《Paper Witch》


 Chapter 1

    Authors preamble,


    This draft contains; wound description, implied intercourse,


    Thank you Beverly, for editing.


    Moulder


    /?m??ld?//?m??ld?r??/


    verb: moulder/mouldering


    the power to take in or soak up the belief-given strength of an animal''s flesh


    -


    ¡°Balsam Hossain, and you¡¯d do well to remember that name,¡± he said, rapping the trapped man''s knuckles with his ale horn, waving his arms about as he swaggered; he breathed in, paused for effect, then kicked.


    His captive skidded backwards in a bundle onto the inn¡¯s stairs, stumbled fearfully on the first two steps. Balsam watched, grinning drunkenly as the pantomime unfolded.


    His packaged captive slipping on the third step, unable to balance himself with his hands bound like they were, he knocked himself out against the stair bannister. And rolling down the last flight, with a wet slap slammed face first into a fragrant cowpat.


    ¡°Ough. Bullseye¡± Balsam snorted, the jeering crowd blocking the door. ¡°He¡¯ll sort himself right, let''s get back to it lads.¡±


    Turning back to the crowd of ruddy faces pressed against the Inns window, Balsam hoisted his horn to his horde.  ¡°Hahahaha, fucking cheers!¡± Eager, and absolutely pissed they stared at him as they raised their mugs in response, the orange light of the fire and inconsistently lit candle chandeliers glimmered, set off against the soot stained fixtures lining the Inns walls.


    Antler decorations with coats and random bits of armour hung off them gave off a musty smell that no-one noticed. And ale and mead could be heard splashing into mugs, the rest flowing into the floorboards cracks, each cask was replaced as drink flowed, dousing the rest of the merry night into uproarious vivacity.


    The hearth was stoked to a splutter and as the bellowing roar of voices rose. Laughter at slips and falls lit up the evening, merry fights breaking out, all which could be heard well into pink cotton mouthed morning.


    Jerico on the other hand, was having a much less pleasant evening. Wiping the last traces of cowshit off his face, he growled, slamming the grease wet, stinking washcloth back into the shallow river he was cleaning himself from. His blood boiled and his head felt like it had been caved in.


    ¡°Fucking barbarians! Bastards the lot of them, not a diplomatic bone in their tiny, tin-headed, rat-faced, loathy bodies!¡± He screamed, a few nearby animals stirred to scurrying in response.


    ¡°Calm yourself, love.¡± Curie said, leaning over to fish out the washcloth before it was washed away by the river¡¯s current. ¡°You¡¯re disturbing the animals.¡± Pulling off her own gauntlets, she rangout the filth and presented it to him again.


    ¡°Blast the damn animals.¡± Jerico said, glowering. He sat down, however, taking the washcloth again to polish his breastplate.


    ¡°Oh shush, animals are the only thing that allowed us to keep out here this long.¡± Curie spoke placidly as she watched Jerico¡¯s fervent efforts to pass on his rage into cleaning his armour.


    His dark locks had fallen down in front of his usually genial well kept face, the months of travelling hadn¡¯t given them much time to care for themselves, with Jerico giving up on shaving almost entirely after the third week. He looked ruggedly handsome, though she had to hold back a snort of laughter as he looked up.


    ¡°What?¡± he said, smiling despite himself at Curie¡¯s expression, his dark almond eyes creasing.


    ¡°You just look, like a wild mountain man.¡± Curie squeaked, unable to hold back a giggle. He didn¡¯t really, his features too aristocratic to look truly wild, but it was as close to wild he¡¯d managed to get so far.


    Jerico pouted, ¡°Is the beard that bad?¡± he brushed his hair back with his fingers and tied it back into the bun he usually held his hair in.


    ¡°No it¡¯s fine dear, don¡¯t worry you look lovely. I¡¯ve grown fond of the beard.¡± Curie replied sweetly.


    ¡°Such a charmer aren¡¯t you¡± Jerico said grinning, ¡°well I¡¯ll have to shave soon, looking like a mountain man sure didn¡¯t help when I was talking to those bastards¡±


    Curie scoffed, ¡°I don¡¯t think walking up to them coiffed to the gills like you usually are would have helped, you probably got off easy.¡± she raised a hand before Jerico could start yelling again.


    ¡°Tell you what, why don¡¯t we try to sneak through the toll once daybreak comes to pass? From the amount of noise they were making, they¡¯ll probably be too drunk to cause us any trouble¡±.


    Jerico glanced towards the inn, his face grew lighter as he mulled over the prospect. ¡°What of any watchmen though, Curie? I didn¡¯t manage to case the place when I was there,¡±


    ¡°Well,¡± she said pulling out two dead rabbits from her traveller''s satchel, ¡°suppose, if we¡¯re fast enough. they won¡¯t have a chance to alert the others.¡±


    ¡°Rabbits! Here? How in the hell¡¯s did you manage that?¡± Jerico gaped, pausing his polishing for the moment as he eyed the two specimens.


    ¡°I managed to find a burrow, near the cliffs we passed on our way up.¡± Curie said, smiling smugly as she flopped them near the fire.


    ¡°Our luck¡¯s finally turning around! I could kiss you.¡± he said, putting his breastplate to the side as he leaned forward.¡±


    Aha, ah-no, not until you take a bath, with soap and a good scrubbing around your whiskers I''d add¡± Curie scrunched up her nose in partially mock disgust as she said so, leaning out of his reach.


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    ¡°Oh right, right sorry, I¡¯d mostly gotten used to it by the time I got back.¡± Jerico looked down at the washcloth a moment before deciding it was a lost cause, ¡°We don¡¯t need all the meat off these do we? I¡¯m rather peckish,¡± Jerico asked, eyeing the rabbits, ¡°I¡¯m afraid to chance it dear, we¡¯ll have to do with normal rations¡±. Curie pulled out the trail bag she''d packed and shook out a few tasty, if meagre, morsels. ¡°But anyway. how about you rest now, I¡¯ll keep first watch¡±.


    Jerico nodded. Yawning surreptitiously, he stood unwrapping and laying out his bedroll as Curie stoked the fire and sorted their rations for the night; hard cheese, various nuts, and some dried fruit were served for the evening, and they both ate in a comfortable silence, Jerico¡¯s previous burst of anger forgotten as twilight faded into full dark.


    As he laid down onto his bedroll, pulling his pack under his neck to serve as an extra cushion, Jerico sighed. ¡°One more night darling, we¡¯ll be alright.¡± He said looking over at her, her beautiful black face flame licked in orange.


    ¡°Sleep well¡± Curie replied, blowing him a kiss from across the fire.


    Curie woke before dawn, Jerico snuffing out the remnants of the fire and gathering the two rabbits from a smoker Curie had made while he''d slept. ¡°I¡¯ll check the outpost,¡± Jerico croaked, packing away everything he¡¯d laid out for the night.


    Curie nodded, her eyes watering slightly from the cold morning air, ¡°I¡¯ll come with you, just give me a moment¡±.


    Jerico watched as she tended to herself. She sat as she combed her hair back into shape, her tight black frizzy hair was braided tightly over her scalp and left loose at the ends, each braid ending in a sort of cloudlike spray around her ears. Just short enough to not reach her shoulders to make her head look like a sort of bell, a rim of dark curls framing her face. She pulled out a small stick of beeswax and pursed her lips gliding the stick over them as she eyed Jerico.


    ¡°Want some?¡± she proffered the stick.


    ¡°Thank you, gorgeous.¡± Jerico said, applying a thin film to his lips.


    She took it back with a smile batting her eyes at him, the usual green of them a vivid jade under the morning light.


    They trudged up the narrow forest path up to the Inn together, pausing outside the entrance of the gorge. Curie waited as Jerico walked down the shale path towards the structure. Poking out of the cliff face with clay walls lining the entrance through the crack in the mountain. the inn¡¯s sign waved and creaked ominously in the wind as he approached. ¡°Catmint Inn¡± in embossed bronze stood out faintly above an artistic rendition of a green cat twirling around a cask. The letters were also green now, Jerico noted, plastering himself against the rock wall of the gulf as he peered in at the makeshift barricade strung up a few metres in from the clay walling in front of the outpost.


    It seemed to be quiet, the only sound coming from the sign and the rather sad looking collection of mud brown cows and ponies strung up near the inn¡¯s abandoned pig trough.


    On walking back, Jerico nodded at Curie, ¡°Are you ready?¡± he said, pulling his pack tightly around his shoulders until it was almost painful. Curie nodded, holding out one of the rabbits, it''s night of curing had turned it brown and faintly mummified. She separated a few chunks off the corpse with a thin gutting knife, placing a few more rabbit bits in Jerico¡¯s handful as he was a might bit less lean than her. Jerico watched as she wrapped each bundle in the rabbit¡¯s skins, tightening the straps of her pack as she did so.


    ¡°We each might be a bit flushed after this,¡± Curie said as she handed Jerico his bundle.


    ¡°I¡¯m sure, jumping and bounding through all that.¡± Jerico nodded towards the barricade as she said so, ¡°There were multiple fortifications lining almost half the gorge that I saw, one after the-¡±


    Curie put up a finger, blushing, ¡°That¡¯s not what I mean, you know, what rabbit¡¯s are known for other than the usual speed and agility.¡± Jerico stopped, then grinned,


    ¡°Oh¡± he said simply.


    ¡°Well, we¡¯ll be able to take care of that little problem when we get to the city, can¡¯t we?¡± He added, weighing the bundle of flesh in his hand. ¡°If we survive,¡± Curie rebutted lightly, early morning rays breaking through the root knotted cracks in the gorge''s canopy.


    Jerico turned towards the morning light, patting Curie¡¯s shoulder. ¡°I¡¯ll count down from three,¡± he said, stretching and hopping from one foot to the other. Getting down into a runner¡¯s pose against the gully''s rocky bottom, his right hand curled around the bundle of rabbit parts. ¡°Three¡­¡± With what felt like a cough, and a start both of their packages started to smoke, black tendrils oozing slowly out between their fingers as each drew the magic into themselves. ¡°Two,¡± The black smoke poured out oozing and streaming until it started to jet out from under each knuckle in gouts, sending ripples out over the marshy dewdrop shale of the mountaintop, emanating outwards in pulsing as each waxy cured chunk of rabbit flesh was consumed under their weight, each of them drinking up the magic at a rapid pace.


    ¡°One.¡±


    Jerico and Curie both jetted forward, the smoke flung out behind them as they skitted over the gorge¡¯s thin stream. Jerico aimed towards the side of the gully, trying to get his footing off the stream and onto the rocky embankment he¡¯d walked down, aiming to jump over both the wall and the barricade in one, he aimed where the wall joined into the nearby rock.


    Curie didn''t aim at all, sprinting down the centre of the gully she jumped forward, as if she was going to dive into the water, and flipped herself with her hands, vaulting into the air as the rabbit¡¯s influence increased her jump¡¯s height to supernatural proportions, her view pinioned and she fell.


    Landing lightly on the second barricading wall, she pushed off and twirled, landing on the roof next to a struggling Jerico. He''d jumped off the rocky outcropping next to the barricade and just barely managed to launch his way onto the roof, the straw thatching crunching under the weight of his plate armour.


    Curie was more lightly armoured sporting a pale burgundy gambeson, the colour bleached by the sun. She rose a few centimetres from her landing, the thatching regaining its form.


    "What the hell was that?!" The two of them heard, Jerico cringing, scrambled upwards and pranced back slightly from the noticeable dent he''d left in the roof reeds, "Shhh, go go," Jerico eased out. Glancing back up at Curie, she stepped back slowly, finger pointing to the wooden ridge that marked the center of the angled roof, another pressed against her lips.


    She leaned her whole body backwards, edging off the reeds of the roof and onto the lacquered length of the roof''s top. Jerico started to follow before the sharp unpleasant snapping of wood was heard and he jumped back, the roof falling inwards behind him.


    Another loud ringing announcement was heard, "Somebody find out what''s going on up there!" The couple bolted as they heard the rushed shuffle of footsteps padding out onto the top floor balcony.


    Jerico launched himself off the roof, landing behind Curie. They both rushed forward to the roofs edge, Jerico made a great bounding leap, clearing a good 12 metres in front of him, the remaining visible sections of roof and balcony dropped out below him.


    The heads of two men peered up from leaning against the balconies railing, shocked expressions broke their faces as they trailed the arch of his jump downwards, a loud splash erupting from the ground below.


    He turned to look back at the men, made a rude gesture and backed up a few feet as Curie came flying down from above.


    Jerico drifted backward as Curie almost landed on top of him. His eyes narrowed, still locked on the two men. He stumbled towards her, the two men above being pushed aside as Balsam rushed onto the balcony, a crossbow in hand.


    "You!" Balsam roared as he slammed his crossbow onto the balcony railing. Jerico, managing to reach Curie as he let loose a bolt, Curie felt a jolt, and a strong pull as Jerico tugged her forward. A thin, slivering of wood passing at the edge of her vision, stumbling through the mist of water vapour, the only thing she heard was blood pumping in her ears and the break neck patter of Jerico''s footsteps as she rushed forward.


    They both Jetted forward, almost impossible to keep a track of they moved so quickly, gone in a matter of seconds.


    Balsam loosed a few more shots at the quicksilver after images seen glittering in the watery mist that still floated down from their jumps, his body coursing with adrenaline and rage as he stood up.


    Ramming the crossbow into the left man''s arms, Balsam paused for a breath through his gritted teeth, brushed back his wet hair and headed back inside.

 Chapter 2

    The cityscape pooled out below the two ragged witches like the splatter of wax on a sealed envelope, tendrils of buildings trailing away into lumps from the city''s thick knotted centre.


    Breathless minutes after their escape, they shimmied hand in hand down the path exiting from the gorge. The entrance widened and the path down was mostly lost amidst weeds and overgrowth. "The powers draining, I can feel it." Jerico gasped, leaning against the trunk of a nearby tree, his hands clasped to his chest one over the other.


    "Are you okay? You look pale" Curie said, a worried tone in her voice she pulled off her pack and rifled through it, "I think I have some smelling salts somewhere."


    "It''s not the magic" Jerico said, "I''ll need a bandage." He lifted his hand, blood dripped from his fingers as he revealed his other. The gauntlet was punched clean through, a bolt stuck half way through his palm, barbed hooks from the bolts tip shearing through the metal backing of his hand like a bloody metal yule tree.


    Curie, dropping her pack, rushed forward to inspect the injured hand. "I snatched the bolt straight out of the air," Jerico said proudly, the whites of his eyes shrinking and coming back from the vivid orange of the rabbits to his normal woody brown as more of the magic drained out of him.


    "The rest of the bolt needs to be pushed through. Curie said gravely "Oh god''s, am I going to have to announce myself to the city?" Jerico said weakly, losing the strength of his legs and sliding down onto the trunk''s roots.


    Curie pulled off Jerico''s Pauldron. "I need to tourniquet your arm, so I can tend to wound dear." Curie said in soothing tones, pulling her pack towards her as she fished out some cloth, ripping it into a strip she wound around his arm.


    Jerico grunted as Curie jerked the cloth tight, grabbing the rest of the cloth and stuffing it between his teeth, kissing him on the cheek as she did so.


    "I''ll be as gentle as I can." her voice barely registering for Jerico he was too focused on the intermingling sensation of pain and leaking magic. The bolts wiggling shocking his hand with every little movement.


    "Can you still feel your fingers?" Curie said, taking it and pulling it over her lap as gently as possible. Jerico nodded, teeth clenching in anticipation.


    The back half of the bolt was already in smithereens. Curie grabbed the stump of what was left of the shaft and pushed, hard. The bolt screeched against the metal as it popped through the hole it punched, and Curie pulled it out the rest of the way.


    As she pulled the gauntlet off quickly, the vambrace and elbow couter falling to the ground with the sound of clattering coins.


    Jerico, hyperventilating, spat out the bundle of torn cloth. "Can you try and twitch your fingers?" Curie asked in a low voice. His fingers spasmed in response, four moved, his ring finger staying limp.


    Curie couldn''t wash the wound immediately, so she dressed it instead, as cleanly as she could. Slowly loosening the tourniquet after the hand was properly bandaged,She said, ¡°Well it looks like you''re not bleeding much, at least.¡±


    "I think we should hire a room for the night, doctor." Jerico smiled weakly, looking at the slowly spreading bloodstain on his bandaged hand. "You won''t be dying, but I agree," he heard her say, "Your finger might be lost to you for a while, until we can heal you properly. That hand needs to be washed and wrapped in something more sanitary ,and-"


    "Let''s go then," Jerico interrupted.


    ¡°The power¡¯s still alive for me¡± Curie said, fixing Jerico with an orange stare, the bright gleam of the mountain rabbit¡¯s eyes stared back at her. ¡°Orange doesn¡¯t suit you,¡± he sniffed, ¡°We could hide our gear here, walk into town as two wounded serfs.¡± he paused, pulling the tourniquet up with his good hand, ¡°Just wrap this around your eyes¡±


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    Their precaution for the most part was a meek one, such a size was the crowd that swept into the city gates along the central road, Jerico and Curie were borne along with the tide of people. Jerico affecting a bum knee, his bandaged hand over his partially blind aid. Curie was cautiously pulling down the blindfold every now and again, casting surreptitious glances whenever she wasn¡¯t fully surrounded.


    The city¡¯s name and insignia was emblazoned on every large gate along the road into the city. Curie took a peek, ¡°Khisset Ridge¡± the door symbol said, a round oblong button of dimpled iron below the name with a deer mid jump presented itself. Curie pulled the blindfold down as a portly man waded next to her, his gaze focused on the oxen he herded forward.


    It wasn¡¯t a wonder why such an influx of people were interested in the ridge city. Being the trade capital of Bellemarque, it served as the node to which the four closest nations gathered. Ensuring a largely friendly attitude was fostered from everyone that visited, it was the perfect place to dissolve into.


    Curie and Jerico passed the Nightjar bazaar, a massive collection of street vendors crisscrossed with single apartment buildings that stuck up like needles through the centre of the city. Large arches connecting each building formed a layered sandwich of commerce and residential buildings, each woven through by the fabric of bustling voices. Criers announcing pricing, the passing of folk sampling the various delicacies, it all mostly blended together, but something did stand out against the hum and that was the smell of food.


    The essence of Khisset Ridge was captured here, in microcosm, underneath the sprawling canopy of brightly coloured animal skins that marked it out from the rest of the city. A dazzling array of wares shared stock with an equal unending list of fatty seaside street-foods, golden-brown breads lined up next to pastries filled with sweet creams, fresh seasonal fruit and vegetables in large circular baskets, shining with misted water droplets next to rich and exotic smelling pools of golden ragwine, the bazaars specialty drink.


    Drifting through the bazaar, Jerico bought a bottle of port, some spare cloth, and thick-cut slicings of ham.  A few of the men at the stalls were eyeing up Curie as Jerico browsed, and as they wandered deeper into the less reputable parts of the city, Jerico snatched up some vegetables and a few good spices, as they shopped around for a place to stay.


    They found a rest stop placed above a dyer¡¯s shop. The open vats of dye fermenting in the sun, dying salts, urns of vinegar and glue layed about near each dye pool left quite a haze in the air that most other folks avoided. Jerico and Curie both had to hold their breath as they paid for their room.


    Jerico flopped onto the small bed at the back of the room, raising his hand as he fell in an attempt to absorb the shock. Curie walked to the window overlooking the vats. Pallid pools of yellow, brown and lavender stretched out in front of her in various shades.


    She pulled off the blindfold and rested their shopping on the small counter next to the left of the room, the paper bag¡¯s contents listed to the side- a few white onions falling out between the ribs of the stove as Curie leaned into the windowsill.


    Jerico admired the view for a moment, before he got back to the much more important problem of his hand, unwinding the bandage he ran it under the sink. Grabbing a fresh one from the shopping he watched with a morbid curiosity as the water from the tap dripped through the hole in his hand, mixing with his own blood as it ran down the sides of the sink in a gruesome collage of pinkish hues.


    Wrapping his hand back up as gently as he could, he called Curie over to tie two ends together. ¡°What a shame,¡± she sighed, running her finger gently over his palm. ¡°I never was a good cook, that pork is as good as burnt.¡± Jerico snorted. ¡°I can cook with one hand, just chop some things for me. I¡¯ve got enough blood in my body for that at least.¡±


    Curie¡¯s eyes flashed in response, ¡°The rabbit¡¯s wearing off dear; We''ll have to put that blood to better use.¡± She reached upwards, hooking her hand around Jerico¡¯s neck and pulled, melting into him with a deep kiss.


    ¡®The two things rabbits are known for,¡¯ Jerico thought, his mind drifting thought back to before the gorge, ¡®What was it that she''d said about rabbits? ¡°Rabbit¡¯s are known for other than the usual speed and agility¡± they most certainly are¡­¡¯


    He cradled her as they inched towards the bed, ¡°I¡¯ll admit, I¡¯m already a little light headed.¡± Jerico whispered, reaching the bed he sat and pulled Curie on top of him, her legs crossing behind his back.


    ¡°I¡¯ll do all the work this time,¡± Curie purred, her eyes wavering on the brink between rabbit and human, her iris warbling in response.


    He traced his hand down her face. The warmth from her skin was palpable, the pink of her cheeks melding down to the hotter peach pink of her neck. He stopped there a moment, his hand resting gently against her throat, watching as Curie warred with the rabbit¡¯s influence, the magic of it affecting her all the more as it wore off.


    ¡°Can we?¡± Curie keened, biting her lower lip.

 Chapter 3

    Balsam sat on the top floor balcony of his inn turned office-outpost, mulling over the options as his crew set their supplies in order. They had quite the store of Vennam now, hazard pay and all. The multinational coinage being split between four large trunks they hid in their caravans. His men, meanwhile, a crew of loyal pissants now standing around, each nursing their mid-morning hangovers.


    His second in command oversaw the packing while Balsam mused, the last stores of the inn¡¯s wine swirling around between his fingers, the crushed herbs of the hair of the dog clearing his mind. ¡®Witches, and ones on the run. That¡¯s a bad sign for us,¡¯ he thought, and with them risking the barricade his company had set up,


    ¡®Whatever was chasing them probably wasn''t far behind. Witch hunters, Varnile priests, a king''s ransom might be set out for the-¡¯


    ¡°Boss¡­ BOSS!¡± His second shouted, as the door slammed open. Jerking Balsam out of his Vennam greed stoked plotting. ¡°It¡¯s done. When are we heading out, boss?¡± His second paused, sniffing appreciatively. Balsam peered over the balcony, dropping the wineglass to the inn¡¯s floor. He stood, surveying the knots of his folk bandying around the caravans.


    ¡°We¡¯re leaving now!¡± Balsam yelled down at them, grabbing a handful of the herbs and chewing them as he picked up another empty glass. Chucking it through the closest of the inn¡¯s windows, it shattered satisfyingly. ¡®Can''t be leaving a pretty sight for any scavengers.¡¯ He thought as he headed downstairs.


    They headed through the backend of the gorge and aimed south east, following the craggy line that separated the mountain from grassy steppes that lead onto the city. Balsam slapped his second on his broad back as they rode. Hercule was a big man, much taller and smarter than himself, though he¡¯d never admit it. It was the height that pissed him off the most, made people second guess who was in charge.


    ¡°Why¡¯re we heading off, boss? You freaked out by that witch?¡± Hercule asked, a few unwanted ears craned into hear. Balsam ignored the question, hiking his horse up a low ridge. ¡°Should have checked him, boss. Like I said, that armour ain¡¯t seen a day of battle.¡± Hercule continued, rubbing his beard.


    ¡°There were two,¡± Balsam said sullenly, ¡°And how was I to know anyhow? Witches are s¡¯posed to be all off looking, like grey eyes and sharp teeth. Like the animals that make ¡®em so.


    ¡°aye¡­ he did look normal, a bit poncy is all.¡± Hercule nodded


    ¡®A large section of the inner walls had been knocked down, but after those two witches had run through the place, it was trodden into the stream as they passed. Damn shame, that inn was a good hideout too, not too far from the city, easily defensible¡­ ¡®Cept from fucking witches of course. It was laughable how easily they managed to get through,¡¯ Balsam thought, ¡®Why did they even try and talk their way through the toll. As a matter of fact, why didn¡¯t they just fly through?¡¯ Balsam was fairly sure they did that.


    The Hoss, or Dogs of Hoss as some of his recent joiners had started calling themselves, followed behind their leader with tired, bleary eyes. The night of heavy drinking hadn''t readied them well for the rushed mornings exit from their camp, dragging them out of bed by their skivvies was a job he left to Hercule.


    He waited for Hercule¡¯s reply. ¡°Hm, boss, all 13 accounted for.¡± It was Y¡¯vette who replied instead, a smile smothered as she waited for the last few men to pass through a blanket of low branches. ¡°Good,¡± Balsam said, staring her down as she turned back to wrap her arms again around Hercule¡¯s broad, well muscled back, perched neatly on the back of his horse.


    They rode to the forest''s edge and waited, Balsam hopping off his horse to address his men before they rode into town.


    ¡°We¡¯re off today. First, because we¡¯ve run out of booze, and second¡­¡± Balsam paused as he remembered the half collapsed remains of the inn¡¯s thatching. ¡°Second, because we¡¯ve got a witch on our hands; Two, actually, and it¡¯s time we got off our asses. Nice as it was of course, we need to spend some of our ¡®Nam and get us some more.¡± Balsam paused as a half hearted ¡°aye aye¡± came up from the gathered crowd.


    ¡°Ride off your hangover¡¯s lads. We¡¯ll buy some hair of the dog down ridgewise.'''' That garnered a scattering of more responses, and Balsam nodded, starting off down the shallow stream path towards Khisset Ridge.


    Rain splattered the cobblestones as the last of Hoss¡¯s dogs rode into the seaside flank of Khisset Ridge¡¯s east connection. One of their caravans¡¯s wheels had broken free of its axle halfway down the rocky bank leading to the main path most travellers tended to use. Balsam rode on past the rolling wheel his men chased after, taking the other working caravan while the other one was fixed and booking a place for his men to stay, out of the range of prying eyes.


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    ¡°Y¡¯vette can arrange the fence,¡± He had said after he''d found a place. Him and Hercule walked up to the waiting room and they sat chatting in the poorly made rickety wooden chairs laid out for them. He liked the layout, the room was sparse and utilitarian, designed in a way that discouraged long stays and amorous activity. The bed frame was metal, the walls thick enamelled ocean blue and grey and from the deep grooves in the wood panelled floor, Balsam guessed the room had seen quite a few bloody encounters.


    He had one of his men pull up a desk from the room below, while he grabbed a few of his unsold spoils. Mercantile measuring bits weighted along one side were placed on the desk, five large olive green bottles joined them, and he fingered the stoppers as he sat again.


    Hercule waited sullenly outside the door, not bothering to sit down as he checked the doors sliding speakers panel, the thin ribbon of wood making a squeaking noise each time he checked for Y¡¯vette. The second caravan finally came clattering into the fishermans'' hold. Underneath them, the collected Hoss set out to secure the place, locking latches and pulling tarps over the caravans. Most checking for guards and the like while the rest were making a ruckus about the stink of fish guts and oil.


    They waited then, but not for long. Hercule heard footsteps, then checked the panel, and opened the door.


    The man that followed Y¡¯vette was thin and tall as a whip, and had an absolutely fantastic set of jug ears that fell from his head like the sides of a hood, the lobes of which dangled a jangling of rings that dragged along his shoulders.


    ¡°Greetings, Balsam¡­ Always a pleasure¡± he said reedily, grinning as he pulled up one of the chairs next to him. Y¡¯vette and Hercule also sat, pulling the chairs a respectful distance away so Balsam and the Fence could talk in a semblance of privacy.


    ¡°Juniper.¡± Balsam clapped his hands in delight, ¡°Didn¡¯t know I¡¯d be getting you. We bum rushed an apothecary a while back, two hundred Vennam for each.¡± He said, pausing as a look of sadistic pleasure bloomed on Juniper''s face.


    ¡°Poisons?¡± Juniper asked.


    ¡°Dunno,¡± Balsam shrugged. ¡°They all smell foul, not much else I can ascertain.¡± He leaned back into the chair waiting for a response.


    ¡°May I?¡± Juniper leaned forward, uncorking one at Balsam¡¯s nod. The room immediately took on a wavy pallour as the vapours from the bottle spread forth. Y¡¯vette audibly gagged, and Balsam had to reach up surreptitiously to open a window.


    Juniper breathed in, and smiled. ¡°These aren¡¯t worth two hundred,¡± Balsam leaned back, the back of his head prickling from the cold night air. ¡°We took a loss trying to get it. One of my men lost, which means a bump in the price.¡± Balsam scoffed, looking out at the bay as the noxious fumage stung his eyes.


    ¡°A man lost means less mouths to feed¡­ Fifty¡± Juniper said, re-corking the bottle and opening up another. ¡°You should have no use for these, I¡¯d hope.¡± he added, the stench in the room growing worse.


    ¡°One hundred and fifty¡± Balsam replied, looking back and taking a deep breath before returning to his seat. ¡°Eighty five¡± Juniper countered, completely unaffected.


    Balsam started to reply, but was interrupted by sounds of retching as Y¡¯vette rushed towards the open window. ¡°Fine,¡± he sighed. Grabbing the bottle from Juniper and recorking it. ¡°Open up the other window,¡± he ordered to a green-faced Y¡¯vette.


    The fresh scent of the sea calmed most of their gullets, ¡°Anything else you want rid off?¡± Juniper asked, tucking the bottles into a leather briefcase, the olive green glass contrasted a large set of neutral pale pink clay ampules. ¡°Jewels, gold, trinkets. Have some other fence look it over and bring me the Vennam for it.¡± Balsam said dismissively, Juniper stood and nodded sagely, his long lobed ears flicking as he pulled out a satchel of tobacco, clipping the case¡¯s latches closed in the act. ¡°Smoke? Haggling can be so unpleasant between friends.¡±


    They stood just under the fishers outpost, a veranda outset with stools and a smoking metal fireplace protected them from the rain. It fell in buckets, now a loud pattering on the sloped wood slats, the ends of their smokes shielded behind clammy hands they leaned closer to the fire, watching as the docked boats in the harbour swayed under the downpour.


    ¡°So how''s business? I see you¡¯re sporting a set of new scars, quite handsome on you.¡± Juniper said. ¡°Aye, thanks,¡± Balsam chuckled. ¡°It''s been going as well as it could be, I suppose, my boys have been behaving, my face¡¯s been kept from the notice boards.¡± Juniper nodded, though he looked a little disappointed, ¡°do make sure to come to me though if your lovely face does make itself known, I''ve managed to make my self friendly with a few of the local guard¡± Balsam shook his head ¡°no we''ve a problem, a few Witches broke through the pass I''d set up i''m going back up north for a while I think¡± he took a few deep drags and watched as fog curled around the mountains base


    ¡°Witches? We haven''t had reports of witches in Kisset in three years.¡± Balsam saw he''d caught the man''s interest and grinned, ¡°No¡­ Well, you''ve got two in there now¡±


    ¡°Coming in?¡± Juniper asked tersely


    ¡°Yes, one of them tried to bargain with us beforehand. Nonsense about being poor travellers and how their town of Upper Iscuft was burned to the ground. A real sop story.¡± Balsam snorted, ashes falling from between his fingers.


    ¡°It was,¡± Juniper said, almost more to himself than in response to Balsam, ¡°What? How do you know that?¡± Juniper crushed the stump of his cigarette into the concrete and regarded Balsam. ¡°It''s up north, far up north, quite isolated. The news about the burning reached me two days ago. "He took another smoke out as he spoke, ¡°The Religare has been given too much freedom by the king.¡±


    Balsam breathed in slowly, ¡°So no reward¡¯ll be posted for them, I suppose.¡± Juniper smiled genially, ¡°You¡¯re too money hungry. friend. Spend what you''ve got first. I know a good armourer, discreet too.¡±


    ¡°We could share the reward money, I remember both their faces¡± Balsam suggested, glancing down at his armour brushing the pits and rust stains. ¡°Now that¡­ Is a thought.¡± Juniper mused. A grinning Balsam tossed the rest of his smoke into the rain. ¡°Nothing wrong with being greedy. Now, where''s this armorour of yours?¡±

 Chapter 4

    Snow leaned forward in her wooden rocking chair, her glasses misting up slightly as she took in the scene in front of her. A large toad sat next to her greenhouse misting pipe, underneath a set of oval leaves, each leaf taking its turn to drop a splash of rainwater on the thick bulb of the toad''s satisfied head. She''d almost missed the toad when she''d been wheeled in, only having her attention brought to it when Ilya had mentioned it in passing while fetching her tea.


    Snow grinned before putting her pencil to use. She deftly outlined the edges of the toads shape on the sketchbook at her side. Toads were a favourite of hers to draw, as they were usually very good sitters. Crouched flatly on a wet stone or lily pad, they would wait patiently for her to finish capturing their likenesses before hopping off. This one did as such; A fat, drooping egg-shaped little fellow, laying and luxuriating in the warm greenhouse spray as the morning sun sent rays through the blanket of the weeping willow that lay atop the glass of the greenhouse.


    She moved onto the toes, pushing down on the pencil to leave deep marks for the ends of the toad''s feet, making him meld into the background of her canvas. Turning to look back at her subject, she stopped to watch as the toads eyes bulged, a splatter of water puttered down onto it causing it to croak in surprise, setting off the other frogs in the greenhouse, a cacophony of noise which drowned out the sound of footsteps.


    Ilya returned, his arms full with supplies, setting down a chairside bench for him to pour. He glanced thoughtfully at Snow''s sketch as he uncorked the tea. "You''re getting better at drawing those eyes. He looks very wise."He said, ladling and packing the tea leaves into a small silver strainer before looking up again. Snow paused for a moment, adjusting her glasses to look up at the toad''s eyes, "I think this one''s eyes are just extra shiny from the shower it''s having." She said, leaning forward in her chair to place a berry in front of the toad.


    "Sugar?" Ilya asked, pausing over the bowl of sugar cubes. Snow nodded absent-mindedly, her face in her hand, rolling the berry towards the toad with a forefinger. The toad''s eyes boggled as the berry rolled its way, slowly getting closer.


    "Cicily managed to find a few tadpoles when she was out in the garden yesterday," Ilya mentioned, gritting his teeth as he pushed a knife into the bench with the palm of his hand to split a cube, ¡°Oh, and I did manage to find that book you wanted after all, it''ll be here the evening after next."


    The toad hopped towards the berry, looking down towards it with a slightly befuddled and angry expression, he flicked out his tongue, grabbing the berry and swallowing it, he rapidly repositioned, staring at Snow''s now offending outstretched finger.


    Snow straightened and looked back over at Ilya. He''d moved onto making his cup, her''s was finished. A small teacake sat next to the cup, her family''s sigil, a willow tree represented with caramel icing.


    "Hardback or paperback? I''d like to be able to take the book riding with me" Snow asked, taking her cup and sipping at the purple liquid. It tasted faintly mossy, grassy even as the thick woody scent prickled her nostrils.


    "Leather-bound¡­ It''ll survive whatever you put it through." Ilya said, chuckling, placing a teacake onto his plate. ¡°Anyway, how are you feeling today¡­? Better, I hope?" He asked, taking off his servant''s cap as he relaxed against the greenhouses'' wall, placing it under his arm as he looked at the sky, every now and again taking a few sips from his tea.


    She looked back down at the tea, the purple liquid steaming gently within the glass teacup. She spun the cup with a forefinger and raised it to her lips again.


    She didn''t like this tea, it was much too strong for her, the taste too foreign, no amount of sugar or milk served to reduce the flavour. "I feel much better today, much better in fact, can I just not drink any today?" Snow said, wrinkling her face at the tea''s flavour."


    Ilya looked up from his cup, a different brew that smelled faintly of apple & cinnamon. "I don''t think that''s wise. Here, perhaps more sugar would do?" he said, raising the two blocks up to her with his pair of silver tongs.


    Snow grimaced, shaking her head at the sugar. She took a deep breath and gulped down the heady concoction, pausing to gag slightly as the darker steeped bits washed their way over her taste buds. She placed the cup down with trembling fingers, her head swimming with nausea.


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    Gagging, she turned her chair away. "That mixture is evil and the one who made it should be jailed!" Snow rasped, pointing at the jar of greenish-purple leaves before descending into a coughing fit.


    "It can''t be that bad," Ilya admonished, trying not to look disgusted by it himself. He sipped at his own tea, watching as Snow''s coughing fit subsided. ¡°Well, you won¡¯t have to have any more today, I think.¡±


    She picked up the cup, dark purple blotches flared out strangely on the inside. ¡±I hope it doesn¡¯t stain my teeth,¡± She started swirling it counterclockwise, stopped, and then peered at it.


    "''Have you ever done tea reading, Ilya?" She asked, turning her head as she tried to make out the shapes in the glass. "I can''t say I have, though I think my sister once tried to teach me." Ilya mused, brushing back his hair and pulling back on his servant''s cap.


    "A tree branch... With some ants around it, a symbol of good health with that of a bad omen or impending difficulties. Maybe my recovery won''t be as fast as mother hopes." Snow sighed, massaging her temples as she looked at the tea leaves clinging to the side of the bowl.


    Ilya stood as Snow reclined sedate in the high backed confines of her chair. "Do you want me to take you back to your room, mistress?" His voice going steely with worry, placing his hands on the handrails at the chairs back. Ilya paused as he removed the stand locking the chairs'' wheels. "Yes please." Snow weakly uttered, Ilya nodded at the response, backing the chair away from the tea, a dragonfly balanced at the edge of Snow''s cup, proboscis dipping into the dregs.


    He spun the chair gently, the well oiled brass wheels clicking quietly as Ilya made his way through the manor to his mistress''s bedroom, pushing aside her beds mosquito netting. Ilya helped to raise Snow by her shoulder so she could slide herself into bed, locking the chairs wheels as he pulled the chair out to the side.


    Snow pulled herself up to rest on a few lacy cushions, reaching over to a bedside satchel from which she pulled out a notebook, pen, and abacus.


    ¡°Take the rest of the day at your leisure, Ilya. I¡¯ll take all my meetings in here today, I think.¡± Snow said, pulling one of the larger cushions over to lay on her lap. ¡°Let the first one in on the way out¡±.


    Ilya bowed his head, closing the door behind himself gently. Out into the corridor he turned left, heading to his room. What was he to do for the rest of the day? He wondered. As It was nearing evening time most of his favourite shops would be closed. Taking another left, leading him down a set of stairs to pass the waiting room.


    Ilya took a breath and opened the door.


    ¡°She will see you now. Please remove your shoes before you walk up to meet her.¡± He addressed what looked to be a tall straight backed lawyer type, or perhaps a merchant. A leather briefcase with clasps of opal outed him as a man of expense, though nothing else betrayed it.


    The odd man pointedly didn¡¯t remove his shoes. Turning to face Ilya, he adjusted his round rimmed glasses, tinted black swirls of glass chipped and pitted, made up the interior giving him a sinister appearance, one he lavished in it seemed for he fished a small leather booklet from his chest pocket, hoisting it up to eye level he flipped it open with a thin lipped smile.


    The municipality of the hundred hands, Leitsig - Addanc Elitho of the 5th cavalry. It read, the delicate calligraphy ensconced within roses carved into the gold tablet. He snapped the booklet closed, ¡°Please be as cooperative as possible, I have many other appointments to keep up today.¡±


    ¡®The secret police!?¡¯ Ilya stiffened up immediately clammy. ¡°Do you have an appointment?¡± He asked ¡°Yes, I¡¯ve asked those before me to kindly give up their spot.¡± Addanc responded smoothly reaching into another pocket in his waistcoat to grab an appointment notation, Snow¡¯s house insignia clearly stamped in the top left corner.


    ¡°My mistress is quite badly bedridden at the moment, any stress might wound her terribly, please take your shoes off while I go inform her of the change.¡± Ilya blurted out quickly, backing himself through the door he quickly walked off, uttering a string of curses under his breath as he picked up his pace, he bolted to Snow¡¯s door.


    A quick rap on the door with his palm and he slammed the door open.


    ¡°Mistress, the mitz are here, Secret police!¡± Breathless he looked towards Snow for an inkling of what to do.


    Snow looked up from her notebook, words of admonition for slamming open the door drying on her lips as she processed what had been said, ¡°Please, tell him I¡¯ll be down to meet him right away.¡±


    Ilya nodded, unlocking the chair and pulling it to her side. ¡°He¡¯s waiting for my return mistress. If you give me a minute or two I can bring my crew for... Protection¡± his grip on the wheelchair was white knuckled, a low almost feral growl on his lips as the suggestion left him.


    ¡°No, that¡¯s silly, we¡¯ve done nothing wrong.¡± Snow said calmly, ¡°And if¡­ they¡¯re here during the day no less, it must be a trivial matter.¡± Ilya nodded and swallowed, wheeling Snow out to meet the man.


    He had removed his shoes, and was stood in the meeting office, arms clutched behind his back as he waited for them to enter. ¡°Mistress Locusta, a pleasure¡± he said as she came to a stop, Ilya pulling the chair to the front of the desk, he bowed stiffly and went to fetch refreshments at a gesture.


    ¡°I¡¯ve come to ask something of you. Some recent news has been reported about two people who have managed to gain entrance into the city.¡± Snow paused as she took this in. ¡°And how can I help you with that, officer?¡± He watched as Ilya re-entered ¡°Your medicine shops, I need the sales records for all of them from the past five days.¡±


    ¡°Whatever for, officer? If I may ask.¡± Snow peered at him cautiously. ¡°Witches¡­¡± he said, the teacake he''d picked up snapping like so many small bones.

 Chapter 5

    It¡¯d taken most of their funds to afford the Medallion of Cured Flesh. Curie had unwrapped his hand and started the bleeding again, pouring iodine in a messy, near approximation of a surgical procedure. ¡°Moulder slowly,¡± she advised, crouching beside the bed and taking Jerico¡¯s hand in hers.


    Jerico placed the medallion on top of the wound, and concentrated on it. The cylinder wobbled, a faint iridescence, a fishlike smell reminiscent of dried or smoked eel. They¡¯d gone for the best¡­ Axolotl, hopefully.


    The medallion puffed and sunk into Jerico¡¯s hand, black waves of smoke pouring down the sides into Curie¡¯s in a miniature water fountain.


    Tiny pale bones appeared in the lump, the last to disappear into smoke, and Jerico paused the process, wafting the smoke away and lifting what was left. The hole was gone, a small pink dot in the middle of faint scar tissue was all that remained. ¡°Woah¡­ I¡¯ve never healed a gash that big before, only paper cuts.¡± Curie smiled and nodded, ¡°It¡¯s truly a miracle animal. You left a bit, I¡¯ll just wrap that up¡±.


    They spent the rest of the morning in a quiet, warm inertia. Black out curtains and incense took care of most of the smell from the dyeing vats, and after the endless days of running, always fearful, always alert, it felt good to shrug off the protective layer of casual paranoia they had each nurtured. Laying in the bed, Jerico drifted half asleep, Curie¡¯s head felt as a welcome weight on his arm. While Curie stared out of the window, the red terracotta roofs shifted into a blurry mosaic as she felt Jerico brush his fingers through her hair.


    ¡®It''s good to finally be safe again,¡¯ she thought, ¡®But how much longer will this last?¡¯ She found herself blinking back tears. Her home¡­ The last remnants of the town she''d lived in for almost thirty years. Completely burned down, now empty, the faces of people she¡¯d known, children she¡¯d taken care of, the children of those she¡¯d grown up with, all of it scorched to the crust.And yet, she could still see the shape the smoke had made as they''d rode away.


    Jerico¡¯s voice snapped her out of the dark tunnel her thoughts had warped into. ¡°Curie? What''s wrong?¡± She wiped her tears, shaking her head, ¡°I-I can''t help but remember. It just keeps coming back. The fire, the sound of yelling men, the religious chan-¡± Her voice dried on her lips as she spotted something out the window. A dark shape was moving across the roofs, trailing an almost indistinguishable dark trail of smoke that reminded her too much of what she¡¯d been thinking of. It moved in a beeline towards them, distinctly inhuman grace was readable in every twist of muscle and turn of the head as it, no, they came closer. Jumping the immense gap between the roofs as if they were hopping on rocks that led across a stream.


    ¡°Someone''s coming¡­¡± She said, staring at the figure ¡°What?¡± Jerico said sleepily, Curie¡¯s shoulder going tense under his fingers ¡°Someone''s coming. A figure. A witch.¡± she replied, growing more alarmed as she watched them drifting closer. ¡°Jerico get up!¡± She said, urgently scrambling back and pointing to the figure.


    They both rushed about in a panic, Jerico grabbing a knife from the kitchen drawer, dropping it, swearing and reaching for his armour instead Curie grabbed their bundle of partially cast off clothing, glancing at her armour she grabbed the chest piece. Jericho threw her their string of coins and she ran across the room, slamming open the door and buckling her breastplate on as she jogged down the stairs, the partially mouldered chunk of axolotl meat in one hand the string of Vennam in the other. Jericho followed closely behind, pulling on his vambrace pair and anything else he could get on without assistance, a dead silence stopped them each on the last step. Curie, her hand paused over the wood beam that lined the stairs, fingernails pressed too far into the grain, a pain she didn¡¯t notice in an attempt to hear what was happening. The sound from upstairs had completely ceased.


    The sound of footsteps slid into their room, they both continued down the stairs as they heard this. Jerico shared a glance with the roomkeeper, ¡°We¡¯ll be right back, need¡¯s cleaning.¡± He shouldered the bundle of armour and clothing and flashed an uneasy smile.


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    Curie waited for him by the stairs to the ground floor, pulling a cape from the bundle of clothes she wrapped it around herself, ¡°Let¡¯s go to a bathhouse, get dressed, and then see if anything¡¯s been stolen¡±


    ¡°You''re right, lucky you grabbed the ¡®nam,¡± Jerico snorted, his eyes tracked towards the ceiling as he followed her. ¡°Go on, I¡¯ll be right behind you.¡± Opening the door, Curie turned from Jerico to meet a pair of glassy grey eyes, pupiless segmented and empty. It took all of Curie¡¯s self control to not immediately shriek and slam the door at the sight. She turned away from those eyes, and began to edge past the owner, ¡°Sorry, w-we¡¯re just leaving.¡± She said, pausing as she caught a fleck of black smoke misting out from under the stranger''s coat.


    ¡°Go back inside¡­¡± They said, the glassy grey sheen winked against the light as they blinked, placing a thin arm on the door, they towered over the couple, hunched as they were to fit into the door frame oily grey strands of hair fell as they pushed forward thankfully blocking out those unnatural eyes.


    Curie backed up, shuddering ¡®how? Did they jump down 6 storeys?¡¯


    ¡°we need to talk¡± the figure said. within the confines of the building they unfurled to their full height of almost 7 feet tall, brushing the oily strands of hair back behind her ears she shrugged off the coat she¡¯d been wearing and bared her arms,


    ¡°No weapons, just a conversation between mutuals¡± she said, folding the coat and tucking it under one arm.


    ¡°Not a very friendly way to start a conversation¡± Jerico said, placing a hand on Curie¡¯s shoulder


    ¡°you¡¯re lucky¡± the stranger said, her voice reminding Curie of broken pottery, ashen eyes scanned the top of the stairs, she paused then said quietly ¡°You¡¯ve attracted attention of the Thousand Hands with your entrance to the city¡±


    ¡°What?¡± Curie and Jerico said in unison.


    The stranger stood quietly in the middle of their room, Curie and Jerio shuffled in nervously, smoke pooled around the Witches feet as she waited for them to close the door, Curie avoided her stare leaning on the bedpost, Jerico joined her wrapping an arm around her comfortingly.


    ¡°who, are the Thousand Hands¡± he said, eyeing the pool of smoke collecting around the Witches ankles, she was dressed in a mottled combat grey, black combat boots led into dark grey riding trousers, and a lighter almost blue satin shirt that topped off at a frilled collar.


    ¡°You must have been very sheltered to not have at least heard mention of them by now, well¡­ they¡¯re the Kings private force of little ruiners¡± She looked out of the window, her eyes sending reflective light flecks across the room ¡°anyway, I¡¯ve done as much as I can for now, I had to blanket half of the city to keep you safe¡± the pool of smoke dissipated as she spoke.


    ¡°Who are you?¡± Curie asked


    ¡°a fellow Witch¡± came the reply


    ¡°and we¡¯re just supposed to trust a stranger? How do we know you''re not one of these Thousand Hands?¡± her teeth gritted as she said so, it was a stupid question Curie knew that, the stranger did too.


    ¡°You¡¯ve got two choices now¡­ Come with me, or get on the nearest ship, somewhere far away from Bellemarque¡± she pursed her lips, as if considering something ¡°it¡¯s only a matter of time before the scent of my magic dissipates¡± Jerico glanced at Curie, he suddenly looked haggard, and they both felt that familiar blanket of paranoia wrapping around them once more, Jerico rubbed his face, his fingers pinched on the bridge of his nose, their room was a mess, but they didn¡¯t have enough to make packing again a struggle. Curie watched as Jerico squatted, scooping together any clothing they¡¯d missed, grabbing the knife he¡¯d dropped


    ¡°GIve us a little time to make a decision please¡± Curie said, crossing her arms.


    A shadow of a frown flickered across the stranger''s face, it was the most emotion she¡¯d displayed since they¡¯d met. ¡°twenty minutes, I¡¯ll be outside¡­ if you don¡¯t come by then you¡¯ll have made your decision¡± she bowed under the door frame as she left,


    ¡° what do we do?'''' Curie asked, helping him slot on the rest of his armour,


    ¡°go with her, she¡¯s the first friendly face we¡¯ve seen since Merdu¡± he said ¡°I would hardly say friendly¡± Curie protested ¡°what else are we going to do? We can¡¯t get a ship we spent the last of our funds fixing me¡± Jerico said, he rubbed the scar-spot reflexively as he said so ¡°And I¡¯m glad we did that darling, but I don¡¯t think we should just hop in bed with someone neither of us know¡± Curie was fiddling with her own armour as she spoke, finally giving up and letting Jerico tighten the last few straps that sat across her waist.


    ¡°What do you suggest?¡± Jerico asked, placing the last of their unused food wrapped up at the top of his satchel bag and checking around the room for anything they¡¯d missed. ¡°I- don¡¯t know just, she scares me, let¡¯s please be careful¡± she wrung her hands as she thought, ¡°of course, we got this far didn¡¯t we?¡± Jerico said gently.

 Chapter 6

    ¡°You look quite dapper Hossain¡± the voice was slurred and warty, connected to a large beady eyed man with a litter of cheap whores who sat at an alcove near where Balsam had walked in, the restaurants dim sodium vapour lights intermingled with candles placed in little flower covered inlets. it all beading against the man''s sweat drenched skin gave it a tarnished gold hue, ¡®suitable for a man like him¡¯, Balsam thought


    ¡°Hello, Shabitka Roswell is it? It¡¯s good to meet you, and you ladies¡­¡± he pushed into the alcove, one of the women moving to give him way getting pulled as she stood, into Shabitka¡¯s lap.


    ¡°Call me Shab son, that¡¯s what most the men do,¡± Shabitka said, grinning as he casually fondled the girl.


    ¡°Mind if we have our chat in private?¡± Balsam smiled ruefully at the whores, ¡°sorry ladies¡±. Shabitka shrugged, shoving off the girl on his lap and waving the rest away with a distracted hand ¡°come on then, out with it lad¡± he said, drinking deeply from a flask, gold reflecting through his fingers  ¡°I need to find someone Shab, they entered Kisset today¡± Shabitka shifted in his seat


    ¡°Know a name?, description?¡± his rolls shifted as he talked.


    ¡°Aye, a man and a woman. Both middle aged, man¡¯s darker skinned; black hair, green eyes, probably Mitchkan. Girl¡¯s lighter, didn¡¯t get a good look at her much, dark hair, taller than the man, maybe Doeish or Porchine, both of em wear armour, girls¡¯ is more of a scout outfit though. Balsam mused as he tried to remember specifics, Shabitka busying himself by cleaning a plate of the last of it¡¯s olives, he wiped his fingers on the tablecloth as Balsam recounted, ¡°oh, the man¡¯s armour has never seen a day of battle, completely unscarred¡±


    ¡°Well, that¡¯s a useful tip lad, my men¡¯ll find them in no time¡± Shabitka laughed, tilting his head, ¡°but now to seal the deal. My men aren¡¯t cheap so now it¡¯s a matter of recompense, if you will.


    Balsam nodded, ¡°half now half after you¡¯ve got em¡± he said, putting out several strings of Vennam from his jacket, Shabitka eyed the stacks, thick golden ringlets that looked heavenly under the yellow cast of the vapour lights. Balsam saw one of the waiters nudge another, their eyes glued to the hanging bundle.


    ¡°That sounds lovely lad, but I¡¯ll need double what you¡¯ve got there¡­ five hundred for each, makes it a thousand for two.¡± he took a breath and leaned further back into the cushioned alcove seats. ¡°Making me hunt down one of my own it stings a bit you know, I¡¯m part Mitchkan myself, on my mothers side.¡±


    A thousand? Balsam eyed the sentient tub of fish oil sitting in front of him, losing near enough a whole chest just to find those two wasn¡¯t something he wanted to contemplate. Gritting his teeth he pulled the coins back into the fold of his coat and stood slowly, ¡°well, I suppose I¡¯ll have to go elsewhere then, Shab¡± he could feel his anger showing, Shabitka seemed unmoved, his head dipped underneath a gap in the lights left his body a turgid headless mass of flesh clutching a goblet.


    The hand clutching the goblet moved as Balsam made to leave ¡°you so sure lad?¡± Shabitka said slowly, ¡°my boys¡¯ve been hearing things, about the thousand hands n such¡­ might not have a chance much longer to get to these lovely friends of yours¡± Wine sloshed as Shabitka set his goblet down and busied himself lighting a cigar. Balsam stopped ¡®the thousand hands?¡¯. The cigar flared dimly as Balsam contemplated what Shabitka said.


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    ¡°Why¡¯d the secret police be in Kisset?¡± he asked.


    ¡°Aha, interested again are we?¡± Shabitka¡¯s grin flashed dimly in the darkness. Balsam ran his fingers through his hair, he could feel the veins in his head pulse as he tamped down his anger, ¡®one fucking thousand the reward for their capture better be worth it¡¯.


    ¡°Fine¡­¡± he said woodenly ¡°have one of your men come by the docks to pick the Nam up. Be seeing you Shabitka¡± nodding to the waiting whores Balsam left, his chest feeling heavy, the coins slung there making it all the more unpleasant. Making his way back to the docs Balsam pushed through the crowd, knocking people back and forcing others back with the force of his glare, he paused outside the Nightjar bazaar thinking about the slop his men had probably cooked up, Hercule was the only one of his men who had any talent in the kitchen, and he was out with another person-finder they¡¯d manage to meet with. ¡®Not as rancidly well known as Shabitka¡¯ Balsam thought darkly. his thoughts were a jumble, he pulled a few fingers through his stubble as he walked through the bazaar.


    A shop caught his eye, four tiered pastry stands docked with sweet desserts, others ringed with wrapped up packages of rice in grape leaves shined against the midmorning sun, the shop itself was painted a rosy cream colour, a welcome departure from the dimly lit embrace of the underground brothel. He took a seat next to the window, his plate stacked high and his chest a little lighter now that he had something to occupy his mind. He bit into a bundle and relaxed into his seat.


    He was halfway finished when he saw them. Pausing mid-bite Balsam gaped as he saw a large figure, followed by two smaller ¡®not smaller, just average sized¡¯ the figures were coming closer, passing through the bazaar in a hurry, he saw the gleam of armour, noted the Mans¡¯ Mitchkan features, the womans pale burgundy gambeson, she was Doeish after all, her face soft and yet longer than normal, delicate features lined with worry as she pulled that man through the crowd, Balsam wondered who the large figure they were both following was, almost lost himself in his musing he cursed, jumped up and ran out of the shop, following them through the crowded maze of side streets.


    The curves, bumps and awkward geometry of the city proved valuable as Balsam tailed the three. Beams of dappled sunlight shafting through overcrowded buildings, struck with a different hue as it passed through dyed leather sun-blockers to give the backstreets a mottled appearance, Balsam¡¯s hunters instincts came in handy, though the witches weren¡¯t making much effort to be stealthy a ragged scared group they were. Now that they were away from the main crowd the largest witch let off bursts of black smoke around every other corner, it splashed out of them like they¡¯d been hit by a powder bomb. The sparks of magic popped at seemingly random moments, Balsam¡¯s confidence dipped with each ink black crackle.


    They made their way to the edge of the City, passing through the wealthier parts of town the buildings dripped, ramshackle forms supported by rotting wood beams and moss green copper pipes.


    A boat was waiting for them, a large almond shaped vessel with a black pitted steel roof and sloped bottle green sides that showed chipped white paint where it met the roof. They boarded slowly the large one waiting at the entrance, they¡¯d stopped sending out pulses when they¡¯d entered the poorer edges of the city ¡®could I block them from sailing off?¡¯ Balsam wondered, peering out from between two large pallet crates. it''d be about an hour or so to get to the edge of the city, if he ran. ¡®another hour after that to get a boat or something useful out into the water with enough men to overpower them¡¯ Balsam turned, gave the Boat one last glance and ran.

 Chapter 7

    Snow stared dimly at the notes on her desk, Adjusting her reading spectacles and pushing the string of beads that hung from the gold frames edges away in annoyance.


    ¡®Two shops, roughly three thousand Vennam annually¡¯ she stared at the king''s expropriation seal, the thought ringing in her head, the wax seal was a revolting speckled blackbird blue colour, it wasn''t fair! She ground her fists into her eyes and slumped back into her wheelchair.


    The secret police had raided both of her shops, searched the place, ransacked all the financial documents, even threatened the staff.


    And then to top it all off! claimed it by decree of the king, the brass hinges of her wheelchair hummed in protest of her quiet tantrum.


    She stopped, opening her hands to the little half moon dimples in her palms, ¡®no, it''s definitely not right,¡¯ she sighed, closing the letter, ¡®not tonight,¡¯ she thought, placing the letter and the rest of the documents in their respective drawers. She half contemplated ringing for Ilya, if only to mope and have him fetch her something sweet. but it was late and he''d taken the whole ordeal far worse than she had already.


    ¡®What time even is it?¡¯ she thought turning her wheelchair to look at the clock on the wall, ¡®two in the morning, well not much sleeping now I suppose¡¯ she wheeled herself to the window, the metal wheels made the floorboards creak loudly against the still, candle choked air of her bedroom, she winced slightly at the sound. Unlatching the window with some difficulty, she huffed and half fell back into her chair, relieved if a bit winded. Breathing in slowly as the night air swelled into the room.


    ¡°You''ll get a cold mistress, let me get you a blanket¡± the sleepy voice of Ilya said, walking into the room. He beelined for the bed closet and began pulling out a large feather duvet, Snow turned the wheelchair around guiltily and smiled.


    ¡°Sorry Ilya, I really didn''t mean to wake you¡± Snow said ¡°you should go back to bed¡±, Ilya smiled and shook his head.


    ¡°nonsense¡± he padded forward, stifling a yawn and unfurling the duvet, he turned the chair, wrapping the soft feather stuffed fabric around her waist and taking off the spectacles that dangled from her neck, ¡°do you want anything to drink? something to nibble on maybe?¡±.


    ¡°Something¡­ Sweet?¡± Snow said tentatively, adjusting the duvet a bit, ¡®no point trying to convince him otherwise¡¯ she thought.


    ¡°Of course mistress¡± Ilya placed the spectacles on to her bedside dresser, ¡°would you like that book you were reading too?¡±


    ¡°Yes please¡± she said, craning her neck around the chair as he left. ¡®I¡¯ll have to give him some extra days off, sometime¡¯ she thought, chastising herself, ¡®and be more firm with it, insist next time¡¯ she stared out of the window, thinking.


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    images of the kings seal flashed through her head, ¡®the secret police, the kings lapdogs¡¯ chatter of her employees, hushed whispered details on government, ¡®the king might not have any Idea this had been ordered¡¯ if the king hadn¡¯t ordered the shops seized directly, maybe she could bring it to his attention.¡¯beg an audience and ask for compensation at the very least¡¯ She had never spent much time paying attention to politics though.


    She imagined a star falling, tendrils of effervescent vapour wrapping into itself as it fell, dome capped contrails like a jellyfish. It twisted slowly in her mind and exploded. she''d not want her business being accosted by the secret police any longer.


    Though her mother and father had taken her to court when she was young, and she remembered the ladies in their thin fancy ornately patterned dresses, those men in their strangely globular ceremonial armour, a child¡¯s place in court isn¡¯t an educational one, she remembered being petted, plied with sweetmeats, dressed up in strange pastel children sized variations of adult attire.


    She was sure she could recall how things were supposed to go. ¡®Proper etiquette is,¡¯ her thoughts weren¡¯t at all coherent at the late hour¡® ¡°If you hold the knife like a dagger then brace yourself for social solitude.¡± ¡® her tutors'' half remembered echoes weren¡¯t a comfortable memory either. Outside the window a shadow shape warped under the eaves of a tree, perhaps she''d be able to brush up on etiquette, on the way there¡­


    ¡°Hmm¡± she intoned, decision made.


    ¡°Hmm?¡± Ilya, said, a plate of flakey layered honey and cashew pastries cut into slanted squares hovered near her nose. She took one and nibbled on it.


    ¡°I''m going away Ilya, pack my things in the morning¡± she said. the mild nutty honey coating her mouth pleasantly. ¡°Oh my, this is lovely¡±


    ¡°Away where?¡± He sounded mildly surprised, the plate wobbling slightly.


    ¡°Oh don''t worry about that, I want you, to take a vacation¡± she said, finishing the pastry and reaching for another.


    ¡°I think it''d be best if I came with you, mistress¡± Ilya said, rather stiffly.


    ¡®Always stiffens up when I mention days off¡¯ Snow thought. ¡°no. I insist, and I mean it this time¡±


    ¡°Are you sur-¡± he began ¡°yes! Ilya, darling. I think you should take a few days off¡± Snow said.


    ¡°I must protest, if you are going away who will attend to you¡± Ilya began to say, the plate wobbling dangerously, Snow didn''t answer staring at the window then turning to stare at him, chewing slowly, and swallowing.


    ¡°Very well, what clothes should I pack for you?¡± Ilya said defeated, lowering the plate onto her lap, and peering out the window suspiciously.


    ¡°Something that would be suitable for¡­ court¡± Snow said eyeing Ilya, he stared at her dumbly,


    ¡°Court?¡± He repeated, as if he couldn¡¯t believe what he was hearing, that the week''s trip across the ocean from Khisset was a hard trip for any ¡®able bodied man¡¯ four days by boat and another three trekking inland to the Capitol was a horrific undertaking for someone who didn¡¯t have the aid of their legs.


    ¡°Court.¡± Snow said. popping another pastry into her mouth with a ridiculous sense of satisfaction. ¡°Would you like one?¡± she asked, offering the plate.

 Chapter 8

    The inside of the Ship was the same make as the roof, it reminded Curie of a pitted grey lancet with how each metal wall of the ship curved inwards to some undefinable point at the bow, they had entered through a hatch in the roof, and now Curie and Jericho sat uneasily on the bottom left half of a ships bench watching as their warden, this blank eyed woman set about tidying up the ships innards.


    ¡°We never did get your name,¡± Jerico said, making a marked attempt at socialising. Curie glanced up briefly at the witch before dropping her gaze to Jerico''s hand, which she clutched tightly in her own. The witch stalled, turning to look at them. Jerico glanced around while he waited his fingers dancing unconsciously, he started packing their mess of items into a half decent pile of sorted goods, food on one side, clothing on another, the busted up gauntlet of his wrapped up and packed away for later inspection, he was making a thorough use of his recovered hand.


    A reply came, ¡°It¡¯s Armistice¡± She said. Her voice low, and almost drowned out by the shuffle of a leather nautical map, Armistice pinning the edges to a large table that sat opposite them.


    ¡°Armistice? oh that¡¯s an interesting name, a lovely sentiment¡± Jerico said,


    ¡°It¡¯s a Djegese translation¡± Armistice said succinctly, as if that provided all the information Jerico would need.


    ¡°Djegese you say, as in from Djadguiime?¡± he said the words easily, Curie miming along though her tongue tripped over the unfamiliar phonemes.


    ¡°It is Jad-gu-I-eme right?¡± Curie asked, ¡°Jeg-ezy too¡± she exaggerated the sounds, the words coming out in a comically foreign drawl.


    Armistice nodded, not paying attention while Jerico pulled his hand from between Curie¡¯s fingers to pack his pile of stacked items into a chest at the end of the bench. Wrapping the netting nailed to the inside of the chest tightly around the items and closing the hatch. He eyed the edge where it closed attempting a detached plaisance, as if in confirming the existence of the waterproof seal up close, his fear sense itching out the inside of his palms would cease with this simple gesture of domesticity, in marking what was his it brought him back to the situation, he wiped his face, the itch beading out under his forehead.


    ¡°You don¡¯t look very Djegese¡± Curie interrupted, Jerico pulled himself up, his full attention finally focused on the two.


    ¡°I used to¡± Armistice replied, her tone turning frosty.


    ¡°What happened?¡± Curie asked, ¡°if you don¡¯t mind saying¡± Jerico added cupping Curie¡¯s hand again.


    ¡°Magic, happened¡± Armistice said, a hint of melancholic pride in her voice.


    Before Curie could push further, the porthole hatch shifted, dusty sunlight streaming downwards as an older man climbed down, his legs clicked with every step downwards, instead of the strange liquid grace that characterised Armistace¡¯s movements, his were faster a chipped manic hypermobility, his head whipped around to face them before his body turned, a three sixty unnatural owl-ish movement.


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    ¡°I¡¯m Canipto, and oh OH truly it is a pleasure.¡± he said eagerly, his voice coming a few moments earlier than when his mouth moved.


    He nodded to them, wiping a few wisps of smoke off his clothing.


    ¡°I¡¯m going to assume, and forgive me if I am wrong, but both of you are witches, no?¡± he said, speaking all the while as he joined Armistice next to the leather map, placing his finger on the inked lines making out the edge of a coastal formation, Armistice followed his finger as he continued to lightly chat with them.


    ¡°Yes, we are¡± Curie spoke for them both, Jerico nodding, a look of glazed fascination on his features.


    ¡°Well isn¡¯t that lovely, Armistice and I were worried, only one of you were seemingly mouldering anything when you entered the city, we assumed the worst.¡± Canipto¡¯s speech was catching up with his movement, the strange echoed perception beginning to catch up with itself


    Curie''s eyes tightened, ¡°would it have been a problem? If one of us weren¡¯t?¡± she straightened too, Armistice looking at her, a sensory silver-cold twinkle lighting up those grey orbs, the skin around them wrinkled too in a threat. Canipto¡¯s eyes flickered, catching the tension in Jerico¡¯s stance. He raised a hand, fingers splayed placatingly.


    ¡°Not at all, not at all,¡± he said quickly, his words and movements finally synchronising. ¡°It¡¯s just that in these times, it¡¯s rare to find a partnership so¡­ well-aligned. Witches should be with their own kind, don¡¯t you think? It¡¯s reassuring.¡±


    Armistice relaxed as she watched Canipto warmly natter on, ¡°We¡¯ve seen too many mixed unions fall apart under the strain. The world¡¯s hard enough on witches as it is.¡±


    Curie shrugged at that, ¡°it wasn¡¯t our witchhood that brought Jerico and I together, but¡­ yes it is reassuring, we had to leave our village because of a report from someone who wasn¡¯t¡± Curie trailed off, waving her hand about half heartedly.


    ¡°I understand wholeheartedly my dear and we¡¯ll take you away from that sort of thing, do not worry¡± Canipto replied nodding in sympathy, ¡°it¡¯s about time we headed off anyhow. Isn¡¯t that right Armistice¡±.


    He laughed at Armistic¡¯s still venomous demeanour, a deep baying sound that Curie and Jerico awkwardly gritted their teeth against.


    ¡°She¡¯s not much of a talker, but she grows on you, you¡¯ll see¡± he said, patting her arm and pushing her so she half stumbled down one of the corridors to what looked to be a caged brig. It was morbidly amusing seeing such a relatively small old man, leading this glassy dead eyed giantess away like a wounded dog.


    Jerico crossed his arms at the chill, glancing at Curie uneasily.


    ¡°So, can I give you two the tour of the ship?¡± Canipto said reappearing, ¡°where you¡¯ll be sleeping, I¡¯m sure this has been absolutely exhausting for you¡±


    ¡°Does this ship have anywhere that isn¡¯t fully enclosed?¡± Curie cautiously asked ¡°I¡¯m not much of a traveller, this is my first time being on anything bigger than a skimmer¡± Jerico shifted at this, not wanting to admit he¡¯d very much like some air too.


    ¡°This is an armoured ship¡± Canipto said seriously, ¡°and as such no, if you feel your about to throw up you¡¯ll have to use the ships head, over there¡± he said pointing behind them ¡°but don¡¯t worry if the ocean¡¯s clear during the day I tend to pop to top for a picnic. Join me sometime, it can be a lovely view.¡±


    The ship started moving slowly, the rough sound of ropes smacking against the ships flank followed Armistice bowing underneath the entrance with several ropes slung over her shoulder, she dumped them into a rough heap next to a barrel and shouldered her way past the two of them without a word.


    ¡°Right, well I¡¯d better get to helping her cast off.¡± Canipto announced, ¡°you two, make yourself comfortable. We¡¯ll have tea in an hour.¡±

 Chapter 9

    Grime coated the troop of three, thick muddy sludge up to their waists, they¡¯d positioned themselves underneath the nearby runoff of a alley of fishmongers, a glistening school of slightly opalescent fish heads passed under their noses, the sensation of scraped off scales brushed across their stomachs a moment later, combined with a stench only the most experienced were used too, it was hard to focus on the task at hand.


    Taking a deep breath Balsam glanced at Hercule and Y''vette, positioned to his side they¡¯d all three of them bought a handful of large climbing hooks. Nasty looking things, the deep serrations in the metal made a perfect ripping implement to climb onto the boat with.


    And it was a near guarantee that they¡¯d be able to get on to it too, the way the outwards peer curved formed a pincer, and along the other side a wayward tendril of hovels built on top of the water, it all funnelled everything very neatly towards them.


    They bent into half crouches now, wading in deeper between the struts that supported the hovels above them, thick blooming barnacle curtains crawled up each thin piling fattening and obscuring the wood in sections, Y''vette let out a groan as a washing heap of fish guts was dumped nearby.


    Further out, Balsam knew was positioned the rest of his crew, hidden between bales of hay, crab pots, and several wooden bridge segments, they had a hand cannon staff musket placed there. Solidly aimed between the gap where the pier met the hovels,  and the bridge segments they were planning on laying out once the boat had been captured, now two men each held onto the massive wooden constructions, fencing the twenty or so men in.


    ¡°The ship hasn¡¯t moved boss¡± a low voice, one belonging to a man of his, it barely reached him, the figure¡¯s face appearing between the broken ink stained boarding as Balsam looked up.


    ¡°Has anyone left?¡± Hercule asked, his voice thick and tired. ¡°No¡± the answer came slowly, after a few moments the face reappeared again.


    ¡°Are we going to have to wait here all day, maybe somewhere the drier would do?¡± Y''vette asked, hope in her voice.


    ¡°Hold on!, someone else has joined them¡± Balsam''s man, his voice strained with suppressed excitement, shudders down through the woodwork.


    ¡°How many bloody witchfolk are we going to have to deal with¡± Balsam cursed, adjusting his fingers over the climbing hook in his hands, he stabbed one into a piling, spearing the barnacles there. The meal from earlier in the morning was threatening to present itself again, a vicious headache from the ambient cloud of fermentation.


    ¡°Boss, Boss! they¡¯ve started moving too¡± his man finally saying what they¡¯d been all waiting for.


    They waited there a few moments more, tense minutes passing as the slow shadow of the encroaching ship ponderously slicked itself over the pier''s painted aquamarine concrete, Yvette retched into the stinking water while they waited, Hercule patting her back sympathetically.


    ¡°Go.¡±


    With the order uttered, Hercule waded forward first, eager to get it over with. Y¡¯vette close behind him. He swung the heavy metal hook around his shoulder in a loop, aiming for the just under the metal roof, he struck, the climbing hook jumped forward angrily, biting into the bottle green flank of the vessel.


    Balsams hook arced over the top, seeking purchase on the other side, clanging on the metal roof it couldn¡¯t find any. Sliding limply back into the grimey dead water. Y¡¯vette¡¯s found a lip of metal grinding into it and holding fast.


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    Hercule handed off his rope to Y¡¯vette, grabbing her¡¯s and wrapping the thick winding of wax fed rope around the post Balsam had cut into, sliding the rope between the split barnacles. Y¡¯vette had made it halfway up the Ship''s side, turning to grab Balsams hand at the top and dragging him up onto the roof, as he climbed aboard a large flat disk of metal rose up from the centre of the Ships cap, rough metal hinges clanged, a face appearing from the hole.


    Balsam kicked, booting the man''s head into the metal hinge of the porthole. Blood coated the hinge as he dropped, traces of an ear between the close knit metal.


    The head of the man Balsam knew, Jerico, popped up through the left of the porthole as the other man fell, his gaze locking on the pair, peering menacingly down from above him, blood drained from his ruddy face.


    ¡°You?¡± he said disbelievingly, ducking away from the responding kick and scrabbling downwards. He slipped though, as the whole vessel tipped to the side, the sound of crunching, ripping as wood bent, fell. The ship was being pulled in an arc barreling towards where a large section of the hovels now sagged, the beam that served to pin it up now being dragged through the dark water into a cluster of connecting woodwork.


    Balsam grabbed the top of the porthole hatch, forcing it all the way open a gust of hot metallic air met him, then a burst of black ink-pot smoke smashed into him, Yvette watched as it formed an arc around his body, the waves of smoke outlining his body in an aerodynamic visualisation.


    A fist appeared, slightly pallid, the thumbnail having a sunken grey hue to it, Balsam blinked as he processed the information, ¡®thumbnail?¡¯ his head rattling as the fist flew backwards. ¡®Oh, no that¡¯s me¡­ I¡¯m flying backwards¡¯ he thought, his head hitting the metal roof of the boat with the uncomfortable sensation of a scalp cracking, he blacked out.


    Yvette watched fearfully as Balsam hit the deck turning back the the spouting blackness, she watched as a tall grey nightmare emerged from the splashing bank of black fog that now engulfed the upper deck of the ship, the figure stood there for a moment and then arched, a theatrical ballet dancers arch that curved inwards, spilling smoke as the figure lurched and elongated. Yvette blanched and started shuffling backwards along the roof, she crouched running her fingers along where she remembered Balsam dropping, steadily keeping her eyes on the creature all the while.


    Hercule couldn¡¯t see anything; he''d ran forwards to avoid the falling rubble, and now the hovels were fully compacted in front of the ship. That and the mix of smoke running down the sides of the ship''s roof in rivulets. He shaded his eyes in an attempt to see something, anything. A scream came from above, he paced along the side of the ship, trying to find the rope that Yvette had climbed up with, any sort of hand hold.


    He found the rope, it was wet. The wax red with what might have been blood, he pulled in it anyway, clambering upwards hand over hand until he was face first with the red lip of the ships roof, ¡®Definitely blood¡¯ he thought as he pushed himself up the last few inches.


    It was impossible to see up there, he kept his head close to the ground, tracing a path across the metal expanse with his fingers, never straying from the warm wetness of the blood trail. It led him inch by inch over the swaying mass, the nose of the ship being lifted up onto the gathered detritus blocking the piers exit, he heard the cracking of wood from the front of the ship, a strange distorted figure whipping towards the bow.


    The whistling spark of an iron shod fireworks slug separating from it¡¯s barrel assaulted his fear heightened senses and he followed the arc in his mind, but the explosion he expected from the posting of men Balsam had issued didn¡¯t come, his fingers felt cold now, the faint heat of the blood gone it all congealing and pushing under his fingernails.


    A gusting break in the black mist showed the figure again, fist clenched around a sparking bubbling mass, ¡®the fireworks slug¡¯ Hercule realised belatedly, shocked he tried to get to his feet, slipping on the blood and resorting to crawling away from the figure he whimpered as the blood caked into his shirt, lining his arms.


    The explosion finally came, and with it bits of singed charcoal and hot spikes of wood sprayed out in a shower of pain, littering Hercules broad back as the smoke was blown away by the shockwave, he covered his head, his cheek now damp and sticky too. When he looked up a man crouched before him, a jittery hand clutching the side of his head, where blood dripped freely from a wounded ear.

 Chapter 10

    It was a late morning on the Locusta estate, Ilya stood outside with a scowl watching as the two Carriages set to bring Snow to port were finally being fitted with everything his mistress would need, the ship would be already pre-booked by the time she¡¯d arrive at port, a store of medicinal tea was packed, about 3 month¡¯s worth. But still it was with a strange feeling that crept down his spine that he ran over his mental checklist, a temperament that had only grown fouler the closer Snow came to her egress.


    It made sense why she wanted to leave, ¡®the military presence in the city has grown tense and suffocating in the past few months, that and the seizure of her shops, the visit from the secret police¡¯ Ilya had come around to it, what kept him on edge wasn¡¯t that Snow was leaving, but how now there was a black armoured stagecoach seemingly stalking their estate, a middlingly sized thing only intimidating by what it represented, it sagged against a building a few miles away from the estate.


    He¡¯d gotten a few of the blacksmith boys he knew to walk past the coach when he¡¯d gone into town last, but they¡¯d gotten turned away as soon as one of the soldiers spotted them, he sniffed now, trying to distract himself. Taking in the sweet morning air, the rude smell of tobacco from the waiting cabbies made him snort and cough.


    Back inside the entrance, he surveyed the other servants carrying large suitcases of luggage through the atrium, Snow he bitterly recalled wouldn¡¯t be taking anyone with her on the journey. And he was just supposed to go out and about somewhere, ¡®a holiday¡¯ his frown slipped into a wry grin ¡¯I don¡¯t think I¡¯d even know what do with myself¡¯ Snow had already sent a missive to her parents so he¡¯d not be able to go and work there, no matter how much they adored him.


    And a generous allowance of fifty Vennam, which even if he was the house steward was a massive sum, close to how much he¡¯d make in three years.


    ¡°All the loading is finished sir¡± one of the men helping load up the carriages said, standing stiffly in the entrance.


    He led him outside again, and as he went to do the final checks on the luggage, he spied the armoured carriage moving it¡¯s way from the Matiste estate through the lockwood¡¯s grounds, undulating like a strange beetle as it passed by the moss laden berm that led onto the neighbourhood''s tramway, pushing its way in front of an oncoming tram, it stopped, causing a the few returning night¡¯s revellers to disembark in a huff of genteel rage.


    ¡®a military outpost in the middle of a sequestered wealthy neighbourhood.¡¯ It was frankly ridiculous. Ilya wondered what the other aristocratic families thought, ¡®especially the Matiste estate, oh I¡¯m sure he¡¯s properly enthused having those crouched next to his vacation home¡¯ Ilya mused, his attention distracted by the raised canes and parasols fluttering about the disembarking soldiers.


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    ¡°Is it all correct sir?¡± the cabbie said nervously from up on high, ¡°I¡¯d not have anything misplaced, if that¡¯s what¡¯s on your mind.¡±


    The stink of tobacco still hadn¡¯t faded from him, and Ilya gave him a sharp look, mentally going over the number of trunks once again.


    ¡°That¡¯s good, the port officials know how many trunks to expect¡± he said, he curiously checked him, a small fellow wrinkled and mousy, with a white-grey beard stained yellow at the tips, his eyes spoke to a good natured if rough sort of man.


    ¡°Here, what¡¯s your name man¡± Ilya said, pulling out a Vennam coin, he split it, pulling apart the segments into the five Vim that made up one coin. He gave two pieces to the cabbie.


    ¡°Orandal sir, thank you sir¡± the man said, taking the Vim expeditiously.


    ¡°Tell me what types of folks I mean, who the Mistress boards with. Orandal, and you¡¯ll get the rest of this along with your payment when you get back¡± Ilya said, pinching the last few coin pieces between his fingers in demonstration.


    ¡°Yes sir, definitely sir¡± the cabbie nodded, clapping his hands together and making several slow bows, his eyes glancing towards the house¡¯s entrance, he tipped his cap to Ilya and then disembarked to greet Snow.


    She looked fantastic, blond curls pressed tightly into a black and white newsboy cap with a gold buckle around the trim, she sported white gloves, a small pale blue and gold purse and a reserved travelling dress in the same pale blue that sat close to her skin under a black linen duster. She¡¯d even worn shoes, white leather buttoned boots with a heel, the buttons trailing up the side of the boot in an arc and fading into black silk stockings.


    Snow caught Ilya looking at the shoes, and smiled, handing a large messenger she¡¯d been sporting on her lap to the cabbie.


    ¡°I thought I might as well go all out, wouldn¡¯t want to be caught without shoes at court¡± she sat up a little, and bent down to look at them herself, ¡°I really should get some more, they can really bring an outfit together.¡±


    ¡°Yes, they look quite nice on you,¡± Ilya agreed.


    ¡°A lady should have a wide variety of shoes you know¡± Snow said, as if quoting someone, her face scrunched up, a poor approximation of wrinkles. ¡°The head mistress at the cobbler told me that¡±


    ¡°The cobblers? You don¡¯t wear your shoes enough for them to need repair¡± Ilya said curiously


    ¡°Not for repair a resizing Ilya, my feet have apparently shrunk¡± she nodded at Ilya¡¯s raised eyebrows


    ¡°Small feet are all the rage¡± Ilya said lightly, he¡¯d made a move to open the carriage door and beckoned for the cabbie to take away the wheelchair.


    ¡°Oh sure, I¡¯ll be very popular with the ladies, they¡¯ll wonder how I managed to pull it off,¡± Snow said, holding onto Ilya as he lifted her into the carriage. ¡°I¡¯m sure whatever I say will have them cooing over me like a wounded dove¡±


    ¡°And you¡¯re not going to enjoy that?¡± Ilya tittered, pulling the wheelchair away from the door so he could close it.


    ¡°No, I hope it goes unnoticed.¡± Snow said dryly ¡°and it¡¯d take away from my argument with the king¡± Snow collected herself, seating herself more comfortably in the carriage. ¡°Anyway don¡¯t you worry about me Ilya, you should focus on your holiday. we¡¯ll have plenty to do once I¡¯m back, many people to meet, orders to make¡±


    ¡°Good luck with your journey then mistress¡± Ilya said bowing to her from the doorway.


    ¡°And you too Ilya¡± Snow replied waving at him as he closed the door


    He watched as it left, feeling rather sullen. As Snow''s carriage got further away his eyes turned to the black armoured carriage. its form slowly wavering as it faded behind a copse of trees, the tram sitting silently where it was stopped, a few canes and umbrellas resting neatly against the tram¡¯s front.

 Chapter 11

    Hercule couldn¡¯t bear to think. Every time he did the texture of smoke, choking and irrepressible would resurface. The pain kept his mind focused however, and with his broad back burnt, bits of wood splintering up and out of his back like the pins of a porcupine, blistered skin rising up amidst each blackened spike.


    He maintained a singular pose, prostrating himself in front of the cage bars, praying to a god all his own.


    Balsam''s comatose head was bandaged, and Yvette cradled him in her lap. Her left foot was unrecognisable, the flesh under her calf distended and pulled apart, wrapped in a meagre attempt at a bandage. Her eyes were glazed over as she barely took in the scene around her.


    Eyelids cracked open as Balsam looked up at their captors, the light was dim, filtering down through the interior corridors of the ship''s guts. The warm glow of lanterns cutting a silhouette out of the figures before them.


    "so, what are these folks to you?" a voice spoke¡­


    Two men were on the other side of the bars, one sat on a small stool, while another paced, between the brig they sat in and the corridor above, constantly stepping up and down onto the stairs as his motions pronated, his whole body flickering between positions like it was caught in a strobe.


    Balsam blinked, ¡®head trauma, brain damage, I¡¯m seeing things¡¯


    ¡°His name is Balsam Hossain. He tried to charge us a toll for passing through the pass behind Khisset, then tried to kill us.¡± The sitting man stood, coming further forward until his brown face appeared under the filtering sunlight. ¡°Guess I did remember your name after all,¡± Jerico said.


    Balsam grinned, ¡°guess we¡¯re at your mercy ay Jerico, how¡¯s that hand doing by the bye¡± he said, pushing his way out of Yvette¡¯s lap, Hercule stayed silent, his back quivering slightly as he muttered unintelligibly.


    the jittering man, turning and disappearing into the depths of the ship, spoke as he left, ¡°talk to us, we¡¯ll need to figure out what to do with them¡± he said. Balsam watched as he walked off, his gait appearing normal now, his shadow lengthened as it played on the ship''s corridor, the movements of a slow decrepit old man.


    ¡°My hand is fine good as new, actually¡± Jerico shot back, waving his healed hand in front of the cage bars while Balsam shrugged


    ¡°Guess I wasn¡¯t as good a shot as I thought I was¡± he muttered turning back.


    The sight that greeted him, dark as it was. took him a moment to register and with his grin cracking he swallowed dryly, Hercule¡¯s spiked back and Yvette¡¯s bruised and battered features though it was Yvette¡¯s lower leg that was the worst of all, and he found tears leaking down his face as he looked at it, like someone had taken a still soft clay representation and squeezed. The skin wasn¡¯t right, purple and split like an overripe fruit.


    ¡°What did you do to them? Yvette? Yvette!¡± Balsam demanded, looking at Yvette, whose gaze remained distant. Hercule groaned weakly.


    ¡°You attacked us,¡± Jerico said, his voice tight with emotion.


    Yvette blinked slowly, only now noticing that Balsam had gotten up. She turned to look at him, one eye bloodshot he noticed as she steadfastly avoided looking at their captors.


    From a side room, another figure came to stand in front of the brig with them, wiping blood off her hands with a damp washcloth. She noted the prisoners coldly, glancing at Yvette¡¯s leg with a worried look but fixing her glare on Balsam.


    Coming to stand next to Jerico, Curie pushed the washcloth halfway through the bars. ¡°Clean yourself up if you like,¡± she said, backing away as Balsam approached.


    ¡°means you¡¯re not going to kill us, gonna try and strike a bargain again?¡± Balsam said, motioning for Yvette to keep looking at him while he cleaned her face.


    Curie watched Balsam¡¯s ministrations for a while, crossing her arms as she leaned into Jerico¡¯s shoulder, his arm wrapped around her legs.


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    ¡°Bargain¡­ so you want to bargain now that you''re no-longer surrounded by your lackeys¡± Jerico said.


    ¡°Course I do, because I¡¯ve actually something to offer unlike you, Nam, a whole Chest¡¯s worth¡± Balsam replied, waving the washcloth at him sardonically.


    ¡°Well It¡¯s too late now we¡¯re well out of port, nothing you could offer would be worth us going back to Khisset¡± Jerico shot back, thumping his fist against the brig bars.


    They sat in the semi silence for a while, the light from behind glowing dim as every now and again the washcloth was handed back and forth between the bars.


    ¡°What happened to Yvette?¡± Balsam said finally, motioning to her leg.


    Curie glanced down at Jerico, both of them shaking their heads. ¡°We don¡¯t know, perhaps a beam fell on it when you shot at us ¡± Curie said.


    ¡°One of the witches grabbed it,¡± Yvette whispered in reply, her voice strained and thin as if she¡¯d been screaming. Speaking so suddenly seemed to break her out of her daze, and she sucked in a breath sharply as her ruined leg shifted.


    ¡°How could someone do this?¡± Balsam whispered back, pain etching his voice. He looked up at the backlit figures with a newfound terror. Curie felt Jerico¡¯s grip on her leg tensed for the moment, a shocked shudder going through his body at his expression, she caressed his head gently drawing her fingers through his dark curls.


    ¡°You attacked us,¡± Jerico¡¯s voice quivered as he repeated himself, not really believing in his own words. ¡°They just defended themselves.¡±


    Yvette¡¯s head thumped against the wall of the brig as he spoke. Passing out from the pain, her face pale and drenched in sweat.


    Balsam grabbed her, stopping her from falling as she drooped over the edge of the wall-anchored seat. ¡°Just defended emselves¡± he scoffed through gritted teeth, pulling her steady. ¡°Will she survive?¡± he asked, daring to ask now that she was unconscious.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± Curie replied, her voice now gentle. ¡°The chances aren¡¯t good.¡±


    ¡°Damn you,¡± Balsam spat, cradling Yvette to him.


    ¡°No, no, no, fuck¡± Hercule intoned, bits of charcoal, and pain wracked tears snapping off as he tried to get a look at her.


    They left them there, beckoned by Canipto to the main room. Curie had to be pulled away, her eyes on the shadowed form of Yvette, the two men weeping over her like something from a painting.


    ¡°We have to help them,¡± Curie said, curled up against Jerico¡¯s chest, stroking one broad arm. The conversation with Armistice and Canipto hadn¡¯t been surprising: fair weather and they¡¯d live, a long journey and they wouldn¡¯t. And that was only with Curie begging them not to kill them outright.


    "We can''t, the medallions can¡¯t help them, only us," Jerico said, pulling her closer.


    ¡°we have to, we can''t just leave her to die.¡± she replied sleepily, yawning. Then realising what she was doing, snapping her mouth closed indignantly ¡°I can¡¯t believe I¡¯m used to this, I¡¯m tired, in a situation like this!'''' she pushed herself away from Jerico slightly, the anger not leaving her face.


    Turning over she sat up, the blanket pooling around her slightly, as she looked up and out at the dark waves.The ship rocked them against each other, the night growing steely outside the port window,


    ¡°Curie, Darling¡± Jerico said gently "you should sleep, staying up won''t do us any good"


    ¡°We can help them in the morning, they need rest now anyway. you''ve bandaged her up, perhaps she''ll feel a little stronger tomorrow.¡±


    Curie stood, shaking her head, "no, no I''m tired of not being able to do anything, being dragged around like we''re on a leash" she pushed the door open roughly ¡°you sleep, I''m going to help her.¡±


    Jerico sat up as she left, the bed suddenly cold and unwelcoming. he leaned back against the wall, and ran his fingers through his hair


    Curie walked into the main room and spotting Armistice pushed her way forward, to stand in front of her. Armistice was sat cross legged in a side nook, a bowl of something cupped in her hand, a spoon halfway to her lips.


    ¡°Give me the key to the cage¡± Curie demanded, her face still flustered from leaving Jerico.


    Armistice looked at her curiously, sipping from the spoon as she watched her. ¡°No.¡± she said simply, placing down the spoon.


    ¡°No?¡± Curie deflated slightly at Armistic¡¯s flat tone, something about the woman''s demeanour broke no argument.


    ¡°NO?¡± no, she wasn¡¯t going to back down, Curie balled her fist her finger flashing out, waving it in front of Armistic¡¯s face, ¡°I¡¯m going to help them, don¡¯t tell me no, give me the key!¡± she half shouted.


    Armistice stiffened at Curie¡¯s tone, placing her bowl to the side she stood


    ¡°Oh, don¡¯t think your standing will intimidate me anymore¡± Curie said, backing up a few steps involuntarily


    The table in the room¡¯s centre stopped her from retreating any further, Armistice reaching behind her to grab a satchel, she loomed over Curie, not even looking at her as she rifled through the Satchel.


    The key looked small in her hand, and she dropped it into Curie¡¯s shaking fingers, turning her back on her and returning to her meal without a word.


    Curie didn¡¯t realise she¡¯d stopped breathing until her vision grew light, she sucked in a breath, turning to look away from the woman as she rushed towards the brig. Not noticing Canipto¡¯s wan face in the dark recess of the room next to where she passed.


    Canipto watched as Curie passed by, approaching Armistice he pushed himself into the nook next to her


    ¡°She¡¯s but a newborn, be gentle with her¡± he chastised, ¡°after she¡¯s done with them just dispose of them quietly¡±


    He patted her thigh as Armistice nodded, ¡°I know, I know, I will try my best to bring them into the fold¡±

 Chapter 12

    The sky was a delightfully dusky pink hue at this time of the evening. Snow had arrived, had her luggage packed and brought aboard, and had spent the rest of the hours before cast off meeting the other passengers in the large ships dining room that sat high on the back end of the ship.


    The room was beautifully decorated in a deep mahogany, plush and royal and lit up with the sight of the evening sky reflecting off the large arched windows that gave the whole room an airy sort of feeling.


    Her cabbie had volunteered very kindly to wheel her up to the dining room, and he had anxiously stayed with her as they waited, glancing waywards at her every few seconds as if she¡¯d not him pressing himself against the wall''s woodwork. He did profess after a little prodding that Ilya had told him to stay with her until the ship cast off.


    She had sighed, ¡®because of course Ilya had done that¡¯ and accepted the man''s company, asking him to push her so she was sitting at one of the two dining tables, they both waited there. Chatting idly about the man¡¯s duties as a cabbie, and whether Ilya seemed to have any intention of leaving after she had.


    Someone by the name of Sihge was the first to enter. His name announced by another noble friend of his, A Bellemarque noble from his appearance he sported a set of slim gold spectacles that didn¡¯t fit his dark oval shaped face. His eyes peered out from above them under a notch of thin salt and pepper eyebrows. Wrinkles cut his mouth into a frown and he looked disapprovingly out at the sunset.


    His friend was different, an altogether flamboyant spectacle he laughed easily at Sihge¡¯s pallid remarks, pulling him hand in ruffled hand to the darkest recess of the dining room, where Sihge was convinced to help him unbuckle a corset that he complained loudly was far to tight for him, Sihge frowned at this display, and hid his face from the other entering nobles, while his companion¡¯s eyebrows waggled at Snow¡¯s and Orandal¡¯s smothered laughter.


    Snow made a silent promise to introduce herself to those two before they cast off.


    Behind those two quickly followed two noble women who looked to be either from Porchimor¡¯ or Riine, Snow couldn¡¯t quite tell. Their bleach white faces looked oddly, unnatural contrasted against the room''s mahogany. And delicate fans fluttered covering their mouths as they surveyed the interior with what Snow could only fathom as faint distaste.


    Five more entered quietly, a smattering of the Copshishec upper crust, their national dress matching the pale white faced women that entered before. Off white ?upan¡¯s with filigree red accents that made them look like a group of strange blood etched doves crowding together, suitable intimidating military wear Snow supposed.


    Off to the side and regarding the Copshi nobles with a skittish appraisal were to Djadguiime messengers, they broke off from the mass. and all quickly gathered in small grouplets.


    Snow looked around at them curiously, smiling at the two noble women that glanced her way.


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    ¡°Fifteen minutes until we depart,¡± one of the ship''s staff said, bowing to the nobles.


    Snow bid farewell to Orandal, Passing him a few extra vennam for his time she waved as he shuffled down the gangplank.


    A few more minutes passed, Snow idly folding her napkin into squares while she waited.


    The sailors shouted, as they began to unfurl the moorings, preparing to pull in the gangplank as the last men on land rushed towards the plank, it skidding across the rough hewn cobblestones as the ship began to turn away from the pier.


    Having seen a tugboat earlier, Snow asked one of the attendants to push her out to the front whenever possible, wanting to see how they manoeuvred out of the narrow pier.


    ¡°Hold!¡± a deep voice yelled out.


    A tall man was running towards the gangplank, a smaller man in tow. holding two massive travelling trunks on his shoulders as he ran, the last few men had long since ran up the gangplank by now, watching helplessly as the man approached the widening gap.


    He sprinted, hoisting one of the trunks and throwing it towards the ship, Snow pressed her face against the glass, the other noble who had left the dining room peering interestedly over the balcony railing overlooking the main deck. They watched as the trunk arcked towards the main deck, the man grabbing his smaller companion and jumping just as they reached the edge.


    A jet of black dust was kicked up as he leaped and it followed him as he trailed over the sailors heads, landing roughly in the middle of the ship.


    ¡°Dearly sorry I''m late, Capitan!¡± the man yelled, brashly saluting the captain who had come out to have a look at the commotion.


    Sihge¡¯s brightly dressed companion could be heard clapping, now rid of his corset he jumped about with energy quite impressed that this stranger had managed to make it onboard.


    The man deposited his little companion who was in a daze, collecting his senses he rushed to pick up their tossed trunk, it having burst along the seams as it landed, underclothes and a few thick sacks lying haphazardly across the broad sweep that marked the steps up to the dining room.


    ¡°We¡¯d greatly appreciate two rooms nearest the sea, Capitan¡± the man said, patting his small companion forward to present him he sighed ¡°my apprentice here gets seasick, dear boy.¡±


    On a second glance and with the reference of other men the man wasn¡¯t as large as he first appeared, though by no means small at a good six foot something, it was just that his little companion was a child. A young boy who followed him up to the dining room trepidatiously, gathering up their belongings as they walked and handing the bundle in the split trunk to the man and then shyly disappearing behind one leg.


    ¡°That was oh so impressive, sir ?¡± Sihge¡¯s companion said with delight, a touch of curiosity in the question, he curled his arm around Sihge, drawing him closer to the large man, ¡°Dalmar is the name, this my boy is Elija¡± he said smiling at the gathered crowd of nobles, a few of them now bored of the show walked off, leaving space enough for Snow to wheel herself out to the balcony.


    ¡°My name is Paloma, this here is lord Sihge Flores Aughustine, oh and this¡­ hello dear I don¡¯t actually know your name¡± Paloma said, looking down at Snow who had wheeled eagerly into the small cluster of people still left.


    ¡°Snow Evangeline Locusta¡± Snow said, putting her hand out, to which Dalmar kissed.


    ¡°It¡¯s a pleasure to meet you, need help getting to your room?¡± Dalmar said, leaning in at her not he took place behind her ¡°condolences for the seizure of your shops¡± he lavished, under his breath. The quiet clicking of the wheels on the wood ramp down to their rooms a pronounced metronome, Paloma bid them farewell, retreating with a giggle Sihge¡¯s murmured protestations lost to the wind.


    The Ship departed finally, once out of the stifling confines of the pier spreading its wings on the awaiting gale.

 Chapter 13

    ¡°Want to go swimming?¡±


    Curie sat on the roof of the ship, her feet dangling on the edge as she watched Armistice swimming next to them, the dark, submerged mass of her body made no ripples as she snaked beneath the water; a thin jet of black twisted it¡¯s way around her legs as it interacted with the water¡¯s current. She was easily keeping up with them even as the wind buffeted the ship forward at speed.


    It was uncanny, but as most things about Armistice were. Curie had sorted her out in her mind, then ignored it all, choosing to adopt a grand deference to the whole situation that served as her personal barrier to the world, one even Jerico now stood behind.


    He¡¯d stayed there in his room, feeling sorry for himself while she had gone down into that den of pain and misery to try and save a girl''s life. She still remembered the scream Balsam had muffled as she poured wine on Yvette''s stump because she''d had to remove the damned foot.


    ¡°Tell me Curie, how do you feel about relationships based on false beginnings?¡± Canipto asked, offering her some toast he¡¯d been frying on a portable pottery burner.


    Curie¡¯s eyes snapped open, glancing at him, and then the bread that dripped invitingly. Butter with golden jam that glistened, even under the overcast sky.


    ¡°What? Sorry, I was somewhere else.¡± Curie replied, taking the toast appreciatively.


    ¡°You know, imagine your relationship with Jerico- how would you feel if he told you, one day, something he had hidden from you from the beginning?¡± Canipto recapitulated, leaning back into the deck chair he¡¯d set up for the four of them.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know how I¡¯d feel. Jerico would never do something like that.¡± Curie answered, chewing.


    Viscous, red arterial sprays clogs her senses. Yvette¡¯s foot lying in a bucket by the door, her wounded leg up in the air as Curie tightened the tourniquet. She¡¯d managed to cut the posterior tibial artery.


    ¡®Fucking idiot.¡¯


    ¡°That¡¯s good. I¡¯m not saying he would, though. With trust being such a precious commodity, would you fault him if he had?¡± Canipto leaned forward, flipping the few remaining pieces of toast in the skillet.


    Curie watched as he turned over a piece that was burnt around the edges. He shrugged, tossing it towards the water where Armistice reached out, catching it with a graceful leap out of the water.


    ¡°She¡¯ll not be able to taste the difference while mouldering fish.¡± He commented at Curie¡¯s look.


    ¡°I would fault him. That¡¯d not be acceptable.¡± Curie said as she crossed her arms, looking out at the ocean, the sky met the sea in a highlight of burnished copper. ¡°Armistice looks like she¡¯s having fun.¡±


    ¡°Ah, yes, swimming is one of the things she really just enjoys.¡± Canipto chuckled. ¡°Watch closely and you might even catch a smile.¡±


    The hatch jerked, Jerico climbing out with a nod to Canipto. His eyes shifted over Curie hesitantly, walking over to them, he peered over the side at the warbling shape of Armistice under the water.


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    ¡°I¡¯m glad. She¡¯s very¡­ pent up, isn¡¯t she¡± Letting out a breath she wasn¡¯t aware she¡¯d kept inside, she immediately felt more comfortable with Jerico beside her, dragging his chair next to hers before he sat down.


    Jerico smiled, walking over to the two of them and placing his hand on the chair''s headrest. Curie studiously avoided looking at him, quite clearly still not ready to talk, tension bunched in the set of her shoulders. He felt the urge to run his fingers down them, to dig his thumbs in and smooth the knots.


    He swallowed, sitting gingerly.


    ¡°What have I missed?¡± Jerico asked. ¡°Seems the sky¡¯s clearing up, bit of a dreary morning hey¡±


    Canipto¡¯s eyes traced the edge of the boat, eyelashes fluttering in contemplation. ¡°Just getting to know the two of you, it¡¯s a good time to relax before more smokeless come around to cause us trouble.¡±


    He looked out at the ocean, before pointing at a hazy mist speckled dot in the distance ¡°we¡¯re being followed, by friends of the captives I suspect¡±


    ¡°Smokeless?¡± Jerico asked.


    Armistice had begun to pull herself out of the water, using one of the rope hooks they¡¯d left in from the attack. A large amberjack in the other hand, it wiggled fruitlessly, her fingers jammed under its gills.


    ¡°Normal people. Not like us witches.¡± Curie said.


    ¡°Ah, makes sense.¡± Jerico replied, ¡°What about the three in the brig, though?¡±


    ¡°Well, they¡¯re not causing us any trouble are they?¡± Canipto chuffed, noticing Armistice had left the water. ¡°Speaking of trouble though, could I trouble you two to join us for an early lunch?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, but I really should check on Yvette again.¡± Curie said, rising from her deck chair. Armistice stationed herself behind Canipto.


    A stony silence began to blanket the roof, intermittently cracked by the vain flapping of the fish still hooked in Armistice¡¯s grip- and the jolt of the chair as Jerico quickly rose to follow Curie.


    ¡°Of course.¡± Canipto said, steepling his fingers as he watched them retreat down the hatch. ¡±That ship¡¯ll need to be dealt with before we reach home¡± he mused. then turning in the deck chair and shading his eyes as he looked up at Armistice. ¡°You¡¯re really not helping, you know, standing there like that.¡±


    Armistice shrugged, pulling the fish up slightly. Canipto glanced at it ¡°Yes, I know you¡¯ve brought a fish, that¡¯s not the problem, I think you forget they still don¡¯t trust us.¡± he chastised.


    ¡°I don¡¯t trust them either. They think like humans.¡± Armistice growled. The fish jerked, her fingers having punctured a hole through the flesh of its mouth in her anger, it jumped in pain thrashing wildly.


    She calmly took a finger and slammed it into the fish¡¯s headcase.


    ¡°They are still humans.¡± Canipto emphasised, turning back to look out at the sea. ¡°Have some compassion, they haven¡¯t been brought up with the safety of a coven.¡±


    Armistice didn¡¯t move, save for pulling her finger from the now limp amberjack.


    ¡°Were you not amazed, intimidated even, when you saw an elder as a child, or our prince even?¡± Canipto questioned, his voice dipping with nostalgia.


    He stood, taking the butterknife he¡¯d been using and passed it to her. Armistice¡¯s quicksilver eyes didn¡¯t tell him anything, so turning to clean up the mess they¡¯d made of breakfast, he sighed and checked the fire.


    ¡°Yes.¡± Armistice replied a moment later.


    He smiled, his fingers slightly stained with soot from the fire. ¡°Of course you were, and now you, to them, are akin to an elder in their eyes.¡± Canipto said.


    Underneath, Curie stood, arms crossed as she waited for Jerico. The rungs of the ladder leading down into the ship rang with Jerico¡¯s weight as he descended, passing several rice straw raincoats that had been hung up to dry, the air grew still at the bottom as he turned to look at her.


    Both stood there for a moment, eyes adjusting to the dim light as Curie shifted her weight from one leg to the other.


    After a moment Jerico approached, cautiously putting his hands around her arms. When she didn''t back away, he pulled her to him.


    ¡°I''m sorry.¡± he said simply, hugging her in the ambient dimness. He traced the nape of her neck, feeling as his fingers got caught in the frizz of black hair that curled out around her head.


    She melted slowly, thawing out as if his hug cast heat onto her frozen emotions. Jerico felt a faint dampness drip onto his shirt.

 Chapter 14

    The ship rocked gently, the night heightened sounds of sailors rotating out of their midnight watches shook Snow out of the light sleep she¡¯d sunken into.


    She moaned, propping herself up on her elbows as she pulled herself against the port window, resting her forehead against the metal rim that form fitted itself around the rain soaked window.


    The sound of rain usually served to sooth her when her legs ached like they did now, the random intermittent firing of pain felt like someone was dragging lit sparklers through her legs. But not today it seemed, she pulled her legs over the side of the bed, rubbing one particularly sensitive spot as she reached for the medicinal tea steeping on the bedside.


    She dug her fingers into the meat of her thigh as drank, the exterior pain a topical treatment to interior hot flash buzzing that made its way up and down her legs in waves.


    She wanted to scratch at it, the urge to somehow pull out her burnt nerve endings when they got like this and dump them in cool water, but she pulled her hand away resisting the imposition and gulped down the tea.


    It tasted worse in the dark somehow. But her pain soothed slowly and she shakily put the thermos back, wiping her forehead with the palm of her hand. She pulled her fingers through her hair as she looked out at the night, the ocean reflecting the pale face of the moon, distorted by raindrops.


    Morning came earlier than she wanted, only managing to catch a few hours of sleep after the medicine kicked in; she split her morning time between working, sorting her documents and practising her plea to the king in the mirror, drafting and redrafting until her room got too stuffy for her to think. Paloma was the one who drew her out of her room.


    A note came with her lunch, We are playing cards up on deck if you¡¯d like to join us~


    When she came up, pushed along by the staff who''d brought her lunch, she waved at Paloma who walked over to her two cocktails in hand.


    ¡°You don¡¯t look too good honey, bad night?¡±


    Snow nodded, brushing her hair out of her eyes.


    ¡°I just haven¡¯t managed to put much makeup on that¡¯s all.¡± she said, as she was pushed into place at the table they were sitting at.


    Dalmars apprentice, Elija, who had so far stayed in his room. not even the dark confines of a ship''s cot able to stem his seasickness, was out today. Dalmar had taken him up to the deck, so the servants could clean their room and replace the sweat-dampened sheets.


    Snow and Paloma watched as Dalmar lifted him by the scruff of his shirt, dangling him over the ocean as he wretched. As Elija was rung out and plopped back on deck, Dalmar patted his back reassuringly, sending him back to his rooms in a wobbling sway.


    ¡°Would you like a drink Snow?¡± Paloma asked, offering her one of the teardrop shaped glasses.


    ¡°Oh, yes thank you that¡¯d be lovely¡± she said, taking a sip. It tasted faintly of berries, the drink fizzing as it warmed its way down her throat.


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    Dalmar pushed off the railing and rejoined them at the table, sliding onto the couch next to Sihge he waved over the staff and requested another drink.


    ¡°Do you not get seasick Dalmar?¡± Paloma asked, leaning into Sihge with a sigh, he put one long arm around Sihge''s neck and waited for the cards he was playing with to be shuffled, Sihge¡¯s fingers dancing as he cut the deck.


    Dalmar brushed his fingers through his dense thatch of hair, glancing at the distant form of Elija now leaning face down against a door frame ¡°I saw you lot watching, don¡¯t worry Elija will be fine, a few more hours and he will acclimate to it.¡±


    ¡°Poor kid,¡± Paloma said beckoning the staff over for another drink, ¡°I asked about you though Dalmar, fatherhood cured your seasickness?¡±


    Dalmar snorted ¡°Elija¡¯s not mine, he¡¯s on loan to me until he turns eighteen¡±


    ¡°On loan?¡± Sihge queried,¡°I¡¯ve not heard of that custom before, what is he apprenticing for?¡±


    He finished shuffling the cards, dealing them out to the group one by one until each had seven.


    As the first round began, Snow found herself struggling to keep up with the banter. Paloma and Dalmar were quick-witted, their playful jabs at each other drawing an occasional stiff smile from Sihge, who watched with a usually desultory air. Snow took another sip from the cocktail, trying not to grimace as the slow fire reemerged to burn in her lower calf. At this rate she¡¯d get nothing done, at home she¡¯d at least have been able to pull off a few more hours before Illya would have carted her away for a break, but with now things had been going she¡¯d have to take a few weeks absence to tend to things back home.


    Paloma seemed to pick up on her sense of disquiet, ¡°are you alright Snow, does the drink not agree with you?¡±


    ¡°Oh no the drink is lovely, just a bit seasick myself I think¡±


    Paloma raised an eyebrow, laughing a little as he spoke ¡°well Dalmar, you have another candidate if you¡¯re planning to dangle anyone else overboard today.¡±


    Dalmar grinned, flicking a card onto the table as he leaned back into the couch. ¡°Only if she asks nicely,¡± he quipped.


    Snow forced a chuckle, her fingers tightening around the stem of her glass. The pain in her legs was becoming more insistent, a dull throb that pulsed in time with the ship''s gentle sway. She took a long swallow, letting the sweetness of the drink linger on her tongue before swallowing, the fizz tickling her throat. The ache receded slightly, though not enough to distract her from the conversation at hand.


    Sihge¡¯s voice broke through the low hum of the ship. ¡°anyway Dalmar. What is Elija apprenticing for?¡±


    Dalmar glanced at Sihge, then at Snow, as if weighing how much to reveal. ¡°He¡¯s learning the ropes, quite literally. The boy¡¯s got to earn his keep. If he¡¯s to take over his family¡¯s business one day.¡±


    He stalled for a moment, then as if he noticed he was taking too long to answer ¡°he¡¯s not apprenticing for one job really, it¡¯s more a cultural thing¡±


    Sihge gave a thoughtful nod, his eyes narrowing slightly as he considered the explanation. ¡°A thorough education, then. A bit old-fashioned, have you taught the boy to read?¡±


    ¡°Old-fashioned is what keeps the world turning, and no, his mother did before she sent him my way¡± Dalmar replied, a note of pride in his voice.


    He turned to Snow, his gaze softening. ¡°But enough about that. You really look like you could use some fresh air, Snow. Have someone wheel you around the upper decks maybe?¡±


    Snow managed a weak smile, though she wasn¡¯t sure if staying out longer for fresh air would help or if it would only remind her of how far she was from solid ground.


    ¡°Sorry but, I think I should retire back to my rooms.¡± She said waving over one of the staff. ¡°My house steward has packed me medicine for this trip, I¡¯ll join you another time? Thank you so much for inviting me.¡±


    Snow clasped her hands together and half bowed as she was led away.

 Chapter 15

    ¡°I thank you for this, truly,¡± Balsam spoke slowly, in the dim cell it was hard to tell if it was Curie and Jerico or the other two Witches. He lifted his head, staring at the silhouettes. ¡®They never did introduce themselves¡¯ Balsam realised belatedly, then mentally shrugged. ¡®Guess there''d be no point in it.¡¯


    ¡°Don''t mention it,¡± Curie said, she brought bowls of food. A fish of some sort, grilled and drizzled in lemon juice with herbs stuffed along slices in the skin. Balsam took it gratefully, passing a bowl to Hercule and setting one aside for when Y¡¯vette would awaken.


    Hercule stirred, crust in his eyes and a bruise on the side of his face from many hours trying to find sleep without getting on his back. He took the bowl without comment and smiled, lips cracked.


    Balsam took a spoonful, measuring it out slowly on his tongue.


    Looking at Jerico idling at the cages entrance, Balsam winced as the lemon juice burned on his lips, forcing him to swallow and suck them in. It was good though, and he greedily ate more, chewing loudly and trying to talk to the pair.


    ¡°I heard about what happened to you¡¯s folks'' town.¡± he said tentatively ¡°Know I didn''t believe you when you told me back then. But I heard a report of it when I came down to Khisset.¡±


    ¡°If I¡¯d known, you know-¡± Balsam stuttered, the smell of smoke catching him off guard.


    ¡°Curie, Jerico, lock up we need you¡± they heard, Armistic¡¯s half shout making Balsam jump.


    His skin crawled, her voice putting him on edge. ¡°Be seeing you,¡± he offered the now empty bowl back.


    ¡°Take care of her, and Hercule.¡± Curie said, hoping her voice didn¡¯t quaver as such as she glanced up the dim corridor, equally put off by that voice as Balsam was.


    Jerico pulled the cage door closed as they both left. Sharing a nod with Balsam, he felt Curie¡¯s hand reach for him. And they made their way to the ladder hand in hand.


    Jerico leading the charge with a call when about half way up Armistice slammed the hatch open and pulled him scruff first up to the top, roughly setting him onto the deck and reaching down to do the same to Curie.


    Curie slapped her hand away though, ducking so she couldn¡¯t grab her, ¡°what the hell are you doing?¡±


    ¡°It is an emergency!¡± she shouted glaring at her as she climbed up the last few rails, pointing to the front of the boat.


    Curie shuffled forward, trying to get a look at what she pointed at, Jerico going to talk to Canipto who was rapidly slamming a butchers knife into the amberjack, cutting the uneaten remnants into equal chunks.


    She gasped as she saw what lay before them.


    The water swirled like a giant foamy whirlpool of destruction, the mast still peaked above the waves, the flag of Porchimor¡¯ drooping in the wet disgrace of a lie found out.


    ¡°A lie it was¡±, Canipto admonished, heading up ¡°using a flag like that, quite ballsy of them.¡±having finished preparing the fish for use.


    Armistice had grabbed the head and a few remaining bones, quickly packing them into a soggy ball of meat between her fingers and in a flash of witch smoke mouldering it all, until a few crumbs of bread and other detritus fell from between her fingers.


    Flicking the remains away she stalked to the edge of the boat, eyeing Curie as she wrapped a rope around her shoulder.


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    ¡°Why have you called us up here?¡± Curie asked


    Jerico joined her, walking up to stare in morbid fascination down at the swirling pile of wreckage below them, sharing a glance before Armistice jumped off the front into the swirling water, the rope unravelling with a crack.


    ¡°Please join us, I know you''re not used to Mouldering but the more eyes we have down there the better chance we can help any survivors.¡± Canipto asked. His dark eyes bore into the two of them, the hand that gripped Jerico¡¯s shoulder shaking, Jerico knew not what with.


    Swallowing, Jerico nodded, ¡°fine. Okay.¡± he studied the half eaten corpse of the amberjack Canipto handed to him.


    ¡°Ready to breathe water?¡± Curie asked


    ¡°No?¡± his throat crawled as he sucked in the magic, ¡°what tell me, I¡¯ll get gills?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s what¡¯ll happen¡± Curie, didn¡¯t look particularly happy, taking her lump of flesh with a scowl, ¡°no, not gills but it¡¯ll be a strange sensation certainly.¡±


    Canipto readied himself, smoke snorting out his nostrils with a cough. Jerico watched him jump off into the dark water, following the trail of rope as he swan dived.


    he took a deep breath, feeling the damp chill of the sea air bite at his skin as he watched Canipto disappear into the depths. The swirling water below seemed to beckon, a churning maw ready to consume anything that dared approach. He glanced at Curie, her face pale and tense, the amberjack flesh still clutched in her hand.


    ¡°Don¡¯t think about it too much,¡± he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. ¡°Just¡­ let it happen.¡±


    As the chunk of flesh shrunk and bubbled between his fingers he stopped breathing, letting it out with a sigh.


    ¡°We¡¯re made for this, magic will do as magic does,¡± he said as he consumed the last of it,


    Curie scoffed, Mouldering her chunk in turn, ¡°that¡¯s my line.¡±


    ¡°Seemed like you needed to hear your own words,¡± Jerico smiled, taking another peak at the edge ¡°see you down there,¡± he said as he plunged into the icy water.


    And all of a sudden it was clear, the wreckage of the ship blooming into view backlit by a light he couldn''t place. His eyes bulged as he took in a breath expecting pain and the urge to wretch but it was the sweetest thing, the cold water flowed past his teeth and his lungs felt heavy, solid. weighted down like he was being sat on, it felt like the pleasurable weight of another person pressing down onto you.


    He grinned as he glanced up at Curie, still standing on the boat. A puzzled look crossed her features at his smouldering expression. He blew her a kiss and turned back to business.


    Flickers of motion registered themselves in his lizard brain as he began to sink. Following the rope line armistice had drawn through one of the smashed windows.


    A blood cloud mantled the ripped edges of a sail, the body underneath jerking slightly as a school of carnivorous fish pressed together in a frenzy under the sheet, Jerico descended further unable to stop grinning at how damn familiar this feeling in his chest felt.


    He pushed some air out of his nose, feeling the bubbles drift upward, shimmering like spilled vennam in the dim light. Jerico adjusted his balance, letting the water cradle him as he drifted closer to the wreckage. The sensation of breathing surreal, the feeling growing only stranger as he sank.


    The sound of splashing interrupted his tepid exploration, Curie finally mustering up the courage to join him underwater.


    Armistice pushed her way through the water at speed, using the ship as a sort of underwater climbing course to make her navigation faster. She was pointing towards a section of the hull that had collapsed inward, revealing the dark interior of the ship.


    The rope she had been working on was now secured to a beam, creating a makeshift path into the wreckage and as she swam up to join them, she pulled along the body of a woman.


    pulling himself along the same track of handholds he saw her using. The rope twanged as he entered the cave.


    Jerico¡¯s eyes struggled to adjust to the interior, the sound of shouting could be heard, it was some sort of air pocket above him which he swam towards, and as he looked up to try and see where the voices were coming from. Canipto¡¯s body dropped into the water, flying past Jerico as another man dived in next to him.


    Miniature green scales raised like hackles along a massive hairless arm plunged past him, grabbing Canipto¡¯s collar. The man was bald an expression of fury on his face, seams of jade green flecks where his face contorted in anger, he slammed Canipto into a floating barrel of something, twisting as they fought in the dark water, the man gripping a dagger plunged to the hilt in canipto¡¯s gut.