seconds longer, then cried out and jumped back, wringing her hand.


    Desten got unsteadily to his feet, breathing hard as he stood amid molten stone, hovering just above the pooling fire beneath him. ¡°Go. Away.¡±


    The defensive pyramids began to form around him again, though the aura of searing flame didn¡¯t diminish. It was an awesome display of power and control.


    I knew then that we didn¡¯t stand a chance. If the flashmail wasn¡¯t enough to hold him¡ª


    ¡°Astesh, if you want to say anything, then say it.¡± Lan hadn¡¯t backed off far, standing just at the edge of the circle of fire. It had to be terribly uncomfortable that close to the inferno.


    I cleared my throat uneasily. ¡°Desten. Please. I know you¡¯ve been put into a terrible situation, but you don¡¯t have to lash out. If you¡¯ll come away with us we can get you help. You don¡¯t have to become what Retti wants. You can do what you want. Create. Not destroy.¡±


    ¡°What do you know?¡± Desten¡¯s voice echoed and warbled, distorted by the power around him which only continued to grow. ¡°You bring him here and expect me to believe anything you say?¡±


    I followed his glare, and found Pelys. It took a moment to figure out why Desten would have anything against Pel, until I remembered that the last time they¡¯d seen each other Pel had been doing his best to neutralize Retti.


    Lan backed up several steps, the heat growing too much for her.


    Desten advanced, forcing her to retreat further, the floor beginning to glow with heat as he flew slowly toward us. ¡°Haven¡¯t you done enough? If it weren¡¯t for him, none of this would have been necessary! This is your fault. Everything I¡¯ve had to do, if you hadn¡¯t¡ª¡±


    I realized then that his voice wavered on its own, even without the distortion of his raging power.


    ¡°Please, it doesn¡¯t have to be this way. If you¡¯ll leave Retti¡ª¡±


    ¡°No! You will not do any more harm to my family.¡± He pointed at Lan. ¡°Stand aside. My quarrel is with him, not any of you.¡± He pointed at Pelys.


    Pel stepped forward, power flexing into a series of curved shields. He already had a stock of ice lances hovering behind him. Lan put out a hand to stop him, but he shook his head at her. ¡°I will face him on behalf of Fylen.¡±


    ¡°No,¡± Lan said. ¡°I will face him on behalf of Hylet. My claim is stronger.¡±


    Pel hesitated, then stepped back.


    ¡°Desten, please,¡± I said, but no one was listening.


    Desten fired half of his pyramids at Pel. Lan stepped to the side to intercept them, catching all but two of them. They vanished against her flashmail, though the movement brought her into the heat of Desten¡¯s inferno and she flinched back.


    Pel deflected one of the remaining two with his curved half-shield, shunting it off into the wall where it shattered. The second smashed through the shield leaving a splintered hole from its violent passage. Pel took a step back and stabbed out with a blade of dispelling force, which seemed to have no effect, then another at the last moment that dispersed the construct.


    But all the time Desten had been replacing his missiles, and now had the same amount as before. He launched a second volley, more spread out so Lan couldn¡¯t possibly intercept more than two of them.


    ¡°Desten, stop!¡± I screamed. ¡°None of this has to happen! We can talk, we can come to...¡±


    One of the others, the second team that Pel brought in whose names I hadn¡¯t heard, raised a fist in my direction and glared; my pleas died as it was clear no one was listening.


    Pel was retaliating now, firing his own attacks. None of them made it through Desten¡¯s aura of flames. Vess stood beside Pel, supporting him with attacks, shields, or healing as necessary. The other team had formed a triangle behind Lan, switching offense and defence at a moment¡¯s notice.


    Desten remained focused solely on Pelys. If not for the others defending, I knew he would have lost long since. As it was, we were barely holding him off. Six against one and we couldn¡¯t even touch him.Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more.


    I stood helplessly at the back, holding my shield steady but unable to advance without throwing the rest of our allies into chaos. The hall was too narrow for me to slip past, my shield filling it almost completely. I might be able to fly over someone lying flat on the ground without disrupting their constructs, but I certainly couldn¡¯t slip through the crowded hallway without wreaking chaos on my allies.


    I turned to look behind us, even though it felt utterly wrong to turn my back on Desten. If I was the rear guard, I had to be sure Retti wasn¡¯t sneaking up on us.


    No one was there.


    But that did remind me of the secret doors we¡¯d discovered between all the different rooms upstairs. The whole compound was connected in a big loop. Could I get in behind Desten? If I could get close enough for my bubble to disrupt his flame aura, that would give us a chance.


    I took a step toward the nearest door, then hesitated. If I left, they¡¯d be vulnerable from behind.


    I glanced back at the fight. Pel was completely on the defensive now, no longer finding time to fire off attacks, focusing on shield after shield after shield, throwing them between him and Desten barely fast enough to fend off the relentless stream of attacks.


    Nope. If I did nothing, we¡¯d lose anyway. If Retti showed up, I wasn¡¯t going to be enough to turn the tide.


    This was our only chance.


    I sprinted through the door, into a bedroom. No, I needed something nearer the edge. The center rooms weren¡¯t interconnected.


    I slipped through the door to the bathroom, then out into another bedroom on the other side. From there, into the hall beyond.


    I could still hear the roar of flame, the splintering cracks of power flung too fast and too sharp against each other, but apart from a faint fiery glow on the wall behind me I was well away from the conflict.


    I had to find a route around. I sketched a quick map of light in front of me, filling it in as I ran, pink lightning flickering around me as time slowed. I shoved open doors, searching for the secret passages that had to be somewhere, but finding none.


    Half a minute, more perhaps, and I was making no progress.


    This wasn¡¯t going to be enough. I needed to be faster.


    I glanced down at my makeshift map, The closest I¡¯d been to the fight was the sitting room, but it had no access points. Following the twisty logic of the place, I knew there had to be a bedroom between it and the hall, but they belonged to different apartment sets.


    No. I was thinking too small, too constrained.


    I wanted to smack myself for being stupid. There wasn¡¯t a door? I could make one. I may not be Pelys levels of strong, but I could smash through a wall easily enough.


    I sprinted back to the meeting room, reoriented myself to be sure I had the right wall before I started smashing. I had to open a hole in my shield, since I was unable to create external constructs at a distance like some people, it had to be connected to my hand at least at the start. I formed a blade and started slashing. Behind the wood paneling, the wall was stone and metal, smoothly formed into perfect planes, but I knew I could break through.


    I¡¯d melted through Pelys¡¯s balcony railing in seconds. I could do this.


    I switched my power to a formless blob pressed against the wall, then willed it to heat up. Boil, steam, whatever.


    The desperation of my desire translated perfectly. The power melted into the wall, stone heated up and dripping down the sides, cooling almost immediately. It took another half a minute - too long! - but it worked.


    I jumped through the hole and into the bedroom I¡¯d known had to be beyond. Another quick check of my map, and I ran through the attached bathroom and another bedroom, then out into the hall beyond.


    I would be around the corner in back of Desten. Out of sight of everyone.


    I repaired the hole in my shield, forcing myself to take the time, though I could hardly think straight. Then I ran, power flowing at its maximum limits, the shield pulsing at full strength, moving as fast as I¡¯d ever moved in my life.


    Around the corner.


    Desten stood with his back to me, facing five illuminated figures that were still only barely visible beyond the raging flames surrounding him. The ground beneath his feet was molten and smoking. I pushed myself into the air, though the effort of flight allowed the battle to move a bit faster as my speed was leeched to fuel the levitation.


    I barely slowed, charging him at full speed. I felt the impact when my flickering dispelling shield came into contact with his aura, the strain as the two powers tried to burn each other away.


    For a split second I thought I had him, then his power overwhelmed mine.


    The shield puffed to nothing. I had no time to react before colliding bodily with Desten¡¯s back. Flame seared my face and hands, setting my robes alight, even as something deeper resonated through me. I felt my powerstone vibrating in my chest, trying to draw closer to Desten like a magnet to steel. All in the same instant.


    I screamed, pushing myself away. I cleared his aura and landed out of reach, collapsing to the ground. My power faltered as pain claimed full ownership of my attention.


    I was on fire. For a moment I couldn¡¯t think what to do, then I took a deep breath and drew a basic shield tight around myself, expanding it outward in a quick burst. Deprived of air, the flames died, leaving scorched cloth and reddening skin showing in open patches.


    ¡°Pel, help!¡± He could do his healing thing. ¡°Vess?¡± One of them. Someone. I squinted to see past Desten, hoping they could do something to help.


    Even if my attack had been less a battle-ending victory than I¡¯d imagined, it had distracted Desten quite thoroughly. He spun on me with a snarl of rage, and I knew at once that I¡¯d severely miscalculated. There would be no reasoning with him.


    I was about to die. No shield I could put up would possibly protect me. I watched his deadly missiles streak toward me at incredibly slowed pace, powerless to defend myself. How had Pelys ever believed I would be useful here? This was a place for master combatants, not a downcity commoner who stumbled into too much power.


    Why. Why why why¡­


    I still couldn¡¯t fathom it. Couldn¡¯t put my mind into any place that understood what Retti and Desten were doing.


    What sort of person went around killing others for their power? What sort of person was okay with this insanity and violence? How could that possibly be justified?


    I couldn¡¯t fathom it, couldn¡¯t grasp it. My mind wasn¡¯t capable of modeling that kind of mindset. Even when I knew I was about to die.


    It just didn¡¯t make sense.


    Desten¡¯s flames died as something tackled him out of the air. He slammed face-first into the molten stone beneath him, his constructs faltering in their course. They continued on, straight and no longer guided, and I had just enough time to roll aside as they all slammed into the ground where I¡¯d been lying a moment before.


    Lan knelt on Desten¡¯s back, holding him in the rapidly-cooling stone. I didn¡¯t want to watch, but any movement sent fresh agony through my burned body.


    Pelys stood behind her at the edge of the molten stone, disrupting any attempt by Desten to activate his power.


    Between Lan¡¯s flashmail and Pelys¡¯s watchfulness, the attempts diminished until Desten lay still and the glow of power faded from his skin.


    No one moved for a long moment.


    ¡°Lan, you¡¯ll need to take that armor off if you want healing,¡± Pel said quietly. Lan knelt trembling atop Desten¡¯s body and didn¡¯t respond.


    Vess raised a hand toward me, draping me with the most wonderful soothing blanket of power I¡¯d ever experienced. Calming and healing. My power slid through Vess¡¯s, strengthening and encouraging it to greater speed.


    ¡°Cay can take it for now,¡± said one of the strangers, the man with teal power in tight loops around his body like extra-thick belts. There were only two now; one of their number lay as dull and unmoving as Desten.


    Cay, the only woman of their trio, took a step toward Lan as though to transfer the flashmail immediately.


    Pelys glared at her, and she raised her hands and backed off. Instead, she focused on building up her own shields again, blue power flowing out in a smooth ripple.


    I lay watching passively. I didn¡¯t even have the energy to feel horrified any longer, though I should have been furious at Desten¡¯s fate.


    It felt like a betrayal, somehow, to spend so many months wanting to save him only to stop caring the moment it actually mattered. Just because he¡¯d tried to kill me instead of someone I didn¡¯t know well enough. How stupidly shallow could I be? How naive?


    But I had no strength to worry over it. I could only lie helplessly as my body slowly put itself back together under Vess¡¯s and my combined power. My robes were barely fit to be called such any longer, scorched and melted through in places, smelling of smoke and blood. Thankfully they were cheap and of no importance. I¡¯d have felt bad if they were properly tailored house robes.


    Lan didn¡¯t seem to notice the activity around her, tears streaming silently down her face, though whether from pain or rage or some other emotion I couldn¡¯t guess. She made no move to divest herself of the flashmail, so Pelys and Vess did their best to heal her exposed face and hands without their power coming in contact with the strange blue disruptive metal of the armor. It wasn¡¯t nearly as fast or efficient as the full-body power surrounding me, but Lan¡¯s injuries were much less extensive than my own.


    ¡°Daum, keep a lookout.¡± Cay pointed back the way we¡¯d come from, as she walked past me to the other corner. ¡°I¡¯ll watch here.¡±


    Vess finished with Lan and started toward me, then hesitated beside Desten¡¯s body with a frown. ¡°Do you feel that?¡± he asked quietly.


    Pel shook his head. ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°A ¡­ vibration.¡± Vess put a hand to his chest, brows furrowing. ¡°Is it from the flashmail?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± Lan said. ¡°Flashstone negates. It does not resonate.¡±


    Vess glanced down at Desten. ¡°Is he ¡­?¡±


    ¡°Dead.¡± Pelys said. ¡°Very much so.¡±


    ¡°Then what¡­?¡±


    ¡°I felt it,¡± I said. ¡°When I was fighting him and got too close. Like my stone wanted to pull toward him.¡±


    Vess nodded. ¡°Yeah, that¡¯s the same feeling. Why is it doing that?¡±


    ¡°Probably something to do with why his power is so strong,¡± I said. ¡°Pel thinks they¡¯ve figured out some way to augment powerstones successfully.¡±


    ¡°There is no way someone that young should have lasted even ten seconds against us,¡± Pel agreed. ¡°That was not an ordinary amount of power. I¡¯ve never even seen someone with that kind of power, and I know a lot of the best Sarosa has to offer.¡±


    ¡°I believe they¡¯ve found a way to combine other people¡¯s power into their own,¡± I said quietly. ¡°That¡¯s why Fylen¡¯s heartstone was stolen.¡±


    ¡°Should we do something?¡± Vess asked uncomfortably. ¡°This feels really weird.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯ll fade if you move away. I can¡¯t even feel it from over here.¡± I sat up gingerly.


    Vess shook himself and hurried toward me. ¡°Hold still. This is no substitute for proper rest and recuperation. You¡¯re lucky. If it had gone any deeper, I can¡¯t do more than surface level.¡±


    ¡°Are we doing the right thing?¡± I asked faintly. ¡°Or is it just vengeance?¡±


    Vess shook his head. ¡°I don¡¯t know, Astesh. That¡¯s not something I¡¯m concerned with. But you don¡¯t just come back from something like that. The kind of killing he¡¯s been doing, Fylen, Hylet, Trein, and who knows how many others? I don¡¯t think you could have saved him.¡±


    Why.


    But I subsided into silence and let Vess continue his work. And I tried very hard not to feel like a complete failure.


    <hr>

 43: Clash

    It is a common misconception that those with a certain colour of power cannot perform certain tasks. Yes, it is easiest and most natural for one with yellow power to perform heating spells while one with blue is most naturally attuned to cold, but yellow can be liquid just as easily as blue can be flame.


    Which is to say, with great difficulty; but that difficulty is not insurmountable. It is therefore our request that an additional course be added to all schools in the Leetan-Metako region in cross-hue power constructs. This is a vastly underserviced field which deserves to be lifted from obscurity into common use.


    -Petition 3899-355, to the reirns of Leetan and Metako. 900 signatures were attached.


    <hr>


    Retti never appeared.


    We waited beside Desten¡¯s body for nearly an hour while Vess and Pel worked to heal myself and Lan from the battle, then while I painstakingly reconstructed the shield. I wasn¡¯t sure how much faith I should put in it at this point - Desten had broken it with seeming ease - but he was also supercharged with far too much power.


    Power that still resonated in my chest whenever I passed nearby, trying to draw me in closer. Uneasily, I sidestepped away from the body. No thank you. I wanted nothing to do with this madness. And I still thought there should have been some way to save him. Maybe if I¡¯d acted sooner. Maybe if I¡¯d stayed in Varonhold instead of touring with Desten 3. Maybe¡­ maybe I could have made a difference.


    But now it was too late.


    Finally, everyone recovered - apart from our dead ally, whose name had apparently been Trein - and my shield back to full strength, we resumed our methodical search of the area. It bore an incredible resemblance to the upstairs, but for the lack of windows. The only thing missing was the kitchen, which I supposed must be a communal area for everyone.


    Yet though the compound could easily hold a dozen families, and seemed intended to do so, we found no one.


    No sign of Retti, but for the red lines of light painted across ceilings and walls to provide light. No Tali. No one else.


    Then, someone screamed. A long, broken, half-strangled sound of agony, that didn¡¯t stop.


    Pel glanced at the teal-glowing man from the second team. Daum. He nodded and motioned, and we abandoned our methodical search and hurried toward the sound. Lan in the lead, the others spread out between us.


    The scream finally died away to silence. We¡¯d reached one end of a hall, several bedroom doors surrounding it. Lan pushed the first open, then shook her head. Empty. And the next.


    The third door led onto a wide stone stairway descending into darkness.


    Lan started down, Pel and Daum right behind her, Vess and Cay following, myself last.


    The stair curved and widened as it descended, until it came out into a wide high-ceilinged room carved smoothly and perfectly from the heart of the mountain¡¯s stone. It flickered with multi-hued light, pulsing from dozens of unmoving bodies.


    I stared, horrified. The room was filled with stone slabs, each about waist height, each with silver-blue chains running down the sides. Perhaps fifty total; the room was vast.


    Over half the slabs were occupied. Some of the people had power that flickered jagged and erratic, like Desten 4¡¯s. Others pulsed and flowed smoothly from hue to hue, like Desten 5¡¯s had.


    All were bound to their slabs by the thin blue chains, power dying when it got too close to the flashstone. Most of the bodies lay still, breathing slow and steady, drawing immediate comparison to Desten 4''s coma. One woman thrashed and convulsed wildly, the clatter of the chain scraping against stone piercing the silence in a horrible rhythm. She had barely a finger¡¯s width of slack, and none of her twisting and yanking did anything to improve her position.


    Another man lay with his head turned aside, trembling silently. His power pulsed in smooth waves, interspersed with jagged shocks of instability.


    I felt sick. So this is where the disappearing people had been going.


    It had been bad enough when I¡¯d imagined she¡¯d murdered them for their powerstones, at least that would have been quick if brutal. This felt so much worse.


    Another scream pierced through the relative quiet with a suddenness that made me jump. This one was weaker, rasping, ending in a whimper. Lan stepped toward the voice, then stopped short and put a hand to her chest.


    Not all the bodies on the slabs were still alive.


    I hadn¡¯t noticed it at first, but one toward the middle of the room was ripped open, splattered blood vivid red against the dull skin, rivulets slowly sliding down the side of the stone slab upon which the body rested to join the growing pool on the floor. The space at the center of the chest where a hearstone should have rested was a dark hole with shards of bone protruding from the force of whatever had shattered it apart.


    It reminded me too much of Fylen¡¯s body. I couldn¡¯t even tell if it had been a man or a woman.


    ¡°This was recent,¡± Lan said, her voice sounding choked.


    Why?


    A hand reached up and gripped the side of the stone slab. I stared for a moment, disoriented and uncertain.


    Retti pulled herself up to a standing position, then levitated into the air. Her face was streaked with tears and her shirt torn, but there was nothing but cold anger and defiance in her expression. She drew herself up, her aura pulsing in slow rhythm between red, silver, and orange, with flickers of cyan, yellow, and purple. It was somewhere between the smooth integration of her son and the erratic instability of her husband, but just as powerful as either.


    It felt exactly like a nightmare. She rose into the air, utterly aloof from the suffering and death of which she¡¯d been the direct cause.


    ¡°Where¡¯s Desten?¡± Retti demanded, pointing at Lan. ¡°What have you done with my son?¡±


    Lan didn¡¯t answer, but Retti¡¯s face darkened. Before anyone could speak, she snarled and flung out a hand, sending spears of crimson light in all directions. One hissed to nothing against Lan¡¯s flashmail; another bounced off the shield of our teal-powered ally. One skimmed past me, only for its edge to brush my shield and the furious barbs tore it to mist that faded in a second.Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings.


    Retti was laughing, madly, but not the same broken laugh I¡¯d heard from Desten 5 the night he¡¯d killed Fylen. This was deeper, heavier. The laugh of someone who knew she could not be touched. Amusement at us, layered with grief for Desten and the certainty of vengeance, interlaced with whatever broken splinters of sanity may once have remained to her.


    The laugh turned to a shriek of frustration as her attacks were deflected or simply missed. Her power flickered and wavered; her control over it was weak and tenuous as it partially destabilized. She dropped down a few feet then closed her eyes and hovered in place, aura flickering, no attacks forthcoming.


    Pel and Vess took that as their cue to retaliate. Pel fired off several of his ice lances, Vess adding silver-sharp points as they flew past him, intensifying the light to the point where I could barely look at them. Our remaining allies, Cay and Daum, did not bother with fancy combined attacks but joined torrents of individual missiles to the barrage.


    When the attacks reached Retti¡¯s aura, they were violently thrown off course. Instead of piercing through her protections, or even bouncing off them, they were pulled into the unstable power spinning around her. As I watched, the attacks twisted and warped like ink in water, slowly dissolving into the raging chaos of Retti¡¯s aura.


    She didn¡¯t make any move to counterattack. She simply hovered, breathing heavily, eyes closed, power fluctuating around her like a mad multihued hurricane.


    Pel and Vess continued their barrage, but to no avail. Regardless of whether they fired small attacks or large ones, slow or fast, thin and solid or broad and light, all met the same fate; sucked into the cyclone power whirling around our adversary to be torn apart before coming close to her.


    ¡°Stop,¡± Lan said. ¡°My turn.¡± She took a half step, then threw herself toward Retti like a projectile, flying with ever-increasing speed. She collided with Retti hard enough that they both slammed into the distant wall.


    Retti¡¯s chaotic aura hissed out of existence as Lan¡¯s flashmail cut through it.


    I exhaled in relief as the brilliant chaos faded, leaving everything dimmer in its absence. The fluctuating auras of the people chained throughout the room still illuminated the scene clearly, but with Retti no longer trying to imitate the sun it was much easier to make out what was happening.


    Retti said something to Lan; I saw her mouth move, but we were too far away to hear. A flash of red light. Then Lan screamed and tumbled through the air, her flight disrupted. She tried to orient herself but her blue power flared out uselessly, erratically, without giving her any lift.


    Lan slammed into the ground with the clatter of metal on stone.


    Retti¡¯s ringing laugh echoed across the room. ¡°Thank you, that was exactly what I needed. I will be sure to record your contributions to the cause. This is a marvelous discovery.¡±


    Lan lay twitching and whimpering on the floor beneath Retti¡¯s hovering form, and did not rise.


    ¡°No.¡± Pel growled. He abandoned any pretense of holding shields ready, putting all his power into a building attack like an orb of frozen power, nearly half as tall as Pel himself.


    Meanwhile, Daum was doing something himself, building a group twisting ribbons of his teal power that moved like fish or eels, undulating as they orbited him, each arrow-sharp at the tip, growing thicker behind. I had never seen anything like it before.


    But even as he launched them forward, Retti¡¯s aura sprang back into existence, smooth and stable, growing stronger every moment.


    Daum¡¯s attacks reached her, and she didn¡¯t even seem to notice. The sharp points sliced into her aura, then they elongated and narrowed, squirming in an attempt to burrow through. For a moment, I thought they¡¯d succeed. Retti¡¯s stable aura seemed much less dangerous than the chaotic mass it had been before.


    Then her eyes flicked to the wriggling constructs trying to bite through her semi-solid aura. A tiny flare of power pulsed out, dispelling them all at once.


    Pel¡¯s ice orb smashed into her power a moment later. The moment it impacted, it shattered into a hundred shards that all converged on the same point, trying to carve through by creating its own weak point. A futile attempt. Once all were expended, the power surrounding Retti flowed as smoothly and unperturbed as ever.


    She was simply too strong for anything we did to touch her. Only Lan had a chance, and she¡ª


    I couldn¡¯t just stand by.


    I waited until Vess and Cay fired their attacks in the barrage, Pel and Daum not far behind, then pushed myself into the air. I flew fast, rushing to beat the missiles to Retti. If I could bring down her aura with my disruptive shield, maybe a few of their attacks would get through.


    As I neared her I focused all my power on keeping the shield strong and let momentum carry me forward. Lost god, let this be enough.


    We were outmatched and we knew it. This was a job for reirns, not a ragtag group of acquaintances who barely knew each other. For a moment, I didn¡¯t care that any such large scale invasion would shatter the Alliance and let the houses return to outright war.


    It felt incredibly unfair that everyone in power had seen fit to abdicate their responsibility, ignoring this growing threat just to protect themselves politically. It couldn¡¯t possibly be that hard to insert an assassination team into Raysh - if Pelys could do it, if Aneeyha could smuggle the Sarosa flashmail in, why hadn¡¯t anyone else? Sure, we had maybe a dozen people here, but against this? We needed more. So much more.


    Where were the conversant? Wasn¡¯t it their job to stop something like this from happening? To ¡®ensure power flowed in its proper course¡¯ or something? How had months passed without them hearing about this and coming in to stop it?


    Why??


    Then I collided with Retti, and the force of my shield was immediately strained to its limit. I pushed outward, drawing on my stone for more power. The world slowed as I tore at the protective shell around the one responsible for so much death and tragedy.


    Every tiny bite my shield took out of her aura began to immediately refill, but it wasn¡¯t instantaneous. Her power pushed back, eating away at my shield like acid, but so far neither had gained supremacy.


    I wouldn¡¯t be able to keep it up for long. Already the strain was enough to make me tremble, vision fading around the edges in my hyperconcentration.


    Pel¡¯s attack swerved around me, just missing brushing against my shield, and slammed through the weakened point. The silvery light of Vess¡¯s augment broke apart in the collision, but Pel¡¯s spear continued through unimpeded to stab right through Retti¡¯s throat.


    For a moment, I thought it might be over.


    Retti¡¯s aura flickered and she dropped, no longer sustaining her flight, but caught herself just before hitting the ground. Cay¡¯s attack bounced off the back of my shield, poorly aimed or out of control. Daum¡¯s weird arrowhead-balloon-eels flew past and began burrowing into the far wall until he lassoed them with thin lines of power and set them back on target.


    Before they reached Retti, she¡¯d dispelled Pel¡¯s spear. There was blood on her fingers, but the red across her neck was solid power and she seemed relatively untroubled.


    Her power lashed out, dispelling Daum¡¯s attacks before they came close, then slamming straight into my shield. I couldn¡¯t hold on; I¡¯d lost focus, and already expended too much. My power broke apart and dissolved to nothing.


    Then Retti flew forward and grabbed me by the throat. I struggled and kicked, but power snapped out in gold-streaked crimson threads to hold me still. I thought I heard Pelys shout something, but he was too far away and the power around us distorted his voice.


    ¡°You¡¯ve been an irritant for too long,¡± Retti hissed. ¡°It¡¯s high time you did something useful with your miserable existence. Where is my son?¡±


    She let up her grip enough that I could speak. I coughed and gasped for breath, trying to think of how to answer. The truth would not do. She was already unstable enough.


    ¡°Speak!¡±


    ¡°Upstairs¡ª¡± true. ¡°Stuck in the floor with flashmail so he can¡¯t break out.¡± That sounded possible, right? And it was close enough to the truth that my voice didn¡¯t waver.


    She smiled. ¡°Good. Then you wait here while I retrieve him. I¡¯m surprised you managed to find so much flashstone, but I¡¯ll definitely put it to good use. I¡¯ve been running low myself.¡±


    Then something purple flashed in her hand. Before I could reply, she slammed it into my chest. I felt it collide with the lump that was my own powerstone, then a hot pressure with a thousand blades spearing out in every direction.


    It felt like she¡¯d just shattered my stone, the fragments forced out in every direction. Through my heart, my lungs, my spine¡ª


    Everything but internal sensation vanished; sight and sound and touch subsumed by the sudden hyperawareness of the unimaginable pain in my chest.


    I fell.


    <hr>

 44: Fallen

    Aosa is the primary moon, both the largest and closest. It is possible to reach it with enough preparation, but as it contains no breathable atmosphere and its soil has a disruptive effect on constructs similar to flashstone, it has been deemed uninhabitable.


    Despite this, attempts have been made to establish a watchpost upon its surface to provide early warning of incursions. Such efforts have never come to fruition.


    -Aosa and Erae


    <hr>


    Something cold and hard impacted against me from the side. I barely noticed.


    I was burning. I was broken. Nothing but purple light and unstoppable power burning through my blood, pain and pain and pain.


    I breathed in light and exhaled pain and felt it all burning and slicing and tearing me apart from the inside.


    It was like when Pelys tore my power out, but worse. So much worse. A thousand times worse. Physical as well as mental, as well as intangible.


    I was dying but couldn¡¯t even manage to do it properly. I wanted it to stop, to end, but I knew it never could.


    Fire in my blood, purple light searing my body apart, and yet I lived.


    Why?


    Why?


    WHY????


    Somehow my body knew what to do. I pulled the power in, drawing it through my body and out into the world, even through the chaos. I felt the shield segment forming, distant and tremulous, the shield I¡¯d spent so long practicing.


    Through the burning, through the dying, I still did what I¡¯d been trained to do.


    I might have laughed if I had any breath left.


    The shield formed slowly and did absolutely nothing to distract my attention from the agony. But it was progress of a sort. A thing that could progress. A marker of time passing so I could know I had not been trapped in an endless moment forever.


    It didn¡¯t make it any better.


    I pulled harder, straining to fit myself back together. It had been minutes, ten, maybe more, and I was still breathing. I was still dying, but still not dead.


    Oh, and I was screaming. I hadn¡¯t noticed at first. It kind of disappeared into the overall torment, but as I slowly regained some semblance of mental control I began to think that perhaps I wasn¡¯t actually going to die after all.


    Why?


    Build the shield. Ignore the pain. Retti could come back any moment and she¡¯ll be out for blood. Build the shield. Ignore the pain.


    Can¡¯t be ignored. Endure. Endure the pain. Build the shield.


    Fire.


    Build the shield.


    Pain.


    Not dying. Not quite.


    Shield.


    Purple light.


    The shield hit something and shattered, its structure disintegrating before I even realized what was happening. It took me a long moment to understand. Lan¡¯s flashmail. I must have landed near her.


    Start over. Build the shield. Pull the power in. Endure the pain. Hold it in closer this time, not stretching out so far.


    Distant flashes of blue and silver and teal and red and red and red. Blurry, vague.


    Sound coming slowly into focus.


    Screaming. Retti? Yes, but also someone else. A man? And me. Of course me as well. Faint, by now. Rasping.


    Why?


    I tried to catch my breath, tried to hold steady for more than a split second. Too much. Too deep.


    Fire. Purple light.


    Shield.


    The blades through my chest were beginning to melt. I wasn¡¯t bleeding. Wasn¡¯t dying. It only felt like it. An illusion of death. Though the reality would be welcome, any escape, any refuge.


    Vess?


    I shouldn¡¯t be here. I should be in a chilly office beneath a drafty bedroom, scribbling inconsequential nonsense for the richer commoners. Why did life lately involve so much pain? I wasn¡¯t a warrior, wasn¡¯t a hero. I shouldn¡¯t be here.


    Yet here I remained. The reality could not be escaped or denied.


    I lay screaming on the cold stone floor of a buried vault, one more broken body among so many, my power shattered, my future empty.


    Alive, why?


    At least you¡¯ll be useful now.


    One more experiment. One more point of data. One more in a row waiting for her decision to end us.


    NO.


    I blinked away the tears and focused. My shield was half formed. So, maybe another ten minutes had passed.


    Endure.


    I had to see what was happening. It had been long enough, if the others were still fighting¡ª


    Lights flared nearby. For a moment I imagined it was Vess coming to save me.


    No. Just one of the helpless prisoners, power fluctuating out of control.


    My vision blurred. The room was too still, too quiet. Rhythmic clatter. Metal on stone. No crack of power on power. Only the heavy sound of too many people breathing with too little strength.


    Purple light and pink fire.


    Endure.


    My shield flared and pulsed around me as it reached full form, the colours shifting and blending.


    I turned my head toward Lan, hoping she could help. But she lay dead beside me in a too-large pool of blood. Her hands and arms were mangled beyond recognition, shredded lumps of bloody flesh. I shuddered and looked away.


    Why


    I wanted to sit up and look around properly, but even tilting my head had been unbearable. I didn¡¯t want to move, couldn¡¯t force myself to do anything to further enflame the tearing inside me.


    Endure.


    But the shield was finished. My thoughts wandered, circling from pain to pain. Would the broken powerstone kill me? Would I go unconscious like Desten 4? Would the fire in my blood burn me to nothing? Would Retti come back and take back what she¡¯d given, my body nothing but incubation for her mad experiments?


    Fylen. Hylet. How many more unnamed souls. Dozens, just counting for the people lying here.


    Retti was a monster. I should ¡­ do something.If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.


    Pain.


    Would it never end? Was I doomed to struggle from torment to torment, watching friends slaughtered, my heart breaking more day by day, my purpose never fulfilled?


    Endure.


    But is that enough?


    ¡°Astesh, enough. Stop your whining.¡±


    Something pressed into my shield, and I reflexively tore it apart.


    An exhalation of breath, irritable. ¡°Fine, be that way.¡±


    Lan¡¯s body twisted and flung itself atop me, sizzling my shield to nothing, then flopped off with a squelchy clang.


    I shuddered, both from disgust at the display and from the fresh waves of agony at the shards of power stabbing through my heart and lungs, driven in further by the weight of her body.


    Then power draped over me, flickering and flowing like a blanket, silver and calming and soothing. Finally, Vess had¡ª


    Wait. No. That hadn¡¯t been Vess¡¯s voice¡ª


    Vess¡¯s power didn¡¯t flicker with red¡ª


    Retti


    No


    Vess¡­


    no no no


    why


    My throat stung with acid. I swallowed, trying not to imagine¡ª


    Not to think¡ª


    ¡°Is that better? Ready to come with me?¡±


    I didn¡¯t look at her, didn¡¯t respond, though I wanted to scream, Where are they? What have you done? Are any of them still alive?


    ¡°I had to deal with several of them, I¡¯m afraid. A bit wasteful, I admit, but in the heat of the moment it¡¯s hard to save everyone.¡±


    Wait, had she just responded to my thoughts?


    ¡°If you don¡¯t want me to answer, you should stop thinking so loudly.¡±


    What¡­


    ¡°The silver power I wield is not that of your friend. I had to take him out of commission for the moment, but he¡¯s still quite alive. See?¡±


    I was lifted into the air, and I could see Vess lying on the floor near where he¡¯d been standing. He twitched and panted heavily, but seemed uninjured. The silver power now pulsed with erratic streaks of blue.


    Pelys lay beside him. Or¡­ what used to be Pelys. I only recognized him by the robes.


    ¡°No.¡±


    ¡°It looks like you¡¯re the only one who¡¯ll be stabilizing. I wasn¡¯t expecting that much. Pink and purple usually don¡¯t play nicely together. You were very lucky.¡±


    Cay lay torn open; Daum¡¯s power fluctuated between his native teal and her blue.


    I¡¯d barely met them.


    It wasn¡¯t fair.


    ¡°There is no such thing as fairness, Astesh. You should know that by now. It is something we must build for ourselves, not something innate in the world.¡±


    Why?


    How could she¡ª


    Just why?


    ¡°Why am I doing all this? You know why. To save my husband. To protect my children. To safeguard the future of our world.¡±


    How could she sound so calm, so untroubled? She stood amid death and madness. How could she talk like this was normal?


    ¡°We all must make sacrifices, sometimes.¡± Then she winced. ¡°Please, do stop thinking so loudly, it¡¯s beginning to cause a headache.¡±


    Wait. If she was still acting calm and normal, she must not have gone upstairs yet. Once she realized I¡¯d lied to her about Desten¡ª


    Retti¡¯s power vanished from beneath me, dropping me abruptly to the ground. She was gone in a blur of red light before I could so much as catch my breath.


    Not good. Not good. Not good, how had I¡ª how was she¡ª


    No, that didn¡¯t matter. I couldn¡¯t stop myself thinking. I would have to do something else. I had¡ª minutes at best.


    Resources?


    Uhhhh¡­ dead people. Dying people. Soon to be murdered people. Unconscious people, twitching people. Could I break some of them free? No. Even if I had any way of breaking flashstone, what use would they be?


    Wait. Flashstone.


    I took a deep breath, flinched at the scent of blood and death, and started unfastening Lan¡¯s flashmail as fast as my trembling hands could move. My power was no help, beginning to flicker then fading the moment I touched the armor.


    Faster. Faster. No time.


    I slipped the jacket on, trying to ignore the sticky blood coating the arms. No time to buckle it on properly. I unfastened the skirting next, then heard Retti¡¯s roar of fury. She¡¯d found Desten. No time. I tugged, trying to get the armor piece free, but Lan¡¯s weight held it down.


    No time. I¡¯d have to take only what I had.


    I started building my shield as I ran for the other exit, then paused. I couldn¡¯t leave Vess here. And Daum. If they were left behind, she¡¯d probably butcher them on the spot.


    My power knew what I wanted. I raced toward them, forming loops of power as I ran, the rest cycling through me. I felt sluggish and clumsy, the power not reacting the same way as usual. My speed was significantly decreased by Retti¡¯s shattering my stone, though fortunately the replacement seemed capable of doing everything else.


    I secured each of them in a loop of power, flared it into levitation, and ran for the exit. They floated behind me like balloons on a string.


    Something crashed loudly above, like breaking stone.


    I ran.


    This sub-basement was not set up anything like the two upper floors. Long, straight tunnels connected high, vast rooms. Thankfully, none of the others were full of living bodies - nor dead ones either.


    One was set up like a living quarter, with a bed against one wall and a desk and various other furniture filling its bulk. Another door led outward. I crossed to it, trying to disguise my route, but it opened onto another stairway down.


    No time to recalculate.


    I flew down the stairs, checking to be sure Vess and Daum were still secured behind me. I had never been so terrified in my life. I knew that any second Retti would come after us, and we would all die. I had to come up with a plan. Something.


    The bottom of the stairs was a single room full of boxes and piled furniture, looking oddly reminiscent of Desten 3¡¯s untidy house. Pale green light glowed across the wall from behind a storage crate, likely a fading light construct.


    But the image gave me an idea.


    I crossed to the largest crate, forced it open, and guided Vess and Daum inside. I reclosed it, stuffing some dust into the cracks to conceal their fluctuating glows. I slashed a few gashes in the back of the crate, so they could get air without revealing their presence.


    Then the light moved, shifting position, and I froze. It was barely visible in the brighter pink-purple illumination I was giving off, but I was sure of it. The green light wasn¡¯t stationary.


    ¡°Tali?¡± I asked. No one else came to mind.


    She poked her head up from behind a cabinet, ducking her head fearfully. ¡°Ashtesh?¡±


    ¡°Astesh,¡± I said, emphasizing the ¡®z¡¯. ¡°Only one ¡®sh¡¯.¡±


    ¡°Why¡ª why are you here?¡±


    ¡°Ahhh,¡± I mumbled, trying to think of anything I could say. Because your mother wants to kill me? Nope. That sounded terrible. To kill your family? Nope, even worse. ¡°I¡¯m looking¡­ for your father,¡± I finally said, a bit haltingly as I frantically constructed the scenario in my mind. ¡°His friend misses him and I was hoping he could visit. But I had to sneak in because your mom is waaay overprotective, and then these two had an adverse reaction to something and I had to put them out of the way¡­¡±


    I trailed off helplessly. Nope. That was a terrible story. No way she¡¯d believe that.


    ¡°What¡¯s wrong with my mom?¡± she asked instead, faintly. ¡°She started getting scary sometimes. I think she¡¯s just very afraid, but I don¡¯t know why. She already killed the bad guys who were chasing us.¡±


    Oh. Yikes. I was not qualified to undertake this conversation. Even if I weren¡¯t under extreme time pressure.


    ¡°She wants to save your dad and he just keeps getting worse,¡± I said, simplifying to the easiest common denomonator. ¡°And she doesn¡¯t want¡­ anything to happen to you,¡± I finished more slowly as an idea occurred to me. A terrible, desperate, stupid plan.


    Retti¡¯s husband was out of commission, probably for good. Desten was dead. Tali was quite possibly the last person left for whom Retti cared at all.


    If I took her hostage, maybe I could force Retti to let me go. To let me escape and get Daum and Vess to ¡­ somewhere safe until they stabilized and recovered.


    I looked at Tali for a moment, but the sight of her face was enough to utterly destroy any such plan. No matter the circumstances, I just couldn¡¯t bring myself to threaten a child. Besides, Retti¡¯s control was insane. She could probably snipe me without lifting a finger regardless of how I tried to use her daughter as a shield.


    I shuddered and looked away, disgusted with myself for even contemplating it.


    Pelys would have more than contemplated it.


    But Pelys was dead now.


    I nearly choked on the sudden grief, but I had no time for it and forced it away. Retti¡¯s fury had fallen silent. She could be here any moment. I had to get away.


    ¡°Is there any back door out of this place?¡± I asked. ¡°Maybe a tunnel down the hill?¡±


    Tali shook her head. ¡°Just upstairs.¡±


    I cursed and stared at the crate in which I¡¯d stuffed the survivors of our little raid. My plan had been to leave them for now, find a way out without risking them if I was caught, and at least if Retti found me before I could come back to smuggle them out they¡¯d be hidden away from her immediate wrath.


    She may be insane, but it was a largely reasonable insanity. She¡¯d already proven she cared more about them as resources than as corpses. Though I wasn¡¯t sure if that might be worse, I still couldn¡¯t bring myself to put them in any unnecessary danger.


    But if Tali was here, that meant there was a much higher chance of Retti coming here. In fact, she might well come here immediately upon realizing we were gone, just to ensure the rest of her family was safe.


    Lost god! I couldn¡¯t do this. I couldn¡¯t. Why was it all up to me? I didn¡¯t know what to do! How was I supposed to outwit an insane, overpowered, grieving mother bent on my destruction?


    I picked up the whole crate with a loop of my power and dragged it behind me up the stairs. I didn¡¯t have time to unpack them, and it would be easier managing one object than two bodies anyway. I mentally apologized for any bumps that may result, but getting out of here alive was a higher priority at the moment.


    I paused halfway. ¡°Please don¡¯t tell her I was here,¡± I said. ¡°She¡¯s probably very angry right now.¡±


    Tali didn¡¯t respond, and I didn¡¯t have time to waste in coaxing a promise out of her. I pushed back into the air and flew out, picking a new random direction when I hit the open passages.


    I had to get around Retti somehow. I could try to tunnel out the side of the hill, but that could take hours and it would not be quiet or subtle. The only reasonable way to escape was through the upstairs.


    If she did come to check on Tali, maybe I could get past while she was distracted?


    I paused, two turns away, and strained to listen. Nothing. No indication of Retti¡¯s location. Not a footstep, not a rush of wind, not a clatter of stone.


    It made me very uneasy.


    I slid to the ground, trembling and overwhelmed. I couldn¡¯t do this. I couldn¡¯t. It was too much. And Pelys wasn¡¯t here to smack me out of it.


    I couldn¡¯t stop the tears this time, but I muffled my sobbing as best I could against the flashmail sleeve. Pel was gone. Lan was gone. Vess was¡ª broken, just like Desten 4, his power out of control and unstable. I knew instinctively that it wouldn¡¯t stabilize. It wasn¡¯t clashing like Retti¡¯s had been, dancing around each other trying to make peace. Not like mine had been, searching for a balance between fire and light. And I didn¡¯t know how to fix him.


    Curse my stupid curiosity. If I¡¯d run away like any sensible person, I¡¯d never have witnessed Fylen¡¯s last duel. If I hadn¡¯t been so driven by the need to understand why that event had happened, I¡¯d never have gotten mixed up in this stupid quest for vengeance. And if I¡¯d been willing to stand up for myself and tell Pelys ¡®no, I don¡¯t want to fight, leave me out of it,¡¯ then I wouldn¡¯t be here hiding in a neglected corridor in an underground secret compound of doom, waiting for a murderess to hunt me down and use me as just one more subject in her mad experiments.


    Which, naturally, is when she found me.


    <hr>

 45: Shatter

    ''Though we must be blinded, they will be deafened.


    Though we must be weakened, they will be deceived.


    Though we must be delayed, they will be departed.''


    One of the oldest mysteries of our age, this poem was found written in gold letters impressed deeply into the wall of a cave beneath Cormont. This is a translation from the ancient script of its actual writing, which is reproduced below.


    The strangest part is that the cave didn''t even exist when the writing was placed. A perfect mirror of the text was impressed into the far wall, and continued more deeply in than could be fully extracted by even our most powerful archeologists. Later excavations discovered that the writing, though only a little taller than a handwidth, extended through the heart of the mountain further than could be safely ascertained - perhaps clear from one side to the other!


    Who buried it here, and for what purpose? Are there other hidden messages beneath our other cities?


    -The Cormont Script


    <hr>


    ¡°Astesh. There you are.¡±


    Retti¡¯s voice was strangely calm. Too calm. Dangerous calm.


    She¡¯d just discovered her son dead, made loud smashing sounds for a while, and then ¡­ calm?


    This was so wrong.


    ¡°Hmmm?¡± Retti tilted her head to the side, looking down at me. ¡°What am I to do with you?¡±


    ¡°Whatever you want, I suspect.¡±


    I was so tired.


    I never wanted to fight in the first place. I was worn out in every possible way, emotionally drained, physically exhausted, mentally fighting the aftereffects of the still only half stable power that had only barely decided not to knock me out.


    I had nothing left. No hidden reserves, no second wind, nothing. My power flowed smoothly, bright and strong, but I couldn¡¯t summon the energy to shape it to my will.


    I wanted to give up. But I knew that would end with me either chained to one of her slabs, or dead on the ground with my stone shoved into some other helpless prisoner. I would be useless either way.


    If I could keep her talking, maybe she wouldn¡¯t hurt me. It was a stupid hope, but I couldn¡¯t think of anything better.


    ¡°Do you know, a year ago, I was a commoner? Now I have more power than anyone but a reirn. Is that irony, or idiocy?¡±


    ¡°A commoner? Truly?¡± Retti flew closer, a note of curiosity in her voice. ¡°How did you come to be here, then?¡±


    I couldn¡¯t think of a lie. Too much effort. ¡°Fylen¡¯s childstone. I found it in the snow. It was warm, so I kept it. Woke up the next morning and it¡¯d seeped into my chest. Went undercover. Pretended to be a noble. Ended up dragged into Pel¡¯s whole crusade. And here I am.¡±


    ¡°And you experienced no rejection of the foreign power?¡± Retti asked, visibly intrigued.


    ¡°Took a while to learn to use it. Desten was a good enough teacher. Not as good as Pel, but much nicer. Grumpy. Didn¡¯t throw me into rivers.¡± I sighed. ¡°I always knew this stupid plan was going to get me killed someday.¡±


    I knew I was rambling, didn¡¯t have the energy to care.


    ¡°Commoners,¡± Retti mused. ¡°That''s right. I''ve entirely forgotten to pursue that angle¡­¡±


    Oh. That may have been a bad idea.


    I waited for some surge of protective fury, for the thought of my mother back in the downcity, all the innocents whose lives were already discounted by the nobility.


    Nothing came. My weariness had finally outweighed my compassion. Or perhaps I¡¯d only ever imagined myself to be caring. Perhaps all along I¡¯d been pretending. Lying to myself because for so long nothing I did would matter. Making excuses for inaction for long enough that when it finally might make a difference, I didn¡¯t even notice.


    I could give up. Just close my eyes, open them again as a prisoner, but it would be easier than trying to fight. Than trying to force a conflict with the most powerful person still living in the entire world.


    No, the conversant are stronger.


    Possible, but they were also useless. I went to all the trouble of sending them secret messages, and they completely ignored them. Some all-powerful guardians stronger even than reirns. Fah.


    I glanced at Retti, wondering if she was still listening to my thoughts, but she didn''t react. Perhaps my exhaustion was enough to dim them, or perhaps she''d decided it was pointless to continue.


    She seemed to be ignoring me entirely, in fact. She moved forward, toward the crate containing the last survivors of our team, and I knew the time for rest and contemplation was over.


    I was the only thing that could possibly stand between her and them. No matter how tired I was, I knew I would never be able to live with myself if I stood by and watched more friends die without at least trying to save them.


    ¡°Don¡¯t,¡± I said, my voice dry. ¡°Don¡¯t.¡±


    I held out a hand and power flowed easily, spreading out into a solid wall between her and my friends, filling the entire hallway.


    She shook her head pityingly. ¡°Astesh, you know this won¡¯t stop me.¡±


    ¡°What about honor? Do you still have any of that left?¡±


    She shrugged. ¡°A little, perhaps. But I owe you nothing.¡±


    ¡°You do.¡±


    She frowned and moved toward the wall of pink-tinted purple light without answering.


    ¡°You do owe me,¡± I said, more loudly. I pushed myself to my feet unsteadily, but held out a hand pointed at her. ¡°You challenged me. And yet here we are, both still bearing light.¡±


    She slowly turned, shaking her head. ¡°What happened to you? I know this isn¡¯t what you want. You¡¯re far too soft-hearted to want to kill me for my power. Did the conversant do this? Set you on a crusade far beyond your capacity, in some desperate misguided attempt to stop me?¡±Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.


    ¡°I don¡¯t need the conversant to tell me that what you¡¯re doing is wrong. You have to be stopped. Can you really not see that you¡¯ve gone too far?¡±


    ¡°There were ten of us, once,¡± Retti said instead, her voice distant. ¡°Ten families sworn to the pursuit of truth, in secret. For hundreds of years we have gathered crumbs of knowledge, while at every turn the conversant steal our spirit and kill the fire of our dream whenever they can find us. Now I¡¯m all that remains. My heir is dead, my husband is destabilized, and you and your friends have made enough of a splash that sooner or later the conversant will come for me as well. The time for secrecy is over. We must be ready to face them power to power, and time is desperately short.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s what this is about? You want to be strong enough to fight the conversant? That¡¯s insane. You¡¯ll never¡ª¡±


    ¡°You are no longer an unbiased observer, Astesh. I¡¯ve seen the way your mind dances around the truth, skittering away from its edges because to you it no longer exists. I can use that.¡± She held out her hands. ¡°I release you from our duel. I no longer require your light, you may keep it.¡±


    ¡°But I do not release you. Your light is forfeit, stolen by blood, unworthily. Fylen may have accepted the duel that led to his end, but these people? How many of them are under legitimate agreement? I know for a fact that you have no claim to the power of any of my friends.¡±


    ¡°You barely survived facing me when I had only my own power to use, and only then by the interference of that Sarosa fool. You want to fight me now?¡±


    I shook my head. ¡°No. I have no desire to fight. But you must be stopped. And I don¡¯t see anyone else around willing to try.¡±


    ¡°Or, you could join me. It would be so beautifully ironic if you were to be our first success. Can you imagine, a commoner becoming the first true prismatic in centuries?¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s no such thing as a prismatic,¡± I said instinctively.


    ¡°And that belief has so much potential, because you have such beautifully convenient blind spots. You can discern the shape of things from the empty spaces left behind in its absence. Stand down. Help me. Neither of us wants more death today.¡±


    I hesitated, bereft of any righteous fury.


    So tired.


    ¡°Will you leave my friends alone?¡±


    ¡°They¡¯re both incompatible anyway, I doubt they¡¯ll ever stabilize. Do with them what you please.¡±


    My heart constricted and I nearly fell, suddenly unsteady; I put out a hand to steady myself against the wall. I¡¯d known this was possible, but it still hurt to know. Never stabilize. They would be like Desten 4, trapped in the chaos and madness of unintegrated power forever, never to wake.


    I swallowed and pressed on. ¡°And ¡­ and you have to stop.¡±


    ¡°I can¡¯t. I¡¯m so close. You have no idea how much work has gone into the formulae that have led us here. One more round, two, and I¡¯ll have the key.¡±


    She stepped closer, arms still open welcomingly, inviting.


    I felt a faint resonance. A pull toward her, ever so slight. Almost unnoticeable.


    I let my eyes drift across her robes, looking for the source of the tug. She had subtle pockets all down the side, many lumpy with the stolen powerstones she carried with her at all times, but one in particular seemed noticeably larger.


    Desten¡¯s. The resonance was the same, I knew it had to be. I frowned. She wouldn''t have. Surely.


    She followed my gaze, with a look of faint surprise, and took out the stone. It was significantly larger than the normal ones, with layers of different colours faintly visible like a semi-translucent geode.


    ¡°You butchered your own son as though he were nothing but one more failed experiment?" I asked, incredulous. "I thought the whole point of this was to protect your family. Is nothing sacred to you any longer? Does no one matter? Life, decency, humanity?¡±


    ¡°Some things are more important,¡± she said quietly. ¡°When it is done, when the world is saved from the meddling of those who think they deserve to control our destiny, then I will mourn for what I have done and those who had to be sacrificed to bring it about. But until then there is no time for hesitation.¡±


    She held the smooth oval in both hands, looking down at it with a distant sadness, then inhaled slowly and turned back to me. ¡°You feel its resonance? Already?¡±


    I nodded.


    ¡°Interesting. You must be highly compatible.¡±


    For a long moment we stood, hesitating, neither quite sure what to say. A desperate plan began to tease at the edges of my thoughts.


    ¡°Can I have it?¡± I asked, then looked away. It felt so wrong, asking for the power of the boy I¡¯d helped kill. Who I¡¯d wanted so desperately to save, right up until it actually mattered.


    ¡°You have no reason to care about these people,¡± Retti said, in lieu of answering. ¡°You know they¡¯re selfish, arrogant, worthless creatures, too petty to even see reality. You could be a worthy heir.¡±


    I looked up. She still cradled the stone protectively between her hands, head tilted to one side, thoughtfully.


    I took a step forward, hesitant.


    Retti looked up, met my eyes, and nodded. ¡°If you promise your aid, that you will stop attempting to disrupt my plans, then yes. You may take my son¡¯s power for yourself and stand at my side.¡±


    What was one more lie atop all the others I¡¯d accrued? I wasn¡¯t so naive as she thought, nor so innocent.


    And if there was one thing I was good at, it was making up stories.


    ¡°I promise," I said, slipping into the pompous tones of a confident aristocrat. "But I must insist we refrain from causing any more harm than is absolutely necessary. And when we rule the world, there are several worthy commoners who we will elevate to join us.¡±


    Retti laughed, delightedly.


    For a moment I stood frozen, terrified that I''d said the wrong thing.


    ¡°Rule?" she said, still laughing. "My, you are an ambitious one. I see I¡¯ve chosen well. But, no. You may rule, if you wish. That is a step far beyond my desire. So long as you aid me in reaching my own more humble ends, I will not stand in your way when you seek to surpass me.¡±


    She held out Desten¡¯s stone, and I stepped forward to take it.


    A tiny blade of power began to form in my off hand, barely extending beyond my fingertips curled away to hide it from view. Very carefully, so as not to brush against the flashmail. My heartbeat sounded so loud and fast, I was sure it would give me away, as I forced myself to move slowly as though calm.


    I reached out, and she hesitated only a moment before placing Desten¡¯s glowing-ember powerstone in my hand. It was warm, heavy, and echoed with vibrating power through my whole body. I felt it harmonizing with the power already flowing in my blood and shivered.


    I looked up and met Retti¡¯s eyes. We stood so close, I could see the hints of tears gathered at their edges, and knew she was not quite as blase about this as she pretended.


    ¡°Thank you. I understand the weight of this gift, and I will not let it be wasted.¡±


    She gave the slightest hint of a nod and looked away.


    I moved, power flooding my body so her reactions slowed to a crawl. I only had a moment before she would realize something was wrong and retaliate.


    A moment was all I needed.


    With my other hand I reached up and slashed open the front of her robe, then slammed Desten¡¯s stone into hers with as much strength as I could muster. There was a thunderous SNAP as the stones shattered into fragments, shards embedded in her chest around her own then drawn slowly inward by whatever metaphysical magnetism drew power to coalesce.


    Her eyes widened in slow motion. Red power began to coalesce around her hands, then drifted aimlessly as she twitched and her eyes rolled up into her head. Her aura flared and splashed against my flashmail, vanishing on contact, but raging around us in jagged dissonance as her power and Desten¡¯s warred for supremacy. She went limp, falling slowly to the floor at my feet.


    Then I stood frozen amid the chaos, the eye of a hurricane of power, every possible hue clashing and sparking off each other around us.


    I¡­


    I had to kill her.


    There was no other way; she couldn¡¯t be contained, couldn¡¯t be reasoned with. I stared down at her, my mind completely blank. I didn¡¯t know how long it would take her to regain control of the powers warring within her, but I couldn¡¯t count on it taking long.


    But ¡­ how? I didn¡¯t have a knife or anything, and I wasn¡¯t sure I could bring myself to ¡­ what, cut her throat? Even chaotic, her power would probably heal that in seconds anyway.


    Pelys would have known what to do.


    The thought reminded me of how he and Lan had drowned Desten in the molten stone upstairs. No matter how powerful, you still had to breathe to live.


    I shuddered, but if there were a better way I couldn¡¯t think of it.


    I knelt beside Retti¡¯s unconscious form, her power parting when it touched my armor, and put my hand over her face.


    It felt so wrong, but I pushed my power out in a formless blob, then willed it to freeze solid. For a moment, I could still feel her steady breath against my hand, the power too porous to fully seal. I focused all my will, all my power, all the desperate panic of knowing she could wake up at any moment, and my fingers froze still in the block of purple-glowing ice covering Retti¡¯s face.


    I felt tears running down my face, the burning cold against my fingers, and ignored both. The storm of chaotic power around us began to still, shrinking down and slowing. Retti¡¯s body convulsed, trying to gasp in air that wouldn¡¯t come.


    My own breath came short and unsteady as I tried not to think about what I was doing.


    Necessary.


    Endure.


    Then the power faded entirely, and Retti fell still.


    Another minute, and even the faint glow of her skin faded away.


    It was over.


    <hr>

 46: Answers

    What exactly happened during the so-called ''Prismatic Wars'' that have so quickly faded into obscurity? Why are there no stories? Why do the survivors refuse to speak of them?


    How can something so huge, so definitive, so cataclysmic, disappear within a generation into nothing but legend?


    -Forgotten? Ancient mysteries yet-to-be solved


    <hr>


    I brushed the sleeve of the flashmail against the ice construct to dispel it. Beneath, Retti looked calm and untroubled.


    I felt sick at what I¡¯d just done. But distantly, muted.


    I couldn¡¯t think about it. I turned away.


    My legs trembled as I got unsteadily to my feet so I pulled on my power, flight easier to sustain. I couldn¡¯t feel my fingers where I¡¯d been holding the ice in place. I tried to rub feeling into my frozen hand, power humming in sync.


    I tugged open the crate and looped my power securely around Vess and Daum, their power still flashing erratically around them. Retti had said they¡¯d never stabilize. I hoped it could be reversed, but that wasn¡¯t my department. I wasn¡¯t going to leave them behind regardless.


    I made my way back through the compound, flying slowly. I couldn¡¯t say how long it took, how many dead ends or wrong turns. I passed the broken bodies of Pelys and Lan and the woman from the other team whose name I couldn¡¯t bring to mind. I considered bringing them, but doubted I could keep concentration on so many people at once. I should have brought the crate with me. Then the numbness faltered and I nearly lost control over my grief and pain.


    Not yet. I had to get Vess out. I didn¡¯t know if time was a factor in him being saved, and I couldn¡¯t afford to risk breaking down yet.


    I left the kidnapped nobles chained to their slabs, promising myself I¡¯d send someone to rescue them. I couldn¡¯t do anything more.


    I passed the ruined floor where we¡¯d fought Desten, though no sign of him remained. I passed the bodies of four more people I didn¡¯t know, probably one of the perimeter teams who¡¯d come to investigate the sounds of fighting. All missing their powerstones. They must have run afoul of Retti after she found Desten. They should have stayed outside.


    Eventually I found the stairway up, ending at a trapdoor that came out in the storage room behind the kitchen. Its top perfectly lined up with the tiles, concealed so well we hadn¡¯t even glanced twice at it despite our thorough search.


    Then I stepped out into the afternoon daylight, snow falling lazily from the fluffy clouds above.


    I didn¡¯t know the way back to the city where Aneeyha waited.


    I didn¡¯t know which direction was home.


    My plan hadn¡¯t extended beyond ¡®get out¡¯ in practical steps.


    I sat down on the frozen ground and stared up at the clouds, blinking as the snowflakes landed uncaringly upon my face.


    It was done. Fylen was avenged, for whatever good that did. The last members of an ancient secret society were dead. I¡¯d located the people she¡¯d been kidnapping, at least those who¡¯d survived.


    I couldn¡¯t make myself believe it was worth it.


    A man in black robes landed beside me in a puff of displaced snow, flurrying around him with the force of his descent. He barely glanced at me before striding into the building.


    I laughed weakly. Now the conversant show up? Now? After everything is over?


    Somehow, that broke the numbness, and then I was laughing and sobbing uncontrollably as all the emotion and relief and despair poured out in a flood.


    It¡¯s over.


    It¡¯s over. It¡¯s over.


    Another black-robed figure landed in almost the exact same spot, but she only came and stood over me, looking down.


    ¡°What took you so long?¡± If they¡¯d come when I asked for their help all of this could have been avoided. No one needed to die, if they¡¯d just done their stupid jobs properly.


    ¡°Thank you for your messages,¡± she said. ¡°I apologize for what you were forced to endure. Without proof, we were forbidden to actively intervene.¡±


    ¡°So you show up now when everything¡¯s done?¡± If I had any strength remaining, it should have come out sharp and accusatory. Instead, even to myself, it sounded weary.


    ¡°We came the moment the flare indicated a new prismatic being born. Before then, it would have been ¡­ complicated.¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s no such thing as prismatics,¡± I said.


    ¡°And there never will be again. You¡¯ve done very well.¡±


    I blinked snow out of my eye.


    She stood, waiting.


    ¡°Can you save them?¡± I nodded behind me to where Vess and Daum lay floating, their unstable power lashing out to melt any snowflakes that drifted too near.


    ¡°I will try.¡± She shimmered, like a heat-haze and a soap bubble combined, and held a hand out toward my friends. For a moment, nothing seemed to happen, then the streaks of violent power stilled and calmed, their hues flattening out to their natural shade. A faint stream of coloured dust floated up from each of them, before melting away to nothing. ¡°Done. They will need to rest, but will be fine.¡±


    ¡°There are more. Down there, she was kidnapping them and chaining them up and¡ª¡±


    ¡°We¡¯ll take care of everything. Don¡¯t worry.¡±


    The peace of understanding that they truly, finally, would take care of everything hit me suddenly and completely. I sagged in relief. ¡°Thank you.¡±


    ¡°No thanks are required. You have suffered much in pursuit of justice and truth. Our task would have been much more difficult without your intervention.¡±Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site.


    I hesitated. ¡°Can you give me directions back to town? I need to¡­¡±


    ¡°No, you have done enough. I will see to it that everything is returned to its proper place. Rest now, Liath Amesorrel. Your part in this is done.¡±


    The exhaustion hit just as hard as the peace had.


    I blinked awake in a white room, black curtains and furnishings setting off the brightness in starkly contrasted patterns.


    ¡°You¡¯re awake. May I enter?¡±


    I sat up, confirmed that I was wearing a proper nightrobe, and nodded. ¡°Come in.¡±


    The conversant woman entered, and I suddenly felt underdressed.


    ¡°Liath, I trust you are well?¡±


    Liath. Was she trying to make a point by bringing it up?


    Well, too late. I left that name behind when I chose to become Astesh. Liath Amesorrel died over a year ago, the same night as Fylen Sarosa.


    ¡°My name is Astesh.¡±


    ¡°If you insist. Astesh. You are feeling well?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡± I was surprised by how well, now that she mentioned it. I felt fully rested, relaxed, and free of the usual weight of concerns tugging me every direction at once. ¡°Who are you?¡±


    ¡°Final Naeyah Sarosa.¡±


    ¡°Final? Is that a title?¡±


    ¡°Yes. It refers to my position as one of the last conversant.¡±


    ¡°Oh.¡± Was I supposed to bow or something? I sat awkwardly instead until she finally spoke.


    ¡°I know you must have questions. I am here to ensure you are satisfied before we part ways.¡±


    ¡°Vess is okay?¡±


    She nodded. ¡°Vesyro and Daumin are fully recovered. They will suffer no ill effects of their experiences.¡±


    Apart from having witnessed their friends murdered in front of them, of course. None of us would be free of those ill effects.


    I forced it away from my mind.


    After some consideration, I asked, ¡°What will happen to Tali?¡±


    ¡°Talish and her father have been returned to their home. They will be observed, but it is our opinion that they will recover from this terrible circumstance and be able to eventually return to normal life.¡±


    ¡°Her father. Desten Four? He¡¯s awake?¡±


    ¡°The unintegrated stones were siphoned away safely. He still holds dangerous levels of power, but has been instructed on how to ensure it does not become a problem. He has no interest in continuing his wife¡¯s crusade against us, and will act accordingly. He wants only to resume his life and take care of his daughter.¡±


    ¡°Oh, that¡¯s ¡­ good.¡± I smiled in relief. Finally, some truly good news! I¡¯d worried that Tali would end up orphaned and alone. If Desten 4 had recovered and could take care of her, I¡¯d rest a lot easier.


    Then I thought of something else, and put a hand to my own chest.


    ¡°Is there¡ª can you take Fyless¡¯s stone back to her somehow?¡± I had the purple one now, but there were still shades of pink in my power, so even if Retti had broken it some part of it remained.


    I didn''t think I would regret the loss, even if the stones were inseparable and I lost both. Perhaps Liath might return. I would miss the freedom, but it would be a relief to return to an unimportant existence. To be free of concern. And, I thought a bit guiltily, freed of responsibility. But if I could undo what I''d done, return Fyless''s rightful heritage to her, I could live with the sacrifice.


    ¡°No. It has been fully integrated into your body and mind. It would cause you severe damage to remove at this stage. And it is doubtful whether it would even accept Fyless as a host any longer, even if you were willing to be crippled by its removal.¡±


    I hated the extent of my relief at hearing those words. What did it say about me that I would so gladly carry on with power stolen from the innocent?


    ¡°Can you find her a compatible stone somewhere else?" I asked hopefully. "Maybe one of those Retti had stashed away?¡±


    ¡°The other stolen stones have been dissolved. It is not our place to decide their fate, and custom dictates that they be allowed to peacefully fade.¡±


    I looked away. ¡°So, I really did steal her only chance at a normal life.¡±


    ¡°It was not done maliciously or with intent to harm. You may consider your crime absolved. If any requires proof of the validity of your position, we will correct the misunderstanding.¡±


    ¡°And what position is that? What is to happen to me now?¡±


    She smiled. ¡°That is up to you. We have no desire to dictate or interfere in your life. You may return to Varon, or to Sarosa, or to another city of your choosing. Or you can choose to live away from the cities, if that is your preference.¡± She hesitated, then shook her head and didn¡¯t continue.


    ¡°Or?¡± I prompted.


    ¡°There is one other option. As you are now in the top tier of powerful, yet untrained, individuals, we would extend to you an invitation to attend the private academy we have established for such circumstances. You are hardly unique in your position, but it is not ¡­ conducive to our goals, shall we say, to have a great many people flying about with multihued powerstones. Thus we have established a proper offworld facility for those who are better suited to more active participation in this world¡¯s defence.¡±


    ¡°Ah.¡±


    ¡°I did not mention it as I feel it wouldn''t be a good fit for you.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re right.¡± I¡¯d had enough fighting to last the rest of my life and then some. ¡°I think I just want to go home.¡±


    ¡°Your curiosity is satisfied?¡±


    ¡°Well, no. It would be impossible to fully satisfy it. I still don¡¯t know why Retti was so set on becoming powerful enough to take on the conversant. Why their conspiracy even existed in the first place. How they escaped your notice for so long if you¡¯re so powerful.¡±


    ¡°The Anlioh conspiracy was founded shortly after the final conversation. We were given very clear instructions to prevent any resurgence of prismatics for a minimum of five hundred years.¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s no such thing as prismatics,¡± I reminded her.


    ¡°Yes, Ovaiss may have painted it a bit thickly with you. Ah, well. Better not to tamper more than necessary. I¡¯m afraid you¡¯ll have to live with it. The point is, we gathered, destroyed, or concealed any information that may have led to the premature emergence of ¡­ anyone with too much variety in their powerhues. Meanwhile, Anlioh sought to put that knowledge back together in order to purposefully create people more powerful than can be sustained within safe thresholds.¡±


    ¡°And take you out to clear the path for their ascension as rulers. Though Retti denied wanting to rule.¡±


    ¡°They would never call it ruling, but they would inevitably end up there. It is an absolute subversion of the pacts to which all stoned are sworn by lineage.¡±


    ¡°So it¡¯s a shadow war. Like that between the houses, but even quieter.¡±


    ¡°Yes. And it is a shadow war which is finally over. For good or ill, the last Anlioh has fallen just as she finally attained their foolish objective. If you hadn¡¯t been there to stop her before the power could fully coalesce, you have no idea the damage she could have caused.¡±


    ¡°I do have some idea.¡±


    ¡°You cannot imagine,¡± the conversant said more firmly. ¡°But I can try to give you an idea. Once, millennia ago, there were ten great lands and countless islands that shared our world. Four of the houses were originally refugees from some of those great lands.¡±


    ¡°But there is only one land, and beyond its edges the ocean goes on forever.¡±


    ¡°Exactly. Now imagine the kind of power necessary to split islands to their hearts, to drown continents and break the sky. Imagine this land being dragged from the depths of the eternal ocean, artificially constructed so that the last remnants would have a place of refuge. Do you understand the kind of power I mean?¡±


    I shook my head, trying to picture it. Like the sculptors from Metako carving the land into shape, but on an insane scale. ¡°You¡¯re saying Retti could have done that? Broken the land, or built a new one?¡±


    ¡°Not at first, not alone. But if left unchecked, yes.¡±


    I exhaled slowly in awe. ¡°Wow. I¡¯m almost sorry I had to kill her. We could really use some more land.¡±


    ¡°There is never enough. What you have is sufficient.¡±


    We were silent for a time, as I tried to comprehend the sheer scope of the power involved in forming this land, dragging it up from the depths.


    ¡°Is there anything else you would like to know?¡±


    ¡°What will be done about Raysh?¡± I asked. ¡°They knowingly sheltered Retti and Desten, and obstructed the other reirns. If they¡¯d been allowed to deal with her properly from the start, she would never have hurt so many people.¡±


    ¡°Reirn Anadeen¡¯s line has been allied to the Anlioh for almost two hundred years. In doing so, they have forfeited their claim to the title and have been replaced. Raysh should not pose any further problem.¡±


    ¡°Apart from their general belligerence.¡±


    ¡°That is a pre-existing condition, and it is not our place to interfere.¡±


    ¡°Fair enough.¡± I paused a moment. ¡°But there won¡¯t be a war, right?¡±


    ¡°No more than there has ever been.¡±


    I considered a moment, trying to think of any other questions. Nothing came to mind.


    ¡°So, what now?¡±


    ¡°Are you satisfied?¡±


    ¡°For the moment.¡±


    ¡°Then I will return you to your world. To which city would you like to be conveyed?¡±


    I shook my head. ¡°No city. Woodedge, a town by the northern forest in Sarosa, south of Midpeak. But, before we go, do you have ordinary clothing available by any chance?¡±


    <hr>

 47: Resolutions

    All things must end. It is a hurt, but also a mercy. No good comes of endlessness.


    -An Oros proverb


    <hr>


    The trip back to Sarosa territory was long and uneventful. My escort enclosed us both in a solid sphere of ice which completely blocked my view of our surroundings, so I had no idea where their secret base was located. It felt like a very long trip, though, so I began to suspect the conversant hid on a tiny island or possibly underwater far from the mainland. The fact that they could survive the sea monsters was definitely a point in their favor as far as sheer power went, and I supposed the physical distance could explain why they sometimes were slow to respond to events that everyone else knew about within days.


    I did not make these observations without a degree of begrudging resignation. I suspected I would remain quietly bitter at the conversant as long as I lived.


    We didn¡¯t speak much during the flight. I asked him a few more questions for clarification of one detail or another as they occurred to me, but for the most part I was lost in subdued contemplation.


    Pelys was dead. If I hadn¡¯t gotten involved, his crusade would have come to nothing. He would have found nothing, given up, and gone on with his life. In reviving his interest in Fylen¡¯s death, in directing his investigation along the correct route, I¡¯d all but sent him to his death personally.


    I felt it my duty to at least offer Vess and Aneeyha my condolences, for so many of their friends lost, but I would not blame them if they were to hate me for my part in the whole affair.


    ¡°You have done well,¡± the conversant said, interrupting my rumination. ¡°Were it not for your interference, it is possible the Anlioh would have succeeded in hastening the world¡¯s destruction beyond hope of remedy. As it stands, there is every chance we will be able to avoid such a fate.¡±


    I frowned at him, confused.


    ¡°Your allies ought not despise you for your role in this matter,¡± he clarified.


    Oh. I must have been thinking too loudly again. I¡¯d really have to get that under control.


    ¡°Broadcasting thoughts is not an uncommon problem in places like Utrenad or Metako. Most are too weak to pick them up clearly, or to send them out strongly enough that any but the closest can receive them. Your heightened power levels increase the strength of the broadcast, and I am well trained in picking them up. It helps in our line of work to be able to look beyond what is spoken aloud or done publicly.¡±


    I considered what he¡¯d said. ¡°Most people won¡¯t hear me?¡±


    ¡°Some will. If you wish any privacy, you should continue to pursue control. It will be difficult, as one come only lately to power at all, and more so with the high natural strength levels of your combined stones. Much like how you naturally move a little faster than most people, your mind is now a little louder. Using your power for anything else is usually enough to prevent leaking thoughts, so as a stop-gap measure until you attain proper control you can hold any simple construct active to divert the flow of power to more productive ends.¡±


    That did explain a lot. ¡°Do you know where I could find a teacher, if I wanted to pursue it?¡± I had no desire to study power further, but allowing my thoughts to continue broadcasting themselves freely would be unwise.


    He gave me several names, which I memorized, and then we continued to travel in silence. I played with a constructed cube that I held tight control on, trying to clarify the hues in each face, and the conversant stopped responding to my thoughts. I wasn¡¯t sure if it was because he was respecting my privacy, or because I¡¯d successfully channeled the stray power into the cube. He didn¡¯t respond to that mental inquiry either, so I assumed it to be the latter.


    Finally, we arrived. The sphere of ice dissolved around us, letting in the afternoon sunlight of a cool winter day. My escort nodded in farewell, then disappeared so completely I didn¡¯t even see which direction he flew.


    I flew low to the ground, trying not to attract any unnecessary attention, but I soon realized that what may pass for inconspicuous among the nobility was still extremely notable among commoners. People bowed, cleared the way, stared, and otherwise turned my quiet homecoming into something of an uncomfortably large event.


    I¡¯d lived and worked primarily from Midpeak, but visited Woodedge regularly enough that I saw many familiar faces in passing. Though I wasn¡¯t surprised when no one seemed to recognize me. The year had changed more than my name. I felt the confidence in my posture and the weight of my losses alike. The face I¡¯d see in a mirror now bore little resemblance in affect to that of the person I¡¯d once been. Only in feature were we alike, in all else I stood distinct.


    They did not follow me as I left the town and followed the old road, in sorry state, a solid sheet of ice slick beneath slushy mud, and I was glad that I no longer needed to walk or ride. It would have been a miserable trip in this weather on the very edge between melting and freezing.


    Power flowed warm and comforting through me, a thin bubble shielding me from the wind, and I arrived far sooner than I¡¯d anticipated at the small home by the very edge of the trees.


    No smoke rose from the chimney, and for a moment I feared the worst. I didn¡¯t think I¡¯d given Desten Oros enough reason to come after my mother, but it was possible he¡¯d sought retaliation after the Sarosa disaster. My heart skipped a beat as I wondered if I should have come back sooner, if I should have relocated her to safety in an upcity.


    Then I caught movement at the corner of my eye, and saw her trudging carefully back through the bare trees toward the house, properly wrapped and hauling a load of branches in the cart.


    It was such a familiar sight, it brought tears to my eyes. I hastily wiped them away, then dropped to the ground and, dismissing my shield, ran to her.


    We talked late into the evening as I acquainted her with my adventures - though leaving out some of the darkness and much of the danger. As I had no intention of becoming involved in anything so terrible in future, it would do her no harm to believe me a little more cautious and safer than in reality. Some things didn¡¯t need to be lingered upon.


    And then at length we wrapped around to talk of the future. My conflicting hopes and plans for what to do next could not be easily resolved, but as I spoke at length of the possibilities it became clear that my true hopes lay closely aligned with Desten 3¡¯s.


    Truly, in the depth of my soul, I wanted to change the world. Perhaps not on a societal level, that would be too ambitious by far. Such aims easily resulted in the kind of high-minded nonsense that when written down could be mocked by both advocates and detractors alike.


    I wanted to change lives. Maybe that was too ambitious still. But there were people like Desten 5, like Tali, like Retti, who were living the lives they thought they had to. Retti was brought up by what amounted to a cult; she carried on that legacy with her son, and I knew it never made either of them happy. Any satisfaction from their work was at the expense of others.


    That may be an extreme case, most people wouldn¡¯t end up as murderers, but if I could help find a better way forward for even a few, my life would not be wasted.


    I didn¡¯t know what form that should take, whether I needed to talk to people individually, or if there could be a way to help with only words. My own skill as a writer was largely based on overwrought dramatic conventions which appealed to those wanting a fantasy of power and escape from their mundane existence. It might do for making a living on, but had never satisfied me.


    Was it arrogance to assume that I could create some deeper meaning, some lasting impact even with something so impersonal as words? Or would it be necessary that I put aside my vocation and all I¡¯d learned, beginning anew in close concert with individuals?


    The mere thought quickened my heartbeat; I had no enjoyment of social engagements and to engage in such, regularly, with strangers, felt akin to a nightmare. I¡¯d had quite enough of that during my months on the midsummer circuit and had no desire to seek a repeat such events, regardless of the context.


    We arrived at no conclusion that night, but it was cathartic to spill out all the jumbled thoughts and half-formed ideas that lurked within me. I remained there for many nights, careful to erect a sound-blocking construct in case my nightmares should return.


    They did, though not quite so violently as I¡¯d feared. It would be a long time before I could be assured of resting peacefully. But one can still be at peace for a time without that assurance. There are moments when the darkness fades and the weight lies forgotten for a time. And in the meantime, there is life to be lived.


    Some weeks after my return, I received a letter from Reirn Ushan Varon requesting my presence. I did not hasten overly much to fulfill it, but neither did I tarry excessively. Though I did wish that I could. I could not forget the sheer overpowering fear Reirn Ushan had provoked at our first meeting, so long ago, when he effortlessly tore through the thin veil of lies I¡¯d constructed and threw me headlong into the investigation which would prove so troublesome.


    I still did not understand his motives for that decision. One would think an impostor in your house would be a cause for greater concern.


    I arrived at the appointed time. Desten Varon, the first I¡¯d met of that name, nodded to me as I entered, and followed behind me to close the door behind us.


    Reirn Ushan sat in a formal dining room this time, rather than the audience hall from my first visit. He motioned for Desten and I to sit, which we did.


    ¡°Astesh. I¡¯m told you¡¯ve concluded your investigation.¡±


    I nodded.


    ¡°That you have rendered great aid to every house in the process.¡±


    I shrugged, not entirely convinced on that score.


    ¡°And that my suspicions of your origins are misplaced, and you could lay claim to any number of prominent family lines should you be so inclined. Your family concealed itself from the world to hide its secret techniques which were passed down through the generations, until you became the accidental recipient of ancient power surpassing any in our current world, unlocked by the unfortunate happenstance of the events surrounding Fylen Sarosa¡¯s death.¡±


    ¡°I suppose that¡¯s true enough,¡± I hedged. I hadn¡¯t been sure what story the conversant would come up with, but combining my initial fumbling lies with a form of the truth, it could work.


    ¡°I trust you have found my nephew to be faultless in pursuing his duties?¡±


    I glanced up at Desten 1, who seemed abstracted. Watching as was his duty, but not truly interested in the proceedings.


    ¡°Yes, he¡¯s a good man. I find no fault with him.¡± It felt strange saying that, as if my opinion should carry any weight, but Reirn Ushan nodded as though it did.


    ¡°Have you arranged your affairs sufficiently, or do you require further assistance? I would not have it said that Varon hospitality to our forgotten scions is anything less than complete.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know where I¡¯ll be living, but I would not require you to provide for me.¡± I had spent enough time leeching off of others. It was all well and good while I was mired in deception, chasing Destens and had no other choice, but if I were free of any suspicion and safe from future investigations into my origins, that freed me to act for myself.


    ¡°Then I must insist you accept a commission in repayment for your efforts. You will of course take up a place in whichever of our cities suits you best.¡±


    ¡°Varonhold would be fine, for now, but I cannot promise to remain here for good. I would like to travel without the pressure of constant social events.¡±


    Reirn Ushan waved a hand. ¡°That doesn¡¯t matter. You may do what you wish. The house will be yours regardless.¡±


    We exchanged further pleasantries, but before long the audience came to its end and we were dismissed. Desten accompanied me to an office with instructions for exchanging the commission for a plot of land and its accompanying dwelling. There was none vacant in the city, but as it extended only across half the mountain¡¯s surface there were plenty of spaces to build.


    The process of choosing land and designs for my soon-to-be home felt very strange, but with Desten¡¯s help and that of the clerk we narrowed the choices down and settled on a west-facing spot a bit lower than most houses, very near to the edge of the shield separating upcity from downcity. Most of the structures this low were administrative in nature, either for storing or conveying goods between cities or recording the intakes of such from adjacent downcity regions. For me, the position felt appropriate. I was neither common any longer nor true nobility, but something in between.If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.


    Still, though all seemed to be coming out well in the end, I felt disquiet at my own fortune. It seemed a disservice to those who¡¯d lost so much that I should survive not merely unharmed but elevated and rewarded so greatly.


    My future may be assured, but what of my friends and allies who¡¯d done so much for me?


    I resolved to stop putting it off. I had some days free while the construction got underway before I¡¯d be expected to commission furnishings for the interior. I would not feel satisfied until I¡¯d at least spoken once more to Vess and Desten 3. I resolved that I would not press them, if they desired to be rid of me, but that if our friendships were to falter it would not be due to my own negligence.


    Perhaps boldness did come naturally to me, even if I¡¯d spent years trying to hide it away. Too long I¡¯d stayed apart, watching others come and go without daring to intrude upon their lives except when necessary for my work. If I continued to stay away, the outcome would be no better, and quite possibly worse.


    The harrowing events of the past year had thrown my reticence into a new perspective. Life was too short, too easily ended, to put so much worry upon such things. I would not run from something so trivial as a conversation, however much it may hurt.


    The pain of silence would cut just as deep, and more irreparably.


    ¡°Oh, you¡¯re back. Should I be honored? I understand you¡¯ve saved the world.¡± There was a decided edge to Desten 3¡¯s voice, and I couldn¡¯t help but feel I deserved it.


    ¡°Nothing so dramatic as that.¡±


    Desten shook his head. ¡°And you didn¡¯t invite me?¡±


    ¡°I thought you hated violence and chaos. Wouldn¡¯t you rather stay safe at home and not have to worry about it?¡±


    ¡°Perhaps, if not that I know you¡¯re out there with that insane Sarosa you¡¯re always hanging around with. Who knows what mad schemes he¡¯s involved you in this time?¡±


    ¡°Well, you don¡¯t have to worry about that any more,¡± I said curtly. ¡°He¡¯s dead.¡±


    Desten¡¯s mouth opened, but then he only looked ashamed and didn¡¯t speak.


    I breathed slowly in the silence, trying to keep my grief in check. However much time had passed, it wasn¡¯t enough to excise the regret.


    ¡°My condolences,¡± he finally mumbled. ¡°I know you were close.¡±


    ¡°Thank you,¡± I said hollowly, because that¡¯s what you did in these situations. ¡°I ¡­ I know I¡¯ve been less than forthcoming with you. I can¡¯t apologize, because everything I did was from necessity. But I never meant it to cause you concern or harm.¡±


    ¡°My friend is involved in secret conspiracies and saves the world on the side, but alas, I¡¯m not allowed to know the truth for my own protection.¡± Desten said it lightly, but wasn¡¯t quite able to conceal the bitterness in his voice. ¡°Desten won¡¯t tell me anything either.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve been granted land near the edge of the city,¡± I said, changing the subject. ¡°So we¡¯ll be neighbors, or near enough to it. If you ever want my help, you are welcome to call on me. I will be finding an occupation as soon as possible, and I plan to repay you for all your help during my research project. I couldn¡¯t have done it without your generosity, and I am not ungrateful.¡±


    ¡°You needn¡¯t concern yourself with that,¡± Desten said.


    ¡°But I want to. I know your books aren¡¯t making as much profit as you¡¯d hoped, and it¡¯s barely enough to support you, let alone me as well. I do appreciate the sacrifices you made to accommodate me, a virtual stranger.¡±


    ¡°And I appreciate your help. Though admittedly your antics were sometimes difficult to see past.¡± Desten hesitated. ¡°I hope you will stop doing things like that now that you¡¯re back.¡±


    I laughed weakly. ¡°Yes, I¡¯m done. I have no intention of getting involved in something like this ever, ever again.¡±


    Desten smiled. ¡°Excellent. Are you occupied for the evening?¡±


    ¡°Not to my knowledge.¡±


    ¡°Then I have something to show you.¡± He beckoned for me to come in, and I felt a strange wave of nostalgia at the haphazard books and untidy piles strewn about his sitting room. He rummaged about at the table for several minutes, muttering to himself as he rearranged sheafs of pages, then handed me a thick bundle.


    ¡°What¡¯s this?¡± I asked, then turned the pages around so I could read them. ¡°Oh, your new book.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s finished, at least the initial draft. I was hoping you¡¯d check it for me. It¡¯s in need of a solid revision, I know, but you¡¯re so insightful.¡±


    Insightful, huh? I wasn¡¯t often accused of insight, but compared to Desten¡¯s childish naivete, I supposed I might come out well enough in contrast.


    ¡°In fact, I rather feel like this is worth celebrating,¡± Desten said. ¡°We should go out someplace nice. Maybe invite Desten and Tali to join us. I¡¯d love for him to hear your theories about commoners.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t have many theories,¡± I said, my heart sinking at the thought of confronting the man whose family I¡¯d destroyed. The papers slipped from my hands.


    Desten dove to collect them and put them back in order. ¡°Careful!¡± he admonished, handing them back to me. ¡°This is months of my effort you¡¯re holding.¡±


    ¡°Maybe another day,¡± I said, trying to refuse the pile.


    ¡°Astesh, you¡¯ve been ignoring me for months. I insist that you join me. You¡¯ve already admitted you have no prior plans.¡±


    ¡°I¡ª¡± I couldn¡¯t do this. ¡°Okay. Okay, I¡¯ll do it.¡±


    ¡°Excellent! And be careful with those, they¡¯re in order now, but who knows. Let me see who¡¯s open today. Back in a minute.¡±


    He opened the side door to his garden, and I caught sight of his yellow glow as he took off before the door had time to swing closed behind him.


    I took advantage of the reprieve to set the manuscript down and breathe.


    By the time Desten returned with a list of restaurants, I was able to at least pretend normalcy. The flight was all too short. As he''d threatened, Desten 4 and Tali were already sitting at the table waiting for us.


    Tali didn¡¯t react as we approached, playing with a strand of power drawn between her hands. Desten 4, who looked strangely small without the thick permanent aura of liquid light surrounding him, tapped at it with a thin thread of his own. If I didn¡¯t know he¡¯d once been nearly the most powerful individual in the world, I would never have guessed.


    He seemed withdrawn, quietly haunted even when ostensibly focused fully on his daughter, an absence behind his facade of a smile. My heart skittered faster, and I wanted to turn and fly away, but Desten chose that moment to wave and call out.


    Desten 4 rose with a smile. ¡°So, you¡¯re eirn Astesh. Desten has told me a lot about you.¡±


    ¡°Has he?¡± I said, my voice barely audible.


    ¡°I see he¡¯s forcing you to read his manuscript. Don¡¯t worry, it¡¯ll be over soon enough.¡±


    They both laughed, and if Desten 4¡¯s voice rang hollow, it was barely perceptible.


    Tali stared at me, her simple construct fading as her attention lapsed.


    I tried to smile, and forced a little wave.


    We reached the table, and I sat between Desten and Tali, opposite Desten 4. He seemed openly curious about me, but not in a ¡®you-killed-my-wife¡¯ kind of way. How much had the conversant told him? Was it possible he didn¡¯t know?


    Fortunately, Desten 3 was able to carry the conversation throughout our meal, excited by his project¡¯s completion, and I retreated into the excuse of proofreading his pages to avoid looking at Desten 4 or Tali.


    For her part, Tali stared at me, but didn¡¯t speak, until I finally turned to her. ¡°Did you want something?¡± I asked, irritated at her interruption, but immediately remorseful for snapping. ¡°If you have a question,¡± I said more gently, ¡°you can ask.¡±


    ¡°What were you doing in my house?¡± she asked. ¡°You stole one of our boxes.¡±


    Oh, right. Last she¡¯d seen me, I¡¯d been using a storage box to stash Vess and ¡­ whoever the other one was, from the other team. Daum.


    And I had no idea how to tell a child that I¡¯d been there to kill half her family. I had to swallow hard at the mere thought, bile rising in my throat as I remembered Retti slowly dying under my hand.


    ¡°I¡ª I was¡ª¡±


    ¡°Trying to save me, wasn¡¯t it?¡± Desten 4 put in, unexpectedly.


    ¡°Is that what happened?¡± Desten 3 asked, looking between us. ¡°It was your doing?¡±


    ¡°Indirectly at best,¡± I managed. The conversant had done the actual saving, but they seemed to think I was responsible.


    Why was it easier to accept blame than to claim credit for something going right?


    ¡°What did happen?¡± Desten 3 asked. ¡°I know you¡¯ve been putting me off,¡± he said to Desten 4, ¡°but at least you have the excuse of being unconscious for the whole thing. What¡¯s your excuse, Astesh?¡±


    ¡°I really don¡¯t want to talk about it.¡±


    ¡°But I want to know¡ª¡± Desten 4 put a hand on Desten 3¡¯s shoulder, and Desten 3 stopped talking.


    ¡°I¡¯d rather not discuss this here,¡± said Desten 4, with a pointed glance at Tali. ¡°And we should respect eirn Astesh¡¯s wishes, if now is not the time. I may not know much, but I know this is going to be hard for all of us. Don¡¯t try to force it.¡±


    Desten 3 reluctantly nodded, though his face took on a petulant look at being denied information. ¡°If you insist.¡±


    ¡°I do,¡± Desten 4 said with a touch of vehemence. ¡°Eirn Astesh, you needn¡¯t say anything if you don¡¯t want to.¡±


    I nodded and looked back down at the pages, but I couldn¡¯t make the words come into focus.


    ¡°I think it¡¯s time we get home,¡± Desten 4 said, standing. ¡°I¡¯m glad to make your acquaintance, eirn Astesh. We¡¯ll have to speak again sometime. No need to rush.¡± He gave Desten 3 a firm look. ¡°And don¡¯t try to push it. I¡¯ll see you tomorrow.¡±


    Tali gave me a tiny wave and hesitant smile, and I nodded in response.


    It lifted my heart a bit to see, even if her gratitude was based on exaggerations and unknowns. At least someone would come out of this all, scarred, perhaps, but not broken. She¡¯d probably do better than me.


    It was a start.


    The commemoration service for Pelys Sarosa took place in a wide open meadow near the top of Northpoint Mountain, where a surprisingly large number of people I¡¯d never met before gathered in concentric rows which indicated their closeness with the deceased. I hung back, wanting to stay near Vess and Aneeyha, but knowing I had no right to claim such intimacy. We¡¯d known each other less than a year, even if he¡¯d become an extremely important part of my life, there were others who¡¯d known him far longer.


    Nearly the entire front row and much of the second, apart from Vess and Aneeyha and an older woman who turned out to be Pel¡¯s mother, were young people who he¡¯d mentored. I took a position in the third row, wondering why I¡¯d come at all.


    Once everyone was situated, everyone took it by turns to say something. Pel¡¯s mother simply said her farewells. Vess told a story from when they were younger, of a just-graduated Pel accidentally instigating a brawl that ended in him taking on his first student. Said student stood a little down the line, his hands over his face, laughing through his tears. Aneeyha gave a brief but heartfelt prayer.


    As his former and current students went down the line, reminisced about his training and manner, I began to feel an innate kinship with them all. Everything they described, I¡¯d experienced. He¡¯d been harsh and demanding, but also encouraging and supportive. For someone so young, he¡¯d made a deep impact on so many lives.


    And, indirectly, saved so many more.


    Then suddenly it was my turn, and I had no idea what to say. My throat felt dry, my voice absent. I made a fumbling ¡®ah,¡¯ as the silence grew strained, then took a breath and started speaking with no idea what I¡¯d say.


    ¡°Pelys Sarosa wasn¡¯t meant to be a friend. When I first met him, it was only in pursuit of the truth about Fylen¡¯s death. I considered his knowledge a valuable resource. But somehow he saw potential in me that I would never have expected. Without him¡ª¡± my voice choked off, and I struggled to regain control. ¡°Without¡ª without his insistence and training, without his help every step of the way, we would never have accomplished what we did. So, thank you. I shouldn¡¯t have been your final student, you should have gone on to teach many more. But I am thankful for the opportunity I had to know you.¡±


    I fell silent, feeling incredibly awkward, but the next person picked up and the ceremony went on, and I let myself laugh and cry along with so many others who¡¯d been connected to this insane, vibrant, caring man.


    When it ended, I found my way over to Vess. He seemed to have suffered no ill effects from his brief brush with power destabilization, and nodded to me in greeting. ¡°Thank you for coming,¡± he said, and I nodded in response.


    ¡°Thanks for inviting me. I hadn¡¯t planned to¡­ I didn¡¯t know¡­¡±


    Vess nodded, and I let the fumbling explanations die. ¡°He would have wanted you here. You were the catalyst for everything we accomplished these past few months.¡±


    ¡°Only by happenstance.¡±


    Vess shook his head. ¡°Don¡¯t underestimate yourself. You could have stepped away at any time. You stayed with us far longer than any obligation would have demanded.¡±


    ¡°I know I¡¯m just an outsider here, but¡ª¡±


    ¡°No,¡± Vess interrupted. ¡°You risked your life to save me. You fought with us to the end. I would not hesitate to call you friend.¡±


    ¡°Nor I,¡± Aneeyha said. ¡°Fylen is avenged. I would that Pelys had been willing to let it go, but it is no fault of yours that he always insisted on charging forward headlong. He would never have sat by and allowed so great an injustice to go unconfronted. We always knew one day he¡¯d jump into something he couldn¡¯t so easily escape. There is nothing you could have done to prevent his going, any more than I could have prevented Fylen¡¯s.¡±


    We stood a while longer, the conversation always orbiting around memories of Pelys, until some others came over to speak to Vess, and I excused myself. Though I wanted nothing more than to find somewhere quiet away from everyone, I forced myself to mingle some with my fellow students. I was surprised to learn that I was already rather well known among them, as four of those who¡¯d been training at the same time as me had been quietly comparing their progress to the others. And, subsequently, to me.


    It was strange, hearing stories Pel had told about me relayed back second-hand, but oddly warming in a way. Even though I¡¯d always considered my progress slow, apparently he¡¯d been using me as an example to push his other students on to greater heights.


    It felt incredibly odd, to realize that I¡¯d become an important touchpoint in the lives of people I¡¯d never even heard of until today.


    We spent some time commiserating over his methods, mourning that he¡¯d never have the chance to follow through on his threat to throw us into a volcano - though where he¡¯d find one of those was a mystery none of us could solve. None of the watchmountains had volcanic activity, and the lower mountain ranges likewise gave no evidence of its presence. Concluding that the threat was in jest, we continued on to another subject, and another after that.


    By the time evening fell and the ceremony drew to its conclusion, I felt the most at home as I ever had with a group of nobles. Perhaps I ought reassess my understanding of them. One can only admit exception after exception to a rule for so long without questioning the rule itself.


    The ceremony ended with an abstract construct of light drawn by all present sent out to sea. There it would continue across the world until the power slowly dissolved somewhere in the unknown distance, as the remembrance of Pel¡¯s life would remain with us until its eventual fading.


    It seemed a somber similitude to me, but also fitting.


    We watched in fading twilight as the tangle of light drew further and further distant, until it disappeared altogether and left the night feeling emptier and darker for its absence.


    With that, the gathering split and each went silently their own way, leaving only a memory.


    And somehow the emptiness that had grown within me for so long seemed to recede in its wake, the reminder of community and hope and connection even in the face of loss and tragedy.


    It turned out, there wasn¡¯t so huge a difference between us, in the end. Noble and commoner alike, we all live. We all love. We all die. We all fade. We all grieve.


    Perhaps it was time to stop thinking of ¡®them¡¯ and start thinking of ¡®us.¡¯ All of us, regardless of our power, regardless of our birth. Thinking less of the nobility for the fact that they are noble, how is that any different from them thinking less of commoners for the fact that we were born powerless?


    Perhaps there was no way to merge the worlds together on my own. But my legacy didn¡¯t have to end with me, just as Pel¡¯s legacy didn¡¯t end with him.


    There¡¯s always hope.


    <hr>


    Perhaps I won¡¯t always be able to make the ideal choices in life. Perhaps my name won¡¯t be remembered. Perhaps my deeds will never echo through the ages.


    But perhaps I don¡¯t need to carve my legacy in stone. Perhaps there¡¯s a nobility in the ephemeral, a power in things that may touch lives only briefly. Even in stupid poetry and sensationalized tales. Even in friendships that come and go with the seasons.


    As long as my life and my work can bring a little more light, a little more hope, a little more happiness to the world, I am content.


    -Bloodshard: The Autobiography of Astesh Varon


    <hr>


    THE END


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